Adapt (SMT/Worm AU)
- Thread starter SkyRig
- Start date
- Crossover
Rebirth 1.4R / Rebirth 1.5
SkyRig
Wake the f#ck up, samurai.
- Location
- Someplace in California
- Pronouns
- He
Rebirth 1.4 (Revised)
I woke up to the grating sound of my alarm clock going off. I ignored it at first, not wanting to leave the warm comfort of my blankets. As it continued to go off, I pressed my pillows against my ears. When that failed, I had no choice but to shift positions and roll onto my side to turn it off. I slammed my hand down on the clock—
Crunch.
"God dammit, not again…" I groaned in dismay while pulling my hand away from the squashed and ruined remains of my alarm clock. Bits of metal and plastic clung to my hand.
It has been three days since I joined the Wards. Three days of non-stop power testing. It has been a difficult time to say the least, especially whenever I tried to go outside. The Protectorate was censoring the news as best they could despite my outing pretty much common knowledge at that point, but news stations and papers were continuing to talk about the girl who Triggered from a near death experience and brutally killed a man in self-defense. People even talked about my dad, which made me even more nervous about the gangs trying to gang press me using him.
Dad was dealing with the situation in his own way, ignoring what everyone said and focusing on his work. He did mention he blew up a few times whenever someone called me a threat, though. I was happy he was standing up for me, but I did not see what got him worked up. Like he said, I should ignore what they were saying and focus on proving them wrong. If they thought I was going to be some kind of threat, then I would should them I am only a threat to the people who harm others.
For all I knew, the news would eventually die down by the time I made my proper debut with the Wards. Glenn, the man in charge of PR, said it was going to be a while before that would happen to focus on my image as a Ward and other things. At the top of the list was picking a name for my cape identity and the limits of my powers. I really did not see a point in going by a secret identity since my civilian identity is out in the open, but Glenn and Armsmaster were insisting I take up a cape name. I knew better than to argue with someone who would be my future boss, so I didn't make much of a fuss. That being said, some of the names suggested were…
Well, to be honest, they were shit. I mean, really! What kind of a name is "Horny?!" That sounded like something Dennis would pick!
Power testing was something I looked forward to, actually. While my opponents were Tinkertech mock-up drones I could beat down, there was a satisfaction and thrill to it. When my hands tore the drones apart, I could barely repress the thrill of it. A more sadistic part of me wondered what it would be like if I beat someone down. Realizing where such thoughts were leading, I reigned myself in and, at Miss Militia's behest, I started to focus on self-control. If I fought as I did in the tests, I would kill someone. There was more to the tests than just throwing punches and kicks of course. Other tests were designed to see if I had any sub-power classifications, like Shaker, Striker, Blaster, etc.
So far, it seemed like I was a Master with a Brute and Striker sub-rating. My control over bugs improved dramatically since that day in the alley to the point I could connect to hundreds of thousands of bugs within a 2-kilometer radius. However, the more bugs I controlled, the less comprehension and control I had over them. It was possible that I would be able to refine my control and manipulate them in other ways than simply just order them around, but for now, re-enacting a scene straight from the bible was all I could do at the moment.
The Brute rating was pretty obvious, seeing as I could bend iron and smash concrete with little effort. I also developed a minor healing factor during a test where I was asked to square off against Armsmaster. He didn't fight seriously, but the difference between us was like night and day. I couldn't land a hit on him no matter how hard I tried. This, of course, drove me to get stronger so I could one day close the gap and become a Ward capable of standing next to him.
The Striker rating was a more curious development that came about as more an accident than anything did. The Striker aspect of my powers was undiscovered until my fight with Armsmaster where I managed to snatch a baton off him (though this did nothing to increase my odds of beating him). I intended to use the baton to even the playing field, but one strike against the ground caused it to crack as if I struck it with my bare hands. Further tests with other pieces of equipment revealed that I could strengthen whatever I had on me at the time. A riot shield in my hands could withstand a barrage from weapons created by Miss Militia and armor worn by PRT troopers could shrug off hits from Armsmaster's halberd.
This, of course, raised the possibility that I might be given armor and weapons that met Protectorate standards. On the downside, this also became tied into the whole branding thing Glenn mentioned.
Don't get me wrong, I'm excited about the prospect of getting a costume, but I refuse to wear something ridiculous!
…well, at any rate, whether I liked it or not I was up.
My body ached in protest as I pulled myself out of the bed. I glanced at the bed adjacent to mine. Missy wasn't in it, so I assumed she was already up and about. I looked to the clock on the wall and grimaced. It was 9 o'clock. What sort of demon wakes up at that hour?!
"I thought I set my alarm for eleven-thirty in the morning, though…" I frowned. Had I set the wrong time? No, I was sure I set it to ring at eleven-thirty, so why…
Missy's grin just before I went to bed suddenly came to mind. I scowled.
"Why that little…!"
"Wow, you look like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Dennis and Missy grinned as they saw me approach the table. Their grins widened when they saw the fury on my face. "Or maybe I should say that were a little—"
"Dennis, so help me God, if you make another damn horn-y joke, I will punt you across the room," I warned before setting my sights on the little devil that woke me up so early in the morning. "And you are a little shit. What kind of monster sets a person's alarm clock to go off this early in the morning?"
"Not a morning person, I take it?" Missy asked innocently. I had hoped my glare would be enough to set her ablaze, but nope, she still grinned at me. I guess heat vision was not part of my powers. Shame.
While my friendship with Dennis was still a work in progress, Missy and I had more or less hit it off. Like the other Wards, she seemed to dance around anything involving Sophia Hess, but she was quicker to make the effort to talk to me instead of waiting on me to start a conversation. I believe it was because we were both girls and the rest of the Wards were boys. In Missy's own words, the fact that I was nicer than Shadow Stalker was a welcome bonus. Evidently, there was not much of a difference between Sophia in her civilian identity and as a Ward, picking fights with the others whenever they tried to reign her in.
The only other Ward I met enough times to get acquainted with during the three days I've been here was Chris, i.e. Kid Win. He seemed to be the most apologetic about what happened between Sophia and me even though it was not his fault. I held nothing against him, but he seemed adamant about making amends, which led to him wanting to make armor for me. The armor was his apology, albeit unnecessary, but hey, who was I to say no to a free set of Tinker gear? Of course, I would not learn until much later in the future that the other reason why Chris wanted to make me armor was to see how my powers would affect tinker gear.
In short, my only "friends" with the Wards were Kid Win, Clockblocker and Vista. Aegis, Gallant and Browbeat were the only ones that kept their distance, making them mere acquaintances than anything else. I couldn't tell if it was because of my history with Shadow Stalker and they felt guilty or because they weren't sure what to make of me just yet. I held out hope that we would be able to reach an understanding, or at least establish some kind of rapport. Last thing we needed was this awkward air when I am allowed to hit the streets.
"For what it's worth, I had a reason for setting your alarm early," Missy said. "You've got another power-test around eleven-thirty, yeah?"
I nodded. "Armsmaster wants to see how I fair against another Brute, so Trent is going to spar with me. Why do you ask?"
"Glory Girl and Panacea are going to swing by before the test. Well, actually, Panacea's here on official business and see if you have any abnormalities in your body besides the rocking tattoos and the horn. Vicky's just here to swap tongue with Dean."
Missy gagged. "Did you have to put that image in my head, Dennis?"
"Oh come on, you know it's true! If it ain't kissing, it's acting lovey-dovey all day and making things awkward."
"Ah, so the rumors about Gallant and Glory Girl dating are true?"
Dennis shook his head. "Depends whether they're helplessly in love or butting heads. If you ask me, they should have the Guinness World Record for the longest off-and-on relationship ever."
The PA system in the cafeteria crackled to life. "Will Taylor Hebert and Browbeat report to Room Gamma? I repeat, will Taylor Hebert and Browbeat report to Room Gamma?"
No rest for the wicked, I suppose. "Guess that's your cue." The three of us stood up and began walking out of the cafeteria. Missy walked next to me and leaned in. "You should probably watch yourself, though. Besides Carlos, he's one of the toughest guys in the Wards."
"Coming from our resident heavy hitter, that's saying something," Dennis chimed in. "Try not to destroy the room, okay? I like the décor."
Rebirth 1.5
Trent was waiting for me inside along with Chris. The former was wrapping strips of cloth around his hands while Chris was fiddling with what looked like tinkertech. They looked like futuristic gauntlets with fingerless gloves and black plates. Miss Militia was off to the side talking with Armsmaster, the latter surprisingly out of his power armor. In contrast to how he normally looked, he looked rather shabby and clearly needed sleep, not to mention a shave.
He also had the worst case of bed head I ever saw, and having seen my Dad's bed head, that was saying something.
Noticing me, Missy and Dennis, Trent raised a hand in greeting. "Yo!"
"Hey," I greeted back. "Are we all set to go for testing?"
"Almost," Chris told me. "Just give me a few seconds."
"What are you working on this time?" Dennis asked. "I don't remember seeing those before."
"Taylor will be using them for this test," Armsmaster—or would it be accurate to call him Colin since he's out of costume?—said as he and Miss Militia approached. "As she's demonstrated enhancing equipment on her person, we want to see if this also applies to Tinkertech as well."
"It's mostly a mock-up though," Chris clarified. "I would use better parts, but this was kind of last minute."
I shook my head. "It's fine, Chris. So, besides testing to see if I can give tinker equipment a boost, what else am I doing today?"
"Technique focus and control for the most part," Miss Militia informed. "You rely on brute force, and you don't hold back. Granted, we've had you fight against drones and you have been improving, but this time we want to see how you fair against a human opponent, especially if they are able to match you in the strength department. Also, as I'm sure Missy has told you, Panacea will be coming by later today to perform an examination."
"Once Chris has finished adjusting your equipment, you will start training immediately." Colin folded his arms. "I believe this goes without saying, but while injuring your opponent is fine, do not go overboard by inflicting serious wounds. This goes for you as well, Trent."
Trent huffed, but said nothing. I nodded strongly. "Yes, sir!"
Chris finished making his test gauntlets. They fit like a glove, easily sliding over my arms. They were much lighter than I was expecting them to be, given how bulky they were. Once I had the gauntlets fixed to my arms, Trent and I entered the training room. It wasn't as fancy or as grand as, say, the Danger Room from X-Men, but it was big and spacious enough to hold a house. The floor and walls were covered in tiles, all tinker made to withstand some serious punishment like hardcore Brute beatdowns and whatnot.
Dennis told me that, during a training session between Vista and Dauntless, the room withstood an all-out brawl, though many tiles were replaced due to the extent of the damage.
The moment we entered, I felt a change in the air. Trent stood across from me, assuming what looked like a boxer's stance. His muscles slowly began to expand and harden, going from being lean to ripped. Even a hardcore body builder didn't have muscles as bulging or as thick as his. His eyes were focused entirely on me, never straying even once.
I knew then that I wasn't facing Trent, but Browbeat, member of the Brockton Bay Wards. I sucked in a deep breath, exhaling and assuming my own stance. I waited anxiously for the green light to flash.
I didn't have to wait long, because not a second after a buzzer went off, Browbeat was on me. He closed the distance instantly, throwing a lightning quick jab that hit me square in the jaw. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as that Shade bastard's hits, but it was enough to leave me dazed and vulnerable. He followed up with a one-two punch and ended his combo with a roundhouse kick that hit me square in the stomach.
I flew through the air before managing to reorientate myself, landing on all fours and skidding to a stop. I looked up in time to see Browbeat above me, foot raised and about to stomp on my head. I rolled away and climbed back up on my feet. I raised my arms in front of my face, blocking a punch and dodging a second before retaliating with a knee-strike to the ribs. I didn't hear any bones break, but the look of pain made it clear the attack was not pleasant.
"Tch!"
Powering through the pain, Browbeat grabbed my leg and pulled me to the floor, keeping me pinned. He threw a punch, but I grabbed it and pulled him to his side, quickly overpowering him and getting on top of him. I threw a punch to the face. It hit square in the jaw. His head reeled back from impact. I went in for another punch, but I found my fist repelled by something shimmering in front of his face. He threw me off by kicking me in the shoulder and rolling away, quickly putting some distance between us.
I stared at him for a moment. I could have sworn I saw his muscles deflate, but they were still bulging. What was that just now? Some kind of barrier? Did he have a force field like Glory Girl?
"You're leaving yourself exposed," Browbeat said suddenly. "Close your legs more and keep your shoulders squared. I could easily sweep you off your feet if you gave me the opportunity."
Blinking, I glanced down at my form. I had little combat training save for some self-defense classes, but true to what he said, my legs were far apart. Unfortunately for me, I forgot this was a test and Browbeat was the sort of guy to capitalize on mistakes. He rushed me and knocked me flat with a lariat to the throat. I felt disoriented as I hit the ground, wincing as my horn pushed back against the tile under me and pressing against my neck. I quickly got up to see Browbeat charging again, this time jumping into the air for a kick to the head.
Like hell!
I grabbed his ankle mid-swing, fingers wrapping into a vice-grip and slammed him into the ground. I didn't give him a chance to recover and jumped atop him, proceeding to slam my fist down on him over and over again. Each strike was repelled by a shimmer, appearing each time I came close to hitting him. However, the shimmer grew weaker with each strike, which told me that even his barrier had limits. I clasped my hands into a ball and slammed it straight down. The shimmer shattered. Browbeat tilted his head to the side, dodging my attack and elbowed me in the face. The blow knocked me off his body.
We separated, but I would not let him get back up so easily. This time I took the initiative, charging straight at him and jumping for a knee-strike. He blocked it with ease, but he didn't realize my body was still moving from the momentum. I'm still not entirely sure how I managed to do it, but I grabbed his shoulders and pulled myself up, hoisted above his body before swinging my body back down and throwing him as I descended. His body sailed through the air and slammed into the wall.
I refused to relent and charged again, rearing my fist back as I ran. I threw it forward once I was within range. To my frustration, Browbeat dodged again, this time side-stepping into my blindspot and sucker-punching me in the stomach. He followed up with an uppercut, then a corkscrew to the face. I staggered back and quickly shook it off. Browbeat closed the distance again and went for an elbow-strike. I blocked it and retaliated with a head butt.
The blow caused him to stagger, blinking and swaying on his feet. Seizing the advantage, I swung my fist into his stomach, knocking the wind out of his sails. He gasped and choked, no doubt finding it hard to breathe. Without wasting any moment, I spun and delivered a reverse roundhouse kick to his head, my heel connecting to his cheek and sent him spiraling to the ground.
I was about to resume my assault when I found myself stopping. My body swayed as I felt a sense of fatigue wash over me. I clicked my tongue when I realized that my time limit was up.
Whenever I entered combat, my combat prowess increased for a short time. For one hundred and eight seconds, or 3 minutes, I could hit harder than normal. This boost in power only happened when my brain recognized that I was in danger, and the only way out was to fight. This made fights against weaker foes easy and quick, especially if they were drones, but against experienced opponents like Browbeat and Armsmaster, it didn't matter if my attacks were stronger for a short duration. Having powered-up fists meant nothing if I couldn't hit them.
Browbeat was already back on his feet. I would have gone after him were it not for the fact that his forehead was bleeding. In the middle of his forehead, the spot where I head butted him, there was an open wound.
"Oh, fuck, are you okay?!" All intent to fight left me. I went too far! God dammit, and I was just told not to do that! I really do need learn how to control my hits! "I am so sorry, I didn't mean to—!"
I reached out to him, and in the next second, Browbeat grabbed my wrist, pulled me toward him, and threw me over his chest. I hit the ground, laying flat on my stomach. Browbeat pinned me to the ground, knee pressed down on my spine while keeping my arm twisted behind my back. To my shock and dismay, he produced a knife somewhere on his person, the blade leveled against my neck—right against an artery.
"Do you give?"
I stared in disbelief, unable to find the words. Miss Militia spoke in my place over the PA system. "That's enough, you two. Training's over. Nice work."
In an instant, Browbeat's muscular form deflated. In the Ward's place was Trent, as thin and lean as ever. He removed himself from my back and offered me his hand. I stared at it warily, wondering if this was another ploy for me to drop my guard before I grabbed his hand and pulled myself up. He hoisted me up.
"First off, that was a cheap trick!" I glared. "And secondly, where did you even keep that?! Why do you even have that?!"
"Lesson two, never doubt what your opponent may or may not have on them, even if it isn't actually on their person. Trust me, being paranoid can and will save your ass," Trent smiled wryly before he grimaced, wiping some dripping blood from his forehead. "And we were in the middle of a test. It only stops when one of us gives up, and last I checked, I didn't say I gave. For what it's worth though, this really does hurt like hell. You have a very hard head, do you know that?"
I at least had the decency to look embarrassed.
When we returned to the main room, Miss Militia gave me quite the tongue-lashing as I expected. I lost myself in the heat of battle. Trent did not hold what happened against me, arguing in my place that the test was to see how I fared against another Brute, so injuries like a bruised head were acceptable. Despite his words, I agreed with Miss Militia's criticisms. I don't know why I get so worked up in the middle of a fight, but I need to learn how to control myself better. If I act as I did in that video, no one was going to feel safe around me. Not if I fought like a feral animal.
After getting his wound treated, Trent took his leave, though not before clapping my shoulder. "When you got the time, stop by the Lounge."
I nodded, not really getting what he wanted. Maybe he was going to give me some advice. He seemed well trained and barely let-up. Trent smiled and waved as he left, vanishing behind the door.
Miss Militia then escorted me to the medical wing. The room was as plain and uncomfortable as I remembered it, except this time there were more occupants than when I was here. There were a few PRT troopers lying in their cots, sporting bruises and burns. One in particular had a disgusting patch of burnt flesh on the right side of his face, and his left arm looked as if it had been mangled. The sight of it caused my stomach to churn uncomfortably.
"Not a pretty sight, huh?"
I turned my head. I hadn't noticed her when we came in, but it was hard not to recognize her. There was only one person in the Bay who could pull off the She-Ra look and rock a tiara.
Glory Girl, Victoria Dallon of New Wave, smiled and extended a hand toward me. "This is our first time meeting, right? I'm Glory Girl! Call me Victoria."
"Taylor," I shook her hand. Her grip was tight, but not too tight. "No cape name yet. Still deciding." I let go of her hand and looked back to the burned trooper. "What happened?"
Victoria sighed. "Routine PRT patrol got caught in the crossfire of a cape fight. Lung was involved. Apparently, he decided Stormtiger and Purity needed to die for stepping in his turf. I happened to be in the area when it happened, so me and Velocity helped out. As you can tell, things didn't exactly go as planned."
"They should be lucky to be alive," a demure voice replied. "Most normal people don't last against Lung for long."
The speaker was Panacea, or Amy Dallon. I only ever saw her on TV or in the newspapers, but in person, she looked…tired? That was the best I could describe her. She looked exhausted, bags under her eyes and shoulder sagging. The look on her face said she wanted to be in bed right now and not here, but was resigned to what she was doing.
"Panacea," Miss Militia greeted the healer. "Sorry to call you out like this on short notice."
Panacea shrugged. "I'm used to it," she answered. She stepped away from the trooper she healed and approached the last of her apparent patients—the trooper with the burns. "Do I have your permission to heal you?" The man nodded weakly. She grabbed his hand and frowned.
It was amazing to see it in person. I watched in awe as the burned flesh seemingly unraveled from his skin, twisting and melting and reforming back into smooth, rough skin. By the time the burns were gone, he looked as if he had just gotten done at the barbers and was missing a chunk of hair on the right side. His mangled arm was caked in blood, but the torn flesh pulled itself back together, sinews of red flesh pulling itself shut.
Panacea sighed and stepped away. The man sighed and closed his eyes, falling asleep on the spot.
Victoria flashed her sister two thumbs up. "Nice job, Ames!"
The freckled girl smiled tiredly before she noticed me. She looked surprised for a moment, clearly taken aback by my appearance. I chuckled awkwardly and waved in greeting. "I know, I look like I came out of the cover of a heavy metal band, don't I?"
Amy shook her head. "Er, sorry. I, um, wasn't sure what to expect. Taylor Hebert, right? Or…?"
"No cape name yet."
"I believe the Director told you why we asked you to come here, yes?" Miss Milita went straight to the point, as expected.
The healer nodded. "I got the gist. You want me to see if her Second Trigger left her with any abnormalities, right?"
"That is correct."
There it was again, that term. "I'm sorry, but what do you mean by Second Trigger?" I asked in confusion. "I thought you can only Trigger once?"
"Actually, a person can Trigger twice," Victoria explained. "It's pretty rare, but you know how when a person goes through the worst experience of their life, they get superpowers? Well, a Second Trigger is when someone goes through something that's just as bad as your first Trigger Event, or somehow tops it. You either get a new set of powers, or your current powers get even stronger."
"They're very rare, though," Amy added. "On the other hand, a person can undergo a Double Trigger Event where a person Triggers back-to-back in a short time frame. Double Triggers are more common than a Second Trigger. At least one in a thousand people can have a Second Trigger, whereas one in ten will go through a Double Trigger."
My mind went back to the locker and the day that shadowy cape cornered me after killing Shadow Stalker. I remembered feeling how helpless I was. How no one was going to save me. I felt so lost and afraid in that locker, thinking how I was on my own and that I could rely on no one but myself. I thought about how the only person I could trust to defend myself was I when Shade attacked me. Thinking about how they happened, they couldn't have been more different.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Amy smiled sadly at me. "No one deserves to get outed like that. Are you and your dad doing okay?"
"We're fine, for the most part. We're still waiting on the transfer papers to get settled, and the Director is waiting to get confirmation on a transfer. They should be done near the end of the week though."
"I see," Amy nodded in understanding. I will not deny it; having someone I have never met worry about me was nice. It did not feel like she was pitying me. "Do you mind if I took a look at you?"
"Nope. Poke through my guts to your hearts content, Doctor Dallon," I joked, trying to ease the atmosphere.
Panacea blinked. Victoria, on the other hand, was laughing. "Oh, that is perfect. Ooh, ooh, Amy, we should totally rebrand you as Doc Dallon. What do you think?"
Amy shot down the notion immediately. "Oh, fuck that. There is no goddamn way I will let anyone call me that." She then shot me the dirtiest look she could muster. "Great, thanks! Now she's going to be calling me that for weeks. I hope your happy."
"Sorry?"
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, let's get this over with."
I woke up to the grating sound of my alarm clock going off. I ignored it at first, not wanting to leave the warm comfort of my blankets. As it continued to go off, I pressed my pillows against my ears. When that failed, I had no choice but to shift positions and roll onto my side to turn it off. I slammed my hand down on the clock—
Crunch.
"God dammit, not again…" I groaned in dismay while pulling my hand away from the squashed and ruined remains of my alarm clock. Bits of metal and plastic clung to my hand.
It has been three days since I joined the Wards. Three days of non-stop power testing. It has been a difficult time to say the least, especially whenever I tried to go outside. The Protectorate was censoring the news as best they could despite my outing pretty much common knowledge at that point, but news stations and papers were continuing to talk about the girl who Triggered from a near death experience and brutally killed a man in self-defense. People even talked about my dad, which made me even more nervous about the gangs trying to gang press me using him.
Dad was dealing with the situation in his own way, ignoring what everyone said and focusing on his work. He did mention he blew up a few times whenever someone called me a threat, though. I was happy he was standing up for me, but I did not see what got him worked up. Like he said, I should ignore what they were saying and focus on proving them wrong. If they thought I was going to be some kind of threat, then I would should them I am only a threat to the people who harm others.
For all I knew, the news would eventually die down by the time I made my proper debut with the Wards. Glenn, the man in charge of PR, said it was going to be a while before that would happen to focus on my image as a Ward and other things. At the top of the list was picking a name for my cape identity and the limits of my powers. I really did not see a point in going by a secret identity since my civilian identity is out in the open, but Glenn and Armsmaster were insisting I take up a cape name. I knew better than to argue with someone who would be my future boss, so I didn't make much of a fuss. That being said, some of the names suggested were…
Well, to be honest, they were shit. I mean, really! What kind of a name is "Horny?!" That sounded like something Dennis would pick!
Power testing was something I looked forward to, actually. While my opponents were Tinkertech mock-up drones I could beat down, there was a satisfaction and thrill to it. When my hands tore the drones apart, I could barely repress the thrill of it. A more sadistic part of me wondered what it would be like if I beat someone down. Realizing where such thoughts were leading, I reigned myself in and, at Miss Militia's behest, I started to focus on self-control. If I fought as I did in the tests, I would kill someone. There was more to the tests than just throwing punches and kicks of course. Other tests were designed to see if I had any sub-power classifications, like Shaker, Striker, Blaster, etc.
So far, it seemed like I was a Master with a Brute and Striker sub-rating. My control over bugs improved dramatically since that day in the alley to the point I could connect to hundreds of thousands of bugs within a 2-kilometer radius. However, the more bugs I controlled, the less comprehension and control I had over them. It was possible that I would be able to refine my control and manipulate them in other ways than simply just order them around, but for now, re-enacting a scene straight from the bible was all I could do at the moment.
The Brute rating was pretty obvious, seeing as I could bend iron and smash concrete with little effort. I also developed a minor healing factor during a test where I was asked to square off against Armsmaster. He didn't fight seriously, but the difference between us was like night and day. I couldn't land a hit on him no matter how hard I tried. This, of course, drove me to get stronger so I could one day close the gap and become a Ward capable of standing next to him.
The Striker rating was a more curious development that came about as more an accident than anything did. The Striker aspect of my powers was undiscovered until my fight with Armsmaster where I managed to snatch a baton off him (though this did nothing to increase my odds of beating him). I intended to use the baton to even the playing field, but one strike against the ground caused it to crack as if I struck it with my bare hands. Further tests with other pieces of equipment revealed that I could strengthen whatever I had on me at the time. A riot shield in my hands could withstand a barrage from weapons created by Miss Militia and armor worn by PRT troopers could shrug off hits from Armsmaster's halberd.
This, of course, raised the possibility that I might be given armor and weapons that met Protectorate standards. On the downside, this also became tied into the whole branding thing Glenn mentioned.
Don't get me wrong, I'm excited about the prospect of getting a costume, but I refuse to wear something ridiculous!
…well, at any rate, whether I liked it or not I was up.
My body ached in protest as I pulled myself out of the bed. I glanced at the bed adjacent to mine. Missy wasn't in it, so I assumed she was already up and about. I looked to the clock on the wall and grimaced. It was 9 o'clock. What sort of demon wakes up at that hour?!
"I thought I set my alarm for eleven-thirty in the morning, though…" I frowned. Had I set the wrong time? No, I was sure I set it to ring at eleven-thirty, so why…
Missy's grin just before I went to bed suddenly came to mind. I scowled.
"Why that little…!"
"Wow, you look like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Dennis and Missy grinned as they saw me approach the table. Their grins widened when they saw the fury on my face. "Or maybe I should say that were a little—"
"Dennis, so help me God, if you make another damn horn-y joke, I will punt you across the room," I warned before setting my sights on the little devil that woke me up so early in the morning. "And you are a little shit. What kind of monster sets a person's alarm clock to go off this early in the morning?"
"Not a morning person, I take it?" Missy asked innocently. I had hoped my glare would be enough to set her ablaze, but nope, she still grinned at me. I guess heat vision was not part of my powers. Shame.
While my friendship with Dennis was still a work in progress, Missy and I had more or less hit it off. Like the other Wards, she seemed to dance around anything involving Sophia Hess, but she was quicker to make the effort to talk to me instead of waiting on me to start a conversation. I believe it was because we were both girls and the rest of the Wards were boys. In Missy's own words, the fact that I was nicer than Shadow Stalker was a welcome bonus. Evidently, there was not much of a difference between Sophia in her civilian identity and as a Ward, picking fights with the others whenever they tried to reign her in.
The only other Ward I met enough times to get acquainted with during the three days I've been here was Chris, i.e. Kid Win. He seemed to be the most apologetic about what happened between Sophia and me even though it was not his fault. I held nothing against him, but he seemed adamant about making amends, which led to him wanting to make armor for me. The armor was his apology, albeit unnecessary, but hey, who was I to say no to a free set of Tinker gear? Of course, I would not learn until much later in the future that the other reason why Chris wanted to make me armor was to see how my powers would affect tinker gear.
In short, my only "friends" with the Wards were Kid Win, Clockblocker and Vista. Aegis, Gallant and Browbeat were the only ones that kept their distance, making them mere acquaintances than anything else. I couldn't tell if it was because of my history with Shadow Stalker and they felt guilty or because they weren't sure what to make of me just yet. I held out hope that we would be able to reach an understanding, or at least establish some kind of rapport. Last thing we needed was this awkward air when I am allowed to hit the streets.
"For what it's worth, I had a reason for setting your alarm early," Missy said. "You've got another power-test around eleven-thirty, yeah?"
I nodded. "Armsmaster wants to see how I fair against another Brute, so Trent is going to spar with me. Why do you ask?"
"Glory Girl and Panacea are going to swing by before the test. Well, actually, Panacea's here on official business and see if you have any abnormalities in your body besides the rocking tattoos and the horn. Vicky's just here to swap tongue with Dean."
Missy gagged. "Did you have to put that image in my head, Dennis?"
"Oh come on, you know it's true! If it ain't kissing, it's acting lovey-dovey all day and making things awkward."
"Ah, so the rumors about Gallant and Glory Girl dating are true?"
Dennis shook his head. "Depends whether they're helplessly in love or butting heads. If you ask me, they should have the Guinness World Record for the longest off-and-on relationship ever."
The PA system in the cafeteria crackled to life. "Will Taylor Hebert and Browbeat report to Room Gamma? I repeat, will Taylor Hebert and Browbeat report to Room Gamma?"
No rest for the wicked, I suppose. "Guess that's your cue." The three of us stood up and began walking out of the cafeteria. Missy walked next to me and leaned in. "You should probably watch yourself, though. Besides Carlos, he's one of the toughest guys in the Wards."
"Coming from our resident heavy hitter, that's saying something," Dennis chimed in. "Try not to destroy the room, okay? I like the décor."
Rebirth 1.5
Trent was waiting for me inside along with Chris. The former was wrapping strips of cloth around his hands while Chris was fiddling with what looked like tinkertech. They looked like futuristic gauntlets with fingerless gloves and black plates. Miss Militia was off to the side talking with Armsmaster, the latter surprisingly out of his power armor. In contrast to how he normally looked, he looked rather shabby and clearly needed sleep, not to mention a shave.
He also had the worst case of bed head I ever saw, and having seen my Dad's bed head, that was saying something.
Noticing me, Missy and Dennis, Trent raised a hand in greeting. "Yo!"
"Hey," I greeted back. "Are we all set to go for testing?"
"Almost," Chris told me. "Just give me a few seconds."
"What are you working on this time?" Dennis asked. "I don't remember seeing those before."
"Taylor will be using them for this test," Armsmaster—or would it be accurate to call him Colin since he's out of costume?—said as he and Miss Militia approached. "As she's demonstrated enhancing equipment on her person, we want to see if this also applies to Tinkertech as well."
"It's mostly a mock-up though," Chris clarified. "I would use better parts, but this was kind of last minute."
I shook my head. "It's fine, Chris. So, besides testing to see if I can give tinker equipment a boost, what else am I doing today?"
"Technique focus and control for the most part," Miss Militia informed. "You rely on brute force, and you don't hold back. Granted, we've had you fight against drones and you have been improving, but this time we want to see how you fair against a human opponent, especially if they are able to match you in the strength department. Also, as I'm sure Missy has told you, Panacea will be coming by later today to perform an examination."
"Once Chris has finished adjusting your equipment, you will start training immediately." Colin folded his arms. "I believe this goes without saying, but while injuring your opponent is fine, do not go overboard by inflicting serious wounds. This goes for you as well, Trent."
Trent huffed, but said nothing. I nodded strongly. "Yes, sir!"
Chris finished making his test gauntlets. They fit like a glove, easily sliding over my arms. They were much lighter than I was expecting them to be, given how bulky they were. Once I had the gauntlets fixed to my arms, Trent and I entered the training room. It wasn't as fancy or as grand as, say, the Danger Room from X-Men, but it was big and spacious enough to hold a house. The floor and walls were covered in tiles, all tinker made to withstand some serious punishment like hardcore Brute beatdowns and whatnot.
Dennis told me that, during a training session between Vista and Dauntless, the room withstood an all-out brawl, though many tiles were replaced due to the extent of the damage.
The moment we entered, I felt a change in the air. Trent stood across from me, assuming what looked like a boxer's stance. His muscles slowly began to expand and harden, going from being lean to ripped. Even a hardcore body builder didn't have muscles as bulging or as thick as his. His eyes were focused entirely on me, never straying even once.
I knew then that I wasn't facing Trent, but Browbeat, member of the Brockton Bay Wards. I sucked in a deep breath, exhaling and assuming my own stance. I waited anxiously for the green light to flash.
I didn't have to wait long, because not a second after a buzzer went off, Browbeat was on me. He closed the distance instantly, throwing a lightning quick jab that hit me square in the jaw. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as that Shade bastard's hits, but it was enough to leave me dazed and vulnerable. He followed up with a one-two punch and ended his combo with a roundhouse kick that hit me square in the stomach.
I flew through the air before managing to reorientate myself, landing on all fours and skidding to a stop. I looked up in time to see Browbeat above me, foot raised and about to stomp on my head. I rolled away and climbed back up on my feet. I raised my arms in front of my face, blocking a punch and dodging a second before retaliating with a knee-strike to the ribs. I didn't hear any bones break, but the look of pain made it clear the attack was not pleasant.
"Tch!"
Powering through the pain, Browbeat grabbed my leg and pulled me to the floor, keeping me pinned. He threw a punch, but I grabbed it and pulled him to his side, quickly overpowering him and getting on top of him. I threw a punch to the face. It hit square in the jaw. His head reeled back from impact. I went in for another punch, but I found my fist repelled by something shimmering in front of his face. He threw me off by kicking me in the shoulder and rolling away, quickly putting some distance between us.
I stared at him for a moment. I could have sworn I saw his muscles deflate, but they were still bulging. What was that just now? Some kind of barrier? Did he have a force field like Glory Girl?
"You're leaving yourself exposed," Browbeat said suddenly. "Close your legs more and keep your shoulders squared. I could easily sweep you off your feet if you gave me the opportunity."
Blinking, I glanced down at my form. I had little combat training save for some self-defense classes, but true to what he said, my legs were far apart. Unfortunately for me, I forgot this was a test and Browbeat was the sort of guy to capitalize on mistakes. He rushed me and knocked me flat with a lariat to the throat. I felt disoriented as I hit the ground, wincing as my horn pushed back against the tile under me and pressing against my neck. I quickly got up to see Browbeat charging again, this time jumping into the air for a kick to the head.
Like hell!
I grabbed his ankle mid-swing, fingers wrapping into a vice-grip and slammed him into the ground. I didn't give him a chance to recover and jumped atop him, proceeding to slam my fist down on him over and over again. Each strike was repelled by a shimmer, appearing each time I came close to hitting him. However, the shimmer grew weaker with each strike, which told me that even his barrier had limits. I clasped my hands into a ball and slammed it straight down. The shimmer shattered. Browbeat tilted his head to the side, dodging my attack and elbowed me in the face. The blow knocked me off his body.
We separated, but I would not let him get back up so easily. This time I took the initiative, charging straight at him and jumping for a knee-strike. He blocked it with ease, but he didn't realize my body was still moving from the momentum. I'm still not entirely sure how I managed to do it, but I grabbed his shoulders and pulled myself up, hoisted above his body before swinging my body back down and throwing him as I descended. His body sailed through the air and slammed into the wall.
I refused to relent and charged again, rearing my fist back as I ran. I threw it forward once I was within range. To my frustration, Browbeat dodged again, this time side-stepping into my blindspot and sucker-punching me in the stomach. He followed up with an uppercut, then a corkscrew to the face. I staggered back and quickly shook it off. Browbeat closed the distance again and went for an elbow-strike. I blocked it and retaliated with a head butt.
The blow caused him to stagger, blinking and swaying on his feet. Seizing the advantage, I swung my fist into his stomach, knocking the wind out of his sails. He gasped and choked, no doubt finding it hard to breathe. Without wasting any moment, I spun and delivered a reverse roundhouse kick to his head, my heel connecting to his cheek and sent him spiraling to the ground.
I was about to resume my assault when I found myself stopping. My body swayed as I felt a sense of fatigue wash over me. I clicked my tongue when I realized that my time limit was up.
Whenever I entered combat, my combat prowess increased for a short time. For one hundred and eight seconds, or 3 minutes, I could hit harder than normal. This boost in power only happened when my brain recognized that I was in danger, and the only way out was to fight. This made fights against weaker foes easy and quick, especially if they were drones, but against experienced opponents like Browbeat and Armsmaster, it didn't matter if my attacks were stronger for a short duration. Having powered-up fists meant nothing if I couldn't hit them.
Browbeat was already back on his feet. I would have gone after him were it not for the fact that his forehead was bleeding. In the middle of his forehead, the spot where I head butted him, there was an open wound.
"Oh, fuck, are you okay?!" All intent to fight left me. I went too far! God dammit, and I was just told not to do that! I really do need learn how to control my hits! "I am so sorry, I didn't mean to—!"
I reached out to him, and in the next second, Browbeat grabbed my wrist, pulled me toward him, and threw me over his chest. I hit the ground, laying flat on my stomach. Browbeat pinned me to the ground, knee pressed down on my spine while keeping my arm twisted behind my back. To my shock and dismay, he produced a knife somewhere on his person, the blade leveled against my neck—right against an artery.
"Do you give?"
I stared in disbelief, unable to find the words. Miss Militia spoke in my place over the PA system. "That's enough, you two. Training's over. Nice work."
In an instant, Browbeat's muscular form deflated. In the Ward's place was Trent, as thin and lean as ever. He removed himself from my back and offered me his hand. I stared at it warily, wondering if this was another ploy for me to drop my guard before I grabbed his hand and pulled myself up. He hoisted me up.
"First off, that was a cheap trick!" I glared. "And secondly, where did you even keep that?! Why do you even have that?!"
"Lesson two, never doubt what your opponent may or may not have on them, even if it isn't actually on their person. Trust me, being paranoid can and will save your ass," Trent smiled wryly before he grimaced, wiping some dripping blood from his forehead. "And we were in the middle of a test. It only stops when one of us gives up, and last I checked, I didn't say I gave. For what it's worth though, this really does hurt like hell. You have a very hard head, do you know that?"
I at least had the decency to look embarrassed.
When we returned to the main room, Miss Militia gave me quite the tongue-lashing as I expected. I lost myself in the heat of battle. Trent did not hold what happened against me, arguing in my place that the test was to see how I fared against another Brute, so injuries like a bruised head were acceptable. Despite his words, I agreed with Miss Militia's criticisms. I don't know why I get so worked up in the middle of a fight, but I need to learn how to control myself better. If I act as I did in that video, no one was going to feel safe around me. Not if I fought like a feral animal.
After getting his wound treated, Trent took his leave, though not before clapping my shoulder. "When you got the time, stop by the Lounge."
I nodded, not really getting what he wanted. Maybe he was going to give me some advice. He seemed well trained and barely let-up. Trent smiled and waved as he left, vanishing behind the door.
Miss Militia then escorted me to the medical wing. The room was as plain and uncomfortable as I remembered it, except this time there were more occupants than when I was here. There were a few PRT troopers lying in their cots, sporting bruises and burns. One in particular had a disgusting patch of burnt flesh on the right side of his face, and his left arm looked as if it had been mangled. The sight of it caused my stomach to churn uncomfortably.
"Not a pretty sight, huh?"
I turned my head. I hadn't noticed her when we came in, but it was hard not to recognize her. There was only one person in the Bay who could pull off the She-Ra look and rock a tiara.
Glory Girl, Victoria Dallon of New Wave, smiled and extended a hand toward me. "This is our first time meeting, right? I'm Glory Girl! Call me Victoria."
"Taylor," I shook her hand. Her grip was tight, but not too tight. "No cape name yet. Still deciding." I let go of her hand and looked back to the burned trooper. "What happened?"
Victoria sighed. "Routine PRT patrol got caught in the crossfire of a cape fight. Lung was involved. Apparently, he decided Stormtiger and Purity needed to die for stepping in his turf. I happened to be in the area when it happened, so me and Velocity helped out. As you can tell, things didn't exactly go as planned."
"They should be lucky to be alive," a demure voice replied. "Most normal people don't last against Lung for long."
The speaker was Panacea, or Amy Dallon. I only ever saw her on TV or in the newspapers, but in person, she looked…tired? That was the best I could describe her. She looked exhausted, bags under her eyes and shoulder sagging. The look on her face said she wanted to be in bed right now and not here, but was resigned to what she was doing.
"Panacea," Miss Militia greeted the healer. "Sorry to call you out like this on short notice."
Panacea shrugged. "I'm used to it," she answered. She stepped away from the trooper she healed and approached the last of her apparent patients—the trooper with the burns. "Do I have your permission to heal you?" The man nodded weakly. She grabbed his hand and frowned.
It was amazing to see it in person. I watched in awe as the burned flesh seemingly unraveled from his skin, twisting and melting and reforming back into smooth, rough skin. By the time the burns were gone, he looked as if he had just gotten done at the barbers and was missing a chunk of hair on the right side. His mangled arm was caked in blood, but the torn flesh pulled itself back together, sinews of red flesh pulling itself shut.
Panacea sighed and stepped away. The man sighed and closed his eyes, falling asleep on the spot.
Victoria flashed her sister two thumbs up. "Nice job, Ames!"
The freckled girl smiled tiredly before she noticed me. She looked surprised for a moment, clearly taken aback by my appearance. I chuckled awkwardly and waved in greeting. "I know, I look like I came out of the cover of a heavy metal band, don't I?"
Amy shook her head. "Er, sorry. I, um, wasn't sure what to expect. Taylor Hebert, right? Or…?"
"No cape name yet."
"I believe the Director told you why we asked you to come here, yes?" Miss Milita went straight to the point, as expected.
The healer nodded. "I got the gist. You want me to see if her Second Trigger left her with any abnormalities, right?"
"That is correct."
There it was again, that term. "I'm sorry, but what do you mean by Second Trigger?" I asked in confusion. "I thought you can only Trigger once?"
"Actually, a person can Trigger twice," Victoria explained. "It's pretty rare, but you know how when a person goes through the worst experience of their life, they get superpowers? Well, a Second Trigger is when someone goes through something that's just as bad as your first Trigger Event, or somehow tops it. You either get a new set of powers, or your current powers get even stronger."
"They're very rare, though," Amy added. "On the other hand, a person can undergo a Double Trigger Event where a person Triggers back-to-back in a short time frame. Double Triggers are more common than a Second Trigger. At least one in a thousand people can have a Second Trigger, whereas one in ten will go through a Double Trigger."
My mind went back to the locker and the day that shadowy cape cornered me after killing Shadow Stalker. I remembered feeling how helpless I was. How no one was going to save me. I felt so lost and afraid in that locker, thinking how I was on my own and that I could rely on no one but myself. I thought about how the only person I could trust to defend myself was I when Shade attacked me. Thinking about how they happened, they couldn't have been more different.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Amy smiled sadly at me. "No one deserves to get outed like that. Are you and your dad doing okay?"
"We're fine, for the most part. We're still waiting on the transfer papers to get settled, and the Director is waiting to get confirmation on a transfer. They should be done near the end of the week though."
"I see," Amy nodded in understanding. I will not deny it; having someone I have never met worry about me was nice. It did not feel like she was pitying me. "Do you mind if I took a look at you?"
"Nope. Poke through my guts to your hearts content, Doctor Dallon," I joked, trying to ease the atmosphere.
Panacea blinked. Victoria, on the other hand, was laughing. "Oh, that is perfect. Ooh, ooh, Amy, we should totally rebrand you as Doc Dallon. What do you think?"
Amy shot down the notion immediately. "Oh, fuck that. There is no goddamn way I will let anyone call me that." She then shot me the dirtiest look she could muster. "Great, thanks! Now she's going to be calling me that for weeks. I hope your happy."
"Sorry?"
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, let's get this over with."
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Uh, I think you mean Chris. Carlos is Aegis.
SkyRig
Wake the f#ck up, samurai.
- Location
- Someplace in California
- Pronouns
- He
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- Pronouns
- He
isn't purity on her racist vigilante stage, they could've just been in the same area.
It would actually be a decent name if she's in a mini team combo with Dennis. Like Battery and Assault, now Clockblocker and Horny.
TMTM™
Your New Waifu
- Location
- In Your Mind-Fuzz
I can't quite put my finger on it, but something here is off.
SkyRig
Wake the f#ck up, samurai.
- Location
- Someplace in California
- Pronouns
- He
They happened to be in the area when shit went down, and while she is a vigilante, she's still technically part of the E88. Also, just because she may have broken off to do her own thing doesn't mean she won't lent a hand to her former allies every now and then.
Chris
later
Needs to be rephrased to either remove the negative (not) or turn into a double negative (add "not" in front of capitalize, or change capitalize->"pass up", or something like that).
Overall I definitely think this flows better than the old 1.4. Happy with the update, looking forward to more!
SkyRig
Wake the f#ck up, samurai.
- Location
- Someplace in California
- Pronouns
- He
*headdesk* God dammit...
Well, at least 1.4 Revised is better according to fan reception.
Fixed. Again.
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- Pronouns
- He
To quote a certain manic who would like to watch the world burn: "Very poor choice of words."
- Location
- Washington
Quoted that because I can't quote the other bit... as for the Browbeat interlude... are we supposed to care? We sure as hell didn't in the regular story and he triggered because he has mental issues and stepped off a boat into water... what more is there to give a shit about?
Not to mention he was a piece of shit with the knife bit. New trigger, outed cape, and you pull that shit? I didn't give a shit about him before, I certainly don't now.
As for the fight, it felt stupid and pointless. They would have tested things with machines for her strength then went with some light sparing, not that shit, not to start with. I would have held a grudge over getting attacked after asking a teammate if he was okay and having him pull a knife on me. She killed a guy on camera... why the fuck are you trying to get a ward dead with that shit?
TheStranger
Of course you realize, this means war.
- Location
- Take a Guess!
- Pronouns
- Who
First off, you must really hate Browbeat something fierce.
Secondly, he was trying to impart a lesson. True, it was a shitty move for him to do, but he does have a point. There are plenty of people who would try something like what he did. It pays to be prepared in the worst case scenario.
Lastly, I think the point of the Browbeat interlude is less about how he came to join the Wards earlier than expected and more about what caused him to join, given SkyRig's mentioning of things happening in the background.
- Location
- Washington
I don't particularly like nor dislike him, he wasn't a particularly amusing character in the original, nor was he particularly annoying.
As for imparting a lesson, this was merely power testing... you work up to this type of shit and it's the exact wrong way to approach someone that has recently triggered via betrayal and all that jazz, it was stupid and poorly thought out and something that the heroes shouldn't be doing.
TheStranger
Of course you realize, this means war.
- Location
- Take a Guess!
- Pronouns
- Who
Doesn't matter if it was just power testing, considering how much of a mess Earth Bet is, Taylor needs to understand that even the slightest hiccup is gonna cost her.
On that note, the whole betrayal thing was only in regards to her choice of friends and in authority figures, and Browbeat is neither. He's just a colleague to Taylor at this point in time.
SkyRig
Wake the f#ck up, samurai.
- Location
- Someplace in California
- Pronouns
- He
In retrospect, the whole "pulling a knife" thing could have been handled a lot better, but as @TheStranger has already stated, Taylor needs to know that even the bottom feeders in the gangs can and will not play fairly and will use every dirty trick in the book to win. That thinking also applies to capes.
Also, I'mma gonna tell you both to stop before an argument about Browbeat's actions this chapter starts and derails the thread. Don't make me get a mod to get you two to stop.
Seriously, don't make me the straight man. I'm the insane guy, not a peacekeeper!
Nothing says you can't be both!
On the Browbeat thing, it's kind of whatever? Like, it could've been handled better, but it still got the point across. Kinda an asshole move, but it was clear after that there were no hard feelings and that he was genuinely trying to teach her an important lesson. It wasn't handled as good as it could've been, but oh well, the traumatized teenager wasn't perfect in teaching the other, more recently traumatized teenager while being watched by the two traumatized adults.
- Location
- Washington
I'm not saying it's not a good lesson to learn, I'm saying it's stupidly counter productive when you're supposed to be testing powers, it's a dick move when oh shit, I might have just given him a brain injury, something that Panacea can't fix....
But yeah, between the stupid horn on her neck that she can't get rid of and the annoying author notes in the chapter rather than at the beginning or the end, I think I'll wander off and let you get back to writing.
- Location
- Sellicks Beach
I think Taylor pass the knife test quite well.
If she was the rabid dog some fear she would have exclated , but instead used common sense and surrended.
Yes it was a dick move and could have backfired badly and should have happened after a few sparing fights, not a full contact fight up first.
If she was the rabid dog some fear she would have exclated , but instead used common sense and surrended.
Yes it was a dick move and could have backfired badly and should have happened after a few sparing fights, not a full contact fight up first.
SkyRig
Wake the f#ck up, samurai.
- Location
- Someplace in California
- Pronouns
- He
...if you don't mind me asking, what is your grievance with the horn on her neck?
- Location
- Washington
It sounds like a really good way to snap your spine (getting it hit), it sounded ugly as hell, it completely outs her even if the shit hadn't already, and I don't recall anyone ending up with one in the crossover so it just comes across as a screw you to Taylor for no reason. (it's been years... so could be wrong on that last one.)
- Location
- Louisville, KY
The Demi-Fiend does have a horn on the back of his neck. It's accurate.
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