Alt-Power AU: To Shove a Cloud
Taylor left wet outlines wherever she went. When she stepped, her shoes squished. Her hair hung down, heavy with water. Watery handprints marked everything she touched. To the average oblivious bystander, she just looked like a girl who had the misfortune to be stuck outside in the rain without an umbrella… Or possibly stuck out in a flood without one.
Or a tsunami.
Dennis would be lying if he said he didn't find her constantly waterlogged look at least a little attractive. It made even the frumpiest of clothes cling to her, betraying the not half-bad figure she seemed to be trying so hard to hide. Added to that how she tended to wear shorts and t-shirts, so as to minimize the chafing of wet cloth on skin, and he considered her pleasant to look at.
"Misty Miss, you're up on console," he called out as she detoured to the Wards' kitchen. "Kid Win had another go at waterproofing it."
"It won't work, and I have tendered my opinion on the subject in writing," she called back, rubbing her hands along the inside of a bowl to clean it. Her water was clean, at least; she generated it herself. "But if he wants me to stress-test his efforts, I'll get right to it."
"I'll time you," Dennis offered, smirking behind his mask.
"That is so not funny," Taylor said with a scoff. "It wasn't just low-hanging fruit, you dug up the fruit from where somebody had buried it. That's how low-hanging it was."
"So you are saying I have gone where no man has ever been before?" he asked, tapping one of his costume's many clocks. "I take that as a compliment."
"A compliment to the depths of your pun-based depravity," she riposted, pouring a bowlful of cereal out. The milk that followed was undoubtedly watered down by the time it made it to the cereal.
Dennis smiled and slumped down on the couch, hearing the crinkle of the newly-added plastic waterproofing. Everything in the Wards lounge was either water-stained or waterproofed by now; Kid Win moved fast when properly motivated. Only the more complicated things like keyboards, headsets, and complex machinery were still vulnerable to the watery demise known as Taylor, or, as the PR department had named her, Misty Miss.
It was a ridiculous name worthy of comparison to his own, but the way he heard it, the PR department hadn't even consulted her first. Such was the way of much of Taylor's induction into the Wards. Unasked for, unwanted, and resented. She had the worst day of her life, and immediately afterward they got her on property damage charges.
Taylor carried her bowl of cereal over the console, and settled down in the – waterproofed, plastic-wrapped – chair. The bowl balanced precariously in her lap, she reached over and touched the keyboard for a few seconds. Water flowed out of her fingers, and her hand shrunk a little bit, turning partially translucent.
Something sparked from inside the keyboard, and the little light on the side of the monitor that indicated an active connection went out.
"Ten seconds," he called out. "New record."
"Kid left too much space between the keys and the board they're attached to," Taylor said mournfully as her hand returned to normal. She had a good 'sad' voice when she tried, all downcast and apologetic even though he had watched her ruin Kid's work.
"You have conclusively proven that whatever his specialty is, waterproofing is not it," Dennis said. "But keep it up, he's been more productive than ever this month." He also got an extra portion of Tinker funding for the express purpose of making 'Misty Miss' capable of living in the Wards quarters without massive property damage, and some of that money definitely was not going to said project, so he doubted Kid Win would mind the setback.
Dennis was proud of arranging that, though he would never be able to put 'taught impressionable teen how to embezzle funds' on his resume. His rap sheet, maybe.
Gallant walked into the room, his Tinkertech armor squeaking miserably, and sighed loudly enough that neither Taylor nor Dennis could claim they hadn't heard it.
"Did you have to ruin another keyboard?" he asked, picking up a canister of oil from its permanent place right next to the door. Dennis didn't know when Gallant had gotten close enough to Taylor to get soaked, but it was a common enough occurrence that he didn't feel like asking. Taylor didn't go on patrols very often, but depending on how she was feeling, sometimes just standing in the elevator with her could induce rust and condensation everywhere.
"It is entirely involuntary," Taylor recited by rote. "My power is always on, and I struggle to live a normal life. I ask for patience and understanding as I adjust. Accommodations must be made, such as better water-proofing." She spun back around in her chair and propped her – sopping wet – feet up on the desk, further inundating the keyboard with water.
"Yeah, Dean," Dennis chimed in. "Be more sensitive."
Dean grimaced at them both, undoubtedly noticing the pure amusement Dennis was feeling, and stepped out of his power armor. He crouched to apply oil to some of the squeaky knee joints, turning his back on them. "Misty Miss, do you need someone to take over your console duty since the keyboard doesn't work?"
"You'll need a new keyboard, but yeah," Taylor confirmed. "I think the original one is still safe in a plastic bag in the closet."
"I can handle it for you, then," Gallant agreed. Dennis didn't need any emotion-sensing powers to know how the all-too-chivalrous teen was feeling about the extra work. Resigned, but not overly bothered. He had to have expected it, after all. Taylor was on a keyboard-destroying streak with no end in sight, and the 'unofficial Ward schedule' took that into account. Today was Gallant's day to cover for her.
"Thanks," Taylor said genuinely, her voice low. She had lost some of her easy confidence; Dennis only saw her at full snarky force when they were alone. Dean had been on her side within a day of her induction, but she wasn't naturally outgoing. Or, she had been beaten down enough that she wasn't naturally outgoing now. It added up to the same thing.
"It's fine," Dean said kindly. He stepped out of his power armor, then went to the closet. "But I have to tell you, tomorrow it's supposed to be perfect outside. You're probably not getting out of your patrol."
"It's not going to be raining, over seventy percent humidity, under thirty percent humidity, windy, or a day ending in 'ay'?" Dennis asked innocently. What made it even funnier was that, barring the last specification, those really were Taylor's official 'no-patrol' conditions. She had come into the Wards ready to obstruct, and there was so much mileage to be had out of a power like hers when it came to excuses. Especially with a master prankster in her corner coaching her on how to answer questions in ways that made the Power Testing people feel like inappropriate creeps if they pressed the issue. Again, having a power that amounted to 'always being wet' made that shamefully simple.
"Sunny, sixty-five degrees, exactly fifty percent humidity without a cloud in sight," Gallant reported. He took a plastic-bagged keyboard over to the console and began to unplug the ruined, Tinkertech version. "You're scheduled to go with Vista and Clockblocker, in case you forgot."
"Haven't had to look at my schedule in a week," Taylor admitted. She sloshed over to her room – literally sloshed, leaving puddles in her wake – and stepped inside. "Come on George, time to get a clean fish bowl," she said to the usual inhabitant of the room. She certainly never slept there.
"I still say you should have named him Carlos," Dennis complained from his place on the couch.
"I vetoed that because we have to respect our teammates," Dean shot back.
"Carlos was okay with it," Dennis pointed out.
"If we're talking about George, yes I was," Carlos agreed as he came in the door. "But George is nice too."
"And not as much of a security breach," Vista added. They were both already suited up, which made perfect sense. Nobody kept their costumes on the Rig anymore. Getting them into and out of their protective plastic bags was more of a hassle than just storing them elsewhere in the building.
Taylor came out of her room, a roughly sphere-shaped fishbowl in her arms. A striking red and gold beta fish swam in it, nosing up at the overflowing rim as her constant streams added to his bowl. She set it on the kitchen table and got out all of her fish-bowl-cleaning paraphernalia from the cabinet set aside for her things.
"Sophia alert, by the way," Vista added. "She's on this patrol after begging Armsmaster for something to do. She'll be here any second."
Taylor's shoulders slumped, but she nodded.
Dennis clenched his fists. For the most part, the Wards had accepted Taylor with open arms, once she had told her story. Sophia was, for obvious reasons, the one exception. Her continued existence as a Ward was part of why Taylor was so understandably reluctant to give the Protectorate anything they wanted… and why the other Wards all helped her out where they could.
A dark, callous figure slipped in the door. Taylor collapsed into a puddle, her body and clothing all turning to water and splashing all over the kitchen floor.
Dennis coughed loudly to cover up the sound of several gallons of water spilling everywhere. "Hey, it's the resident dark cloud of doom and gloom," he cried out.
"I'll shoot you," Sophia threatened. She stomped through the sodden Wards common room, her boots splashing water everywhere. "God, is she not here again?"
"You just missed her," Vista said truthfully. She didn't mention that Sophia, who had gone to the kitchen to grab a protein bar, was literally walking all over the missing girl. So long as Sophia didn't know, she couldn't do anything about it.
"Stupid fish," Sophia muttered as she passed George's bowl.
"Touch the fish and you're gone," Dean warned without even looking back from the console.
"It's a stupid fish, it cost like five dollars at a pet store," Sophia complained.
"It's part of a Ward's uniform, and hurting or killing it is destruction of property, which is a violation we will push up the ranks," Carlos said coldly. "Don't try it."
"Fucking Hebert getting all of you pussies on her side," Sophia muttered. "Come join me when you're ready to act like adults in the real world."
"Adults accept the consequences of their actions," Vista muttered.
"What was that?" Sophia demanded as she stalked to the door.
"I said I'm looking forward to patrolling with you," Vista said innocently. Her smile turned to a scowl the moment the door slammed shut behind Sophia. "If only to watch you squirm like a junkie denied their fix when I stop you from going off and 'patrolling' on your own."
"Don't do anything too obvious," Carlos warned. "Remember, we're trying to make her crack, not make her shoot you in the back."
Taylor reformed in the kitchen, her water drawing together and resuming human form, no worse for the wear. She went back to cleaning George's fish bowl like nothing had happened, though Dennis knew her better now than to assume she was unbothered by the near miss. There was a reason she avoided Sophia instead of confronting her, and that reason was not a bounty of new confidence.
Everything Taylor did had a reason when one looked, and those reasons were rarely happy ones where the Protectorate or Sophia were concerned.
The next day did indeed turn out to be bright, sunny, and within Taylor's stringent requirements for her patrols. Dennis wasn't surprised the forecast turned out to be completely correct; they had Dragon on the case, her weather sensors were complicated and amazing enough that Armsmaster was one line of sexy techno-babble away from swooning over them, and her.
He and Vista, fully decked-out in their costumes, walked down the Boardwalk. Between them, the Ward known as Misty Miss… swished. And sloshed. And generally intimidated people with her amazingly deceptive costume.
Dennis looked to his left. A few people were taking photos. He looked to his right...
George stared back at him from his upturned fishbowl. Said bowl sat on Taylor's shoulders like a helmet, except without a head inside, just water and a fish. She was mostly translucent, swishing along in a very minimalist blue body stocking that barely served to give her water a human form as it wobbled, splashed, and spilled down the boardwalk. Tourists not up to date on the local Wards would be forgiven for thinking Taylor wasn't a person at all. Even the locals assumed she was a Case 53. That was how she presented herself.
Thus the fish acting as something for people to look at within the watery boundaries of Taylor's head. Dennis made a point of reading the PHO discussions on 'Misty Miss' aloud for Taylor whenever she was feeling down; the constant confusion over whether she was a Case 53, a Changer, both, or a fish that had triggered with parahuman powers was the best sort of surreal comedy. Amusingly, it was Voidcowboy who was closest to correct in claiming the fish was a distraction. He also claimed it was Leviathan piloting her body, but he was still closer than the average PHO user.
They walked – or in Taylor's case surged forward at regular intervals like the tide – through the length of the Boardwalk, stopping for the occasional photo. Vista was her usual stoick self, Dennis played up his part as the jokester, and Taylor was a silent, not at all imposing shape standing behind them. She waved occasionally, but that was it. With no mouth, it wasn't like she could do anything more.
He was pretty sure that suited her just fine. She didn't like being the center of attention, and she didn't particularly like the more dangerous patrols, either. This walk on the Boardwalk with a built-in excuse for hanging back was as close to ideal as a patrol could come for her.
But of course, in the jinxed misery-infested joke of a city that was Brockton Bay, such was doomed to be ruined in one way or another. A shadow passed over the Boardwalk.
Dennis looked up. "No clouds?" he asked, eyeing the white, fluffy thing in the sky above them. "Dragon's weather sensors need recalibrating."
The space between them and the one, extremely suspicious cloud shrunk down, bringing it to a football field's distance away instead high in the sky. With his closer view, he saw the many white-painted metal panels riveted together to form the bottom of something that definitely shouldn't have been floating in the wind. "I'm still right, she didn't forecast mysterious flying machines."
Taylor splashed into action, her limbs elongating and waving confidently at the passerby, directing them away from the Boardwalk.
"Everyone begin evacuating the area," Vista yelled. "Now!"
"Console," Dennis muttered, "Aegis, you there? We've got a cloud-ship."
"Ship in the clouds, or a ship that looks like a cloud?" Aegis asked. "Dauntless and Velocity should be there in two minutes and two seconds, respectively. Do not engage, move the civilians out of the area. We're getting reports of a delayed Uber and Leet livestream that might be the cause."
"Okay everybody," Dennis yelled to the milling crowds, "get inside! Take cover, don't freak out if some crazy video game shenanigans start happening, just roll with it!" He had no idea what video game involved a flying cloud ship, but Uber and Leet remained low-level threats not worth pursuing by skirting the line when it came to endangering civilians. It wasn't safe to play along, but it was safer than panicking.
Taylor was everywhere, abandoning her fishbowl where she had stood. Streams of water lanced through the air to direct people, some knocking doors open and others gently pushing – and soaking – people who were standing in the way of the crowds. For all that she didn't want to be a Ward, she was extremely effective at crowd control when the need arose; as far as he knew, she was able to direct the water that made up her body into as many puddles, droplets, or separate shapes she needed, simultaneously, and to propel them with quite a bit of force.
He moved to some of the storefronts closest to them, tapping and freezing the glass panes as he passed them. Vista had undone her warp, so the ship was still high above, but they were on damage control for when it did arrive.
A blinding blur began helping Taylor shepherd the civilians; Velocity had arrived. Vista began bending space to prevent people from going into areas that had already been cleared. Dennis did a second lap across the Boardwalk, refreezing any windows that had already lost his effect.
Some of what they were doing was pointless busywork, or very unlikely to have any use, but it was still something to do; being seen to act was important to keep the public's trust.
A trio of flying figures appeared high in the sky, all costumed in matching colors, white the most prominent among them. New Wave had arrived, with great timing. Dauntless met up with them, flying in the weird, cheaty way his boots allowed, and they converged on the distant ship.
By that point, all the civilians were inside, and the Wards were relegated to watching. Lasers and an arc of electricity were exchanged with the cloud ship, and it began to slowly, ponderously turn away from Brockton Bay. The fight moved out to over the water.
After a few minutes of watching, Carlos chimed in from the console. "Word from higher up is that this is something coming from New York, and that they lost it once it went out over the ocean. Some new villain Tinker with a zeppelin specialty. The ship hasn't proved at all hostile, aside from being massive, ominous, disguised as a cloud, and capable of disappearing from all forms of tracking."
"So," Dennis asked, "what you are saying is that it's just a big, fancy false alarm?"
"Looks like it," Carlos admitted. "But you guys did great."
Taylor's fishbowl flipped over, George still safely inside, and her watery form rose up under it. She waved her arms around, first pointing at the cloud, then at herself.
Vista crossed her arms. "Are you saying that you want to go up there and fight?" she asked.
George's fish bowl swiveled around, side to side.
"No…" Dennis thought about it. "Are you saying that we should count that as a cloud and let you go home early because of bad weather?" He didn't think even he could swing that excuse.
Taylor hesitated for a long moment, then shook her head again. She pointed to the storefronts, and then to Dennis himself, then to the ship.
"I'm drawing a blank, here," he admitted.
"Do you mean announce that it's not dangerous and let everyone out of the stores?" Vista asked.
Taylor's fishbowl nodded vigorously. George swam around in frantic circles.
Dennis looked over at the stores packed full of nervous people. "Oh, right."
Monday evening was always 'status report and general meeting time' at the Rig. Dennis, being chronically allergic to meetings, status reports, and getting glared at by Piggot, did not enjoy Mondays. But at six on the dot, he found himself in the big conference room nevertheless. Maybe he was a glutton for boredom. Or maybe he just wanted to avoid a month of console duty. Piggot could get mean with her punishments when she felt slighted.
The Protectorate, the adult heroes, sat on one side of the table. The Wards, a few non-powered officials, and a representative from the Youth Guard – Taylor's doing once again, though in this case she barely had to do anything to give them an in – sat at the other. Piggot was, of course, at the head of the table, shuffling through papers.
Dennis was across from Armsmaster. Vista was to his right, across from Miss Militia, and Aegis to his left, currently engaged in a staring contest with Assault. He wished he got to sit across from Assault.
A watch alarm beeped; Taylor stood from the table.
"Where are you going, Misty Miss?" Armsmaster asked.
"My mandatory four hours of on-base time for the day have elapsed, and I have to be home as soon as possible," Taylor said without a hint of insincerity.
"This meeting is also mandatory," Armsmaster retorted.
"That's not allowed," the Youth Guard representative, a red-haired woman by the name of Cindy, objected. She shot Armsmaster a wicked glare that might have raised the internal temperature of his helmet by a few degrees. "Basic child labor laws."
"Those do not necessarily apply here," Armsmaster shot back.
"Do you want to find out?" Cindy asked. "Because I happened to read up on them just this morning."
"We will discuss it later," Piggot said loudly, startling Cindy and prompting a tiny prod to pop out of Armsmaster's helmet, pointed in Piggot's general direction. It sparked menacingly despite being smaller than an eraser. Armsmaster quickly pushed it back into his helmet with his thumb.
"Misty Miss, stay here," Piggot added a moment later.
Dennis looked over at the conference room door, which was just swinging shut. "Don't think she heard you, boss," he called out.
"God damn it," Piggot growled. "That leads right into the first item on the agenda. What is this farce of a schedule you have her on, Armsmaster?"
"It is one heavily restricted by the intersection of stubbornness, law, and power considerations," Armsmaster answered, crossing his heavily armored arms over his chest. "No more than four hours active on-base time per day is just one of the many rules she is hellbent on having enforced to the letter."
"I am well aware of what she wants," Piggot said, casting an unfriendly look at Cindy. "I am asking why you have let her get away with it. I expected her relieved of her unrealistic expectations by now."
"They would be more obviously unrealistic if she was not getting her way," Miss Militia said diplomatically. "As it stands, she has an answer for everything and no desire to conform to the usual schedule or responsibilities of a Ward."
"It is her right to live a life appropriate to her desires and powers," Cindy added. "You don't get to take that away because you want another child soldier."
"I'll do what I damn well please with my own employees, and you'll sit there without offering pointless backtalk," Piggot snapped. "Gallant, Aegis, Clockblocker. What have you done to ensure she does what is expected of her?"
"All together?" Dennis asked irreverently. "We might need some practice time before we can answer in unison."
"Gallant," Piggot clarified. "Aegis. Then you. Talk." She leaned back in her chair, the red tint to her face obvious and more than a little concerning from a health perspective. Dennis wasn't trying to make her pop a vein or have an aneurism… with his luck, that would be the final prompt she needed to see Panacea, and she would be back the next day with ten times as much energy for squashing him.
"We're included her in team activities, gone with her on patrols, I've helped her with physical training, all of it," Gallant recounted. "She likes most of us."
Sophia snorted from her place at the far end of the table, opposite Battery.
"Misty Miss is doing everything she feels appropriate when asked of her," Aegis added carefully. "She goes on patrols when she is capable of it, she will be doing console as soon as Kid Win can develop a foolproof keyboard–"
"I might need to requisition some tech from Toybox or an affiliated Tinker who specializes in liquids, to study," Kid Win interrupted. "Her water definitely goes places normal water shouldn't be able to."
"That too," Aegis conceded. "We're working on it. What more do you want of us?"
"I want," Piggot said slowly, "for you to show her why her attitude is harmful for the city she signed up to protect."
"Signed up?" Dennis asked. It was his turn to speak, after all, even if Piggot almost certainly didn't want to hear what he had to say. "That's a funny turn of phrase."
"Get over it," Piggot said brusquely.
"Nah, I don't think I will," Dennis retorted. "And she won't either. Because, the thing is, she doesn't want to be a hero. Not when it means working for you and working with Shadow Stalker. And none of us really feel like trying to convince her otherwise. We're here because we want to be heroes, fine, we'll do what we can. We'll bend some rules and go the extra mile."
Cindy shot him an unhappy look, but he ignored her. She was nice, not effective or worth listening to when it came to his situation. She was useful for Taylor, nothing more.
"She isn't here to be a hero, she's here because you wouldn't let her do anything else," Dennis concluded. "That means my job when it comes to her is less about making her act like us and more about making sure she comes out of this not hating everyone involved, just you and Shadow Stalker."
Piggot's glare was near-apoplectic; the look he was getting from Miss Militia was not far behind.
"I think we've discussed a Ward behind her back quite enough," Cindy ventured. "I would request you talk about something else." She leaned forward, not-so-subtly breaking Piggot's line of sight with Dennis.
He might have been a little too harsh in his opinion of her; that was a gutsy move.
"Patrols," Armsmaster said suddenly. "We need to discuss patrol shifts due to Battery and Assault taking personal leave."
Piggot nodded, her jaw clenched, and the meeting turned to safer topics. Dennis sat back in his chair and mimed wiping sweat off his brow.
It had been a tense confrontation, but not a surprise one. Piggot was… aggressive. It was her entire method of existence. Aggressive, self-righteous, and certain her way was the best way. She had railroaded Taylor into the Wards – Dennis didn't know all the legal details, just that it was in no way an action that Taylor had consented to – and refused to even investigate Sophia beyond the bare minimum required by law. It was an unfair situation, and one that was slowly, inevitably ticking toward an explosion.
Maybe that explosion would be Sophia snapping and doing something in breach of her probation. Maybe it would be Piggot conceding and letting Taylor out of the Wards, or making amends by throwing Sophia halfway to the Birdcage out of spite. Maybe the Youth Guard would find a silver bullet that let them dethrone Piggot and enact their agenda. Whatever it was, the situation was anything but stable, and it was anything but right. Someone, probably Piggot, had built a house of cards on top of a fault line; the earthquake was going to ruin it sooner or later.
Dennis just didn't want the inevitable collapse to come down on top of Taylor. So when she told him enough to get him interested, more by chance than intention, he spread the word. He encouraged her to talk, bent rules, offered inspiration, taught her the ways of resistance that didn't involve giving Piggot any more leverage. He rallied the Wards, using jokes and not-so-funny hints in the right direction, getting them all in her corner, initiating them all into the subtle little rebellion.
The rebellion he had initiated so that when the house of cards came tumbling down, he and the Wards ended up on the right side of the girl who had been screwed over at every opportunity by everyone else, holding her up and away from the destruction instead of piling on top of her. He was a jokester by trade, but that just meant he saw a cruel joke without a punchline when he saw one. This would not be such a situation, not on his watch.
Author's Note: I wanted to write something shorter and light-hearted, and I wanted to throw my hat into the sadly lacking ring of 'Malicious Compliance' fics. Thus, a Taylor with a power born to be innocently destructive was devised! Also, one that, with the help of the resident prankster, isn't on the bad side of her fellow Wards despite sticking it to 'the man'.
(Also, definitely check out Implacable and Just a Phase if this one-shot interests you, both are more long-form takes on the same concept, the former equal measures funny and serious, and the latter mostly serious so far).
Next up is going to be something involving Amy; I've got two different things in the works at various stages of close to complete, one pretty close to canon and one really out-there. I'm especially excited for the out-there one.