Current Energy: 1
Current Training:
Magic Resistance - Complete!
Friday, February 25th, 2011
Hebert Household, Brockton Bay
"Nobody wants you here hussy."
They are the first words you hear upon waking up, and unsurprisingly, they are uttered by Nemesis, who is currently laying down on her front while her legs kick happily in the air behind her. She is at the bottom of the bed, face a few inches away from Gram where you had laid it against the wall before going to sleep.
"You're big and ugly and have too many spikes," the girl whispers to your sword maliciously, wiggling happily when it - not being sapient - fails to answer her derisive comments.
"...Nemesis?" You query carefully and quietly, after a quick glance towards your Master to see if she too is awake.
You hadn't gotten home until very late last night. Master/Stranger protocol apparently had several dimensions to it that were only relevant when someone somehow managed to stay near the Simurgh to fight her without the proper authorization to do so.
As a result, you had been mostly left to your own devices, helping to clear rubble, rescue trapped civilians, and heal those who needed it using a brace of healing tags your master stealthily left you.
Of course, you ended up staying even longer when your Master recalled the brainwashed Capes still floating about within the Gap, and had promptly released them to be processed.
The fact that she timed that action to coincide with Alexandria's presence didn't help either. Taylor obviously had fully transitioned from Idol Worship to holding a minor grudge against the elder heroine for trying to kill Trainwreck during the fight.
All that to say, while your Master would usually be awake about now, this being her usual waking time, the previous day's events have left her too tired to bother.
It's not like there's school today anyway.
"...yes?" Nemesis responds to you after freezing for a moment to process the noise.
"Are you... bullying my sword?" You ask quizzically.
"...no?" She offers, not at all sounding sure of the statement.
"So... when Master awakens with this memory, she won't reach that conclusion? Not at all?" You ask rhetorically.
Nemesis, who was ever one to choose her battles, decides to respond to this in a way most befitting her childlike stature.
She cries.
"I didn't even get to stab it! Not even one time!" She whines, tears streaming from her face as she leaps into your chest starts complaining.
"And it was like, the most stabbable thing on the planet! Everyone would have been really proud of me and everything!" She continues, nuzzling into your chest.
"Yes, yes. You're very... stabby." You try to comfort her, not really sure how one goes about comforting children.
Or... swords.
Sword children.
Hm.
"You know she's just doing that to change the topic right?" Taylor asks you lazily, watching you from the other side of the bed with tired half-lidded eyes.
"Nu-uh! You wanted to kill it too! Don't lie!" Nemesis huffs, her cheeks puffing up. Taylor has the good grace blush slightly before shaking her head.
"Yeah, cus I was angry. Not because I wanted to experience the sheer joy of a good murder." She says flatly.
"But there are so few acceptable targets!" Nemesis complains.
"There are two more Endbringers that are way easier to hit." Taylor points out with a frown as a sudden burst of anxiety slips down her link to you.
"Promise?" Nemesis sniffs piteously.
"...Yes, I promise to stab another living Endbringer." Taylor replies with a sigh before finally sitting up from bed and sliding out of it to start picking through her dresser.
"Oh good. The sweatpants are visible today." She says aloud, pulling out an old pair of grey sweats. You would feel bad about enchanting the dresser to largely hide the less aesthetically pleasing clothes nine times out of ten, but that wasn't really 'you' so you feel like it's unfair to take the blame for it.
"...Master," You ask carefully as you watch her listlessly get dressed. "Is everything alright?"
Two months ago you would have probably gotten a 'it's nothing' or 'I'm fine' out of her at this. However, your Master is not the same timid girl she once was. She is as emotionally indestructible as she is physically. Mostly.
"Am I... responsible for stuff now?" She asks, staring at the ceiling.
"I'm not sure I follow," you reply honestly.
"I mean, we killed the Simurgh. We killed an Endbringer. Nobody does that. Nobody. Not even the Triumvirate have managed it while leveraging literally hundreds of capes at a time. We did it with Seven of us. What if it was just a fluke? Are people going to get mad when they realize maybe I can't kill Behemoth? Or Leviathan?" She asks. She doesn't seem especially distressed about it. Just slightly anxious. You would almost describe her as annoyed if you didn't know her better than that.
"Does that mean you won't try?" You ask curiously. You already know the answer but it's obvious that your Master needs to work through this herself.
"I kind of have to now don't I? I mean, if no one else can do it, and I can, then that means not fighting them instantly puts all the responsibility for what they do after this on me!" She starts, her volume increasing to a low yell as she throws her hands into the air in exasperation.
"I didn't ask if you had to. Will you?" You correct her pointedly.
"Well yeah, I'm a hero," Taylor says bluntly, the same way most people might explain that water is wet, and the sky is blue.
Heroes fight monsters. It's a simple truth and the fact that she barely even hesitated before saying it makes you smile fondly at the girl who not too long ago had to construct her costume from stuff she found in a garage. Your smile widens as Taylor begins to blush in embarrassment at your gaze, sniffing and turning haughtily away from you.
"Come on, let's go train." She says firmly.
"You will need Mem for that, Master," you point out.
"Yeah, so?" She asks, tilting her head to one side.
"Mem, who you recently abandoned to fight an Endbringer." You repeat.
Taylor, apparently finally realizing the problem before her - blanches.
Friday, February 25th, 2011
The Heap, Brockton Bay
"I am very angry with you."
Those were Mem's first words upon finding Taylor stealthily trying to slink into her workshop. She doesn't bother turning away from what she is working on to greet either of you, and Mun snickers at you both when she speaks. Despite the flat neutral tone Mem uses, you can tell she means the words, perhaps more than even she can express.
"Mem I-" Taylor starts weakly.
"Master, what is my purpose?" Mem asks rhetorically, holding a hand out to Mun who drops a beaker of... something... into it that she pours over a square of rusty metal before handing the beaker back.
"Mem you're a kid, you don't have-" Taylor tries but is cut off again.
"I'm older than everyone in the building combined," Mem states. "And my purpose, is to find a way to kill an immortal, scheming witch hellbent on ruining the world."
Mem then pauses, placing a finger on her lips as though in thought.
"Am I describing the Simurgh, or Salem?" She asks acerbically, picking up the metal square on her desk and handing it to Mun, who snickers while dropping it carefully into a ziplock bag and then placing the bag in a nearby cabinet.
"...Both?" Taylor tries.
"I'm sure Master-" You try to jump in, feeling like perhaps your Master has suffered enough.
"I am angry with you too," Mem cuts you off.
Was... Mem always this curt? You feel like she probably wasn't. Also, what did you do?
"You are just as guilty as her," Mem huffs, practically reading your mind before snapping at Mun. "Stop laughing! They left us behind!"
"Chief, I dunno how to tell you this, but I didn't want to fuck with the Simurgh. I'm good." She says with a snort.
"Who taught you that word? I swear if Trainwreck-" Taylor immediately leaps on the curse word only to be stopped short.
"Trainwreck already apologized and promised to bring us next time," Mem says pointedly.
The pair stare at each other for a moment before your Master sighs and finally manages to finish a sentence.
"Mem, you're physically like twelve. I couldn't bring you. I don't regret it. But... I will consider bringing you to the next fight. If you're good." She hedges.
"I do not need your permission. I just need to get to the departure point on time." Mem huffs sourly.
"School." Taylor finally says, earning a raised eyebrow from Mem and a retching noise from Mun.
"You can come next time, but you're going to school." She says firmly.
"I don't-" Mem tries to counter again, but Taylor chooses that moment to stand up and sweep her into a tight hug.
"You don't no. But you still live in my castle, wear my clothes, and eat my food. And I don't want you to get hurt. Please?" Taylor asks earnestly.
"Boss it ain't worth it! Schools have math! And boys!" Mun quickly rushes to try and sway her own Master.
"...Agreed." Mem finally acquiesces, hugging your Master back.
"God fucking-"
""Language."" Mem and Taylor chide her at once.
You are presently wandering the grounds. Your Master doesn't actually require your presence for her current training regime, and so you have left to your own devices.
It should be obvious, but the Heap is presently completely surrounded by reporters, news crews, and vans full of recording equipment.
Only about half of them have cameras pointed in the right direction.
As a result, Aspirant has been forced to wrangle the majority of the 'kung fu girls' as the dockworkers refer to them, dragging them into the courtyard of the Castle for an extended training session. Not because they are shy. No, the problem is quite the opposite. Aspirants students are extremely zealous in their defense of the neighborhood and have no problem violently subduing anyone they see as not belonging. So naturally, none of them could be allowed to help man the fence surrounding the Heap because the last thing your Master needs is for people affiliated with her to give a reporter a black eye on the news.
Pausing curiously, you take a moment to observe the growing crowd of people outside the grounds, held at bay only by the dockworkers stationed multiple locations along the fence. You would think that your average reporter would have more dignity than to attempt to climb a fence, but as it turns out, you would be wrong.
Regardless, a disturbance has started to form at the rear of the pack.
"Scuse me, coming through. Yeah, screw you too buddy. No, I don't-" Aisha's voice rings out amidst the barrage of questions the reporters have been trying to yell at you since you made an appearance.
The crowd goes immediately quiet when the sound of a Chainsaw starting rings out.
"Yeah, that's right bitches! This ain't a prop! Lemme through!" Aisha's voice calls again, this time much more audible in the silence. You aren't sure if you should smile or despair at the girl's forthright tendencies.
Aisha didn't have an ounce of stealth in her entire body. Calmly, you march towards the entrance to the grounds, using your sheer presence to cow anyone in your way. When you reach Aisha part way to the entrance of the Heap, she is slowly back towards you with her stolen tinker tech sword raised menacingly in front of her.
"Please put that away," you ask her wryly when her back bumps into you and she whirls on you with the blade in hand. Technically, if you were anyone else you might have died, as you are forced to gently reach up and grab the rotating blade in one hand to stop it from hitting your face.
"Emmy! Oh shit! Sorry, I thought-" She blurts out.
"That I was one of these gentlemen?" You ask curiously, lowering your gaze to the chainsword still in your grip, and still very much on.
"Pretty much," She says with a sheepish shrug, causing the already wary reporters nearby to take a tentative step away from her.
"Turn that off. I will bring you inside," You say with another sigh. "As for the rest of you, please do not block the entrance."
With that, you scoop Aisha up and leap over the fence, deep into the grounds and out of sight of any recording device.
"Fuck yes! Do it again!" She squeals in delight as you touch down. You stare blandly at her.
"...Do it again, please?" She repeats herself.
"That was very foolish Aisha. You realize that crowd of people most likely thinks you are a Tinker of some stripe yes?" You point out.
"Just tell 'em it's not my sword." She says with a shrug.
"So you would prefer that we admit to the world that we allowed a teenager to wander around with a dangerous weapon." You note sarcastically.
"You guys killed the Simurgh, I'm pretty sure you could declare yourselves the King & Queen of the East Coast and no one would give you any shit for it," Aisha responds instantly, smirking at you and snaking a hand up to start poking at your well-muscled chest, causing you to sigh and drop her on the ground on the spot.
"Ow! Hey come on! What's a little groping between friends!" She whines.
As always, this girl is entirely shameless.
"...It's good you came." You finally say, setting aside how irresponsible she is for the moment to merely bask in your friendship.
"Yeah? Remember another cool story?" She asks eagerly, popping back to her feet with the boundless energy of the young. Despite her blatantly irresponsible use of the device, you notice that she is holding it exactly as you told her to hold a blade, making sure to hold her balance and keep the point down and away from anything she doesn't intend to stab.
Even if it doesn't have a point, on account of being a Chainsaw.
"No. I'll be leaving soon." You say with a smile.
"Off to kill the Nine? Can I have goatee boys dumb knife? It's probably a collectible or something." Aisha says with a jovial tone.
"No. Today is my last day, I suspect. I am glad to have befriended you, and hope the next 'me' feels the same." You explain with a gentle smile in her direction.
"...Nah come on, don't fuck with me. Don't pull this kind of 'just going to get milk' joke on me. It isn't funny." Aisha grumbles at you, her smile fading somewhat.
"I am sorry," Is your only response.
"Whatever, your just getting a new paint job right? No biggy. I'll still see you tomorrow for sword practice, right?" Aisha pushes onward, bumping you with her shoulder as she walks up next to you.
"It... does not work that way. I could be anyone tomorrow. It's entirely possible that the 'me' of tomorrow will despise you. I doubt it. But it's possible. That is why I wanted to thank you, before going. For being my friend." You say.
"That's-" Aisha starts then shuts her mouth again.
"That's bullshit," She hisses at you, rubbing at her face for some reason.
"It's my nature. Do remember what I told you about my myth?" You ask her carefully choosing not to acknowledge the tears spilling down her face.
"Cool sword. Lots of adventures. Killed a dragon." Aisha says, careful to sound as unaffected as possible.
"Yes. The cool sword. I've come to believe a new age of heroes is upon this world. Would you like to see?" You ask her, holding a hand out towards her.
Hesitantly, she reaches out to take it - then freezes when you smirk at her, pulling her into your grip and once more leaping forward with her.
Landing in a clear area along the fence, you patiently wait for the reporters there to take notice of you before waving at them.
"Ladies, Gentlemen. I believe you have questions. I am not here to answer them. However, I have an announcement to make." You say, allowing the early morning sun to glint across your glasses as you pose.
"This-" You say, putting Aisha down and drawing Gram to display it before you. "-is Gram. My weapon. The weapon that killed the Simurgh. It is a sword of choosing. It chose me, and now, it chooses another. Someday, a hero will draw this blade, and whomever they might be, I wish them luck." You declare.
Then you whirl around and hurl the blade into the ground nearby, where it pierces the earth up to the midway point of the blade - and stops.
"So what, anyone can just grab it?" Aisha asks you, desperately trying to hide her crying face from the cameras.
"No, not just anyone," You declare as the ground begins to rumble, and the very earth itself cracks open revealing a tree rapidly growing from nothing into a mighty Yew that towers above everything save the Wizard Toward of the Heap itself. At its base, embedded in one of its roots, sits Gram.
"A Hero," You declare, smiling wanly as wonder and desire spring to life in Aisha's eyes as she gazes at the blade.
"I wish you luck Greg. You will have competition." You muse to yourself, before whirling about and walking away - ignoring the questions the frenzied reporters hurl at your back as you go.
Friday, February 25th, 2011
PRT Headquarters, Brockton Bay
"Do you hate me Nexus? Did I offend you in a past life?" Piggot asks your Master bluntly as you enter the woman's office.
"No?" Taylor asks in confusion, pointedly eyeballing Director Emily Piggot's currently quite fit physique. Apparently, forcing her to get healed was all the excuse she needed to immediately begin to torment her body back into a shape she considered appropriate. The change is made even more evident by the fact that her uniform is clearly cinched to fit her vastly reduced body mass, evidently having not yet been replaced by something better tailored.
"So maybe you can explain to me why I'm getting reports that you left a weapon that kills Endbringers laying on your front lawn." The blond woman growls at your Master, slamming her fists down on her - currently very messy - table.
"Uh..." Taylor stutters, turning to glare at you for a second - again - before turning back to Piggot.
"It has a defense system in place?" She offers.
"You made a line. You charge a dollar for people to try and pull it out. That is not 'secure'," Piggot bites out in reply.
"Yeah but none of them have succeeded, right? Only someone uh... worthy... can pull it out," Taylor responds, partially on the backfoot. Under normal circumstances, she would have no difficulties with this conversation. After all, she had handily been dealing with Alexandria recently. Piggot should be nothing by comparison. It's just... she actually felt bad about what you had done. Even she felt like just leaving Gram on the front lawn might be a bit much.
"...The Triumvirate have scheduled a visit to my headquarters for later in the week. Can you guess why?" Piggot says with an exasperated sigh and fond look at a cabinet full of liquor on a nearby wall that wasn't there last time you were in this room.
"...to fail to pull out the sword?" Taylor hazards, causing Piggot to take on a puckered look.
"What do you want Taylor." She finally says, obviously done with this conversation and - probably - your Master in general.
"I have a bunch of kids with no legal identity that I need to send to school." She says bluntly.
"...Would you like to elaborate?" Piggot asks, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Well, when a mommy wizard likes a magical implement very much she-"
"Give the details to Renick in the next room. Get out of my office."
Friday, February 25th, 2011
Redmond Welding, Brockton Bay
The lights clicked on in the room, and four people shuffled up the narrow stairwell into it.
"And I'm telling you, taking this job is a bad idea." A large black man with his hair in cornrows was saying as he crested the stairs.
"Hey, we voted already dude. You lost. Get over it." A lackadaisical voice responds.
Both men freeze as they get a good look at the room beyond the doorway. They would run, or fight, or scream, but they have recently come to realize that such things are entirely pointless.
"Guys? Why'd you stop?" Greg's voice calls up from behind them.
"Oh shit she's here, isn't she." A feminine voice half whines, half yelps.
"Yes, yes, secret identity blah blah. Come on, if I wanted you gone you'd be gone. Now let's hash this out like adults." Your Master says with a lazy wave of her hand from where she is lazing on the Undersiders couch with one of the three dogs that were guarding the place in her lap. The small one.
"What the fuck Rachel?" The black man - you assume this is Grue based on his body type - hisses at the stout girl who is presently sitting in the loveseat opposite Taylor with her eyes closed.
"What?" She barks back in response, seemingly genuinely confused.
"Why the fuck didn't you warn us? You have a cellphone!" He panic screams at her.
"Didn't matter." Bitch answers with a shrug.
"Didn't- we live here. She could do anything-"
"She's sitting right here, and could still do anything she wanted really." Taylor interrupts, pointing out the fallacy in the argument.
"Hey, Taylor," Greg greets her as he gets past Grue and Regent at the top of the stairs, followed quickly by a blond freckled girl you take to be Tattletale, who scowls at your Master and then around the room - presumably unable to determine where exactly your invisible form is standing, but knowing you are here.
"Hey, Greg. You gonna be in school next Monday?" Taylor asks calmly, as though she hadn't just invaded their base of operations.
"Yeah, still smoothing things over with my parents but-" He starts to say casually only to be cut off.
"What do you want Taylor." Tattletale states flatly, dropping her shopping on the floor and stomping over to angrily sit next to your Master on the couch - surprising the dog in her lap and causing it to scamper away.
All of which was probably on purpose.
"I wanted to set the record straight," Your Master says with a shrug.
"Every time I meet you guys, you show up, throw some insults at me, then pull a Houdini on everyone. I have complaints." She says.
"Oh my god. This is really happening. You- you came to our house to complain about us! Holy shit, Brian get the-" Regent begins only for Grue to slam a fist into his gut.
"Grue." He growls.
"F-fuck off man. She's on our couch. She killed the Simurgh. She can do whatever the fuck she wants. In fact, I'm free tonight if-" Regent splutters, obviously winded by the blow.
"She didn't. Kill the Simurgh, I mean. Greg did." Tattletale says primly, peering at Taylor carefully then frowning.
"With Emmy's weapon," Taylor is quick to point out.
Tattletale looks like she is about to have an aneurysm but visibly calms herself.
"Fine. With his weapon." She grumbles, waving - accurately - in your direction, something that visibly impresses your Master, if only begrudgingly.
"So what, you gonna start checking up on us now? Here to tell us to get out of your city?" Tattletale asks sarcastically.
"Obviously not. Why are you always such a bitch?" Taylor asks, seemingly genuinely curious.
"Because some of us don't just magically get to solve all our problems with overwhelming violence and that kind of work can be a tad stressful." the blond snaps back. Taylor lifts an eyebrow at her, then lowers her head, allowing a glint of light to play across her lenses.
"Don't you dare-" Tattletale panics, leaning away from her, but too slowly to stop your Master from snorting and snapping her fingers an inch from her face, causing a burst of golden light to wash over the blond and the tension to fade from her expression.
"Okay fine, that's... that's a pretty good trick," Tattletale says, now somewhat fearfully, which is new. You would think all of your Master's other feats would be what finally instilled in her a proper fear of those stronger than her. But no, it is the act of curing her thinker headache that does it.
"So. What are you guys doing nowadays. No vague bullshit please." Taylor states dryly, leaning back on the couch lazily.
She is, in fact, anything but relaxed, but she has so many powers for operating under pressure that it's doubtful anyone but Tattletale could ever notice.
"Security. We've picked up a few contracts to run random patrols on private business interests." Tattletale finally says, glancing at the rest of the group - Greg being the only one not distressed by the current situation.
"So protection racket," Taylor says disapprovingly.
"No! Totally legal and above board! We're corporate now! Sponsored by Medhall and everything." Tattletale says smugly.
Taylor stares blankly at her for a second.
"Has... has it occurred to you that it would have made more sense to do that from the start or...?" Taylor says in pure bafflement.
"I don't wanna hear that from the girl whose first day out included suplexing the shit out of Glory Girl before getting into a weird lesbian love triangle with her sister!" Tattletale snaps. Taylor looks seriously taken aback by that for a moment before frowning at her.
"...We are never going to get along are we?" Taylor finally asks.
"No. Now get out." Tattletale replies instantly, standing up and reaching out to grab the bag she left on the floor.
"We were planning on celebrating our teammate killing an Endbringer." She explains blithely. The way she says it is just a tad more possessive than you would expect, but no one else seems to notice, or if they do, care.
"Well... have fun with that I guess. Stay away from crime, don't do drugs yadda yadda." Taylor says with a roll of her eyes, walking towards the exit.
"Not gonna use a fancy portal?" Tattletale snarks at her.
"Tats," Grue hisses at her with a tone of voice like a man who can physically feel his soul leaving his body. Taylor glances at him, then back to Tattletale.
"I figured you might feel antsy about me drawing my sword here," She explains evenly before turning to Greg.
"Also, Greg, please come get your sword soon. The PRT is yelling at me about it." She says in complete seriousness.
Then she walks out onto the street, cleaves a gap open, and you both leave the Undersiders behind.
Friday, February 25th, 2011
Hebert Household, Brockton Bay
You can feel it.
Two minutes before the clock is to strike midnight, you rise from the bed where your Master is slumbering with Nemesis splayed across her stomach.
This has certainly been an eventful emulation for you. But also enlightening. You made your first friend. In fact, this is the first emulation you have really bothered trying to do much of anything for yourself during. You aren't quite sure how to feel about that.
Has this growth been a result of Sigurd himself? Or is it all a result of the entity known as 'Emmy'? Will you continue to care for Aisha when you cease to be, or will you find her as annoying as your first emulation inevitably would. If your Emulation does hate her... can you overcome it to stay her friend anyway?
You just don't know.
You do know this, however. A long time ago it seems, you once intimated that continuity of consciousness was unimportant to you. That it was a purely human affectation.
Now... now you understand. You fear the change now, if only slightly.
Unfortunately, this is your nature. Not just as a Projection, and a Shard. But as a Servant. You were never meant to be permanent.
But that won't stop you from trying.
That thought in mind, you reach forward to caress your Master's hair, bend forward to give Nemesis a chaste kiss on the forehead...
And then 'you' cease to be, secure in the knowledge that in another part of the city, your legacy will live on at the base of a tree.