Gaiatsu 2.2

Taylor moved a load of laundry from the washer into the dryer before she walked downstairs dressed in a turtleneck and baggy jeans to greet her father Saturday morning.

Danny looked up from the paper and his cup of coffee and said, "You're up late. No jog this morning?"

Taylor cleared her throat and said in a scratchy voice, "I must've caught something last night..." and continued the thought,"...like a knife to the neck."

Danny distractedly returned to reading the paper. "I've got a couple of job leads I need to follow up on down at the Union hall, could mean work for thirty guys, so you're on your own for today."

"OK, I'll be fine."

The regular morning route continued and with one last side-hug Danny went to work and she was left to her own devices.

Taylor flopped down on the couch with her 'Hero' notebook and began an after action forensic of her first night out.

The Good: Having spiders make lengths of silk rope turned out to be useful, she should prepare a lot more pre-made lengths inside the back of her shawl or under the skirt of her costume to join up on the fly. Once she'd maced Oni Lee she had placed bugs on all the guns to know where they pointed, the best armor is not getting hit in the first place, after all.

She ran her fingers through her hair and discovered a large scab, probably from when Oni Lee knocked her down the fire escape.

The Bad: Injured by Oni Lee, maybe add a drawstring hood to her shawl? Transportation was also a problem. Since she was too young for a car or even a scooter maybe a bicycle could fill that role. She should also use the leftover squares of silk to make covers for running shoes since jogging everywhere in just the stocking feet of her costume sucked. Also she was so damn thirsty when she got home, she'd have to modify her mask to at least be able to drink something or risk keeling over of heat exhaustion once summer arrived.

She went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and paused to look at her reflection in a mirror on her way back.

Taylor yanked the collar of her turtleneck down and grimaced at the purple bruise on her neck just starting to turn yellow at the edges, then returned to her notes.

The Ugly: Knife to the throat. Add something like corset stays for greater protection? Guns, again. Need to do more than passively avoid them, wrap the triggers in silk to prevent them from firing in the first place. Awareness, as she was completely caught off guard by the appearance of Oni Lee. If she kept curtains of gnats, mites, and no-see-ums at concentric circles around her, she'd get early warning about Oni Lee or others next time. Or, would that literally paint a bulls-eye on wherever she hid? It was something to consider at least, and might even be a good misdirection tactic. Maybe a 3D grid of small bugs instead? She should also look into some hand-to-hand training since getting whacked across the shins with a broom handle by Sophia didn't count as combat experience at all. The shin, forearm, elbow and knee pads she'd added to the silk costume had been useful when she tumbled down the fire escape to get away from Oni Lee, though.

She wrote down all the details she could remember of the capes she had met and their powers while she sat on the couch. Just because she fell in with the Merchants in common cause against Oni Lee that was no guarantee they'd go easy on her in her Hero career, and she'd need to brainstorm how to deal with the four clones he'd had in one place at the same time, if that actually was his upper limit.

The dryer buzz from upstairs signaled the end of its cycle and she took the basket to her room, promptly folded her clothes and unzipped the mesh bag which normally would have held her delicates, but had just been used to literally launder money.

She looked at the washed and air-cycle dried stack of bills from the Merchants on her desk. Proof that crime does pay, but was she actually a criminal, or just a subcontractor? At least now she'd be able to afford those anti-shatter glare reducing prescription safety lenses for her mask so she wouldn't have to wear her glasses underneath.

Taylor flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling while her thoughts raced. That one bill with Squealers phone number was still in her costumes' storage compartment. Taylor felt conflicted and wondered if she would ever call that number and bring the Merchants down on the head of an unsuspecting Tinker. In either case she would have to buy a burner phone, or better yet, two of them later today anyway.

Damn, did she really name herself Butterfly? Well, it sure beat Skidmarks' favorite suggestion. Maybe she could add orange to her costume and call herself Monarch? Or azure and venture out as the Blue Morpho? No… she'd constantly have to explain that one. It's not like her cape name was set in stone just because she blurted out the first thing she could think of to keep Skidmark from calling her…

She shivered in disgust at the very thought.

Half the bills she hid inbetween her mattresses while the rest made it into her purse before she went back downstairs, checked the pantry, and wrote up a shopping list.
Taylor caught the bus and spent the rest of the day shopping for a better first aid kit, anti-bruise cream for her throat, and more epipens at a Pharmacy, and more turtlenecks at a discount clothing store. On impulse she also picked up mini binoculars at the sporting goods store which would have helped scout the house last night. A couple of cheap flashlights and a cigarette lighter or two she could throw for distraction purposes rounded out her purchases of 'camping gear'. The hardware store offered up a few small items which should come in handy later, besides she had wanted a set of mini screwdrivers to tighten the screws on her glasses for a while now.

She talked the gun store owner into letting her get a collapsible police baton and a rugged bowie knife to add to her arsenal. If she'd had either one of those in her hand she might have been able to block Oni Lee's knife from hitting her throat last night. Too bad she was underage to buy a taser or stun gun, but when she showed the guy behind the counter the bruise on her neck from 'that asshole boyfriend' she'd just made up he sold her two canisters the bear-strength mace and pointed out which self-defense classes on his bulletin board and suggested which were more suitable for someone of her body type. Judo, yes. Boxing, no.

Just as she was nearing the checkout in the grocery store an idea occurred to her, and with a predatory grin she emptied the entire display rack of disposable cameras into her basket.

She finished her shopping and was back home in plenty of time to make a lasagna with the ingredients she'd bought and she watched a movie with her father when he came home.

The pleasant Sunday afternoon she'd spent with her Dad after she fixed a late breakfast reminded her of some pleasant family memories. She wanted to hold on to moments like these, uneasy about what revealing her cape status to her father would do to their relationship. The concurrently running project to make jogging shoe spider silk slipcovers used up the last pieces of her spare silk cloth by the end of the day.

Monday arrived with the buzz of her alarm clock and her typical morning jog.

Unpleasant memories surfaced as she jogged near Emma's house. Her tormentor was still asleep, which gave her the perfect opportunity to send aphids to bite off a few more follicles of hair.

Taylor packed her shawl into the duffel bag and directed hundreds of Black Widows inside to add the drawstring hood during the day at school.

She dropped by the office, showed off her neck bruise and claimed Sophia assaulted her after school on Friday off school property. Then she explained her plan to the office staff who signed off on it since it required no effort on their part.

Her school day began as uneventfully as possible due to Sophia's banishment to in-school suspension in the third floor classroom with all the other malcontents, Madison's focus on the battle to repair her reputation, and Emma's absence probably due to Doctor's appointments.

Taylor made sure her bugs dropped a condom on Madison's chair in every class that day to keep the momentum going even though she was dressed chastely for a change. At this rate Taylor would need to have her swarms get more from the Pharmacy the next night she went out in costume.

Her spiders added to the hood on her shawl or worked in teams weaving two foot lengths of braided spider silk for her to combine later. Taylor noticed her range encompassed some of the houses in the neighborhood around Winslow depending where her classes were located.

Perhaps she could cultivate some swarms there as well, if only to help feed the Black Widows she brought with her almost every day to weave under her instruction. Follow the advice the Freshman History teacher was giving down the hall: Stalin had said quantity has a quality all its' own.

Just before lunch Taylor decided to target Sophia. Nothing too obvious today, just bugs biting through one in ten strands of elastic in her athletic gear and socks. Merely a minor annoyance now, but by then end of the week half her workout clothes would be worthless. If Sophia suited up for Track practice she could do the same to her street clothes before catching the bus home.

The last class of the day was Math with Mr. Quinlan. However, Taylor's real attention was focused on the meeting between Principal Blackwell and Alan Barnes.

Alan entered, opened his briefcase, and pulled out a sheaf of defaced modeling glossies and advertisements featuring his daughter.

Principal Blackwell held up a placating hand to interrupt him, "Have you ever heard of Occam's Razor?"

"Yes, the idea that the simplest answer is most often true."

Principal Blackwell nodded and continued, "Here at Winslow problems with students crop up so often I've used different management techniques to deal with them. Pass me one of those pages and I'll demonstrate."

"One of the simplest is 'W5+H', asking Who, What, Where, When, Why, and How."

Principal Blackwell held up the page with crude graffiti on it and said, "Your daughter is not the Who we're looking for, that would be the one who made this, which we can narrow down to anyone with a marker."

"The What is the ad itself, publically available in the Boardwalk's weekly magazine, defaced in the manner of uncounted Pee-Chee folders over the years."

"Where they were found was on the row of lockers adjacent to Emma's own locker, accessible by anyone in the school. When they were put there we know was during the class period after lunch. Why they were put up is anyone's guess , but it was April Fools Day, and as for the How, we have no hall pass system at Winslow so that narrows it down to anyone who left class for whatever reason."

"So this school is taking no responsibility for this outrage to my Daughter?" asked Alan Barnes.

"There is no responsibility to take, Mr. Barnes. We recovered a few flyers but you took the rest with you and as such you could have manufactured more on your own in the same style over the weekend. But simply put this… all of this," Principal Blackwell said as she gestured to the defaced flyers the lawyer had placed on her desk, "is just not enough evidence for action on our part."

Principal Blackwell looked into Alan Barnes eyes and said, "But I know none of that matters to you since you would divert even more resources away from educating the students at Winslow by bringing a lawsuit anyway."

The lawyer smiled, "Well, that is my job."

"Yes, which is why we're having this meeting at all. So what can we do to work this situation out without the time, trouble, and expense of a lawsuit?"

Taylor's attention came back to herself as she gathered the half-complete project her spiders worked on all day and board the bus home. When her spiders finished the hood tomorrow she'd be able to go out and try her hand at Hero-ing again. She couldn't help but think about the meeting she'd just overheard.

The way Principal Blackwell had methodically taken apart the validity of the evidence against Emma could just as well be turned against her own diary of the bullying campaign since the beginning of sophomore year. If she'd brought in her best evidence of bullying for it to be dissected and brushed aside like that, Taylor wasn't sure what she would do. Kind of sucks to learn your knockout punch is in reality a powder puff.

Her mood turned dark as the bus roared away from Winslow, "There is no Justice," Taylor thought, "There's just this."