I like, and, yes, guilt can be QUITE the motivator.
A Matter of Worth (Worm/Mighty Thor, alt-power, DEAD)
Jacky2734
Fear my Alphanumerical name!
Eh... Odin's power varies wildly even when it's just a single version of him.
For instance, there's one Thor story in which a Destroyer Armor powered by the souls of every living Asguardian, including Odin but excluding Thor, and armed with the Odin Sword itself went up against a group of three Celestials and got utterly trounced.
Later on in the same continuity, Odin went head to head against Galactus, a being even the Celestials fear, and fought him nearly to a standstill.
His power level usually depends on where on the scale of "Actual Gods vs Sufficiently Advanced Aliens" the current writer believes the Asguardians fall, but I'd say the best way to describe his power would be "If you aren't the Major Villain of a Crisis Crossover Event, don't do anything to make Odin take a personal interest in you."
Getting back to this story itself, given that Taylor now has three things she did not have in canon - raw power, a mover power, and the catch that if she fails to be 'worthy' no powers at all - and is missing the limited omniscience over a several block diameter she had in canon, I have to wonder both what her options are, and which she'll take.
Being used for mostly PR gimmicks? Not.
Leading a team? Sure.
Being part of a close enough to worthy team? Sure.
Being a warlord? It depends on details; Asgard likes the whole conquer to enforce peace thing!
Being part of a snatch and grab team? Not.
Learning wisdom? Sure.
Being used for mostly PR gimmicks? Not.
Leading a team? Sure.
Being part of a close enough to worthy team? Sure.
Being a warlord? It depends on details; Asgard likes the whole conquer to enforce peace thing!
Being part of a snatch and grab team? Not.
Learning wisdom? Sure.
What time is it?
ITS HAMMER TIME
NOT SORRY
ITS HAMMER TIME
NOT SORRY
Baughn
Healing-type writer
- Location
- Dublin
Well, about that--
How does she know that? Either that she'd lose her powers, or what combination of actions and thoughts count as "worthy"?
It's going by ancient Norse norms, which, let me tell you, have very little to do with what's considered good behavior today.
Ardion Prosili
An (im)Perfect Cell
So Odin commissioned a second Mjolinir, one that has a very telling set of runes on the side.
Really regretting Jane's ordeal, eh Odin? Also wouldn't it be Whomsoever?
Really regretting Jane's ordeal, eh Odin? Also wouldn't it be Whomsoever?
KnightDisciple
Brotherhood. Unity. Peace.
- Location
- Midwest, USA
I would imagine it goes by Marvel Comics Comicsverse Asgardian Ideals, so that means it's ultimately a semi-vague "be a good guy" sort of thing.
This is really well written. Does this mean that Taylor is going to join the Wards? Also can't wait for the inevitable assumptions people make that she's E88.
- Location
- Somewhere down the road~
Considering she would probably look more like a woman in her 20s-30s (and sound like it, too) I would doubt that people would even think of offering for her to get into the Wards without her specifically telling her age. She probably wouldn't, if she can get away with it. I've heard teenagers were like that.
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AHAHAHAHAHA!! That was amazing! Good job hanging the lampshade on that bit of silliness
Great start. looking forward to where this goes.
Chapter 1.2
- Location
- Under Leviathan's left foot
-Then was the body of Baldr borne out on shipboard; and when his wife, Nanna the daughter of Nep, saw that, straightway her heart burst with grief, and she died; she was borne to the pyre, and fire was kindled. Then Thor stood by and hallowed the pyre with Mjölnir; and before his feet ran a certain dwarf which was named Litr; Thor kicked at him with his foot and thrust him into the fire, and he burned-
Okay, it was official: the Norse were fucked up.
Taylor sighed, closing the book and setting it down. A thick, heavy tome on ancient religions, she'd actually been quite surprised to find it in the school library; unfortunately, it didn't really concentrate on the old Norse religions, and only contained excerpts from the Prose Edda. There were other books that contained more, including one complete translation of the Edda, but Taylor had taken one look at the list of names that had previously checked out the book and decided no-way, no-how. She sure as hell didn't want any of the local E88-wannabes to see her with it and decide they had `common interests'.
Even just the glance she'd risked hadn't revealed a whole lot about Mjölnir itself… just that Loki had been a giant tool while it was being made, and the haft wasn't as long as it was supposed to be. It said that the hammer would always fly true, and "never fly so far as not to return to his hand" -- well, that checkbox had a big tick in it -- but nothing about transformations, and even the lightning wasn't explicitly mentioned-
"Oh, there you are, Taylor!"
Shit. Taylor closed her eyes in frustration… she'd let her guard down again, after promising her father that she wouldn't.
She shoved the book she held away, letting it slide across the small table that sat in Winslow's pathetic library. A clear signal: it wasn't hers, she didn't care about it… so hopefully they'd leave it alone. A moment later Emma stepped around her into view. Taylor didn't meet the redhead's eyes, instead opting to continue staring straight ahead at the bookshelves on the far wall.
"We didn't see you at all yesterday, Taylor!" Emma said in a sickly-sweet voice.
"She was probably home showering the stink off," Sophia said from behind her.
"Impossible," came Madison's voice from behind and to the left. "If she had there'd be nothing left of her." Taylor blinked. That… actually was kind of clever. Emma apparently agreed, laughing.
Congrats, Maddie. You've peaked at fifteen. It's all downhill from here.
"It's a shame, and I went through all that trouble to find out how to properly take care of a pig in its sty. Brought food scraps and everything." Oh, I'm sure you did. Emma frowned at Taylor's lack of reaction. She turned and eyed the book on the table. "`Forgotten Religions'? Seriously, Taylor? Planning on becoming a nun or something?"
If I could become a nun it wouldn't be a `forgotten religion', you stupid cow. She clenched her fists under the table. Just do whatever you're going to fucking do to me and get it over with.
"Married to God," laughed Madison, who apparently couldn't keep her faiths straight, either. "Makes sense, it's not like she's got a chance with anybody else."
"Not even that much," Emma replied. Taylor saw the malicious smirk cross the pretty girl's face out of the corner of her eye, and braced herself for the punchline. "Obviously God doesn't care about her, either. If he did, he wouldn't have killed her mother."
Taylor didn't know if anything was said after that, because all she could hear was a high-pitched ringing. She surged to her feet, fists rising; she didn't know what she was going to do, but it was going to hurt-
Her face hit the table a second later. Sophia had caught her as she stood, twisting her arm behind her and slamming her down against the wood. Taylor couldn't have beaten Sophia with a running start… with no leverage she had no chance at all. The athletic girl seemed to take pleasure in grinding her face against the table; Taylor's glasses bent and cut into the side of her temple, and the lens pressed against her eye. Oh, not my glasses, please don't break-
"God, you're so violent, Taylor!" Emma snarked. She'd been surprised for one brief moment, but Sophia's intervention had restored her confidence. "No wonder you can't keep any friends." She leaned down, her voice low and vicious. "Weak and worthless."
The hammer was miles away, but Taylor could feel it. She knew exactly where it was, and she could sense that it was eager to come to her aid… all she had to do was call. With it in hand she could smash all three of them, Emma might have a chance to learn just how `weak and worthless' she was just before Taylor turned her into a lightning rod…
And then she might as well go looking for Kaiser, because the Empire would be the only group that would want her. And after frying two white girls, perhaps not even they.
She began to cry, deep shuddering sobs choking the breath out of her even as Sophia pressed down. Her revenge -- her freedom -- was so close… so close! All she had to do was give up on everything else.
She heard Sophia snort just before letting go… as if too disgusted to touch her. Taylor ignored how her arm hurt as she wrapped them around her head, still laying on the table; her glasses were bent out of shape, but she couldn't see through the tears anyway. Still, she heard the sneer in Emma's voice: "Pathetic."
"She's making me sick to my stomach," commented Sophia. "Can we get out of here?"
"Sure, I need to talk to Mister Gladly anyway about that assignment. Bye, Taylor!" Emma said brightly, patting the other girl roughly on the head.
She didn't stop crying until long after they left.
-
Once Taylor pulled herself back together she grabbed her backpack -- which had been under the table and thankfully avoided the Bitches' interest -- and simply left. A teacher might have protested as she walked off school grounds, but if they did she didn't hear… and wouldn't have cared anyway.
She kept her hoodie up, avoiding eye contact with the few other passengers on the bus, though at that time of day it only consisted of one old woman near the front (who Taylor wasn't sure was actually aware she was on the bus) and two older teenagers dressed in rough clothing near the back.
When she got home it wasn't a surprise to find the house empty, as her father wouldn't be home for another couple of hours. He'd spent all of Thursday with her, practically hovering. It made her feel better but it was also kind of inconvenient. She appreciated his concern -- she really did -- but having him there meant she couldn't do anything with the hammer that still sat on her back step. As it was her heart jumped every time he looked out the kitchen window, half expecting him to spot the thing sitting there and wonder what it was about. By noon she'd nearly snapped and ordered him out of the house… but somehow she managed to swallow the urge.
Speaking of which…
She tossed her jacket and backpack carelessly into the porch as she entered the house, making a beeline for the back door. She hesitated just as she laid her hand on the handle; then she slowly pulled it open and looked down.
The hammer was gone.
"No," she moaned quietly. "Please, no... " Her heart felt like it had stopped beating. Tears pricked at her eyes, which were still dry and red from earlier. She looked up-
It had only moved. The hammer (Just call it Mjölnir! Jesus, Taylor!) had moved. On its own. She knew this, because the thing was currently hovering two feet off the ground, just beyond the bottom step.
Like a faithful dog waiting for its master to come home.
Her knees felt weak; she sat down on the step before they gave out on her. She stared at Mjölnir as it hovered. No -- not hovered. Hovered implied some kind of motion, like it was actively resisting gravity. The hammer was stuck in midair, like it was mounted on some kind of invisible foundation. She sat and stared at it… and had the feeling that the hammer was staring right back.
It could move on its own. It could leave, if it wanted to. It hadn't. It wanted her.
"Why? Why me?" she asked softly. Mjölnir didn't answer. She began to shout, accusing. "Why me? Why now? Why not months ago, when I wasn't so… so broken and useless!" She buried her face in her hands.
The yard rang with a faint, metallic hum… like a giant bell from far away. The note was low and mournful. Taylor looked up at the hammer, and the note faded away.
She didn't know how long she sat like that, the two of them looking at each other. When the phone rang she nearly flew off the step; blushing furiously (she'd analyze why she was embarrassed in front of a hammer later) she scrambled inside and grabbed the phone off the hook. "Hello?"
"Hi, hun. You're home?"
The proper teenage response would have been "Duh", but her Dad deserved a bit better than that. "Yeah, I got home a little while ago."
"That's good. Uh… listen, some work piled up here and I'm going to have to work late. Are you able to take care of yourself for supper?"
Taylor felt herself wilt a little. "Uh… yeah, I guess I can do that."
"I'm sorry. I know you said you wanted to cook tonight-"
"It's fine. I know how your job gets."
"I'm sorry," he said again. There was an uncomfortable silence before he asked, "How was school?"
"It was fine."
"Taylor-"
"It was fine!" She squeezed her eyes shut; she stretched the phone cord, pulling at the coils and letting them curl back up again, a little bit slower each time. "It was fine... really, Dad. Not great, not bad, just school."
"Oh. Okay. That's… good." Another tense silence drew out, and she suspected he didn't believe her but didn't want to imply she was lying to him. "Did you want me to order some pizza and have it delivered to the house?"
"No, that's okay. There's a TV dinner in the freezer, I'll have that."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. Thanks, Dad."
"Okay. I'll try to be home as soon as I can."
"Bye."
"Bye, hun."
The line clicked, and she put the phone back onto the hook. Taking a seat on one of the old metal chairs that sat around the kitchen table, she let her hands fall to her lap. She was quiet for a long while, trying to ignore the weight that hung in the middle of her chest.
Why the hell are you upset? You've been waiting for him to be occupied.
Shaking her head, she stood and walked over to the fridge and pulled open the freezer. The TV dinner sat there, exactly as she'd said… all the fat and sodium and rubberized meat a growing girl needed. She stared at it for a moment, then shut the door. She wasn't hungry, not anymore.
Now what? She could get online, and do some more research on Thor and his hammer, or troll around PHO. She could be responsible and get her homework done… or just be a typical teenager and be a vegetable in front of the TV. She was halfway to the living room and the remote when she stopped and spun.
No. No, those weren't her only options. Fuck this. She didn't care about homework, didn't care about television, didn't care about food. There was only one thing that concerned her at that moment. Something better.
The rear door to the kitchen knocked against the wall as she tore it open and stepped outside. She didn't have any shoes on, but she didn't care about that. Mjölnir still sat in midair, unmoving and inviolable, silent and patient. She held out her hand and the hammer flew into it eagerly.
Thunder rumbled.
-
Brockton Bay looked different from the air. It'd been years since she'd had a chance to see it from above -- her one and only time she'd ever ridden in a helicopter, along with her father out to an oil rig floating just outside the bay. Even then that had mostly been over water, except for a brief view of the Protectorate HQ from a careful distance away. Her flight home two nights before had been so late at night that her only impressions from above had been of a lattice of traffic lights.
Now it was just past suppertime, and the spring sun was only beginning to sink to the horizon. The shadows cast by the tall buildings downtown lay half the city in shadow, and cars could be heard below as the last stragglers of the working day made their way home. Taylor stood on top of one of the tall buildings downtown, an office building belonging to Fortress Construction; from her vantage point she could see the entirety of the city… from the rust-coloured trainyard to the nearby PRT headquarters.
Holding her helmet in her hands, Taylor pondered what to do next. Perhaps she should have planned this out a little bit more? She really didn't have that much of a grasp on her powers... beyond knowing she was strong, could fly, and could summon lighting. Every now and then she would glance at her reflection in the polished steel of the helmet, seeing the reflection that was both hers and yet not; how did she apply what she had to being a hero?
Long ago -- while fantasizing about her cape career -- Taylor had done some research about crime rates. Apparently, late at night was the most common time for premeditated murder, since that was the time with the fewest witnesses -- but crimes like assault tended to happen during the work day, when people were awake, rising in the evenings when people were stressed and sometimes drinking it off. Burglary happened during the day, when people were at work and their homes were left empty.
She wasn't sure how well those estimates worked in Brockton Bay, which had quite possibly the highest density of capes of any city in North America. Did the criminals of the city ever stop to wonder if they were about to burglarize Purity or try to mug Oni Lee? Did it never happen, or had the news outlets become so jaded that even extreme acts of Darwinism didn't merit a side column?
So what should she do? Should she go looking to pick a fight with Hookwolf or Oni Lee? That seemed like a bad idea on her first night. What could she do?
She pressed her lips into a thin line. The only thing she couldn't do was go home… go back to being just Taylor. She couldn't handle that, not right now.
Dropping her helmet back onto her head and picking Mjölnir off her belt, she flung herself into the air. She wasn't sure what she'd do, but she'd know it when she saw it.
-
"Jesus Christ, Katie, how did you do this?"
`This' was the family sedan, which was a fairly ordinary sort of car. Unfortunately, at that moment the car currently had its passenger-side wheels hanging over a Jersey barrier that had been set at the side of the road. Katie -- a fairly ordinary teenager -- was standing beside the car, arms crossed and face sullen. Meanwhile, her mother, Meredith -- a fairly ordinary woman who was a teller at Brockton Bay Central Bank -- was looking at the state of both her daughter and her car in astonishment.
"Mom, it wasn't my fault."
"How is this not your fault? I loaned you the car because you said you'd be careful!"
"I didn't mean to drop my cellphone! I was in the middle of a text-"
"You were texting and driving?"
"Only because Chloe texted me first!"
"Jesus Christ, Katie!" Meredith buried her face in her hands. "Your father is going to have a complete goddamned meltdown when he sees this! You'll be lucky if you ever see the car keys again before you move out!"
"It's not-"
"Not another word!" Meredith rubbed her temples. "We need to call a tow truck. They might be able to get it off the barrier without damaging it too much. And let me make this clear, any repairs we need to make are coming out of your pocket!"
"But Mom-"
"No! We are not having our insurance rates go up because you can't wait ten goddamned minutes to answer a text! And so help me, Katie-"
"Might I offer assistance?" Both mother and daughter jumped as they noticed the masked woman who was currently hovering nearby, spinning something above her head. It was revealed to be a hammer as she stopped the motion, immediately dropping to the ground. The concrete sidewalk made a sharp sound at her landing, but didn't break, and Meredith was sure she heard the woman -- a cape! -- mutter "Getting better…" under her breath.
"I-..." the older woman began.
"A curious predicament," the blonde commented as she approached. She hung her hammer on a hook on her belt, and the two made way as she made her way to the car, looking it over carefully. "But one I am confident I can resolve."
With that the mysterious cape took hold of the frame and the rear tire, lifting the car gently off the Jersey barrier; then, pulling the car backwards, she rolled it on its driver-side wheels until it was clear, as easily as Meredith would roll a cart. That done, the woman carefully set the car down on all four wheels.
"Th-thank you," Meredith said. Beside her, Katie was wide-eyed but thankfully silent. "Are… are you with the Empire Eighty-eight?"
The woman frowned. "Nay, I bend no knee to Kaiser."
The woman at least looked embarrassed. "Oh. It's just that… well-"
"Well aware am I of the chosen aesthetic of Menja and Fenja. Warrior maidens they may be, but that is the extent of our similarities. Indeed," she lifted her weapon from her belt, "eager is my hammer to debate with them the merits of their philosophy."
"O-okay…"
"I must away. But first..." She pointed at Katie, her anger obvious, and the teenager went pale. "Thou art mortal. Thou canst perish, and wouldst thou pierce the hearts of thy parents with such anguish, all for the saving of a few fleeting moments? Use thy wits, girl!" With that, the armoured woman flung herself back into the air, quickly disappearing over the tops of the surrounding buildings.
The two were quiet for a long moment. Then Katie spoke in a shaky voice, "Mom, I'm sorry! Really!"
"I know, dear. Come on, let's get home."
-
Matt Nicklin wasn't a bad guy. He'd just made some poor choices. Unfortunately, those poor choices tended to pile upon one another, until he couldn't dig his way out.
For instance, he hadn't meant to get hooked on meth… he thought it'd be a lark, something silly he'd thought he'd try while drunk at a party. That first hit had been so good, and the rest of the night was some of the most fun he'd ever had in his life. Coming down, though… the hangover had been awful, so he'd had a little bit more, thinking by the time he came down again it'd be gone. Then he'd learned that it was never gone… it was always just there, waiting for him when he wasn't using. It hurt… not like a cut or a broken leg, but a deep pain like someone was hollowing him out from inside.
He would have gone to counselling, but was too embarrassed. Eventually his girlfriend threw him out. Then his parents threw him out in desperation after he'd started selling their stuff to fund his next hit. He'd hooked up with the Merchants, hoping they'd help keep him supplied; Skidmark was a crazy and scary motherfucker, but when he was in a good mood he knew how to party. But even if they offered an "employee discount", nothing was free. Matt still needed some cash.
Which is why he'd stolen the gun.
Which is why he was robbing two people in the back of an alley.
"J-just hand over your fucking wallets! Come on!" Matt tried to keep the hands holding the gun steady. The two people he'd chosen to rob -- a pair of teenagers, a dark-skinned older boy and his sister -- were staring at him nervously. The boy was big and muscular… he obviously worked out. Fortunately, Matt had a gun. The girl was curvy in a way that said she was going to be an absolute bombshell when she grew up, and she was obviously aware of it considering the way she dressed and purple streak she'd added to her hair; but while Matt might have been a junkie, he sure as fuck wasn't a pedo, so he kept his eyes on her more-dangerous brother.
"You don't want to do this, man," the boy said. His voice seemed fit for someone twice his age, low and stern.
"Sh-shut up! Wallets!"
"I know why you're doing this. How long you been without a hit? You take our money, you go get something to take care of the shakes… and then what? It wears off and you gotta do it again."
"Shut-"
"Merchants, right? Go to the cops. Tell them that. They'll arrest you, put you in a cell, but it'll be a warm cell, and they'll feed you and clean you up. But you keep doin' this, and you're gonna cross somebody who you can't handle-"
"Shut up, shut up!" Matt cocked back the hammer on the gun, and the click echoed in the alley. The boy sank into a sideways fighting stance, shoving his sister behind him. The alley seemed to be growing darker, and his nerves were stretched past taut. "Wallets! C-come on! I don't wanna hurt you, but-"
"Aye, thou certainly do not."
The low alto voice speaking behind him nearly made Matt crap himself. He spun, pointing the gun-
-Which was caught in a strong, feminine hand and wrenched upward. Though Matt was tall, the owner of said hand stood at eye-level with him, and the metal wings attached to her helmet made her seem even taller. Worse, it extended over her eyes and nose… it wasn't just a helmet, it was a mask.
Cape! Oh God… He struggled with the gun, but it might as well have been rooted in concrete.
"Let go," she commanded. And he did, because while he might be dumb he wasn't stupid. In fact, he let go with such enthusiasm that he fell backwards onto his ass. Above him, the masked blonde smirked just the tiniest bit; then her hand squeezed, producing a brief crackle, like a potato chip being crushed. She let the mangled gun drop to the ground, landing between his legs.
Matt stared at it, then started to cry.
He heard her sigh, then speak to the man. "Thou art unharmed?"
"Uh… yeah?"
"Thy gaze speaks of doubt. What is it?"
"I just… never expected the Empire to care about a pair of… you know…"
She sighed again, exasperated. "I bear no allegiance to the Empire. I am an independent hero, and the colouring of thy skin means naught to me."
"That means… uh, zero, right?" the girl asked. "Just… y'know, making sure."
"Aisha, hush."
"Aye," replied the valkyrie. "I trust that delivering this caitiff wretch to the authorities can be trusted to thee?"
"`Caitiff wretch'? That's just straight savage."
"Aisha. Yeah, I can handle it now that you took away the gun. Thanks."
Matt saw the armoured blonde nod. "T'is but duty. Fare thee well." Then she took her hammer and spun it, and when she threw it into the air it carried her along.
The young man took a step forward as she flew away. "Wait, what's-... Shit. She didn't give her name."
"Your pickup skills need work, bro," said the girl. "So, we gonna call the cops to come bag this asshole?"
The brother looked down at Matt, his gaze hard. Matt was suddenly afraid... without the gun the tables had turned. He scooted back a step as the kid crouched down next to him.
He seemed to evaluate Matt for a moment before speaking. "Today's your lucky day… I'm not gonna call the cops." The junkie blinked.
"We're not? Fuck, Brian-"
"Aisha!" the young man snapped. He turned back to the would-be mugger. "You want my advice? Get yourself cleaned up. Next time you pull this shit, you might meet a cape who isn't so noble."
Wide-eyed, Matt nodded.
-
Meanwhile, the city's newest cape flitted about, making herself useful. Unfortunately, the responses were taking a common theme, with a question occurring again...
"Thank you, but I don't need the Empire's help."
"No Empire minion am I. I offer my service unstipulated, but not where it is unwanted."
"Er… sorry. I just… assumed."
"Aye, you did."
… and again...
"Um… you're not with E88, are you?"
"Ymir's bones…"
… and again.
"Uh-"
"Not! Empire! Wouldst thou prefer to row ashore by thyself?"
"N-no no, you just keep doing what you're doing…"
-
Despite it all, Taylor was having a very good evening. Sure, she hadn't run into any real crimes -- bar that one idiot who'd tried to rob the pair in the alley -- nor had she run into any other capes, but she'd been doing stuff. Helpful stuff! She'd even helped her old primary school teacher, Missus Mendez, across a busy street… the old woman hadn't recognized her at all! That had definitely been the height of the evening. Sure, the repeated questions of whether she belonged in the E88 were getting old, but she could see where they were coming from…
It was late, though she didn't know how late, since her transformation didn't come with a watch. She was flying over the South Docks area, wondering where to go next when Mjölnir seemed to shift in her hand. Her path began to curve, and when she corrected it the hammer just dragged her off-course again.
"What is it?" she asked. Obviously Mjölnir wanted her to go someplace in particular.
It wasn't for another minute that she recognized where they were headed: home. Her mouth dropped open as she realized how long she'd been flying around. Oh, shit! Dad! Mjölnir seemed to agree, and they accelerated.
When she reached her house it was to see her father just pulling into their driveway. Oh, shit! she thought again. She rocketed overhead into the backyard, and only just remembered to pull back in time before drilling into the dirt again.
She spun and hurled the hammer into the sky. "Fly free, Mjölnir, but listen for my call!"
Scrambling for the rear door -- which was thankfully still unlocked -- she could hear Danny opening the front at the same time. The two doors were on opposite sides of the kitchen, and she could see her Dad's back as he closed the front, setting the deadbolt. Before he could turn around she darted inside, closing the door behind her as quietly as possible, and then quickly ran into the living room.
"Taylor?"
She took a few deep breaths to catch her breath. Washing any lingering guilt off her face, she turned around and poked her head back into the kitchen. "Hey, hi!"
"Hey, hun. You're still up?"
"Yeah, I was waiting for you," Taylor replied. In a manner of speaking… Her father smiled, and it warmed her heart even as she felt guilty with the lie.
"Sorry I'm so late…"
"Don't be. Did you eat at all?"
Danny ran a hand over his balding pate. "No, I ended up working straight through. What about you?"
Taylor blinked. Now that she thought about it, she was really hungry. "I wasn't hungry. But now I am."
Her Dad looked at her with concern for a moment, then smiled. "Well, let's see what we've got in the house."
-
"Colin." A grumbling sound met the call, followed after a moment by light snoring. "Colin. Colin!"
Colin Wallis, otherwise known as Armsmaster, jerked awake. He looked around, confused for a moment -- Oh, right. Fell asleep in the lab again. Before him lay his latest obsession, a new possible accessory for his halberd. As usual, he'd lost track of time.
Beside him was a large LCD monitor, still displaying the schematics for the new electronics he'd been putting together. On top of the monitor was a standard webcam, and its green activity light was lit… which meant only one thing.
"Oh. Hello, Dragon," he greeted.
"You know, you installed that cot in the corner of the lab for a reason, Colin," the world's greatest Tinker pointed out dryly. "That circuit board next to you still has two hundred volts going through it, and you were about to drool on it."
"I don't drool."
"Uh huh. Wipe your mouth."
He did so, only realizing afterward how she'd tricked him. He rolled his eyes skyward and draw an exasperated sigh. "Did you need something?"
"I don't need anything in particular, but I've found something you might find interesting."
"And what is that?"
"I think you have a new parahuman in the Bay."
Colin raised his eyebrows, all fatigue forgotten. "What makes you think so?"
Documents began popping up on the screen, along with blurry smartphone pictures and what may have been a video from a traffic cam. "I keep an algorithm monitoring PRT and police reports. There's been a number of cape sightings tonight, and this woman appears to be the common theme. She's been witnessed helping at car accidents, rescued a cat out of a tree, and even helped a man who was out fishing in the bay back to shore after his outboard motor died."
"You monitor all the cities in America?"
"No, just the Bay."
He barely hid a foolish grin that Dragon was helping monitor his city in particular. Instead he leaned down, squinting, although he knew she would have cleaned up the image as well as it could possibly be. "Is that one of Kaiser's twins?"
"I'm pretty certain it isn't. The costume, while similar, doesn't match… Menja and Fenja favour a particular Roman theme, and this person seems to have chosen something of a cross between Gothic and Norse. Also, neither one of them wield a hammer. Besides, can you picture one of them helping an elderly, Hispanic woman across the street?"
"Eh?"
"I'm serious. Watch…" The video ballooned up to full screen and began playing. Colin could see the older woman gesturing at the traffic -- probably complaining to the blonde. The tall armoured woman stepped forward, obviously looking for a gap in the traffic.
"Why is she doing that? There's a push-to-cross button right there."
"I don't think either one of them noticed it."
Colin scowled at the women on the screen. "Push the button!"
"Colin-"
"Push the button!" He groaned and threw up his hands as the blonde walked into traffic, holding up her hammer like it was a crossing guard's sign. Cars travelling in both directions scrambled to stop, causing a mild traffic jam right in the middle of the thoroughfare. At the armoured woman's invitation the elderly lady began to cross… at a pace that would have had Colin seriously considering tasing himself with his own halberd.
"Colin, everything turns out alright," Dragon said, and the laughter could be heard in her voice. "No reported accidents, no complaints. Just a minor traffic snarl that clears right up."
"Still…" he said, dubious. The woman had finally reached the other side… one minute, thirty-seven seconds after beginning to cross. His mind and power began suggesting means of optimizing the process -- perhaps a moving sidewalk, or some kind of trebuchet...
"Watch, this is where it gets interesting."
He leaned in. The blonde was speaking, obviously making a polite farewell. Then she stepped away, her hammer gripped by the leather loop at the end of the haft. She spun it, too fast for the low-end camera to see, then flung it upward. And was carried along, past the top of the frame.
"Ever see a parahuman fly like that?"
He grunted. "Low- to mid-range Mover. Odd gimmick, but we've seen weirder. Implies the hammer might be tinkertech."
"A tinkertech hammer?" Colin made a show of pointing at his halberd. "Okay, point taken. But I wouldn't count on it… one of the police reports mention her lifting a car."
"Brute, then. Possible Alexandria package." He frowned. "The tranquilizer I was designing for Lung is ready. It would probably be effective-"
"Colin. Before you think about fighting her, maybe consider talking to her? I didn't show you all this as a warning -- taken in aggregate, it clearly shows a person with noble intentions. You know the statistics on new triggers… almost all of them go out looking for a fight, which is why so many of them get killed so quickly. This woman didn't. I don't think you have much to worry about."
"Maybe not," he conceded. "I'll keep an eye out for her." She might not be looking for a fight, but that doesn't mean one won't find her. Especially if Kaiser thinks she's sticking her thumb in his eye...
Okay, it was official: the Norse were fucked up.
Taylor sighed, closing the book and setting it down. A thick, heavy tome on ancient religions, she'd actually been quite surprised to find it in the school library; unfortunately, it didn't really concentrate on the old Norse religions, and only contained excerpts from the Prose Edda. There were other books that contained more, including one complete translation of the Edda, but Taylor had taken one look at the list of names that had previously checked out the book and decided no-way, no-how. She sure as hell didn't want any of the local E88-wannabes to see her with it and decide they had `common interests'.
Even just the glance she'd risked hadn't revealed a whole lot about Mjölnir itself… just that Loki had been a giant tool while it was being made, and the haft wasn't as long as it was supposed to be. It said that the hammer would always fly true, and "never fly so far as not to return to his hand" -- well, that checkbox had a big tick in it -- but nothing about transformations, and even the lightning wasn't explicitly mentioned-
"Oh, there you are, Taylor!"
Shit. Taylor closed her eyes in frustration… she'd let her guard down again, after promising her father that she wouldn't.
She shoved the book she held away, letting it slide across the small table that sat in Winslow's pathetic library. A clear signal: it wasn't hers, she didn't care about it… so hopefully they'd leave it alone. A moment later Emma stepped around her into view. Taylor didn't meet the redhead's eyes, instead opting to continue staring straight ahead at the bookshelves on the far wall.
"We didn't see you at all yesterday, Taylor!" Emma said in a sickly-sweet voice.
"She was probably home showering the stink off," Sophia said from behind her.
"Impossible," came Madison's voice from behind and to the left. "If she had there'd be nothing left of her." Taylor blinked. That… actually was kind of clever. Emma apparently agreed, laughing.
Congrats, Maddie. You've peaked at fifteen. It's all downhill from here.
"It's a shame, and I went through all that trouble to find out how to properly take care of a pig in its sty. Brought food scraps and everything." Oh, I'm sure you did. Emma frowned at Taylor's lack of reaction. She turned and eyed the book on the table. "`Forgotten Religions'? Seriously, Taylor? Planning on becoming a nun or something?"
If I could become a nun it wouldn't be a `forgotten religion', you stupid cow. She clenched her fists under the table. Just do whatever you're going to fucking do to me and get it over with.
"Married to God," laughed Madison, who apparently couldn't keep her faiths straight, either. "Makes sense, it's not like she's got a chance with anybody else."
"Not even that much," Emma replied. Taylor saw the malicious smirk cross the pretty girl's face out of the corner of her eye, and braced herself for the punchline. "Obviously God doesn't care about her, either. If he did, he wouldn't have killed her mother."
Taylor didn't know if anything was said after that, because all she could hear was a high-pitched ringing. She surged to her feet, fists rising; she didn't know what she was going to do, but it was going to hurt-
Her face hit the table a second later. Sophia had caught her as she stood, twisting her arm behind her and slamming her down against the wood. Taylor couldn't have beaten Sophia with a running start… with no leverage she had no chance at all. The athletic girl seemed to take pleasure in grinding her face against the table; Taylor's glasses bent and cut into the side of her temple, and the lens pressed against her eye. Oh, not my glasses, please don't break-
"God, you're so violent, Taylor!" Emma snarked. She'd been surprised for one brief moment, but Sophia's intervention had restored her confidence. "No wonder you can't keep any friends." She leaned down, her voice low and vicious. "Weak and worthless."
The hammer was miles away, but Taylor could feel it. She knew exactly where it was, and she could sense that it was eager to come to her aid… all she had to do was call. With it in hand she could smash all three of them, Emma might have a chance to learn just how `weak and worthless' she was just before Taylor turned her into a lightning rod…
And then she might as well go looking for Kaiser, because the Empire would be the only group that would want her. And after frying two white girls, perhaps not even they.
She began to cry, deep shuddering sobs choking the breath out of her even as Sophia pressed down. Her revenge -- her freedom -- was so close… so close! All she had to do was give up on everything else.
She heard Sophia snort just before letting go… as if too disgusted to touch her. Taylor ignored how her arm hurt as she wrapped them around her head, still laying on the table; her glasses were bent out of shape, but she couldn't see through the tears anyway. Still, she heard the sneer in Emma's voice: "Pathetic."
"She's making me sick to my stomach," commented Sophia. "Can we get out of here?"
"Sure, I need to talk to Mister Gladly anyway about that assignment. Bye, Taylor!" Emma said brightly, patting the other girl roughly on the head.
She didn't stop crying until long after they left.
-
Once Taylor pulled herself back together she grabbed her backpack -- which had been under the table and thankfully avoided the Bitches' interest -- and simply left. A teacher might have protested as she walked off school grounds, but if they did she didn't hear… and wouldn't have cared anyway.
She kept her hoodie up, avoiding eye contact with the few other passengers on the bus, though at that time of day it only consisted of one old woman near the front (who Taylor wasn't sure was actually aware she was on the bus) and two older teenagers dressed in rough clothing near the back.
When she got home it wasn't a surprise to find the house empty, as her father wouldn't be home for another couple of hours. He'd spent all of Thursday with her, practically hovering. It made her feel better but it was also kind of inconvenient. She appreciated his concern -- she really did -- but having him there meant she couldn't do anything with the hammer that still sat on her back step. As it was her heart jumped every time he looked out the kitchen window, half expecting him to spot the thing sitting there and wonder what it was about. By noon she'd nearly snapped and ordered him out of the house… but somehow she managed to swallow the urge.
Speaking of which…
She tossed her jacket and backpack carelessly into the porch as she entered the house, making a beeline for the back door. She hesitated just as she laid her hand on the handle; then she slowly pulled it open and looked down.
The hammer was gone.
"No," she moaned quietly. "Please, no... " Her heart felt like it had stopped beating. Tears pricked at her eyes, which were still dry and red from earlier. She looked up-
It had only moved. The hammer (Just call it Mjölnir! Jesus, Taylor!) had moved. On its own. She knew this, because the thing was currently hovering two feet off the ground, just beyond the bottom step.
Like a faithful dog waiting for its master to come home.
Her knees felt weak; she sat down on the step before they gave out on her. She stared at Mjölnir as it hovered. No -- not hovered. Hovered implied some kind of motion, like it was actively resisting gravity. The hammer was stuck in midair, like it was mounted on some kind of invisible foundation. She sat and stared at it… and had the feeling that the hammer was staring right back.
It could move on its own. It could leave, if it wanted to. It hadn't. It wanted her.
"Why? Why me?" she asked softly. Mjölnir didn't answer. She began to shout, accusing. "Why me? Why now? Why not months ago, when I wasn't so… so broken and useless!" She buried her face in her hands.
The yard rang with a faint, metallic hum… like a giant bell from far away. The note was low and mournful. Taylor looked up at the hammer, and the note faded away.
She didn't know how long she sat like that, the two of them looking at each other. When the phone rang she nearly flew off the step; blushing furiously (she'd analyze why she was embarrassed in front of a hammer later) she scrambled inside and grabbed the phone off the hook. "Hello?"
"Hi, hun. You're home?"
The proper teenage response would have been "Duh", but her Dad deserved a bit better than that. "Yeah, I got home a little while ago."
"That's good. Uh… listen, some work piled up here and I'm going to have to work late. Are you able to take care of yourself for supper?"
Taylor felt herself wilt a little. "Uh… yeah, I guess I can do that."
"I'm sorry. I know you said you wanted to cook tonight-"
"It's fine. I know how your job gets."
"I'm sorry," he said again. There was an uncomfortable silence before he asked, "How was school?"
"It was fine."
"Taylor-"
"It was fine!" She squeezed her eyes shut; she stretched the phone cord, pulling at the coils and letting them curl back up again, a little bit slower each time. "It was fine... really, Dad. Not great, not bad, just school."
"Oh. Okay. That's… good." Another tense silence drew out, and she suspected he didn't believe her but didn't want to imply she was lying to him. "Did you want me to order some pizza and have it delivered to the house?"
"No, that's okay. There's a TV dinner in the freezer, I'll have that."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. Thanks, Dad."
"Okay. I'll try to be home as soon as I can."
"Bye."
"Bye, hun."
The line clicked, and she put the phone back onto the hook. Taking a seat on one of the old metal chairs that sat around the kitchen table, she let her hands fall to her lap. She was quiet for a long while, trying to ignore the weight that hung in the middle of her chest.
Why the hell are you upset? You've been waiting for him to be occupied.
Shaking her head, she stood and walked over to the fridge and pulled open the freezer. The TV dinner sat there, exactly as she'd said… all the fat and sodium and rubberized meat a growing girl needed. She stared at it for a moment, then shut the door. She wasn't hungry, not anymore.
Now what? She could get online, and do some more research on Thor and his hammer, or troll around PHO. She could be responsible and get her homework done… or just be a typical teenager and be a vegetable in front of the TV. She was halfway to the living room and the remote when she stopped and spun.
No. No, those weren't her only options. Fuck this. She didn't care about homework, didn't care about television, didn't care about food. There was only one thing that concerned her at that moment. Something better.
The rear door to the kitchen knocked against the wall as she tore it open and stepped outside. She didn't have any shoes on, but she didn't care about that. Mjölnir still sat in midair, unmoving and inviolable, silent and patient. She held out her hand and the hammer flew into it eagerly.
Thunder rumbled.
-
Brockton Bay looked different from the air. It'd been years since she'd had a chance to see it from above -- her one and only time she'd ever ridden in a helicopter, along with her father out to an oil rig floating just outside the bay. Even then that had mostly been over water, except for a brief view of the Protectorate HQ from a careful distance away. Her flight home two nights before had been so late at night that her only impressions from above had been of a lattice of traffic lights.
Now it was just past suppertime, and the spring sun was only beginning to sink to the horizon. The shadows cast by the tall buildings downtown lay half the city in shadow, and cars could be heard below as the last stragglers of the working day made their way home. Taylor stood on top of one of the tall buildings downtown, an office building belonging to Fortress Construction; from her vantage point she could see the entirety of the city… from the rust-coloured trainyard to the nearby PRT headquarters.
Holding her helmet in her hands, Taylor pondered what to do next. Perhaps she should have planned this out a little bit more? She really didn't have that much of a grasp on her powers... beyond knowing she was strong, could fly, and could summon lighting. Every now and then she would glance at her reflection in the polished steel of the helmet, seeing the reflection that was both hers and yet not; how did she apply what she had to being a hero?
Long ago -- while fantasizing about her cape career -- Taylor had done some research about crime rates. Apparently, late at night was the most common time for premeditated murder, since that was the time with the fewest witnesses -- but crimes like assault tended to happen during the work day, when people were awake, rising in the evenings when people were stressed and sometimes drinking it off. Burglary happened during the day, when people were at work and their homes were left empty.
She wasn't sure how well those estimates worked in Brockton Bay, which had quite possibly the highest density of capes of any city in North America. Did the criminals of the city ever stop to wonder if they were about to burglarize Purity or try to mug Oni Lee? Did it never happen, or had the news outlets become so jaded that even extreme acts of Darwinism didn't merit a side column?
So what should she do? Should she go looking to pick a fight with Hookwolf or Oni Lee? That seemed like a bad idea on her first night. What could she do?
She pressed her lips into a thin line. The only thing she couldn't do was go home… go back to being just Taylor. She couldn't handle that, not right now.
Dropping her helmet back onto her head and picking Mjölnir off her belt, she flung herself into the air. She wasn't sure what she'd do, but she'd know it when she saw it.
-
"Jesus Christ, Katie, how did you do this?"
`This' was the family sedan, which was a fairly ordinary sort of car. Unfortunately, at that moment the car currently had its passenger-side wheels hanging over a Jersey barrier that had been set at the side of the road. Katie -- a fairly ordinary teenager -- was standing beside the car, arms crossed and face sullen. Meanwhile, her mother, Meredith -- a fairly ordinary woman who was a teller at Brockton Bay Central Bank -- was looking at the state of both her daughter and her car in astonishment.
"Mom, it wasn't my fault."
"How is this not your fault? I loaned you the car because you said you'd be careful!"
"I didn't mean to drop my cellphone! I was in the middle of a text-"
"You were texting and driving?"
"Only because Chloe texted me first!"
"Jesus Christ, Katie!" Meredith buried her face in her hands. "Your father is going to have a complete goddamned meltdown when he sees this! You'll be lucky if you ever see the car keys again before you move out!"
"It's not-"
"Not another word!" Meredith rubbed her temples. "We need to call a tow truck. They might be able to get it off the barrier without damaging it too much. And let me make this clear, any repairs we need to make are coming out of your pocket!"
"But Mom-"
"No! We are not having our insurance rates go up because you can't wait ten goddamned minutes to answer a text! And so help me, Katie-"
"Might I offer assistance?" Both mother and daughter jumped as they noticed the masked woman who was currently hovering nearby, spinning something above her head. It was revealed to be a hammer as she stopped the motion, immediately dropping to the ground. The concrete sidewalk made a sharp sound at her landing, but didn't break, and Meredith was sure she heard the woman -- a cape! -- mutter "Getting better…" under her breath.
"I-..." the older woman began.
"A curious predicament," the blonde commented as she approached. She hung her hammer on a hook on her belt, and the two made way as she made her way to the car, looking it over carefully. "But one I am confident I can resolve."
With that the mysterious cape took hold of the frame and the rear tire, lifting the car gently off the Jersey barrier; then, pulling the car backwards, she rolled it on its driver-side wheels until it was clear, as easily as Meredith would roll a cart. That done, the woman carefully set the car down on all four wheels.
"Th-thank you," Meredith said. Beside her, Katie was wide-eyed but thankfully silent. "Are… are you with the Empire Eighty-eight?"
The woman frowned. "Nay, I bend no knee to Kaiser."
The woman at least looked embarrassed. "Oh. It's just that… well-"
"Well aware am I of the chosen aesthetic of Menja and Fenja. Warrior maidens they may be, but that is the extent of our similarities. Indeed," she lifted her weapon from her belt, "eager is my hammer to debate with them the merits of their philosophy."
"O-okay…"
"I must away. But first..." She pointed at Katie, her anger obvious, and the teenager went pale. "Thou art mortal. Thou canst perish, and wouldst thou pierce the hearts of thy parents with such anguish, all for the saving of a few fleeting moments? Use thy wits, girl!" With that, the armoured woman flung herself back into the air, quickly disappearing over the tops of the surrounding buildings.
The two were quiet for a long moment. Then Katie spoke in a shaky voice, "Mom, I'm sorry! Really!"
"I know, dear. Come on, let's get home."
-
Matt Nicklin wasn't a bad guy. He'd just made some poor choices. Unfortunately, those poor choices tended to pile upon one another, until he couldn't dig his way out.
For instance, he hadn't meant to get hooked on meth… he thought it'd be a lark, something silly he'd thought he'd try while drunk at a party. That first hit had been so good, and the rest of the night was some of the most fun he'd ever had in his life. Coming down, though… the hangover had been awful, so he'd had a little bit more, thinking by the time he came down again it'd be gone. Then he'd learned that it was never gone… it was always just there, waiting for him when he wasn't using. It hurt… not like a cut or a broken leg, but a deep pain like someone was hollowing him out from inside.
He would have gone to counselling, but was too embarrassed. Eventually his girlfriend threw him out. Then his parents threw him out in desperation after he'd started selling their stuff to fund his next hit. He'd hooked up with the Merchants, hoping they'd help keep him supplied; Skidmark was a crazy and scary motherfucker, but when he was in a good mood he knew how to party. But even if they offered an "employee discount", nothing was free. Matt still needed some cash.
Which is why he'd stolen the gun.
Which is why he was robbing two people in the back of an alley.
"J-just hand over your fucking wallets! Come on!" Matt tried to keep the hands holding the gun steady. The two people he'd chosen to rob -- a pair of teenagers, a dark-skinned older boy and his sister -- were staring at him nervously. The boy was big and muscular… he obviously worked out. Fortunately, Matt had a gun. The girl was curvy in a way that said she was going to be an absolute bombshell when she grew up, and she was obviously aware of it considering the way she dressed and purple streak she'd added to her hair; but while Matt might have been a junkie, he sure as fuck wasn't a pedo, so he kept his eyes on her more-dangerous brother.
"You don't want to do this, man," the boy said. His voice seemed fit for someone twice his age, low and stern.
"Sh-shut up! Wallets!"
"I know why you're doing this. How long you been without a hit? You take our money, you go get something to take care of the shakes… and then what? It wears off and you gotta do it again."
"Shut-"
"Merchants, right? Go to the cops. Tell them that. They'll arrest you, put you in a cell, but it'll be a warm cell, and they'll feed you and clean you up. But you keep doin' this, and you're gonna cross somebody who you can't handle-"
"Shut up, shut up!" Matt cocked back the hammer on the gun, and the click echoed in the alley. The boy sank into a sideways fighting stance, shoving his sister behind him. The alley seemed to be growing darker, and his nerves were stretched past taut. "Wallets! C-come on! I don't wanna hurt you, but-"
"Aye, thou certainly do not."
The low alto voice speaking behind him nearly made Matt crap himself. He spun, pointing the gun-
-Which was caught in a strong, feminine hand and wrenched upward. Though Matt was tall, the owner of said hand stood at eye-level with him, and the metal wings attached to her helmet made her seem even taller. Worse, it extended over her eyes and nose… it wasn't just a helmet, it was a mask.
Cape! Oh God… He struggled with the gun, but it might as well have been rooted in concrete.
"Let go," she commanded. And he did, because while he might be dumb he wasn't stupid. In fact, he let go with such enthusiasm that he fell backwards onto his ass. Above him, the masked blonde smirked just the tiniest bit; then her hand squeezed, producing a brief crackle, like a potato chip being crushed. She let the mangled gun drop to the ground, landing between his legs.
Matt stared at it, then started to cry.
He heard her sigh, then speak to the man. "Thou art unharmed?"
"Uh… yeah?"
"Thy gaze speaks of doubt. What is it?"
"I just… never expected the Empire to care about a pair of… you know…"
She sighed again, exasperated. "I bear no allegiance to the Empire. I am an independent hero, and the colouring of thy skin means naught to me."
"That means… uh, zero, right?" the girl asked. "Just… y'know, making sure."
"Aisha, hush."
"Aye," replied the valkyrie. "I trust that delivering this caitiff wretch to the authorities can be trusted to thee?"
"`Caitiff wretch'? That's just straight savage."
"Aisha. Yeah, I can handle it now that you took away the gun. Thanks."
Matt saw the armoured blonde nod. "T'is but duty. Fare thee well." Then she took her hammer and spun it, and when she threw it into the air it carried her along.
The young man took a step forward as she flew away. "Wait, what's-... Shit. She didn't give her name."
"Your pickup skills need work, bro," said the girl. "So, we gonna call the cops to come bag this asshole?"
The brother looked down at Matt, his gaze hard. Matt was suddenly afraid... without the gun the tables had turned. He scooted back a step as the kid crouched down next to him.
He seemed to evaluate Matt for a moment before speaking. "Today's your lucky day… I'm not gonna call the cops." The junkie blinked.
"We're not? Fuck, Brian-"
"Aisha!" the young man snapped. He turned back to the would-be mugger. "You want my advice? Get yourself cleaned up. Next time you pull this shit, you might meet a cape who isn't so noble."
Wide-eyed, Matt nodded.
-
Meanwhile, the city's newest cape flitted about, making herself useful. Unfortunately, the responses were taking a common theme, with a question occurring again...
"Thank you, but I don't need the Empire's help."
"No Empire minion am I. I offer my service unstipulated, but not where it is unwanted."
"Er… sorry. I just… assumed."
"Aye, you did."
… and again...
"Um… you're not with E88, are you?"
"Ymir's bones…"
… and again.
"Uh-"
"Not! Empire! Wouldst thou prefer to row ashore by thyself?"
"N-no no, you just keep doing what you're doing…"
-
Despite it all, Taylor was having a very good evening. Sure, she hadn't run into any real crimes -- bar that one idiot who'd tried to rob the pair in the alley -- nor had she run into any other capes, but she'd been doing stuff. Helpful stuff! She'd even helped her old primary school teacher, Missus Mendez, across a busy street… the old woman hadn't recognized her at all! That had definitely been the height of the evening. Sure, the repeated questions of whether she belonged in the E88 were getting old, but she could see where they were coming from…
It was late, though she didn't know how late, since her transformation didn't come with a watch. She was flying over the South Docks area, wondering where to go next when Mjölnir seemed to shift in her hand. Her path began to curve, and when she corrected it the hammer just dragged her off-course again.
"What is it?" she asked. Obviously Mjölnir wanted her to go someplace in particular.
It wasn't for another minute that she recognized where they were headed: home. Her mouth dropped open as she realized how long she'd been flying around. Oh, shit! Dad! Mjölnir seemed to agree, and they accelerated.
When she reached her house it was to see her father just pulling into their driveway. Oh, shit! she thought again. She rocketed overhead into the backyard, and only just remembered to pull back in time before drilling into the dirt again.
She spun and hurled the hammer into the sky. "Fly free, Mjölnir, but listen for my call!"
Scrambling for the rear door -- which was thankfully still unlocked -- she could hear Danny opening the front at the same time. The two doors were on opposite sides of the kitchen, and she could see her Dad's back as he closed the front, setting the deadbolt. Before he could turn around she darted inside, closing the door behind her as quietly as possible, and then quickly ran into the living room.
"Taylor?"
She took a few deep breaths to catch her breath. Washing any lingering guilt off her face, she turned around and poked her head back into the kitchen. "Hey, hi!"
"Hey, hun. You're still up?"
"Yeah, I was waiting for you," Taylor replied. In a manner of speaking… Her father smiled, and it warmed her heart even as she felt guilty with the lie.
"Sorry I'm so late…"
"Don't be. Did you eat at all?"
Danny ran a hand over his balding pate. "No, I ended up working straight through. What about you?"
Taylor blinked. Now that she thought about it, she was really hungry. "I wasn't hungry. But now I am."
Her Dad looked at her with concern for a moment, then smiled. "Well, let's see what we've got in the house."
-
"Colin." A grumbling sound met the call, followed after a moment by light snoring. "Colin. Colin!"
Colin Wallis, otherwise known as Armsmaster, jerked awake. He looked around, confused for a moment -- Oh, right. Fell asleep in the lab again. Before him lay his latest obsession, a new possible accessory for his halberd. As usual, he'd lost track of time.
Beside him was a large LCD monitor, still displaying the schematics for the new electronics he'd been putting together. On top of the monitor was a standard webcam, and its green activity light was lit… which meant only one thing.
"Oh. Hello, Dragon," he greeted.
"You know, you installed that cot in the corner of the lab for a reason, Colin," the world's greatest Tinker pointed out dryly. "That circuit board next to you still has two hundred volts going through it, and you were about to drool on it."
"I don't drool."
"Uh huh. Wipe your mouth."
He did so, only realizing afterward how she'd tricked him. He rolled his eyes skyward and draw an exasperated sigh. "Did you need something?"
"I don't need anything in particular, but I've found something you might find interesting."
"And what is that?"
"I think you have a new parahuman in the Bay."
Colin raised his eyebrows, all fatigue forgotten. "What makes you think so?"
Documents began popping up on the screen, along with blurry smartphone pictures and what may have been a video from a traffic cam. "I keep an algorithm monitoring PRT and police reports. There's been a number of cape sightings tonight, and this woman appears to be the common theme. She's been witnessed helping at car accidents, rescued a cat out of a tree, and even helped a man who was out fishing in the bay back to shore after his outboard motor died."
"You monitor all the cities in America?"
"No, just the Bay."
He barely hid a foolish grin that Dragon was helping monitor his city in particular. Instead he leaned down, squinting, although he knew she would have cleaned up the image as well as it could possibly be. "Is that one of Kaiser's twins?"
"I'm pretty certain it isn't. The costume, while similar, doesn't match… Menja and Fenja favour a particular Roman theme, and this person seems to have chosen something of a cross between Gothic and Norse. Also, neither one of them wield a hammer. Besides, can you picture one of them helping an elderly, Hispanic woman across the street?"
"Eh?"
"I'm serious. Watch…" The video ballooned up to full screen and began playing. Colin could see the older woman gesturing at the traffic -- probably complaining to the blonde. The tall armoured woman stepped forward, obviously looking for a gap in the traffic.
"Why is she doing that? There's a push-to-cross button right there."
"I don't think either one of them noticed it."
Colin scowled at the women on the screen. "Push the button!"
"Colin-"
"Push the button!" He groaned and threw up his hands as the blonde walked into traffic, holding up her hammer like it was a crossing guard's sign. Cars travelling in both directions scrambled to stop, causing a mild traffic jam right in the middle of the thoroughfare. At the armoured woman's invitation the elderly lady began to cross… at a pace that would have had Colin seriously considering tasing himself with his own halberd.
"Colin, everything turns out alright," Dragon said, and the laughter could be heard in her voice. "No reported accidents, no complaints. Just a minor traffic snarl that clears right up."
"Still…" he said, dubious. The woman had finally reached the other side… one minute, thirty-seven seconds after beginning to cross. His mind and power began suggesting means of optimizing the process -- perhaps a moving sidewalk, or some kind of trebuchet...
"Watch, this is where it gets interesting."
He leaned in. The blonde was speaking, obviously making a polite farewell. Then she stepped away, her hammer gripped by the leather loop at the end of the haft. She spun it, too fast for the low-end camera to see, then flung it upward. And was carried along, past the top of the frame.
"Ever see a parahuman fly like that?"
He grunted. "Low- to mid-range Mover. Odd gimmick, but we've seen weirder. Implies the hammer might be tinkertech."
"A tinkertech hammer?" Colin made a show of pointing at his halberd. "Okay, point taken. But I wouldn't count on it… one of the police reports mention her lifting a car."
"Brute, then. Possible Alexandria package." He frowned. "The tranquilizer I was designing for Lung is ready. It would probably be effective-"
"Colin. Before you think about fighting her, maybe consider talking to her? I didn't show you all this as a warning -- taken in aggregate, it clearly shows a person with noble intentions. You know the statistics on new triggers… almost all of them go out looking for a fight, which is why so many of them get killed so quickly. This woman didn't. I don't think you have much to worry about."
"Maybe not," he conceded. "I'll keep an eye out for her." She might not be looking for a fight, but that doesn't mean one won't find her. Especially if Kaiser thinks she's sticking her thumb in his eye...
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- Location
- Under Leviathan's left foot
Extreme acts of Darwinism. Poor Kaiser... not even a side column.
Shoobie_Doo
Glory to Soviet Doge
- Location
- Yes
Hhmm, now this has me thinking since it could be a plot point later in the story, who else can lift Mjolnir?
globalwarmth
ruining the weather.
- Location
- Polar ice caps
she needs a PR guy
NemiTheNen
Perpetual Phone Poster
Need to adjust the color tag there. But HAH! Oh god I love how...reagally pouty she is. Love it.
Ardion Prosili
An (im)Perfect Cell
Colin, my man, that is literally my reaction to all the jaywalking refugees in my city who just walk across the street without pushing the button and THEN yell at cars for being 'too close'.
Numen
Long Time Creeper
- Location
- Canada
I feel pity for the inevitable Gesselchaft cape that's actually named Thor.
Nazi Thor: Hey! I am Thor, you can't use that name.
Taylor Thor: Is that so, doth thee dispute my claim? *knocks him out* aaaand I won the dispute. Any complaints?
Arsmaster: This is a breach of cape etiquette....
Taylor Thor: *pulverizes the skull of Nazi Thor* and now I am the only Thor.
Armsmaster: Y-you murderor!
Taylor Thor: Nay, that's Odin's domain.
Nazi Thor: Hey! I am Thor, you can't use that name.
Taylor Thor: Is that so, doth thee dispute my claim? *knocks him out* aaaand I won the dispute. Any complaints?
Arsmaster: This is a breach of cape etiquette....
Taylor Thor: *pulverizes the skull of Nazi Thor* and now I am the only Thor.
Armsmaster: Y-you murderor!
Taylor Thor: Nay, that's Odin's domain.
Somehow I can already see the PHO thread about her already being made, and the he comments about how odd her swears were.
Smuglator
Posted 1 hour ago
Okay, neat new cape, but can someone answer this question?
"What the heck does Ymir's bones even mean!!"
Smuglator
Posted 1 hour ago
Okay, neat new cape, but can someone answer this question?
"What the heck does Ymir's bones even mean!!"
- Location
- france
True, i have the image of a nail and a hammer.
Guess who is the nail...
Or even the scene in Avengers between Nick Fury and Loki.
CV12Hornet
Riter.
- Location
- Tacoma, Washington
Can't wait for her to utter this line:
"X! I would have words with thee!"
"X! I would have words with thee!"