Sidekick
Chapter Two
In an instant everything changed. Gallant had teleported to the far side of the room, and Clockblocker was gone entirely. Taylor sucked in a breath, her mind racing, and Gallant's emotions sharpened.
"Ah, you're back." Back? Back from what? She stared at him. His tone was calm, but his emotions, jagged flashes of shades of yellow and orange, didn't match. "I know it can be a bit disorienting."
Disorienting? "What did you do to me?" She didn't dare take her eyes off of him, but she could see colors swirling through her arms as well, red and yellow and flickering like flames.
"Well, we didn't draw a mustache on your face while you were out," came a voice from behind her, "if that's what you're worried about."
She spun and saw Clockblocker standing by the door. Blocking the door. His posture was relaxed, leaning against the wall with his phone in his hand, but she didn't buy the act for a second. She was trapped.
Then his words registered. While you were out. They hadn't teleported. She had been frozen. Idiot.
Taylor had always assumed that being frozen in time would feel like, well, being frozen. Paralyzed, aware of the world moving on around her, watching it with eyes that could not blink, screaming with a voice that could not speak.
Maybe she had a morbid imagination, but that was just how she thought about it. Instead, it had been seamless, a few seconds of the world being cut out and sewn over with nothing but the utter wrongness of it all to tell her that something had happened.
How long was I gone for? A few seconds? A few minutes? An hour? Was her dad going to wonder where she was? Oh, God, Shadow Stalker! If she walked in through the door and found Taylor here, then ... then ...
"You've been out of it for about three minutes," Gallant said. "It's five forty-seven, if you need to adjust your watch."
She turned back toward him. Was he lying? What kind of emotion did people feel when they lied? Cruelty? Mirth? What kind of emotion did Gallant feel when he lied? How do you feel when you tell people you're a Tinker? Because whatever power she had gotten from him, it was not a Tinker power.
Three minutes. What could they have done in three minutes? What could they have needed to do in three minutes? She wiped her hand across her upper lip, just in case they had drawn something on her.
"You're not in trouble. We just want to ask you a few questions." Not in trouble. Right. She didn't doubt for a second that if she tried to walk out the door, she'd get in trouble before she reached the exit. "First off, can I call you Taylor? Or is there a cape name that you would prefer?"
Her stomach sank even lower. They knew she was a cape. How? Sophia never noticed, but judging by the powers she had gotten from him, he had some kind of emotion reading power. Had her emotions tipped him off? Was he reading her right now?
Yes. He could see her emotions, he knew about her power, and they had her name. Not just because she had asked for an autograph (stupid), but because of all the paperwork she had filled out before she could even go on this damn tour! First name, last name, phone number, address. She couldn't be more in trouble.
"Okay then," Gallant said. "Again, you're not in trouble. Are there any dangerous side effects to your power I should know about?"
Side effects? Were there? If there were ... if she had done something that could be considered assault with a parahuman power ...
"I'll take that as a no." How? She hadn't said anything, but ... but could he read her mind? Just by the colors? All she saw were colors that represented emotions, but Gallant had years of experience interpreting the shades, the patterns, the intensities. It didn't matter if she said the right thing, the wrong thing, or nothing at all, he'd keep prying secrets from her head until she had nothing left to hide, and he wouldn't let her go until he was done with her. Trapped. Trapped, trapped, trapped, trapped.
Get out.
"But don't worry." He held his hands up in a placative manner, as thought that meant anything at all. "We've all been where you are, with powers we don't understand, trying to figure them out. That's why the Wards program is so focused on power testing and training so ... but I'm guessing that's not something you're interested in."
Taylor grit her teeth. Not that question. Not that question! Get out. Don't let Shadow Stalker find out. How? Don'tthinkaboutShadowStalkerdon'tthinkaboutShadowStalkerdon'tthinkabout—
"Can I ask you why?" he continued. "Does it have something to do with—"
"Stop reading my mind!" So much color, so much light. It swirled within her, gathering in her hand, and when she reached out toward him, it shot out like a bullet. Gallant stumbled backward, but under all his power armor, she wasn't sure a real bullet could knock him down. Instead his colors, those swirling yellows and grays and greens, turned into a vibrant and uniform red.
"Don't do that!" he snarled, and as color gathered in his hand, she only had a split second to react. She reached for Shadow Stalker's power and ... nothing.
Gallant's blast came toward her, a sickly yellow as bright as the sun. It crashed into a line of chairs, bouncing them off the wall. He ... missed? Was that a warning shot? And what the hell happened with her own power? She had touched Sophia Hess just that morning. Taylor should have been good for the rest of the day.
"Dude!" Clockblocker said from behind her. "Chill! Don't make me be the adult here." His voice was tinged with a hint of humor. "Nobody wants me to be the adult here."
Gallant took a deep breath, and the red slowly faded from around him, replaced by a complex mixture. Yellow, purple, pink. He was afraid, but also ... embarrassed? About what? "I apologize. I'm not ... I shouldn't have ..." He cleared his throat. "Would you like to leave? That is the first question I should have asked you."
Taylor stared at him. If I could have left from the start, why did you have Clockblocker blocking the doorway? And why let her leave now? If anything, they had a greater right to arrest her than before. She studied his colors. A small amount of fear, shame, even some sadness, but nothing that explained whatever game he was playing.
"Alright then. Let's go."
Wait, was that it? That couldn't be it. It was a trap, obviously, but Gallant's emotions gave her nothing, and Clockblocker's ... black and white, flickering like television static. Confusion? You and me both.
She followed them down the hall, still expecting something to go wrong. She clutched her notebook to her chest that contained an autograph that had cost her far too much. She wanted a refund. She wanted a refund for the whole damn tour.
"You really hate us," he said after he called an elevator. "Why?"
She knew now that remaining silent wouldn't help her, and speaking was a way of regaining control, if only in her mind. "You seem nice."
He tilted his head. "And that's a bad thing?"
She thought of Mr. Gladly, a teacher so nice he ignored the bullying when it was happening right in front of him. And Gallant had even less of an excuse. He saw Sophia Hess every day, he saw inside her mind every day, and didn't see anything at all. Or at least he chose not to. "It can be."
More blue swirled around his head. Don't be sad, bastard. You don't have that right.
"So what was your plan, anyway?" Clockblocker asked.
God, how long did this elevator take? But the Wards HQ was deep underground, deep enough to function as an Endbringer shelter, even lower than the PRT holding cells. "Borrow his power," she muttered. "Build something with it. Be a hero." God, that sounded stupid.
"Oh. Oh. Yeah, that wouldn't have worked."
"Yeah, I know." Because Gallant only pretended to be a Tinker.
"No, because you'd have to make everything from scratch," Clockblocker explained. "Tools, power sources, schematics, it's all a headache. Unless you own an electronics shop or something, it could take you a month before you could even challenge Leet."
What, really? A month? With daily Tinker access? What was even the point of her powers?
The elevator arrived, finally, and she stepped inside.
"Do you really want to become a hero?" Gallant asked.
She didn't need to say anything, but she did anyway. "Yes." She pressed the close button on the door.
"But you don't want to work with us." She didn't answer. "Alright. Well, if you ever need anything at all—"
She hit the button harder.
WWW
There was no trap waiting for her on the ground floor of the PRT building. No squad of PRT troopers was waiting for her at home, either. By the time she fell asleep, she had started to accept that nothing horrible was going to happen to her. Not that she could have done anything about it if there was.
The next morning was Saturday, and she had the whole weekend to think things through. By the time Monday came around, would Sophia already know? Would the Wards hold a meeting to discuss the city's dumbest new parahuman? Would they track down her school district and alert Winslow to "keep an eye on her?"
God, she felt like an idiot. A sick idiot. That was what happened when she walked into the lion's den thinking that no one would notice.
She jogged down Boardwalk, the spring weather cold, crisp, and cloudy. Part of her wanted to keep running forever and never look back. A stupid, childish idea, but when the alternative was going to school on Monday and facing Sophia Hess' knowing sneer after Taylor had lost the last thing she had to keep her going ...
And now, after it was too late, a better plan seemed so obvious! She had easy access to Shadow Stalker's powers, and a knock off costume wouldn't be that hard to get either. Hell, she was pretty sure they sold some in the PRT gift shop! Then all she needed was a crossbow, and no one would be able to tell the difference between them.
At that point, how hard would it be to frame Shadow Stalker for a crime, for something bad enough to get her locked away? All Taylor would need was someone who deserved to get hurt, and one name came to mind without her even needing to think about it.
It would have been perfect vengeance. Sophia Hess, who got away with everything, would get screwed over for a crime she didn't commit ... and Emma Barnes would be betrayed by her closest friend, without ever knowing why.
Taylor indulged in the fantasy for as long as she could, feeling twisted by it, enjoying feeling twisted by it, but it wouldn't have worked. At the very least, Gallant would have been able to tell Shadow Stalker was innocent just by looking at her, and there was no telling how many other heroes had powers that didn't show up on their PHO pages.
Besides, that would have locked Taylor into the role of a villain or nothing at all, and her bullies would be able to control her life even if they were gone. No. She was going to be a hero. Somehow.
She showered after she got back, and when she was done, her dad was making breakfast. She was glad that Gallant's powers had worn off. She didn't like seeing the grays and browns around his head. Fake smiles better fit them both.
"Hey, kiddo," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "How was your run?"
I spent half the time fantasizing about murder. "Good."
"Great! Want some waffles?"
Waffles. Pancakes. Bacon. Eggs. Sausage. Toast. He made a big deal about breakfast these days. She remembered when breakfast ranged from cereal and milk to a cup of coffee. Then, after Mom died, it seemed like buying a frozen dinner was too much work. But now? Maybe he had discovered some joy in cooking, or maybe he was making up for lost time, but she appreciated it either way. It made home feel like ... home.
Halfway through, the phone rang. "I'll get it," he said. Probably a work thing. "Hello? Yes, why? A mentorship study program?" He glanced at her and frowned. "It's for you."
She stared at him. "What?" She took the phone and pressed the cold plastic against her ear. "Hello?" She hadn't signed up for any kind of mentorship. She hadn't even heard of any that were available, but it was best to sound as professional as she could. "Taylor Hebert speaking."
"Hello Taylor Hebert." It was a man's voice, all business. "Are we on speaker phone?"
She hesitated. Her dad was standing nearby in case she needed help talking to ... whoever he thought she was talking to, but not close enough to hear. She'd walk into another room if they weren't the only home in the city that hadn't switched to cordless phones yet. Instead, she pushed down her sense of panic as much as she could. "We aren't. Who is this?"
"This is Armsmaster."
She stared straight ahead. "No it isn't." Armsmaster did not just call on the weekend while she was eating breakfast. She thought back to her encounter with Gallant and Clockblocker the day before for an explanation, but came up blank. She could imagine a squad car coming to arrest her, but not this. "What ..." What do you want? "What is this about?"
"I would like to work with you. I read your report, and I believe a collaboration could be mutually beneficial. It would be at the Protectorate HQ in my workshop."
Protectorate HQ. Workshop. Armsmaster. The best Tinker in the city. One of the best in the world. And in his workshop? What was it that Clockblocker had said? That Tinker powers wouldn't get her very far without a workshop?
No. No, no. This sort of thing did not just fall into her lap. There was always a catch. The two Wards knew exactly what she wanted, what she needed in order to not work with them at all, so there was no way the PRT was just offering that to her. But ... the Protectorate HQ? Shadow Stalker wasn't likely to just wander in, and if she already knew about Taylor, then she already knew.
But what do you mean by mutually beneficial? Did he just want to duplicate his power? Give himself a lab assistant for the day? She would spend a few hours helping with his tech, then a few hours building something for herself?
But there wasn't any way to ask that with her dad standing right behind her. She took a deep breath. "When should I show up?"
"The sooner the better."
She glanced at the clock and calculated the bus route. "I can be there by nine."
"Good. I'll see you then. You've been assigned the codename Boost."
She stared at the phone silently. "So," her dad said. "A mentorship program. I didn't know Winslow did that."
"Uh, yeah." In complete honesty, she added, "I'm as surprised as you are." She swallowed. "I need to go get ready." How could she get ready for something like this? Step one: freak out in the privacy of my own room.
"Great. Do you need a ride?"
"No! I mean, I'll be fine." She forced a smile. "Come on, Dad. I can't show up to a mentorship program with you there holding my hand."
He gave her a flat look. "You know, Taylor, this may surprise you, but plenty of kids your age have dads. Some of them even have two, which was unheard of in my day, but—"
"Kay, thanks, love you, bye." She darted up to her room, and after thoroughly completing step one, she rummaged through her closet for something to wear. Business casual? No, something for working with dangerous equipment. Practical. Right. Always go for practical.
And a mask. They already had her name, number, address, and probably even her image on file, but she wanted to limit her face as much as she could.
But as she got ready, a thought in the back of her mind continued to bother her. Her code name. She hadn't come up with one yet. She had just barely figured out how her powers worked. But if she were to give herself a name, she'd call herself Copy Cat or Emulator or something along those lines.
So why had Armsmaster called her Boost?
WWW
A/n And that's chapter two! Sorry for everyone who thought Taylor was going to be pushed, press ganged, or blackmailed into the Wards. As much fun as that would be, it's just not conducive to a healthy work environment (see Implacable by Billymorph for more details). But I love all the feedback I've gotten so far. Thank you.
And thank you to Eschwartz for editing this chapter, and thank you to my Patrons, Exiled, Prime 2.0, Sphinxes, Hubris Prime, Janember, Yotam Bonneh, Lord of Edges, LordXamon, Victoria Carey, Kurkistan, Christopher Harris, Luminant, Jan, Jamie Hayes, Ian, Ryan Cosly, and Elayda for supporting my writing. See you next time!