Quest

by Kahlil Johnson

Uhhhh

40. Star4

April 21st

I woke up to the frantic ringing of my Wards phone, blaring out the tinny siren sound that indicated a priority call. I flailed around in the dark trying to find where I'd left it, before I thought to just flare my emblem. The golden glow from my forehead-mounted flashlight helped me find the phone's hiding spot under a small pile of dirty laundry, evidence that having my own room was already letting me fall back into bad habits. I half-crawled, half-rolled out of bed to grab my phone, taking a second to check the time before answering. 11:13PM, only an hour since I'd fallen asleep.

"Daystar here," I said, once I'd brought the phone up to my ear.

"This is Armsmaster. There's been a series of bombings near the intersection of Westermorland and Blake. I'm on the lookout for the culprits, suspected to be ABB agents. I need you and the other Wards to report to the bombing site for search and rescue duty ASAP. Can you handle that?"

"Of course," I said, adrenaline washing away my fatigue, "I know the area. I'll be there as soon as...shit. I'll need to grab my costume from the PRT building."

"Incorrect," Armsmaster said. "I keep a spare copy of your costume in my secure room for occasions such as this, and I've already granted you access. Consider this your return to active duty. Suit up as quick as you can, and make your way to the scene on-foot. Once you arrive, take your orders from the specialists on site; they'll know how to put you to work."

"You can count on me," I replied. "Good hunting."

He grunted. "Let's hope. Armsmaster out."

--

Between my time in the Wards and the month I'd spent living on the streets, I'd seen my fair share of crime scenes, but none of it prepared me for the sight of an entire street plasted to rubble by a coordinated bombing. Some of the buildings had collapsed entirely, while others seemed to be gradually sinking in on themselves. Most of them had been stores or restaurants of some kind, two or three story buildings with the top levels used as apartments or offices, and the way they crowded so close together had only served to make the damage worse.

Less than an hour ago, this had been just another part of the city, and yet now it looked like some kind of warzone. It probably hadn't been that busy at this time of night, but there had been people here, people who might still be alive, trapped under the rubble. People who needed help.

The street itself was filled with rubble, wrecked vehicles, and all manner of first responders either tending to the wounded or moving rubble to make way for the ambulances. I spotted Aegis at the edge of all the bustle, talking to someone in a white hard hat who I guessed to be some kind of authority. I rushed over to their side as quickly as seemed safe, all the better to keep from gawking at the devastation surrounding me.

"Daystar," Aegis nodded in my direction, "good to have you here. I need to get to work, but Captain Diaz here will tell you what to do."

Most of Captain Diaz's face was concealed by a respirator mask. As soon as I turned to her, she tossed me an identical one.

"For fumes, smoke, and concrete dust," she said. "Filters are good for an hour. You aren't trained to replace them yourself, but someone at the supply station can trade you a new mask if you need one."

I nodded. My helmet left enough of my lower face uncovered for the respirator to fit, if a little bit snugly. Once I had it secured, Diaz gestured for me to lean down so she could check my work.

"Daystar. You're new, yeah?" She said, seemingly satisfied that my mask was on properly. "Brute, right?"

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Stronger than Aegis, but not as resilient. I also have enhanced hearing, and a Striker power that repairs objects."

She seemed to consider that for a second. "What kind of objects? Can you repair buildings?"

"I...I'm not sure," I said. "I couldn't manage it during power testing, but I've grown a lot stronger since then. I feel like I could maybe pull it off?"

Diaz glared at me. "We don't have time to sit around worrying about 'maybe,' kid. Yes or no?"

"Yes," I said, before I could think about it.

Diaz nodded. "Good. That engineering team behind me needs help keeping their building from collapsing, so I want you to do what you can to help them out. When they're done with you, find Aegis and join him on the Brute squad."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, but I received no response. Her attention had already shifted to another crisis. I jogged over to the team she'd pointed out, standing a fair distance back from a three-story building that looked like it had collapsed in on itself. I couldn't see any signs of fire, just cracked and crumbling walls, broken glass, and exposed support beams. Considering that the ABB had a bomb Tinker on their roster, I had no way to even guess what had actually caused the damage.

"Daystar here," I said as I reached the group. "Diaz sent me to help. I have a power that can repair things, but I'm not sure it handle all of...this."

Another rescue worker, whose PPE nametag marked him as Wright, gave me an appraising look through his smoke goggles. "We don't need to fix the whole building, just make sure it doesn't collapse while we pull people out. Anything you can do about that?"

"I'll try," I said, then carefully approached the building. My enhanced hearing let me pick out the sound of breathing from inside the wreckage. I took a few seconds to focus on the sound, listening for any relevant details.

"I can hear three people breathing in there," I called back to the rescue team. "One sounds injured, the other two just seem scared."

I turned my attention back to the building itself. My intuitive sense of my power balked at the idea of knitting the entire structure back together, so I forced myself to concentrate on individual pieces of the whole, looking for the most critical damaged segments. It took several minutes before an intuitive understanding of the building's structure began to crystallize in my mind's eye, but when it did, I broke out into a wide grin. I could do this.

I put one hand lightly against a sagging support beam and willed my essence into it. The beam glowed blindingly bright for a few seconds, before snapping into place with the indescribable sound of wood un-splintering. The structure groaned at the sudden shift, but my mental image of the building promised that it would hold. I stepped through the off-kilter doorframe into the building's interior, crawling in between piles of rubble and collapsed ceilings to repair the parts my power told me were most important.

By the time I came out, I was breathing heavily, already feeling the strain on my essence, but I didn't let it dampen my grin.

"You're clear to go in," I called out. "I've reinforced it enough that it won't collapse, and fixed the basement stairs so you can reach the people down there."

Wright nodded at me. "Well done. You mentioned that you could hear how many survivors were inside. Is that trick reliable?"

"It should be," I said. "My hearing's really sharp. I could hear their breathing through the rubble, maybe even their heartbeats if they were close enough."

Wright's eye widened behind his visor, just for an instant. "Okay. I want you to move up this side of the street, one building at a time. If you hear any survivors, try to shore up the building enough for entry. Once you reach the end of the row, double back and reinforce the buildings that sounded empty. We're going to need to check them all eventually. If you start to feel tired or light-headed, you will take a break at the recovery station. Understood?"

I nodded. "Understood, sir."

The next building sounded empty of life, but the one after held five people on two different floors. I could hear at least two of them whimpering in pain as I worked, and a part of me demanded that I immediately rush to help them, but the rescue workers knew how to safely extract people better than I did. All I could do was try to reassure them that help was on the way.

By the time I finished with the third building, I could already feel my essence start to fade in strength. I could draw on my anima to bolster it, but I wanted to save that in case of a sudden attack or other emergency. Plus, I didn't think the sudden appearance of a giant space tiger above the disaster area would help keep people calm. Instead, I made my way back towards the tent marked as the recovery area. As soon as I stepped into the tent (making sure to stay out of the way of the paramedics flitting in and out) I spotted Amy in her Panacea costume, tending to someone who looked like they'd just been pulled out of the rubble.

"So," I said, grabbing an empty chair nearby, "they got you out of bed for this too?"

Amy spared a quick glare in my direction, but I could tell her heart wasn't in it. "Not really. I was already at the hospital when the call came in. I'm probably going to head there afterwards, too. What're you doing here?"

I shrugged. "Turns out my power's good at reinforcing crumbling buildings. Takes a lot out of me, though, so I'm taking a breather. What the hell were you doing at the hospital at 11:00 on a school night?"

Amy pulled her hand away from her sleeping patient, and waved a pair of paramedics closer. "He's stable enough for transport, but he lost a lot of blood. You'll want to put him on fluids ASAP."

She turned her attention back to me, her scowl returning in an instant. "It's funny, but people don't stop getting injured just because the sun's down. They always need me there."

It was my turn to frown. "The hospital calls you in to work the late night shift on a Thursday?"

Amy's glare sharpened. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Daystar."

"I'm your friend, Amy," I said. "That makes your business my business, especially when it comes to your wellbeing. Fess up."

After a brief but intense staring contest, Amy finally dropped her glare and sighed. "They didn't call me in. I sneak out at night sometimes to go heal people, okay?"

"Christ, Amy. You already spend..." I made a show of counting out days on my fingers, "...too goddamn many hours there. The sick people are still going to be there in the morning."

"Not all of them, asshole," Amy countered. "Not the ones who are hurt so badly that I'm the only one who can stop them from dying."

I considered that for a second. "Okay, but how often do you get a case like that? Not just an emergency, but someone who's going to die without your help, and won't last long enough for Vicky to fly you in?"

Amy huffed and turned away from me, probably looking for another patient to save her from the conversation. "Fuck off. You don't know what it's like, having this kind of responsibility. If I don't do everything I can to help people, how can I call myself a hero?"

I gave her a few seconds to calm down before speaking again, because what I was about to say would definitely piss her off. "If that's how you really think, Amy, I'm honestly surprised you can stand the sight of a villain like me."

That seemed to catch her off guard. "What? You're an asshole sometimes, but that doesn't make you a villain."

"You know my power grows stronger with training," I said. "The harder I work at it, the more I can do. Nobody else has a power like that. Even Dauntless can't actually do anything to speed up his growth; he can only add a bit of extra charge to his gear every day."

"Woo-hoo," Amy said, waving her hand around as if it held a tiny flag. "You're so damn special. Good for you. I still don't see why that's important."

"I think you're deliberately missing the point, Amy," I said. "Every moment I spend having fun with friends or relaxing at home is a moment I could have spent on growing stronger. I have no idea how to even calculate how many people every day get injured, even die, because I wasn't strong enough to save them. Hell, I could claim that the huge clusterfuck we're here to help treat only happened because I wasn't strong enough to beat Lung when I had the chance!"

Amy opened her mouth to say something, but I wasn't finished. "I recently had the opportunity to get training in first aid and trauma medicine. With any luck, I could figure out a healing power of my own, maybe even take some pressure off of you. Instead, I chose to put that off until at least next month so I could learn how to play the flute. Do you think that makes-"

"Wait," Amy said, holding up a hand. "You play the flute?"

I sighed. Of course she'd focus on that. "Barely. I told my teacher that I had super-awesome super learning abilities, but now I look like an idiot because it turns out that said abilities are totally useless when it comes to the one instrument I actually want to get good with. I'm still taking lessons, though, not because I'm trying to develop any crazy music-based superpowers, but because it's something I want to be good at for my own sake."

I fixed Amy with my best stern glare. "Anyways, that's beside the point. According to your logic, every hour I spend puffing and flailing away with Mom's flute is an hour wasted, some innocent's life carelessly tossed away. I hardly even feel bad about it anymore. I'm going to keep practicing with the flute, hanging out with friends, and even asking girls out on dates, and I'm not at all sorry. I can't devote every fibre of my being to saving people, I just can't. If you think that makes me a bad hero, I want you to tell me."

"Yes!" Amy snapped, without a moment of hesitation. "If you're going to be selfish and only use your power when it's convenient for you, you might as well call yourself a villain!"

I reached out, and when she didn't push me away, I took one of her hands in mine. "Is that what you really believe?"

"Yes!" she spat. "No! Fuck. It's...it's what I'm afraid of, okay? Christ, getting you to leave me the hell alone was a lot easier before you turned into a living lie detector."

I grinned, just a little. "Actually, I leave that power off when I'm talking to friends, which you still are. Besides, if you were better at fighting me off, it'd make me a lot worse at helping you with this stuff."

"Oh no," Amy said, rolling her eyes, "that would be terrible. God only knows what would happen if I could go about my day without you exposing my darkest, most fucked-up fears."

"Hey," I said, "you do remember how this conversation started, don't you? If this fear of yours is making you run yourself into the ground trying to be perfect, we've got to do something about it. Have you thought about seeing a therapist?"

Amy scoffed. "What, like one of the PRT's cape shrinks?"

"No," I said, maybe a bit more forcefully than necessary. "Not one of them. Just a normal therapist. It's not like you have a secret identity to protect, right?"

Amy sighed. "Vicky keeps bringing it up, but Carol can't stand the idea. She's worried that a therapist is just going to try to turn us all against her and tear the family apart."

I grimaced. "Yikes. Well, maybe consider looking for someone anyways and just not telling her? And, uh, maybe also telling me if you find someone good? The PRT guys really aren't working out."

Amy managed to chuckle at that. "I dunno, maybe you just need a really annoying friend to dig and dig at you until you're forced to admit to your own bullshit?"

I winced. "Good fucking luck, Amy. My bullshit's so deeply ingrained, it probably deserves its own-"

I stopped short when I began to hear the sound of heavy footfalls rapidly approaching the disaster area. They were far too heavy and fast to be human. I could already hear the first distant sounds of panic following in its wake.

"Something's happening outside," I said, standing up to leave. Amy followed me without a word.

I left the tent just in time to see a pair of Bitch's massive monster-dogs skid to a stop only a few dozen yards away, with all four Undersiders riding on their backs. A quick look around told me that Vista, Gallant, and Shadow Stalker had all arrived on-scene while I hadn't been paying attention. I moved to form up with them as they made a line between the villains and the bombed-out street. I wanted to yell for Lisa to tell me what the hell was going on, but I couldn't exactly act buddy-buddy with villains while my team was around.

I knew Lisa had to have some kind of plan, but I was still caught off guard when she pulled out a length of PVC pipe trailing a scrap of white cloth and started waving it around like a flag.

"Truce!" She yelled, as much at the first responders as at my team. "Truce! We're here to help, not fight."

"Bullshit!" Shadow Stalker yelled back, bringing up her crossbows. "Villains don't just show up and help people!"

Before she could fire, Aegis flew onto the scene, one hand held to his ear in to indicate he was receiving a call.

"Stand down, Shadow Stalker," he said. "HQ says they're legit. They even called in ahead, if only by a minute."

"We were in a hurry," Tattletale shrugged. "Just because we're villains doesn't mean we're okay with the ABB blowing craters in our streets. Regent and I can help locate survivors, while Bitch's dogs can carry heavy cargo faster than you'd believe. People too, if they're okay with a bumpy ride."

Shadow Stalker didn't fire, but she didn't lower her weapons either. "Oh, and I suppose Grue's just here for moral support?"

"I'm here as insurance," Grue yelled back, his power distorting his voice in uncanny ways. "In case any of the so-called heroes decide that capturing a bunch of small-time thieves is more important than saving lives. Otherwise, I can lift and carry stuff as well as anyone else."

I tensed up, ready to intervene if Shadow Stalker decided to pull the trigger anyways. She normally had better sense than that, but she really hated Grue for some reason. Fortunately for everyone, after several tense seconds she simply growled and lowered her crossbows to her sides.

"This is still bullshit," she growled. "I'll be keeping my eye on you."

"I'll try to put on a good show, then." Tattletale taunted back, before sliding off of her mount. I took the chance to approach her.

"I'd keep a lid on it if I were you," I said. "I'll respect the truce, but I'm backing Shadow Stalker if a fight breaks out, no matter who starts it."

Tattletale smirked. "I'd tell you that you're cute when you try to be scary, Daisy, if you weren't actually so scary. Consider me suitably chastened."

I was suddenly so very, very glad that my visor hid most of my face. Flirting with me like this in costume had to be a bad idea for so many reasons, reasons I should have told Lisa right away, but somehow I couldn't manage to think of any of them. Grue led his team over to Captain Diaz to receive assignments, while I turned around to see Amy looking like she'd just stepped in a monster-sized dog dropping.

"Amy," I asked, "is everything alright?

"I can't believe they're getting away with this," she hissed.

I frowned. "Getting away with what? Helping?"

Amy gave me a look that could have curdled milk. "If they were the kind of people who just help others without any ulterior motive, they wouldn't be villains. This has to be part of some sort of plot."

She wasn't wrong, but I couldn't tell her that they were probably laying the groundwork for their team's planned redemption arc. Plus, it was becoming increasingly clear that she had a lot of baggage regarding her ideas about heroes and villains. Instead of starting another argument, I put my hand on her shoulder, and tried to bring her focus away from the Undersiders.

"Whatever they're up to, we can't do anything about it right now. We've still got people to save, yeah?"

Amy sighed, and seemed to deflate as her anger left her. "Yeah. I'm going to check to see if any of the emergency crews have injuries for me to fix."

"Good idea," I replied. "I feel ready to get back to fixing buildings. Take care, Amy, and think about our talk."

Amy twisted her face into an exaggerated grimace, but she couldn't hide the faint smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. "No promises."

--

Half an hour later, the operation had switched from its Rescue phase to Recovery; they'd saved as many people as they could, so all that was left was a lot of large-scale tidying up. Amy had reluctantly accepted a ride to the hospital on one of Bitch's dogs, which left me to decide if I wanted to wait for the PRT transport to show up, or just run home.

Before I could make up my mind, I noticed one of the indicator lights in my helmet start to blink, signaling an important message on the emergency channel. The other Wards must have received the same message, judging by the way they all suddenly snapped to attention.

I flicked my radio over to the proper band just in time.

"This is Armsmaster. There's been another bombing, three buildings on the eastern edge of Jordan Street. I'm evaluating the scene for any remaining explosives; prepare to report for search and rescue duty immediately after I give the all clear."

The fragile positivity I'd spent most of the night trying to build up fell apart in an instant, sinking into the dark pit I could already feel forming at the bottom of my stomach. Something told me I still hadn't seen the worst of tonight was going to throw at us.

A/N: "So Taylor, who are these girls you've been asking out?"

"...I think I just heard more bombs going off. I'd better run to the rescue!"

Writing conversations like this with Amy, it's always tricky to decide how much help Taylor should be able to offer. In real life, it's not unusual to have to go through difficult discussions like this time and time again before anything sticks, but that doesn't make for good fiction.

This isn't the same as Bakuda's bombing spree from canon, thankfully. The attacks are a lot more precise and a lot less lethal over-all. Less 'throw the city into chaos' kinda stuff, more like making a statement.

My buffer holds steady at one full chapter. This week was a little tricky, since my PC died a couple of days ago and I've had to make do with a backup laptop that struggles to handle three chrome tabs at once. On the upside, it's cut down significantly on the number of things that can distract me from writing.

Next time, on Daystar!: We see how the Wards are holding up on the morning after! Taylor receives a gift, and then goes off with Sophia to get high and shoot the shit. This is definitely a reliable summary of events.

Thanks for reading!

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WinterWombat

Feb 6, 2020

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Feb 13, 2020

#3,772

April 22nd

We had to respond to three more bombings that night, though thankfully none of them were as large as the first. Armsmaster sent us all home at 4:00AM, but I'm sure I wasn't the only one kept from sleep by the fear of yet another disaster popping up. Even though I knew that Armsmaster wouldn't call us in again no matter how bad things got, I couldn't stop listening for the next detonation. I wasn't scared of being blown up myself; I was scared of another bomb going off without my notice, as if staying aware of the attacks somehow made me safer.

When I did eventually fall asleep, I didn't wake up until shortly after noon. Text messages on both of my phones informed me that Arcadia had cancelled classes as a result of the bombings, much to my relief. I don't think I could have dragged myself to school even if it stayed open, but it was nice to know I wouldn't have to make excuses. A quick chain of text messages with the fight club confirmed that everyone was safe, and still game for Pizza that night, assuming we picked a venue far away from where the attacks had happened.

With the rest of my afternoon basically free, I did my best to relax, starting with an extra-long shower to wash away the sweat and dust from last night's activities. I considered making myself lunch in Colin's kitchen, but decided to head over to the Wards HQ instead. If the rest of the team was feeling anything like I was, they could do with a home-cooked meal to raise their spirits.

--

"Taylor Anne Hebert, will you marry me?"

I blinked at Dennis across the table, trying to process what he'd just said. "No?"

Dennis gasped as if in pain and slumped down in his chair, clutching his chest above his heart. "Alas! Shot down in the prime of my youth!"

"RIP, dude," Chris said, in between mouthfuls of curry and rice. I couldn't help but smile at Dennis's silliness. I knew the recipe was good, but I didn't expect it to be 'instantly propose marriage' good.

Dennis reached out a trembling hand towards me. "What have I done, my lady, that you should wound me so? Shall you leave me to wither and die for want of your favor, which nourishes me as water gives life to the fairest flower blossom?"

I might have felt a little bad if his performance wasn't so over-the-top. Instead, I just giggled.

"You're good people, Dennis," I said, as he returned to his food like nothing had ever happened. "Unfortunately, you're also a guy-"

"I don't have to be," he interjected.

"-and I can't accept a proposal for someone who won't even get down on one knee for me," I finished.

Dennis put on a faux-affronted face. "I considered that, Taylor, but then I would have had to stop eating. Honestly, you should consider that even more of a compliment."

"And that's why it could never work," Missy said, patting Dennis on the shoulder. "Taylor could never be with someone who only loved her for her cooking."

"Missy," he said, "you don't understand. It's sweet AND spicy! What could possibly top that?"

I paused to consider. "Maybe a light dusting of coconut flakes, if you're feeling fancy?"

Sophia rolled her eyes at me, but couldn't quite hide her smile. "If anyone could figure out how to be a nerd about food, it'd be you, Taylor."

"Aw, Sophia," I simpered, "you always say the sweetest things."

My instincts about the other Wards had been right. I'd arrived at the HQ to find my teammates draped over couches or sprawled out on the carpet, half-alive at most. The only ones missing were Dean, who had gone to spend the afternoon with Vicky, and Carlos, who was stuck in a Protectorate meeting with Armsmaster. I'd swept into the room in a whirlwind of fake pep and plastic grocery bags, and immediately started whipping up a giant batch of maple chicken kare. It took more energy than I really felt I had to spare, but it was worth it to see everyone come back to life as they tucked in.

Most of us were well into our second plate when Carlos finally showed up, half-walking, half-floating through the door, looking like he'd just been run over by a herd of wild powerpoint slides.

"Hey Carlos," Chris waved at him. "How was the Arms-Meeting?"

"About as cheery as you'd expect from an incident with a double-digit body count," he said. "I have no idea what I'm smelling right now, but please tell me someone saved me a plate."

"Help yourself," I said, gesturing to the kitchen. "Were things really that bad?"

Carlos started heaping food onto a plate, already looking a bit more animated. "It's hard to say. Probably would have gone easier if we weren't all so tired. I did find out why those particular areas were targeted, though. Turns out Lung had been leaning on them to start paying protection money, and let the ABB operate out of their buildings. The business owners thought that they were far enough away from ABB territory to ignore him."

Missy frowned. "Why didn't they go to the PRT for protection?"

"They did," Carlos winced. "We had plainclothes agents watching the place day and night since we got the warnings. Armsmaster even made them some basic teleport detectors to watch for Oni Lee. Didn't do any good in the end, except for letting us respond a bit quicker."

I grimaced. "So what's the plan to shut them down? I mean, there's no way we're just sitting back and letting Lung get away with it again this time, right? Please don't tell me I'm wrong."

"No clue," Carlos said. "Armsmaster and Piggot are planning a series of retaliatory strikes on ABB assets, but if they've worked out what they're doing in the long term, they haven't told me."

A whole lot of nothing, in other words. This was getting ridiculous.

"That's stupid," Dennis growled. "Why the heck doesn't Lung have a kill order yet?"

"Above my paygrade, sorry," Carlos replied, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Speaking of our fearless leaders, though, Armsmaster wanted to see Taylor in his workshop for 2:20."

"Just peachy," I groaned. "Did he say why?"

According to my phone, I had a little over ten minutes, and I'd need at least five to get my temper back under control. Every time I thought I'd convinced myself that the PRT were doing the best they could, something like this would happen and throw me for a loop.

Carlos just shrugged again. "No, but it didn't sound like you were in trouble."

"That's a nice change of pace," I sighed. "Can I count on you guys to take care of the dishes?"

Dennis flashed me a salute. "As you command, oh mistress of the kitchen divine, so shall it be done."

"Thanks," I called back as I made my way out, "but I'm still not marrying you."

"Curses!"

--

"Daystar, please come in. Armsmaster is just finishing up an investigation, but he'll be with you in a second."

I followed Dragon's voice into the workshop. As usual, the place wasn't messy, just filled with a mess of parts and half-finished devices organized in a way I couldn't comprehend. I saw Colin crouched over one of his workbenches, surrounded by a number of unidentifiable tinkertech tools. He didn't acknowledge my presence, but I didn't expect him to.

As soon as the workshop door closed behind me, one of the nearby viewscreens lit up with Dragon's smiling virtual face. "Taylor, it's good to see you again. I've heard all about last night from Colin. How are you holding up?"

I gave her a smile I didn't feel. "I'm...not great. Last night took a lot out of me."

"That's understandable," Dragon said. "If it's any comfort, Colin and Carlos both said that you handled yourself extremely well. Most heroes have more difficulty with their first serious disaster rescue."

"I'm good at compartmentalizing, I guess," I replied, moving carefully in between the various shelves and workbenches. "I'm glad I was able to help, but I wish I could actually do something about the problem, instead of just reacting to each new threat."

"You aren't the only one," Colin said, standing up from the workbench. "Fortunately for us, the ABB might have overplayed their hand this time."

Dragon's face blinked to a new monitor closer to Colin. "Oh? You found something, then?"

He nodded. "I've isolated traces of an unknown polymer compound with light-bending and acoustic dampening properties. It's definitely tinkertech. Judging from the signs of exposure, someone planted the bombs at least a week ago, and used this material to hide them in plain sight."

That got my attention. "Tattletale told me, at our first meeting, that the ABB either had a stealth-granting Trump, or access to a second Tinker."

"I know," Colin said, acknowledging my presence for the first time. "I read your report. That's part of the reason I knew what to look for. It's still possible that they acquired the tech from Toybox, but I think it's more likely that they have another unknown cape on their team."

I couldn't hold back a wicked grin. "And now that you've found a sample, I'll bet you can work out some way to counter it. Hah! Lung can kiss all his fancy stealth tricks goodbye!"

I could have lept onto a table in my excitement, but in deference to Colin's workshop I kept my feet on the ground. This felt like the first real progress we'd made in the entire investigation.

"That is the plan," Colin said, deadpan as ever. "It will take me some time to design an appropriate countermeasure, but with Dragon's help I'm confident I'll be able to figure it out."

"That's not actually why we asked you to meet us here, however," Dragon said. "Colin's designed some new equipment for you."

"Both of us have," Colin said, "even if Dragon doesn't want to take the credit she's due. The tinkertech approval board just certified it this afternoon."

I blinked. "New kit? You didn't have to go through the trouble to-"

"Nonsense," Colin interrupted. "Outfitting you with proper equipment is part of my job as your leader. I've noted your progress with learning combat archery, and saw an opportunity to help you incorporate it into your practical skill set."

Colin grabbed a hard plastic carrying case from the ground near his workbench and carried it over to the nearest clear table. When he started snapping open the various metal latches holding it closed, I half expected it to release a cloud of ominous smoke. In blatant defiance of the laws of science fiction, however, it only held a pair of metal bracers nestled inside generic grey packing foam.

Colin gestured for me to pick them up. "Go ahead, put them on. I'll need to perform a few final adjustments to ensure optimal performance, but you should be able to begin practicing with them today."

The bracers fit snugly over my forearms, coming up to just behind where the cuffs of my costume's gloves sat. They were noticeably bulkier than a traditional archery bracer, but barely seemed to weigh anything at all. Colin walked me through a few exercises to make sure the fit was right, repeatedly tugging at the bracers to make sure they wouldn't slide or slip. Once he seemed confident that everything was in the right place, he had me step back into a circle of open space in the middle of the workshop.

"I've remotely activated the devices this time," he said. "I'll show you how to do that yourself after the demonstration. For now, I'd like you to try imagining an invisible bow floating in the air in front of you. Can you do that?"

After casting a glance over to Dragon and getting a reassuring nod in return, I tried to do as he asked, imagining my practice bow hovering ahead of me like some kind of video-game powerup.

After several seconds of this, I remembered who I was working with, and spoke up. "I'm imagining it, Colin. What's the next step?"

"Keeping the image in your mind," Colin said, "I want you to reach out and grab it."

Once again, I did as he asked, reaching out with my left hand as if to pluck the bow from the air. . As soon as my fingers started close around the imaginary grip, I heard a sharp snapping sound from the bracer, and found myself holding an actual physical bow, fully strung, a little over five feet in height.

"Gah!"

I dropped the bow in shock, only for it to vanish just as quickly as it appeared, with the same snapping sound. This time, though, I caught a flicker of motion from the bracer. Steeling my nerves, I reached out to grab the invisible bow again, but kept my eyes squarely on my own forearm. I just barely managed to spot previously invisible seams on the bracer opening up to extend parts of the bow I was now holding. With time to actually inspect the weapon, I could see that it was still tethered to the bracer by a number of articulated metal arms.

Dragon smiled. "I think she's figured it out, Colin."

Her face disappeared from the screen, replaced by a 3D render of the bow extending and retracting from the bracer in slow motion. Some of the components in play were clearly longer than the bracer itself, but that was just more evidence that tinkertech was bullshit.

I tried moving the bow around into different positions, only some of which would actually have any real use. No matter what I tried, the little arms holding on to it never managed to get in my way. The bow itself was composed of a number of jointed mechanical sections, like a normal compound bow if it came from the cyberpunk future. Despite its odd appearance, though, drawing the string back felt completely natural.

"The draw weight is adjustable between fifty and seven-hundred pounds," Colin explained. "You can access the controls with your thumb, or on the digital display on your inner forearm. It can't mount a scope or rangefinder, but you didn't show any signs of needing either in your practice."

I almost choked. "Seven-hundred!? That's not a bow, that's a cannon with a string!"

"It's more than you should need," Colin said, "but the option is there. For now, I'd advise staying away from that setting anywhere outside of a PRT firing range."

I tried going through a few archery drills, seeing how fast I might be able to deploy and fire the bow in response to a sudden threat. I couldn't be sure without real arrows and targets, but the initial results were promising.

"How does it know when to deploy?" I asked. "Is it reading my mind or something?"

"More like the muscles in your wrist," Dragon explained. "Its sensors register your finger movements quite precisely, and deploy the bow whenever you make the appropriate gesture. The motions involved are so specific that it shouldn't trigger when you try to grab anything else, and any objects in the way will stop it from deploying regardless."

I tried incorporating the bow into some of my unarmed fighting moves, snapping off quick shots in between punches or in response to my opponent's movements. The more I practiced with the bracer, the less plausible Dragon's explanation about wrist muscles seemed. The bow seemed to jump into my hand whenever I wanted it, without any need to visualize the process.

"Okay, this is incredible," I said, once I felt finished with shadow-boxing. "I have to ask, though, if the other bracer does anything. Not that I'd be disappointed if it didn't, of course! The bow is already more than enough."

Colin smiled and tossed me an arrow I hadn't realized he'd been holding. My first instinct was to snap at him for improper weapon handling, but when I actually caught it I saw that the arrowhead was just a blob of spongy foam-like material, a little smaller than a golf ball. I gave him a curious look, but he just gestured for me to try using it.

As soon as I nocked the arrow on my new bow, I heard a tiny mechanical click from my right bracer. Looking closer, I saw a thin metallic wire connecting the inside of the bracer to the back of the arrow. I pulled my hand away, and watched the thread rapidly retreat back into the bracer.

"High-powered microfilament winch," Colin said. "The same one you used your power to fix, actually, when we found out that you could repair tinkertech. It seemed a shame to let it gather dust."

"The arrow is one of my designs," Dragon added. "A few of them put together, actually. The smart-grapple arrowhead incorporates a layer of adhesive gecko-fiber over polymorphic foam that reshapes itself to better fit any anchor point. They're made to be reusable, especially with your repair power in the mix. Both the grapples and the winch are rated to safely support a little more than a ton, so the biggest weight limit to worry about is your shoulder ligaments."

I only half heard what she was saying. Most of my attention was focused on the incredible implications of this new technology.

"I'm going to be Spider-Girl…" I whispered.

--

As soon as Colin and Dragon were finished with me, I made my way back down to the Wards' base and showed off my new kit to the rest of the team. After that, I asked Sophia if she'd like to tag along to the firing range to help me test it out. She'd said she had a better idea. I can't say for sure what I was expecting when I'd agreed, but it wasn't for her to drag me all the way down to the Boat Graveyard.

We were both in costume, of course, and I'd grabbed a quiver with a dozen target arrows before leaving the PRT building. We didn't talk much on the way there, both of us just enjoying the thrill of leaping across the city one rooftop at a time. I had to slow my pace a bit so I didn't overtake her, but I hadn't been a cape long enough for even slower roof-hopping to get boring. Honestly, I hoped it never would.

Sophia eventually came to a stop at the foot of a towering shipping crane, ten stories tall if not more. "This is the place. Race you to the top, Sunshine!"

She started to climb without even giving me the chance to reply. She leapt from perch to perch with cat-like grace, coasting in her shadow form to defy gravity or float through obstacles, never pausing in her ascent up the towering gantry. Watching her move was mesmerizing, so much so that I completely forgot about the race until she was already halfway up.

I might still have been able to catch up with her the normal way, but I had new gear to test out. I grabbed one of my grapple arrows and, after checking to make sure that the grapple-line had properly attached, fired it at the top of the crane. I gave three sharp tugs to make sure the line was stable, drew a deep breath, and triggered my bracer's reel-in function.

I had expected the pull to be sudden and sharp, but it still caught me completely by surprise. The grapple-line didn't pull me upward so much as it launched me skywards. I had enough presence of mind to release the trigger immediately, but that just meant that nothing stopped me when I passed the arrow's anchor point in an eyeblink and kept rising. When I finally hit the apex of my flight, though, my shock gave way to exhilaration. I fell back towards the earth with a cry of pure joy, twisting myself around at the last second to land feet first at the top of the Crane.

Sophia reached me a moment later, only a little short of breath. "Damn, that looked fun. You think I could get one of those things for myself?"

"No idea," I said. "I'm pretty sure that would have dislocated my shoulder if I wasn't a Brute, but that might just be because I forget to lower the reel-in speed from max. No harm in asking, either way."

"Heh, yeah," Sophia said, before turning to stroll along the top of the crane with all the casual ease of someone who wasn't suspended over a hundred feet in the air. "C'mon, I got the stuff set up over here."

I retrieved the grapple arrow and followed Sophia over to one end of the crane gantry, a little surprised at how easy it was to walk along the old metal beams. Even knowing that I'd probably survive the fall without serious injury, standing atop long-decayed shipping machinery ten stories above the ground should have been at least a little harrowing. Instead, I felt calm, collected, at peace. The open air wasn't my enemy, it was just another space for me to move freely. Maybe this was how flying capes typically felt about heights?

Sophia led me on top of the squat, boxy structure that served as the crane's cab. With a quick look back to me, she pulled away a heavy tarp to reveal a pair of folding chairs, a camping lantern, and a portable cooler. Hunh.

"Come here often, do you?" I asked, as Sophia unfolded the chairs. "Not all that convenient, but the view must be worth it."

Sophia sank into one of the chairs with a sigh, before pulling off her mask. She was still wearing a generic cloth domino mask underneath.

"Whenever I just need to get away," Sophia said. "Away from, y'know, fucking people. I figured you might get some use of it too, when all the bullshit gets too much."

I felt my cheeks start to color. "That's…" Nice? Sweet? Uncharacteristically thoughtful?

"...thanks, Sophia," I finished lamely. She nodded, as if she understood anyways.

"I've got some targets set up along the boom," she said, gesturing towards the other end of the crane. "Furthest one's about 140 yards, the others are whatever."

"Really?" If I squinted, I could just barely make out the silhouette of a foam target circle against the horizon. "You can hit targets at that range with a pistol crossbow?"

"Nope," Sophia said, chuckling. "Lost a lot of bolts trying, though. Thought my power might help with wind and distance, but it wasn't enough. Anyways, feel free to go nuts with that new toy of yours, or just grab a soda from the cooler and chill for a while."

I scrutinized the makeshift range. I'd never call it safe, but all the targets sat in places that I could walk to in order to retrieve my arrows. Any missed shots would fly right into the ocean, or maybe hit one of the scuttled ships littering the bay. It'd do.

Sophia and I passed the time in comfortable silence. I put a few unhurried rounds through all the nearer targets, taking my time to get used to the feel of the new bow. Each time I went out to retrieve my arrows, I made sure to count my paces to get a better idea of the distances involved. Once I felt like I had my weapon more or less figured out, I tagged Sophia in, drinking a soda as I watched her practice. It was some kind of off-brand cola, only chilled a little from the spring air, but I enjoyed it all the same.

Once Sophia tagged me back in, I tried practicing with quicker shots, seeing how quickly I could go from a resting or fighting posture to shooting a target. I managed to avoid losing any arrows, though I came close a few times. Eventually, I fell into a steady rhythm, drawing and firing smoothly as I came up from a crouch or roll, even managing to pull off a single shot in-between the strikes of one of my close-combat forms. Pulling it off in a full-speed fistfight would be a whole other problem, but I could work my up to that with enough practice.

We traded off for a few more rounds before Sophia broke the quiet.

"Hey, Sunshine," she said, "You busy tonight? There's this thing going on, I thought it might be fun to check out in civvies."

I winced behind my visor. The first time Sophia tries to extend anything like a normal gesture of friendship, and I had to turn her down. I stepped back up to the makeshift firing line to buy myself time. I managed to fire three shots at a mid-range target before I figured out what I wanted to say.

"Sorry, but I've already made plans for tonight. Going out for pizza with the Fight Club from school. In fact, this should probably be my last round before I go get ready."

"Hold up," Sophia said. "Arcadia has a fight club? How the hell does that work?"

Two more twangs of the bowstring, two more thunks of arrows hitting foam. "That's just an old joke. Some of the other students wanted to learn how to protect themselves a bit better, so I started up a tiny self-defense club."

"Hunh," Sophia replied. "Thought about doing something like that at Winslow once, but I don't really have the patience for teaching. Besides, what's the point in training jerks who are probably just going to join the gangs anyways? No point in making things harder on myself."

I grinned. "My students seem like a decent group. Too gay to be Empire, too clean to be Merchants, and from the wrong part of town to get caught up in the ABB. They're fast learners, too. I've only had one session with them so far, but they picked up everything I showed them pretty quick."

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

"Sounds like a good crew," Sophia said. "I wouldn't mind a chance to meet a few badasses in training; maybe I could tag along tonight?"

I almost said 'sure' before I remembered who else would be there. Instead of answering right away, I kept drawing and firing arrow after arrow at a steady pace, trying to disguise my hesitation as focus. I suddenly had some pretty serious second thoughts about my commitment to being open and honest with my friends.

"That's probably not a good idea," I said. "Emma's going to be there. She's, uh, part of the club."

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

"Emma? Emma Barnes?" Sophia sounded equal parts angry and confused. "Why the hell would you let that pathetic waste of skin anywhere near you?"

I could feel Sophia's gaze boring a hole through my back, but I kept my eyes on the targets.

"She's trying to do better," I said, releasing another arrow on the last word. "I want to be able to forgive her, one of these days."

Sophia scoffed. "After everything she did to you?"

I had to fight to keep my rising anger out of my voice. "You're one to talk, Sophia. You were right next to her the whole time."

"So fucking what?" she shot back. "It wasn't personal! I was just having fun, indulging a friend with her weird fucking hobby. Emma was the one who decided to target you in the first place. She was the one who hated you!"

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

"That's my problem to deal with," I finally said. "I've heard her reasons, and while they don't excuse what she did, I can at least understand her a bit better. Why the hell do you even care, anyway?"

Sophia let out a bitter laugh. "Maybe 'cause you're not the only best friend that bitch has betrayed. I saved her life, helped her put herself back together, taught her how to be strong when she was at her lowest. I cared about her! Then, out of the blue, she starts blaming me for her own weakness, saying she never wants to see me again."

"She doesn't like the person she becomes around you," I replied. "She doesn't trust you not to try and make her backslide."

"I'm not an idiot, Hebert," Sophia growled. "She thinks I want to make her more like me. She thinks I'm a monster, but she wouldn't be the first. I can live with that. What I really want to know is why you bother spending time with me if you agree with her?"

I froze. "Sophia, I don't…"

But what could I say? I hadn't ever actually addressed what she'd done to me at Winslow, I'd just...stopped thinking about it. She'd never apologized, never suggested any feeling of regret, and I'd just gone along with it because it was easier. Had I actually forgiven her, or just managed to pretend that it didn't matter?

"...I don't think you're a monster," I said, finally finding my resolve. "You're my friend. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but so what? I care about you, Sophia. I want to do right by you. Emma's not a threat to that."

"Really?" Sophia said, incredulous. "Then why have you been taking Emma's side through this whole conversation? Are you actually going to treat me like a friend, or like the vicious beast your real friend needs protection from?"

"Neither!" I snapped. "Or both! I don't know, okay? I don't know how I feel about any of this. II don't blame you for what Emma did to me, but I don't think she can heal with you around, I can talk to her, tell her how you feel, but it won't amount to anything unless you're willing to meet her half-way. "

"Save your breath," Sophia said, putting her full mask back on. "I've said all there is to say, and you can't afford to sit around listening if you want to brief Armsy on your shiny new power and still make it to your little club on time."

She moved to the side of the crane, but I grabbed one of her arms before she could jump off. "Sophia, wait. Can we talk this out? I don't want to ruin our weird-ass friendship over something like this."

"Calm your tits, Hebert," Sophia huffed. "Just because I'm done talking for now doesn't mean I'm done talking, alright? I just gotta go clear my fucking head."

I let her go before she could phase out of my grip, then watched her glide to the ground in her shadow form, touching down as softly as a feather before stomping away. Only Sophia could find a way to make graceful floating look angry.

My thoughts still swirling, I went to go collect my arrows, but paused when I actually looked at the targets. There were a lot more than just a dozen arrows sticking out. At least half of them looked like they were fashioned from liquid gold, with fletching that glowed white-hot as if fresh from a forge. Even as I studied them, the glowing arrows started dissolving one by one into motes of golden light.

Slowly, cautiously, I reached down to my hip to confirm that my quiver was indeed empty. Bringing my hand back in front of me, I tried to picture an invisible arrow floating in the air before me, much like how Armsmaster had instructed me to deploy my bracer bow. When I reached out to grab it, I felt a tiny pulse of essence flow down my arm and give form to the image in my mind. Just like that, I held another golden arrow, identical in all but color to the ones I'd brought with me.

Sophia had noticed the new ability before I had. I'm not sure what that said about my attention span, but it probably wasn't great.

As I made my way down the gantry and back towards the PRT building to change, I took the time to consider its potential applications. It was almost enough to distract me from what happened with Sophia.

What the hell did she want from me? What did I want from her? Was I going crazy, or did she try to ask me out on a date?

Spoiler: New Charm

A/N: "Now, Daystar, try to picture an invisible therapist floating in the air in front of you, then reach out to tell them your problems…"

Next Time, on Daystar!: Taylor's social life becomes even more fraught with drama! Also, the gangs do some bad stuff, if you care about that. I just hope they receive their due punishment for getting in the way of the shipping.

Thanks for reading!

Last edited: Feb 15, 2020

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WinterWombat

Feb 13, 2020

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Feb 20, 2020

#3,860

Spoiler: Content Warning

After my whirlwind of an afternoon, Friday evening was almost an anti-climax. Jess, Tracy, Mia, Emma and I all met up at a semi-classy pizza joint on the boardwalk, and spent a few hours getting to know each other a little better. Amy hadn't been able to make it, having volunteered for an extra shift at the hospital. Normally, I would've gotten Vicky to chastise her about overworking herself, but considering how many people had been injured in the last night's bombings, I couldn't fault her for giving her all.

I at least managed to extract a promise from her not to skip movie night. Couldn't risk letting her backslide too far.

By the time I woke up the next morning, I felt almost human again. After a grappling-hook training session with Armsmaster in the morning and a sedate afternoon patrol around the Boardwalk with Missy and Dennis, I was left with just barely enough time left to get ready for company. I only had about an hour left before people were due to arrive, and I'd need every second of it to make sure that my first time hosting movie night went absolutely perfectly.

I fastened my apron around my waist the way I imagined a knight donned her armor just before battle. To one side of me, I had several plastic bags bulging with freshly purchased groceries. On the other, the kitchen table held an array of printed recipe sheets shamelessly stolen from various cooking blogs. It was a magnificent sight to behold, until I realized with slowly dawning horror that I wouldn't have nearly enough time to prepare it all. Maybe if I worked on three things at once and pushed cooking times to their limits? No, that still wouldn't leave me time to dust the apartment one last time, or double-check that the DVD player was set up properly.

It was only a soft growling sound from the floor that brought me back to reality. I looked down to see Nova tugging at the cuff of my jeans with her tiny puppy teeth. As soon as I spotted her, she let go, sat back on her hind legs and looked up at me with a face of perfect innocence. I might even have been fooled, if her frantically wagging tail hadn't given away her excitement.

I got down on my knees and faced my puppy with a skeptical stare. "And just what do you think you're doing out here, Nova? I'm pretty sure I put you in your crate so you wouldn't get underfoot like this."

Nova responded by hopping up to lick me on the nose, which immediately set me to giggling. Tension I hadn't realized I'd been feeling seemed to flow out of my body all at once, and all of my panic from just a few moments ago suddenly felt so silly. I'd punched Lung in his big stupid dragon face and survived, so I could at least get through one casual party without falling to pieces, right? I'd just have to see how much I could get done now, and save the rest for another day.

I got back to my feet, still giggling at Nova's tail doing its best to sweep the kitchen floor around her. I pulled a bundle of carrots out of one of the grocery brags, broke the leafy end off of one of them, and held it just out of the puppy's reach.

"Okay, pup, I'll make you a deal," I said. "If I give you this great big carrot to chew on, will you go back to your crate until everything's all settled out here?"

Nova stared at the carrot with unconcealed hunger, so I decided to take that as a 'yes' and give her the treat before she started drooling all over the floor. She still managed to restrain herself from snapping at it until I held it right in front of her. Then, before I could pick her up, she suddenly turned around and raced back towards my bedroom, carrot held firmly between her jaws. A moment later, I heard the telltale sound of the door on Nova's crate clicking shut.

After spending a few seconds waiting for my brain to catch up with all this, I decided to just chalk it up to 'Nova is best dog' and get on with my cooking.

--

By some quirk of fate (or the public transit system) all of my guests arrived together. The elevator ride up took about twenty seconds, give or take, which was just enough time for me to finish mashing up a bowl of spicy guacamole, plate the last batch of pot-stickers, and still open the door a half-second before Jess was able to knock. The look of surprise on her face was more than worth the effort.

Thea, Jess, and Arthur all looked pretty impressed by the fancy apartment. Behind them, Vicky and Amy seemed less interested in the sights than in the smells coming from the kitchen. Bringing up the rear, Dennis and Missy were probably the only ones aware of who the apartment really belonged to, and their expressions of disbelief probably mirrored how I'd looked my first time here.

I couldn't tell if I was sad or relieved that Sophia hadn't shown. I'd sent her an invite this morning, in part to make up for yesterday, but I hadn't received any reply. Her absence would probably make the gathering a lot less tense, but admitting as much felt like a betrayal.

"Come on in," I said, "make yourselves at home. Is anyone hungry? I hope everyone's hungry. I made a lot of food, like, a lot of food, but I can still make more if we run out. I couldn't remember if anyone had gluten allergies, so I made a few extra gluten-free dishes just in case. Maybe I sould just run down to the store quick to re-stock on-"

"Taylor, stop," Thea said, silencing my rambling by putting a finger over my mouth. "Why don't we let everyone get settled first?"

I nodded, and took a deep, calming breath. "Right. Okay. Everyone can just grab a seat wherever, I guess? Oh, and we've got plenty of room in the fridge for drinks, if anyone brought any."

"Awesome," Vicky said, jingling a bag full of glass bottles as she passed by. "I brought enough booze for everyone, assuming everyone likes vodka."

Amy rolled her eyes at my frown. "Don't worry, Taylor. It's just root beer. The last time Vicky drank, she stuck herself against the ceiling after two coolers and forgot how to float down."

"Amy, no!" Vicky cried out, head halfway inside the fridge. "I told you that story in confidence!"

"You didn't tell me shit," Amy shot back. "I was there. Hell, I was the one who came up with the plan to toss a rope around your waist and pull you back down. I need to warn the others so they never have to suffer the way I did."

Through some strange process of brownian motion, everyone eventually managed to shuffle into the apartment and make themselves comfortable. In the process, a small mountain of DVDs appeared on the coffee table. Meanwhile, I made sure I had enough plates, cups, and cutlery for everyone spread out on the kitchen table.

"So, I believe you mentioned food?" Arthur asked, once things started to settle down. "I'm curious to see how true the rumors about your superlative cooking skills really are."

"I don't know about any rumors," I said, face growing slightly warm at the praise, "but there's certainly food for anyone who's hungry. We've got beef or veggie nachos with homemade salsa and mild or spicy guac, onion pakoras, stuffed mushrooms, pot-stickers, barbeque pork buns, curry beef buns, mozza sticks, crab cakes, sweet and sour meatballs, egg salad, a sandwich platter, crackers with four-cheese-spinach-dip, mild and spicy chicken wings, and an assortment of sushi rolls."

My guests all stared at me like I'd grown (or cooked) a second head. The longer the silence stretched on, the hotter my face became, until I was pretty sure I could have used it as a griddle.

Dennis finally broke the silence. "I dunno, Taylor. Are you sure you made enough for everyone?"

"I...you...but!" I tried to come up with a witty rebuttal, or even an explanation, but the words wouldn't come. After several seconds of sputtering, I was so frustrated that I just grunted and threw a pakora at him. He managed to get the better of me again, though, by catching it with his mouth.

"Fine," I sighed, "it's possible that I may have overprepared slightly. This is my first time having guests over in, well, in years, so I wanted everything to be perfect."

I only realized what I'd just said when I saw everyone's expressions turned somber. Dennis looked particularly sheepish. Before I could say something to lighten the mood, Jess suddenly swept me up in a tight hug.

"Taylor, it's fine," she said, somehow still sounding light-hearted. "Nobody here is going to complain about too much of your cooking. We just want you to know that you don't need to worry about impressing us. You're plenty impressive already."

I tried not to meet her eyes as we pulled away, conscious of how red my face must be, but a quick glance up revealed that I wasn't the only one blushing. "Th-thanks, Jess. Still getting used to having, you know, people. Friends."

"Okay!" Vicky clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "How about I set out some plates, and we all help ourselves to the grub? Taylor, you just grab a seat somewhere and take a well-deserved breather."

I did as she suggested, slumping down into one of the kitchen chairs now that the tension keeping me upright had vanished. Jess sat down next to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"It really is impressive," she said, giving me an encouraging smile. "Maybe a bit too much, but that just means we can all take home some delicious doggie-bags. Is it alright if I ask how long you spent preparing it all?"

"Oh," I said, already feeling much more relaxed. "It only took me about an-"

I stopped. That was more food than one person should be able to prepare in an hour, wasn't it? I was pretty sure I'd managed to cook everything on the list, and a few more dishes besides. Was this another weird power thing?

"Actually," I said, "I think I'd prefer not to talk about it right now. You want to grab some plates and hit the buffet?"

Jess just smiled. Hopefully that excuse would last me long enough to figure out how much time all that cooking should have taken. On the upside, I was kind of curious to see how long it would take the techies at the PRT to equip one of the power-testing labs with a kitchen.

--

Once everyone had managed to grab a full plate and a place to sit, we quickly fell into casual conversation.

"So, Missy," Thea asked, in between bites, "how do you know Taylor and Dennis?"

Knowing Thea, that probably wasn't just a polite why asking why we were hanging out with someone several years younger than us, but it was still a chance to address the question.

"I go to the middle school about a block down from Arcadia," Missy explained. "Those two came by on a few of Arcadia's super-unfair 'co-op' days to offer some tutoring. Taylor and I got talking about some of our favorite books, and, well…"

"Two peas in a very nerdy pod, basically," Dennis finished. "She's cool enough for a little imp, so I don't mind babysitting her like this."

Missy swatted Dennis on the knee with her fork, eliciting a wince of actual pain. "You're not my babysitter, jerk. You're barely two years older than I am. I'm just hanging out with some trusted older friends while my dad has an evening out."

"Okay, that's fair," Dennis said, massaging his knee. "I guess you're just what some people call an old soul."

"An old soul that needs to be home by ten," Missy grumbled, "so I'd appreciate it if we could actually start a movie before then."

Before I could jump in with a suggestion, I heard someone knock on the apartment door. "I'm going to go see who that is," I said. "You guys figure out what we're watching first."

I opened the door to find Lisa standing there, wearing a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her normally immaculate braid looked more than a little frazzled, and her cheeks and nose were both still a bit red from the wind. It was a good look for her. So good, in fact, that I totally forgot to say anything.

"Hello? Earth to Taytay?" Lisa said, giving one of the signals that indicated Coil wasn't listening. It probably wasn't necessary, since the odds of Coil managing to bug an apartment belonging to one of the Protectorate's top Tinkers were slim to none, but the extra caution couldn't hurt.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. "Lisa, what's up? Is something wrong?"

"Not really," she frowned. "Just things being complicated. I've got a delivery for you from the boss, but…"

I raised an eyebrow. "But?"

Lisa sighed. "I'd suggest you avoid looking at it until at least tomorrow. It's not dangerous, or time sensitive, but it'll probably ruin your whole evening."

"Well, that's ominous," I muttered. "You realize that just makes me want to look at it even more, right?"

"Of course," she said. "Just not as much as if I didn't tell you anything about it. Trust me, when you read this stuff, you're going to need to vent about it, and you can't really do that in present company."

"Fine," I said, "I'll sit on it until tomorrow. Thanks for the warning."

Lisa grinned, and this one was 100% real. "No problem. That's what friends are for, yeah? I'll cya sometime."

"Wait," I said, just as she turned to leave. "Are you, uh, working tonight?"

She turned back to glance at me over her shoulder. "Not really. I was planning on either trawling or trolling the PHO forums, mostly."

"Want to stick around for a bit, then?" I asked. "I got a bit carried away in the kitchen, so we've got way too much food. We're going to watch…hey guys, what are we watching?"

I turned to see Jess and Arthur locked in an arm-wrestling stance, half a second before Jess slammed her opponent's hand down on the table. Jess grabbed a DVD off the table and held it aloft like a wrestler showing off a title belt.

"Sherlock Holmes and the Tinker of Tartarus!" she called out.

"That," I said, turning back to face Lisa. "You in?"

Lisa looked visibly nervous for a moment, before covering up any uncertainty with her trademark smile. "You know what? Sure."

"Great!" I said, ushering her in. "The all-devouring social interaction blob monster claims another victim."

--

With Lisa in the mix, the issue of seating got a bit more complicated. Somehow, in the ensuing shuffle, it was decided that I should sit in the center of the loveseat, squished in between Lisa and Jess. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but I'd never call it unpleasant. The part of me that learned about life from teen romantic comedies kept insisting that bringing two of my crushes into the same party was a recipe for disaster, but the two of them really seemed to hit it off, joking and laughing with each other even when I was out of the room. I thought I heard my name come up in their conversation at least once or twice, but I steadfastly refused to listen-in with my power.

I let Nova back out of her crate once we'd finished with food. She had the time of her life ambling from person to person, extorting headpats and bellyrubs from everyone with her relentless adorableness. She didn't even make it halfway into the first movie before her puppyish energy failed her, though, and ended up spending the rest of the evening dozing on Amy's lap.

Sherlock Holmes and the Tinker of Tartarus turned out to be a recent sequel to a film I'd never seen, Sherlock Holmes and the Infernal Machine. Its depiction of parahuman powers in Victorian England made pretty much zero sense, being more or less just a copy-paste of modern cape culture with more waistcoats and monocles. Despite the silliness, though, the story ended up being a lot more compelling than expected. I actually gasped in shock when Holmes and Watson discovered that the villainous Tinker was actually some kind of clockwork AI, but I was the only one. Apparently the first film kinda gave the twist away with its ham-handed foreshadowing.

The next film was Arthur's pick, an action/comedy about a bunch of different animals fighting each with kung-fu. I enjoyed it, and not just because it gave me ideas about further training. After that, Vicky had to leave to go on patrol with her cousins, though she had time to give Missy a flight home on her way. I had planned to put on one last film for the rest of us, but then Arthur noticed the unopened copy of Street Fighter some-number-or-other I'd tucked away, and immediately challenged me to a match.

The rest of the evening turned into a lazy mess of video-games, board games, and general meandering conversation. People started to slip away shortly after midnight, until only Lisa, Amy, and I were left. I offered to walk Amy home, partly just to make certain she didn't go to the hospital instead, and Lisa decided to tag along.

--

"Well, this is my place," Amy said, once we reached the sidewalk in front of her house. "Thanks for the company."

We'd spent the trip over in companionable silence. Amy and Lisa both seemed lost in thought the whole way. I'd been tempted to try and pry into whatever was on their minds, but I had a strong suspicion that it involved cape stuff. Everyone in our little group knew that I was Daystar, but both Amy and Lisa had to conceal the fact that they knew; Lisa because she had no good excuse for knowing, and Amy because she didn't want to out me.

"Mind if we walk you up to the door?" Lisa asked. "I might be a bit paranoid, but I always feel better when I get to see my friends safely into their house."

"Whatever floats your boat, I guess," Amy shrugged.

We walked up alongside her, past the Dallons' immaculately cared-for lawn and the perfectly trimmed bushes that always made me wonder if Brandish could use her power to make pruning shears. For such a busy family, they seemed to put a lot of work into keeping up appearances.

The door opened on its own as soon as Amy reached the bottom of the front desk, revealing Mark and Carol Dallon. Amy's father looked tired as hell, while her mom glared down at her with barely repressed fury.

"Amy," Carol said, her voice heavy with the universal tone of parental disapproval, "just what do you think you're doing staying out so late?"

Amy's face flickered between confusion and anger. "What? I told you I was going to be watching movies at Taylor's place tonight, didn't I?"

Carol shook her head. "That doesn't explain why you couldn't have left with Victoria like you normally do."

"She was already carrying someone else," Amy said. "Besides, I didn't see any reason to leave early. I was actually having a good time, if you can still remember what that's like."

"No reason?" Carol said, arching an eyebrow. {"You don't remember how you wanted to go to the hospital early tomorrow morning?}"

I hadn't even realized I'd started using the Judge's Ear until the sheer falseness of that statement slapped me across the face. I wanted to cry foul, but that would mean revealing my powers in front of someone who wasn't supposed to be in the know.

Instead, I had to watch as Amy seemed to shrink into herself, her anger giving way to doubt and guilt. "I...I guess I forgot?"

"Not that it matters now," Carol bit out. "{I'm disappointed,} Amy. I thought you'd realized by now that your powers come with responsibilities."

"No, I can still…" Amy paused, then looked over to Lisa and I like she'd just remembered we were even here. "Can we talk about this inside? Taylor, you and Lisa can head back home. {I'll be fine.}"

"Taylor?" Carol Dallon turned to look at me like a cockroach on her kitchen floor. "So, you're the girl who's been filling my daughter's head with nonsense?"

I bristled. "Sorry, ma'am, but I don't think encouraging Amy to take better care of herself is nonsense."

"Taylor," Amy said, voice dull, "she's talking about Vicky."

That was it. I had no idea what the hell was up with Amy's mom, but everything about this situation screamed 'abuse.' I wanted to challenge Carol then and there, but without more information anything I did now might just make the situation worse. Tearing into her verbally with my least pleasant power would have been incredibly satisfying, but I wasn't going to take that risk.

I realized half a second too late that Lisa had no such compunction.

"Wait a second," she said, managing to draw everyone's attention in an instant. "You're Brandish, aren't you? Hero with the power to project weapons and shields out of hard light?"

Carol frowned. "Yes, but this is a family matter. I don't have time to deal with gawking fa-"

Lisa didn't wait for her to finish. "You know, your wiki article doesn't mention that you can also project your Huge Fucking Issues onto your own family. That's going to be a lot harder to keep under wraps after your 'husband' cleans your clock in the divorce."

"What?" Carol sputtered, suddenly finding herself on the back foot. "Why would you even say-?"

Everyone was looking at Lisa now, which meant she was right in her element. "Isn't it obvious? You're still wearing your wedding ring, but your husband isn't. The tan line around his ring finger looks only slightly faded, which means that he used to wear it all the time until just recently. There are a few explanations for that, but the most likely culprit is a case of the proverbial 'trouble in paradise.'"

Carol looked like she was about to blow a fuse, but Lisa had momentum. "As for why he's going to kick your ass in court? Judging by the way his frown has been getting deeper with practically every word you've said, he knows exactly how fucked up this is. I wouldn't be surprised if he recounts the whole thing word-for-word in front of the judge. You, on the other hand, haven't looked back to check his feelings even once, which suggests that you've grown accustomed to ignoring him entirely. Even with this warning, you still won't be able to believe that he could actually stand against you, not until he's already won."

"Lisa," I hissed, putting a hand on her shoulder, "It's time we were leaving."

"Your best bet now," she continued, "is to maybe bite back on the awfulness as much as you're capable of, and hope that he doesn't decide to go for full custody of both kids. I wouldn't get your hopes up, though."

"Get off of my property," Carol growled. "I don't ever want to see either of you here again."

"The real irony," Lisa said, even as I gently but firmly started dragging her away, "is that, when this inevitably ends up in the papers, you're going to be the last person in the whole fucking city to realize what a terrible fucking mother you are!"

Lisa might have kept going even then if Carol hadn't taken the chance to pull Amy inside and slam the door shut. As soon as the Dallons were out of view, Lisa's snide grin fell into an expression of utter loathing. The only time I'd seen her more pissed at someone was when she told me about her boss. There were a thousand different things I wanted to say, but all of them could wait until we reached somewhere less rage-inducing.

--

We walked for at least twenty minutes in no particular direction before Lisa stopped trying to glare daggers at the Dallon household and managed to find her voice. "Well, that just fucking happened."

"Yeah," I said, "it sure did. I'm trying not to judge, but would you mind telling me what the heck you were thinking going off like that?"

"I was trying pretty hard not to," Lisa replied. "Think, I mean. Christ, Taylor, she's fucking gaslighting Amy, trying to keep her in a state of perpetual guilt."

"I noticed," I said. "I've been doing everything I can to help cheer Amy up for a little while now, but all the progress we make always seems to vanish overnight. Now I understand why."

I noticed Lisa beginning to shake, building back up towards another furious outburst, so I instinctively pulled her into a tight hug. I was prepared to let her go the second I felt any resistance, but instead the tension in her body seemed to ease the second my arms closed around her.

When she started to speak again, her voice was carefully controlled. "With any luck, I managed to redirect some of Brandish's anger away from Amy and towards me. Not that I was really thinking about that in the moment. It's possible that I may just have issues with abusive parents."

"The same way I have issues with bullies?" I asked.

Lisa sighed and rested her head on my shoulder. "I wonder if the boss would pay the Undersiders to humiliate New Wave?"

"I dunno," I said, smiling despite the grim subject matter. "Do you really want to put yourselves in a position where she can vent her frustrations on you?"

Whatever Lisa meant to say next was suddenly drowned out by the all-to-familiar sound of a distant explosion. Both of us jerked our heads in the direction the noise had come from, just in time to see the top of a massive fireball rise above the skyline. A moment later, I heard another detonation from a different direction.

I rushed to pull out my wards phone. "Again!? I swear, I'm going to make Lung regret every last…"

"It's not the ABB," Lisa said, staring off in the distance. "Those were conventional explosives, not tinkertech, and Bakuda's too proud to ever use a normal bomb."

A moment later, another explosion split the night, this one coming from deep inside the Docks.

"Targets are ABB strongholds," she continued, "or businesses that caved to Lung's demands. Bombers are E88. This is a retaliation strike for the attacks on Friday, rushed out to embarrass the PRT by responding to the threat first."

The next explosion happened close enough for me to feel it shake the ground under my feet. Without thinking, I started running in that direction, rounding the corner of the block to see a three-storey apartment building starting to go up in flames. Before I could rush into the burning building, I heard Lisa call out for me to wait.

I held still long enough for her to catch up. As soon as she reached me, she shoved a bundle of cloth into my hands, which turned out to be a black bandana and a simple domino mask. While I tried to put them on as quickly as I could, she stared intently at the burning building.

"Apartment's mostly empty," she said, wincing in pain. "They mostly use this place to stash contraband. There are people on the third floor, a half-dozen at most. At least some of them are likely injured."

I nodded. "Thanks, Lisa. I think I can handle this. You should get somewhere safe."

She gave me a wry smile. "You mean outside the city? Don't worry, I know the drill for being a squishy Thinker in a warzone. Just try to be careful, alright? You're tough, but I'm pretty sure you're not fireproof."

"I don't know," I said, grinning as I felt my essence rise eagerly to my command, "today's been a big day for surprises."

With nothing more to say, I threw myself into the inferno.

--

A/N: Well, that escalated quickly.

Next Time, on Daystar!: With her city in flames, Taylor's commitment to heroism is sorely tested.

Thanks for reading! I'll see you all next week!

689

WinterWombat

Feb 20, 2020

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Feb 27, 2020

#3,971

April 24th

Whatever bomb had set the building ablaze had also blown the front doors completely off their hinges. What little I could see of the lobby through the billowing smoke suggested that it hadn't been the nicest place even before being blown up. A large part of the lobby was taken up by an unusually secure-looking front office, complete with the kind of bulletproof glass screen you normally saw at pawn-shops and banks near bad neighborhoods. At least, I assumed it had been bulletproof; judging from what little I could see inside, it hadn't done much to help the office's occupants.

Almost the entire lobby had gone up in flames already, and it looked like the fire wasn't wasting any time in crawling up to the higher floors. I skipped the single elevator at the back of the lobby and started charging up the stairs, only to stop when I hit a literal brick wall. The owners had actually bricked up the stairwell to the third floor, probably for defensive purposes. Anyone who wanted to attack the place would have to come up the elevator, giving the defenders warning and limiting how many attackers could ascend at a time. A clever bit of fortification, but seriously against fire code.

I couldn't afford to let it slow me down. I faced the wall, channeled essence through my muscles and bones, and heaved against it with as much superhuman strength as I could muster. The wall caved in almost instantly, giving me an opening I was able to quickly widen. I grinned for a second at the idea that anyone left on the top floor might owe their continued survival to their own shoddy construction efforts.

On the third floor, my enhanced hearing guided me to the only room with people still inside. Of course, it also had to be the only room that was protected by a reinforced steel door. When the door proved to be locked, I simply called up another surge of strength and charged right through the flimsy plaster wall instead, thankful that none of the people responsible for fortifying the building had managed to pass Security 101.

As soon as I burst through the wall, I heard the all-too-familiar crack of gunfire. My hands blurred into motion, catching each of the three shots before my conscious mind even knew I was under attack. I saw the shooter, a young man in ABB colors, pointing a pistol at me from where he crouched at the corner of the room. A few others sat or lay on the floor around him, some of them clearly injured or in pain. The rest of the room was filled with the kind of heavy plastic cases used for transporting guns.

"Are you kidding me!?" I yelled. "The whole building's burning down! What good is a gun going to do you?"

"Fuck of, Nazi!" the shooter spat. "Try to touch any of these guns and I'll paint the wall with your brains!"

"I'm not a Nazi!" I yelled back, deliberately flaring my power so he could see my emblem. "I'm Daystar, a hero! Recognize the symbol?"

The shooter shook his head. "I'm not giving up to the fucking police either! This shit belongs to Lung, you understand? I let it go, I'm a dead man."

I forced my voice to a semblance of calm. "The whole building is going up in flames. Would you rather burn to death up here than piss off your boss?"

"At least when the fire kills me, it won't decide to get creative," he shot back.

I stared at him, unsure of what to say. Was Lung really the kind of person to torture his underlings for the crime of not pointlessly burning to death?

When the tense silence continued to stretch on, a man who looked to be in his 60s or 70s, started talking to the shooter in a language I couldn't understand. After a few moments, the young man reluctantly lowered his weapon.

"Help the wounded first, alright? I'm not leaving until everyone else is out."

I nodded, walked over, and held out my hand for the gun. After a few more seconds of hesitation, he gave it to me. As soon as it left his hands, I dropped the clip, stripped off the slide, and tossed the parts into the other corner of the room away from the door.

"I'm guessing this place doesn't have a fire escape?" I asked.

The young man gestured to the bars covering the windows. "Would've made it too easy for people to get up here."

I walked over to one of the windows, grabbed one off the bars with each hand, and then flared my essence as I began to pull. I still felt nervous about spending my strength so readily in a crisis situation, but if I was honest, ever since my fight with Lung I'd felt like I had power to spare. After a few seconds, I gritted my teeth and wrenched the bars out of the brickwork with one last tug. Half of the wall surrounding the window came out along with it, but I wasn't about to complain about having a larger opening.

My exit secure, I turned back to the people I was trying to rescue. "Have any of you suffered an injury to your back or skull? Any feelings of numbness or tingling in your limbs?"

After a round of shaking heads, I approached the youngest of the wounded, a girl of about my age with an obviously broken arm. I picked her up in a bridal carry, careful to support her injured arm as much as possible, and walked over to the hole in the wall that had once been a window.

"This is probably going to hurt," I said, "but then we'll be able to get you to a doctor. It's okay if you have to yell or cry. Are you ready?"

She gave me a tentative nod. I took a deep breath, held it for several seconds, and then stepped out into the thin air. Falling three stories took almost no time at all, but I used the instant I had to try and will myself into remaining calm. The absolute worst thing I could do here was stiffen up. The moment I hit the ground, I tried to absorb as much of the impact as possible through my leg muscles, but the girl in my arms still let out a strangled hiss of pain. After making sure she wasn't injured any further, returned her to her feet and led her up to the street.

I was met with the usual crowd of gawkers and amateur photographers. As usual, it seemed like us Brockton types weren't about to let a little thing like mortal danger get in the way of cape-watching. I wasn't wearing my costume, but the emblem blazing over my brow left little doubt as to my identity. On the upside, it would hopefully stop anyone from assuming I was a Nazi.

I pointed to one of the gawkers near the front with his phone out. "You! Call for an ambulance! Tell them I've got five survivors, at least three of them wounded, none in critical condition."

I locked eyes with the man until he nodded in agreement, then sprinted back to the side of the apartment as soon as he began dialing. The ABB apartment lacked a fire escape, but the four-storey building next door had one that looked to be in good repair. I hauled myself up the ladder at ground level and began sprinting upwards, boots clanging harshly as I hit each metal step, until I was high enough to leap out across the alleyway and into the hole I'd left minutes earlier.

I hit the floor roughly but managed to roll up onto my feet. "Okay," I said, head only spinning slightly, "should have thought of this before, but from now on, stay clear of this area, okay? Now, who's next?"

--

When I came back for my last trip, I found the young man busy throwing the room's content out through the hole in the wall. He seemed totally oblivious to how the fire had started to spread into the room itself, barely a minute away from engulfing the building entirely. He flinched when I put a hand on his shoulder.

"Last train's leaving the station," I said, gesturing towards the encroaching flames. He looked between the fire and the shelves still mostly full of guns, obviously anxious, before finally nodding and following me to the exit. He seemed more nervous than panicked as I picked him up, so I was caught off guard when he suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs. I snapped my head up to follow his gaze and saw what looked like a perfectly normal car hurtling through the open air directly at us.

I jumped out the window a second before the car slammed into the burning building, kicking off of its hood to propel myself all the way to onto the roof of the building next door. I couldn't roll to bleed off momentum while carrying someone, so I had to lean back and try to stay upright as my feet skidded across the rooftop.

"I toldja it wouldn't work," I heard an all too familiar voice say. "Kid's not the type to freeze in the face of death. Nice shot, though."

I set my charge down and silently gestured him towards the fire escape, before reaching into my pocket to hit the panic button on the side of my Wards phone. The BBPD should have already been on their way, but it suddenly looked like they weren't going to cut it anymore.

I left the phone running as I turned to face the speaker. "Hookwolf. What brings you around to these parts?"

I tried to keep my voice steady, nonchalant, to hide the yawning fear growing inside me. One of the Empire's deadliest capes had come out to meet me, and he'd brought friends. I recognized Rune in her wizard garb floating on block of concrete at Hookwolf's left, while Stormtiger bobbed unsteadily in the air to his right. The woman at his side with her face surrounded by a metal cage could only be Cricket. I'd give myself good odds in a solo fight against any of them but Hookwolf himself, maybe even two on one if I was feeling confident, but I wasn't arrogant enough to think I could handle four enemy capes at once.

"Came here just to see you, Daystar," he drawled. "Some of the boys caught sight of your big bright forehead, and I couldn't resist the chance to drop in and meet the new kid on the block. I gotta say, though, I still think Cinderblock fits you better."

"Figured that out all on your own, did you?" I said, trying to copy one of Lisa's signature smirks. "If you wanted a rematch, you should have just told me. No need to drag your three friends into this."

I tried to play it off as amiable banter, while hoping that the console operator on the other end of my phone was paying attention to the hints I was dropping.

"'Fraid not," Hookwolf replied, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops on his ragged jeans. "That was fun, this is business. Kaiser's not a fan of the way you've been flaunting your sicko d* shit all over his city, so he sent me to remind you that actions have consequences."

"Holy shit," I burst out, not having to fake my sudden laughter. "Kaiser's sending four grown-ass capes just to gay-bash one teenager? I don't know whether to feel appalled or flattered. You guys ever consider that your boss might have some serious issues?"

That turned out to be too much for Rune. "Shut your fucking mouth, d, or we'll carve up your face so bad that even your thug of a girlfriend won't want to kiss you."

I didn't say anything, because I didn't need to. The ensuing silence did more to mock Rune than anything I could think up, making her sound more like a petulant child than a serious villain.

Hookwolf gave me a nonchalant shrug, going on as if Rune hadn't said anything. "Don't we all? Personally, I think it's more about fucking with Lung, taking out his big scary nemesis before he gets the chance. I don't really care about that political bullshit myself, but a job's a job."

"Right," I said, "just business. You realize that the PRT takes a pretty dim view of villains going after Wards, yeah?"

"What are they gonna do, throw me in the Birdcage twice?" Hookwolf laughed. "I'm way past my third strike, kid, but it hasn't stopped me yet. Besides, tonight's the night the Empire takes back the city from all the subhumans and degenerates; your bosses are going to be too busy to worry about someone as small as you, I tell you what, though; {if you get down on your knees and start begging me for mercy, I might decide to only beat you halfway to death, then give you the other half a bit later.} "

"Oh," I said, "well, in that case-"

Mid-sentence, I turned around and leapt off the roof. I instead of plummeting to the ground, though, I landed on the top level of the building's fire escape, falling into a crouch to try and make my landing as quiet as possible. Lucky for me, Rune's scream of wordless rage covered most of the noise quite nicely. Her floating concrete platform shot over the edge of the roof a half-second later.

Stormtiger had just enough time to call out "Wait, you idiot!" but it was too little too late. A quick hop propelled me onto Rune's platform. I gave her the chance to turn around and spot me before I drove a relatively light punch into her stomach, making her fold up like a pocket knife. Rune's telekinetic Shaker ability could be terrifyingly powerful, but up close she was just a not-particularly-athletic teenager. Before she could catch her breath, I stepped in closer and pulled her into a classic sleeper hold, being very careful not to use any more than a small sliver of my strength.

Stormtiger flew over the edge of the rooftop next, cursing as soon as he saw me. He couldn't afford to attack me while I was so close to Rune, but I could see him tensing up to attack as soon as his ally was clear. As I maintained my hold, Rune's platform began a slow, unsteady descent towards the ground, just like when she'd been hit by one of Shadow Stalker's tranquilizer darts. I had no idea if it was an inherent feature of her power or the result of training, but either way it certainly beat travelling three storeys down in freefall.

I released the hold after about ten seconds to make sure I didn't cause any permanent damage, slinging Rune's unconscious form over my shoulder and jumping the last fifteen feet down to the ground on my own. I reached towards my pocket for zip ties to hold her, only to remember that I wasn't actually carrying any. I set her down and started looking around for some sort of improvised binding, only to have to suddenly leap back to avoid at least a ton of jagged metal crashing into the ground almost on top of me.

The mass of metal resolved into Hookwolf's famous Changer form, an ever-shifting conglomeration of hooks, blades, and other weapons in the rough shape of a giant wolf. The monster bellowed at me with a voice closer to industrial machinery than anything in nature, but I could still see Hookwolf's disturbingly human eyes glaring out at me from within the tangle of vicious weaponry.

I should have been terrified; the Nazis had all but said that they intended to murder me in cold blood, and their team had me drastically outnumbered. There was a non-zero chance that I would actually die tonight. Instead, I found that I wanted this; not death, but a fight against impossible odds, a fight I couldn't afford to lose. Just like when I fought Lung, my essence sang through me, begging to be used.

Hookwolf charged, metal claws scraping sparks off the pavement. I jumped out of the way, rolling over the hood of a parked car and he barreled past me. Before he could curb his momentum, I hit the vehicle with an essence-charged kick like it was the world's biggest hacky sack. The car flew at Hookwolf's back, which suddenly transformed into his front as his metal form shifted, wolf's head boiling out of what used to be it's tail. He struck it with one massive claw, sending it flying back towards me with a shriek of twisted metal.

I almost moved to leap over the car, before my enhanced hearing picked up a dangerous hissing sound coming from above me. Acting on instinct, I dashed forward and slid underneath it instead. The car shuddered as it blocked several razor-sharp claws of compressed air from Stormtiger. The aerokinetic was exactly the kind of foe I'd taken up archery in order to fight, but that meant less than nothing when I didn't have my bow on me.

I reached up and grabbed at one of the car's back doors as it sailed overhead, letting the vehicle's own momentum rip it free from the frame. I held it above me as I kicked back up to my feet, using it to bash away more of Stormtiger's air claws. Hookwolf took the opportunity to lunge at me again, but I threw myself backwards to dodge the attack by inches. Before he could pull his claw back, I slammed the narrow edge of the car door on it, severing two of his metal fingers at the first joint.

Before I could press my meager advantage, I felt a heavy weight slam into me from behind, followed by a sudden stabbing pain in my shoulder. I struck out with my free hand as I spun around, but Cricket had already leapt off of my, landing in a crouch several meters away. She flashed me a feral grin, holding out one of her kamas so I could see it drip with my blood. She seemed to emanate a constant high-pitched pulsing noise, like the almost invisible whine of old lightbulbs or TV screens taken up to eleven. I might have found it painful, if the same power that enhanced my hearing didn't also protect me against harmful noises.

Hookwolf surged forwards again, intent on punishing me for my lapse in attention. I ducked his claws and swung the car door in a wide arc, smashing it against his lupine snout. Instead of closing for a follow-up, I followed my gut and sidestepped at just the right moment for Cricket's lunge to carry her past me. I tried to swing the car door at her, but she simply twisted in midair, turning for forward momentum into a handspring that carried her out of my reach. Her reflexes were clearly too fast for me to hit her with such a slow weapon.

I heard Stormtiger's next barrage slightly too late; I did my best to dance between his shots, but one invisible claw managed to rake a white-hot line of down my face, directly over my left eye. The eye itself didn't feel damaged, but blood began pouring down my face from the wound just above my eyebrow. I felt a surge of frustration at the thought of being rendered half-blind by a stupid mistake, before I remembered that I could focus my essence to stop the cut from bleeding more than a trickle.

I felt Hookwolf's next charge before I saw it and threw myself out of the way just in time. I looked around for some kind of cover, only to find that the Nazis had maneuvered me out into the middle of the street. The three of them fought together like the shared a single mind, coordinating their attacks wordlessly to keep me under constant pressure.

I probably had less than a minute left before Rune could recover from my chokehold and rejoin the fight, which would likely prove the final nail in my coffin. I needed to stop reacting and go on the offensive, thin their numbers before they could totally overwhelm me. Hookwolf was way too tough, and Stormtiger was out of reach, so it looked like I'd be starting with Cricket.

The next time Hookwolf lunged at me, I ignored every single one of my fighter's instincts and turned my back on him. Just as I'd expected, I saw Cricket running up to attack me from behind. I got to enjoy a brief look of shock twist her face before I pulled on my power and surged at her with a thunderclap rush, an instant before Hookwolf would have crashed into me.

I still hadn't figured out whether or not the technique actually let me travel faster than the speed of sound, but it was at least faster than Cricket's reaction time. I channeled my momentum into a quick jab at her face; the wire cage she used as a mask prevented me from actually making contact, but I still hit hard enough to snap her head back from the shock.

A hit like that should have left her too stunned to counter, but I wasn't surprised when she lashed out with her sickle-like weapons without any hesitation. Instead of dodging, I pivoted to bring the car door up as a shield. The two kamas struck the door dead on, their points lodging deep into the metal. Before Cricket could recover, I yanked it back and threw it like a discus at Stormtiger. I didn't expect it to actually hit, but that had never been the plan. All I wanted was a moments with his teammate, free of his interference.

With Hookwolf's immense size and merely human reflexes slowing him down, I could focus all my attention on Cricket. Unable to meaningfully hurt me with her bare hands, she tried to retreat, ducking and twisting away from me with inhuman flexibility. It didn't matter. I could cover open ground faster than her, and I could use a thunderclap rush to close any gap she managed to build. The second she made a single mistake, losing her footing on loose gravel for just an instant, I surged in under her guard and struck her in the ribs with a great deal more force than I'd used on Rune. I felt bone crack and splinter under my iron-hard knuckles and bared my teeth at her in a feral grin of my own.

That should have been enough to take any normal person out of the fight, but Cricket was hardly normal. Just to be certain, I took advantage of her shock to deliver a fierce kick to her lower leg. Her knee let out a grotesque popping noise as it twisted at an unnatural angle, and Cricket fell to the ground like a sack of wet potatoes. She looked like she was trying to scream in pain, but only managed to produce a breathy hiss.

Even if it felt like a full fight, the exchange between Cricket and I had only taken a few short seconds, just enough time for Hookwolf to catch up. Instead of dodging, I grabbed Cricket by the upper arm and surged my strength to throw her limp body at the oncoming wave of twisting metal. The instant before she would have hit the meat grinder, Hookwolf's metal form seemed to collapse in on itself, revealing his ordinary human shape. He caught Cricket like she weighed almost nothing. His gaze never left mine as he set her down on the sidewalk, giving me a wide smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Christ, kid," he said, finally shaking his head, "you're fucking wasted in the Wards, you know that? You've got the kind of mile-wide ruthless streak that you just can't teach."

I kept silent, looking for an opening to attack. Every second I let Hookwolf talk was one more second for Rune to recover, one more chance for Stormtiger to flank me. More than that, I wanted to fight on. My essence still burned hot inside me, making me feel like I could keep at this until dawn. I'd rip Hookwolf's rotten oily heart right out from under his swastika tattoo with my own two hands if that was what it took to put him down. I knew that, as surely as the sun would rise in morning, I could win this fight.

I started gathering power for a lunge, only to pause when my ears picked up the distinctive sound of armored vehicles rumbling closer. The cavalry. My bloodlust fell away in an instant, and suddenly found myself unsure of whether I should feel relieved or disappointed. I mean, it was a good thing that I wouldn't have to kill Hookwolf to save myself, right?

Confusion aside, I still had enough time for a little bit of cape theatre before my reinforcements arrived. I straightened up from my almost feral fighting stance and put on my cockiest smile. "You don't know the half of it. If you take your friends and get the hell away from here, you won't have to see how deep it runs."

"Hah!" Hookwolf laughed. "I said you had guts, kid, not that you had a chance. Since you gave me some good sport, though, I'll at least do my best to make it painless."

Before Hookwolf could shift again, Rune swooped in on a floating chunk of sidewalk. "Wolf, the PRT are here. Three cars. What's the plan?"

Hookwolf looked briefly between Rune, Cricket, and I, before giving another dry chuckle. "Looks like it's your lucky day, kid. We'll have to finish this another time."

He reached down to pick up Cricket, then hopped up onto Rune's platform. "Take us up high, then move to the fallback point. We've gotten our message across well enough for tonight."

I fought down the part of me that still wanted to chase after them until they'd risen too high for me to track, then started walking in the direction of the sirens. With any luck, Piggot would be too tired or too busy to grill me about all this in any detail. At least this time she probably couldn't claim that the damage was my fault. Maybe she'd even have a few good words for me?

It wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen tonight.

--

A/N: It's still technically Thursday!

Next time, on Daystar!: Taylor goes back to school as if the E88 hadn't just attempted to murder her, and starts planning how to rescue Amy. We get to find out just what was in the message Coil had Lisa deliver. Emma manages to Human in a relatively normal fashion for over two entire hours!

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WinterWombat

Feb 27, 2020

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Threadmarks Interlude: Hookwolf

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

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Feb 29, 2020

#4,112

April 25th

Max was having one of his moods.

"I said we needed to make a statement, Brad. I didn't say to kill the girl!"

I shrugged, and took another sip of Max's whisky. "You didn't say not to, either. I saw an opportunity, I took it."

Not many people in Brockton Bay would take that kind of tone with Kaiser, but they didn't know him like I did. As a rule, the angrier Max was feeling, the better the booze he'd pull out. This stuff was only okay, so I wasn't in much danger of taking a sword to the chest for my backtalk.

"The Empire stands for Traditional Family Values," Kaiser deadpanned. "Demonizing the homosexuals is on message, but killing literal children most certainly isn't."

I rolled my eyes, Max was too focused on the view out his office window to actually see, but I felt like he'd get the message anyways.

"The kind of people who want to see her beaten black and blue aren't going to complain if we get a little too much red in the mix, Max. They're all fucking animals like that, more my kind of people than yours. What's really got you worried?"

He sighed, sipped his drink, and finally turned to face me. "You might want to consider taking this seriously. I just received word from our sources in the PRT that a Kill Order has been drafted in your name. All it needs is the Chief Director's signature. They're not fucking around this time, Brad."

I took another drink, feeling the metal shift restlessly under my skin. "So? It had to happen sooner or later. You knew what I was when you brought me onto the team."

"It doesn't mean I have to be happy at the prospect," he grumbled. "I can ill afford to lose such a skilled lieutenant, or such a close friend."

He was full of shit, of course. Max was a lot of things, but sentimental wasn't one of them.

"How about you wait until I'm actually dead before you start giving my eulogy," I said, chuckling at the sour look on his face. "You ready to hear why I did it, or are you too good to take advice from a wild animal?"

Max gave a bitter laugh. "Go ahead, then. Enlighten me."

I finished my drink. "The plain truth is, you need Daystar dead. The Empire needs her dead. The sooner, the better. I just happen to be the best one to do it."

Max fowned. "Why? She's a strong cape, certainly, but she can't seriously pose a threat to our organization. Especially not so long as the PRT holds her leash."

"She's not just strong," I said, "she's skilled, too. She keeps her head in a fight, thinks ahead, adapts to her enemies. You remember what you told Rune last month, about why she shouldn't be afraid of Dauntless?"

Max nodded. "He's too content to let his power gradually grow in strength instead of actually pushing his limits. As long as we don't grow complacent ourselves, we can adapt to him faster than he outpowers us."

"Exactly," I said. "Daystar isn't making that mistake. Unless she hits some kind of plateau, and I seriously doubt we'll get that lucky, it's only a matter of time until she gets too strong to handle."

"And you know this because you've fought her all of two times?" Max said, raising an eyebrow. "That's not exactly the most solid information, Brad."

"You know I've got a sense for these things," I replied. "She's ruthless, too. Not the type to be overly bothered by killing."

Max scoffed. "I find that hard to believe, considering how she practically treated Rune with kid gloves."

"She's training with the fucking Wards," I said. "They're all about minimum force, harm reduction, asking 'pretty please' before you're even allowed to punch someone. You want to see what she's like when pressed, go say hello to Cricket."

"So what?" Max said, shaking his head. "Even if she's not as soft as the rest of the heroes, we still fight against the other gangs. More than the heroes do, in fact. I'm not going to start shaking in my boots because a teenage girl isn't afraid of hurting me."

"Sure," I said, "except you're not accounting for my last point. She hates our fucking guts."

Max rolled his eyes. "Hardly a surprise, considering her orientation, let alone how I apparently decided to have her killed this weekend. People tend to carry a grudge over that sort of thing."

"Let me paint you a picture, Max," I said. "I leave the kid alone, she keeps doing her kiddie hero thing, getting stronger all the while. One day, some asshole villain comes up, could be one of ours, could be anyone, and pushes her a little too far. She kills the fucker. The PRT shit themselves in fear, try and put her on probation, ship her out to Alaska or something."

"Not an unlikely response," Max agreed. "They always need more capes at the Madison containment zone, or so I'm told."

"Right," I said. "So what do you think happens next? Does Daystar take her lumps like a good little girl and quietly vanish from the public eye? Or does she say 'fuck it,' strike out on her own, and try to get herself a little Gavel-style justice?"

"Your story has too many hypotheticals," Max sighed. "Too much instinct, not enough data."

I scowled. "Like my instincts haven't pulled your ass out of the fire a dozen times before. Besides, it doesn't have to happen exactly like that. Maybe she slips the PRT's leash some other way. Maybe some of our guys kill one of the civie gays she's friends with. Trust me, something's gonna set her off eventually."

Max retreated back to his desk, and pulled out another bottle of liquor. Cheap swill by his standards. "Something like an atttempted murder, maybe?"

"Hey," I said, "like it or not, it's already done. Either you let me deal with the kid now, or you'll have to deal with the monster she becomes."

Max poured himself a double, then downed it in one gulp. "You've got one more shot, Brad. Hit or miss, you won't be able to stay in Brockton Bay after that."

"So what's the plan, then?" I asked. "You know, the one you'd figured out before I even walked into the room today?"

Max gave me a weary grin. "I can arrange to have you smuggled out of the city. Off the continent, in fact. Gesellschaft will look after you in exchange for your assistance in training some of their...products. They've also agreed to send additional cape support to help the Empire in your absence. After a few years, once the heat has died down, you should be able to return with relative safety."

I whistled. "That sounds like it took some time to arrange. You've been sitting on this for a while, have you?"

Max downed another double. "Like you said, Brad, it was only a matter of time. The Empire will have to officially disavow your actions, of course. I'm sorry I can't give you the support you deserve after everything you've done, but the Empire itself must come before any personal considerations."

"C'mon," I said, grabbing the bottle from his hand, "you know that doesn't mean shit to me. I'm in this for the struggle, not the back-pats and blowjobs. I'll be fine. You're the one who has to deal with running a Nazi gang in the same city as the gay chick who just happens to be the next Eidolon."

Max glared at me as I took a long pull from the bottle. "Succinctly put. I trust that you have a plan in mind for your next attempt? Something better than trying to dogpile her with capes, perhaps?"

I gave the bottle back to Max and chuckled. "Heh, Dogpile. Good one, boss." When he only answered with a blank 'I am not amused' expression, I took it as my cue to continue. "Yeah, I've got a better plan. It's gonna be messy, though. Like I always say, you can't make an omelette without breaking a few legs. It goes like this..."

--

A/N: You may have already heard about this elsewhere today, but the good folks over at the Bench convinced me to post a bonus update in celebration of Leap Day, one of the world's less frequent holidays.

A lot of the stuff in this interlude goes to topics that have been discussed in the thread since Thursday's update. People enough good questions that I figured it couldn't hurt to have them addressed a bit in-story for any future readers who may just want to skip over all the comments. The next few chapters will contain some more detailed info about the PRT's response, but this covers the basic thrust of it. Hookwolf's got a fresh new Kill Order just waiting for him to make one new fuck up, or to retroactive exonerate anyone who ends up killing him first. Sucks to be Brad.

Hookwolf gets some things right, and other things wrong. He and Kaiser both know about Daystar's ability to develop new powers from their moles in the PRT, of course. That place leaks info like a sieve.

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WinterWombat

Feb 29, 2020

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Threadmarks Dragons 3.10

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Mar 5, 2020

#4,167

April 24th, Cont'd

My first steps into the Wards common room gave me a lot to process. Piggot had called the whole gang to meet up first thing in the morning, as apparently was standard procedure for a direct attack on a Ward, and every one of them looked over at me when I entered. Dennis gave me a grin that even I could tell was fake. Chris looked scared, seeming to stare through me rather than at me. Dean gave me his standard 'I'm here if you want to talk' faint smile, while Carlos looked uncomfortable, like he couldn't decide what he should do. Missy's eyes shone with hero worship, which honestly disturbed me more than any of the other reactions. Sophia was the only one to act halfway normal, giving me a brief grin and a nod of acknowledgement.

"Hey guys," I said, more quietly than I'd intended. "I'm still alive. Yay me?"

That opened the floodgates. Soon, I was awash in a whirl of hugs, well-wishes, prying questions, and questions with passive-aggressive phrasing meant to sound like they weren't prying. It probably would have been a lot worse if the gash down my face hadn't mostly healed overnight. It still ached whenever I tried to look sarcastic or surprised, but an angry red line of irritated scar tissue was a lot better the mass of scabs it had been last night.

"Hey, that's enough," Carlos said, projecting his voice to carry over the others. "You're overwhelming her. Step back and give her some breathing room, okay?"

I sighed in relief, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Thanks, Carlos. I appreciate the support, but I feel like I'm still coming down from the adrenaline high. Can we maybe take things one at a time?"

Looking back and forth between themselves, the group seemed to silently nominate Dean as the official speaker. "No problem, Taylor. I think the most important question we all want to ask is how you're holding up?"

I took a second to think about that while I grabbed a seat on one of the recliners. "Better than I should be, probably. Intellectually, I know that someone was trying to kill me last night, but it still didn't feel too different from other cape fights I've been involved in. I still feel a little on edge, but only a little."

"Told you guys she wouldn't start whining like a baby," Sophia said, grinning. "Was it as fun as it looked?"

"I don't know if 'Fun' is the word I'd use," I said, slowly. "Exciting, maybe? Intense? I'm assuming the video's all over PHO by now?"

"On and off," Dennis shrugged. "Mods had to have a bit of a debate about whether or not you were technically in your civilian identity. Seems like everyone agrees that everything after you start glowing is fair game, at least."

I sunk further down into the recliner's cushions. "Of course. I'm gonna have to post an official statement on this, aren't I?"

"Probably more than one," Carlos said, not unsympathetically. "People are guessing that this was some kind of parahuman hate crime, which would make it more of a thorny issue."

"They're not wrong," I sighed. "You should ask last night's duty officer for the recording. Hookwolf basically said that having a lesbian hero running around without a care was making the Empire look bad."

Missy smirked. "And now everyone knows that four Empire capes couldn't handle you solo. That's gotta sting. I just wish you'd had time to clobber Hookwolf too."

"He's frustratingly hard to punch," I said, halfway lost in my thoughts. "I got him pretty good the first time we fought, though."

No one said anything for several seconds.

"The...first time?" Carlos eventually asked. "I thought this was the first time?"

Shit. "Uh, yeah," I said, "not exactly. Technically, this was the second."

Dennis laughed, though it sounded a bit forced. "Classic Taylor. Was this before or after you ran off on your own to pick a fight with Lung? Have you been using Kaiser as a punching bag on weekends?"

"Before I even joined the Wards," I admitted. "I was living on the streets most of that time, trying to figure out my power. I needed money, so I got involved in one of Hookwolf's pit-fighting schemes."

"Smart," Sophia said, prompting everyone else to look at her oddly. "Get money for punching Nazis. Sounds like the perfect gig to me."

I chuckled. "That was the thought, yeah. I ended up making a bit too much of a splash, though. One day, I show up for what's supposed to be a normal fight, only to find Hookwolf waiting to either murder or recruit me. Maybe both. He's a weird guy like that."

"Shit," Chris muttered. "Did he know you had powers?"

"I think he suspected," I said, "probably thought he could pressure me into confirming his suspicions. For a while, I was pretty sure I was going to die. Long story short, I broke a cinder block over his skull and threatened to crush his windpipe. Apparently, that was the best way to win him over, because he gave me a few thousand dollars and offered me a place in his crew. I signed up with the Wards the next day."

"Well, fuck," Sophia grumbled. "Are you telling me that I tried to threaten you into leaving the Wards less than 24 hours after you'd beaten up Hookwolf in his own arena? Why the hell didn't you say anything?"

I shrugged. "Would you have believed me?"

Carlos ignored me, turning a glare on Sophia. "You did what!? Sophia, you can't just-"

"Water under the bridge now," Sophia interrupted. "I thought I knew what she was like, but I fucked up. I promise, nobody's happier than me that I didn't succeed."

The rest of the team looked at Sophia with a mix of exasperation and genuine anger. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, you know what I'm like."

The team still looked like they had a lot of questions to ask, but everyone fell silent when we heard the siren announcing incoming guests. Moments later, Armsmaster and Miss Militia stepped into the room, taking off their masks as soon as the door closed behind them. Colin looked exhausted, his face slick with the sweat and grime that comes from wearing a helmet for endless hours. Hannah, on the other hand, merely seemed tense, her trademark smile looking more than a little forced.

Several quiet seconds passed before Colin finally spoke. "I want to apologize for the lack of communication up to this point. Hannah and I spent the last several hours locked in an emergency meeting with the PRT directorate, to discuss Hookwolf's recent attack on Daystar. Relevant details should arrive in your inboxes within the next few hours, but I wanted to give you all the opportunity to ask any questions you might have in person."

"Is this really such a big deal?" I asked, suppressing the urge to raise my hand. "Cape fights are just something that happens, yeah?"

Miss Militia sighed. "Taylor, Hookwolf was out to kill you. That's not a 'cape fight,' that's attempted murder of a minor. Even if you weren't part of the Wards, that's exactly the kind of escalation that the unwritten rules exist to prevent."

"We can't allow an attack on a Ward to go unanswered," Colin continued. "We have a responsibility, not just to you, but to the Wards program as a whole. We need to be worthy of the trust that the parents of young parahumans place in us."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Missy asked, maybe a bit too harshly. "Hookwolf's already said he's not afraid of the Birdcage."

Colin shook his head. "No, we're not relying on the threat of imprisonment any longer. Chief Director Costa-Brown, Director Piggot, and the Chief Justice of the state Superior Court have drafted an official Kill Order against Bradley Meadows, AKA Hookwolf. It only requires the Chief Director's signature to go into effect, back-dated to this morning."

"Bullshit," Sophia said. "Are they waiting for Hookwolf to actually kill one of us?"

"They want to keep Brockton Bay in one piece," Hannah said. "You've never been in a city during the execution of a Kill Order. The price on the target's head draws mercenaries and bounty hunters by the dozen. Local villains take it as an excuse to escalate against the target's faction. Sometimes, villains from surrounding cities will flock over as well, either to claim the bounty, boost their reputation, or use the hunt as a pretense to establish a foothold. It would turn this city into a warzone."

"Would anyone even notice a difference?" Chris asked, voice shaking. "How many bombings have we had in just the last couple days? What are we even doing to stop it?"

"Make no mistake," Colin said, "Hookwolf has been marked for death. Officially, nothing has changed, but unofficially, we're making no secret of the pending Kill Order. Capturing him alive is no longer a priority."

I shivered. After going for years without being able to count on a single other human being, I'd just heard my mentor resolve to outright kill someone for threatening me. Intellectually, I knew that none of this was really about me personally, but it still warmed my heart in a way I didn't know how to handle.

Sophia hopped to her feet, baring her teeth in something close to a smile. "Hell yeah! Do we get a bounty for taking him out?"

"You won't be fighting him at all," Colin said, voice firm. "I want to make this absolutely clear: none of you are to attempt to engage with Hookwolf. He's already expressed a willingness to use lethal force on a Ward, and now he has nothing left to lose. I'm perfectly willing to stick any or all of you in a containment cell if that's what it takes to keep you away from that madman. Do you understand?"

The other Wards and I all expressed agreement, and Colin relaxed an almost imperceptible amount.

"On that topic," Hannah spoke up, sounding unusually hesitant, "we're going to be making changes to the Wards patrol structure. Until this crisis is resolved, you're all going to be undertaking joint patrols alongside one or more Protectorate heroes. I'll post an amended Patrol schedule by the end of the day, but in brief, you should expect fewer patrols with larger groups. Your net hours on patrol should remain unchanged, but the schedule may shift depending on the availability of Protectorate escorts."

Missy rolled her eyes. "You mean babysitters? Isn't this just going to pull more heroes away from where we really need them?"

"Quite the opposite, in fact," Colin said. "After a great deal of...deliberation, the conference concluded that there is little point in keeping the Wards away from danger so long as danger is seeking them out. For the foreseeable future, the Wards will take part in the ongoing Protectorate operations against the ABB and Empire 88. You will still stay far away from the worst of the fighting. You will follow the orders of your Protectorate supervisors to the letter. You will take this at least as seriously as we do, or you will lose the opportunity to go out in costume entirely until the crisis is resolved."

The longer Colin spoke, the deeper Hannah's frown grew. I had to wonder just what was really involved in the 'deliberations' Colin mentioned. I couldn't shake the impression that the higher-ups were quietly preparing for a disaster they refused to openly admit was coming. Meanwhile, I could practically hear the gears grinding in each of my teammates' heads. We always said that we wanted more action, more chances to prove ourselves, but I didn't think any of us expected it to happen this way.

"I'll make sure the team's ready, sir," Carlos said. "In the meantime, is there anything you can tell us about last night's bombings?"

"The E88 have claimed responsibility," Colin replied. "Somehow, they managed to target most of the locations we'd selected for a retaliatory strike against the ABB, primarily arms and equipment caches. They're positioning themselves as defenders of the city while casting our own competence into doubt. Investigations into the information leak are ongoing."

It had to be Coil. It fit his pattern of escalating conflict within the city and undermining the PRT's successes. I knew he wasn't the one behind the ABB's attacks, but he was more than willing to use them to his advantage. This was just another reminder that Brockton Bay would never improve so long as Coil remained at large.

I barely paid any attention to the rest of the meetings, getting lost inside my own thoughts instead. As soon as Colin and Hannah left, I shut myself inside my room at the Wards HQ, grabbed one of the notebooks I still had floating around, and started planning.

A little over an hour later, I'd settled on four major priorities: I wanted to take the ABB, get rid of Coil, help Amy get the hell away from her mom, and prevent Hookwolf from murdering me. There wasn't much I could do right now on the first one or the last one, but the other two goals both started with the same first step.

I called Lisa, frowning as the phone-line rang three times, then four. When she finally picked up, her voice sounded strange, slow and slightly slurred.

"Hello?"

"Hey Lisa," I said, trying to keep my worry out of my voice. "It's Taylor."

"Yeah?" Lisa said, "Hey, uh, Taylor." From somewhere in the background, I heard a harsh scraping sound, followed by Lisa's muffled cursing.

I frowned, and called up my lie-detector power. "Lisa, are you alright?"

"{Yeah, totally fine,}" she replied, still sounding distracted. "Just at my apartment, {reading, y'know, things.}"

I felt my stomach sink. "I know something's wrong. Are you in any danger?"

"No, I'm not in any danger," she replied. "{I'm just tired.}"

"I'm coming over." I said, hanging up before she had a chance to protest. My friend was hurting, and as long as there was a chance I could help, I refused to stand idly by. I just had one stop to make first...

--

I rapped my knuckles against Lisa's living room window as loudly as I dared; putting a crack in the glass wouldn't exactly help me convince Lisa I was here to help. When she failed to appear, I knocked again, and then once more, before she stepped into view and moved to let me in. The window was easy enough to slide through, though I had to take extra care to keep my backpack steady.

She looked like hell, with a pallid complexion and eyes that seemed just a bit glazed over. She was still in her pajamas, which were covered in some kind of big orange stains. Thankfully, she still managed to find at least enough energy to properly glare at me as I slipped in.

"You know that fire escapes are meant as exits, right? Not entrances?"

"Sure," I said, "it's right there in the name. It's just that the front desk wouldn't let me in, so I had to improvise."

"Most people would have taken the hint," Lisa grumbled, as she closed and locked the window behind me. "You didn't need to come over, Taylor. I told you, I'm fine."

I slipped off my sneakers and started looking for the coat room to stow them. "Yeah, that's what you said, but you were lying."

Lisa grabbed my sneakers out of my hands and stomped off into another room of the apartment. "Okay, I'm not fine, but I will be. I don't need you poking your nose into it."

As soon as Lisa left my sight, I set my backpack on the floor, opened it up, and pulled Nova out of the nest of towels and blankets I'd made for her. I held her up to see if she had any kind of rough trip, but the big toothy yawn she gave me suggested that she'd just been having a nice nap.

"I'm not here to poke," I called out to Lisa, "just to help however I can. How do you take your tea?"

"I don't have any tea," Lisa called back. "Such a shame. You should probably just go."

I grinned. "No problem, I brought enough for both of us. You keep your kettle in the kitchen?"

Lisa stormed back into the living room at a dead run. "Taylor, stay out of the…"

She skidded to a stop as she saw me holding Nova, her scowl suddenly replaced by utter confusion. Before she could gather her wits, I pushed my fuzzy charge into her arms.

"Puppy therapy," I said, as I stepped into the kitchen, only to stop and stare. Whatever I'd been expecting, it was this. Half the room seemed to have been splashed with reddish-orange pasta sauce. On the counter, I saw a can opener broken into at least three pieces, a sadly neglected chef's knife, a claw hammer, and a large metal can that looked like it had been torn apart by a pack of ravenous lions.

"There's a story here," I said, mostly to myself. Lisa stepped up beside me shortly after, struggling to keep a firm grip on Nova as the puppy struggled to lick her shirt.

"Chef Boyardee has done more to frustrate me than all the heroes in Brockton Bay combined," she deadpanned. "Pretty sure that can was actually tinkertech."

"Selling tinkertech without a license?" I said, holding a hand up to my mouth in mock outrage. "I'll report this fiend to Armsmaster immediately."

Lisa's mouth curved up in a ghost of a smile before she could stop herself.

"Nova," I said, "I need you to get help Lisa get cleaned up. I'll take care of the kitchen."

Lisa rolled her eyes, but carried the still-squirming puppy towards what was probably her bedroom. After figuring out where Lisa kept her paper towel, I set about cleaning the kitchen. I was about halfway through washing away the sauce explosion when I heard the sounds of a shower running elsewhere in the apartment, which meant that I had time for more than just a basic clean. When Nova waddled into the kitchen a minute later, I gave her a wet cloth to wash the tiles while I disposed of the ravaged beefaroni and starting tackling the dishes in the sink. I did my best to return everything to its proper place, but I ended up leaving the claw hammer in the drying rack. For the finishing touch, I used my power to repair Lisa's can-opener and properly sharpen her chef's knife.

By the time Lisa returned, dressed in clean clothes with her still-damp hair splayed out cross her shoulders, I'd just finished pouring out two mugs of tea. Her look of shock at the squeaky-clean kitchen soon gave way to another scowl.

"Taylor, you didn't have to-"

"Lisa," I said, "shut up. I'm helping. Milk and sugar?"

"...sure," she sighed. "You know I normally drink coffee, right?"

I shrugged. "I don't really know how to make coffee. Go grab a seat on the couch; I'll bring your tea out to you when it's ready."

When I stepped out of the kitchen a few minutes later, holding a steaming mug in each hand, I saw Lisa leaning back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Nova had curled up at her feet; she was still young enough that her puppyish energy could fade without warning. I handed Lisa her mug and sat down next to her, blowing on my own tea to cool it down. I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask, but I forced myself to hold my tongue.

After another ten minutes of sipping tea in silence, Lisa sighed. "Last night, after we split up, didn't go great."

I frowned. "Did you run into trouble on your way home?"

"No," Lisa shook her head. "Got home just fine, but I couldn't stop thinking about...things. Ended up using my power way too much. You know about Thinker headaches?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah. I've heard they're basically the worst."

"They really are," Lisa said. "Might have been worth it if I'd been able to get some actual answers, but no, I spend half the night chasing my own anxieties around in circles."

I slid closer to her on the couch, and put an arm around her shoulders. Lisa sighed as she leaned against me, and I smiled as I felt a bit of tension seep out of her.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Nope," Lisa chuckled, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "Not even a little. I promise I'm not trying to keep everything bottled up. I just don't want to think about it for a while."

"Okay," I said. "You don't have to. We can talk about something else, or nothing, or just not talk at all."

"Mmmhmm," Lisa hummed, closing her eyes. I couldn't tell if that was a question, or an 'I'm thinking' noise, or what, so I just kept quiet and enjoyed the closeness.

It might have been minutes or hours before Lisa spoke again. "Did you have a good time last night? Other than the end, I mean?"

"Yeah," I said, grinning. "It was great having everyone together. I'm really happy you dropped in, too."

"Mmhmh," Lisa hummed again. "It was nice getting to meet your friends. Should I pretend not to know which of them are Wards?"

I flashed her an expression of exaggerated shock. "What!? How could you have possibly figured out that Jess is secretly Vista!?"

"Really?" Lisa chuckled. "Taylor, Jess is almost as tall as you are, and Vista doesn't even break five feet."

"Nah," I said, "that's just part of her disguise. She uses her power to squish herself shorter."

We both giggled at that image for a bit.

"So, speaking of Jess," Lisa said, her voice turning slightly teasing, "she's pretty cute, wouldn't you say?"

I nearly choked on my tea. "Uh, yeah. Yes she is. Cute. Very."

I paused for thought as Lisa chuckled at my expense. "Is this going to be, like, some kind of jealousy thing? I'm pretty sure she's interested in me, but we haven't actually, you know, officially…"

"Oh, god no," Lisa laughed. "You really don't have any clue what you're doing, do you?"

I rolled my eyes, even as I felt my blush start to creep from 'pink' up to 'crimson.'

"Don't worry," Lisa said, "it's part of your charm, I promise. Honestly, I'm pretty lost myself."

"Somehow," I said, "I find that hard to believe. You're always just so, I don't know, confident, like you've got everything figured out already and you're just waiting for the rest of us to catch up."

"Aw, Taylor, you always say the sweetest things," Lisa said, before giving me a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm not too humble to say that I'm usually pretty on-the-ball, but I only act like I know everything."

I just nodded, unreasonably proud of myself for not freezing up at the brief kiss. I gave myself a mental high five for beginning to grow from a useless lesbian to just a regular (useful?) lesbian.

Lisa drew in a deep breath, then released it in a rush. "Okay, time to rip off the bandaid. Taylor, I'm ace. Really ace, in fact."

I frowned in confusion for a moment before context clued me in. "Oh, like, ace as in asexual?"

Lisa nodded. "Exactly. I prefer 'ace' because it sounds cooler, though, and because it deflects a lot of the tired old 'amoeba' jokes."

I chuckled at that, partly to brush off the nervousness starting to bubble up in my chest. "Yeah, that's pretty cool. I don't know if I've met many ace people in person, though, so I might have a few questions for you later. If that's okay, I mean."

"Of course, Taylor," Lisa said. "Right now, though, I don't mind if you ask what that means for, you know, us."

I felt a bit of my blush creep back. "I didn't want to be rude, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried that you're about to say there isn't going to be any 'us' at all."

"The funny thing," Lisa said, "is that I've been worried that you'd say the same to me. I didn't expect you to, but…"

"...no matter how impossible, the worry never really vanishes," I finished. "I get that. For what it's worth, I still think I'd enjoy getting to be part of an 'us' with you. I've never been in a relationship with an ace person before, but I'm willing to learn."

Lisa flashed me one of her oh-so-confident vulpine grins, but she couldn't hide the faint blush spreading across her cheeks. "I'd like that a lot. I've got at least as much to figure out as you do, though. I might sound confident, but I'm really just playing it all by ear."

"What's wrong with that?" I asked. "I've made a lot of my best decisions while thinking on my feet, usually right after making one of my worst. When in doubt, do something impulsive."

"If that's what you want," Lisa said, before surprising me with a kiss. It was a proper kiss, too, delicate and electric all at the same time. Shivers ran down my spine as our lips parted, and I grinned from ear to ear when I saw Lisa's blush deepen.

"I like your philosophy," she breathed, which set us both to giggling again. She was just as nervous as me, and for some reason I found that comforting. It felt nice knowing that I wasn't the only one with lots of unanswered questions. Speaking of which…

"Hey, Lisa," I said, "I'm not complaining, but I'm not sure what this has to do with Jess?"

"Oh!" Lisa said, eyebrows shooting up in shock. "Right. Well, I was trying to say that I don't really know how our relationship is 'supposed' to work. Neither of us really have any experience with dating before, either, never mind the ace/allo stuff. It's all uncharted territory. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

I took a second to consider that. "You think we should ask Jess for advice on how to date each other?"

Lisa snorted with laughter. "What? No! Well, okay, maybe, but that wasn't my point. I'm trying to say that, since we both seem okay with not having a totally 'traditional' relationship, we get to decide ourselves what ours 'should' be like. So you don't necessarily need to feel bad because you're flirting with another girl, just because that's how you've been taught relationships are supposed to work. "

"Are you sure about that?" I asked. "I don't want to make you feel, I don't know, jealous, or anything."

"For what it's worth, I don't," Lisa said with a shrug. "I know I'm supposed to, but honestly I just found it cute, which came as a bit of a surprise. Like I said, playing things by ear."

"I'm not really sure what to do with that information," I said, not entirely honestly. I had ideas, but most of them threatened to make me blush even brighter.

"It's not like we're in any kind of rush," Lisa said. "Well, apart from the whole might-die-any-day-now thing that comes from being capes, but yeah. Maybe we each try to tell each other if something isn't working, and see where that gets us?"

"I've followed worse plans," I replied, trying to sound more relaxed than I felt. "Speaking of blatantly changing the topic, I'm feeling like I might stay for dinner, if you're okay with that?"

Lisa laughed. "Sure, but fair warning, dinner's probably going to be some kind of takeout. My pantry's pretty empty."

We both took that as our cue to stand up, which roused Nova from her nap.

"I'm tempted to take that as a challenge," I said, "but I suppose I can let you buy me food at least this once."

"Who says I'm paying?" Lisa asked, smirking as she stretched out her limbs, "I've still got a pretty wicked headache. Maybe I'd like my girlfriend to treat me instead?"

"Well," I said, feeling shivers run up and down my spine at the word 'girlfriend,' "You're the only one here who's rolling in all kinds of ill-gotten villain cash."

Lisa gave me a puzzled expression. "You haven't checked your new account?"

"Uh, no?" I said. "What new account?"

"The secret one, duh," Lisa said, "y'know, the one with your paycheck from the boss? All the info should have been on the same USB stick as all the stuff he had me hack from Piggot's email."

"Oh," I said, "that one. I may have completely forgotten about looking into that, like, at all."

Lisa winced. "In that case, I have some good news for you, and some bad news."

I frowned. "Okay. What's the bad news?"

"The good news," Lisa said, "is that you've got about 25,000 sitting in an untraceable account with the Number Man. First week's pay, plus what Coil called your 'signing bonus."'

"Right," I said, "and now, Lisa, what's the bad news?"

"Your boss may be trying to screw you over," Lisa said. "Career-wise, I mean. Details over dinner? This really isn't the kind of thing you want to talk about on an empty stomach."

I sighed. "Fine. You're still paying, though, because I have absolutely no idea who or what the Number Man is, and I'm feeling way too pissed at my boss to figure anything out right now."

"I can sympathize," Lisa chuckled. "Would a kiss make it better?"

"I dunno," I grumbled, failing to hide my smile. "Better make it two to be sure."

Lisa smirked as I drew closer. Before long, Director Piggot was the very last thing on my mind.

--

Spoiler: Glossary

A/N: This chapter was lots of fun to write! Difficult, but fun. The last scene especially so, on both counts.

My intention in writing relationships is to do so organically. Two characters getting together at one point in the fic doesn't make them automatically any kind of 'final pairing,' especially when they're both teens figuring shit out. I'm not saying that all the crew of the HMCS TattleStar should brace for a sudden iceberg or anything, though. Relationships are complex, and ideally they develop along with the characters as the story goes on.

Also, I'd like to take the opportunity to remind folks that I intend to keep this fic PG-13. This chapter is about as much description of physical intimacy as you're likely to see, especially when the characters involved are still minors. I'm out to warm hearts, not any other portions of anyone's anatomy.

Next time, on Daystar!: Tragedy strikes as none of the Wards win the Taylor Hebert shipping pool! Taylor spends the entire school week giggling at seemingly random times for no reason. At some point, strong words may be exchanged with Director Piggot.

Last edited: Mar 7, 2020

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Mar 12, 2020

#4,305

April 25th, 2011

The only thing that stopped me from storming into Piggot's office was the fact that I'd already made an appointment; I couldn't really storm in somewhere I'd been invited. That meant waiting patiently outside her office and making pleasant small talk with her secretary instead of kicking the doors down, as much fun as the latter option sounded like. When I finally got the signal to enter, though, I pushed through the doors with all the determined grit I could muster, strode purposefully up to Piggot's desk, and tossed down a sheaf of printed papers like I was throwing down a gauntlet.

Piggot didn't even glance down at them, keeping her eyes fixed to mine as she drank from a plain black coffee mug.

"Good morning, Daystar. Please, take a seat, and tell me what's so important that it's worth skipping your morning classes."

I remained standing, and tried to keep my expression from crossing the line between 'serious' and 'furious'. "I think I can afford to miss some class, considering that my grades are somewhere close to the highest in the entire school. I'm here to talk about, well, this."

I gestured at the chaotic splay of printouts across Piggot's desk, and she raised an eyebrow at me in return. "Is that so? I just assumed you were making some kind of childish dramatic gesture. Are you going to slam down your badge and gun next?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Lisa had warned me this might happen, her power giving her better insight into Piggot's mentality than my social intuition powers ever had. The PRT Director always tried to keep her opponents off balance, and for Wards, that meant making us feel immature. Either we'd wilt in shame, or get angry enough for her to dismiss us as having a tantrum. Understanding her tactics didn't stop them from working entirely, but it made it easier for me to keep my cool.

When I opened my eyes again, I'd reclaimed a bit of my composure. "These are printouts of some files Coil had delivered to me on Saturday evening. They're obviously intended to make me angry and drive a wedge between us. He succeeded at the former, but I wanted to give you a chance to prevent the latter."

The files in question were a series of emails between Piggot and other important figures in the PRT, dating back to early February. All of them were about me. They were split roughly 50/50 between requests for attending PR events with well-known heroes, and offers from other cities for training or mentorship. Piggot refused all of them on my behalf, even the ones I'd have given my hypothetical firstborn child to accept. When I'd first read the one from Legend, Lisa had to talk me down from punching a hole through the wall.

Piggot rolled her eyes at me before grabbing a few of the nearest printouts and skimming them. "It looks like I need to fire everyone in the building responsible for internet security. This looks very thorough."

"That's all you have to say?" I scoffed. "Are you actually going to make me explain why I'm pissed off about this?"

"That would be helpful, yes," Piggot said. "You've said more than once that you aren't concerned with fame or praise. Was I wrong to take you at your word?"

"That's not what this is about and you know it," I said through gritted teeth. "I'm angry because you betrayed my trust. If you really didn't expect me to object, why keep all this a secret? Why is a supervillain doing a better job of looking out for me than my own boss?"

Piggot's expression of calculated disinterest shifted to a cold glare. "Watch your tone, miss Hebert. It is precisely because I am your boss that I don't need to justify every single one of my decisions to you or any of my other subordinates. I am willing to discuss this with you further, but if you can't sit down and start to show proper respect, I will have you thrown out of this office without hesitation. Is that clear?"

I probably would have stormed out of the room in that moment, if not for the memory of my girlfriend (eeee!) telling me again and again to pick my battles. I sat down, composed my expression, and promised myself that I could take my rage out on a training dummy later.

"Crystal clear, ma'am," I said, in a voice as close to calm as I could make it. "I apologize for attempting to make demands of you, but I would greatly appreciate an explanation. Ma'am."

"You would, would you?" Piggot smirked. "Then you'll have one, though I can't promise you'll like it. You seem to have an entirely mistaken idea of just what these documents represent."

"I'm not sure how, ma'am," I said. "It looks like you've been deliberately failing to inform me of some potentially valuable offers from other branches of the Protectorate. I find it hard to imagine a benevolent reason for doing so."

"That's all?" Piggot asked. "To be honest, I'm disappointed that you've failed to look past that surface-level interpretation."

"You're talking about politics?" I said, allowing myself a small smirk. "No, I considered that. You're going to suggest that you weren't blocking actual good-faith offers, but rather attempts to poach me for another city. I'm not so naive that I couldn't figure that out on my own."

In truth, Lisa had been the one to clue me in to that possibility, but I felt fairly confident that I would have come around to it eventually.

Piggot sighed. "If you've already realized that much, why are you even here?"

"Because it doesn't add up!" I shot back, before remembering to reign in my volume. "Ma'am, you know what happened with my family. You know about my, well, my issues with Lung and the ABB. Did you really believe that I would willingly abandon my home?"

"I believe that you can't imagine yourself leaving," Piggot said, "but I also know that there's a difference between what we say we want, and what we actually do in the heat of the moment. Many of these heroes are only so well-known because they're capable of being very persuasive. I wouldn't put it past them to try and convince you that the best thing you could do for Brockton Bay is to join their team."

"With all due respect, ma'am," I said, slowly, "my power makes me literally impossible to deceive. I can see through their games, and I'm not going to break my promises just because some famous cape asks me to."

"I'm very familiar with your abilities, Daystar," Piggot said, "Or at least those abilities you've deigned to inform us of. You can detect intentional deception, but that doesn't make you impossible to deceive. I have no doubt that many of these heroes believe everything they say."

"I still don't see why you had to keep this hidden from me," I said, "instead of just explaining it like you're doing now. I want to stay in Brockton Bay, you want me to stay in Brockton Bay; where's the problem?"

"You're making assumptions again," Piggot said, with a condescending sneer. "I'm not trying to keep you in the city for your winning personality, Daystar. I'm trying to keep you here because I need every cape I can get to stop Brockton Bay from falling apart. In the long run, though, none of those capes absolutely need to be you."

I frowned. "You're talking about, what, trading me like some kind of baseball card?"

Piggot gave me an incredulous look. "No, I'm talking about trading you like some kind of baseball player. It isn't uncommon."

"Your emails didn't mention anything about trades," I said, running over everything I could remember of what I read. Lisa had hacked the files herself, and she promised that she hadn't held back anything that could change how I interpreted them.

"They're called backchannels," Piggot said, with one of her familiar 'god save me from these idiots' expressions. "The media tends not to respond well to the idea of faceless bureaucrats discussing plans to swap children back and forth between cities, so we don't discuss it through formal channels. A few words at the beginning of the Directors' meeting, comments passed on during joint exercises, informal little chats at lunch."

"This is starting to sound less like a law enforcement organization," I said, "and more like a human trafficking ring."

Piggot let out a dry chuckle. "Oh, you haven't heard anything. What I'm about to say is crass, even by my standards, but the fact that you're an orphan makes you even more of a tempting trade."

"You're right," I frowned, "that is crass. I can see it, though. No family means fewer people to relocate, makes the trade easier?"

"Exactly," Piggot said. "The PRT is always looking for more Wards like you, powerful young capes they can transfer as needed between problem zones. I have no intention of sending you anywhere right now, but that doesn't mean I'll hesitate for even a second if the right offer comes along."

"One problem," I said. "I've actually read the Wards handbook cover to cover. Even as a ward of the state, you can't transfer me to a new city without my consent."

Piggot scoffed. "Hardly an obstacle. All I'd have to do is convince you that it was what's best for Brockton Bay. I wouldn't even be lying."

I took a moment to wonder if I could get someone to make me a training dummy with Piggot's smug face on it. The answer was probably no, unfortunately; if it was that easy, the building would already be flooded with them.

"So, let me see if I've got this straight," I said. "The emails, the offers from other Protectorate branches, they were all just part of haggling over my value?"

Piggot nodded. "Many of them were sincere, but they were still part of the negotiations."

I sighed. "Okay. And you didn't tell me about any of this because you thought I would react poorly?"

"And because it wasn't any of your business," Piggot replied. "There's a reason why requests like that go through my office instead of directly to you. When you joined the Wards, you signed up to become an asset for the PRT, and it's my job to make the best use of you. That means I get to decide that you'll do more good punching Nazis here than attending photo ops with Legend in NYC."

"Really?" I said, incredulous. "It's funny you should phrase it that way, because I've been expecting you to chew me out for the fight with Hookwolf and his friends any minute now. We all know how much you hate it when your Wards fight crime without your permission."

Piggot grinned. "Daystar, I've been planning for something like that to happen ever since the day I approved your coming-out speech at your public introduction. In this city, it was only a matter of time. True, I expected the Empire to take a little more time before escalating to outright murder, but I still consider the issue well in hand. You called for backup, avoided civilian injuries, held out until help arrived, and managed not to go tearing after your enemies when they ran away. You did fine."

That wasn't the response I'd been expecting.

"That's it?" I asked. "No lecture, no punishment, just, fine?"

Piggot laughed. "Would you like one? Alright. You could have done more to avoid collateral damage. I received a call yesterday from the woman whose car you used to play table tennis with Hookwolf. She hung up as soon as I told her that she could either sue the PRT or sell the wreckage as cape memorabilia, but not both. Hell, the only reason I'm indulging you like this is because that put me in such a good mood. Now, is there anything else I need to explain to you, or are you ready to return to school?"

I stood up and did my best to loom over Piggot. I was still angry, even more so to see her just laugh off my concerns. If she liked making people feel small, she could try the feeling on for a change herself. I let my anger seep through the core of my essence and drew just a trickle on the same power I'd once used to shatter Vicky's self-image.

"I just have one last thing to say, ma'am, and then I'll leave you to get on with your day. Coil sent me those files thinking that I needed to keep my association with him secret, which would have prevented me from coming to you openly like this. If that had really been the case? This trick would have worked. He'd have given me a great reason to quit the Wards and join him, and it would only have been possible because you didn't care to include me in discussions about my own future. Your petty little grudge against parahumans almost cost you one of the assets you claim to need so desperately. You should probably think on that."

Piggot glowered at me, her face starting to turn red. "You're dismissed, Daystar. Get out of here while you're ahead."

I nodded. "Gladly, ma'am."

That may have been a stupid move on my part, but damn had it felt good.

--

Before changing out my costume and into my school clothes, I stopped by the PRT Building's engineering office. I'd expected something like Armsmaster's workshop, so I was surprised to see just another cubicle farm instead. The only thing that looked vaguely engineer-ish was a drafting table pushed off to one side of the main entryway, and it looked like it hadn't been used in years.

"If you're looking for the buzzsaws and blowtorches," someone said from behing me, "the machine shop is a floor down."

I turned around to look for the source of the voice, and two people in business-casual dress, holding takeout bags from a nearby eatery.

I shrugged, hoping it looked casual rather than sheepish. "Is it that obvious?"

The person on the left, a tall, frazzled-looking blonde woman, gave me a wry grin. "We see the same thing every time a cape comes to visit. You guys hang out with Tinkers so much you forget how much of real engineering is just planning and design work."

"I hadn't thought about it that way," I said. "Anyways, I'm-"

"Daystar," the blonde woman said, at the same moment that her companion, a shorter redhead whose gender I honestly couldn't place, said "In our way."

I quickly shuffled off to the side. "Oh, uh, sorry! Before you go, though, can you tell me who I need to talk to about maybe getting help on a project?"

The two engineers exchanged a quick glance, shrugged as one, and turned back to me. "Us, to start with," the redhead offered, "if you don't mind talking while we eat."

I nodded and followed them back to the little self-contained cubicle space that held their workstations, grabbing a spare seat. Once we were seated, the blonde held out her hand for me to shake. "It's nice to meet you in person, Daystar. I'm Michelle, and this is Alex."

The redhead sketched me a vague salute.

"Nice to meet you both," I said, before hesitating. "Uh, I'm sorry if this is rude, but...pronouns?"

"They/Them" Alex said, with a faint grin. "How about you start by telling us what kind of project you're looking for."

"Right," I said. "I'm looking to build some new training equipment. Simple stuff, mostly."

Michelle chuckled. "Training equipment is practically the only thing this building isn't running out of. Why do you need something new?"

"The stuff you have is too soft," I said. "I'm looking for a training dummy made out of metal, at least as thick as normal PRT body armor. Some punching bags or striking plates of the same sort would also help."

"Hmm," Alex frowned, either considering my request or very closely examining their sandwich. "Any particular kind of metal?"

I shrugged. "Steel, I think? Whatever Hookwolf's made of, or the nearest thing. Oh, and about a dozen different weapons made of the same material. Stuff like blades, hooks, chains, spears, all that nastiness."

The two engineers exchanged another knowing glance. "This is starting to sound like a sizeable project," Michelle said. "Especially once you account for replacing any of the pieces you accidentally break."

"Oh, that's not a problem," I said, grinning. "I'm going to be breaking it all on purpose, but my power lets me put it everything back together. I won't need replacements."

Michelle nodded. "Alright, then. Alex and I can help you figure out what you need, maybe even draw you up some rough designs, but you'll have to pass them on to the Power Testing Lab on the Rig. They're the ones responsible for providing parahuman equipment."

I frowned. "I'd thought about that. They won't let me transfer the equipment off the Rig, even though the Wards do all of our training here at PRT HQ."

Alex shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. The higher-ups always get peeved whenever anyone tries to spend PRT resources on a Protectorate project. It plays hell with the budget."

"Well," I said, "I get a monthly budget from the Wards to spend on training and equipment. Maybe I could cover the cost?"

The two engineers shuddered. "Don't even joke about that," Alex said, crossing themself in exaggerated terror. "I'd rather go swing-dancing with Lung than bring down that kind of paperwork on myself."

"Maybe you could ask Armsmaster?" Michelle suggested. "The rumor mill says you two work together quite often."

"He's even busier than normal right now," I said, wincing at the thought of how little sleep he seemed to be getting lately. "Besides, I don't really need tinkertech. I'm just looking for big dumb pieces of metal to punch until I can learn how to break through them with my bare hands."

"That doesn't sound so difficult," a new voice said. I looked over my shoulder to see someone else step into the office carrying another bag of takeout. His portly frame, balding head, and bushy grey moustache made him look more like a schoolteacher than whatever mental image I'd formed of how a PRT engineer should look.

"So, does your entire office go out for lunch before 11:00?" I asked.

"It's more efficient," all three of them chorused, before breaking out laughing at my confused expression.

"Old in-joke," Alex said, once they'd gotten their laughter under control.

"The project isn't difficult, chief," Michelle said to the newcomer. "But the materials and shop-time are more than we can get away with writing off."

She passed him a slip of paper she'd been scratching on since I started talking, full of symbols and jargon I couldn't even begin to parse. He nodded and scratched at his moustache as he read.

"I see. I don't think this will be a problem. You two can continue on with your work; I'll take care of Daystar's request."

I shot up to my feet, trying not to look too eager as I offered him my hand. "Thank you, sir. Chief? Doctor…?"

"Howard will do," he said, chuckling. "It's really no trouble for me. One of the perks of my position is that no one asks question it when I take charge of a project."

"Still," I said, "I'm very grateful. I feel like I've hit a bit of a brick wall with my training, so I want to try kicking it up a notch."

"Trading the brick wall for one made of steel?" he chuckled. "No, it's fine. If you really feel like paying me back, though, I can offer you a deal."

I nodded. Trading a favor for a favor made sense, and I really wanted to get the new equipment as soon as I could."

"My only daughter had to leave the city," Howard said, "just to marry the love of her life. This city wasn't safe for them, you see. She's doing fine now, in Boston, but I can't think of much I'd like more than for her and her wife to be able to visit without worrying about getting jumped by skinheads. So, here's my offer: I'll get you your training equipment so that you can give Hookwolf and his Nazi cohorts the thrashing they so richly deserve."

I grinned, openly and earnestly. "It sounds like we have a deal."

--

By the time I made it back to Arcadia, the school was in the middle of lunch break. I'd already eaten before heading out, but I was happy for the chance to chat a bit with my friends. Everyone in the lunch group thanked me for hosting movie night, which already felt like something that happened months or years ago rather than only a couple days in the past. Jess seemed strangely distant, but I got her to confirm that everyone was still up for the Fight Club after school. I spent the last two periods of the day going over my own lesson plan while totally ignoring my teachers.

When I made my way to the gym after the final bell, I was surprised to find that Emma had arrived before me. She gave me a faint smile as soon as she spotted me, and half-walked, half-jogged over to meet me.

"Hey, Taylor," she said, just above a whisper, "before the others get here, I wanted to see if you were doing alright after, you know, what happened on the weekend."

"You're talking about Daystar's fight with Hookwolf and the Nazi Squad?" I asked. According to Lisa, the safest way to talk about cape stuff in a public area was to speak about your cape identity in third person, like anyone else exchanging gossip in the hallways.

Emma nodded. "I saw the videos, and it looked pretty rough. Daystar really looked like her life might have been in danger."

My first instinct was to brush her off, tell her that I was fine and she needed to mind her own business, but I paused to consider instead. Looking at Emma, I realized that it sounded like the kind of thing I expected to hear from Sophia, who always told everyone else to fuck off because she didn't think they'd understand her answers. Not only was that not the sort of person I was trying to be, but if anyone could recognize Sophia's influence on a person, it'd be Emma.

"I think that she probably didn't feel scared at the time. Now that she's seeing everyone's reactions, though, she might be starting to worry that she should have been scared, because that's what they all seem to expect. She may even feel anxious about how her friends might react if they knew how much she enjoyed it, or how she's looking forward to being able to do something like that again."

Neither of us said anything for a time, until Emma suddenly grabbed one of my hands in hers. "It's alright, Taylor. I don't know if it'll help, but I'm here if you ever need to talk to someone who isn't going to judge. If you'd like, I could even walk you through some of the CBT exercises my therapist taught me for managing unwanted thoughts."

My train of thought stopped dead. That was more empathy than I'd ever expected Emma to be capable of, and I didn't have any idea how to handle it. I might have stood there, mouth agape, for minutes on end if I hadn't spotted Amy, Jess, and the others making their way into the gym.

I sighed. "Can I get back to you on that?" Emma nodded and gave me a sunny smile, which hurt and comforted me in equal measure as I turned to greet the new arrivals.

Once everyone was properly warmed up, I started the lesson proper with a speech in full Serious Leader mode. "Alright, girls, today's lessons are going to be all about hitting and getting hit. I'm going to show you all some basic striking and blocking techniques so you don't pick up any bad habits, but the real goal is to help you get over the instinct to flinch. Unfortunately, one of the best ways to do that is to throw punches at each other until you feel too bored of it to be scared anymore. This is going to be hell on your nerves as well as physically exhausting, so make sure to take a break if you need to."

I walked them through some basic punches and blocks as promised before having them all pair up, with Mia as the odd one out facing up against me.

"Fair warning," I said, "I'm going to be throwing some full-speed punches at you, just so you get a feel for what it can be like in a real fight. I don't expect you to block those, just to do your best not to close your eyes. I promise that, no matter how scary it might seem, I'll never actually hit you."

Mia raised an eyebrow, adopting a skeptical expression that almost managed to hide her nervousness. "You sound pretty confident in that. Isn't there a chance you'll make a mistake?"

"Not really," I said, shrugging. "My control is pretty damn good. I'm not sure you could even make me hit you if you tried, not that you should try anything like that. I tell you what; if I mess up, I'll pay for your lunches for the rest of the school-year to make it up to you."

"Alright," Mia said, seeming a little less anxious, "but I've got some pretty expensive tastes."

We squared up, and I let let Mia throw a few attacks at me before I punched right at her face, stopping my fist just a centermeter from the tip of her nose. I made sure to slow myself down enough to keep the strike within the limits of non-parahuman speed, but it still happened so quickly that Mia seemed to almost forget to be shocked. It took a few seconds before she let out a tiny 'meep!' of terror and jerked backwards.

"Holy shit, that was fast," Mia said, wide eyed.

"Not as fast as you'd think," I replied, trying to sound casual. "It just seems like it when you're not used to people punching at you."

After that, I made sure to slow down my feints even more. Every 15 minutes or so, I introduced everyone to some new moves and shuffled the pairings around, leaving me to work one-on-one with a different student. Tracy flinched with her whole body every time I feinted at her, but she at least seemed to enjoy the adrenaline rush. Emma, on the other hand, had a tendency to fall back and cower. II felt like a bit of an ass every time I saw her eyes widen in terror, but she adamantly refused to let me go easy on her in any way.

Amy was the first one to surprise me. She'd seemed distracted all afternoon, so I thought that the drill might help shock her back to the present. Instead of flinching away from my attack, though, she stepped into it, moving to the side just enough to my fist before slamming her own firmly into my stomach. It was such a shock that I almost forgot to sell the hit.

"Fuck!" Amy cursed, shaken from her stupor. "Oh shit. Are you okay, Taylor?"

"I'm fine," I wheezed. "I get hit harder than that all the time in practice. Just make sure to watch yourself with the others."

"Don't worry," Amy said, shaking out her hand, "I don't think I'm going to forget this any time soon. Your stupid abs hurt my fist."

I smirked. "Behold the awesome power of 300 crunches a day. Seriously, though, that was an impressive reaction."

"Not a surprise," Tracy said, in between blocking jabs from Jess. "Amy's a cape, after all. She's probably been in tons of fights."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Killer, but you must be confusing me with literally everyone else in my family. They're not going to risk bringing their oh-so-delicate healer up to the front lines."

I gestured for Amy to get back into position. "Well, if you keep improving at this pace, they might have to reconsider. Also, Tracy, less chatter, more focusing on your opponent."

"It's fine!" she called back. "I'm really great at multita-ow fuck!"

I ended up squaring off against Jess last. It was pretty clear that something was eating at her; not only had she hardly said two words all practice, but she hadn't glanced over when Amy started talking about my abs. She didn't seem distracted like Amy had been, just uncomfortable. We went through a few exercises without trouble, but when I tried feinting at her, she fell backwards onto the mat, eyes wide with fear, and actually tried to scramble away from me for a second before getting control of herself.

Something in me died a little on seeing her expression. I needed to know what was going on, but making a big deal of it now would embarrass Jess, so I just offered her a hand up instead.

"Can we talk a bit after practice?" I asked, trying to conceal my worry.

Jess didn't say anything, but after a few seconds of silence she managed to nod. We both continued to practice as if nothing had happened. It couldn't finish soon enough.

--

Once I finished putting everything away and getting changed, I met up with Jess by the front of the school. We both stared awkwardly at each other for what felt like far too long, until the tension got too much for me. I pulled her into a tentative hug, and felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders when she immediately started squeezing back. In an instant, we both started laughing uncontrollably from the sheer release of tension. We must have looked a bit crazy, but I was long past caring.

Eventually, we gently pulled away from each other. I was pleased to see Jess actually smiling, even though worry still pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Something's up," I said, "and we're going to talk about it."

It wasn't a question, but Jess nodded anyways. "Yeah, we are. Is it alright if I take some time to work up to it?"

"Sure," I said, ignoring the way my anxiety kept screaming at me to get answers now. "Did you want to grab some food while you think? I'm kinda starving."

Jess nodded, and I returned her smile with a mostly-sincere one of my own. This was going to eat at me until I had answers, but I could handle that if it helped Jess get herself together. Anxiety had been my default state for so long, another hour or two of it was barely a blip in the long run.

One bus ride later and ten minutes of quiet walking later, Jess and I found ourselves sitting in one of the smaller booths at Fugly Bob's, a local greasy spoon burger joint that served the dictionary definition of comfort food. I'd been tempted for a while to take a shot at their challenger burger, but that kind of fanfare and attention was the last thing I wanted today, so I picked up a monstrous basket of onion rings for Jess and I to graze on instead.

After twenty-odd minutes of snacking, in which we barely seemed to have made a dent in the mountain of rings, Jess finally spoke up.

"Taylor, I know that you're a cape."

I stared at Jess, open mouthed, for about ten seconds before breaking into the least convincing laugh I'd ever heard.

"What? I'm not a cape, Jess. I don't even own a cape! How can I be a cape without a cape, I ask you?"

I tried to punctuate my totally-smooth denial with a crisp bite into another onion ring, but managed to miss my mouth entirely and smear a hefty dollop of Dijon Inferno Dipping Sauce across half of my face.

Jess stifled a giggle. "You're a terrible liar, Taylor, but at least it's kinda cute when you try."

I crossed my arms and frowned at her. "Oh yeah? Have you considered that that's exactly what a really fantastic liar would want you to think?"

"That's a risk I'm willing to take," Jess said. "You're also really bad at trying to change the subject."

I slumped in my seat. "I'm feeling so attacked right now, but fine. What makes you think I'm secretly a cape?"

"You mean, besides you reaction just now?" Jess asked, blushing faintly. "You know the video that's all over PHO, with Daystar fighting Hookwolf and friends?"

"I may be familiar with it, yes," I said, as I tried to wipe spicy mustard off my face with a napkin. "What of it?"

"I managed to download a copy of the unedited video before it got taken down," Jess continued. "The one that shows Daystar rescuing people from that burning building. It's harder to tell once the fight picks up and she starts really glowing, but she was wearing the same hoodie and jeans that you had on for movie night."

I shrugged. "So? I bet lots of people have that outfit. It's just a coincidence."

Jess gave me a flat stare. "Okay, but how many of them are also super tall, super buff, impossibly sexy lesbians with long dark hair?"

I blinked at her. "Impossibly what now?"

"My point," Jess said, her blush growing even brighter, "is that it all makes way too much sense to just be a coincidence. You transferred into Arcadia a few weeks before Daystar appeared on the scene, you get really cagey about the details of your co-op study program, and you fight like some kind of demon."

"Well that's silly," I replied. "I mean, I don't mind saying that I'm pretty good, but I'm nowhere near Daystar's level."

Jess frowned. "You really don't have any idea how scary you can be, do you?"

I stiffened. "I'm...scary? Jess, you know I'd never hurt-"

"I know, I know," Jess said, holding out a hand in protest. "I'm not saying you're threatening. It's more like a hundred little details about you that scream 'this person is not to be messed with.' Most of it is stuff I didn't even notice until I started looking for it."

I forced myself to take deep, calming breaths. "Such as?"

"I never see you trip," Jess said, "or stumble, or lose your footing at all. You never flinch, not when someone breaks a plate in the cafeteria, not when someone throws a dodgeball right at your face. Heck, now that I think back on it, I'm pretty sure that what I saw was you deciding to let it hit you. You're always so careful and gentle with everything around you, like you're worried about breaking something the second you lose control. Do I need to go on?"

"Interesting theory," I said, "but you do remember how I almost shoved an onion ring up my nose just a few minutes ago, yeah? That wasn't an act. I really am that much of a klutz."

Jess chuckled. "Oh, sure. Like, I saw you literally walk into a wall one time because I waved to you in the hallway. You make silly mistakes all the time, but never with anything that's actually important. The way you carry yourself reminds me of Alexandria; you both move through the world like you can't imagine anything actually hurting you."

I sighed. "I'm not going to be able to convince you that you're wrong about this, am I?"

"Don't worry," Jess said. "I'm not going to tell anyone. It's just...it's a lot to take in. It isn't easy to reconcile the big tough nerd I've been crushing on for months with the hero who can punch Nazis so hard that they bounce. Taylor Hebert is real to me in a way that I never expected Daystar could be."

I had no idea what to say to that, so I just nodded for her to go on.

"I was excited at first," Jess continued, "then embarrassed when I remembered how many times I've geeked out about Daystar in front of you. Then, I thought of all the times 've seen you almost die, and it just kinda hit me. I'd watched one of my closest friends get ambushed by Nazis, almost torn limb from limb by Lung..."

I reached across the table to give Jess's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, it's alright. I'm here. I'm fine. Everything worked out."

Jess lifted my hand to press it against her cheek, sighing as she closed her eyes. "I know, and I'm better now. Mostly better. Talking it over with you helps a lot."

"Well," I said, "I don't see any reason why we can't talk about cape stuff whenever you like, now that my secret's out. I'm going to have to tell my boss about it, though."

Jess opened her eyes again, frowning. "Oh. Did I get you in trouble? Am I in trouble?"

"No, it's all fine," I said. "Piggot's going to want you to sign a million NDAs at the PRT building, but on the bright side, I might be able to get you a meeting with some of the other Wards while you're there."

"That might be nice," Jess said, smiling, "but it's not a big deal. I already got a chance to meet my favorite."

We chatted back and forth a bit longer to give both of us a chance to calm our nerves. Jess insisted on paying for both of us, so while she stood in line for the register I stepped out to make a call to Piggot's office. There was actually a decent chance that Piggot would be upset at my failure to keep my identity secret, but I honestly couldn't care less at this point. I was just happy at having one less person I needed to keep secrets from.

--

A/N: Kudos to those folks who guessed what Piggot had done to piss Taylor off. It was fun watching people speculate on a mystery that I'd already written the resolution to.

Jess is in on the secret, now. Way way back when I was planning out arcs 2 and 3, I'd imagined this moment involving a lot more fangirling and swooning, but as soon as I started to write this chapter I knew that I'd need to take a different approach. Finding out that your friend is a cape can be exciting, but the implications are pretty scary when you start to really process them.

I had to cut nearly 2k words off the end of this chapter, where Taylor and Jess talked about Lisa, poly stuff, and potential future dates. It was cute, but when I went to edit the chapter I realized how jarring it felt to have the two of them go from serious talk to playful flirting and awkwardness, like they could both just shrug off the emotional impact of the earlier parts of the scene. I should have the chance to fit it into a later chapter; if not, I'll maybe salvage it into an interlude or suchlike.

Next time, on Daystar!: Taylor goes on her first mission alongside the Protectorate capes, and gets a chance to show what she's really capable of. Brockton Bay is in for another restless night.

And, as always, thanks for reading!

646

WinterWombat

Mar 12, 2020

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Threadmarks Interlude: Colin Wallis

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Mar 26, 2020

#4,524

I live!

The next chapter is still giving me hell, but I absolutely refuse to go any longer without an update, so you get to have a short Colin-terlude instead. This takes place between the end of the last chapter and the beginning of the next one.

--

April 28th

In my experience, there were exactly three ways of leaving a Tinker fugue: confusion when someone interrupts your focus, frustration when you ran into a problem you couldn't solve, and satisfaction when you finally completed a project. That last one was becoming depressingly rare of late. Too many projects needed too much attention, and the rapidly shifting situation in Brockton Bay made it difficult to determine which ones merited the highest priority. I'd started the day off working on my anti-brute tranquilizer for Lung, then switched over to developing countermeasures for the ABB's stealth Tinker, before deciding to try and clear my head by debugging some of Dragon's Endbringer-prediction software. I hated wasting time, but what could I do when all of the waste was my own fault?

I blinked in confusion at the loud, discordant crash of my stage-3 alarm blaring from my workstation. That particular cacophony only played after I'd ignored the gentler reminders given by the first two alarms, which I'd apparently failed to even notice. It wasn't quite the most unpleasant sound I'd been able to find (I saved that one for the stage 4 alarm), but it was close.

I sighed, lowered my tools, and started working my way through the process of what Taylor called a proper lunch break. I satisfied Rule 1 (go somewhere other than your workspace) by moving to an almost empty table on the far side of the room. Rule 2 required that my meal contain an appropriate balance of protein, carbohydrates, and various other nutrients. It would have been trivial to fulfill if not for Rule 3, which specified that lunch must also consist of at least three different foods and instead of just nutrient bars. Rule 4 threatened to make the entire endeavor impossibly tedious by insisting that I not eat the same thing two days in a row, but once I discovered the existence of meal-planner applications for my smartphone, it only took fifteen minutes to identify over fifty acceptable lunch combinations that met all nutritional requirements.

Today, I was testing combination #17: chicken sandwich on ciabatta bread, greek side salad, and unsweetened yogurt with mixed nuts. Every day was a new test, of course, since the semi-randomized schedule I'd composed wouldn't have me eating the same meal a second time for at least another two months. It seemed a bit excessive for a meal that was really just an inconvenient obstacle in the middle of my prime working hours, but I had to admit that I was starting to see the appeal of novelty.

Rule 6 was the only one I had raised no objections to, and it instructed me to seek company during mealtimes whenever possible. I sent a message to Dragon and was gratified to see her respond almost immediately, even though I'd marked it as lowest priority. Neither of us were particularly skilled at communicating our feelings, but we had our own little ways of showing affection nonetheless.

As soon as I confirmed her request for access, Dragon's digital face popped up in a nearby viewscreen. "Good afternoon, Colin. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm on a lunch break," I said, raising my sandwich into view of the nearby cameras as evidence. "The concept is new and strange to me, but I have it on expert authority that the company of friends is supposed to enhance the experience."

Dragon grinned at my joke, and I took a second to admire the way the corners of her avatar's eyes crinkled slightly. I typically failed to notice such subtle signs when I wasn't consciously looking for them, but I could still appreciate Dragon's incredible attention to detail.

"Is that so?" she chuckled. "Well, I'd be delighted to help you in your experiment. Was this expert by any chance the same person who convinced you to take an actual mid-day break? I may have to thank her for finally managing to pull off what I couldn't."

I considered her last remark. She was still smiling, both with her mouth and with her eyes, so it hadn't likely been meant as a veiled criticism. She hadn't put any particular emphasis on the words either. Most likely, she was either being totally sincere, or engaging in the sort of light teasing that was meant to indicate familiarity, and thus affection. Satisfied that I hadn't inadvertently caused some offense, I smiled back at her.

"Taylor can be very persuasive," I said. "I'm still not certain that I agree with her statements about the importance of diet to emotional well-being, but she made a good enough case that I felt I should at least try taking her advice."

"I'm not sure what she said," Dragon replied, "but I probably agree with her. Sharing food and eating together is a fundamental part of how people bond. Sometimes, it feels like one of the worst parts of my condition is how it keeps me from ever being a part of that."

Dragon rarely ever mentioned the extreme agoraphobia that kept her almost perpetually house-bound, and which I suspected might be at least partly power-induced. That she brought it up now suggested that her loneliness hurt her more than she let on.

"I always enjoy your company," I said, "even if you're not actually sitting beside me. You feel more present to me than many of the people I work alongside every day, and I don't just mean the ones who can teleport."

Dragon chuckled again, and I noticed the subtle signs of stress in her digital avatar diminish. "Thank you, Colin. I wasn't kidding about thanking Taylor either. It's good to see you taking better care of yourself, even if I suspect she had to develop a new Master power to do it."

It was my turn to chuckle. "She used the oldest Master power of all, in fact. Guilt."

Dragon raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I feel like there a story here."

"Not much of one," I said. "She caught me the morning after an all-night tinkering session, and found my disheveled state either amusing or worrying. She made a joke about it, something about not wanting to rescue me from pushing myself too far because she didn't know how to ride a motorcycle with one arm. It was an objectively terrible joke, but it made me think. What does it matter how far I can advance my technology if I'm not in any shape to use it when I'm most needed?"

Dragon's smile grew wider. "I should have known. You're far too stubborn to change for your own sake, Colin, but you'll move mountains for the people who rely on you."

"All I've ever wanted," I said, "is to be the best hero I could possibly be. It just turns out that understanding exactly what that means takes more effort than I expected. It wasn't something I really thought about, before."

"It sounds like mentoring Taylor has been almost as helpful for you as for her, so far," Dragon said. "Do you think you're finally ready to admit that you're not as bad with kids as you keep saying?"

Of course, Dragon said this just as I took a particularly large bite of my sandwich. I glared at her in silence while I finished chewing.

"That's because I don't need to treat Taylor like a child. She doesn't need me to support her emotionally, help manage her life, or build some kind of parental bond. She's more like a junior colleague, someone I can offer practical assistance. Her problems make sense to me. If I could deal with the other Wards that way, I wouldn't need to delegate so much of that duty to Miss Militia."

Dragon's expression turned thoughtful, and our conversation paused long enough for me to finish the rest of my sandwich.

"Colin," she eventually said, "what if I told you that you could do exactly that?"

--

I stepped into Kid Win's workshop doing my best not to grimace. It wasn't messy so much as incredibly disorganized. He looked to have at least a half-dozen different projects on the go, judging by the way half-finished components littered every surface with absolutely no indication of what work they belonged to. The walls were plastered with layers of rough schematics scrawled on looseleaf and cafeteria napkins, some of which had obviously been meant as corrections to parts of whatever they'd been layered over.

I found Kid Win himself busy rearranging these papers, moving them through a number of equally incomprehensible configurations. I was tempted to lecture him on the importance of a well-organized workspace, but that wasn't what I was here for. Besides, once I stopped focusing on the mess and started focusing on the young Tinker, I recognized the all-to-familiar look of frustration on his face.

He didn't show any of the signs of a Tinker fugue, so I knocked on the doorframe to get his attention. He spun around so fast that I was worried he might lose his balance, eyes going wide as soon as he recognized me.

"Armsmaster," he said, voice quavering, "is everything okay? I didn't forget another meeting, did I?"

"Colin, please," I said, taking off my helmet so that we were both unmasked. "And no, Chris, you're not in any trouble. It's been quite some time since you've presented any new tech for review, so I felt it might be prudent to check in and assess your current projects."

Chris smiled, but a closer look at his eyes suggested that it might not be genuine. I quickly went over what I'd just said, and saw where I might have gone wrong.

"My apologies," I said, before he could respond. "I believe I misspoke. I didn't mean to imply that you'd failed to live up to any standard."

His expression shifted from distress to confusion, which I decided to count as a net positive. "No worries, Arms-, er, Colin. I understand what you meant. Plus, I'm, um, actually almost finished with something new?"

I nodded. "Show me?"

Chris nodded, turned around to grab something from the nearby workstation, and presented me with a mess of scattered components splayed across his palm. Try as I might, I couldn't see any difference between this new project and the various half-disassembled components that littered his workplace.

"It's an anti-Master failsafe for my spark guns," he said, "in case I run into Megrim again."

I considered informing him that the chances of him running into Megrim again were next to zero, but decided that he'd probably take it as discouragement instead of reassurance. He had many positive qualities as a hero, but being bulletproof was not one of them, so he wouldn't be joining Daystar, Shadow Stalker, or Aegis on any of the more serious missions.

Instead, I just nodded. "I see. You mean to integrate these components into your weapons?"

"Only these parts," he said, gesturing at one portion of the mess. "This other bit goes into my helmet, and connects to my pistols through the same wireless link that puts their status on my HUD."

I leaned in for a closer look, and nodded in approval. "Noninvasive transcranial electrocorticogram? You've done well to make it so compact."

Chris beamed at me. "That's the idea. It's set up to detect aberrant neurological activity and send a shut-down command to my pistols. No more taking potshots at teammates while mind controlled."

"An interesting idea," I said. "Unfortunately, I see a potential major problem. I'm not sure this device is capable of discerning between an outright mental attack by a Master like Megrim and, say, a full-power blast from Glory Girl's aura. You're looking at a significant risk of being disarmed by a false positive."

"A-actually," Chris stammered, "I kinda thought of that already. I want to eventually refine the sensor for better resolution, but for the moment I built in a quick override."

I frowned. It felt like it would be cruel to point out the obvious deficiencies in a child's rudimentary plan, but I wouldn't hesitate to speak up if he was a peer. "I'm not sure I see the point. What does safing your pistols do if you can override it so easily? Your idea has merit, but I think you need to work on improving your sensors before it's likely to be of any help."

"It's a verbal override," Chris said. "None of Megrim's victims have shown the ability to speak while mastered. Even if that turns out to be true, or I run into a Master who works by different rules, the device is set to broadcast the override command over the team's comms channel, so everyone else will at least have a warning. Plus, I'm pretty sure the system is simple enough to fit onto any future weapons I make with only minimal adjustment."

I considered that. My first instinct was to call it a crude solution, an attempt to compensate for sub-par Tinker skills, but it would work, wouldn't it? I knew that taking advantage of quirks in the specific powers of local villains always puts a hard limit on what a tech can achieve, but that was a problem for the leader of a regional Protectorate branch, not for a Ward.

"I stand corrected," I said, finally. "It's applicability is still limited, but it's still a worthwhile improvement, and a good example of thinking outside the box. That said, if you're interested in developing more of a broad-spectrum psychic shield, I'm sure I could find the time to walk you through what I've developed so far."

Chris's face cycled from surprise to a host of emotions I couldn't really identify. "I appreciate the offer," he said, slowly, "but we both know I haven't done well with that sort of thing in the past. I don't really have the attention span for it."

He was correct, but it would have been rude for me to say so. "As you wish. The offer remains open, however. Your success here makes me think that a broad-spectrum shield should be well within your capabilities."

"Actually," he said, "do you have any prototypes or old versions I could get my hands on? I know you're not as prone to, ah, let's say 'recycling' your old tech the way I do."

I frowned again, feeling distinctly uncomfortable at having to act so confrontational. "I do, but I'm not sure that's the best solution. Incorporating another Tinker's tech into your own without understanding it is always a recipe for disaster. Devices that you can't repair yourself always seem to malfunction at the worst possible time. Better to put in the extra work and develop the tech yourself."

I couldn't tell what Chris was feeling when he looked up at me, but I could recognize the signs of someone forcing themselves to relax. "That's not what I meant, sir. Colin. It's just that, well, all of my best projects are salvaged from parts of the things I actually intended to build. I'm pretty sure I understand my own tech better when I'm taking it apart than when I'm putting it together. If I keep some of your old devices around, maybe I'll be able to figure them out when I get the urge to 'recycle' them?"

"That's...rather insightful," I said, trying not to let my surprise show on my face. "Do you think your specialty might have something to do with salvaging other Tinkers' technology? If so, that would make you remarkably similar to Dragon."

"I doubt I'm that lucky," he replied with a sheepish grin. "Who knows, though? It might be worth a shot, at least."

"I couldn't agree more," I said. "If you're free tomorrow, I can bring you to my main workshop on the Rig, show you where I keep my old prototypes. You can take anything that sparks your interest. Not all of the pieces are in working order at the moment, but Daystar should be able to help you with that."

Chris's eyes went wide. "Are you sure? You don't have to go through that kind of trouble just because I had a hunch."

I grinned. "Incorrect. If this hunch plays out, it's more than worth the effort. If it doesn't, we still learn something about how your power works. I've done a poor job so far of teaching you how to be a better Tinker, I'm afraid, so the least I can do is give you the tools to teach yourself. I suspect you'll prove more suited to the role than I did."

As Chris and I worked out scheduling details, I made a mental note to find some way to thank Dragon for her insight, and Taylor as well. Without them, I probably never would have realized just how much a proper lunch break could help me to become a better hero.

--

A/N: Not dead! Maybe a little stir-crazy, but who isn't these days?

I intend to have the next chapter finished for this upcoming Thursday, come hell or high water, just as a matter of personal pride. It may not be good. It may, in fact, be awful. But it will be finished.

In the meantime, everyone take care of yourselves, abide by whatever quarantine procedures your local municipality has declared, and try to keep your spirits up. We're all going to get through this mess together.

717

WinterWombat

Mar 26, 2020

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Threadmarks Dragons 3.12

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Apr 13, 2020

#4,577

April 28th, 2011

Thursday after school, I managed to convince a few of my cape friends to costume-up and follow me out to a wrecking yard near the edge of the docks for some unofficial power testing. I'd started off just looking for big chunks of metal to punch, but it wasn't long before someone decided to try and get creative with ways to challenge my power. Things just sort of snowballed from that point, until, well...

"I'd just like to state for the record that this was all Taylor's idea, not mine, and I accept no responsibility for the consequences of her insanity."

Vicky made for an odd sight, floating an inch above the ground and effortlessly holding a rusty old refrigerator over her head. The strained expression on her face had nothing to do with its weight; I knew for a fact that she could lift at least twice as much with a single hand. She probably just felt awkward, and I couldn't really blame her.

Clockblocker chuckled. "I've watched enough movies to know that that's the kind of thing someone says right before everything goes perfectly fine." Gallant, standing next to him, only shook his head.

"It's alright, Vicky," I said, "I trust you. We'll go on three, okay?"

Vicky sighed and nodded. "Okay. One, two, three-"

Vicky threw the fridge straight at me. I had more than enough time to dodge out of the way, but that wasn't the point of this exercise. My hands still ached from an afternoon of punching rock and scrap metal barehanded, but I ignored the pain, focusing instead on the way my essence pulsed through my bones and crackled over my skin. At the last possible moment, I struck at the incoming mass of metal with a wild, graceless haymaker.

It should have bowled me over. Brute strength could only do so much when 400lbs of refrigerator met 180lbs of Taylor. Fortunately for me, I wasn't just relying on muscle. My whole arm went numb from the sudden impact, but the lattice of essence woven throughout it held firm, and thus so did I. The fridge tumbled backwards from the blow, rolling to a stop less than a yard away from Vicky's floating feet.

"Holy shit," Clockblocker whispered. "Hell of a right hook you've got there, 'Star."

Gallant walked over and held up his hand. "Yeah, no kidding. Congrats on the new technique!"

I grinned as I gave him a high-five, glad that we'd all dressed 'cape casual' for the outing so I didn't have to slap an armored gauntlet. "Thanks, but it's still too early for praise. I've got the feeling that, done properly, that move should have cracked the fridge in half instead of merely denting it. I think I need to practice with some more robust materials."

"Daystar," Vicky said, "I love you dearly as a friend, but please don't ask me to throw cars at you. My heart won't be able to take it."

She crossed her arms and mimed a 'putting my foot down' stomp, but the gesture fell flat when her foot failed to actually reach the ground. She'd refused to touch down ever since we'd entered the place, even after I'd explained the difference between a wrecking yard and a dump. She didn't actually seem that bent out of shape about it, though, so I suspected she was just yanking my chain.

"Don't worry," I said, "the new training aids I asked for should be ready by the weekend. How do you feel about trying to hit me with a sword instead?"

The expression of shock on her face made me burst into laughter, while Gallant just shook his head.

"Anyone ever tell you that you have the weirdest hobbies?" Clockblocker asked. "It's like wine tasting, except with punching instead of tasting, and the wine is replaced with things that people really shouldn't be trying to punch."

I put a hand on the battered fridge and let some of my essence trickle out into it, gradually mapping out its internal structure. "This is much cheaper, and a lot more productive. Besides, from what Amy's said, my power probably makes me a pretty expensive drunk. Liver of steel and all that."

Vicky pulled a buzzing phone out of her pocket. "Speaking of Amy," she said, before suddenly frowning.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, barely noticing my power as it started to repair the fridge.

Vicky nodded ruefully. "It's one of the nurses who works with Amy at the hospital, asking me to come by and pick her up early. That only happens when she's having a really shitty day."

I winced. "Has she been having a lot of those lately?"

"It's hard to tell," Vicky said. "She hasn't said a lot to me, or, well, to anyone, not since last weekend. I don't really know what I can do to help. Dea-, er, Gallant, you know a lot about talking to people, right? Maybe you could come along?"

Gallant shook his head. "Probably not a good idea. Amy and I have never been great at talking to each other. You should ask Daystar instead."

"Of course I'll help," I said. "At the very least, I can be someone for her to snark at. You can drop me off on the roof of the PRT building; I'll get changed into civvies and travel the rest of the way on foot."

Vicky nodded, giving me a grateful look. I grabbed the bag holding my civvie gear, asked the guys to tell the wrecking yard owner about his new fully functional refrigerator, and practically jumped into Vicky's arms. Just like that, we were off.

--

After a quick trip into the Wards' area to get changed, I burst out of one of the PRT building's many back entrances and hit the ground running. The hospital where Amy did most of her healing was close enough to count as within walking distance, but only just, so I needed to move quickly if I didn't want to keep the Dallon sisters waiting. With essence washing away all fatigue, the hardest part was keeping myself within the limits of a normal human pace.

Once I closed within a few blocks of the hospital, I slowed to a walking pace. Even without Mover powers on display, seeing someone rushing a hospital at a dead sprint would surely draw attention. That left me with a couple of minutes before I'd meet up with Vicky and Amy, so I took the opportunity to pull out my phone and call on my backup.

Lisa picked up after only two rings. "Taytay! Got a problem I can help with?"

I grinned even as I rolled my eyes. "You make it sound like I only call when I need something. Maybe I just wanted to tell my girlfriend how smart and cool she is."

"Aww, you're too sweet," Lisa said, "but that wasn't what I meant. You know how much I love unravelling tricky little puzzles."

"You mean showing off just how smart you are?" I said, and was rewarded with the sound of Lisa's muffled giggling.

"Hey, you know what they say; if you've got it, flaunt it. I'm kinda in the middle of something right now, but I can easily spare a few minutes for my favorite warrior princess. What's the story?"

"It's Amy," I said, hoping that my blush didn't stand out too much to the people around me. "She's been having a rough week, and I'm worried that her home situation might be getting worse. I've got some ideas on how I might help her move out of that place, but I'm not sure how to bring up the subject without her shutting me out."

"Oh good, one of the easy ones," Lisa said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're right, though. Amy can't really start healing until she gets out of that toxic situation, but she's convinced herself that she has to deal with it all alone."

"I can sympathize," I sighed. "It took getting beaten half to death by Lung for me to get my head straight. I hope Amy's a bit less stubborn."

"Don't hold your breath," Lisa said. "You've probably already noticed, but she gets defensive whenever anyone starts to poke their nose into her business. The more you try to help, the pricklier she's likely to get.

I frowned. "So, you're saying that I should just back off and give her space?"

"Fuck no!" Lisa said. "That girl's heading straight for a big, messy breakdown. Trigger-worthy levels of breakdown, if she didn't already have powers. She needs help, but she can't bring herself to ask for it."

"Well, shit," I muttered. "If she's going to fall apart on her own, but won't accept any help, is there even anything I can do for her?"

"Be available," Lisa said. "Listen to her problems, tell her she's your friend. Just keep being you, basically. "

I sighed. "Thanks, but that's not as specific as I'd hoped for. Is there anything you can tell me that might help me get through to her?"

"Oh, sure," Lisa said, chipper as anything. "For starters, she-"

"Wait," I said. "Anything you can tell me that she wouldn't consider a massive violation of her privacy?"

Lisa sighed. "And that's the reason why you're the one helping her out like this, not me. If you're going to be a spoilsport about this, though, there's not much I can say. Try your best to keep her from getting trapped in her own head, maybe. Oh, and whatever you do, don't try to praise her for her work as Panacea. She needs to feel valued for more than just her power."

I stopped on the sidewalk, right before turning a corner that would bring me into view of the hospital. "I can do that, yeah. Any idea how I might drop the whole 'you should move out' topic on her?"

I could hear the wince in Lisa's voice when she replied. "Sorry. I'm great at breaking people apart, not so good at putting them together again. She needs to be able to trust you, but you can, urgh, you can get away with pushing her into doing things for her own good. Probably? Just not, like, all the time. It's hard to say."

"Lisa, are you okay?" I asked. "You sound like you're in pain."

"I'll be fine," she replied, a bit too quickly. "It's just a mild Thinker headache. I get them all the time."

I leaned against the wall of the nearby building and used my free hand to rub my eyes. "Crap, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to hurt yourself like this for my sake."

"I appreciate your concern, Taylor, but I'm not letting you take responsibility for this," Lisa said. "First off, it's my power, so I get to decide what is or isn't worth getting a headache over. Second, Amy's kinda sorta slightly my friend too, in the sense that I feel a lot of sympathy for her. The point is, I'm not just helping because you asked me to. Thirdly…"

Her voice had taken on a certain sly cadence at the end. She was feeding me a line, but I was happy to bite. "Thirdly?"

"Thirdly, if you still want to make it up to me, you can give me one of your legendary back rubs on our next date."

"I, uh," I stammered, face flushed, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I know how to give particularly legendary back rubs."

"Best you start learning, then," Lisa teased. "Ta ta, Taytay."

I put my phone away and turned the corner, half-certain that steam must have been shooting out of my ears. When I caught sight of Amy, though, all thoughts of fun times with Lisa vanished. She barely seemed aware of the world around her, eyes staring off into the distance as she leaned on her sister for support. It took several seconds for her to actually see me, but as soon as we made eye contact, a whole range of clashing emotions seemed to flicker across her face, from shame, to rage, to sorrow, despair, and eventually all the way back to numb neutrality.

"Hey, Taylor," Vicky said, almost apologetic, as they crossed over to my side of the street. "Amy needs some rest, so I'm gonna fly her back to-"

"Changed my mind," Amy interrupted. "I don't need rest, I need to hit something. You up for a bit of sparring, Taylor?"

"Sure, sounds fun," I said, before dropping into a boxer's stance and throwing a few punches at the empty air. "We're close to the PRT building. They're a lot better stocked than Arcadia's gym,"

Amy nodded, and even managed a faint smile.

"Alright!" Vicky said, suddenly hoisting her sister up off the ground. "PRT HQ is it. Race you there, Taylor!"

She sped off into the sky, leaving me blinking in disbelief, before I just sighed and started sprinting back the way I came.

--

Once we all reached the PRT building, it was easy for me to grab one of the private training rooms that Colin and I still sometimes used for sparring. For the next thirty minutes, I let Amy flip and throw me around like some kind of Brute-rated crash test dummy, while Vicky mostly shouted encouragement from the sidelines. That wasn't to say that I made things too easy for Amy; she seemed to be improving her technique in leaps and bounds, enough so that we could engage in proper sparring instead of just carefully coordinated exercises.

As Amy searched for openings in my guard, I looked for openings in the sparse conversation that would let me bring up the topic of her home life. I didn't want her to feel like I was prying in case I scared her off, but it was hard to see any other way to get her to open up.

After several more rounds passed in extremely awkward silence, I turned to see why even Vicky had abandoned me. She seemed totally engrossed in her phone, so I gave her a wave to get her attention.

"Hey, Vicky! If you're feeling bored, you can always sub in for a few rounds. I've got some fun ideas for how to work your flight into a modified take on some tae-kwon-do moves. Who doesn't like kicking things, right?"

Vicky took a moment to look up at me, her confused expression proving that she'd barely heard a thing I'd said. "Thanks, Tay, but I'm fine. You and Ames can keep doing your fight thing."

"I'm fine here with Taylor, Vicky," Amy said. "If you want to go down and say hi to Dean, I'm not going to stop you."

Vicky didn't even pretend to hesitate. "If you're sure, then. I'll just be gone a few minutes, promise."

As soon as she floated out the door, I turned back to Amy and raised an eyebrow. "Are she and Dean getting back together?"

Amy sighed. "Not yet, but it probably won't be long. Honestly, I just wanted a chance to talk to you alone."

"Oh?" I said, forcing my voice to stay casual. "Well, looks like we've got the chance now. How can I help?"

Amy drew in a deep, steadying breath, then looked me straight in the eyes, her gaze practically burning with determination.

"I want you to use your Master power on me."

I frowned. "What are you talking about? I don't have a Master power, Amy."

Amy shook her head. "Thinker power, then. It doesn't matter what you call it. The same power that you used on Vicky, to break her down and make her change for the better."

"Woah there," I said. "I didn't make Vicky do anything. Yeah, I broke her down, but she was the one who built herself back up again. Looking back, there were plenty of ways I could have helped Vicky without hurting her so much. Just because everything turned out okay doesn't mean I did the right thing."

"I don't care!" Amy snapped.

"Well I do!" I shouted back. "Fucking hell, Amy, you're my friend. The last thing I want to do is cause you pain."

"It's nothing I don't deserve," she said, turning her gaze to the ground.

I took a step forward, only for Amy to suddenly flinch back. "Amy, what's going on?"

Amy shook her head and took another step backwards. "Stop. Forget it. None of your business."

"Bullshit," I spat, genuine anger buzzing in my veins. "I've been trying to give you space, but this is too much. You don't get to ask me to traumatize you with your own darkest feelings and then pretend like it didn't happen. I'm not going to stand by and let you hurt yourself!"

Amy barked a short, bitter laugh. "You don't get it, not even a little. You don't need to worry that I'm going to start cutting myself or whatever. Just leave me alone."

I glared at her, and felt my essence start to roil in anticipation of conflict. "That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it. I've tried giving you space, giving you a chance to open up, and just look how much that accomplished. So fuck it. I'm going to help you, Amy, and I'm not going to let you get in my way."

"Christ, Taylor," Amy muttered. "Are all Brutes this dumb? This isn't something you can just punch your way through."

I bared my teeth in something almost like a grin. "No? Here, I'll tell you what's going to happen. I'm going to text Vicky, and tell her to take her time coming back, and then you're going to tell me what's wrong, in detail, while I use my power to make sure you're telling the truth. Then, when you're finished…"

Amy continued to glare defiance at me. I couldn't afford to let her see any hesitation.

"When you're finished, I'm going to tell you exactly what I think of you, down to the last ugly detail. You can even use your power to make sure I'm not lying or holding anything back. I'll even use my least-favorite Thinker power on you at that point, if it's still what you want. Honestly, though, I don't think I'll need to."

I held Amy's gaze for several long seconds. She blinked first.

"Fuck it, fine," she sighed. "Can we at least sit down for this?"

I gestured towards the bench lining one wall of the training room. She sat at one end, and I sat at the other. I texted Vicky as promised, while giving Amy the chance to collect her thoughts.

"Okay," she finally said, "how's this for a start? You know how {my power can't effect brains?}"

I kept my face impassive. "That limitation isn't real, then. Why do you let everyone believe it?"

Amy laughed mirthlessly. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Maybe," I shrugged. "Tell me anyways. I'm not the one being interrogated here."

Amy rolled her eyes. "How many people do you think would let me heal them if they knew I could mess with their brains? How could people trust me if they knew I had the potential to be a Master worse than Heartbreaker?"

"Can you really do that?" I asked. "Control people, I mean?"

"Easily," Amy said. "My power gives me total control over biology down to the tiniest level. I could make people love me more than they love their own family, toy with their memories, change their personalities, whatever I want."

I nodded. "I see how that sounds scary, but your story doesn't quite add up."

Amy glared at me. "Fuck you, I'm not lying!"

"You're not," I agreed, "but you've left something out. If this was just about trust, what stops you from just claiming that you can heal brains but not control them? Why refuse to touch them at all?"

"Aside from how unbelievable that might sound? Because there's no difference between healing and controlling," Amy sighed. "That's just how my power works. When I repair someone's injuries, I'm basically just taking control of their biology and forcing it to heal itself. If I start tampering with someone's brain, how do I know I'm not changing who they are? So I don't, ever. It's a rule I made for myself when I first started healing."

I nodded. "Okay. So what happened today that made things worse?"

"You," Amy spat.

I let out a small but genuine laugh. "Ouch. No, I meant, what happened at the hospital?"

"Still you," Amy grumbled, "just indirectly."

She went quiet, so I stifled my urge to question what the hell she meant, giving her more time to gather her thoughts.

"So, there's this woman," she said, eventually. "Mid 30s, active lifestyle, healthy as a horse. Comes into the ER after her bicycle gets rammed by an SUV downtown. I always start my rounds with the emergency cases, so she's the first patient I look at. She got off lightly from the crash, with only a couple broken bones, no damage to her skull or internals. The only problem is, as soon as I touch her, I can see that she has a tumor in her brain."

"Does that kind of thing happen often?" I asked.

Amy shrugged. "It's not common, but it's not super rare. I usually make up some excuse for why the doctors should scan the patient's brain, just to be sure. This time, though, even if I pointed it out directly, there wasn't much they would have been able to do. Too big, too deep, too wide-spread. This woman had maybe a couple of months to live, at most. I just told the doctors that she probably had a concussion, so they should keep her around for a least a few hours.

"I go on with my rounds for the day, driving myself as hard as I can, but I can't stop thinking about this one patient. I keep remembering our conversation last week, about being what it meant to be selfish or selfless with our powers. Out of nowhere, I start wondering if I feel like I have to spend all my time in the hospital to make up for the people I could heal, but don't, thanks to my made-up rules?"

"Shit," I said, "that's surprisingly insightful."

"I should probably be offended by your low opinion of me," Amy chuckled, "but honestly, you're right. If it had just been that, though, today might have been fine. Instead, I got an idea."

"Something to do with brain-tumor woman?" I asked.

Amy huffed. "Obviously. I started thinking that, hey, since I hadn't actually told anyone about the brain tumor yet, I could just make it go away without anyone ever being the wiser. I wouldn't even be touching any parts of her brain that actually do anything, just getting rid of a lump of useless cells. I check with the front desk to confirm that she hasn't been released yet, so I go down to give her one last checkup, only to find her bawling her eyes out. Turns out she'd mentioned that she felt like she'd lost control of her body right before the crash, so the doctors sent her up for an MRI. They'd found the tumor almost immediately."

I didn't really know what to say to that, so I just went with "Well, fuck."

"No kidding," Amy sighed. "I shut down after that, sat down in a chair and stared at the wall until Vicky showed up."

"So, if I'm understanding you correctly," I said, "You got to experience all of self-doubt from deciding to break your big rule, without even getting the catharsis of knowing that something good at least came of it?"

"Well, when you put it that way," Amy muttered, "all I can really say is...fuck."

I nodded in agreement. "That's why you wanted me to use my power to emotionally demolish you? You want to be punished for breaking your rule, even if you didn't technically get to break it?"

Amy jerked her head around to stare at me. "What!? {No, that's not it at all!}"

I raised one eyebrow in the universal gesture of 'seriously?'

"Fine," she said, "so maybe that was part of it, but it wasn't the only reason. I hoped that you would use your power to tell me exactly how I'd gone wrong, in a way that I couldn't rationalize or ignore. I want to know what to do to stop feeling so fucking guilty all the time. I want to stop wanting to do bad things."

I sighed. "That's not how that particular power works, Amy. It's not about pointing out your flaws so you can improve on them, it's about saying whatever will hurt you the most, regardless of whether or not it's true. My power doesn't work as a therapist, not even an asshole TV therapist."

Amy leaned back against the wall and tilted her head up to stare at the ceiling. "In that case, I don't even need your power, not as long as I've got Carol around to do that for me."

I leaned forward and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyelids. "Carol, right. You know she's been lying to you, right? Trying to make you feel bad for making promises you didn't even make?"

"I suspected," Amy replied. "She's afraid of me, you know? It's been a while since she's actually said anything, but she's worried that I'm going to turn into some kind of villain one of these days."

I lowered my hands so I could stare at her. "What? Why? No, better question, how? I don't really see anything about you that screams 'villain' to me."

Amy shook her head. "I don't know for sure, but I think my dad might have been a villain. Not Mark, I mean. My biological dad. I'm adopted, if that isn't obvious."

I chuckled at her awkwardness. "If I were you, I'd feel like I'd dodged a bullet by not actually being related to Carol Dallon. I'm kinda surprised Vicky turned out okay, to be honest."

Amy seemed to visibly sink into herself. "Oh, don't worry. Carol's a much better mom where she's concerned. I don't think Vicky even realized how differently she was treated, not until, well, you know."

We sat in silence for a while after that, giving me time to think. I was glad that Amy had finally opened up, but it didn't feel like just talking about her problems was going to be enough to let Amy get through them.

"Amy," I finally said, "do you trust me? Honestly? Considering the shit we've gone through, I won't be offended if you say no."

Amy considered that for a moment. "I guess? I mean, I trust you to do whatever you think is right, even if I don't necessarily trust you not to be a total asshole about it."

I laughed. "That's fair. With that in mind, please don't freak out when I tell you that you won't be going back to your house today."

Amy blinked at me like I'd grown a second head. "...the fuck?"

"Amy," I said, "I've spent less than an hour in your mom's company, and I can already tell that she's toxic as hell for you. Right now, you probably feel a lot better about your life, but that's because you're riding high on a wave of endorphins and emotional catharsis. When you fall apart, I don't want you doing it in the same building as her."

Amy shot to her feet. "That doesn't mean I can just get up and leave, Taylor!"

"Sure it does!" I said. "Who's going to stop you? It's not like Carol isn't always pissed off at you anyways, right? Why not give her a reason for once?"

"Great idea," Amy snapped, "but where the hell am I supposed to stay?"

I smiled, and felt a guilty little thrill at how it seemed to stoke her anger just a little bit hotter. "My place, obviously. I'll take the couch. Now, got anything tougher?"

Amy drew in a breath like she was about to explode, before letting it out in one great sigh. "What about Vicky? I'm pretty sure I'd break her heart if I split up the family."

Instead of replying, I took out my phone and called Vicky's number. When she picked up, I didn't even give her time to say hello. "Vicky, family emergency. I need you to tell Amy that you support her moving out, because living with your mom is making her feel like a monster. Here she is."

Without waiting for her reply, I handed my phone to Amy. "Hey, Vicky. Yeah, no, she's being serious, but...okay, but you don't need to...well, no...yeah...okay. Okay, yeah, see you soon."

Amy ended the call and handed me my phone back. "I can't believe this is actually working."

"Neither can I," I chuckled. "She offered to move out with you, didn't she?"

Amy pouted. "Super hearing is cheating."

"Wasn't using it," I said, flashing her a grin that had to rival Lisa's in smugness. "You'll need to make her a list, for when she swings back to your mom's place to put together an overnight bag."

"You're forgetting something, Taylor," Amy said. "You promised to tell me what you really think of me. I need to know if you're doing this out of pity, or because of your enormous martyr complex."

"Excuse me," I said, "I'm pretty sure I have a savior complex, not a martyr...you know what? Fine."

I reached out and grabbed one of her hands before she could flinch away again, making sure to establish skin-to-skin contact.

"You, Amy Dallon, are stubborn and abrasive to an extreme I didn't think possible before meeting you. I'm really happy that I didn't end up asking you out, back when we just met, because I'm pretty sure we'd end up murdering each other halfway through the second date. You're also my friend, someone I love, respect, and value. Not only have you literally saved my life before, you've been one of the people who've given me a life worth coming back to. I'm not sure I'll ever really understand you, but as long as I'm alive, I promise you'll never have to go through your troubles alone."

I released her hand, only to step forward and wrap her in a tight hug. "How was that?"

"Way too cheesy," Amy chuckled through mounting tears. "You're such a fucking nerd, Taylor."

By the time Vicky arrived back in the training room, Amy was still sobbing on my shoulder. I let her take over holding Amy while I texted Colin to let him know what I was planning. I might get chewed out tomorrow for interfering in another cape team's business, depending on what Piggot thought of the whole business, but I'd already crossed her before, for plenty of reasons worse than this one. I'd worry about that after the current emergency settled down.

--

I got back to the apartment with Amy in tow, only to find Colin already there, busy arranging a small mountain of takeout menus on the kitchen table. On the couch, I saw what looked like a high-end sleeping bag and inflatable mattress, still in their original packaging. Amy went off to use the washroom, so I took the chance to approach him.

"I received your text," he said, responding without turning around to face me. "For what it's worth, I think you're fully capable of handling this situation on your own, but I judged that my presence here as your guardian might be necessary for legal purposes."

I nodded. "Thanks, Colin. I hadn't thought of that. I'm kinda just playing this by ear. I'm sorry for getting you caught up in this without any warning."

Colin set down the bundle of menus and turned to fully face me. "Taylor, you never need to apologize to me for doing what you think is right. Besides, my research on teenage social development suggested that an event like this was all but inevitable. I just didn't expect it to involve New Wave."

"Amy's mom has really done a number on her," I sighed. "I don't know what the full situation is like, but I had to get her out of that house before it killed her. Do you think I'll actually be able to help her, or am I just making things worse?"

As I talked, I took a seat at the kitchen table and let myself sag forward until my head was nearly touching its surface. I almost jumped when Colin put a tentative hand on my shoulder.

"We'll figure something out," he said. "In the meantime, Amy can stay here as long as she needs."

I looked back over my shoulder to give Colin a faint smile, hoping he could tell just how grateful I was feeling, and then set myself to sorting through the sea of takeout menus so I could give Amy a less overwhelming spread of options. Between the two of us, Colin and I could probably provide her with a semi-functional semblance of a normal living situation. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be hard to do worse than what she was escaping.

--

The rest of the evening turned into an exhausting game of phone tag, interspersed with occasional brief panic attacks. By the end of the night, I was almost tired enough enough to forgo my normal nightly ritual of reading before bed. Almost. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten to grab my current book from my room before sending Amy there to crash, so I ended up sprawled over the living room couch browsing the internet on my phone instead.

I was just about ready to drift off when a new PHO thread caught my eye:

UNDERSIDERS vs EMPIRE 88 (Video link in thread)

A few more clicks carried me through to the video in question, where I got to watch ten glorious minutes of Lisa's team putting the beatdown on one of Hookwolf's dog fighting rings. I felt a spike of reflexive fear when Stormtiger and Cricket joined the fight, after which point the idiot filming the whole scene finally remembered to get the heck away. Judging by the comments on the thread, though, it sounded like the Undersiders had made a clean getaway after robbing the place blind and capturing Cricket. Less than an hour later, the PRT got an anonymous tip leading them to an unmarked black van in the middle of an empty parking lot, with the Nazi cape gagged and hog-tied in the back seat.

If the timestamps on the video were accurate, the Undersiders had mounted their attack not even ten minutes after my call with Lisa. Through the rest of the thread, some posters speculated about rumors that E88 had withdrawn their support from the Hookwolf's faction, while others wondered if the Undersiders were planning to turn White Hat. I ignored most of it, turned off my phone with a sigh, and did my best to settle in for sleep. The only question I really cared about in that whole mess was whether or not my girlfriend was going to be alright, and nobody on PHO or anyone else really knew the answer.

As I drifted off, I promised myself that I'd find a way to save her too, if that's what it took, and no force on the planet would stop me.

--

A/N: Holy shit, a new chapter!

So, I ended up completely tossing out my previous plans for what this chapter was going to be, and re-writing it from the ground up. I still had to scratch this one out one paragraph at a time, but that's what I get for letting my momentum lapse so badly. It can be tough to decide when I'm being too harsh on myself or when I'm being just harsh enough, but the sense of satisfaction for finishing and posting a chapter still drastically outweighs the effort put into making it, so I'm going to keep pushing straight ahead for as long as this keeps working.

This chapter still feels a bit abrupt to me, but I've decided that I'm willing to live with that. I've planned to have Amy ask Taylor to psychologically dismantle her ever since I introduced the sadistic insight charm, though, so I'm glad to see that finally pay off. Also, it turns out that I like writing Taylor applying her "Fight Caste Smash!" mindset to social problems. It might not always work out this well for her, but that's part of the fun, right?

Next chapter should be a short one, following up a couple of older plot threads that need tending. The one after that should be nice and meaty, though. I'd like to say that Daystar is returning to its regular posting schedule, and that's what I'm aiming for, but only time will tell how realistic that is.

Side projects are still in editing at the moment, btw, but I'm still probably going to post some of them in the near future. It turns out it's nice having something to work on when bashing my head against Daystar isn't working.

I feel like writing up a "Next time, on Daystar!" pitch would just be tempting fate at this point, so I'll just close this up by thanking you all for reading, and for being patient with my unusual schedule. Stay safe, be well, and don't let the bastards grind you down.

Last edited: Apr 14, 2020

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WinterWombat

Apr 13, 2020

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WinterWombat

WinterWombat

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Apr 17, 2020

#4,672

April 30th, 2011

Amy Dallon, I had discovered, was not a morning person. By the time she stumbled out of her borrowed bedroom, gait stiff and eyes still half-shut, Vicky, Colin, and I had already sat down to breakfast. From the way she moved unerringly towards the fresh pot of coffee steaming on the kitchen counter, I half suspected that she'd learned to navigate by smell alone.

Nova padded along dutifully behind her, waiting until Amy had poured herself a drink and taken a seat before digging into her own morning kibble. On Amy's first night at the apartment, Nova had managed to wiggle out of her crate somehow and cuddled up with Amy on the bed, and I didn't have the heart to tell either of them that this wasn't technically allowed. If it helped Amy feel better, I wasn't going to complain.

After a few huge gulps of coffee, Amy finally managed to pry her eyes fully open and take in the scene in front of her. "Good...morning? Vicky, when did you get here?"

"About an hour ago," Vicky said, grinning. "Just flew up to the balcony and let myself in. It wasn't even locked."

"It was, actually," Colin said, in between bites of his breakfast. "When you approached, the scanners concealed in the doorframe recognized your biometrics and allowed you to enter. Windows and front door are wired the same way."

Vicky blinked at him. "Uh, thanks?"

Colin shrugged. "In an emergency, this apartment can function as a secure safehouse. I designed it years ago for the Wards, added you and your sister yesterday."

I decided that was a good time to jump in, before the conversation got further off-topic. "Amy, I put your breakfast in the oven to keep warm. Milk, juice, and preserves are in the fridge, so help yourself to whatever looks tasty."

The rest of us had already finished with our food by the time Amy sat down with hers, but none of us moved to leave the table. I tried not to stare too obviously as I watched her descend on her breakfast like a swarm of locusts. She wasn't a messy eater; I might even have called her meticulous, if she wasn't obviously rushing for all she was worth.

She half-cleared her plate in almost no time at all, before looking up from her meal and blushing faintly. "Shut up, Taylor."

I raised my hands in surrender. "I didn't say anything!"

Amy sighed. "I'm used to eating in a rush, okay? Not a lot of time in the morning. You don't need to make a big deal about it."

"You're the only one making a big deal about it, Amy," I said. "I'm just happy you like the food."

"It's a lot better than Mom's, that's for sure," Vicky said.

"Like you can complain," Amy deadpanned, "since Carol always tried to make your favorites."

"Speaking of Carol Dallon," Colin interjected, "I've received word from Director Piggot. She seems to have come to an agreement with your family, but both of you will need to sign off on it."

I couldn't tell if he was intentionally trying to disarm the tension building between the two sisters, or just didn't see it, but either way, his change of topic worked like a charm.

"Fine," Vicky growled. "What does she want?"

"You," Colin replied, matter-of-factly.

I clenched my fist around my knife so tightly that I felt the metal begin to warp. "What the hell does that mean?"

Amy gave Vicky a nervous glance, while Vicky just sighed.

"Mrs. Dallon wants Victoria to continue living at home," Colin said. "In exchange, Amy will officially move in with her aunt and uncle for the time being. In practice, Mrs. Dallon has made it clear that she doesn't much care where you reside, so long as it isn't with her. As another term of the agreement, Victoria would be prohibited from visiting this apartment, or anywhere else you were to take up residence."

Colin looked like he wanted to grind his teeth at those last words, but his tone remained professional. Victoria, not so much.

"Fuck that! Fuck her, and fuck her stupid deal. I'm not cutting off contact with Ames!"

"You don't have to," I said. "You just have to hang out somewhere other than here. You can spend time together at school, or out on the town, or anywhere else. If you want, I bet I can make sure you both get an open invite to the Wards HQ."

"Already taken care of," Colin said. "You can pick up your keycards when you meet with the Director today. Also, please keep in mind that this arrangement would only last until one of you reaches your age of majority. It might even end earlier, if Mr. Dallon wins custody of either of you in the divorce proceedings."

"Which probably just got a whole lot messier," Amy muttered. "I don't like the idea, but it's a lot better than I expected. We can talk about it on the way over to the PRT building, okay?"

"Okay," Vicky said, reaching across the table to give Amy's hand a squeeze. "Just remember that I've always got your back, no matter what."

Colin stood up from the table. "We'll need to leave in roughly 30 minutes to meet the Director on time, and I'll need most of that time to prepare. Amy, Taylor took the liberty of placing fresh towels and a change of clothes for you in the washroom, in case you want to take a shower. If there's anything else you need, she should be more than capable of assisting."

"Tagging along to the meeting, Taylor?" Vicky asked. "I wouldn't mind the moral support."

I shook my head. "Can't, sorry. My day is booked solid. I've got combat training with two PRT squads at 11:00, therapy at 1:00, some kind of radio interview at 3:00, and then I...er, well, yeah. Busy day."

I cursed myself for the slip, which Vicky of course pounced on instantly with a cat-like grin. "And then? Taylor, just what are you getting up to these days that you want to keep secret from your very best friends?"

"It's not a secret," I said, failing to stop a blush from creeping up my face. "I, well, I kinda have this thing planned where I'm going on what you might call a...date?"

Vicky gasped in mock surprise, while Amy rolled her eyes. "A date!? I can't believe you'd try to hide something like that from me. Who's the lucky girl? Anyone I know?"

"It's probably Lisa," Amy said. "She's cute. Kinda annoying, but cute."

One look at my face seemed to be enough to let them know that Amy had guessed correctly.

"Lisa's cool," Vicky said, "but I thought you had something going on with that Jess girl? Did that not work out?"

"No, we're great," I said, forcing myself with sheer willpower not to stammer or look away. "Jess and I might be going out on a date sometime next weekend, actually. We're all meeting up for lunch on Tuesday to figure it out."

Lisa's advice on discussing non-traditional relationships had been simple: speak with pride and show no fear. 'If you can talk about it like it's the most normal thing in the world,' she'd said, 'you'll make them feel like they're the weird ones for trying to make a big deal out of it.' I didn't have anywhere near her kind of confidence, but having an immediate goal to focus on definitely helped.

"Oh, uh, okay then," Vicky said, evidently confused but unwilling to admit it. "Glad to hear it's all working out. Ames, you should go grab that shower. I'm going to try some of that spooky meditation stuff Taylor's been showing me, just in case it helps stop me from punching Mom out a window."

"It's not 'spooky,' Vicky," I sighed. "You just fell asleep and had a dream about being a teenage vampire hunter. I promise, there aren't any ghosts or demons involved in meditation."

Vicky snickered. "That's not what the televangelists say, Tay."

Amy sighed melodramatically as she walked off to the washroom, and Vicky offered to take care of the dishes while I got into my costume. I had a lot of day ahead of me, and I intended to face it with style.

--

When I reached the training center under the PRT building, I was pleasantly surprised to find a familiar face leading the exercise. The last time I'd seen PRT Sergeant Mary Camden, she'd been teaching free self-defense courses at a downtown community center. I discovered pretty quickly that, when she was at work, she took on a slightly different attitude.

"Alright, squaddies," Sergeant Camden barked at the assembled PRT troops, "I've got a real treat for you today, by way of a joint training exercise with one of the Wards. I'm sure most of you are familiar with Daystar here, but for those not in the loop, she's the girl who tried to fist-fight Lung about three weeks back. The fact that she'd standing here today shows that she's not to be messed with casually. Daystar wants to practice fighting larger groups, so you get a chance to practice taking on a combat Thinker. Your mission today is to take her down. Hers is to stop you."

On the other side of the training room, the group of twenty-odd PRT troops did their best to size me up, while I returned the favor. They ranged in build from small and lithe to outright massive, with more than a few standing even taller than me. They were all dressed in PRT-black exercise gear, which revealed some pretty nasty-looking scars on more than a few of them. Most importantly, they all carried themselves like people who had both training and experience with fighting. They'd definitely give me more of a challenge than the average gang brawler.

Camden gave me a look that I took as my cue to step forward and speak. "Thank you, sergeant. My goal today is to focus on skill rather than power, so I'll be using as little of my Brute strength enhancement as I can. I'm still a lot more durable than the average person, though, and I heal quickly, so you don't need to worry about pulling your punches. I'm not saying this to brag, though. I'm pretty sure I'm going to find out that I'm way out of my depth here, but better that I find out now than later in the field."

"You heard her," Camden said, with an evil little grin. "If she doesn't punish you for holding back, you can bet your asses that I will. Each round begins and ends with my whistle. Oh, and just in case you're still feeling scared of the big, bad cape, for the first thirty seconds of each round, Daystar isn't permitted to attack you, only defend."

I turned my head sharply to stare at her. "Wait, what?"

She grinned at me and blew the whistle.

Where most gang brawlers would have charged in recklessly, the PRT squaddies kept their distance just out of my striking range as they moved to quickly surround me. There weren't a lot of fighting schools out there that would teach you how to efficiently gang up on a hugely outnumbered enemy, but these were trained to fight superpowers with nothing but their skill, body armor, and the occasional confoam sprayer. If I could hold my own against them, I could handle just about anyone.

The squaddies formed up in two rings around me, one inside in the other. When they finally went on the offensive, two of them from the inner ring lunged at me from the front, while my enhanced hearing warned me of another two coming from behind. I didn't have much room to dodge without leaving myself open to the troopers on either side, but I did my best to duck and weave in place, twisting and turning to keep them in my field of view. The two pairs coordinated well, lashing out with fists and feet without ever getting in each others' way. It only took me a few seconds to know that I couldn't stand up to this pressure for long.

I allowed one of the squaddies to get behind me, and faked a gap in my attention. When she went to take advantage of the opening, I ducked down at the last second, causing her to overextend and strike one of the fighters in front of me. I used the slight delay to slip around the injured trooper, putting him between me and the others. Instead of easing the pressure, though, the two furthest from me just faded back into the inner ring of fighters, while two others stepped out from the ring to attack me from behind.

As soon as I heard sergeant Camden shout "That's Thirty!" I spun around and swept the legs out from under the two troopers behind me, making the most of my faster reflexes and the half-second of surprise they afforded me. I tried to dash through the gap in the inner ring, but more squaddies from the outer ring just pressed in to block me off, and the circle closed in on me once again.

Now that I could fight back, I met every attack against me with a strike to the jaw or solar plexus, a sweeping kick, or an over-the-shoulder throw. It still wasn't enough to buy me room to maneuver. Injured troopers would fade back through the rings, allowing fresh fighters to seamlessly take their place. There was no struggling for position, no hesitating while waiting to see which one of them would attack first. I could have plowed my way through them with sheer Brute strength, of course, but the whole point of this exercise was to improve my technique, not my mighty thews.

It wasn't long before more and more of their attacks started to hit home. My endurance was literally superhuman, but I was constantly in the thick of battle, while they could take a breather whenever they needed to. My attacks sent them reeling in pain, sure, but through sheer force of numbers they managed to wear down my guard. By the time Camden blew her whistle, They'd landed two or three dozen blows on me, enough for the hits to begin to sting.

"First round goes to Daystar," Camden announced. Everyone in the room turned to stare at her.

"What?" She said in response, "you think that just because you got to kick and punch her a bit that you'd win the fight? You were barely even tickling her! Even if Daystar's holding back, she still has that famous Brute toughness. Remember, your objective isn't to beat her up, it's to take her down. Now, form up for round two!"

Camden blew the whistle, and the squaddies once again moved to swiftly surround me. I caught a few of them giving each other knowing looks, but none of them whispered anything for me to listen in on. A few seconds before their half-minute grace period expired, the entire inner ring of troops surged towards me as one. I grinned, thinking that I could use the tight quarters to more easily trip them up and redirect their attacks, but the attacks never came. Instead, the whole mass of people just crashed bodily against me, some tackling me around the legs, others hitting higher. In no time at all, the sheer weight of bodies bore me down to the floor, leaving me trapped helplessly underneath a giant dogpile of heavy troopers.

Camden strolled over, grinning like a shark, and mimed spraying the giant pile with containment foam. "Round two goes to the squaddies. Anyone want to tell Daystar what Rule #1 is around here?"

The pile of soldiers surrounding me all spoke as one, though some of the voices from closest to the ground came out a little breathless. "Never fight capes on their own terms!"

The various troopers started disentangling themselves and standing up, until Camden was able to offer me a hand up. "No hard feelings? I know this wasn't exactly the kind of exercise you were expecting."

I let out a short bark of laughter. "No, that was great. It's not like I learn all that much from winning, right?"

"Right," Camden replied, her smile looking significantly less predatory. "What have you learned so far, then?"

"Well," I said, rolling my shoulders, "for one, just because I can't fight back doesn't mean I have to stand around and let my opponents surround me."

Camden chuckled. "It's a start. Want to see if you and my team can break a few more of each other's bad habits?"

"That's what I'm here for," I said. I walked back to my starting position, grinning all the while. I already had a few ideas for how to show the squaddies that the same trick wouldn't work a second time."

--

The meeting with my therapist seemed to go by a lot more easily than normal, possibly because I was feeling pretty good about myself at the moment, or possibly because I'd just spent close to two hours working out my frustrations in one giant brawl after another. I told her about my relationships with Lisa and Jess, leaving out the parts related to Lisa's cape identity, and was surprised at how well she reacted. She referred me a few books, and when I said I'd already read them, we ended up discussing them for the rest of the session.

On my way out, I ran into Sophia in the waiting room, wearing a generic cloth mask to hide her face even though the room was a Wards-only space. When our eyes met, I didn't like what I saw.

"Hey, Sophia," I said, grabbing the seat beside her, "you look like hell."

"Fuck you too, Hebert," she grumbled. She sounded angry, but I could tell her heart wasn't in it.

"You'd rather I lie to you?" I said. "C'mon, we both know you're all about the blunt honesty. What's wrong?"

Sophia glared daggers at me for a moment, then visibly relaxed as she let out a faint sigh. "It's no big deal. Haven't been sleeping well, is all. Keep getting these weird fucking nightmares. Gonna ask the shrink to set me up with some sleeping pills."

I winced in sympathy. "That sucks, but I know you'll get through it. You're way too stubborn to let a bunch of bad dreams weigh you down for too long."

"Fucking right," Sophia said, showing a faint smile.

The therapist chose that moment to stick her head out and announce that she was ready for the next patient. I held my hand out to give her a fistbump as we both stood up, and I shot her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. She left for her appointment, and I moved on to mine.

--

A/N: So, you know how I said this chapter would be short? A lot of things I expected to be paragraphs turned into actual scenes. If I was trying to write Daystar as a novel for publication, I'd probably cut some of it out to keep the book as a whole a bit leaner, but what is fanfic for if not shamelessly indulging in unnecessary detail regarding the characters' daily lives?

The result is that I took what was (probably quite obviously) planned as one chapter, and broke it into two, in order to build up more of a buffer, as well as to keep this one chapter from turning torturously long.

Next time, on Daystar!: Taylor learns what a podcast is, then goes on a lovely casual date where nothing bad happens.

Good luck, be safe, and thanks for reading!

Last edited: Apr 17, 2020

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WinterWombat

Apr 17, 2020

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