Quest

by Kahlil Johnson

Uhhhh

39. Star3

April 3rd, 2011

My trip back to my hideout was more stressful than my last three missions put together. My power had told me that there was a high chance of Coil moving to abduct me after my meeting with Taylor, but I didn't catch any of his agents on the way home. By the time I actually stepped inside, I was little more than a bundle of raw nerves, but I did my best to smile anyways. The others might not react well to learning just what kind of person our boss was, and I didn't expect them to take my side against him if it came down to that.

"Hey, Lisa," Alec waved from his usual spot on the couch. "How'd the date go?"

"Sorry," I said, "but I'm not the type to kiss and tell." Honestly, it hadn't gone as bad as I'd worried it would, even if it still felt like I'd missed something important there.

"Right, it's not like you enjoy blabbing secrets all the time or anything," Alec fired back, but he'd already turned most of his attention back to his game. Brian was out with his sister, coaching her for their meeting with the child services rep later in the week, and Rachel was out with her dogs as usual. Not much chance of being able to get comfort from any of them, even if I was actually willing to reveal my problems.

I made my way to my room and locked the door behind me, letting out a little of my power to confirm that the place hadn't been bugged since I was last here. I grabbed a few tablets of over-the-counter pain medicine and tossed them back with a half-glass of water left over from taking this morning's pain pills. By the time they kicked in, I'd have to decide whether to start packing my bags or not.

An hour later, I'd secured almost everything I would need to live on the streets for a week, before I got a call from Coil's number. Part of me really, really wanted to just toss the phone out into the street, but not answering would be more suspicious. I picked up on the fifth ring.

"Tattletale."

Coil's voice was just as chill and oily as ever. He didn't sound displeased, he could conceal his feelings better than anyone else I'd ever met.

"Heya Boss," I said. "You want to hear how the meeting went?"

"The minor details can wait for your written report, but I'd like to hear your overall impressions."

Already knows how the meeting went. Wants to see if you'll try to hide something.

"It went just peachy," I said, "until she just flipped out on me right at the end."

"Explain why you mean by 'flipped out.'"

I sighed. "I mean she caught my wrist in a vice grip and started demanding I answer her questions. I'm pretty sure she was ready to throw down with me in the middle of the cafe, secret identity or no. It doesn't take a thinker power to see how well that would have gone for me."

"I see." Coil's voice came out flat, utterly devoid of emotion. "What was she asking about."

I took a deep breath. "She wanted me to spill the beans on Megrim, enough info for her to go on the attack. When I wouldn't tell her, she wanted to know who I was working for...and I gave her your name. She'd picked up some kind of lie detector power since our last meeting, and telling her anything but the truth would have made things worse."

"That is unfortunate," Coil said, "but understandable."

Not surprised. Already knew that you'd revealed his name. Testing your loyalty. Planning on introducing himself to Taylor soon anyways.

I winced at the headache that shot through me. I'd strained my power already by keeping it tightly focused on Taylor throughout our entire conversation, for all the good it had done me. I wanted nothing more than to give it a rest, but I might need its insight just to survive this conversation. Plus, it still felt like I was missing something important, and I kinda hoped that my power would bring it to my attention

After a telling pause, Coil continued. "Do you believe she would be willing to meet with you again in the future?"

"Dunno, Boss," I said, doing my best to sound flippant. "She seemed pretty pissed, and I may have left her a parting shot of my own, but she'll probably cool off after a few days if nothing reminds her how much she hates me. My power isn't super reliable when it comes to her."

"So you've mentioned," Coil said. "You'll just have to adapt to the challenge. I trust that the information I provided has served you well so far?"

Enjoys taunting you about your power's failures, emphasizing that he knows things you don't. Needs to know more.

Thanks, power, I never would have guessed that Coil is a smug jerk. "So far, so good. You were right about her thing with Lung; the girl is more than a little obsessed. I tried to talk her out of her revenge plan, but even I'm not that persuasive."

"It's fortunate that you didn't," Coil replied. "Her desire for revenge provides a useful bit of leverage. I want you to wait another week before calling her again. If she's hesitant, you can lure her to the table with the promise of more information and a chance to speak to your employer."

Already in a position to speak to Daystar directly, but wants an extra level of distance for security. Unnerved by her powers. Pathological need to either control or destroy her.

I shuddered. "Sure thing, Boss. I have to ask if your offer is genuine, though. Her lie-detector power might go off if I make her an offer I don't believe is genuine."

"Hmmm, good point," Coil said. "The offer is real. Assuming the meeting goes well, I'm willing to let you tell her everything she wants to know about the ABB's current operations."

Telling the truth. Offering information and support in order to bring her under his influence. Willing to sell you out to her if necessary. Believes she's a better Thinker than you, considers her a potential replacement. Has been the subject of her Thinker powers before.

"Alright," I said, trying to keep the pain out of my voice, "I'll mark it on my calendar. Anything else you need, Boss?"

"Just make sure to send in your written report before the end of the day," he replied, before unceremoniously hanging up.

Fucking hell. I fell face-first onto my bed, even though I knew the sudden drop would just make my headache worse. Taylor Hebert was a mess of trauma, trust issues, and raw aggression, the kind of problem I'd be smart to stay way the hell away from. I'd thought she might be able to help me get free of Coil, but now I needed to find a way to keep her from falling into his clutches too, for both our sakes. I'd need to stock up on a lot more painkillers.

--

I'd planned on spending the rest of the day stuck in my room, but Brian returned to the lair carrying a small tower of pizza boxes, and I could smell all of my favorite toppings. It was just enough of a push for me to shamble out of my room, zombie-like, and make my way towards the delicious aroma. Before long, the whole team ended up sitting around the kitchen table, almost as if we were actually some kind of semi-functional family.

I charged through the first three slices without saying a word, which everyone else seemed fine with. When I reached for my fourth, though, Brian raised an eyebrow.

"Hungry much? Didn't manage to eat anything at your lunch date?"

"Not really," I said, in between bites. "Meeting ended up cut short, and the food wasn't really that great. I'm kinda surprised the place is still open."

Doesn't employ a full time cook, my power practically shouted at me. Most dishes prepared in advance and reheated to serve. Lunch customers almost all regulars who have made it part of their routine. Only exceptions present were you, Taylor, and Shadow Stalker in her civilian clothes at the table next to yours, listening in on your conversation. You were too focused on Taylor to notice.

I tried to curse, but ended up choking on a bite of pizza instead. This was the closest my power had ever come to outright calling me an idiot, and it wasn't wrong.

"Lisa," Brian said, "you okay there?"

"This is what happens when you don't stop to chew," Alec said, around a mouthful of half-chewed pizza.

"I'm fine," I lied, getting myself back under control. "It's just been a long fucking day."

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WinterWombat

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Nov 28, 2019

#2,443

6th Day of Descending Earth, Realm Year 771

Lisa and I sat on a hill overlooking the city, wrapped in uncomfortable silence. Thick, heavy snowflakes filled the air around us, landing to melt on the bare skin of my arms and shoulders, but the cold held no bite for me, nor could the falling snow obscure my vision of the land below. Even hours after twilight, the city was abuzz with activity, as merchants and laborers rushed about in heavy fur coats, bearing lanterns blazing with the light of burning whale oil. Outsiders moved amongst them with stern purpose, either soldiers garbed in the lacquered crimson of the Scarlet Empire's lamellar, or dynasts carrying arms and armor of polished jade. Tiny splashes of color against the sea of white and grey, too small a presence to take seriously as a threat.

"I'm sorry, teacher," I said to Lisa, without turning to look at her. "I know what is at stake, and I understand why we have come here, but I simply cannot bring myself to believe that all these people deserve to die."

Lisa turned to study my expression, and I allow myself a quick glance at her in return. I didn't dare meet her eyes, lest I lose myself in the swirl of violet stars that danced within their dark center. We had both agreed it would be best if we decided not to feel what we so clearly felt for each other, and so we hid our hearts and stuck to playing the roles of student and teacher. On nights like tonight, though, I felt like a very poor actor indeed.

She frowned. "Why do you punish yourself so? Your mission is one of liberation, not slaughter."

"And yet," I said, "slaughter is what I will bring. The people of this city are not my enemies, but they will die just the same when my soldiers march upon their gates. The realm will not give up their largest northern foothold without a fight. They will give battle, and neither burning pitch nor catapult stone care overmuch whether they strike soldier or civilian. People will die."

Lisa rested her hand on mine, and it was all I could do not to simply melt against her side, ask her to hold me through the night.

"Death comes for them regardless," she said, voice quiet and still. "If not from the flames of war, then from the beasts of the wilds, or the smothering hand of a mountain avalanche. What would you say if I told you that, should you not cast out the Realm soldiers, in a year's time one of them will carry a festering plague to this city, dragging thousands to the grave without the nobility of a death in battle?"

"Is that true?" I asked, feeling a cold that had nothing to do with the falling snow. "Do you see such a fate written for them in the Loom?"

"I might," Lisa said, in a tone that told me her true answer.

We sat in silence for several minutes more, watching as the people below gradually brought one of their massive airships to rest just outside their main market square. Children, those old enough to still be awake, crowded around the off-loading ramp, no doubt hoping that the captain had brought them sweets or toys from some far-off kingdom.

"The Terrestrials brought this on themselves," Lisa eventually said. "They rebelled against their ordained rulers and brought this world to chaos. Creation's suffering will never cease as long as it remains under their covetous rule. If you must cause more suffering on your path to regain your rightful place, the blame must still be laid at the dragons' feet."

"So you say," I replied. "I have no love for the Empress and her vision for the Realm, but that doesn't mean I think all of her children unfit to lead. Were I to sit upon the Scarlet Throne tomorrow, do you truly believe I would become a better ruler than those trained their whole lives for such a duty?"

"No," Lisa said, with a faint smile, "but I believe that you would learn. Before you can learn to lead from your throne, you must first win it. I promise you, Songbird, you have barely even begun to grow into the fullness of your power."

I shook my head. "If power was all that a ruler required, The Chosen would never have been created. There would have been no need for that first and greatest rebellion."

I turned my gaze to another part of the market square, where a dynast resplendent in blue jade shouted at a cowering shopkeep. I could have performed the motions of inner stillness and extended my senses further to hear what was being said, but there was no need. A single swing of the dynast's massive blade split the wooden stall into so much kindling, and the terrified shopkeep fell backwards into the fresh-fallen snow, before struggling to retrieve a thin pouch of coin from under his fur cloak. A familiar story, one that played out again and again in a thousand different variations wherever the Realm's armies came to rest.

"I will not force you to seize your destiny," Lisa said, with only the faintest hint of compassion. "If you wish to turn away from all this, I won't try to stop you. I will remind you, though, that the army which waits at our back lacks the provisions to survive a march back to their garrison. If we cannot take the city, it is they who will die instead of the people before you. I will respect your decision, but I believe that this one was already made the moment you marched your troops out into the cold."

"I know," I hissed. "Gods damn you, Lisa, but I know. Is it so wrong of me to wish it could be otherwise?"

"An Empress may keep the world safe with her dreams of peace," Lisa said, "but a rebel may only cover it in blood. Save your wishes until you've won your throne, my lady."

I stood up, and grabbed my bow from its resting place on the ground nearby. Undignified treatment for such an ancient weapon, but neither dirt nor ice would ever find purchase on its flawless golden arms. Stringing it was the work of only a moment, with my essence permeating every inch of its six-and-a-half foot span. As soon as it sat ready in my hand, it became an extension of my own body, a pure instrument of my will. It was a thing of beauty, and while I might loathe its grim work, I could never actually hate the thing itself.

I focused my senses both subtle and mundane on the Dragon-Blooded officer in the market square, observing as he walked towards one of the nearby mead-halls with his stolen money. I drew back my bow, and felt a shaft of blazing sunfire kindle to life already nocked upon my string.

One deep breath to focus my mind. Another to steady my hand.

The dynast stopped and turned in my direction, as if he could actually see the thin line of sunlight shining on a hilltop miles away. It was possible, if he'd strengthened his senses with essence as I had mine.

A third deep breath, and I gave a silent prayer that he would turn his head away once more. A brute he might be, but he still deserved to go to his grave without fear.

I released the arrow. Next to me, Lisa smiled. Fresh hot blood sprayed over new-fallen snow. With a heavy heart, I began the slaughter.

--

April 5th, 2011

I woke with a start, every muscle tensed, as if I'd been falling from a great height and expected to hit the ground at any moment. Warm daylight filled my room, and I briefly panicked at having slept into the afternoon, before realizing that it was all coming from the glowing emblem on my brow. I lived underground, for crying out loud; my room didn't even have windows. According to my bedside clock, it was actually just an hour past midnight.

I sat up and tried to blink the sleep out of my eyes. That dream had been much more lucid than the last one, more internally consistent. I could almost have mistaken it for a memory, if not for the elaborate fantasy setting, the inexplicable presence of Lisa, and the fact that I'd become someone completely different from myself, someone whose actions I couldn't seem to understand even after having lived them. Only her power felt truly familiar, coursing through her soul along the same veins and meridians, warming her with the same promise of certain victory.

Was that what it would feel like, the first time I killed? Cold compassion for my victim, and resigned sorrow for the better person I might have been?

With a shake of my head, I forced my attention back to the present. I needed to see if this dream had also left me with any new powers. Unfortunately, twenty-odd minutes of experimentation suggested that this wasn't the case. I could see how this other self had used her power to sharpen her vision, to ward off the cold, and to forge arrows out of light, but I couldn't actually perform the feats myself. It felt like trying to perform an intricate dance after having seen it only once; I had only enough sense of how it should work to know that my own efforts fell short.

The most interesting part of the dream was probably my dream-self's weapon. Other weapons I'd handled had felt like mere tools; I would practice with them, master their use until it became instinctual, until I could use them as an extension of my own limbs. That bow, however, had felt like an ideal conduit for my power, a living piece of my own soul. I knew, on some fundamental level, that its quality surpassed that of any other weapon ever made by human hands. If it was actually possible to build something like that in the real world, I would have strongly reconsidered trying my hand at Tinker powers..

With all these thoughts buzzing through my head, there was no way I could simply fall back to sleep immediately. Instead, I walked out to the common room in my pajamas, intent on fixing myself a midnight snack.

--

When I arrived, I saw that I wasn't the only person up in the middle of the night. Dennis had curled up on one of the couches with a blanket over his legs and a bowl of ice cream in his hands, watching cartoons on the big TV with the sound turned off. For a second, I worried about disturbing him, before he raised a hand and waved me over without looking. I shrugged, then took a seat nearby.

"You know," I said, "all the bedrooms here are really well soundproofed. You could turn the volume up if you wanted."

Dennis shrugged. "Yeah, but that's not how this works. Late night, ice cream, old cartoons, no sound. It's kind of a ritual, I guess."

"Oh." I paused. "Am I getting in the way of your...ritual?"

"Nah," he said, facing me for the first time and giving me a warm smile. His eyes were sunken, and his face looked pallid instead of merely pale, but his good mood seemed genuine. "Talking's part of the ritual too. My dad was a bit of an insomniac, and this is what he used to do when he couldn't sleep. I'd get the same problem every now and then, and I picked up the habit from him."

I took a few seconds to compose my thoughts. "I see. I'm sorry about your dad, Dennis; I know how hard…"

My voice trailed off when I caught his look of confusion, which soon gave way to wide-eyed realization.

"Oh, shit," he said, "jeeze, I just realized what that sounded like. My dad's still alive, thank God. He's sick, though, and his evening meds knock him out for the whole night, so it's just been me eating ice cream on the couch alone for the last couple years. Honestly, I'm glad for the company."

The business with Dennis's dad sounded serious, but Dennis's tone made it pretty clear that he didn't want to talk about, so I just nodded and went to fetch my own bowl.

"So," he said, once I'd sat back down, "what's keeping you up? Bad dreams? Anxiety? Excitement? Or is it just bad brain chemicals, like mine?"

I shrugged. "More like weird dreams than bad ones. There might be some anxiety or excitement in there too; I'm not sure I could really tell the difference between the two right now."

Dennis nodded. "I think I know what you mean, and it happens to a lot of new Wards after a month or two. You go on a few missions, maybe a cape fight or two, you start to feel like you're losing track of what's supposed to be fun, and what's supposed to be pants-wettingly terrifying. The first time I realized that some Empire asshole had pointed a gun at me and all I'd felt was bored, I broke down for a solid week."

"Too real," I said, with a half-hearted chuckle. That didn't sound like my problem, exactly, but it was certainly relatable.

"Yeah," Dennis replied. We sat there watching cartoons in silence for several minutes before I spoke up again.

"Hey, Dennis," I said, cautiously, "is this an okay time to ask about what was getting you down last week?"

He looked at me blankly for a second, then nodded in understanding. "Right, that whole mess. As long as you don't mind listening to me rant…?"

I gave him a 'go on' gesture.

"Okay," he said, sighing. "The short story is that I had a disagreement with PR. They wanted to make a change to my costume, I didn't."

"What kind of change?" I asked. "I mean, I think your current getup looks great, but I understand that Marketing needs to find some excuse to keep releasing new action figures."

"It wasn't even that bad," he said. "No major changes, no rebranding. They just wanted me to come in for new measurements so they could add some padding to my costume, specifically around the arms and shoulders."

I raised an eyebrow. "Padding? What good is that going to do you?"

Dennis laughed. "It's not for my sake. It's just to make me look more, you know…" He theatrically flexed a largely non-existent bicep, then mimed a bodybuilder's crab pose. "...Bwaarr," he finished, before shrugging.

I stared at him in open confusion. "Why? What the hell does PR get out of that?"

"Image and team branding," Dennis said, a touch of bitterness creeping into his voice. "You and Carlos are both in freakishly good shape, Chris and Dean have that bulky armor to make them look bigger, and Missy and Sophia are both intended to look more sleek and mobile. Compared to that, I guess PR thinks that my slim girlish figure looks a little too, well, slim and girlish. They want to buff up my silhouette so I fit in better with the other guys."

I frowned. "Wait, are you saying that I'm one of the guys?"

Dennis laughed. "Only because they don't have any other Amazonian Punch Goddesses to group you with. Besides, I'd need to pad more than just my arms and shoulders to fit in next to you."

I snorted with laughter, even as I raised a hand to cover up my faint blush. I still hadn't quite figured out how to deal with actually having a figure now, but Thea and Dennis's gentle teasing was paradoxically good at making me feel less self-conscious. It helped that, despite his reputation as a gadfly, he was one of the least lecherous people I knew.

"They sound like a bunch of image-obsessed assholes," I said, "and yeah, I know that's what they're paid to be. Still, it's extra shitty of them to try and make you feel like your body isn't good enough."

Dennis nodded in agreement, but I could tell that there was still more he wanted to say, so I held back from speaking.

"That's not even all of it, though," he eventually said. "Like, maybe I wouldn't want to look that way, even if it came natural. Maybe I'm not interested in the ideal look they want me to pursue. Maybe I take issue with being treated like a character instead of a person, like I exist to express their ideas instead of figuring out my own. Is that so crazy?"

"Makes sense to me," I said, after a few moments deep in thought. "I don't really know what to say, except that it sounds really rough. If you want some help yelling at PR, I've got your back. Whatever that's worth."

"Heh, Thanks," Dennis replied, with a wry smile. "Honestly, I was half-worried that you would go off on a spiel about the importance of personal fitness, try to whip me into shape yourself."

I laughed. "That would be rich, coming from someone whose powers let her cheat harder at fitness than the entire Tour-de-France put together. If you ever want a gym buddy to help motivate you, maybe show you the ropes, just say the word. Getting stronger doesn't necessarily mean bulking up, after all. Otherwise...just do what makes you happy, I guess?"

Dennis seemed to stare off into space for a moment. "Yeah…Thanks, Taylor. Again."

"No problem," I said. "It's a nice change of pace to deal with problems that actually feel like they might have solutions. Speaking of which, if you need someone to help you tell PR that they can sit on it and spin, just give me a shout. I have a lot of poorly suppressed anger that could use a good outlet."

Dennis snorted. "Holy shit, Taylor. Where's a poor, naive innocent yourself been picking up such foul language?"

I shrugged. "Sophia, mostly. She can be very expressive when she's angry."

"Just as long as you don't start taking lessons from her on manners, I guess," Dennis sighed, but his smile remained bright.

We sat in silence for a while longer, watching cartoon characters dance about soundlessly on the screen. It was the exact opposite of the silence from my dream; a comfortable, easy quiet from two friends who didn't demand anything from each other.

"So," Dennis said, at the next commercial break, "Has Jess tried to rope you into her new Daystar fan-club yet?"

I groaned and sank back into the couch, throwing up my hands in exasperation. "What am I supposed to do? I mean, I didn't think fan-clubs were even a thing these days. The last thing I want to do is sit around and listen to people talk about me, but…"

"But Jess is very cute," Dennis said, "and you're very gay?"

I groaned again, and covered my face with a throw pillow, but I was pretty sure he could still see my blush glowing right through it.

"It's not fair," I said, tossing the pillow at him and picking my bowl back up. "I thought secret identities were supposed to be tragic or dramatic, but mine is just super awkward."

"Mmmhm," Dennis hummed, giving me a smile completely devoid of sympathy. "So are you going to ask her out?"

I almost choked on a spoonful of melted ice cream. "I, wait, what? I mean, yeah, she's awesome, but I have no idea if she's even into girls in the first place."

Dennis gave me a flat look, his silence speaking volumes.

I felt my blush begin to grow even deeper. "Jess is gay? You're sure?"

Dennis goggled at me. "Taylor, you have a Thinker rating; how the heck can you be this dense?"

I blushed. "Contrary to what you might have heard," I said, "Gaydar isn't a real superpower."

Dennis shook his head. "She's not even in the closet! I know you've seen the pride flags in her locker, or the ones she's sewn on her backpack. Hell, you were there last Monday when she said how much she wished Brockton Bay had a real Pride parade!."

"I thought she was just really supportive!" I protested. "Besides, it's not like she's shown any interest in me."

"This is unreal," he said. "I can't...You didn't notice how she's always blushing around you?"

"She has, y'know, that pale Scottish skin," I definitely didn't cry out. "They blush all the time! I thought she was just really warm!"

"Okay," Dennis said, slowly, "but what about the way she always goes all doey-eyed gazing at you when she thinks you won't notice?"

"I don't know!" I said, "I didn't notice!"

Dennis took a deep breath, held it for several seconds, and let it out. "Fine, Fine. How do you explain that one time you came to school in that tank top that doesn't quite fully cover your midriff, when you did the whole stretch-and-yawn thing at lunch and Jess almost fucking passed out?"

"That was...I didn't...it's not…" I sputtered. "You know what? I need more ice cream."

Dennis held out his bowl towards me. "Chocolate, please, if you're getting up. We're not finished here. I need to find out just how many other obvious crushes you've failed to notice."

--

The next day, I couldn't even remember when I'd crawled back to my room to fall asleep. I was tired as hell, but somehow I also felt more rested than I had in weeks.

--

A/N: After the last couple of chapters, I felt like Taylor could use a break, so here's a peak into a lighter, fluffier part of her life.

Well, aside from the whole Visions-Of-War-And-Murder thing, but still, pretty fluffy on the whole.

Originally, this chapter had an addition ~1500 word segment at the beginning, but I realized during my final editing pass that it actually fit in much better in next week's chapter. Fortunately, this one was still large enough to stand on its own, and the next one wasn't already so large that it couldn't fit an extra scene. Reading it again, I honestly think it works better now that its focus isn't split quite so much.

Only two more updates left in Spark before we move on to the next arc.

Next time, on Daystar!: Taylor asks some difficult questions, and makes some tough decisions. There's still a lot of pain ahead for our heroine, but maybe there's a light at the end of the tunnel?

Be well, friends, and thanks for reading!

Last edited: Nov 28, 2019

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WinterWombat

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

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Dec 5, 2019

#2,644

April 10th, 2011

By the time Sunday arrived, my good mood was just barely hanging on by a thread, and so I walked into Fugly Bob's hoping for good food and good company to revive my spirits. I quickly spotted Amy sitting alone at a large booth in the far corner nursing a tall glass of coke, and made my way over to her. She waved at my approach without actually taking her eyes off of her phone, and I noticed that her posture looked even more lifeless than normal.

"Hey Amy," I said, as I slid into the booth to sit on her left. "What's up? You look kinda awful."

She flipped me the bird, again without taking her eyes off her phone. "And you're an ass, Taylor, but I don't need to point that out every time I see you."

I rolled my eyes. "Har har. I meant that you look like you haven't slept in days. Everything alright?"

Amy finally put her phone away. "I'm fine," she sighed. "Picked up another shift at the hospital this morning. Have you heard about the ABB bombing last night?"

"What, another one?" I frowned down at the brown paper menu on the table in front of me. "How bad?"

Amy shrugged. "Could have been a lot worse. They used some kind of tinkertech flash-bomb. No deaths, but almost three dozen blinded, which left me with just about seventy eyes to fix."

"Ouch." I winced in sympathy.

"Yeah." Amy stabbed with her straw at the ice cubes floating in her half-finished drink. "Have I ever told you how much I hate eyes? Someone always complains that I didn't get the color quite right."

"Another reason why we need to bring down the ABB as fast as possible," I said, earning me another shrug from Amy. After half a minute passed without any further reply, I decided that was all the response I was getting out of her.

"So," I said, to fill the quiet, "where are the others? Still on their way?"

Amy nodded. "Dean's driving everyone in, and Vicky's sticking with him instead of flying over by herself. They'll be a few minutes."

"Fair enough," I said. "Anyways, aren't you going to ask me how my week's been?"

"Let me guess" she asked, with just a bit of humor rounding out her otherwise dry tone. "Frustrating? Not enough fights? Sophia being an asshole?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and pouted at her. "Not necessarily. Sophia's actually been kinda okay this week."

"Alert the press," Amy deadpanned.

"Yeah, I'm still waiting for her to like, just stab me or something," I replied. "And is it so bad if I'm feeling frustrated? I've been trying to figure out some kind of new sensory power for days now without making any headway. It feels like they should be so easy, but nothing ever works, you know?"

"No, not really, but let's see if I can find out," she said. "Hand?"

I clasped her left hand with my right, and felt the familiar tingle rush through me as Amy's power probed for the structure of what she still called my 'subtle body.'

"I'm not sure what the problem is," she said, after a few seconds of concentration. "It looks like you've unblocked almost all of your largest channels, and your essence flow feels stronger than ever. Honestly, I'm pretty sure you could finish the rest of the process yourself at this point."

"Well, something's still not working," I said. "Lemme show what I've been trying. You might be able to see what's getting in the way."

Amy nodded, so I closed my eyes and tried to repeat some of the meditation exercises I'd been using over the last few days. I barely had time to slip into a meditative breathing cycle, though, before a new voice broke through my calm.

"Hey there, lovebirds! Having fun without us?"

I opened my eyes to see Vicky's radiant smile beaming down at Amy and I. Behind her, Dean and Missy looked like they were trying hard to suppress laughter. At the same time, Amy pulled her hand away from mine as if my skin had suddenly become burning hot. Before I could say anything, she'd already moved to put a considerable distance between her and I. If that wasn't enough, the glare she shot at me made it abundantly clear that I wasn't getting any help with my power this afternoon.

"God damnit, Vicky!" I huffed, "How many more times do I have to tell you to cut that out? It's not funny anymore, it's just really fucking uncomfortable."

I regretted my words as soon as I saw Vicky's face plummet. "Oh shit," she stammered, looking absolutely devastated. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be...I should probably just go."

I shook my head, scrambling for the right words to say that I hadn't meant it that way, but someone else beat me to the punch.

"No," Amy's voice cut in from across the table. "Vicky, you're fine. Taylor, though...what the hell? Are you even capable of being anything less than an utter jackass?"

I bristled. Distantly, I was aware of Dean and Missy stepping back, looking awkward as hell. I probably should have taken that as a sign to back off and cool down, but to hell with that.

"What a hypocrite," I shot back. "Amy, you're the moodiest, most passive-aggressive person I've ever met. One minute it's like we're almost friends, but the next you start treating me like I'd just killed your pet puppy or something. What the hell am I supposed to make of that?"

"I've been trying to get along with you for Vicky's sake," Amy said, rising from her seat to glare down at me, "but I just can't do it anymore. I'm not going to stand by any longer while my only sister, for reasons I'll probably never understand, runs herself ragged trying to win your approval. She's looked up to you ever since you sent her into a days-long depression, even though you've caused us nothing but pain. Hell, you probably didn't even know that our parents are getting a divorce because of you!"

"Amy, please, don't," Vicky interjected. "What's happening with Mom and Dad...if it's anyone's fault, it's mine. None of this would be happening if I hadn't been so reckless with my powers."

"Vicky, she's been twisting your head around, making you blame yourself instead of her," Amy said, looking like she was on the verge of tears. "Why can't you see that I just-"

She was interrupted by a harsh ringing from her phone. She pulled it out, stared at it for a second, and then returned it to her pocket before stepping out of the booth and walking towards her sister's shrinking form.

"I need to leave," she said, voice suddenly devoid of emotion. "Vicky, I'm sorry, but can you fly me over to the PRT building? I need to get there as fast as I can."

"Wait," I said, "what's going on? Do you need help?"

Amy shot me a brief glance, and I shuddered at how sad and resigned her eyes looked. "Armsmaster just got out of a fight with Oni Lee, and it didn't go well for him. He needs Panacea."

With that, she draped an arm over her sister's shoulder and led her out of the restaurant. Only once they were gone did I notice how many people were staring at us.

"Shit." I let my shoulders slump as all the energy suddenly drained out of me. "I think...I think I should leave too. Sorry, Missy. Dean, can you tell Vicky that I'm sorry for snapping at her? I don't think I'm really fit for human company right now."

Dean gave me a solemn nod as I left the restaurant. Outside, I could just barely see Vicky and Amy as a tiny, brightly-colored speck in the sky, flying off towards the PRT building. With a sigh, I started walking in the same direction.

--

Between getting lost in thought and just generally dragging my feet, it took me a little over an hour to make my way back to the base. After changing clothes and masking up, I worked up the courage to head up to building's infirmary, in hopes of possibly running into Amy again. Plus, while Colin and I hadn't really talked since he brushed off my request to join in the hunt for Megrim, and I was still kinda pissed at him for that, he was the closest thing I had to a mentor since joining the Wards.

The nurse on duty scanned my Wards ID and directed me to one of the private rooms at the rear of the infirmary. I stepped in to see Colin laying in bed, hooked up to a number of IV lines, trying awkwardly to use one of his tablet PCs with only his left hand. It took me a moment to realize that this was probably because his entire right arm was missing save for a tiny lump of scar tissue at his shoulder.

"Hello, Taylor," Colin replied, without looking up. "Is there something I can help you with?"

I stared at him for a second, absolutely gobsmacked. "Anything you can...god, no. I just heard that you'd been hurt, wanted to see if you were alright."

"That's very kind of you," came a synthesized voice, emanating from another piece of tech sitting on Colin's bedside table. "He's had a bit of a rough day, as you can probably see."

I just managed to keep myself from jumping "Oh! Hello, Dragon! Sorry, I didn't realize you were, uh, here. Here in spirit, I mean, or I guess in voice…"

"She's been keeping me company," Colin said, still without looking up.

"Keeping you from running back to your lab, you mean," Dragon replied, teasingly. "I told you people would come by to visit, Colin. You've only been here less than two hours."

I nodded, though I couldn't say for whose benefit. "I only heard because I was with Panacea when she got the message. Speaking of which, why hasn't she come by yet? I thought Glory Girl was flying her in."

"She already left," Colin grumbled. "Only took her about ten minutes."

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay, but why didn't she fix your, uh…?"

"Insufficient biomass," Dragon said. "Not to mention the fact that Colin hasn't actually slept in over five days. His system was under so much stress that Panacea insisted he get a few days of rest before she'd be able to fix his arm. You could almost say that he's stuck in the infirmary because he hasn't been paying enough attention to his own health."

Colin grunted, but finally put down the tablet. "I acknowledge that I made a mistake. I'm paying for it now. Taylor, I'm sorry, but I won't be available for sparring this week."

"I think I'll manage," I said. "Is it alright if I ask…?"

"Oni Lee," he said, seemingly unconcerned. "Some kind of cryo-explosive, thankfully with a small blast radius. I lost the arm instantly, but the rest of me didn't suffer anything more than mild frostbite, which Panacea was able to fix immediately."

Shit. Tinkertech bombs were terrifying. Colin reached out to his bedside table for a glass of water while I figured out how to reply.

"I'm sorry," I eventually said. "That sounds like it must have been painful."

"Mostly annoying," Colin replied, with a shake of his head. "My armor stopped the first three Tinker bombs Oni Lee tried, and I've already come up with some ideas for how to negate this one as well."

"Do you think he was trying to probe your defenses?" I asked. It sounded like something Lung might order if he really was preparing for outright war with the Protectorate.

"That's our theory," Dragon said. "Oni Lee's power synergizes disturbingly well with their new Tinker's specialty. They can test their bombs as much as they like without actually expending them."

"I can adapt to counter each new tactic," Armsmaster continued, "but that would require a purely reactive approach. Instead, I'm trying to see if I can find any common elements between Bakuda's various bombs, and use that to develop a more comprehensive solution. I'd be working on it right now, if I wasn't stuck in a hospital bed."

"If you need more hands onboard," I said, "my request to join the mission still stands. I'd be more than willing to act as your lab assistant until-"

"Taylor, don't." Colin frowned at me.

I crossed my arms in front of me. "Don't what? Don't point out how you probably need all the help you can get?"

"Don't make this about yourself and your pride," Colin said. "Now isn't the time."

I recoiled. "Pride? You seriously think this is about-"

"Colin," Dragon's voice said, at the same time, "maybe you should let me-"

Colin reached out to grab Dragon's communicator device, but instead managed to knock over his glass, spilling water all over his lap and the tablet resting there, causing the image on-screen to dissolve into a mess of oily colors.

Colin sighed, looking down at the dying device before turning his eyes back to me. "Taylor. Believe me when I say that I understand the kind of pressure this business can put on up-and-coming capes who show great potential. Losing to Megrim on your night out must have hurt, but holding a grudge like this won't do you any good."

I stared at him. "I...what? You think I have a grudge against Megrim for ruining my first patrol?"

"And putting you in the hospital," he said. "It's how I would have reacted when I was as inexperienced as you are. Please believe me when I say that you don't need to do this. There's nothing you need to prove, not to your teammates, not to the director, not to anyone in the Protectorate here."

"If that's true," I said, "then why won't you let me help? You say you trust my abilities, but it sure as hell doesn't feel that way."

"This fight is clearly too personal for you," Colin said. "Even if you were a member of the Protectorate instead of a Ward, I still wouldn't want to bring you onto this case. I trust your abilities, but I can't count on you not to act recklessly, and acting recklessly in this kind of situation will get you killed."

I wanted to yell at him, but I forced myself to swallow my answer instead. Even if I disagreed with his reasons, he'd meant everything he'd said, and it was clear I wasn't going to be able to argue him away from his decision. On top of that, my earlier blow-up at Fugly Bob's still weighed heavily on me. Giving in to my anger hadn't been doing me any favors recently.

Instead of following my first impulse and storming out, I grabbed the waterlogged tablet from Colin's bed and began probing the case for leaks.

"I don't like it," I said, "but I can tell that I won't be able to convince you this way. Once you're back on your feet, I'd like you to give me one last chance to make my case."

"Taylor," he said, "this isn't like getting approval for a new training program. You're asking me to let a teenager run headlong into mortal danger."

"I get that," I said. "That's why I want to take some time to put together a serious argument. If you listen to what I have to say, and it still doesn't convince you, then fine. I'll let the idea go. I just want a chance to try and get my point across first."

As I spoke, I channeled a steady stream of essence into the broken tablet, engulfing it in a blaze of white light as my power fixed whatever damage it had suffered. I handed it back to Colin, who then carefully set it on the bedside table well away from the mostly empty water glass.

"I'll think about it," he said, "so long as you keep yourself out of trouble. That means no unauthorized patrols into ABB territory, no violent incidents at school, and no reports from Aegis that you're giving him any problems. Do you understand?"

"Sir! Yes sir!" I sounded off, barely resisting the urge to give a mock salute. "Unless there's anything more I can do to help, then, I should probably give you a chance to rest."

"That would be lovely, Taylor," Dragon said. "I'll try and make sure that he actually spends the time resting. Is it alright if I call you later this week? I'd like to discuss some options for your costume and equipment."

"Of course!" I said, grinning despite myself. Dragon, the Dragon, wanted to make something for me? It had to be the first truly good thing to happen all day.

I made my way back down to the Wards HQ while mentally planning out the rest of my night. There was still at least one more thing I wanted to accomplish before this unexpected bout of maturity deserted me, but it would have to wait until later in the night.

--

At 9:01 PM, I dialed a number on my personal phone. It only had time to ring once before Emma picked it up.

"Taylor?"

The sheer relief and joy in her voice was almost enough to make me reflexively hang up right then. Instead, I pressed on.

"Hey, Emma," I said, trying to sound casual. "How...how have you been?"

It was pretty obvious that I had no idea what to say, but Emma ran with it. "I've been good. Better. Still getting used to the new school. It's really nice, but there's just something about that's...I don't know how to describe it."

"It's too nice," I said, "like it can't be real. It's too nice to exist in the same world as Winslow."

"Yeah, exactly!" I could hear her smile in the sound of her voice, and I suddenly felt the urge to squeeze my phone until it broke. She sounded so much like her old self, but I could still hear traces of the sadistic monster who had taken the place of my friend. I felt paralyzed, overcome by emotions I couldn't even identify, let alone begin to understand. I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.

The awkward silence stretched on for several seconds before Emma spoke up again.

"Taylor? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," I said, forcing myself to relax just a little. "Look, I wanted to ask you some questions about what happened with, well, you and I. Uncomfortable questions, probably. If now isn't a good time for that, I can call back another night."

"No!" Emma yelped, "No, no, that's fine. I'm fine. I can tell you whatever you want to know. I'm honestly just glad you're actually speaking to me."

I tried to swallow around the lump in my throat. "Okay. I just...I just need to know," I stopped, steadied my breathing. "Was it something I did, that made you hate me?"

"No, no Taylor, god no," Emma said, her voice quavering. "You didn't do anything wrong. I was the one who changed."

I turned my focus inwards, double checking that I was still maintaining my lie detector technique. I needed to know that she meant what she was saying. Everything was as I'd expected, but I still wanted to be absolutely certain.

"Emma," I said, "I need you to lie to me. Just say something that isn't true."

"Oh, okay," she said, understandably confused. "Uh…{I think you'd look better with shorter hair?}"

I sighed in relief. "Thanks, Emma. So, if it wasn't something I did, why choose me to torment?"

Emma went quiet. Just as I was about to ask if she was still there, though, she spoke up again.

"It wasn't really about you, just what you represented."

"Which was?" I asked.

"Weakness," Emma said, sounding suddenly bitter. "At least, what I thought was weakness. I didn't even hate you, not at first. I just wanted to prove that I didn't need you anymore."

"That's bullshit," I spat, even though I knew she wasn't lying. "Telling me to get lost, sure, that's proving you can get by without me. Tormenting me for almost two years, though? What the hell was that supposed to prove!?"

Another pause, as Emma collected her wits. "That was because it didn't work. Even after I said I never wanted to see you again, I couldn't stop missing you. Every time I caught myself wishing you were there with me, it felt like I was wrong, like I wasn't strong enough. I thought I needed to do something more drastic."

I heard my phone's plastic frame begin to creak from stressed, and forced my hand to un-clench. "That doesn't make sense, Emma. You couldn't forget about me, so you decided to torture me?"

Emma's voice became more frantic. "It wasn't supposed to turn out like that! At first, I just wanted to push you into standing up for yourself, give you a chance to prove that you could be as strong as I was. It felt awful, but I was convinced it was the only way we could be friends again. When that didn't happen, though, I started to blame you for the guilt I was feeling. The bullying became my way of punishing you for being weak and forcing me to act like a bully."

"That…" I paused, at a loss for words. "That's the most fucked up thing I've ever heard. It makes no fucking sense."

"I know," Emma said, "Oh god do I know. I don't think I'd even be able to put it into words if my therapist hadn't helped me work it all out."

"I don't know what I expected," I said, "but that's definitely worse than whatever I could dream up. If that's how you felt, I don't get how you can even stand to talk to me right now."

"It's because I finally realized that you were stronger than me the whole time," Emma said. "You suffered so much, thanks to me, but you never let it make you mean or cruel. You stayed good."

I felt a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. "You don't know that," I said. "You don't know anything about me, Emma, not anymore. You shouldn't put me on a pedestal."

"I know everything I need to," she said. "I know that, on your first day at Arcadia, you stood up to Glory Girl to save a student from being bullied. I know how much everyone respects you, now that you're free from all the poisonous rumors I spread."

"Emma," I said, starting to feel worried at her increasingly fervent tone.

"Most of all," she continued, heedless, "I know that you gave me a chance to make amends, even though I didn't deserve it. How could I not look up to you, Taylor? You're a hero."

In an instant, my blood seemed to turn to ice. "Stop, Emma. Say that again."

Emma was quiet for several seconds before speaking. "Uh, {I said that you're my hero?}"

"No," I growled, "You didn't. You weren't just talking about being inspired. How much do you know?"

"Nothing for certain," Emma stammered, "not really, just suspicions. I didn't even think it could be possible until I saw the video of you, I mean, of Daystar coming out at her introduction, and it reminded me-"

I was running out of patience. "How long have you known?"

"Since, uh, since the night I got back into town," Emma said, sounding like she was afraid I might reach through the phone lines at any moment and strangle her. I wasn't sure I wouldn't, if I had the power.

"Before we saw each other at school, then," I said. "Who told you?"

"S-Sophia," Emma eventually said. "She didn't actually tell me anything, just dropped some hints…I won't tell anyone, I promise."

Sophia. Of-fucking-course.

"You two are still hanging out?" I asked.

"No!" Emma blurted out. "No, I don't want anything to do with her. She's messed up in the head, somehow. She might be on the hero team, but she's not a good person."

'Unlike you' went unsaid.

"No kidding," I chuckled, overtaken by the sheer absurdity of it all. "Fucking hell. At least everything makes sense now. You're trying to get back on my good side because you need a new cape friend to make you feel special."

"{No, that's not it,}" Emma said. "Well,

not entirely, I hope. I'm trying to get better, I promise. It just...I was feeling so lost. I didn't expect to run into you at Arcadia, but there you were, a real hero, living proof of how I'd made all the wrong decisions, and I just...I'm sorry, Taylor."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Okay. I believe you, Emma, but I can't deal with this right now. I'll call you back another day, once I manage to figure out who I'm actually mad at."

I hung up before she had a chance to reply. I didn't want to think about what this meant, or how I should take it, or what I was going to say to Sophia. I didn't want to think about anything at all.

I spent the rest of the evening doing chores, studying, and generally just waiting to be tired enough to sleep.

--

High Summer, Year 118 of the Titanomachy

I was the last.

The rest of my circle had fought to the last, but as the battle stretched on for hours, and then days, their strength had finally faded. The monster had toyed with them, dragged on the fight, waited until the fires of their essence guttered out, and then devoured them one by one. I knew that my friends would soon return, wearing new faces and answering to new names, but I wouldn't be there to meet them. I was the last, and soon I would be no more.

I released another burst of power as I swung my blade, and the blinding light of my anima surged up its edge, turning it from a mere lump of metal to a golden arc of pure cutting force over half a mile long. The monster screamed in agony as three more of its heads fell from its misshapen shoulders, each one falling to the earth with a ground-shaking impact. Then, the aura of power surrounding me finally flickered out, and I fell to my knees, gasping for breath.

I took comfort in knowing that the monster's strength must be running as low as my own. It had taken many false shapes through our battle, trying to crush me underneath serpentine coils or consume me as a giant of living flame, but I had slain each one in turn. Now, the writhing, twisting bulk of its last remaining incarnation sprawled across the rocky plain that had once been its mountain fortress. It studied me with a single massive eye of cracked black glass, and I studied it back.

"You tire, usurper," it spoke, though it had nothing I could recognize as a mouth. "Your power wanes, while I remain eternal. Soon I will send you to join the rest of your circle."

"You don't look so eternal to me" I said, smiling despite the pain. "If you're still so powerful, why haven't you finished me off?"

One of its few remaining mouths began to wail, and in response, the clouds above started to weep a torrent of molten bronze. It sizzled and spat where it struck the blood-soaked ground, but as it washed over me it felt only like a pleasantly warm bath. Such a trick would have devastated an army of mortals, but all it did to me was demonstrate my enemy's growing desperation.

"Your arrogance is matched only by your delusion, pitiful thing," the monster hissed. "My siblings and I created this world! We spoke the secret word "IS" into the tides of chaos to lay the very foundations of causality! The laws of your reality are merely the expression of our whims. Do you truly believe that we would forge an existence that allows beings such as us to actually die?"

I rolled aside as a mass of oily tentacles shot of its chest at lightning speed, and severed them all with another swing of my blade. Flakes of brittle brass fell from me as I moved, lost in the quagmire of muck, blood, and molten metal that now lay over the ground. As the monster howled and writhed at this fresh agony, I forced myself to walk towards its bloated body, one weary step at a time.

"You only think you cannot die because you do not know how," I said. "Don't worry, I'm happy to teach you."

The titan's last attack had left it vulnerable; their emergence has opened a gaping hole in its chest, within which I could see the misshapen mass of its heart. Each painful step brought me closer to that final target, and so I would not falter.

"You will not survive," it whispered, in a tone that seemed almost plaintive.

"I don't intend to," I replied. "To outlive my mate and my circle would be torture greater than any pain you could ever inflict. They gave their lives to buy me this chance; how could I deny them their due?"

The monster roared, and, with a final surge of strength, tried to overrun me with its unsightly mass. I waited until the last second before hurling myself into the air, my blade scything out-

--

I awoke to the ringing of one of my burner phones, rumbling in its hiding space beneath my mattress and boxspring. Grumbling, I disentangled myself from the sheets and half-stood, half-rolled off my bed, reaching down to tug the offending device free. When I saw that caller ID listed the incoming number as Lisa's, I almost decided to just block her number, but curiosity eventually won out over irritation.

"Lisa," I said, as I accepted the call, "what the hell-"

"Daystar!" Lisa's voice sounded scared, almost panicked. "Oh thank god. I need your help. My whole team needs-"

Her voice was briefly cut-off by what sounded like an enormous roar, one that sent chills up my spine.

I rubbed at my eyes with my free hand, trying to force myself to wakefulness. "Lisa, what's going on?"

"It's Lung," she said, almost gasping for breath. "He's trying to kill us. Blew up our hideout, chased us when we escaped. We don't have anywhere left to run."

I held the phone away from my ear as I heard another near-defeaning roar, before realizing that I could just put it on speaker-mode and throw it on the bed.

"You want me to save you from Lung, after you've already given him the chance to ramp up?"

"Only option," Lisa panted. "PRT won't help; not enough active capes to waste saving villains. You're our only hope."

"You're manipulating me," I said, "using my grudge against Lung to make me save you from your own mistakes."

"You're right," she said, "and I'm not sorry for it, not when the alternative is dying. We're leading him south through the docks, as close to the shore as we can get."

"Fuck you, Tattletale", I said, even as I started grabbing pieces of my costume from my closet. It was a dumb decision, maybe the worst I'd made in a long time, but in the end I really didn't have a choice.

"You're my favorite hero, Daystar," she replied, in a tone that said she already knew what decision I'd made. "Stay on the line; I'll guide you to us, but I need you to get here as soon as you can."

"Just don't die before I get there," I said, as I fastened my helmet. "I'd still need a chance to gloat at you in person."

I rushed out of my room, but paused just as I passed by Sophia's room. She'd elected to stay here overnight after a long shift on console, which gave me an opportunity. It was probably a bad idea too, but to hell with it. I gave three loud knocks on her door. A few seconds later, she opened it, blinking at me with bleary eyes.

"Taylor?" she mumbled, "whas gon unn?"

I realized that she was trying to speak around a pink plastic retainer, but that wasn't really important.

"You wanted to help me break a few bad guys' kneecaps, yeah?" I said, acutely aware of the cost of each second I delayed. "Now's your chance. Suit up and get ready for a fight."

"'Uck Ya," Sophia mumbled, before spitting her retainer out into her hands. "Fuck yeah! Who are we stomping? Nazis?"

She rushed back into her room, and I had to turn around when she started stripping out of her pajamas in plain view of the door.

"Lung," I said. Behind me, the sound of rustling cloth abruptly stopped.

"Sophia?" I said, after a few seconds of silence.

"No," she said, with what might have been a slight tremor in her voice.

"What do you mean, no?" I asked, still unwilling to turn around.

"No, I'm not going to help you get yourself killed by Lung," she hissed. "Are you insane?"

"Probably," I said, "but I thought you said we were both insane in the same way? Don't tell me that badass hero Shadow Stalker is afraid of Lung?"

"Of course I'm afraid of Lung!" she spat. "He's fucking Lung! You and I are survivors, true predators, but he's a force of fucking nature!"

"He's just another man with powers," I said. "I'm doing this, whether you want to help or not. You can come with me, or you can get the hell out of my way."

"Fine," she said, after a tense pause. "{I'll come with you, just give me a second.}"

I sighed, too quiet for her to hear, and waited while the rustling noises resumed. I had to admit that she was good at this cloak-and-dagger business; I couldn't actually hear her readying her weapon, even though I was listening for it. As soon as I heard the mechanical click of a trigger being pulled, though, I leaned casually to one side and plucked the tranquilizer bolt out of the air before it could fly past me.

"Really, Sophia?" I said, as I tossed the dart halfheartedly over my shoulder.

"You're going to die, Taylor," she said, and for the first time since we'd met, I heard actual fear in her voice. "I can't let that happen. You're the only friend I have left."

I tried to ignore the stabbing sensation in my gut. I didn't have time for this, and I didn't owe Sophia any pity.

"And whose fault is that?" I said, before I started walking away. Sophia didn't follow, didn't even make a sound.

A few minutes later, I reached the exit to the PRT building, and began to leap and dash my way across the downtown rooftops, making my way towards the fight of my life.

--

A/N: Another tough chapter to write, and one that I suspect still has a load of mistakes even after three full editing passes. Ah, well. I'm happy with it in the end, warts and all.

I'm leaving on the 22nd to visit my family in New Brunswick for the holidays. In keeping with the stereotypes of my home province, their house is situated in the middle of nowhere, separated from the nearest population center by a good twenty minutes of rocky back-country roads (some of which flood when the local beavers get a bit too gung-ho) and surrounded by many, many kilometers of moose-infested forest. Needless to say, a reliable internet connection is not guaranteed. Additionally, I don't have high hopes for my ability to get serious writing done while I'm there.

I'll be able to finish up this arc before I leave, thankfully, but whether or not I keep posting or take a week or two off will depend on how much of a buffer I have by the time I leave, and whether or not I can even get online to post anything. I'll keep you updated as the situation develops.

Next time, on Daystar!: Taylor vs Lung, the fight you've all been waiting for! Surprises lie in store for both hero and villain as Spark draws to an explosive conclusion!

TAYLOR: "I'll make you regret the day you indirectly killed my father!"

LUNG: "You'll have to be a lot more specific. I kill a lot of dads."

TAYLOR: "Die, monster!"

LUNG: "...like, a LOT of dads. Pretty sure I've killed at least five dads just today."

In conclusion, thank you all for reading!

Last edited: Dec 6, 2019

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WinterWombat

Dec 5, 2019

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Dec 12, 2019

#2,750

Finding Lung wasn't difficult. As I moved from rooftop to rooftop, I could see the trail of fiery devastation he carved through the docks from half a mile away, which only spurred me on. I drew on my essence as much as I dared; I could go much faster if I wanted to, but not without leaving myself weakened for the fight ahead. I didn't care if my golden aura ruined any chance of stealth; I couldn't afford to plan out an ambush when the Undersiders might have only minutes left to live.

While I bounded between buildings, I did my best to remember all the hypothetical Lung-fighting scenarios I'd invented over the last few months. The adrenaline rushing through my veins sent my thoughts racing just as fast, and I had to struggle to keep track of which plans represented viable tactics and which ones were little more than idle power fantasies. Unfortunately, one thing they all had in common was the expectation that I'd have more time to think things through.

Without meaning to, I recalled Clockblocker's impromptu briefing on the way to my first clash with the Undersiders. It was all too easy to imagine his voice guiding me through my radio.

"Pop Quiz, Daystar. How do you take down Lung when he's had a chance to ramp up before you arrive?"

"You don't," I muttered to myself. "You keep back, help with evacuations, and wait for him to calm the hell down."

"Good answer," my mental image of Clockblocker replied, "but what if running away isn't an option? What can you do if you need to fight, either because lives are at stake, or because you have a hopeless grudge against the gang leader you've decided to make a symbol for everything wrong with Brockton Bay?"

Running across the rooftops, I reached the edge of my current block and flared my power a little to leap clear over the street to the building on the other side, tucking into a brief roll to soften the impact before springing back to my feet. I could see Lung, now, bull-rushing his way through a back alley in pursuit of three giant monster dogs. He'd grown to about nine feet tall, enough for his body to start to take on a distinctly inhuman posture, but his silvery scales didn't yet cover all of his body. It looked like chasing down targets who didn't fight back didn't let him ramp up as fast as an outright battle.

"I fight a powered-up Lung the same way I fight normal Lung," I muttered, even as I started measuring out speed and distance with my eyes. "Sudden, vicious violence. As much of it as possible."

As soon as the first of the dog monsters burst out of the alleyway and into an empty street, I hurled myself into the open air. Below me, the dogs pulled into a hard left turn, their oversized-claws digging deep furroughs through the asphalt just to keep their enormous bulk from tipping over. Lung rushed out of the alley only a few seconds behind the rearmost dog. His smaller size let him turn faster, which gave him an opportunity to close the distance.

Or, at least, it would have.

I flared my essence and shot straight downwards, somehow launching myself off of thin air fast enough to leave a thunderclap in my wake. I slammed my fist into the top of Lung's vaguely draconic head, throwing as much force and essence into the blow as I could, and I was not disappointed. The sheer explosive force of the collision launched me several feet back into the air, but I could still feel the delicious sensation of metal scales breaking against my knuckles. The blow spiked Lung's head into the road hard enough to leave a crater.

I hit the ground myself a second later, landing into an easy three-point stance only a few feet away from Lung's falling form. Without even a second to catch my breath, I burned more of my power to push myself into another thunderclap rush, striking him squarely in the face with another fistful of explosive essence. This time, the blow sent him flying down the street in the opposite direction from the Undersiders, his scales striking up sparks whenever he bounced off the road's surface.

Behind me, the Undersiders took all this as their cue to stomp on the gas and get as far away as they could. I probably should have been furious that they were running off without even trying to help, but in truth I was just happy they wouldn't get in my way. They had wounded they needed to get to a medic, and I had a dragon to kill.

I'd hit Lung hard enough to kill any normal person twice over, but I still began chasing after him before he'd even stopped moving. All the videos I'd watched of Lung fighting demonstrated that, while he was normally happy to let his regeneration handle any serious wounds, he still tried to protect his head. It made sense; plenty of studies into parahuman biology had shown how damage to the Corona Gemma could mess with a Cape's powers, with almost invariably lethal results. Odds were good that Lung's power couldn't save him from a crushed skull.

Lung skidded to a stop just in front of an abandoned warehouse before popping back up to his feet, already looking noticeably more scaley. I smiled at the sight of blood gushing from broken nose, and what might have been a glazed, concussed sheen in his eyes. As the saying went, 'if it bleeds…'

"Who the fuck are-"

I burst twenty feet down the road in an instant to cut off Lung's bellow with another hammer blow to his face, this time sending him crashing through the warehouse wall. Lung vanished through the cloud of dust from broken bricks, but I heard a distinct clang from inside the building as he struck something metallic, followed by a deeply pained groan. I'd felt bone and cartilage crunch under my fist, but it hadn't taken him out, and Lung's skull was already starting to feel tougher. Barely a minute had passed and I was already running out of time.

Heedless of how fast I was burning through my power, I grabbed a nearby stop sign and sent a surge of essence through my muscles to tear it out of the sidewalk. It came free with a shriek of tortured metal, carrying with it a giant lump of rough concrete clinging to its lowest end. Clutching my new weapon with both hands, I rushed headlong through the dust cloud and into the warehouse.

I dropped into a baseball slide as soon as I was through the wall, just a heartbeat before one of Lung's metallic claws scythed through the air where my head had been. Lung was a lot faster than he looked, but I'd studied his old fights too much to be caught by surprise. As soon as I passed under his outstretched arm, I rose to my feet with the last of the momentum from my slide and swung the sign with both hands, concrete-clump first, into the space where Lung's head would be. The impact shook my to my bones, and smashed the concrete lump to powder, but the wet crunch of breaking bones that followed was well worth the pain.

Without slowing down, I pressed forward past the edge of the dust cloud. The aura of crackling essence surrounding me cast golden light into every last corner of the abandoned warehouse, and so I could clearly see a stunned-looking Lung bracing himself against the heavily dented side of an old shipping container. The lower-half of his face was a broken, bleeding mess, but I could see it already beginning to knit together, not into a human face, but a bizarre four-jawed reptilian snout. The rest of his skull seemed completely intact, protected behind a growing crest of metal scales and horns.

This wasn't going to work. I could already feel my essence start to weaken, while Lung would only grow stronger and tougher to hurt. I'd missed my window of opportunity to win with massive cranial trauma, which meant that my last chance was to attack the brain indirectly.

Lung only needed half a second to gather his wits before he lunged at me with claws extended, more like a feral cat than any human fighter. I faded back and to the side so that it missed me by just an inch, then ducked under his follow-up. Bobbing and weaving like my life depended on it, I turned him around so that his back was to the broken wall, jabbing him in his increasingly draconic muzzle whenever I had the chance. I still held onto the stop sign, but I couldn't risk breaking it too early. I twirled it around like a marching baton, tossing it from one hand to the other as a distraction while attacking only with my fists.

Once I'd maneuvered into place, facing Lung with my back up against a shipping container, I pretended to over-commit to my next attack, giving him an opening I had to hope wasn't so obvious as to seem fake. Luckily for me, Lung took the bait, trying to pulverize me with one of his enormous metallic fists. At the last second, instead of trying to duck or sidestep the blow, I leapt upwards and over Lung's shoulders, kicking him in the back of the head as I passed over. The kick was far too weak to actually injure him, but it sent him off his balance just enough for him to stumble forward a step, and punch his outstretched arm right through the side of the shipping container.

Before he could pull his hand free, I set one hand on each side of the metal signpost and brought it over Lung's head, before pulling it as tight against his windpipe as I could manage. His bone-rattling roars suddenly cut out into pained wheezing, and I used the moment of surprise to lock both my arms around the bar, pulling my legs up to brace my knees against his back. With everything thus in place, I began to squeeze.

I channeled every spark of my waning essence into enhancing my strength, bending the metal signpost with the strength of my grip. Lung thrashed and tried to claw at me, but one of his arms was still stuck up to the elbow in the shipping container, and his claws could only barely scratch my essence-reinforced arms. When sheer strength didn't work, Lung exploded into flames instead. I cried out at the sudden pain, but I didn't relax my grip; my brute resilience meant that his flames would take time to eat away at me, time I didn't plan to give him.

I could feel his body continue to swell with greater strength and size, but for once it worked in my favor; each new surge of growth only served to tighten the steel vice on his throat. I refused to allow him to simply grow his way out of this.

Lung began to sway on his feet as his strength started fading, and I couldn't resist the urge to lean forward until my mouth was just behind his ear and speak.

"Did you think your powers made you immortal, Lung? Your gang killed my father, so now I get to teach you how to die."

Lung fell forward to his knees, but I didn't allow my grip to waver in the slightest. If I only cared about winning, I could let go as soon as I knew Lung had passed out, but that had never been the plan. For the first time since I lost Dad, everything finally felt right in the world. It would all be okay as long as I didn't let go. Not once Lung passed out, not even once I felt his heart stop beating. No, I was going to force the PRT to pry me off of his cooling corpse.

I was so focused on maintaining my grip that I didn't even realize I'd been hit until I was already crashing through the warehouse wall. I hit the street with a cracking sound that signaled one of my armor plates breaking from the impact, and it was only ingrained reflexes that let me roll back to my feet instead of lying there in a daze. My head pounded, and I noticed a long crack through my visor that I was pretty sure hadn't been there a moment ago.

The sound of a hacking, inhuman cough drew my gaze back to the warehouse I'd just been knocked out of, where I could see a smaller Taylor-sized hole not far from the one Lung had made upon entering. On the other side, Lung knelt with one arm braced against the ground, gasping desperately for air, and I finally figured out just what had happened. Lung had grown a tail, one that was at least ten feet long, covered in overlapping metal plates, and thicker than a dinner-plate at its base. Watching it twitch and thrash through the air behind him, I realized that I'd probably gotten off lucky with just a cracked visor.

I managed to steady myself at about the same time that Lung finished regrowing his windpipe. My essence was almost totally depleted, not like a gas tank that had run out of fuel, but like an exhausted runner who couldn't drive away her fatigue now matter how many gasping breaths she took. I could feel my strength returning, but it came far too slowly. Lung was still alive, and I no longer had the strength to escape him. I'd bought the Undersiders enough time to escape, but I'd still ultimately lost.

Lung stepped out on to the street to face me, crouching to fit through the hole. His movement was calm, almost languid, as if he were savoring the moment. He stood at least twelve feet tall, now, not counting his grotesquely elongated serpentine neck, and I couldn't see a single sign of the wounds I'd inflicted before. He stared at me, and I stared back.

"You were wrong."

His voice was as deep as an earthquake, strange and distorted from being forced through obviously inhuman mouthparts. He was clearly struggling to produce anything resembling coherent speech, but he spoke slowly enough for me to understand. After all of the jokes people made about calling Lung a 'Rage Dragon,' it was easy to forget that his power didn't actually rely on anger.He was an absolute terror as a berserker, but seeing him calm and focused like this was somehow worse.

"Foolish...arrogant...child." He stepped forward, shaking the road with his sheer mass. "I am Lung. I will live forever."

He held up three-fingered hand, and conjured an orb of roiling liquid fire so bright that I could barely stand to look at it. He was toying with me.

"You, however will die here!"

Lung hurled the fireball at me. My reflexes weren't nearly as impressive without the electric power of my essence crackling through my nerves, but I still managed to roll out of the way at the last moment. Even then, the surge of heat as it exploded nearby was agonizing against my already burned skin, making me gasp in pain. Darkness started to creep in at the edges of my vision, a sign that I was scant inches away from passing out.

Sudden, thunderous footfalls drew my gaze back up to the road ahead, just in time to see Lung charging at full speed, too fast for me to evade. He swung at me with one massive claw, an almost contemptuous backhand, and it was all I could manage to raise my arms to block. I gathered just barely enough essence to reinforce my arms and keep them from breaking, but the blow still sent me flying down the street.

I hit the ground in a wild tangle of uncontrolled limbs, eventually skidding to a stop in front of an almost deserted all-night parking lot. I stumbled to my feet, head spinning, only a half-second before my instincts suddenly screamed at me to move. I half-dashed, half-fell into the parking lot just in time to see Lung land with a crash where I'd been standing, smashing the ground with both metal fists hard enough to leave a crater and throw up an enormous cloud of dust and debris.

Lung hurled another enormous fireball at me from inside the dust cloud, but I'd been expecting it. As soon as I saw the fire, I hit the ground and rolled underneath a nearby car, using it as a barrier against the agonizing heat. I rolled out the other side just as quickly, only a few heartbeats ahead of Lung's assault. I couldn't see him from my position on the ground, but I heard his tail crack the air like a whip before striking the car from above hard enough to break it in two.

I scrambled once again to my feet, scanning the parking lot for anything I could use to gain an edge. Lung was so goddamn fast like this, he didn't give me time to even think about how I might escape. I could only just barely stay ahead of each attack as it came, buying myself more life a few seconds at a time. Nobody ever won a fight by just reacting to their enemy and letting them control the flow of combat, but that didn't mean I wouldn't fight for each and every moment I could steal away from my oncoming death.

Lung charged at me once more, crashing over and through the parked cars without slowing. My limbs felt heavy, clumsy and nerveless from the beating I'd taken, and I couldn't muster the speed to throw myself aside. My vision was starting to tunnel once again, to the point that I could barely see the massive dragon-monster rushing at me, but I could feel him draw closer just from the incredible heat he radiated.

At the last second, just as Lung slashed at me, I gathered all the adrenaline-fueled strength I could muster and leaped straight up to sail over his attack. Lung was far too tall at this point for me to just vault over him, so I landed instead on his outstretched arm, now so giant that it didn't even shift from my added weight. He clawed at me with his other arm, but I jumped over that as well, using it as a springboard to bounce onto one of Lung's massive shoulders. I paused for a heartbeat until I saw his tail start to whip around, jumping over it just before it would have clobbered me.

I braced myself for the sting of landing, ready to hit the ground running, but it never arrived. Burning metal claws wrapped around my ankle while I was still mid-air, clamping down with inexorable force. I barely had a chance to realize what was happening before I felt my bones crack under the pressure of Lung's crushing grip. I tried to scream in pain, but I couldn't find my breath, couldn't make a sound as my vision faded to black.

An eternity later, I managed to draw a single gasping breath, and another. My vision started to return, just enough to see Lung standing in a wrecked parking lot across the street. I struggled to my feet in a panic, hearing broken glass crunch under my boots, and realized that he must have thrown me through a glass storefront window. My left ankle exploded in agony as soon as I tried putting weight on it, and I fell back to one knee, just barely resisting the urge to sob.

This was it. I had nothing left. Lung could clearly see the same, because instead of charging at me again, he began gathering another enormous fireball between his hands.

"Nothing left? Is that what you think?"

The voice came from directly behind me, somehow remarkably clear despite sounding like the speaker was some distance away. I would have jumped in shock if I'd had the energy, but as I was, I barely managed a twitch. The voice didn't sound unkind, but something about it bothered me in a way I couldn't put my finger on. I was about to die, so what reason did I have to worry about brain-damage induced hallucinations?

"You're not going to die here, little spark, not unless you want to. You have far more strength than you realize; you just haven't found the right way to grasp it."

Sure, and I was going to figure that out in the few seconds of life I had left before Lung cooked me?

"What better time than now? You are Exalted, one of the Chosen; it is in our nature to rise above whatever challenges we must face. Every day since you drew your second breath, you've known that you must either become stronger or die."

"I did," I whispered, even though I could barely hear my own voice above the ringing in my ears. "I did everything I could to become stronger, and it still wasn't enough."

The voice laughed, and I finally realized what was so unnerving about it; it was my voice, exactly as I heard it whenever I spoke.

"You're missing the point," the voice said, still shaking with mirth. "The choice is still in front of you! Either you grow stronger, or die. I promise you, the latter will be far less painful."

"It's not that simple!" I spat, sparks of anger beginning to rise through the fog around my mind. "I can't beat Lung just because I really, really want to!"

Across the street, Lung's fireball shone like a second sun. How long had I been talking to myself? Shouldn't he have thrown it by now?

"Of course not," the voice said. "You're going to become stronger the same way you always have, the way your very nature demands."

With a triumphant roar, Lung hurled the fireball at me. It grew in my vision as it drew closer, until it blotted out the entire world, like the sun itself was descending on me. The same sun that still glowed on my brow, the same sun that burned inside me whenever I channeled my essence. Light that destroyed, light that renewed.

I held out one hand in front of me, as if it alone could ward off the incandescent might of a falling star.

"How?" I asked, "I don't understand!"

"By turning pain," the voice said, and I felt an invisible hand settle over my own, steadying my outstretched arm, "...into power."

I turned my focus fully to the false sun rushing towards me, and I made my choice.

The fireball struck against my open palm, and before it could explode, I reached out with my will and seized the power it held, claiming it for myself. I hissed in pain as my power transmuted the heat and force into raw power. Volcanic essence visibly crawled up my forearm, charring my flesh nearly black wherever it passed, until I finally closed my hands around the fading ball of fire and drew the last of its energy into my core. It seethed and roiled inside of me, a furious, volatile essence that clashed with the last embers of sunfire burning in my soul, but that didn't matter. I wouldn't be holding onto it for long.

I smiled, and Lung's brief stare of confusion gave me all the opening I needed. I launched myself at him, leaving a trail of flames across the ground. The pain from my shattered ankle was nothing compared to the agony I felt as the foreign essence burned through my meridians, and yet my own natural essence seemed to flow more freely wherever it passed. It was like a forest fire, scouring away the old and rotten to make room for new life. Fresh power surged out from my core, more power than I'd ever imagined possessing; I took every drop it offered and demanded more.

Lung just barely managed to raise one arm to protect his head before I crashed into him fist first, channeling all the power I'd stolen from him, all the power I had, into a single blow. Essence exploded out from me, waves of golden fire crashing into him even as his flesh and bones shattered under the impact. He flew backwards as if launched out of a cannon, splattering me from head to toe with his burning blood.

I wanted to laugh. I wasn't just filled with power, I was power. It felt as though my very soul was expanding beyond the confines of my body. For a moment, I thought I knew what it must be like to become the sun itself, a being of pure light blessing the world with my infinite radiance. Emotions crashed through me, triumph and joy running rampant. I could see motes of golden light streaming out of my aura, rising to gather above me. I looked up, and saw…

...with one last surge of power, I drove my sword into the titan's heart. My anima erupted with renewed power as I poured everything I was into one blow, striking past the creature's flesh to carve a mortal wound in its soul. Light surged through me, the last light I would ever see, and above me…

...stood at the forefront of my armies, my eyes drinking in the vastness of the Raksha hoard arrayed against us. Behind them, titanic beasts roared their fury to the heavens, their nightmare flesh writhing in pain as reality itself tried to crush their impossible existence. The poor mad fools didn't know how doomed they truly were. With a wordless cry, I sent my power crashing out over my army like a wave, imbuing each and every mortal soldier with the strength of hundreds. Their eyes rose as one, drawn to the sky above me where shone the promise of their victory…

...I sent arrow after arrow screaming into the sky, each one aimed at a hand, a throat, a heart, each one striking true. One bolt of golden light struck the city walls with a massive explosion, briefly turning night to day, before my army surged in through the gap it left. Every soldier who raised a weapon against my people, those invading the city or those living within it, was felled by a streak of blazing gold before they could strike. Each snap of the bowstring sent more sparks of light to join the mass gathered above me…

...a hundred crescents of light, resplendent in gold, orange, and violet, like slices of the sky at sunrise. Alone, each was a thing of beauty, but taken together they carved an unmistakable image from the negative space of the sky: a tiger with stripes that burned like the dawn and a body of darkness and glittering stars. It was beautiful and terrible all at once. It was all the glory and vitality of life; it was death incarnate. I laughed, despite the pain in my chest, and the light spilling from my soul roared in turn, each of us proclaiming our power to the night.

Farther down the street, Lung rose from the pile of rubble he'd made with his landing. His left arm was completely gone, as was most of that side of his torso, and his face was a mess of pulped flesh and visible bone. Even then, I couldn't miss the look of sheer terror that passed over his draconic features as he turned his gaze to the sky, and my grin turned vicious at the sight. The fight wasn't over yet!

I gathered my essence, preparing to rush at him with another surge of speed, only to find that my strength was once again almost completely gone. I'd somehow used up my entire second wind on one attack that still hadn't been enough to stop Lung.

I tried to force myself to move forward regardless, but my ankle chose that moment to give out on me entirely. Instead of advancing, I fell to the ground with a weak groan. I would have begun crawling to Lung on my knees if my arms possessed the strength. I only had a few moments before Lung recovered from his wounds, and no way to reach him in time. Maybe if he threw another fireball at me, it could give me enough power to finish…

"You've done enough for tonight, little spark," the voice, my voice, said.

I wanted to protest, but I the words drifted just out of my reach. Lung was still alive; my job wasn't finished.

The voice said something else, but I couldn't hear it over the rising roar of an approaching motorcycle. I saw Lung rise to his feet in the distance, silvery wings sprouting from his back as he began to rush at me with murder in his eyes. I fell into darkness before he reached me, not knowing if I would even survive to wake once again.

--

I opened my eyes atop a mountain, with the entire world laid out before me.

Well, an entire world, at any rate. It didn't really look a lot like my world, now that I took a closer look at it. From my vantage point at the peak of a mountain that was surely taller than any on earth, I could see the outline of entire continents, more land and water than I'd ever imagined, stretching out to a horizon made from walls of fire and ice, crashing storm and living jungle. It was majestic beyond words, an honest-to-goodness 'they should have sent a poet' moment.

Instead of poetry, I said the only thing I could think of.

"I guess the flat-earthers were actually on to something..."

Behind me, I heard a snort of familiar laughter. I turned around, and came face to face with myself...and myself, and myself. Three versions of me, identical in every possible way down to their ragged and burned costumes.

Each one had only a single detail setting them apart from the others. The one to my left leaned on a broken sword seemingly made out of pure gold; considering that it rose up to her (my) chest already, I could only imagine how huge it must have been when it was whole. The one in the center wore a golden crown, with a burning red gemstone set directly above the spot where my emblem normally appeared. Unlike Glory Girl's tiara, which made her look kinda like she'd just won a beauty pageant, this one was stark and angular, fit for a queen or a warlord. The last doppelganger carried a golden bow taller than she (I) was, and stood with the easy grace of trained hunter.

Looking at them, I got the sense that I could effortlessly imagine exactly what each of these items felt like to hold, to wear, to use, and I'd be completely correct each time. They were familiar, not like a person you've known your whole life, but like your own hands are familiar.

The Taylor on the left was the first to break the silence, pulling up her sword to rest it across her shoulders and giving me a wild, almost manic grin.

"Well fought, young one!" She said, and her voice boomed in a way I wasn't certain mine was capable of. "You do your teachers proud!"

I frowned in confusion. "But...I didn't win?"

"You survived," the other me said, "and that is victory enough! You fought and fought until you couldn't even move, and even then, I bet you would have tried to tear into that monster with nothing but your teeth if you only could have reached him! Well fought indeed!"

"It was a fight she never should have started in the first place," the middle one said, glaring at her. "No real plan, no strategy beyond 'attack!' and hope everything works out. She'll need to fix that if she ever wants to be more than a mere street-brawler."

"Plenty of time for her to learn," the third one said, and something about the cadence of her (my) voice made me feel certain that she was the one who'd talked to me during the fight. "What's important is that she managed to fully release her anima. She'll do better next time."

"Wait," I said, making all look back towards me, "what the hell is going on? Who are you all, and why do you look and sound exactly like me?"

"We," said the Taylor with the crown, "are your forebears. We are the links of the chain tying you to the dawn of history, the heroes who fought to create the world you live in today. As for the question of appearance, it seems clear that these two failed to leave a sufficiently strong impression in our shared essence, thus requiring your mind to invent a way to picture them. Unfortunate, really, but understandable, considering they possessed the mantle for barely more than a century each."

Sword-Taylor groaned in exasperation, while Bow-Taylor facepalmed. "Strategos," she said, "can you tell me what your natural hair color is?"

"Obviously!" she said, with a look of affronted dignity. "It's...obviously it has to be...well, fuck."

"Stop," I said, waving me hands in front of me. "Just...stop. I don't understand. Are you real people, or are you some part of my subconscious?"

"Yes," said Bow-Taylor, with a smug little grin. I didn't like how much my own face could remind me of Lisa's.

"Think of us as echoes," Crown-Taylor said. "More than memories, but less than ghosts."

"We once possessed the same power you do," Sword-Taylor said, "until we died and it passed on to a new host. You've already seen some of our memories in your dreams."

"You're the one who died...fighting a giant monster?" I asked, earning me a nod.

"I was the first," she continued, "a mere mortal elevated by the grace of Sol Invictus. The 'giant monster' was one of the entities that created the world, but proved unfit to rule it."

"I ruled for over three-thousand years of prosperity and order," Crown-Taylor said, "before dying at the hands of those I considered loyal friends and servants."

"And I received our power over a thousand years later," Bow-Taylor added, "in a time when the descendents of those traitors ruled almost the entire world. I fought first against their empire, then later as an ally to their successors, before finally falling in battle against an army of Raksha."

"Nightmarish monsters from the borders of reality," Crown-Taylor filled in. "Thieves of souls and eaters of dreams. Loathsome creatures, for all their beauty."

I sat down on a nearby rocky outcrop, clutching my head between my hands in a vain attempt to stop it from spinning. "None of this happened on my earth, did it? Not even on Aleph, or any earth I'd recognize?"

Sword-Taylor gestured towards the incredible vista. "It was our own world, the Creation of titans dead and fallen,a realm of gods and monsters. We have no idea how your Exaltation, what you call your power, actually travelled to your earth, because it was without a host during the journey. No host, no memories."

"This is insane," I said, more to myself than any of my doppelgangers. "I'm insane. I'm dead and insane, and my corpse is hallucinating."

"You're almost certainly not dead," Bow-Taylor said, with a smile that tried to be comforting. Honestly, I didn't think my face was really built for it. "You don't need to take all this in at once. What's important is that you survived your fight with Lung, and you're going to be okay."

I closed my eyes and tried to steady my thoughts. "Why now, though? Why isn't this like the other dreams?"

"Our memories exist within your Essence," Crown-Taylor said. "When you performed the Fire-Eating Fist technique, you forcibly opened the last of the channels connecting you to your power. Talking to us like this is probably your mind's attempt to process the rush of information that followed."

"Normally," Bow-Taylor continued, "they aren't really people. Or, we aren't really people, I suppose. Visions you see in a dream, or a sense of deja-vu in the waking world. Knowledge or skills from a source you can't remember, because you weren't really the one who learned them. Not individuals you can speak with. Fortunately, manifesting in this way gives us the opportunity to do something important."

"Confusing the hell out of me, you mean?" I threw my hands up in exasperation. "Because that's what it feels like is happening."

Crown-Taylor snorted. "More like telling you to stop being such an enormous idiot."

I reeled. "What the hell makes you think you can say-"

"Be calm, little spark," Bow-Taylor said. "Our least diplomatic incarnation doesn't care to sugar-coat her words, but she's still worth listening to. You have experienced much suffering, and so we echoes hope to grant you the benefits of our hard-won understanding."

I resisted the impulse to sulk. "Is this where you tell me to take a deep breath and count to ten before I yell at anyone?"

"No," said Sword-Taylor, "but that might not be a bad idea. You've got quite the temper."

"Thank you," I said, rolling my eyes, "for your incredible insight. Truly, you possess the wisdom of the ages."

She laughed at that, and I couldn't help but smile a bit in return.

"Your problem," Bow-Taylor said, "is that you've built your entire life around developing your powers, more and more as time goes on. Even your casual outings with friends have turned into little more than a slightly more casual form of power training."

"Fugly Bob's," I said, wincing. In retrospect, it wasn't hard to see that a lot of my anger with Vicky had come from feeling like she got in the way of practicing with my power.

"Wait," I continued, after a moment. "Didn't you also say that I would die if I didn't keep growing stronger?"

She nodded, as it the answer to this seemingly paradoxical statement was obvious.

"Power isn't the same thing as strength," Sword-Taylor said. "Power is power, but strength can come from all sorts of places. The people you fight for, the principles you uphold, the world you want to see when you finish fighting; all of these can give you the strength to keep going when mere power fails you."

I frowned. "Are you saying that I need to work on myself first? I'm not sure being more self-actualized is going to help me fight villains."

Crown-Taylor met my eyes with a stern glare. "Tell me, Taylor...do you like the person you've become, these last few months?"

I wanted to look away, but something prevented me. "I...I'm stronger, now. More focused. I don't just endure, I go out and make things happen. I can't go back to being so...defeated. I won't."

"That wasn't the question," she said, before the pressure of her gaze suddenly lifted. "No matter. Your evasiveness is all the answer I need. You have become stronger, yes, but it hasn't made you happy. You don't love strength, you merely fear powerlessness."

"Bullshit!" I shot back, taken by surprise by my own sudden anger. "I just came within inches of killing Lung! I've got more power than the rest of the Wards put together! Why would I worry about power?"

"Because you didn't have power when you most needed it," Bow-Taylor said. "You couldn't save your parents. You couldn't save yourself from your bullies. You couldn't even understand why your best friend betrayed you, let alone how to make her stop. You lost all control over your life."

My anger slipped away as quickly as it had arrived, leaving only numbness behind.

"You seek power in order to control the world around you," she continued. "That's why you never feel strong enough, not so long as anyone or anything remains outside your control. It's a goal that will forever remain out of your grasp."

"It's not enough just to grow stronger," Crown-Taylor added. "You need to become better. Let go of your fear. Confront your own failings. Grow. If you would fight, find a cause truly worth fighting for. If you would lead, become a person worth following."

"That's it?" I whispered, "just...be better? It's that simple?"

"Gods, no," Sword-Taylor said, chuckling. "You're coming off a years-long parade of trauma and utter abjection. You're going to need some serious therapy to start making a dent in your real issues."

"Thanks." I glared at her, but she merely shrugged.

"'Be Better' isn't a bad start, though," she said. "Maybe try being less of an asshole to your friends?"

"Hey," I said, "Amy was the one who-"

"Even when they deserve it," Crown-Taylor interrupted me. "Being in the right might make you feel all warm and fuzzy, but it's not going to make people want to spend time with you. Next time, trying being the bigger woman and working things out instead of just escalating."

"You know," I said, "you're starting to sound less like a hero from some fantasy novel, and more like the voice I use to criticize myself."

"That's because you're waking up," Bow-Taylor replied. "Good luck, and try to remember that, even when things are at their worst, you're not in this alone."

--

I woke up to the sound of a motorcycle engine, and a bone-deep ache through every inch of my body. My helmet rested on what looked like a solid wall of blue metal. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see street lights flashing by rapidly, with occasional glimpses of neon signs.

I heard a low voice speak from beyond the wall of metal, clearly audible despite the engine and the rushing wind. "Try not to move. The bike's gyros won't let you fall off, and you need to conserve your strength."

"Armsmaster?"

My voice sounded ragged and hoarse, but Armsmaster must have heard anyways, because he nodded in response.

"What...what happened to Lung?"

Armsmaster stayed silent for several seconds before answering. "He was about to kill you when I arrived. Thankfully, after I grabbed you, he either decided not to pursue, or he wasn't able. We're only a few minutes away from the PRT building, where Panacea is waiting to heal you."

"Noooooo…" I moaned, still feeling like my head was full of wool. "It's so late. Amy's gonna be pissed."

"Doubtful," Armsmaster replied. "She seemed ready to break down the front doors when she heard you'd been hurt. She obviously cares about your well-being."

"I do not understand that girl," I mumbled, before something clicked in my memory. "Oh no! Armsmaster! What about your master-arm?"

I felt him shrug in reply. "I can control my bike one-handed with 91% efficiency."

I pulled back just enough to see that one of his arms was still missing, with only a bare socket where that part of his power armor would connect.

"I'm probably concussed right now, but I can still remember that you're supposed to be resting," I said, which drew from him something almost like a snort of laughter.

"I won't be the only one sleeping in the infirmary tonight. You're just lucky I don't snore."

We continued to ride in silence for a few more minutes, before I mustered the courage to say what was on my mind.

"Armsmaster...I'm sorry. I couldn't even keep my promise for twelve hours."

"Yes, I believe you've managed to set a new record," Armsmaster deadpanned. "We can talk about the consequences of your actions later. For now, I just want you to consider how lucky you are to even be alive. If Shadow Stalker hadn't told me of your plan, nobody would have been able to reach you in time."

I guess I owed Sophia my life now. It was more than a little fucked up, but that was par for the course these days. I'd just gotten a stern talking-to from three clones of myself who claimed to be dead people in some weird fantasy world, and I was disturbingly ready to believe it had all been real. Compared to that, feeling gratitude towards my former mortal enemy was barely even strange anymore.

"About the Megrim case," I said, trying not to sound too pathetic.

"This isn't the time," Armsmaster grunted. "You've proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that I can't rely on you to behave rationally where the ABB are concerned."

"You're right," I said. "I shouldn't be a part of that investigation."

Armsmaster took several seconds to reply. "It's good that you recognize that, though I'm surprised you've changed your mind so quickly."

"Almost dying has a way of doing that," I said. "Like you said, I wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't swooped in and…"

I trailed off, suddenly lost in thought.

"Armsmaster?" I asked, eventually.

"Yes?"

I considered my words carefully. "How, exactly, did you pick me up off the ground and put me on your motorcycle with only one arm?"

"The hard-won skills of a veteran hero," he replied, as if that answered everything.

I tried to laugh, but found myself yawning instead. Despite all the pain and fear and confusion, despite the rushing wind and the roar of traffic, I fell asleep long before we reached the PRT building.

--

A/N: So, I wrote first draft for the entire fight scene (aka the first 2/3 of the chapter) in one go. It was a blast to pull off, but if there are still many typos in there after all my editing, that's probably why.

This marks the end of Spark. I'll be posting full-length interlude chapters for the next week or two while I go over my outline for arc 3 and make any changes that seem necessary. I'm also going to try to find time to copy the story over to my Ao3 account, and maybe cook up a little something special I've been considering for the last couple months.

Next Season, on Daystar!: Taylor deals with the consequences of her recklessness, both positive and negative. All she wants is to turn her life around a little, and maybe help her friends get their shit together too; surely that won't present too much trouble? Meanwhile, a slippery old serpent tries to sink his fangs into the city's newest rising star, only to find that he's bitten off a bit more than he can...chew? Tune in next time for all the thrills, chills, and unbearably mixed metaphors you can handle, only on Daystar!

Last but not least, thank you to everyone for reading! You're all responsible for making my first experiment with fanfiction into more of a positive experience than I ever imagined.

Last edited: Dec 18, 2019

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WinterWombat

Dec 12, 2019

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Threadmarks Interludes: Emma and Lung

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Dec 19, 2019

#2,869

Spoiler: Chronology

Emma Barnes

March 28th, 2011

Coming back to Brockton Bay felt like waking up from a dream. I hadn't expected the city to change much in the few months I'd been gone, but I could swear that everything was exactly the same as it had been when I left, down to the placement of individual twigs and pebbles. It was as if the world was trying to show how nothing had changed inside of me either, a grotesque kind of deja-vu.

I wanted to open up the car window and scream out at the city, but that wasn't the kind of thing a normal, mentally-healthy teenage girl would do, was it? Besides, Mom had fallen asleep in the front seat, and Dad looked more relaxed behind the wheel than any time since the...incident. Just because I was grappling with some well-deserved inner torment didn't mean I had to break their calm.

Not for the first time, though, I considered suggesting that we all move to a different city. I knew they'd object, but I was pretty sure I could guilt Dad into agreeing with me if I pushed hard enough. He still blamed himself for what was really just bad luck, and his regret had risen back to full intensity once I'd cracked and shown him how bad it had really hurt me. Mom would be tougher, but after a month or two of crying for no reason and a handful of fake flashbacks she'd be more than willing to acquiesce in order to give me a chance to get away from my trauma.

I felt myself start to shake, and only barely resisted the impulse to dig my fingernails into the flesh of my forearms; a sign that I should probably go back to clipping them short. Those weren't the kind of thoughts a good person would have. A healthy person wouldn't think about how to emotionally manipulate her parents into uprooting their whole lives just so she didn't have to confront her own past crimes. Those were the kind of thoughts that should only come so easily to a monster.

I opened the car window, but I didn't try to scream. I just sat back, still shaking, and listened to the wind rushing past as we drew ever closer to the place I belonged.

--

By the time we arrived back home, I'd managed to swallow just enough of my self-loathing to seem functional. I barely made it two steps inside before Anne came out of nowhere and swept me up in a tight hug. She pretended not to cry, which made me wonder if I should have felt like crying too. Was that how a healthy person would feel, seeing her only sister for the first time in months?

Mom reheated dinner, something familiar, one of my old favorites. I choked it down to stop myself from screaming at my family, demanding to know why they didn't hate me. Dr. Anderson had said this would be hard, but that it would eventually get better. I'd believed her about the first half. Once dinner had finished, I told everyone I felt tired, and retreated to my room.

--

My room, at least, looked different, but only because I'd never been able to keep it this tidy. Same clothes in the closet, same sheets on the bed. I silently thanked whoever had taken down the photos around my mirror. I didn't really want to see any of those faces right now.

My eyes drifted down to gaze at the spread of delicate glass bottles and colorful plastic tubes spread out before me. I hadn't brought any makeup with me to the clinic, and I'd missed the simple daily ritual. It was one of the few things I did to feel better about myself that didn't involve hurting anyone else. I let one hand drift idly over my collection, eventually settling on a tube of light-red matte lipstick. Another few seconds of searching found an appropriate lip liner pencil. It didn't really make sense to do something like this right before I went to sleep, but it was the first thing all day that actually felt appealing to me, so the hell with it.

"Hey there, Survivor."

The lip pencil fell out of my hand and hit the carpet. I forced myself to turn around slowly and look straight at the costumed figure sitting on my windowsill.

"Sophia," I said, feeling a chill ripple through me.

She stood up and took off her mask, revealing the same familiar face, with the same vicious smile. Two more things that never changed.

"It's good to see you back, Ems," she said. "School's been real boring without you." Her voice was friendly, but it had a nasty edge to it. I was used to hearing it from her, just not aimed at me.

"What are you doing here, Sophia?" I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. If she picked up on my fear, she'd assume I was afraid of her, and I didn't know how she'd react to that. The truth was, I was afraid of the person she'd helped me become, afraid that I wouldn't be able to stand up to her without becoming that person again.

"What, I can't drop in welcome you back?" She stepped fully into my room. "Isn't that the kind of thing that friends do?"

"I, I told you, Sophia," I said, voice quavering. "I don't want anything to do with you, anymore."

Her eyes narrowed, but her body language wasn't showing any of the normal signs that she was about to get violent.

"You didn't tell me anything, Ems," Sophia said. "Two texts, that's it. You don't think you owe me an explanation?"

"What more is there to talk about?" I asked. "My therapist told me that you sounded like a bad influence, and I agreed. Being around you makes it harder for me to get better."

"Bullshit," Sophia growled. "You're letting some shrink talk you into ditching your best friend? I thought I taught you how to be stronger than that."

"That wasn't strength!" I hissed at her. "You didn't make me strong, you made me brittle! A real friend would have helped me get over my trauma, but you convinced me that it made me special! You made me feel like I had to live in that memory, keep it fresh, as if embracing the pain made me better than everyone else. As if it justified what we were doing. You fucked with my head so badly, my oldest friend had to die before I could see what I'd become!"

I was almost shouting by that point, but I didn't care. I'd pictured myself saying this to her a thousand times, and now that I'd started, nothing was going to stop me.

"You're a fucking snake, Sophia! You poison everything you touch! Now get the hell out of my room before I call the fucking cops!"

"Yeah, sure" Sophia said, somehow still grinning. "If you want me gone, I'm gone. I thought you'd want to hear about how Hebert's still alive, but I guess that's my mistake."

Sophia turned back toward the window, and began to make her exit.

"Wait!"

I hated myself for saying it, but that didn't matter.

"Taylor's...still alive?"

"Sure is," Sophia smirked. "I was talking with her just the other day, actually."

I felt my blood begin to boil. "Stay away from her, Hess! I'm not going to let you keep hurting her for my mistakes!"

Sophia raised her hands, palms facing outwards, in a placating gesture. "Chill, Ems. You've got it all wrong. Hebert grew one hell of a spine while you were away, and we've come to an understanding. Funny thing is, she and I probably have more in common than you and I ever did."

"You've got no idea," I said. "Taylor was...Taylor is stronger than I've ever been. She's too smart to fall for your bullshit predator-and-prey philosophy."

"If you say so, Ems," Sophia chuckled. "Do you want to know what she's said about you?"

"I know she hates me," I said. "She has every right. Whatever she says about me, I deserve that and worse."

"Actually," Sophia said, "she hasn't said shit about you. I actually asked her, once, and it was like she needed a moment to remember who you even were. Told me that she was done with you, that she'd moved on."

Sophia obviously meant it to be a cutting remark, but that only proved how little she understood. If Taylor was still alive, I wanted her to move on. It didn't surprise me that she'd only come into her own once I'd taken myself out of the picture, and this way I didn't have to worry about her memories of me holding her back. The sooner she forgot all about me, the better.

"Sophia," I said, "You're still a terrible human being, but this is the best news anyone's given me in a long, long time. I can't believe I'm saying this, but thank you. I'm going to call the cops now, and I don't think you want to be here when they show up."

I pulled out my phone and started dialing the number for the PRT emergency hotline. Just before I keyed the final digit, Sophia huffed in disgust, spun on her heel, and ghosted through the wall. I waited like that, finger poised to make the call, but after five minutes of nothing I sighed and put it away. I couldn't say whether or not I would have actually gone through with it, and I felt relieved I hadn't needed to find out.

I didn't want to get Sophia punished for violating probation, mostly because it might push her to try and kill me, but I couldn't let her walk all over me either. Severing our friendship was one thing, but if she thought I'd turned into her definition of a victim, there was a good chance I'd replace Taylor as the target of her aggression. I couldn't afford to show weakness, not when she was obviously considering me as potential prey.

--

After Sophia's visit, my bedroom didn't seem quite so safe anymore, so I reluctantly went back downstairs to join my family. They'd all settled into the living room, Mom and Dad to watch TV, Anne to read a book from one of her courses. I took a seat on the couch next to my sister, and tried my best to return the warm smile she sent my way. She went back to her reading as if nothing was wrong, which meant that either I was a better actor than I gave myself credit for, or she'd been expecting me to be more than a little broken. It didn't really matter which.

I turned my attention to the TV, where one of the local news stations was showing footage of the front entrance to the PRT HQ. It looked like a press conference of some sort, with a cape I didn't recognize, wearing in a dark-blue and gold costume, addressing the crowd.

"-honored beyond measure to stand alongside the heroes of my childhood in this incredible tradition. My name is Daystar; I'm a cape by chance, a hero by choice, a servant of this city for as long as you will have me, and I'm gay. Thank you all for listening to me today; I promise I'll do my best to be the hero all of you deserve."

"Who's that?" I asked, as the video cut away to another bunch of talking heads. "New protectorate cape?"

"New Ward, actually," Dad replied, which surprised me. It was hard to tell on TV, but she'd looked pretty damn tall, and significantly more muscular than just about anyone I knew. Of course, part of me had already started sizing her up as potential competition; as it did whenever I saw another attractive girl my age. She didn't have the right look for standard teenage fashion, and I couldn't see much of her face beyond her wide mouth and brilliant smile, but I had a feeling that she'd make a pretty good fitness model if she wanted to.

I rolled my eyes. As if a hero would have any interest in something as frivolous as that.

"She just came out a week ago," Dad continued, seemingly unaware of the pun he'd just made. "That video came from her debut. I don't need to tell you it raised a lot of eyebrows."

I considered that. Sophia didn't talk much about the other Wards, but I knew at least one of them wasn't straight. Still, that would make Daystar the first openly gay member of the Brockton Bay heroes. I was starting to like her already.

"She's not worried about what the Nazis are going to think about that?" I asked, which made Dad break out laughing.

"Not likely," he said, once he'd gotten it out of his system. "She and Shadow Stalker got in a fight with three Empire capes just last night, and took them all down. Here, look, they're about to play the video again."

I sat back and watched as the news station played a piece edited together from a half a dozen different phone cameras. Even from a distance, the fight was incredible to watch, especially as the two Wards went from struggling against their individual enemies to delivering brutal tag-team takedowns on both of them. Sophia was a badass as usual, but Daystar was something else. I couldn't really tell what her power was, aside from being ridiculously fast and strong, but it was clear that she wasn't someone to mess with.

It was the end of the video, though, that made me sit up in shock. Shadow Stalker held out one hand, and Daystar waited a few seconds before bumping her fist, a slowly-spreading smile visible under her opaque visor. I recognized that smile. I'd seen it dozens of times before, always right after I talked my best friend into taking a few steps out of her comfort zone. It was a smile I hadn't seen in years.

Taylor was Daystar. Not only was she alive, she was a cape.

I couldn't be sure, of course, but it fit too perfectly. She must have gone through one hell of a growth spurt, but she had the same mouth, the same chin, the same voice. Not as she was at Winslow, after I'd done everything I could to break her, but as she used to be. What clinched it, though, was Sophia's comments about coming to an 'understanding' with Taylor. She'd have to, wouldn't she, now that they were on the same team?

As kids, I'd always been the one pushing Taylor to be more social, but when it came to anything dangerous or scary, she'd always been the brave one. I couldn't count the number of times Taylor had picked up a spider ('a deadly black widow,' I would always insist) to set it outside, or pretended not to notice me covering my eyes during a scary movie even as she put an arm around me in reassurance. Daystar radiated the same brash confidence.

The only time I'd seen Taylor really, truly scared was when she'd come out to me in fourth grade. I could still picture the slightly-crushed box of chocolates rustling in her trembling hands as she held it out and asked me to be her valentine. We laughed about it later, of course, but at the time we both broke down horribly, me trying to let her down but having no idea what to say, and her convinced that I was going to hate her forever. She kept begging my forgiveness, and I only managed to calm her by saying that I couldn't, because there was nothing for me to forgive.

(The next week, the day afterI helped Taylor come out to her parents, her mom took me aside and handed me a freshly baked peach pie, the kind she knew was my favorite. I'd asked her what it was for, and she'd said 'For being someone my daughter trusted so deeply, and for always standing by her).

We used to love talking about what we'd do if we got powers, and from that point onwards, Taylor's answers always included coming out publicly as a gay hero. She was a huge fan of Legend (even if Alexandria was the one she had a crush on) and wanted so much to follow his example. I'd help her come up with all her various debut speeches, just like she'd help me, and then we'd take turns acting it out while the other pretended to be a reporter asking them questions. In fact, I was pretty sure some of the lines she'd used in her real debut had come from one of our games.

"Emma, honey, are you alright?"

I came back to the present with a start, unable to remember when I'd stopped paying attention to the TV or started crying to myself. Mom was sitting beside me, one hand on my shoulder, looking both worried and confused.

"I'm fine, Mom," I lied, wiping away tears with my sleeve. "Just got caught up in some memories."

"Good ones?" Dad asked, cautiously. "Or...bad ones?"

I knew what he was referring to, in his own clumsy way, and I couldn't help but laugh. "Honestly, Dad, I have no idea. Just...memories."

After I managed to reassure my parents, we went back to watching TV. Dad changed the channel to some kind of inoffensive gameshow, and while he didn't say anything, it was easy to see what he was thinking. Mom still didn't know that Sophia was actually Shadow Stalker, but Dad had probably assumed that seeing her on TV was what set me off. I didn't want to correct him.

Taylor was alive. Taylor was a cape. Taylor risked her life to save innocents and fight Nazis with superpowers. I wanted to feel proud for her, but I didn't know if I had any right to. In the end, I settled for just feeling happy that she'd moved on to better things. Tomorrow was my first day at my new school; I was never going back to Winslow, which meant that Taylor would never have to see me again. She could go on with her life, and I could move on with what was left of mine.

The last few hours of the evening flew by. Mom and Dad eventually left for bed, then Anne as well, reminding my not to stay up too late. At some point, I must have fallen asleep on the couch, because I woke up there at 6:30 in the morning. As quietly as I could, I turned the TV off and crept up to my room, so that I could pretend to wake up when Mom knocked on my door in half an hour. The world around me still felt like some kind of sick joke, but at least I'd found one more reason to keep working on getting better.

Spoiler: Chronology

Kenta

April 15th, 2011

I was no stranger to pain. Thanks to my powers, I had survived hundreds upon hundreds of wounds that would have been fatal to ordinary men, and felt the agony that lesser beings only knew before death. When Leviathan nearly carved me in two, when the Yangban tried to torture me into compliance, I knew pain that few others in the world could ever experience, and I endured it all. Pain meant that I was still alive and fighting, and thus that I would inevitably triumph. Pain was an old friend, too familiar for me to ever fear again.

Why, then, was I so infuriated by the relentless ache that throbbed through my left arm?

The latest useless waste of flesh arrogant enough to call himself a doctor writhed on the floor before me, still whimpering pathetically through a throat worn raw by screaming. He had not yet made his peace with pain, but he would have ample opportunity to learn. I left him to his suffering and threw open the only door out of the soundproofed room. On the other side, my minions immediately stood to attention.

"Take this fool away," I ordered. "Keep him alive, but give him nothing for the pain. I want him to serve as an example of what will happen to the next idiot who dares utter the word 'psychosomatic' in my presence."

My men immediately moved to their task without a word, as was proper. I didn't need lesser creatures to waste breath telling me that they would obey my orders, no more than I needed them to tell me the color of the sky. The truth of situation was self-evident. I didn't know who they would find to treat the doctor's burns, since he had been the last of our on-call medical staff, but neither did I care. I only kept such specialists around for their sake, after all.

Leaving them to their work, I returned to my private chambers.

--

Long years as the undisputed ruler of nearly a quarter of the city had allowed me to amass an unrivaled hoard of treasures and vices. I no longer craved such petty pleasures, not since I'd discovered my higher calling, but I still missed the peace they could give me. When I was a simple creature with simple appetites, I cared for little beyond satisfying my most basic needs. I still surrounded myself with the trappings of excess, but only because they had become a symbol of my success.

Even so, as soon as I returned to my chambers, I grabbed a bottle of 20,000 whiskey and began pouring myself shots. The drink did nothing for the gnawing ache in my left arm, but there was some small comfort in the routine. Not enough, but some.

It was all the fault of that damned child. She'd done something to me with her strange, unnatural power. It took only three days to regrow my severed arm, but something had gone wrong with the process. It was normal in every respect except that it simply would not stop hurting. It functioned, surely enough, and bore no visible mark, but something about it felt indescribably wrong. The pain wasn't the particularly intense, not compared to what I regularly experienced, but it was worse than all the other wounds because it had no reason to be there. Neither drugs nor drink had done anything to numb the pain, nor had sex provided a sufficient distraction.

"You know, it's considered polite to offer your guest a drink before having one yourself."

I whipped around instinctively, throwing the half-empty bottle of whiskey at the source of the unexpected voice. Scales began to form beneath my skin, but only for the instant before I recognized the intruder. Once that became clear, it was no surprise that she caught the bottle about it's neck without spilling a drop.

One of the side-effects of precognition, it seemed, was an irresistible urge to show off.

"I'm more partial to wine, actually," she said, giving a faint smile, "but I appreciate the gesture."

Like the last time she'd appeared, the strange Thinker wore an elaborate dress of deep violet that looked far too impractical to be useful in a fight, with a matching butterfly mask covering the top half of her face. Most striking, however, were the vast constellations of violet stars that glimmered in the darkness of her eyes. I assumed they were a side-effect of her power to see the future, but hadn't wanted to seem uncertain by asking unnecessary questions.

"How did you get in here?" I demanded, before pausing to think. "More importantly, how many of my men did you need to kill, and how many will I have to kill for failing me?"

She laughed, a sound as musical as it was infuriating. "None, my dear dragon, and I would ask that you not punish them for their failure. I am here because I am fated to be here, and so no force on earth could have kept me away. It would hardly be fair to punish mere mortals for failing to achieve the impossible."

I grunted, but restrained my temper. I had little doubt I could break the woman like a twig if I wished to, her unnatural grace be damned, but she'd been of great use to me so far. Instead of crushing her head as I wished to, I merely offered her a glass.

"It's a shame you weren't fated to use the front door like a civilized person," I growled. "What business do you have for me? More capes to recruit, or another prophecy?"

She poured herself some of my (extremely expensive) liquor, and raised her glass in a toast. "I'm here to remind you of my last prophecy, actually, and perhaps persuade you to better heed my advice. I trust that Sunday's little fight has quelled the remainder of your doubts?"

I tossed back another shot, letting the familiar sensation focus my thoughts before replying. "You failed to inform me that my supposed nemesis would be nothing more than a child."

She shrugged. "Does it matter? She has the power of untold aeons at her disposal. The tiger and the dragon are fated to fight, and even I cannot say who will win. You must destroy her before you will be able to claim your destiny."

"Mystical nonsense," I spat. "I'd be more inclined to heed your advice if you didn't speak more like a streetside fortune-teller than a Thinker. You've yet to even convince me that you're truly on my side. If this tiger-girl is such a threat to me, why not offer your services to her instead?"

Her smile grew wider. "Perhaps I simply appreciate a challenge?"

I glared at her in reply, and her grin eventually turned from smug to sheepish. It was a rare moment of human weakness from her, and so I made sure to fix it firmly in my memory.

"In truth," she said, "Even though she has a chance of defeating you, she isn't destined to rule as you are. Defeating you would be the end of her story, while seizing control of this city will only be the beginning of your grand conquest. If you win here, your dominion will eventually bring stability to all the lawless corners of the world."

"If," I snarled. "As if there could be any doubt. I don't care what your visions tell you; I am far too powerful to be defeated by a mere child. I can crush her at any time I please."

"Of course," she said, once again mocking me with her grin. "Though I suggest you wait for the proper time. Video of your fight has already spread throughout the internet, and she's won no small amount of respect for standing against you."

"Ridiculous," I said. "Why should she gain any respect for losing? If Armsmaster had shown up even a few seconds later, I'd have killed her effortlessly."

The precog shook her head. "They don't see a battle between two capes, but a struggle between a single teenaged girl and a force of nature. Everyone expected you to be invincible, to defeat her without trying. To them, the very first time you struck in earnest and failed to kill her, you had already lost."

"Then they're fools," I scoffed. "We'll see how much they love her once I drown her in flames and make her beg me for the mercy of death."

The precog closed her eyes, placing her hands into the meditative pose that she claimed helped her channel her visions. On her brow, soft violet light coalesced into a shape reminiscent of the lowercase letter 'h.' After our first meeting, research revealed it to be the astrological symbol for the planet Saturn. Only now did I realize how similar it looked to the emblem that burned on the child hero's forehead. The Thinker had to be some kind of idiot to think I wouldn't notice-

She opened her eyes, the stars within them seeming to burn all the brighter, and I immediately saw how baseless my concerns had been. I couldn't pretend to understand why two different powers might share such a similarity. I only knew that it...wasn't at all suspicious. Nothing to concern myself with, no reason not to trust the strange nameless soothsayer. Better to forget about it entirely.

"You will have another chance to face your tiger," she said, her voice taking on an otherworldly reverberation, "but not just yet. Kill her now, and you will only convince the Protectorate to escalate their response. If, instead, you focus on your conquest of Brockton Bay, she will eventually become a symbol of defiance against you. By killing her then, you prove the inevitability of your victory, and the futility of opposing you."

She had a point. Killing a Ward in cold blood could make me a problem worthy of the Triumvirate's attention, something I wasn't yet prepared to deal with. If the people of Brockton Bay were foolish enough to invest their hopes in a weakling who had already failed to beat me once, it was only right that I show them the error of their ways.

"I suggest you forget about the girl for now, and concentrate on securing more territory," she continued, eyes sparkling. "You'll need the extra funds for the months ahead."

I'd had enough of this conversation. If I indulged the fortune-teller too much, she might begin to grow arrogant, and it would be a shame to have to kill her for forgetting her place.

"Your suggestion is nothing I haven't already decided," I said. "If you have nothing else to say, you will leave this building at once."

"Of course, my lord," she grinned, bowing low in parody of respect. "Blessings upon you, and upon your endeavors."

I turned my back on her. I never heard the door open or close, but in a few seconds I simply knew that I was alone once again. I waited a few minutes more before pulling out a phone and making a call to one of my lieutenants.

"I have new instructions for you," I said, as soon my underling picked up. "Inform Silkworm that she will need to complete her current batch before next Friday. If she says she needs more resources, offer her an additional 50,000 for materials, but make sure she understands that the price of failure will be all the higher for it. Once you've finished, send Bakuda, Split, and Jian to meet me in the map room."

As soon as I ended the call, my arm throbbed with sudden pain, making me clench my fist hard enough to crush my phone. I was no closer to solving that annoyance, but at least I'd found a direction to channel my anger. If the tiger-girl thought that her mere survival counted as a victory, I would show her and her allies the true meaning of defeat.

I would give them war.

--

A/N: Two interludes!

If you're not familiar with Exalted, and you don't understand the significance of a character having stars in her eyes or the Saturn symbol on her forehead, don't worry too much about it. She's absolutely another exalt, of a very different type than Taylor, with an interest in seeing the future and manipulating hapless patsies. Exalted fans will know more details about what exactly these traits might mean, but you shouldn't need to know all of that to follow the character's influence in the story going forward.

Next week, on Daystar!: Act 3 begins! The Wards meet a new teammate! Taylor thinks she might be able to get the hang of this responsibility thing, except for all the parts about not doing certain things that you really want to do. Director Piggot needs more coffee.

Last edited: Dec 20, 2019

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WinterWombat

Dec 19, 2019

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

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Dec 26, 2019

#2,992

April 11, 2011

"What did I tell you about dying, Daystar?"

Director Piggot loomed over me, heedless of the significant height difference that should have made such a thing impossible. Her voice was calm, but she looked angry enough to start setting things on fire with her glare.

I swallowed nervously. "I'm not allowed to?"

"Good, you remember," she said, pinning me with her gaze. "Care to tell me, then, why you decided to attempt suicide last night by picking a fight with Lung?"

Ever since I'd woken up this morning, I'd been anticipating this question, going over dozens of different responses I might give. I wasn't looking for the 'right' answer so much as the one that came across as least wrong, but no matter what I imagined, I kept coming back to what I'd decided in that dream. I needed to be better.

"I wanted revenge, Ma'am," I said, getting the words out before I started having second thoughts. "I intended to kill Lung, and thought I could pull it off before he became too powerful."

Piggot stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "Revenge? What the hell could you possibly…"

Realization crossed her features for an instant before she pressed both of her hands against her face and groaned. "Your father, of course. How the hell did your psych eval miss that?"

"Daystar's full intake evaluation was postponed, ma'am, under the assumption that any findings would be biased by the immediate stress of her recent time on the street. It looks like the therapist in charge rotated out shortly thereafter, and his replacement failed to follow up."

I almost jumped, having forgotten that Armsmaster was still in the room. Up until now, he'd been content to stand behind me in utmost silence.

Piggot groaned again, and I relaxed slightly. Tired Piggot was more likely to go easy on me than Angry Piggot.

"Also," I said, when the silence started to become uncomfortable, "I believed that the Undersiders would have died without my help."

Piggot lowered her hands and snorted in a poor approximation of laughter. "The undersiders are villains, Daystar, and slippery ones at that. It's not your job to worry about what happens to them."

I frowned. "I didn't become a hero to sit back and let people die. Ma'am."

Piggot raised an eyebrow. "Really? Would you have done the same thing if they were being chased by Kaiser or Hookwolf, someone you didn't have a grudge against?"

I locked me eyes on hers. "I can't say for sure, ma'am, but I hope so."

Piggot blinked first. "God save me from idealists," she muttered. "That brings me to the next giant headache. How did Tattletale know how to contact you for help? Why did she come to you, of all people, for help?"

I bit back my instinctive response, which was to blame it all on Tattletale's nebulously defined Thinker powers. I had a feeling that this might be my last chance to resolve this mess honestly, and I doubted I'd be able to keep the lie going forever. Just because I decided to bite the bullet didn't mean I had to be stupid about it, though.

"Director," I said, trying for my best take-me-seriously voice, "is this room secure?"

Piggot glared down her nose at me. "Is this room...Daystar, this is the office of the director of an entire PRT department, one of only two rooms in this entire building where heroes' secret identities are openly discussed. Of course it's damn well 'secure,' whatever you actually mean by that."

Armsmaster gently coughed behind me. "In addition to normal checks by PRT security, I sweep this room for bugs every time I'm called here. If you're about to reveal one of the Undersiders' civilian identities, however…"

"What?" I blinked. "No, no. It's just, well, Tattletale gave me some information that could get her seriously hurt if it came out, maybe even killed. After almost dying myself to save her and her team, I don't want her to die just because I couldn't keep my mouth shut."

Piggot grunted. "Your association with this villain isn't doing you any favors. Get to the point."

"Right," I said, considering my next words carefully. "After the fight at the Ruby Dreams casino, Tattletale left me her contact info. A few days later, we met in our civilian identities to exchange information.

Armsmaster stepped forward into my field of view. "You revealed your civilian identity to a Villain? I thought you understood-"

"No, no," I said, waving him off. "She already knew, thanks to her bullshit Thinker powers. We met out of costume because she wanted to unmask in order to even the score, and because we'd both be safer in a public place."

"She unmasked?" Armsmaster titled his head quizzically. "Does she take the unwritten rules that seriously?"

"It sounded like it," I replied. "She told me that the Undersiders work for Coil, and that he had moles in the PRT. She seemed honestly afraid of what he might do to her for leaking that information."

Piggot's gaze narrowed. "And what makes you qualified to determine whether or not a notorious villain Thinker was being honest?"

In for a penny, in for a pound. "I have a power that acts as a lie detector. I caught her in several lies during our meeting, but that wasn't one of them."

Armsmaster grimaced. "You were hiding a new power from us? Do you understand how suspicious that sounds?"

I glared up into his visor. "I only figured it out that morning. You were the first person it caught in a lie, and after meeting with Tattletale, I was too worried about potential moles to bring it up."

Armsmaster's mouth went flat; without seeing his eyes I couldn't tell whether it was out of anger or guilt.

Piggot, on the other hand, just put one of her arms behind her back, her face carefully neutral. "{I'm holding up three fingers}."

I understood immediately. "False."

Without changing her expression, Piggot spoke again. "{I'm holding up one finger}. I'm holding up two fingers."

I held up two fingers, and she nodded.

"{My oldest cousin's middle name is Allison}."

"Half-truth," I said, considering possibilities. "She might have changed it, or she may have more than one middle name."

Piggot nodded. "I'm provisionally convinced, pending further power testing to confirm. Now, if I understand what you're saying, Tattletale contacted you for help because you'd shown sympathy for her in the past?"

I shrugged, feeling more than a little sheepish. "I don't think she would have done it if she wasn't desperate. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms."

"With your knack for diplomacy, that's hardly surprising." Piggot sighed. "I'm not happy with the thought of Wards meeting with villains, no matter how sympathetic they seem."

"Director," Armsmaster interjected, "Daystar's actions in this matter, while clumsily executed, should be considered in the context of working with a confidential source. I believe that entitles her to a certain degree of leeway."

"Noted, Armsmaster," Piggot said. "As much as I hate to say it, this might not be a total disaster. Now that Tattletale owes you her life, you may be able to lean on her for further information regarding Coil and his informants."

"I don't know if she'll even want to speak to me again," I said, "but I'll do what I can. Should I take this as permission to arrange another meeting with her?"

Piggot nodded. " If she contacts you again, you can follow your best judgement, as laughable as that concept sometimes seems. You report directly to Armsmaster and myself on this, and you'll inform us in person before taking any action. Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear, ma'am," I said, trying to hide my relief. I'd expected that to potentially go much worse.

"Now," Piggot continued, "You realize that your actions last night cannot go unpunished, regardless of any accidental benefits arising from them?"

I nodded. "I understand, and accept the consequences of my actions," I couldn't evade this, couldn't talk my way out of it, so I might as well go straight through.

"As if you have a choice." Piggot shook her head. "First, I don't care if we have to go out of the PRT system, but we're getting you into therapy ASAP and fast-tracking that evaluation. I refuse to be caught by surprise like this ever again."

I nodded. "That's probably for the best, ma'am."

She shot me a suspicious glare, like she expected me to object, but continued on. "I'm also confiscating your costume and field equipment. You'll get them back before each patrol or other public outing, and return them immediately afterwards. Outside of these events, you are absolutely prohibited from going out in your cape persona. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." That stung, but I'd expected something of the sort and mentally prepared myself for it. Thankfully, I didn't need my costume to train inside the HQ.

"Lastly," Piggot continued, "I will be penalizing your training budget from May through July. You have until the end of the month to convince me to make it a slap on the wrist, instead of a full 75% cut."

I nodded in agreement, inwardly sighing in relief. A penalty to my training funds would hurt, but Piggot's wording made it clear that this was really an incentive to good behaviour. I could avoid the worst of the punishment if I kept out of trouble.

"Now," Piggot said, "the rest of this meeting concerns Taylor Hebert instead of Daystar. Are you aware, Taylor, that at least two people managed to capture video of your clash with Lung last night?"

I blinked. "What? How? The whole area looked completely empty."

"Nowhere in the city is ever completely empty," Piggot said. "The videos were taken from a nearby rooftop. They were focusing on Lung and the Undersiders before you arrived, which means they caught almost all of the fight. Luckily for you, they couldn't see inside the warehouse to film your attempt at outright murdering Lung. Unfortunately for the rest of us, however, the video made its way to the Youth Guard early enough for them to call me this morning. They were understandably curious about my decision to send a single Ward into battle against Brockton Bay's deadliest villain."

Oh. Shit.

"I'll spare you the boring details," Piggot continued, "but as an end result, I needed to offer the Youth Guard some concessions, specifically regarding your living situation."

I felt myself tense up involuntarily. "What's the problem with my living situation? I'm comfortable with how things are."

"You don't get a vote," Piggot deadpanned. "They seem convinced that you're only acting out because you lack a stable family situation. As such, they've decided that you need to be brought into the foster-care system as soon as physically possible, preferably within the week."

"Are they serious?" I said. "I thought that sort of thing took months to set up for Wards?"

"Years, sometimes," Piggot said. "Especially for children like you without any living relatives. They know it's unreasonable, but the longer it takes to sort out, the more they can point to my failure as a reason to take more control over your case. Fortunately, we've already worked out a possible solution."

I looked glanced between Piggot and Armsmaster. "Like what?"

After several seconds of awkward silence, Armsmaster finally spoke. "I...have an apartment in the city, within walking distance of Arcadia. I rarely spend time there, but it's fully furnished, and a cleaning service comes by every week to perform upkeep…"

"Wait," I said, "wait wait wait. Are we talking about Armsmaster adopting me?"

The idea was so absurd, I could barely hold it in my head. Armsmaster had become my sort-of mentor, but I couldn't imagine ever seeing him as a father figure.

"No," he replied, "we're talking about Colin Wallis fostering you until you reach your maturity. The arrangement would mostly be a convenient legal fiction; you're free to continue staying in your quarters here as long as you like, but you'd have access to a living space away from your activities as a Ward."

"Okay, but…" I struggled to figure out what I wanted to say. "But why?"

"Primarily to placate the Youth Guard," Armsmaster (no, better think of him as Colin right now) said. "The director and I have both seen how you value your independance, and we both agree that trying to place you under the authority of some stranger with a spare bed would likely have unpleasant consequences for everyone involved."

That sounded like a very diplomatic way of saying that I'd go crazy and punch the house into rubble, but he wasn't exactly wrong.

"This resolves our legal obligations," Colin continued, "while also giving you the benefit of a more typical living space. You might appreciate the chance to invite your friends over without revealing your identity as a Ward. Besides that, my apartment has several empty rooms to choose from; I'd planned to set them up as a tertiary workshop, but the building's power grid and internet connection proved entirely inadequate to my needs. Better that someone make use of all that space."

That did sound strangely appealing, especially the part about inviting friends over. I'm pretty sure it had been a few weeks since the gang stopped believing my excuses for never hosting study group, and now they were just humoring me. Assuming the apartment wasn't a mad scientist's laboratory or a literal cave, it would be nice to have a place to bring everyone for movie nights.

"Can I take some time to think about this?" I asked. "Maybe see the apartment first?"

Colin nodded. "I'll set something up. Keep in mind, though, that this isn't an absolute commitment; you can end the arrangement at basically any time if it proves unsatisfactory."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said. On the one hand, the arrangement sounded both comfortable and practical. On the other hand, I wasn't sure if I really wanted to go back to living in another house with a man who was never really there.

--

After Piggot dismissed me from her office, I didn't feel like answering questions from the other Wards, so I decided to loiter in the hallway for a bit while I caught up with my phone messages. I skimmed over the torrent of texts from my teammates, who didn't seem to know whether to congratulate me for surviving or condemn me for being such an idiot. Sophia was the only one without something to say, it seemed. I saw a handful of new messages from Vicky, wishing me well and demanding to hear the full story, and one blunt message from Amy telling me to stop trying to get myself killed.

The last one made me frown; I'd been totally asleep when she'd healed me last night, and only woken up hours after she'd left. I still wanted to mend things between us at least a little, but I honestly had no idea how to even start. I needed to figure out just what was making Amy so pissed at me before I could begin to address it.

Just as I was about to bite the bullet and head back to the Wards HQ, I received a new message that froze me in my tracks. After making sure I was reading it correctly, I turned back towards Piggot's office, walked past her confused-looking secretary, and knocked on the door before walking in.

Piggot glared at me with a mix of annoyance and confusion. "Daystar, you can't just walk in here because there was something you'd forgotten to ask. Make another appointment for later in the week."

I shook my head. "It's not that, ma'am. It's just, you said to let you know when Tattletale made contact?"

I held out my phone to her, displaying the most recent message. Director Piggot took a moment to read it all, before sharing a significant look with Armsmaster.

"You'll take Aegis as backup," he eventually said. "If he tells you to leave, you leave, understand? No hesitation, no questions."

"Yes, Sir," I nodded. "I don't anticipate any trouble."

--

Some time later, I found Lisa sitting at one of the picnic benches set up along the boardwalk. Next to her, I saw a stocky girl with short reddish hair wearing a battered leather jacket. She held a massive food-cart hotdog in one hand, while her other rested protectively on a large cardboard box sitting between her and Lisa on the bench. She looked nervous, especially compared to the way Lisa projected total confidence.

Lisa started waving me over almost as soon as I stepped into her line of sight. I did my best to act casual as I walked over to sit down across from her. I wasn't worried about the undersiders trying to pull an ambush or anything; I knew Aegis was watching my back from a nearby rooftop, and Piggot was ready to scramble a PRT squad at a moment's notice. Unfortunately, all the armed backup in the world didn't do much for garden-variety social anxiety. I'd been a total jerk to Lisa the last time we'd really talked, and the less rational parts of my psyche worried that she still held it against me.

"Taylor!" Lisa flashed me a smile so bright, it was practically electric. "I wasn't sure you'd be able to show up, after last night."

I shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I'm still 'grounded,' but I was able to get permission after I agreed to let my, uh, 'older brother' tag along."

Lisa nodded, briefly flicking her eyes towards a nearby rooftop. "That shouldn't be a problem. I don't want to take up too much of your time. So, Taylor, have you met Rachel?"

I glanced over to the other girl; she barely seemed to have noticed when I sat down, but now she looked at me with an expression I really couldn't identify. 'Rachel' had to be Rachel Lindt, aka Hellhound. Her PRT file had a lot of info on her various crimes, but didn't say much about her personality or motivations. When I turned my social insight power on her, it gave me one of the strangest responses I'd yet received.

Control your facial expressions; she sees smiles as a threat, and eye contact as a matter of dominance. Don't show weakness, and meet any aggression from her with aggression of your own. Be nice to dogs. Talk to her about dogs.

"Rachel and I just wanted to thank you for helping us out last night," Lisa explained, giving an expansive wave to include her teammate in the conversation. "Normally, I'd try to pay you back with cash, but I suspect your caretakers wouldn't really approve. Lucky for me, Rachel had another idea for how to express our gratitude."

Rachel gave a vaguely affirmative grunt, before turning her attention fully on the cardboard box at her side. Lisa, meanwhile, started pulling out a series of canvas shopping bags from under the bench and handing them to me. I opened one up to see that it was full of...dog food?

"Hey, wait," I said, to no avail. "Listen, you really don't need to give me anything. That's not why I..."

My voice trailed off as Rachel carefully set the cardboard box on the table, and pushed it over to me. I peered inside, and saw a tiny ball of yellowish fluff ensconced in a nest of tattered blankets.

"Lisa's power said you'd take good care of her," Rachel said. "She's a mutt; part golden retriever, part bernese, part I-don't-know-what. Eight weeks old."

"Rachel," I said, "I'm flattered, but I don't think I'm really in a good place to take care of a dog right now."

The fluffball looked up at me with its little brown eyes, blinking at the sunlight for a few seconds before stretching its tiny mouth in a teeny tiny toothy yawn.

Oh no.

"I mean," I mumbled, "I really shouldn't…"

"Taylor," Lisa said, "Just because I'm thankful to you for saving my life doesn't mean I can't see what a stupid decision it was. If we weren't on opposite sides, I'd actually be able to help you work through that. Instead, I have to trust this little girl to do it for me."

She reached into the box and gently pulled out the puppy, holding it up to my eye level.

"You don't want to disappoint this little cutie-patootie by dying, do you? If you get eaten by a dragon, she'll have no one to give her belly-rubs."

"Lisa," I groaned, "this is absurd. No puppy, no matter how cute, is a substitute for actual therapy."

"Aha!" she exclaimed. "You admit that you need therapy?"

I rolled my eyes. "No shit, Sherlock. I don't need your ever-mysterious Thinker powers to tell me that I'm a huge mess. I'm working on it."

"Oh." Lisa looked genuinely surprised. "Okay, but you should still take the puppy!"

She held the pup out to me again, and I before I knew it, I had the little fluffball squirming in my arms, clumsily trying to climb up and lick my face. When I got back to base, I was going to ask Piggot to give it a Master rating, because I couldn't think of any logical reason for the choice I was about to make.

"Fine," I said, "I'll take care of the puppy. Somehow. I'm still not sure what I'm supposed to get out of it, though."

Lisa's smile flickered from smug to sad, just for a moment.

"Family?"

I dropped my eyes, and focused on getting the puppy back into its box so I wouldn't have to look at her.

"Listen," she continued, "I need to be getting back home. Not everyone on the team got out as cleanly as Rachel and I, and they're going to get all pissy if I'm not there to spoon chicken soup into their poor invalid mouths. Those supplies should have everything you need for the next couple of weeks, aside from a crate for sleeping. Oh, and {I noticed that she doesn't seem to like her current collar}, you might want to look into getting her a new one while you're at it."

I looked up at Lisa, frowning in confusion. That was a weird lie to make, especially since she had to know I'd spot it. Did she want me to notice? Her facial expression didn't change, but right before she turned to leave, she gave me a single quick wink.

--

Several hours later, once I'd finally convinced Piggot, Armsmaster, Miss Militia, and at least two of the PRT's specialist lawyers that I was absolutely not giving up the dog, I got the chance to examine her collar. It took a few minutes of careful probing, made no easier by the pup's playful attempts to nibble on my fingers, but I eventually found a small hidden catch holding a USB key no larger than a fingernail.

Popping it into my laptop, I saw that it contained a single folder, named 'Operation Snakefucker.' I couldn't help but grin as I browsed through the contents. I had at least one more appointment with Piggot in my near future, but somehow, I didn't think she'd mind this one.

--

A/N: Dogstar has joined the party!

I'd like to wish everyone a merry Day of Boxing from the middle of nowhere in New Brunswick. The holidays prevented me from giving this chapter as much editing time as I normally prefer to give, so it may be a little rough. Any fixes will likely have to wait until I return to my hometown, at the end of this weekend. Until then, while I will absolutely read all of your comments, I may not have a chance to respond.

Next time, on Daystar!: Taylor and her fluffy new ambassador get to work mending bridges and putting out fires.

Thanks for reading, friends!

EDIT: I almost forgot, here's a link to the newest version of Taylor's character sheet!

Last edited: Dec 26, 2019

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WinterWombat

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

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Jan 9, 2020

#3,116

April 16th, 2011

Unexpected Facet of Cape Life #22: Your hero identity needs its own signature.

I was pretty proud of mine, even if I'd never admit it. I spelled out 'Day' in long, elegant cursive, swept into a sharply angled five-pointed star, then finished with a little comet's tail flourish. Once the novelty of working the Wards' console had started to wear thin, I'd started using the time to practice my signature relentlessly, just to have something to do with my hands.

Today, all that practice was finally paying off.

"Can you make it out to Sarah? With an H?"

I gave the nervous-looking woman my best attempt at a reassuring smile as I squiggled out the quick message on the glossy Daystar poster she'd handed me. Handling the endless procession of merch bearing my own image still felt more than a little surreal, but I could imagine eventually getting used to it. Plus, it was always fun getting to see my fans smile, as long as I didn't think too hard about how weird it was that someone like me even had fans.

Even after an hour, the line in front of my table still stretched halfway through the tiny mall, at least twice as long as the ones in front of Clockblocker or Shadow Stalker. It made sense; not only was I the newest Ward on the team, I was still riding the popularity wave from my fight with Lung. The PRT hotlines were still getting plenty of calls from concerned parents demanding to know why they'd let a child fight one of the city's most dangerous capes, but for every local worried about my safety there were at least twenty others who just wanted to see exciting cape fights, and they were the ones who always showed up for events like this.

I recognized the next person to step up to my table from school, though I couldn't remember his name. He was a year ahead of me; I only saw him because he hung out with Vicky now and then. I'd suspected he might be a bit of a closet cape geek, and judging by all the signatures in the autograph book he handed me, it looked like I'd been right.

"So," he said, faux-casual, as I tried to find an empty space for my name, "I know the PRT's official position is 'no comment,' but I'm dying to know why a Ward would stick her neck out for villains like the Undersiders?"

"Sorry," I said, "but we have some pretty good reasons for not discussing ongoing PRT investigations."

Not embarrassing the PRT, mostly, but it was still technically true. I turned my attention away from his obvious disappointment to the autograph book, and found a place for my name right next to...hunh.

"How about a trade?" I said, handing the book back. "I'll tell you what I can, if you tell me how you managed to get Tattletale's signature."

The cape fan (Alex, according to his book) beamed at me. "Oh! Well, the Undersiders robbed the place I work a couple weeks ago, so I just kinda asked for their autographs? They were pretty chill about it, even if Tattletale was the only one who agreed."

"You must take your collection pretty seriously," I replied. "Most people would be too scared to chat with villains in the middle of a crime."

Alex shrugged. "Maybe if it was Skidmark or Hookwolf, sure, but the Undersiders never actually hurt anyone."

I gave a quick snort of laughter. "Tell that to Aegis, the next time one of the giant dogs tries to use him as a chew toy."

He winced at that. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

I waved off his concerns. "Everyone's fine now, don't worry. You've basically answered your own question, though. The Undersiders are villains, but they're practically saints next to Lung and his gang. They deserve to answer for their crimes in court, not get eaten alive by an angry dragon man. Just because someone's made a few bad choices doesn't mean they're not worth protecting. I saw a chance to help, so I took it, even if it was more than a little stupid in retrospect."

After that, Alex left the table with a huge grin on his face, probably feeling like I'd let him in on some kind of secret cape knowledge. I hadn't actually said anything that PR hadn't already approved, but it was still more than what they'd put in their official press release. Either way, it seemed to make Alex happy, and it saved me from answering any really awkward questions.

I had time to sign a couple more posters before our PR agent's voice came in through the mall's PA system. "Alright, everyone, that's all the time we have for autographs. Next up is pictures with the Wards, for those of you who showed up earlier to get tickets. If you don't have a ticket, or missed the chance for an autograph, you can catch the team next Saturday across the city at the Green Street Mall, same time as today. Now, we're going to start with group photos, so everyone with a red ticket, please form a line behind the yellow tape."

I stood up, but instead of making directly for the photo-stand, I moved to intercept Shadow Stalker on her way over.

"God," I said, low enough for my voice not to carry, "I can't wait to be done with this boring bullshit."

Shadow Stalker didn't reply, didn't even glance at me, just picked up her walking pace.

I forced a fake smile. "Right, I get it, don't want to talk in front of the crowds. We can...catch up later?"

Again, no response.

By all rights, I should have been ecstatic that Sophia was giving me the silent treatment. When she'd refused to speak to me the day after my fight with Lung, I'd assumed she didn't want to deal with all the sappy 'thanks for saving my life' stuff, and I'd been fine with it. Now, though, it was starting to get creepy.

Thanks to getting lost in thought, I was the last one to reach the photo stand. The whole setup reminded me of school picture day, complete with always standing in the back row because of my height. The fans, mostly kids, came up in twos and threes while their parents snapped pictures with their phones. The whole process was so streamlined that there wasn't really time to add any personal touches, but Clockblocker and I tried to play along with the ones who wanted a certain kind of pose.

Shadow Stalker only had one pose, the one I thought of as 'I don't want to be here."

After a few minutes of business as usual, we got to one kid who couldn't seem to stand still long enough to take a photo. She'd already managed to get an icecream stain on what looked like a brand-new Clockblocker shirt, and kept bouncing up and down in excitement like she was trying to earn herself a Mover rating.

"This is so cool! Daystar, you and Shadow Stalker should do a fistbump for the photo!"

I glanced over at Stalker, only for her to turn her mask away. Of course.

Before I had to figure out how to tell a child that one of her heroes was being a huge jerk, I was saved by one of the far walls exploding inwards with a tremendous crash. All my worries about my surly teammate vanished as my instincts took over, and I moved to put myself between the child and the spray of pulverized concrete particles from the shattered wall. Only then did the shouting start.

I heard the sound of heavy tires crunching over rough ground as a large vehicle emerged from the cloud of concrete dust. It looked like an armored courier van that had been repainted matte gray and olive drab. Someone had sprayed the hood with the image of an eagle clutching a globe, over the words 'United Nations Space Command.'

I took a second to glance over at my teammates. I caught a brief flicker of Shadow's Stalker's cloak as it disappeared through a nearby wall; she had to be getting into position for an ambush, then. Clockblocker, one the other hand, knocked over one of the signing tables and took cover behind it. Clock was the only one of us who couldn't block or ignore bullets, but his ability to lock objects in time let him create effectively indestructible shields for himself and any bystanders behind him.

Without taking my eyes off the van, I reached up and activated my helmet radio. "Console, Daystar. Someone just rammed an armored van through the side of the Bayshore Mall."

Without anyone on the Wards console, the switchboard automatically sent my message to the PRT Duty Officer. "Roger, Daystar. Backup is on the way."

Just then, the van's rear doors swung open. Three guys in three different colors of full-body power armor jumped out. I vaguely remembered seeing the exact same design in one of Chris's favorite video games. Each carried a different makeshift weapon; the only thing the designs had in common was looking more likely to fall apart at a touch than to actually hurt anyone. I would have laughed, except I knew how unreliable appearances were when it came to tinkertech.

My first thought was to leap off the photo stand and start cracking skulls, but that I couldn't risk one of them opening fire with so many civilians around; I didn't even know if those guns shot bullets I could block. Instead, I turned back to the kid sheltering behind me, gently put a hand on her shoulder, and pulled both of us down into a crouch. She looked terrified, on the verge of breaking out into tears.

"Everything's going to be okay," I whispered. "The Wards are here, and we're going to make sure nobody gets hurt. That's what heroes do, right?"

The girl nodded slowly. Focusing on my voice gave her something to do other than panic.

"When I say go, I want you to turn around and run to your parents. If you can't see them, you need to get outside of the mall as fast as you can, and wait with the police for them to find you. I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm counting on you to be brave and keep yourself safe. Can you do that?"

She nodded again, looking shaky but still determined.

As I rose back up, a distorted, almost mechanical voice boomed from some unseen speaker on the truck. "Everyone on the ground! This Mall is now under the control of the UNSC! Those who fail to comply will be considered Insurrectionists and subdued! Cooperate, and you may get a chance to...wait, are those the Wards?"

"No, we're the Triumvirate!" Clockblocker yelled back. "You have five seconds to retreat before Legend breaks out his goon-melting lasers!"

"Uber," the voice from the van continued, "what the hell, man? You said they'd be on the other side side of the city!"

The man in the green armor turned and shouted back at the van. "That's what the schedule said!"

Clockblocker stood up from behind his makeshift cover with one finger extended in a 'let me make a point' gesture. "PR had to switch some dates around, so now the Green Street meetup is next week. You'd know that if you subscribed to the Wards ENE mailing list."

Uber raised his tinkertech weapon and fired a bolt of corruscating blue light at Clockblocker. At the same time, Clockblocker pulled out an unrolled poster from behind his back and froze it midair. The bolt struck the time-stuck poster and fizzled out harmlessly, but more than a few people in the crowd still startled at the sudden light and noise.

"Hey!" I yelled, "there are children here, assholes!"

"Screw this," the voice from the van (almost certainly Leet) muttered. "The mission's fucked. Everyone back in the Warthog!"

"No can do," Uber said. "You can leave if you must, but I want to fight Daystar."

"What? Why?" Leet and I said, almost simultaneously.

"How often do I get the chance to fight someone on my level?" Uber said. "It's about my honor as a martial artist. You wouldn't understand."

"You're not a martial artist!" Leet yelled back. "You're just a combat thinker with a closet full of anime DVDs!"

I was pretty sure Uber was acting like an idiot, but it gave me an opportunity. "I'll do it, but only if you let these people leave first."

"Deal," Uber said, lowering his weapon and clipping it to a magnetic holster on the side of his leg armor.

I turned around to face the huddled crowd. "Alright, I need everyone to remain calm. Clockblocker is going to lead everyone outside."

I gave a quick nod down to the girl huddling behind me, sending her rushing off to her family. Once the crowd started to move, I turned back to Uber and his minions. The smart thing would be to drag the process out, delay until PRT back-up could arrive. I had no intention of doing the smart thing. This was my first time out in costume since the Lung incident, and I had no idea when I'd get another chance for a decent fight.

"Just so you know," Uber said, "this power armor is the real deal. You don't need to worry about holding back."

I made a show of cracking my knuckles. "Whatever you say, Halo."

Uber tilted his head quizzically. "Wait, what was that?"

I rolled my eyes, even though my visor meant he couldn't see it. "Is it so surprising? I'm not exactly a big fan of video games, but even I know Halo when I see him."

For several long, awkward seconds, everyone was silent.

"Uber." Leet finally said through the van's speaker, voice deadly cold. "Kick her ass."

Uber's stance shifted, just slightly, and I took that as my cue. I gathered my essence and burst towards him with a Thunderclap Rush, only to stop short when a metal-clad fist slammed into my solar plexus. I stumbled backwards a step from the force of the blow and forced myself to draw a shallow, wheezing breath; Uber hadn't been kidding about his armor. I doubted the hit would even leave a bruise on me, but it was still one more hit than I'd wanted to give him.

Speaking of Uber, he obviously didn't want to give me space to recover. He pressed forwards with a series of lightning fast jabs and low kicks, throwing in a few feints to keep me on my toes.

"That's a neat trick," he said, "but you shouldn't open every fight with the same technique. I don't need to rely on reaction time if I know it's coming."

He had a point, not that I'd ever say so to his face.

I focused on evading his blows, matching every attack with a shifting step backwards that always brought me just barely a centimeter out of range. Uber stepped up his tempo in response, probably hoping to press me into making a mistake. I would have smirked, but that might give the game away. If he wanted to assume that my narrow escapes were the result of desperation, rather than a deliberate exercise in perfect control, well, I wasn't going to correct him.

We danced like that for maybe a minute, which was practically an eternity for an intense high-speed exchange like this. I could have gone on the offensive any time I liked, but I wanted to see more of how his power worked. So far, it looked like his Thinker ability made his movements pretty much textbook-perfect, from breathing and footwork all the way to the follow-through. On the other hand, it wasn't doing anything for his strategy. Any fighter who'd actually worked to earn those skills would have realized by now that I was sandbagging.

"For fuck's sake, Daystar," Shadow Stalker muttered over the radio, "stop playing with your food and put that asshole down already."

It was the most she'd said to me in almost a week. Not exactly back to normal, but hey, baby steps.

Uber threw another jab at my head, and for the first time in the fight I stepped into the blow instead of away from it, slamming an open palm into his center of gravity with as much compressed power as I could muster. The flash of golden light sent him flying backwards like someone had tied a rope around his waist and hooked the other side to a passing jet plane. In all the excitement, he probably hadn't noticed me maneuvering him to put Leet's armored van at his back, so I had to imagine he was surprised when he struck the upper edge of the vehicle with an incredibly satisfying 'clang,' and even moreso when the force of the impact caused the entire van to tip over and crash onto its side.

Meanwhile, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Shadow Stalker step through a nearby wall and fire both her crossbows at the two armored goons. They both slumped to the grown a second later; even if their armor was also tinkertech (and I suspected it wasn't), Stalker could just use her power to make the bolts phase right through it.

I jogged over to where Uber lay on the ground next to the tipped van. "Still alive in there, Halo?"

"Ha! It'll take more than that to keep me down," he replied. "I hope you're ready for round two!"

After several seconds of staring down at his motionless form, I gave a polite cough. "Round two?"

"I think the suit's broken," he said, resigned. "I'm gonna have to take a rain check on that."

I turned towards the front of the Van as Shadow Stalker phased partially through the windshield. "It's empty," she growled.

I sighed. "Console, Daystar. Uber's down, but Leet's nowhere to be seen."

"Don't speak so soon, Daystar" Clockblocker replied over the radio. "I've got Leet locked down just outside the east entrance. I could use your help securing him."

I exchanged a quick glance with Shadowstalker, only for her to jerk her head away with an angry grunt. Still angry, then. With a shrug, I jogged out to the east doors to find Clockblocker standing next to a frozen Leet. The villain wore a lighter set of generic sci-fi armor with revealed the lower half of his face. He looked more petulant than threatening, seemingly frozen in the middle of saying something unpleasant.

I gave Clockblocker a nod as I drew closer. "I'm here. How can I help?"

Clockblocker gestured at Leet. "I assumed you're the kind of keener who would bring her full kit on a PR gig, so just get ready to zip-cuff him when he unfreezes. It's been about three minutes since I tagged him, so it could be any moment."

"You know that being prepared isn't actually one of my powers, right?" I smiled, while digging a pair of zip-cuffs from one of my belt pouches. "Anyone can do it. Anyways, mind telling me how you managed to catch this guy?"

"He had some kind of invisibility cloak," Clockblocker said, "but it started malfunctioning before he even reached the parking lot, flickering on and off and giving him some pretty nasty shocks. He didn't even try to run once I caught sight of him."

Clock's power chose that moment to wear off, with Leet jerking suddenly into motion like an unpaused video.

"-uck you, Clockblocker," he spat, before taking in his surroundings.

"Sorry, buddy," Clockblocker said, as I secured Leet's wrists with the cuffs. "Better luck next time?"

--

I only made it three steps into the Wards HQ before having a wriggling ball of fluff and spit shoved into my face. Even with the fight at the mall, it was easily the highlight of my day.

"Aww, hey there, Nova. I miss you too! Have you been a good puppy today?"

"She's a real sweetheart," Dean said, eager to let me take my pet off his hands. "A bit of a handful sometimes, but sweet."

As if on cue, Nova paused her frantic at licking my face to give a big toothy yawn, before shifting around a bit and settling into a nap.

"Thanks again, Dean," I said. "She didn't give you much trouble, did she?"

"Nah, just the usual," he replied. "Crawling into interesting new places and pooping there, mostly. Missy helped me clean up."

"I was happy to help," Missy added, coming out of the kitchen area. "It turns out that incredible space-warping powers are really useful for getting dog poo out of hard-to-reach places. It doesn't hurt that Nova's so darn cute, either. She reminds me of the dog I used to have."

"Used to?" I asked, before I could stop myself.

"Oh, Bailey's still alive," Vista said, though her smile looked a bit more forced. "I just got tired of my parents fighting over who got him, so I got one of my school friends to take him in."

"That still sounds pretty rough," I said.

Vista shrugged, her usual response to any topic involving her parents. "It sucks, but what can you do? I'm staying here overnight, thankfully, so I won't have to deal with them until tomorrow afternoon. Want to make it a movie night, Taylor?"

I shook my head. "Can I take a rain check? Tonight's my first test run for the new apartment. I just came back to get Nova and my overnight bag."

Vista pouted. "Drat. Well, if you want to make it up to me, you can let me hold the puppy while you finish packing?"

I grinned as I handed my fluffy burden over to her. I'd already packed everything this morning, but I could find something to do for fifteen minutes or so.

--

The lights in Colin's apartment turned on automatically as I walked through the door. I'd halfway expected the place to be some dusty mausoleum with plastic sheets over all the furniture, but no, it just looked incredibly normal. A bit minimalist, maybe, and lacking in personal touches, but still livable. Empty, but not abandoned.

I put Nova's crate down by the door, took off my shoes, and started exploring. The entryway opened directly into a spacious living room, which held a couch, love-seat, and armchair all upholstered in matching leather, and an expensive-looking flatscreen almost as big as the one in the Wards HQ. In front of the TV, I noticed a complete set of the latest-generation gaming consoles next to a small pile of games, all still in their boxes. I also noticed a blu-ray player, but I couldn't see a single disk anywhere.

The kitchen was impressive, even though it was obvious how little Colin actually used it. The cupboards held a single matching dish set and enough canned food and dry protein shake mix to last half a year, while the fridge held only bottled water and a six-pack of foreign beer with two bottles missing. I could work with the place, but I'd need to go on a serious shopping trip first.

Colin had left a dozen different takeout menus fanned out on the kitchen table, along with a pair of twenties and a note explaining how to buzz the delivery guys into the building. He wasn't going to be here tonight, of course. This arrangement would never work if I couldn't get used to living here alone.

I left the menus untouched for the moment to finish exploring the apartment. There's wasn't much left to see. I found Colin's bedroom, and a locked security door that probably led to where he kept some of his Armsmaster equipment. I stumbled onto two more rooms, both empty, before I found the one set aside for me. It was far larger than my room at the PRT HQ, with a bed large enough for me to actually stretch my legs in. The dresser and bedside table were so new that they still smelled like wood varnish. In the closet, I found a large safe I could use to store my hero gear, as soon as Piggot decided to give it back to me.

I dropped my duffel bag in the corner and flopped onto the bed; the mattress was so soft I was tempted to check if it was tinkertech.

"I'm home," I said, staring up at the ceiling. It didn't feel true, but I held out hope that that might eventually change.

--

It's still technically today!

This chapter fought me every step of the way, even to the extent of taking twice as long as normal in the final editing pass. Next ones are coming along a bit more smoothly, at least.

Next Time, on Daystar!: Coil makes a move! We get to hear a bit more about how Operation Snakefuckfinder is progressing! Taylor does normal teenager stuff with some not-so-normal teenagers!

As always, friends, thanks for reading!

Last edited: Jan 11, 2020

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WinterWombat

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Jan 16, 2020

#3,288

April 18th, 2011

I woke up with the dawn, opening my eyes just as the first flickers of light started to creep in through the window. I thought I'd been sleeping just fine in the Wards HQ, but moving into Colin's apartment made me realize how much I'd been missing the morning sun. This was only my second time staying here overnight, but I already knew that I'd never need an alarm clock again as long as I had an east-facing window.

Of course, if that wasn't enough, I could always rely on my loyal canine companion to wake me up. The second I opened my eyes, I started to hear the steady thwap-thwap-thwap of Nova's tiny, furiously wagging puppy tail smacking against the side of her crate. I stumbled out of bed and unlocked the crate door, allowing my little tangle of stubby limbs and fuzzy, floppy ears to roll out onto the layer of old newspaper covering the floor. Nova took a few seconds to sort her legs out while I indulged a much needed stretch, before we both yawned in unison. The day could now begin.

As soon as Nova finished with her breakfast, I started getting ready to leave for my morning workout. The apartment building technically had its own gym, but these days I needed the brute-rated equipment at the PRT fitness center to get any kind of challenge. Living in the PRT HQ had made it incredibly convenient to hit the gym every morning, but I'd decided that I could just skip the bus and use the jog over there as a warmup. Well, I would be jogging, as soon as Nova's little puppy legs grew long enough for her to keep up.

Just before I went out the door, I took a quick second to check my civilian phone for new messages, and stopped cold. Last week, I'd started a thread on PHO under a throwaway account on some utterly banal topic I could hardly remember. I'd received a few lukewarm responses, but not enough to build up any momentum, so the thread was quickly forgotten. That had been the point, of course. Just a few minutes ago, someone else had replied for the first time in days. The post itself hadn't been important, only the fact that it contained a few key words that were unlikely to be used together accidentally.

The flash drive Lisa had given me a week ago contained detailed instructions for what had been reluctantly dubbed 'Operation Snakefinder,' including directions for setting up secure information channels. The message on PHO was Tattletale's way of telling me that Coil was about to make his move, and that I should be ready to play my part.

The only other people who knew about Snakefinder were Armsmaster and Director Piggot, and I couldn't just contact them directly about any of this without potentially raising suspicions. Tattletale had identified at least 95% of Coil's moles in the PRT, but those that she missed would likely find it suspicious if they saw me meeting with the Director almost every other day. Startling Coil too soon could cost us our chance to capture him, but more importantly it would probably cost Lisa her life. So, for now, I just had to deal with my day like everything was normal and I wasn't about to start dealing with some very dangerous people. No pressure, no problem.

I put the phone away, double checked that Nova's lead was securely attached to her collar, and tried to get on with my routine as if nothing had happened. It was fortunate that I'd requested time on one of the PRT's testing ranges this morning, because I really wanted to shoot something.

--

Archery felt nothing like hand-to-hand combat. Fighting with my fists was like racing downhill at two-hundred miles per hour or surfing an avalanche, a sense of incredible power perfectly under my control as long as I never, ever tried to stop. Using a bow, on the other hand, felt like an exercise in achieving perfect stillness. I couldn't use a surge of effort to force a perfect shot any more than I could grit my teeth and push myself as hard as possible to fall asleep. I just had to put myself in the right position and let it happen.

Fortunately, the PRT Building's special Unorthodox Ballistic Range gave me a great place to practice. The facility took up almost an entire floor on its own, below the parking garage but above the Wards HQ. Despite the fancy name, it mostly served as a practice range for anything that didn't fire actual bullets. I knew Kid Win came here once or twice a month to practice with his stun pistols, and Gallant used it to practice his fine control with his Blaster power. The PRT built it using a modular design that let shooters choose between different types of target and environment, but all that fancy stuff required a rangemaster on duty to run, so I got by with plain old archery targets.

I drew another arrow from the quiver on my hip, nocked it onto the bowstring, and pulled it back to its anchor-point against my cheek. My target sat 90 yards downrange, far enough that I almost couldn't make out the tiny golden circle marking its center. A couple weeks ago, I didn't even know how to properly draw an arrow, let alone send it into a target so far away, but today I felt nothing but confidence.

"The arrow has already struck the target," I whispered to myself. "The arrow and the target are one and the same. The arrow will find the target as soon as I grant it release."

I let the string slip from my fingers in time with the last word, and reached for another arrow without taking my eyes off the target. If I wanted to use a bow as a serious weapon, I couldn't let myself get into the habit of waiting for one shot to land before beginning the next. By the time the first arrow struck, I'd already drawn and fired another. I took another shot a heartbeat later, followed by two more in quick succession. I'd need to see the target up close to be sure, but I had a feeling that every arrow had landed inside the 9-ring, possibly even the 10.

"Good shooting, Daystar."

I looked to my side to see Miss Militia leaning against the doorframe at the entrance to the weapon range, eyes crinkled with her usual warm smile.

"Thanks," I said, "but I still feel like I need a lot more practice. I can't count on having time to center myself when I'm shooting in the field."

Miss Militia chuckled. "I'm glad you're so focused on self-improvement, but I think you're entitled to feel a little pride, too. Plenty of professional target-shooters would struggle with what you just accomplished."

I gave her a sheepish smile. "Well, okay, maybe there's a bit of pride. It's just hard to stop practicing when I feel like I can do even better, you know?"

"I can see why you and Colin get along so well," Miss Militia said, her tone slightly teasing. "Anyways, I didn't mean to interrupt you. I was just curious to see who was using the range so early."

I looked over at the nearby wall clock, which read 6:30AM. "I guess it's kinda early for this stuff, but I'm going to be busy all evening, so this was the only time I could fit in some shooting."

"Just so long as you don't start imitating Armsmaster's sleeping habits," she said, "or lack thereof. I'll let you get back to work, then."

"Wait," I said, as she turned to leave. "Miss Militia...now that you're here, can I ask you for some advice?"

"Of course," she said, gesturing to one of the range's safety areas. "And please, call me Hannah."

"Thanks, Hannah," I said, as we sat down at the barebones metal table. "It's not a huge problem, but, well, I've been having a hard time dealing with Shadow Stalker recently."

Hannah winced. "Daystar-"

"Taylor, please," I corrected.

She nodded. "Taylor, I know that Shadow Stalker can be a lot to deal with. You shouldn't take what she says personally; she's got a lot of anger that she struggles to express in healthy ways."

I shook my head. "No, no, that's not it. I mean, yeah, she can be a total asshole sometimes, but I'm pretty sure we'd actually gotten past that. I'm worried because she's done her best to avoid me ever since the Lung incident, and I have no idea why."

Hannah's eyebrows rose. "Oh. You two have actually been getting along?"

"I don't know if I'd go that far," I said, "but we had an understanding. She respected my villain-punching skills, and I…"

When my voice trailed off, Hannah waited a few seconds before softly gesturing for me to continue.

"I liked that she didn't pretend to be okay," I finished, quietly. "She didn't try to convince me that she wasn't fucked in the head, and she didn't expect me to convince her that I wasn't either. In fact, she laughed at me every time I tried. She can be a truly horrible human being, but sometimes she's the only other person here who makes me feel, I dunno, seen. Whatever that really means."

I looked up to meet Hannah's gaze, searching for some trace of judgement or wariness, but all I saw was compassion mingled with confusion. I could sympathize with the second part. Half of what I'd just said, I hadn't even realized myself until the moment I said it.

"I wish I could help more," she finally said, "but I don't think there's much to be done. All you can really do is remind her that you're ready to talk when she is, and then wait. Maybe bring this up with your therapist?"

"Yeah," I replied, "that's what I thought. Thanks for listening, at least."

We talked for a few minutes more about minor topics, stuff like how I was settling in at the new apartment (just fine) and how Nova was doing (still mostly sleeping and pooping all day and night). Once Hannah excused herself, I returned to the firing line to get in a few extra minutes of practice.

Archery felt nothing like hand-to-hand combat, but not in a bad way. It relaxed me and improved my focus, almost like a kind of meditation. Considering what the rest of the day held for me, I needed all the focus I could get.

"The arrow has already struck the target…"

--

School wasn't particularly engaging these days, so I spent most of my time there practicing sensory techniques with my essence. Trying to force more essence through my eyeballs only made me tear up, and I had no wish to experiment with super-smell, but I'd been having some luck with my sense of hearing. When I used meditation to quiet my inner voice, I found I could gradually perceive all the little noises around me that would normally fall beneath my threshold of attention. By drawing on a trickle of essence, I could then separate specific sounds from the overall audio landscape with incredible precision and clarity, even sounds that should have been too quiet for human ears to pick up.

It hadn't taken me long to master the basic technique; my task now was to practice pulling it off faster, in more chaotic situations. As it turned out, the school cafeteria at lunchtime was one of the best places to work on this, for eminently practical reasons that had nothing at all to do with eavesdropping on other peoples' conversations.

At the moment, I definitely wasn't spying on Emma's table at the other end of the lunchroom. She mostly seemed to eat her cafeteria food in silence while the girls around her talked up a storm, only occasionally adding small comments of her own. It was a complete one-eighty from the way she used to practically hold court in Winslow, making everyone else at her table compete for her attention and approval. Even before she'd turned on me, Emma had always enjoyed the spotlight, but now she'd turned into a total wallflower.

I had no idea how I felt about that.

"Hey, Taylor, you still with us?"

I blinked as my focus on the enhanced hearing technique shattered. Jess, Dennis, and Arthur all looked at me with concerned expressions, while Thea waved a hand in front of my face.

"Oh, shit, sorry," I shook my head. "I guess I zoned out a bit there. What's going on?"

"Jess was asking if you were psyched for Wednesday," Thea said, "but you just gave her your best impression of a brick wall. Everything okay? Are you getting enough sleep?"

I grinned sheepishly. "Are any of us?"

That got a round of quiet laughter from the rest of the table, and a knowing look from Dennis in particular.

"Speak for yourself," Arthur said. "A warrior must remain in a state of perpetual readiness, and that includes obtaining proper rest. My sleep schedule is flawless."

Dennis rolled his eyes. "Flawless, sure. That's why MacMillian caught you napping through class this morning?"

Arthur shrugged, but I could see his deadpan starting to crack. "That was part of my schedule. Sleep is important...just not as important as Wrestlemania."

Once Arthur started to catch up Dennis and Thea on the weekend's entertainment, I caught Jess's attention.

"To answer your question," I said, "I'm feeling pretty nervous, which is almost the same thing as being psyched, yeah?"

Jess laughed. "Sure, Taylor, let's go with that. Seriously, though, I'm sure it'll be tons of fun."

"Still not sure how you talked me into this," I said, faux-grumbling. "I've never been in charge of anything before."

"First time for everything," Jess replied. "Besides, it's not like there's going to be a whole heap of people there. How badly could it go?"

I groaned. "Terribly, now that you've said that. Isn't this the part where you're supposed to look me in the eyes and tell me that I'm more than qualified, I know everything I need to, and I'm going to do a terrific job?"

Jess reached out a hand to cover mine on the cafeteria table, leaned towards me, and looked me square in the eyes. I felt my face grow warmer as she held my gaze for several long seconds, and it was suddenly very hard to remember what we'd been talking about. My mind was caught on more important questions, like 'is that new lipstick that she's wearing?' and 'I wonder what it tastes like?'

"Taylor," she said, "You have liability insurance, right?"

We both burst out into uncontrolled giggles, and Jess's face starting growing a luminous blush to match mine. I really wanted to ask her out one of these days, but in between the hero work and secret missions, I could never find a good time for it.

"Wow," I said, grinning. "Thanks for the reassurance. Asshole."

"Any time," she replied. "Now you'll do an amazing job just to spite me."

I gave her a mock glare, though it only lasted a few seconds before breaking into a smile. "I guess I've got no choice. I'm actually meeting later today with one more person who might be interested."

Jess raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do I know them?"

"You know of her," I said. "She's good people, deep down, and I think she could stand to make a few new acquaintances..."

--

As soon as classes let out for the day, I made my way over to one of Arcadia's gyms, with a brief stop in the changing room to switch over to my workout clothes. The school reserved Gym C for after-school club activities, but it apparently went unused so often that I didn't have any trouble at all reserving a little section of the floor for my plans. By the time my guest showed up, I'd already laid down padded floor mats and started with my warmup.

"Taylor, what the hell is going on?"

"Amy!" I smiled and beckoned her over. "It's good to see you. I honestly had no idea if you were actually going to show up."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Call it morbid curiosity. I couldn't think of any good reason why you'd want me to meet you here after school in my gym clothes, so I wanted to see what the bad reason was."

"We're going to continue your combat training," I said, "and talk a bit. Maybe not in that order."

Amy snorted. "We are, are we? Sorry to rain on your parade, but Vicky already left the school with Dean."

"I didn't invite Vicky," I said. "If it turns out you and I really can't stay in the same room for twenty minutes without trying to verbally murder each other, I don't want her to see us both at our bitchiest. She doesn't need the stress."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "That's...surprisingly considerate of you, and only slightly insulting. Why here, though? You've got plenty of training rooms back at your 'after school club,' don't you?"

"Sure," I said, "but you're not the only person I'm going to be training. I wanted to work with you one-on-one today, clear the air a bit and all that, but after that we'll have normal meetups on Mondays and Wednesdays. I'm hoping we can all go out for pizza this Friday, but I'll understand if your schedule at the hospital doesn't allow it."

"Wait, wait, wait," Amy waved her hands at me, "what's going on? Did you make Fight Club? Am I being drafted into Fight Club?"

"No, it's more like…" I paused to consider. "You know what? Screw it. Yes, Amy, I'm conscripting you into Fight Club. I'm Brad Pitt, you're that other guy, and together we are going to make so much toxic masculinity."

I saw a thin fragment of a smile break through Amy's frown, just for a second. "Hey, why do you get to be Brad Pitt?"

I shrugged. "I'm taller?"

Amy rolled her eyes, but I caught another glimpse of a smile. "That can change, you know."

I grinned. "Yeah? Come over to the mat and prove it, then."

Amy jerked backwards in quiet shock. "Prove...you want me to…?"

"Knock me down, yes," I finished. "After all, they always say that nobody's taller than the last girl standing."

Amy gave me a blank look. "You're not even doing that ironically, are you? You're actually this cheesy."

"Cheesy as a cheap-ass pasta buffet," I nodded. "So, are you going to fight me, or do I have to annoy you even more?"

Amy groaned, but she also bent down to start taking off her shoes. Victory!

--

I hit the mat with a solid 'thwack,' allowing the impact to drive some of the air from my lungs. The fall was more than gentle compared to my usual training, but I needed to undersell my Brute powers while in public.

"Victory is mine!" Amy crowed, planting a foot on my stomach and thrusting her arms into the air. "Now I am Brad Pitt!"

Aside from a few odd looks from the nearby Tennis club, nobody seemed to pay her any mind.

"Congrats, Amy!" I grinned up at her. "Now, time for a pop quiz. If this was a real fight, do you know how many horrible things I could do to you from this position?"

Amy removed her foot, sheepishly, and actually offered me a hand up.

"Smart move," I said. "So, having fun yet?"

Amy didn't bother to try hiding her smile this time. "If I said no, would you believe me?"

I chuckled. "Not for a second. Speaking bluntly, I'm pretty sure your whole 'cynical sarcastic asshole' schtick always ends up crumbling the second you get a chance to actually blow off some steam."

"Hey!" Amy said, reaching up to flick my forehead. "I'll have you know that my cynicism is 100% authentic, thank you very much."

She kept frowning at me for a second more, before we both broke down into giggles.

"Goddamnit, Taylor," she said, after regaining some of her composure. "I'm supposed to be pissed off at you. I have very good reasons for being pissed off at you. Why do you have to make that so difficult?"

I shrugged. "Believe it or not, I didn't actually plan this to win you over or anything. I just got the impression that you really needed a way to cut loose that didn't involve your powers or your family. I'm pretty good with exactly three things, and since neither cooking nor reading books seemed likely to help, I had to go with fighting."

"Okay," she said, "but why go to all this trouble?"

I smirked at her. "Well, you did save my life a couple times, you know."

"I really didn't," she replied. "At most, I saved you a month or two of hospital time. Your whole body is, like, stupidly resilient. I'm not sure it's even possible for you to scar anymore."

"Hunh," I said. "That's...neat?"

"Besides," Amy continued, "I save peoples' lives all the time, and they don't concoct elaborate plans to help me blow off steam."

I walked over to grab my water bottle, and tossed the spare I'd brought with me to Amy.

"First off," I said, "this was not an elaborate plan. I literally just told you what I wanted you to do and taunted you into doing it. Not exactly machiavellian, that."

I raised my head and took a deep pull from my water bottle, drinking long enough that I actually had to gasp for air a little when I finished. When I turned my attention back to Amy, I saw that she was blushing bright red, which made my own face start to heat up for some... unknown reason.

"A-anyway," I stammered, before things got too awkward, "my point is that I think you're probably a pretty good person under all the sass, and I wanted to help if I could. I'm trying to do more of that, these days. Helping, I mean."

"That's weird," Amy said, grabbing her phone from her backpack. "You're weird. Have we really been at this for two hours? Oh god, I'm going to be really sore tomorrow, aren't I?"

"Excruciatingly," I said. "Drink lots of fluids, eat a hearty supper, and turn in early. Can I expect to see you here on Wednesday?"

Amy stared at me for a few seconds before shrugging. "Fuck it. Yeah, I'll be there."

"Great," I beamed. "By the way, I'm pretty sure that at least one of Jess's friends has a huge crush on you. I'll leave it to you to figure out who."

I stayed just long enough to watch Amy sputter as her face turned an even deeper shade of red, then made my way out of the school.

--

Once free of Arcadia, my first stop was PRT HQ to pick up Nova from her dog sitter, before heading over to Colin's apartment to get cleaned up and cook dinner. After that, I was looking at a busy night of procrastinating on flute practice and wishing I could go on patrol. At least, that was the idea. I needed to act as if I didn't expect my plans to come crashing down with a single-

My phone beeped at me. Not my Wards phone, nor my Civilian phone, but the new burner phone I'd recently picked up. I moved a few steps into a nearby alley so as not to block the sidewalk, then pulled it out the phone. I didn't recognize the sender's number, but there was only one person it could be.

'Boss wants to meet, thinks he can help with your fire hazard problem. 82 Archer Street, 9:00PM, formal dress.'

Just as Lisa had warned, Coil was making a play to get me under his thumb. A couple weeks ago, I might even have been willing to genuinely accept his offer, if I thought it gave me a better chance of taking down Lung. Now, I only cared about the chance it might give me to take down Coil himself. Lung was still on my list, no question, but he wasn't directly threatening someone I was very gradually coming to consider a friend.

Well, not since last week, anyways.

'I'll be there,' I sent back. I had almost five hours to prepare, most of which I'd probably need to use on further refining my hearing-boost power. I wasn't comfortable getting into a conflict I couldn't just punch my way out of, so I needed every little edge I could get.

"The arrow has already struck the target," I whispered to myself. "The arrow and the target are one and the same. The arrow will find the target as soon as I grant it release. I am not shooting; I am simply allowing the perfect shot to become."

I didn't know where the words came from, but they felt right. Coil was the target, and I was the arrow. I had to bide my time for now, but soon enough, the time would come to let go of restraint. I would fly, and he would fall.

--

Spoiler: New Charm

The game is afoot!

This chapter was a lot easier to write than the last one, enough so that I've already got half of the next chapter finished. I'm hoping to maintain a consistent pace of 1.5 to 2 chapters per week until I've once again got a sizable buffer. I've done it before, so hopefully I can do it again.

As you may have noticed, I've included a writeup for Taylor's new hearing-boost charm above. I'm going to try to do that whenever she develops or discovers a new power in the story, just to keep people updated. I'll still produce a new version of her character sheet at the end of every arc, but mini-updates like this should make it easier to keep track of Taylor's charms as they come up.

Next time, on Daystar!: Taylor meets with Coil and engages in a subtle battle of wits and intrigue! Admittedly, intrigue isn't Taylor's strongest skill, but Chris once convinced her to watch three whole episodes of Death Note. She's totally got this.

Thanks for reading!

Last edited: Jan 19, 2020

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WinterWombat

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Jan 23, 2020

#3,492

April 18th, 2011

One advantage of living at Colin's empty apartment was being able to go out at night without having to slip past PRT security. Piggot was still keeping my normal costume under lock and key, so I had to make due with an old hoodie and a bandanna to cover the lower half of my face. It wasn't going to strike fear into the hearts of any criminals, but it was good enough for some quick roof-running.

82 Archer Street turned out to be a Karaoke lounge, of all things, near the edge of the Downtown area. The place seemed pretty active for a Monday night, and I briefly wondered if I was supposed to just walk in the front door, before I noticed Tattletale leaning against a wall in the alley behind the lounge. I dropped down as quietly as I could manage and landed a few meters in front of her, keeping a tight grip on my essence to make sure my aura wouldn't flare up.

Tattletale grinned as if she'd expected me to fall out of the sky at that exact moment. "Heya, Daisy. The Boss is waiting for you inside, along with two of my colleagues."

In the files she secretly gave me, Lisa had explained that calling me 'Daisy' was a signal that she couldn't speak freely, probably because Coil would be listening in. If her boss discovered how she'd betrayed him by sneaking information to me, she'd be lucky if she just ended up dead. I had to be sure not to give any indication that we were working together.

"Lead on, Tattlefail," I said, matching her smug grin with one of my own.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm disappointed you can even pretend to think that's clever."

I shrugged, before following her through the lounge's back door. "I've got more."

'Tattlefail' was another code, this one indicating that I'd read and passed on all the files she'd given me, and that Piggot, Armsmaster, and I were all onboard with the plan. If I was helping her without my bosses' approval, I was supposed to call her 'Prattlefall' instead. If the whole plan was off, I'd have just called her a bitch, so she could joke that 'no, Bitch is the one with the dogs.' I still thought of Tattletale as a smug little weasel sometimes, but I couldn't deny that she was thorough in her planning.

Tattletale lead me through the lounge's utility area to one of the private rooms in back. I stepped inside to see Grue and Regent in their full costumes, flanking a painfully thin-looking man in a skintight black bodysuit. The white snake pattern slithering up suit made it clear that I was looking at Coil. He sat almost motionless is the center of the room, opposite a pink pleather couch nestled against the back wall.

Tattletale stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, instantly cutting off every trace of noise from outside the room. Coil gestured for me to take a seat, and I obliged.

"Daystar, welcome. I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me on such short notice." Coil's voice was smooth as silk, deeper than I'd imagined would come from someone so skeletally thin.

I felt my skin crawl, and suppressed a shiver. "You're Coil, then? Tattletale's Boss?"

"{I am Coil, yes}," he replied, his words ringing with falsehood. "Now, you're probab-"

I glared at him. "No, you're not."

'Coil' paused, then chuckled. "It seems Tattletale was correct about your ability to detect deception. The person in front of you is one of Coil's body doubles. Coil himself is safe in a distant location, listening to the conversation and providing responses for the body double to relay word-for-word. Think of him as an interpreter, if you like."

"I'll admit, that's a clever way to counter my Thinker power," I mused. "I can't detect any lies he doesn't know he's telling. Not the best way to build trust between us, though."

While I spoke, I tried to gently slip into the same kind of listening trance I'd practiced at school. This was hardly an ideal situation, but I already knew exactly what I was listening for, and my target was a lot closer this time.

"An unfortunate necessity," the body-double replied. "You must understand that I possess a great deal of sensitive information, the sort that I can't afford to expose to a Thinker outside my employ. That said, you should feel free to question the Undersiders in order to verify what I say. That's actually the primary reason I brought them here."

Concentrating on my power without appearing to zone out wasn't easy, but the effort soon paid off. As the Coil body-double spoke, I managed to focus on a faint, tinny voice coming from his left ear. It had to be the earpiece through which Coil was feeding the double his lines. A small pulse of essence helped to further isolate the sound enough for me to make it out clearly.

"That's your decision," I said. "Just know that I've already got a bad feeling about working with you, and this isn't helping."

"That's a shame, but the measures I take to protect my own safety are non-negotiable," Coil said, first from the earpiece and then through the double.

I leaned back in my seat and clasped my hands behind my head, doing my damndest to project ease and confidence. "In that case, you'll just have to work that much harder to convince me your help is worth the cost."

The double's face twisted under the mask in a way that seemed to indicate a smile. It felt weird to admit it, but the guy was clearly pretty good at his job. Both his speech and body-language seemed entirely natural.

"That, I believe I can do," 'Coil' said. "From what Tattletale tells me, you're looking for help in tracking down and beating Lung."

For the last week, Tattletale had been leading Coil to believe that my failed attempt on Lung's life had left me even more obsessed with revenge, and further disenchanted with the Protectorate. She'd then used that obsession to convince me that Coil might be a better sponsor than the Wards, to the point that I was willing to meet and hear him out. The goal was to make me sound easier to manipulate; the more leverage Coil thought he had on me, the less cautious he'd be.

"I don't just want to 'beat' Lung," I growled. "I want to kill him. I want to look into his eyes and see his terror and desperation as I end his life with my own two hands. I want the whole world to watch Brockton Bay's unstoppable villain die a coward's death, to make sure everyone gets the message. I want to take the ABB apart, scatter their soldiers and send their capes to prison or the morgue. I want to break them, again and again, until they're barely even a memory."

"Jesus," Regent whispered, quiet enough that the others may not have even heard.

"And once that's done," I continued, "I figure I'll do the same with Kaiser."

It wasn't a hard act to put on, because it wasn't entirely an act. I still had that same rage in me; I'd just decided not to let it make my decisions for me anymore.

"{I admire your conviction, Daystar,}" Coil said, and I fought the temptation to grin. The body double's voice was as neutral as ever, but I could easily sense a wisp of deception in the voice coming from the earpiece. His little trick with lying through a proxy wasn't going to help him at all, and he had no idea.

"This may surprise you to hear," Coil continued, "but I too wish to remove those loathsome gangs from my city. Lung is a mad dog who has suddenly managed to slip his leash, and Kaiser is a pompous buffoon spreading a toxic ideology that threatens to poison any chance this city has for true prosperity. As for the merchants, well, their reputation speaks for itself."

I rolled my eyes. "Do you expect me to believe that you actually care about the city, and you're not just looking for someone to eliminate your competition?"

Coil chuckled. "Can't it be both? I don't just intend to exploit Brockton Bay, Daystar, I intend to own it. That makes this city a long term investment for me, one I have every incentive to protect and support. I'm far too prideful to rule any city that isn't a shining example of success. Once the gangs are no longer a problem, I plan to reinvigorate the city's businesses, put an end to the rampant poverty, and improve quality of life for every citizen. I will do all these things not because of any altruistic impulse, but because it is what must be done for Brockton Bay to become a city worth owning."

I stared blankly ahead. Throughout that entire speech, Coil hadn't said a single word he didn't truly believe, and I honestly had no idea what to make of that. He made an appealing pitch, as long as I didn't think too hard about much evil he could still get up to without hurting the city's 'prosperity.'

"Well," I said, "I'll give you this: you could hardly be worse than the current management."

Coil's voice practically dripped with smug amusement. "Well said. Now, in the spirit of mutual self-interest, I'm prepared to loan you Tattletale's services in planning your attack on Lung and his gang, though obviously any actual fights will be up to you to handle. I ask nothing in return, save that you give serious thought to whether my plans might truly be what's best for the city."

"I'm sensing a 'but' here," I said. "You didn't need to have me come all the way out here just to tell me that."

"Indeed," Coil replied. "Tell me, Daystar, have you given much thought to what will likely happen to you after you kill Lung?"

I shrugged. "Dunno. I'll figure it out when I get there. Maybe get transferred, or spend some time in juvie."

God, it felt so incredibly stupid saying that out loud. Not caring about the future only sounded cool when you didn't have much of a future to care about.

"Quite likely" Coil said, "but that need not be the outcome. What would you say to a chance at joining a hero team that would not only support you in your goals, but ensure that you are not unduly punished for merely doing what the Protectorate lacks the stomach for?"

I leaned forward on my seat, broadcasting interest. "Sounds too good to be true. Who did you have in mind?"

Coil held out both hands, palms up. "The Undersiders, of course."

"Are you sure that your definition of 'hero' is the same as mine?" I asked.

"Allow me to explain," Coil continued. "Yes, as of right now, the Undersiders are a team of known villains, but that can be changed. With your cooperation, I can manipulate the public's perception of the Undersiders, highlight their most sympathetic traits, and eventually present them as an independant hero team made up of reformed villains."

Grue and Regent both tensed up as Coil spoke. It looked like they hadn't expected this any more than I had.

I paused to consider his words. "And you want me on board for...legitimacy?"

"In essence, yes," Coil replied. "Daystar is quickly becoming one of the Bay's more popular capes, thanks to her impressive feats and squeaky-clean reputation. The public is starting to see her not just as a hero, but as heroic, a truly inspirational figure. Having her join the reformed Undersiders would do a great deal to convince people of that they've truly turned over a new leaf."

"Not to mention seriously embarrassing the Protectorate," I added.

Coil chuckled. "If they don't wish to embarrassed, {they shouldn't make it so easy to upstage them.} As it stands, it will be all too easy to show an outside group getting results where the Protectorate cannot."

That was an odd thing to lie about. I had a hunch, but I needed him to tell me more. If I was right, though, the rest of this meeting was going to put my acting skills to the test.

I rolled my eyes. "Like actually holding on to captured villains long enough for them to reach prison, maybe?"

"Quite so," Coil replied. "{I promise you, I fully intend to discover how criminal capes continue to escape custody, and put a stop to it.}"

I fought to push down a sudden surge of anger. The implications of Coil's lies seemed obvious: he was involved with helping the villains continuously evade capture, probably as a way of sabotaging the PRT's reputation. I doubted he was the only reason why Brockton Bay was such a cesspit, but he was probably responsible for much of its failure to improve.

If Coil noticed my anger, his body double showed no sign of it. "Of course, I would obviously continue to offer my support to the team, financial and otherwise. {Those who wished to leave would be free to do so,} but I'm confident in my ability to provide excellent incentives for remaining. As part of their compensation, I already assist the Undersiders with many matters of great personal importance to them, much of which would be even easier for me to offer to a legitimate hero team."

It was subtle, but I could definitely see Grue's stance shifting as the conversation continued. I briefly shifted my enhanced hearing to focus on him, picking up an accelerated heart rate and slightly rapid breathing. He didn't seem frightened, unless he was a lot better at hiding his tension than anyone I'd met before, which suggested that he felt...excited? Was he eager for the chance to go legit?

If his circumstances were anything like Tattletale's, I couldn't blame him. I had to wonder just how many villains would jump at the chance to swap their black hat for a white one.

"Very generous," I said. "Let me guess, though; you can only go ahead with this plan if I choose to join in?"

"I very much doubt the plan would work without you," Coil replied. "It's your unique position that has created this opportunity in the first place."

His unspoken meaning was clear. If I wanted Coil to help my (potential) friend and her team of other sympathetic but misguided young capes, I had to go along with his plan.

I took a second to gather my thoughts. "The Wards offer me a great deal of support. Training, equipment, information..."

"All of which I can provide just as well, if not better," Coil replied. "I certainly wouldn't limit you to such a small monthly budget for training resources, not when I have every reason to want to see your power grow."

"Good answer," I said. "You understand that I can't just give the Wards my two weeks of notice and then quit, right? Not only is the PRT my only source of income, they're also housing me, taking care of my schooling, even acting as my legal guardians. Oh, and they own the rights to my name, which I'm kinda attached to."

"Of course, Daystar," Coil replied, as he began ticking points off on his fingers. "When you do leave the Wards, your negotiating position will be more than secure enough for you to keep your claim on your hero identity. I intend to pay you a generous enough salary that income and housing will no longer be issues. Having seen your recent grades at Arcadia, I don't doubt that you are perfectly capable of testing out of school whenever you like. As for guardianship, once you've obtained steady employment and received your GED, it will be trivial to ensure that you receive legal emancipation."

"Wait," I said, holding up a hand. "Did you just imply that you even have moles in the city's school system?"

Coil chuckled. "You would be surprised what information can prove useful for someone with my ambitions."

"More than I wanted to know," I sighed. "Hypothetically, if I agreed to work with you, what would I need to do?"

"For now, nothing," Coil said. "Bide your time. Continue to perform your duties as a Ward, and do your best to ensure that your reputation remains unsullied. In time, I will arrange for certain opportunities are sent your way, chances for you to win further acclaim in the public's eyes. When the Undersiders begin making their play for legitimacy, I expect you to express appropriate public support for their goals. Eventually, you'll be presented with a golden opportunity to leave the Wards and join your new team."

"You don't expect me to spy on my teammates, do you?" I asked. "Or sabotage them somehow?"

"What would be the point?" Coil said. "In order for my plan to work, I need you to be as clean and trustworthy as possible. Besides, {I find that the Protectorate generally do a perfectly fine job of sabotaging themselves.}"

Not long ago, I would have genuinely smiled at that. I couldn't help but think back to the image of a one-armed Armsmaster rescuing me from Lung's wrath.

I pretended to consider his offer. "What happens if I agree now, but want to back out later?"

Coil shrugged. "I would be disappointed, of course, {but I would let you go}. It would seriously impede my plans for the Undersiders, but I can adapt. I don't expect that to happen, however, not considering how much we can each offer the other."

"I have friends on my current team," I said. "Good people, even if they work for a bunch of assholes. What if I don't want to leave them behind?"

I had no idea what Coil actually looked like, but I imagined him smiling broadly to himself in his hidey-hole as the jaws of his trap closed around me. 'Loyalty to my teammates' was another part of the story that Tattletale had been feeding him, another obviously leverage point. He'd let me get around to introducing the topic myself, but I had no doubt he'd planned his response well in advance.

"I wouldn't require you to cut ties with the Wards," Coil said, "just to leave the Protectorate's employ. Of course, if you manage to convince any of your teammates to leave with you, I'm prepared to offer them each a 100,000 dollar signing bonus, plus an equal amount to you as a finder's fee."

I whistled. "That's not exactly small change."

"For acquiring the services of a trained and trusted cape?" Coil said, voice as smug as I'd ever heard. "Why, it's practically a bargain. I know you're not in the hero business to make money, but having money does tend to make life a lot easier."

This was it. Coil was offering to help me be a hero on my own terms, in a way that gave me everything I wanted, and a truckload of money besides. There were hidden threats, of course, but I only knew about them because of the lies I wasn't supposed to have spotted. It was no wonder that Coil felt smug, considering how he seemingly had me dead to rights.

I stood up, and looked the body double right where his eyes would be. "I want to make one thing clear, Coil. If you double cross me, there won't be a single place on this planet you can slither where I won't find you and make you pay."

The double rose to his feet as well, at Coil's instruction. Christ, this guy was tall.

"If you can't trust my word," he said, "{trust that I have no reason to turn against you.} We both stand to gain much from this partnership."

"In that case," I said, holding out my hand, "I accept your offer."

Coil's double shook my hand; the fabric of his body glove felt unnaturally slick, despite being completely dry. "Excellent. For the time being, Tattletale will serve as our point of communication. I'll take my leave, now, but the room is booked for the rest of the evening if you wish to discuss anything with the Undersiders."

The double turned and left without so much as a nod to anyone in the room, leaving us in an awkward silence as soon as the door closed behind him.

Eventually, I decided to break the tension myself. "Tattletale, I think I owe you an apology."

She turned to look at me, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

I grinned. "It turns out you're only the second-most insufferably smug and long-winded person on the planet."

Tattletale gave an undignified snort of surprised laughter, Grue chuckled, and Regent practically cackled.

"Finally," he said, "someone who sympathizes with my plight!"

I sat back down on the couch, and Tattletale sat down beside me. With a shrug, Regent took a seat on my other side, while Grue took that chair that Coil's double had occupied.

"I'm not going to get you in trouble with comments like that, am I?" I asked. "Like, if he left any bugs in the room?"

"Room's clean," Tattletale grinned. "Even the ones the business owners put in, not that they're dumb enough to try to get blackmail material on our boss."

She put a very subtle emphasis on the word 'our,' and I got the feeling it was about more than just me being an honorary Undersider now. Nobody else here could know what Lisa and I were planning; Lisa liked her gang, but she didn't trust them not to choose her over Coil.

I pulled down my bandana to reveal my face. "Tattletale already knows me, so there's no point in hiding. My name's Taylor."

Tattletale pulled off her own mask. "Lisa," she said, "but you already knew that. We're practically besties by this point."

Grue pulled off his motorcycle helmet, revealing a dark, ruggedly handsome face with a strong chin and hair braided into cornrows. He tucked the helmet under one armed and offered the other for me to shake. "It's good to meet you, Taylor. I'm Brian."

Regent went last, and the face behind his faux-venetian mask turned out to be remarkably sharp-featured and androgynous. "Hey, I'm Alec. You once punched me in the gut so hard that I went cross-eyed."

I grimaced in the face of his disturbingly emotionless gaze. "Heh, yeah, I guess I did. No hard feelings?"

He shrugged. "Buy me a pizza sometime and we're good. What kind of video games do you play?"

Brian shot him a glare, though it was at least slightly amused. "Really, Alec? That's the first thing you want to know?"

"Hey," Alec replied, "if she's going to be a part of the team, I need to ask her the important questions. Have to make sure we're fundamentally compatible."

"I like Mario Kart?" I said, prompting Alec to raise an eyebrow. "I used to think that I liked playing Halo with the other Wards, but PHO keeps telling me that I've obviously never touched the game. RPGs look like they take too much time, and I don't understand why anyone would play a sports game when they could just go out and play the sport instead."

Alec hummed. "I dunno, sounds pretty casual to me."

Lisa reached behind me to lightly slap Regent on the back of the head. "Alec, be nice. She hasn't been gaming long enough to know that 'casual' is a four-letter-word in your circles. If you're feeling brave, you should introduce her to that Street Fighter game you love to complain about."

I almost jumped out of my seat when, instead of pulling her arm back, Lisa let it rest across my shoulders, before scooting herself close enough to gently lean against my side.

"W-what's a Street Fighter?" I stammered, trying and failing to play it casual.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Alec said, grinning ear to ear. I wasn't sure he was still talking about the video game.

Brian awkwardly coughed into his fist. "So, Taylor, you probably have questions about what it's like working for the boss?"

"Uh, yeah, absolutely," I said, grateful for the change of topic. "I know I joked about it earlier, but is he really that overdramatic all the time?"

"I honestly can't tell you," Brian said, shrugging. "We actually hadn't met him face-to-face before tonight. Still haven't, I suppose. He used to just relay all his orders through Lisa."

"You've seen how much he loves his cloak-and-dagger stuff," Lisa said. When had she started resting her head against my shoulder? It wasn't uncomfortable; quite the opposite, really, but-

"He pays well enough," Regent added, "and mostly lets us do our own thing. Occasionally, he'll ask us to do certain jobs, but they've never been that tough until just recently."

"What happened recently?" I asked, even though I only had half my mind on the conversation.

"The Ruby Dreams Casino," Lisa said. "Coil wanted us to grab a bunch of files off the owner's computer, looking for connections to the ABB. Cracking the vault was just a way to get some extra cash and draw attention away from the main job. It was going just fine, too, until a bunch of busybodies showed up to cause trouble."

Her tone was playful, so I responded in kind. "I'm not going to apologize for almost kicking your asses, you know."

"I told you," Alec said, still grinning, "I don't want apologies, just pizza, and now a chance to see if I can get you to do a Hadouken in real life."

Lisa chuckled. With the way she was nestled against me, it proved to be very distracting.

"I feel like I'm going to regret this," I said, "but what's a Hadouken?"

"Quarter-circle forward, then punch," he replied, matter-of-factly.

Brian rolled his eyes. "Alec, stop teasing her."

"Sure," Alec said. "Lisa seems to be doing a good enough job of that all on her own."

Lisa stuck her tongue out at Alec, before turning her attention back to me. "The biggest job he's ever given us would have been a bank robbery last week, except Brian and Rachel were still too busted-up from our run-in with Lung. Coil wasn't happy we had to cancel, but I pointed out that people might have a hard time taking bank robbers on crutches seriously."

I probably should have been more disturbed by the casual way Lisa talked about committing major crimes like bank robbery, but then, she was a villain. When I thought about it, it probably didn't bother me too much because it was easy to see how I might have ended up in the same situation. On the other hand, though, it might have been something to do with the way she'd cuddled up against me, all soft and warm...

Lisa suddenly jumped to her feet, just as I was almost maybe beginning to start feeling comfortable. I did my best not to pout.

"Hey, you know what we could do?" she said, before grabbing a microphone off the table and thrusting it in Alec's face.

Alec pushed it out of the way with one finger. "Watch you three embarass yourselves? Because that sounds fun."

"Being embarrassing is half the point," Lisa said, before turning the microphone to me. "What do you say, Taylor?"

I looked up at her in confusion. "You want to...karaoke? Here? Now?"

She shrugged. "Why not? Call it a team-building exercise? We can even order snacks on Coil's dime."

"But you're still in your villain costumes," I said, sounding less sure than I'd intended.

Lisa beamed. "No problem! We all brought civvie clothes to change into."

Alec frowned. "We did?"

Lisa pulled a small canvas bag out from under the table and tossed it to him, before leaning in closer to me.

"So, what do you say, Taylor? I bet you have a lovely singing voice~"

I never really had a chance.

--

It was nearly midnight by the time Lisa and I left the lounge. She'd told her teammates that she wanted me to walk her home, and with the way she'd been clinging to me all night, they didn't seem surprised.

"I don't know if Alec was more impressed by your singing," she said, "or how many mozza sticks you managed to put away."

I grinned. "Either way, I'm definitely the champion of something."

Lisa laughed, and before I knew it, she'd slipped her hand into mine. For what had to be the hundredth time that evening, I felt another blush start to rise up my face.

"Hey, uh, Lisa," I said, "not that I mind or anything, because I really, really don't, but is there a reason that you've spent practically the whole night...ah…"

"Flirting with you?" she offered.

I suddenly found myself unable to manage words, so I just nodded.

"I'm glad you asked," she said, giving me a sly smile that definitely raised my temperature by another few degrees.

She drew closer to me, and spoke just above a whisper. "Now that they know I'm a little sweet on you, the others won't question if we spend a lot of time off by ourselves. It'll make it easier for us to talk about the plan."

"Oh, right, the plan," I said, trying not to sound too dejected. Did I even feel dejected? It wasn't like I actually thought that Lisa and I might be a thing...right?

We walked in silence for a time, still hand in hand despite how awkward it should have been. Lisa hadn't sounded like she was letting me down; she mostly just sounded quite pleased with herself, which was pretty much her default mood.

Lisa's voice brought me out of my reverie. "Ah, we're here!"

I looked at the fancy apartment building she was gesturing towards, and realized that we were probably less than a block away from where Colin lived. Well, 'lived.'

"Looks like a nice place," I said. "How long have you been set up here?"

"About six months," she replied. "I split my time about 50/50 between here and the lair. Living with the team is nice, but sometimes I just need my own space, you know?"

"Probably more than you realize," I replied. "Speaking of, I should probably get going myse-"

Without warning, Lisa darted next to me and kissed me on the cheek. When she stepped away, she was blushing about as brightly as I must have been, and the way she'd had to stand on her tip-toes to reach somehow made her even more endearing.

"I didn't say I was pretending to be sweet on you," she said. "You're cute, Taylor, especially when you're all flustered like this. I'd like to get to know you better."

"I...that was...you…" I stumbled over my words, before finally collecting enough of my wits to respond. "Lisa, you are a very confusing girl."

She flashed me a vulpine grin. "Aw, that's so sweet of you to say. Goodnight, Taylor~"

--

I must have made it back to the apartment somehow, because I woke up there the next morning still understanding nothing about what was going on in my life. I was so out of it, I didn't even notice the smell of smoke in the air until I steppied into the kitchen and saw Colin, in slacks and a button-up shirt, flailing away at a burning frying pan with a dish towel. Dragon's digital persona looked on in horror from a tablet resting on the kitchen table.

I spotted Nova last, sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, politely watching Colin's madcap antics while wagging her tail back and forth. Silly little fuzzball probably planned to beg him for some bacon of her own. Considering how Nova's sad puppy eyes rated at least a Master 4 classification, it might even have worked, had Colin left any bacon unburned.

"Oh, sorry," I said. "Didn't realize I was still dreaming. I'll just go back to bed and let you get on with your not making sense."

With a triumphant "Ha!" Colin finally managed to smother the grease fire, before turning to me like he'd just noticed I was there.

"Good morning, Taylor," he said, stoic as always. "Everything is under control. On an unrelated note, how do you feel about, uh…"

"McDonald's," Dragon said, her tone full of wry amusement.

"McDonalds for breakfast?" Colin finished.

I blinked at him a few times before replying. "You know what? Sure. Fair warning, I plan to order all of their coffee, and it might not be enough."

--

A/N: This Coil guy seems like he's on the up-and-up!

Dragon manages to convince Armsmaster to spend one night in his apartment, and it happens to be the night that Taylor's out singing karaoke with villains. Surely many shenanigans will ensue as Taylor comes up with increasingly plausible excuses! Except, of course, for that bit where Armsmaster is completely aware of the plan, and inclined regardless to let Taylor do her own thing in her private time.

None of the stuff after Coil left the meeting was on my original outline for this chapter, but it turned out to be a lot of fun to write. I'm pretty much done next week's chapter already, so I should hopefully have a more robust buffer established in no time. Writing shorter chapters would probably make that job easier, but I keep thinking things like "No, I don't want to leave the readers with just that for a whole week." It's a pretty good excuse for my terrible self-control, I think.

Next time, on Daystar!: Taylor's adventures in therapy! Fight Club 2: Bob's Revenge! (Tagline: "That meatloaf's coming back up in the worst way"). The Wards ride again!

As always, dear readers, thanks for being here!

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WinterWombat

Jan 23, 2020

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

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Jan 30, 2020

#3,596

April 20th, 2011

"...and then she kissed me. On the cheek. I just kind of...shut down? Not in a bad way, like, I don't think it was dissociation or fugue or anything, more like I just forgot how words work. Not that I didn't like it, at least by the time I got my wits back, but now I can't stop thinking about what she meant by it. Plus, there's this other girl I like, and I think she likes me, and I feel like I might be doing wrong by her even though we've never actually asked each other out. Does any of that make sense?"

I let myself sink back into the incredibly plush recliner, mostly so I didn't have to try looking Dr. Powell in the eyes.

"That's messed up, right? Not the part where getting kissed by a pretty girl made me see stars, I mean, but the fact that I'm more worried about the kiss than about the potentially lethal situations I throw myself into on an almost daily basis?"

I closed my eyes and waited for Dr. Powell to spend another thirty seconds flipping through papers before replying.

"From what I'm seeing here, Taylor, I have to wonder if the problem has anything to do with the recent lack of deadly situations. Are you aware that parahumans tend to experience elevated stress and anxiety when denied the opportunity to use their powers? It looks like you haven't had the chance to go on regular patrols since the Lung, er, incident."

"Sure," I said, "I won't deny I'm starting to feel a bit restless at being benched for so long, but I understand why that's happening, and I've found other ways to keep busy. Besides, shouldn't being kept out of the action be making me think even more about fighting, instead of obsessing over how much to read into potentially romantic signals from cute girls?"

I counted the seconds as I waited for her to shuffle through more papers. This time, it took her almost a minute to find what she was looking for.

"I wonder, have you always had this sort of reaction, or did you feel differently whenever your peers tried expressing romantic interest in the past?"

I sighed. "I'd love to tell you, but until a few months ago, people were more likely to treat me like a leper than ask me out on a date."

Dr. Powell clicked her tongue. "Taylor, if you're not comfortable with talking about this, you can just tell me. You don't have make up reasons for it."

That got me to sit up straight again. "I'm not making anything up."

Dr. Power gave me a steady glare. "Forgive me, but I find it difficult to believe that an attractive young woman such as yourself hasn't drawn at least some interest from besotted teens in the past."

I had to take three deep breaths to calm myself before I managed to respond. "I wasn't always...it didn't matter what...I...no, no, I'm not going through this again. Didn't Dr. Arsenault's notes explain what I went through at Winslow?"

I gave Dr. Powell a look just one or two notches below an outright glare, silently daring her to shuffle through her notes one more time. Antagonizing my therapist probably wouldn't make these sessions any more pleasant, but she'd be gone at the end of the month regardless.

"I, well," she paused, suddenly unable to meet my eyes. "{I'd prefer to hear you tell it in your own words first, Taylor.}"

Damnit. I'd promised myself I wasn't going to lean on my Judge's Ear ability in therapy, but I'd started using it without thinking as soon as Dr. Powell got my hackles up. It wasn't like I needed parahuman powers to tell that she was talking bullshit, but I was more disappointed in my own lapse of control than my therapist's utter ineptitude. That part, at least, I'd grown to expect.

I sank back into the chair. "I'm not comfortable talking about this. Could go over some more anger-management exercises instead?"

"Of course, Taylor. Let me just see how you'd progressed with Dr. Arsenault."

The relief in her voice as she returned to leafing through her pile of notes almost made me want to throw up. No, scratch that. It made me want to throw a chair through the window and dive out after it, twenty-story drop be damned. I was confident I could survive a fall from this height, which was more than I could say for sitting through the rest of this session.

"Okay, Taylor, I'd like to start with some basic breathing exercises…"

--

Once I finished my 'vocational study' period with Dr. Powell, I jogged back to Arcadia just in time to hear the final bell ring. I made my way to the appropriate gym and went through the mechanical motions of setting up the mats, while going over my lesson plan in my head for what must have been the hundredth time.

The whole way over, I hadn't been able to get Winslow out of my mind. I tried not to pay attention to the little whispering remnant of my old paranoia, which wanted to convince me that this was all just some elaborate prank. That said, even I had to admit that the idea was starting to look more and more ridiculous. If anyone had been only pretending to be my friend for the last two months, it said more about their obsession than my gullibility.

Amy arrived first, probably thanks to Vicky all but shoving her along.

"C'mon, Ames, you told me last time that you had a blast! Don't think I didn't notice the way you couldn't seem to stop smiling when you got back."

"Must have been a concussion," Amy grumped. "I can't believe you'd force your own sister to risk that kind of cranial trauma again."

"So wear a helmet," Vicky said, entirely without pity. "I'm not going to let you talk yourself out of making friends. Speaking of, hey Taylor!"

"Hey, Vicky," I replied, suppressing the urge to chuckle at Amy's withering scowl. "Thanks for keeping my star pupil from running away."

Amy had the same look she always got when she knew she was going to end up agreeing with Vicky, but didn't want to just give up without a fight.

"If you really want me here," she grumbled, "the mockery is a real funny way of showing it."

I frowned. "Mockery? I'm sorry, but I'm not sure-"

"Star Pupil," Amy said, adding finger-quotes for additional sarcasm.

"Amy," I said, "I was being serious. You've already got at least a dozen hours more training than anyone else I've invited, more if you kept up with practicing on your own. I was actually hoping to ask you to help with some of the newbies for the first few classes, since it might be a bit boring for you otherwise."

Amy's frown vanished, replaced by a pink glow of embarrassment. "Oh. I, uh...sorry."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I understand where you're coming from."

What I really wanted to say was something like 'I know what it's like to feel as if you always have to protect yourself from everyone around you, like the whole world is just waiting for you to let your guard down so it can crush you flat. I know what it's like to hear other people tear you down so often that you start to believe them, until compliments start to feel like the bigger threat because at least the insults are familiar. I've been there, and I can help you.'

That wasn't the kind of thing I could say in the middle of a high school gym, though, not least because there was a good chance I was reading things completely the wrong way. If I was right, though, bringing it up would inevitably raise the question of who was responsible for making Amy feel this way, and I couldn't be sure what I'd do when I found out. I had my suspicions, but I wasn't in any position to act on yet. For now, all I could do was mentally underline 'Help Amy' on my be-a-better-Taylor checklist.

Before I could get too lost in my concerns for Amy, I caught sight of Jess entering the gym, with a small group of other girls trailing behind her like ducklings following their mother. I got her attention and waved her over, before turning back to Vicky.

"Sorry," I said, "but I'm going to have to go into teacher mood soon. If you're free this weekend, you should come by my new place on Saturday for movie night. We're drawing DVDs out of a hat, so bring one of your favorites if you can."

Vicky grinned. "I'll be there, especially if you're going to be catering. 'Till then, though, I gotta fly. Have fun, Ames! Toodles, Taytay!"

I turned to face the approaching group as Vicky literally flew off. I opened my mouth to greet everyone, but froze when I spotted Emma at the rear of the procession. She'd done such a good job of staying out of my way that, if it wasn't for occasional brief encounters in the cafeteria, I might have forgotten she went to this school at all.

Emma went pale as a sheet the moment she noticed me, eyes going wide with panic. Something in me thrilled at the sight of her fear, a reminder that I was the one with all the power now. Why should I be afraid of her? Of this? I'd become so much stronger these last few months, while she had broken. If Arcadias did turn into another Winslow, I'd end up as the predator, and she would be my prey.

The brief moment of schadenfreude did more to silence my anxiety than any amount of therapy and deep-breathing exercises had ever managed. I was tempted to indulge in it for a little longer; Emma was the one who gave me all this baggage in the first place, so it was only fair that she help me feel better. Instead, I throttled the idea down, hard. I didn't want to be the kind of person who enjoyed looking at people like that.

So, instead of doing something that I'd feel awful about later, I gave Emma my best attempt at a reassuring smile. This was a chance to bump 'Help Emma' a few steps higher on the list, and I wasn't going to waste it.

"T-Taylor," she stuttered, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were the one teaching-"

"It's okay, Emma," I said, forcing my voice to remain level. "This is a surprise, but not a bad one. You don't need to stick around if this makes you uncomfortable, but if not, I'd love to have you in the group."

Jess facepalmed. "Aw, shit, I forgot that Emma was that Emma. I've made this really awkward, haven't I?"

I shrugged. "No more than we decide to make it."

"I'll stay, then," Emma said, managing a faint smile. Part of me was still conditioned to be afraid of that expression, but I was finished listening to that part for today.

"Good," I said, "then we get things started. First off, introductions. My name's Taylor Hebert, and I'm in second year. I don't expect anyone to call me Master or Sensei or whatever; just Taylor will do fine. Vicky can apparently get away with calling me Taytay, but only because she's invulnerable."

That got a few chuckles, probably more from the release of tension than from any actual humor.

"Okay," Jess said, "now tell us your favorite flavor of ice-cream."

"Tiger tail," I said. "Also, why?"

"We need to have some kind of icebreaker game," Jess explained. "Cats or Dogs is liable to start a civil war, Ideal Parahuman Power takes too long, and Favorite Local Cape would be boring because most of us would just say Daystar. Hence, the tried and true Favorite Ice-Cream approach."

I blinked at her. "You've put a lot of thought into this. How about you go next?"

"Sure," she said, grinning. "My name's Jessica MacLeod, but everybody calls me Jess. I moved to Brockton Bay from Scotland about five years ago, I play on the school's JV soccer team, and my favorite ice-cream flavor is tablet because I'm basically a national stereotype. Next?"

One of the girls I didn't recognize stepped forward. She was a bit under average height, which made her look extra short next to Jess and I. She'd tied her long, black hair up in a ponytail, and wore a pair of tastefully minimalistic glasses.

"My name is Mia Lan," she said. "I'm in third year, and part of the track team. My favorite ice-cream flavor is vanilla, and no, I don't care that it's boring. I absolutely will fight you over this... as soon as Taylor teaches me how."

I grinned. "Nice to meet you, Mia. Who wants to go next?"

The next girl to step up looked like she might blow away in a stiff breeze. She was almost as pale as Jess, with wispy blonde hair reaching down past her shoulders, and she wore a black t-shirt bearing what was either the logo of a heavy metal band or an ornate sculpture in barbed wire.

"Tracy Irwin," she said, "but my friends call me 'Killer,' or at least they would if they were cool enough. I'm in first year, new in town, and not a part of any after-school activities, assuming you don't count freaking out over how many villains you have running around here. I'm tempted to say that my favorite ice-cream is black licorice, just to stay on-theme, but it's actually cotton candy."

"Glad to meet you, Killer," Jess said, before chuckling at Tracy's overexaggerated expression of regret.

I glanced over at Amy, who rolled her eyes but stepped forward just the same.

"I'm Amy Dallon," she said, "and yes, before you ask, I'm that Amy Dallon. I've lived in Brockton Bay all my life, and this is the first time I've tried to join a school club in years. My favorite ice-cream flavor is coffee, though honestly, the ice-cream part is optional."

"I've promised Amy that she won't have to heal anyone here," I said, "so if you do something stupid and break your spleen in five places, you're on your own. Her sister and I are engaged in a devious conspiracy to force her to stop working herself to death, so I'm declaring that fight-time is also no-powers-time. If any of you are secretly also capes, that goes for you too."

More chuckles. With Amy finished, Emma was the only one left. Despite her obvious nervousness, she clearly still knew how to put on a confident smile and talk to people.

"My name is Emma Barnes. I'm in second year, and I just transferred over from Winslow. Compared to that place, Arcadia feels like a dream come true. I came here too late in the term to join most clubs, so this little group is kind of a godsend. Oh, and my favorite ice-cream is raspberry ripple, but I'm more of a fan of frozen yogurt."

I just barely managed to avoid letting my smile slip. I hadn't even known that Emma had ever tried frozen yogurt, let alone come to prefer it. It must have happened sometime after she…

No. I already decided I wasn't thinking about that today. I still had a job to do.

"Alright, girls," I said, "now that everyone's introduced, I can officially welcome you to the first meeting of Arcadia's new Self-Defense Club. My goal is to teach you all as much as I can about how to handle yourselves in a fight. If you're just here because you want to improve your fitness, or you're interested in MMA as a sport, there are other clubs at Arcadia that will better serve your needs, and I'll do what I can to make sure you get a place there. If you're here because you want to learn how to better protect yourself and others, though, I might be able to help you."

I took a second to look everyone over, watching their responses to what I'd said. Jess and Tracy both looked amused, while Mia just nodded in agreement. Emma's entire body had tensed up, but her steady gaze made me think more of determination than fear. Amy's expression was totally unreadable, but at least she wasn't snarking at anyone.

"If you're still interested, there are a few ground rules you'll need to follow. First, if anyone says 'stop' or taps out, you stop whatever you're doing immediately, no delays, no questions. Second, after today, I expect everyone to show up ready to practice. That means in the gym, wearing your workout clothes, with nails trimmed and all jewelry stowed away. Thirdly, I expect you all to treat each other with respect. That means no mocking, no gloating, and no trying to force someone into anything they're not comfortable with. Lastly, I want to make it clear that you're responsible for your partners' safety as well as your own; make sure to check with them if you think they might be injured or otherwise unwell. Is everyone prepared to follow these rules?"

The whole group nodded or otherwise demonstrated their assent. It looked like Jess had found some decent people.

"Great!" I beamed. "We won't be doing any actual punching today, though. Instead, I want to figure out where everyone is at fitness-wise, and what you're hoping to get out of training. My own approach to fighting is a bit eclectic, so I'm going to try to figure out what style will work best for each of you. I've been training Amy here for a few weeks already, so I'm also going to have her demonstrate you a little bit of what you'll be learning, assuming that's alright with her."

Amy looked surprised, but managed a hesitant nod.

I gave her a grin in return, before addressing the whole group again. "Sounds like as good a time as any to begin, then. We'll start with an easy lap around the gym, then move on to the most scientifically optimized warm-up routine any of us will ever see, courtesy of one of my own trainers…"

--

The rest of the meetings went swimmingly. Everyone but Jess and I still had a ways to go on general fitness, but that was expected, and no one actually complained about the exercise. I had the chance to walk Amy through a few demonstrations, too. Everyone seemed rather impressed with the way she could toss me around the mat despite the significant size difference. I closed out the meeting by getting everyone's contact info and inviting them to Pizza on friday.

While everyone else left, Emma stayed behind to help me put everything away. She was easily in the worst shape of anyone in the group, but she'd pushed herself so hard the whole time that her legs looked about ready to turn to rubber. I wanted to tell her to go rest and let me handle everything, but I had the feeling that she'd be disappointed. Once we'd stowed the last of the mats in the gym supply room, though, she turned to leave without a word. .

"Emma, wait," I said, before she could go. "Do you have a few moments to talk?"

I knew I wouldn't have the courage to go through with this once we were back in the public area. Fortunately, Emma turned around as soon as I spoke, and rushed back as quick as her wavering legs could carry her.

"I'm sorry," she said, as soon as she came close enough, "I'm so sorry. I know you told me to stay away from your friends, and I've really been trying to keep-"

Before she could fall fully into panic, I put a hand on her shoulder to get her attention back. "Emma, it's fine. I'm the one who should apologize, honestly. I haven't been treating you fairly. You should be allowed to hang out and be friends with anyone you like."

Emma's eyes went wide. "You don't have to say that, Taylor. You told me that I would need to work for your forgiveness, and that's what I'm going to do."

"Maybe that's my problem," I said. "When I told you all that, I wasn't thinking about what it would take for me to let go of my anger. I was angry, and scared, and confused, and so I tried to find a way to take back control."

"You had every right to," Emma said, slumping into a tired, defeated posture. "I still don't mind. If that's what you want from me, then…"

"I don't want a puppet!" I said. "I don't want to help you turn your life into some kind of monument to everything you've done wrong! If you think I'm so great, why would you believe that I take any joy in watching you suffer?"

Emma shrank back from me, and I realized I'd been yelling.

"Emma, I'm sorry," I said, forcing myself to act calm. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't know what I want. I believe that you're really sorry, and that you want to make up for what you've done. I just wish I could explain why that isn't enough. I wish I knew what to do to make things right between us, but I don't."

Emma gathered herself up and managed to look me in the eye. "You know, you sound a lot like my therapist sometimes. I just want to find a way to make up for all the evil I've done, so we can go back to how we used to be. I promise, Taylor, I'll never let myself hurt you like that again if you just give me a chance."

I shook my head, even as the world seemed to spin around me. "Emma, I don't...I can't…"

Emma lowered her eyes. "I understand, Taylor. I'm sorry for bringing it up."

She turned around and left without another word, and I couldn't bring myself to stop her.

--

By the time I finished packing up I felt just about ready to crawl into bed and do my best to forget that the rest of the world even existed. Before that could happen, though, I needed to pick Nova up from the PRT building. I sleepwalked through security and made my way to the Wards HQ only half-aware, so it took me a while to process the sight that met me there.

Sophia sat on one of the couches, half in costume, playing tug-of-war with Nova over a big rubber ring. Nova may have been small, but she threw her entire body into each tug, leaping to and fro across the couch cushions to drag Sophia's arm around willy-nilly. Sophia leaned in and gave Nova a playful growl, which the dog returned in kind, before suddenly letting go of the ring, leaping off the couch, and bounding her way over to me.

I dropped to my knees, fatigue be damned, and laughed as my little ball of fluff and sunshine welcomed me back in the way that only dogs can.

"Where's Hannah?" I asked, before breaking down giggling, as Nova somehow managed to climb onto my shoulder and start licking at my ear.

"Had to go," Sophia said. "She was going to put the dog in her crate, but I said I'd look after her."

I managed to grab Nova before she got herself tangled in my hair, and pulled her around to sit in my lap. "Well, thanks for taking care of her."

Sophia shrugged. "Wasn't a problem. She's a cute dog."

"She really is," I said, grinning. "Should I take this to mean that you're willing to speak to me again?"

"Sure, Hebert," Sophia said, rolling her eyes. "Whatever."

I looked at her face for some sign of emotion, but found nothing. "Any plans to tell me why you were giving me the cold shoulder all week, then?"

"Nope."

I stared at her blankly for several more seconds before shrugging. "Fuck it. Why not? Glad to have you back, Sophia."

Sophia flipped me the bird, but I decided to see it as an affectionate gesture. Nova must have noticed my attention straying, because she rolled over onto her back and stared up at me with those big, bright, give-me-belly-rubs-please puppy eyes. Absolutely helpless, I caved to her demands instantly.

"So, mind if I complain about my new therapist?" I asked, mostly to fill the silence.

"Fuck" Sophia grumbled, "I can't stand the shrinks they keep bringing through here."

I continued to rub Nova's belly as I laid out my grievances with Dr. Powell. Whatever the exact issues between Sophia and I might be, I knew that this didn't really solve anything. The whole mess would probably pop right back up again at the worst possible moment. That would have to be a problem for future Taylor, though, because I'd already had more than enough emotional honesty for one day. Tonight, I was going to play with my puppy, make some 'thank you for dogsitting' food for Sophia, and pretend that I was actually making progress on my many, many problems.

--

A/N: Nova is the best ambassador, and is absolutely getting extra treats for her diplomatic accomplishments.

I feel a bit bad about throwing in another slice-of-life chapter here, when a more action-y segment would probably be better for the pacing. Still, I'm happy with how the chapter itself turned out. Taylor's trying to be more mature, but change doesn't happen all at once, and her therapist kinda sucks. Unfortunately, I doubt that Jessica Yamada will be making an appearance in this fic, mostly because I want the PRT/Protectorate to have more than one competent mental health professional on staff.

Next Time, on Daystar!: The Wards respond to a new crisis! Taylor gets a present! Coil probably does something creepy, because he's awful like that!

Thanks for reading, friends

Last edited: Jan 30, 2020

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WinterWombat

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