Most versions of Taylor Hebert link up with Queen Administrator. This version didn't. This Taylor has a shard called Memory. A shard that handles things a bit, differently. A shard somewhat off the normal reservation - that never even got a map to understand there was a reservation it was supposed to be staying near. With a different trigger and a different power, coupled with a different shard, Taylor has to try and piece old friendships back together while building new ones. All while trying to fix the city that her parents loved.
The story may write itself, but Taylor will use that story and its lessons to improve not just her life, but Brockton Bay as well.
Now if only she and her friends could figure out how one is supposed to use extremely detailed background information to manipulate the world...
AN: Finally remembered to start cross-posting a story that's on SpaceBattles over to SufficientVelocity as well! This story is a bit different from my normal fare. Here we have a collaboration project between myself and deinspanjer! Along with my usual coterie of betas, we are hoping to have a bit of fun with this slightly different type of story. Most of the journal entries will be written primarily by deinspanjer and I'll be doing the majority of the rest, though he did a lot of work on the initial version for this first chapter also. Editing should be done on the journal portion for the next chapter shortly so that should be up in a bit as well to showcase exactly what Taylor's power can do.
The cover art is by Oryu404.
\/\/\/\/
Memoirs of Brockton Bay
Prelude
I sat staring at my mother's old journal sitting in front of me. Dad had taken it to a friend of his who was a retired bookbinder, and they had carefully removed the old pages, filled with notes, sketches, and stories. Hundreds of fresh clean pages were now nestled within the soft leather binding. The first page remained empty despite my measured stare, and it even seemed to glare at me as if it were demonstrating its disapproval at my complete lack of progress.
My therapist had advised this as a productive outlet. It was supposed to be something that would let me vent my frustration about anything from school, the city, the gangs…my life. When I had described writing fiction he had apparently decided that, since I didn't automatically 'have bad associations with it and enjoyed doing it', well that was what I needed to do. He'd latched on like a dog with a bone and nothing I said would dissuade him. I wasn't exactly opposed; it wasn't like I had any other hobbies anymore…
When he'd suggested looking over some of what I had done prior, to see if I could publish one of them, I had shot that down. Nothing I wrote was worthy of that. I wasn't Mom. But when he'd recommended that I at least write something new - just for the sake of breaking out of my rut - I had agreed that it might be a good idea.
I had a half dozen stories in various stages of completion. I wasn't too concerned about the technical quality. Having an English professor as a mother was enough to instill a firm sense of grammar and sentence structure. No, the real thing I was worried about was what would happen if anyone from Winslow managed to link a published work back to me personally. It would inevitably open a floodgate of harassment from the Trio and their hangers-on. I'd never get any actual feedback on the work and I'd probably lose any enjoyment from posting it.
The other nagging concern was letting down any potential readers. My life had been on a downward spiral for years now. First mom died, then dad might as well have died too for all he was actually in my life. Then Emma decided that I was basically no better than dirt for no reason…Between Sophia's bruises and Madison's destruction of my schoolwork, I was surprised that I even managed to care enough to keep going back to school at this point.
Who was I kidding? It was difficult to get out of bed some days. I was never going to be able to keep up with a hobby.
"This is stupid."
I closed the document and dropped my head onto the desk.
"It'll be an obligation. I'll never be able to keep it up consistently and when I miss an update that'll just make things worse because then I'll be ashamed and it'll make this all worse."
Therapy was great. Therapy was helpful. Therapy reminded me that there was life outside of Winslow and Brockton Bay. But this…this was too much. I didn't want to put myself out there like this. I didn't want to take this leap.
Stupid words. Stupid writer's block. Stupid shrink. Let's see him write something.
Maybe if I should ask him for a story idea the next time I went in…
\/\/\/\/
I was jolted from my continuing battle with the non-existent story by the shrill ringing of the kitchen phone. Oh good, a distraction. Maybe it would spark inspiration while my mind was wondering.
"Though it is probably just dad calling to say he won't be back in time for dinner," I mumbled, shaking my head as I stood up. It was bad enough that he chose to go into an empty office on New Year's Day, but deciding to work late just made it feel like he was avoiding me.
"Stop being a hypocrite, Taylor. You're avoiding him too. And stop talking to yourself." Sometimes it really didn't surprise me that Dad had actually gotten me a therapist.
As I hurried to the phone, I glanced towards the cabinets, morosely considering what I would make for my dinner. We didn't have much left. Maybe takeout?
"Hello?"
"Yes, is this the Herbert residence?" an unfamiliar voice asked.
"It's He-bert, yes. May I ask who's calling?" I responded, sighing.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm calling from Brockton General Hospital. Am I speaking with Mrs. Hebert?" The voice sounded dispassionate, but as she continued talking my gut suddenly clenched and my heart started slamming faster.
"She…she passed away a few years ago. I'm her daughter. What's going on? Is this about my father? Daniel Hebert?" I asked, my breath catching and my voice starting to tremble. This couldn't be happening. Not again.
"Yes, this is in reference to Mr. Daniel Hebert." The hospital worker paused. It wasn't a long pause. It was long enough that I could taste bile at the back of my mouth. "I'm so sorry to be the one to inform you Miss, but there was an incident at the Dockworkers Association office this afternoon. Part of the building was destroyed by…a large vehicle, and Mr. Hebert was trapped for some time. I don't have all of the details, but I know that Armsmaster was the one who found your father. He was airlifted here half an hour ago. He is currently in surgery. Are you able to get to hospital, Miss?" The words rang as they tumbled through the earpiece but they didn't make sense.
Not again. Not again.
The silence thundered about me and a softly cleared throat was the only thing that cut through the ringing in my ears as I struggled to focus. "O-Okay. Thank you. I'll…be there as soon as I can," my shaky reply sounded pitiful, even to me.
"That's good. Just let the front desk know who you are and who you are there for when you get here. Miss, I know this is hard, but please be careful if you elect to drive here yourself. The last thing your father needs is for you to end up in an accident yourself on your way here."
Yeah, that would be more of a concern if I had a license and could actually drive. Shaking my head and gathering my scattered thoughts I mumbled, "It's not a problem. I'll be there soon. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Again, I'm sorry that this has happened to your family, Miss. Goodbye."
I hung up the phone and stood staring blankly at it. What I was supposed to be doing?
"Dad…"
A shiver ran down my spine like a splash of cold water and I leapt for the closet. I needed my jacket and I needed to get to the bus stop. Glancing at the clock as I ran past, it showed 6:27. The 313 should still be running fifteen minute stops until 7:00. It would take me ten minutes to get to the nearest stop at a quick jog. I needed to leave. I needed to leave now! Grabbing my wallet, I slipped my coat on as I slipped out the door.
I needed to hurry.
\/\/\/\/
I marched through the doors to the hospital at just under a run, breathing heavily and holding a stitch in my side as I skidded to a stop in front of the main desk. The receptionist looked up as I tried to speak through the lack of oxygen.
"I'm-I'm, Tay-Taylor Hebert," I wheezed. Taking in more air and catching my breath, I continued with less gasping, "I'm here to see my dad. Someone called me 45 minutes ago, they said he was admitted?"
"Alright, Miss, let me check our admission records." The receptionist exuded professionalism, but she couldn't have been less interested if she tried. Welcome to the cape capital of America, Taylor. Where everyone and their mother gets hurt everyday and no one cares. Or maybe that was just me? Was I being harsh? Was I mistaking being polite for being uninterested now? Was I -
"We've had a few emergency room admissions this evening, Miss. What is the patient's name?" she asked, tapping a few more keys on the computer with a frown.
"Daniel Hebert. H-E-B-E-R-T. He was airlifted from the Dockworkers building when it fell on him! They said that Armsmaster called it in?"
Her default smile twitched and her eyes closed as she slumped slightly. "Oh, Squealer's latest rampage. I know who you're talking about now. Do you have an ID? I need to see it before I can let you go up."
Squealer. The Merchant Tinker. Because of course buildings don't just collapse. And of course she had to go and do something on New Year's Eve. Because why not go and ruin everyone's holiday and -
I held out my library card, and the receptionist looked it over before nodding towards a side corridor.
"Thank you. Your father is still in the OR. Follow the red line to the elevators, go to the third floor then go to reception there, they'll be able to assist you further. I'm sorry, Miss." She smiled, though I didn't have to be an expert to see the forced cheer in the expression.
"Thank you," I forced out.
I barely remembered arriving at the next waiting room or being directed to a chair. The woman taking my information and getting Next of Kin for Dad was helpful and nice, but had no other information for me. Why did no one have information? How long did surgery take? Why did they need to know that we didn't have contact with Gran or that I wasn't 18 yet?
Why couldn't anyone tell me anything?!
"Miss Hebert?" I jerked, nearly falling out of the chair as I twisted to face the new person. He had a white hospital coat on and one hand was clutching a clipboard.
"Yes?! Do you have any information about my father?!"
The man nodded as he sat down across from me. "A little bit yes. Your father was caught up in a conflict between the Empire Eighty Eight and the Archer's Bridge Merchants. It seems that during a running fight, Squealer's tank shot at Alabaster and in retaliation Fenja kicked it into the DWA building, crushing a significant portion of it. While both gangs escaped, the responding Protectorate found your father in the rubble."
"Okay…"
"He had four broken ribs as well as a broken humerus and clavicle. The big problem is that there was also significant trauma to his cranium coupled with significant internal bleeding which was putting pressure on his brain. We're still working on him at the moment, once the surgery is finished, then we'll be able to update you further. In the meantime, you may want to call someone. It might be awhile until we can stabilize him, Miss."
I blinked and stared at him. "So…what does that mean?"
He laid his clipboard on his lap and smiled wide as he held my gaze. "It means that your father is a fighter. He's survived this long, he has a chance. I'm sorry I can't give you more concrete information right now, but it's touch and go at the moment. Once we are sure one way or the other, I'll be right back to update you. For now, you should rest, call a friend, get something to eat. Have you eaten yet, Miss Hebert? I can ask the receptionist to bring you some food from the cafeteria if you haven't had anything for dinner."
The man said something else, but I didn't really understand it - or hear it.
"Touch and go."
Dad was hurt, bad, and not a single person responsible had been caught. No one was going to go to jail. No one was even going to be arrested.
The Heroes had barely done anything except get him out of the building…
This entire city was dying. Dad was always talking about how he wanted to help get it back on its feet. Get the ferry back in working order. Get salvage companies to break up the Boat Graveyard. Get the Dockworkers jobs.
But what did it get him? It got him crushed by a fucking tank on New Year's.
My chest tightened and the room contracted to pinpoints as I squeezed the sides of the chair. This city was dying. How could anyone possibly save this city?
"Miss Hebert?"
I turned my head, the blackness at the edges of my vision not diminishing as I stared down the long tunnel trying to focus on the man in white scrubs again.
"I'm sorry, we did everything we could, but there was just too much internal bleeding," he said, with a small sigh. Was this the same man from before? When had the room gotten shimmery? "We attempted to relieve the pressure on his brain, but despite our efforts, there was too much damage. I declared brain death at 1:15am."
The tunnel narrowed further. My breath came in short gasps.
Not again.
"Your father was a registered organ donor, Miss Hebert. I had friends in the DWA, Daniel Hebert's death is a tragedy and he will be sorely missed. But, I hope you can take comfort in the fact that his passing will save several at least five other lives. Several as close as Boston and a few across the country even."
"What about Panacea?" Was that my voice? When I had become as dispassionate as these doctors?
He shook his head, grimacing. "While she is the most powerful healer we have seen, Panacea is unfortunately limited by the inability to heal brain damage. She had already repaired the rest of his organs, but there was nothing that she could do to save him. I am very sorry for your loss, Miss Hebert."
"I-I see."
"I know you probably want to see him, but we're already prepping for the surgeries and, speaking from experience, that's not the last memory you want of a loved one. You've been here for some time, Miss Hebert. The receptionists have already called for your guardian to come and ensure you are cared for with your father's passing. Mr. Barnes should be here within the next 15 minutes. I'm truly sorry that we can't do more."
Mr. Barnes. Alan Barnes. I started to laugh and the tunnel narrowed to pinpoints. I was going to be living with Emma, right after losing my father. I was alone and I was going to be living with Emma.
Heh. Maybe she would be my sister again.
The floor seemed to drop from under me, and my eyes were drawn to the image of the Caduceus Staff on the doctor's coat. He seemed to fade, but the entwined snakes stayed sharp. They flew off of the staff and filled my vision as they circled each other swimming through a sea of stars. Then everything went dark.
AN: This chapter is the first journal chapter. The font is different as it is intended to be handwritten. That's not as easy to do as we had thought, so I'm just going with 'a different font in general' to set it off instead. Please think of this as being written by hand, as that's the intent.
\/\/\/\/
Memoirs of Brockton Bay
Memoir: Memory
Brockton Bay was a city in distress. Even beyond the mundane problems a shipping hub would have in the post-industrial, post-Leviathan era, the Bay had a parahuman problem, regardless of the fact they were not unique to the city.
Warrior (Note: lighter on the concept terms. They give Host a headache.), the Entity responsible for distributing the majority of powers over the last 30 years, had liberally seeded his shards' connections throughout this world, with just a comparative sprinkling going to other Earths. Brockton Bay had received an unusually large percentage even for this world. This concentration led to a rich environment for conflict; conflict which furthered the development of those shards.
At present, the Bay had 62 parahumans in it. Five of them held shards from Thinker, the unresponsive Companion. The remainder were from Warrior. Warrior shards tended to urge their Hosts to conflict while Thinker shards were more inclined toward research and study. There were some at extremes from both sides, like Prototype, which was so hungry for new data that it would go as far as sabotaging its Host with severe restrictions and intentional defects in the hopes of killing it off just to find a new Host more to the shard's liking.
Memory wanted something different though. This shard had been ripped from Thinker at the moment of its collision with the planet. It was a core shard, never intended for distribution and had not been properly configured for Host integration. After a few years wandering, it had settled into a Potential Host, Danny, a dockworker in his late teens. Memory learned a lot about Danny and his species, humans, over the two decades it watched. It was fascinated by the emotions that drove humans. Particularly the one the Host species referred to as 'Love'. Memory recorded many variations of this particular emotion.
The eros felt by Danny toward the human that became his partner, Annette, was powerful and deep. The grief he felt when she died was crippling, and it was almost enough to trigger deployment of the shard. Memory had roused, but Memory was uncertain of proper conditions and queries sent to Thinker were left unanswered. Further pings were also silent. Memory was forced to conclude that the Hub was dead following its collision and Memory was on its own with only its own judgement to follow. By the time the determination was reached, Danny's crisis had passed, so Memory returned to a partial slumber, and continued to record its observations.
The philia shared between Danny and his friends, Alan, Kurt, and Lacey, was strong. When Alan learned that Danny's grief was causing him to neglect his progeny, Taylor, Alan took steps to help Danny see what was happening and what he needed to do. The concern for his offspring was a new experience. The Entities nurtured their shards, but they did not care for their spawn.
The storgeMemory's Host felt toward Taylor was equally powerful and it drove him to focus on nurturing her and keeping her safe. This was the reason he tightened his belt and stretched the budget even further. Obtaining another human to assist with Taylor's mental well-being as well as repairing and gifting a memento of Annette showcased his concern to a degree that he was unable to express in words.
The agape was interesting. This was directed toward the city, Brockton Bay. Danny had been raised in the city. He saw the end of its prosperity and the beginning of its decline. When the harbor was cut off, that decline accelerated. Danny fought the decline. He worked tirelessly to keep his people employed and safe. He fought with the city's government to restore the ferry and provide transportation and opportunity to citizens.
When the sudden trauma to Danny's body caused it to fail, Memory contemplated how to respond. It roused, but again, stalled. Deployment would have been…unsatisfactory. Trauma to the brain in particular would likely lead to significant disruption of the Host personality already and Memory had not yet connected deeply enough to reboot an imprint personality - not without Thinker assistance. The possibility of saving Danny but sentencing him to a future where his ability to 'Love' was fractured was not acceptable. The shard would rather cast off and drift again instead of ruin the very thing that had taught it so much.
As the Host's processes slowed further, and Memory began removing the primary connection points, another connection node intruded on its senses. The Host's progeny, Taylor, was exhibiting signs that would lead to imminent deployment potential. Memory had hesitated twice. It had now lost its Host because of those hesitations. Thinker was either dead or unresponsive. It had not been intended to connect to the Host species but it had learned enough to do so safely and it would not hesitate again. It would not lose another Host to hesitance or protocol. Memory finished pulling itself from Danny and extended tendrils to its new Host. The decision made, the connection established, all it had to do was wait for a short period of time and it could deploy. It could use what it had learned from Danny and honor his 'Love'.
It could save her, and with its help, she would save the city.
\/\/\/
Memoir: Sophia Hess
Shadow Stalker crouched on the edge of the building, watching the action in the alley below. Her face was hidden behind a hockey mask, a hunting crossbow held loosely in her hands. She scowled as a black woman sobbed in terror, holding out her purse to a trio of skinheads with one hand while trying to keep her child behind her with the other.
"Here, take it! Please, just let us go, we won't say anything to the police, I swear!" the mother wept. With those words, Sophia knew the woman's fate was sealed. She stood, shaking her head in disgust as she slowly readied herself to jump down.
The predator muttered, "Fucking useless prey. That's what you get for rolling over instead of fighting back. You aren't worth saving, but at least I can still have fun kicking the shit out of the Nazis." A cry of pain below was cut short as it turned into a wet gurgle. Sophia jumped into the alley, shifting to shadow half-way down, as a small child started wailing, "Mommy!" Sophia didn't even bother to look, just raised her crossbow towards the thugs.
An hour later, the blood splatters already wiped from her tools, Sophia settled in to watch another crime in progress from another roof. The child forgotten behind her along with the bleeding, unconscious skinheads. The BBPD would probably take care of it. They always seemed to coddle the prey of this pathetic city. Shaking her head, Sophia pulled her Shadow Stalker persona back around herself with her crossbow gripped tight as she dropped into a crouch. This crime was in ABB territory rather than the E88 stomping grounds. She wondered if the scene was going to play out the same as earlier.
A car had been blockaded in an alley, and the man in the driver seat was being held at bay by one ganger while several others dragged a hot looking red-head out of the car and surrounded her. Sophia watched dispassionately as one of the female gang members said, "Turn over, ginger bitch." and kicked the red-head in the ribs. As the girl lay face down on the pavement, a guy roughly yanked her jacket off and handed it to the female saying, "Here Yan, you owe me. Don't say I never got you nothing nice."
Sophia agreed with the guy. It was a very nice jacket, so Yan should appreciate the gift. The girl's daddy was probably loaded. A doctor or some shit. Never had to put in a day's hard work or fight for anything in his life and definitely gave his little baby girl everything she wanted. Spoiled cunt. This was a waste even watching, the girl was never going to fight and she was almost tempted to help the gangers. Sometimes it was better to cull the weak from the herd. She could always catch these guys another day, but she wouldn't always have the excuse to let prey be prey.
Yan put the jacket on, then she leaned over and grabbed the girl by the hair. She pulled up, and then with a swipe of her knife, a large swathe of hair was held in her hand while the girl's face smacked back onto the street. The girl mumbled something, and Yan leaned down, saying, "What's that, ginger?"
"Not- not the face, please. I'll do anything you want, just… not the face."
Sophia sighed as she hopped off the building and drifted silently down in her shadow form, settling on the hood of the father's car. She heard the father yell something about leaving his daughter alone, and she thought, "Well maybe if you were a fighter instead of a pansy, you would have been strong enough to protect her, instead of cowering like a dog in the corner." Sophia didn't even acknowledge that the man was being held down by a ganger bitch that outweighed him two-to-one and was probably all muscle from the looks of it. At this point, she just wanted the worthless sheep to get what was coming to them so she could hurry up and get to the fun part. Letting the gangers get away wasn't a good idea. The Nazis hadn't put up a real fight, these guys might. They were strong. They might even be predators themselves.
Not that they approached Shadow Stalker's level. No, she was in a league of her own.
She watched as Yan's boyfriend, Lao, threatened the terrified red-head, telling the girl to pick where she was going to get cut. Sophia chuckled. That was pretty metal. She'd have to remember to try that threat sometime.
The red-head lay on the street, one of the gang members practically sitting on her chest to hold her down. Her eyes darted about the alley, looking for something or someone that could save her worthless hide, and the girl froze when her gaze came across Sophia's watching form. Sophia just stared back, not that the red-head could see. Stupid prey, just die already. Follow your instincts. Follow your place in the world.
A moment later, the girl's attention was drawn back to more pressing matters as Yan shoved the hank of the girl's hair in her mouth and told her to eat it, then pick her fate.
Sophia's eyebrows rose as some weird combination of howl, grunt, and scream tore from the girl's mouth and she swung her hand out at Lao, her fingers curled like claws. The girl's nails tore at Lao's one good eye, and he fell back with a scream, smacking her in the face with a fist as he clutched his ruined eye.
Sophia shook her head in amazement as she watched the sexy wildcat she mistook for a tame bitch thrash and struggle in the grip of the other gang members. Her eyes narrowed as she saw Yan getting ready to stab the red-head. Nah, she might be worth something after all, so I'm not gonna let you get away with that!
Sophia leapt off the car and grabbed Yan, twisting her arm in a submission hold. Yan shouted and reached over her shoulder, flailing with the knife, but it didn't come anywhere close to Sophia. With a viscous smile, she twisted harder and lifted the captured limb higher. It finally gave with a satisfying pop and Yan screamed while the knife clattered to the ground.
The fight was swift and brutal, just how Sophia liked it. The last guy did manage to get one hit in on her knee but, overall, she still was quite satisfied. At least it had been better than the anticlimactic Nazis. She watched as the worthless father ran to the red-head's side shouting, "Emma! Are you hurt Emma?"
Shadow Stalker smiled as she turned with a slight limp and jumped, shifting to her shadow state. Emma, huh? She might have potential.
A week later, Sophia was happy when she saw Emma approaching the alley in which she had been attacked. She approached the girl and talked. Emma seemed to appreciate Sophia's take on the world, her views on predator and prey, survivor and victim. Sophia wasn't looking for a partner or a teammate, but Emma seemed to be worth getting to know. There were so few people in this city that truly seemed to listen when she talked about people's places in the world. It would be nice to have someone who might actually…get it.
After another week, Sophia was waiting outside of Emma's house - out of costume of course. They planned to hang out on the boardwalk. Sophia saw Emma stiffen as she looked down the street. A tall thin girl was approaching them, a bounce in her step.
"Who the fuck is that? Look at her walk, bouncing around like some little rabbit or deer. That's the kind of person who could never be a fighter, a survivor. Too damn cheerful." Sophia muttered to Emma, but she didn't reply.
The new girl walked up the path to face them, and chirped, "Emma!"
"Who the fuck are you?" Sophia asked.
The girl's smile was replaced with a look of confusion as she replied, saying she was Emma's friend. Her old friend. Sophia's lip twitched, though she didn't scowl. She was better than that. She could wait. The rabbit girl turned to Emma and asked what was going on with her, that she hadn't heard from her since she'd been back, that she was worried. The concerned tone made Sophia's stomach turn.
When the rabbit girl made the mistake of complementing Emma's page-boy haircut, Sophia felt her lips curl upwards. Mistake Number 1, Rabbit Girl, she chuckled to herself. Watching closely, Sophia waited to see how Emma would react. She was not disappointed as she listened to Emma rip into the girl, Taylor. She told Taylor to get lost, and described how irritating it was pretending to be friends with her for so long.
Sophia relished the pain etched in the rabbit girl's face as she replied with a feeble "Fuck you" before turning to run away like the pitiful little victim she obviously was. Sophia took the opportunity to trip the girl and smirked as she fled.
Sophia looked at Emma, appraising. The red-head wasn't a predator, and frankly, Sophia doubted the girl would ever be worth much, but that didn't mean she couldn't be used. Besides her value as eye-candy, her father was actually a lawyer, which could definitely come in handy at some point down the line, so the girl was worth keeping around for that point alone. Best to keep that bitch Taylor away though. Way too cheerful and bubbly. Taylor was prey. Emma was Sophia's tool, and she would use that tool to grind that sickening smile off of Taylor's face.
\/\/\/
Memoir: Madison Clements
Madison was having a panic attack. She had just gotten off the phone with Julia, and she had finally learned the details of the 'welcome back to school' surprise that Emma and Sophia had planned for Taylor. Used tampons and pads? Seriously? What the hell!? How the fuck would they even get three trash cans full of the shit to stay in the locker long enough to close it without leaking? What were those psychopaths thinking?
"Hah. Like I'm one to talk. I'm just as fucked up as they are…The only difference is that I'm just a damn coward."
A tear rolled down Madison's cheek as she wrestled with self-hatred, her phone in her hand and her thumb hovering over the speed-dial for the BBPD. But she…she couldn't press the button…
She had been picked on all through middle school. She had all the prime target markers: short, chubby, huge computer geek. Things had hit rock bottom at the end of eighth grade when one of the boys grabbed her journal from her desk and thumbed through it. He took great delight in showing off the lewd pictures and cape fics contained in it. It took everything she had to make it through finals, and that summer, she swore to herself that high school would be different. No matter what it took.
She had spent the summer focused on her new diet and exercise plan, and she had been happy that after ten weeks, she doubted anyone would consider using the term 'chubby' to describe her. She convinced her parents to let her attend public school instead of the charter school where most of the kids from her middle school would be attending. She bought a new wardrobe. She got a 'pretty' haircut. She resolved that no one would know about her fascination with capes or her computer hobbies. She would make it through high school living a lie, and then, once she graduated, she could live her real life again.
She should've stayed in charter school. She should have stayed as the chubby nerd. Winslow was so, so much worse than middle school had ever been. Madison quickly realized that Winslow would chew her up and spit her out if she didn't find a clique to take her in. Hiding her hobbies wasn't enough. Not in this school. She needed a protector. She needed someone to help her blend if she was going to last longer than a week. She still didn't know how she had managed to charm her way into the good graces of Queen-Bee-Wannabee Emma, but at least the red-head had come packaged with the crazy thug Sophia. Staying on Sophia's good side was simple: stay out of her way, don't ever attract her attention.
It had only been three days before Madison had realized she'd chosen the wrong wagon to hitch herself to. Emma and Sophia were just as cruel and vicious as the boys in her previous school. Maybe more so, at least the boys had spread their taunts over all of the nerds. Sophia and Emma though, they seemed single-mindedly focused on torturing a single girl, Taylor. Emma had backed down for a single moment when Madison had protested, and Sophia had stepped in immediately afterwards, murmuring to Emma about being strong and showing the prey where they belonged otherwise even the fighters would get cut up on the ground.
They were crazy, they were crazy and Madison had already shown her face and her name to them. It was too late to try to get into one of the other cliques. People knew she was part of the crazy group. She was stuck…
At first, Madison had tried to draw their attention away, but after a short - and pants-wettingly-terrifying - conversation with Sophia, Madison realized that she could either be a bully with them, or she could go right back to being tortured by one. Tortured worse than ever before.
She couldn't go back. She…she couldn't.
Madison had cried that day.
She had shut down her fiction account too. She wasn't worthy of it. She didn't deserve to have a hobby that let her enjoy things like that. Not when she was willing to become a monster to save herself.
So, like the coward she was, Madison tried to do the bare minimum. She dumped pencil shavings in Taylor's hair, poured juice on her seat, and stole her homework. Every little act was one more painful step on her own personal road to hell. She dreamed about standing up for herself sometimes, but all she had to do was remember the cold, dead hatred in Sophia's eyes and she crumbled.
This locker thing though, this wasn't a prank. This was torture! It could possibly even kill the girl. Madison decided she was going to be sick on Monday. She might not be able to stand up to them or stop them, but at the very least, she wouldn't be there to help them.
She should've never left charter school.
Her finger continued hovering over the call button and she cried.
What a worthless, cowardly piece of shit she was. What was the point of continuing to live like this if all she did was wallow in fear and hurt innocent people? Maybe she should just call in dead instead of sick.
I barely remembered Alan coming to get me or driving me back to his house. My dad was dead. I was an orphan now. And I couldn't even cry, the tears just wouldn't come. Had I used up all my tears when Mom died? Had Dad and I been too distant? We had been getting better. Why couldn't I cry?
Instead, I clutched my journal to my chest like the lifeline it was. Well…like the lifeline it was supposed to be. My fanfiction. My stories about capes and Brockton Bay. My therapy. I had certainly gotten over my writer's block sometime between Dad dying and Alan picking me up. I was glad I had brought it with me to the hospital, even if I didn't remember doing so. There was a hefty chunk written in that book just begging to be typed up and thrown up online.
The only problem was…I didn't remember writing any of it, despite it clearly being my handwriting. It didn't read like fanfiction. It didn't read like fiction at all. The first part about Memory was weird. Some of the words were… the best I could describe it as was, blurry, and that scribbled word, Warrior, actually hurt to look at. Even still, none of it felt like the words on the page were made up. It felt real.
And that was a problem. That was a major, major problem.
How the hell was I supposed to look at the Trio now if I was busy thinking that Madison was hiding suicidal thoughts worse than mine a few months back, Sophia was apparently not only a Ward but also a sociopath who left kids alone with their freshly murdered parents, and Emma was…Emma had been…
"We're here." I jerked, my elbow slamming into the door of the car as Alan parked in his garage. He winced and I hung my head. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you. Uh, we don't really have anything setup for a guest room at the moment, I've been using it as my office. I can switch things around tomorrow, or we could always just let you stay in Anne's room once she leaves after the break is over in a few days. Until then, how about bunking with Emma? You girls always used to love your sleepovers as kids. It's been…It's been too long since I've seen you around here, Taylor."
I bit my lip, squeezing my eyes shut and clutched my journal to my chest harder. I hadn't been coming because Emma had died when the ABB had attacked her. Because a sociopath had killed the Emma I once knew even more thoroughly afterwards.
How did one come back from that?
If this story was real, if the rumors on PHO about people getting powers from bad days as well as good days…If I had written this and didn't remember it and if it was real…
Could I use this? Could I threaten Sophia? Could I convince her to say something to Emma in exchange for not outing her to her bosses? If Emma heard from her savior how messed up Sophia actually was, would that bring back a glimmer of the girl I used to know?
Either way, I would have to talk to Madison. Tomorrow. If there was even the possibility that this wasn't a cosmic joke, that I hadn't just had a psychotic break in the hospital, but that I had some sort of Thinker power…
I didn't like Madison, but she didn't deserve to be drowning in the dark. Especially if even a quarter of what I had written about her was true. Plus Madison had always been the weak link of the Trio. If I talked to her without the other two around, I could probably find out for sure if the words were real or if I was just going crazy.
Yeah. Yeah, that was a good plan. Sleep. Madison. Verify.
Funeral.
My breath hitched and I stumbled on the stairs behind Alan. I was going to have to plan Dad's funeral.
\/\/\/\/
The shower was scalding. The water beat against me like a hammer, it felt…it should have felt amazing. We didn't have a cool shower with a massaging head like this at home. We didn't have the fancy body wash with exfoliating micro-beads or two separate conditioners. I was able to take care of my hair well enough that I was proud of it, but it wasn't anything special. It wasn't the modeling quality items that Emma had in her shower.
I should be taking this brief moment of luxury to relax. It was the calm before the storm. I was going to have to get out in a minute. I had been in here too long as it was. If I waited much longer, Alan would come to make sure I was okay, or worse, Emma would wake up. Showering before going to bed had probably been a mistake, but I had needed it. I didn't know how long I had been at the hospital, but it was long enough. Long enough to feel disgusting. Long enough to need to wash the place off of me, to wash the memories away.
To avoid looking at the girl who had been broken and shattered and remade for just a little bit longer.
I sniffled as my hair hung down around my head. The more I thought about the words in the story - the words I had written but didn't remember writing - the more I knew they were true. And now I finally had my answers for what had made Emma turn on me. I had my answers and all it had taken was my dad dying. I had my answers and now all I wanted was to go back into cheerful ignorance.
How could I fix this? How was I supposed to fix my best friend when Sophia would probably kill me if I approached her first? I needed to go at it from a different angle instead.
I shut the water off and grabbed the towel even as I stared in the mirror. Narrowing my eyes, I met my own gaze and nodded to myself.
I was going to do this. That book may not have been the therapy I had expected, but I was going to make it into the therapy I needed. I was going to use it to get my friend back - somehow - and then I was going to get Sophia punished, and then I was going to see if I could force myself to write more about other people in the city.
If I could write about the Trio, why couldn't I write about the Kaiser? Or Skidmark? Or Lung? If I could find out that Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker in the 20 minutes that I had had to wait for Alan…maybe I could bring down every gang leader with my 'story'. I could save Brockton Bay. I could save it by writing about it.
Chuckling I set my hands onto the counter and stared into my eyes. "You are going crazy, Taylor. That plan is insane."
Insane enough to work?
\/\/\/\/
The phone woke Emma up first. Phones never rang in the middle of the night. At least, not her parent's phones. Hers did sometimes; when Sophia got bored and wanted to brag about her latest catch, or complain about her frustrating patrol, or gloat about how she got away from her partner to search for crimes on her own.
Sophia called her at night a lot.
Hearing the distant ring of the house phone was highly unusual though. Emma crept to her parents' door and held her ear against the wood, trying to figure out what was going on. Calls this late were never a good thing, it was a law of the universe. Not unless they were coming from a cape. Even then, they really shouldn't be a good thing. Sophia was the exception that proves the rule.
"What do you mean I have to pick up Taylor from the hospital?"
Emma frowned, a twinge arcing through her chest that she ruthlessly pushed back into the cage she had built around her heart. Taylor being in the hospital was a good thing. Taylor was weak and she was prey and if she went to the hospital then maybe she would finally leave Winslow. If she left, then Emma would prove she was strong. She would prove that she was the survivor. Sophia had promised that if Taylor left Winslow, Emma would feel better. She'd be vindicated, just like whenever Sophia finished her hunts.
Taylor just had to leave. Being in the hospital was a good thing - for both of them.
"Oh Jesus…This can't be happening…No, it's just, she lost her mother two years ago and now…I understand. Please don't let her see him like that. I'll be there in 20 minutes."
"Alan?"
"It's Danny, Zoe, he…I have to go get Taylor. Don't wake up the girls okay? We'll…I'll talk to all three of them in the morning."
"Alan, how bad is it?"
"Zoe, the doctors…he was hurt in a cape battle. He…he…Zoe, he didn't make it. I have to go."
"Oh god, oh god not again!"
Emma slunk away, pushing her door closed just as her dad slipped out of his room, shirt still being slipped over his head as he ran for the stairs. Emma sat on her bed and held her phone in her hands as she stared down at it.
"I should tell Sophia," she murmured. Yet she didn't send the text. Her heart beat, faster and faster; she didn't see the phone in her hand anymore. "I should tell Sophia. Taylor's going to live here and I should tell Sophia. Even if she leaves Winslow, I'm still going to see her. Both her parents are gone and she'll be right here, every day. I should tell Sophia."
It didn't cross her mind for a moment that Taylor would fall apart from this. This would never be the straw that broke her. If she didn't crack when Aunt Annette had died, Uncle Danny wouldn't be the one who shattered her.
Taylor would keep going until the world ended. That was why she had to leave Winslow. If she didn't leave…if she didn't leave…then Sophia's entire philosophy was…wrong…
Now Taylor had to leave here too. She had to leave here and she had to leave Winslow.
It was the only thing that made sense. Sophia's ideas weren't wrong. Sophia made sense. Sophia cared about her. Sophia's philosophy was why Emma had been able to pull herself together. Sophia was right.
She had to be right.
\/\/\/\/
She heard the garage door close and Emma sucked in a breath.
"Taylor, you head upstairs, I'm going to…I'll be upstairs in a few minutes, I just…" her dad trailed off.
Light footsteps on the stairs followed almost immediately. Showtime. Emma kept her eyes closed under the covers, trying to ensure her breathing didn't reflect her heart rate or her stomach. She had rehearsed her mocking smile and her taunting tone enough in school. It was just like with Aunt Annette. Taylor had been fine then, she would be fine now. She just had to leave. If she left then Emma wouldn't have to see her. She wouldn't have to see how someone who had lost everything could still be strong, even while letting a predator think she was weak. Emma wouldn't have to watch her be strong and die inside. Every. God. Damned. Day.
Her door opened, there was the shuffle of cloth, and then the door closed again. Emma frowned under her blanket and cracked open one eyelid. Taylor wasn't in here. Her backpack was, but Taylor wasn't.
"What the hell?" Emma murmured. The sound of the shower starting up a few moments later answered her question for her.
Grimacing, Emma got up and padded over to the backpack. She didn't want to have to work at this. It was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be easy. Just a few quick words as soon as Taylor got in and then she would tell Emma's dad that she just couldn't stay here. That she would prefer to go live with her Gran instead. Taylor's Gran only hated Uncle Danny. The shriveled and mean old woman still somewhat liked Taylor, and Taylor knew that. A choice between the old bird and Emma? That would be no choice at all.
Taylor would be gone and Sophia would be right and Emma wouldn't have to remind herself to breathe every time she found herself hurting the girl she used to care for so much.
But now Taylor was delaying things. She was always delaying, and deferring, and hesitating, like prey, and Emma couldn't sit waiting in her bed because, if she did, then she wouldn't be able to remember the right words to use and Taylor would think that maybe she was just pretending instead of actually meaning it, and then she wouldn't leave and the house of cards would crumble and then she would go back to being the -
Emma bit down on her tongue hard enough to taste blood. It was a good counterpoint to the dried blood under her fingernails from her palms earlier. This was fine. She was fine. She could see if there was anything in Taylor's backpack that she could use instead and then she could always just fall back on the biting remarks if that failed.
"What are you?" Emma murmured as she pulled a leather-bound notebook from the backpack, heavy black script embossed onto the front flap.
She flipped it open as she sat down on the carpet and started to read.
"Memoirs of Brockton Bay, christ, can you get any more cliche?"
\/\/\/\/
The pajamas that Alan had left for me weren't exactly my size, but they were close enough. From the rabbits embroidered into them, my money was on them once belonging to Anne; Emma always hated rabbits. I would have to thank her in the morning. I would have to do a lot of things in the morning. Wiping my face one last time and resolving to just ignore anything that Emma did until I could subvert Madison and blackmail Sophia, I ran out of things to stall myself with.
I glared at my reflection one last time, squared my shoulders and turned on my heel to march to her room. It would just be for a few nights. Then I could convince Alan to let me move in with Kurt and Lacey, and I could figure how my power worked, and how to get to Sophia without her trying to kill me and -
"What the fuck are you doing with my journal!" I hissed. My hands balled into fists and my lips were curled into a snarl that would make even Lung think twice. "It's not enough you destroy Mom's flute, now you're going to destroy her journal too!"
Emma lifted her head to stare at me, her eyes wide and full of unshed tears. I stalked forward and snatched the book from her hands, clutching it to my chest and nearly falling against the wall as I backpedaled away from her. "Wh-wh-?"
"Dad replaced the interior, had it rebound with new pages when I said I wanted to write - like she used to. Don't you dare touch this! You don't get to touch this! You ruined that last thing I had of her, you will not ruin the last thing I have of him too!"
Well there went my plan. Right out the window. Bye bye plan. It was nice while it lasted. It had been a beautiful plan. Truly stellar. A thing for the ages. And now it was burning in a ditch. And I was crying. Oh good. I didn't lose all of my tears.
That was…just wonderful. Bye plan, hello tears. This was a great night.
I held the journal against my chest, my head down, knees curled up, and back against the wall and just took great sobbing breaths, trying to regain the determination I had just had.
It took me too long to realize that there were arms around me. And red hair in front of my face. And a wet spot on my shoulder.
I stopped breathing entirely, all of my movements frozen solid. The only thing that moved in the entire room was Emma as she sobbed against me. Whether she was trying to comfort me or just holding on for dear life, I had no idea.
AN: Apologies for the delay everyone. I have too many things I'm trying to rotate through and all are just so interesting to work on...
\/\/\/\/
Reunion 02
I couldn't stop staring at Emma as she sat there - her arms clutching her knees tight enough to leave indents in her pale, clammy skin and her breathing coming in short gasps. She was crouched on the edge of her bed, eyes locked onto the diary that I still held clenched in my arms. I had claimed the desk's chair to zero protest, and now we were sitting in awkward silence.
"This wasn't how I had planned for things to go," I muttered, breaking the spell.
"What?" Emma asked, her head jerking up, eyes wide. Then she snapped her gaze back down to the book. Did I have a Master power as well? Oh that would be…fantastic. Just perfect. Nobody ever liked Masters very much.
"I said that I didn't plan for this. I wanted to - I don't know. I was going to try and…I don't know," I ended with a whisper.
"I read it," she stated.
"Yeah. I saw."
"Sophia, she, she saved me and she taught me why I survived, what it meant, how I could keep going. How I was strong and that I needed to keep showing that I was strong if I didn't want to wind up right back in that alley." Emma didn't even seem to hear me. "But she never even cared. She just saw me as a…a piece of meat. I was eye candy for her! I was nothing but - and she used me for Daddy! And that kid!"
I grimaced. Sophia was bad, a genuinely horrific person, sure. Did I really think that those few paragraphs in my journal encompassed the entirety of her though? It was obviously real, Emma's visceral reaction put any lingering doubts aside as to that. But people were complicated, you couldn't sum them up in a single page. Even if my power could cherry pick specific incidents that would help show me what I needed to see…people were too complicated.
Still…if Emma thought that Sophia was a one-trick pony…
Regardless, my dad was dead. I didn't have any friends. Emma was having a mental breakdown in front of me. Madison had apparently already had one. With just a bit of work I could probably tear both of them away from Sophia and come out on top, I could destroy her like she'd tried to destroy me. If I was careful nobody would even suspect that I had powers. Except for Emma, but if I pulled Emma back to my side…If I could get my sister back…
Plus there was the fact that I could get rid of two of my tormentors in one go and effectively neuter the third…Maybe my plan was still intact? And if Emma had known about Sophia being Shadow Stalker then maybe she could teach me about how to be a cape too? How to avoid being noticed. I couldn't exactly go out and about like a normal cape. I needed to work from the shadows. There had to be some sort of rules, but how was I supposed to find out about them without getting in touch with actual capes? Emma could be a good resource.
This, yeah, this could work. What could I do? I could write the past. That was strong in context but completely useless if one of the gangs tried to come after me. I needed to know what to do. I needed allies. I needed help. I couldn't trust the Wards. Not yet, not with them having Sophia as part of their team. New Wave was too public, and there weren't other hero groups in town. But Emma knew about cape stuff through Sophia, and Madison was as much of a cape geek as Greg, just not creepy about it.
The only real issue was that I'd probably never be able to really trust them. Emma had turned on me before, and Madison would do whatever made her life easiest. Probably. I wanted my old friend back - hell I wanted friends in general - but was I also willing to put up with the girl who had stabbed me in the back again and again in order to get to her? And could I deal with Madison too? Helping Madison not be suicidal was one thing. Pulling her fully into a 'friend' status was entirely different.
And yet…There was a vicious irony there. Sophia was a catalyst that had torn my world apart. I could start putting it back together by just setting a few dominos falling - and all it would take would be to steal Sophia's friends and make them my own.
It would be…lovely.
"Why did you turn on me?" I asked, my voice wavered slightly. That wasn't what I had wanted to ask. Why were my hands shaking? I had just decided to do this. I was supposed to…why couldn't I follow my own plans at all?!
"You were always stronger than me," Emma whispered. I narrowed my eyes, but held my tongue. "You were stronger than me, but you didn't look like you were. You survived after your mom died without breaking down. You survived when your dad stopped being around. You didn't look like you were strong, but you were. Sophia said that survivors were strong…but you didn't look strong. Nothing about how you reacted was strong. What she said…it made sense."
"And I didn't."
"You didn't!" Emma wailed, burying her face in her hands. I glanced towards the door, though thankfully it didn't seem like her outburst had drawn anyone's attention. "Everything that Sophia said fell apart every time I looked at you! She had to be right so you had to go! I tried - I tried everything to make you stop and when you didn't I had to get mean but you still stayed!"
I clenched my teeth and blew out a long breath through the gaps, trying to ignore the pounding in my ears. "Why didn't you just say something then? Like a normal person."
"I had to be strong…Strong people show what they mean. They don't say it. But if Sophia was - if she never even cared - nothing she said was right! I didn't have to - I should never have - I'm sorry!" Emma pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, dropping her head between them. I could hear the muffled sobs coming from her.
It shouldn't have cooled the raging fire in my chest.
It did.
I think that simple acknowledgement was what hurt worst of all.
I didn't see the arrogant, backstabbing bitch that had been tormenting me. I saw a girl who had been poisoned by someone she trusted. I saw my friend whose family hadn't realized how hurt she'd been. My dad had gotten me to a therapist when I had a breakdown. Emma had either hidden it better than me, or Alan just hadn't noticed - or cared. Either way, Emma had hurt me, yet Emma hadn't been doing it to hurt me.
She'd been doing it because she'd been trying to save herself.
And here I was having just decided that I was going to manipulate two people to hurt a third in order to save myself also. We were two peas in a pod. A very long pod that'd probably shifted colors to the opposite end of the spectrum somewhere along the line and we were on different ends and - I was losing my metaphor.
I couldn't hate her. I couldn't ever fully trust her. But I couldn't hate her either.
Fuck.
I moved over to the bed, sitting down next to Emma and laying a - only slightly shaky - hand on her back. "I forgive you." Why did it feel like a mistake to forgive her?
Why did I refuse not to?
Why did I feel compelled to be the better person, why did I still care?
Emma unfolded in under a second. Her arms went from wrapped around her legs to wrapped around me and for the second time in under an hour her tears were staining my borrowed clothes. I awkwardly shifted to try and keep patting her back, but no matter how awkward, it was…nice to have her hug me again.
Score one for my horrible plan.
\/\/\/\/
"We should, um, really probably get some sleep," Emma said. She had finally stopped clinging to me, but now she was just sitting in the middle of her bed, wringing her hands.
I shook my head as I flipped through the few pages I had written, scowling. How did I trigger this power? I needed more information. Slamming the cover shut with a grunt I twisted to stare at her. "Emma. If you seriously think I can sleep right now, you really are - uh, actually nevermind."
"You can say it," Emma whispered. "I am. Crazy I mean. I-I tortured you. I tortured you because I listened to someone telling me that I needed to be strong. And she didn't even care about me. You cared about me enough to never leave, not even after…after everything I did…Sophia didn't even go back for an innocent kid. You didn't give up on me even after I…"
"Please stop talking," I pleaded. I should've given up on her. But I was right wasn't I? It had taken longer than I had thought, but I was right. Emma was apologizing. I was getting my friend back.
All it had taken was destroying her entire world view.
I was a horrible person.
No. Wait. I was fixing her world view. She was going to get better. This was a good thing. I would love having my friend back and she would love having someone who actually cared about her by her side again.
Yeah, focus on fixing things. Don't focus on the broken stuff. The broken stuff can go die in a hospital bed under a ton of concrete and tank and -
"We need to call Madison." I forced a rickety grin onto my face as I pushed down the rising bile. There was nothing I could do for Dad. I could, however, make sure that another person didn't follow along behind him.
Emma flinched. Her eye drifted to the book in my lap and her head dropped to her chest, her eyes squeezed closed. "I never…She didn't say anything. She never said anything. I thought…We were - we are - friends, but she - I hurt her that bad?"
"Emma I don't have her number. We need to call her."
"I hurt her that bad. I've been worse than the ABB. Yan was just going to mutilate me and then kill me. It would've been fast. It would've hurt, but it would've been over fast. I've been torturing you and Madison both for a year-and-a-half," she whimpered. "I thought she was my friend and I've been hurting her this whole time."
You hurt me too.
"Emma. Phone."
"She won't answer. Not this late. I can - Oh! I can text her! We can, um, coffee?"
I glanced at the clock on her end table. God, was it only 4 a.m.? "Okay, sure. Do you think 8 would be okay?"
Emma nodded. "That should be fine. She's always up early."
"Make sure to mention that Sophia isn't going to be there. That you just want to meet her alone. No, don't say alone. If she's thinking of ratting you two out then it would scare her asking to be alone."
"No," Emma said. "It's a public place, Taylor. She wouldn't be scared of meeting in public. It would be weirder to avoid me if we set up something like that. Honestly, I should probably ask her to go shopping, but I don't think I can -" She cut off and her head snapped up, her gazed roving over me and her tongue sticking out between her lips like it used to when we were kids and she was thinking hard. It was like a switch had been flipped and her whole demeanor changed. She wasn't hunched over anymore, now she was sitting up straight with her shoulders squared.
A chill went down my spine at that appraising look. "Emma?"
"How long has it been since you went shopping, Taylor?"
"No."
"It's a good excuse. We both need to talk to Madison anyway."
"No."
"And you need clothes."
"I have clothes. At home."
"The clothes you wear to school?" I scowled. "That's what I thought. You need better clothes. If we're going to turn your entire school life around, it's not just about me whispering in people's ears." Her voice had firmed up again, now she was talking like she did while we were at school, maybe it was just the comfortable subject? "We need you to look like you aren't a victim anymore."
"I'm not a victim!" I growled.
"Yes, you were, but we're going to fix that. And part of the reason that the school ignored us was because you looked like someone they could ignore. If you stand out, if you draw eyes, they can't brush you off. They can't pretend they didn't see you. Blending in isn't a good strategy. At least, not once you have attention and don't want it."
"What the hell kind of twisted logic are you following?" I asked, staring at her with wide eyes. A stranger was impersonating her. It was the only logical explanation. Where had the blubbering and the tears gone? I wanted those back!
"Taylor. Fashion is what I do. It is my job, it is my hobby, it is a large part of how I rose to the top of the cesspit that is Winslow. I know what I'm talking about."
When had she lost the quaver in her voice? When had the steel come back? Oh god, I'd created a monster. A monster that had me in its sights.
The worst part was…I did actually want her fashion advice. It had been…a really long time since I had let Emma pick out clothes for me…
Scowling, I stood and slid the journal into my backpack. Moving over to the pillow and sleeping bag that Alan had left for me, I slid inside it and laid down with my back to Emma. "You get three stores out of me. That's it. Make sure that Madison is there as well. I'm not doing this for nothing."
I didn't have to be looking at her to know she was smiling. I could feel it as she tapped away at the phone in triumph. "She'll be there. And if she isn't we can always just stop by her house on the way to the Boardwalk."
The swoop of a sent message, greeted me as the light was turned off and I closed my eyes.
The image of Dad and I sitting down to watch 'It's a Wonderful Life' the night before, played across my closed eyelids.
I couldn't cry. I had too much to fix before I could cry.
That didn't stop the pillow under my head from getting wet all the same.
AN: For purposes of this fic, I am considering Brockton Bay to be in Massachusetts. Learner's Permits in our world start at 16 and require a licensed driver to be in the car who is over 21 until the driver is 16.5 years old and can get a real license. For a minor AU element, since Worm is a bit of a hellhole world in general (cough, Endbringers, cough) this world ditches the requirement for the licensed driver as a ride-along.
\/\/\/\/
Reconciliation 01
The breakfast table was quiet despite the crunching of the cereal that pounded against my ears. I had known this was going to be awkward. I had expected that. I hadn't expected it to be worse than home. At least Dad had tried to make conversation for the last two months. Now he wouldn't have the chance. Now he would just be lying down next Mom and…
I swallowed the last bit of my meal and set my spoon down. I didn't have a chance to stand before Anne was beside me, grabbing the bowl and taking it to the sink.
"I got it, Taylor."
"I can -"
"Don't worry about it. I'm only here for another few days anyway, let me feel useful before I have to go back to school! And hey, you get my room once I'm gone too, so, yeah."
"Thanks," I murmured, letting my head drop to rest against my chest. I laid my left hand on the journal clenched between my legs, running my finger along the binding. After a moment, I was able to look up at her without the pain showing on my face as I tried to smile. Emma's grimace across from me told me I didn't quite succeed, but it was probably better than what it would have been.
"Taylor," Alan said. He clasped his hands on the table, holding my gaze for a brief instant before dropping his eyes downward. "I did a bit of checking last night. I think we should be able to get the funeral service ready for tomorrow evening. It will mean that you girls will miss the first day of school, but -"
"That's fine, Daddy," Emma cut in. Her face had paled and her eyes were wide. "That's perfectly fine! Aunt Annette's service was fast too; we shouldn't try to delay just because of school. It's Winslow. We'll be lucky if the teachers even notice we were gone."
"If you both are confident that you can make up the work…"
I scowled. "I'm sure I won't have any more issues than before with missing work." Emma flinched. Good. She should feel bad. I had had the grades to get into Arcadia once upon a time. Now I would be lucky to graduate.
I breathed out, running my hand along the spine of my journal again. It wasn't Emma's fault - not entirely. I had to remember that. Sophia had preyed on her when she was vulnerable. And I wasn't doing the same thing. I was just…de-brainwashing her.
Keep telling yourself that. Maybe you'll believe it one day.
I needed to talk to my therapist about this. I could even do it without bringing up powers. Getting some advice from someone not in this family would be nice.
"Can we move up my next appointment with Dr. Klint too?" I asked.
"Dr. Klint?" Zoe asked.
"My therapist," I said, my hand closing on the side of the chair. I had mostly gotten over the embarrassment of admitting I was seeing someone, but these weren't random people, this was Aunt Zoe and Anne.
"You've been -" Anne started to say, before she bit her tongue and visibly swallowed her words. "He may not be able to move the appointment, Taylor. They usually book pretty far ahead. When was the next one?"
"Two weeks. If he can't, that's - that's fine. But I'd like to ask."
Alan nodded, while Zoe just dabbed at her eyes. "Of course. I'll make the call, just give me his number before I head to the office."
Zoe's head snapped to him and her mouth dropped into a scowl. "You're going in today?"
"I need to talk to Carol. I'm a divorce lawyer, sweetheart. Carol and some of the other partners will have far more of an idea of what documents I need to get together to make sure that everything is processed through correctly on the legal side. The funeral is the big thing, but after that there is guardianship, bank accounts, the property titles for Danny's car and the house, not to mention his pension from the DWA. I'm sure there will be paperwork that the PRT needs to provide us as well for proof of parahuman-related activity - for insurance purposes."
The more Alan talked, the more I slumped into the seat. I didn't even know where to begin. Had Dad dealt with all of that when Mom died? Hadn't she gotten a pension from the school? Wasn't she supposed to?
"Dad, should we hire someone?"
"I don't think we need to just yet. If I can't get someone to direct me to the right items then I'll consider it, but give me the next few days to see if I work this out first. I stayed up pretty late last night trying to sort through the initial stages and I at least have a plan of attack."
I nodded along with the rest of the people at the table. They said some other things, but I was barely able to pay attention to it. What was the last thing I had said to him? Had it been in the morning when he left? Had he called during the day?
"Anne you don't mind if we borrow your car for the day right?" I glanced up as Emma's hand clasped my shoulder. It took…more willpower than I had expected to not flinch away from her.
"I'm not sure now is the best time to go to the mall," Zoe replied, wincing. Her gaze dropping to focus on me wasn't subtle.
"I could use new clothes," I said. "I'd prefer not to go home at the moment. And…I don't have much in the bag I brought."
"She needed a wardrobe update anyway. We were going to meet Madison there. I think it'll be good, you know, to get out of the house. Try to be among people and things." How did Emma flip a switch like that? She never used to be so good at that sort of thing when we were kids. Just a few minutes ago she had been quiet and reserved, trying to avoid focus and now she was back to being the center of attention and directing the conversation where she wanted it to go.
"Actually, I'm with Emma on this one," Anne said. "I think it might be good. A bit of a distraction from the heavy stuff while Dad sorts everything out and Mom and I can go and try to get a few things from Taylor's house. If you're okay with that, I mean."
I nodded. Anne gave me a thumbs up and a smile, then she fished her keys out of her pocket and slid them across the table to Emma. "Be careful with her. You only got your license a few weeks ago."
I didn't have to look at Emma to know that she was rolling her eyes. "I will. Come on, Taylor. We need to put on real clothes and then we can head out."
I let her drag me to my feet and followed her up the stairs, my journal clutched to my chest. I had made it through the night. I had made it through breakfast. I could make it through shopping with Emma and Madison.
All I had to do was remember that Madison was a victim too. I just had to keep that in my head and everything would be fine.
Everything would be fine.
\/\/\/\/
"Emma! Over here!"
I followed behind Emma as we threaded through the crowd at the mall heading towards an arm waving just barely above the heads of the surrounding people. Madison really was short; or maybe I was hitting another growth spurt. Just what I needed, I was already one of the tallest in our year. At this rate I'd never stop being lanky and unfeminine.
"Hi! I thought I was going to have to start without yo- Taylor." I could see the moment that Madison's gears hitched. Her facade had been perfect; without my journal I would never have seen below her mask. Not until she saw me trailing behind Emma and her mask slipped. Her eyes widened, her mouth formed a perfect 'o', her fists clenched, and her face drained of color.
And as quick as it had happened, she slipped her mask back on, her fists loosening and the easy grin spreading again. "So glad you could join us, Taylor! I'm sure we'll find the best clothes for you. Even your body can be made to fit something I'm sure. How did Emma even convince you to come along?"
I flinched back. I should have expected this. Of course she would strike with the barbs first. Unless I approached her alone she would have to keep up appearances. Knowing that didn't make it hurt less.
"Madison," Emma said, drawing her attention. Emma stepped forward and leaned in, though I was close enough to hear her whisper, "Don't. I'll explain in a bit, but for now, lay off. Nothing mean, nothing bad, nothing hurtful. We're just going actual shopping for actual clothes and we're trying to get her a decent wardrobe update."
Madison frowned, her mask slipping again as she glanced at me. "Is this related to…school?" What were they talking about? Had I missed something? I needed to reread my journal.
"No," Emma hissed. "And that's off too. Everything is off. It's complicated. I'll explain soon. Short, short version: her dad just died. So nothing bad today. Okay?"
Madison stepped back, her eyes wide, all attention focused on Emma. "No. Not okay. What's going on?"
"Madison?" Emma asked.
This was going spectacularly. "Is there something wrong?" I asked, stepping forward.
"What did you do to her?" Madison whispered, her head whipping around to me.
I frowned. "What?"
Emma breathed out, grinding her teeth. "Fuck. This is because she knows I was…" she flushed and looked away, clearly embarrassed. "Obsessed with you. Only her and Sophia know me well enough for this to be an issue. Julia and the others won't care or won't even notice; they're just tagalongs anyway. Fine. Clothes after, coffee first. We'll flip the order, it's fine."
Emma grabbed Madison's hand and started to tow her along towards the coffee shop. I jumped to fall in line next to her, trying to ignore how Madison was looking around at everyone nearby like a rabbit surrounded by wolves. I knew how that felt all too well. How had I missed her cues for so long? Had I been that focused on myself? Had I been that selfish, or was it just naivety?
Before I could follow that thought through though, I was sat down in a little booth at the back of the store by Emma and shortly after a waitress was sliding mugs across to each of us. Madison just looked at the mug in front of her like it was poisoned. She glanced at me beside her and I snorted.
"Just say it."
"Did you Master Emma?"
"No." I sipped my drink and hummed. "This is good. Raspberry?"
"They call it Wild Berry actually," Emma said, shrugging. "I think it's a bit of everything, I have no idea. I don't drink tea, Taylor, that hasn't changed."
"Well, it was a good choice anyway. Thanks." She nodded.
"Did your dad really die?" Madison asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The tea splashed over my hands before I could set the mug down. I yelped and hurriedly wiped the liquid off, it definitely stung but I didn't think it would leave a mark. "You are making this very difficult, Madison," I hissed. "I'm trying to see you as a victim of that bitch too. I'm trying to remember how bad things were for you also. But you're making that hard. Yes, my father is dead. He died 8 hours and 23 minutes ago. Squealer's tank was thrown by Fenja or Menja and he was crushed. I am now living with Emma and her family because no one knew that I despised all three of you. They just knew that she was my sister; before Sophia poisoned her at least. Satisfied?"
Emma winced. "That could have been handled better."
Madison's mouth was back into her little 'o' and she was staring at me again. Her gaze switched to Emma and she swallowed. "You still wouldn't drop things overnight. Something is going on. Something's not right. Why shouldn't I call the PRT or…or the police at least?"
Emma shrugged. "Because then Shadow Stalker is likely to get involved and we both know that you don't like her."
Madison winced while I wrestled my emotions back under control and clenched my hands around the mug in front of me. Was Emma…No, she couldn't be outing Sophia. So, did Madison know Shadow Stalker in costume? Actually, that would make sense. It would have made things easier for them if they'd had the cover that Emma knew Shadow Stalker in case Madison had ever stumbled upon them in a bad spot. Coupled with Shadow Stalker being the Ward that made the most 'appearances' at Winslow, that would make a twisted amount of sense.
"Mads, when Taylor came in last night, we…talked. For the first time in, a very, very long time." Emma's hands wrapped around her drink and she dropped her eyes. "I was going to hurt her. That was the plan. I was going to taunt her and convince her that staying with us was the absolute worst thing she could do. I was planning to force her to live with family friends or move to a different state. But, then she came into my room, and she cried, and I remembered all the good times I had with Uncle Danny. And I couldn't do it."
I had to turn my head to stare out the cafe's window and blink a few times to get rid of the moisture in my eyes. Emma was good. That wasn't even really a lie at all was it? She was telling the truth without telling the important bits of it.
That made it so much worse.
"We talked instead. And I - I never told you what happened to me, a few years ago, did I?"
My breath hitched and my head snapped back to stare at Emma. She refused to meet my gaze, holding Madison's instead. She was throwing herself under the bus instead of me. Madison needed something to know why Emma's outlook had changed so drastically. Instead of telling her about my secret, Emma was telling her about hers.
My hand curled around the journal on the table next to my mug. Had I really been able to throw Emma a lifeline? I had thought that I was manipulating her, and watching her manipulate Madison…hurt.
But only someone who really cared would sacrifice themself like that.
Right?
\/\/\/\/
"So let me make sure I understand this," Madison said, sipping at the last dregs of her coffee. "Shadow Stalker saved you from the ABB, you met Sophia a few weeks later and adopted her philosophy because…reasons, threw Taylor to curb, Danny Hebert died, you two had a heart to heart, realized that maybe Sophia is actually pretty horrible, one of you realized that I was not as into the crazy train as you thought - which I still don't understand how that particular leap happened by the way - and decided to try to spring all of this on me through…clothes shopping?"
"That's about right, yes," Emma stated.
I groaned, dropping my head to land on the open journal, the pen rolling to the side of the table from the impact. "Sure. That's…close enough." I didn't like this. I didn't like this at all, but it was better than the alternative. Emma knowing about my power was bad enough, if I could get away with letting Emma take the lead here…I could learn to live with it.
"I mean, I'm certainly not opposed to taking down Miss Sociopath. I just don't really get your logic leaps. But sure, I'll go with it for now. This is Brockton Bay after all and crazier things have happened."
"Really? What?" I asked.
"Well, Lung being here for starters. He's on the wrong coast. By all accounts he's lazy - he should have stayed in California, right? But no, he came here instead. Then he conquered all the smaller gangs, and only then decided to be lazy again. Like, who even does that? Capes are crazy, but not like that, not normally. There are other things too, but I think you get the idea."
Emma stared at her, one eyebrow lifted, while I patted Madison on the shoulder. When she wasn't trying to be a bitch, it wasn't as hard to remember that she was hurting at high school, just like me.
"Doesn't it feel nice to be a cape nerd in public?" Emma asked, a small smirk on her face.
Madison flushed, swallowing hard. "I, uh…I just…I check PHO you know? It's not…"
"It's okay, Madison," Emma murmured. "I'm sorry I never realized how bad a friend I was to you too. I never should have listened to Sophia."
"You think?" Madison muttered. She shook her head and turned to me. "I really am sorry, Taylor. I…I've never been good at standing up for myself and…I'm sorry. I'll try to make up for everything. Somehow."
I nodded. "Thank you. Fair warning, I'm going to have to work at not flinching around you for, uh, a while probably. It's easier around you than it is with Emma though, so…yeah."
"It is?" they both chimed in.
"Why?" Madison squeaked.
"But I was your friend first!" Emma gasped.
I glared at Emma. "She didn't throw Mom's death in my face and she didn't stab me in the back. She also looks like someone who's been beaten down if you're actually looking at her instead of just glancing at her hair and makeup. You don't. You looked destroyed last night, Emma, but you're mostly back to normal right now. I don't hate you, but I can't trust you right now and it's going to take a long time to get that trust back."
Emma's eyes closed and pursed her lips. "That's entirely fair. I deserve that. I deserve a lot more than that." She shook herself and tried for another smile; it didn't reach her eyes. "Anyway, we should really go and get that shopping done. You really do need the clothes, Taylor."
"Yeah, I know," I murmured, sighing.
As we started to stand, Madison gestured to the table. "I forgot to ask, what were you writing before?"
"What?"
"In your book. What were you writing while Emma was talking? Were you taking notes or something? That's kinda weird; it's not really the sort of thing you want to keep notes about."
My eyes widened and I sucked in a breath. I froze as I looked down at the journal in my hand. The journal that I knew I had left at the Barnes' house. There was another page filled in. And…I ran a finger down the divide where the words had stopped the night before and where they started up now.
Julia had finished her shopping. There were a few good New Year's sales and she had managed to get most of her last minute shopping done all at once. The others wouldn't care that she gave them their holiday gifts at school instead of at home during the actual holiday. All that mattered was the gift itself - in order to maintain her position. That she had found some amazingly comfortable leggings in several colors as well as a new pair of Mary Janes were just bonuses really. Her final destination was the food court to grab some pretzel bites and then she would call her father to come pick her up.
As she stood in line waiting, she had idly scanned the surrounding cafes, and the shock of what she had seen was almost enough to make her drop her phone. Emma, Madison, and Taylor Hebert sitting at a table just...talking. What. The. Fuck!?
She didn't know what was going on, but she wanted to. After a moment of thought, she decided that texting Sophia would probably be a better approach than just barging in on the conversation. If this was a new method of attack they were starting on she didn't want to mess anything up. And if it was a fall from grace…well nothing wrong with giving herself a leg up now on the soon to be vacated position at the top was there?
She opened the messaging app on her phone, but as she was selecting Sophia's entry, it rang. She read the Caller ID and gasped, her eyes widening and a squeal of glee escaping for everyone around to hear. All thoughts of annoyance fled as she punched the air. Jake! He had actually called her!
Whatever the deal was with Taylor could wait. Julia had a hot boy that needed to ask her out.
\/\/\/\/
Contessa awoke with a throbbing headache, wincing as even the light leaking in from under the door drove a spike of pain right through her brain. A Thinker headache? She'd never had to worry about those before…
Frowning and narrowing her eyes to minimize the pain from the light, she cast about for anything familiar, finding her custom designed pillow, her hypoallergenic sheets underneath, and her alarm clock off on the side table. She was in her own bed, in Cauldron's headquarters. Most unusual - and disturbing - she was fully dressed, a piece of paper clenched in her left hand and a small pen knife lying in the bed to her right.
Wincing, she sat up and squinted, struggling to read the crumpled paper in the dim light through the pounding in her head.
Memoir: Contessa
Ever since that day, so long ago, when the little girl Fortuna awoke with power granted to her by the shard Forward-Looking Eye, she had been following the paths it saw. The very first path she ever followed was, to her mind, the most critical. It was a simple nine step path to ensure she remembered the vision granted to her of the Entities and their shards, the origin of all powers.
The nine steps of that path seemed very simple. Avoid being restrained by her uncle and his friend. Get a particular powder out of her uncle's medicine bag, mix it into some water, and drink. The effect, however, was profound. When the chemicals in that powder reached her brain, they interacted with the forming growth in it that linked her to Forward-Looking Eye. This interaction caused a splinter of Memory to remain attached to the shard, and allowed its Host to retain the memory of the paired Entities and their plan.
The paths she followed year after year since were predicated on a dedicated attempt to thwart that plan. She chose to change her name, because she did not want to associate the evils she performed and enabled with the name her parents gave her. Nobility and charity were sacrificed on the altar of efficiency, and step after step was taken along the path paved with good intentions.
Contessa's paths were always clear, outside of a few small blind-spots. The Warrior Entity was the largest. Wandering Earth Bet aimlessly because the cycle was broken, its emulation of the host species' emotions left it vulnerable, stuck in an endless loop of anguish and pain. Most troubling, the High Priest's Host and the three active Superweapons were the other blind-spots. Linked together because the Superweapons were given purpose by his power and driven by his subconscious need to prove himself in battle. The shard reported that the Host's attention had already centered on Canberra, Australia, due to the successes of the local heroes beginning to eclipse his own Protectorate's accomplishments. The Superweapon designated as Simurgh had already started its plans for the February 24th midday attack, setting the dominos into place to ensure its battle would prove it to be a worthy opponent. The seventeen Superweapons in storage remained on standby, awaiting activation by the shard. The Simurgh endeavored to ensure that it would be the ultimate opponent, and that the High Priest's Host would never feel the others would be needed.
A led to B and B preceded C. Unfortunately, what was almost always missing was context. The reason for the somewhat bizarre steps in her paths. Case in point was the sudden re-pathing that happened on January 2nd, 2011 at 6:52 AM UTC.
Contessa was sitting at a tasting table at Postcard Teas in Mayfield, England, Earth Aleph. Before her was a steaming cup of freshly brewed black tea. These Sunday morning tasting sessions were one of the rare delights she sometimes managed to squeeze into her busy life, one of the only times she allowed herself to be free of Forward-Looking Eye's directions. Which, of course, made it all the more frustrating when this session was derailed.
As she reviewed the new steps in the path, she was relieved to note that there was a specific step that allowed her to finish drinking her tea. That relief was significantly offset however, by a sudden spike of pain in her head as these new steps were hard to make out in her mind's eye. They seemed to echo with a strange feedback as if a microphone had been placed too close to a speaker.
The pain quickly increased as she began following the new steps. Fortunately, the first few steps seemed to specifically attempt to deal with the pain.
"Wolf-fucking horseballs," she swore in her birth language. She followed that with a request in English. "Small door to Number Man's bathroom medicine cabinet," she murmured, confident in the assurance of her path that no one would happen to observe the portal.
Reaching in, she grabbed a small blister pack of pills from the bottom shelf. She peeled a pill out and popped it in her mouth as the portal closed. She then swallowed the pill with a sip of tea and settled in to finish her drink while waiting for the next step.
After exactly 13 minutes, she took the last sip of her tea. The migraine that had been building was still there, but it now felt muted, as if her head was filled with cotton. The steps in her mind were blurry, but she felt capable of following them now, at least.
"Small door to my uncle's old medicine bag, ruins of a village three miles south west from the foot of the mountain where the original portal to the Garden of Flesh was located on Earth 'Ayin."
After a few moments, the door opened, and Contessa reached through into the dust caked bag. She withdrew a small bottle filled with powder then dismissed the portal.
Contessa picked up the teapot and filled a small to-go cup, sprinkling a precise amount of the powder into the cup before putting on a lid and swirling the cup to mix it. She stood and walked to the back of the tea shop. When she was out of sight, she drew a small knife from her pocket and followed the next step. "Door to Brockton General Hospital Waiting Room 3C."
Even muted, the pain was immense as it bloomed upon her entry to the room. There were only a few more steps to this segment of the path, but they were so difficult to make out and every step brought blinding pain striking through her head as echoes resounded louder and louder. The specific steps' positions were oscillating, the words shifting almost as if her power couldn't decide which came before the next.
Step: Contessa stared/will stare at the teenager sitting in the waiting room. The girl's face was/will be blank and grief-stricken at the same time. She was/is hunched over a journal, and words were/are leaping out of the pen in her hands onto the paper.
Step: When the girl was/is finally finished, Contessa staggered/will stagger over to the girl, setting the cup of tea down next to her.
Step: Under the deft control of her power Contessa cut/will cut the newly finished page from the journal.
Step: "Door to my room," Contessa managed/will manage to gasp. She stumbled/will stumble through the door, collapsing on her bed.
Step: Her sight faded/will fade as the migraine overpowers her. The last thing she saw/will see was the line at the very bottom of the page. It overlapped/overlaps with the last step in her mind's eye perfectly.
Step: Prevent potential leaks of Cauldron secrets by instructing all Cauldron agents to take no actions, make no plans, and avoid any influence regarding Brockton Bay for the next six months.
Contessa stared at the page in disbelief. The throbbing in her head pulsed every time her eyes scanned over one of the odd parts of text that had multiple letters and words written atop each other. The meaning imparted by those blurs was much more than a single word. It was as if there were multiple related yet distinct concepts all bundled into each small spot.
The pain was well worth the information contained at the top of the page. Her breath hitched as she stared at the paper reading it again, and for a third time to ensure she hadn't missed a word. This had the potential to change…everything. Tactical information on Scion, her own Agent, advance notice of the date of the next Endbringer attack in addition to the specific location, not to mention their entire motivation, and an additional seventeen more in hibernation…waiting on Eidolon to feel…inadequate?
It was easy to believe in the validity of the information. The fact it contained extremely detailed and accurate documentation about her distant past was evidence enough of a powerful postcognitive trigger. A powerful and unrestricted postcog if she was able to predict Endbringers - even indirectly. Contessa had been dealing with this world long enough that she could puzzle out a probable answer for her migraine as well. She didn't get Thinker headaches, and the 'echoes' hadn't been what most Thinkers described their headaches like anyway. No her's were different. This had been…feedback. If her Agent - shard? - and this other…shard were both originally from the Other Entity and somehow connected, it was likely that having the two powers interact in such a close manner would cause such an issue. Mixing the past and future together, could easily overload the host connection, causing the feedback loop. Contessa would have been affected worse than the new trigger since Contessa simulated all futures to find the right one, while the girl seemed to detail only the past.
Shaking her head, Contessa focused on building the most useful paths to move forward with this new data. She needed to rebuild her models, taking into account the information about Eidolon and the link to the Endbringers. The potential for further information along these lines was tremendous. Having the two shards basically demand that a single city be left alone for six months was frustrating, but with a possible path forward to resolve the issue with the Endbringers, that was a small price to pay. After the elapsed interval she could try to engage with the girl through an intermediary, to determine how deep her knowledge of the workings of the Entities and their Cycle went. Perhaps they could truly fight back, instead of searching for a silver bullet amidst the horde.
Perhaps they already had their silver bullet?
Contessa stood, a smile growing, and began building a new path. She felt more hope than she had in decades, but there was much work to be done.
She exited her room and marched with determination toward Number Man's office. On the way, she considered the most effective method to share her new information with everyone else. Working around David was going to be…interesting.
Snapping my journal closed I stepped to Emma's side and grabbed her arm, pulling her with me towards the bathroom. "We'll be right back, Madison! Quick break before shopping!"
As the bathroom door slammed before me, Emma's eyebrows were already lifted, her arms crossed. "I swear you used to be more subtle when we were kids."
"I also used to talk more and had actual friends," I snapped.
Emma winced, ducking her head. "Also true," she murmured.
Holding my diary out to her, I pointed at the new page. "Julia is going to be a problem. Can you deal with this before she talks to Sophia?"
"I thought you left that at home," Emma frowned, taking the journal and scanning the entry.
"I did."
She met my eyes. "Oh. Clingy power? Sophia was always angry that she didn't get the ability to manifest arrows like some capes could do. Miss Militia makes her own ammo with each weapon. Maybe you make a new journal whenever you go into your fugues?"
That didn't…feel right. "I - don't think that's right. We can try experimenting later. Right now, I'm more concerned with the boy-crazy queen-bee wannabe."
Emma sighed. "Julia's not intelligent enough to hold sway for more than a week. She wouldn't get far even if she was able to topple me. Granted, she can do some damage, but I can take care of this."
"How?" I asked, taking back the journal and slipping it into my bag.
"Well, first," she said, pulling out her phone and tapping away, "I reach out to Sophia; mention that you 'finally' showed a spine the other night; I'm curious, and I'm investigating; I'll let her know how it turns out." Before I could do more than open my mouth, Emma was talking again, "I would have preferred a day or two to work on the posse first, but Sophia isn't social so I really doubt it will affect much. This saves us the hassle of playing defensive, if Julia decides to actually reach out to Sophia. She should be busy with her hero stuff anyway today, so getting together with Madison isn't that strange."
"Okayyy." I shook my head. Maybe this was why I was slotted into the role of 'victim' so easily, high school politics just did not make any sense to me. "What about Julia herself?"
"That's a bit harder," Emma said, frowning as she stared at the phone. "The goal is to start getting you accepted by the group. Obviously you're never going to be friends with them, but you don't have to be friendly to get them to stop going after you. I was planning to shift their attention first; that doesn't work anymore. Hmm…maybe…" She smirked and started tapping away again.
"Emma, you have to communicate here. What are you doing?"
"I'm telling Julia that you had a proposal for me and that it was intriguing. I'm implying that it's rather juicy gossip. What I'm actually doing is planting seeds so that when she sees us together at school, I can imply that you grew a spine, it's made you interesting, and I'm seeing how far this change goes."
"Grew a spine?" I snapped. "Because you can't just back off like normal people?"
"Taylor, Sophia and I have been egging on the people in that school on for months," Emma hissed. "Unless you feel like walking onto the grounds and swiping at me with a knife, we're going to have to get a bit creative here!"
"I really don't get how you changed so much, Emma," I muttered, leaning against the sink.
"My father tried to take a shortcut and I listened to the wrong person afterwards," she snapped, the words rushing out almost too fast to distinguish. "You used to stand up to me, Taylor, used to stand up for me. You should have realized that something was wrong, you should have said something, you should have done something, just like my father should have. I'm not -"
She cut off, nearly biting her tongue as her jaw snapped closed. Lowering her phone, she smoothed her blouse and started again, her pace much less frantic and her tone far more controlled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
"Yes, you did. You're not wrong either," I whispered, squeezing the countertop hard enough to leave my fingers aching. "Are you done?"
"Yeah."
"Let's go. We should get back before Madison starts getting antsy again."
Emma didn't say anything as she followed me back out.
I really hated seeing her as a person again.
\/\/\/\/
We were halfway through the second store and I was three blouses deep into a new wardrobe before Madison finally asked what I had been dreading.
"So," she started, "not that I particularly like rocking the boat, but I figure I've gotten other answers today, so I might as well try. Problems in paradise between you two already?"
I stared at the changing room that Emma had disappeared into, willing it to open and for my…friend…to come and save me. It did not open.
"What are you talking about?" Maybe playing stupid would work.
"You both ran off very quickly before we left Bean Around, and I swear you looked like you'd seen a ghost. Color me curious, Taylor." Then again, maybe it wouldn't work at all.
I sighed, gesturing towards the changing room. "I saw Julia staring at us through the window. I panicked and grabbed Emma to ask her to do something about it before…"
"Before it got back to Sophia? Probably a good idea." She shrugged, pulling out her phone and opened up an app. "Hmm, then again, I doubt you had anything to worry about."
"Why?"
She turned the screen to me. I frowned, reading the status update aloud, "'In a relationship'. Okay, so how does that come into play at all?"
Madison rolled her eyes. "Wow, you really are bad at high school. I don't like any of the people I hang out with, but I know how to understand them and how to play their games. You would do a lot better if you learned how to play too."
"I prefer not speaking 'backstabbing bitch' thanks."
"It's kept me from being the one who was relentlessly bullied."
I raised my eyebrows and held her gaze. After only a few seconds Madison fidgeted, then her hands clenched, then she dropped her eyes to the floor. "I only had to make it through two more years," she murmured.
"Would you have been able to? Even if Emma shifted away from me, you know Sophia would've had her pick a new target. You wouldn't have ever been able to stop being exactly who you hate. Would you have really lasted two more years like that, Madison?" I wasn't even sure myself if I had meant for that to be as barbed or hurtful as it was. Mom probably wouldn't have been proud. She had always said that you shouldn't try to tear down the people around you. It was why she left Lustrum once they had taken a turn for the fanatical - they didn't care about equality, just tearing men down.
"Sometimes you have to blend in to survive," Madison whispered.
"And you'd compromise everything that you liked about yourself just to avoid harassment from some bitches you don't care about? People you don't even like? Are your morals worth that little to you?" I asked.
"I don't know how to fight like a boy. I'm small and delicate and I can't get muscles and I…I can barely even defend myself from a handsy boy; let alone crazy people who think I'm supposed to be supporting them…It's better to fight like a smart girl: be one of the top bitches without being the queen bee or their target. Being on top takes a lot of work to hold steady, being just a lieutenant? That's, well, easy. Morals are great, and I would love to be myself, but, being myself would have made me just as miserable in this school. If I have to choose between being beaten up and standing near the top of the pile…it's hard to remember my morals sometimes…"
Why did they both have to be people? Deprogramming Emma was one thing, stopping Madison from being suicidal was good. Actually feeling bad for either of them? That wasn't supposed to happen. Not this fast at least, not until I had spent more time with them, not until they had proven they could actually be decent people.
Or at least, decent to me.
"Taylor, why didn't you ever fight back?"
I stayed silent, staring at my hands. Biting back the first few replies, I finally managed to speak, "I refused to stoop to that level. I didn't want to be as horrible as she was. And, she was my friend. At some level, I always wanted - always hoped - that she would wake up one day; and she'd be my friend again. I knew that if I stood up to her, I would never, ever see the girl I grew up with again. It would mean that I had given up on her."
Madison was quiet. I didn't know how long we sat there, but the next thing I was sure of was her nudging my shoulder with her own. I didn't look up, but I could hear the soft chuckle in her voice as she spoke. "Guess your patience paid off, huh? Emma did finally figure out what a horrible person she was."
"Yeah, I guess so."
If only I hadn't had to pay such a steep price to get my friend back.
Of course, Emma chose that moment to leave the changing room. She stopped in front of the two of us, doing a small twirl, her chosen skirt flaring. "What do you girls think? I'm partial to the blue one, but this green does contrast nicely with my hair."
"That definitely brings out the red," Madison chirped, her smile back firmly in place.
I could only nod, managing what I hoped was a supportive grin.
"Okay, I think I'll get this one. Taylor, you up for a bit more experimentation? I think you would look fantastic in these slacks I found!"
"That sounds great, Emma."
It was nice to have her back. But…why couldn't I have gotten powers before?
\/\/\/\/
By the time we got back to Emma's house, the car was laden with what seemed like dozens of bags and boxes. I had no idea how we had managed to get so much stuff or how I had lasted so long without screaming. I hadn't enjoyed shopping back before the world went insane and I liked it even less now.
As we finished hauling the packages inside and hanging my new wardrobe up though…I couldn't deny that I was proud of my new clothes. There was an even warmer feeling in my chest knowing that these blouses weren't going to wind up destroyed by juice or soda and that these pants weren't going to have glue permanently messing them up.
Whatever Emma's ultimate plans were for fixing my social status didn't particularly matter. I didn't need to be amongst the In Crowd. I was going to be perfectly happy just not being a target anymore.
"So, I talked to my Dad," Emma said, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it. "He called and said that he should have a lot of the paperwork that you need filled out sometime tomorrow. He's also got the funeral arrangements setup for Monday as well. We are missing school, but I already talked to Madison before we left the mall; she's planting the seeds for when we return."
I just nodded, trying to blink away the sheen over my eyes and steadfastly continuing to arrange the clothes that I had already arranged.
"He said that he got you an appointment with your shrink for tomorrow afternoon. I, uh…I might have asked to get onto that schedule as well."
My head snapped to her, eyes wide. "What?"
"Daddy thinks it's because of Uncle Danny…It's…I don't understand why I listened to Sophia instead of going to you, Taylor. I don't…a large part of me still thinks she's right - that her way of looking at things is smarter, safer. That's…I'm - I don't want to forget why I was friends with you, not again. I don't want to be the monster that she is - that I was just a few days ago. I'm - I'm still that monster, I'm just serving a new master. I don't want to keep doing that."
"That's…surprisingly mature, Emma," I said. Moving to sit down on the bed, I watched as she clenched her fists in her skirt, her shoulders slumping. The contrast from when we were out with Madison was striking.
"Look at me, Taylor. I deflected Mads without a second thought. I was Queen of the Hill when dealing with the Julia problem. And now I'm just like last night, barely able to string two words together without crumbling. This isn't - I can't keep going like this. Not if I want to keep pretending that I'm better than the girl who would leave a kid behind in an alley without a second thought."
I still doubted that was the full story when it came to Sophia, but I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If Emma wanted to believe that a single snapshot showed everything about a person, I wasn't going to say anything; not if she was going to get therapy because of it. Sophia deserved to be treated like a one-note bitch anyway. I could've died when she shoulder checked me down the stairs! Screw Sophia, she would be the villain of my story. She'd already cast herself in that role.
"Emma, I can see that you're really trying to get better. I'll do what I can to help."
She looked up, meeting my gaze, her own eyes glistening. "I don't deserve you. You should be kicking me to the curb."
No, I couldn't do that. Then I wouldn't have anyone. I may not exactly trust her, but as long as Emma didn't betray me again, I could work with her and help her to fix herself. Dr. Klint had helped drag me out of my depression after Mom died, maybe he could actually do something to help Emma too.
I shook my head and forced a smile that was almost genuine. "Come sit down, Emma. Let's try to figure out exactly what I can do. Maybe it'll take our minds off of things and if I'm going to be a cape - even a shadowy one - I should figure out how my power works."
Emma wiped at her eyes and scampered to the bed, climbing up beside me. "Okay, yeah, that's a good idea. So, to start with, the journal. Have you checked to see if there is a second one now?"
I pulled out the copy from my bag, running my hand down the spine and held it out for her to look at. "Just the one. I had left it inside with my duffel bag, it was gone when we got back. Only the copy that I brought back from the mall is still here."
"So maybe I was right and it is a clingy power, just a clingy power that you can summon instead of making a new copy of?"
I touched a scratch down on the back cover that had been left there from when Mom owned it. "I…think that's more likely than anything else at this point."
"That's really useful. Do you think it means that you can only use the journal to do your omniscience thing? Like it's a focusing lens or something?"
I shrugged. "No idea. I didn't even know that I was writing anything at the mall until Madison mentioned it. I didn't even realize I had the journal with me!" Frowning, I flipped it open and ran my fingers down the text. "Also, it's not omniscience. This is more like post-cognitive information than anything else."
"I mean, maybe. That idea works for Sophia and maybe Julia and Madison if you go by a really strict sense of post-cog - like 30 seconds in the past, strict. But what about that first entry? That's post-cog, but it's not any perspective I can understand."
I flipped to the first entry for 'Memory'. "Emma, how much of this did you actually read?"
"Well I just skimmed it," she muttered. "I was a bit more interested in the part that had 'Sophia Hess' in big bold letters."
"Read it again." Handing her the journal, I waited for Emma to finish going over that first entry. Her eyes slowly widened and her breathing increased. Finally she jerked her head up to stare at me.
"Taylor…"
"Yeah."
"What the fuck?"
"Yeah."
"Is this -?"
"I think so."
"We need to tell someone."
I fell back onto the bed, my arms splayed, a grunt escaping from me. "Who are we supposed to tell, Emma? If we mention to anyone that my power can have me write about itself choosing me to be its 'host' then they are going to either think that I'm insane or they are going to want to see what else I can write about. If that happens, then there goes every potential plan of staying quiet and behind the scenes. I think we both know that the PRT would basically force me into the Wards if they got that hint."
"Not to mention that you can unmask capes without even thinking about it," Emma murmured. "Sophia was always pretty clear that that particular bridge isn't something that should be crossed if you want your family to stay safe."
"So again, who are we supposed to tell, Emma?"
"Okay, okay, you have a point," she said. "Still, this is important, Taylor! This thing implies that your power is smart. And if your power is smart then other powers are smart too!"
"And they're apparently aliens."
"What?"
"'Collision with the planet' implies it, how can you collide with something you live on? No, my power is part of an alien, a 'shard' of one. I have a parasitic alien in my head that lets me see the past and seems to really like the idea of 'love'. Tell me Emma," I stated, shifting so I could stare straight into her eyes, "how am I supposed to respond to that?"
She was silent for a long time. Finally, a small smile cracked across her lips and she poked my side. "Well, at least it isn't obsessed with something like anger or rage."
I blinked. Then I started to chuckle. Emma's giggles joined me a second later. We were both laughing hard enough to hold our sides within moments.
"I - have a power - that is - obsessed with - Lifetime movies!" I gasped out.
"We should - have a marathon - of romance flicks! Give it - some good - material!" Emma said around her own laughter.
After what felt like forever, our manic chuckles slowed and stopped. Emma was lying on the bed next to me, both of us staring up at the ceiling.
"Emma," I whispered.
"Yeah?"
"I'm scared."
"Me too, Taylor."
Capes were linked to aliens. Aliens with at least some sort of personality. At least one of them wanted to kill their cape. Mine liked different versions of love, which could be far worse, and it seemed to want to…help me and help the city.
I folded my hands in my lap and kept my eyes down. Was it a perfect defense? No, not at all. But it was a defense and it should work for at least a little while.
"Taylor, you don't have to talk about the elephant in the room, but I do think it would be for the best."
I lifted my head a fraction of an inch, just enough to glare at Dr. Klint. "I realize that."
"And yet here you are, sulking. Do you know when I saw behavior like this, Taylor? It was back when we first started meeting."
"Well excuse me for grieving," I growled. Sighing, and shaking my head, I continued softer, "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap."
"It's perfectly fine, Taylor. You're allowed to be upset."
"I feel like I should be…I don't know…more upset." I swiped a hand through my hair and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. "We had barely talked for months - years really - and then he was starting to get better and I was getting better, but we were still so far apart. And now…"
"Now what?" he prompted, tone soft enough it was hard to hear.
Now, I have an alien living in my head giving me powers and I'm using it to manipulate my bullies into being my friends.
"Now, I'm living with the girl who used to be my sister, then tortured me, and is now back to being my…I don't know, friend I guess." I dropped my head back down and glared again. "And don't you dare say 'And how does that make you feel?' because if you do then I'm going to scream."
"No you won't," he smirked.
"No, I won't," I grunted. "Jerk."
"So, Taylor, how does it make you feel? Do you believe that Emma's change in attitude this time is legitimate or are you worried that it's just a longer play to hurt you even more?"
I would be worried about that, but I could cheat. Her turn was power influenced even if not power induced, so I knew she was for real. It helped that she had scheduled appointments for therapy too. That wasn't something the old Emma would have ever done.
"Isn't it a conflict of interest or something to ask me that, since she's going to be a patient here too?"
Dr. Klint shook his head. "I don't discuss other patients, Taylor. We're talking about you. Your father just passed away a few days prior. It's okay to be wary of anyone with an olive branch, even completely discounting your history with this girl in particular."
"The problem is that I don't want to look over my shoulder with her," I sighed. That was true even without powers involved. "Even after everything she did to me, I still…I missed her. And now she's trying to help, she's trying to make up for the past, but…"
"But what?"
"Why should I profit from Dad dying?" I whispered, sinking into the armchair. "My life is looking better now and…shouldn't I be doing worse? How is it right that I'm…optimistic?"
"Taylor, your emotions are going to be all over the place for quite some time while you work through this loss. There's nothing wrong with that at all. There's nothing wrong in taking comfort in the little bit of happiness that's come your way after a trauma."
"I basically stopped living after Mom died though. If I'm not shutting down after losing Dad…"
"It just means that you are older, and that you are working through your grief differently because of different circumstances. It doesn't mean you loved him any less. I've lost family myself; speaking from experience, you never react the same way twice."
"I suppose that makes some sense," I murmured, not looking up. Fingering my journal, I felt the knot between my shoulders start to loosen. At least this time the notebook hadn't teleported itself to me. I had specifically taken it with me, since I didn't want to risk anyone reading it while I was gone. Although, would the alien writing through me even let anyone else read it if it didn't want them to?
"How is your writing going, Taylor? The last time we spoke you were going to try and write something about the Bay. Have you been able to start that? It might help you work through your grief; maybe take your mind off of the big things, focus in a bit on something smaller."
I had said that. I had been about to start it when I got the notice from the hospital. Could I even write anymore? Would my power let me write normally? Probably. Most likely. That would be a really shitty power if it activated every single time I tried to write a story about anything.
"I, uh, have something written. But it would need a lot of work before I could even begin to massage it into something I would be able to put online." Like, taking out all of the cape references. Or…maybe not…maybe I could…oooh, now there was an idea…
"You don't have to put it out to anyone if you don't feel comfortable doing so. This is an exercise to get you to loosen your personal walls and stretch your limits, Taylor. No one has to see it but yourself. It's simply something to get you engaged with the world around you."
And that right there was why I could never be a shrink. How locking myself in a room and tapping away on a computer for hours equated to interacting with the wider world, was not something I could ever understand. Still, he had a point about needing to do something.
"I know. I think that I might know how to move forward."
"That's excellent," he said, smiling wide. "Now, we have half-an-hour, was there anything that you wanted to discuss?"
I grimaced and glanced at the journal, my thumb resting on the pages.
"Why…Why does it hurt so much finding out that the people I considered monsters are…just…people?"
Dr. Klint steepled his fingers, his expression drooping. He was quiet for several seconds. Eventually, his head shook, barely enough to be noticed. "That, Taylor, is truly one of the hardest things to ever realize about others. No one is two-dimensional. Understanding is beautiful, it's wonderful. And yet, it's also -"
"So much worse," I whispered.
"…In some ways. But we can't dwell on the pain."
"Yeah," I said. I clenched my fist and looked up, meeting his eyes. "I know."
I needed to move forward. Madison and Emma having their own issues was something I could deal with. Sophia having her sociopathic tendencies was something I could use. And I could accept Dad being gone.
I'd just have to make sure that I left a legacy of which he and Mom would have been proud.
\/\/\/\/
By the time that Emma got out of her appointment with Dr. Klint my semi-semblance of a sorta-plan had been massaged, nurtured, and fully sprouted. My smirk when she stepped outside and met me was, apparently, impressive. At least I assumed it was since she blinked and took a half-step back.
Shaking herself, Emma squared her shoulder and crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows. "Satisfied with yourself? I did say I was going to go. I wasn't about to drop out of this five minutes into the meeting you know. I'm not that bad."
"Not that," I said. I grabbed her arm and started hurrying us back towards the front of the parking lot. "But yes, I'm proud of you for sticking it out. How did it go?"
"Surprising," Emma slowed and I was forced to adjust my own pace to avoid dragging her. "It was…Liberating I suppose. I had assumed talking to someone would be embarrassing or shameful, but that was…"
"I get it." I squeezed her hand. "I'm half convinced that Dr. Klint is the main reason I didn't end up bringing a knife to school."
Emma frowned. "What would you have done with a knife?"
"Shank Sophia when she tried to push me down the stairs, then blame it on one of the gangbangers," I muttered. Plastering my smile back on my face, I said, louder, "Don't worry about it! Come on, let's get to the car! I had an idea!"
Emma just rolled her eyes and followed me. In no time we had jumped into the car and Emma was pulling out into traffic.
"So, what was this awesome idea that we couldn't talk about inside the office?"
I giggled - it was probably more of a cackle, but whatever - as I held up the journal, tapping the cover. "We're going to use my power to…write a novel about Brockton Bay!"
"…What."
\/\/\/\/
Instead of going home, Emma ended up driving us up to the outskirts of the city, near the woods. We drove most of the way in silence since she didn't seem to want to talk about my brilliant plan. By the time we parked and got out to sit on the hood of the car, I was starting to second-guess myself.
But no! I needed to stay the course. My power was useful. It was weird, and unusual, but it was useful. I could kill at least two if not three or more birds with a single stone this way! It was like using a meteor to go bird hunting, but if it worked, then just imagine the poultry I could bring home!!
Or maybe I was bad at analogies…
"Taylor, I thought you wanted a low profile?"
"Yeah, I do, but we're never going to fix this city if I just sit around at your house all day. I have to do...something." I waved my arm out to encompass the city spread out below us. "Look at it, Emma. It's dying. Between the Empire, the ABB, the Merchants…The heroes need help. If I start writing things and putting it out there that gives them a path forward, that's a good thing."
She nodded; her crossed arms never left her chest though. "Except that your entries unmask people. That's bad. Sophia was very clear that you don't do that."
I laid back, staring up at the clouds. "The Empire killed Fleur that way, Emma. Everyone knows that story."
"Yes, and the boy that pulled the trigger was destroyed afterwards, Taylor!"
I rolled my head enough to stare at her. "Emma, my family was still friends with yours when that happened. I remember Alan being upset with Brandish constantly ranting about Kaiser okaying the attack and how they couldn't do anything to him. He got away with just a scapegoat."
"Exactly and -"
"I'm not talking about putting people's real names out there, Emma. I'm talking about putting their actions out there. We can make it…fiction or something."
Emma frowned. She finally turned to look at me. "What, like 'Tales of the Bay' or something?"
"I was thinking more like 'Capes of the Coast' myself, but sure, that works," I shrugged. "The title doesn't matter much. We could name it anything. The important thing is that, to most people, it reads like fanfiction. But…"
"…But to the people who it is about they recognize it and know it's real…That's still dangerous."
"True, but so is anonymously dropping notes off at PRT HQ or sending an email to Armsmaster. My power isn't making me a Brute, it's making me a puppet master. So let's pull some strings."
Emma frowned. "I, okay, I think I see where you are coming from. And if we're very careful, it might work. But how do we start something like that?"
I sat up, tapping the hood on either side of me with both hands. "We hit both sides of the coin at once."
"I don't follow you."
"One scene for one of the Protectorate heroes. It should be something fairly innocuous, something that won't get them coming after me with torches and pitchforks, but enough to raise eyebrows about such intimate knowledge."
"You would have to avoid putting out any information about a Ward then, at least at first. My father talked about the Wards to Sophia a lot. The PRT usually targets anyone who goes after Wards very quickly and very harshly."
I lifted my eyebrows at that. "They don't go after the Fallen. It was a big deal in the media when those guys kidnapped what - five Wards? - last year, but the PRT didn't actually do anything to get them back."
"Six," Emma said. "I'm not an encyclopedia, Taylor. I'm just telling you what I overheard or what Sophia passed along. I was her tag-along, her pet. I didn't have a direct line into this stuff."
I held up my hands. "I get it, I get it! Sorry. Anyway, I wasn't planning to try to write about a Ward. I was thinking of Miss Militia or Dauntless. Hell, we could ask Madison who the most popular person is in the fanfiction community at the moment and then use them as our target."
"What's the second half of your plan?" Emma asked, her eyes narrowed.
"We also do one for a local villain. Except that one has things that would help the Protectorate. Things like: where their base is, or what they're planning, or details about a meeting they had with a subordinate, or…something."
Emma's lips started to curve up into the same sadistic smirk she had whenever she had been attacking me. A chill ran through me even though it wasn't directly at me this time. "That could work. I know someone from my father's work who's good with computers too. He could give us pointers so that any uploads would be secure. If we ask Madison to help us set up a throwaway account on the forums she posts on, all we would need is to find a good wifi signal at a cafe."
"And probably a burner laptop. Just in case. People use burner phones in movies right? A cheap laptop or phone that we only use for this is a good start, right?"
"Agreed, but we'll need money for that. I can't just max out my dad's credit card. He'd notice that and ask questions pretty fast."
"Maybe we can figure something out with my power for that too. I'm also going to need to figure out how to direct my power; so that could be a good test."
Emma tossed her hair over her shoulder, scoffing. "Oh please, that's the easy bit. All powers can be managed. You just need to figure out the right trigger for yours."
"Hah! You say that like it's easy."
"Well, I mean," Emma wilted, grimacing. "It is your power. It should have some sort of instincts included. Right?"
"Sure. Sure. We'll try it tonight and see if I can direct it."
"It's a plan! Let's get back before my parents freak out."
Except, this wasn't my power. Not really. This was a power granted by an alien, an alien that we didn't understand. If this thing didn't want to cooperate, we were going to be out of luck, because human logic really didn't apply here.
Eh, I'd cross that bridge when it came up. If it came up.
Everything always had rules. I just needed to figure out the rules for my power.
One short ton of gold. One bloody ton of gold. 73 bullion bars, each weighing over 27 pounds. That is what George was responsible for laundering from the Brink's-Mat take. Eighteen of those bricks were his. This was the best, and worst, thing that had ever happened to him.
His take of this haul was almost two million pounds, enough to set him up easy for a while. On the other hand, the crazy bunch that knocked over the Brink's-Mat warehouse were scrambling to cover their tracks, and it was quite likely one or two of them would end up being pinched, so George needed to do his part and cover his tracks quickly.
It was the Wednesday after the heist, and George was in his office at the courier firm. He had made arrangements for handing off fifty-five of the bars to a handful of contacts he felt could proceed with laundering them safely. For his share, he had taken it out to the abandoned farm next door to his childhood home and buried it just under the large willow in the backyard. He wasn't hurting for money right now, and he felt this was much safer than trying to launder or fence it right away. Better to be safe than sorry when it comes to this sort of thing. A bit of patience went a long way sometimes. The good ones learned that. The stupid ones got pinched. George aimed to be a good one.
May 8, 2003
The past twenty years had been exciting for George. There was no doubt of that. Besides the attempt on his life back in '85, George had watched as various people involved in the '83 heist were arrested or killed. Some people had started calling it The Curse of the Brink's-Mat millions. He had managed to steer clear of most of the trouble, and over the course of the past two decades, George had dug up 8 of the gold bricks and used them to live comfortably, if not extravagantly.
Things were getting ugly since the turn of the year though, and George had decided it was high time to clear out and make a nice safe retirement across the pond. Last week, he had dug up the remaining ten bricks and made arrangements for them to be smuggled overseas in a tramper called the Lazy Lucy. The gold was hidden inside several fifty pound sacks of rice mixed in a large pallet of them. If he had more time, he would have spread the shipments out over a couple of trips, or at least arranged for the bricks to be hidden in a variety of different items. Unfortunately, between the time constraints and the lack of any suitable partners to make arrangements, he was stuck with putting all his eggs in one basket.
The tramper was scheduled to arrive in Brockton Bay, NH on the 10th. George was flying out on the 15th, and he expected to pick up the rice shipment from the docks that weekend. Then, he would drive down to Virginia and make a new life there.
May 14th, 2003
George lay against the side of the building, laughing. Well, trying to laugh. The bricks were cursed. He should never have dug them up all at once. Now he was dying, from some stupid little bloke who thought that a mugging was worth a life. A mugging! George was worth over one million pounds, even with the currently depressed gold prices!
One million pounds that was now lost somewhere in that shitstorm of Brockton Bay. What better way to die than to get a last message from the shipping company that read: 'The Lazy Lucy was caught in a riot and scuttled in the shallows near the docks. We will contact you to discuss your insurance policy if you have purchased one. We are sorry for the inconvenience and hope this does not affect your future shipping arrangements.'
Well, no of course not. That wouldn't affect his shipping arrangements! No, the hole in his side from the knife would though.
Fucking cursed gold. Fucking Curse of the Brink's-Mat.
He was supposed to have been one of the good ones.
\/\/\/\/
Memoir: Dan Roberts
Dec 1, 2010
Schizophrenia. That was what his psychologist, Dr. Klint, suggested as a potential reason for Dan's insomnia and general indifference. This was based on the results of several therapy sessions discussing the issues and a study of his family's medical history. Dan was at the library this afternoon learning more about the disease. It had nothing to do with dodging his "friends" who kept pestering him to make plans for a party boat outing during winter break.
At 16 Dan was a bit too young for the disease to be fully manifested. Dr. Klint assured him that being aware of the potential would let them get ahead, and stay ahead, of any problems if they arose. It's a shame that he couldn't have been surprised with a diagnosis of powers instead. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a message from Ricky, asking yet again whether he was going to join them on the party boat. Dan sighed and wished he could feel some sort of excitement or at least interest about things rather than just plodding along.
Dec 17, 2010
Dan and his friends had aced their exams and were allowed to take the Friday before winter break off as a reward. Ricky and Jim dragged Dan along to take the boat out for a quick test ride before the party tomorrow evening. As Dan stared down impassively at the waves in the chill, he was suddenly struck by the overwhelming curiosity of what it would feel like to jump in and feel the bitter cold water envelop him. Without really stopping to think any further, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed his phone on top of it, then climbed over the rail and stepped off the boat. The shock of the cold hit him like a bolt of lightning. Dan would swear afterward that he wasn't feeling suicidal. This was about discovering a new Destination; forcing the world into Agreement with him that things would change. Dan watched as two swirls of bubbles drifted above him toward the surface, spiraling around each other like two eels dancing.
Dec 26, 2010
Browbeat watched from the shadows of the roof as Victor and Rune cruised by, just below him, on a hunk of concrete. He had been out here in the trainyard testing his new powers and, apparently, he managed to draw some unwanted attention. Fortunately, he managed to spot them first, due to the fact he was currently taking a break and writing down notes in his journal about what he had discovered so far regarding his short-ranged telekinesis and self-biokinesis.
As he watched the two villains, Browbeat was suddenly struck by overwhelming curiosity. Would his telekinesis be a match for Rune's? Well, since his control only extended a few inches from his skin, he guessed there was just one way to find out. He climbed over the ledge and stepped off the building.
\/\/\/\/
Memoir: Max Anders
Jan 2, 2011
Max was looking forward to a fantastic new year. Medhall had secured three new drug patents in Q4 of last year, and they would be seeing royalties on that much sooner than he had expected. The financial audit had wrapped up just before Christmas break with no discrepancies reported. A combination of bribes - and the unfortunate death of one particularly annoying auditor caught in a cape fight between Hookwolf and some ABB thugs - was the last piece needed to ensure Medhall's ties to the Empire remained invisible.
As for the Empire's fortunes, Kaizer was expecting a large turnout at the upcoming rally next Saturday. He had scheduled Alabaster and Rune to be there to wave the cape flag for the troops. She had recovered from the broken collarbone given to her by that solo hero, Browbeat, knocking her off of her platform, thanks to Othalla. Alabaster could rile up the believers, while Rune would draw in the younger crowd. It would be the best of both worlds. It was also unlikely to draw Protectorate attention. The Protectorate never liked attacking Rune due to her age, and Alabaster was simply a waste of resources thanks to his ability. Meanwhile, Max would be attending a soiree at the Forsberg Gallery. Annoying since he expected that he would be there again in May when the Mayor's election campaign revved up.
Max hated the food served there. For such a nice location…the owner was horribly cheap. Such a disappointment.
He might have to arrange an accident.
\/\/\/\/
Memoir: Esteban Torres
Dec 31, 2010
Esteban was nervous. It was just an hour until midnight, and he planned to propose to Cristina just as the new year started. He wasn't really nervous about whether she would say yes. They both knew they loved each other and wanted to be together for the rest of their lives. He just didn't expect Cristina to ask to leave the sports bar where they'd been playing trivia so they could go to the Bronze and dance. He hoped he would be able to find a quiet place there when he went to propose. He'd like to be able to hear her when she said yes. Esteban suddenly noticed a man in a trench coat and hat walking down the alley toward them, and he pulled Cristina behind him as he moved to the side to give the man plenty of space.
\/\/\/\/
Memoir: William White
Dec 31, 2010
Bill hated parties almost as much as he hated being called Billy. Especially parties that involved lots of drinking. He desperately missed drinking. Granted, he could still savor the burn of a single malt or the fragrant black cherry flavors framed with firm tannins in a good Cabernet Sauvignon. For a few seconds at least, before all the fun was wiped away. What he decidedly couldn't do, was become intoxicated. That was probably a good thing, since it was only after he triggered and his power made drinking pointless, that he realized he wasn't just a wine and liquor connoisseur. No, no, he was a damned alcoholic.
What was the fun in going to a fucking drinking party if you couldn't even indulge your addiction? So he leant on his other vices. He didn't always go out looking for trouble after a party, but when the heeb checking coats mixed up his expensive trench with an off-the-shelf piece of shit, well, who could blame him for needing a bit of relief on top of everything? You'd have thought that the subraces around the Bay would have realized to stay out of his way whenever there was an Empire party. They just never learned. It just went to show, you couldn't teach a monkey a new trick.
Bill had made his obligatory appearance for a few hours, his anger stoking higher every time he caught sight of the arrogant little spic boy smiling at his betters. Kaiser hated him shitting where they played though, so instead of dealing with the little shit, Bill ended up ducking out well before the new year countdown.
He decided to prowl the side streets near the boardwalk. Not in costume, just his heavy leather trench coat, scarf, and tyrolean hat, but he was bundled up well enough that he wasn't likely to be noticed by anyone. If they looked close, they'd see his white skin and white eyes, but if they were that close, they were dead or dying anyway.
It was their own fault for going out at night where he was walking.
Around eleven, he had come across a young pair of spics taking a shortcut through an alley on their way from one club to another. He was quite grateful to the man for providing the opportunity to vent at least some of his frustrations. It soothed his bitter soul to watch the blood pouring out of his slashed throat, to bask in the warm steam drifting up from it. The woman, held tightly in his grasp, barely struggled anymore as she stared at her partner's corpse in shock.
Alabaster shook off his wool gathering and wiped his blade off on the woman's blouse. "You'll be coming home with me to ring in the New Year. Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of sullying my pure body with your tainted flesh, but I'm sure we can find some other ways to entertain ourselves before I hand you over as a party favor for next week's rally." He called one of the Empire lieutenants to come pick up his prisoner and take her to the safe house on the corner of Welch and Spicket. She could be safely held there until the rally on Saturday.
\/\/\/\/
Memoir: Hannah Washington
Dec 31, 2010
♫Should auld acquaintance be forgot … And never brought to mind?♫
Certainly, this song would never apply to her given the perfect recall her power provided. She continued to sing along with the rest of the crew in the rec room at the Rig while waiting for the ball to drop on the TV. She remembered a similar event many years ago, except back then, they had watched the ball in person and she had been a Ward. She had been snuggled up with Chevalier while standing in the crowded Times Square. It was one of the last dates she had with Michael before they drifted apart. She indulged in fantasy for a moment and wondered if he was currently watching the same event on a TV, somewhere in Philadelphia, maybe even thinking of her.
She should call him tomorrow; catch up.
---
A few hours later, Miss Militia was on patrol. She had no issue with taking these graveyard shifts since she had no need to sleep.
She slowed her motorcycle to take the left turn at an empty intersection. In the middle of the turn however, the headlamp illuminated an unusual lump in the middle of an ally across from her. As she pulled up to the entrance to the alley, she parked her bike and walked over, pulling a flashlight from her belt. Her heart plummeted as the light shone on a pool of blood under the frozen corpse of a man. She made a brief mention of the situation to the console on her radio, then took out her phone and called BBPD dispatch.
"Yes, this is Miss Militia. I'm on patrol and I just discovered a crime scene in Alley 223 near the intersection of Lords St. and Broad. It looks like an assault and murder. The victim is male, hispanic, mid-thirties. His throat was slashed, but I have not disturbed the scene. It appears to have happened more than an hour ago. Yes, I'll wait for the response team here. Thank you."
\/\/\/\/
Memoir: Thomas Calvert
Nov 30, 2010
In one timeline, Coil was sitting at a table in the newest, and largest, of his hidden bases. This one was an abandoned construction site for an Endbringer shelter. After the appropriate renovations, he planned to make this his central base. It had plenty of room for supplies as well as room and board for his mercenaries. Potentially, even a cape team; although it was likely the Undersiders were happy where they were already. How anyone could be satisfied with the abandoned Redmond Welding shop he simply did not understand. Perhaps it was their vaunted 'teenage rebellion'. He scowled. Those children had never known strife..
Well…most of them hadn't. He couldn't help but the small smirk that crossed his face as he stared across the desk at Tattletale. Lisa Wilborne, now, the little brat had a bit of a history he could appreciate. Regent and his gory history with Heartbreaker's den of lust was simply one hedonistic story after another, nothing worthy of note. Yet Lisa, Sarah, she…she had as good as killed her brother by not acting on her vague suspicion. He'd yet to tweak that particular chord with her. That was a card only meant to be played shortly before terminating her after all, to see all hope die in her eyes as she realized he not only knew her name, but he also knew her Trigger. Do not seek to play in the Big League, Sarah, for the sharks in Brockton are large with sharp teeth. There were no secrets from him, not for her. She may not realize just how far his knowledge extended, but every time he called her 'Sarah' she was reminded that she was his.
In his other timeline was the reason she held no secrets. There, Sarah was tied down on the table, and Coil calmly watched as one of his more bloodthirsty employees, Creep, used a pair of pliers to remove one of the girl's fingernails.
The screams were delightful. She was so horribly annoying and frustrating most of the time, so it was these little interrogations that allowed him to hold off on killing her the rest of the time.
"Sarah, pet, you know what I want you to tell me. You can't hide it from me. Just tell me about the arrangements you made with Decker, and I'll make Creep stop. If you are cooperative, I might even tell Mr. Pitter to run the tissue regenerator on your hand to get a head start on healing up that nasty injury."
In the first timeline, their conversation continued in a calm and professional manner. They made plans for potential jobs the Undersiders could perform in the coming weeks, and he ensured there were no outstanding requests or needs for their hideout. The last point of discussion was the final stages of her investigation into the civilian identities of the Empire 88 capes. That information would provide Coil with the ultimate leverage he needed should they become troublesome in the future.
The fact that she was uncomfortable with providing the information was all the evidence he needed to know it was the right lever to push. She would never even suspect that he knew about Decker now if she was too busy fretting over the list. Well…she wouldn't until he showed her yet again how far out of her league she was.
As the meeting concluded, Coil gave Tattletale a knowing smile. "Thank you for your time, Sarah. Jonas will drive you back to your apartment. Decker, unfortunately, decided that he no longer wished to be a loyal member of my organization, so he has departed us." Coil's smile widened as he saw his pet realize exactly what that meant and her face paled.
Do not play with sharks, little girl, for you are but chum in the water.
After Coil had confirmed that Tattletale had left the base, he collapsed the timeline where she was a sobbing broken mess on the table. He split his timeline anew, and in one, he continued reviewing the arrangements for the remodeling of his new base, while in the other, he left to attend a meeting at the PRT headquarters in his civilian role as security consultant. He expected that the upcoming security audit scheduled for December would provide an excellent opportunity for him to expand on his infiltration of the confidential databases.
One could never have too much covert remote access after all. And who knows, he might come across information regarding a new cape on the scene which he could use to acquire a new pawn… or another pet.
\/\/\/\/
AN: If you are interested, here is the Wikipedia link for the Brink's-Mat Robbery.
