Birdcage

by Kahlil Johnson

Shahs

3. 3

Yeah, more Crouching Tiger-sorry, Terror awkward times!

Crouching Tiger Goes to Prison 10

Bakuda was curled up against a wall, crying. Hair all over her face, snot dripping out of her nose.

Every fibre of my being screamed 'master/stranger situation.' This was Bakuda, the crazy girl who back-talked Nazis, was an actual genius, called the Warden 'Dickless', and made eldritch horrors out of bombs for her own amusement.

"Hey… uh. You ok?"

"sniff- No!" She didn't even look up. Well, now the conversation was even more awkward.

"What, uh, what happened?" Real smooth, Taylor.

"...Don't want to talk about it right now." As long as she's not trying to blow up our cell, I can work with it.

I politely coughed, but she doesn't bother to look up at me. "It's not important right now, but I uh, I got stabbed a lot. By a Nazi cape from out of town trying to murder me. So I have to shower now to wash off all the blood and gore. Could you promise not do anything drastic until I'm out of there?" I accompanied my brilliant explanation with a bunch of awkward hand gestures that Bakuda didn't even see because she wasn't looking at me.

"...Y-Yeah." That was a little bit too long of a pause

After my shower and some new clothes I felt a little better. Bakuda was still curled up against the wall. The 'Hang in There' kitty poster above her made it look rather ominous.

"You can tell me about it whenever, I guess. Anything I should know about? I should probably tell you that Kaiser just sent a cape to kill me. He failed, obviously, but uh..."

"W-Were they laughing at me today?"

Oh, during the demonstration. "No one I could hear laughed, except when you baited that trooper into the crying field. That was funny. Your bombs were pretty cool."

"… yeah." Still more crying. I was beginning to think it wasn't just people laughing at her.

I sat down next to her with my back against the wall. "Do you, uh, have anyone on the outside waiting for you? Friends, family, boyfriend?"

"Some family. Do you have anyone?"

Lucky her. "No one at all. But don't worry about me. Your family will be happy to see you, right?" I said with as much cheer as I could force through. I hadn't heard of Bakuda getting visitors, but I had to ask.

"Not when I don't have an engineering degree," Bakuda muttered.

I leaned into Bakuda a little there. "Well, my Mom was a professor, and she thought engineering and all that STEM stuff was overrated, overhyped, over-something else… Over… Over... Ah! Overpaid. That one, mostly."

"What'd she teach, math?"

"Close. English. I think she sucked at math."

Bakuda almost inaudibly laughed. It was more like air getting sucked in and out of her mouth a few times. "Figures. Well, where the fuck was she last year when I needed her?"

I bit my lip, and tried to think of something else. A minute passed in silence, except Bakuda was still crying. I might have cried too.

"Hey, uh. What do you want to do when you leave Westecher?"

"Blow random shit up for fun, get my fuckin' degree already. What do you want to do?" Maybe that little bit of hostility was a good sign, and she was getting back to her old self.

"I want to get away from all that cape stuff. It's nothing like what the books and movies tell you."

Dinner came, with a cheerful knock on our cell door from a trooper. Maybe they thought the brute seven doors would hold me. Anything to make them feel better about the situation, I guess. I tossed my tray of food on my bed and walked over to offer Bakuda the second tray. "Come on, food's here. Broccoli, chicken, that weird gruel they give us." Bakuda nodded and took her tray. She ate slowly and deliberately. focussing on a small crack in the wall next to my bed.

I stood there watching her eat awkwardly before I returned to my own bed and decided to work on some of the assigned homework. Bakuda kept crying after she finished her food, and I wasn't sure what to say anymore.

I must be a shit friend.

After dinner, the two of us fell asleep. Of course, Bakuda was still a wreck, so she crawled into my bunk and let me hug her while she cried until she was unconscious.

--

The next day was pretty decent, and Bakuda didn't want to talk more about what happened, so I didn't bother her. Flechette was nice enough to talk to the Latino and Black kids for me, so I could learn to play basketball during the Courtyard hour. I tried dribbling, to start off… it was, well, hilariously pathetic. But hey, no one laughed at me unless I laughed and made fun of myself, so that was a small victory.

And the Empire kids only made a few heckles in my direction, which was nice. Even when I pushed the ball down too hard while trying to dribble... and it rebounded right into my face.

I think it was best that I work on ball-skills before I try shooting at a hoop, much less play actual basketball. Courtyard time was over much too soon, and I had to get to classes for the first half of the day.

After about two hours of working on English, it was finally time for computers. Joy oh joy! I raced to the computer room and plunked down in front of a machine. A little dusty, a little old, but still nicer than Winslow. The guard watching over the computers gave me a bemused look and handed me the day's password for my account. Then he stalked back to the other side of the room to yell at two kids for looking at porn.

Back from my days before incarceration, I had been researching the ins and outs of capes. So I knew the general gangs, the Protectorate and Ward capes. At least, I thought I did until I fought them.

Tapping away at the computer, I looked over PHO and the PHO wiki for the various gangs in Brockton Bay. The Empire recently got a telekinetic named Rune, and Purity was off doing her own thing with her weirdo german capes. Coil has been doing fuck-all lately except fighting off Merchant incursions. Lung wasn't seen around Brockton as of late, and the Merchants got a new Tinker named TrainWreck. Lovely.

But I was looking for a young Thinker who liked to throw her weight around. She certainly had too much of an ego to stay beneath everyone's notice.

Well, well, well... What do we have here? The Undersiders. The PHO wiki tab says they're a new group in Brockton with four members, Regent, Grue, Tattletale, and Hellhound. Hellhound is a psycho cape from up north, Grue is a known small-timer who generates darkness, and Regent and Tattletale are unknown. The clown-themed Circus has been seen with them a few times as well. They're mostly non-violent, emphasizing smash-n-grab operations over anything else. A few corporations here, a bunch of villains there. Hmm, they've gotten into a few fights with the Wards too. Regent's confirmed as a skinny boy, so I pull up a page on 'Tattletale'. Listed as Thinker 7, nothing else next to a blurry photo of a hot girl in a black and purple catsuit.

Hmm, blonde, sexy, a bit of a bitch? Sounds like a dead ringer for my good friend 'Sophia'.

I lean back and steeple my fingers, taking a few deep breaths. Mystery one is solved.

Now who's their boss? Certainly not the PRT or the Empire, since the Undersiders just stole from the Empire a few days ago, and it would be easier to have four teens joins the Wards than start a deep-cover operation or something like in the movies. That left Coil, Lung, the Merchants, or someone from out of town. I decided the Merchants weren't organized enough to have a second cape team, much less keep hush-hush about it. Lung was unwilling to work with anyone nonAsian, and he was reportedly about as bad of a racist as Kaiser. So that left Coil, and someone else from out of town.

I flicked on a few wiki pages to see the nearby cape politics. The Adept, The Elite, the Teeth, Blasto, Accord… Hmm. The Adept were too gimmicky to make the Undersiders, The Elite operated more like a corporation, Blasto was too stoned, The Teeth were too violent… But Accord?

Accord was also a possibility, though he was also rumored to have a bodycount. I made a mental note to see whether Accord or Coil was the true boss when 'Sophia' came back. Mystery Two probably solved.

On to Mystery three… Why would Coil/Accord want to take over the Bay, and recruit me?...

"Hey, uh. What's up, Terror?" I hear Flechette behind me. Do I really need to hide what I'm doing? I consider for a second.

Nah.

"Feel free to call me Taylor, and thanks for the assist yesterday. My next strategy would have been to just let him stick me with those scythes until he ran out. It would have made the janitor's life even worse," I said, not looking up from the computer. I wondered if there were any new capes in the Bay, so I pulled up PHO to look for rumors. Most flying movers were false alarms from birds, but I didn't have much better to do.

Flechette coughed behind me. "They're called sickles, by the way. And you didn't really answer my question. What were you looking up on in Brockton?" I still wasn't sure why she was sticking around me, since I was really scary in her mind, but that was ok.

I wiggled a bit in the chair. It was wheeled, which was kind of cool. "What I'm up to, though? Well...This girl showed up as a visitor earlier under a fake name to try and recruit me for her little employer. I'm guessing she's in a Brockton gang and has a major villain as a backer."

"Oh, you shouldn't join them!"

Bemused, I turned to face Flechette. She seemed, well, stressed, and nervous. "Mmm… what makes you say that? And what makes you think I'd join?"

It was kind of cute when she tried to come up with a reason asides from 'My PRT superiors want you to work for us as a hero.' "...Villains, uh, have a real hard time. Most die within five years of getting powers. There are statistics, somewhere. Also, the PRT already knows your name and powers, it wouldn't end well for anyone. A couple have former villains have become heroes, supposedly."

"Well, I guess I'll be spending a good three of the five save and sound under the PRT's watchful eye. How's the recruiting effort going? Does Amble have to convince Wanna-Kaiser to join the upright-uptight club too?" Maybe, just maybe, if I pretended I didn't know I scared the hell out of this girl, she would pretend I wasn't some psychotic monster.

"Uh, good. We're talking, which is more than Amble can say about Nochter."

"Nochter?"

"The Empire cape you fought and got foamed with."

Ah, Wanna-Kaiser. "But… Nochter? Is that even German?"

"No, it's not. He's pretty stupid. It's part of why no one from the Empire has bothered to spring him yet."

"Does that happen often?"

"Yeah, and the hero capes here are expected to help repel attacks or stall for reinforcements," Flechette said, "it's a little screwy, but that's Min Sec for you."

"Not as screwy as Kaiser sending just one guy after me, but who are the reinforcements?"

"Whichever PRT and Protectorate nearby are available. Supposedly one cape from an Albany gang tried to attack this place a few years ago. He got really far until Legend decided to take a special interest and flew in to find him. Rumor has it that what was left of that guy could fit in a matchbox."

"Well, if Legend's keeping an eye on the place, we're probably fine." I heard Legend was a really nice guy. Of course, I also heard that powers were awesome to have, and that heroism was great and perfect and easy.

Flechette sat down heavily next to me in another swivel chair. "Look, Taylor, I'm… I'm fucking scared, Ok? This, this… this is all way over my head. I just watched you put your fist through a guy's chest, and I saw the PRT reports of what you did before then. I don't know who would recruit you, but they'd turn me into sawdust to do it well before Legend notices we're all fucked."

This was becoming a very not-fun conversation. "Well, I think you did great. That bastard wouldn't stay down after I broke his jaw, or his arms, or his legs, or his neck. I could have bled out, and Alabaster would have been happy to kill the troopers too." At least I think I could have bled out. It wasn't something I was going to test out anytime soon.

"That's just the threats from outside. Every day people have been saying horrible shit to you, trying to fuck with you, despite my best efforts to keep it contained. I don't know what's going to set you off. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but we've intercepted hate mail since you got here."

Huh, didn't realize she was screening for me, though I was worried people could find me that easily. That was nice of her, even if she was only doing it for her self preservation. "You didn't really have to do that, Flechette. I can take a few insults."

"This is beyond a few insults Taylor! The Empire has it out for you, and who knows what other groups are trying to get at you? What will you do then? Amble can't help you, I'm almost useless… I-I get that you were defending yourself with that albino Nazi, but you killed four unarmed people, and... I don't think anyone in this state outside of Legend could stop you. What the hell happened that day? Tell me, Taylor, please. I'll do whatever it takes to not let it happen again." Flechette pleaded with me and grabbed onto my arm.

My throat was dry, and gently pulled her hands off me before she could figure out just how bad my scars were. "I don't want to talk about it. It's not something you, or any of Kaiser's ass-kissers could repeat. It won't happen again, can't happen again." Was she even allowed to speak frankly with me like this? "Thanks for being honest with me though. It means a lot."

"But-"

"Trust me." Emma had an entire lifetime of an arsenal to use against me. Not even our little Tattletale friend could pull that off. Even though I was still processing that I tore my first crush to shreds.

"I can't, Taylor, and the PRT won't give me a lot of leeway here if you want to be out of here in less than three years."

I sighed. What was with people thinking I wanted to leave prison early? As if I'd go back to Winslow or another wretched public school. "They'll have to live with it. Now what's Bakuda been up to?"

"Here or out there?" Flechette asked. "She's been ok after the first month or so. We showed up at around the same time."

"Out there." I typed her name up and… Wow. Capes, Legend, National Guard, hostage crisis, it's a lot to take in. I'd never have guessed that the raving lunatic on my screen and the sobbing girl clutching me the night before were the same person.

And a couple bombs go off! Pretty colors indeed. I'm amazed there weren't any casualties from the day.

… Yeah, I can see the, 'Bakuda's a dangerous psycho,' angle from here. The knife and the screaming into the open air in front of hostages doesn't help. A couple of the older hostages seem to have pissed themselves. It's pretty good camerawork for a cellphone video.

And that is some very, very creative language on Bakuda's part. Bravo.

With the video done, I closed the window. "So the PRT decided we'd make good roommates?" I asked the cape sitting next to me.

Flechette tried to avoid my eyes and shrunk down in her chair. "Not a lot of people wanted to room with either of you."

I turned back to the computer and frowned a little. "Hmm, I can't imagine why- Oh! Are we allowed to make PHO handles on here and talk to people?"

"At the risk of interrupting your conversation: Yes you can make a PHO handle, Terror." The overseeing trooper said from halfway across the room. His name tag said Jensen. "But every message and post in and out will be reviewed before it's sent, and copies of anything you write will be made available to your psychologists."

I cracked my fingers and placed them on the keyboard. "That sounds reasonable."

Last edited: Jan 21, 2017

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Somewhat Disinterested

Jan 21, 2017

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Threadmarks Omake: 2 Cape Girls

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Somewhat Disinterested

Jan 24, 2017

#530

It's an Omake of an Omake that became a story in an AU of an AU?

we must go deeper!

(as a side note, I don't think I can pull of 2 Broke Girls pacing and style.)

Two Cape Girls

"Alright, roomie. We've got good news and bad news."

Bakuda, mad bomber and former cell-mate, had just rushed into the room of my, well, our new apartment in New York City. It was oddly spacious, but pretty low-class. Typical New York. I was still so new to this that I couldn't tell the difference between Brooklyn and Queens.

I set the box I had been carrying down on my new, ratty bed and sighed, "Let's hear the bad news first."

"Ok," Bakuda was clearly in one of her chipper moods today. "bad news is that all we could get set up with were waitress jobs at this shitty diner because I sorta know the owner through family."

"That doesn't sound... too bad?" It would probably be a cakewalk compared to Winslow, anyway.

Bakuda leaned against the doorframe. "Wait until you see the fuckers that are the customers. And our boss. The guy's the worst walking Asian stereotype I've ever seen."

"I know it's probably going to bother you, but as long as this job appeases Parole Officer Sparkles, I don't really care how bad it is." Being functional members of society in and out of costume was a high priority for us according to the PRT.

Legend was our parole officer, technically. Our actual parole officer was a guy named Steve, but Legend took us aside the second we stepped foot in the city and said if we broke parole, he'd be disappointed in us. I took 'disappointed' as, 'smeared across several streets'. It's generally better to be safe than a sidewalk spread.

"Just wait 'till you get there. And I think the diner's cook is some sort of foreign sex fiend. He gave off those vibes." A quick punch to the face would probably solve any tensions between me and that guy… Unless he was cute and smelled great...

Juvie didn't have much in the way of romantic options, but I was hoping New York did. At least it probably had fewer Nazis. If I sent any more of those creeps to the hospital a few months ago, they'd run out of them for years.

Yup, straight and narrow for these two. New lease on life, new highlights in my hair and contacts, (sorry mom! I can't look like Taylor Hebert anymore) new apartment, new everything.

Fuck Brockton Bay.

"It could be worse?" I said after a little too long a pause.

Bakuda threw up her hands. "How so? I can't sell my tinker-tech, except to the PRT. And the profits from those are barely enough to cover living expenses. With the waitress gigs we can afford nice things like the internet and phones."

I sat down on the bed and gave her my best sassy-girlfriend look. "Girl, you make bombs. You don't want to be the booty-call of every psycho in town, and I don't want to be your surprised roommate when they show up."

Bakuda flopped down on the bed beside me. "Yeah, but we could be living it up! It's New-fuckin-York! And I have a booty everyone would want to call."

Want to call fat, maybe. Ooooh, sick burn, Taylor. Sick burn. "Riiiiiight. Legend probably wants us to keep a low profile and have a normal civilian life here. Because he's all married and has a family and stuff. You don't strike me as a party-girl, anyway."

"Girl, you ain't seen shit. My Irish-Car-Bombs are to die for."

"How am I not surprised. We can't even drink right now anyway."

"Girlfriend, we're going to college in two months. You think there won't be parties galore? I spent too much time in the library the first time I went to college. This time I'm taking an easy physics and math double major and only have a 3.7 GPA. Think of all the slumber parties you get to go to."

I sighed a little and covered my face to hide my embarrassment. Bakuda had a way with talking to people, to put it kindly.

"And how will I bring up where I went to school?"

"Boarding school, or just say juvie and make yourself look badass. Jean jackets are cheap anyway."

I still had no idea how Legend got us into NYU, unless his husband was the Dean of Admissions there. If that university was willing to accept someone responsible for a quadruple homicide, and a mad bomber, who else could be there?

"You plus college plus alcohol plus stress might be scary, I'm just saying…"

"Oh come on. No one died the last time I did that. I'm sort of a bang exper-"

"Oh god stop! And that's not a good excuse!" I snapped. Bakuda just laughed it off and ran to the kitchen, singing something about being boy-crazy.

I sighed and unpacked some of my things from the cardboard box, pausing when I reached the last object. My one cardboard box of belongings and an empty room….

Kinda wish I had money right now. At the bottom of my box was a kabuki mask I had found in a thrift shop before I got in trouble with the law...

Hmmm, I wonder if Legend would let me work as a rogue mercenary?

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Jan 24, 2017

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Threadmarks JailDragon 11

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Somewhat Disinterested

Feb 2, 2017

#569

so hey, here's a new chapter! fun times, fun times.

Crouching Tiger Goes to Prison 11

"...So what's your deal?" I asked Amble. I figured I'd be friendly and start approaching the heroes. I didn't want to face Empire Eighty-Eight alone, and Courtyard was the time and place to do it. I also wasn't sure what Amble's powers were or where he was even from. Doubt he'd tell me, anyway. I'd have to go onto PHO and its wiki to get info, like usual.

"Hmm?" Amble replied with an obvious southern accent. He was fairly plump, with brown eyes, and had sandy-blonde hair. He looked like Augustus Gloop on a diet, if I were to be uncharitable.

"Oh, you know, why are you here?" I was starting to regret talking to Amble. He was completely spaced out every time I saw him, and today was no different.

"Ah. Got into a fight with my parents." He replied slowly. Flechette was nearby, talking to a small black guy whose name I hadn't learned yet. She eyed our conversation, and her hands twitched a bit.

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jumpsuit. "Didn't end well, did it?"

Amble laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Eh, not as bad as your case though. Mine only were hospitalized. The good news is that I'll have some great foster parents when I'm out!" He said brightly.

Well, at least I was becoming the standard for cape juvie crimes. Way to make your mark on the world, Taylor.

I figured I'd ask Amble about some other people too. "And what did Wanna-Kaiser over there do to get in here?"

Amble shrugged, "Killed a guy. Supposedly it was in self-defense, which is why he's here. But it's a real coincidence that the man was black. I'm supposed to try and get him to join us heroes, but he still hasn't realized Kaiser doesn't want him in the Empire. The guy has some connected father who's embarrassed of him, so he's here and not a real prison."

I glanced over at Nacht-wanna-Kaiser and felt a shiver of revulsion. The guy was pointing and laughing with his friends at one of the gay crowd. Then I got another, more physical shiver of revulsion as I reminded myself that people in glass houses don't throw stones.

"Well, I guess that takes care of the capes, then. What do you and the others do for fun around here? I don't think I'll be a basketball star anytime soon," I said, trying to keep my voice level and calm.

"Yeah, your ball skills need work. There are more capes here, though. Some are official, some aren't." Amble said, taking my look of confusion as a cue to continue. "Two are in solitary. One's in there because he wants to be there. And there's another guy no one meets, supposedly a nearly-blind quadriplegic."

That was odd, and somewhat horrifying.

"If he's a nearly blind quadriplegic, how'd he get sent here? What did he do?"

Amble looked to make sure the guards weren't watching before he leaned in and whispered to me, "No one knows, Terror. The Warden and the troopers refuse to talk about him, and I only was told that about him during my briefing. I'm supposed to avoid him. The other guy's fine, just a Thinker who needs to be alone, but for a monitored computer in his cell. Calls himself Inspect. He and I talk occasionally via email. That reminds me! I'll need to ask him why he didn't see that Empire cape coming earlier."

Of course heroes get briefed on the lay of the land and send each other info, even if they're in a prison. I couldn't see the troopers have a full handle on everything going on in Westecher. "Any word on this guys' powers, or affiliation?" I asked. "I wouldn't bother with this except that Kaiser has a real hate-boner for me and I need to know as much as possible about this place." At the very least, I knew the place wasn't secure. The troopers hadn't mentioned anything, but if Alabaster could show up, get a uniform, find my schedule, and isolate me well enough to try an assassination attempt, this place wasn't all that safe. The Nazi kids were the obvious suspects. Wanna-Kaiser hadn't made a move lately, and I was just waiting for the next shoe to drop.

I turned to check the bleachers with the Nazis. There was Wanna-Kaiser, glaring daggers at me. Didn't he have something better to do with his life? Like write racist graffiti on public property or punch crippled people for fun. "Those fuckers keep giving me weird looks. I know I'm not supposed to beat the shit out of them, but it's real tempting."

I turned back, and Amble shrugged, "Hey, whatever keeps you occupied. It can get kind of boring around here if the TV gets broken. But yeah, no one knows anything about the blind guy. He's only listed as 'FH0173.'"

Well, at least I had a mystery to unravel now. "Ominous."

"Yeah, I'm not too keen on poking into that cage," the fat hero said, "I only have two more months here, and then I'm out. After you get full privileges, there's not much to look forward to except leaving. You have friends on the outside?"

I shook my head.

"Damn shame. Flechette was bitching that you got a lot of letters and messages she and the troopers screened out. I was thinking they were love letters or something. There are a surprising number of cape groupies out there." Amble gave me a pleasant smile and a wink. "I kinda wish people liked me enough to sent me mail."

I fervently wished for Amble's attitude towards life. Or delusion. I wouldn't have been in this mess in the first place if I had. And I fervently hoped he hadn't read my leaked diary. According to a medical evaluation when I was detained, my powers messed with my hormones enough that I experienced extreme mood swings and what a doctor of some sort called on television, 'a rather excessive sex drive'. I had detailed… some of my thoughts in my diary, so I guess that one was on me. Goddamn bullshit TV doctors and pundits.

Remember Taylor, all future recordings should be encoded. Make the bastards work for their entertainment.

Speaking of Flechette, she was walking over to Amble, and she seemed angry. I figured it was a good time to cut the conversation short. "Ok, Amble, well... It was nice talking to you? Thanks for the info."

"No problem, good luck with your life-or-death situation." He said with good cheer. I went to the ball court to see whether I still sucked at basketball.

And indeed I did. But only the Nazis laughed from the bleachers. Progress?

Another round of classes and eating food with Bakuda happened after the courtyard time. Bakuda introduced me to a guy by the name of Jeff while we were eating. Jeff worked at the juvie library, and it was Bakuda's idea that I get some sort of job there to pass the time, and read when things got boring. Jeff also seemed to be terrified of Bakuda, and couldn't run from the table fast enough when we stood up to leave.

Yeah, they have jobs in prisons. Well, volunteering, I think. I don't know the specifics. I doubted I'd get paid anyway.

After lunch it was time for another therapy session with Dr. Smins. I walked into the therapy room to find… a woman sitting in Smins' chair. She looked a bit severe, with graying hair and a button-up jacket underneath her lab coat. I looked back outside the door to see the troopers standing there at attention, so it wasn't an Alabaster situation. So maybe it was Fog dressed as a woman to get the drop on me?

"You're… not Doctor Smins," I said, chewing over what to say next. "Isn't he supposed to be here for my session?" Was I supposed to scream 'Master Stranger' and run from the room?

"Correct, Terror," the middle-aged woman replied, "but he has caught a small cold and will not be available today. I will be your therapist for this session. Please, have a seat." she gestured to the comfy chair on my end of the room.

She waited until I was settled to continue speaking. "I'm Doctor Helen, Miss Terror. I must remind you that that trying to take me hostage and negotiate with the Warden won't work because I've already signed documents declaring my life forfeit in such a situation, etc. etc. Furthermore, lashing out against a medical professional will most certainly add time to your sentence and potentially justify a transfer to a Maximum Security Center for adults, or even the Birdcage."

So she's the shrink that Bakuda hates? "Ok, that's fine. I'm just here for the talk. I hope Doctor Smins gets better."

"Noted," was Doctor Helen's reply as she started scribbling on her notepad. "What do you want to talk about?" Her voice was a little forced, biting.

But I was probably reading into the situation too much. I leaned back and closed my eyes. "Mmm, I was attacked by a Nazi super villain yesterday. I hear that doesn't happen often here. I hope the real agent Brown is ok, though."

I heard scratches on her pad. "It doesn't happen often. What do you think you did to provoke Kaiser's attention?"

"Uh, I got into a fight with him after he tried to press gang me into the Empire. Blew off his and Krieg's legs and told them to fuck off." It was kind of funny, when I thought about it, so I laughed and thought up some leg-and-Nazi-related puns.

"Noted. I see you didn't try for a more diplomatic solution. One that would prevent Kaiser and Krieg from escalating, or at least a collaboration with the heroes. What prevented you from considering that?" Dr. Helen pressed the question.

That took a moment to think about. "By reputation, Kaiser is ruthless. And, uh, I'm not exactly straight, so I'm pretty sure I'd be a target if he took a look at the leaked diary. Uh, I didn't try to help the heroes because Miss Militia threatened to blow my head off, and they had things wrapped up by the time Kaiser retreated."

Dr. Helen tapped the pen against her cheek. "Hmm. A rather long leap in logic, and a justification after the fact, but it seems reasonable."

"There were also some PRT troopers I was worried would get skewered."

"You cared for their safety then. Why?" The word then stuck out to me. I didn't remember all of it, but I might have gone to town on the PRT troopers who showed up to the scene of the crime. Their injuries were listed in Panacea's report, and were too numerous to recall.

"...I didn't want that to weigh on my conscience when I could have done something. They seemed like ok people in a bad situation."

I heard the scratching of the pen on the legal pad. "How do you decide what weighs on your conscience, Terror?"

"I, I don't know. I'd like to think I'm a good person." The word good tasted sour when I tried to say it. Not many good people with the cape name 'Terror.' "Well-"

"But for your current record, of course." Doctor Helen hummed. "You're rooming with a self-proclaimed villain. Do you think her behavior will rub off on you?"

I remembered Bakuda sobbing on the floor of our shared cell yesterday. "Bakuda's… ok?" I allowed myself to say. "I didn't really have a choice for cellmates, and I think she has some issues with other people's feelings, but..."

"But?"

"She's nice to me when she has no reason to be. And uh," I swallowed some air awkwardly, "I think she could be a better person than the media portrayed her as." As long as I ignored the video of the Cornell hostage crisis. And the court filings. She sounded utterly unhinged in those.

"Interesting. So you would consider her a friend?" I spent a few seconds thinking about it. Sure? Why not. So I said yes. Dr. Helen wrote more down on her page. This meeting was far less pleasant than my previous one with Dr. Smins. It felt more like an interrogation.

"Do you think your entire ethical framework could be considered relative, based on your friends and family?"

"Uh, not sure where you got that idea. Don't most people?"

"Your social isolation over the past two years may exacerbate that. There are many studies on this for parahumans and non-parahumans. Both your parents had what could be deemed radical and violent political ties, for starters. The girl who was your former and only friend, Emma-" My veins turned to ice. "She wasn't a particularly nice person, as many people have attested to the media and online. Perhaps a bit too late for our purposes here."

"I'm uh-" I knew Emma would come up, I just didn't want to jump into it like this. "I'm ok talking about Emma, since this is therapy and I'd be insane not to want to deal with that. It's just, this is a little hard for me."

Dr. Helen made a face I didn't really understand and wrote more on her legal pad. "Very well, we'll start at the beginning and go slowly. Did you only notice her flaws when she turned on you?"

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. "I was twelve. I don't-"

Dr. Helen smiled, and the words died in my mouth. I was starting to think she enjoyed this. "Please humor me. I feel this could be beneficial for you."

The session went further downhill from there.

Bakuda was right. Dr. Helen was a massive, massive bitch.

- - -

A/N: And now we meet Dr. Helen! And Amble!

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Feb 2, 2017

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Somewhat Disinterested

Feb 7, 2017

#686

Hey look, more Crouching Tiger in Prison!

Crouching Tiger Goes to Prison 12

It was lunch, and it took about five minutes of eating food before I could force myself to talk. "Is there any way to make sure Smins is actually in before we have a session?"

Bakuda grunted. "Nope. I take it you met Dr. Helen yesterday?" I had gone to bed crying last night. To her credit, Bakuda had said to me, 'Look, I'd try and help, but I'd probably make things worse. Are you at least not gonna go nuts and kill me tonight?' and I responded with a thumbs-up. I'd say it was a good talk, since neither of us were really 'people persons'.

"The fucking bitch." We said simultaneously with a sigh.

"What's her problem, anyway?" I asked Bakuda.

"I'dnno," she responded through a mouthful of bread. "'M thinking she's either a Nathsi- gulp- Sympathizer, a Master, a product of Nepotism, or just an incompetent bitch. It's just an hour of torture from her, and we have to sit through it. Still beats Max Sec, I think. You can always just ignore her questions, or talk about nonsense."

"Well, I've dealt with worse, I guess." I swiveled off my chair and stood up. "I'ma get more celery sticks, you want some?" I asked my roomie.

"Yeah, sure." She said, waving me off. Bakuda seemed to be getting better since we had talked in the cell, as opposed to what had just happened to me. So with a dour mood and an even more dour whistle, I trudged over towards the food server station.

I made it about fifteen feet from my table before someone stepped in front of my path.

"You're still here, dyke." Three days later, and this guy was still trying to get on my nerves. Wanna-Kaiser and two more idiots flanking him stepped into my field of view. I could never just eat food, even at Winslow. There always had to be some sort of obstacle. Especially during lunch.

I pressed a manacle to my head, breathed in, and breathed out. I had a Smins session to look forward to. Or a Helen session to dread, if she was to be a permanent fixture in my life here. "This is juvie. I can't exactly leave, Wanna-"

"It's Nachter. And I'm sick of you taking up all this air we're breathing." He made a sniffing noise for dramatic effect. I saw Amble out of the corner of my eye, who wasn't paying attention. So much for the cavalry. Flechette wasn't in the room, and Bakuda...

Bakuda was being held back by two more of Nachter's goons, glaring daggers. If I had cared, I would have congratulated Wanna-Kaiser on the set-up. Really dramatic and showy. Though if Bakuda had something happen to her, those two goons and I would have words. Most of those words would be, 'Oh god please no not the legs.' This was me flexing my conscience, I guess.

"Right." I sighed and grew two inches as I felt my frustration simmer, literally under my skin, with scales popping up under my uniform "Nachter. Look-"

"We're not near any of those foam nozzles this time. So I'll get to beat the fag out of you. Hopefully for good."

God he was so fucking stupid, it hurt. It really hurt. "I really don't think this is a good idea Nachter. We're surrounded by troopers with foam sprayers and foam grenades."

The little twit actually popped his knuckles in front of me. "Oh trust me. They can't really stop this from happening, bitch."

I quirked an eyebrow. Might as well get one quip in before he tries to kill me. "You seem to consider the troopers' impotence a good thing for you. I find that confusing."

Nachter snorted. "You'll see what the Empire will do to trash like you." That line had to have been out of a bad action film, except in the rush to sound cool Nachter's voice got squeaky.

"Really?" I rolled my neck and put my tray down on a nearby table.

"Really." Wanna-Kaiser snarled, "Right about now."

And as if on cue, the lights went out. I wouldn't have been impressed but for the PRT troopers who freaked out, shouting codewords into their walkie-talkies over the screams and sounds of chairs scraping across the floor. On second thought, inmates running for the exits wasn't a good sign.

And we were in pitch black. Hmm, what were Nachter's powers?

In the darkness, I felt Nachter run towards me, fist cocked back. I felt every contour of his body through the air. I smelled his disgusting body odor approach me, I heard the clicks of his shoes on the floor. He was reckless, and I pretended to be blind in the dark to give him a false sense of security.

I raised my right arm up to block his first punch. And shattered it on contact. I jumped back, with my arm flopping at my side. Pain trailed up my arm. Certainly some broken bones, but they'd heal eventually. Faster if I fought.

So Nachter was at least some form of Brute and Mover.

I heard Nachter make a wheezing laugh in the darkness. "Yeah, bitch. Not so stoic now, are you? How's your arm feel?"

"Please, for fuck's sake, shut up." I muttered. "You're like a cartoon villain." He had changed slightly in size and his body had a mottled texture to it according to the probing breezes I had sent. So he was some sort of changer too.

Nachter lunged at me with a surprisingly deep roar. I dodged two more punches from Nachter before giving him a kidney punch strong enough to rupture organs in a grown man. Don't ask how I knew. And Wanna-Kaiser just… took it, and jabbed me in the throat with his elbow.

I could feel and hear crunches coming from my throat.

I staggered back, gasping and grabbing at my throat with my one good hand. Well, it looked like I was gasping. I was using my aerokinesis to force air down my throat while it repaired itself. After three more dodges and a roll under a table I'd assessed the situation.

"So I take it you get stronger at night." Darkness actually, but I figured I'd pretend I was stupid and naive. If a Nazi is going to give you a leg up, let them.

"I'm full of surprises!" Wanna-Kaiser shouted as he rushed me again. I dodged under his haymaker and slammed a manacled double-fisted punch into his face.

That... sort of worked. Pity my manacles crumbled, but I had full use of my hands now. I jumped back and reassessed the situation after clawing at his face. No actual claws on this girl yet though, I'd need a few more inches for that.

"You can't do anything to me… Hah, do you see!?" Wanna-Kaiser shouted, with both hands spread out as he cackled.

"No. It's dark." I said. Then I rushed forward and kicked him in the nuts. Hard.

"Money shot!" I whispered just loud enough for him to hear me.

That caused him to double over, before he made a lightning-fast haymaker to my chest and knocked me back. "Fuckin' cunt." He spat, before jumping back to his feet and stomping in my direction.

...So that did nothing. Time for a different approach, then.

I sprinted towards Nachter, ducked under two more haymakers and let my left arm get shattered, allowing my right arm to cross the distance and grab his throat.

Good thing his throat was still a little pliable. I squeezed as hard as I could, and ignored a grab and crunch in my side that certainly ruptured a kidney.

I nearly blacked out from the pain, but hey, you only need one kidney at one one time, right?

Right. Great.

I then created a vacuum over Nachter's mouth, and pushed more air on the rest of his body to add pressure.

And despite whatever Brute package he had, Wanna-Kaiser began to choke, not that he could make a noise to express his new feelings of helplessness. His eyes bugged out and he made weaker and weaker attempts to pull my hand off his throat. Not that it would have helped.

Five seconds later, and Wanna-Kaiser passed out. I shook him a few times like a rag doll to make sure he was going to stay down, and I looked towards a light source from a nearby hallway that showed up right when I started choking him.

"It's safe now!" I shouted, before coughing up some blood. "Nachter's knocked out."

Troopers rushed in with flashlights and foamed Nachter.

And me.

I just rolled my eyes when the troopers shouted at me to stand down while the foam was expanding over my body. Thanks, assholes.

"Sorry 'bout this, Terror. It's standard procedure after a cape fight." One of the officers said.

"Can I at least get a shampoo that will dissolve this stuff faster if this is going to become a weekly thing?" I asked.

The officer laughed, "No can do, Bakuda demonstrated you can make the reactant into an explosive with twenty minutes and a toothbrush. So them's the rules."

"Fucking Tinkers."

The trooper bopped me on the head with a baton, "Manners!" She shouted.

I just groaned and hoped my legs wouldn't fall asleep before I'd be freed from the containment foam.

After a nice talk with Bakuda, Nachter, the Warden, a few troopers, and Amble while looking like a modern art installation from the neck down, it was determined that Nachter would get transferred to a more 'Max Sec' juvenile detention center, along with four of his friends. For my troubles, I got some hot chocolate, as did Bakuda, which was nice. I also got to hear the Warden completely unload on Amble the second he thought I was out of earshot, which was hilarious. Apparently, when villains act up, it's the heroes' job to stop them.

I know, novel concept. At least in Brockton Bay.

It was also rather novel that an authority figure was doing something to help me, even if it was a small gesture like that.

The Warden must have realized it would be ridiculous for him to allow a guy repeatedly trying to kill me stay in juvie. Also, I got another set of manacles, at Brute 6, at some of the troopers' insistence. A little bulkier, a little more unwieldy, but whatever. I'd probably have to use both hands to wield a fork, but what's life without challenge?

So the first thing to do was to walk back to my cell under escort of ten troopers as I whistled a jaunty tune. Then I spent an hour washing all the gunk out of my hair.

Then… then I wasn't sure.

Oh, that reminded me. I had TV privileges now. I strolled on over to the TV room feeling like a hundred bucks. Inside the TV room, there were several chairs and couches, with about a dozen bored-looking kids watching a talk show.

"Hey, uh, guys. What's playing at the moment?"

"Laury. They're doing a profile on cape advocacy or some shit." It was a skinhead who talked that time. Or maybe he was a skinhead, I wasn't sure.

"Mmmm, sounds cool." I said sagely. I stiffly walked to one of the chairs by a wall and sat down on the opposite side of skinhead.

"Hey, you're that Terror girl. Didn't you kick the shit out of Nachter at lunch?" Asked one of the other kids reclining on a beaten-up couch. I think he was one of the gay crowd.

"Yeah. He's probably going to be moved to a real prison soon." I said.

I saw what looked like money change hands between a few of the other inmates, and there were a few laughs. "Nice, I fucking hated that guy." That was the skinhead, of all people. He was skinny, almost sickly looking.

Still didn't hurt to check. "But, uh, aren't you and Nachter-"

The skinhead laughed. "Being around a bunch of retards who think they're geniuses for having the lucky accident of white skin or superpowers can change your perspectives real fast. I'm thinking I'm done with the Empire after I leave. Kaiser can blame Nachter for that. Name's Cal."

A laugh escaped my lips. "Yeah, he was irritating. Nice to meet you Cal."

"Likewise, Terror."

The rest of the afternoon passed in relative silence.

Last edited: Feb 8, 2017

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Somewhat Disinterested

Feb 9, 2017

#838

Still plodding along with the plot of this story, just to keep things fun. Cal was a complete accident of a creation, btw.

Crouching Tiger Goes to Prison 13

After another day or two of casual conversation at random times in the hall or TV room, Cal decided to try eating lunch with us. "Hey Bakuda, might have a new friend sitting with us. Do you mind?" The word 'friend' rolled off my tongue awkwardly.

"What's the skinhead doing here, Terror? Did Nachter knock you IQ down to his level?" Bakuda asked without looking up from her peas.

"Protection, mostly." Cal sat down opposite Bakuda and me at the table. Slowly, as if we were wild animals. "Leaving the Empire might make me a target. Some of the others are considering joining other groups under various pretenses."

"That sounds like horse-shit." Bakuda muttered. He was right, though. The attendance of the skinhead tables was actually getting smaller recently, and I didn't see any capes on their side. I guess Kaiser didn't have as firm a grip on the Empire as he led people to believe.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Bakuda squint and lean forward, appraising the guy. "And what made you join the Nazis in the first place?" She had her spork trained on his nose, hovering about two inches away from it.

Cal rocked his head back and forth. "Merchants were bothering my neighborhood, and I needed some cash. I also believed some dumb shit up until a year ago. Juvie's the best thing that happened to me."

Bakuda tugged on my sleeve and whispered, "Who the fuck'r the Merchants?"

"The Merchants are a Brockton Bay gang that make any other look respectable and organized. And hygienic. Their leader's black and named Skidmark, so it causes a bit of animosity between them and the Empire." Understatement of the century, anyone?

"And you... Cal, you've decided to join up with an Asian and this useless lesbian-"

"'M not a lesbian!" I protested as I struggled to pick up a piece of potato with my plastic fork. Getting used to the new manacles was a pain, and even I had to admit it was hilarious trying to eat with them.

"-sorta-lesbian, whatever. You decided to join up with us because…?" Us? My potato piece plopped back down onto my tray from my mouth, and I tried to pick it up again clumsily with my fork.

"Us?"

Bakuda patted my manacled hand, "Don't worry, it's not romantic. I'm not gay for you or anything, and I support your choices and all that mushy shit."

"That's not what I meant! Who decided we were a group, gang, whatever it is?" I groaned and tried to massage my temples with my new manacles, which was rather difficult. The damn things went up to my elbows and were very bulky. Sad to say, but I missed my Brute 3 restraints. You could even pick your nose with those things. Still, the manacles helped remind me that no matter how much I liked this place more than Winslow, it was still prison. It would probably take Hookwolf's face to break the damn things.

Call looked between us, then gave a once-over around the lunchroom before leaning in a bit. "Yeah… well, I decided. The established villains are always the real peacekeepers in a city, just like Westecher. Way I see it, there's a new regime in Westecher when it comes to capes, and I'd like to leave this place intact and alive. Maybe even in a good position if you guys start something serious."

"So you're a pragmatist." I said. The word left a bitter taste in my mouth. A lot of pragmatists at Winslow thought it was fine that I was bullied until it was too late. Then they pragmatically lined up to the media saying I was a menace or kept silent. Then they pragmatically decided I was a tragic victim when the journals came through and released their own little sob stories to the media about the big bad Trio. At least Greg admitted to being a horrible shit and a coward in his two minute tell-all interview with the local news.

I might be bitter about that still. I'd have to ask Smins the next time I had a session.

"That's one more syllable than coward, but yeah." Cal admitted. "I went to Clarendon, by the way. I had no part in the Winslow bullshit. There are yearbook photos to prove it."

"Yeah, you'd better not have, Cal. Or my girl Terror here would have-"

I gently elbowed Bakuda so she'd shut up. "-I'm aware that you didn't go to my high school, and that's one of the reasons I'm willing to talk to you. My empathy for Winslow students are rather... limited." I said sourly. According to PHO and online news articles, there was an anti-bullying initiative ramping up in public schools thanks to my little... episode, which I found darkly amusing. Winslow students had been shuffled around to the other schools, and some of the kids even got to go to Arcadia. Some of them even got free therapy and national sympathy when I was still deemed the 'psycho loner'. I at the time, however, got a nice talk in the PRT's containment cell from Miss Militia about how she brutally killed people in Iraq as a teenager for going after kids, and how she'd happily advocate and carry out a kill order if I went after another non-cape kid or Ward like I had done. Having one of your childhood heroes tell you they'd love to kill you feels awful.

Fuck.

I snapped back to the present after I realized Cal had started talking again. "-And that's just the juvie stuff. I can bench all of a hundred pounds on a good day. Gangwise? Can't say I'd do well in a fight with Hookwolf, and you two don't seem stupid or like raging psychos. I already feel safer than with Nachter. The guy would literally piss on Legend to make a gay joke. No sense of self-preservation."

Bakuda cackled at that, but I wasn't impressed. "I'm not making a gang. Or going back to Brockton, if you're wondering. There's nothing for me there." I said. And I was pretty adamant about that.

Cal took a swig from his milk carton. "Sure thing, and I don't blame you, Terror. Gangs are basically little shits run by big shits trying to control their own shit, doing a shit job at it." That was a pretty decent line, actually. I decided to remember it. "But do keep in mind that a lot of guys and girls here would appreciate some pushback against the Nazis. Some want to break free, others want to stop getting pressured to join. Empire kids are acting like caged animals, ready to lash out, and the PRT doesn't do enough to curb their influence here."

"How'd Nachter keep getting out of his cuffs? If he even had them." I asked. I'd never seen him in cuffs when he confronted me each time.

"One of his buddies who got sent to Max Sec with him is a good lock pick, and smuggling in hairpins is easy. The guy was like, Harold Jewdin-Houdini good." Bakuda raised an eyebrow at that. "Sorry, I may be a recovering Nazi, but some of the puns are still funny."

A nagging thought arose, just begging to be set free from my lips. "Cal, how did Alabaster and Nachter set up their attacks? You know, just in case someone tried another attack out of nowhere." After the third attack, I was starting to believe that the PRT couldn't really protect me inside of Westecher. Who were they kidding, though. They couldn't even restrain me properly.

I blithely imagine the restraints needed if I ramped up to a thirty-foot rage-dragon. Then I remembered it would probably be a ticket to the Birdcage escorted by Legend and Eidolon.

Cal's voice dropped to a whisper which I was certain only I could hear. Perhaps he'd heard I had enhanced senses, or figured it out himself. "You can't say I said this ever, or Kaiser will have my head served on a platter and my family tortured. Alabaster's attack was coordinated with two of Nachter's inmate friends that joined him in Max Sec yesterday- and rumor has it- an inside man with Brockton Bay ties. Not necessarily Empire, but an information broker. Nachter just twisted the arm of some guy from his group to cut the power line that led to the lunchroom at a precise time. Actually real simple, and the guy's lucky he wasn't caught along with Nachter's twits."

I leaned back a bit. This Cal guy was a real character, and the information he just gave me was interesting, to say the least. I could probably pull more info from Tattletale if she decided to pay me a visit again. "I take it he doesn't have hard feelings against the girl who nearly killed his bosses. And I take it he hopes the girl doesn't have hard feelings towards him."

Cal scratched the back of his head. "Against my better judgement, I'm laying out all my cards here. You don't seem nearly as bad as the rumors some kids have been spreading. The fact you let your lieutenant mouth off is-"

"She's not a lieutenant, and rumors often have little basis in fact." I grit through my teeth. Again, it was probably unwarranted, but rumors at Winslow were one of the Trio's tricks.

"If this guy left the group, knowing whatever kind of info he mouthed to my roomie here, he'd be pulling a double cross, of sorts. He'd had to have been real lucky to get away with that." Bakuda said blithely.

Cal nodded. "Yup, real smart and discrete. Kept his head down at all times and knew there were some secrets never meant to be shared." Oh goody, there was worse shit that went on here. Just what I needed to know.

"Well then." Bakdua clapped her hands and rubbed them together. "That sums up your love of Terror. What do you see in me?" She asked.

"Sweet bombs and a nice ass." Cal winked at her. I nearly choked on my potato piece, and I think Bakuda blushed a little. Guess Cal didn't think the whole race-traitor thing mattered too much.

"Y-yeah, well. Where were you during the last demonstration I had?" Bakuda pressed while I hacked all over my tray.

Cal groaned. "Had to sit near some Empire shit and listen to all his dumb shit revolving around how 'Victor could do better because he was a real expert. Blah. Blah.' Like he was Victor's personal butt-boy or something. I'm not sure about Victor, but that guy doesn't know a hair trigger from a dud from a Milk-dud. Then again, I'm not a bomb tinker, but I've dabbled, and I can appreciate a true artist."

Bakuda gasped. "You're an explosives expert?" She whispered.

"More of an enthusiast. I got juvie after getting caught blowing up a Merchant meth lab. Empire guys just wanted the explosions so they could clear out Merchant warehouses, no care for the art of the damn stuff." Cal sighed, "It's a real pity we can't do real chemistry labs here and the online access is monitored."

The deep soulful gazes the two of them were giving each other creeped me out. And made me a little jealous.

I cleared my throat after a few minutes. "So, uh… do I need to give you guys some space, or..."

"Go, uh, look up stuff online or some shit." Bakuda said as she absentmindedly flailed her arms to shoo me away. It was time to see if I could get my own contacts in Brockton to screw with the Empire. Two can play a cold war, Kaiser. I'd just have to be creative because I was… well, broke.

"Fine, just don't make any bomb-expert kids while I'm gone." I walked off with my tray easily balanced over my manacles.

Haha, that got a real blush from the girl. "Go-gogo-gogogogogo!!!"

Last edited: Feb 9, 2017

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Feb 10, 2017

#996

More chapters? More chapters! Say it ain't so. And we get to meet someone new!

Crouching Tiger Goes to Prison 14

Turns out I had to ask the attending PRT officer to take off my manacles so I could use the computer. He and I both thought it was funny that I had computer privileges for good behavior, but kept getting more restrictive manacles. Bureaucracy was the devil. His words, not mine. A little bit of airy chatting with a few other troopers, and I was good to go in a small cubicle apart from the other ones. The troopers were apologetic for the whole mess, so they said I could get some extra time on the computer today.

Score.

So off to the PRT site, PHO site, PHO wiki pages. And the Brockton Bay news sites. Whatever I could find. Honestly I had no clue how to make my own spy network, or whatever it was that I needed, it was just something cool I saw people do in the movies. Usually from behind a computer in a montage. Then again, my habits were being monitored, possibly by my therapist. So it wasn't a good idea.

As grating as it would be, the perfect person to talk to about that would have been Tattletale. And I didn't feel like bending over for the bitch anytime soon. After a bit of digging on threads, I figured out she was All_Seeing_Eye on the PHO forums. Or Tattletale had a Tattle-doppelganger.

Hmm, but let's take a look at the recent news. A gang war is spreading in Brockton, so maybe Kaiser won't bother with me for a while. Tattletale's group got a new member and they were making a name for themselves as thieves. Coil's pressuring the Merchants and the ABB. The ABB was hurting the Empire. Some unknown guy named Browbeat just joined the Wards. And-

…Well that's interesting. Shadow Stalker has been reassigned for more training out-of-state as of yesterday. I clicked the link and checked some of her previous statements and press videos.

Two minutes later I sat back in my chair, breathing deeply.

I was such an idiot.

Suddenly things make a whole lot of sense. Sophia fucking Hess was Shadow Stalker. No wonder Shadow Stalker showed up at the scene of the crime so fast and called the Protectorate in, spewing lethal bolts at me without warning. No wonder she knew how to fight and track me down at Winslow so well, and steal stuff from my locker. No wonder Blackwell was happy to ignore the locker, so she could keep her secret Ward. No wonder Miss Militia was so pissed that I went after those kids.

Did Emma know about Sophia being Shadow Stalker? She had to. Now that I think about it, having a Ward best friend had to have been cool. No wonder I was ditched.

When did Sophia join, anyway? I searched through the PRT profile page. November 2010, about three months before the locker, caught for a 'too-aggressive' takedown of a drug dealer. Internet rumors say she crucified him to a wall with crossbow bolts.

"Hey, uh, Terror?" The words snapped me out of my thoughts. A mousy girl was standing about two feet away from me in the lab, as though she'd rather be anywhere else. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a small mouth. She was a bit short, but pretty.

"Uh, what's up… Uh-"

"I'm Clarice." She sounded even more nervous than she looked. At least I thought she was nervous.

"Nice to meet you Clarice." I tried to put on a smile, and it half-worked. I was still just so damn angry. So I turned back to the computer screen. "Sorry, I'm not in a great mood Clarice. Just saw some news that, well..."

"Miss Terror, I hate to aggravate you, but I'm new here, alone, and uh… There are some Empire kids trying to recruit me. I heard you were taking in people who didn't want to be Empire. Could-could you get them to back off for me? Or say that I'm part of your gang?"

I did a double-take. When the hell did I become a puppy shelter? I wasn't sure whether to blame Bakuda or Cal for that, but it sure happened fast.

"I'm not making a gang, Clarice. Those Empire kids shouldn't have any capes, anyway. The heroes," I said with a bit too much force, "should be able to look out for you. Flechette seems ok, from what I've learned." Wow Taylor, way to say two utterly unhelpful things.

She put her hand on my shoulder. "They're not taking no for an answer, and the heroes can't be everywhere at once. I'll- I'll do anything. I don't know what they'll make me do if I join." She dropped her hand onto my upper thigh and gave me a hopeful look.

Wait.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Not letting whatever she was implying happen.

I pushed her hand off me as fast as I could. She fell on her ass with a squawk and crawled back until she hit a swivel chair. I was standing over her, all of a sudden, and growing a little. "First off: No, I'm not taking advantage of desperate people like that. Second off: I'm not becoming a crime boss. That's the last thing I want to do. I just want to do my time and leave. Third? I-I just... Fuck." The words died in my mouth when I got a second to really think about what she was saying.

What I would have given for someone to give Emma and the others pause? After the first year, probably about as much as this girl, if not more. And Sophia and the others weren't part of a murderous, racist gang. I sunk down in my chair and forced myself to calm down. I could feel myself shrink down a few inches as I heard Clarice mumble things I guessed were in some foreign language. Sophia could wait. Tattletale could wait. The hilarious implications of my incarceration could wait. I still murdered those four, so it wasn't like I was suddenly innocent.

When I opened my eyes, Clarice was still there, looking even more pale than when she walked in.

"I'll get them to back off. Is tomorrow at the Courtyard good? I kind of want to look up some more stuff right now, and it'll be easy to find these people if they're all in one place."

"Yeah." Clarice's voice was small. "Do you mind if I stay here?"

I didn't want people to see what I was looking up, but fine. "Yeah. Just, move over to another end of the lab. I want some privacy at the computer."

Clarice nodded and backed up to another computer, logged in, and spent some time looking at cat videos.

"I'm uh, Clarice Moller, by the way. Moller's my last name." I was reminded of a lamb, for some reason, when she talked or did anything. Dragon-me was suddenly amused by that thought, or at least I thought it was Dragon-me.

Might as well converse with the girl a bit. It'd sell my interest in her well-being a little better tomorrow. "Moller?"

"It's German."

I grunted a little. "Well that explains a lot."

"I'm not a Nazi, though!" She said with wide-eyed indignation.

"Never said you were, but it does explain the Empire's interest in you. What are you here for?"

"Uh… My parents caught me sleeping around. School sucked, so I found something I enjoyed doing." So… Was this all a honeypot or something? Though part of me wanted believe she was genuine, I'd learned to be more suspicious than most over the last two years.

I thought back to the Earth Aleph spy movies I had seen when I was younger. A short wiki search later and I studied Clarice out of the corner of my eye, thinking. Could she make a good Bond girl? Or was she more of a Noir Femme Fatale?

"He's got such big paws!" Clarice giggled at the screen, ruining the moment. She was adorable, but not in a Madison way, hiding pure evil behind a cute demeanor. Or maybe she was. Hmm. I'd have to keep an eye out on her.

The next day, in the courtyard, it was showtime.

With Clarice next to me, I walked up to the Nazis.

"So. Rumor has it you guys are trying to recruit people for your little club?"

"Kaiser wants you dead. Too little too late." Some hatchet-faced bitch spat at me. Clarice curled in on herself a little, but hey, it's what I was here for.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course, but this isn't about me. It's about Clarice here." I pointed behind me. "She doesn't want to be a part of your little group. And I think you should respect her wishes."

Some skinhead with piercings on his face spoke this time. "Yeah, well, you can't be everywhere at once. The Empire's larger than one person, and she's got good enough genes to make a real mark. She should consider her options, and her usefulness." The Nazi bleacher was down about five kids since I first showed up, but I gave the guy the benefit of the doubt regarding Empire unity.

"How about you consider this: The only cape here who would bother to save your asses only gave me a minute-worth of trouble in pitch dark. You stick to willing recruits or else I'll make the Empire look even more pathetic." I saw piercings guy look down at my teeth.

Why yes Mr. Skinhead, my teeth are very sharp.

"… fine."

With that, I walked away.

"Thanks Terror." Clarice said as soon as we were out of earshot.

"No problem, and don't go around trying to sex up people for favors. I'm sure some people here are better than that to take advantage of you."

Clarice gave me a hug before I could react and said, "Thanks Terror." She felt surprisingly soft, and small.

"No problem, now I'm going to stretch my legs and arms before the bell rings and I'm back in those giant blocks of Tinker-metal." I heard Clarice giggle, so I walked off, satisfied that it was all behind me now.

Two minutes later and I turned around to find Clarice still following me. "What are you still doing here? I fixed your problem." Where was Bakuda when you really needed her to annoy or scare people away?

"Uh, I'm with you now? You seem nice. And safe." Clarice said. I shuddered thinking of what the rest of her life was like if I was the definition of nice and safe.

I chewed on my lip a bit before I said, "Well, I'm not sleeping with you, because that would feel weird and wrong. And unless you want to watch me fail at basketball, you're in for a boring slog of a time."

"That's ok." Clarice gave me an innocent smile and walked over to sit on a bleacher as I tried to play basketball.

I made the occasional basket, each one cheered on by Clarice. The third time she did that Flechette walked over, hands shoved in her juviesuit pockets. "Who's the girl?" She asked. She had her head tilted in a sexy way. At least I thought it was sexy. Now this girl could pull off the Bond Girl look. Or at least my dream of a sexy Bond Girl.

I spent a good two seconds breathing in, in a bit of a daze. "Her name's Clarice, and I'm not really sure," I said after the ball hit my foot and bounced away from me. Good dribble-skills, Taylor. Spot on. Way to stay attentive. "She showed up yesterday while I was in the computer lab asking if I'd get the Empire to stop trying to pressgang her. I agreed to do it."

"What'd you ask for in return?" Flechette's eyes bored into mine. Or she didn't blink. I wasn't too sure how it all worked. Powers, maybe.

"Well," I sniggered, "I wanted her to leave me alone after I got them to back off, but she doesn't want to, and I guess it'd be like kicking a puppy at this point. If she wants to hang out with you instead, I'm all for it."

Flechette looked over my shoulder at the girl, who waved when I turned to look at her too. "You and Bakuda continue to mystify me."

"Yeah, and for the record. I'm not trying to start a gang. No matter what Bakuda or that Cal guy she's gonna bone say."

"Bakuda bo- Start a WHAT!?" Flechette shouted.

"Uh-" The bell for the end of Courtyard rang. "Gotta run to class, bye~e~e!"

I sorta bolted for the Courtyard check-in to get my manacles reattached. Talking with Flechette was sometimes hit or miss. It almost took my mind off of the clusterfuck that was the PRT and Sophia.

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Somewhat Disinterested

Feb 12, 2017

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Ha! more chapter! more awesome, and more plot plodding plod!

Crouching Tiger Goes to Prison 15

The next day wasn't much better for my mood. It didn't help the sky was overcast.

I sat on a bleacher in the Courtyard during our free hour out in the sun, brooding. Bakuda was talking with the other asian kids in a language I couldn't understand, while Cal was talking to the Latino and Black kids playing basketball. The Nazis were in the opposite corner, discussing things.

Clarice was at least nice enough to brush my hair as she sat behind me. Maybe she saw that I looked angry and thought it would make me feel better? The girl was a mystery to me. I still hadn't figured out what her deal was, so I figured I'd ask Dr. Smins' about her when I got the chance. I didn't get much from her when I had asked her myself.

"Uh, Clarice?" I had asked a minute into the brushing.

"Mmm?" Hell, she seemed way too sweet for juvie. Even if it was Min Sec.

"What do you like to do, for you know, entertainment, or when you're bored? Your hobbies, I guess." The library had a limit to the number of books I could check out each week, so reading wasn't consuming enough time.

She bent down over my shoulder and started nibbling and licking my neck.

"Ack! Stop, stop! I get it!" I sputtered, wiggled, and flailed until she backed off my neck, giggling. Then she resumed combing my hair. I'd asked her if she wanted me to comb her hair when she started, but she said it was fine.

It was a most confusing situation. She couldn't be interested in me like that. Under my juvie 'villain' jumpsuit was a skinny, androgynous-looking girl with a disturbing amount of scars. Frankly I was happy Westecher had private bathrooms for that reason alone. I didn't want everyone else to see my body was even more fucked up.

Thanks to those bitches.

Of course, I'd have to think about Sophia on my own. I wasn't letting on to the PRT that I knew about her, no matter how secure Smins or Bakuda thought his notes were. Hell, I hadn't even told Bakuda about Sophia. I had played several other videos of a bunch of Brockton heroes to try and obfuscate the real goals of my research.

At least Flechette admitted she was fucked up in the head. I bet Sophia would rationalize everything she did to me, and construe it as my fault.

I involuntarily grew an inch. Knowing Sophia had been a Ward while she was making my life hell was… immensely irritating. I also knew that the punishment for outing a Ward's identity was draconian, from the fact that no one did it, which was even more irritating. Sophia's family had already left Brockton when the trial started, from what I remembered. There were limited ways to fuck with her life from behind bars and still smell like roses in time to be released.

Perhaps it was a good thing that 'Shadow Stalker' had disappeared from the map. Out of sight and out of mind.

Well, out of sight at least. Knowing my luck, they sent 'poor, poor, misunderstood Sophia' over to some resort for a vacation. A curse on all island resorts, I say.

Maybe it wasn't a good idea to dwell on the negative.

Could I do something from behind juvie to bring the Sophia-being-Shadow-Stalker problem to light? Yes. A few lines here or there on PHO could eventually bring it all to light. Void Cowboy was enjoying a minor amount of fame for blowing the story on my incarceration, so I could feed him some suggestions over the course of several months. He had some other theories and accusations, but they weren't as airtight as my case was. The recent case with Canary was his strongest. He seemed to take issue with over-prosecution of capes.

But my efforts would be to what end, and what consequence? I was still here, and Emma and the others were still gone. I felt a slight tightening in my chest.

Yeah, I guess I had a crush on Emma around the time she turned on me. No wonder I took her betrayal so hard.

Cal walked over from his conversation with the kids I played basketball with, distracting me from my thoughts. His hair was starting to grow out a little, though he still looked sickly.

"Heya boss, got some good news and some bad news. What do you want to hear first?"

"Uhm, not actually your boss, but I might as well hear it." I interlaced my fingers and pushed out my hands, making a satisfying 'pop' sound. Since my manacles had been upgraded, I was starting to enjoy the times I could spend with them off my hands.

"Well," Cal began, "Bakuda says you're the boss, and you know what they say about arguing with women who can make bombs?" I was going to have words with Bakuda at some point about all this. She was far too enamored with gangs for her own good.

"What do they say?" Clarice asked.

"Ya don't do it twice." Cal mimed an explosion and went right back to business. "Anyway, bad news first because you look like a 'get-the-bad-over-with-now' girl. We can't set up a drug or contraband ring anytime soon. The contacts and cash are a real pain to organize right now."

"Why would we be setting up a drug ring!? That's horrible!" I said maybe a little too loudly. I mean, what were we, the Merchants? I had to assume the kids here didn't want to be addicted to heroin or whatever horrible things people peddled. A trooper looked my way for a moment, almost puzzled. Then she turned back to her patrol and whispered something into her radio.

There goes model prisoner status. I groaned a little. I'd never get jacuzzi privileges, or whatever they had for the best inmates. And I was still getting used to internet and TV privileges. Today I was going to use the internet to look up jobs or colleges willing to overlook my… background. And I'd look to see if there were other former villains who made a living as rogues or independent heroes.

You couldn't just rob a bank one day and be branded for life, I hoped. There had to be levels to the whole thing. Like, littering for kicks all the way up to psychos like Nilbog. Independence from everything sounded like a good idea right now.

And I wasn't feeling too charitable about joining the Protectorate now, much less being in the same place as them. It was a pity they only pulled out from towns that had S-class threats.

I bet I couldn't go to Ellisburg and go, 'Hey Goblin King, I'm the new neighbors! I made you a cake.' The thought made me scowl.

Cal made motions with his hands splayed out to try and calm me down. "It's cool, it's cool. Contraband is even more fun and profitable. People will pay for all sorts of things, even guards."

"I'm feeling really uncomfortable with this…" I said.

Cal smirked, "The Warden has always been fuzzy on contraband, especially if it's well-hidden." What the fuck kind of prison was this guy running? "It's better to have the resources and favors available and not need them, than need them and not have them. Trust me." That was fishy logic, but I'd have to let it slide. Maybe Min Sec contraband wasn't that bad? Extra shoelaces, shirts, and sewing materials?

Or a pile of weapons and gear to deal with the rest of the Empire if they decide to show up and make an example of me and the other three people potentially in the Empire's crosshairs. Dragon-me was amused by the thought of us four fighting off hordes of Nazis while the PRT troopers stood back in amazement.

I opened my mouth against my better judgement. "Ok, but I want to know exactly what's coming in and out of the prison. And I don't want drugs or something that'll get us in huge shit. As far as I'm concerned, I only want stuff that'll help us fight Nazis."

"Done and done." Cal said as he crossed his arms. "Though some weapons, like molotov cocktails, will require alcohol. Bakuda wants molotov's as a capability just on principle."

"Fine," I said with a bit of a whine in my voice. I felt like I was selling my soul for something petty like a sandwich. "But it has to be alcohol people can't actually drink. And we are only, only, using those on Empire capes. No heroes, innocents, or guards, ever."

"Sure," Cal said. "As much as I don't like the Empire kids anymore, I don't want to napalm them. It seems a bit excessive."

I ignored the fact that Bakuda could probably make napalm with a napkin, and clearly had anger control issues. "Yup, let's just stick with well-timed punches to the face. Make sure Bakuda knows that as soon as possible." I leaned back a bit into Clarice's knees as I tried not to sigh.

After a quick check to see if the coast was clear, Cal said. "Yeah, with that out of the way, the good news is that the Empire kids are probably going to try to make a move against you within the week."

This Cal guy needed to set his priorities straight. I mean come on. "That's not good news! They sent a cape with scythes-"

"Sickles," Clarice corrected me.

"Sickles to try and murder me in a hallway as a warmup. And I freaked out Flechette, which is just bad-"

"What's so cool about Flechette?" Cal asked. "Goody-two shoes, boring power, bad New York accent? I'm not seeing the big picture with her, boss."

"...She's real sexy…" I muttered against my better judgement. Maybe it would get Clarice off of me a little, at least.

"Ooooohhhh, Terror has a cru-ush!" Cal and Clarice both said in a sing-song voice.

All the blood in my body rushed to my face in an instant. "Guys! Stop, she'll never like me if I run a gang, or rip through gang capes in front of her, or look like shit like I do now. Or, or… I dunno." I finished lamely.

"What's wrong with how you look?" Clarice asked, pausing the hair brushing. I hunched over a little more. My hair was the only thing I liked about my body now, but I didn't want to talk about that.

I only knew these two for how long? Two days? I wasn't even that willing to share this stuff with Bakuda.

"Don't worry 'bout it. Private, uh, private stuff." Good job Taylor, become even more embarrassed in front of two people actually willing to talk to you. They needed me to not become paste under Kaiser's heel, but they were being nicer than they had to be.

Maybe. I couldn't be certain anymore.

"The girl's got a weakness, though. Alcohol, according to Bakuda." Cal said brightly.

And a violent temper to go with it. Like sober Sophia, I guessed. "No! No, no, no, we're not pulling that. Straight and narrow. No drugs or alcohol smuggling. I'm here for three years, then I'm out. Then I figure out a job or something. Maybe college." Mom wanted me to go to college after high school. Now it just seemed like a pipe dream.

What would I write on my application essay? 'Hi, I'm Taylor! I'm sort of a spree killer, but I got better.'

Cal looked as unimpressed with my plan as I felt at the moment. "A job? As what, a woodcarver? Whatever. The Asians supposedly have a drug smuggling thing going, but I've never seen it. Three guesses why. The Empire certainly does, unless they lost their shit as of last week. They're bleeding members, so they need to make a statement."

"They're gonna be coming for me." I said with resignation. Cal nodded.

"Yeah, someone from inside, if I had to guess. Kaiser's in the middle of some sort of scuffle back in Brockton Bay, so they're not going to bring capes."

Oh look, actual good news. At least I wouldn't be looking forward to a dick-measuring contest with Purity. "Ok, that's easier to deal with, I guess. Just steer clear of me if you think shit's goes down."

Clarice started to massage the back of my neck. "Roger that, boss," she chirped.

"Nu-uuuuh-uuuuu—uuhhh, not you too. I'm not your boss." Dragon-me was pleased by the massage, if that made any sense.

The bell rang throughout the Courtyard, and it was time to go to class. For once, I stayed put to watch the Nazis walk past me.

Yeah, they were giving me 'the look' that said, 'We want you dead, but we're going to make you stew on it.' None of them were powered, but that just made me more worried.

- - -

A/N:

I have heard your complaints about plot and pacing! And I respond with fingers in my ears screaming 'lalalalalalallalaala!' Or maybe that was about Canon-CT. I don't know.

Look, I know people are like, "bring on the action! and the awesome!" But it can't be action all the time. And I'm trying to figure out what to do with the Interludes, where some really interesting stuff will be going down and we get to see what's happening in Brockton. The tradeoff of chapters being updated fast is that the plot won't move that fast per chapter.

Last edited: Feb 12, 2017

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Somewhat Disinterested

Feb 16, 2017

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Hey, look, another chapter appeared! How'd that happen.

Crouching Tiger Goes to Prison 16

Two days later in the early morning, Officer Henderson came to my door. "Good news Terror, you have a visitor today. A repeat."

Oh joy, my 'friend' Sophia. I was having an influx of friends lately with increasingly questionable backgrounds. Bakuda

"No idea what she wants, but sure, I'll meet with her. Gimme a minute to get dressed." I shouted back through the door. Teeth, hair, mask, lack of bad odor? Check. I was about to leave and get my manacles put on when a thought struck me.

"Hey Bakuda." She was sitting on her bed writing something in a notebook. I couldn't tell what it was, but I assumed it was a blueprint for her Tinkering. She seemed frustrated since I woke up a bit earlier. Her eyes looked bloodshot.

"Yeah Taylor, what's up?" She didn't look up from the notebook or stop scribbling.

"What's the deal with Clarice?"

"Pfft, nothing special." Bakuda said dismissively. "She's just a ho."

I must confess, my first thought was something about gardening equipment. "A H- I'm sorry, what?"

My roomie sighed. "Loose woman, anything that moves, nympho, sex-crazed, ring a bell? She made out with at least three different guys in as many days when she showed up, rumor has it. 'M willing to bet that was why the Empire was interested in her."

My diagnosed-by-a-real-doctor hyper-sexuality issues and reluctant virginity aside, that still felt a bit harsh. "That's not very-"

"They're Nazis, Terror. Coercing a lonely girl into prostitution 'for the cause' would be just another Tuesday for them." I heard frantic scratching noises from Bakuda's notebook, followed by grumbling that I couldn't understand in some Asian language.

And just like that I felt a little bit better for beating up Nachter earlier in the week. "Well that's not happening on my watch, and your and Cal's little project will not go that rout either. I'm sure Clarice has more personality and positive qualities to her-"

Bakuda threw her hands up in the air, then whipped her pencil at the wall near the door. "Girl, I've seen her type in college! She's nice, but she's a ho and there's not much else she's got going for her. Until she stops looking like a ho, walking like a ho, and quacking like a ho, she's a ho."

"So, then what's Cal?" I asked skeptically. Boom, threw down the metaphorical gauntlet there. Gender equality. I'd seen Cal acting flirty with a bunch of the white kids who weren't necessarily Empire, but I hadn't thought much of it before now.

Bakuda snickered. "M' boytoy. He might not know it yet, but he is so mine. And he is not for sharing. Make sure to tell Clarice."

I groaned and knocked on the door to our cell. "Whatever, I gotta talk to some crazy bitch who decided to visit me."

"Better tap it while she's still gripping you for dear life!" Bakuda hooted as I walked out of our cell. Against my better judgement, I'd told Bakuda earlier that Tattletale was Femme-Fatale-levels of hotness.

Officer Henderson gave me a look.

There was really only one good thing to tell her that I could manage with a straight face. "I've learned today that Bakuda's dating advice is terrible."

At least it got a laugh. "Girl, don't date 'till you're married."

I took my time getting to the visiting room, plopped down down in the chair, and let officer Henderson fasten my manacles to the table. It was all for show, but I found it amusing. Henderson then walked out of the room without a word.

'Sophia' was waiting for me in her chair right across the table, along with her 'brother'. I gave 'big bro' a nice smile, which he didn't bother to acknowledge. Jackass.

"So, Sophia. What brings you to the wonderful, happy world of Westecher?"

"Have you had sufficient time to reconsider my offer to help you?" Tattletale asked with a smug grin. She wore different eyeliner this time, and a little more lipstick. If I had to guess, she was exhausted.

My first instinct was to go scorched-earth, maybe get a new Juvie-roomie. But then again, I could have use for someone on the outside. You know, someone who would send Madison, Armsmaster, or Miss Militia flowers with a card saying, 'Thinking of you, love T' out of sheer vicious glee. Yes, I'm considering being that petty.

"Yeah, but I think you're going about this the wrong angle," I said.

Tattletale quirked an eyebrow. "The correct angle being?"

I lifted the manacles a little bit. "You and everyone else thinks I want to leave, or be absolved, or whatever other nonsense. I don't. I have no skills, or friends, or plans outside of Westecher for the next three years. And pushing me towards that goal isn't necessarily a good idea."

"The Docks and the Dockworkers are dying in Brockton Bay." Tattletale said.

"They've been dying for decades. It's not going to change if I move back. I can't magic a city's economy."

"They're people your dad knew, and cared about."

Really, she pulled that on me. Was she going to bring up the Ferry next? The fact that Mom died in a car crash and wanted me to make something of myself? I forced myself to roll my eyes. "I'm not a hiring manager," I said with a tighter voice than I wanted to. "And regardless of any qualifications you think I have, my reputation and powers aren't good for economic revitalization."

"You could help deal with the gangs." Tattletale said, thankfully not bringing my father up again.

I barked out a laugh. "That's rich." Coming from you. "I doubt you or I could beat back the Empire capes when all of them show up at my front door."

"Kaiser isn't as strong as you'd think. We're friends with someone who's tried to get you acquitted for a while. From behind the scenes. Most real juries and lawyers would consider your charges far too harsh." Tattletale said.

I snorted. "Friends, right. Certainly isn't Alan Barnes." Alan had been calling for my head, and I didn't blame him that much. Maybe Mr. Barnes had imploded much like my father had and abandoned all responsibility for Emma right around the time she betrayed me, and this was his way to make up for it.

"My friend does have a certain emotional investment in your wellbeing, as does the boss of my company. We'd keep you safe." Again with the sketchy boss. And that argument felt the most insincere of all.

I leaned back in my chair as far as the manacles would allow. "Brockton is prepping for a gang war. Kaiser wants me dead. Lung would pick a fight with me out of boredom. If I had to guess, Miss Militia is looking for an excuse to kill me if I return and so much as jaywalk in Brockton. I refuse to pretend that my presence will do fuck-all to help or calm things down."

"You can't enjoy it here, Terror. The fights, the conditions, the crazy people trying to kill you. And I can't imagine you're enamored with the PRT right now." Tattletale gave me a wink.

I appreciate the hint about Sophia, but seriously. Two steps forward, five steps back. Because what person with connections to Brockton Bay, according to Cal, would be invested in setting up an Empire hit?

"Fights and assassination attempts? Now how would you know something like that?" I asked, feigning disinterest.

"I- I uh… I have my sources." And your foot on a landmine, girl. I could see her brain catching up to what I was implying in real time. It was great theatre.

I smiled. "Mmm, of course. And that information would have nothing to do with your boss, would it?" I brought my manacles together with the table, to signal 'Accord', then I made a snake-like wiggling motion with the tip of my finger out of view of 'big bro', and Tattletale exhaled just a little bit more forcefully in a way I could pick out with my powers. So the boss was Coil, good to know.

And people thought Thinkers were hard to keep up with. "So, ignoring your boss's very stupid decision to irritate me again, let's say I'm willing to play ball from here. What PR or long-distance work could be done, and what can I expect, tit-for-tat? I have my own requests, but I'd like to see what the deal is"

I was making up half these codewords on the spot, and it was amusing to watch Tattletale's exasperation.

"Not much effort on your part, he wants you for blue-collar work. Construction and stuff. You'd get two grand a month, possibly more. A lot more if you're as good as the reports."

I sunk down in my chair. So I'd be fighting people at just about any hour for a minimum wage. Oh joy.

"Let's try again."

Tattletale shrugged. "What can I say? The boss only wants you on premises. He doesn't think you have long distance capabilities."

I didn't like the fact that Tattletale was enjoying holding this over me. Having Brockton contacts would have been nice, though it was something I could live without for the moment. "Yeah, well-"

"Alright you two, visiting hours are over," a PRT trooper announced as he opened the door. He then came over to unchain me from the table.

Tattletale got up from her chair, "We'll work out something in the future that's beneficial. I'm so glad this meeting turned out better than last time."

"Likewise!" I chirped back. The massive, scheming bitch. If I were a betting girl, I'd say she was hoping to leverage me into taking out her boss, and then take over herself. I'd be her main enforcer.

I sighed. I mean, Tattletale was hot, but not hot enough for that.

Dammit, Taylor, focus. I had to deal with Kaiser, life after juvie, whatever stupid plans Cal and Bakuda were cooking up, and who knew what else. Oh, yeah, I had to figure out what to do with the other suspected and secret capes in the facility.

The guard followed behind me down the exact route I'd arrived. A nod to some other officers here and there, and I was feeling a bit better. They treated me better than the staff at Winslow, at least.

I was ruminating on PHO users to talk into becoming informants for me when a hallway door shut behind me with a 'click'. With no guards in eyesight. Well, the guy who was following me was pounding on the door a bit, muttering about his keycard.

"You ok there?" I asked. The guy's last name was White or something, judging by the name tag. Officer Brown had been found knocked out in a broom closet, supposedly, but one could never be too concerned for the welfare of PRT troopers. Brown was reassigned to make sure he wasn't a leak, and check into a hospital for potential brain damage. Much like the troopers in the van with me on my way to Westecher, the prison guys were far too squishy for their line of work.

I tapped my manacles against the door. "I'd try and help, but I can't use my hands. Anything I should do?" I had decided when I arrived at Westecher that I'd be nice to the PRT troopers, as a sort of penance for the ones I'd mauled before getting arrested.

"Yeah, fu-the damn door just won't open. You stay there until I get it opened, ok?" I stood by the door waiting for the trooper, but he was just sounding angrier and angrier, radioing in and bitching about 'backup'.

Then I heard a slight scuffing noise from around the corner.

Suspicious. So I decided to take a look, creeping a few steps, and justifying that it wasn't likely to be another cape assassin. I had checked the news, and Alabaster hadn't even been busted out of prison yet. Still, 'surprise! It's Hookwolf!' wasn't something I wanted to leave to chance. It was an enclosed hallway, which meant I couldn't throw around a scouting breeze without it being suspect. I didn't want to reveal to the Warden I could control air and electricity in a massive radius too, or they'd justify a full-body manacle-thing in solitary, in a bunker several hundred feet underground, feeding me through a long straw. I chuckled to myself for thinking it wouldn't be that bad as long as I had internet.

Or they'd throw me in the Birdcage. And as bad as I felt, I didn't want to join the monsters in the Birdcage.

So I turned the corner to find the juvie Nazis. A dozen of them, just casually waiting for me. For a good moment, we stood in the hallway, staring at each other in silence.

I sighed. "What do you all want this time?"

They charged.

At least Cal warned me.

- - —

A/N:

Ok, it'll probably this chapter, maybe another chapter, and then we're gonna have interlude-apalooza!

You'll see what going on with a bunch of people! And it'll be so much fun and enlightening.

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Somewhat Disinterested

Feb 21, 2017

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Hey look. Another chapter! hooray! (maybe 1 more until a sweet sweet interlude.)

Crouching Tiger Goes to Prison 17

Being cocooned inside a ball of containment foam, getting wheeled to the inevitable meeting with The Warden, gave me time to think.

Why were they doing this?

The Nazis, I mean. Not the PRT troopers. I totally understand them foaming me for this one.

I assumed the Nazis weren't stupid. Though I still beat the crap out of them. They had to have some sort of plan. Was this a distraction? I considered it for a moment. Cal, Bakuda, and Clarice would be the targets, in order of importance. The least likely would be Flechette. They'd have to fend for themselves until I could get out of the foam, unfortunately.

There was a lot of blood, now that I thought about it. Like, a surprising amount of blood. A bunch got on my face, in my mouth, even. I'd hit them lightly in the face with my manacles and they'd spray blood everywhere. Get slammed into a wall, more blood.

Suddenly, my senses were assaulted by light and sound. "-ell, Terror. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Finally.

"They bled a lot more than I thought they would." I said. The others had been uncovered already. I guess I was just the surprise party guest, then.

"She's a menace!" Shouted one of the Nazis, as if on cue. "She nearly chewed my face off!" And lo and behold, he did have some gashes on his face.

"She did that to me too!" Shouted a skinhead girl. "Ripped into my ears like a savage!" And will you look at that, her earrings were ripped out, along with a chunk of her ear. I wondered if they were ripped out beforehand. The other Nazis had bloody lacerations and bruises all over them, which I think they had before they rushed me. It was a little difficult to remember.

Oh. So that's what they were pulling. I took a quick stock of the situation… hmm, blood on my face, completely unhurt. Nazis totaled. Yeah, that's not looking good.

"Uh, I rounded the corner and they attacked me. So I defended myself with punching." See? Simple, to the point.

"With those manacles?" The Warden asked. I nodded.

"Didn't hit them too hard. It's a setup, I think. Or they're just weak enough to bleed a lot. Pretty sure my manacles are too smooth to cut things."

"Fuck you, whore!" screeched a Nazi. A PRT trooper bopped her upside the head with a baton. Well, bopped may have been too gentle a word.

"But you got in a fight with the other twelve inmates here, Terror. And the others have serious injuries you can't just " Oh, hey, there was a doctor standing behind me. I think. Or whatever passed for a doctor at Westecher.

Another Nazi decided to speak up. "The damn-"

"Silence!" The Warden bellowed. He looked angry. I decided it would be good to just nod.

You could hear a pin drop in the room.

No one else heard, but I was able to make out the faint sound of a guy's muffled screaming. Odd, but I put it in the back of my mind. It wouldn't matter who else was at Westecher if I had to leave.

"This is the fourth fight Terror has been in since she arrived. Alabaster's was an anomaly I was willing to overlook, and he was dealt with without serious injuries or fatalities. But this? To say I'm furious is an understatement. The guilty parties will be shipped to Max Sec for this. I already have approval from a judge since the last fiasco each of you pulled." He looked at each of us in turn, eyes settling on me.

Ok, think here Taylor. The Warden would probably be happy to get rid of you and just deal with the Nazis. The Nazis either want you in the Birdcage or in Max Sec. Clever jokes you shared with them lately aside, the PRT Troopers probably want you out of their hair. Flechette is scared of you. Amble is worthless. Clarice, Bakuda, and Cal have the political clout of a fly.

"They would have matching teeth marks." I said. Go-go Terror, Dragon detective extraordinaire!

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" The Warden asked with a hint of fury in his voice.

"The kids who say I bit them would have teeth marks." I swallowed thickly. "And the teeth marks would have to be consistent with the marks of my first, uh, incident." That one Winslow senior hadn't stood a chance, with how his ribs crunched like that. It was about as painful as what they were going to do to me. Then again, he didn't deserve that any more than I did-

One of the Nazis turned his head to the side and showed off teeth marks. "Yeah, bitch is crazy. Don't need science to figure that out."

I felt the room drop another ten degrees. And twenty pairs of eyes swivel in my direction. "Uh. Totally not my mouth. Check teeth records or whatever those are called." Boom, watching police procedurals coming to the rescue.

"There's blood all over her mouth! Our blood." Shouted another Nazi. A fat one with zits and small runny eyes.

"Can't help it if you're spitting it all over the place." I muttered.

"Oh," I interjected. "Where's piercing-face guy and hatchet face girl?" It occurred to me that if they beat up Clarice or the others, I'd have to go to town on them. Or, if they were moved to another facility, break out of Westecher, break into their Min Sec prison, and then go to town on them. Then have to go through another trial process again, and probably get sent to Min Sec.

Or I could wait three years and track them down. No one knew I could control air and electricity within a two hundred and fifty foot radius when sufficiently angered. I hadn't electrocuted and suffocated the ENE Protectorate and the Wards that one day because I wanted to rip Sophie to shreds with my own claws. In hindsight, it was better that I didn't. Killing Sophia probably would have motivated Alexandria to smash my head in. The Urban myth was that you didn't murder Wards unless you wanted an instant kill order.

"They shouldn't be your concern."Ripped-ear girl said with a laugh. "Your concern should be the fact you're a fuckin' lesbo monster, terrorizing the facility. Even the fuckin' heroes wouldn't stand up for you. Your little leeches won't fair any better once you're gone."

I considered that more of an insult aimed at Amble than at me.

Time to redirect the conversation. "I think you're all just jealous I made Nachter cry like a bitch." He was crying for a bit when I suffocated him. It was hilarious in hindsight.

"Bullshit!" Tall and Fat Nazi spat back at me. Along with a good amount of blood.

"Nutshot, then a few seconds later he was crying. Like a bitch." Beautiful nominal lie right there, Taylor. "All he had to do was step aside and let me get more celery sticks, but no, he wanted me dead." I said.

"Amusing. Officer Brown was separated from you and ordered you to stay put, Terror. Why didn't you?" The Warden asked me from his desk.

"There was a noise, and I wanted to investigate, only to run into these guys. God forbid Kaiser send Hookwolf in for a jaunt at this place to get me the second I round the corner. Turns out it was these twelve." Some of the PRT troopers were nodding along with me slightly.

"Besides," I asked, "what were those twelve all doing, unsupervised, in what I presume is a hallway without a security camera? They just happened to come across me as I returned from visitation down a scheduled route. Were they playing cards? And what are their friends up to now? How did they coordinate so that the guards wouldn't be available to help me a fourth time until it was too late? Seems suspicious."

The Warden steepled his fingers and swiveled his head to stare one of the bigger Nazis directly in the eyes.

The argument went on for a while longer. I valiantly tried to make my case that this was a setup. The Nazis made a very good case that I was horrible and dangerous and clearly should be locked up in a real prison. Without TV, internet, or pudding. I was worried.

I made the case that I was totally innocent, it was all a setup. We'd see what happened. It felt like a court case, except one I was actually invested in this time.

"I've decided," The Warden said in the middle of some boring Trooper's explanation of the keycard system. The Nazis grinned in anticipation, the PRT troopers stood at attention impassively, the doctor guy was pacing around, and I fervently hoped that con-foam wasn't permanent after a certain point.

"In order to keep everyone here safe, we're moving you twelve downstate to Northbleak. You've provoked Terror enough, and I'm not convinced by this theater." The Warden looked over my shoulder. "Furthermore, there have been complications."

The Nazis started shouting curses and denials, but it didn't look like they were too displeased. It was a gambit on their part then, and rather clever. Orchestrate a fake fight, and injure each other beforehand to make it look like I was more of an unhinged monster than anyone thought. If they left to go to another prison, they won and didn't look weak. If I left, the balance of power would shift back in their favor.

I guess I was foolish to think the unpowered Nazis were as dumb as Nachter, and lucky the Warden thought I was worth keeping in the facility. The con-foam blocks of Nazis were hauled out by troopers until the room held only myself, twelve troopers, and the Warden. He wasn't looking too friendly today.

The Warden sat down at his desk and began writing. "And you, Terror, will go to solitary for a day."

"What! Why?" I shouted out of reflex. Some of the PRT troopers swiveled their con-foam guns at me. I, being the nice and wonderful Dragon I was, decided not to press further. I had spent enough of the day cocooned in foam, and it would be a real bitch cleaning the gunk off of my hair.

"You disobeyed a direct order from Agent Brown. He told you to stay put, and you didn't. That was a risk to your and Brown's safety, as well as Westecher's. Next time I won't be so forgiving of the circumstances."

Images of potential situations flashed in my mind, each more ludicrous than the last, yet not really considering my luck. EndBringers, Slaughterhouse Nine, The Fallen, The Empire, Lung himself, Miss Militia with a gun pointed at my head. "...That's… well, fair, I guess, Mr. Warden." I admitted. "Sorry Agent Brown?" I craned my neck, but I couldn't see him in the room. "At least I didn't break my manacles this time, though."

The Warden's mouth twitched. "True."

And then I was wheeled to solitary.

- - -

A/N: I didn't release this fast enough, so some of you guessed what was going on before I posted it.

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Somewhat Disinterested

Feb 26, 2017

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muahahaha! I have given another update! before the interlude!

Crouching Tiger Goes to Prison 18

"Bored. Bored. Blah blah, booger nazi schmatzi, booger bored. Boobs. Heh, bo-oooo-ooo-obs… It's a funny word, Roger, don't laugh."

My delusional ravings aside, Solitary wasn't too bad. The room had natural light coming in from the ceiling, a small cot that didn't smell too bad, and a clock on the wall. I saw a spider crawling near the cot within the first few minutes.

I decided his name would be Roger. Roger the Spider.

After the first hour or so staring at the clock, I grew a few inches and spent most of it feeling out the electronics around the solitary room. Fire alarms, fire extinguishers, audio and video recording devices, heat sensors, there was a lot of fun stuff. The contraptions for wall-mounted containment foam were interesting, to say the least.

Then I got more bored. Styrofoam food trays came in and out through a slat at six hour intervals. The food itself was a little dull, and there wasn't dessert. But hey, it's juvie, not an island resort like what the PRT would probably have Sophia enjoying herself.

"I'm just a poor boy, from a poor family!" "Spare him his life from this monstrosity!" "Easy come!" "Easy go! Will you let me go!" "No! No! No! No! No! No!" Canary I wasn't, but who cared? It's Solitary, no one's supposed to hear you.

"Mama mia! Mama mia!" I didn't mess with the air vibrations to make it sound like the rest of that band was backing me up on vocals and other instruments, however cool it would have been. After I got processed and went through initial power-testing, which was not a friendly process that rewards you for cooperation, I decided I'd hold off on telling the PRT the full extent of my powers.

'I could pop your head like a grape or electrocute you to death from 250 feet away, but I don't feel like it,' doesn't sound as non-threatening when you've already killed four unarmed people.

I'm not too proud to admit that I head-banged and air-guitared along with the song's musical break I was humming. Benefit of having long hair was that it must have looked awesome.

Then, after the twelfth repetition of that song, I was let out by a nice guard who thanked me for not making a mess while I was in there. He probably had to clean it if I did, which would have been pretty gross.

When I arrived back at my cell, Bakuda greeted me sitting on her bunk. She looked tired.

"Figured they'd slam you in Solitary." She grunted. I guess word traveled in the Westecher grapevine.

"Yeah, it's pretty boring. What happened since the fight?" I asked. The room looked tidier than I'd remembered it being when I last left it.

"After an 'incident,' and fallout from that, they had me sit in the cafeteria and did a search of the room while you were in Solitary. Officially they were looking for bugs, tunnels, and correspondence. More likely they wanted to see if there was contraband. I heard the Nazi cells got raided too. Rumor has it over half the Nazis are gone, and most of the rest aren't really into it. So now the Asians and Latinos are the big group."

"Ok. Uh, you seem fine. How are Cal and Clarice?" Bakuda's face soured when I mentioned their names.

"I had to bluff a dirty bomb to keep these two massive dumbfucks from beating me up too much, so I'm only sort of ok. Cal's fine, and you should see Clarice for yourself." A chill went up my spine.

"What. Happened. Bakuda." I couldn't help but grow four inches as I said it. Bakuda inclined her head to keep looking me in the eye.

"I'm not scared of you, Terror." She said, levelly. Her blue eyes staring right at me, unblinking.

I grit my newly sharp teeth and shrank an inch. "Not at all what I meant, and frankly it's a huge plus that you don't tiptoe around me. If those Nazi fuckers touched-"

"Ah. Go visit Clarice's cell. It's not that bad." Bakuda said before picking up a notebook and collapsing onto her bed. "The Nazis used to try and do worse to me. Only so many times you can bullshit a TP roll with a lightbulb as a Tinker bomb."

I spent nearly a minute stewing in silence in front of my cell door, trying to calm myself down. "When I get back, we should talk."

"Fine." Bakuda snapped as she scribbled in her notebook, mumbling Tinker nonsense. I had no idea what we'd talk about, but we'd talk.

I got my manacles reapplied and took a trip to Clarice's cell accompanied by a Trooper. Her cell was more like a dorm with a really sturdy door. It had kitten posters on it. Well, one side of it. The other side was Goth-Doom-And-Gloom Incorporated in terms of decorations.

Clarice sat on her bunk, alone. Her face was hidden by her hair, and her knees were drawn up against her chest. Her cellmate must have been out for the moment. Probably doing Goth things like summoning demons, spirits to curse the popular kids, or the class jock who's surprisingly nonjudgemental of counterculture fashion, or whatever goths did.

"Clarice?" I asked.

"Hi Terror." Clarice mumbled. It wasn't hard to tell she had been crying recently.

I could tell even from this angle that she had bruises all over her face. Big, ugly ones. "S-Sorry you had to see me like this. They, uh, got me a few times before the guards pulled them away. I should have-"

I sat down next to her, annoyed that my Brute 6 manacles prevented hugs. "Who did this to you?" I asked.

"… Doesn't matter."

"It does matter. I said I'd help you, and I don't want to be a liar." What's the point of superpowers if you can't help people?

"They'll just get a slap on the wrist and hurt me worse later when you're not looking."

I grew three inches in a heartbeat. Like hell that was going to happen here. "A dozen of the Nazis are being sent to Max Sec, and I'll beat the shit out of whoever did this to you."

It took a minute for Clarice to find her voice. "That... Cecily. She's got blonde hair and that, that-"

"Resting bitchface?"

"Yeah. She was on the bleachers when you told them all off. I think she hates me for not joining. Or not being straight."

"I think she's going to have more pressing things to worry about soon." Clarice nodded, and a few more tears fell into her lap.

"I must look hideous," she whispered. She looked pretty bad, but it would clear up in a few days, hopefully.

I bumped her head with the side of mine, gently. "Still look prettier than me." Emma cared a lot about her appearance, and I had to distance myself from anything distinct about mine when the bullying started. I always liked my hair, though.

"You're a good writer, you know."

"Mmm?" I asked stupidly.

"… I followed your case, before I was sent here. I read through your whole diary. Even requested Westecher when I was sentenced. I could have gone to a non-cape juvie instead, without violent bitches like that girl." Clarice whispered. That surprised me. "I'm so fucking stupid, I don't belong here. There are a lot of girls at my school just like yours. I wish I could do something about them."

My mouth was dry. "...You don't want to do what I did, no matter what powers you could get" I said. "That day will probably stay with me for the rest of my life."

"...I wish I were stronger. I just couldn't take their bullshit anymore, so I slept with the ringleader's douchebag boyfriend… Huge fight. He got sent to a real jail, because I... Made everything blow up. It's all so stupid now that I think about it. I'll have to go back at some point when I leave. Be 'that girl'."

"That girl?"

"That 'whore', actually. My revenge didn't change their opinions of me."

"Oh."

"Worthless but for a pretty face. Direct quote. Guess I'm now just worthless."

"Don't let them make you think you're worthless." I said on instinct. "You're not worthless. I wished someone told me that in Winslow."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Now, what do you do, besides, uh, ack! That, that you like?" She looked a little hurt that I wouldn't return her affection, but… I just, I didn't want that. Or want it like that. I wasn't sure.

"Well, I write things. Poems sometimes. It's, uh-" She blushed, which looked awful because of the bruises. But I saw a hint of a smile.

"My- my mom used to be an English Professor, so I read a lot when I was younger. Shakespeare, Chaucer, all the inappropriate stuff too." My words felt like congealed syrup, but I forced myself to say it. In that moment, I told myself I'd go back to Brockton at least once to see my parents' graves. "Can I, uh, see your writing?"

"Uh, sure. Yeah." Clarice reached under her bed and pulled out a large, worn notebook.

I walked back to my cell with a trooper, whistling a jaunty tune. Clarice was actually a decent writer, even if some of the content was pretty explicit.

Once in my room and free of my manacles, I sat down on my bed and steeled myself a little. I was actually afraid of what my room mate say.

"Hey Bakuda."

"Whadd'ya want?" She asked sourly.

"I know I'm not very good at it, but we should talk. And it's not my intention for you to be afraid of me, in spite of my publicized freakout. I don't want to bully people or intimidate them."

"Mm," Bakuda said.

I sat down on my bed. "You're not happy with me about something, or just not happy in general. I should have paid attention, and I'm sorry. What's wrong?"

"You're not a good gang boss."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I'll say. I wanted to be a hero, so I guess that makes me a double-fuckup."

"It's not funny, Terror. I nearly got my shit pounded yesterday, and you just spent all your time focusing on that suck-up. You ignore real shit and just deal with nothing-cakes like that Clarice-"

"Bakuda," I snapped. "Clarice is like I was, before I had my powers. Lost, helpless, and alone. And I said I'd protect her, just like I'd be willing to protect you and Cal. I'm not some awesome badass who'll become the Queen of New York State. I'm just me. I'm not some amoral monster, or villain mastermind waiting to take over a city despite what everyone outside wants to think. I had one horrible day, did something awful in anger, and now I'm here. I didn't even know what a trigger event was until my lawyer told me." I actually didn't, funny enough. There's no manual that comes with powers, though the internet would have told me had I known where to look.

"So you don't know what the fuck you're doing, do you?" Bakuda hissed as she swung her legs out over her bed and rolled her neck. I shook my head. "You're going to have to be the dominant force in this prison, and strong, if you don't want people walking all over you, or killing you from outside. Gotta be the big shit here. Because the heroes are shit, the PRT is shit, and the other gangs will be shit when their members show up in the future. My fucking tinker tech is so limited here I'm getting an aneurism trying not to nuke these fuckers or build something that'll get me shipped to Max Sec along with them. I could probably make fission out of a banana peel, but no~oo~oo, that's not safe! I can't even make a useable remote control mechanism to integrate into my mask. These fucking bastards-"

I see Bakuda picked up Cal's verbal tics. I let her rant for a good few minutes about how everything and everyone in the center was stupid or out to keep her down. The ravings didn't make a whole lot of sense, but I figured venting would be helpful.

I sighed when she finally petered out. Clearly she didn't have as good of a grip on this place as I hoped. "Damn, girl. That does suck. I thought you were this crazy badass who didn't let anything or anyone mess you, with how you carried yourself since I got here."

Bakuda scowled, "Flattery isn't going to put you in my good graces."

"Yeah, well, I actually thought that. It's not flattery when I tell you you're a fucking psycho too, is it? Now what happened to Cal?"

Bakuda's breath hitched. "He got stabbed."

"Stabbed? Stabbed!? Then why the fuck is he fine!?" I shouted.

"I snuck into the nurse's room and cooked up this Tinker-tech injector so he'd heal faster. Lemme show you." Bakuda rolled up her sleeves, showing off massive bruises on her right arm. It looked like a guy's hand grabbed her by the elbow, and I felt a brief stab of anger. A quick jab of the injector into her arm and I could see the bruises lighten and start to disappear from her skin. "It works for small wounds, too. Like getting stabbed. I got about ten of these, since they're easy to make and tweak."

I picked up one of the injectors she'd thrown on her bed. I'd never need one, but the damn thing looked fascinating. And she'd made it in minutes. No wonder Dragon wanted to get her Canadian-perfect-hero hands on Bakuda's tech.

"All hail our Tinker Bullshit overlords, huh… Hey Bakuda," I said. "I thought you only made bombs."

Bakuda fiddled with another one in her hands. "Hmm, well that was just a quick project because I was…" Worried about Cal, clearly. "It's contraband, so don't let the guards see it. He wasn't in a lot of trouble, but I just dropped everything-" Her hands were shaking. "- he was screaming when they tried to pull out the shank bits- and-"

That explains the screaming I heard the other day. "Hey, I get it." I wasn't good with hugs, but I moved over to Bakuda's bunk and wrapped an arm around her. "And I'm sorry I wasn't there. You did a good job, and he knows it." Our masks made a 'clink' noise when my head bumped into hers.

You know, they're stupid things, masks. What's the point anyway? They all know who I am here, and I don't have a civilian family to protect at home. I broke ofd the hug to make a leap of faith with the resident psycho bomber. "I probably should have done this a lot earlier but…" I pulled my mask off my face and forced myself to smile.

"I'm Taylor. I'm a skinny nerd with no social skills, and a fuckup of a reluctant prison gang leader."

Bakuda sniffed and pulled off hers.

"Hi Taylor. I'm Alice. I'm a fuck-up engineering prodigy with a crush on a neo-Nazi, Tinker powers that no one wants to be around, whose crush's former friends just tried to beat me to death while his other former friends shanked him. And I have no idea what to do when I leave here."

I giggled. "He said former Nazi, at least. So it's a little better."

Alice sighed. "Yeah, and he'll be out a month before I'm released."

"You know what you'll have to do then?" I said conspiratorially.

"What?" She asked.

"Write the sappiest love po-" My response was cut off by a pillow to the face.

The next Monday at the Courtyard was Judgement Day. All of the kids responsible were put in Solitary and just got out, and I wanted to speak with them all as a unit. Cal looked good for a recent stab victim, and Clarice's face was starting to clear up. Though she didn't want to walk around on her own. The Courtyard days since I went to her room were more subdued, with my little group of four sitting on a bleacher opposite the courtyard from the Nazis' bleacher. We had about half a dozen kids run up and ask for favors over the five days, from drugs to other contraband. Some of them were former skinheads, approved by Cal.

But on Monday, I left the comfort of my staked-out bleacher. I calmly walked over to Flechette first, who was playing a card game with a pretty new girl who looked half-asian. "Hey Flechette, figured I'd give you a heads up."

What about? Her body posture seemed to say. "What are you going to-"

I jerked my thumb in the obvious direction. "Those Nazi guys have been trying to get my attention lately, so I'm going to have a talk with them."

"You're not supposed to do that."

I winked. "They asked to speak with me, and I'll probably piss them off if I ignore it. And you're supposed to help guard the rest of the inmates. Three people I care about got the shit beat out of them, and the perps are right over there by the bleachers."

Flechette looked over my shoulder. "Nothing fatal or permanent? Please? I have to tell my bosses I'm making progress, and you're not a monster. For both our sakes."

Hilarious that I was probably going to be the head of a smuggling ring in a week, but Flechette didn't need to know. I nodded. "Nothing fatal. They just need to understand that there are general rules of conduct here. And mum's the word, yes?"

Flechette nodded.

The Nazi bleacher was rather underpopulated this time around. I took my time walking over there. Some of the previous denizens of the I-hate-everyone-non-white bleacher were moving to the more general latino, black, and white group that Amble was a part of. I was walking towards the ones with the tattoos, who had been watching me the moment I stepped onto the Courtyard.

"The fuck you want!?" Shouted piercings guy as got close. He sounded a little on edge. Perhaps, of all things, it was my lack of a mask. His buddies were shifting about and looking pointedly at the guards.

Huh, the guards aren't paying attention to us? What a coincidence. I guess treating people with kindness and respect works in prison, according to the films I'd seen when my parents weren't looking. If I ever wrote a memoire about juvie life, I'd inspire a complete revamp of the Brockton Public School System.

I put a finger on my lips. "A few days ago, I remember telling you and your… now smaller group that you should back off Clarice. Do you remember the conversation I remember?"

Silence.

"Come now," I smiled. "Nachter couldn't have been the smartest one in this outfit, could he?"

"Fuck you," hissed piercings guy. "You wouldn't dare. You're a fucking dyke coward. You're too scared to go to a real prison, where the real capes would carve you up like turkey. Troopers wouldn't let too much happen to us anyway. They're scared of Kaiser."

"Did you talk dirty like that to Nachter when you blew him? Regardless, when I leave here, I'm going to take a night to visit your families and wreak brutal-"

My speech was cut short by a punch to the face. At least two of the younger Nazis visibly paled and recoiled as I took it. I was a pretty good punch too. The guy clearly took boxing or something. I actually had to take a step back to keep my balance.

Pity it wouldn't help him.

My foot slammed into his thigh, and I created a vacuum bubble around his head, so that the screams wouldn't travel. He fell down, crying and clutching his leg. I stepped forward to deal with the rest. The other Nazis jumped up

Looks like Hatchet-faced bitch was number two for the 'Taylor special'. For hurting Clarice like that, she'd get both her arms broken. Did you know those take months to heal? She'd have to be spoon-fed by her friends. If she had access to friends in Max Sec.

Crack. Crack. No blood, no screams, no worries. She got a weak punch to my chest in before the pain overtook her.

With Hatchet-faced bitch lying on the bleacher crying within two seconds, I looked over the other Nazis.

A Nazi who had been giving Clarice creepy looks tried to run past me. I grabbed him and slammed my heel into his ankle, and simultaneously broke the collarbone I had grabbed.

That gave the remaining bastards pause. One pulled out a shank, and another raised his fists now that running wasn't an option. The Nazis made a poor choice to pick a bleacher by the corner, I'll tell you that.

It turns out that my little revenge lasted about forty seconds before someone realized something was wrong and we got foamed. It was good to know that the security issues could work in my favor for once.

Ah. Con-foam. Another glorious cocoon. I was thinking of lodging a complaint. They should make the stuff scented and bring some variety. I'm thinking strawberry or grape flavored. Maybe lavender if Dragon was feeling up to things.

The Warden was livid. "What the fuck happened this time?" The Nazis looked like they were in pain. Oh wait, they probably had their broken bones smushed by the foam.

Sorry, not sorry.

Before I could say anything to my defense, one of the troopers who foamed me spoke up. "Sir, the skinheads called Terror to meet with them and instigated a fight with her, attempting to endanger the other troopers and inmates in the Courtyard. We recommend immediate expulsion to a Max Sec for these six. Flechette and Amble approve as well."

Oh.

I guess I just compromised the PRT guards? Well, it's not like I was going to run a real prison crime ring. I just wanted the skinhead fuckers out and in a lot of pain to make them reconsider their life choices. And maybe an information network to fuck with Kaiser and eventually Coil. And maybe a tea set for my room.

To confess, I did change the air currents and vibrations around myself and the bleacher when I was having the civil chat with the Nazis to give everyone a very, very different impression of what was going on. I can play public relations games too, you wacky Nazis. And I can play them better.

The Warden sighed and looked in my direction. "Terror again. Do I have to ask?"

I tried my best impression of a shrug while buried in conform. "Couldn't hurt. They were threatening to hurt anyone that talked to me, to egg me on. I can't be everywhere at once here, so I broke their limbs to make them less dangerous while they attacked me." I really, really enjoyed doing it, too. But the Warden didn't need to hear that.

After a quick words from the Warden and guards over the protests of the con-foamed Nazis, they got shipped off to Max Sec immediately, along with their broken bones, and I got ordered back to my cell with a few guards.

With my manacles, and a bowl of chocolate pudding balanced on them. Fuck yeah.

Through the air, I felt the troopers fist-pumping and high-fiving each other behind me. Guess they weren't big fans of those kids either. Or the murderous capes they'd try and sneak in to get me killed.

I allowed myself to smile as I walked past hallways and cells. Maybe I'm a better prison gang boss than people gave me credit for.

- - - - - - -

A/N: Ok, now after this I have to work on a massive Interlude from the perspectives of a bunch of people. No rest for the wicked, eh?

Last edited: Feb 26, 2017

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