The dealer was again shuffling the deck as they stirred, as though to make a point about it.
"Just deal us in," the man requested in a worn manner, signs of stubble on his face. "I don't want to be here longer than I have to."
"Of course," the dealer answered, making a quick final cut before distributing the cards.
Taylor flipped hers over straight away.
King of Wands, showing the same man as when the card had last appeared, just in a different pose.
She glanced at the cards of everyone else as usual.
The old man had drawn the Jack of Swords, a painfully familiar red head.
She quickly turned her attention to the others.
The blonde had the Ten of Wands, but dropped the card before Taylor could see more.
The other girl had the Queen of Pentacles, showing an old woman for the image.
And finally the dealer had the Ace of Swords.
Bearing an image of her.
"Where did-"
{}
Taylor woke up suddenly, with the sense of something being wrong.
She glanced at her alarm clock.
(Old, large parts unsuitable for salvaging.)
It was around the time she had been getting up, so she had time to go for a run before she… before school.
She shook her head to clear it, helping with the distorted memories the hospital had warned her of.
It was supposed to help, getting back into former routines and reinforce the memories, but of course school was closed.
And her dad didn't want her out alone, given the risk of gangs retaliating against each other.
What were her options?
Well, if the worry was about heading out alone…
{}
"I'm heading out for my run," Taylors familiar voice called down the stairs, and Danny felt his blood go cold.
It was less than a week since the attack that spread to the museum, and he was still trying to figure out what he was going to do about it.
He had taken time off the Union, trusting everyone there to keep it running (not that they were likely to get much work while the city was paralysed by shock), so he could look after Taylor, and now she was just going to head out alone?
He placed himself at the foot of the stairs, barring her way.
"If you think I'm just going to let you out there alone," he began.
"Why would I have to be alone," Taylor interrupted, pausing on the stairs. "I need the routine to help my memories, so I have to go on the run, but why can't you be there too?"
Danny froze.
He hadn't come up with any real plan about what he was going to do, beyond just being there for Taylor.
He couldn't risk something happening to her, like with Annette, but hadn't put much thought into what that meant beyond being home with her.
"And you haven't exactly kept in the best of shape," she added, making Danny's decision for him.
"I can still keep up with you," he answered, grabbing his coat.
Sure, he was letting her manipulate him, but at least they were getting time together.
{}
Hibiki woke slowly, as was becoming common since the mess at the museum.
There was a feeling that somebody should be helping her get up, and she turned to look at her clock (formerly an alarm, but that was just one peril of being assigned to work with a Tinker, even before her powers came through, sitting next to the alarm she'd built for herself that had only worked once).
All thoughts of some phantom helping her fled as she saw the time.
She didn't have long before Bakuda would be demanding her help with her current project (whatever it was).
It wasn't that she was against helping Bakuda of course, it was a great honour, it was more that Bakuda did a good impression of a Noctis Cape and had held everyone else to the same standard until Lung had put his foot down about everyone getting eight hours rest.
Even if that had been more about that guy dropping some of the Tinkertech than anything else.
But being on time today was more important than just staying on her good side.
Bakuda had said that if Hibiki did a good enough job, she'd give her some materials for her own Tinkering, let her contribute properly.
Which meant she didn't have time for a shower and had to skip breakfast.
But if she could prove herself to Bakuda, the woman who was giving her a place to live, it would all be worth it.
{}
Taylor was pretty sure she had managed longer runs before the museum, but in the end her dad decided enough was enough, stopping her from pushing herself to match her previous routine.
As she dropped, panting, onto the carpet, Taylor was forced to agree with him.
Something that had been odd, though, was the way her attention had been drawn consistently to the watches and phones of people around her.
(Small parts, delicate but have potential.)
She froze.
When she was going through a particularly strong Armsmaster phase she had looked up the signs of being a Tinker, just in case.
She wasn't getting any of the plans or drive to make things, but the whole 'drawn towards parts' thing? Could that explain it?
But then… why didn't she care about the stuff in the hospital? All the machines hooked up to her and the other patients, surely a Tinker would be considering how to improve on them, reduce the number of required parts and make use of the spares?
So what did that mean for her?
A sudden case of kleptomania?
Or did she have a power that changed over time?
A… Trump power, right?
But if she was a Trump, why did she have insect control for long enough to start figuring her power out?
She was missing something…
"Alright there? You've just been kneeling there for a while…"
Taylor shook herself and looked up at her dad.
"Sorry. Just thought of something and got lost in thought. I'll sort my things out for school..."
"Taylor, schools closed, remember," her dad said softly, a brief look of pain crossing his face.
"Ah, sorry. Guess I'm so used to heading to school after a run I got confused. Well, that's a good sign at least, right?"
He didn't look convinced, so Taylor continued.
"It's what they said about routines, reinforcing the real memories. If I'm naturally set to continue to the next step of the routine, that's better than struggling to figure it out."
"Even if it means you wander outside and get yourself hurt?"
He sighed.
"I was already planning to stay home until you're fully recovered, this just shows it was the right decision. I just… I can't lose you."
Taylor had been ready to argue with him, get a chance to test if she indeed had a Tinker or Trump power, but deflated at his last words.
"I'm not going to go out alone. But things are hard enough already, you need to work. I mean, what about the hospital fees?"
"Already paid. It was the school or PRT who took responsibility, it wasn't really clear which, so we don't need to worry on that end. And I mostly try to find jobs by phone or email, nothing I can't do from here. Unless the internet's worse than I remember."
"You have the numbers and emails written down? And why would the PRT pay?"
"The numbers are memorised by this point. Only so many times you can contact someone without their details getting burnt into your brain after all. And you were in the hospital from a Cape fight, if they were doing their job you wouldn't have been hurt!"
"Dad, sometimes these things happen, and there's nothing we can do about it. And I am still alive, aren't I? I'm recovering. Sure, it would have been better if the gangs had been in prison before they could pull this, but in an ideal world we wouldn't need the PRT in the first place, all the Capes would be heroes. But that isn't the world we're living in. And at least someone picked up the tab right?"
"But what if it's different next time?"
"There might not be a next time."
He sighed unhappily. "I have to work. Just… stay inside, where it's safe."
Taylor hesitated for a moment.
"I was thinking of heading into the basement, to start clearing it out. Would that be okay?"
He paused, appearing to struggle with himself.
"It should be alright if you're careful," he finally decided. "Just… call out if you need anything. And don't push yourself."
Taylor agreed to his terms, and headed down to start work on her future lair.
If she wanted to be a hero, she needed somewhere to craft her costume and store her swarm after all.
(Spider silk possesses high tensile strength, useful for many purposes.)
{}
The work Hibiki was being given was harder than she was used to.
Not too unexpected, given it was the day Bakuda was 'testing' her for being ready to make her own devices for Lung, except Hibiki doubted Bakuda had even noticed.
This extra workload? The challenging tasks she was assigned?
It would all be happening regardless.
"Get the piezoelectric crystals out of that," Bakuda barked, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of some of the salvaged electronics, and Hibiki hastened to obey, following the unspoken directive to make sure each crystal stayed in one piece.
It hadn't been something she'd thought needed to be said.
Until some idiot had decided to yank out some components carelessly, clearly assuming Bakuda could build her devices out of any old junk.
To say Bakuda was unimpressed would be an understatement.
She had used the parts to create a device, one that looked no different to any other, and had him keep it with him at all times.
He had been scared at first, but before long was playing it off as a joke.
And then it had detonated, out of the blue.
He had been killed instantly, of course, reduced to a statue of ice that melted quickly, leaving no sign of his prior existence.
But others had been caught by the effect as well.
The lucky ones had simply lost an arm or leg, but she would never forgot the woman who had her chest turn to ice, caught by a freak spike in the area of effect.
The death hadn't been instant.
She had a moment where she realised, before collapsing, blood flowing from the hole where the shards of ice had fallen.
The lesson had been taken to heart.
If they gave Bakuda damaged parts, she would build damaged devices.
And nobody would be able to predict what would happen when it went off.
Or even when it would go off.
It wasn't a lesson Hibiki had needed, but it had left her much more careful.
One of the crystals caught her eye, and she examined it more closely.
A crack ran through it.
Not from when she removed it of course.
No, this was from before, when it was assembled or thrown out.
But regardless, it wasn't in a fit state for Bakuda, and Hibiki dropped it into the discards tray, before bringing the others to her boss.
Who took one glance at her offering before seeing a problem.
"You're one crystal short."
"It was cracked, nothing I could do about it."
"Unless you decided to loot my materials for your own purposes again," came the suspicious response.
"I have never," Hibiki protested, only for Bakuda to talk over her.
"I need that crystal for Lungs metal disruptors. The nazis left a tactical flaw in their lineup, it would be rude not to take advantage."
"If- if we need more, I could head out to a hardware store to buy some?"
"And make it easy to track us down? We get the parts like this for a reason! I was able to hold that university hostage for what they did to my work, and they only realised I was a Tinker after I started! I'm not about to let a jumper up assistant blow my cover now!"
"Then isn't there something we can substitute? Some way to make one without the crystals?"
Bakuda laughed in answer.
"You continue to demonstrate your ignorance of what it means to be a Tinker. And you believe you can impress me enough to let you loose on the parts we're given? Such foolishness."
"Then what are we going to do?"
Bakuda ran her gaze thoughtfully across the materials she had been provided with.
"Metal has a number of weaknesses," she mused. "It conducts heat and electricity well, and their dog covers himself in it. If we save the disruption devices for their self-proclaimed 'emperor' we can make our own 'hot dog'," she laughed at her joke, before snapping back to seriousness. "Disassemble the microwaves they brought while I finish the disruptors. You shouldn't be able to do too much damage there."
"As you wish," Hibiki answered with a bow.
{}
Taylor had found herself oddly comforted by the presence of the spiders she sensed while clearing space in the basement.
It meant that, even if she seemed to have a Tinker urge, she maintained the first power she had noticed.
The boxes she sorted into three groups.
The first; those that contained important memories, connections to Annette.
They were set aside, to protect them, regardless of what else was in the boxes.
Second, boxes of potential parts, mostly broken things that they hadn't got around to throwing out or repairing.
And finally boxes of pure junk to throw out.
The first and third groups were placed near the stairs, kept separate so neither of them could get them confused.
The second group she placed near an old workbench her dad had setup at some point.
If she could figure out how her Tinkering worked this would be the perfect place to work.
Assuming her dad didn't come down to have a look…
Right, she was going to need a lair outside the house.
She glanced around the room she'd cleared up, in what now appeared to be wasted effort, her gaze passing over one of the spiders she'd tried using to scout the boxes.
(Black Widow. Silk has greater tensile strength than Kevlar. Suitable for making bullet resistant armour.)
She blinked.
From what she'd seen on the news and around the city, most if not all the gang members had some kind of weapon.
A bulletproof vest might not do much against a literal fire-breathing dragon or the nazi murder-blender, but the guns of their followers?
So yes, a bulletproof costume was a definite priority.
Or maybe not the full costume, just an under-layer beneath the power armour that was practically the mark of a proper Tinker.
And she could make it easily between her insect control and the black widows in the house.
As long as they remained in her area of effect.
She paused, considering.
If she kept using the basement for her lair, she could get to work making a bulletproof armour straight away, getting ready to head out as a hero that much sooner.
And finding a second lair might be better with her costume sorted out as well.
On the other hand, she could delay until she found another lair, which would mean she wouldn't need to shift everything she set up here to somewhere else.
But she would only be able to work on her costume while in the lair, which would delay her even further.
Not to mention how awkward it would be to sneak out without alerting her dad…
There was a quiet scratching sound, and Taylor looked up to see the spiders already working on weaving their silk together.
"I guess that decides that," she muttered to herself, before a random thought ran through her mind, drawing a giggle from her.
"I guess my costume… will be Taylor made."
AN: One of the delays on putting this chapter out was not having access to my computer since about the 29th.
