Metastable

[Tascion]

Description
I've really appreciated summaries of stories, so I'm putting one here.

So, this story features Taylor as protagonist, within an alternative universe of Worm. She also has an alternative power. Instead of insect control, she is a tinker focused on simplistic disposable minions.

 

[Tascion]

Arc 1 Settling In
1.1 Transfer
Heroic, a term used to describe going above and beyond normal levels of doing the right thing. The last bit had changed after some argument with dad. He wants me to be safe, and wouldn't accept a definition that implied self-sacrifice. I eventually had trouble blaming him. He still wasn't doing well without mom. Neither was I, but it turns out that it's easier to see what's wrong with other people, rather than with yourself.

I was going to be a superhero, albeit that was kind of a far off dream at the moment. Every time I complained though, I had to watch another video about how messed up child-soldiers were and how ineffective they were over the long term at actually fixing problems.

I caught dad glancing over at me while I was fidgeting with the recorder. It was mine, but I shouldn't draw attention to it, so I purposely put it in my backpack and sat on my hands.

I was excited and nervous, which made being calm hard. Arcadia was the best high school in the city. I could have gone here. I lived between it and Winslow, and my grades had been good enough.

The office looked normal enough though, just cleaner, less shoddy than Winslow. The secretary had also been a lot more polite. He invited us to have a seat, saying that the principal would be a few more minutes as he was finishing some scheduling adjustments for the next year.

Winslow's administration was a bunch of jerks. Sure the gangs were a bigger problem there than here, but still, it rankled me.

I should have gone here. I had earned a slot, but Emma hadn't, and I had wanted to stay with her. So, I had committed to Winslow.

Spending a year regretting that decision had changed my life in a lot of ways. Incipient heroing plans aside, things had been hard. I huffed a bit. Plus or minus a few weeks, it was a year since dad had sent me away to nature camp while he tried to pull himself back together. I had hated camp. Being surrounded by people and still being alone had sucked. Getting back to Brockton Bay had been worse though.

Emma was somebody else now. Somebody who hated me. Dad had tried to talk to Mr Barnes, but dad said he hadn't wanted to understand.

It was easier, thinking of Emma as who Emma was now, and Past Emma as if she was a separate person. I had come across a list on being an evil overlord while looking into cape villains. A required prerequisite for 'perfectly trusted' was 'posthumous'. While Emma was hilariously no where near the running, Past Emma, who was dead to me, qualified. It was sad but easier to think of her as dead to me.

Still, that was what brought me here, waiting, away from my lab, to try and get a transfer away from Emma and Sophia.

The pair of them were horrible people. The kind of people that would invent a puppy blender or something, and then falsely advertise it as a weight loss tool. Since the start of highschool, the bitches had been progressively making my life worse at school. Sticking it out as my original plan had been a terrible idea.

Powers spark during periods of stress. The internet said they were called Trigger Events.

Dad had been withdrawn and sullen, but he hadn't been able to miss me in the kitchen baking a thermolytic converter polymer in the oven.

He had called in sick for us both the next day, and he had refused to leave me alone until he had found out about Emma. And about him, for not being there for me.

Since Dad kept expecting me to flip out and try to sneak out to be a hero, he's been much more pressing on my personal life. I was grateful and resentful at the same time. He gave up some of his work on the dockworkers union. He still runs the docks, well, he's head of the dockworkers' union, which is almost the same thing, but he started making people volunteer on the weekends to keep ahead of union business.

He had refined my plans to get away from the bitches. Which had brought us to this point.

In addition to my recorder, my bag had copies and notes that I'd made of the bullying they'd done to me, the hateful emails, and a record of the times I'd reported it to Winslow faculty. Second to the recorder, that last bit was the most important, and brought a small smirk to my face.

'Paperwork,' dad had said, 'is how you make the other guy say thank you for bending them over their desk.' We had just been talking at the time. I think Dad had had a beer or two. Either way, he had blanched and immediately tried to rephrase that after he said it, but it was too late. I had been able to ask him to clarify what that meant, and provide numerous other questions to make him uncomfortable.

Winslow staff had refused to do anything for their responsibilities, so here I was, heroically sticking up for myself, by sitting in Arcadia's principal's office. I was smart, at least enough to have gotten into Arcadia, but I had gone to Winslow. That had been a mistake. Everything had gone to the dogs after that. Dad had been slipping away, Emma turned into a monster, recruited another monster, Sophia, and decided to turn the school against me. The whole while, Winslow ignored what was going on.

On the other hand, bureaucracy might let me escape through the cracks. After dad had gotten over the shock of things, he had started making plans. He had called Arcadia, and talked them into 30 min of their time with their principal, Mr Edgeworth. Dad and I were going to make the case that I deserved a transfer for my sophomore year. Mostly I had my excellent grades from middle school, a backpack of evidence that Winslow wasn't helping me, and dad's foresight to do this immediately after the end of the school year, before other people asked for slots for their kids. I suppressed a brief surge of resentment for these imaginary applicants. After some negative comments on people in general, dad kept trying to make me make friends for socializing and 'friendship'.

The secretary got our attention, interrupting my nervous thoughts, to let us into Mr Edgeworth's office.

As we had discussed, Dad started talking as we were sitting down. "Good morning Principal Edgeworth, I have two topics I'd like to discuss with you. They are both potentially delicate, and are interrelated. My daughter, Taylor, is struggling with the Winslow staff, due to personal issues, and I want to show you; to convince you that she both deserves a place at Arcadia, and that Winslow is incapable of treating her appropriately."

My dad then explained that there was a ongoing bullying campaign against me, and that the staff was unwilling to address the issue. Principal Edgeworth wasn't all that receptive. Dad had explained to me previously that this was our first hurdle, that we had to convince Edgeworth that our problem was worth him sticking his neck into a problem that really ought to be addressed between the district superintendent and principal Blackwell.

Dad explained, with accompanying letters and stuff, how I could have gone to Arcadia, and the ongoing awful emails I was getting, several every week, as well as an overview of the types of issues I generally had from Emma, Sophia, and the others.

Eventually, Principal Edgeworth did as dad predicted. He interrupted my dad, politely holding his hand to indicate he wanted dad to stop talking. "Mr Hebert, and Miss Hebert, I fully agree that you are presenting issues which ought to be addressed. However, this information needs to be presented in other forums. Please understand that Principal Blackwell is my peer, and not only do I have no oversight over Winslow, but intentionally attempting to undercut her administration would be inappropriate."

Then, it was my turn. The moment for me to do something ethically, well, edgy. Not that I would say that word, ever, in front of Principal Edgeworth. "I can prove to you that I cannot successfully get help from the superintendent?"

That got his attention, and while he appeared unsettled, he didn't throw us out, which is what we needed. I got out tape recorder, with my illegal recording. I explained a bit of what I had.
"Principal Blackwell has modified my school records, to ensure that I can't make trouble for Winslow. I need your help, not to make an issue of this, but I just want to get out of there."
Here it was, and he nodded slowly, so I pushed play.

"Emma and Sophia tripped and shoved me repeatedly today, said insulting things, and one of my school books was stolen from my locker." My voice came out of the recorder.

Blackwell's voice responded. "Ms Hebert, do you have any witnesses to any of these allegations that would support these claims?" I thought she sounded dismissive and insulting, but maybe I was biased.

"None that I believe would be truthful, although Mr Thomas from biology saw those two following me after class, even though their next class is in the other direction."

"I'll investigate these claims then Ms Hebert, but for now please return to your lunch."

There's the sound of me leaving, and the door closing. Then an intercom button, and Blackwell asks her secretary to come into her office. It's no longer surprising to me, I've listened to it many times. Blackwell orders her to mark down that I made false accusations against other students, and that I had lost a text book, in my school records. Additionally, she tells her to email Mark, the first name of my biology teacher, a reminder to avoid loitering in the halls to ensure that students do not have opportunity to vandalize the classrooms.

My dad starts talking, before Principal Edgeworth can. "I'm not looking to fight the school district, or unfairly advantage my daughter, but I'm sure that you can understand that I don't feel she is capable of succeeding as a student in her current environment. I don't need to see justice done, but I want to give her an actual chance to succeed in her education."

This is why I let the head of a union talk for me. Well, that and also because dad told me to let him talk. He stops and waits, because now we've put Principal Edgeworth on the spot. He has to know that however I made that recording, it's illegal. My dad and I wait, to avoid looking like we're trying to demand an answer, or worse, blackmail Principal Edgeworth.

He sighs, and collects himself. If dad hasn't told me to wait beforehand, I'd have already started talking.

"I think that, in light of the issues you've described, and the previous opportunity you had earned to attend Arcadia, I'd like to invite Taylor to interview here within the next month. If Ms Hebert's scholastic abilities appear to remain at a similar level to what her middle school grades demonstrate, then we may be able to provide an opening for her the fall."

I'm honestly a bit surprised it worked, and I can't think of anything to say. Thankfully, dad responds for us. "Thank you for hearing us out. Taylor will make the most of her opportunities."

"I would like to add one more thing before the two of you go. While I'm unaware of evidence suggesting inappropriate behavior on Taylor's part." He makes a knowing look at me and then dad. "I sympathize with the reasons that you desire a transfer, and hope that things can improve for your daughter. To be clear though, this is fresh start for Taylor, and a different school. Every student at Arcadia must understand that the school rules are upheld, fairly, by all staff, and I am willing to make that claim especially in light of your reasons to desire a transfer. Any attempt to illegally record the staff or students will be met with a harsh punishment or even immediate expulsion, as in accordance with our rules. For now though, good day, and please make arrangements with my secretary for a interview for acceptance. Each student is required to attend one when joining under unusual conditions, and I expect Taylor to do so as well." He finishes with a more than minimum smile, although not exactly joyful.

On my side of things, I'm very happy to follow my dad while he makes the arrangements for a week from now to do the official interview, and then we head home.

 

[Tascion]

1.2 Tinkering and Other Specialties
Even before we get home, my dad congratulates me, and reminds me that I need to study and brush up on my school work over the next week. I know it's because he cares, but really, I was literally there for the conversation, less than 30 min ago. I know he's worried, but I can understand why people think adults suffer from age induced decay of their mental faculties.

We get home, and I remind my dad that he already agreed that I could complete the stabilization step on my current work, and then I'll be able to take a break from tinkering in order to study as much as I need. Dad starts dinner and I head downstairs to basement, to my secret lair of heroics, and the washer and dryer, cause a load finished and dad manages to shrink anything he's allowed to put in the dryer.

After transferring the laundry to the dryer, I start on my tinkering. Currently, I was on my 23rd unit, which was just about to come out of the chemical bath that made it.

I thought I was a jello Tinker. It was the first thing I made, a jello based battery pack, that absorbed heat above a certain temperature and stored it as chemical energy. Eventually, I determined that I was a metastable polymer systems Tinker.

Researching everything had been a slog though. After reading stuff on the internet at the library, and then freaking out about about getting discovered over the internet, dad and I took an overnight trip to sightsee in Boston and also look up loads more stuff on the internet. Every Tinker has a specialty, such as Squealer, from the Merchants, who specializes in being a gross person and making vehicles. I wasn't as great, I could make giant amoebae, sort of. My dad called then bugs, and they sort of looked like it. They actually were more like ants, made from something that definitely wasn't at all like jello pudding, and was instead a super advanced smart polymer. I could program it to do stuff, such as avoid leaving the sewer lines, travel along chemical trails as laid out by algorithm to avoid meeting anybody, and absorb chemicals before returning home. They returned home reeking. Dad was responsible for putting them in the chemical bath to extract the precious minerals, because this was his plan to keep me safe, and even if it was a good plan, it still smelled.

Boron was the element I most frequently bottlenecked at during production, which all had to be done by hand or hand tools. That was the other downside to bring a Tinker. There are two kinds of Tinkers. Biotinkers can build stuff that's alive, and able to grow exponentially, and they get Kill Orders if they make self-reproducing creatures, so they don't do that. Then there are regular Tinkers, who spend their careers building ever larger equipment support facilities to keep ever more delicate pieces of tinkertech stable and reliable. Yeah, aside from the whole kill-orders and plagues, I was jealous of Biotinkers.

I opened the chemical bath, and pulled out number 23, and put him in his shell. This model has 6 stubby arms, and looked nothing like a turtle, regardless of what my dad said. I released it into the one way outward valve to go gather minerals and elements. There were 6 gatherer units waiting in the collection hopper. I set the chem bath to extract, but left the lid unlocked, and returned upstairs.

Dad and I ate dinner and he asked if I had more turtles ready to transfer to the chem tank. I ignored that, but did note aloud that 6 gatherer units has returned.

After dinner, I went into the living room, and started reviewing,like I was supposed to, for Arcadia. We had researched a lot after I triggered. Capes in Brockton Bay did not do well. Dad wanted very much for me to not do any heroing until I could join the Protectorate, and likely as not go to a good college in a safer city. We still argued, and it sucked, but I thought that it also kind of helped. I had agreed to not do heroics, and dad had backed off from forcing me to join the Wards or something else equally controlling. It helped that my power seemed more geared to a distributed role.

We had decided on a long term plan. I was really grateful he had actually listened to me, and it helped with the frustrations of not just going out there and making a difference. That was kind of a misleading thought anyway, the PRT and New Wave were barely holding on against the three gangs in town. Dad had convinced me that putting myself out there wasn't the best way to make a difference. There needed to be a change, and not just one more body fighting in the streets. I had two goals, and my dad agreed because they would both keep me reasonably safe. The first was drugs, which were an important tool for all the gangs, to one extent or another. The second was the boat graveyard. Dad had explained this in his parental way of 'use as an object-lesson-of-the-obvious-for-a-kid' about how the short term idea of forcing change by sinking a whole pile of boats and blocking the bay was a dumb idea, because nobody is willing to spend the time or money to clean up the mess. Real life examples from our hometown aside, that's where my gatherers came in. I'd increase my numbers over a couple years, while improving my understanding of my power, and improving my tinkertech. When I had a whole pile of them, and the sewers and water lines fully mapped, I'd contact the Protectorate to let them know, and then switch them from gathering minerals in the sewers to gathering drugs. Once I broke the drug trade in the bay, by converting all the drugs into more useful chemicals for my tinkering, I would reveal my cape ID to the public by ordering my minions to gather everything they could from the boat graveyard, and drop off everything in a dump outside of town. Those last two things would happen right before I left for college. I'd take all the improved designs, that I'd developed in the intervening years, but hadn't exposed, to create my cape identity as a proud hero of the Protectorate. My plans also had a small doodle of me ordering my minions to go forth, with me cackling the background, which was my dad's attempt at humor. The picture had me in a witch's hat, and with some of my creatures looking like flying monkeys.

More seriously though, capes die, and that was the real clincher in this plan. For whatever reason, the Wards all went on patrol, and my dad didn't want me doing that. Aegis was a Ward who could fly and had redundant biology. Dad said the reason his costume was red colored wasn't because it looked good. It was the same reason why there were very few pictures of him after fights. I wanted to make a difference and had been convinced that one more body in street brawls wouldn't help against say Lung, who got into a fight, solo, with Leviathan and survived.

Dad joined me, from putting the gatherers in the chem tank. He made a fire and and looked like he was going to make himself talk, which he did after settling into his chair. "Taylor, I think today went about as well as we could reasonably hope, and I'm proud of you for keeping your head."

"Yeah, thanks dad, I just wanted out of there, well, I mean, I'd like the bullies punished, but they don't matter as much as taking care of myself, rather than getting back at them." Go go gadget repeat-back-moral-lessons-my parents-taught-me-to-show-understanding. I think picked up on my sarcasm though, as he rolled his eyes.

"Has the fireplace being working out, with the jello bricks I mean?"

"The thermal conversion blocks are functioning well, I'll be replacing them with uncharged blocks in a few days."

The thermal conversion blocks, which aside from the first did not include any jello, were a part of how I stayed under the radar. Tinkers outed themselves two ways inherent to their powers. By gathering materials and using exorbitant amounts of power. I was slowly, and reasonably ramping up our home electricity usage, but I did two other things to help with the last bit. The first was this fireplace. Honestly, it was a sort of ugly part of the living room, but I had replaced internal brick walls of the fireplace with my thermal conversion blocks and they charged up chemical energy from the heat. Burning stuff isn't great, but it helps, and isn't obvious. The fireplace was designed for safety, and we had it running pretty much continuously. The second was my current project. I was designing a metastable polymer matrix that I would use to secretly replace the insulation in the house with an alternative material that was extremely insulating. I would use part of the power saved to run my gear. The chem bath was the most hungry, but the refiner also needed a lot of power, especially for heavier metals.

After a bit more questions on my tinkering, I moved to the kitchen table and studied Arcadia's curriculum to plan out what I needed to review over the next week, while dad pretended to read dockworker stuff, and mostly dozed on the couch. Life wasn't great, not without mom, but dad and I had each other and were doing OK.

 

[Tascion]

1.3 Summer Projects
Being overheated was worse than being too cold. I still had 45 or so minutes until dad would pick me up, and I had finished Arcadia's placement tests 30 or so minutes ago. The tests had been ok, hard but I thought I had worked out enough of the answers.

Rather than being left alone though, Principal Edgeworth had asked to speak with me, and so I was again in the waiting area outside his office.

Before I could calm down, his secretary motioned me to head inside, giving me a smile that I decided was meant to be reassuring.

He started talking even as I was sitting down. "Good morning, Taylor. You did well on the general knowledge portion of the exam. It was graded by machine while you were finishing the writing assessment. Since the math portion is by computer, well, that's graded automatically too. Of course, while I hope that your writing portion will be of the same quality, I can't comment one way or the other on how your complete assessment will be evaluated."

I think he was trying to be reassuring, so I tried to look politely pleased back while responding with a 'thanks'.

He then got more serious though, and folded his hands on his desk.

"I want to stress to you, Taylor, that just as we are giving you a chance, you need to give us one as well. Assuming things work out, I intend to place you in one of the smaller homerooms. My reasoning is twofold. First, to help you acclimate to Arcadia this coming year, and because I particularly trust Mrs Green to help with any difficulties. Please ensure you communicate with her, as she has not been informed of your reasons for transferring. I expect she is aptly capable of helping you get settled. The privacy rules of this school are held in very close scrutiny, and so, even though your experiences at Winslow have already been unpleasant, please do not assume you need to pursue extreme lengths to be treated fairly."

I figured he was referencing the rumor that the Wards were sent here as well. Appearing to be trying to unmask a Ward was probably a felony or something, and recording people likely counted if you pissed people off. I just wanted to get through high school at this point, so I tried to be diplomatic. "I think I understand Principal Edgeworth. I really appreciate you giving me that first chance explain why I wanted to come here to Arcadia. I will be a good student, and properly respectful of others and their privacy."

The conversation wasn't tense, but thankfully Principal Edgeworth didn't drag it out either, and let me go back to waiting out in the lobby for my dad.

Dad showed up and dropped me back at my home over his lunch break, and got back to tinkering. I wanted power armor. I could make units, I still refused to call them jello bugs, that could form interconnections. I was going to use this model for the house insulation, but in the long term, I could maybe make armor units that would form up around me, and then bond together, forming a sealed suit of armor. The reactive fibers would amplify my strength, and an outer layer of kinetically responsive gel would protect me. Well, it would protect me if I fell off a building or got hit by a car. I was still working on piercing weapons, such as bullets. I'd get there eventually, I had years and even while I was getting ready, I was still helping. My sewer maps were slowly developing and my gatherer units even worked to dislodge blockages.

Once I got enough units going, I'd possibly be one of the most valuable capes to the city. Criminals cost a lot of money, even when a cape puts them in jail. Unlike the city paying a hero to be able to then pay even more to house a criminal, I was saving them money in maintenance. Sewers may not be glamorous, but they are super expensive when they have to be replaced in the middle of a city. Also, most of them can't fit people in them, and have diameters measured in inches. Just fine for my units, but a hard fit for city maintenance.

I needed a cape name too, but there was no rush. I certainly wasn't going with Blob Woman or Minion Armor Girl.

==========

As the summer started to close, I had 35 units, though I had given up and was calling them turtles like my dad did. My turtle units had started forming an actual map of the city and I wanted better internet, which brought me to my current dinner topic with my dad. "I'd really like you to hear my reasoning as to why you should let me break into the city library and hack their internet." It was the ideal opening I felt, clearly stating my goals, but including that I felt I had convincing reasons for it that should be heard.

My dad clearly gave it some thought; well, not really. "No. If you need more information on cape activities, we can take another overnight trip Boston. Besides, you could take the chance to look at BU's campus."

I refused to accept the consolation prize. "I need an anonymous connection that works over the long term. I want to run a cable through the sewers, from the library to home, so for anybody tracking my activities, it looks like the library is where I'm using the computer."

Dad sighed as my excellent reasoning won him over. "OK, so aside from breaking, entering, and whatever stealing the internet is called, I can see why you'd want this. However, I've read about Thinkers and what they can do. I don't want any physical connection between the library and our house. It wouldn't surprise me if there was a parahuman who could touch one end of a cable and just know where the other end is located. A cape like that could do it without you even knowing, and then attack you, or worse, snatch you up, while you're on your way to school. Thoughts like that keep me up at night, so, you're going to have to convince me that you can be safe doing this OK?"

Honestly, the kidnapping thing kept me awake sometimes too, not that I'd admit it. Getting dad to agree to listen to multiple iterations was good enough though. "Alright, I'll come up with a plan, and once I have something I think will work, I'll run it by you."

========

Maybe 9 days later, I had something I thought was workable. I'd make a new model of unit, ants, instead of turtles. The chemical trails the turtles already used for mapping didn't prevent them from bumping into each other. I'd make new models, possibly replacing the old ones as they wore out, and end up with ant gatherers that could communicate with each other out in the field. It would help with mapping, and they could encode messages that would get passed around. until one bumped into an ethernet cable I'd figure out how to run down from the library, into the sewers. It would log onto the internet, send and receive any messages, and then return to mapping. As it bumped into other any gatherers, they'd update each other. Eventually, new messages would arrive at home, and outgoing stuff would get to the library. No random parahuman my dad made up from paranoia could secretly trace me. I could still be tracked, but anybody doing so would have follow a route of miles to get back to my house. A discontinuous route that changed every time, as the individually random travels of my units weren't very smart and had to guess a lot to get back to me.
Additionally, if dad would let me branch out some more in designs, I'll do even better. I was creating improved designs from my tinkering. I could build some specialized units. Switch over to throwaway models for the cheap ones. The majority would simply pass information, map, and explore. Multisubunit polymer strings would encode information and be swapped between units. A few advanced models would appear identical to the normal ones, except for higher metal concentrations, and would be the only ones that would return home. I could put enzyme sacks in all of them. Any tampering, and they dissolve into, well something like jello. They weren't jello ants though. They wouldn't be edible, due to metal content.

Dad was concerned, but found my reasoning solid. I had to teach myself how to build an interface between Ethernet and my metastable polymer tinkering, but still it was a plan. My specialty was complex and awesome, and I could make it happen, although, the crime fighting was a bit more in the long term planning then I'd like.

A week later, and all I could say was that the ethernet protocol was written by demented rabbits that hated me, but I had an interface between my polymer systems and http over Ethernet.

It was time to put my plan into action.

 

[Tascion]

1.4 Interlude 1: Danny
Dad told me once that it's hard sometimes, accepting when your children outgrow you. That had been our first real conversation after I left behind the fishing work he did for a job on the docks. It had been the right choice, but I had acted against his advice, on my better judgement. He'd been angry for a few days, and that's what he had told me afterwards.

I was deeply grateful I'd pulled enough myself back together to not yet have to tell Taylor the same thing. I could put it off for a while longer yet.

I leaned back into my chair and had another sip of coffee. Lunch could stretch out a few more minutes. The office was quiet today anyway.

Taylor folded into herself after Annette died. I had too, booze too, to my shame. If not for chance that led to me catching her in one of her Tinker fugues while she was baking some Styrofoam stuff in the oven, I don't know if I would have stopped avoiding life.

It had been rough, between dealing with that and whatever had happened to Emma. Rougher for Taylor though. Trying to help, being the adult, that had helped me. I had talked to Alan, and well, I didn't recognize him anymore. I guess people grow apart, even as friends. He couldn't handle Emma being anything other than 'fine' now.

I hadn't approached him the right way. Not that I could have seen it coming. He couldn't accept what was the reality of his life. He couldn't admit to failing to protect his family, his 'way of life'. Something had twisted Emma, somehow. I got the impression she had been threatened over that summer, but even that was a challenge. Alan would barely say more than that Emma was 'fine, now'.

I wasn't fine, and neither was Taylor. Pretending or drifting through my own troubles was just going to screw her up as bad as whatever Alan was doing to Emma.

I made myself talk to her, and then actually addressed my own problems. I went and got drunk with Lacey, until she started talking to me about how I was screwing up, and I was out of it enough to listen. Kurt was a blockhead about stuff, but they were a good couple. Working with them that fall to throw some BBQs for the Union, was something to help me reconnect, and it was good for the Union anyway.

Emma was probably the second worst thing for Taylor now, after the doldrums I had let myself slip into. As Emma started taking her life's problems out on Taylor, well, Taylor had to grow up some in a particularly harsh way, much as I hated that. People can be terrible, and I started telling her more about how the dockworkers survived and earned our limited successes. We weren't a gang, and I made clear to her the same way I made clear to the men themselves as to how we weren't going to cross the lines of decency. It helped, some, letting her see how to survive and achieve, even when people try to drag you down. The gangs tried on the docks, and the bullies tried in school. In both cases, don't start anything, but don't be a doormat. Take the little victories and make the goal to solve the problem legally, which is as permanent as you can ensure in this world.

Eventually though, well, Taylor needed some lessons from Annette, because the school refused to take responsibility. Annette had lied to Taylor when my baby girl had been little, and I had backed that story. People do stupid things for their kids, especially out of love. Annette had run with Lustrum for a while, but gotten out before that feminist movement had turned violent. At least that's what she told Taylor. Since I had picked her up in my truck the day she had gotten herself out of the group, and that had been near a burning office complex, it wasn't really an accurate accounting of things. Well Annette had wanted Taylor to be braver and smarter than she herself had actually been, and so that first accounting had been the story she wished had been true. Maybe the right way of doing things, like stories of Santa, to teach the lessons that matter, maybe not.

Taylor was old enough to understand regret, and, I think, to understand why Annette and I had lied. Still, the point was, there are things that are worth more than the law, but that they'll drag you even past decency if it's all you can cling too.

I let her take one of her Tinker things to school, to start recording audio. Eventually Blackwell, that bastard, had let slip much she just didn't care about Taylor's problems, or about actually running a school.

Taylor's first plan, to go public, might have worked, but still, youth and vigor is beaten by old age and cunning. Going public was at least the third option. Most people don't go into education for the the pay. Even if Winslow was the dregs, most teachers were decent people and usually principals were former teachers. I talked Principal Edgeworth into a meeting and worked things out.

He had been pretty disturbed about the illegal recording, and that would have been much worse if Taylor hadn't disguised her Tinker device in a casing of a tape recorder. I had counted on him believing that he was less of an accessory if he didn't ask how Taylor had a recording of Blackwell after Taylor had left her office.

To be fair, Edgeworth had done the right thing, which was help the people that he could. He got Taylor a slot into Arcadia, after confirming she could handle it, and didn't blame her for showing how the system had failed her.

Setting the coffee mug on my desk, after absentmindedly draining it, I started cleaning up the little tupperware that had my leftovers and had been my lunch.

Actually, given that Edgeworth had let Taylor into Arcadia, I figure it meant the Wards didn't actually go to Arcadia. It made sense, send the kids with secret identities to any school but the one advertised as 'the school for kids with secret identities'. Still, Edgeworth had taken a risk, not making a fuss about the recording, and had done decent by one of the kids that was now a student in his school.

Taylor's powers was the quiet gorrilla in the room for me. Researching that had nearly pushed me back into drinking in a bad way, or confiding in Kurt, or Lacey. Six months, that's the average time that a kid like her makes it on their own. The Protectorate plays up, hard, how well they take care of the Wards. I did some research though, and the Youth Guard, nanny organization that they were, didn't let every bit of good publicity slide without forcing some reality into the news.

Especially in the Bay, the Wards were basically fully active capes, not just getting 'training' until they joined the Protectorate. If there was a single Ward that has ever actually declined to go out on patrol, I was unaware of it. Maybe it was their powers. To be fair, there was some stuff suggesting that powers had to be used, but I doubted it, especially for Tinkers. Taylor would spend all her time in the basement tinkering if she could. I'm sure Kid Win, or at least his parents, would rather he built himself a full suit of power armor, and a flight device that wasn't an accident waiting to happen, unlike his surfboard thing. This city had a cape called Fog, some kind of living toxic and corrosive gas, and the majority the Wards didn't even wear full face masks. After finding one article on Gallant being involved in a fight that involved Fog, well, the Wards weren't looking great for being 'training', as opposed to being child soldiers that the more hysterical posters on the Youth Guard forums frequently feared they might be.

Thankfully Taylor was fairly burned on government authority from Winslow. I think getting official help only after breaking the law was the sinker on that.

Although, I paused while balling up a napkin for the trash, it might have been that I hadn't expressed any guilt over it? I am, or at least should be, one of the primary authority figures in her life. Maybe I should talk to her about that?

Well, at least I had time. I was deeply grateful to any and all powers that be that Taylor had to build what she wanted to use. She had to be patient. After showing her enough stories of others kids that didn't make it, as awful as it made me feel to seek such information out, she has become cautious in her plans.

I had eventually come to a sort of peace about her goals. Heroes don't live long, but I wanted her to live smart, for as long she could. In most cases, that's about as much as any parent can ask anyway. My goal was for her to be the first parahuman to die of old age, ideally surrounded by family. Maybe with taking down some criminals in the meantime, but that was a lot less important.

Of course, hassling some idiots doing a purse snatch is a good thing. Instead, partly out of her new paranoia, Taylor wants to break into a government building and compromise their infrastructure. Do I let Taylor's first mission be to break into the library where she has her own library card? Better information would help us both, but the more she was exposed, the more that 6 month number for independents stuck out to me. Ignoring the legality of it, as it was an almost victimless crime, she wanted to talk on the internet without doing so from our home. However, 'ignoring the legality of it' was already crossing a line, and the wrong one to not worry about.

Additionally, I wasn't quite out of touch enough yet to not have heard about getting your identity stolen online, and I just knew there had to be capes watching for the naive and neophyte. At least Taylor didn't require huge amounts of metal, her turtle things were mostly carbon, apparently. Instead of trying to dodge whatever fuckers were watching scrapyards, a few boxes of school supplies and she had enough graphite to get started, and they could then soak up stuff, well, small molecules she said, from sewage. Gross, but discreet in a way that hauling an engine block out of junker could never be.

Information, Taylor just wanted more information. I wanted to keep her safe, but not quite secluded enough that she did the stupid teenager thing of trying to prove herself. The library job; it was reasonable enough in the end I suppose. Taylor didn't get how bad the latency was going to be yet, but I figured I could compromise now and let her maybe make some internet friends or something. I expected 9 out of 10 of them to be creepy older men, but, I was likely being unreasonable.

I would approve of a good plan, as long as I couldn't imagine a parahuman, with a rank of 5 or less, that could track her.

God, and Annette, I hope I am being smart about this.

 

[Tascion]

1.5 The Library Job
It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you, but in my case, I was pretty confident it was paranoia. The computers were on the ground floor of the library, in a back corner. I needed to find the switch though. The device that I could plug an ethernet cable into and have the internet consider it as it's own computer. I needed to run a cable from the switch to part of the floor that was part of the foundation. I was early, near opening, and before all the high schoolers with nothing better to do and no internet arrived.

There were 10 computers, 5 on each side of a divider. I was preparing to subtly check the back of a computer, to see how the cables ran alongside the divider, when I saw the switch screwed into the wall next to one of the the first computers. Nonchalantly going over to it, with only minor glances around the place to see if anybody was watching me, I could examine it out of the corner of my eye. The switch was blue, metal and with 20 ports. I carefully didn't look at it, in case I looked suspicious.

The next step was marking the location for the bore hole that eventually would have the cable fed through it. I needed to cut through the floor, without anybody noticing. Dad had rejected acid because it smelled. Instead I had made a specialty device. I shrugged off my backpack, and pulled a chapstick tube from my pocket. As I set down my backpack, I surreptitiously made a circular imprint of where I wanted the hole to be, before setting my backpack on top of it. Now, I just had to wait about an hour. Inside my backpack was a sort of arm on the end of a tube. Like an earthworm. It would smell my cherry chapstick, then bore a hole through my backpack and straight down through the floor, slowly. While quietly digging, it would pile the chunks of material in my backpack. It would only burrow down about 8 feet at most, which was why I had needed computers that were close to the foundation of the building.

I read the news, looked for new books, and anything else that wouldn't be interesting to a cape, unless it was big enough to make the normal news. I think mostly though, I fidgeted.

Eventually, enough time had passed. I kicked my backpack, waited a few minutes, then knelt down next to it as if I was fussing with it. Which I was, because I had put the prepared cable in the same pocket that was now full of concrete chips and some dirt. After getting the cable out, I plugged it in, and fed it into the hole. The cable was special. The end had a special little modification to help my units find it, and ensure the wires were spliced correctly.

Job complete, I discreetly made my exit, while carrying 15 extra pounds. That part actually felt pretty normal, I liked the library and books are heavy. On my way out, I stopped by the restrooms, and flushed a slow decay polymer pill for the next stage. Once I was a ways from the library, I managed to stop feeling like somebody was going to jump out and yell 'gotcha'.

At home, safe and sound in the basement, I dump the incriminating materials into the resource processor. Might as well make use of it.

After walking with a heavy backpack, I sag onto my chair at my workbench and examine my map positioned above it. I know roughly where the library is. My map of the city sewer pipes is about 4ft wide, and is a scale model of everywhere my gatherer ants and turtles had been. It even slowly updated from information pulled from my units after dad put them in for resource extraction.

The signal pill I had flushed in the library would anchor to a wall with about 15 seconds after contact with water. As it decayed, it would attract my gatherer ants, which would explore extensively, that area. All of my units were programmed to avoid contact with people, mostly by avoiding contact with air, clean water, and saltwater. No crawling out of toilets for them, also because that would be gross. Not that their current environment wasn't gross, but yeah, that's why dad had to transfer the returned units for resource extraction or replacement.

In a day or so, the local pipes near the library would be fully mapped. In 72 hours, at the bottom of the hole I had bored in the library, a timed decay from a thingy I hadn't bothered name, would begin releasing low energy photons that only weakly interacted with the ground. Or, as my dad preferred to call them, radio waves, but he didn't appreciate science and only used the radio for sports broadcasts.

The library pipes, at their low points in the ground, would have the newest version of my units work on them. I named then squiggles, before my dad could name them. They were like beautiful anemones and squids that had been merged together, and they were going to be my tool using units. Regrettably, they weren't disposable, and required almost all of my exotic metals, including harvesting about half my ant units. The disposable turtle units were unaffected though, so in a lot of ways, it didn't delay collecting more metals from the water. I'm pretty sure there was at least one guy in the Bay who was going to turn blue from ingestion of colloidal silver, if the amount that managed to actually make it into the sewers was any indication. Anyway, my squiggles would poke holes in the tops of algorithmically chosen pipes, plug the hole with a tool arm, and listen for the radio pings. Once the pings stopped, they would seal the holes with plastic, not much I could do about that evidence, and return home.

The map would be updated with the location of the signal, and then, my most complex unit yet, would find the closest pipe, bore an inch wide hole in it, and tunnel to the location of where the pings had been. The pings got weaker over time. The squiggles needed to see it from a long ways off, but the com unit only needed enough a signal to home in on it when it was close. Once at the radio pill, the squiggle arm would turn up and follow the the hole until it bumped into the frayed Ethernet cable. It would seal off the loose ends, cleaning them, and ready for a connection. Well, whenever I actually figured out how to make plastic polymers conduct electrical signals. I uh, hadn't lied about it, I thought I could make it work, but I had downplayed the importance having it ready when I got the go ahead from dad.

I had some ideas with carbon, plastic was repeating chains, and so were nanotubes of carbon, but the latter was conductive, unlike most of my materials, and none of my current ones were suitable, even if they weakly conducted.

I was on pins and needles for the next several days as the connecting process happened. Still, it worked. I didn't have an actual internet connection yet, but my units reported that everything up through to connecting to the ethernet cable was successful. I had carried out my next major step in being a hero. By, uh, stealing internet from my local library, or well, setting myself up to be able to steal internet from the library. On second thought, I won't celebrate this in front of dad.

Still, success!

 

[Tascion]

Arc 2 Social Interactions
2.1 Arcadia
As much as I had tried to ignore the change of days, summer passed and school started. At least it was Arcadia. Also, I was going to be an engineer. I hadn't seriously thought about a career, but I had always sort of assumed that I'd be an english professor like mom. After triggering, well, I needed an excuse about why I cared about polymers, reactive and otherwise. I was going to be a hero, but being an engineer was a good cover. Sort of, as it was really hard to stop doodling tinker designs for improved polymer chains. The information processing was the trickiest bit, my sewer map was still the greatest creation of complexity, and it was only accurate because of lots of error checking. I still loved it of course, but I needed better control systems.

Back on track brain, no tinkering.

Dad had come up with a reasonable solution to stop me tinkering at school. I'd use coarse ballpoint pens. They were a horror to write or draw with. Back at home, I had a lovely 0.3mm mechanical drafting pencil that dad had got me as a consolation present. I loved marking out reactive polymer chains with it, it was so precise. At school, I had pens were invented by people who wanted other people to be sad, and only black ink ones at that. Regardless, I pretty much stopped slipping into tinker doodling while I had to use those pens. That was how I was going to avoid outing myself at school, the right sort of awful tools, and paying attention to my thoughts.

I arrived at school, hopped off the bus, and made my way to my homeroom. Mrs Green was nice and not pushy, when I arrived and introduced myself. I smiled to be nice, as Principal Edgeworth had asked that I be polite and friendly. I still stayed in the corner though.

The day passed quickly, alternating between the awkwardness of being exhibited at the front of the class, when a couple teachers had me introduce myself, and my desired quiet as I sat in the back of the classrooms. Still the teachers were much better than Winslow, and there were almost no disruptions beyond quiet murmuring. Only a couple people bothered me, and they didn't even get mean about it.

Even lunch was pleasant. I brought my lunch bag to an empty table, but was transfixed part way through opening it. Victoria and Amy Dallon! They were actual heroes, doing actual hero stuff. New Wave had eight people and a quarter of them were right here with me!

Well, they were eating lunch right now, sitting at a table, but still, they are part of the only publicly known cape family. New Wave, their dream of better accountability had begun with them revealing their identities. Victoria was Glory Girl, and was like Alexandria, one of the super strong flying hero types, while Amy was Panacea, the greatest healer on the planet. Probably, and at least in the US.

Well, at least the greatest healer I was aware of anyway. Dad had started getting in my case about making assumptions about capes and stuff. Regardless, they were inspiring. Well, Glory Girl was also loud, I could hear her across the lunchroom. Maybe once I had a public hero name I could say hi to them. Or maybe not, actually, making plans to interact with people I've never spoken to was actually fairly stalker-y. Especially if dad got his way with my heroing being years off. Yeah, on second thought, I'll just be inspired to be a better hero, and sit here quietly.

Or be shocked again, and stare stupidly.

What the hell? Sophia just walked over and sat down with a tray of food at their table?

That didn't make any sense. Her grades weren't great, why did she get a transfer? I sigh because the world isn't fair, and finish pulling out my food. If Emma is here too, I'm going to seriously consider potentially stabbing Edgeworth. Not really, I'd just transfer back to Winslow, but still, it's unfair.

Not like I want to be here anymore, so my food gets gobbled and I leave lunch. I think Sophia sees me, she was sitting with some boys with her back to a wall and I couldn't avoid passing through her gaze. Her gaze of bitchiness.

I should talk to Mrs Green, and turn my feet towards my homeroom. Dad says blaming people for stuff they have no control over just makes them unhelpful, so when Mrs Green gets back, I minimally explain why I wanted to come to Arcadia, as I wanted to get away from Sophia and other people. I ask her to check if I have any classes with Sophia and whether or not Emma is here. She didn't let me see her computer, but I'm quite relieved to find that Emma isn't attending.

Mrs Green hums though, pulling my attention back to her as she looks thoughtful while doing more stuff on her computer. "Taylor, I think you're in luck, Sophia won't be sharing any classes with you. As you are in the engineering path, you can't avoid having a lunch period with her, but her path is different, and so even the potential overlap is minimal."

"OK, thank you, I guess I'm glad I asked before getting worked up." But mostly I'm glad that she won't share any classes with me.

Before I can escape, Mrs Green starts talking again, which would make me the rude one if I tried to get away. "Well, life gets hard sometimes, but learning how to rely on others, yourself, and how to make friends is a part of growing up. Your computer class is this afternoon, in addition to regular assignments, you may not be aware that you'll be doing a semester long project. Any ideas that you might be interested in?"

I think Mrs Green is trying to be nice, instead of just changing the subject, so I play along. "Well, I read the syllabus, but didn't really have any ideas. Won't there be additional guidelines given in class?"

"Oh, yes, but I've helped out with the computer classes before, and you might be better able to ask questions and develop a personal project that is actually interesting to you with a little more thought.

"Most schoolwork is important simply for the learning, however, I've seen a few computer projects that the students kept using afterwards. One was a calendar and appointment service. The boy who made it used text files to store his schedule, and so while only his software could display it, he could edit the text files on any computer and then remain updated when got home."

I don't want to talk anymore, but I try to be polite to avoid making an enemy. "Oh, huh, well I'll think about what I might want then. Thanks."

Finally, Mrs Green nods in dismissal. "Of course dear, and don't worry if it's not a thing you want to keep using, we give assignments to teach the lesson, not for the sake of giving assignments or with the expectation that you'll treasure every result forever or some such nonsense."

Once I'm out of the classroom, I meander towards my next class, since lunch was nearly over now. Still, what I wanted was the internet. I guess maybe an auto-download and upload program? Programming electronics was pretty far outside my specialty, and the polymer cascade reactions that drove the behavior of my units was very different from any kind of programming I'd learned about far. This was going to be a lot of work. Still, maybe I could make some script or program that would do the download and upload for later reading as a project and it would give me an ideas for at least the outcomes I'd need for my own tech.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, thankfully. Over dinner, I updated dad about Sophia being at Arcadia, and he was angry. Since we didn't share classes and Emma wasn't there, it was a lot better than it could be though. Dad stressed that I was never to bring any cape stuff or notes to Arcadia. We had tipped my hand getting me there about my willingness to break the rules. Even if Principal Edgeworth believed me about any further bullying in the future, well, he had already warned me about any further recording and I doubted I'd get a second warning, especially if the Wards were really there.

Dad and my worries were unfounded though, as I was able to settle into classes over the next few days without issue.

Sophia eventually had to have noticed me but proceeded to ignore me. It was unfair how her life didn't suck. She got to sit with Victoria, and several of the guys that Victoria are lunch with daily.

Of course, today was the day I relaxed too soon. I watched her swing out of her normal route and towards my table, which I sat at specifically because it was out of her way from where she normally sat.

One of the guys she sat with exited the lunch line and started heading over, which was also concerning.

Her blunt tone seemed almost unusually surly and drew my attention back to her. "Hey Hebert, how'd you get into Arcadia anyway, I wouldn't think you'd make the cut?" I just shrugged, but didn't say anything. I got more nervous though as the guy Sophia sat with came over. Crowds weren't safe.

The guy decided to start in on me as well as he arrived and stood with Sophia, holding his tray. "Hello, I'm Carlos, I didn't realize Sophia had any friends that had transferred. What's your name?"

"I'm Taylor." was my best attempt to kill the conversation. If Carlos was decent, there wasn't much he could do to drag this out, and if he was with Sophia, well there wasn't much point in me saying anything.

Carlos spoke first, "Well, Taylor, would you like to join our table, eat lunch with us?"

In surprising news, Carlos was alright, cause Sophia looked like she sucked on a lemon at that idea. I shrugged, but Sophia chimed in first.

"I expect Taylor would prefer her solitude. I just came by to touch base as it were, us both being from Winslow and all."

Carlos looked awkward, and I might have pitied him, but yeah, he was Sophia's friend, so no pity. Maybe Glory Girl was being a heroic influence on Sophia, but I expect that Sophia just liked being popular, and that was enough to make her cut back on the shoving and other obvious stuff around a hero.

The pair then headed over to their usual table, and life returned to normal. I still didn't talk to people much, but not being bullied daily really set a standard for how nice just being left alone could be.

I pulled my computer class notebook to go over my project layout. It was going to be a program that accessed the internet, downloaded pages I provided links to, and be able to login and post to PHO. Ostensibly, the program would only run on my class computer and at home, as a demo project to let me avoid the lag of my home dial up connection. The actual purpose was for using as the shell for connecting my home to the library. Even if that connection would be with significant lag. Lag measured in hours, even tens of hours, unless I could build dedicated squiggles to run back and forth with the info. Well swim. Their tool legs were more like squid arms and they also used then to swim or push off the pipe walls.

No tinkering at school.

School was boring. At least boring was safe.

 

[Tascion]

2.2 Making a Lair
After a lifetime of dreary and dull effort, or as dad called it, about a month, my efforts were starting to come together.

The house insulation replacement was proceeding, and I hadn't cracked any walls. My ant units would cut out little squares of drywall next to the floor and crawl up between the studs, and remove and then replace the insulation. I went slow as dad demanded, but there were no issues. He worried too much sometimes. My internet project was going well. The classroom part was me modifying an open source browser type program, to follow instructions on a script and save the webpages to a file, which the same program could then display as webpages. That plus making it able to log into PHO to post and download responses was my term project.

Not having a social life was doing wonders for my heroic goals. I expected to have a working program in a few weeks with months to spare before it was due. Also I was getting really antsy to really start looking for more information about cape stuff.

So, of course that evening, it was time for awkwardness. My dad got increasingly nervous over dinner, until he finally started talking hurriedly. "There's a thing we need to discuss Taylor, it's nowhere near as bad as the talk, but you're not going to like it. You've been severely isolating yourself and you're getting pretty out of shape."

Yeah, thanks for breaking that to me gently dad. Even if I couldn't argue it.

"I haven't brought it up, because it's hard enough for us to talk sometimes, and I believe you think I worry too much about your tinkering. However, I've also started to think you may have a point. I was going to suggest a school sport, but I think I've got an idea you'll like better. How much of a work out could you give yourself practicing with power armor?"

Dad got a lot less nervous as I sqee'd in excitement as all of this conversation was forgiven from the list of things I didn't want to think about.

"The armor is only half of it, and it has to be actual exercise by the way, but still you need to socialize more."

That curbed my enthusiasm. I don't need to socialize, being a moody teenager is my plan. It's normal enough.

I abandon that thought even before speaking as I'm not sacrificing permission to build armor, and instead respond with calm acceptance, "Fine, there's stuff with school I can do. I'll join the 'people talking to other people club' or something."

I timed it so that he snorted his beer laughing, because I could. I'll join an art club that paints or something after school. I certainly wouldn't join any sport Sophia might join, and I doubted I'd like drama, because that was asking karma for more drama than just the actual theater bit.

Still, that week I changed all my plans. I built exercise equipment, a plastic treadmill and things I could pull on with stretchy cables for resistance. I needed more metal for the armor though. I needed to harvest from the graveyard. The boat graveyard, not a real graveyard.

It took some cajoling, but I got permission to establish my own underground lair. Neighborhoods don't have big pipes, and the basement was getting full. I could, with excessive care as required by dad, dig a column straight down and then hollow out my own secret lair. My ant units and something I'm going to call a mole miner, would spend a month digging. I'd end up with a sort of grotto, maybe a hundred feet below ground. My units would reinforce as they went, with my strongest plastics, to prevent collapse and limit information from seismic signals. Apparently that's a thing for finding stuff underground. Unlike photons, the damping materials for vibrations was much easier to work with within my tinkering.

In my secret lair, I could develop power armor from my plans, and come one step closer to being a real hero. I needed a cape name though, and a catch phrase. Those were important too, I giggled myself a bit at how awful it would be to try to make up a name in the spot. I bet that's what happened to Clockblocker. Maybe he wanted to be Clockstop or Timeblocker, but then panicked, and now he was stuck.

At least metastable polymer engineering is a good specialty. Well, if I had been able to pick my powers, I'd want to be the time tinker. I laughed to myself happily, things were looking up. Hey, skin is a polymer, I wonder if I can bind my armor to my skin for direct feedback?

Later that evening, after I gave myself a minor chemical burn on my leg while getting a test strip of reactive polymer off me, and dad gave me a talking to about not thinking things through, I was a bit more calm. Still excited though.

As the weeks passed, I became more and more appreciative of dad requiring me to optimize my resource usage and emphasizing infrastructure for my tech. He could have been less smug about it, but things just came together. If I had been less patient, I would have so much less for the same amount of time. I had my lair, and I had found a boat wreck that was about fifty feet under water, lying on its side, and away from the Protectorate base. The Protectorate had an awesome lair, it was a repurposed oil rig, with bright lights and a shield. Not particularly secret though, being bright and shiny and otherwise not-hidden out in the bay.

My units would wait until the sun was shining on the wreck, pick a spot, and if no light hit it during the whole day, that night they'd extract steel and other metals before returning. I really wanted some platinum and palladium, but that wasn't going to happen until I became an official hero. In the meantime, several alloys of steel used beryllium, and that was quite useful. Of course, I still got boron and a bunch of other elements that people dumped down their drains as cleaning chemicals and stuff.

My power armor was going to be awesome. I was going to be like Dragon. I'd have a powersuit, and then a mechsuit. The first would amplify my strength, while the second would be something I piloted. At the moment, I had a vest, helmet, and leggings. Still, I had dreams too, and I would get there.

 

[Tascion]

2.3 Exploring the Internet
Welcome to the East Coast Protectorate Insights Page!

Today's article is from long time reader, and occasional writer, James Johnson. He offers his considered opinion on Velocity of Protectorate ENE.

A Leaf on a Light Wind
By James Johnson

One of the recurring issues for the Protectorate is responding in time to crimes. Sure, ordinary criminals take an average of 8 to 13 minutes to crack open an ATM if they actually want the money to survive them opening the machine, assuming they even have the right equipment.

King Brea has literally torn an ATM in half. Boston has Legend, and it still took the Protectorate 2 months to bring the woman in for her crimes.

Was it lasers that got King Brea caught? No, it was Legend's Breaker and Mover abilities. The parahuman ability to partially become light and in doing so, travel proportionally fast.

Now, instead of a blue blur, consider a red one. Velocity, the fastest member of Protectorate ENE. Sadly for him, no lasers, but when's he's on duty, he's one of the first to respond to protect his city.

Is he as great as he could be? Rather than questioning the man, I questioned his effects.

A blur of speed, and Velocity is there. A cry for help and Velocity blocks the thug from his victim.

Truly the marks of a heroic mind.

Why isn't he more successful?

Consider containment foam, famed for its ability to contain criminals and protect innocents trapped in the line of fire. Yes, it's expensive, and the secrecy of its formula is critical to its success. However, imagine a shoot out in a bank, or looting a pharmacy, and then a red blur. Suddenly, containment foam explodes at the feet of every parahuman villain threatening people.

Crisis solved.

This hypothetical has never happened. Why not? I think it's intrinsic to Velocity's power. His public page describes his power as "high speed movement".

Why doesn't he make a high speed run through the streets every evening. Anybody selling drugs gets tased. That would put a damper on that city's drug problem.

The answer is his costume.

I don't mean the fact that it's ranked as the 9th tightest Protectorate costume on, well, if you want to know the sites, this isn't the website to ask.

Anyway, his muscles aren't the point. Or are they?

This is a fit guy, but he can't carry a taser? If a parahuman does something weird, my rule of thumb is to consider it as related to their power.

What if that red blur isn't speed, but light?

Light imparts incredibly little force. That's fine if you're Legend and can shoot electric lasers, but I posit that Velocity is related to Legend.

Velocity is partially turning into red light as he travels. The faster he goes, the more he turns into living light, and the less he is able to affect his surroundings.

His costume is so, shall we say, fertile for the imagination, because he can go faster with less weight on him.

Anyway, that's my thoughts on the hero, Velocity.

========

Welcome to PHO
You are logged in, 15thEarth, and are set to private.

Forum: Cape News > North America > USA > Protectorate ENE > Local VS
Thread: Stormtiger VS Oni Lee

Page 8 of 9

Sticky Post:
∆ HerGreatModliness (Moderator) 2 Days ago
Regardless of who might actually win, I've already given out 4 warnings in this thread, so think before you post.
Do not make personal attacks against other users.
Do not guess at cape civilian IDs.
Do not advocate for illegal behavior.

∆ Coralander 2 Days ago
Oni Lee can teleport as fast as he wants, it doesn't matter if Stormtiger can 'explode the air' unless he can do it continuously.
No, you can't say he can unless you also show evidence that he has demonstrated it

∆ Decemasticate 2 Days ago
It's not that he can do it continuously, it's that Stormtiger can do it at will. Get close to him, get gibbed. Oni Lee is dangerous, but it still comes down to a question of reflexes. Can Stormtiger detonate an airblade if Oni Lee teleports behind him to stab him?

I say no, Stormtiger has never shown parahuman fast reflexes. Neither has Oni Lee, but in the absence of other abilities, then the person with the element of surprise wins.

∆ Epifrenetic 2 Days ago
Yeah, most of these boil down to 'who gets the jump on who'. What if Stormtiger can hear super far or something? Then Oni Lee can't sneak up on him.

∆ Coralander 2 Days ago
You have to cite evidence of abilities. Otherwise we're back to @Freakizoid's 'what if he has a secret pocket Scion in his pocket' line of reasoning.

∆ Freakizoid 2 Days ago
One Time! People, I said that one time. It was obviously sarcastic in context.

∆ Coralander 2 Days ago
Yeah, I know, it's just the default best example of people making stuff up.

∆ GonzoTheTraveler 2 Days ago
Doesn't Oni Lee use grenades?

∆ Epifrenetic 2 Days ago
Yeah, but the first page setup ruled out any equipment based on electrical or chemical properties.
There's a reason Oni Lee has killed a bunch of people and Stormtiger has not. That reason is grenades and teleport spam.
This VS thread is a hypothetical situation of more balanced encounter.

∆ 15Earth 2 Days ago
Why limit their standard equipment? I'm new and just curious.

∆ Epifrenetic 1 Days ago
Because it stops arguments is the simplest answer. Read the VS forum guidelines for more details.

Also, does Stormtiger have better hearing than normal? Look here, he turns before before the the door opens.

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Forum: Cape News > North America > USA > Protectorate ENE > Wards
Thread: Kid Win

Page 32 of 32

∆ Hirustest 8:27 am
The hoverboard is kickass, the only reason, @Iriascent, that Armsmaster's is maybe cooler is because he's had like a decade to perfect things.

You cannot deny the hoverboard concept as superior to the motorcycle concept.

∆ Iriascent 11:03 am
Riding a sci-fi surfboard is not as inherently awesome as a motorcycle. Anyway, It's the dual wielding laser guns that he posed for in this year's summer poster series that I loved.

∆ Kythonian 2:34 pm
Lol, would you say it got your engine going?

∆ Iriascent 3:05 pm
Dude, are you asking for the mods? And no.

∆ 15Earth 3:52 pm
Tinkers work together sometimes right? Was any of Kid Win's gear made with Armsmaster's help? I think the hoverboard is cool, but I'd be afraid of falling off it if I ever got to ride it.

∆ Iriascent 5:21 pm
Kid Win hasn't confirmed or denied anything about working with Armsmaster. So, the best answer is 'maybe'. I'd assume so, but I haven't seen any real jumps in improvement, so I'd guess that Armsmaster is more doing the teaching thing than just helping him in individual projects. Setting him up to succeed in the long term, rather than wasting time with shiny baubles.

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Private Messages
New Messages: 1

From: Optimal_Assessment 8:30 pm
Hey there!
So, I couldn't help but notice you're a bit active and interested in Tinkers on PHO. Would you be one by chance?

I'm a recent cape myself, Thinker rather that Tinker, and would be quite interested in a safe trade of resources. Maybe just some information? You tell me something I don't know, and I tell you something you don't know?

I'd also be interested in leasing some tinkertech. I've got some money and I've always wanted some awesome accessories.

Anyway, just let me know ;-)

Ciao!

 

[Tascion]

2.4 Achieving Sufficient Paranoia
The access to information from the library was as wonderful, as expected. Except for the other person, optimal_assessment. He had guessed I was a cape, apparently just from watching my posts, and wanted to talk with me.

Dad took took the news about it sort of OK.

He had vacillated between angry, worried, sarcastic, and possibly hysterical, while lecturing me about safety. A lot of talk to basically say, 'After we decide what to do about this, I'm going to say I told you so, every day for a week. I told you capes are powerful and can find out almost anything.'

Stupid Thinkers.

Once dad wound down I tried to bring him back to reality. "OK, but I haven't told him anything, or even responded. I can create a new account, or better yet, several, and I'll randomly use them. That should be a pretty good way to mask my activity."

Dad pretended to think about it for a second, but I was pretty sure his exaggerated hand movements were him trying to impress upon me his seriousness. "Well, if this person didn't have powers, I'd say that's perfect, but what if they're doing something else? What if it's the library that is tapped? What if they can clairvoyantly see the last person they talked to? I'm not saying give up, but life isn't fair, so don't assume their power is fair. Maybe it's nothing but a lucky guess on their part, but well, I'm sorry Taylor, but this stuff scares me and I want you to be safe. Independent capes last an average of six months. This is the first week you started doing something public, even just anonymously on the internet, that was directly related to information you wanted as a cape, and somebody already is trying to find out about you."

Yeah, he kind of had a point, if Dragon was secretly evil, she could likely trace the connection at least the library. Other capes could do equally crazy stuff. "I know this could be bad, and the worst part is we don't know how bad. So then we need to plan. I need to know if the library is compromised, or maybe just my account. I need to decide how to mask my online activities, or if it isn't even worth it. Is that everything?"
"Yeah, I think that's all the bases, except for one more thing. Your lair is a smart idea for your work, but I think you need to figure out how to make an escape tunnel. Maybe I'm overreacting, but if your ID is ever discovered, you and I need a safe way to escape. You are the most important person-"

I started to argue that he mattered to me, but dad stopped me from interrupting, "-Between the two of us. I'm not going to do anything dumb, but your mother would never forgive me if I didn't do my best to keep you safe. Odds are, if we're smart it'll never come down to us having to make such an awful choice, but let's hedge our bets, and work out some plans."

That was hard to argue with, especially with dad guilt tripping me about what mom would've wanted. Despite some surliness, I accepted that goal. I guess he was right, but I'd do my best to ensure it didn't come that.

Those goals became my priorities for the short term. I made us both undershirts that were a kind of crummy armor. It wasn't really armor, but it wouldn't tear under any kind of stress, well almost any. It would stretch, even around a bullet. I couldn't make it bind to blood, and clot it to stop any bleeding, but it would stop bullet fragments from doing more damage, and would reduce what knives and stuff could do to a person. I also created a secondary base. The shipwreck I'd been harvesting, I stopped pulling materials from it, and started digging under it and sealing the new tunnel from water. It would be my secret underwater shipwreck lair, and not even dad would know where it was.

He knew how to get to safety though. By the Union offices, there were some docks. The closest one to the boardwalk, not that it was on the boardwalk, or saw any tourists. I remotely had my units clean the area underneath it of debris. Fifteen feet down, off the end of the dock, were two escape kits. Both had helmets with rebreathers and hand and feet flippers for swimming. There was also suits, that were insulating, just in case. Either of us could make it to the Protectorate base from there, or I could take us to my secret underwater lair.

As to the library, well it was compromised, because there was no way to ensure it wasn't. I'd switch those accounts to private and monitored, but that's it. I'd figure out a new connection to the net eventually, but as much as I wanted information I didn't want dad to restrict my new options for really building things.

Including throwing myself into armor development, which was very satisfying. Dad also stopped pestering me about trying to socialize more. I came home, worked on homework until dinner, then I'd plan or tinker for the rest of the evening.

Not that I shut dad out. I planned in the living room, and he was always welcome in my basement lair. I did work out the skin binding issue, and could really start on power armor. It would be modular, based off units that would climb on me, bind to my skin, and then act as external muscles that amplified my strength. Not much though, it basically only prevented me from getting tired. More strength was too much of a strain on my bones and tissue. There would be tearing or compression damage. Still, each armor unit had scales on the outside, a flexible metallic polymer based on beryllium. I wanted to include titanium, but I'd make do as that was too hard to acquire.

Even school was good. Sophia left me alone, and I kept to myself. Carlos had tried to talk to me a couple more times, but well, I killed those attempts by being minimally responsive. Victoria Dallon seemed nice though, from a distance anyway.

Maybe it was unfair to them, but I wasn't going to risk attracting Sophia's attention. She was starting to get a bit crazy looking, like she wasn't taking care of herself. Nothing dramatic, but frazzled and twitchy. After having to watch out for her and Emma for a year, I had gotten pretty used to observing her, and the changes were visible, even if also minor.

I'd been like that by the end my first year at Winslow. If she was being bullied, then well, I couldn't convince myself that she didn't deserve it. However, the odd thing was that nobody appeared to be tormenting her like what she did me. Hmm, maybe it happened except during lunch.

Watching her, my vindictive thoughts caught up with me and I sighed, as being a hero meant doing the right thing, even when I'd rather stab the bitch, or at least watch her suffer some.

Still, I had two secret lairs to her none, so that was some consolation.

The next day I went and found Mrs Green a few minutes before my next class. "Hey Mrs Green, could I talk to you about something awkward for a minute? It didn't involve me."

She gets a look I can't interpret, sort of actively not frowning, while subtly raising an eyebrow at me. I guess she's had to deal with teenagers for a while? I doubt we're that much worse than adults, but at least she's listening.

I launch into things, "So, I've been glad to be here, and have avoided Sophia very successfully, and my life is good. I've only even talked to her once since coming to Arcadia. The thing is, she's starting to look pretty bad. I will deny saying anything if anybody asks, because I don't want her coming after me again, but you might want to ask her homeroom teacher about getting her somebody to talk to or something. I spent a year watching her to avoid her, and now she's starting to look like she's getting dragged under by life or something." I awkwardly trail off that blabber of words.

Mrs Green responds promptly, "Well, if I was to ask Sophia if she's talked to you, she would say she hasn't, right?"

"Yeah, that's correct, and I still don't want to talk to her, but still, even if I don't like her, I'd assume somebody does, and I'm willing to be nice to somebody I don't know."

Mrs Green sighs and I can't tell if she is agreeing with that, but I also don't care.
"Well, Mrs Green, I'm going to go now, I guess."

"Alright, thank you for bringing your concerns me, Taylor. You did the right thing, but I was already aware of Sophia's difficulties. Please do not interfere with her, as she has people monitoring things to help with her problems."

As I leave go to class, I kind of wonder about that, Mrs Green was sort of weird about the whole conversation. Who 'has people monitoring things to help with her problems', or even just who says that? Aside from Mrs Green, I guess.

The next day I jinx myself by thinking that I am in the clear. Maybe the appropriate phrase would be 'no good deed goes unpunished'. Regardless, Victoria scares the life out of me just as I step out of the bathroom. Her in-your-face 'HELLO!' causes my response to be a yelp. Before I have time to even figure out how to respond, she's already talking a mile a minute. Dragging me behind her, she knows everybody in school apparently, except that she hasn't met me yet, so she had just just wanted to say HELLO! and find out who I was.

She drags me, her sister, and a girl named, uh, Claire, maybe, to my table. I think that it's very telling about a hero if they can take people screaming at them upon their first actual meeting. I don't share that thought though and just grumble a bit as I pull out my lunch. It's not as if I mind my hero meeting dreams to so far turn out to start with them yelling at me and me shrieking at them.

Victoria has finally stopped talking is just staring at me. Awkwardness builds until I can't take it. "Hey, uh, so it's nice to meet you Victoria, and Amy, and Claire." How the hell do you talk to somebody who is only interested talking to you only because they haven't talked to you yet?

Victoria doesn't mind, responding cheerily, "Hi Taylor, it's great to finally get a chance to meet you. Call me Vicky, and I like meeting people and wanted the chance to get to know you, but fairs fair, so ask me anything as well."

There, uh, wasn't a question in there, Vicky. Also, I think Amy rolled her eyes without moving her head. I guess I'll start then. "Do you, uh, like your education track that you're in here at Arcadia? I'm in the engineering one, and kind of wondered what the others were like."

"Naw, they're all the same, none of us know enough to need actual differentiation in high school. I'm going to be a professional hero. There's no pay in that though, so I'm going to make money in communication and management. I've got a pretty face, which is great, and as long as I use my brain to leverage things, there are plenty of companies that think that consulting is done better by somebody looking good. Dumb, I know, but the hours are flexible and the pay is reasonable. I need both to be a hero."
I have no idea how to respond to that. "Uh, Claire, or Amy, what, uh do you like to study? Or do?"

Vicky answers instead of one of them, "Oh, Amy spends a ton of time volunteering the hospital, she's great. She has healed so many people. I still can't find her the right boyfriend though. She also reads a bunch. She looks smart but is smarter." Vicky is an enthusiastically helpful sister I guess.

"I've only been to the hospital for checkups and shots, are you considered like an intern then, or will you be able to get a job at a hospital later?"

Amy speaks rather brusquely, "I only do volunteer work currently, I don't know what I'll do as a career. I expect a hospital would hire me once I'm an adult."

Well, I guess the excitement part of being a hero has worn off for her. I try to be polite, and ask Claire the same thing. She does a lot of shopping, as paid for by babysitting, and is thinking she wants to teach preschool or kindergarten. Apparently, babysitting pay is great for a teen, but she's a lot more vague about her future plans. I add my own goals for being an engineer, though I'm not sure about what area. Amy is quiet, but Claire and Vicky are enough to carry on a conversation through a few different topics. Vicky changes topics in a whim, which makes me grateful for Claire.

Vicky draws my attention away from my pretending that my sandwich is absolutely fascinating. "Come on Taylor, you haven't asked any questions about flying or anything, aren't you curious?"

An aspect of talking to Vicky that has become apparent is that she herself is probably her favorite person. She's friendly enough though, I guess.

"Uh, well, I didn't want to be rude. Uh, can I ask anything or are there questions I shouldn't ask?"

Vicky sags a bit, and looks pensive. Yep, good job Taylor, that took the wind right out of their sails.

"Yeah, that's fair, and I guess if you don't know, better to ask than stumble into things. Here's the taboo stuff, and this is likely true for any cape. The biggest is don't ask about how somebody got powers. They won't tell you, because getting powers sucks, and nobody gets powers the same way anyway. Second, aside from New Wave, identities are secret, even joking about it is seriously offensive. Lastly, uh, don't try to find out weaknesses, that's like asking which window of your bedroom is easiest to break into."

"Uh, fair enough, so Vicky, are there any downsides to flying? Like bugs in your hair or something?"

"Hah, yeah, but not for me, Amy here though occasionally has some trouble when I pick her up from the hospital."

"Oh, bummer about that then." I should try to include Amy and Claire, since they came to sit at my table too. Amy first, I guess? "So, I don't know what to ask about healing. I mean it's great and all for helping people. Oh, do you have to put up with people who won't stop talking? Ever had to go 'nurse, I think this patient needs a sedative to ensure optimal treatment?"

Amy just kind of looks blankly at me for a moment, but then she does smile a bit and respond, "Healing people is fairly quick, so thankfully the annoying ones blur together, so nobody gets a chance to talk much."

Awkward pauses don't exist around Vicky, "So, Taylor, aside from me, who are your favorite heroes?"

I finally manage more than basic responses. "OK, so when I was a kid, it was Armsmaster and Alexandria. Now that I've grown up some, I've been thinking, and I guess my opinions changed. I'm going to go with Dragon, because more than handling criminals, she had made the world better, not just stopped it from getting worse. She invented containment foam that the entire Protectorate uses, and the PRT, as well as helping reverse engineer tinkertech, and rebuild after Endbringers. The world is actually better for reasons other than stopping people from making it worse."

Claire adds in her own support. "Well, I love Dragon because her mechs are awesome, but yeah, your reasoning is better. So, you're being all kinds of deep. Who do you think Vicky and Amy's favorite heroes are?"

Thanks Claire, I really appreciate being put on the spot to guess about people I've talked to for 10 minutes.

I try to make a joke about Vicky. "I bet Vicky's favorite hero is herself."

I wave my hands a bit to forestall Vicky's interruptions. Just in case she's annoyed I want to get my defense out first. "Hear me out, Vicky, you try to be a great hero, and nobody can understand that better than you because you're you, so sure, maybe there are better heros, but there's nobody you understand more who strives to be the best hero they can be."

Vicky gives me a questioning look for a second, but then laughs. "Yeah, alright, I'm my own favorite, but I'm copying what you said for myself, cause it sounds better than how I say it. So, guess for Amy and then we'll let the spotlight off you."

"OK... Well, Amy, don't take this as mean, but you seem pretty used to your powers, like they're boring to you. You're still a hero, you still help people, but I bet other powers are more interesting. You don't seem as, uh, action-packed as Vicky, so maybe you like helping people more than explosions. How about a cape that helps people differently than you, like defending at the Endbringer fights? Maybe you like Narwhal the most? Because her shields-"

Claire thinks this is hilarious, her laughter causing me to trail off. It takes me a minute to figure out what she's saying. Also, Amy is freaking me out a bit. She's just intensely staring at me, but her mouth remains expressionless.

Claire gets her laughter under control, which draws my attention back to her as she repeats her question.

"Taylor, OK, so how much do you know about Narwhal? Sure she defends people, but that's not the normal reason people pick her as a favorite."

"Uh, well, not all that much, I've seen a picture of her once, from the Guild webpage, but her defending people was the only reason I figured Amy might have her as a favorite."

OK, maybe it's not me, and Amy is shy or something, cause she's blushing and not wanting to be here. Vicky helps, well, I can't even think that, Vicky talks.

"So Taylor, you've seen Narwhal's picture, but you think first of her defending people? Well, you're definitely straight."

Uh, what? Narwhal's costume is just metallic armor the same color as her force fields. She does look good, but… I take a moment to collect my thoughts and I'm still stuck with 'what?', so I guess start there.

"Uh, well, she's good looking sure, but there has to be heroes that have more revealing costumes or whatever for titillating guys, right?"

Vicky and Claire think this is hilarious, but at least they aren't openly mocking me I guess, just laughing about me being dumb.

"Yeah, well, I suppose I haven't thought much about the sexy rankings of various capes."

Claire says "So Amy, how does Narwhal rank for you? Any surprises in your preferred cape lists?"

That uh, seems to upset Amy more, and her response is clipped. "Narwhal does defend during Endbringer attacks. However she isn't Manton limited and she also uses her force fields to fight. She can generate sharp force fields inside people's bodies. Not only simple stuff like cutting off arms, but even cutting people in half, and even up to shredding their bodies like they ran through a wood chipper. She's frequently involved when the Guild carries out Kill Orders."

And I'm done eating. I'm not really hungry anymore either, "Oh, uh, OK, yeah, that wasn't a good guess then, sorry. I'm uh, I mean I need to go pick up a book from the library, so maybe I'll just leave you guys eat lunch, yeah?"

I get up and pull my stuff up, and head towards the school library. Claire and Vicky are still unsettled by Amy, and Amy seems to be sulking. Yeah, that wasn't fun at all.

Still Arcadia is a lot better than Winslow, so I shouldn't complaint. The library is quite nice as well, and I waste some time reading before lunch ends, and try to get mental images of blendering people out of my mind.

When school is over and I'm leaving for home, I spot Vicky floating in the air out by the school gate. Maybe she wants to show off or maybe it is easier to spot people from 20 feet up. Meh, maybe avoiding her is a good idea. Lunch wasn't exactly fun, and Vicky does sit at the same table as Sophia.

Vicky seemed nice, if boisterous, but then again, so did Emma. I turn around back into the building. The only student entrance is through the main gate, but there are exit turnstiles on the others sides so that the facility can get to their cars.

I avoid any trouble, which is the best kind of fight to be in, or rather not be in. It takes longer to get home, but I swing by the public library. There's no obvious tampering of the switch or my cable, but still, without actually taking it apart, there's no way to really tell. If I can do a cursory check of it just by looking at it, I guess somebody could pretty easily notice, if they were looking for how a new cape was reliably accessing the library internet. The library has public wifi available, if I'd been smarter in the initial planning, maybe I could have been less obvious. Still, that would require a computer that I could manage to get through a 3 inch pipe, so maybe not. My ant and turtle unit network had expanded to maybe half the city, with maps in progress for the another quarter. The last bit, an outer ring, sort of, around city may not be with mapping, unless I get get enough materials for more squiggles.

My squiggles, I only had five of them, were amazing, at least in mechanical function. They are faster and more capable than the ants, which themselves were a solid step up from the turtles. All of my units had the same kind of cascade memory/processor driving their behavior though. It burned out, but I was getting better at making them, so my total unit population keep increasing slowly.

I got home and made food, dad would be home soon, and we could have dinner.
I made spaghetti, which we both liked, and was simple.

My relay to the library still operated, and I checked it occasionally. Dad had agreed with me that just checking my questions for any extra answers didn't add to the harm already done.

However, there was a new message.

New message from yabf9gcf
Message sent 12 hours ago (8:33 AM)
Hey listen, this is optimal_observations, I know I creeped you out and I'm sorry about that. I've gotten into some trouble I can't get out of by myself. You're really good at not making waves. Could you help me? I just want out of a bad situation.
This is me