Ignition 3.3
Compared to running with multiple bits of metal fused into her, the jog back to the Hospital was invigorating.
Taylor was still exhausted, though.
When was the last time she slept? Almost forty-eight hours ago?
No wonder she was borderline delusional.
She probably shouldn't have told Amy her name, but she was too tired for self-recriminations. Maybe later.
Taylor's feet dragged over the shattered glass and debris covering the research lab floor.
There was so much to do…
It was incredibly frustrating, being back at square one. And this time, she didn't even have the luxury of an actual house to work out of, with electricity and running water.
And heat. The winter night was cold, even sheltered from the wind.
One last fuck-you from Sophia.
Speaking of which…
Taylor groaned and grabbed the trash bag wrapped corpse off the floor.
She needed to drain the body before the blood coagulated any further.
Taylor emptied the equipment out of the tub that she stole from Medhall and positioned it in an open area of the floor, kicking aside the broken tile. Lacking any better options, she wedged her saw cleaver into Sophia's ankles and hooked the handle over the exposed metal rafters so the corpse could drain into the plastic tub. She slashed Sophia's forearms vertically with her scalpel, for good measure.
She sighed and looked around her new, broken lab.
A few pieces of admittedly high quality equipment that she didn't have the means to power.
Some clay sculpting tools that survived the fight, along with her needles, rubber tubing, blood donation bags, and empty blood vials. A Bunsen burner that she didn't have gas to use.
She had her quick injector, her cleaver, and her pistol, of course. Plus a handful of quicksilver bullets. At least she wasn't starting completely from scratch.
It was still frustrating, though.
Taylor cleared the debris off one of the wide lab tables and hopped up onto it, stretching out on the cold resin tabletop with an involuntary groan.
She pulled her arms into her long coat and huddled up under it, tugging her hat down over her eyes.
It was decidedly uncomfortable, and cold.
Taylor fell asleep almost immediately.
And for once, she didn't dream.
…
"Okay, spill."
Victoria's demand was almost threatening in its intensity.
It was entirely too early for the bullshit. Especially after having her sleep schedule interrupted by Hunter's fuckery.
Taylor.
Amy scowled up at her sister's smug face, floating above her bed like an annoyingly attractive fairy godmother or something. It was a Saturday, for fuck's sake. Getting to sleep in on weekends was a basic human right.
"I refuse to answer any questions until I get coffee," Amy grumbled as she tried to escape her blanket burrito.
"I knew you'd say that, so I brought you some," Victoria said, pointing at the steaming cup on the bedside table.
"I hate you," Amy said. She didn't, though.
"Shut up, drink your bitter bean juice, and spill!" Victoria chirped. Morning people were an affront to God.
Amy took a sip of her bitter bean juice.
"Fine. What do you want to know?" Amy asked, already dreading this conversation. She should have asked Taylor what the cover story was. Clearly, the villain was better than her at this cloak and dagger shit.
"Everything! Who is she, how did you meet, what's the… status?" Victoria babbled excitedly.
"Um… well…"
Shit. What fake name did Taylor give?
She should have been paying closer attention, but she had been a bit busy watching her life collapse around her in existential terror.
"She's… we met at the hospital," Amy said. That was technically true.
"She was a patient of yours?" Victoria asked, idly circling the room on her back.
Sort of?
"No, she's… volunteering there. We started talking during my breaks," Amy said slowly.
That was good. She could keep up with that much.
"Oh, that's cool! I'm glad you made a… friend. I worry about you, you know," Victoria said.
Amy just scowled at her.
"Well, now I know why none of the guys I got for our double dates stuck around. At least I won't have to keep trying to find new fodder to throw at you; you can just bring Anne instead," Victoria said.
Anne! That was it! Ha, take that, shitty short-term memory.
The rest of what Vicky said caught up to her a moment later.
"Wait, no, no, I am not bringing her on our… outings," Amy said. She refused to call them dates. For multiple reasons. "And what do you mean 'fodder'?"
"I mean, I could tell you weren't into any of them. It should have been more obvious, in hindsight."
Oh God, she thinks I'm gay.
She absolutely was, but that wasn't the point.
God. Dammit.
She certainly wasn't gay for Hunter.
Probably.
Definitely. Also, shut up.
She just needed to survive this conversation, and then she could go kill Taylor for getting her into this situation.
Priorities.
"First off, we are not together, or whatever you're thinking," Amy said, glaring up at her sister. "And secondly, do not tell anyone about her."
Victoria smirked down at her.
"Right. And just why is it so important that I not tell anyone about her? The totally normal friend who you snuck into the house at 4:00 AM?" Victoria raised an eyebrow.
Amy groaned. She wanted to pull her hair out, but that would look suspicious.
Why do things like this keep happening to me?
First, she went and fell in love with the only person in her life who actually gave a flying fuck about her, who she absolutely, 100% was not allowed to love like that. And then, in an attempt to distract herself from her unhealthy obsession, she got involved with a mysteriously snarky cape hanging out on rooftops, who turned out to be a mass murdering blood Tinker.
And now Vicky, the target of her aforementioned obsession, thought she was dating the aforementioned blood Tinker.
I need a cigarette.
Plus, she couldn't exactly protest too much, because that would look even more suspicious, and it was technically better to be gay than cavorting with a villain in the dead of night.
Amy hated her life, sometimes.
Most of the time.
When this whole ridiculous house of cards came crashing down, the only silver lining would be that Carol would probably die from a spontaneous brain aneurysm before she could get around to murdering her.
"So, when are you seeing her again? Is she going to be at the hospital tonight?" Victoria asked, interrupting Amy's sulking.
"Yeah, but…"
Fuck, why did she say that?
Victoria's grin grew even more smug. Amy hadn't thought that was possible.
"You are not allowed to interfere," Amy said sternly. Just the thought of Vicky and Taylor being in the same room for any length of time was enough to give her conniptions. If nothing else, this misunderstanding should at least be sufficient to keep her sister from sticking her nose in too far. Even Vicky understood not to out people, especially with all the publicity surrounding New Wave.
"Sure, sure," Victoria said easily, retaining every bit of smugness. "I'm just so… is proud the right word? I think so. Look at you, sneaking people into the house and messing around at work. I had almost given up hope of you ever doing anything fun."
"I hate you so much."
She didn't, though. For better or worse.
"Uh huh. You should still reconsider the double date thing. It doesn't have to be official, or whatever. Or public," Victoria said.
"I'll pass, thanks. I'm not exposing Anne to your self-righteous boy-toy," Amy said acidically.
The idea of Dean, the perfect Ward extraordinaire, who could sense emotions, being in the same room as Taylor, who killed a Ward yesterday, was also absolutely horrific and could never, ever be allowed to happen.
Hopefully, an insult to the condescending douche-nozzle would distract Vicky from her inquisition.
"He's not that bad! He tries his best. It's not his fault that emotions are tricky sometimes," Vicky defended.
"I beg to differ. If he wants to be a therapist, he should go to school for it before he opens his mouth," Amy said. This was familiar territory for them, although her previous jabs at Dean stemmed from a very different goal. Namely, getting Victoria to see that he was the human equivalent of a bad toupée and break up with him.
Well, that was still one of the goals. She could multitask.
"I just wish you would…" Victoria whined.
And just like that, Victoria was sufficiently misdirected. Perfect.
…
Taylor woke up slowly, confused at the horrible crick in her neck.
Why was her bed so uncomfortable?
Oh. Right.
What time was it?
She had no idea, and no easy way of finding out. Strange.
Taylor sat up, shrugging off her coat and hanging her legs over the edge of her lab table while she stretched the kinks out of her back.
Apparently, sleeping on a lab table with nothing but a coat for comfort wasn't ideal.
She took a deep breath, reveling in the fact that it didn't hurt like she was being stabbed over and over.
Things may be shitty, but they were objectively less shitty than they had been the last time she stumbled her way into the Hospital, so that was something.
The grass is always greener, and all that.
Even better, she didn't regret going to Amy's house. She didn't even regret telling the healer her name. It was… good, in the grand scheme of things. Things weren't great at the moment, and it was nice to have something to look forward to.
Taylor hopped off the table and put her coat back on. After a moment's hesitation, she took off her hat and bloodstained scarf, bundling them up by the centrifuge. As much as she liked her look, she needed to fly under the radar until she was ready to act. It was probably still daylight, so it would have to be Taylor, rather than Hunter, that went out to run errands.
She had a lot to do.
She made her way down the aisle, over the shattered tile, and out into the main hospital while she brooded.
She needed to re-acquire access to the basic necessities of life. A shower, food, etc.
That could feasibly be done by sneaking over to Kurt and Lacey's house and finding her father. She was reasonably sure that she remembered where they lived. It would require bringing them in on the secret, though.
That being said, her dad may have already told them. She had no idea what his story was, or how he handled the cops. If he handled them at all. He might have just left.
Speaking of which, she needed to figure out what the status of the investigation was. Had anyone figured out that Sophia was there? Had any evidence of her tinkering survived the blast?
If the site was under surveillance, could she even monitor it without attracting attention?
The house issue was a lower priority than the shower issue, though.
The sunlight was startlingly bright as Taylor made her way out the side entrance of the Hospital, carefully checking for anyone in sight. It seemed like… mid-afternoon?
Not having a way to tell time was strange.
She began jogging in the general direction of the Docks.
She needed to rebuild her lab. That killed multiple metaphorical birds, but also required multiple metaphorical stones. She needed a generator for power, and propane tanks for direct gas hookup. She also needed to replace all of the basic equipment that she lost with the house. Beakers, flasks, burettes, titration and distillation apparatuses, etc.
The good news was that she didn't need to hide her activity anymore. The Medhall robbery had thoroughly blown her anonymity out of the water, and no one would be surprised that the cape stealing medical research equipment was also stealing hardware materials and glassware.
So. Planning some more robberies.
She remembered making a promise to herself to not do that again, after the Medhall fiasco, but surely robbing a Home Depot was different. It couldn't be that hard, right?
She needed to steal a pack of cigarettes for Amy as well. High priority.
She also needed a phone, for multiple reasons. Now that she and her father were separated, they needed a way to get a hold of each other. He didn't even know where the Hospital was. She knew that he would fight her on it, but it had to be done.
A part of her twisted at the idea of what her mother would think of her actions. The cell phone was probably the least of her worries.
Sorry, Mom. I'm doing my best.
First stop, check in with Dad.
…
Luckily, it was the weekend, so her father wouldn't be at work. Taylor didn't like her odds of getting into the Dockworkers Union office without being seen in broad daylight.
Kurt and Lacey's house was farther north in the Docks. Technically in ABB territory, but near the edge. Not necessarily high risk, and it actually made it less likely that any random police or PRT patrols would see her.
Of course, there was always the slight risk of running into the ABB themselves, but they didn't really come out into these neighborhoods unless they were collecting their monthly protection money.
Taylor waited for a few minutes to make sure there were no surveillance crews monitoring the address. So far, everything looked clear. The streets were deserted. It was still chilly, so everyone with actual working heat was inside.
All these lucky people who hadn't been forced to blow up their own houses to avoid being arrested for murder.
It wasn't necessarily ideal, but Taylor decided that she would need to tell Kurt and Lacey about her continued survival. Maybe not all the gory details, but she really needed to shower and warm up. The alternative was to break into a Planet Fitness or something, and that was less appealing than giving up a bit of her anonymity.
Taylor circled the neighborhood one more time just to be sure, then approached the front door and knocked.
Kurt answered the door. He looked pretty similar to the last time she saw him, even though it had probably been at Mom's funeral. Tall, broad shouldered, with a shaved head and a thick beard that may have been well-trimmed a few weeks ago.
He stared at her for a brief moment before his eyes widened comically.
"Hey, Kurt," she said. She couldn't think of anything else, and just standing here while he stared was worse.
"Danny," he yelled over his shoulder, eyes never leaving her. "Come make sure I'm not losing my mind."
So her dad hadn't told them, then. This would be fun.
"What are you… oh," Danny trailed off when he caught sight of her. There was a strange moment where they just looked at each other, the awkwardness that plagued their interactions prior to her untimely demise returning.
Then he smiled, eyes crinkling behind his glasses, and the easy camaraderie they had yesterday while staring at their burning house came back like it had never left.
"I'm glad you figured out how to fix the… uh… damages," he said.
"I got some help from a friend," Taylor smiled back.
He raised an eyebrow at that before glancing at Kurt.
"It's a long story. Let's talk inside, before anyone notices the walking corpse on the porch," Danny said.
Taylor snorted. He hadn't been so blasé about it before. Maybe burning down the house also knocked a few screws loose?
Kurt just nodded mutely and stepped back so Taylor could pass into the hallway.
She walked in and kicked her boots off before her father pulled her in for a one armed hug. The physical contact didn't feel quite as awkward as it had before he helped her build a bomb while riddled with crossbow bolts.
She doubted they included that in any family bonding guides.
"It's good to see you, kiddo," Danny whispered. "I trust you, but it still goes against the grain to let you run off alone like that."
"Yeah, I know. We should talk," she said lowly to him. They needed to get on the same page before they tried to explain anything.
"Yeah, they have a guest bedroom," he said. "Let me just-"
"What are you boys whispering- holy shit, Taylor?"
Lacey turned the corner and almost dropped her drink in surprise.
Coming back from the dead was both awkward and a bit satisfying, in a schadenfreude kind of way.
"Sorry to drop by unannounced," Taylor grinned at her.
"Let me get up to speed real quick and then we'll talk, I promise," Danny said to the dumbstruck couple, leading Taylor down the hallway and into the guest bedroom that also seemed to serve as an office.
He closed the door behind them and turned to her.
"So…" they both seemed a bit at a loss. It had been a very chaotic couple days. "What's the story?"
There was a lot, but Taylor decided to fill him in on some of the details first.
"So, Sophia was Shadow Stalker, and I ran into her in costume after killing those Nazis. I didn't know she was Sophia, at that point. I guess she talked to Emma about my visit, and put two and two together. So she broke in and found my lab, and waited for me to get home. We fought, she lost," Taylor summarized.
"Do you think Emma knows, then?" Danny said, sitting down in the threadbare desk chair.
"Probably? Unless Sophia came over without telling her. It seems likely that she knows about Sophia's cape identity, but it's not a guarantee. I'll have to pay her another visit," Taylor mused.
Her father signed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"As Taylor? Or as Hunter?" He asked.
"Hunter. But if she knows, she knows," Taylor said.
Danny nodded.
"Are you going to kill her, too?"
He didn't sound judgmental, just honestly curious.
"Maybe. It depends on how sure I am that she won't tell the PRT my identity," Taylor said honestly.
"I know what she did to you was… unforgivable, but just… be careful, about becoming too willing to kill everyone and anyone in your way," her dad said.
Probably good advice, despite her power's whispers to the contrary.
A Hunter must hunt.
"I'll keep that in mind. Anyway, I'm in the process of setting up a new lab, but I need a place to shower and maybe some food until I get a chance to snag the basics. And maybe some money?" Taylor said.
It felt weird, asking him for money. Weirder than asking him to buy her hardware supplies.
"We still have a decent amount stashed away from the life insurance. You don't want me to just buy everything for you again?" He asked.
Taylor shook her head.
"I don't think we could hide it, even if we did a dead drop or something. Eventually, someone would notice me coming to get it and trace it back here. If I get it myself, as Hunter, then in the worst case scenario they find my base, and I'll set up defenses this time."
Her father nodded thoughtfully again.
"I'm sure Kurt and Lacey are going crazy, so what's the story there?" He said. "How much do you want to tell them?"
"Unless they're unwilling to accept it, I think we just tell them that I didn't actually die, but it's a secret. If they require more details in order to help us, we can tell them about getting attacked by a Ward. That explains the house explosion, sort of, and the need for secrecy. Speaking of which, what happened to you last night?" Taylor asked.
Danny chuckled and shook his head.
"Not much, actually. I couldn't think of a good excuse for all the craziness, so I left before the police arrived. Came over here and convinced Kurt and Lacey to stick to the story that we'd been up drinking after work and I decided to crash here," he said.
He shot her a crooked grin and suddenly looked about ten years younger.
"I went back to the house this morning and acted as surprised as anyone. The police didn't ask too many questions; after all, who in their right mind would blow up their own house?"
Taylor couldn't help but smile with him.
"Any hints about their investigation?" She asked.
"They mentioned that they were sending the details over to the PRT in case they determined that any of the gang's parahumans were involved, but nothing substantial. No mention of any surviving bloodstains in the basement, at least," Danny said.
Huh. That wasn't as bad as she expected. She had been ready to hear about Armsmaster going over the wreckage with a fine tooth comb or something.
"Alright. Let's get Kurt and Lacey on board, and then I really need to shower. Oh! I forgot to mention it before, but I also stole a bunch of lab equipment from Medhall," Taylor added as an afterthought.
Her father blinked at her.
"I don't know why I'm surprised by anything, anymore," he muttered, mostly to himself.
…
Taylor made her way back downstairs in a pair of borrowed sweatpants and a clean T-shirt. A hot shower and some fresh clothes made a huge difference. She hadn't realized just how grimy that sweater had gotten.
She probably needed a new coat, too. Her current one was getting to be more bullet holes than coat, at this point.
"Feel better?" Kurt asked as she walked into the kitchen, handing her a plate of microwaved spaghetti.
"Much, thanks," she said. "I appreciate all the help. It's… a lot."
Kurt just shrugged and leaned against the counter.
"Whatever trouble you and Danny are up to, it's the least we can do. I know when it's better to keep my nose out of it. Call it 'plausible deniability'," Kurt said.
He and Lacey had been remarkably understanding about the whole affair. All they knew was that Taylor didn't actually die, and it was complicated. Apparently, they didn't need or want to know anything else.
Her dad chose some pretty decent friends. She didn't give him enough credit, sometimes.
Taylor finished her food just as her dad arrived home from his trip to the bank.
"I got as much as I could without raising any red flags," Danny said, handing her a few wrapped stacks of bills.
"Thanks, Dad," Taylor stashed away the money. She was still planning to steal what she needed for her lab, but having some extra funds wouldn't go amiss. At least she could get fast food, and some blankets. And some new clothes that actually fit.
Kurt and Lacey would probably be fine to let her stay here, but she didn't want to put them in any more danger than they already were. Besides, she had work to do.
Kurt raised his eyebrows at the bullet holes in her coat, but didn't comment.
"I'll be back tomorrow night, unless I run into more complications," Taylor gave her dad a quick hug.
"Watch out for rogue microwaves," Danny grinned.
…
Amy took another long drag of her cigarette and stared out over the gray skyline.
Hunter sure was taking her time, tonight.
Amy's schedule was flexible, but she didn't exactly get that many breaks. It was almost time for her to head home, and she hadn't seen any sign of the vigilante.
Part of her wondered if she would actually come back. Maybe Taylor would take the healing, throw a wrench into Amy's routine, and then disappear into the night forever.
It would be par for the course. Nothing she wanted ever went her way.
But since when was this… thing… something she wanted, though?
Amy sighed.
Realistically, she couldn't pretend that this wasn't voluntary, anymore. Talking to Taylor last night had been nice, better than she'd felt in a long time. Even with Vicky's interruption and the almost dying thing.
In for a penny…
She was still going to give Hunter a piece of her mind for making Vicky think they were dating. If she came back.
"Hey," a familiar voice broke the silence behind her.
Despite hoping she would show up, Amy still jumped a bit.
"Took you long enough. It's cold up here," Amy said, but her lips curved up under her hood.
"Sorry. It's surprisingly difficult to steal cigarettes," Hunter said, leaning against the railing next to her.
Amy snorted and turned away from the city lights to look at her… friend?
Hunter said that to Vicky, but that was probably part of the ruse to hide their villainous association.
She did tell Amy her name though, even when she didn't have to.
"Harder than robbing Medhall?" Amy asked sarcastically.
"Well, no, but that was a royal clusterfuck. I got shot again, it was a mess," Hunter said, shaking her head.
It took a moment for Amy to realize that Hunter had a new costume.
Well, new in the context that it wasn't covered in bloodstains and bullet holes.
She wore a new black overcoat with gray trim and squared shoulders. Underneath, a dark vest was buttoned over a white shirt, with a lighter gray scarf to cover her face.
Of course, the hat remained the same as always.
"Did you decide to raid a department store as well?" Amy said, glancing over the new attire.
"For the record, I bought this stuff the normal way," Hunter looked like she was smiling behind the scarf. "My last costume was a bit worse for wear. I don't know how regular capes keep everything so clean."
Amy snorted again.
"Most of us don't get shot every other night," she said.
Hunter just laughed and pulled a box of cigarettes out of her pocket.
They were the wrong brand, but Amy didn't mention it. She hadn't exactly told her which ones to get, and it would still save her the trouble of convincing a sympathetic cashier to help her out. Plus, less risk of scandal for New Wave, or whatever.
Well, aside from the risk of being associated with all the murders, of course.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Amy said as she grabbed the unassuming carton.
"Is it?" Taylor looked at her with an unreadable expression from under her hat.
Amy glared at her for a long moment before rolling her eyes.
"Fine. Yes, despite the murders and the edgy style choices, I also… how did you put it? I enjoy our little chats. Happy?" Amy said.
"Yes, thanks," Hunter's eyes crinkled over her scarf.
Amy liked it better when she could see her face.
"Don't get used to it. I still haven't forgiven you for pulling that stunt with Vicky. She thinks we're dating, by the way. Kept trying to get me to bring 'Anne' on double dates with her obnoxious boyfriend," Amy complained.
"Oh," Hunter seemed genuinely surprised by that. Served her right. "I didn't… wow, okay, yeah, I get it. Whoops."
"Mmmmhmmmm," Amy hummed in general irritation.
It was quiet, aside from the sounds of the city below. The weird, separated bubble was back. Amy almost forgot they were still in costume, on the hospital roof.
"What dastardly villainy is on the agenda for tonight, then?" Amy asked eventually.
"I'm going to do a Home Depot run, I think. I need basic materials for my lab. And a generator. And some propane," Hunter said absent-mindedly.
"Wait, you don't have power?" Amy asked. Taylor had mentioned her lab getting destroyed, but not quite to that extent.
"I'm setting up a new lab in an abandoned hospital in the Trainyards," Hunter said.
"Oh my God, you couldn't be any more creepy if you tried! And I don't think you're actually trying, which is somehow worse! An abandoned hospital? Really?" Amy laughed incredulously.
"It's in decent shape structurally and already has lab tables and an HVAC system," Hunter defended.
"Abandoned. Hospital."
Hunter laughed at that.
"Okay, you might have a point," she said.
Amy couldn't help but smile until a thought occurred to her.
"You don't… live there, do you? At the hospital?" She asked.
Hunter shrugged and looked out over the city.
"Kind of. It's a long story," Hunter said. She sounded… resigned? Not really sad. It was hard to place.
"It sounds… cold," Amy said quietly.
"Yeah. I guess it is," Hunter replied.
Is she… lonely?
The idea hadn't really occurred to her before, but Hunter… Taylor went out of her way to talk to her, taking the risk of showing up the same way Amy kept coming back for more even when she should have turned the vigilante in at their first meeting.
"If you wanted to tell me that long story, I won't actually tell the PRT," Amy said finally. "I think that ship has sailed."
Taylor stared at her for a long moment.
"Maybe someday. Once you get your own coat and hat," Hunter grinned.
"You… I was trying to be nice, dammit," Amy snapped, but she couldn't stop herself from smiling too.
Hunter laughed again, leaning against the railing, and the tension broke.
Amy liked hearing her laugh. She felt lighter than she had in ages, like an iron weight constantly slung over her shoulders suddenly got easier to manage.
Something about these strange, isolated moments was somehow making the rest of the bullshit more bearable, and she didn't want it to stop.
Part of her knew that this whole thing was majorly fucked up, but she couldn't quite bring herself to care. Anything to escape the endless fog.
"When you get set back up, I want to see more of your work," Amy said, looking up into crystalized onyx.
Hunter raised an eyebrow at her.
"You made up your mind, then?" She asked.
Amy nodded.
"Are you sure?" Taylor's eyes were unwavering and dark as they stared through her.
Sure that she wanted to go further down this rabbit hole. Sure that she wanted to risk staining her heroic image with cursed blood.
"It's a long story," Amy said.
…