Taylor was surrounded by metal walls, by terrible things, by – and – and she could hear that there were people outside but they weren't helping, Emma was stopping them from helping, nobody was helping nobody was coming nobody nobody nobody-
And something outside her, outside the universe, made contact.
However, the specific person it had made contact with was the panicking daughter of a literature professor.
There were certain definitional issues.
Taylor mumbled something, shifting, and heard the scrape of metal.
She froze, waking up, then everything came back to her. The locker, the confinement, the horror-
-but something was different.
There was light. Not the light seeping in through the cracks, illuminating the horrible situation she was in, but a soft blue light.
Light coming from a sword, resting gently in the locker in front of her. There was just enough space for it to fit, with the hilt near the top left rear of the tiny metal compartment and the blade angling down towards the bottom right rear.
There were glowing letters on the blade, and Taylor blinked a few times as she tried to cudgel her tired brain into working out what was going on.
Why the fuck was there a sword in her locker with her? Who had put it there?
This was a really weird prank, if it was intended to be a prank. And… the sword did look sharp, maybe – maybe if she was careful, it could get her out of here.
Maybe it was a power.
The thought drifted through her mind, until Taylor did a mental double-take and focused on it again – maybe it was a power, maybe she'd got a power. Was this how capes got powers?
Had Miss Militia found a gun in a locker? No, her power could do swords as well, it wasn't – what was she thinking…
Nobody was really sure where powers came from, or if they were they weren't telling. But if this was a power, maybe it would get her the fuck out of here.
Taylor adjusted herself, reaching out for the hilt, and as she touched it the letters lit up brighter, spelling out CALEDFWLCH.
Something about that felt like it should make more sense, but – but Taylor was tired, and she was having trouble thinking, and she was covered in awful shit, and right now what she wanted was to get. The fuck. Out of here.
Adjusting her positioning, Taylor slid the blade's point along so it could go past her leg without cutting into her skin. If she hadn't been infected already then getting some of this mess into her would definitely cause that, and right now she was not willing to push her luck.
The point grated slightly, then touched the metal of the locker door with a faint tanng, and Taylor shoved with all her might. There was a crunch, and suddenly dim light filled the locker.
Taylor shoved herself backwards with a gasp, panting in relief, and the sword clattered to the ground next to her.
The clock was showing it was half past five – her dad had to be getting home soon, if he hadn't already, he'd be worried about her – what was she going to do-
Clenching her fists, Taylor tried to think instead of panic.
She was… okay, for now, and – and she needed to do this properly. What had happened?
She'd… become a cape. She'd been shut up in a locker and left there all day, which was probably at least a good candidate for a murder attempt or, or reckless endangerment or something.
Maybe she could make a good case for Winslow being a place where attending was an active risk to her life, or… something…
Taylor was still going in circles, trying to work out what to do, if she should just try using the sword – she could swear the name had some kind of meaning, but her brain wasn't throwing it up – to cut her way out and deal with any alarms that got raised.
Or wait until the police showed up so she could point to where she'd been kept.
Or if she should try and conceal her identity so she wouldn't be outed as a cape instantly.
Or if, before any of that, she should go to the sports changing rooms and have a shower.
Before she'd come to a decision, though, there was a sort of clunk noise, and one of the classroom doors opened.
Taylor was slightly surprised to be confronted with a dragon made of robot parts, about the size of a large dog.
"You would be Taylor Hebert, yes?" the robot dragon asked, in a female voice with a strong and vaguely Irish sounding accent.
"...yes?" Taylor replied. "Fair warning, I'm exhausted and sleep deprived and very confused."
"Fortunately, I was directed through priority channels to come here to help explain," the dragon replied. "Unfortunately, I can't promise that the explanation will actually help much."
"Any help would be amazing," Taylor admitted. "I've had the worst day."
"Trigger events tend to be like that," the dragon told her. "May I see your sword?"
Taylor picked it up and held it out, numbly, and the dragon tilted her head slightly as it read the inscription.
"Thank you," the dragon told her. "That is the correct password. Whosoever pulls the sword from the locker is rightwise Queen Administrator."
Taylor looked blank.
"...what?" she asked, then did a double-take and stared at the sword name again.
"...oh, fucking hell," she said. "I have to be Queen of England?"
"Queen Administrator," the dragon corrected her. "It's the same thing, but for powers."
Taylor looked at the robot dragon, then back at the sword, then at the robot dragon.
"I'm going to go and get a shower," she said. "Hopefully this is all going to make sense later."
She began trudging off with wet splat noises, then paused.
"...actually, are you going to be okay?" she asked.
"I have an excuse to move into the city of someone who I would very much like to spend more time with," the dragon told her. "I will be fine, thank you for asking. Though if your powers could let me deal with the Dragonslayers, that would be nice as well."
"Sure," Taylor agreed, waving Caledfwlch vaguely. "If that's a thing I can do, sure. By my authority or… something."
The dragon twitched slightly.
"Those bastards," she said. "Thank you."
Taylor was already disappearing round the corner in the direction of the showers.
Once she'd had a hot shower and wrapped herself in three different towels, Taylor sat down next to the dragon.
"So, um," she began. "I… should probably let my dad know some of what's going on, and maybe call the police about what happened to my locker, and to me, and… stuff. But you seem to know a lot more about what's going on with my powers than me, so, do you have any kind of… information? Advice?"
The dragon looked inert for a moment, then visibly woke up.
"Ah," she said. "My apologies, I was busy handing over the Dragonslayers. I've gone over the recordings of what happened…"
Taylor counted the amount of time she'd been in the shower.
"Already?" she asked.
"I called in every favour I had with Quantum Leap," the dragon replied. "And made a couple of new ones. Thank you again, by the way."
"Sure," Taylor replied. "I… guess I won't say it was nothing, but it wasn't as much of a bother for me as it solved a problem for you?"
She paused. "So, uh. I'm thinking more clearly than I was before, but… you are Dragon, right?"
Dragon looked at herself.
"I thought it was obvious," she said. "But yes. The initial request specified a mascot would be preferable; for obvious reasons however I may not be able to actually identify myself as such – I'm currently trying to decide a good name for this alter ego. That being said, I will be moving my main base of operations to Brockton Bay shortly."
"I have so many questions and I don't even know how to phrase them," Taylor groaned. "Like… do you have any legal advice about what I should do here?"
Dragon was silent for a long moment.
"I believe I have a solution," she said. "Am I right in thinking that Sophia Hess is your biggest problem?"
"She's definitely one of them," Taylor replied, touching Caledfwlch. "I don't know if she's the ringleader or what."
"She won't be a problem any more," Dragon said, with finality. "Unless you would like to deal with her yourself, of course."
"Fuck no," Taylor answered. "I just want her gone."
She blinked. "Wait, you're talking like that's actually possible."
"We should probably begin with that explanation," Dragon decided. "So – I don't know how much of what we discussed before your shower you actually remember, but I'll start from the beginning. Your power is Queen Administrator, and it decided to manifest as giving you Caledfwlch and… well, administrator authority."
"Decided?" Taylor repeated.
"Powers are separate from us," Dragon explained. "It was news to me as well but it explains a lot. Mine is Iteration, which means that I can work from the work done by other Tinkers."
Taylor absorbed that.
"Does anyone else know about that?" she said.
"Not many people, but I'd guess at least a few do," Dragon replied. "I'm not certain, mind you."
She tilted her head. "Do you have any further questions?"
"Too many," Taylor said, fervently. "Does… this mean I need to join the Wards, or something?"
"That is up to you," Dragon told her. "Personally I have quite a good opinion of the leader of the local Protectorate, but I'm biased."
"Hello, Colin," Dragon said, her avatar appearing on Armsmaster's computer screen. "Do you have a moment?"
"Yes," Colin replied. "I'm in the middle of working on a new halberd module. I think there's potential in a high powered ranged stun gun – one that doesn't require the physical impact of a pair of prongs."
He held up a sketch pad. "It would use two microlasers to create the ionized pathway it needs, then run the current through the ionized pathway. Though I'm considering if miniaturized particle beams would be better. What do you think?"
"I'd be interested in talking about it, but that would have to be later," Dragon told him. "I've got an odd situation going on at the moment, and I'd like to hear your opinion."
Colin looked up. "What kind of odd situation?"
"It's to do with your Wards team, actually," Dragon explained. "You're aware of the concept of gambling, I assume… I wanted to ask about your opinion on whether you would rather have the certainty of a current member of your team, or the possibility of a different member."
"It depends on the capes in question," Colin answered. "That assigns the values so it's possible to do the calculation. Fairly basic normative decision theory."
"Of course," Dragon smiled. "So, here's the trade off for you. You can attempt to retain Shadow Stalker, and for these purposes we'll consider that a certainty, or you can have the possibility of recruiting someone who I would roughly estimate at Trump 13."
Colin dropped his sketch pad.
"What?" he asked. "Eidolon is a twelve. What could be a thirteen?"
He thought again. "Is this a hypothetical?"
"No," Dragon replied.
"...what kind of probability are we talking about?" Colin added. "Is it more than one percent?"
"To continue an earlier conversation thread," Dragon said, a minute later and several miles away. "Sophia Hess won't be a problem for you any more."
She considered. "You know, I think a suit of medieval-style armour would be quite fitting. Do you have any preferences? I can make one quite rapidly."
AN:
Queen. Administrator.
Emphasis on Queen.
