Warning: This chapter features a certain line of logo'd panties. Enjoy.
Special thanks to my lovely co-author and wife,
@hellgodsrus, without whom I would never would have been able to take part in creating half my fics. Prime Betas
@Tamahori and
@32nd_freeze for being betas and feeding me validation and feedback between updates.
Duality
3.4
-.-.-
Breakfast continued like that for - a little while. Longer than I normally had breakfast with Annette, that was for sure. At some point Mark wandered away from the table - Victoria shot him a worried glance, then one at her mom, then back at her food - but otherwise… it all just felt so weirdly formal and lavish. Like a couple of those parties Emma's dad had dragged Emma and I to when we were younger. Which I guess made sense since Emma's dad worked with Brandish but. Weird.
I ended up walking out with Amy and Victoria. Victoria wasn't allowed to fly Amy in based on being grounded, and apparently that was enough of an excuse to take me with them so I knew where the bus was.
"I'll miss you at school today. Even though the whole different years, different classes things." Victoria gave me another quick hug. "Ames'll miss you too."
"No she won't."
"No I won't."
"Awww, who's a cute lil hedgehog."
"Ruffle my hair again and I'll give you dimples."
We all had a little laugh at that. "Hey, uh. It's probably rude to ask but um. Mr. Dallon…?" What did I even say?
Seemed weirdly passive - his smiles never reached his eyes - is he okay?
"Oh." Victoria's smile fell. "He's got - well. Dad's pretty severely depressed? He has up days and down days. Amy can diagnose what meds he needs now rather than playing roulette with what doctors suggest, but. He doesn't always remember to take them, and they don't always help."
Oh yeah. She doesn't do brains. Kinda weird, given she can do everything else.
"Ah. I'll - keep that in mind." I nodded slowly. Would Dad be like that if Annette had been the one driving me to Emma's place? I had no idea, it was so - difficult to remember what he was like. Too young, too many hits to the head. Or… maybe I wasn't meant to remember. Maybe if I had, I'd have left Mom sooner. "Have fun at school without me, don't bring back my homework." I grinned.
"Now I
have to do that." Amy snickered. "Wouldn't want that atrophied lump in your skull to fall any further behind now, would we?"
"
Amy," I whined, giggling. "I'll have you know this atrophied lump has pretty good grades. I can still remember all the notes I wrote last week." And how it felt to be in the closet with Abby, and the shirt she was wearing when she first asked if she could sit next to me, and the colour of Als eyes, and - "Now that I think about it, I can remember a
lot of stuff. Pity it's not the important bits."
"We'll get her. Promised you." Victoria gently bumped her fist into mine. "Good luck with the amazing Beard this afternoon."
Afternoon - shit, I hope that doesn't run through my date.
"Make sure to actually
tell him useful information." Amy seemed to think for a moment then patted my shoulder. "See you."
"See you later, girls." I waved as they climbed onto the bus. Now I had the whole of three minutes on the sidewalk to myself as I walked back to the Dallon's house. I - couldn't really call it home, not yet.
It was nice. It felt comfortable. But it felt… detached. Different. Like I was just a stranger staying the night, except it was a lot of nights with no end in sight. Brandish was nice but - god, so awkward to talk to her. Mark seemed nice but I kind of knew how depression felt. The lack of energy or will to
do anything. When the tears for Dad had dried up and I was left a husk with no idea how to handle moving on without such a huge part of my life - without Mom's other half - and his job
was the main income for the household I think, though that worry never occurred to me until a lot later. Things had certainly been a lot tougher financially afterwards. Ah, the blissful ignorance of youth, where I took a bed, a roof, and dinner for granted, if I hadn't been naughty.
I still wasn't sure how to handle Dad being gone. I guess I was less handling it and more… being adapted to it. I still missed him, a huge hole cut out of me, but time dulled the edges. More a dull, everpresent ache than the sharp ragged hole torn from my chest.
I swallowed and shook myself down before stepping inside again. All I had to do now was… wait for Armsmaster. The amazing 'Beard'. It wasn't like I had my computer or anything to read or watch to pass the time until he arrived - all my stuff was
not here. What would I even tell him? What would he ask? He was a cape who made things - like Mom. Would that change how he saw things?
Would he think I was
wrong for leaving?
I probably should've mentioned to Brandish that there were still some library books in my room. Maybe the PRT Forensics team could return them for me so I don't have to worry about overdue fees. I could do it now, maybe, ask Brandish for some advice on talking with Armsmaster while I'm at it - but at the same time, I really wanted to avoid interacting with her. Not because she was a bad person or anything, just - I felt so out of my depth whenever we talked. Like I kept missing something underlying her words, like there was another layer I just - didn't understand.
Could have a nap on the couch - no point, not tired anymore - watch TV - Mark had some program on and I was scared to change the channel - or… there were some bookshelves around, maybe I could search them?
I ended up flopping down on the couch while Mark was half watching TV and half reading a newspaper. I strongly suspected they were there for background noise and something to occupy his eyes.
Should I try talking to him? Would that even be okay? I wish I could look up online how to do this without being an insensitive bitch -
"It's good to see you're okay today."
I blinked, my train of thought crashing to a halt. "... um." I looked at him. He wasn't looking at me, still reading, but - "Today?"
"Yeah. Relatively okay, anyway." His lips twitched. "Given the whole sleeping for eighteen hours thing."
Shiiit, he heard that? I thought this place would be well-soundproofed! "Uh. Yeah, I guess so. I - did something happen?"
"And I heard some screaming a couple of times over the weekend." He lifted the newspaper again. "I, uh, hope the girls were helping you recover from nightmares and such."
What was he talking abou… oh.
Oh my god he thinks we had -
My face turned bright red at the implication and I coughed.
I wish
I was that lucky. "Ahem. Um. Yeah. Sometimes I have nightmares where I'm stuck in the car again, paralyzed, and - yeah. Waking up on 'impact' isn't… isn't good for the heart." Not that I remembered having those dreams. But. Unless Amy and Victoria had been molesting my sleeping body -
why would I think that?! And more importantly why wasn't I there for it!? Wait, no, it didn't happen. Something… else happened?
"Right. I know it's only been a few days but I hope you're settling in alright."
"It's… certainly been an experience." I admitted. "Have you ever like - gone to a showhome or something, looked at how nice it was, and think to yourself '
I could never afford a place like this, but damn it's good'?"
He raised one eyebrow a little and I think the corner of his lip twitched.
"It's kind of surreal." I leaned back and
god this couch was soft. "Then again, given everything that's happened recently,
everything feels kind of surreal. Is all cape life like this?"
"Yeah that's… life among the powered I think. It's all very saturated. And I get it about the house too. Carol does as well. We didn't exactly grow up somewhere like this but she wanted something like it for the girls so…"
"I think it's lovely."
No idea what to say but this is a damn sight easier than talking to Brandish. "Um. Do you guys get paid a lot, as heroes? Or is it mostly from Brandish being a lawyer and lawyers getting paid
heaps."
He folded the newspaper and smiled. "New Wave subsists on donations and merchandising, but our personal finances are from normal jobs. The distinction wasn't so clear back in the day, but we try and keep the two separate now."
This was
interesting. I wondered what my own merchandising could look like one day - if I ever went out and did cape stuff. Posable tentacle monster action figures? Now with new hentai grip action?
Okay, I was definitely going to have to ask Amy if she could make a kitten-sized copy of me or something. Maybe out of bone - that was biological - so we could make a cast and pour resin into it and get my own mini-me paperweight. "I think I've seen some New Wave things in the PRT gift shop before - though, last time I was there was
years ago. I'm not sure if Mom and I were banned or not when she pointed out what a bad idea it was to put Armsmaster's face on panties for girls of all ages."
Mark snorted. "Make sure to tell him that when he shows up. I'm pretty sure he never read exactly what he was signing to have his logo on when he signed off on merchandising rights."
"Oh, hey, speaking of him - uh, you've got more experience with the guy than I have, presumably. Hopefully." I coughed and muttered, "
I don't remember meeting him, at any rate - um. Do you have any uh - advice on him?"
He shrugged. "Be straightforward. Tell him the facts of what happened, what you know. Don't panic. He's not interrogating you, he's just trying to help you out. Same advice as talking to the police, I guess." He hummed thoughtfully. "I've heard he can be a bit
blunt, though, when he's pursuing a goal. Good at getting across what needs to be passed quickly, but he's not one for sugarcoating things."
Oh. That actually sounded - almost refreshingly
nice compared to the beating around the bush and dodging awkward questions Amy and Vicky seemed to be inclined towards. "Thank you. I'll keep it in mind when he gets here." I smiled.
We ended up quietly watching TV for a while after that. Or, using it as background noise. Until I remembered I had my phone and asked for the wifi password so I could browse PHO.
If Mom were here, what would she tell me to do? So, based on that paranoia, the first thing I had to search up was anything related to my house or what she was doing. I didn't really find much, so she must have been stealthy about whatever was going on - just a few reports of PRT around a particular house (mine) and a bunch of 'no comments' from PRT affiliated officers. Nothing interesting happening at the docks, which was disappointing. Might have been able to use that to pinpoint where Mom -
Annette, gotta remember that - was keeping me.
Thank goodness nobody knew my address because
that would have been incredibly awkward to explain to anyone I knew. '
Hey, Taylor, why were the PRT at your house?' 'I dunno, I wasn't there.'
With nothing better to do (a complete lie I had tons of better things to do) I went back to one of my favoured threads for wasting my time on,
Epic Cape Wins and Fails: Thread XXVI. I mostly focused on the Brockton Bay locals - Victoria had apparently flown into a billboard while texting the other week, which was pretty hilarious given she flew right through the boob of the weather-lady. Another Hammerhands vs Merchants video had been uploaded - it started off by making sure everyone knew their name was Browbeat, having seen the last video. Blah blah, concern for the citizens recording, heroically inclined, throwing a bunch of people out a window. Good stuff. They had another cape with them, one that looked like some kind of living welding torch. And there were some funny out of town things as well - something from Europe with a shopkeeper beating up a few capes who'd tried to rob him, that cape who could throw glaciers accidentally dropping one on a PRT van (thankfully empty), then apologising profusely, some image of a guy in red and black suddenly appearing out of nowhere in the air above a street and falling towards it before disappearing again which someone had already looped into a gif.
I couldn't really put a name to any of the capes I saw, except the locals, and even then I was pretty fuzzy - the cape with the Merchants was called Stain, I think? Maybe Victoria's 'get Taylor up to speed on Cape Life™' suggestion was a good idea after all.
Speaking of getting up to speed - I headed back upstairs to my room and snuggled under the sheets - someone had changed them while I was in the shower? - and opened up the fiction subforum. Specific_Protagonist had been writing a rather…
riveting tale of a pair of Brockton capes - a girl that controlled bugs and a girl that was an exceptionally smug memory-reader - falling in love by accident. There was the usual disclaimer that these capes were made up - some capefics were about real capes, but those ones tended to be taken down fairly quickly, with a few exceptions from those particular capes who'd okayed being used in capefics - and if they happened to be real or someone got powers like the ones in the story to warn her before getting litigious.
I hoped I hadn't missed reading a chapter with the mindwipes. But, eh, I could experience it firsthand again and I had privacy now. Maybe. Close enough.
-.-.-
I had a satisfied smile on my face when I finally came downstairs to make myself some lunch. Or just reheat leftover breakfast. Arachne and Forgetmenot had finally unmasked to each other, realised they were cheating on each other
with each other - and Specific_Protagonist just had a
way with words that was…
delicious.
Or maybe that was the food influencing my word choice because these sausages were seriously great.
The phone rang, Mark answered. There were a few 'yes,'s, 'I understand,'s, and a 'I'll let her know'. "Taylor? That was the PRT. Armsmaster will be by in a few minutes."
"Okay, thanks for the heads up."
Stop thinking about the branded panties, stop thinking about the branded panties, now I'm thinking about him wearing the branded panties on his head like some kind of lunatic why am I like this.
"I'll be upstairs. Give me a shout if you need anything?"
"Of course." I smiled. I - wasn't entirely sure what there was for him upstairs, but maybe he and Brandish had a computer in their room he used or something. So now I was back to wondering just how many pairs of branded panties Armsmaster could fit over his armour while I ate. My mind went weird places and I was going to blame Amy for this.
Easier to focus on that rather than the questions he might ask. Or what he might tell me about how finding and arresting Annette was going.
At long last, there was a knock at the door and I answered it. Armsmaster was… shorter than I thought he'd be. Or maybe I was just taller. I
was way tall for my age, but - I almost barely had to look up at him, despite the power armour and everything. "Um. H-hello, sir." Why did I call him
sir? I felt - upset at him being here.
There was a tensing of his jaw -
just like Vicky before she raised her fists - before he relaxed. Probably realising that a scarred teenage girl was
no fucking match for a man in full power armour with a fucking axe on a stick. Assuming he'd had the same thought. I didn't know -
"Miss Hebert? Is it alright if I come in?" He smiled. "Please, call me Armsmaster. I'm not actually a knight so I don't need to be called '
sir'."
Ah fuck, it's going to be just like talking to Brandish. Too many words! "Well, you are still a hero…" I shrugged, opening up and stepping aside. He wasn't as stiff and awkward as Brandish though, so maybe I was just projecting. "I uh. I honestly have no idea how it works when you're the guest inviting another guest in, but Mark opted to go upstairs once we got the call so -" I shrugged and headed to the lounge.
"I've been here before. If it's not too uncomfortable for you, I think I'll stand? I don't want to risk breaking any furniture." He smiled again and I had the brief absurd image of him practicing smiling.
"Can't be any more awkward than trying to make small talk with a lawyer," I tried to joke but -
nerves, too many nerves. I slumped down on the couch and put my face in my hands.
I'm really sitting here with the leader of the local Protectorate. This isn't a dream. Shouldn't I be fangirling hard instead of wanting to punch him right now? Am I too nervous, or did Annette program
me not to do that?
"Yes." His face fell slightly. "In your own words, can you tell me more about the events of the past week?"
"Okay. uhh…" Today was Tuesday. The heist had been on Friday, so - "Right. So, I uh. Got a girlfriend -" At his look I paused, "I promise it's relevant - so I got her, um. We - did the stupid teenager makeout thing at lunch, which caused a feedback loop between this body and my real body, I bumped into Panacea -"
He raised his hand. "Stop. This body and your real body? Can you clarify further?"
"Um. I - thought you'd been um - told… okay, so -" I winced. "As far as I know, Mom triggered when the doctors told her there was no chance of me waking up from my coma, and that she needed to pull the plug on my life support. She…
did something, that put my mind in a body she made to support it. She put an implant in my old - uh. Well, this body." I turned my head and pointed out my 'hearing aid'. "Which I've been unknowingly piloting since then until last week. Or the week before that, not sure if it counts given I spent a week in the tub after breaking the tank and I'm rambling I'm sorry."
"It's fine. From the sound of it, a lot happened. And I did know the outline, but it's important to get all perspectives." He smiled again - he wasn't making any notes. Was he recording this? "So, she made a body? What can you tell me about that?"
"Uh, yeah, so - after the car crash, while I was in a coma, she had to… I'm not sure how she made it, just that it was grown? And she transferred my mind to it, somehow. I wasn't aware of it until the other week, where making jokes about being twelve-foot-tall and bulletproof to cope were kind of appropriate. Turns out I was actually really fragile, but still… big? I think I'm sort of like a… a cat-lizard with tail-hair tentacles. And as far as my explorations can tell,
noooo fun bits." I sighed. Wait, I just admitted to fucking
Armsmaster that I didn't have any genitals -
why did I think I would make it through this in one sane piece?
"Do you have any idea about how she created this body beyond growing it? Anything at all - requirements in terms of equipment, material, tinker fugues…"
I shook my head. "Not really. I caught a glance of her notes at one point and there were - things about chitin and stuff so I guess she needs a base to splice from? Amy said I was kludged together, so I'm pretty much a patchwork of stuff that wouldn't be able to support itself outside the tank. I'm sort of floating in a nutrient solution twenty-four-seven - before Amy fixed up my skin I was drying out and dying within minutes of leaving the fluid." Hang on - "Apparently it was um - protein-rich? Whatever it was, making it broke the blender and it
was suspiciously raspberry-cordial coloured."
He huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh or a sigh. "Interesting. I know that your memories aren't entirely reliable, but do you remember your mother ever leaving the house in the evenings for long periods of time?"
I shrugged. "Not really. Occasionally she had to go up to the university to drop off papers or whatever but she was usually home before I went to bed and... I seem to sleep like the dead. It's entirely possible she did?"
He nodded. "Okay. Let's return to this past week…"
"Right. Um. Making out with Abby, feedback loop, accidentally bumping into Panacea, leaving math class because Mom sent me like a hundred texts - well, the first six were for me, the rest for whoever kidnapped me because the 'basement was acting weird', had a sort of fight with Mom, met Amy on the steps outside arcadia, she confronted me asking why I was braindead, things went… interesting from there." I coughed. "She ended up stalking me home, where she get intercepted by Emma, my former best friend who has become a friend again -"
Armsmaster held up his hand. "Panacea followed you home?"
"Yup. Kicked her in the ribs for it too."
Why did I just admit that to Armsmaster what the fuck is wrong with me.
"I can't comment on that, but - I see I'll need to discuss what is and isn't acceptable in the name of heroism."
"Heh… so yeah, we eventually sort of organised a heist…"
I told him my story.
What little of it I was allowed to remember.
-.-.-
