Chapter 9
Taylor Hebert
"So, um, that's what the potion does."
Taylor didn't want to fidget. Her dad was right next to her, glaring at the pair of Protectorate Heroes across from them, unhappy that they were anywhere that even vaguely smacked of an interrogation room. She was actually pretty glad this was happening now.
"I can give you guys a list of ingredients, but I'm not sure how relevant that would be."
The conference room was almost hilariously inoffensive - soft cream walls, smooth, soft blue-black carpet, tasteful and sedate faux wood tables. There were couches, chairs, an assortment of magazines placed just so on coffee tables, and, of course, a long black conference table with six chairs arranged around it in a circle.
"Kiddo, I know you said you wanted to cooperate…."
Her father's tone was heavy, almost a touch annoyed, and definitely stubborn. But when he looked at her there was only pride and worry. For her. It made something warm and wet well up in her chest.
"And we very much appreciate it. Just like we were happy to help with the accommodations."
Armsmaster, the Armsmaster, inclined his head to the one thing that was most definitely out of place. In partial armor, his helmet obscured his eyes, but the body suit and partial exoskeleton made him only moderately intimidating.
A large grey tarp, taped down along its edges with electrical tape, and the functional jacuzzi sitting on top of it.
"Thank you."
Blushing, the Tinker wondered exactly how being a mermaid worked with Alchemy, but, well… she figured that would reveal itself in time.
Hopefully.
"It's nothing. We're honestly just glad we can help." Battery, sitting next to Armsmaster, gave her a smile. "And if you did join up with us, we'd be able to do more than offer you a seat."
'Well, I doubt they'd give me back my favorite jeans.'
Taylor wanted to chide herself for the childish retort, but truthfully she was just glad she didn't respond verbally to such a blatant sell.
"Ah, thank you, again, for this and for this-" She gestured at her outfit, that being a modified one piece swimsuit and a coat. All in all, her modesty was preserved and the fact her legs were still fused together in a powerful, smashing tail was a minor point. "But, well, I'm not really interested in being a hero for the fringe benefits. Even if they are very nice."
"Besides. I'm not about to let you draft my daughter."
The Head of Hiring was in full force and even she recognized the calculating glint in her father's gaze.
"So why don't you tell us exactly what you think she can do, what that makes her worth, and why we shouldn't be thanking you for your time."
Armsmaster shifted, his helmet turning to face her directly.
"If nothing else, Ms. Hebert, you placed yourself in extraordinary danger, with powers you struggle to control, to help others. That speaks very well to your intentions."
"Then why does it sound like you're my dad if I tried to sneak a beer."
Feeling a small flash of shame at her sarcastic comment, the teenager still felt justified. The condescension in his tone seemed clear and it was obvious Armsmaster was barely paying any attention to her! He was a Tinker, too, shouldn't he be asking her about what she could make, at the very least?
"Do you often sneak beers?" The hero's reply was bored, almost disinterested in her minor outburst. "If so, that's not good for your health."
"My daughter does not drink." Her father's words were a bit heated as well, but directed at the people on the other side of the table. "And I'd appreciate it if you gave her a little leeway. it's not an everyday thing for us to get caught up with a bunch of villains. Being hostages was a new experience, too."
"Perhaps." A nod from the stoic Tinker. "But it does bring to mind two important pieces of information. Principally, a report of illegal human testing with unapproved medical Tinkertech and, less important, is the police report filed about an attack on your daughter."
"Are we being detained?"
Taylor was confused at the sudden turn of events and how her father's temper had turned his cheeks a bright red.
"No sir." Battery was frowning, almost glaring at the man next to her. "We just want to clear up the details around those incidents. This is not an interrogation, official or otherwise."
"Then have a good day. We will not discuss either of those things without a lawyer present and I do not consent to any questioning of my daughter without legal council. Taylor, do you think you're ready to… go?"
Nodding, still confused, she spoke up.
"I'm sorry if I started something, but, yeah, I've got my legs back." She frowned, looking down at her still scaly, but thankfully mostly human, limbs. "I might need a towel, though."
"If you'll just give us a moment Mr. Hebert and I'll get that towel for you Ms. Hebert."
Standing up, Battery, annoyed, was quickly followed by a slightly confused Armsmaster. Taylor simply waited quietly, perhaps shocked at how quickly the adults had gotten angry at one another, before turning to her father.
"Did they shut off the recorder?"
"Yeah. Took it, too."
"So they're still listening in?"
"Probably."
A hero is red armor walked past the room, waving in at the duo, and she managed a limp wave back. More out of habit than anything else.
Part of her wanted to feel disappointed or offended, but mostly the young woman felt a bit tired. Her dad, though, came over and gave her a slightly awkward hug. He had to lean over the lip of the hot tub and it was a bit difficult to properly wrap his arms around her shoulders - but, feeling the strength of his grip, the young woman relaxed a little.
"Sorry."
"I know kiddo. We probably need to make a decision, though."
"Yeah? About taking up Medhall's offer?"
"Yeah." Pulling back, Taylor's father settled into his chair, glasses low on his nose, and body forcibly relaxed. "That was probably an overreaction on my part."
"But it doesn't change the truth. Armsmaster was right, at least from his perspective. And I think Medhall would at least pay for a lawyer."
Neither of them said anything. Frankly, there wasn't much too say. Never mind that the room was still probably being recorded, admissible in court or not, and it would likely serve them well to avoid admitting anything in and of itself.
"Let's do it, Dad."
Holding her father's hand, Taylor pushed ahead before her nerves could stop her.
"I want to help people and I don't want to do it behind a desk, with some middle manager having the final say whether I get to make something or not. We know what Mr. Anders wants and we know what his company wants, meaning we have leverage over them. The Protectorate doesn't need me like they do. So that means I, we, have enough strength to push back if we don't like something."
Sighing, rubbing his face, clearly frustrated and looking a little ashamed, the old Union man agreed.
"Probably. Still, before we sign anything I'll get you a lawyer and us a lawyer." Seeing her question, he quickly explained. "Different clients, different legal obligations. One for you, to cover your general employment specifics, anything you want, or need, to keep private from me but needs to be discussed with Medhall, and one to represent us before we go sign the paperwork." A small grin. "I'm your dad, kiddo, so that means I have to look out for you. Even if I'm not always happy with that."
"But why two different lawyers?"
"Duty to report obligations, mostly, but also because you'll likely be bound by at least a few NDAs on your work. Having a lawyer that's directly employed by me, as a representative of us both, could cause a conflict of interest if disclosure becomes an issue. And-"
"Mr. and Ms. Hebert, I'm sorry to keep you waiting." Battery, followed by Armsmaster, returned to the conference room, Assault now leading the way with his wife. "If there's anything we can get you, I'd be happy to send for it."
"No, thank you, we're actually just about to leave."
Neither of the heroes reacted at that, but Armsmaster did step forwards.
"I would like to apologize for what I said. It was not my intention to threaten you, your father, or to imply that we would take unnecessary legal action against either of you. If you'll wait for just a moment I'll arrange an escort and the needed discretion."
The apology was simple enough, perfectly tolerable legal speak. And both of them could tell he did mean it. At least the bit about threatening them - intentionally or not.
But the point stood; should legal charges be brought against them, her powers would be a liability, not an asset, and establishing herself as anything but a Ward under heavy supervision and on probation would be all but impossible. Everyone in the room knew that.
Hell, everyone in the room probably would have agreed that was the right thing to do… had it not been their daughter's freedom on the line.
"Apology accepted."
Taylor held out a scaled hand to the blue armored Tinker and gave a weak smile.
"I didn't come here looking to start a fight… but I don't think I'd be happy working with… the Wards. Thank you, though. You, well, I'm sure you hear this a lot. But you were always one of my favorite heroes."
A handshake with each, kind words from the teenager to and from Battery, and the meeting was over.
So while the heroes were out, the two sat, quietly speaking about nothing much, and figured out what they were going to do for the rest of the day. And in the end the alchemist thought it was a rather good plan indeed.
Danny stopped by Fugly Bob's and grabbed some burgers for them on the way home.
Taylor, well, she was just glad to spend the time with her father. Legal threats or not.
Armsmaster
"Well, that didn't work." Battery helpfully stated.
It would be more helpful if he wasn't stating something all of them were already aware of. While Colin wouldn't usually bother entertaining idle chit chat in important meetings, he, too, felt out of sorts when it came to this particular case.
"That is why we are taking a break before escorting her home. We needed time to regroup."
Dealing with prospective Wards was usually simple.
Lay out the benefits.
Lay out the responsibilities.
"Because you all but threatened to arrest her on the spot."
His colleague sighed, walking to the far side of the break room and putting a fresh pot of coffee on, tossing a used filter in the trash before slumping down into a chair.
"They were inordinately defensive."
Battery gave him a look.
"Bringing up stuff they could be charged for when we're trying to scout her wasn't exactly the best move. They looked ready to turtle up on us."
Colin's lips thinned.
"It was necessary. Regardless of their intentions, the production and distribution of unsanctioned medication to the public is a grave violation of the law. Regardless of whether it is benign or harmful, what they were doing would amount to little more than peddling unmarked pills and conducting totally unsupervised medical experimentation, potentially on people who were already dying. That would not have been an excuse or a defense should Ms. Hebert face charges."
And they couldn't have a ward who was unaware of these things.
Not the least because coercion was a poor means of ensuring obedience, Shadow Stalker being case and point there, and Colin genuinely thought it would be better for all of them to know exactly where they stood.
At the very least it meant the Heberts wouldn't be unaware of why her Ward's contract would require probation.
If they have gotten in trouble with the law at some point, and were unaware of the seriousness of what was involved, pointing that fact out to them and what the most likely consequences for their crimes would be went a long way towards framing the conversation.
"Colin, this wasn't an interrogation." Standing there, cup in hand, steam curling up over the lip of the white and yellow mug, the other hero looked exhausted. "You're treating her like she's another Shadow Stalker."
"Only by technicality. If her tech had side effects, drawbacks, or was toxic, we'd be discussing murder chargers, or at the very least criminal negligence. Depending on how squeamish her creations made people feel, there might even be concerns about biological and chemical warfare thrown around."
Only Colin was aware of just how important this interview was. And from the onset had been intending to do his best in convincing the girl, Taylor Hebert, to work for the Protectorate for no less a reason than the likelihood of disaster should her talents find themselves in the hands of less than scrupulous individuals.
"That's crazy. She didn't kill anyone, we aren't dealing with bio terrorism, and you've scared a kid into going into the public sector!"
There was no real heat in the heroine's words, but Armsmaster felt compelled to explain.
"What she did went beyond medicine and chemistry. Rather than a Tinker, I believe she might be a Shaker capable of changing the properties of chemicals without affecting their components or structure." It was something that sounded ridiculous, but was the explanation he reached after failing to notice any other irregularity with the samples provided by Dragon. "While all Tinkertech blurs the line between conventional physics and fantasy, and some specializations blow that line to pieces, I can not come up with a theoretical explanation of even the most basic of steps without simply declaring it all 'quantum physics of a higher order' and listing twenty or thirty poorly defined theories."
It was puzzling.
And while Colin enjoyed a good puzzle, that didn't mean he enjoyed not knowing how something worked. Even powers were supposed to have principles behind them, after all. So why would this be any different?
"Yeah, well, they seem about ready to leave and we can't keep them in here unless you wanna call in the cops and charge her with something."
That was another likelihood.
From what Dragon had mentioned, the girl appeared to be amenable to working in less stressful environments. Really, if they could stick her in a laboratory somewhere out of town or in the Rig itself, he would call it a win.
And more importantly, it would allow him access to the process and give the PRT priority in case those products became even more effective.
Who knows what more the girl could achieve with time and resources?
Would she kill terminal diseases?
Would she overshadow Panacea and become the new miracle cure?
Could she… revitalize a body already worn and torn by the ravages of time?
It was a foolish hope, a selfish wish that Colin suddenly developed as he watched a small vial of ruby liquid miraculously knit together muscle cells and alleviate pain; restoring even the damaged connections between the sample nerve cells it was tested on. Obviously it would never become a training aid, but the idea of dodging the hands of father time, and turning back the clock to a time where he didn't feel so weak and frail.
It was all too alluring.
"I still think we should have gotten Gallant or Militia to talk to her." Walking in without a care, pecking his wife on the cheek, Assault closed the break room door behind him.
"Listen, Colin, no offense, you're the leader and all, but nothing screams trouble more than seeing a man in armor and a spear ask you to explain yourself."
"Speaking from experience?"
That got a wince from the former Madcap.
"Ouch, low blow. But actually right for once. Look, teenagers get into trouble. They skirt the rules because they think they're smarter than the adults. But when the chips are down they usually turn to an adult they trust to help them. It's not always like that, and plenty of kids feel they don't have someone like that in their lives. Plus, all it took was a friendly wave and she waved back."
"What are you implying?"
"What I'm trying to say is that we gotta be able to inspire confidence in kids like her. Because otherwise they'll shut us out and keep making mistakes until they don't have anywhere to go and, unlike me, they might not get a way out."
Armsmaster knew that.
He knew what was at a stake not just for him, for the PRT, but also for the girl.
"She made the wrong choice."
Assault sighed, mumbling something under his breath.
"And it's our failure that we couldn't get her to trust us. That we didn't realize she didn't want to be glorified support, or a live-in work nurse with fancy medicine. Some people just have goals that don't align with their circumstances."
Colin could empathize.
But even so, he couldn't help but consider it a waste. Perhaps Dragon would be able to convince her?
"Listen, both of you, would you see them out? If I've made a mistake then I need to be the one to fix it - for her sake as well as my own." Colin tightened his grip, feeling the grip on his halberd flex and conform to his hand. "I've got to make a call and, after I speak with the two, I'll go get a few projects started."
"Yes sir." Battery snapped a salute. Her husband did, too, though his was far too sloppy.
Armsmaster, at the very least, would remember that when it came time to spar.
But for now his focus was on the Hebert girl.
There were a multitude of concerns, first among them that this was an opportunity the Bay couldn't really afford to lose. Without getting overly concerned with politics, a powerful Tinker like Ms. Hebert could inspire an immense amount of growth and economic investment for a multitude of reasons. And Brockton Bay was sorely in need of it.
Second was the fact that Medhall was… unfortunately closely positioned towards the Empire 88. A pragmatic choice and one that had, so far, ensured the firm's general neutrality in the ongoing conflicts between the gangs and the law, as well as shielding it from trouble in the form of an attempted Yakuza-style takeover. But it also skewed close enough to the Empire that it was not an appealing idea to allow anyone, especially someone as vulnerable as Ms. Hebert, to be on staff.
So maybe, just maybe, he could bribe the girl into at least keeping a line of communication open.
And besides, his personal stimulant package was rather interesting stuff.
"Sharing a few samples, while returning our samples of her materials, ought to be just fine."
Walking slowly, allowing his comrades to enter the room ahead of him, the Tinker did his best to not… loom. It also allowed his coworkers to take the initiative, but, when Battery seemed unsure how to continue, he stepped forwards.
"I would like to apologize for what I said. It was not my intention to threaten you, your father, or to imply that we would take unnecessary legal action against either of you. If you'll wait for just a moment I'll arrange an escort and the needed discretion."
The last thing he wanted would be to just throw a child and her widower father to the gangs, purely in the hope of scaring her into compliance. That would have been madness.
Later that Day
'I guess Medhall was the right choice after all.'
Yet Taylor couldn't help but feel disappointed.
While she hardly expected to be welcomed as the latest and greatest future hero just because she happened to turn tap water into tinkertech, the reaction she got from the Protectorate was more than enough to puncture the hopes she had like a needle would a balloon. Leaving her with no choice other than the other, biggest business in town.
Medhall was… welcoming.
Very welcoming.
They might not have been what she wanted, but even a curmudgeon like Taylor would perk up at the sight of the equipment they were willing to hand over. There were things she couldn't even begin to understand what they were for, and above all else, a work station that was both large and utterly devoid of people.
It might as well have been the size of a small apartment.
And it was all hers.
"While we were unsure whether our standard means of production would work with your powers, we have, nonetheless, outfitted this area with just about everything you might need when handling dangerous or unusual materials. Of course, as a compromise we had to cordon off the area just in case of biohazard."
Mr. Anders' secretary, a tall blonde woman, dispassionately listed out the many features and functions of the workstation as they walked around.
It had everything from a chemical shower, a hundred, literally, a hundred different devices for analysis, and what was damn near a supercomputer that was sitting near the corner!
"As per our agreement, your documents and personal annotations belong to you, however Mr. Anders expects that a percentage of everything produced in this workstation will be turned over as per your contract. Failure to abide by these terms will lead to penalties as established in the document."
Right, right.
There was that part too.
Part of Taylor wished she had negotiated harder on those terms. While being able to market her creations through Medhall meant her days of dealing in back rooms and empty parking lots were over, that also meant she would no longer get to keep the full benefits.
'I won't be able to know who bought them either.'
That part was the worst.
She considered requesting that Medhall only sell her products to those who needed it most, and there was even the issue of deciding what would be the price. With the amount of doses she could produce being limited, even with all this space and equipment, there was no way the price wouldn't match.
But that only went as far as what she produced here.
Anything and everything that was made by her outside of work hours was considered her property, and thus was up to her on how to use it. She couldn't sell it, but giving it away to those who needed it was a loophole she could exploit… hopefully.
"Did Mr. Anders say anything about when he expects the first batch?" Dad asked behind her, keeping the conversation going while he was busy gawking over the not-stolen lab equipment. So shiny and not stolen from school, Taylor almost felt bad over taking those supplies at this point.
Almost.
It was hard to work up any kind of sympathy towards Winslow High these days. Not when all she remembered of it was being harassed and ignored.
So screw them.
"Given the… sensitive nature of your products, we cannot be sure whether the market will readily accept it. And while your results have proven, so far, to be reliable we will use this trial period to test how much can be reliably produced here without quotas or time crunches. Make as many doses as you feasibly can without a deadline, and from that point on we will figure out further details."
It sounded… like a good deal.
Because Taylor didn't know how much she could actually produce in this place. With actual equipment and time on her hands, she could be looking at anywhere between two to five times the usual amount.
And that was accounting for the formulas she was currently using.
"And what about any new products?"
She finally spoke up, grabbing the attention of dad and the big bombshell of a blonde he'd been heckling for details. Taylor kept quiet for the most part, she'd already reviewed those details in the contract, but having someone willing to explain them as well as answer any questions was good.
Dad certainly was having fun exercising his Union chops and the woman was actually… nice. More than just attractive, she'd switched from being friendly and a little empty headed to polite, business-like, and casually respectful when she noticed that Taylor wasn't interested in a "big sister" and her father wasn't staring at her chest. It had been amusing to watch and her mind for exact details was impressive. So was her ability to carefully pick apart anything and everything either of them said.
"New products? Mr. Anders didn't mention anything of the sort."
Taylor nodded, noticing the inflection on the last bit - carefully emphasizing that her boss hadn't said anything. Not that there weren't written plans.
"Right now the contract only covers formulas that are 'finished'. Reliable ones that I can produce without any issue." Taylor had to chuckle. That had been specific wording her father had doggedly pursued to make sure her prototypes couldn't be claimed as corporate property, either intellectual or otherwise. "That doesn't mean I don't have any new ideas, or that new ones won't pop up while I'm working here."
Healing was good and all, but even her best formula wasn't at the level of Panacea's miraculous touch. On top of that, Nigredo held incredibly promising results for when it came to use as a molecular acid. Especially when combined with Rubedo's ability to neutralize the substance after the fact, two of the technicians Taylor had been able to converse with about the sample of it she provided practically gushed over its ability to break down and isolate incredibly pure samples of various molecules.
"New products at Medhall go through a round of testing and further development before going through further screening. Whether your formulas will be approved for marketing or not will depend on the results themselves, I'm afraid." The secretary paused for a moment and pulled out her phone. Firing off a text she quickly looked back up at Taylor's dad and spoke as precisely as she could. "FDA regulations can not, by definition, cover what is and is not Tinkertech, as Tinkertech does not have an exact, specific, legal definition, though there are a number of precedents. This is because what is made by a Tinker, what can be made only by a Tinker, and what can be made only by a single, specific Tinker varies wildly, as does the understanding of the theoretical physics behind the construction or production of certain items of Tinkertech varies wildly."
Taylor nodded.
She could work with that.
It also meant that anything she made that Medhall didn't approve of, she could just keep making in her freetime without using the facilities.
"However." The secretary stressed. "I have been informed that we do have a preliminary understanding of the framework of what it is you make - something to do with molecular physics and, somehow, astrophysics that I do not even begin to grasp. If further testing is able to emulate the effects of your creations, either to the lesser or greater degree, the classification of what you do versus how you do it will change."
"Hmm. I recall a mention of that in the contract. That Taylor isn't entitled to a patent on any production processes derived from her work, but she is entitled to, ah, a forty nine percent share of royalties, if any are paid out as dividends?"
Her father sounded a little confused and the teenager didn't particularly blame him. She barely understood what was being talked about outside of "if the company doesn't issue dividends to shareholders, Taylor could be fucked".
At least when it came to a bunch of legalese that meant if Medhall figured out how to make what she did, a near impossibility going by how much trouble Dragon had with similar feats, they wouldn't have to pay her much at all.
Not that she particularly cared at the moment.
No, Taylor was currently up to her elbows in a growing pile of chemicals that had probably started hissing and foaming menacingly two or three minutes ago.
Now she was using a mixture of half a dozen bases to keep the primary reaction from requiring a gas mask to safely operate - and possibly contaminating the workshop with a lethal variant of the most horrific pepper spray to ever exist - and wondering if she could somehow use this to improve Citrinitas.
The Yellowing was always wonderfully caustic and unstable, but, right now, she was more interested in acids than in combustibles. And, besides, Albedo could calcify anything that lived, just as surely as Nigredo could break it down, so who really needed to bother with explosives?
Perhaps she should have noticed when both the secretary and her father had suddenly panicked and fled, Danny trying to call out to her several times before the growing fumes inspired a panicked retreat and the sounding of a chemical spill alarm, but that wasn't really important.
No, right now what was important was that there were three different centrifuges loaded with new samples and she had a small pot of Rubedo bubbling over an open bunsen burner.
Fire was important.
Fire was cleansing.
Washed the… sin? The imperfections? The limitations?
"Hmm. What is it cleaning?"
Eyes nearly vacant, Taylor felt a push and pull in her chest.
Waves rolled in, breaking against her mind, images of the depths, swarming, invisible life, burning geothermal vents, roiling clouds of gas, blossoms of fire and air and water and the land itself splitting apart to give birth in torrents of primeval energy!
Waves rolled out, the knife in her hand dipping to scrape a few flakes of that away, a dropper applying the most perfect doses of each fluid in turn - her creations and bottles whose labels meant nothing to her being selected in turn.
Will was important.
Knowledge was important.
Understanding was inherent.
Logic and its application to the material world was far too limited for what it was she was doing, this was Joy, this was Creation, this was Birth.
And it was that Will given Form that slowly, moment by moment, heartbeat by heartbeat, wail of the alarm by wail of the alarm which crystalized before her.
Rising up out of a small pool of rubedo, seemingly gathering up and firming the precursor substance into a single whole, Taylor cut the gem with the Third, firmed it with the Second, and taking the First onto the tip of her finger, watching flakes of skin disappear into ash as shining, silver-blue scales shown underneath, she wiped away every last imperfection.
Standing there, frowning, she inspected the stone. Red, the color of a rich, full wine, and about as big as a robin's egg, the Tinker couldn't help but feel a sense of dissatisfaction.
"Taylor?"
The deep voice of Max Anders called behind her.
"You can keep this." She tossed the stone to her boss. "It's imperfect. But good enough to make gold with it. Don't end up like Midas." Only when her father rushed over, bundling her up into a hug did the young woman actually take in the disaster around her. "Oh. Did I… do this?"
Her father just squeezed her so tightly that Taylor's chest hurt and he didn't let go until she started asking for air.