0.10

The Trainyard was, like many other places in Brockton Bay, in disrepair.

The yard around it was partly covered in scraggly weeds, with a low ditch along the road side offering more protection than the tattered chain link fence torn in more places than not. Its main gate, such as it was, was a pair of rolling fence sections held up more by the rusted chain and padlock keeping them "closed".

'It's almost sad.'

People had long since abandoned any pretense of using it for anything other than dumping stuff. Whether it be trash, undesirable people, or anything they could get away with, the place barely got to be used most days and usually only as a connection or a short stop before the train moved to its next stop.

Certainly not to stick around or pick anything of value.

Cargo left behind would be lucky to just be vandalized. And enough Merchants had tagged the few burned out hulks collected over in a far section that there was more spray paint and rust than metal left.

Even the tracks themselves were visibly dry rotted in spots and a few sections, the ones heading towards the still mostly empty port, were warped and cracked to the point of danger. Any vehicle trying to cross that would be more likely to splinter what was left than make even a trip of a few hundred yards. There were a few buildings, though, and only one even passed as functional.

What looked like an old coal storage, several outbuildings that were sagging in their frames, and a single, secured office building was all that remained functional.

In theory, there were a trio of towers, one for control, Taylor figured, and another two that looked like they might have had cranes. But even with her power she wasn't sure it would be safe to enter them.

'It would not do, dear child, for you to be brained by a falling brick.'

The city had made it clear they weren't investing their time or money in it.

Just like everything else about two thirds of Brockton Bay.

But that was fine.

It just meant that when she walked in wearing her water echo, everyone there knew better than to bother her, and finding an area that wasn't being squatted in meant she'd have some peace and quiet before anyone knew what she was doing. Even the few people she noticed who had guns quietly scurred away the moment she passed by, unwilling to test their luck.

'I guess we've developed a fearsome reputation.'

An undesirable one, Taylor wanted to say.

Though she had nominally introduced herself as a villain, the difference between being a helpful rogue who does what she wants and a murderous psychopath who blows people up was as different as night and day in her mind. Sure, she could deal with annoying people or being a convenient scapegoat… but it still felt wrong to have people run away from her.

'It's a regrettable setback, but not a permanent one. Eventually, the memory will fade and lose its hold over them. And so long as you follow through on being just and righteous, they will come to see you for what you are. People are… changeable like that.'

Justice, righteousness.

Things she was still working on.

When Focalors talked about them they sounded as simple as breathing, a way of living you could follow just by putting one step in front of the other. Only each step needed careful consideration, lest you take the wrong one and crush something you didn't mean to.

Or someone.

'This seems like a good place.'

She stopped, looking around. The area was filled with empty wagons, the sort used to transport goods. Most of them were too damaged to be used, riddled with holes, tears, and rust. Nobody, not even someone desperate for a roof over their heads, would risk this place.

Not when there was so much to go around.

But it did serve another purpose. A good area to practice at.

'I will be hiding us then, just to make sure we don't attract any more attention.' At her comment, moisture in the air seemed to coalesce and merge together into a mass of rippling water, spreading itself over the train wagons, Taylor, and the open area she stood on like a see through liquid sheet.

Or perhaps a curtain?

'In a way you would be right, an astute estimation.'

When the curtain was finally in place it barely looked like it was there. Taylor could see what was happening on the outside, only there was some sort of distortion to the image, flickering and changing ever so slightly. Like trying to see something through a glass of water.

"So it's hiding us?"

'Precisely. We are perceived through light, our scent through chemicals in the air, and our voices through vibrations. This barrier distorts, seals, and dampens all. It is a simple but elegant use of its properties.'

That sounded very complicated.

And precisely the reason why she was doing this.

Taylor realized that her powers were beyond what she originally expected. Hydrokinesis on a scale anyone else short of Leviathan could do meant that she was comfortable just throwing her weight around. If she was in a class of her own then there was no need to worry about anyone being stronger or threatening her.

Or so she thought.

Her powers were capable of so much more. And if she wanted to avoid making any more mistakes in the future then she had to figure out how to use them the same way Focalors did.

"Still, where do we start?"

The presence in the back of her mind tittered before an image of the white haired woman formed on the water curtain. Just how accurate was her control that she could warp light coming through a sheet of water to make an image like this?

"We start with a lecture of course. One can scarcely expect to properly learn if they don't have a frame of reference for what they will be taught."
Great.

A lecture.

Here she was hoping for a little bit more hands-on practice, but Focalors always seemed more like a talker, so maybe Taylor should have expected it, giving the woman a chance to just ramble at her.

"So, to begin with. A question. What do you know about water?"

Taylor frowned. There had to be a catch there. Still, she recounted what she learnt at school, from the temperature water needed to boil and freeze, to things like acidity and baseness, to how properties like conductivity worked with it. Well, maybe not the last one, but she really tried her best at recalling the information written in her books.

All the while her powers sat there, nodding in understanding.

"Good, now. Leave all that for later."

"What?"

"Put it in a box, tie a neat bow around it, and then dump it in the back of your mind. You won't be needing that sort of technical knowledge. Helpful as the science of it might be, we won't be touching that today."

Taylor blinked in surprise.

She wasn't a chemist or anything but… wasn't what she told her just the most basic stuff possible? How could you go even lower than that?

"Ah, I sense your confusion. No, I am not casting doubt upon your education but rather elucidating upon the fact that the discipline you are about to learn possesses a set of fundamentals beyond the chemical and physical properties. Something far more… philosophical, one could say."

Magic, Taylor realized belatedly.

She was talking about magic.

Look, like everyone else on the internet, Taylor had scoffed and laughed whenever Myrrdin's theatrics got brought up in cape discussions. While nobody really seemed to know where powers came from and how they actually worked, everyone was convinced that you have to be a special sort of loony to start crying about magic in this day and age.

Only she wasn't so certain.

She had a voice in her head that could do… wonderfully complex things with a power she'd considered simple in the extreme. Someone who could share images and emotions with her. Someone who appeared so ethereal that Taylor refused to believe she was human.

Magic wasn't looking as doubtful anymore.

"To be blunt, physics and metaphysics are perhaps a good start for what I have no issue describing in more occult terms. And where one of your scientists, should they be the inflexible sort, would protest, the alchemists and magi of my home would simply smile."

Taylor slowly nodded.

"So magic isn't… magical, per se?"

"Ah, to a degree. There are rules, firm ones in some cases, at least until you become powerful enough to ignore them. But even I, at my absolute height, would not have been so mighty as that."

"Wait, how can they be rules if you can just ignore them?"

"It is similar to how a black hole warps this world's understanding of physics."

"Oh. So it's not breaking rules, it's just playing by them in a way we don't understand?"

"Aye. And perhaps can not, as individual mortals, grasp. As I said before, I was never human. Yes… that seems a good place to start."

Water once more condensed and flowed, centering around a glowing orb floating in mid air. Taylor felt her own body tug and pull and, flexing her will, she resisted being drawn into that growing mass. Focalors even sent an apologetic, if slightly distracted, pulse across the teenager's thoughts.

Eventually, with the orb now about ten feet in the air, a body began to form around it.

Large almost flipper-like wings sprouted from a central trunk, which itself ended in a larged, forked tail. Around her - its - chest and neck there was a collar and perhaps a blouse the color and consistency of sea foam, even as a crown of pearlescent water gently sat atop the orb.

More water seemed to fill out the body and Taylor found herself rather awestruck.

Because the voice in her mind was no longer, well, in her mind.

"Hello, Taylor."

It sounded like Focalors, the shifting patterns on the creature's body flared ever so slightly as the words seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Well done. I do not have a mouth or vocal cords, I'm vibrating the water in the air to speak to you."

"You're beautiful."

Murmuring the words, the teenager found herself a little embarrassed, if only by how… immature such a response could seem, but her powers seemed to understand.

"Why thank you. My mother did not craft me purely for aesthetic purposes, but I do take pride in my form."

"I, um, how do I put this…."

"Ask what you will." There came a gentle urging in her thoughts. "I shall never think less of you for asking a question. So long as you accept I can not always answer."

With those words came flickers of memories, of vows and oaths, and the knowledge that some secrets were not her teacher's to share.

"Well, you're not… a person. Ah, that sounds awful! What I mean is you aren't… human?"

"Use your mind." There was a titter. "But yes. As an oceanid, we are largely amorphous, as prone to change as water, though our mother was actually a goddess. We derive our, hmm, preferences, you might say, largely on her and on our experiences. For a long while I lived as a 'knight' and often changed my appearance to lead others, until, once my responsibilities necessitated it, I was given my final form as Mother's successor."

Taylor nodded.

"So the point of this was… to tell me… that magic is like science? Or, rather, it's not that they are incompatible. But it's about perspective?"

"Indeed. I do not wish you to discard your learning, just as I asked you to finish your homework before we came out here." Taylor grumbled at the reminder of maths. "What I ask is that you keep an open mind and set aside any… shall we say, biases."

Pursing her lips, the young woman began pacing.

"So, are we going to read tea leaves and make star charts for our horoscope?"

Her words lacked heat, but there was an underlying tension to them.

"Hardly! No, no, no, divination was never my area of expertise."

She paused.

"Wait, that's all real?"

The Oceanid changed her shape, slowly shrinking and then disappearing.

'As much as I am real, dear child, if a little different.'

'Are you ok!'

Suddenly alarmed, Taylor felt the bone deep exhaustion in Focalors' voice and was, for the first time, seemingly tired.

'Yes, yes.' There was teasing in her voice, even if it was still a little weary. 'I apologize for causing you disquiet, but I needed to make it clear what I am and how we are different.'

'I see.'

There was no other response and, for the first time, the silence in her head caused a bit of discomfort in the young woman. It was unpleasant to imagine that the seemingly implacable awareness she'd been saddled with could be anything but annoying and pushy. Overbearing, even!

'Thank you, dear child. I do try.'

'Quiet, I'm being grouchy.'

Focalors merely responded with a good natured sigh.

'After I finish our first lesson.'

'Which will be?'

'Oh, I want you to meditate.'

"Some kind of mental exercise?" And the wonder of the conversation immediately vanished, giving way to confusion as Taylor tried to understand what her powers meant by that.

"A clear mind and ability to envision a clear picture are needed. This, I believe, is a perfectly suitable method."
So Taylor sat down, crossing her legs awkwardly and resting her hands on her lap.

'Now, close your eyes and take a deep breath.'

She did so.

'The power of water is its ability to take any shape. Like an empty glass waiting to be filled, Oceanids believe the element of hydro is the lifeblood of creation and thus capable of molding itself to fulfill all purposes assigned to it… yet it can never truly become that which it seeks to imitate.'

Taylor fidgeted.

'Dear child… focus, please.'

She shifted position.

'There's a stone poking me in the ass.'

'Yes. You must ignore that.'

Taylor tried.

'It also smells really bad.'

'Taylor….'

'I'm trying!'

It was also, being noon, the warmest part of the day. And just warm enough that her hoodie had become uncomfortable and scratchy.

'...You know what, how about some target practice?'

'Thank you Focalors.'

The laughter that came across was deeply amused and, much to her chagrin, not at all annoyed. In fact, the young woman was considerably more annoyed at herself.

But, getting to her feet, and tugging her hoodie off, Taylor at least got to content herself with one simple fact.

'I am gonna get to shoot stuff without hurting anyone, right?'

'...Hopefully, dear one. Hopefully.'

This time the teasing was a little more clear.

Still, she wondered if she was gonna be able to repeat the same results she got on that shootout with the ABB. Knowing what she did now about her powers….
'I wouldn't worry. You have an inordinately distinct image of shooting projectiles. I'm actually surprised at how much practice you have with this particular simulation of effects.'

In her defense, when you lived in Brockton Bay you kinda daydreamed about shooting certain people.

A lot.

"Thank you."

The bowl of egg drop soup was hot, the old Chinese woman smiling, and the smell of duck fat and sizzling meat just as wonderful as it always was.

"You're welcome, Ms. Charlotte."

Handing over a few bills, the young woman took her usual spot, glad for the warm meal in the midst of an early chill. The styrofoam leaking enough heat to almost burn her fingers. But only almost.

She did give the meal a little time to cool before eating, though. And it was time she refused to reflect.

In the world of journalism, there was no such thing as fated meetings.

Only perseverance.

A few days ago, when Charlotte managed to run into her old classmate, she felt like her stalking the docks had finally yielded some fruit. There it was, someone who was connected to the source she wanted to interview and whom she could engage with in a conversation as equals.

If only because she wasn't being told to fuck off, politely or otherwise, for being a minor. Because she certainly wasn't a child! So it was the last thing she'd been hoping for, even if it worked out in the end.

Finally teasing out a spoon full of warm liquid, she reclined against the wooden bench, looking out over unsettled seas and jagged rocks off in the distance. And even if the view wasn't the best in the world, what with the seagull shit smeared railing off to the left, the place only smelled of cooking food from the stalls behind her and heavy, cold salt wind from beyond.

So good ambiance to think.

'Maybe the whole vista is saying something. Shit on one side, wild nature on the other, comforting civilization behind me. Meh. I'll have Yu look over it before I post.'

Put bluntly, her situation had been like hitting a jackpot after burning through your life savings at a slot machine.

'Or at least it felt like that.'

And then those ABB thugs decided they wanted to blow up the city because their egos got bruised and got Fontaine of all people riled up. Enough that she showed up and started shooting people.

At the end of the day, her scoop ran off somewhere and Charlotte was left prowling the corners of the internet for footage while the Protectorate cordoned off the Boardwalk, keeping Charlotte from her people-watching spot. And since Taylor hadn't left any phone numbers to contact her with, the intrepid journalist was left back at square one.

Camping the docks.

'Because apparently showing up at somebody's house unannounced might count as harassment.'

As her editor had so helpfully pointed out, even if Taylor agreed to set up an interview, she hadn't actually told her where she lived or invited Charlotte to show up, so now she was left prowling the docks trying to find someone else to help get a word in. Even if the yellow pages did have an address listed for exactly one Hebert family.

So imagine her reaction when she finally spotted her after three whole days!

"Hey, Taylor!"

The other girl flinched and Charlotte toned it down a smidge.

"Hey. Yeah, sorry for that."

"No, no, it's ok. Hey, um, Charlotte was it? What's up?"

Wearing a light jacket, that was probably a size too big, and a pair of old, though not at all ripped, jeans, it was hard to say she stood out. But there was also the fact that her head of black hair was the only important one to look out for today, so that was actually a pretty easy thing to zero into.

'Oh my God, I sound like a stalker.'

Cringing internally, she tried to play it off.

"Well, my usual spot is still closed off. Oni Lee, you know?" Taylor winced and she cringed even harder. Great, she might as well be chewing on her foot today. "I just wanted to ask, is your dad ok?"

"My dad? Yeah, he's fine. The guys are, too. Almost no one was actually at the boats when, well, stuff… got broken."

Broken was an understatement.

"Well, I'm glad. It's a miracle so few people actually got hurt, even if they still have the whole area cordoned off. I had pretty much given up on finding you!"
The taller girl gave her a tentative look.

"You were looking for me?"
Huh? Did she forget? Well, it was a rather stressful day so Charlotte couldn't blame her.

"The interview, remember? With your dad? You had to leave before we really set a time and place." And yeah, she kinda felt like an ass for hounding her about it, but could you blame her after everything the city had been put through in the last few days?

Not only could she get an exclusive scoop on the inside workings of the group working to dismantle the ships, she also now had the chance to interview someone who'd seen the ABB's attack from a completely different point of view.

Her classmate, well… former classmate blinked in confusion for a second before realization dawned.

"Ah, sorry about that. I completely forgot."
She waved her off.

"Completely understandable. Really, I should be the one apologizing for ambushing you like this twice in a row."
"You really seem invested in this, so why not ask the PRT?"

Charlotte struggled not to roll her eyes.

"So I can get the exact same quotes and opinions as everyone else? No thanks! If there's something I pride myself on, it is in getting genuine information from those who experienced events like these. That's what makes for good journalism, that and knowing when to strike while the iron is hot."
Taylor smiled thinly, awkwardly.

As if she didn't know what to do with someone this enthusiastic.

"So what do you wanna ask him?"
Oh, right. She probably thought Charlotte was some busybody who was gonna ask a bunch of leading questions, maybe try and paint the Union as somehow being in cahoots with a villain to make money off her stolen goods. She'd read articles like that already, but those were mostly columnists trying to drum up interest with wild accusations and drama.

Putting it simply, they were chumps who relied on cheap tactics.

That was how losers thought.
"About Fontaine obviously! More importantly, the impact she is having on economic activities in the Bay as well as policies in the docks."
Strangely the girl before Charlotte seemed to change. Before, she'd looked uninterested and awkward, as if the conversation itself was something she was pushing through only to suddenly snap to attention the moment the rogue's name came up.
"You're interested in her?"
Was she a fan?
"Who isn't? She's the most interesting thing going on in the city right now. Between Lung, the graveyard, and now dismantling the ABB in bright daylight. I've heard so many different opinions from so many different people and yet I haven't gotten the chance to delve into the heart of the matter."
The other girl leaned forward with a strange glint in her eyes. An eagerness that wasn't there before.
"Which is?"
Were they always gray like that? Light gray and stormy, almost blue.

"W-Well, from the perspective of the authorities and the government, Fontaine is a loose cannon, a rogue whose actions spiral down into chaos that others look to take advantage of for their own benefit. To them she is an enabler first and foremost, one who has likely invited escalation between the remaining gangs of the bay."

That was the official opinion going around. The one she's heard parroted by officials, the mayor's office, and other heroes who were approached with questions.

"And what do you think?"
Charlotte shrugged.

"My opinion doesn't really matter in this case. I'm trying to find out what people from every walk of life and every position have to say so I can build a proper analysis. If I wanted to just write what I thought it wouldn't make for a very interesting read."

The frank answer didn't seem to be what the other girl wanted to hear. If anything she looked rather impatient, like she'd expected something else. What it was, Charlotte couldn't tell, but she could see that the girl was rather invested in the story of the cape who had all but uprooted the reality of her family.

Maybe that was it?

"What I can tell you, however, are the opinions from everyone I've talked to regarding the incidents?"
That seemed to perk her up!
"Yeah? What did they have to say?"
Charlotte smiled, she was right on the money as per usual.
"Well, a lot of mixed opinions really. Originally there was an air of tension and fear regarding Fontaine in the aftermath of her ousting Lung, though at the time we didn't know her later morphed into a… tentative form of acceptance following her moving the ships out of the graveyard. To many her actions aren't that of an enabler allowing others to break the law for their own benefit, but of someone who appears willing to do things they've all thought about in the past."
"And what do they think now? After what happened to Oni Lee?"
She hummed in thought, trying to piece together the best way to say this without betraying her own opinions.

"Being candid, nobody is losing sleep over Oni Lee's death. He was a murderous thug and overall opinion points towards apathy in that case, while the fault of the conflict lies at the ABB's feet, very few are willing to place equal blame on Fontaine."
Taylor leaned back with a sigh, resting her back against a wall.

"She is convenient like that, no? Guess they will accept her even when she makes a mistake."
Charlotte frowned.

"Hardly. You're thinking of this entirely wrong."
"What?"
"The people aren't overlooking Fontaine's actions out of a desire to benefit from them. They are unwilling to abide the actions of criminals like the ABB, only now they finally have someone who, in their minds, is willing to do it in their stead. They aren't using her, rather they believe she might be someone worth supporting."

"Even at the risk of her going psycho?"

Charlotte shrugged.

"So long as she isn't, I dunno, like the Nine? People wouldn't even notice the difference. Heck, we had actual nazis fighting a crazy dragon man who liked to burn people alive for a while. Now we just have the nazis."

"So it's a case of morally acceptable targets?"

"Maybe. Now you're asking about why people think the way they do. Not what they think. I can't tell you the former and only about half of the latter."

"More humble than most journalists."

"More honest." She corrected. "Besides, I'm not trying to sell you anything."

"No. Just buy access to my dad. Because you think that's-."

"Information from a primary source." She paused, hesitating, considering how much to say. Before deciding that valor was the better half of discretion. "And someone who'll probably actually be willing to humor me. What do you think the cops or the mayor's office have to say to someone our age?"

The taller girl nodded.

"Fair enough. I can see how that would frustrate you." Frowning, Taylor seemed a little conflicted before speaking. "Look, I can't promise anything, but I'll speak to my dad. Do you have a piece of paper and a pen or something? I'll give you dad's work number and you can work something out."
That's when they heard it.

A car's horn as it approached down the street.

"Ah, that would be him. Sorry, I'd ask him to stick around and hear you out but…"
Charlotte raised her hand with a reassuring smile.

"I know, he's just gotten off of work. No need to dump more on him, right? Don't worry, I'll call him or you can tell him so he doesn't think I'm a stalker."
"You are, though."
She huffed at the blunt remark.
"I'm a journalist. There's a difference."

"We'll just have to see later then, won't we?" And that was the last of it, the taller girl jogging away from her and towards the car. Though she seemed… different. Less slouched, more energetic? There was a pep to her step as she waved the car over and climbed inside.

Charlotte just offered her a way as they drove by.

There was no such a thing as a fateful meeting when it came to journalism, but as she watched the car pass by and turn town the street, Charlotte felt like something important had just happened.

She just didn't know what it was yet.