This counterparts to Monster 3.x.
It also is missing some of the formatting of the Sufficient Velocity version, fair warning.
Chapter T.1: Unfold
Taylor
I'm only hearing Cherie's side of the call, only seeing her smile and nod, but it sounds like it's going okay. And she's doing less lying than I thought she would.
No guilt. I can't feel guilt. Not even when Cherie uses her power. But I still feel like it's wrong that Cherie is better at not lying to Dad than I am.
In a way, it sort of helps. Not a lot, because I've been hiding things from Dad since well before I got my power, but I can see how maybe it got worse after I got my power, and not just because I was hiding being a parahuman from him, but because I guess my power cut guilt out. So instead of lying to Dad, feeling bad, and resolving to avoid feeling bad in the future, I just spun a lie and moved on. I can see how it might've seemed easier, after the power came. Which would make it a little less my fault that things ended up this way.
Only a little, though.
And it means it will be harder to stop. Not more miserable, but just... fighting against the current. Fighting against gravity. Always having to watch myself, wondering if I'm not feeling guilt because what I'm doing is okay or if I should be feeling guilty for what I've done but don't because of my power. Is this why I found going after Nilbog and Heartbreaker easy? (Well, not easy...) Would I have felt worse about killing Nilbog, who in the end was a scared, lonely man, if my power wasn't affecting me? Would I have stepped back and reconsidered my plans? I mean, I can't see myself regretting killing Heartbreaker, but... I dunno. Maybe I would've done something different. Maybe I would've left Uber and Leet alone, out of some lingering guilt over Nilbog. Or maybe I wouldn't have tried to run down Skidmark.
I dunno.
But I need to stay on top of this, watch myself, watch other people. Think about my actions, my choices. Don't let my feelings alone guide me.
I don't think I'd really regret anything I've done so far, not anymore than I do -killing Leet was an accident- but.
I dunno.
Something would've gone different, surely?
...
I dunno.
The phone call ends and Cherie grins at me, takes my hand, and we walk after a moment.
This... is a fancy hotel. And a fancy suite in the hotel. Is that champagne? (Does Cherie drink?)
I thought Cherie was on the run?
"How are you paying for this?" My suspicion is that she isn't.
Cherie rolls her eyes, pulls a wallet out of her purse, and displays a sheaf of... wow. That's... that's a lot of money. Did she steal that? "Daddy wasn't fond of paying for things himself. Beneath him or whatever. Whenever I came along to scope out a target-" eugh "-he just made me carry basically all our money, for those times he couldn't use his power to stealthily skip out on paying for something."
That... sounds plausible... but... I can't help but wonder if she's just telling a lie I'll find palatable. I'm not sure. She's smooth at fakery, but she's also only really lied to Dad when I told a lie first, and told me a lot more than she had to tell me when we first met and urgh I don't know. I just... I dunno.
I drop it, though. I'll try to keep an eye out for evidence she's stealing from people, but I don't think there's much point to pressing her on it. If she's lying, she'll just keep lying, and she's good at this. I won't be able to catch her in a lie if she doesn't want me to, I'm pretty sure. I'm not... practiced at deception, Dad aside.
I drop into one of the chairs, Cherie watching me, and study the suite. Ugh, I don't like how high up we are. I'm imagining being attacked and having our only escape route being jumping out the balcony. Maybe I'd survive that, but Cherie wouldn't. I catch a glimpse of Cherie's clothes in a wardrobe -fancy hotel- and I just... find myself thinking of my own closet, which has shifted from things I like and am comfortable wearing to things that hide stains, protect me. Cherie's outfits are whimsical, colorful, flattering. She hated Heartbreaker and lived with him for almost her entire life. Why is she so comfortable with herself? I had a good life until Mom died, and even then it didn't turn awful until Emma and Sophia decided to make my life a living hell. Why is a couple of years of misery enough to grind me into dust, and over a decade of suffering has left Cherie okay?
I'm disappointed with myself. Feels like I must've done something wrong, like I could've powered through, maintained myself like Cherie has retained an upbeat personality, and that it should've been easy, if Cherie could manage it under worse conditions.
I drop that line of thought as too depressing.
Cherie starts removing the warmest layers of her clothes. That makes me the monster for a bit, and there's something calming about that, but once she's done I'm left restless. I wanted to stay with Cherie to... I dunno. I dunno. I didn't want to go home to Dad. I thought we'd... I dunno. Talk or something. Like Emma and I used to, before she turned awful. Instead I'm left feeling like I need to go out and do something, even though I already did that and ended up killing someone who... I think that was probably deserved, but I didn't know much about the guy. And now there's the doubt, that maybe I'm okay with killing him because I can't feel otherwise. Well, I could, but... I don't think I'd mourn him, regardless. I didn't know the guy, and he didn't get sympathy from me before he died. Maybe I'm wrong, though.
And Cherie doesn't have a laptop. I thought she would. In retrospect maybe that was stupid. She's on the run... then again, she can afford this hotel. So I don't know. So there's nothing to occupy myself. I'm not a TV person, I never was. Emma was the TV person.
"So, care to share what all the feels were about?" Cherie asks me, sounding light and calm.
Oh god I don't want to think about that again. Just... no. I came here to get away from all that. I shake my head, and that's my entire response.
"Okay then, we can talk about something else. You have any plans for the near future?" Cherie sounds friendly, interested. I can't tell if it's fake or not. She's better at that than I am, quite clearly.
I turn away, uncomfortable with thinking about that. "The Dragonslayers." They're terrible, and now I have a tracker, so... it's doable. I think. I have mixed feelings, because Dra- no don't think about it.
"Okay, makes sense. Stop them from further impairing Dragon, yeah?" Cherie says it like it's the most natural and obvious thing in the world.
No no no don't think about Dragon that entire idea sounds crazy but it fits and oh god. I settle for, "Not... exactly." I don't... I feel crazy thinking about Dragon as Nilbog's girlfriend. I feel stupid thinking it.
"Dragon bothers you? What, she too goody-two-shoes for you?"
I wish.
I take a second to psych myself up. Cherie isn't Emma, or Sophia, or any of their hanger-ons, but it still feels like I'm opening myself to danger to even consider telling her the real reason. But... I need to work on the trust thing. So. "P-" Ugh this is so hard and horrible. "... promise not to laugh?"
Before I can even start dreading her response properly, Cherie is already saying, "Not unless you tell a joke, Boss." There's motion out of the corner of my eye, I don't know what she's doing, I'm stubbornly focused on the corner I'm staring at, trying to keep this... less horrible. Emma and Sophia always wants to see me suffer, if they can. (Were they watching, somehow, when the teacher called me over? I was too mad to really pay attention...) It's easier if I'm not looking at Cherie, if I act like I'm talking to the wall, or to myself.
Couple deep breaths. Come on, Taylor. You can do this. "I think Dragon was Nilbog's girlfriend."
I see movement, but no talking, and turn the chair to look, and Cherie is raising one hand and I'm reminded vividly of when Sophia went to slap me once, but then she stops and... "Huh." Tapping her chin, looking thoughtful. No judgment, no hostility, no sneering or acting like I'm stupid or crazy.
In a way, that's worse, because it feels like she's humoring me, and the dam breaks. "She tried to stop me when I attacked Nilbog and I just can't imagine why she'd do that he's a villain and she's a hero and he killed an entire town shouldn't she have been helping me and they covered up that I was there and Dragon got the credit and it's a stupid tinfoil hat conspiracy theory but I believe it anyway-" Cherie stands up and starts walking toward me and I flinch, expecting a slap. "-and it's horrifying and dumb and I'm dumb for believing it-"
She interrupts by hugging me.
I.
What?
And now she's murmuring to me, low and soothing and I can't really understand the words, I'm not sure there's actual words.
I... feel better. Slowly. This is nothing like anything Emma or Sophia did. It's more like Mom, if Mom had ever hugged me as the monster. Not the best association, but something overall positive, if a bit bittersweet. I... don't think Cherie is doing anything to fake it. I just. Why does she keep hugging me? I'm the monster. Why would she do that?
Eventually she pulls away and looks me in the eyes. "Could be a Master effect." Simple, matter-of-fact.
...
That... would make a lot of sense. Nilbog's creations could do so many things, but it never occurred to me mind control might be one of them. It might even explain why he was content to sit in Ellisburg. Maybe he was sneaking mind control parasites into people... vicariously experiencing the world through them. Or something.
I'm not crazy, I'm just stupid.
A topic to come back to later. For now...
"I want the Dragonslayers dead because nobody else is going to do the job. Heroes tolerate them because while they support military juntas in Africa and occasionally parts of the ex-Soviet region, most of their work on US and European soil is restricted to killing villains... you know, except for when they steal from Dragon. Also, I-" How do I word this... "-am free of school for two weeks anyway and I suspect hunting the Dragonslayers down will take considerably longer than most of my less mobile and/or less well-hidden targets. So I was thinking we could tell my dad that we're camping or something for fun, turn this negative into a positive."
Cherie grins, easy. Good. I wanted to move on. "Cool, when do we start?"
"Tomorrow. I need a... break." I need to step back and think about myself, what I've been doing, what went into it, shape myself into a better person. Not just... throw us into the hunt right away.
Cherie nods. "Fair enough." Then her grin turns big and... odd-looking. "So are we going to... get to know each other better tonight?"
O...kay? "I guess." I didn't think Cherie would want to talk. I mean, everything I know indicates her life sucked. I figured she'd want to not go there. But if she does... I guess we can. Not a lot else to do, with the two of us cooped up in a hotel room, alone.
"Now, obviously, you already know the basics of my life, but I don't really know much anything about yours. You first?" Cherie asks.
Wait, she's curious about me? I thought she wanted to talk about her. "Th-there's not really anything that interesting about my life." I mean, really. I was nobody important before I became Monster, before I took down Nilbog. She's the one with a parahuman father, parahuman family. I was just an ordinary kid before I got powers.
Cherie covers her mouth a little, and... is she laughing at me? What the hell, Cherie? "There's gotta be something, if you were completely boring you wouldn't have triggered-" Triggered? Cherie cocks her head at me. "... and you don't even know what a trigger event is, do you?"
Now I'm feeling stupid. "I... sorta assumed... you were talking like, um. Trigger warnings?" I'm expecting her to laugh at me again, and I'm not looking forward to that.
But no, she sighs for a moment, and then straightens up, puts a saucy grin on (?) and starts... lecturing me? "A trigger event is when you get your powers. Bad shit happens to you, I mean seriously bad shit, shit like you've been buried alive and you're slowly suffocating while your siblings stand around taunting you and you beg and scream and your dad just slams you with more fear and-" Uh. I think she just accidentally told me what hers was. Yikes. "-and, um, yeah. Bad stuff. Worst day you've ever had by like a hundred times. You black out, and you wake up with powers." Wait a second, her father did that to her? With the help of her siblings? Fuck. I thought I had it bad with my best friend betraying me, but this was Cherie's family! Goddamn. Goddamn is he a revolting piece of shit and I am so glad I killed him. "So since you're a parahuman, you've got to have a story. Not that I'm asking for you to relive your trigger event or anything! I just mean that you can't possibly be a Boring Ordinary Girl or else you wouldn't have a power, that's all."
That's... not at all what I had thought. "So it's... not like X-Men? No power puberty?" I knew there were, like, third-generation people with powers as little kids, but I'd always figured it was some kind of... genetic thing? Like it got passed on and the fact that your parents had powers means you have powers and it comes faster and easier, so the first generation was adults, the second generation is teens, the third generation is kids. Roughly.
Cherie has one hand on her forehead, muttering to herself. "Oh my god she knows about X-Men but not Batman? Why. Why."
I'm vaguely offended. I liked the X-Men comics. The ones we had, at least. "They were my mom's. Said they were good comics for girls, or, well, she said they were good comics for girls before they noticed they were popular with girls and added in a bunch of sexed-up bimbos no teenage girl would actually relate to in a panicked attempt to appeal to said girls. I've never been a comics person, though. Seemed redundant with real capes running around?" Why read about ye olde power fantasies when I can turn on the news and see much the same play out in 3D?
Cherie makes an inarticulate noise of frustration. "No, no 'power puberty'. Worst day of your life, black out, wake up with powers. Okay? Trigger event. Done."
"Oh." That... kinda sounds like power puberty to me anyway...
The conversation dies, and after a minute of staring at me Cherie flops onto the bed, flipping channels. Stops on a nature documentary for some reason. Huh. I would never have pegged her as a nature person. Shows what I know, I guess.
...
So... I have powers because Emma betrayed me? Because I got shoved into a locker filled with filth and couldn't escape? I... that gives me a headache. Am I fucking up, on some cosmic scale? Was I supposed to use my power to avenge myself on Emma and Sophia, like some... not-actually-dead ghost? Is that part of why my power has cut out bits of me? It wanted me to kill Emma and Sophia and feel justified, no guilt whatsoever? I think I'd have missed Emma anyway, but... that's a depressing thought, in a way, and I'm not sure how to feel about the whole thing. Like, I'd hate to have killed Emma and Sophia just because some... other force wanted me to, and then find out it wasn't really my decision, by some metric? But it also leaves me wondering if I'm misusing my power, in some sense. I don't think anyone has ever lost their power, so... if there's some deity passing out powers, or something, I don't think it actually cares about what we do, overall? But I still feel vaguely like I should feel obligated to pay back getting my power, and if it wanted me to kill Sophia and Emma... does that mean I'm failing my part of a bargain?
Then again, I never asked for this. The power was thrust on me without explanation or warning, due to the actions of others. I didn't get the opportunity to say yes, and I'm not sure I would have, if I'd been asked. There's... things I like about my power -in some ways it's nice to not need to sleep, anymore- but it literally dehumanizes me, and metaphorically has dehumanized me too. I know I could feel guilt, before, and my power is the only thing I could see explaining the change. It's not really fair or appropriate to shove something in someone's hands and then demand they hand over fifty bucks to pay for it. So... I dunno.
Then there's... do I credit Emma and Sophia for gifting me a power? I've killed one of the worst men in the world, and also Nilbog. I'm doing good with this power, overall, I'm pretty sure. If Emma and Sophia hadn't done this to me, I'd just be... boring ordinary Taylor. A high school girl who... I'm not sure what I would've done with my life, if Emma and I had stayed friends. I did good on my grades, before the break, but I don't really recall being passionate about anything in particular. I can't help but see myself flipping burgers and asking people if they'd like some fries with that, up until some cape ended up killing me by accident or intent. I was enthusiastic, happy, but... I dunno. Maybe I'd have left high school with a clear life goal and become CEO of some company, but I can't see myself doing that. Not just now that I'm Monster, but even before it just... I can't.
So that makes that whole thing a knotty, complicated mess. Sure, they didn't mean for me to get powers, but you could say they gave my life a real purpose anyway. Isn't that the kind of thing you should feel grateful over?
The whole thing just... gives me a headache.
And it raises other questions.
Nilbog: I know my power has fucked with my head, and I know now you get powers through misery. Was killing Nilbog really just in any meaningful sense? How much of what he did was his choice, and how much of it was his power interfering with his head? I don't think I should regret doing it exactly, but I do wonder if I should feel bad about the necessity of it. Killing Nilbog probably made the world a better place, but Nilbog himself might not have been a monster, not in some... internal way. It was hard on me, how he reminded me of Dad and all, how he was scared and sad when I was about to kill him, but I was able to gloss over it before. Everything is scared when it's about to die, right? But now I wonder if this is less like executing a serial killer or hit(wo)man and more like killing a puppy that hasn't gotten bladder control yet because it urinated on your priceless whatever. No, that's a terrible metaphor. More like killing a starving man who stole from your garden. Or... no, that's still not right. More like killing a vampire, I guess? Not the sparkly kind, the kind that has to kill humans to survive. Like, vampire fiction gets played for tragedy, right? So I'm wondering if killing Nilbog was less the hammer of justice coming down on the wicked and more tragic-yet-necessary, something that needs to be done but is grim and unhappy work regardless.
In which case... I dunno. It feels like it should change something...
Heartbreaker, too. I don't regret killing him, especially not now that Cherie's let slip her own trigger event, but now there's a layer of doubt to it. Was he such a monster before he got his powers? Was that potential always lurking in his metaphorical soul, just unable to be unleashed prior to acquiring his powers, or did his powers make him into a monster, themselves? Was he someone where, if you found him before he triggered and gave him mind control powers with no strings attached, he would've... I dunno, gone to the government and used it to reform the unreformable? Only made into a monster because his mind was changed when he got powers? Maybe he lost his ability to feel guilt, like me. Maybe he did something mildly bad, and felt nothing but a little joy, and no hammer came down, and it all came from there, not a conscious choice to be a monster but just sliding down a slippery slope made of a series of little choices that lacked the things that make people decent. Justice, or tragedy?
Then there's... Mush. (Who calls themselves that?) I was already pretty ignorant of him, but now I have to wonder... justice, or tragedy?
Do I care? If so, why? If I don't care, is it because my power made me not care?
I don't know. I feel like it should matter, but I can't pin down why I think that.
I roll these thoughts around for a while, while background facts about bees and dragonflies and other bugs wash over me. Occasionally Cherie says something, asks about my hair, or my clothes, or... whatever. I don't really engage her. What is fashion when compared against morals?
Eventually she bounces to her feet and announces, "I dunno about you, but I'm hungry. I'm going to go get something good, do you want anything?" I hesitate, and I think she can tell. I still suspect she stole her money, and I can't help but feel that her paying for something with dirty money for my benefit makes me responsible somehow. But I can't really confront her about that, not right now, and compared to having killed four people, one of whom definitely didn't deserve it and three of whom might not have deserved it either, in some sense, knocking her for maybe having stolen a few hundred dollars feels... grimy. So I ultimately ask for a pizza and a soda. Keep my costs down, keep my... lack of guilt... down... I dunno. It makes sense to me, anyway.
Cherie smiles and says sure and toodles and wanders off to make dinner happen.
I brood as the monster. My first temptation is to explore the room more thoroughly while she's gone, look for... drugs? I dunno. Signs that she's being dishonest with me, is the point... but she knows where I am at all times, knows what I'm feeling. Rummaging through her things while she's out getting lunch is as obvious to her as rummaging through somebody's things while they're right there, looking at you. So I don't, and just remain where I am, thinking. This is all heavy stuff. Unpleasant, and reframes... everything. Even if I can't put my finger on specifics, this matters.
She comes back with Chinese for herself and the pizza and soda for me, and we eat.
The fact that I'm eating food she bought me pushes my thoughts a particular direction. She's helped me relentlessly, shared her private moments -accidentally, sometimes, but often intentionally- and I've kept her at arm's length the whole way. Have I... shared anything about myself with her? I mean... she didn't even know my cape name until I was sending her off to call the PRT. That's... I feel... I dunno. That seems awful of me, in a way. She's giving me so much, and I'm giving nothing back unless it's pried from my tightly clenched metaphorical fingers.
So, with much trepidation, once we're done eating I... well, I look at the window and start talking.
"I used to be friends with a girl called Emma." Start simple. Try to not think too hard about... Emma. While talking about her. And why I'm so mad at her- move on, Taylor.
"We were so close we were practically sisters. One day, for reasons I have never understood and never gotten an answer on, she decided she hated me and became friends with another girl, and the two of them cemented their newly formed friendship by bonding over tormenting me at school." I just... why? What could motivate that? What did I do? Was I really so bad a friend?...
"Their actions started small. They said mean things about me. They tripped me. They stole assignments from me. They broke things of mine. All under the teachers' collective nose, all ignored by staff, even as they began to build up a host of cronies that either enjoyed participating for their own reasons or simply hoped to become popular by pleasing the popular kids, all for the low, low price of their soul." Going over it verbally vividly brings back the memories. The pounding of blood in my ears while I tried very hard to not attack them. I just. No. Move on, keep going, not the point. Sharing with Cherie, here. That's the point.
"Initially I fought back, but they'd thought this through and made sure I always got the blame, or at least that no one got in trouble. I switched to trying to tear down their arguments, but it wasn't about logic, it was about meanness. I tried being mean back, but that just made them laugh. So eventually I moved to just... trying to get them caught. Initially that didn't work at all. They were cannier than I was, more aware of where the teachers were, more aware of which teachers would do what thing in what situation. When it did work, it was only getting one of their hanger-ons in trouble. The terrible twosome disavowed all knowledge of her actions and left her to rot." I was dully unsurprised by that at the time. Emma had already turned on me. Why wouldn't they abandon Madison? Obvious, really. Terrible of Emma and Sophia, but not surprising.
"This helped a little. The other hanger-ons were a little less eager to participate, made more of an effort to stay out of the way. Emma and her new friend stepped up their game in response, and did their best to turn it deeply personal." Focus. I still need to... talk about the other thing. "Did you know my mother is dead?"
In the corner of my eye, I can see Cherie nodding. Her expression makes me think of someone looking at a beartrap. I don't know why. I focus, keep going.
"It was a car wreck. It involved a cell phone. Emma told me it's my fault my mother is dead." I take a moment to recollect myself. The memory still hurts. "It's true. My mother is dead, and it's my fault."
I finally turn to face Cherie. I dunno why. I smile. I won, right? That deserves a smile. "I didn't let Emma see the hurt. The light died in her eyes as she saw me stare back impassively, unaffected by the worst thing she could think to do to make me suffer. I'd won." Of course, I hadn't really. It was a victory, but a Pyrrhic one. I suspect it would've been better to 'lose', to cry and scream and flee. Maybe the teachers would've turned sympathetic. Maybe Emma would've finally realized she was a monster. I don't know.
I can't maintain eye contact anymore. Seeing Cherie stricken to hear this, knowing what she's been through -her family buried her alive- it just... no. I turn to face the window again. "They left me alone for a bit. It proved I'd won. They couldn't hurt me anymore. Not by twisting the knife. So I was very surprised when I discovered that my locker had been violated, filled with tampons. Used tampons." No no keep the anger out. It was disgusting and horrible and I hate them and why would anyone do that- no. No no. Control. Quiet.
Speak. "That was disgusting, of course. I think I threw up. My memory isn't entirely clear. What I do remember is being shoved inside, the door closed behind me. Everybody went to class and ignored my pleas for help. The smell, the fucking taste, the claustrophobic space, I wanted out. I wanted out so badly." Just remembering it makes me feel wrung out. This is hard. Why am I doing this to myself again? "I hit my head somewhere in there. Convulsing, I think. I don't remember why. It was strange and terrible. I remember wondering what could possibly motivate Emma and her replacement friend to go through all this effort just to fuck with me. It didn't make sense." Nothing about Emma makes any sense. I wish it did.
"At some point in there I-" Wait. What does Cherie think my power is? I look at her, thinking. How do I ask this?... how much do I give away? Should I share or?... "Car-" No, I've no reason to call her Carlia anymore. "Cherie? What do you think my power is?"
Cherie shrugs, and answers... weirdly calmly. "Well, you shrug off my emotional manipulation somehow. Erratically. I know you killed Nilbog-" I still, trying to not flinch. "-and Daddy-" I can't not flinch at this vivid reminder I've killed someone's parent, awful as the man was. I still expect Cherie to knife me over that at some point, in my heart of hearts. "-so you're apparently pretty scary-dangerous." Accurate. I wait, and just when I'm essentially convinced Cherie is done- "Also you apparently turn into some kind of landsquid or something?"
I think she's trying to troll me. She was touching me, so acting like she didn't know... but no, ignore it. I've got what I wanted to know. Roughly. I turn back to the window, not wanting to see her looking horrified for my sake -it's too wrong- and continue talking. "I became the monster for the first time there, in the locker. Shoved the locker door so hard it ripped out, freeing me, fled straight home, never did go back to school that day." Trigger event. That was my trigger event. A weird, new thought. "I guess I triggered in the locker." Do I?... I think I should share this. Give something back, something of myself, not just my history. "I still wonder sometimes what Emma and her friend think happened. If they guessed I must be a parahuman, it didn't convince them to stop harassing me. Maybe they blamed it on adrenaline? I dunno. It's been ages since I understood Emma, and I never understood her replacement friend." I dunno. I don't really care. I've just wondered, sometimes.
Turn to face Cherie again. Story's done, that's how you do this, right? "So now you know my story, same as I know yours." Fair. Kinda. Closer to fair.
...
I don't like how Cherie is looking at me. I don't want to see it.
Then Cherie comes bouncing out of her bed and she's coming at me, reaching out for a hug, no no not again I don't deserve-
did
did she just slap me?
Yes, hand goes to cheek: it is warm and tingly and hurting.
She just slapped me?
Why did- "Seriously. I've already told you I'm not like your whorebag ex-friend. Stop expecting me to be like her. It's really fucking offensive."
Cherie's hugging me before I can really think that through. I just. What? I'm.. not I'm... I'm not... am I?
does that make me a bad person?
I should stop doing that. Am I doing that? I thought I wasn't, but... she might be right. I mean... my first thought when we met was... she reminded me... of... Emma... I think she's right.
I'm a bad person.
I should stop doing that, stop thinking of Emma and treating her like Emma. She's a new person. There's... yeah, there's similarities, but... I'm letting it color everything, she's right.
She pulls away, starts to say something, then looks confusedly at the cheek she hit, which is already fine because she made me the Monster. I turn away, not... I dunno. I don't want her to see it. "I heal." Leave it alone. Um. Something else, make this about something else... "When are you going to bed?"
Cherie grins at me. "When are you planning to join me?"
I stare at her. I wasn't planning on it. I mean... the original reason... was because she reminds me of Emma and that's a thing I did with Emma and no, but... I don't want to admit that's the reason. It's not the only one anyway. The other is- "I don't sleep."
Cherie looks disappointed in the extreme. Weird. Then her face does this complicated thing, with frustration -she pulls at her hair for a moment, too- and disappointment and other things -and then she stops, abruptly, eyeing me suspiciously. "... Taylor, what were you planning on doing all night?"
... shit. I don't... I don't want to see her looking at me all confused and hurt.
So I look away. "I'd thought you'd have a laptop I could do research on." Stupid, stupid me. "As is... probably just brood all night."
Because I'm a bad person.
"Come on Taylor, into the bed with you." Cherie jerks me out of the chair, and ignores me protesting that I'll turn into the monster and shoves me with surprising force into the bed and declares, "We are doing cuddles. Cuddles make everything better. You are not leaving this bed until I leave this bed."
I'm a bad person.
"Stay here."
I don't move.
I'm a bad person.
Cherie leaves, and comes back after doing... whatever all she does in the bathroom. Removing her makeup, I guess? She looks at me like I grew a third head, and says, "Come on, let's change you into something actually comfortable to sleep in."
She pulls something out of the closet, drags me to the bathroom, shoves me in, audibly taps her foot outside while I change -it's a nice dress- and shoves her way in almost immediately after I'm finished, perfunctorily looks me over, and declares, "Good enough for now."
For now? What's that supposed to mean?...
Then she shoves me over to the bed, turns out the light, climbs into bed and starts hugging me again, makes cranky noises when I try to shuffle to avoid cutting her, and finally declares, "Good night."
I can't talk like this, but I'm not sure what I would say if I could.
There's nothing to do but think during the night. I could just... break away from Cherie, but at first I'm not willing because I feel like I've been awful to her, and later because... it helps. A little. Which makes no sense, the monster can't even feel that level of pressure! But it helps anyway. For some reason.
Baffling.
Yeah. In retrospect? Yeah. I was letting my experience with Emma taint my experience with Cherie.
It's a weird realization. Cherie is the mind-controlling daughter of a mind-controlling monster I murdered. She should be the paranoia-inducing, suspicious-as-all-fuck horror show.
But no.
Emma made me this way.
All the more reason to get a break away from school, away from Emma.
Still a weird realization. Bizarre and baffling and confusing and counter-intuitive and true.
It honestly probably takes four hours for me to work through that. It's just too strange. It should be wrong, yet it's not.
I resolve to treat Cherie better.
I also resolve to figure out... something to do about my personal(ity) difficulties.
I have no idea what.
Those two resolutions are pretty much the entirety of what eight hours or so of thinking accomplish before Cherie wakes up.
I don't think much of her waking up initially. It's sort of earlier than I figured she'd wake up -I dunno, I pegged her as the sort of person who would sleep in until noon if they could- but whatever. Maybe it's another Emma-based bias. (Not that Emma was prone to sleeping in, but whatever) I'm a little confused when she goes to turn on the TV, making funny faces, but not hugely so. But then she starts lingering on news channels, looking grossed out even though nothing particularly grotesque is happening on them, and... I step to where I'll be Taylor. "What? What's going on?" She waves a hand flippantly, but then-
"-reported arriving at Canberra thirty minutes ago. All parahumans willing to volunteer for an Endbringer attack are urgently asked to report to your local PRT office if at all possible. This is the Simurgh, Ziz-"
Ah. "We're going." No room for argument. Unequivocal act of good, no moral quandaries, no me wondering how much is me and how much is my power editing me, no questions of whether it's a net good. I refuse to back down.
Cherie argues anyway, looking... scared? "Boss, I can't contribute anyth-"
No. We're doing this. Period. "Search and rescue."
Cherie doesn't give up. "What about you? I'm pretty sure you, what, can't maintain the squid state when people see you?" Fuck. "So how are you expecting to contribute in a great big fight with lots of people? Do you even have any powers other than turning into the squid? And that regeneration, I guess."
Fuck.
I mutter about the vague, unhelpful 'human presence' thing... but really. It's useless.
"So no, not really."
The one pure good thing and I can't contribute.
That... I have no words. I just want to do good.
Cherie interrupts my thoughts, throwing her hands in the air. "Okay fucking fine, would throwing a sheet over you work?"
Wait. But... maybe? I... that seems ridiculous, but... "I never thought of that possibility. I... I don't know?"
Cherie makes a big, put-upon sigh, and works a sheet off the bed. Once it's off, she tells me, "Hold still," and blindly moves about until she can throw the sheet over the monster. Which she does. "I'm opening my eyes now."
Nothing happens.
Nothing happens.
I'm still the monster!
It can work!
"We're going to need a bigger sheet." Cherie sounds un-thrilled, but that's fine!
I throw the sheet off. "We can do that! You've got money, we can just buy a big sheet, is there a size bigger than King I forget-"
Cherie interrupts me. "Are you going to wear a costume?" Pure pragmatism. Well, almost. Some irritation, too.
I... uh... "If I'm under the sheet it shouldn't be necessary?" Here's hoping she buys that. Because. Well. This is actually a bad idea, but I don't want to go retrieving my costume, I want to go, help people, right now.
Cherie seems determined to rain on my parade, though. "Were you able to see from under the sheet?"
Well, no... but... "I can cut eyeholes in it!" Her Debbie Downer routine is not preventing me from doing a Good Thing! Oh, actually, I should clarify. "With my limbs. They have blades, you know." Because I'm not sure if she knew that or not.
Cherie heaves another put-upon sigh. "Can we just... not do this?"
A pure good thing, the one pure good thing I can do without worries or qualms. "We're helping." This is not optional.
She sighs, but finally gives in.
I can't stop grinning.
I'm helping.
