Warning: The first scene is rather rough. It may hit some people's triggers, considering the subject matter. I won't go into detail, because it would give away things, but I'm just putting the warning out for you guys. It's short, and it will quickly be concluded, but nonetheless it is emotionally wrought.
I've also, upon further review, added a countdown to the story, so you can know where things are in the events leading up to the next arc.
Special thanks to @Ansraer, @BigBadBen, @Geas, @anothvortex, and another for the assist on this latest chapter.
Germination 2.7
Danny Hebert (T-Minus 17 Days)
The drive back home was made in complete silence. It was probably for the best, because he knew that if either of them said anything right now it would get ugly quickly. He didn't know if he could even put into words the fury and frustration he had for Taylor. If he had known what acceding to his daughter's wishes months ago would entail, he would have strangled the idea in the crib.
No, that was his anger talking. He would not have done something as cruel as that to her. Not when she had been so desperate back then.
But goddamnit, why couldn't she understand what he was trying to do for her? He had seen it so often over his life, men and women becoming so consumed with work that they sacrificed everything that made them human. And at the end of the day, all they had done was burn themselves out and be left with nothing. It had been a pitfall that had nearly consumed himself after Annette's death, and if it hadn't been for Alan, it may have finally pushed him over the edge.
He would never wish that fate upon his daughter. But she was adamant in going down that same path herself. He understood that she felt that she was on a deadline, but averaging four hours of sleep and working eighteen hours a day was not a healthy lifestyle whatsoever.
With school,he hoped she would be able to find a healthy balance. Yes, it would be difficult with what had happened, he wasn't an idiot to know that there was some baggage there. But he felt that a little bit of normalcy returned to her life could only be a good thing. The opportunity to make friends with her peers and be a fifteen year old girl for even a short while would be heaven-sent compared to whatever
this was.
Though, he would have certainly preferred that process to be more natural than being forced from the barrel of a bureaucratic gun.
But the Youth Guard and Child Protective Services were right, even if he disagreed with their methods. Even ignoring her work hours, Taylor needed to have some sort of social life for her development. Schooling just happened to be the best option available, despite Taylor's protests.
Yet, here they were. Immaculata had been a bust, Headmistress Saunders was adamant that she could not offer an exemption for Taylor. It wasn't just the fact that the device had not been approved by the FDA yet (though they were in the process of it, if Taylor at least didn't stop tweaking the damn thing), but because the woman believed that the device would be an unwelcome distraction despite the fact that Taylor needed it in order to see.
So it was to Arcadia that they had gone to next. He had honestly hoped that it would be the solution to the problem. Milton had made it clear to him that the Youth Guard was not going to accept home-schooling for Taylor, both because of Massachusetts state law, but also because it would not provide Taylor with the socialization they believed that she needed.
It had honestly started out well enough, Principal Skinner had done everything to alleviate his concerns, even accepting Taylor retaining her Focus while on campus, as long as it was not used in a disruptive manner. The campus was quite welcoming, and he honestly believed that Taylor would be able to find her footing and flourish in a new environment where she could make new friends and cultivate new interests in a good school.
That had all died a fiery death when Skinner introduced them to Panacea and Glory Girl of New Wave. He knew exactly why Skinner had done so, it was a cheap trick intended to interest Taylor. Meet your heroes and all that, but even he hadn't realized the actual depths of Taylor's resentment for Brockton Bay's most famous healer.
When they had been in that hospital that first week after she had awoken from her coma Taylor had consoled herself that her injuries were only temporary. That any moment Panacea would come into her room and take it all away. It was the type of stories she had heard since the New Wave cape's appearance, that she could heal some of the worst injuries imaginable. It had broken his heart then to watch the hope fade away from her face when he had broken the news.
He had tried to explain to her back then that it wasn't Panacea at fault for not healing her. But himself. The cost of the parahuman rider for their insurance had simply been too costly to maintain. Brockton Bay had the highest premium rate in the nation because it had the highest per capita cape crime in the nation. In a decision between food on the table and protection for something that may never happen, the decision had been obvious.
It was yet another vicious reminder of being a failure of a husband and father.
But he certainly hadn't expected Taylor's reaction. Nor had he expected everything to spin out of control so quickly.
What Victoria Dallon had said was unforgivable. The girl had no right to insult his daughter like that!
But it also couldn't take away the fact the entire situation played perfectly into his daughter's plans. He just couldn't get past the possibility that Taylor had done this deliberately in order to get her way.
He wasn't an idiot. Taylor may be more tech savvy and believe herself clever, but he knew that she was trying to get her GED before she had made that declaration to Skinner. He just hadn't said anything to her because he wanted to believe that she would confide in him, but also that maybe her mind would change once she got the opportunity to replace her memories of Winslow with happier memories of another school.
It's what Annette would have wanted, for their daughter to actually have the opportunity to grow and flourish, surrounded by good friends and even better memories. She would have never wanted Taylor to live like this, obsessing over deadlines and pushing herself to the breaking point.
Yet all of the progress in rebuilding their relationship that they had made after Taylor's disfigurement was gone, and he wasn't even sure anymore if it was something that could be salvaged. Why couldn't she understand that he was on her side?! But they had to face the reality, they had to deal with the hand they had been dealt. If they didn't, then everything Taylor wanted to do would be jeopardized.
Why did Taylor have to be even worse than Annette had ever been, his hands gripped tighter on the steering wheel as he felt a fresh surge of anger roiling. Annette could certainly be righteous and firm in her beliefs, but she could also be willing to admit when things weren't working. It was how she was able to extricate herself from Lustrum because she had recognized what would happen if she didn't.
Taylor had none of the tempering brought by experience. She not only was convinced that her cause was righteous, but it was unquestionable. What made it worse was the fact that
none of them had an understanding of just what was going on in her head. The only time she even chose to engage with any of them was if it revolved around the path of the company and whatever invention she wanted to push out.
There really was no compromise in anything she did, he realized as they pulled into their driveway, and she got out of the truck, already moving towards the house. Even her 'losses' ended up being nothing more than her allowing them to think that they won by getting her to accept their guidance. Yet, at the end of it, she still somehow won, didn't she?
Just who was his daughter anymore? All he could see now was the lies, deception, and manipulation laid out before him. It was something Annette never abided, and she most certainly abhorred, but Taylor embraced it wholeheartedly.
Just how far did the rabbit hole go? And was there even a shred of the daughter that has been so happy and showed so much promise left?
A daughter who didn't embrace that the ends justified the means!
Somehow, with no recollection whatsoever, he found himself at the entryway to what was now Taylor's workroom. It had previously been Annette's office, but the increasing demands for Taylor to have a workspace had resulted in the conversion.
But standing there, watching as she worked on a laptop, as if nothing in the world had transpired, caused something in him to snap.
Didn't she even care what she had just done?!
"What is your problem," the words escaped his lips before he could stop them. But really, at this juncture, he didn't want to. He was sick and tired of all of this.
Taylor didn't even bother looking away from her computer.
"I don't know what you mean. What problem?"
It was exactly the wrong thing to say, because he damn well knew that she knew what he was talking about. Only an idiot wouldn't, and his daughter was most certainly not one.
His father had been a flawed man. He tried his best but had his demons. One in particular had been his anger. It was an ugly, vicious thing that was slow to build, and while it wasn't always violent when it did become too much to hold back, the times that it did haunted him even now.
He had sworn to himself that he would never become as bad as his father. Both for Annette and, later, Taylor. He would not be his father.
But that promise fell to the wayside as he stormed forward, grabbed the laptop and slammed it shut with a crack. Taylor only barely ripped her fingers away from being caught as she wheeled away from him a flash of fear crossing her features before it became shock.
"Stop ignoring me," he snarled, "What the hell is your problem, Taylor? Do you have any idea what you've done?"
That shock slowly morphed as he yelled at her, becoming a rictus of her own rage.
"What I've done," she asked, raising her voice, "how about what you've done?!"
"Don't change the subject!"
"No. This is the damn subject," she shot her feet, causing him to rear back slightly, his anger cooling slightly, "You talk to me like I'm the problem! Maybe you should look in the mirror! Because it seems at every turn you seem to be standing there throwing an obstacle in front of me!"
"You have to go back to school!"
"No I don't. And I won't. I'm not going back to that hell when I have better things to do with my life."
"This is your education-"
"I already got my education," she snapped, and he felt that he was somehow losing in the fight to get through to his daughter, as she ripped off her tinted glasses, revealing her milky white eyes, "got my valedictorian right here!"
"That's not what I mean and you damn well know it," he yelled as he slammed his hand against the wall, the wall giving in with a dent. A sick part of him was disappointed when Taylor did not flinch, but tears were starting to trek down her cheeks, "This is for your own good, Taylor. You can't continue like this, the Youth Guard is adamant that you go back to school or they will take action."
Why couldn't she see that he was trying this best for her?! He didn't like this anymore than she did, he wanted this all to happen naturally. If he could fight against this, he would have. But they couldn't. Why couldn't she understand?!
"Oh, I thought you were my father and not a Youth Guard employee. My mistake!"
"Taylor, stop that! I'm doing the best I can for you. How about you get your head out of your ass and reciprocate for yourself for once! This isn't even you anymore! You're so obsessed with all of this you are sacrificing everything for it. Where the hell is the daughter that was full of life and wanted the world?!"
"She died screaming for her daddy as her world burned and went dark."
He reeled back at her scream, the anger that he had previously held becoming a guttering flame as it found itself replaced with ice cold horror as he processed what his daughter had said.
And even then he couldn't quite grasp it.
"What," he whispered, but it was loud enough to be heard.
Taylor seemed to lose all of her fire too as she slumped back back into her chair
"You don't understand," her voice cracking, "You can't understand. Imagine every night you go to sleep you watch the world die. Sometimes it's sudden and abrupt. In others, humanity fights, but it inevitably loses in the end. In others, it's simply snuffed out like a candle in the wind."
"Now imagine, you have solutions to many of these ends in your head. Land reclamation. Food supply. Infrastructure. Energy. Logistics. Medicine. Robotics. Even weapons that can take the fight to the Endbringers. But they are technology and concepts that are generations ahead of the existing tech base."
"Now add in the fact you have, at best, a decade to bridge that gap of nearly a century of knowledge and technique. I could have us sail the stars while blessed with functional immortality within my lifetime and you want me to go back to high school."
The bitter laughter that escaped her lips as she shook her head rent his heart.
He had no idea. How could he know?! He had thought that Taylor had been hyperbolic in order to get her way.
"How am I supposed to know any of this when I have to start a fight to get you to talk to me?!"
"Because every single time I have hinted at it, you didn't want to listen! Instead, you have this damn image in your head of what I should be! And when I don't fit that you want to fight me at every fucking turn until I conform!"
"I want you to be successful, Taylor! Why can't you understand that?! I'm worried more about you! Everything I'm doing is to try and prevent you from destroying yourself! Nothing you are doing is a healthy habit! You are working hours no rational human being can stomach. You barely talk to any of us, and when you do, it's only about business. This is far beyond just wanting to make the world a better place, Taylor, this is an obsession and it's going to destroy you!"
"Then let it destroy me," she screamed, "better than shambling through life forgetting even the most basic of things like having a daughter!"
"HOW DARE YOU," the anger thundered back into an inferno as he stormed towards his daughter. When she quailed backwards away from him with terror in her expression did he pause. He slowly turned his head to find the sight of his hand raised, ready to strike his daughter.
The daughter that Annette and he had brought into the world.
Slowly, he lowered his hand, feeling so weak and old suddenly. And he couldn't help but release a sob as he stumbled back, unable to find any surety in the ground, both physically and otherwise, finding his only purchase being to lean against the desk.
It was then that tears began to trek down his face.
He had been about to do the unthinkable. Something he had sworn that he would never do, to never go down the road his father had taken.
"I'm sorry, he croaked, "I'm so sorry, Taylor. Annette," a soft sob escaped his lips, "she was always too good for me. I will never know what she even saw in me. Whenever I asked, she'd just give me a smile, like it was some inside joke. When she died–"
Taylor was unmoved, "I know. I was there, remember? Only I didn't get the luxury to just crawl into a bottle or hide in my fucking office. I had to crawl back from the brink with no help from you, only to find myself pushed back over it because of fucking teenagers masquerading as friends. Why the hell would I endure that bullshit when I could actually be doing something far more useful?!"
He couldn't answer, because he didn't have one. Not with what he had almost done haunting him.
"I thought," he said, still vainly searching for the right words to say, only to find them as fleeting as everything else in his life, the only thing that seemed to come to him was guilt and shame.
He had thought he was doing the right thing by her. The right thing that he knew Annette would have approved, but now, looking at the sightless eyes of his daughter…a daughter that was doing something that he could never dream of.
And all he could see was the fear and contempt in those orbs.
Where had he gone so wrong to where his daughter hated him so stridently?
"I promised you," he whispered, finding the words he needed. An admission, really, but one that needed to be voiced, even as he bonelessly slumped to the floor, "I swore to you…"
That he would never fail her again. It was a promise he had made both to her, but also to Annette, seeing his Taylor harmed so badly, all because of his failure to be a father. He had sworn he would be the father that
she needed.
And despite his promises, he had done what he had always done. When things had become difficult he had folded like a cheap suit. He had known, deep down, that Taylor would never accede to the demands of the Youth Guard, she was too headstrong, too committed to her path. She was nothing like him, and she never would be.
And now he had done everything in his power to not only violate that promise, but also sever every single last remnant of their relationship irrevocably.
Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn't been such a coward after Annette had died and had actually followed after her…
Arms wrapped around him, ripping him from his dark thoughts, and he found her head dug into his shoulder and soft sobs trapped by his shoulder. Numbly, his hands slowly reached up and wrapped around her as well, as he tried to even fathom as to why, after all of this, his daughter was even doing this. After everything he had done, she should hate him!
She then broke the hug.
"I'm sorry," she sniffled, "I shouldn't have said that. I know what Mom meant to you. She meant the same thing to me, and if you had said that…"
"I'm sorry too, Little Owl," was the emotion-laden croak that escaped his lips as he used the nickname Annette had given her, "I keep screwing things up, don't I?"
A small shake of her head was his reward and he found himself missing the long, voluminous hair that she used to have. Another thing robbed from her, yet she still persevered.
"You keep trying your best with what you know."
"But it's not what you need."
He was met with another shake of her head, "What I need is your support, Dad. I'm tired of having to fight with and against you. I know you care, and this is how you express it, wanting a better world for me. But we can't afford that right now, not with what is coming. What I need is for you to be there with me, beside me, and behind me, because it's going to get harder before it gets better."
"But if you want to achieve that, Taylor, you need to take care of yourself as well."
She stared at him for a moment, and despite the mess and puffy eyes, her lips quivered slightly as she offered a small nod.
"You're right."
They then hugged again.
AEH
Victoria Dallon
She knew that the moment that she got home there was going to be trouble. Her mother ran an extremely tight household, and when Carol Dallon was angry, there was always an extra tension that seemed to linger in the air.
It also didn't help that her father was sitting in the living room staring listlessly at the television as it played some sort of variety show. The fact that he was in such a state made her know that whatever was going on, Carol Dallon was unhappy with something, as Mark, while clinically depressed, only closed down this much when her mother was on a warpath.
"Hey Dad,' she greeted, noting out of the corner of her eye Amy slipping up the stairs towards her room. She would say that it was cowardly, but when their mother was angry with something, Amy always seemed to find herself as a target, "Where's Mom?"
"The office. She's in the middle of a phone call."
This drew a frown. While Mom did have an office, she rarely used it, preferring to keep home and work life as separate as possible. It didn't stop it from happening, but when it did, it was usually something that could not be ignored.
"Thanks, Dad," she replied, leaving the living room and going towards the office. The door was surprisingly closed, but coming to a stop right outside she could still hear her mother's voice through it.
"No, I understand perfectly, John. What happened is completely unacceptable and I will be having a discussion with them. I thank you for your client's restraint….Certainly, I think that would be appropriate. How about in a week? Let things cool off and level heads prevail? Yes, thank you. I will call you tomorrow."
Who is John, she thought to herself, even as she listened to her mother end the phone call. The subsequent creaking sound of the chair being leaned back on, along with a soft curse let her know that whatever the discussion was, her mother was not happy.
Gathering her courage, and ready to face whatever firing squad that was being mounted by her mother, she reached up and lightly knocked on the door.
"Come in."
Opening the door, she stepped into the room, focusing upon her mother who was leaning back in the chair, her gaze staring up at the ceiling. Her phone was still in her hand, the arm hanging limply at her side.
Definitely not a good sign.
Carol Dallon's head snapped up, eyes narrowing.
"Ah, Victoria, just who I wanted to see," her tone was tightly controlled, hinting at the burgeoning anger hiding underneath, "sit down."
"Mom, what's going on," was her response, not exactly sure what to make of the situation. What was it that caught her ire, it wasn't like she had done anything wrong lately.
"Sit. Down."
Immediately she obeyed, sitting in the other chair, as Carol messed with something on her phone, before handing it to her.
"Play it."
Looking at the offending device, then back to her mother, she opened her mouth, only to be viciously cut off.
"Victoria Dallon, you will play that video right now, or so help me-"
"Okay. Okay," she relented, not wanting to get both barrels from her mother. Hitting the play button, she watched as it began, but squinted in confusion as to what she was seeing. It was obviously a recording of something, but it was all in a weird blue-violet-magenta hue that provided form to everything, but no real definition.
It was only when she heard Principal Skinner's voice that she realized what she was looking at. Her head snapped from the video to her mother.
"She can't be recording. That's illegal, Mom."
"Just watch!"
Quickly, she did so, watching as the rest of the recording played out. It was only after that it came to an end that she looked up again from the video. But before she could say anything, Carol cut her off.
"First off, Victoria, no, it's not illegal. Even though the recording device is irregular, you were in a public space and are not privy to any privacy. Second, what the hell were you thinking?! Scarface? Are you seven?!"
"It's what the Wards are calling her," it was a childish protest, but it was nonetheless true. It had been Dennis that had first coined the nickname and it had gained traction with the other Wards in the last week. Even Dean had called her that a few times.
"And are you a Ward?! You are a member of New Wave, Victoria! This is the sort of thing that we are supposed to stand against."
"But you have been saying things about her too! Don't try and deny it, you were complaining to Aunt Sarah about Zero Dawn. You said that it was a disgrace to all heroes, trying to make money over what should be a civic service."
"I did. But it was for good reason, our powers should be used for the public good, Victoria. What Zero Dawn is doing is anathema to what capes should be, but
it is legal. And it certainly isn't enough to give you permission to nearly assault the girl, Victoria."
"I was not going to let her stand there and badmouth Amy, Mom."
"You're the older sibling, Victoria, you're supposed to be better! Instead, I find myself not only being disappointed by your actions, but I'm positively livid that I had to be informed of your actions
by the girl's lawyer!"
She blinked, suddenly uncertain. Out of any outcome, she had certainly not expected that lawyers would become involved. As far as she was concerned, Hebert had been in the wrong the entire time, alternating between vicious and out of control. It only reinforced everything Dean had said about Taylor being a villain in rogue's clothing.
"She threatened both Amy and myself," she tried to find the words, not used to being in the hot seat like this with her mother in recent years, "maybe I said some offensive things, but that doesn't excuse what she said, Mom. She called me a Nazi."
She had an inkling when Hebert had called her a member of the Bund Deutscher Mädel, just the name screamed Nazi. She had been further incensed to find it not only be confirmed, but looking at a few of the posters from the time, she couldn't help but notice the resemblance. There was no reason a fifteen year old would know of such things unless they were in that sort of crowd, or even a sympathizer herself.
"And her lawyer has extended her personal apologies for what she said, Victoria. That's why the lawyer has reached out to us in the first place and provided me with that recording instead of posting it all over PHO for the world to see. Do you have any idea of the damage that could have done to New Wave?"
She paled at the thought. Her mother had drilled into their heads how critical personal image was, and one of those things was that the first to establish the narrative was more times than not the one who won in the end. Even if the recording was edited, it was likely that it would be taken as the truth, even over her protests.
"That video could have raked us over the coals, Victoria. So, I consider it a relief that in spite of her unheroic nature, Miss Hebert is willing to even entertain forgiveness after you mocked her trigger event."
"Her trigger event?! Mom, this is what she wants. From everything I have heard, before she was an attention seeker with a victim mentality. It doesn't look like she's changed her stripes even now. We shouldn't be apologizing to her when she was the one that instigated this entire thing!"
"Victoria Anastasia Dallon," her mother snapped, "I taught you better than to listen to hearsay. There is nothing that girl could have done to earn having chemicals thrown in her face! And I will not tolerate you insinuating otherwise. You
will apologize to her. Or so help me, you
will not like the consequences!"
On one hand, she could further argue with her mom. She was right dammit, there was something wrong with Taylor Hebert! On the other hand, however, she recognized a lost cause. Her mother was dead set on doing this and there was nothing she could say to change her mind.
"Fine," she huffed, she'd do what her mother wanted despite her protests.
That didn't mean, however, that she had changed her mind on Taylor Hebert. She'd keep an eye on her and when the girl finally revealed her true colors, she'd be there to stop her.
"Can I go now?"
"Yes. To your room. You're grounded, young lady. We'll discuss how long that should be over dinner."
"Mom!"
"Ignoring your aura, which we will be having a discussion about, you nearly assaulted someone with your powers, Victoria. You could have seriously hurt her, and I didn't raise you to act like this. So you will take your punishment, and you will improve! Do I make myself clear, young lady?"
Once again, she found herself helpless with the situation, only frustrating her further.
Grudgingly, she ground out a "Crystal," before getting up out of her chair and storming out of the office, passing by Amy who had been surprisingly waiting outside. She didn't even bother to acknowledge her sister before floating towards her room.
But she couldn't help but hear, as she went, Amy talking to her mother.
"Carol, we need to talk about my work at the hospital."
AEH
Agnes Court (T-Minus 15 Days)
Fifteen years old!
Even now, three hours after she had found out, she was having difficulty grasping the notion.
There was one thing that was more critical than anything in her field and that was information. It had served her well during her rise to power and she had continued investing considerable resources into expanding her web to a continent-wide machine. It allowed her to keep ahead of the Protectorate, and it certainly gave her a leg up over her competitors.
It was through that web that she had finally had a breakthrough in ascertaining the identity of who Uppercrust had been hiding away from her. Her contacts within Blackguard, a rather large private military and security firm on the east coast, had made her aware of the sudden change in behavior and movement of one John Milton of Wulfrahm & Hart.
On the surface, this would usually mean nothing. Sudden changes in behavior were not out of the ordinary for one of the best lawyers on the east coast. But the fact that he had suddenly deviated and made a beeline for Brockton Bay of all places, despite not having any known clients there, had set off enough red flags that her contacts felt that she should be made aware.
Further digging had provided her with a name, Zero Dawn, and finally, the girl that Uppercrust was trying, and like everything else in regards to their cold war, failing to protect.
What she hadn't expected was the age of the Tinker, Taylor Hebert. Her first assumption had been that Uppercrust was laundering money, because investing in a fifteen year old untested Tinker was the height of madness. And yet, there had to be more to it. There were far simpler and more efficient schemes to launder money, schemes that didn't need to rely on the whims of a teenager.
It was the fact that she knew Uppercrust too well that she hadn't immediately written Taylor Hebert off. The man was too smart for his own good and he was risk-averse to the core, so there had to be something to the girl that would cause him to act the way he was.
The answer though, even after spending the time since conducting a deep dive in Taylor, remained elusive. Ignoring the video of her obvious trigger event, there was only a smattering of information available. What was intriguing was not only the patents that had been published here or there, but the scientific articles that were published under a pseudonym that dealt with her 'Focus'. This was something that Tinkers should be incapable of doing. Their inventions 'just worked' and that was that.
So why was Uppercrust investing in the girl? That was the million dollar question, literally. There was no reason to invest such a sum of money into a girl that had medical technology that would only affect maybe six percent of the population In the United States at best. Perhaps he was playing the long game, was this yet another desperate attempt of Uppercrust to find a tinkertech Hail Mary to cure himself?
It went without questions she was going to assign assets to find out more, but that took time and carried its own risks. Brockton Bay was, for all intents and purposes, a no man's land for outside cape interests. You could go in, but there was a high chance you weren't getting out intact. Between Lung, Kaiser, and the whispers of a third player, inserting her assets into the fray could end up being a net loss of men and material.
Humming softly, she tapped her well-manicured finger on her desk. There was an option, though she was loath to send her. Incognito was an excellent asset, being one of her best wetwork and intelligence operatives. She had the ability to shapeshift into anyone with the corresponding genetic material, and in the case of capes, could manifest a weaker iteration of their power.
The downside however, was that the girl had no loyalty to her. The only reason she was able to be controlled was because she kept her family hostage as leverage. It was effective, certainly, but you could only keep a predator caged for so long until it grew restless and looked for an escape.
It was why she kept her in her area of operations, it was easier to keep an eye on the girl that way. But sooner or later she would have to figure out a more permanent solution. She was not above having the brat mastered or mind-wiped, her skills were just too valuable to part with.
But was sending her to Brockton Bay worth the risk? The longer the leash, the more freedom for the girl to break free, after all. Even with her handler team, she wasn't sure it was the most prudent of decisions. She needed more information.
And there was one way to do that, she decided, reaching for her phone.
Time to shake the tree, she mused.
AEH
Gene Fontaine / Uppercrust
Today was turning into one of the increasingly few good days. Each day in which he didn't have to struggle to breath was a godsend, providing him a calm within the storm that he would never willingly give away if he had the choice.
What it did provide him was a sense of purpose and accomplishment in that he could actually fulfill some work he had been leaving on the wayside.
In this case, he was doing his best to improve a concept for a mobile hardlight defensive dome system. It was something he had created over a decade ago, selling a semi-trailer mounted version to the PRT to significant success. What he wanted, though, was to miniaturize it to where it could be man-portable. The lives that could be saved if he could produce even a dozen of them was worth the expenditure of time and effort.
Alas, it was still proving to be an elusive achievement. The theory and concept behind the design was correct, and it would work, the problem was finding a viable power source. Therein lay the problem, as there was no energy source available that wouldn't unnecessarily burden the carrier, and even then it would only provide a brief instance of protection, certainly not enough to make a difference.
Throwing his stylus on the table, he released a sigh, thinking about the thrice-damned power problem again. Nothing short of a nuclear reactor would provide enough energy to make the device viable, and even
if they could miniaturize something like that, there was a snowball's chance in hell that anyone would wish to strap it to their back, let alone carry it around in a high-risk environment.
Maybe Hebert has something up her sleeve, he wondered, before cracking a smirk at the thought.
There were expectations, and then there were expectations Taylor Hebert danced upon the coffin of. It was a conclusion he had come to after the latest fanfare with the Department of Energy. He certainly knew what the girl was promising, and what she was likely capable of, but seamlessly connecting the two was certainly a challenge.
There was a certain dark amusement to be had at the idea of a teenage girl running circles around the authorities. While it was certainly something he would not do in a million years, he couldn't dismiss the effectiveness of what she had done.
He had to pity her handlers though. Between Jean and her father, it was obvious that Taylor was a barely contained force of nature.
There was some concern, however, shared only between Alain and himself, that Taylor was pushing too hard, too fast, and spreading herself too thin. Between the Focus, the reactor design that the DOE was looking at covetously, and now her machines that she was trying to secretly rush out for the next Endbringer fight, there was some credence to that thought.
It was probably going to need an intervention soon, and Alain was keeping him in the loop so far. He trusted Jean, and Danny Hebert meant well, but Alain had the necessary distance to stay objective. However, he was worried that Alain would take more extreme measures if he felt it necessary. It was something to keep an eye on just to ensure that Alain's pragmatism did not come back to haunt them
But, by and far, despite her youth, and despite the fact that she was laboring under near-Sisyphean conditions, she was making significant headway. And he could not be any more proud in that his instinct had so far been proven prescient.
While she may never become a part of it, he nonetheless had come to view her as the future that he envisioned and wished for the Elite. While there was no imaginable way for Tinkers to be fully integrated into the larger economy, they could still succeed as a niche, parallel economy acting in support of the larger whole. It may never be a perfect fit, but it would at least it would provide those who were gifted (or cursed) with a Tinker power to have a place to flourish and become successful.
It was a world that would not be burdened with the insanity wrought by NEPEA-5. It was an act that was done in a period of panic and fear, and perfectly understandable, but the matter remained that it was a mistake. It was too restrictive, and it should have been a stopgap measure in order to buy time for the larger whole to come to grips with the Tinker shock. Instead, the politicians and corporations realized that, like almost every other bill passed in history, it provided an opportunity that could be used to further their own agendas.
And as a result, Tinkers suffered because of this greed and lack of vision.
But what Hebert represented was a challenge to the current status quo. But it also created a beachhead into creating debate on the matter itself. It would likely be a slow thing, and it was reliant upon Miss Hebert's continued growth. But, maybe in his lifetime, he'll be able to witness a much needed change to how capes are utilized beyond the childish black-and-white, cops-and-robbers mentality that the PRT and Protectorate continued to encourage.
The sound of his phone ringing brought him out of his thoughts. He couldn't help but frown at the ringtone, Bitch by Olympic Runners, because it meant that Agnes Court was once again deigning to bother him, thereby ruining what had started out as such a promising day.
Releasing a sigh, he picked it up, before hitting the accept call button and placing it to his ear.
"Yes."
"Taylor Hebert," Agnes' voice came through the phone, and he froze, a chill running down his spine.
It was inevitable that sooner or later, Agnes would be able to divine Taylor's identity. But, he had not expected it for at least a few more months. Fibonacci had assured him that the systems, despite the abundance of physical security vulnerabilities, were secure from Agnes' intelligence network, and he had personally ensured that any documentation that could indicate any connections between Hebert and himself were undiscoverable.
Which meant that Court's intelligence network was much larger and more effective than he expected.
"Taylor Hebert? Who's that," he riposted, intending to buy time as he considered what could be done. There was no point in trying to deny it, Agnes was clearly confident enough in her intelligence to call him and rub her 'victory' in his face.
"Don't insult my intelligence, Gene."
The first thing he would need to do was reach out to Alain. He was better equipped for providing assistance and protection than he was. He may have some ideas on how they could protect Taylor.
"No, I'm just insulting your single-minded obsession with irritating me, Agnes," he shot back, opening one of his terminals and typing up an email for Alain. At least this way he would have head's up before the end of this unfortunate phone call, "So what do you want to know?"
"May I inquire as to what you are thinking, Gene? This is not how the Elite operates. We do not just willingly hand large sums of money to outsiders. They have the choice to either join willingly and enjoy the fruits of our success or they are forcibly made so. There is no third option."
"Respectfully Agnes, that is how you operate. I have never, nor will ever, subscribe to that self-destructive philosophy. In the end, it makes us no better than the Protectorate that the original founders of the Elite vowed to stand against. Maybe you should ask yourself why you seem to have so many fires going on in your neck of the words before dictating policy to me."
"Yet here I am where they no longer stand," she purred, resulting in him grinding his teeth at the memories of the original founders, "you're so obsessed in hanging onto the past glories that you forget that of the original leadership, only Gentilhomme and yourself remain. You were all satisfied with keeping the Elite small, but it has been under
my leadership that the Elite have expanded on the west coast. It has been under
my leadership that we have achieved more profit and progress than the entire time the Elite existed previously. So you tell me, Uppercrust, who has the better policy?"
"And how many lives have been ruined in your unbridled quest for profit, Bethany?"
The silence on the other line was worth it, as childish as dropping Agnes Court's real name. It was something that the woman hated, because in her mind, it trivialized who she was as Agnes Court.
"When changing the world, you can't fret over the sacrifices that are made in the pursuit of the greater good."
"As long as it's not you making the sacrifice, right, Bethany?"
"ENOUGH! I did not call you to debate philosophy with you, Gene. I want to know what you are planning to do with Taylor Hebert!"
He sat there, turning in his chair to look out of the window. Already the email had been sent and replied to. It was something he always respected from Alain, the man was the very definition of a workaholic. But it was the title that made him pause and think about his words. Two single word sentences, one that caused him to consider the path forward.
It was something they had discussed over a week ago. They had both known that they were running against the clock with Agnes Court. The woman's incessant need for control would lead to her becoming captured in the orbit of Zero Dawn, and it could be nothing but hostile. Anything that could not be controlled had to be destroyed by the woman, and Taylor Hebert would not be an exception to this rule.
But was this what he wanted? Up until three months ago, he had been, not necessarily satisfied, but he had accepted that once he passed Agnes would roll in and take over his operations. He had instead done his best to ensure that the people under his employment had every resource available to make a clean break when he inevitably passed.
Not once in the entire time had he considered open war with Agnes. He believed that it would be a wasteful endeavor and one that he would inevitably lose anyways. But worse than that, it would likely end with the Elite's destruction, as any victory that Agnes would be able to achieve would likely be pyrrhic as it would gain the attention of Legend in addition to the losses she would suffer.
Did he wish to be responsible for the death of the dream that the Elite had originally represented when they had banded together what seemed a lifetime ago?
If he had been asked that three months ago, he would have most certainly said no. But now? With what Taylor Hebert represented?
He would go to hell and back.
Scorched. Earth.
Indeed.
"I would have thought by now that you would be able to put together what I'm doing, Bethany. I find myself rather disappointed but unsurprised that a sociopath would be unable to understand the most human of pursuits."
"And what is that?"
"A legacy."
And with that, he ended the call, and immediately got to work calling Alain.
AEH
Christopher Siopis / Kid Win (T-Minus 14 Days)
Flopping onto his bed with a sigh, he could not help but stare at the ceiling of the dorm that served as his home away from home at the PRT headquarters and lose himself in his thoughts.
The last two weeks since the inspection had been an ever-mounting blur of anger and frustration.
Despite his contributions in the inspection, somehow it felt like he had done nothing except lose. He still didn't understand the situation, they had caught Taylor Hebert working on nuclear reactors. That was something no Tinker
should be doing.
Yet Taylor Hebert remained free. The only answer that he could get was that the investigation was closed, and any attempt to get an explanation on the why was met with a wall of silence. Any attempt to reach out to Piggot, who he had believed was on his side, was also met with silence.
After all that Piggot had said to him about his future, it, like everything else, had been a lie. He had been discarded and that, there was no way to deny it, angered him intensely. He wanted nothing more than to march up to her office and tell her exactly what he thought of what she had done and what she was. But it was a fantasy and he knew it, Piggot would not tolerate it, and it would only end in censure.
So, he was left adrift, his opportunity wasted, and there was a dark part of him that wondered if it was somehow his fault. Was there something that he had missed that in the end hurt his opportunity? If so, what was it?
It was maddening, because no one would give him any fucking answers!
If there was anything that at least provided a modicum of balm upon his nerves, it was that Miss Militia had taken over the Wards. It was something long in coming and should have been done a long time ago, 'Miss Mom' had always tried to be there for the Wards and actually made an effort to get to know them, unlike Piggot, or, Scion forbid, Armsmaster.
And that was the other major development, one that had been dropped on their laps four days ago: Armsmaster was resigning. It wasn't officially announced yet, and he still didn't know what to think on that matter. On one hand, he felt glad that man was finally leaving, for a supposed paragon of heroes, the man was a shitty leader and an even shittier mentor. But on the other hand, he
had been their leader, for good or ill, and even in spite of his failures, he still remained one of the most effective members of the Brockton Bay Protectorate.
It was a disgusting thought, having to provide credit to the man, but he would be dishonest with himself otherwise.
But it still galled him. What if Armsmaster had actually put as much effort in mentoring him as he did in his duties as a hero, just how far could he have gone? How far could they have both gone? If Armsmaster had just invested even an iota of effort, they could have done so much more together in helping Brockton Bay. Instead, all he ever got from the man was indifference and a lack of any true support, Armsmaster just going through the motions, not truly caring at what he was capable of. And when he had something worthwhile, the man had simply told him to get rid of it.
No, he saw what Armsmaster was now. The man only cared about himself and his own ego. There could only be one person on the pedestal, and that was Armsmaster. That was why he was resigning, because he realized his little pedestal wasn't on as solid ground as he had believed, and he could be discarded just like Chris had been.
A small smirk crossed his features at the thought, bringing a little bit of enjoyment to this entire shitshow.
The sound of a knock on his door ripped him from his thoughts, as he craned his head up towards the door.
Another knock drew a huff from him as he got off his bed and walked to the door before opening it.
The last person he would have expected was at the door, looking rather awkward dressed in street clothes, the only admission that he was a cape was the domino mask secured to his face.
"Armsmaster-"
"Please. Just Colin," his former mentor said, "do you have a minute, Kid Win?"
He honestly wanted to tell his former superior to go fuck himself and the words were on his lips before he paused.
The fact that Armsmaster was not only visiting him, but doing so in civilian attire, was extraordinarily strange. He could count on a single hand how many times he had ever seen the man completely out of his costume.
"Sure," he said, leading him into his small room, noting how the other man was looking around it. He planted himself in his work chair, thereby denying the other man any place to sit.
"So what did you want?"
He wasn't shocked at the silence that met him. If he was awkward, then Armsmaster was the exemplar of socially inept. It was a small miracle that the man was somewhat capable of reading a room correctly.
"I take it you are aware of my upcoming resignation."
"I am," he answered, resisting the urge to add snark to his response. It said a lot on how fast his opinion on the man had declined. But, to be perfectly honest, Armsmaster honestly deserved it now that his eyes were opened to the man. Hell, his eyes were opened to everyone.
They were all part of the problem.
"Then, I won't draw this out," the older man finally said, "I want to apologize to you, Christopher. For everything.
This time he couldn't help himself from reacting, his hands clenching on the arms of the chair as every indignation and vestige of frustration that had been stoked over the last week roared into an inferno.
"You. Apologize," the last word spat from his lips like a rotted fruit, "you really think you have that option, Armsmaster? After a year of ignoring and denigrating my work. A year of me begging you for help, you think you can walk in here and apologize to me?"
"Your anger is understandable. I was not a good leader or mentor when I should have been," he couldn't help the snort that escaped from him, it was just so rich that now the man was making these admissions in the twilight of his time with the Protectorate, "and I know that I did all of you a disservice, that's why I want to try and at least, before I'm gone, make some amends."
"And how are you going to do that?"
"There's nothing I can do to truly make up for my neglect, Christopher. But what I can do is at least try and do something to make things better. Clockblocker's father will be receiving treatment from Panacea tomorrow. Vista's home life is under investigation for abuse and neglect, and her costume is under review. I've personally recommended that it is redesigned with adequate personal protection for her."
His tempered rage guttered, and he blinked, not quite believing what he was hearing. Armsmaster was doing
what? The man had never cared a lick for any of them. It was a small miracle if he paid any attention to them outside of the field. This was…
The older man then stepped forward and placed a thumb drive on the desk in front of him.
"Worst of all, was how I treated you, Chris," he admitted, "I was in your position when I first started as a hero, trying to figure out what my specialization was. I was lucky to have
the greatest Thinker take me under his wing and provide me the guidance that I needed. But when it was my turn to continue the example he provided, I didn't. I was too obsessed with fame and glory by being the man who had answers and could make a difference."
He took a deep breath, and Chris found himself looking between the thumb drive and his former leader.
"I failed you, Chris. I failed Hero. And I will have to live with that failure for the rest of my life. But what I can do for you, is at least provide you some of that guidance you deserved when you first came to me. On that thumb drive is notes and documentation on ideas that should help make improvements to the stabilization of the energy flow regulator on the alternator cannon that has been plaguing you. "
"But…why," he was at a loss, looking again at the thumb drive, "I thought you were against it? Why are you even helping me?"
"As I told you last time, it's a brilliant design, but they will never let you build it. And even if you somehow outsmart them and get the budget approved, the parts built and the space to see it assembled, they'll only ever let you use it on an Endbringer. I wasn't against it, and I should have explained to you why I was treating your design so callously. This isn't Hero's Protectorate anymore, where you can just design without constant oversight. You have to work with the system in order to get approval, and I should have explained that to you instead of dismissing you."
He then trailed off, losing himself in thought for a moment, obviously considering what he was going to say. And for some reason, he found he couldn't find it within him to call it out.
"One of the best lessons Hero imparted to me, and something I should have passed to you, is that failure is one of the best educators for Tinkers. You can't learn unless you have the opportunity to fail. That's why I've also added a few safety suggestions for you to add to the design in the event that if something goes wrong, you can learn from it. There's also something else. A suggestion, I guess. I hope you can put all of this to good use and wish you luck going forward."
His words given, Armsmaster then turned and left the room, leaving him sitting there his mouth agape.
He sat like that for a few more moments, before he snatched the thumb drive and inserted it into the port on his computer, immediately opening the drive.
He found several files, each one organized and distinctly labeled.
But in the middle of it, was one file, simply labeled:
Power Research Suggestions.
For a brief instant, he considered not opening it, but the expression Armsmaster had, and the fact that he honestly was curious as to what the man could offer or say. It was too late for the man to make up anything for him, but if there was something that he had learned from Piggot and this broken system, it was that using people for your own gains was permissible and even rewarded.
So he accessed the simple file, idling noting that it was a word document before it opened.
But what he greeted him in the file caused his mind to come to a complete stop as he stared blankly at what rested on the screen, before his heart started racing and mind started whirling.
Chris,
After looking over your hoverboard and alternator cannon blueprints and their components, might I suggest looking into modular design concepts. I feel that you could improve on the plug-and-play synergy that always exists in your designs by doing so. The knowledge you could gain from the research should vastly improve your design repertoire going forward.
I know there is nothing I can possibly ever do to make up for what I have done to you and your peers. But, if you ever have any questions, please, do not hesitate to ask me and I'll do my best to try and help.
Colin Wallis.
