Quest Chapter 41: Star5, a 3x3 eyes fanfic

April 30th, 2011, cont'd

"Welcome back to Hero Complex, Brockton Bay's original cape-news podcast. For those of you just tuning in to the live stream, I'm your host Claire Sentient, and I've been talking with the Bay's own Daystar, newest member of the Wards ENE. Daystar, want to remind our listeners what's next on the agenda?"

When Director Piggot booked me for an episode of Hero Complex, and I said I wasn't familiar, Hannah had told me it was kind of like a radio talk show for the internet. I'd shown up at their office expecting to see a professional recording studio, only to find that the place looked more like a college student's living room. Sure, they'd set up one corner as a makeshift control room, where Claire's partner Anna Molly wore a huge set of headphones and a look of intense concentration, but the whole place was still startlingly informal.

I'd ended up sitting on a couch with Claire (real name Clarice Saunders, not actually a cape), surrounded by noise-dampening curtains, sipping tea from a slightly cracked Alexandria mug and making casual conversation. She looked to be somewhere in her late 20s, wearing comfy-looking jeans and an oversized fuzzy sweater that struck me as more suited to curling up with a good book than conducting live interviews. The only things that hinted at her larger-than-life on-air personality were her vividly pink hair and the three huge mugs she'd drained of coffee during the interview so far.

"You mentioned some kind of Q session," I replied, "which is funny, because I thought that was what we've been doing for the last half hour."

"Nah, that was just hanging out," Claire said, putting down another half-empty mug to riffle through a stack of index cards. "Over the last week, we asked our listeners to send in their own questions. After we threw out all the boring ones that you've probably been asked a million times, we were left with just enough interesting questions to carry us through the remainder of the episode."

I shrugged, giving her a grin I hoped didn't look as awkward as it felt. "I can't promise my answers will be as interesting as your questions, but I'll give it a shot."

"That's the spirit," Claire said. "First question: Can you describe all of your teammates on the Wards in just one word each, going in alphabetical order?"

"Hmm," I hummed. "Yes, pretty sure I can."

Claire stared at me expectantly for a several seconds before breaking up into giggles. "Okay, fine, I walked into that one. Seriously, though, you have to actually do the thing if you want any credit."

"Of course," I said, feeling pleased as punch. "Aegis is 'strong,' not just because he's the only other Brute on the team, but because he's always there to hold you up if you need help. Clockblocker's word, on the other hand, is 'caring,' no question."

"Not something like 'funny,' or 'doofus?'" Claire asked. "You're going to need a lot more bad puns if you're trying to steal his role as the team's unofficial comedian."

"Couldn't if I tried," I said. "It turns out that the way to dream up good jokes is to crack jokes all the time, and discard the bad ones. I'll face down Nazis or dragons without blinking, sure, but I don't have that kind of confidence."

"Alright," Claire said, "then why not 'confident?'"

"He's probably going to hate me for saying this," I chuckled, "but he jokes so much that it's easy to miss how closely he pays attention to everyone's wellbeing, and how much he does to try and help."

"Aww, that's sweet," Claire said, her smile turning a bit more genuine, a bit less teasing. "Still four more to go, though."

"Right, okay," I said. "Gallant is, well, 'gallant.' He really picked the best name. Amazingly genuine, really stand-up guy. Kid Win is 'curious,' because he's got all these ideas zooming through his head, but he's always looking for more. He's the only Tinker I know who never seems to suffer from tinkertech tunnel vision."

"I've heard that term before a few times," Claire said, nodding. "You're talking about the tendency for Tinkers to try and solve every problem with more tinkertech, right?"

"When you fail to pound a square peg into a round hole," I said, "you clearly need to go make a better hammer."

Claire chuckled. "That's a good line."

"Thanks," I replied. "I got it from Armsmaster. As for the rest of the team, Shadow Stalker would be...wait, is 'badass' all one word?"

"Close enough," Claire said, snickering slightly. "Any reason why she doesn't get the same kind of insightful, heartfelt choice as the others?"

"Believe me," I said, "she'll appreciate this a lot more. Vista, on the other hand, is 'scary,' or maybe 'impressive' would be better. I can't wait to see what happens when she gets to lead her own team."

"Those answers check out." Claire said, "Next question: What would you say is the toughest part of being a Ward?"

I raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a pretty standard question to me."

"I wasn't finished," Claire said, wagging a finger at me. "What's the toughest part of being a Ward that isn't balancing cape stuff with schoolwork?"

"Easy there," I grinned. "You're going to give the PR minions who write all our scripts a heart attack, taking away that old favorite. Can my answer be 'all of the villains?'"

"It could," Claire said, "but Clockblocker and Kid Win both said the same thing, so I'd have to dock you points for unoriginality."

"Fair enough," I said. "In that case, the toughest part of being a Ward is probably keeping my identity secret from all my out-of-costume friends. If it was just about me, I'm not sure I'd even bother with a secret identity at all, but the sad truth is that outing myself could endanger my friends, my family, and my teammates in the Wards. I'd prefer to be open with everyone, and I'm willing to take the risks that come with that, but I can't ask others to take the same risks for me."

"Daystar," Claire said, "I'm starting to think you're actually as much of a goody-two-shoes as the PRT's marketing makes you out to be."

I couldn't hold back a laugh at that. "Do you think you could tell that to my boss?"

"If you can get her to come down here for an interview, I'll be sure to sing your praises," Claire said. "Okay, time for another question. Is there any truth to the rumors about you and Shadow Stalker being an item?"

Not for the first time, I was glad that my helmet helped conceal my blush. "Sorry, but I can't comment on the personal lives of the Wards or other heroes."

Claire shrugged. "I figured, but my audience would eat me alive if I didn't at least try."

"Sure, sure," I joked. "These still feel like pretty standard questions to me. When do we get to the hard ones?"

"Oh, you want tough questions?" she said, smirking. "Try this one on for size: In light of their recent actions against the Empire and the ABB, as well as their participation in disaster relief efforts, many have started to theorize that the Undersiders might be preparing for a turn to the side of the angels. If that turns out to be true, how do you think the Protectorate and the PRT should respond?"

I tried not to let my surprise show on my face as I considered the question. I had a hunch that this one wasn't on the list of acceptable interview topics that the PR team had agreed on with Hero Complex beforehand. From everything I'd seen, the PRT's media machine liked to paint heroes as Heroes and villains as Villains, and erase as much as possible of the grey area in-between. They rarely talked about villains becoming heroes, probably because it was one of those areas where justice often had to take a back seat to pragmatism. Why let a bunch of former villains rot in jail doing nothing for years when you could just rebrand them with new cape identities and ship them out to a different city where they wouldn't be recognized? As Piggot never failed to remind me, The PRT needed all the capes it could get.

The PR team had been pretty clear that my only response to a question like that should be 'Sorry, but I don't set policy for the PRT.' Of course, they didn't know that I was also supposed to be helping Coil to reform the Undersiders into a hero team. Resigning myself to a later lecture, I pressed forward.

"I don't set policy for the PRT, and I'm not trained in parahuman law," I said, "so don't read too much into what I say. From a purely personal perspective, though, I'd like to see them get a chance to be heroes. From the few times I've encountered them in person, they never seemed like the kind of people who would want to be villains, you know?"

Claire's eyes widened at my answer, as if she hadn't expected me to say anything. "Is that why you saved them from Lung near the beginning of the month? You thought they might make good heroes?"

I shook my head. "I helped them escape from Lung because it was the right thing to do. It would be nice to think that I inspired them to reconsider their villainous ways or something, but in the end it doesn't really matter to me why they might want to change, just that they're serious about it."

As I spoke, I started to feel my essence kindle to life, filling me with pleasant warmth. I'd said what I believed to be true, PR be damned, and something in my power responded to that.

Claire nodded along eagerly. "What about the people who say that they deserve punishment for their crimes, not a second chance?"

I took a deep breath while I composed my reply. I'd have to be very careful with my answer to avoid pissing off either Piggot or Coil. I could try and placate either of them by insisting that it was essential to my cover, of course, but I thought I could do better than that. It felt there was this answer right at the tip of my tongue, something I wanted, no, needed to say, but I'd have to start speaking it out loud before I could know what it really was.

"I know that this answer won't satisfy everyone," I said, "but I don't think this should really be about what they deserve. I could point out how they've never done anything nearly as bad as the other gangs in Brockton Bay, but that doesn't mean they didn't hurt anyone. I could say that having more allies in the fight against the other gangs is more important than punishing them, but it isn't my place to say that their victims should just put aside their grievances. I could even argue that they deserve leniency because they're just teenagers, and were likely pressured or lured into villainy before they were capable of making truly independent decisions."

I paused to take another calming breath, letting the silence stretch out just long enough to be dramatic. As I did so, I realized that I could feel my essence flowing in an intricate, looping cycle, from behind my solar plexus to the top of my throat. The power seemed to echo with my intent, bringing just the right words to mind from somewhere deep inside me, calming my nerves and giving me the confidence to speak.

"I'm not going to argue any of that, though, because I don't think they've really earned a second chance at all. The thing is, I'm not sure anyone can earn a second chance until you've already given it to them. We can't demand that they act like heroes while we continue to treat them like villains. I don't mean pretending that they've never done anything wrong, or letting down our guard just because they ask us to. I just think that, if they tell us they want to make amends, we should listen."

There was a brief pause as Claire seemed to shake herself back into focus. "Yes? I mean, er, don't you worry that people might call you naive for being so trusting?"

I thought of Emma, and Sophia, two people I never thought I'd be able to forgive, let alone be friends with. I thought about Lisa, and Colin, and the other Wards, people who accepted me even after I'd been willing to toss them aside. I thought about what I'd done for them, and what they'd done for me, and suddenly the answer was utterly clear.

"Heroes are supposed to save people, right? Well, sometimes the only way to save someone is to put your trust in them when you have every reason not to."

Claire blinked at me. "I...I don't think I have anything to add to that. Listeners, we'll be right back after a quick break."

I let the weave of essence fade back into my core, confident that I could call it up again when needed. I knew, somehow, that It would give me confidence, eloquence, and grace, but only when I spoke truly and from the heart.

"That didn't sound a lot like the usual canned PR response," Claire said, after the recording light above the couch winked off. "Are you going to get in trouble with your bosses for that?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, honestly. Still worth it."

The rest of the interview went by without any more shocking questions or unexpected power manifestations. For being such a good sport, I was given a signed Hero Complex T-Shirt that I couldn't actually wear without outing myself, and a 250 donation to a charity of my choice. Since everything actually went according to schedule for once, I had more than enough to get changed at the PRT building, stay far away from Piggot's office, and stop back home to fill a backpack with provisions before heading out to meet Lisa at Captain's Hill.

When I arrived, I couldn't see anyone else around for some distance. I layed out the picnic blanket on the hill's gentle incline, sat down, and began scrolling through my phone messages while I waited for Lisa.

Dennis: 3 3 3

Dennis: (i would also have accepted fool, goofball, or rascal)

Missy: Great job, Taylor! Thanks for reminding everyone that they should hold me in awe :D

Carlos: Told you it'd go great! ;)

Carlos: I'm proud to have you on the team.

Sophia: yr goddamn right :D

Chris: rly rly good interview tay

Chris: how u get so gud at this :p

Chris: can I ask u for

Chris: brb just had a great idea

Dean: You were amazing, Taylor :)

Dean: WOO YAH GO GRL YOU KICK ASSS!!! _ :p 3

Dean: That was Vicky. She also thinks you were amazing.

I was still giggling over my friends' antics when I saw Lisa pedaling up the path on a deep purple mountain bike. She even wore a matching helmet. I moved to stand up as she drew closer, but she waved for me to stay seated. She hopped off her her bike, doffed her helmet, and half sat, half fell onto the blanket next to me.

"Nice bike," I said. "Do I get to call it the Terrifying TattleMobile?"

She put on a look of mock offense. "Ew, no! Since when have I been at all terrifying, anyways? Tremendous, maybe, or Tantalizing, but not Terrifying."

"How about Trying?" I said, with a smirk, before we both burst into giggles. Lisa leaned in towards me and we kissed. It wasn't filled with the same electric mix of hope and fear as our first time, but it was no less intense.

"Hey," she said, barely above a whisper. "Missed you."

"Missed you too," I smiled back. "I know this is technically our first date, but I already wish we could do this more often."

"Funny you should say that," Lisa said, giving me one of her trademark smug grins. "If everything goes as planned, we could be seeing a lot more of each other before too long."

"Oooh, plans," I said, wiggling my fingers like I was holding a set of puppet strings. "You want to talk about that now, or after food?"

Lisa pressed the back of one hand against her forehead and pretended to faint away, falling back onto the grass with a soft 'thump.' "I must have food, my lady, or I shall simply waste away."

I pulled a thermos out of my backpack and unscrewed the cap, letting the rich smell of dark coffee billow out over the hilltop. Lisa instantly rose back up like a vampire in an old-timey movie, grabbed the thermos, and clutched it to her chest as if it was her darling infant child.

We kept laughing and lightly joking as I unpacked the rest of our dinner: a thermos of tea for myself, a loaf of homemade bread, and a wide assortment of crackers, small cheeses, smoked meats, fruit spreads, and pickled things in jars. We didn't have much of a chance to talk as we ate, aside from the occasional murmur of appreciation or request to pass something out of reach.

Lisa tried feeding me from her hand, in that way that always looks so romantic in movies, but we were both so nervous that I forgot to open my mouth and she accidentally smeared blue cheese and pomegranate jam over half my face. We both had a good laugh over that, at least.

It didn't take long for all the food to disappear, down to the last pickled onion. We finished the meal lying down next to each other on the hillside, staring up at the darkening sky, neither of us saying a word. I couldn't say whether it was me or her who moved first, but at some point we ended up holding hands, fingers intertwined. She held on with surprising force, like she was worried we might get torn apart, but I could feel her slow, calm heartbeat everywhere that our fingers touched.

Lisa was the first to break the silence. "Penny for your thoughts, Taytay?"

I let out a contented sigh. "I'm not really thinking about much, really. Today's been long, but everything went well, and being here with you is just...it's nice."

"Mmhmm," Lisa hummed, closing her eyes. "I was listening to your interview earlier. What you said about, you know, second chances? I really appreciate that."

"It was just the truth," I said, turning to get a better look at her softly smiling face.

"I know," she said, before her smile faltered. "You should know, though, that Coil was responsible for getting that question on the air in the first place."

"I figured as much," I said. "I have some pretty good guesses about why, too. Anything to do with what you said earlier, about seeing more of each other?"

Lisa squeezed my hand a little bit tighter. "It's better if you don't know the details. Your reaction needs to look authentic, and you're kind of a terrible liar."

"Am not," I lied, poorly. "I guess I can live with that. I just hope this brings us closer to finally being able to take the snake down."

"It's hard to tell," Lisa sighed. "That man has turned paranoia into an artform. He never sticks his neck out when he doesn't need to, never meets anyone in person when he can do it through a proxy, and never seems to make any mistakes."

I frowned. "That last one's probably because of his power, right? You said he experiences multiple timelines and then chooses the one he likes more. It's all based on precognition, except he doesn't actually see the future himself until he gets there, yeah?"

"More or less," Lisa said. "And it's two timelines only. I'm almost certain of it."

I saw a satisfied smile briefly flicker onto her face. "Oh? What makes you say that?"

"It's the way he sets up missions," she said, "sometimes with us, but more often with his mercs. He lays out the mission, has everyone meet up at the staging ground, and then says to wait for his signal. Sometimes he says 'go' shortly after, and the mission goes off without a hitch. Other times, though, he'll just wait a few minutes, then call off the mission and order everyone back to base. It's weird, but nobody complains because they still get paid for their time."

I considered that. "You think he's setting up go/no go options in alternate timelines?"

Lisa's smile came back full force. "Exactly. The fact that he always sets it up that way suggests that he can only see two timelines at once. Otherwise, he'd give us specific orders after the divergence point, trying as many different approaches as possible. There have been times when he's changed orders in the field, but I'm pretty sure they're the exception that proves the rule, since they only happen after long delays. Long enough for the mission to fail in the other reality."

"Makes sense to me," I said. "Good sleuthing, Sherlock. Sounds like a pretty significant weakness."

"It would be," Lisa grumbled, "if he wasn't so damn cautious. I've been running around in circles all week trying to mind-game my way out of this, but I'm not making much progress."

She sat up, pulling me up with her since neither of us wanted to let go of the other.

"Here's the problem. If we assume that Coil always operates with maximum paranoia, I'd be willing to bet he usually uses his power to maintain one 'normal' timeline and one 'safe' timeline. Whenever something bad would happen as he goes about his business in the normal path, he'll have chosen to follow the safe one instead, where he stayed out of harm's way."

"Right," I said, "so any time we try to attack him, we'll always find out that our princess decided to stay in the other castle that day."

"More or less," Lisa agreed. "Even worse, it's possible that circumstances might lead us to attack him in one timeline not the other. He'd get to learn all about our treachery, but we wouldn't know anything had changed. The main reason I'm pretty sure this hasn't already happened is that he hasn't tried to kill us yet."

"That we know of," I said, shivering. "Fuck, this guy is creepy."

Lisa grimaced. "You don't even know the half of it. Good news is, I can see three possible win conditions. The first one is to have him use his power when you're in the same room as him, in such a way that you can notice. That happens, you know for certain that both his timelines are within your reach, so you just need to punch his lights out and call it a day. That's the simplest option, but it also relies on a lot of factors beyond our control."

I nodded. "What about option two?"

Lisa sighed. "The slow game. We'd need to put him in check before he realized what we're doing, so that both of his timelines ended up caught in the jaws of our trap no matter what they might be. That relies on me being able to ferret out the location of his various hideouts and bolt-holes, though, so it's slow going."

"I'm sure you can do it, Lisa," I said. "What about number three?"

"Unicorn plan," she chuckled. "Get someone with just the right Thinker power to suss out his location, plan a coordinated attack a couple of days in advance, and then fall on him like the fist of an angry god."

I grinned. "I like the sound of plan three, especially that last bit."

"Yeah," Lisa sighed, "but that's why you never want to rely on unicorn plans. The odds of even finding someone with the exact right power to solve your problem are low enough, never mind actually recruiting them. You can risk all the time you have left hunting your unicorn instead of pursuing the harder, more painful plans that might actually work."

"Well," I said, "it's a shame you don't know anyone whose power lets her train and develop new powers all the time. Sounds like she'd be a pretty useful person to have around."

"Hey," Lisa said, mock-frowning at me, "I'm supposed to be the insufferably smug one in this relationship."

I giggled at her over-the-top affronted look. "Fine, fine. I'm still going to try to see if my power will give me a way to track Coil down, though."

"When?" Lisa asked. "Taylor, I'd love a magic fix for this problem, but you still need to train to fight Hookwolf and Lung, not to mention helping Amy with her family bullshit, running your after-school fight club, and managing whatever's happening between you and Shadow Stalker. On top of that, we don't know enough about how your power works to say whether or not that's even possible. You should leave the investigation work to me. It's what I'm best at, after all."

"You're right, but I don't have to like it," I grumbled. "It feels wrong not to be helping."

Lisa put an arm around my shoulders and snuggled up against me. "Honestly, Taylor, that Claire person was right about you being such a goody two-shoes. It would be frustrating if it wasn't so cute. Besides, you're already helping more than you know. Coil wants you under his control, and he's willing to expend a lot of effort to get you. He knows that you care about me, and that gives me a bit of extra leverage that I didn't have before."

I pulled her tighter against me, feeling a shiver that had nothing to do with the cool evening air. "Won't that make him see you as a threat to his control? What if he decides that you need to suffer some kind of accident?"

Lisa chuckled. "That's the best thing about it. He thinks that I'm just manipulating you for protection against him, probably because I've been deliberately leaking evidence to that effect. If he ever needs to get me out of the picture, his plan is to just show it all to you for an instant angry breakup. He's too much of a huge fucking sociopath to even imagine that I might honestly like you."

"He doesn't deserve to be called a snake," I growled. "Snakes are too good for him. He's a tapeworm, a wriggly little parasite who hides in shit and leeches off others."

I paused, suddenly struck by an unpleasant thought. "Lisa, you know that even if we broke up, even if I was mad as hell with you, I'd still do everything I can to try to help you escape, right?"

"I know," she said, resting her head against my shoulder. "It's still nice to hear it, though. Do you mind if we just put all that Coil stuff aside for a while, lie on the hill and, I don't know, watch the stars come out?"

"Not at all," I said, adjusting the blanket behind us to make sure we weren't lying on bare grass.

We lay on the hillside together in comfortable silence as the last glow of sunset slowly faded from the sky. I tapped a bit into my enhanced hearing power just to listen to the soft, steady whisper of Lisa's breath, imagining our hearts each beating in time with the other. Everything was so still, so peaceful, that I began to imagine time itself had stopped just for us.

After about twenty minutes, Lisa let out a frustrated sigh. "Changed my mind. Stars are boring. Wanna try kissing a bunch instead?"

I felt my face blush so hotly that it should have been able to light up the entire hillside. Lisa, too, was blushing, but it didn't at all detract from the wicked smirk on her lips. I rolled onto my side, took her hands in mind, and proceeded to forget all about the stars.

Spoiler: New Charm: Impassioned Discourse Technique (*)

Outside, the plague continues to rage, but I pay it no heed, for I am charged with the sacred duty of writing about girls being cute together.

I'm not 100% on the logic uses in this chapter, but I didn't want to put you through another 2k words of a character trying to reason out something you all know already, and replacing the topic would require delaying the chapter. Assume that Lisa's power has been applied where necessary to support some of her less-well-founded assumptions.

Next time, on Daystar!: Plans come to a head, steel is drawn, and the tightrope holding up Taylor's double-agent schtick frays by a few threads more as we head into the final chapters of act 3.

Be well, stay safe, and thanks for listening!

Last edited: Apr 24, 2020

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WinterWombat

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May 1, 2020

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May 2nd, 2011

The first few floors of the PRT building seemed to hold an uncountable number of bland, semi-comfortable meeting rooms. The room I sat in now could have easily been the same one that I'd had my first interview in, down to the generic Protectorate posters on the wall and the slightly scratched table in the center of the room. If it looked smaller, friendlier, less polished than before, that was probably just because I wasn't a roiling cauldron of emotion this time. I'd seen too much of the mundane bureaucracy behind the scenes here to ever again feel intimidated by the Protectorate's larger-than-life image, but it probably helped that I wasn't actually the one in the hotseat today.

In the chair next time mine, Amy sat with her gaze fixed on the door, frowning like she was trying to open it via telekinesis. She looked determined, almost frightfully so, but I didn't miss the faint tremors shaking through her shoulders, or the way her fingers twitched like they were playing with an invisible cigarette. Without giving her any warning, I stretched an arm across her shoulders and pulled her against me for a seated half-hug.

Amy leaned against me for a few seconds, letting out a sigh of relief, before she snapped her head around to glare at me and gruffly pushed me away. I smiled and gave her the space, but kept myself within optimal surprise-hug range just in case.

"I'm not nervous," she grumbled, turning her frown on me with full force.

I shrugged in reply. "I know."

"And I don't need you here holding my hand," she continued.

I shrugged again. "Yeah, I know."

"I'm serious," Amy said, somehow finding even more glower-power to send my way. "You're only here because you're better than me at being smug and demanding."

Another shrug, another grin. "I know." That wasn't the only reason I'd asked to come along, but she'd learn the rest soon enough.

Amy let out a long-suffering sigh. "Damnit, Taylor. I only met your girlfriend once but I can already tell that she's a terrible influence on you."

I shrugged once more, but before I could speak Amy leaned over and poked her finger against my nose. "I swear to god if you say 'I know" one more time, I'll make you go bald. Slowly, oh so slowly, so you'll never be able to prove it was me. You'll just have to sit back and helplessly watch your life fall apart one strand at a time."

Before I could reply, the door to the meeting room hissed open, and Armsmaster, Miss Militia, and Deputy Director Rennick filed in. To their credit, they didn't give any sign that the scene they'd walked into was in any way unusual. They took their seats and settled in while Amy and I quickly composed ourselves.

"Miss Dallon," Rennick said, offering her his hand across the table, "it's a pleasure to see you again, especially for reasons that have nothing to do with grievous injuries."

"Likewise," Amy said, with a faint smile. "I was told I'd be meeting with the Director. Is she still on her way?"

Rennick grimaced. "Director Piggot is currently unavailable due to health concerns, so I'll be taking her place today. This is mostly a preliminary meeting, so I'm sure you'll have a chance to speak with her yourself before anything is to be signed."

Amy sighed. "Once I'm officially working for her, do you think she'll finally change her mind about letting me heal her kidneys?"

"Officially, I can't comment," Armsmaster said in his very official deadpan. "Unofficially, I wouldn't hold your breath."

"Speaking of unofficial," I said, "should we dispense with the masks? Everyone here knows everyone else, after all."

Armsmaster and Miss Militia exchanged a brief glance, nodded, and began unmasking. I followed suit, resting my helmet on the table in front of me. I glanced over at Amy and saw her roll her eyes before peeling back the hood on her red-and-white healer's robes.

"Now that everyone's comfortable," Rennick said, "we can get down to the matter at hand. Judging by your comment, Miss Dallon, I take it that you still intend to join the Wards program?"

I caught Amy stealing a worried glance towards me before settling into a neutral expression. "Not exactly, Deputy Director. It would be more accurate to say that I'm open to the idea. Whether or not I'm convinced depends on what kind of agreement we can reach."

"Of course," Rennick said, sliding a sheaf of papers across the table. "Have you had the chance to read up on the terms and conditions in the standard Wards contract?"

Amy set the papers aside without looking at them. "I have. They would be a good start, if I was going to be a standard Ward. Of course, we both know that's not the case."

Rennick nodded, as if he'd seen this coming. "Of course. I imagine you already have some ideas about what kind of contract you're looking for, then?"

Amy gestured towards me, cueing me to speak. "First of all," I said, scanning a finger down the contract in front of me, "we all know that this was written with freshly triggered capes in mind. Panacea has had her powers for several years by this point, and has engaged in extensive training as part of New Wave. It would be the benefit of both parties to get rid of the stipulations for basic training and power testing."

"Panacea has already performed extensive power testing with the PRT," Colin said, with a curt nod towards Amy. "I see no reason to repeat it. Considering her role as a support cape for New Wave, however, I would still insist that she undergo standard combat and procedure training according to the Wards induction curriculum."

"I may not have fought on the front lines," Amy replied, "but I received the same training as the rest of the team. I'll want to learn Protectorate operating procedures, of course, but I'd prefer to continue with my current supplementary combat training under Taylor, rather than go through the Wards training program."

"She's surprisingly good," I added, "even without her power."

"You would vouch for her abilities?" Colin asked.

Amy shook her head and started to voice a denial, but I cut her off. "I would. Give me another two weeks and I guarantee she'll be able to pass even the advanced combat exam."

Colin gave me a grin so small it might well have been microscopic, but the warmth in it was genuine. "Very well. If you decide to join, Panacea, I'll let you skip directly to the advanced combat exam. If you fail, however, you'll still need to go through the usual training program. Is that agreeable?"

Amy took a moment to glare daggers at me before turning back to Colin with a nod. "Sure. I can live with that."

"Right," I said, while Rennick made a few notes on his own copy of the contract. "There's a lot here about branding, costume, and other PR stuff. That's all going to need to change. Panacea already possesses full ownership of the kind of branding the PRT only wishes it could make. Amy has no reason to relinquish the rights to her name or heroic likeness, and you have no reason to ask her to change. I see it as strictly win-win."

Rennick nodded. "I'll need to confer with our PR department, but that sounds largely correct."

"Okay," I sighed, "now for the elephant in the room. Money."

"I assumed that would come up at some point," Rennick said. "The standard compensation package that all Wards receive is calculated based in part on restrictions imposed by labor laws and the PRT charter. We can provide additional funding for special accomodations involving disability, housing, dependants, or the like, but the basic wage and educational trust fund are effectively set in stone. Beyond all that, the PRT prefers to grant all Wards an identical wage as a gesture of fair treatment. That said, Panacea is free to negotiate her contract to her liking if she decides to join the Protectorate upon attaining her majority, and time spent with the Wards tends to reflect very favorably in those negotiations."

I blinked at him. "That's, uh, a lot more reasonable than the speech I got from Piggot. Don't tell her I said this, but maybe you should see about managing these meetings yourself more often?"

Hannah held a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh, while Rennick gave a small grin. "I'll take that as a compliment. Should I take that as a sign that you agree with our policy?"

"I, I uh-understand," Amy stammered, looking like she was caught halfway between panic and shame. Before she could say any more, I put my hand on hers, and gave her what I hoped was a reassuring grin.

C'mon, Amy. You can see my heart beating, hear my nerves crackling, so you know that I'm not worried. You said it yourself: I'm here to be smug and demanding for you. Now's the time for me to do my job.

"I don't intend to contest Amy's salary as a Ward," I said, trying not to grin too widely. "That said, we will need to negotiate payment for her other services before she can sign anything."

"Other services?" Rennick asked, brows furrowed. "I'm not sure I understand."

Behind him, I saw Miss Militia suppress another chuckle, while Armsmaster's grin grew wider by a few microns. They saw where I was going, but Rennick's position as a bureaucrat gave him more than a few blind spots.

"I'm talking about her services as a healer," I said. "Amy routinely spends hours of her own time at the Rig or the PRT building patching up capes after fights. The fact that she's never requested compensation before doesn't mean she's unable to do so now."

Rennick's frown grew deeper. "I suppose I assumed that would fall under her duties as a Ward?"

This time, it was Hannah who spoke up. "Actually, sir, that's not the case. The contract you're holding strictly defines a Ward's duties in terms of training, patrols, emergency response action, and PR events. We have no right, legally or morally, to demand that Panacea uses her powers on our behalf outside of those situations. It would be like demanding that Kid Win spend time maintaining tinkertech for our troopers."

Rennick turned to look behind him at Colin. "Isn't that exactly what you do?"

"It is," Colin nodded, "in exchange for extra funds to supplement my tinkering budget. Technically speaking, I could ask to receive cash as compensation instead, but my contract pays about 50% more this way."

Rennick turned back to Amy and I, and to his credit, his frown had been replaced by his usual neutral expression. "I'll have to confer with the Director, of course, but that seems to be quite acceptable. We can discuss the exact wages at a later meeting."

This was the moment I'd been waiting for. "Actually, sir, Panacea has already established the rate at which she's willing to provide the PRT with her healing services."

Amy turned to stare at me. "I have? Taylor, we didn't."

"Trust me, Amy," I said, low enough that only she could hear. "I had the idea last night, and spent almost an hour this morning crunching the numbers. It's a solid plan."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were more about crunching bones than crunching numbers?"

"Hey," I said, grabbing a pen from the center of the table, "I'll have you know that I've got one of the highest math grades in the entire school. I've got some decent brains to back up my brawn."

I flipped over a sheet of paper and wrote a number on the back, folded it up so that Amy couldn't see it, and slid it across the table. Rennick picked it up and almost immediately did a double take worthy of those Looney Toons shorts Dennis loved so much. Colin had to lean over his shoulder to see, and even he seemed taken aback.

"Before you shoot it down," I said, "I'd like to offer you some homework. Take a visit to accounting and ask them how much the PRT ENE pays for emergency medical services compared to other branches of similar sizes and activity levels. On top of that, factor in the amount spent per month on pensions and disability payments for PRT officers injured in the line of duty. You might also look at the relative fatality rate for officers injured on duty, especially in relation to the amount paid annually in death benefits. There's probably a few more factors I haven't thought of, obviously, but I can only go off of publicly available information."

I gave Rennick a few moments to let it all sink in. Judging from his expression, I guessed that he was doing some number crunching of his own.

"When you add all that up," I continued, "I'm sure you'll agree Panacea's offer looks a fair bit more reasonable."

Rennick gave me a slow nod. "I see what you mean. I'll have to run the numbers myself, but based on what you've said, I suspect I'll be able to convince Director Piggot to consider your offer."

Once again, I found myself impressed by how composed Rennick seemed compared to his boss. He was treating the whole matter as a negotiation, not a struggle for control, so he didn't see paying Amy what she was worth as any kind of a loss.

"Of course," I added, "Panacea would continue providing her services to local hospitals free of charge. All that would change is that she would be doing so as one of the Wards."

Rennick gave me a slight grin as he nodded. "Yes, yes, your point is clear. I can't make any further decisions on the topic without consulting Director Piggot, so further negotiations will have to wait for another time. Are there any other points of the contract you wish to discuss?"

"Only a few," I said, turning my attention back to papers in front of me. "Let's start off with the provisions regarding secret identities…"

After another hour of negotiations, Amy and I were able to shake hands with Deputy Director Rennick and call the matter finished for the day. As he and Miss Militia left, Colin stayed behind, approaching Amy and I as we packed up our (admittedly meager) documents.

"Deputy Director Rennick is a good man," he said, "but he concerns himself primarily with the administrative and financial aspects of the PRT, as opposed to those dealing more directly with capes. I don't think he expected you to show up quite so prepared."

"Neither did I, honestly," Amy said. "I thought you were here for moral support, not to act as my lawyer."

I shook my head. "I'm just your friend, Amy, not your lawyer. My version of moral support is just a bit more...thorough."

"That's good to hear," Colin said. "Otherwise, people might be able to raise certain objections regarding conflicts of interest. It's a bit unusual for a Ward to argue on a friends behalf against the interests of her employer."

"Couldn't you say the same?" I asked. "Amy's only been living with us for less than a week, but she still feels like part of the quote unquote family."

Colin smirked. "That might be the case, if I was here to argue on anyone's behalf. Fortunately, my role in these interviews is simply to assess potential recruits and answer questions. I have no stake in the financial side of things, so it doesn't really matter that a steady and highly lucrative job with the PRT would almost certainly assist you in a certain legal case that I might personally be helping you navigate."

Amy frowned. "This still feels like a bit of an ethical grey area. Are you really sure it's worth the trouble?"

Instead of answering Amy's question directly, I leaned over and whispered the actual value of the offer I'd made into her ear. It was a bit of a cheap tactic, but the way it rendered her speechless for the entire walk out of the PRT building was incredibly satisfying.

The rest of the morning and afternoon passed by pleasantly. I had the whole day off school, so I spent most of my time in the Wards's base, catching up with the team. Someone set up a dartboard in the main room with a picture of Lung taped over the front, so Sophia and I took turns aiming for increasingly embarrassing portions of his anatomy before she had to leave on patrol. I made a light dinner for everyone, and only discovered that Chris had been tinkering in his workshop the whole time when he was drawn out by the smell of freshly grilled salmon.

The light and pleasant feeling lasted until about 8:00, when I received a message on my Wards phone that sent me sprinting out the door and into the elevator.

I wasn't actually out of breath when I swooped into Piggot's office, but I felt a sense of urgency just the same. Piggot sat behind her desk as normal despite the late hour, while Miss Militia stood just off to the side. I could feel a palpable tension throughout the room, but couldn't see any hint as to its source.

"Daystar," Piggot said, with a brief nod. "Your response time is commendable."

"The alert was marked as an emergency," I said, "so I ran. Was this some kind of drill?"

Piggot shook her head, then leaned over her desk. "I need to make one thing clear. The urgent matter I'm about to brief you on goes well beyond the normal duties of a Ward. I can't legally order you to assist, so I'm making this a request. If, at any time during this meeting, you feel this task represents an unacceptable risk to your safety or wellbeing, you are free to leave with no consequences. No punitive action will be taken against you, and your refusal will not be recorded on your personal dossier. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, standing up straighter. "What do you need?"

Piggot gestured towards Miss Militia, who stepped up to speak. "We've just been contacted by the leader of the Undersiders. He's willing to have the entire group turn themselves in, but he insisted on talking with you before he would say any more."

"You're not expected to negotiate with him," Piggot added, "nor are you empowered to make promises on behalf of the PRT. Your only job is to convince him to come to us. Miss Militia and I will handle the rest."

"I can try," I said, trying not to let my whirling thoughts show on my face. Odds were high that this was what Lisa had mentioned during our date on the weekend, the next stage in Coil's plan, and in ours as well. The only problem was that I still had no idea what part I was expected to play.

Piggot reached out and flicked a switch on her desk phone, filling the room with the quiet hiss of ambient noise filtered through a phone line.

I looked over at Miss Militia, who nodded for me to go on. "This is Daystar speaking. I'm told you wanted to talk with me?"

"Glad to hear you, Daystar. I'm Grue, speaking on behalf of the Undersiders. I appreciate that you're willing to speak with me at all, after the first time we met."

When I thought about Grue, AKA Brian Laborn, I thought about how we'd laughed and sang karaoke together with the rest of the gang after my meeting with Coil. I had to remember not to be so familiar with him this time. Piggot knew about my undercover activities, of course, but I couldn't afford to let Brian or his boss know that Piggot was in on the secret. Nothing about being a triple agent was ever simple.

"Nobody got permanently hurt, so I'm willing to hear you out," I said. "Just so you know, the Director has made it clear that I can't make any deals or offer you any promises. I'm just here to answer questions."

"Not a problem," Grue replied, all business. "I'm short on time, so I'll cut to the chase. On Hero Complex, last weekend, did you really mean what you said about second chances?"

That was an easier question than I'd expected. "I did, and I still stand by it. Is that what you want? A second chance?"

Grue sighed, long and deep. "The Undersiders are tired of being villains. We want out, but we'd rather pay our debt to society by working as heroes than by rotting in prison. The last couple of weeks, we've been hitting the Empire and ABB, gathering information to use as a bargaining chip with the PRT."

I glanced around the room to see everyone else's reaction. Miss Militia gave me a faint smile and a reassuring nod, while Piggot directed a suspicious glare at the phone. I had no doubt that it chafed her not to be in full control of the conversation, but I also knew that her nerves of steel would keep her from interfering without good reason. When she had instructions for me, I'd know it.

"I can understand that, Grue," I said, "but I'm not sure what you're looking for me to do."

"There's been a change of plans,"Grue said, sounding like he was fighting to remain calm. "Tonight's job against the ABB went south. We got out, but two of us took serious injuries, and we've got capes on our tail."

I barely managed to throttle down the impulse to drop the charade and ask if Lisa was alright. The only thing that really stopped me was the knowledge that giving the game away now could get her killed just as surely as if Lung himself caught up to her.

"You want us to bail you out," Piggot cut in, her mouth twisting into a small but nasty grin. "You need help, and you're in no position to negotiate."

It might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn I heard Brian's teeth grinding together on the other end of the phone line. "...Yes. That's why I needed to speak to you, Daystar. You're the only person there I trust not to try and screw us over. Promise that you'll do your best to see that we get a fair shake, and I'll give you our location."

Piggot caught my eyes and nodded an affirmative. She wanted me to say whatever I had to in order to get the Undersiders into custody. I knew just as well as she did that a verbal contract like this wasn't worth the paper it was printed on.

"I don't know how much I can do," I said, ignoring Piggot's scowl. "Like I said, I don't actually have any real power here. I'm just a Ward."

"Yeah, I'm not all that happy with it either," Grue said, "but you're the best option I've got. Just promise that you'll try."

I took a deep, steadying breath, looked Piggot in the eye, and nodded. "Okay. I promise I'll do whatever I can to make sure you're treated fairly."

"Thank you," Grue sighed. "We're currently holed up in a safehouse on the corner of Aberdeen and Young. Tattletale and Bitch have both suffered minor gunshot wounds, but are now in a stable condition after receiving first aid. No sign of any trouble in the area right now, but we suspect that the ABB have some method of tracking us. We can hold out for a time against their rank and file, but there's not much we can do if Lung or Bakuda decide to bring the building down on us."

Lisa had been shot. They'd shot Lisa. She'd helped convince me to live for more than just revenge against the ABB, and they'd repaid her with a bullet. In that instant, all of my fear for her safety transformed in raw, caustic rage. I kept silent, but swore to myself that If she didn't pull through, I'd tear the entire gang apart with my own two hands, one limb at a time.

"You may not be aware of this," Piggot said, "but Daystar possesses a powerful Thinker ability similar to a lie-detector. Before I dispatch anyone to rescue you, I need you to promise me that this isn't an ambush, a ploy, or some other form of deception."

"I swear it isn't," Grue said, while I listened intently with the Judge's Ear. "I just want to keep my team safe."

"He means it," I said, earning me a brief nod from Piggot.

"Good. I'm going to transfer you to our emergency dispatch. The operator there will coordinate between you and our rescue team. In the meantime, stay where you are and try to avoid attracting any attention. As long as you do exactly what we say, we'll get you out of this."

She flicked the switch to transfer the call before Grue even had an opportunity to reply. "Miss Militia, you're in charge of the rescue team. You can take one squad and two armored carriers as backup, but I want you to get on the scene yourself ASAP. With any luck, a few capes showing the Protectorate flag will convince the ABB that attacking isn't worth the trouble."

My first instinct was to demand to be put on the team, but I still held on to just enough presence of mind to realize that making demands of Piggot rarely helped. For Lisa's sake, I'd hold back from doing what she would and actually talk with my boss instead of antagonizing her. I laugh with her later over the irony.

"Director Piggot," I said, "I request permission to join the rescue team."

Piggot looked up from her computer screen and frowned at me. "Your job is done here, Daystar. This isn't the time for you to indulge your grudge against the ABB.

I shook my head, holding myself in a stiff, almost military posture. "This isn't about that, ma'am. I just vouched for the Undersiders, and in my mind, that makes them at least partly my responsibility. I feel like I need to keep them safe, and keep them from doing anything stupid, and I can't do either from here. I promise to follow your orders to the letter, even if Lung himself shows up."

"You're sounding distressingly reasonable," Piggot sighed. "I don't trust that. Fortunately, Lung is unlikely to be a problem. Armsmaster, Dauntless, and Battery have been successfully keeping him contained on the opposite side of the docks for the last ten minutes."

I felt a sudden spike of worry for Colin, but this one was easier to swallow down. He could handle himself in a fight just fine, and he'd recently put together a couple new anti-Lung tricks that he was probably itching to try out. He'd be fine.

"All the more reason for me to help, Ma'am," I said. "Less trouble from being short handed."

Piggot and Miss Militia exchanged looks, before Piggot turned back to me and nodded. "You'll be travelling with Miss Militia. You're to follow every order she gives you without hesitation, understood?"

I considered snapping off a salute, but Piggot would probably find it more offensive than respectful. "Understood, ma'am. I won't let you down."

"You've said that before, Daystar," Piggot said. "Just remember that, as far as I'm concerned, you're on the very last of your second chances."

A/N: Update is late because I was suddenly inspired to rewrite the first half of the chapter at the very last minute. It's not my fault; it's the fault of my terrible time management skills.

I'll say more about this chapter tomorrow when I'm not literally falling asleep.

703

WinterWombat

May 1, 2020

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Threadmarks Dragons 3.16 (Lisa)

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WinterWombat

Word Nerd

May 29, 2020

#4,996

Spoiler: I LIVE AGAIN!

Lisa Wilbourne

I never heard the bullet that almost killed me. A thug in red and green levels a pistol at me one second, and the next thing I know, I wake up screaming. All the panic and pain that I should have felt in the moment came crashing down on me at once, every muscle seizing up as my body tried desperately to evade a danger long passed.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the panic is over. My heart still raced, my head still pounded, but I was back in control. The room around me was dark, filled with various metal cages, and for a second I thought I'd been locked in some kind of dungeon before I noticed Grue's shadows roiling over the walls and ceiling. This had to be the pet shop bolthole, then, in that old strip mall. It wasn't the most secure location, barely more than a locked door to hide behind and some emergency medical supplies.

I felt a light weight on my shoulder, and turned to see Alec, mask moved to the side of his head, giving me one of his usual laconic grins. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Tats. You want to scream a little louder? I think there are still a few guys with guns out there who didn't hear you the first time."

"That's enough, Regent," Grue sighed. He was leaning against one of the cages on the opposite side of the room, next to a sleeping or unconscious Rachel. "I've got the room soundproofed, and Tattletale doesn't need you messing with her head right now."

"My head feels pretty messed with already," I said, surprised at how scratchy my voice sounded. "How long was I out? What did I miss?"

"Twenty minutes," Brian said. "After you and Bitch each caught a bullet, we've had just enough time to go to ground here and patch you up. If you've got any insights about what we should do next, I'm all ears."

I took a closer look at Rachel. Sure enough, someone had cut off one leg of her jeans to just above the knee. She looked pale, but not deathly so, and the bandaging around her wound was stained brown with old blood. Her dogs, Brutus and Angelica, had curled up beside her to rest their heads in her lap. Rachel's power could provide both muscle and transport, but using it drained her energy, and she didn't look like she had any to spare.

I slowly raised my hand to my own head, and felt the mass of bandages wrapped around my own skull. When I drew it back and saw my fingertips coated with flecks of dried blood, my whole body began shaking.

"They, they sh-shot me?"

Glancing shot to skull. Suffered concussion, minor damage to-

My head split open. It was on par with the worst Thinker headaches I'd ever experienced, almost enough to make me lose consciousness in the instant before I could clamp down hard on my power. I had to take several deep, shaking breaths before I could speak again.

"Sorry guys," I said, barely able to hear myself over the ringing in my ears. "Looks like a little bit of brain damage doesn't do great things for Thinker powers. I'm guessing the job went bad?"

"It could have been worse," Alec shrugged. "It could've been me getting shot instead of you."

I laughed, even though it hurt, and even though the joke wasn't really funny. Stupid endorphins.

"God, you're r-right. Then we'd all be t-trapped in here with your endless whining. Do we have a plan yet?"

"Bitch took a bullet just above her knee," Brian said. "She can barely stand, and we didn't know when you were going to wake up. The van broke down about a block from here, and we only barely managed to carry the two of you this far. I had to make a judgement call."

"What he means," Alec drawled, "is that he called up your girlfriend and asked the white hats to bail us out."

A bolt of lightning shot down my spine, driving away the fog around my thoughts. "You called T-Taylor? The PRT? They're g-going to want to take us in!"

Brian crossed his arms and glared down at me. "It was the only chance I saw for getting out of this alive, and it wasn't like you were offering me any better ideas. I called them in about ten minutes ago."

I clenched my fists, trying in vain to stop them shaking. "Fuck. Where are they now?"

Brian held up his cellphone, pointing with his other hand to the 'no signal' indicator. "No idea. Had to close the whole room off with my power in case someone started screaming. There's nothing to do now but wait, and get ready to run if we have to."

I flashed him a weak thumbs up. "You've got it, oh fearless leader."

Several more minutes passed in tense silence before I felt a tremendous impact rumble through the walls and floor. Judging from the way Alec and Brian both shot to their feet, they must have felt it too."

"That could be the cavalry," Brian said, fixing his mask back into place.

Alec snorted. "Yeah, or maybe the ABB decided to pull back their search parties and just have Bakuda blow this place apart."

I tried to pull myself to my feet, but a sudden moment of light-headedness made me lose my grip on my power for just a split second.

Impact originates from motor vehicle colliding with the building. Car was not driven into building. Car was thrown at building. Car was thrown by-

I fell back to the floor, clutching at my head as agony ripped through me like a hot wire. A moment later, I felt Brian grab my hand and help me to my feet.

"It's her," I said, smiling despite the pain. "Can't tell if anyone else is with her."

"Right," Brian said. "Regent, help me get Bitch to her feet. Tattletale, can you walk on your own?

"Sure," I said, "as long as you don't ask me to dance. Can you drop the sound screen?"

As soon as Brian's roiling shadows drew back from the walls, I knocked three times on the door, and then spoke through it without raising my voice. "Hey, Daisy. Took you long enough."

Turning around, I saw Alec give me a flat look. "Honestly, Tats, I have no idea what she sees in you."

We could hear a bit of what was happening outside now, and it told a brutal story. I made out the sound of bodies being tossed against walls or ceilings, gunfire in crowded hallways, and people screaming in pain or panic. Every passing second brought the sounds of violence closer to our hiding spot, until, after barely three minutes, everything went silent.

"I think that's the last of the ones in the building," Taylor said, voiced muffled by the heavy fire-safety door. "You guys ready to get the hell out of here?"

As soon as I cracked the door open, brilliant golden light flooded into the dark and dingy safe room. Taylor wasn't just glowing, she was burning. Her emblem shone so brightly over her helmet that it was almost painful to look at, and she was covered head to toe in what I could only describe as an aura. Tiny arcs of golden lightning danced across her limbs, burned in her eyes. My senses practically screamed with unnatural certainty that this was a power I could neither defeat nor escape, and that my only hope was to fall on my knees and pray for a merciful end.

Then she smiled, faint and nervous, and all my fear fell away.

"Daystar," Brian said, giving her a brusque nod. "That's two we owe you." His professional demeanor was somewhat hampered by propping up Rachel's semi-conscious form with one shoulder, but he still more or less pulled it off.

I liked Brian, but the unfortunate truth was that he was better at acting like a leader than at actually leading anyone. Not that I was any better, of course. Case in point, I still couldn't bring myself to think of people by their cape names even though we were all masked up. My head just wasn't in the game, though I'd say I had a better excuse than most.

"You can thank me when we're all safe," Taylor replied. "I cleared out the back alley, and Miss Militia is keeping the remaining goons out front on their toes. Triumph and Shadow Stalker are on their way to back us up, along with an armored transport to get you all back to base. We just need to hold out here for a few more min-"

Like the gunshot, it happens faster than you can think. Pale green light flashes in the darkness behind Taylor, only an eyeblink before a tall, indistinct figure appears behind her, already swinging a glowing sword down at me. I reacted just fast enough to flinch uselessly, too slow, too late.

When there's no cut-to-black moment, no waking up screaming for a second time, I open my eyes to see Taylor's golden-glowing hand holding the blade only inches from my face. She hadn't even turned around, just caught the attack without looking. While I finished letting out a strangled yelp and stumbling backwards, the two of them surged into motion, striking, blocking, and feinting faster than my eyes could follow.

I managed to catch my footing just as the exchange ended with Taylor scoring a solid blow, sending the attacker flying through the air towards a bunch of broken glass and plastic that had once been a giant fish tank. Right before they would have hit, they vanished in another flash of green light. I heard a grunt behind me and turned around just in time to see Taylor gripping both of the attacker's wrists, holding them in place half-way through a strike that would have cut Brian's head from his body.

The figure teleported out of Taylor's grasp to appear at the far side of the room, finally standing still long enough to let me get a better look at them. The first thing I noticed was that they actually had two glowing swords, both with straight double-edged blades about three feet long. One glowed pale green, with hazy edges that my eyes struggled to focus on. The other was covered in jagged lines of red-orange light, like veins of magma pushing out through cracks in the surface.

They were tall, only an inch or two shorter than Taylor, but not as powerfully built, with a costume that absolutely screamed ABB. They were covered head-to-toe in a body glove of matte gray fabric, underneath light red and green robes that wouldn't have looked out of place in a high-budget wuxia film. They wore a stylized half-mask over the top of their face, even though the underlayer already made it into a featureless gray blob. At their waist, I noticed a total of four sheaths, two empty, two holding hilts identical to the ones they were holding. Tinkertech swords?

Not Tinkertech, power uses-

While I reeled from the sudden stabbing head pain, the figure finally spoke.

"I'm not here for you, Daystar," they said, in an electronically distorted voice. "This isn't a matter for the PRT, let alone the Wards. If you leave now, none of us will try to stop you."

"That's not much of a threat," Taylor scoffed. "I've already gone toe to toe with Lung himself to keep the Undersiders alive. I'm not going to turn tail for one of his flunkies."

"True," the ABB Cape said, "but then, you didn't have to worry about protecting a bunch of sitting ducks."

I couldn't tell whether it was them or Taylor who moved first. Alec cried out in pain, and I whirled around to see if he'd been stabbed, only to see that Taylor had violently shoved him out of the way of an attack. She'd caught a sword in each hand, but this time I noticed thin rivulets of blood flowing down her forearms.

"Run!" she yelled, even as the ABB cape vanished again, weapons included. "The way to the back door is clear!"

The next few moments passed in a blur. Brian put a hand on my shoulder and half-guided, half-shoved me forwards, while he and Alec carried Rachel between them. Every few seconds, the ABB cape would appear out of nowhere in another flash of green light and try to murder me, only for Taylor to stop them at the last instant. If it wasn't for the concussion making everything seem surreal and dreamlike, I probably would have been paralyzed with terror.

In the couple of minutes it took me to stumble past the pens filled with ancient sawdust, through the tiny office behind the main shop floor, and finally out through the rear door, I had more brushes with death than in all the rest of my cape career put together. Taylor seemed to be faster and stronger than the mystery cape, but not overwhelmingly so, and teleportation was a tough advantage to beat. By the time we all made it into the alley behind the old pet store, she looked more exhausted than I'd ever seen her.

As soon as we made it out into the open, I started sweeping my gaze around in search of that telltale green flash. When the ABB cape didn't show up for several seconds, I managed to calm myself just enough to work the zipper on my largest belt pouch and pull out my trusty little revolver. I had no idea if I could even shoot straight like this, but the gun had always been more about the threat than anything else.

I saw Taylor's head jerk upwards, and followed her gaze to see the ABB cape leap off the top of the pet store. They'd replaced their green sword with one that seemed to be covered in a fractal spiderweb of silvery light, which shifted unpredictably with every motion. Before I could even start to wonder at the significance of the change, Taylor charged forward, and they clashed.

The ABB cape didn't teleport this time, but something was clearly wrong with the exchange. Taylor's opponent seemed to effortlessly evade her initial flurry of attacks, moving just enough to dodge each punch and kick by a hair's breadth, before stabbing their red sword right through the meat of Taylor's left thigh. She managed to stay upright, but the wound made her hesitate just long enough for the ABB cape to flow around her next attack and draw their sword neatly across the back of her calf on the same leg. Despite the howls of distant sirens and not-so-distant gunfire, I heard the sound of Taylor's flesh tearing open with perfect, horrifying clarity.

Nearby, I was distantly aware of Brian and Alec carrying Rachel to the mouth of the alleyway, getting away from the fight. I knew I should be doing the same, but instead I stood paralyzed and watched Taylor get taken apart. The ABB cape effortlessly dominated the battle the same way that Taylor usually dominated a fight against anyone else. She was still faster, still stronger, but her opponent was taking advantage of every opening, and moving to evade attacks before they even started.

Was the ABB cape a combat Thinker? A precog? Why hadn't they used this ability inside the store?

The whole fight barely lasted a quarter of a minute before Taylor fell to her knees, covered in deep, vicious sword-wounds. The ABB cape looked down at her and shook their head.

"You had the chance to leave, child. If your allies hurry, they can get you to a healer before you bleed out entirely."

They turned their blank gray stare towards me, and I frowned. I was going to die here, but somehow that didn't seem important. There was something wrong with this picture. The ABB cape's silver sword had gone dim, its fractal pattern reduced to a flickering shadow. Before they could charge me, I gritted my teeth together and let my power off its leash.

Swords are batteries for powers. Red is Brute package. Silver is combat Thinker. Powers have limited charge. Silver sword almost depleted.

Screaming through clenched teeth, seeing double from the iron spike pounding it's way through my skull, I brought up my revolver and started pulling the trigger as fast as I could manage. The mystery cape dodged the first shot with a tilt of their head, then parried the next two with their red sword. With the third shot, though, the glow on their other weapon finally vanished entirely. My fourth shot missed, but my fifth and sixth struck their target dead-center.

They stumbled back, but only slightly, and a moment later I heard two flattened slugs fall to the pavement.

Bodyglove is bulletproof, untested tinkertech.

The iron spike drove an inch deeper, and my legs turned to jelly underneath me, dropping me to my knees. The ABB cape walked towards me with a calm, unhurried pace, seeming to neither relish the task ahead nor shy away from it. Just looking up at them made the world start to spin around me, and it took all my concentration just to stay upright. They alleyway melted around me into an impossible collage of day and night, with the stars burning red in fury while shadows stretched out to embrace me.

Why was I still struggling? If I just let myself fall unconscious, I wouldn't have to feel myself die...

"You don't deserve this," they said as they raised their red sword, voice almost too quiet for me to hear. "It's you or me, though, and that's an easy choice to-"

Their speech gave way to a strangled screech of pain, one I barely heard over the sickening crunch of shattering bones and tearing ligaments. I pulled my gaze up to see a gold-plated boot stomping down heavily on the back of their knee, twisting it at an unnatural angle. They pitched forward onto their hands and one good knee, their masked face barely a foot away from my own.

"We're not finished yet," Taylor growled. Her costume was covered in her own blood, but with all the wounds she'd suffered it should have been soaked. She looked like she was barely able to stand, but her aura blazed brighter than ever. From the corner of my eyes, I could just make out a feline shape prowling across the sky above, glowing red and purple like the sky at dawn.

Before the ABB cape could react, Taylor stepped forward and stomped down on their right wrist, eliciting another scream over another crunch of breaking bone. She kicked their red sword out of their nerveless fingers, the glow dimming to bare embers as soon as contact was broken. The cape started trying to squirm away, while reaching with their good hand for one of their two remaining swords. Before they could scramble more than a few inches, Taylor dropped down, pressed one knee into their back to pin them against the ground, then calmly pulled their good arm behind their back and twisted until something broke.

"Swords," I managed to croak out. "Swords hold powers. Green teleports."

Taylor grunted something that might have been an affirmative, then pulled the other two swords out of their sheaths and tossed them away. By that point, I couldn't tell if the ABB cape was struggling to escape or just writhing in pain, but it hardly mattered. The fight was over.

Minutes (or maybe hours) later, Miss Militia and Shadow Stalker ran into the alleyway, Militia's eyes widening in shock at the scene.

"New ABB cape," Taylor rasped. "Sword guy. Still has one working limb, so, y'know, be careful."

Miss Militia turned around and spoke through her radio, hopefully calling for some medics. Shadow Stalker, meanwhile, wasted no time in running up to us.

"Holy shit, Sunshine," she said, "how the hell are you still standing?"

"'m not," Taylor mumbled. "Kneeling."

I chuckled, further proof that I was suffering some kind of brain damage. Shadow Stalker knelt down besides Taylor, pulling out what looked like a standard-issue Wards first aid kit.

"How are you still awake, then? You look like you should be out cold in a pool of your own blood right now."

Taylor swayed unsteadily. "That's cause...ain't got...time...to bleed…"

I couldn't help myself. I burst out into manic laughter. As darkness started to encroach on my vision, I was dimly aware that I should be trying to breathe, but laughing at cheesy action movie lines was just so much more important. The world fell away, and I fell with it.

I reached wakefulness in bits and pieces, grasping at senses one at a time as if worried they might burn me. The air tasted like antiseptic and old blood, and my limbs tingled with a disconcerting coldness that I only dimly recognized as the simple absence of pain. My ears picked up the telltale hum of nearby electronics, and my eyes…

Well, my eyes wanted very much to remain shut. I was tired, and unconsciousness made a pretty poor substitute for proper sleep.

Currently inside PRT infirmary, my power told me, with only a moderate stab of pain. No restraints, but several guards posted outside door. Have been healed by parahuman power. Currently being healed by parahuman power.

I forced my eyes to snap open, and found myself in a private recovery room. I could still feel my mask on my face, and my costume seemed to be intact, but I had no idea how long I'd been out. Glancing just to the left of my bed, I saw Amy, or rather, Panacea, holding on to my outstretched fingers without a look of deep concentration.

When she turned to face me a moment later, concentration gave way to barely suppressed rage.

"Good morning, Tattletale," she said, her voice cold with menace, "or would you prefer to go by Lisa?"

A/N: I'm back!

I have no idea why this one chapter gave me so much trouble, but I hope that by getting through it I've learned a least a little about how to avoid this kind of blockage in the future.

Can't promise I'm going to be able to go back to weekly updates straight away, but I do want to get back in the habit of writing regularly as soon as possible, so we'll see what happens.

Next time, on Daystar!: Taylor and Lisa have some explaining to do! The Undersiders try to settle into their new situation! In everyone's darkest hour, an unsung hero saves the day!

Thanks for reading, friends, and for sticking around through the delay. Take care, stay safe, be well.

Last edited: May 29, 2020

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WinterWombat

May 29, 2020

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WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Jun 4, 2020

#5,229

May 3rd, 2011

"Hey, look who's back!"

I frowned. That sounded like my own voice, but it was far too cheery. I'd just fought to prevent a brand new ABB cape from killing my girlfriend and her team, getting slashed and stabbed half to death in the process. I'd won in the end, but only because I was way harder to kill than I had any right to be. In other words, I was feeling a lot of things, but cheery wasn't one of them.

"Maybe give her a moment to get her bearings, Titanslayer? Winding up here again has to be dreadfully confusing."

That was also my voice, but somehow different than the first one. Just like that, my memory clicked into place. I opened my eyes to see the sky aflame with the colors of dawn, the first tendrils of sunlight faintly illuminating the vast landscape spread out before me. I kicked up to my feet, my body impossibly free of pain, and turned away from the mountaintop vista to face my doppelgangers.

As before, I saw three versions of myself, identical except for their expressions and the items they carried. The jovial one on the left held a broken sword, the long-suffering one in the center wore a crown, and the patient one on the right had a bow slung over her shoulder. All three items had been made out of what looked like perfectly polished gold.

"See that, Strategist?" Sword-Taylor said. "Toldja. She's too tough to just lay around."

"Greetings, Taylor Hebert," Bow-Taylor said, as Crown-Taylor put her head in her hands and sighed. "Greetings, Daystar. Welcome back."

I gave them an unsteady grin. "Hey. You're the same Taylors I talked to after mixing it up with Lung, yeah? My, what did you say, past selves?"

"Prior incarnations," Crown-Taylor said. "We were the three who held your power, your Exaltation, before it made its way to you. More precisely, we are echoes of those people, fragments of their minds carried forward within the power itself."

"More than memories, less than ghosts," I quoted, remembering our last meeting. "So, uh, why did you bring me here, then? Did you want to give me any more relationship advice?"

"No," Bow-Taylor said, at the same moment Sword-Taylor shrugged and said "Sure." They turned to each other and exchanged a significant look, before turning back to me.

"We didn't bring you here," Bow-Taylor said. "You carried yourself into the heart of your power, where we reside, likely because you still seek answers from us."

"Not that we're not happy to have you," Sword-Taylor said. "We're not nearly so 'real' when you're not around to perceive us. It's nice having a body again, even if it isn't exactly mine."

"To elaborate," Crown Taylor said, "you made your way here because you lost consciousness while highly in tune with your own essence. The closer your connection to your Exaltation, the easier it will be to speak with us."

"What do you mean by in-tune?" I asked. I had no idea how much of this was just a really weird dream, but listening hadn't hurt me last time.

"It means you were acting in accordance with your nature," Sword-Taylor said, swinging her broken blade at a practice dummy that hadn't been there a moment ago. "As a Solar Exalt, it is your nature to strive, to go beyond, to struggle against impossible odds and exceed your own limits."

Crown-Taylor sat down at a gleaming stone table that had appeared between one eyeblink and the next. "As a Dawn Caste, it is your nature to excel in all the arts of battle, to achieve mastery of war, to conquer and destroy the enemies of Creation." She pointed at the sunburst emblem on her (my) brow, as if it signified something.

"And as Taylor Hebert," Bow-Taylor said, "it is your nature to protect those you love, to stand against injustice, and to inspire others to be better than they are."

Feeling suddenly light-headed, I sat down across from Crown-Taylor, crossing my legs under the low-to-the-ground table the same way she did. "Are you sure? That sounds more like the kind of things people would say about Legend or Alexandria. How can I inspire people if I can barely keep myself in one piece?"

"Your worries are understandable," Bow-Taylor said, sitting down nearby, "but one does not have to be invincible to serve as a symbol of something greater. People will see you getting hurt, but that will also see what, and who, you are willing to be hurt for. You should have a drink; it will be good for your nerves."

She gestured, and I saw the table in front of me suddenly occupied by a large, ornate tea-kettle and a stack of shallow drinking vessels. I poured some for myself, and took a cautious sniff."

"Green tea?" I asked, trying to remember if I'd ever smelled anything like it.

"From the southern coast of the Blessed Isle," Bow-Taylor nodded, clearly savoring the aroma of her own cup."

I frowned. "I'm pretty sure my ideal cup of tea is black with milk and one sugar. If this is all in my mind, why aren't you serving that?"

"It's your mind," Bow-Taylor said, "but it's my memory. Try some. I know you'll love it, because you'll really be remembering how much I loved it."

I took a cautious sip, and felt my eyes go wide at the deep, complex flavors blossoming over my tongue. Rather than admit that it was one of the most delicious things I'd ever tasted, I tried to get the conversation back on track.

"What did you mean by calling me a Solar, or a Dawn Caste? Are those anything like PRT classifications, Brute, Breaker, etc? Solar and Dawn because my powers are sun-themed?"

Crown-Taylor scoffed. "Your powers are 'sun-themed' because they are a gift from the Sun. Not the lifeless ball of burning gas that illuminates your world, but the Unconquered Sun, god above all other gods, embodiment of excellence and virtue, ruler of the heavens and defender of Creation."

I blinked at her across the table. "You're talking about Sol Invictus? Like, the ancient Roman sun-god, big deal religious figure and historical stepping stone on the road to monotheism?"

Sword-Taylor paused her assault on the training dummy to give a deep belly-laugh. "Of course we end up in a world where the patron god of all Solars is only a historical footnote. Can't say if it's an incredible convenience or a cosmic joke, but either way it's fucking hilarious."

I moved to take another sip of tea, only to find my cup empty. With a faint smile, Bow-Taylor began pouring me more. Was that what I looked like when I tried to be smug? How the hell did Lisa even stand me?

"Wait, wait," I said, "this is a lot to take in. You're telling me that my power comes from a god? You know that only crazy people say stuff like that, right? Is that what happened to Myrddin? Am I turning into Myrddin now?"

"You need not believe it," Crown-Taylor said. "I suspect you'll find your own answers soon enough. Just know that, in the world we came from, the Solar Exalted were known as the greatest heroes to ever have lived."

"And sometimes, the greatest villains too," Bow-Taylor added. "Sometimes as the result of wrongful slander, but sadly not always. What's important to know is that the path you now find yourself upon has been walked by hundreds before you, and they have done some work in smoothing the way."

For a second, the mountaintop vista surrounding us faded away, replaced by the inside of a grand chamber so large it looked like it could have held the entire PRT Building. Every surface was made of either polished white marble or shining gold, though thousands of ornate banners and tapestries turned almost every wall into a riot of color. The people filling the room seemed to come in every possible size and shape, but all of them had some sort of symbol glowing over their brow. Several bore the same sunburst as me, but others showed golden rings or half-circles, crescent moons in silver, or astrological symbols glowing with all the colors of the rainbow.

The vision lasted only a few moments before fading back to the now-familiar view of distant lands, but I couldn't shake how real it had felt, nor the sensation of incredible power the image had held. I had no idea who any of those people were, or why they were important, but they all carried themselves like the Triumvirate, with the kind of dignity and assurance that comes from possessing nigh-unstoppable power.

"Normally," Crown-Taylor said, "you would have other exalts to instruct you in the use of your power, and show you the path to further refining your essence. Unfortunately, since you seem to be the only exalt on this entire planet, we echoes shall have to suffice as your tutors."

"Don't worry, kid," Sword-Taylor said, "you've already been doing better than anyone could expect figuring out charms on your own. Anyone can figure out the Fists of Iron Technique with a little trial and error, but mastering Heaven Thunder Hammer or the Fire-Eating Fist so quickly is impressive."

"Okay," I said, "first off all, you don't get to call me 'kid' when we look like we're the exact same age. Second of all, Heaven Thunder what?"

Bow-Taylor nodded and began filling up my teacup for the third time. "She's talking about the techniques you've developed, the ways you've discovered of applying your essence to perform miraculous feats. The Solars of our world had thousands of years to discover, name, and formalize a vast number of these techniques to better pass them on to others. We called them 'charms.'"

"Heaven Thunder Hammer applies great force through a strike, disproportionate from the actual strength of the impact," Crown-Taylor explained. "Fire-Eating Fist allows you to seize power from your opponents' attacks and add it to your own. Your power to repair objects at a touch was known as the Crack-Mending Technique."

I sipped more of the delicious tea. "Hunh. Wait, do all of my techniques have names like this? What about my anti-Master power?"

Sword-Taylor chuckled. "The Defense of the Stubborn Boar. An old favorite, that."

"Okay," I said, "what about that thing where I catch bullets in my hands?"

"The Defense of the Dipping Swallow," Crown-Taylor replied.

I grinned. "Cool. Very cool. What about that technique where I rush someone so fast that it makes a kind of thunderclap behind me?"

Crown-Taylor frowned. "That's, well, that's the Thunderclap Rush Technique."

I raised an eyebrow. "Inventive. What about the simple techniques, like drawing on my essence to run faster?"

Bow-Taylor smirked. "Lightning Speed."

"Seriously?" I shook my head. "Okay, how about using my essence to increase my strength?"

Crown-Taylor sighed. "Strength-Increasing Exercise. These are all translations of the original Old Realm, mind you."

"Right," I said, giving her a playful smirk of my own. "I bet they're much more creative in the original Narnian dialect."

"Oh, the creative ones are much worse," Sword-Taylor said. "Most of them came well after my time, but still. I can't wait for you to hear about Sometimes Horses Fly approach, or the Technique for Evading Doors."

"What's important," Crown-Taylor cut in, "is that we can tell you a great deal about the sort of feats you are capable of, and thus help guide you in the development of your powers. Your connection with your essence should be strong enough now that you can guide yourself here in your sleep. You will still need to train in your own world, but we can at least point the way."

"I'll keep it in mind," I said, "assuming I remember any of this when I wake up, that is. I'm still not even sure any of this is real, but I can't afford to turn down any chance to get stronger."

"Don't worry," Bow-Taylor said. "They say that dreams are easiest to remember when you wake up in the middle of them, and you should be waking up any mo-"

There was almost no transition from sleeping to waking. One moment, I was sitting down at a stone table atop an impossibly tall mountain, the next I was sitting up in a PRT infirmary bed, blinking at the bulky figure of Director Piggot standing by my bedside.

Piggot bared her teeth at me. "Daystar, perfect timing. How are you feeling?"

Wait, was she actually smiling?

"I'm feeling fine, I think," I said, flexing my fingers and toes to check for pain and finding none. "I don't even remember passing out. Did Amy already fix me up?"

"She handled that last night, and sent you to sleep" Piggot nodded. "What's the last thing you can remember?"

I frowned. "Riding back to base in the armored transport with Li-, er, with Tattletale. Ma'am."

"Everything of importance, then," Piggot said. "I can't stay long, but I wanted to tell you that you did an excellent job last night."

I tried not to look surprised, and failed utterly. "Ma'am?"

Piggot laughed. It was quiet, and brief, and more than a little sarcastic in tone, but it was a laugh. "Contrary to what some of your teammates might say, Miss Hebert, I am in fact capable of offering unqualified praise on those rare occasions when it is deserved. Not only did you accomplish your objectives, you managed to hold your own against a powerful and versatile unknown cape and subdue them for capture with an appropriate level of force."

I flinched at that. "Ma'am, I'm pretty sure I crippled their knee, and broke one of their arms in at least two places. Not that I'm complaining, but I'm surprised you consider that appropriate."

Piggot chuckled again. "You left out the broken wrist. As for the rest? They tried to bleed one of my Wards like a pig in a slaughterhouse. As far as I'm concerned, a few broken bones is getting off light. No, you were fighting an unknown cape who'd tried to do at least as much to you, who had expressed intent to use lethal force, and who had already demonstrated significant Brute and Mover abilities. No one who doesn't have their head up their ass will blame you for being certain with your capture. Just don't make a habit of it, understand?"

I nodded. "Understood." The truth was, I was in no hurry to resort to that level of brutality again. Not because it had bothered me, but because it hadn't. The other Taylors in my dream had said that battle was part of my fundamental nature; was that why violence never seemed to truly disturb me anymore?

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, standing up slowly in case of any lingering dizziness. As I'd told Piggot, the last thing I remembered was sitting next to an unconscious Lisa in the PRT transport, desperately hoping that she wasn't too badly hurt. I needed to see her again, but Piggot didn't need to that Lisa and I were more than co-conspirators.

So instead of voicing my real feelings, I took a second to stretch and silently activate the Judge's Ear before addressing Piggot again. "What's the status of the Undersiders?"

I saw Piggot's good mood die a quick, quiet death. "Alive, and held in protective custody. You don't need to worry about them."

"I'd still like to check in on them, Ma'am," I said. "I promised to do my best to look out for them, after all."

"You said what you needed to in order to get them to turn themselves in," Piggot said. "You brought them in safe and sound. {No one's going to hold you responsible for anything else.}"

The Undersiders themselves would certainly object, but she probably didn't want me thinking of them as anyone whose opinions mattered.

I opened my mouth to object anyways, but Piggot held up a hand. "Stop. You're about to say something like 'I would, Ma'am,' and I can't deal with that much naive idealism this early in the morning. You can pay them a visit, but remember that {you have absolutely zero authority over what happens to them from here on out.} I don't want you screwing up our bargaining position by making promises you absolutely cannot keep."

I nodded. "I'll keep that in mind, Ma'am. I just want to make sure they're being taken care of. There's still the matter of our shared snake problem to deal with, after all."

Piggot's frown darkened even further. "You let me worry about that. You have the rest of the day off; I suggest you put it to productive use."

Piggot left the room, and I began changing into civilian clothes. I absolutely intended to follow her advice, but there was no need to tell her that I planned to swing home and grab a few things first. I trusted the PRT to do their job, but in this case, their job was to treat the Undersiders as potential resources instead of people. They deserved to have at least one person in their corner.

Plus, I needed to figure out how Piggot thought I might be able to influence the Undersiders' fate going forward. She was worried that I might do something to mess things up, which suggested that she planned on doing something she knew I wouldn't approve of. If it really was my nature to protect those I love and fight injustice, well, I couldn't just sit by and do nothing.

Technically, the Undersiders were staying in one of the PRT building's residential suites, not locked up in a prison cell, but the armed guards and locks on the doors made the difference purely academic. I showed up wearing civilian clothes and a casual cloth mask, my arms heavily laden with essential supplies. My right arm carried two canvas duffle bags and my largest picnic basket. My left arm carried, well…

"I'm sorry, Miss, but I can't let you bring that puppy inside." The guard, identified by her badge as Corporal Grady, did her best to loom authoritatively, despite having to look several inches up at me. "Hellhound's powers allow her to control and enhance canines. Even a puppy can be deadly in her presence."

Credit where it was due, she was being completely serious. The other guard, Corporal Smith, managed to remain even more stone-faced, somehow. I'd never seen anyone resist the urge to pet the world's most adorable puppy for so long.

"Oh, I know," I said, giving her what I hoped was a totally innocent smile. "Don't worry. She's not a real dog, just a projection made by my power, and part of my interrogation strategy. She looks real, but she's completely under my control."

My plan was stupid, and I'd probably get in a lot of trouble when I was finally caught, but fuck it. Rachel was probably falling to pieces without any dogs to look after, and Nova was a natural at serving as a therapy animal. Plus, even if Rachel did use her power on Nova, it wasn't like the little sweetheart would hurt anyone. I could try to convince everyone why this was the right choice later, but I wanted to help Rachel as soon as possible.

Grady frowned, but I could detect a hint of uncertainty in her features. "Miss Daystar, your profile doesn't mention anything about possessing any dog-related powers…"

"Ah," I said, "but it does mention that I can develop new powers spontaneously. The dog projection is new. I can demonstrate, if you like."

I lowered Nova to the floor, where she looked up at Grady and wagged her tail expectantly. Even Smith seemed interested in seeing what would happen next.

"Total control, you said?" Grady asked.

"Yeah," I said, "I can make her do anything, so long as it's something a normal dog can do. I'm not really sure what the point of this power is, aside from being cute. If it helps me build a better rapport with the Undersiders, though, I won't complain."

"Fine," Grady said. "Have her bark three times, then one time, then two times."

I nodded, while mentally crossing my fingers and praying this would work.

Nova didn't let me down. She gave three quick barks, paused, barked once, paused again, and then barked two more times, before running in a little circle for history''s tiniest victory lap.

Grady looked between Nova and I for several seconds, a thoughtful look on her face, before pulling a small notepad out of one of her uniform pockets, scribbling something on it, and handing it to me.

I took the note, and saw that she'd written 'BARK FOUR TIMES THEN ROLL OVER.'

Shit. Shit shit shit. She'd guessed that Nova might just be a very well trained dog, skilled at responding to verbal cues, so she wanted to see me command my 'projection' silently. I hadn't even thought of that, and I sure as heck couldn't actually do it. Could I still get away with laughing and playing it off as just a big joke, or did I need to make some excuse for why my powers-"

"Wuff! Bork! Arff! Boof."

It took every last shred of willpower I had left not to stare in complete surprise as Nova rolled onto her back, paws raised in a classic 'I want belly rubs!' pose. How did…?

"Well, shit," Grady said, taking the note from my unresisting fingers and passing it over for Smith to read. "Pardon me if this is rude, but your powers are weird, Daystar."

I shrugged. "I didn't choose 'em, I just figure out how to use 'em. Is that good enough for me to go through?"

Grady stared down at Nova for several seconds before shrugging. "Sure, I guess so, but this has to go in the log, and probably the end of day report to the director as well."

"Of course," I said. "It's not like it's a big secret or anything."

Grady stepped away from the door, but before I could go through, Smith held out his hand to block me. "Wait."

I tensed. Of course I hadn't fooled anyone. The whole idea was absurd. They were probably about to put me in handcu-

"Can I pet her?" Smith said, all traces of his former stoicism vanished behind the wide eyes of a true dog-lover. "No, I'm sorry, that's probably weird of me to ask."

I glanced down at Nova for my cue, and saw her roll back to her feet and start to pad over to Smith. "Go ahead," I said, shrugging. It's not like weird even meant anything to me anymore.

Smith leaned down and offered the back of his hand for Nova to sniff. When Nova replied with a happy little tail wag, his face lit up with pure joy, and he started scratching her behind one of her big, floppy ears.

"Wow," he said, sounding half mesmerized. "She feels so...real."

Once Nova had extracted her well-earned tribute of pats and ear scritches, Grady and Smith finally let me into the Undersiders' not-a-cell. I walked into a comfortable looking sitting room, complete with a long couch, a loveseat, and a tiny kitchenette with a sink, microwave, and dining table. In the back of the room, I could see doors leading into two small bedrooms. If it wasn't for the bars on the bulletproof-glass windows, I might have mistaken it for a suite at a cheap hotel.

The whole team seemed to be present. Lisa had laid down on the loveseat, and looked busy pretending to read an old magazine. Alec sat watching TV on one end of the couch, while Rachel had curled in on herself at the other, knees tucked up to her chest. They wore clean-looking civilian clothes, along with cloth half-masks to keep up the pretense of secret identities. I couldn't see Brian, but I could hear the sound of a shower running from near the bedrooms, so that was probably him.

There was a brief moment of confusion as everyone seemed to register my presence. The stillness broke as Nova tore off like a lightning bolt to jump into Rachel's arms, while Lisa all but threw herself into mine, barely giving me enough time to set down the rest of my bags.

I felt tension I hadn't even known I was carrying drain out of my as I wrapped Lisa in my arms and she rested her head against my shoulder. I could still sense a bit of quiet desperation in each of us, the urge to hold onto something we'd almost lost and never it go, but more than anything I felt pure, simple relief.

"You almost died," Lisa murmured, words muffled against the fabric of my jacket.

"So did you," I said, managing a half-hearted chuckle. "Twice."

Lisa's laugh in response was so quiet that I felt more than heard it. "Three times, I'd say. Amy patched me up after the fight, and figured out our secret."

"Oh," I said, thinking about what that must look like to her. "Shit."

Lisa pulled back from me just enough that I could see her smile. "Yeah. I think it took her a full five minutes to decide not to just liquify me on the spot. She's pissed. Mostly at you."

I sighed. "That's fair. Do you think I have to worry about her reporting us?"

"We should be okay," Lisa said. "She's probably going to go vent to her sister, and Vicky trusts you enough to keep her from doing anything rash. You'll need to explain yourself soon, though."

Feeling her start to gently pull away, I released my grip on Lisa, even as one of her hands slipped easily into mine. "How's the rest of the team?" I asked.

Lisa looked back to the couch. Alec flipped a quick thumbs up without looking away from the TV, while Rachel seemed too busy fussing over Nova to acknowledge us. The puppy was practically preening, standing still but wagging her tail exuberantly as Rachel carefully inspected her teeth and paws. I was still terrible at reading Rachel's expressions, but she didn't seem upset.

"Doing well enough," Lisa said, "considering the circumstances. Alec's bored, but not yet bored enough to turn into an even bigger asshole. Rachel misses her dogs. Brian's putting on a tough face, but he's worried about what's going to happen from here."

I nodded. "That's about what I expected, which is why I brought a care package. Picnic basket is filled with sandwiches, pop, and coffee. One of the bags has basic toiletries and a change of clothes for everyone, though I had to eyeball the sizes so I can't promise it'll fit great. Second bag has some books, one of the game consoles from my apartment, a couple DVDs, and Nova's overnight stuff."

That last bit got Rachel's attention. "You want her to stay with us?"

"Sure," I said, remembering Lisa's advice not to smile. "I know you'll take good care of her, and I think she'll enjoy catching up with you. I can check on your own dogs after I'm done here, if you like."

Rachel nodded. "Okay. Your dog's happy and healthy, so you probably don't suck at taking care of them. Just make sure they're getting enough water, and their cages aren't too small."

"I can do that, Rachel," I said, giving her a brief nod in return. "If there's anything else you all need for your stay in the luxurious hotel PRT, just let me know."

"How about any news on what your bosses have planned for us?"

I turned towards the voice and saw Brian walking out of one of the bedrooms, still damp, wearing gym shorts and an undershirt. Part of me quietly noted that, if I was at all into guys, I'd probably be drooling at the sight instead of just wanting to compare workout routines. The rest of me was busy worrying about how to answer him.

"Not much I can say," I shrugged. "Not for lack of trying. Piggot's trying to keep me out of the loop. My best guess is that she'll want to press your team into joining the Wards, probably on probation like Shadow Stalker."

"Probably," Lisa agreed. "I should point out, though, that doing so will almost certainly involve sending us off to different cities, where we'd be stuck under constant surveillance for the next few decades. That is, of course, assuming they don't just throw Rachel and Alec in jail for being more trouble than they're worth, or put me back in contact with the abusive assholes who call themselves my parents. I don't think it's going to get that far, though."

I grimaced. "What makes you say that?"

"When the guards came in with our breakfast this morning," Brian said, "we found a note from the boss hidden under one of the trays. It said to keep our mouths shut and wait for our lawyers."

I turned to Lisa and raised an eyebrow. "You guys have lawyers?"

"We will, I'm sure," Lisa said. "I have some guesses about what the boss is planning, but I want to save my power for any unexpected emergencies. It's still not fully recovered from when I took a bullet to my braincase."

I winced. "Shit. This is gutting nuts. We can't let the ABB keep escalating like this."

Brian shrugged. "Honestly, the one bright side to this whole mess is being able to say that it's not our fight anymore. I never would have sent us on that casino job if I knew Lung could carry a grudge like this."

"For what it's worth," Lisa said, "it's more about Daystar than us. Lung probably feels like he needs to regain some face after she almost handed him his ass on a golden platter. He's not going to go out and try to hunt down and murder a Ward in cold blood, because he's not Hookwolf levels of stupid, but if he can kill the people that she fought him to protect, he sends the message that all her efforts were for nothing."

"Christ," Brian said, his head drooping. "I didn't sign up for this shit. I appreciate you saving our lives twice now, Taylor, but we might not survive the consequences."

"So do your best to stay out of trouble," I said, smirking. "I'm a busy girl, you know. Can't spend all my time pulling your asses out of the fire, not when there are still villains in the city I haven't gotten around to mortally offending yet."

That earned me a half-hearted chuckle. "Right," Brian said. "Well, whenever you have time in your schedule, feel free to stop by. They won't let us keep our phones, so we can't exactly get in contact with you."

I nodded. "Can do. Lisa?"

"Yeah, babe?" Lisa said.

"Keep your schedule clear. The second you all get out of here, we're going out on another date. The PRT are pretty tough, but they're not tough enough to keep me from cuddling my girlfriend forever."

Lisa grinned. "Alright, Taylor. It's a date."

A/N: Ah, getting back to writing feels good.

Now that Taylor's getting some info on Exalted concepts like Charms and Castes, I want to make it clear that I don't intend to use it as an opportunity to start drowning this story in jargon. Being able to name Taylor's charms can help me with clarity in fight scenes, but I still need to communicate what the charm does and how it feels in order to produce a satisying narrative, so don't worrry about memorizing too much. My goal for this story is (and always has been) to incorporate any game-derived elements in a naturalistic way.

Also, to hopefully forestall any majorly acrimonious arguments from popping up, I want to say that I have, in fact, considered how the PRT is going to respond to this escalation from the ABB. How exactly that'll happen is something that should become clear over the next few chapters. There are enough different views on how things ought to work on Earth Bet that I'm pretty confident no one answer could please everyone, so I've written what works best for the story I want to tell. You're absolutely free to criticize me on my decision, because even though I have no intention of changing it here, I'm always looking to learn for the future. I only ask that you try not to get salty with other posters for disagreeing with you.

At the end of the day, all we have are peoples' various interpretations of a fictional setting. If you look back on history, even relatively recent history, you can see just how shit human society actually is at really understanding why societies and the people in them work the way they do. Theorizing on how the Worm setting would work is basically doing the same thing, just without the benefit of being able to objectively observe and measure a real, tangible thing. By all means, engage in this fun and stimulating creative exercise, but consider just how much certainty you're really justified in claiming, and try to moderate your criticisms accordingly.

Next Time, on Daystar!: Taylor and Amy hash it out! Coil shows the next phase of his plan! Uncertainty and looming danger abound in the last chapter of Arc 3!

Stay cool, everybody, remember that black lives matter, and look out for your own safety and that of others around you.

Thanks for reading!

Last edited: Jun 4, 2020

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WinterWombat

Jun 4, 2020

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Threadmarks Dragons 3.18

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WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Jun 11, 2020

#5,341

May 4th, 2011

I had a bad feeling about this.

I'd ended up spending the night at my room in the Wards HQ, just in Piggot or the Undersiders needed me for something. I couldn't say what I was expecting to go wrong, exactly; maybe an attack from Lung, or an escape attempt from the cape I'd captured. I just knew that I felt anxious about something, and wanted to stick close by. I was a bit worried about what Amy was up to, but I didn't see any angry messages when I checked my phone the next morning, so things couldn't have been that bad.

I managed to make it back to the apartment for 8:30, hopefully early enough to avoid the worst-case scenario of barging in on tired, surly morning-Amy.. Standing outside the door, hand poised above the doorknob, I regretted leaving Nova with Rachel. It was for the best, sure, but I could have really used her reassurance and diplomatic skills at this point. As it was, I'd have to go in alone.

I opened the door, slow enough not to make more than the minimum amount of noise, but not so slowly as to seem like I was trying to sneak in. Of course, the very first thing I saw on stepping inside was Amy Dallon, sitting at the kitchen table in front of two steaming mugs, staring at me with an disturbingly intense expression.

"Good morning, Amy," I said, forcing a smile. "Didn't think you'd be up this early."

"I'll bet," Amy said. "I talked to Vicky. Vicky talked to Dean. Dean called when you left the PRT Building."

I winced. "Ah. I, uh, suppose you want to have a talk?"

Amy gave a forced chuckle. "No, what I want is to punch you in your smug fucking face, but you're a Brute and I can't use my power to heal my own broken knuckles, so I guess we'll have to talk instead. Sit down."

I sat down. Amy silently glared at me for a few seconds, before pushing one of the mugs over towards me. When I reached out to take it, though, her hand shot forward again and grabbed me by the wrist. I could have easily escaped, but I figured I might be able to win points with her by playing along. If Amy wanted to use her power like a lie detector on me, it would only help my case.

Then my arms and legs went instantly numb, falling limply to my sides, and I realized I might have fucked up. Amy's hands were trembling, and her breathing quickly became ragged. Something was seriously wrong with her.

"How much did you tell her?" Amy growled, eyes boring into mine with an almost feverish intensity.

I forced myself to sound calm. "Her? You mean Lisa?"

Amy didn't laugh so much as she cackled, a dry, manic sound. "No, the fucking tooth fairy! Don't even try to pretend that you didn't know who she really is. How much did you tell her about me?"

I shook my head, glad that at least my neck muscles hadn't been paralyzed. "Nothing, really, just that I was worried about your home life. I never even brought up the brains thing, or your birth father, or anything. I promise!"

"Don't lie to me, Taylor!" Amy shouted. "Dropping your cortisol levels and suppressing your micro-reactions might fool the average Thinker, but {I can see the shifting action potential in each of your neurons. I might as well be able to read your mind, and I can tell you're still hiding something.}"

The discordance of her deceptions rippled across my senses thanks to my Judge's Ear charm, standing out as a muddled mess of lies, half-truths, and self-deception. She didn't have nearly as much of a clear read on me as she claimed, but she wasn't going to let that stop her.

"I'm not lying, Amy," I said, trying to keep up my calm front even knowing that Amy could see right through it. "I didn't tell her anything. I just think she probably knows anyways. Her power makes it almost impossible for her not to figure out these things."

"Oh, good," Amy deadpanned. "You didn't sell me out, you just let me sit in the same room as a secret villain Thinker capable of dredging up all of my worst secrets. That's so much better. How long have you two been working together? Has she been helping you this whole time?"

Amy had all the power here, and I was cooperating; if this was just fear propelling her, she should have started to calm down by now. Instead, she was getting worse. She had to be psyching herself up for something, preparing to escalate. I had to get away before she did something incredibly stupid, but none of my limbs responded to my thoughts. I bent all my willpower towards trying to move even a single muscle, but I might as well have been a quadruple amputee for how much good it did.

I turned my focus back to the conversation, in hopes that I could defuse the issue. "Working together? Amy, she's my girlfriend. We're not in some kind of big secret conspira-"

I shut up the instant I realized what I was about to say, but I was already too late.

"You know, for someone with her own lie detector power," Amy said, voice going cold, "you don't seem to know a lot about dealing with them. Now, are you going to tell me exactly what the two of you have been planning, or do I need to start encouraging you?"

"Amy, wait, it's not-" my voice cut out as suddenly and completely as my limbs had, leaving me unable to do more than mouth words and hiss.

"Shut UP!" Amy yelled, tears starting to pool at the corners of her eyes. "Just stop with the fucking excuses already! The only reason I'm even talking to you right now is that I want to know just how much damage you've done before I {hand you over to the authorities.} Why did you manipulate Vicky into liking you? What did you hope to gain by breaking me up with my family? Is there some bigger plot I still can't see, or were you just fucking with me for fun?"

A total lie, and serious bad news for me. If Amy didn't trust the PRT to deal with me, was she capable of taking justice into her own hands? Yesterday, hell, ten minutes ago, my answer would have been 'never.' Now? I had to choose my words carefully.

"Amy, you're my friend," I said, as soon as I regained control of my voice. "I've never wanted to hurt you. I don't blame you for reacting like this, but-"

Her eyes narrowed with renewed fury; I'd said the wrong thing, and was at best only seconds away from something horrible. I couldn't run, couldn't use my strength or skill, couldn't even call for help, but I still had one way of fighting back that didn't involve my limbs. I just hated to ever use it.

I drew as deep as I dared from the hot, spiteful power that my dreams had named Sadistic Insight Approach. "But I never expected this. It looks like you take after your dad a lot more than I thought."

Seeing the look of shock and pain on Amy's face nearly broke my heart, but her confusion gave me a few more precious seconds to keep speaking. I continued to draw on my least-favorite charm, trying as hard as possible to steer it towards something more constructive than pure sadism.

"This is what real selfishness looks like, Amy. It's not taking a break from healing when you're almost too tired to stand, it's knowing that I'm telling the truth but wanting to hurt me anyways. You'd do something you know to be wrong rather than learn that the world is a lot more complicated than you want it to be. If that's really the kind of person you are, Carol was right not to trust you!"

I was shouting by the end, overcome by fear and the desperate need to get every word out before Amy tried to silence me. She cringed back, rage momentarily overtaken by fear and self-hated. My power eagerly offered up the last few words I would need to utterly break her, to hurt her so badly that it would be months before she could be a threat to anyone else.

With an effort of will, I shoved those words aside. "Amy, you can still prove her wrong! You still haven't crossed that line! All you have to do is let go. Please, Amy, let go"

Amy pulled away from me so hard that she fell backwards out of her chair. "No, no, please no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't want to..."

Seconds after she broke skin contact with me, feeling began to flow back into my arms and legs. I stumbled to my feet, barely managing to avoid joining Amy on the floor, and began lurching my way towards my bedroom. By the time I reached it, I'd regained enough control over my fingers to close and lock the door behind me, pull out my phone and hit one of my emergency contacts.

"Colin, I'm in the apartment with Amy. She's having a breakdown. She tried to hurt me, but I think that's over now. She's not injured, but she needs help, and I…"

I swallowed. Part of me wanted to rush out and wrap her in a huge, tell her it'd all be fine, help her through this. She wasn't a monster, she was a friend in pain. It was what a hero would do, after all, but I...

Ever since my first fight with Lung, I'd been trying to be the kind of person who would do the right thing, but this time I just couldn't do it. I felt like all the fear I'd been suppressing at being so helpless had just come rushing back to me all at once. My head was spinning, and it was all I could do not to throw up.

"...I can't. I just can't."

"You did the right thing, Taylor."

I barely looked up to acknowledge Colin as he took a seat on the other side of the couch, focusing instead on keeping my hands from shaking as I took another sip of tea.

"I just barely managed to clean up my own mess," I said. "If I hadn't been so careless with my words, I could have talked her down before everything escalated so far."

"You don't know that," Colin said. "You found Amy Dallon in the middle of a severe mental health crisis. From what I can determine, she stayed awake through all of last night working herself into an irrational state. We can't know if there was anything you could have said to defuse the conflict, or if her escalation to violence was inevitable."

"Even if you're right," I said, "that's still my fault. I should have tried harder to catch her last night. Hell, I should have told her about this when she first met Lisa."

"Taylor," Colin put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "I understand the sentiment, but that would have been a terrible idea."

I barely managed not to spit out my tea, and then nearly choked on it as a result. By the time I managed to face Colin I had tears stinging at the corners of my eyes and an expression somewhere between stubborn rage and sheer dumbfounded incredulity.

"She was perfectly capable of contacting you at any time if she wanted to talk, so it made sense for you to assume that she wanted space instead. As for keeping secrets, today's incident suggests that Amy likely wouldn't have handled the news well even in better circumstances. With Tattletale's life at stake, you made the right call by keeping the information limited to as few people as possible."

"Well, it hardly matters now," I sighed. "After this, we're probably going to have to bring her in at least a little bit on project, uh…"

"Project Snakefucker?" Colin asked, grinning faintly. "Tattletale will have to try a great deal harder than mere sophomoric language if she wants to make me uncomfortable. That said, how much we tell Panacea will depend very much on how well she recovers from this incident."

"I can't see much of an alternative," I said. "She knows too much to believe the public cover story about how I just have a soft spot for criminals trying to turn over a new leaf. Coil and the rest of the Undersiders all think that I'm going to leave the Wards to start a new hero team with them, but Amy would never forgive me for working with villains. All that's really left is the truth."

Colin stood up. "You don't have to decide now, and you don't have to decide alone. In the meantime, you should get ready for a long day. The Director's meeting with the Undersiders this afternoon, and she wants you there with her."

"Right. I can do that," I said. "Having a goal to focus on might help me get out of my own head a bit."

"Good," Colin said. "After that, I'm going to call a meeting with all of the wards, and once that's done I'll need you to bring Nova up to power testing."

I nodded. "That sounds like a goo- wait, what?"

Colin gave me a Look. "Taylor, I read the report from the guards on the Undersiders' cell. Either you have dog powers or your dog has human powers. Either is worth studying."

"Maybe she's just really, really smart?" I said, in a tone that didn't even convince me. "I haven't used my powers on her, I promise."

"Well then," Colin said, "I hope you're as excited as I am at discovering the world's first paradog."

I huffed. "I suppose I might have used my powers on her accidentally, somehow. I just, I don't want her getting poked and prodded by doctors all the time, or classified as dangerous tinkertech or something. Powers have nothing to do with why she's important to me."

"I understand," Colin said. "I won't let anything like that happen to her.

"Oh god, I really screwed the pooch on this one. I fucked up."

Lisa was threatening to carve a trench through the floor with her pacing back and forth, so I reached out, grabbed her hand, and gently tugged her onto the couch next to me.

"Lisa, no," I said. "It's not your fault, okay? You were unconscious and in need of medical attention; by the time you woke up, the damage was already done."

Lisa frowned, but cuddled up to me and rested her head against my shoulder. "That's not it, Taylor. I should have been able to see how unstable she really was. If I hadn't been so set on conserving my power, I could have seen it coming and warned you, but instead I just let you walk right into…"

I let myself lean against her a little more and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. With Alec sitting on the floor right in front of the TV, Brian busy shadow boxing in a corner of the room, and Rachel curled up on the floor with Nova, we had the couch to ourselves. I'd been shuffled in here as soon as I'd entered the building, and told to wait. Nobody said I couldn't wait and cuddle with my girlfriend at the same time, though.

"Lisa, please, stop," I said, putting a finger over her lips for emphasis. "First of all, you were conserving your power because you'd been shot in the head. That's a damn good reason. Second, I've already made most of these arguments against myself, and hearing them all over again from you is making me feel embarrassed."

Lisa looked thoughtful for a moment, before giving me a wicked grin and opening her mouth just enough to lick my finger. I startled at the sudden sensation and gave a mighty squeak of surprise. Brian and Rachel both shot us looks, but nobody actually said anything.

"Serves you right," Lisa said, barely suppressing giggles. "I'm supposed to be the logical, insightful one in the relationship, but you're stealing my schtick."

I laughed. "Really? Well, you can be the pretty one instead."

"Taylor, please," Lisa said, tossing her hair back like a woman in a shampoo commercial. "We're both the pretty one."

I felt my face flush, but before I had to stammer out a reply, fate saved me with three sharp knocks on the door. With barely a second's delay, Director Piggot and Armsmaster walked in, the latter closing the door behind him.

Piggot addressed the room. "Before I begin, I want to be clear about just one..."

She paused, then turned to look at Lisa and I, snug as two bugs on an otherwise empty couch.

"Hello, uh, ma'am," I said, failing to sound in any way innocent. "Lisa and I are kinda seeing each other, uh, romantically. Just so you know."

Piggot continued to stare at me for several long seconds before finally shrugging. "Taylor, it gives me great pleasure to be able to say that this isn't my problem, and I honestly don't give a damn. So long as you keep it to your civilian IDs I don't need to involve myself in your teenage bullshit. If you make it my problem, however, I will not be nearly so forgiving."

Hunh. Better than I'd expected.

"Now, moving on," Piggot said, "I want to be clear about something. This meeting is not, in fact, happening. When we are done here, it will never have happened. It will be in all your best interests going forward if you make sure to keep in mind the distinction between things that have and have not happened. Understood?"

While Piggot spoke, Brian had walked over to the couch, turning off the TV on his way by. Once she finished, Brian and Lisa nodded agreement, Alec shrugged, and Rachel glared up from her spot on the floor. None of us wore masks; as far the other Undersiders knew, I'd told Piggot that I'd met them all in my personal life, and only recently discovered that they were villains. Everyone already knew everyone else by now, so there wasn't much point in the pretense of secret identities.

Piggot nodded. "Good. Daystar here has told me of your intentions to turn over a new leaf and join the side of the angels. In light of your recent actions, and considering the relatively minor scope of your previous crimes, that may just be possible. Regent and Hellhound both have matters on their record that complicate the process, but not impossibly so."

"My name is Bitch," Rachel growled, glaring up in defiance.

"Not when I'm in the room, it isn't," Piggot snapped back. After a brief battle of wills, Rachel was the first one to look away.

"Now," Piggot continued, "under normal circumstances, the process would be straightforward. Each of you would be sent to a different PRT branch elsewhere in the country to undergo training and rebranding, while the Undersiders would cease to exist."

Brian and Alec both tensed up as she explained. Brian was tied to Brockton Bay because of his sister, but I had no idea what Alec was worried about.

"Under normal circumstances," Lisa said, nodding in understanding. "People only say that when circumstances are extremely not normal."

"Quite," Piggot replied. "Tomorrow, you will all receive notice that an anonymous benefactor has engaged the services of a highly expensive law firm on your behalf. Your case will never go before a court, but once all the haggling is finished, you will find yourselves granted instituted as a probationary, semi-independent hero team under PRT supervision."

I sat in awe of Piggot's sheer guts at making such a huge bluff. Without actually saying as much, she was implying that Coil's plans for the Undersiders were progressing only because she allowed it. It wasn't wrong, technically, but she made it sound as if the whole thing was part of some grand plan, when in reality we were all basically stuck in a canoe at the edge of a waterfall, paddling desperately just to stay in place.

"Alongside an as-of-yet undetermined Protectorate hero," Piggot continued, "Daystar will serve as your direct PRT liaison and supervisor. The media will play it off as some kind of PR stunt, but make no mistake, her authority will be completely real."

"Taylor's going to be our boss?" Alec said, laying back lazily. "That's cool, I guess."

Lisa rolled her eyes at him. "Last I checked, your boss can't usually send you to prison for pissing her off. Can you at least pretend to take this seriously?"

Alec laughed. "Fine, Tats, you win. I'll pretend."

Piggot shot them both a withering glare. "Keep in mind that this arrangement will proceed only so long as you remain useful. I'll save the rest of the details for the lawyers to deliver, so you can at least try to look surprised when the time comes. If you have any further questions, you can direct them to Daystar. Otherwise, if you can manage to stay out of trouble and play along, we can all get what we want out of this arrangement."

Piggot and Armsmaster left the room without another word, leaving us all in awkward silence.

Rachel was the first to break the tension. "Taylor. You're the leader, now?"

I glanced over at Brian just in time to see him suppress a look of frustration. "More or less?"

"Good," Rachel nodded. "I want my dogs back. Can you do that?"

I sighed. "Good question, Rachel. I'll see what I can do."

This was exactly what I needed in my life right now: more secrets and more responsibility.

One very exhausting afternoon and relatively calm evening later, I was just about to turn in for the night when I got a call on my personal phone.

I picked up, but found myself unable to say anything. I sat on the edge of my bed, heart racing, hearing nothing but faint breathing on the other end of the call.

I couldn't say if it was Amy or I who made a sound first, but an instant later the words all just came tumbling out of our mouths. "Amy, are you alright? God, I'm so-"

"I'm so sorry, Taylor! I didn't mean to-"

"-didn't mean those things I said, I was just trying to shock-"

"-never meant it to go that far-"

"-should have told you-"

"-should have let you explain-"

"-I understand if you can never forgive me."

"if you never forgive me."

The torrent of words dried up just as suddenly as it started.

"I think," Amy finally said, "that this is where one of us would normally laugh to break the tension."

"Can't laugh," I said, though I could feel a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "I'll just start crying."

"Yeah..."

"Amy," I said, "listen, if there's anything."

I could almost hear Amy rolling her eyes. "Taylor, I'm okay. Well, I'm not, but I will be. Doctors basically said that it was basically a nervous breakdown, even though that's not really a thing, medically speaking. They're going to keep me in the psych ward for at least another 24 hours of observation. Vicky and Mark have already been by to get me everything I need."

"That's good," I said, unsure of how to feel.

"I'm going to be seeing a new therapist," she continued. "We only met once, but she's already helped me a lot. Not much experience with capes, but she's plenty familiar with traumatized teenagers, and really, what's the difference?"

I gave a short laugh at that, and sure enough, felt tears start to tickle at the corners of my eyes.

"I think you might want to see her too, Taylor," Amy said. "I'm not saying there's something wrong with you, but-"

"No," I said, "no, I get what you're saying. I think you're probably right."

I let myself fall back on the bed, closing my eyes as I went over my memories of the last couple of days. Fighting for my life, and Lisa's. Nearly getting killed by a cape I'd never prepared for. Dreams of strange people from some sword-and-sorcery setting claiming to be my past lives, and talking about destiny. Coil's plans, and Piggot's plans for Coil's plans, and my place stuck in middle of it. Oh, and I might have accidentally given superpowers to my puppy.

I sighed. "Yeah, you should definitely give me her number. If I'm not crazy right now, it's only a matter of time."

A/N: Tired Winter is tired. Have you all been having a week? I've been having a week.

Kept going back and forth over whether or not to stick with this version of the confrontation with Amy. There's an earlier draft where she handled things a lot better, but I ended up deciding that this way moves the story forward a lot better.

Just to be clear, though, you shouldn't expect any talk of Amy facing charges or the like. This was a brief lapse of reason, not aa villain turn or an unforgivable crime. Taylor's still probably going to be shaky around her for a little while, but it's something they can get through.

Next week's chapter is going to be a series of interludes, followed by chapter 4.1 the week after. I look forwards to seeing you all then _.

Last edited: Nov 21, 2020

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WinterWombat

Jun 11, 2020

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Threadmarks Interlude: The Titanslayer

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WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Jun 19, 2020

#5,425

The Titanslayer

Taylor seemed like the kind of girl who would get bored in a classroom, so when it came time for me to start showing her the ropes, I took her to the same place where I learned everything worth knowing. As she arrived in the dreamscape, it was a simple matter for me to brush away the vista from atop sacred Mount Meru and replace it with the carnage and chaos that had defined so much of my life.

I hadn't lived long enough to see the creation of hell, but the scene that greeted her must have come close. The mountaintop vanished, replaced by a vast expanse of black volcanic rock, some of it still hissing and steaming from the heat of its birth. Wherever the rock cracked, boiling seawater frothed and bubbled with sulfurous gasses. Bodies both human and demonic littered the craggy surface, while those still living did their best to spill more blood or vitriol into the seething waters. Everywhere I turned my gaze, I saw anima banners of radiant gold and silver, or flares of unleashed elemental essence. Above us, two suns, one gold and one green, battled for dominion over the sky, erupting with bursts of cosmic radiation or twisted spacetime wherever they clashed.

Gods, how I missed this.

"What the hell is this?" Taylor cried out, jumping deftly between bodies as she made her way to my side. "Did I sleepwalk into Mordor or something?"

"The Titanomachy," I said, drinking in the long-remembered sensations. "The battle for all Creation, the rebellion of the gods. The war against the Primordials. This is where we were born, Taylor."

One of the greater demons hurled a bolt of sorcerous fire in our direction. Taylor flinched away but I simply allowed it to pass through me.

"Where you were born, you mean. right?" Taylor asked. "I've never seen this place before. I'd remember."

"I mean all of the Exalted, Taylor," I said, gesturing towards the boiling seas. "No human mind can truly understand the Primordials, but it is enough to know that they were beings of unfathomable power who created our very world. They were also monsters who saw no value in things outside of themselves, and who might well destroy all of existence on a whim. To preserve Creation, the gods of earth and heaven rose up against them in rebellion, and created the Exalted to be their chosen champions."

Taylor's eyes widened as I spoke, and the awe she felt for the tale seeped out into the dreamscape around us, sharpening details and granting greater animation to the illusion. Clouds of steam parted to reveal countless other volcanic islands, newly risen from the ocean floor to flood the surface with molten rock. Each one played host to another battle, whether against demons fleeing the boiling water or monstrous ship-breaking leviathans dragged to shore to be butchered.

Taylor gestured towards a hulking Blood Ape with weapons hewn from mammoth bone. "So, you're saying that these gods gave you your powers so you could fight...these things? I can see why you'd need them."

"Hardly," I laughed. "That's merely a lesser demon, a fragment of a fragment of a true Primordial. More than a match for a half-dozen mortal soldiers, but a mere trifle to one of the chosen."

I led her to the water's edge and willed away the bloody seafoam and clouds of steam. Underwater, far deeper than mortal senses could ordinarily reach, we could see a massive cloud of some sickly green substance, lit from underneath by the cherry glow of yet more undersea volcanoes. Vaguely octopoid in shape, it lashed out with miles-long tendrils that ate away at whatever they touched, or spat out misshapen sea monsters from deep within its core.

"That is what we fought here, Taylor," I said, feeling her awe give way to primal terror. "No mere beast, but an ocean of pure malevolence, a different plane of existence dipping only a finger into our world. For thousands of year before the war, everyone knew that such beings could not be opposed, no more than one could stop the turning of the seasons or the course of the sun across the sky."

"Endbringers," Taylor whispered. She greatly underestimated the sheer power of an unbound Primordial, but I didn't bother to correct her. As a symbol of unassailable power and unstoppable destruction, the Endbringers worked well enough. Of course, even if I did say something, I wasn't sure Taylor would really hear it. She'd fixed her gaze upon the writhing form of our primal enemy, and the longer she stared, the more her fear faded away.

"You beat them," she said, and I grinned at the steel in her voice. She was learning the lesson well.

"Yes. Some, we killed. Others, we sealed within a prison made of their own souls, bound by a multitude of oaths and geasa. When this one proved too strong to fight within its oceanic domain, we called upon the ocean gods to raise a cage of volcanic islands around it, so that we could drag its lesser souls up onto the shores to be butchered. As Solars, it is our nature to defeat the invincible, accomplish the impossible, and to always exceed any limits that others would place upon us."

Even if I didn't feel Taylor's emotions leaking into my own, I could never have mistaken the look on her face. Hope, and hunger.

"I didn't bring you here to boast," I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I brought you here to show you just what you truly are. The anticipation you feel, the lust for blood, is your inheritance as a Solar of the Dawn Caste. We test ourselves against the strongest foes the world has to offer, that we might grow ever stronger ourselves. Whether you seek to protect the weak, destroy evil, or merely prove your own superiority, whether you hate your foes or love them, this thirst for battle will forever be a part of you."

Taylor hesitantly turned away from the underwater battle to face me. "I think I know what you mean. I've felt it before, against Lung or Hookwolf. I'm just worried, that, well, aren't heroes supposed to strive for peace? A lust for violence is kinda a really big villain thing..."

I tried to give Taylor her best reassuring smile. "Your people have a very narrow idea of what it means to be a hero. I brought you to this memory to show you what you're capable of, but also to show you what kind of war created the need for heroes like us. That's what I meant when I said that we were born here; we were chosen to be the kind of hero who could thrive in a hell like this. You and I were never meant for peaceful times; we are at our best when the odds are at their worst. The power we wield was never meant to be used just against petty criminals; it craves a worthier target. You can deny your bloodlust and allow your power to stagnate, or you can recognize that your world has its own monsters to slay, and embrace your nature as the one meant to slay them."

Taylor frowned. "It can't be that easy, can it? How do I know all this power won't corrupt me in the end?"

I shrugged "I'm not the one to ask. I was lucky; I lived just long enough to see the end of the war, then died before I had to learn how to rule what I had helped conquer. I expect you to go further, and part of that is making peace with yourself, good parts and bad. You'd better get on it fast, too. If you don't manage to kill at least one of the Endbringers within the next ten years, I'll be very disappointed."

Taylor laughed, and while her worry didn't disappear, it faded into the background, along with the visions of the first war. "Sure. No pressure, right?"

The is the first of three short interludes from the perspective of Taylor's past-life echoes. They're all basically lectures shedding some light on certain relevant parts of the Exalted universe, so I'm going to try spacing them out around the other more narrative interludes so as not to inflict one giant infodump.

One thing to note about this chapter is that Sword-Taylor/Titanslayer doesn't necessarily remember everything about the war with perfect clarity, so you shouldn't look on this as a reference to any specific battle or event in Exalted lore. My goal was to give an impression of the scale and violence of the Primordial War, not to indulge in setting Trivia, so you don't need to wonder about how (for example) Blood Apes, as demons of Malfean Lineage (Progeny of Sondok, Warden Soul of Ligier) shouldn't be able to exist before the Empyrean Chaos is crippled and forced to become the Yozi Malfeas. No need to worry about that stuff. I also don't plan on going into crazy stuff like the Three Spheres Cataclysm (if it even happened in this continuity) because, as cool as it can be, it doesn't have enough impact on this story to be worth explaining.

Stay cool, everyone. I'll see you on the weekend with another short update.

517

WinterWombat

Jun 19, 2020

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Threadmarks Interlude: Sophia

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WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Jun 22, 2020

#5,484

November 3rd, 2009

"I'm done playing games, Sophia. I want answers."

Even though Hebert was one of the few girls in our year taller than me, everything about her just screamed 'small.' A mouse could look down on her.

"Yeah, well, we all want things," I said, shrugging. "Like, I want to never have to see your ugly frog face ever again, 'cause it always puts me off my lunch, but you just keep showing up here every day."

Normally, I wouldn't even bother talking to Hebert without Emma around, since she was the one who liked to hit the little cockroach right in her feelings. Today, though, Hebert had been the one to seek me out, catching me in a hallway between classes, and I figured that earned her a few seconds of my time.

"I'm serious, Sophia," Taylor whined. "I know that Emma didn't just decide to hate me for no reason. Something must have happened, and if she won't tell me, maybe you can."

"Yeah, sure something happened," I said, leaning back against a nearby locker. "Y'see, a little squirrel dropped an acorn on her head, and this is crazy, but it somehow just knocked all the stupid right out of her head, so she could finally figure out that she'd been wasting her time on a useless little worm like you."

This was usually the part where Hebert gave up and fucked off somewhere to cry, but today she just balled up her fists and glared back at me.

"F-fuck off, Sophia. I don't care how much you insult me, or shove me around in the hallways, or any of that. Hate me if you want, hurt me as much as you want, but Emma is my b-best friend, and you can't make me give up on her."

I raised an eyebrow. "Hunh. Didn't think you had that much of a spine, Hebert. I'll you what you want to know."

Relief washed over her face. "R-really? I mean, of course."

It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Can't promise you'll like it. You're gonna have to come over here, though, because I'm not blabbing Emma's secrets to the whole fucking school."

Taylor nodded, and followed me over to an empty corner by one of the school's broken vending machines. "So, what happened? Was it something you-"

As soon as she stepped close enough, I sucker-punched Hebert right in her froggy little gut, making her fold up like a jackknife. She fell to her knees, gasping for air, face etched with shock like she somehow didn't expect this to happen. I bent down until we were almost at eye level with each other.

"Don't you ever demand anything from me again," I hissed. "How fucking dare you talk to me like that. I don't owe you shit, you understand?"

She turned her eyes downwards as she started to really cry in earnest, so I grabbed her chin and jerked her head up until she was forced to look at me.

"Do you fucking understand!? I want to hear you tell me you understand."

I knew that most of the hallway could hear us by this point, but it wasn't like they had the guts to do anything about it. Hebert tried to say something, but it just came out as more wheezing. What a fucking weakling, totally useless after one punch.

I considered whether to give her a kick to the ribs for good measure or just walk away, only to see her eyes turn from me to stare at something over my shoulder. I turned around just enough to see that it was one of the teachers; I was in his math class, but it wasn't like I bothered to remember his name. He'd clearly seen what was happening, but hadn't yet made a move. Just another fucking maggot with a bad tie and a teaching certificate. I met his eyes, and he looked away almost instantly.

I gave Hebert a few extra kicks before moving on, just so she could see the teacher watch and do nothing. Maybe this time the lesson would fucking sink in.

"...and he just fucking watched me do it!"

Madison broke into giggles, but Emma just nodded and gave me a knowing look.

"That sounds like Mr. Bridges," she said. "Dad helped him with his divorce last year, and he was just so pathetic. Dad joked that half his billables on the case came from convincing Bridges not to roll over and give his ex everything she wanted."

I rolled my eyes. "You couldn't pay me to put up with that idiot. It's like a mouse just going up to a cat and begging to be eaten."

The bell sounded, signaling the end of lunch. Madison got up to leave, but Emma gestured for me to stay behind.

"I've got to admit," she said, voice hushed, "I'm kinda surprised Taylor managed to say that to your face. Think she's finally starting to toughen up?"

"Ugh. I doubt it," I said. "From the sounds of it, she just thought she'd already seen the worst we could do to her. I bet she'll crack once we show her just how wrong she was. The sooner she gives up and stops showing up at Winslow, the better it'll be for all of us."

Emma looked thoughtful. "Yeah. You know, there's one thing we haven't tried yet that really hurt her. To prove that she's really that weak, I mean."

I nodded for her to continue, resisting the urge to sigh. She wasn't nearly as good at hiding her feelings as she thought. If she wanted to keep hoping that a worm like Hebert actually had a spine buried deep, deep down, I'd indulge as long as I had to for her to wise up. It was the least I could as her only real friend.

"Well, I've been saving this for the right time," she said, smiling like a cat about to pounce, "but Taylor has a secret she hasn't told anyone but me and her family. She's gay."

It was a good thing I had my hands under the table, because it meant she couldn't see my fists suddenly clench. "So?"

Emma's sharp little grin faltered just a bit. "So, if she thinks she's got it bad now, how much worse is it going to be when everyone-"

"No," I said, trying not to sound as angry as I felt. "Not interested. We can think of something better."

The last remnants of Emma's grin slipped away, replaced by hurt and confusion. "But, why? I thought you said we were going to do whatever it takes?"

I faked a slight smile. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not saying no for Hebert's sake. Gay bashing, though? That's Empire shit. You're way better than that Nazi trash, Ems. You don't need to do them any favors."

Emma looked relieved, if still a little shaky. "You're right, Sophia. I'm sure I'll be able to think of something better."

"Course you will, Ems," I said, reaching out to give her hand a squeeze. "I get it. You just want to play with your prey a little before you go in for the kill, like a tigress or something. I'm just happy you're having fun."

I was late getting back to class, but it was just Math, so it wasn't like I had to worry about detention or anything. As long as I kept getting As on the tests, what did it matter if I even showed up? I spent most of the period planning out my patrol route for after sunset. Now that I didn't have to worry anymore about how to ask Emma if she was into girls, I had a lot more time for shit that actually mattered, not to mention more aggression to work out.

I end up deciding to hit the Empire's territory. It was the more dangerous choice, but I really, really wanted to shoot some fucking Nazis. Shooting Nazis didn't literally make everything better, but it was good enough for now.

A/N: Bit of a flashback interlude for folks, answering a couple of questions that have come up in the past. Next Echo update is written and should go up on Tuesday.

405

WinterWombat

Jun 22, 2020

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Threadmarks Interlude: The Strategos

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WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Jun 23, 2020

#5,568

The Strategos

"If you are going to master your powers, Taylor, you must first come to understand them."

Taylor nodded from her position kneeling in front of me. I'd conjured up a memory of the academy where I'd once served as grandmaster. The austere practice hall felt almost comically huge with only a single student to occupy it, but if the sight could inspire greater humility in her, all the better.

"Thus," I continued, "before we can truly begin to learn about new charms, you should know that they have little in common with powers, as you think of them. Powers are largely static, singular impressive feats that parahumans can perform without any understanding of their underlying mechanics. You possess no such limitation, but neither do you benefit from the shortcuts it offers."

Taylor raised her hand, her expression turning slightly sheepish.

I sighed. "Taylor, if you have a question, you're free to simply ask it so long as you don't interrupt me. I cannot fulfill all the duties a master owes to her student, after all, and so it seems pointless to stand on formalities."

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Really? Does that mean I don't need to just kneel in one place while you talk?"

"That is to focus your mind," I said. "Besides, that wasn't really your question, was it?"

"Right," Taylor said. "Are charms just the same sort of thing that I've been calling techniques?"

I allowed myself a faint smile. "Yes and no. A charm is just a method of controlling and expressing essence to produce a specific effect, one which has seen common enough use to be recognized, refined, standardized, and named. Mastering a charm means practicing and perfecting it until it ceases to be a rote set of motions and becomes a part of your soul, as natural to you as breathing."

I gestured to one side and conjured a series of training dummies, the kind I'd used as both a student and a teacher. They were each made from a semi-transparent material, which offered enough contrast to define their individual features while also revealing a network of glowing green lines woven throughout their body, mimicking the layout of a person's essence channels.

"Like many chosen of the Dawn," I continued, "you mastered the Iron Fists Technique as your first charm. It is a potent ability, one that can serve a back-alley pugilist just as easily as a master martial artist. The technique itself is beautifully simple, requiring only that you channel essence into whichever limb you are striking or blocking with. As a feat of essence manipulation, it's about as simple as making a fist."

To demonstrate, I struck at the first dummy and willed it to react as if it had been hit by the charm in question. Its chest immediately caved in from the force of the blow, essence channels growing dark as it 'died' from the wound.

Taylor hissed. "Fuck. I could've really hurt someone that way."

"Language," I said, shaking my head. "That aside, you're correct. Even a technique this simple can be more than sufficient for ending mortal lives.This is the risk taken by any who choose to oppose you, and the sooner you come to accept this, the better."

Taylor dropped her gaze. "I'll just have to hold back even more, then. I don't want to kill anyone."

"And what about Lung?" I asked. "What about those who threaten your loved ones? Your sentiments are noble, but dishonesty and willful ignorance do you no favors."

"Fine," Taylor said, shoulders slumping, "I don't want to kill anyone accidentally. Is that better?"

"Much," I said, turning to the second dummy. "Now, unlike Fists of Iron, Heaven Thunder Hammer requires actually shaping the essence before unleashing it. You must imbue it with the idea of force, eager motion barely suppressed, such that it surges into your foe at the slightest touch."

I struck the second dummy in the same place as the first. This time, golden light flowed out from my fist and through the dummy's torso for a half-second before the whole thing flew backwards and crashed against the wall, breaking to pieces in the process.

Taylor grinned. "I love that move. Er, technique. Charm? Charm."

I nodded. "Heaven Thunder Hammer has always been popular for both its power and flexibility. If you like, I can instruct you in a number of supplementary arts developed to further enhance its effectiveness. For now, though, I want to show you a charm that has very little in common with these feats of martial prowess. It's an ability so ubiquitous that almost any being capable of channeling essence can master it to some degree."

I gestured to the third dummy, causing the blue light of its essence channels to shift into gold. Slowly but surely, pulses of light began emanating outwards from its core, starting out concentrated but growing steadily more diffuse as they moved to its extremities.

"This is the Ox-Body Technique, a series of basic meditations and physical exercises designed to enhance an Exalt's ability to endure harm. The technique draws essence out from your spiritual core and gradually infuses it into your body in a series of thin layers. Over time, the practice serves to harden your flesh, reinforce your bones, sheath your organs in a protective web of essence, and imbue you with greater energy and vitality."

I willed the dummy to grow slightly more transparent, so as to better display the internal changes taking place.

"Even a novice Solar fresh from their second breath can learn the basics of this technique in a matter of days, and begin seeing the benefits after only a week or two. Many Solars leave it there, but those who wish to excel in combat continue to practice their Ox-Body Technique through the centuries, even though each new tier of resilience requires exponentially more effort to reach. Through this slow buildup of power, some Exalts manage to become strong enough to laugh off any wound less lethal than total decapitation."

I snapped my fingers towards the dummy, causing the golden light to cease pulsing and dim back to blue. I struck it with the Iron Fist Technique, showing how force sufficient to inflict a mortal blow now only caused a mild bruise. I then struck with Heaven Thunder Hammer, and while the dummy still flew backwards at an impressive speed, it did more damage to the wall than vice-versa. .

"So what you're saying," Taylor replied, "is that this is a way to make myself tougher that doesn't actually need me to draw on my essence in the fight. That sounds incredibly useful. Can you teach it to me?"

"I can," I said, "but you've already picked up on the basics by yourself. Mostly, what I can do is teach you to perform these techniques more efficiently. Keep in mind, however, that while this dream world can provide excellent demonstrations, actually training here accomplishes nothing. Reality here is too malleable; your success or failure would be determined entirely by your expectations, rather than your actual execution. Thus, I'm focusing on teaching you theory in the hopes that you can apply it in the waking world."

"Of course," Taylor said. "I'll find the time somehow. In the meantime, can I ask you a question that isn't really about charms?"

I nodded. I could feel this discussion coming, like a kernel of unrest in Taylor's mind slowly rising to the surface. Better to get it over with as soon as possible.

Taylor nodded, and visibly steeled herself. "Okay, so, are you familiar with the saying 'power corrupts?'"

"'And absolute power corrupts absolutely,'" I finished. "Yes, though only because you are. I don't think it was a phrase we had much need for in my time, more's the pity."

"Well, I was talking with one of the other, um, guides," Taylor continued, "the one with the broken sword, and she was trying to show me just how powerful I could potentially become. It was incredible, but also kinda scary."

I nodded for her to continue. In truth, my own memories of my past incarnation suggested that I'd surpassed the height of their power many times over; I hadn't learned nearly as quickly, but I'd had literally thousands of years in which to practice. That wasn't something Taylor needed to hear now, though, not when she was already afraid of what she believed to be the limits of her power.

"I asked her if that kind of power might corrupt me, but she couldn't really answer."

I sighed. "Taylor, little Daystar, I will do the best I can to answer your question, but I need you to try and understand something. I ruled as a Solar Exalt for over four millenia. If I were alive today, I would have Exalted just before humans in this world began to tame horses, only a few centuries after your oldest recorded history. If you want to know whether I was a good ruler or a tyrant, the truth is that I was both, and much more besides."

As I spoke, new images began to appear throughout the great practice hall, all of them images of my current form, but in different stages of life. Some were dressed in the finest silks, or armor of shining Orichalcum, while others wore plainspun robes or the ragged garments of wasteland scavengers.

"Once, when I believed that true leadership required complete detachment, I went two centuries without ever seeing even a single one of my subjects. Another time I left a regent on my throne and went to live amongst my people as a beggar for five generations. I've had enough people put to death that their bodies could fill the streets of this city dozens deep, and even at the time I only believed that some of them deserved it. I have crushed rebellions with an iron fist, and I have led revolutions to retake my crown from usurpers. I've done more good and more evil than you can possibly comprehend. If you wish to understand my life, then, you must do so not as an individual, but on the scale of a nation."

When I finished, the room had filled from wall to wall with visions of us, showing every possible expression, every conceivable attitude. At some point, Taylor had stood and began walking through their ranks, scrutinizing each in turn. All of them were us, and yet not, purest abjection, that which was both self and anti-self. Even I found it uncomfortable, and I had lived every moment of it.

The images began to fade out, slowly, until only one was left. Of all the images of my past self, it was by far the worst. Its eyes shone with perfect serenity, and its face seemed unmarred by even the least speck of concern. A faint smile just curled the very edges of its mouth. I might have called the expression peaceful, even beatific, if I didn't remember the crimes I had committed while wearing it.

"This is who I became by the end," I said, carefully, cautiously. "The person I died as. Here, you see, is the face of someone who is so secure in the idea of her own perfection that she need no longer even consider the consequences of her actions. She can indulge any urge or passing whim with a clear conscience, because if it wasn't the right thing to do, surely the desire would not have formed within her. Such a grand irony, that one of the most powerful beings in Creation was incapable of something so easy as doubting herself."

Taylor looked at her own sweetly smiling face with growing horror. "You could have done anything, thinking like that."

"Whatever you're imagining," I said, "I probably did worse. It is a small but welcome mercy that so many of my memories of that time are so fragmented."

Taylor wrenched her gaze away, looking like she was going to be sick, so I allowed the last image to fade.

"If that's who you were at the end," she said, "why aren't you like that now?"

I shrugged. "It's hard to say. Part of it is likely thanks to the greater perspective granted by viewing one's own death. Part of it could be the way that bits of your own memory and personality have shored up the gaps in mine. Perhaps the Exaltation failed to carry on those parts of me that were irredeemable, or perhaps that overwhelming arrogance could not exist deprived of the power that fueled it."

"In other words," Taylor said, "you don't know, and you can't really tell me how to avoid it."

"No," I shook my head, "I can't. Even if I could, though, I'm not sure I'm the one you should listen to. I failed my own ideals, my subjects, my entire world. I will teach you everything I can, but in the end you must learn to surpass me. You must do better."

Taylor gave a strained and joyless laugh. "She said the same thing, that I had to do better. Do you also expect to kill and Endbringer with my bare hands before I'm out of college?"

I reached down and offered her my hand. "And why shouldn't one of my students be able to take on all three singlehandedly?"

She rolled her eyes when she caught my faint smile, and let me pull her to her feet.

"No," "I continued, "I have no such expectations. I've learned that, for all our power, we Chosen of Sol Invictus are quite terrible at predicting what kind of challenge we'll face in our times. For now, though, I think a different sort of instruction is in order. Instead of studying under the invincible warrior, how would you like to learn at the shoulder of one of the greatest culinarians ever to grace Creation?"

Taylor's smile became a little more genuine. It wouldn't help as much to prepare her for the trials ahead, but I didn't want to see her crushed by the burden of our power before she could grow strong enough to bear it.

A/N: Second of three echo interludes. Next up will be another short bit on Thursday, then one last interlude on the weekend, followed by 4.1 next Thursday.

519

WinterWombat

Jun 23, 2020

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Threadmarks Interlude: Silkworm

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WinterWombat

Word Nerd

Jun 27, 2020

#5,627

May 5th, 2011

The Kite was possibly the coolest thing I'd ever made. Despite the name, the little drone looked more like a jellyfish than anything else, a squished half-sphere of diaphanous fabric trailing a small tangle of loose tendrils. It was the first functional drone I'd managed to make without a single solid part, after I discovered I could replace clunky lithium ion batteries with a hundred meters of hair-thin capacitor thread. It moved completely silently, selectively manipulating the permeability of its outer membrane to do some seriously nifty things with air pressure. It's entire outer surface served as both a high-resolution camera and light-bending stealth screen, and the trailing tendrils had audio pickup on par with a studio quality microphone.

For these reasons and more, though, the Kite was also kinda pathetic. It could float unseen through the corridors of the PRT building with ease, but only at a snail's pace. It couldn't carry anything heavier than a paperclip, and a slow-moving ceiling fan could shred it into so much confetti on contact. It couldn't even muster enough force to push an elevator button; I'd had to park it in one of the lifts for the last three three hours in hope that one of the troopers would come by and ride it to the right floor.

Three hours of glancing back and forth between my workbench and my tablet, unable to concentrate on either. Despite the deadlines looming on the horizon, and the promised consequences for failure, I didn't manage to do much more than keep my looms fed. Material levels were still my biggest bottleneck, so I was technically making progress, but I doubted that Lung would see it that way if he caught me wasting time on an unsanctioned operation.

I glanced at the pad again and almost jumped out of my seat when I saw that the lift had just arrived at the Parahuman Detention level. I had just barely enough time to steer the Kite out through the elevator doors before they closed. From there, it only took me five minutes to find the right cell, then another fifteen before I felt confident I wouldn't be interrupted by a patrolling guard.

I guided the Kite up to the Plexiglas wall of the containment cell, switched the light-bending polymers of its inner layer into chromatophore mode, and spelled out a message over the drone's surface.

HEY MINH

IT'S SAM

The cell held everything I'd expected to see in a cape prison, which was to say, not much. Minh sat on the room's small cot, wearing typical orange prison scrubs, though I was happy to see that the PRT had at least let them keep their mask. Other than that, they looked like crap, with one arm hung in a cloth, a plaster cast on their other wrist, and a sturdy-looking articled brace fastened around one knee. It took them a couple minutes to notice my message, but the second they did, they shot to their feet and started shambling towards the drone.

"What the? Sam? Wait, can you even…"

I CAN HEAR YOU FINE _

The Kite's audio sensors picked up Minh's relieved sigh even through the Plexiglas.

"What's going on?" they whispered. "Are you actually here? Are the others?"

I frowned. Now that we were actually in contact, I realized how little info I actually had to pass on.

NO. JUST A DRONE. NO RESCUE.

I considered that for a moment, then made a slight adjustment.

NO RESCUE YET

Minh leaned forward and pressed their masked forehead against the Plexiglas wall. "That's fine, Sam. They're not treating me too badly, and I don't have to press any swords to anyone's throats. It's almost like a vacation."

I gave them a sad little grin, even though they couldn't see it. The Kite's software was too rudimentary for proper image display, which left me in text-only mode.

BOSS NOT HAPPY

"Is he ever?" Minh chuckled. "What's he going to do to me here? Now that the PRT have me in their clutches, I can just tell them everything and ride out the rest of this war in Witness Protection somewhere."

I felt my breath catch in my throat. Were they actually going to just...leave?

IF THAT'S WHAT YOU REALLY WANT

"Whoa, whoa," Minh waved with their one functional arm. "Just a bad joke."

I glared at them through the tablet screen.

NOT FUNNY

They grinned. "A little funny. I'm not going to leave you and Priya behind. Ever. I'll find a way out of here, just as soon as I've got at least two fully functional limbs. Your fancy costume didn't stop Daystar from snapping my bones like toothpicks."

I rolled my eyes.

NOT MY FAULT

ARMOR WEAVE MEANT FOR BULLETS

NOT FOR GRABBY BRUTES

"Something to work on for the next version," Minh said. "Anyways, don't worry about me. I'm not in any danger here, and if I need to get out, I'll find a way. You and Priya just take care of yourselves, okay?"

I groaned, and sunk down in my chair until I was almost parallel with the ground. Of course they were trying to reassure me, even though they were the one in jail right now.

JUST BE CAREFUL DUMBASS

AND WATCH OUT FOR DAYSTAR

RUMORS SAY SHE AND TATTLETALE ARE CLOSE

I hesitated for a few seconds. Did passing on PRT gossip count as breaking the unwritten rules? I decided to assume it did not.

MAYBE EVEN CLOSE CLOSE.

Minh blinked at my last message. "Oh. Fuck."

YEAH

G2G GUARD COMING

GOOD LUCK

I piloted the Kite back into one of the elevator cabs before setting it to automatic return mode. Now that I knew Minh was holding on alright, I could get back to work. I had refinements to implement for Priya's stealth suit and my combat rig, plans for a new large-scale loom, and some early ideas for how I wanted to build the Kite v2. Lung claimed he only needed a few days to put together a rescue plan, and I needed all this new kit to be ready when he was.

That was the whole point of joining the ABB, after all; more resources, more connections, and some serious heavy-hitters to back us up in a pinch. Minh getting captured was our first serious setback, and thus the first real test of this partnership. If Lung, Oni Lee, and Bakuda came through with this, it'd prove that we could make a solid team. If not…

I reached under my workbench for a hidden compartment almost perfectly flush with the surface; it would have been impossible to find if not for my power's innate sense for micro-scale seams and weaves. Tapping in the security code with a wire-laced fingernail, I coaxed the compartment open and pulled out a self-contained exotic materials loom the size of a hockey-puck. The shimmering, writhing nanotech filaments inside still hurt to look at directly, but I could see that the storage spool was more than half full.

I grinned as I returned the device to its hiding spot. If Lung didn't deliver on his end of the bargain, he'd see just how little hold he actually had over any of us.

A/N: Here's a little look into the lives of two as-of-yet unexplored antagonists. I can't say for sure if the next update will be the final echo interlude or 4.1, but either way, both are coming together.

Tinkers are honestly some of my favorite capes to design. It's great fun to try and think up some interesting but restrictive specialty, and then look for ways that they could try to skirt the edges of those limitations. I usually don't bother following a lot of the guidelines you can find online from Wildbow about what kinds of trigger produce what kind of power, but the various ideas he's given for different Tinker subtypes always struck me as both cool and useful.

Last edited: Jun 28, 2020

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WinterWombat

Jun 27, 2020

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WinterWombat

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Nov 19, 2020

#5,809

A/N: It's Thursday, have some Daystar!

May 6th, 2011

It said something about my life that, when I asked a bunch of my friends to attack me with lethally sharp weapons, they barely even blinked before agreeing.

Mostly, it said that my friends were the best.

I dodged back from Missy's spear-thrust with a short bark of laughter, just far enough that the point came to a stop less than an inch from my stomach. I wanted to bait her into overextending, but the glare she gave me as she reset to her ready position told me that she'd learned her lesson after the last few times. I took the chance to give her a knowing wink before spinning around to catch Dean's two-handed sword blow, golden sparks leaping from the point where it clashed against my essence-infused palm. Dean stumbled backwards from the sudden shock of striking a totally unyielding target, but the other Wards moved in to fill the gap and give him time to stabilize. Slowly but surely they were backing me into a corner of the training hall, where I'd have no room for the spinning, darting defensive style that had kept me untouched so far.

Like I said, the best.

I'd spent the first hour of today's training session just teaching the other Wards how to gang up on me without accidentally stabbing each other. Colin had made it very clear that this exercise was only acceptable so long as he didn't have to describe it in an official injury report, and I had no intention of pulling Amy out of her medical leave and begging her to stitch someone's hand back on. None of them were ready to wield a weapon in a real fight yet, but the six of them together they managed to give me a pretty decent challenge.

I was so focused on swatting away a flurry of attacks from Chris and Carlos that I barely noticed Sophia and Dennis exchange a quick, knowing glance. That look was all the warning they gave before they both attacked at the same time, Sophia swinging her polearm high while Dennis swiped his low from the same direction. Moving on instinct, I jumped off the ground and twisted mid-air to bring my body parallel to the ground, letting the blades pass through the now empty air above and below me.

I hit the ground on my side and immediately had to role myself away as Sophia started swinging her halberd like a fire axe, raining down a series of heavy overhead strikes on my prone form. I dodged the first few attacks by inches, then rolled myself onto my back, pulled my legs back, and kicked up into the descending blade of Sophia's next attack.

Dodging six super-teens with bladed weapons wasn't really the same as going against Hookwolf's changer form, but it was the closest I was going to get so long as Colin refused to build me a murder-blender-room. My first goal with today's exercise was to get myself used to fending off sharp and/or spikey attacks from all sides. My second goal, which I'd saved for last, was to practice new charms that might help me beat down an enemy made head-to-toe from metal.

The instant before my bare foot met with the sharp end of Sophia's halberd, I shifted my focus to the weave of golden essence hardening my flesh and willed it to shift. The trick to mastering the Adamant Fist Technique (as my echoes called it, despite it working perfectly well on any limb) was to understand that greater strength did not always come from more power. Fighting against the natural tendency of my essence to surge and roil, I pictured countless motes of light coming together like the perfect interlocking structure of carbon atoms within a diamond.

I knew I'd succeeded when the blaze of essence around my leg shifted from golden to pure, brilliant white, and the steel blade shattered against my foot like it had been made of glass. I let the momentum from the kick carry me back onto my feet, splitting my concentration between maintaining the Adamant Fist and scanning for the next attack.

Except it turned out there wasn't much to watch for. Aside from Sophia, who'd hopped back out of range of any counterattack, the other Wards had all frozen at the sudden shift in the flow of battle. Unfortunate, but not surprising. They could handle themselves in a cape fight, but none of them had been trained to attack an unarmed target with relentless ferocity. That sounded like the kind of thing the Youth Guard might object to.

Before I could taunt them into resuming their onslaught, Sophia gave a frustrated growl and grabbed the spear from Missy's unresisting hands, then lunged forward to try and impale me. I grinned and thrust out an arm to meet her stab, meeting the spearpoint with the palm of my open hand. Again, the essence surrounding my arm turned brilliant white, halting the weapon before it could even indent my skin. The combined force of both strikes ripped through the spearhead and down the shaft, shattering the weapon in at least a dozen different places.

Sophia had already dropped the spear, ducking briefly to snatch a spare straight sword from the ground. She was sporting a grin to match my own, now, and I made a mental note to find time for more 1v1 sparring with her. The other Wards, probably deciding their part in things was over, stepped back to give us space as Sophia quickly darted into range. She surprised me with a series of quick feints, and I had to struggle to keep my grip on the proper mindset for the Adamant Fist. Every time I drew up the charm to shatter an attack that never landed, frustration made my control slip a little more.

A small splash of color in my peripheral vision caught my attention, and I glanced over to see Lisa leaning against the training room doorway. She had her normal mask on, but otherwise just wore jeans and a purple top close to the same shade as her costume. Her posture said 'relaxed,' but her typical wry smile didn't reach her eyes, and I felt an immediate spike of tension at the thought that something might be wrong.

Unfortunately, my little lapse in attention came at the same moment that Sophia decided to press her real attack. I saw it coming, but the shock of Lisa's appearance shattered my hold on the Adamant Fist, the indestructible diamond weave of my essence crumbling away just as Sophia's sword bit into my forearm. I still had my passive Brute rating from months of practicing the Ox Body Technique, so it failed to cut deeply, but a few drops of blood still fell to the padded floor before I could will the bleeding to stop.

"Shit," Carlos hissed, dropping his weapon to rush over to my side. "Shadow Stalker, stand down! What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"Only what I asked her to," I said, holding my arm so he could see how deadly the wound wasn't. "Anyways, it's barely even a papercut. It'll help me remember not to let myself get distracted."

Carlos shook his head. "That doesn't make it okay. She looked like she was trying to kill you!"

"I was," Sophia drawled, rolling her eyes at his shocked expression. "Wasn't that the whole point? Or did you think all the axes and swords were for arts and crafts time?"

Carlos glanced back and forth between Sophia and I, then sighed. "I'm not sure the rest of us will ever reach whatever wavelength the two of you are on. I think we're going to need to have a talk before we try anything like this in the future."

"I guess that's fair," I said, as I reached down to grab Sophia's broken polearm off the floor. "Thanks for trying. Now I know that I need a lot more practice before trying this in a real fight."

I channeled power into the weapon and watched the shattered blade reassemble itself in seconds. My repair charm normally took a lot more concentration, but I'd broken and mended each of these weapons so many times over the last few days that the process had become almost automatic. Quick wasn't the same thing as easy, though, so I still found myself leaning against the polearm as a makeshift walking stick when the sudden exertion of essence left me feeling light-headed.

"Let us handle the cleanup," Dean said, offering a hand to steady me. "You can fix the other two later. Besides, it looks like you've got somewhere to be."

He flicked his head in Lisa's general direction, and I turned to see her already halfway to where we were standing.

"She does," Lisa said, shooting me a frown too dramatic to be real. "Don't tell me you forgot about your little appointment tonight?"

Oh, fuck. I pulled my phone out of my gym bag to see that, sure enough, I was at least an hour behind schedule.

"Of course not," I lied. "I just got a little distracted with a, uh, team building exercise?"

Behind me, I heard Chris whisper, "Does anyone else think it's weird that there's a villain right here in our training room, and we're all just standing around not capturing her?"

He obviously hadn't intended it to reach Lisa's ears, but she still chuckled. "I turned myself in, you know. How much more captured am I going to get?"

"You could be in a cell," Sophia said. Her voice was casual, almost bored, but she couldn't quite hide the tension in her posture.

Lisa gave her a knowing look, so brief that I almost missed it, before shaking her head. "I might as well be. As long as I don't actually try to leave the building, we all pretend that I'm free to leave whenever I like. To tell the truth, I think they just let me roam around now because they got tired of bringing meals to my room."

"Besides," I added, "she's not a villain anymore. Never really was, if you ask me."

"That's for the lawyers to determine, I think," Lisa shrugged. "Speaking of which, I'm due for another meeting with the director to bargain for my team's freedom. Walk me to the meeting room, Taytay?"

I grinned and reached out to take her hand. "I think I can still spare the time."

Dennis and Missy both looked like they'd swallowed something sour, but at least Carlos seemed thoughtful. Sophia just glowered, but I'd expected as much. Either she'd get over it, or she wouldn't.

"You realize you still need to actually tell them about us, right?" Lisa said as we reached the elevator.

"Nooooo…" I whined, slumping against the elevator's back wall. "That's going to be so awkward! They'll figure it out on their own if they haven't already."

"Goofball," Lisa said, leaning back with me and putting an arm around my shoulder. "Of course they can figure it out, but they're going to feel hurt if they think you're not willing to tell them."

"Stop being so reasonable, Lisa," I pouted. "You should be saving your logic for keeping the Undersiders out of jail, not using it to call out your girlfriend."

Lisa leaned her head on my shoulder. "Taylor, you don't need to worry. Prison isn't even on the table, no matter how much Piggot tries to bluff us into thinking otherwise. Between the video of our death-defying escape, and our actions against the city's current least-favorite gang, the Undersiders are seriously popular right now. The PRT has a lot to gain from playing nice, and a lot to lose from throwing the book at us. All we're really arguing over is how much control your boss gets to have over us."

The elevator came to a stop, making me wish that the PRT building was a hundred floors taller. I separated from Lisa just enough so that we could walk, and we made our way towards the meeting room.

"Too damn reasonable," I grumbled, but I was smiling while I said it. "Fine, I'll try not to worry. I still wish I could help you out in there. I'd be arguing against my boss, but I'm sure Piggot wouldn't take it personally."

"She would," Lisa deadpanned.

"She absolutely would," I agreed. "Seriously, though, I know you can handle this. You're the smartest person I know, and I work with Dragon on a semi-regular basis."

"Ooh, flattery," Lisa purred, as we reached the meeting room itself. "More, please."

"Later," I said, before leaning down and giving her a quick kiss. "Right now, we both have places to be."

"Now who's being reasonable?" she grinned. "Go on, then. Oh, and say hi to Jess for me!"

I grinned like an absolute idiot all the way back to the elevator. The city was still a mess, and I still had no real idea what the next few days would bring, but none of it seemed to matter. Right now, I had a date to prepare for.

A/N: (Cries Loudly in ADHD)

Ahem.

Hey everybody! Not only am I not dead, I'm trying to go back to weekly updates!

I've got 1.9 chapters complete after this one, and outlines for quite a few more after that. I'd planned to wait until I had a buffer of 5 chapters before posting, but it's become increasingly clear that I still have a tough time writing to a schedule without an actual deadline in play. So, we'll see if this approach helps me get back on track. I enjoy writing Daystar, and I especially savor the feeling of accomplishment that comes from maintaining a consistent update schedule, so I'm really excited to hopefully get back into the swing of things.

Sometimes self-care means giving yourself a chance a chance to rest, but sometimes it means refusing to listen to your own bad excuses.

Next time, on Daystar!: Taylor and Jess go on a date, and face the deadliest, most indomitable supervillain known to humankind, Teenaged Gay Awkwardness!

Last edited: Nov 19, 2020

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WinterWombat

Nov 19, 2020

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