Orderly (Worm Semi-SI)

[Obscura]

This wasn't my first time alone in a public bathroom with Taylor, but a lot had changed since I'd bustled her out of the last one and into a dusty, empty, and underequipped classroom.

For one thing, this was the single-person variety, one that was locked, guaranteeing us at least some measure of privacy. (And significantly less of my blood on the floor.) For another, her unspoken "what is wrong with you" had metamorphosed into an equally unspoken "I know exactly what is wrong with you, and I love you and it's not your fault, but I am still very much upset about it."

Which, you know, fair.

I had pretty much spent the entire time I'd known her ping-ponging between old disasters being revealed (to her) and all-new, all-different, disasters. To some degree, it was remarkable that she was even willing to put up with me.

Not that I was surprised. I was adorable, we were trauma-bonded, and it wasn't like she was exactly swimming in unneeded love and support. She was almost as much of a disaster area as I was, as much as it wasn't really either of our fault, and much less well equipped to get other people to help her deal with it than myself.

Attachment was, if not inevitable, something neither of us were particularly inclined to evit. We were stuck with each other, disasters and all.

I can't say I minded terribly much. And while I suspected Taylor could say she minded all she wanted, if she wanted to be all tough and self-reliant and dumb about it for whatever reason, it wouldn't be particularly convincing.


More immediately relevant, at least on a surface level, last time we'd been alone in a public bathroom, my hair had been fine. Not great, considering Winslow's extremely limited haircare product availability and my limited skills, but not actively bad in any way. Taylor's was a lot nicer, but mine was still pretty good.

This time was a different story. This time I looked like a whole bunch of chunks of my hair had been heavy-handedly removed because they were completely unsalvageable after unfortunate encounters with human remains, vomit, and/or a blowtorch.

Because, well, that was exactly what happened. The results were not pretty, and if Taylor didn't say as much when she dragged me in front of the sinks, I was clearly supposed to infer that she was making an effort to mitigate the damage, and that that was why we were in the bathroom.

I was one for two. The effort was definitely being made, but if it was Taylor's sole purpose we would have been somewhere better equipped for the job. Or she would have gone and acquired something. At a minimum, she would have had a brush or comb and a few hair ties. Maybe some pins or accessories or something of that nature, and perhaps some product of one type or another.

Instead we had our hands, a small mirror, a sink, handsoap and a handdryer, those last two both very much designed for hands and not hair.

Taylor wasn't the best at long-term planning, but even if she'd somehow missed our crippling lack of resources when we came in she had to have noticed by the time her third attempt to sculpt the tattered remnants of my coiffure into something vaguely acceptable with her bare hands failed miserably.


That made it pretty obvious that there was something else on her mind. Well, that and the way her reflection looked like it was desperately trying to come up with a way to start a potentially awkward conversation. That was why we were in an empty bathroom.

I decided to let her try. She needed the practice, and I really didn't. If it looked like she was going to fail, I'd step in, but she did seem to be building up rather than breaking down.

I didn't expect her to be building up to a hug instead of words, but it came all the same, taking the place of a fifth futile attempt at hairdressing. I'm not entirely convinced (or at all convinced,) that it was deliberate intent on her part so much as mounting frustration with her lexicon's failure to initiate getting the better of her, but I decided to interpret it as a sign that I was a good influence on her all the same.


I let it happen, obviously, and reciprocated as best I could. Which wasn't particularly well, seeing as she was behind me, but I awkwardly leaned into it and put my arms over her own all the same.

Fortunately I had been carefully rehydrated recently, so I had all new tears to shed. Taylor hadn't, as far as I knew, but she didn't seem particularly hindered in that regard. Odds were it wasn't her first cry of the day either, just by sheer weight of the previous day's events, but maybe she just had bigger liquid reserves than I did.

Or maybe she'd actually drunk some water like a normal person. Probably that. As much as I had my doubts about her ability to take care of herself and make good decisions in more than one regard, I didn't think she had any problems with drinking. Her ability to take care of her physiological needs was, if not precisely impeccable, at least better enough than my own that I couldn't criticize. Like most teenagers, at least those with things like homes and parents, it was the higher tiers of the hierarchy of needs that were a little more in doubt. Perhaps the second a little more so than usual.

Not that I could talk. At least she'd waited for Armsmaster to start things before she set in on Lung.


I don't know how long we just stood there, crying and hugging. Probably longer than a bathroom visit could reasonably be expected to last, if hair fixing attempts hadn't already pushed us past that limit. But if anybody was intending to use our bathroom in particular, they clearly weren't desperate enough to knock. They could wait. So could awkward conversations.

We'd earned this.

 

[Obscura]

Of course, the conversation did need to eventually happen. To her credit, Taylor was able to start it after the worst of the tears were past. To my credit, I didn't punch her in the face when she just straight-up asked me what happened with Purity with no warning whatsoever.

I mean, in a very real sense, it was a tremendously insensitive question. That the subject was beyond touchy was no secret whatsoever, and the results were no more so. It was on video, and that video was on the internet. It wouldn't be so ubiquitous you couldn't miss it, even if you followed cape events, but it'd be there if you looked. I knew Taylor could operate a search engine at least that well.

I'd seen her research on the city's cape scene, after all. I wouldn't call it prodigious, but it was well past the level needed.


But instead of lashing out, physically or (honestly more likely) verbally, I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and thought a little further. I was trying to be better than that. If I didn't want my life to be all about anger, I couldn't give in to it that easily.

Honestly, I don't think I would have even without that extra weight on the "don't lash out" side of the scales, but the temptation was sobering anyway. A reminder that anger comes in all shapes and sizes, that there's more to it than actual gross injustices. Sometimes it's more than unwise, it's unjustified. It was by no means the first time I'd come to that revelation, but it cut more than a little deeper than usual at the moment.

So I kept my cool, at least on the outside, and considered the question and why it had been asked. It was harder than I would have liked, but I could handle it, and be (relatively) nice about rebuking the question if it became necessary to do so.


Taylor wasn't nearly as accustomed to the internet and the wonders of modern communications networks as I was. Sure she knew they existed and how to use them, at least on a basic level, but they weren't the automatic go-to solution to not knowing something for her the way they were for me.

Actually, they weren't even really an automatic go-to solution to not knowing something for me anymore. They had been, for the me that came from outside, but the old Jacqueline wasn't nearly as quick to go to them, because of her historically limited access to them if nothing else. They were a tool to be used, and I didn't shy from them, but it might not have occurred to me to look there if our positions had been reversed.

And, well, it wouldn't have felt great to go behind Taylor's back and look for important things in her life without even talking to her about it first. It was for precisely that reason (admittedly not just for her) that I hadn't gone into public records to find out what happened to the mother of the Hebert family. If Taylor wanted to extend me the same courtesy, it would hardly be reasonable to blame her for it.

And I cared about her, and she about me. That meant that, if I could, (and that was, admittedly, an awfully big "if",) I should do my best to give her an honest explanation when she was worried. Even if she really could have been more careful about asking.

I sighed, and started talking. Even if I wasn't happy about it.


"So I did some research in the archives Saturday, looking into the Empire's capes. I learned, well, a lot of stuff and you should probably take a look-see yourself at some point, but most importantly I learned what happened the night mom died."

I didn't look at Taylor's face as I spoke. I suspect I wouldn't have liked what I would have seen if I had, and I knew if I looked I wouldn't be able to continue.

The quiet choked-down gasp I caught was not encouraging.


"Lung was out and about, doing whatever it is draconic would-be warlords do, a block or so north of his established territories of the time. Purity came along, doing whatever it is psychotic racists with way too much firepower for anybody's good do, and immediately started hit-and-running him into the least white neighbourhood in the vicinity: mine.

"By the time they were done thirty-seven people were dead, including my mother, I was homeless along with I don't even know how many others, and nothing of value was accomplished by or for either of the capes involved. Lung was up and about and extorting shopkeepers by noon the next day, Purity was seen maiming some Merchants a few days later, and none of the big gangs even bothered to claim the territory they'd fought over.

"My mother died for nothing more than an inconclusive skirmish, started for nothing more than Lung being slightly outside his territory and Purity having no regard whatsoever for her life."


Calm, Jacqueline, calm. I was ranting. Just a little, but this wasn't the time for it. I was angry, and I had cause to be, but it wasn't helping. And even if I had a right to be angry, it didn't make my mistakes right. And that was the next part.

Stopping to breathe helped. It still wasn't easy.

"So when she showed up out of the blue, I didn't respond well. I couldn't take my eyes off her, and I wasn't subtle about it. And when she took exception to that, I lost my temper and chewed her out, completely ignoring the fact that if she took exception to that a whole lot of people, people in my care at that, were going to die.

"I don't want to even try to remember what I said right now, let alone attempt to recreate the energy of it. I'm scared even the effort will send me right back where I don't want to be. If you really must know, somebody took a video of the whole thing and put it up on PHO, but I won't be watching it with you. I know I'll have to face it someday, but I don't want that day to be today.

"Yesterday has already done enough to ruin today."


I realised I was telling the truth there even as I said it. Today was supposed to be better, and not just in comparison to that abysmally low bar.

"I want to move on, at least for now. Let's do something productive."

"Okay," passed Taylor's lips like a benediction, careful and reserved yet filled with all the goodwill in the world. I was glad I didn't punch her stupid, pretty face. Hugs were swiftly exchanged, and then I stepped out the door and into the future.

Taylor quietly informed me that Armsmaster was up three flights of stairs and down two corridors before the awkward realisation that I had no idea where I was physically going fully set in.

 

[Obscura]

Armsmaster was expecting us. I don't even mean that he wasn't surprised by us walking into his (backup?) workshop unannounced, although he wasn't, he was actively and specifically ready for us.

Either he was keeping a closer eye on us than I'd realised, or Taylor had called ahead. A glance at the girl in question revealed nothing in a way that was clearly supposed to not reveal anything, so I assumed it was the latter. Metaphorically or literally.

A poker face is all well good for hiding things, but unless you're really good it still reveals that for some reason you think you need a poker face. Sometimes that's enough to give the game away all by itself. Armsmaster got around that little problem by making poker-face, or at least poker-helm, his default expression, and Vespiary would probably do something similar, but Taylor was an open book when she wasn't actively using her powers to cover it up.

Me, I sidestepped that issue by not using poker face unless I didn't mind the other person realising I was hiding something. Whether that was because they still wouldn't know what I was hiding or, as with Clockblocker, I suspected it would be funny whether or not they noticed.

(Which I was totally right about, by the way. It was hilarious. But you already know that.)


Anyway, Armsmaster was prepared with fun and productive activities for us. Well, fun for me. Taylor wasn't quite so enthusiastic about being given a bunch of tests at first, but she brightened up upon being informed they were the placement assessments for Arcadia.

Me, I was just happy at finally being given an intellectual challenge that was neither life-threatening nor way beneath my level.

Well, partially not way beneath my level. These were placement assessments, after all, which meant they were designed for placements. A normal examination would all be roughly on the same academic level, give or take, but one meant for placements covered a broader range.

It would start, Armsmaster explained, below our grade level and gradually ramp up. We had an hour and half to get as far as we could, and we were to do our best but not worry if it eventually got beyond us. I honestly suspected there was a pretty good chance I'd make it all the way on at least some of them, depending on where they set the bar, but it was fine if I didn't. It was designed to find out where we were, not judge us.

At a minimum, it should take some actual effort.

I got the feeling that he was paraphrasing somebody considerably wordier, but I think he conveyed the gist of the matter well enough. Start easy, progress to your limit, find out where you're at. Simple enough.


Taylor didn't seem to think so. She wasn't being obvious about it, she was, in fact, back to being poker-faced, but it's like I said before: that meant that for some reason she thought she needed a poker face.

There weren't all that many possible reasons for that to be the case. She could have simply disliked Armsmaster, or just been upset with him for whatever reason and been politely trying to hide it, but she was the one who'd decided to go to him. Even if she knew I was fond of the man, he was far from the only option. And she had dropped it during the explanation phase.

That, and the fact she hadn't used it during the trip, meant it wasn't about what'd I said in the bathroom, and for similar reasons it wasn't about what I'd said before the trip. Actually, it probably wasn't about me or Armsmaster at all, except for the part where she didn't want us to see it.

And, well, I knew all about Taylor's complicated academic history. It wasn't hard to make an educated guess.


"You'll do fine," I told her, much to her (only slightly concealed) surprise. Hopefully that was surprise at my noticing her test anxiety, rather than my being supportive in the face of it, but it was clear that a little further support would not go amiss.

"I mean it. I know your school experience has been colourful as of late," I understated grandly, "but you weren't failing. You were scraping by, by your own account, and I'm pretty sure you were actually doing at least a little more than that."

The look on her face confirmed it, even if it also said it wasn't that much more. Maybe it was and maybe it wasn't, it was still pretty impressive under the circumstances.

"And I know that wasn't on the strength of your assignments. I've kept a weather eye on Winslow's grading system, just in case somebody ever tried something, and you had to have done at least okay on tests. Even assuming the teachers were playing softball with you, and you've told me at least some of them very much weren't, with as many missing and late assignments as you had you'd need at least consistent mid Cs on exams to have even made it as far as you did, and that while being actively sabotaged on at least some of them by your erstwhile peers.


She did not, however, look convinced.

"Which I can promise won't be happening here."

Because I was literally the only peer she had in the room and I had no intention of doing so. And while she could sabotage somebody's test-taking without either being in the room or being unacceptably obvious about it, as far as I knew none of the other Wards could or would.

She didn't seem to take that second line of thought as far as I did, but she did seem at least a little comforted when she said "I know you wouldn't". I decided to take that as a win, all the more so when she followed it up with "I trust you."

I smiled, warmly and genuinely. "Then trust me when I say you'll be fine. Maybe you won't do as well as you would have, (she almost definitely wouldn't, but there was no need to say it out loud), but I have no doubt you'll put on a respectable showing."

I didn't. I even meant respectable by the standards of a functioning education system, instead of, well, Winslow, so it'd actually look a little impressive.

Taylor smiled back, seemingly convinced of her ability to do this at last, so I decided not to undermine my position by pointing out that even if she screwed this up massively it wasn't like the PRT and Arcadia alike wouldn't each individually give her a level of support Winslow students could only dream of to get her up to snuff.

Or how even if she somehow still managed to flunk out of high school her powers and Wards status basically guaranteed her a Protectorate position if she wanted one. Or her ludicrously massive advantages in entomology that would have any lab in the world salivating to hire her if she decided the hero life wasn't for her.

The fact that it would be trivially easy for her to cheat on exams, by the time she had to worry about graduation and universities if not just yet, and basically impossible for anybody to prove it also went unsaid, but I wouldn't have brought it up either way. I trusted her, just as she evidently did me, and there was nothing to be gained by pointing it out besides making it look like I didn't.

That wasn't something I wanted to do to her. So I just patted her on the back in what I hoped was an affirming fashion.

She'd be fine.

 

[Obscura]

Taylor:

The product ((2x3​-50x) ÷ (5x2​-30x+25)) ((5x-5x2​) ÷ (x3​+5x2​)) can be reduced to an integer n. The value of n is:

After six attempts, Taylor could confidently assert that she had no idea. The exam had been easy enough at first, but this was the sixth question in a row she simply hadn't known how to handle. The worst part was that she didn't even know if that was a problem. Was it just because she'd reached past her grade level, or was this something she should have known?

That she didn't remember encountering anything like this in class wasn't as much help as it should have been. Not only was Taylor's attendance in class spotty both physically and mentally, she didn't trust Mr. Gomez to have actually taught the curriculum instead of mechanically chewing through whatever the textbook put in front of him. Nor did she trust said curriculum to live up to Arcadia's exalted standards. It was Winslow, after all.

Call her cynical.


Jacqueline both was and wasn't helping. The girl tried to, that much was obvious, and Taylor did appreciate it. Her words had been reassuring, in a tempered, realistic, way that Taylor honestly found more believable, and less crushing, than any amount of blind faith could have been. They felt like something Taylor could live up to.

Taylor hadn't been a good student, not in her teacher's eyes and not in the eyes of the grading system. Not since the Trio's campaign had started. But, as Jacqueline had pointed out, she had been an acceptable one. In some areas more than others, admittedly, but she'd still managed it even while continuously distracted and harassed and with any given assignment having fifty-fifty odds of making it to the hand-in time unmolested. And, even if she'd needed it pointed out, that millstone was no longer around her neck.

Jacqueline's faith in her felt like it had some basis to it, and that alone was enough to warm Taylor's heart, above and beyond the feeling of the faith and goodwill itself.

Taylor had felt good about maybe, possibly, being a good student again.


Right up until she'd hit a wall in the exam. No matter how much effort or thought she put into them, there were questions Taylor just couldn't answer. Even her recent, more esoteric, mind-expanding activities as of late were no help. It simply didn't matter if she could hold however-many trains of thoughts at once if none of them knew how to solve the problem before her.

And, of course, they meant that Taylor simply couldn't focus exclusively on the exam. She could put as much focus as pre-locker Taylor physically could have on it and more, and she was doing exactly that, but she was still aware of other things.

And that was where Jacqueline wasn't helping. Not that she'd noticed, the girl was entirely intent on her work in a way that Taylor couldn't help but feel bad about not achieving, but Taylor still couldn't help but feel a little inadequate in the face of the younger girl's progress.

Jacqueline was on the first page. Which wouldn't have made Taylor feel inadequate, more worried if anything, except this was the fifth time Jacqueline was on the first page. Taylor hadn't tried to see what Jacqueline was writing, and she honestly wasn't sure if she could have read it through bug eyes even if she did, but she saw enough to tell where Jacqueline was writing.


First, she'd methodically gone through the booklet, not even touching her pencil, just looking at all the questions. Fair enough, that was a habit Taylor hadn't ever really picked up but she'd seen it before.

Then Jacqueline Colere, cute, sweet, kind, and reassuring yet so very in need of protection Jacqueline Colere, went through the booklet and answered what seemed to be every single question almost without stopping. It wasn't until the last few pages that the girl slowed down appreciably, and even then she made it all the way to the end. Then she went through the entire thing again, occasionally making corrections and very occasionally redoing things entirely. Then she went through it again, and this time there was only a single, small change.

And now she was right back at the start, doing it yet again. Taylor wasn't sure if she was just that thorough or if she was deliberately taking extra time to avoid putting pressure on Taylor by finishing first, either would fit what Taylor knew of her personality, but Jacqueline was definitely at the point of quadruple-checking.

Taylor hadn't even gotten through it once, and it didn't look like she was going to. She admitted to herself that she was stuck. With a sigh, she went back to the first page and started checking her own work. After that, she'd skim the rest of the book and see if there were any more that she could handle.

She didn't exactly have high hopes for that.

 

[Obscura]

The "Mathematics Standard Assessment", as the words on the front of the test proclaimed it, was no disappointment.

Admittedly, the logistics of a single examination starting with two plus two and ending with pushing my modest grasp of calculus to the limit boggled the mind somewhat, especially since it was nominally for a high school, but that was a minor issue. I was at where I should be at for my age by the end of the first page, and at my grade level by the end of the second. By the end of the third sheet I needed to write out the process for more than just basic caution and "show your work" reasons, by the end of the seventh I was legitimately being challenged, and by the end of the tenth and final page I had, as stated, been pushed to the limits of my understanding.

It was nice. Certainly not an academic experience I could have had at Winslow. Pushing me while still being ultimately doable. I wasn't entirely sure about every single answer, but after I finished thoroughly checking them over (both for actual mistakes and for just plain illegible handwriting) I was confident in the vast majority. Just the way it should be. And, as expected, I wouldn't have to worry about completing too little.

In hindsight, I probably should have instead considered the pitfalls of completing too much.


First of all, it would definitely raise questions. It was, after all, a lot more than anybody would have expected of the old Jacqueline. More, in fact, than she/I could have pulled off, and by a considerable margin at that. I have no doubt that that version of Jacqueline Colere would have done well, for her age and grade level, but the old me wouldn't have finished the whole exam. She was a straight A student even after skipping a grade, but she couldn't apply concepts she'd never actually learned.


Of course, that version of me would never have gotten the chance to take Arcadia's placement assessments in the first place. Even as this more proactive version of me, with my broader skillset and knowledge, I don't think I could have pulled it off without having superpowers and thus a reason for powerful organisations to have a vested interest in my wellbeing and disposition towards them. I couldn't have paid the tuition even if I somehow managed to get a transfer request through Winslow's office. The old Jacqueline Colere definitely couldn't have.

If that hypothetical version of Jacqueline Colere, the one I would never be, was even still alive to try. She was "destined to perish in the course of events", after all. I knew I'd probably never know what would have happened, but it didn't stop me wondering.


At least until the timer I hadn't noticed went off and announced that our ninety minutes were up. That was fine, the checks past the fourth go through were mostly just to be extra safe and kill time, since I knew Taylor would want the full hour and a half. Whether or not she actually needed it, she would probably believe she did. And even if she didn't believe she needed it, she would take it just to be safe and assuage her doubts.

It sucks feeling like you're slower than everybody else, I know. Maths was not a field I'd experienced that in, but I couldn't imagine it was any different. One student finishing ahead of Taylor in a normal class probably wouldn't be that bad, but there were only two of us, and I was almost two years younger than her.

I didn't want her to feel intellectually inferior or inadequate in any way.


Sadly, when I took my eyes off the exam she clearly did. Or at least she was more than slightly dejected and down on herself. I couldn't see any other reason why that might be, and the way she glanced over with barely-concealed frustration pretty much confirmed it.

That she immediately looked away guiltily when I caught her told me I was involved. Maybe I hadn't been as sneaky about finishing quickly as I thought.

Note to self: when trying to keep information from Thinkers, for their own good or otherwise, remember that they're Thinkers. They have ways of getting information that you don't, and it's important to keep those ways in mind if you want to hide a secret from them.

Not that it would have helped much. I suppose I could have done my checking as I went, and maybe delayed things a little, but I didn't have a firm enough grip on how much time I had to spare for that to be practical, probably wouldn't have even if I'd noticed the timer, and it wouldn't have done anything to conceal the fact that I did finish.


I suppose I could have sandbagged it. Done just enough to be smart for my age but still behind Taylor. I knew roughly where she'd end up running out of steam, after all. It probably would have led to fewer raised eyebrows when the assessments were graded. I might even have been able to keep it to what the Jacqueline of old could have managed.

In the end, I didn't feel the need to boast about how smart I was or rub it in people's faces. I'd actually been quite careful to keep it on the down low at Winslow. Both to avoid attention in general and because there was a very real possibility of somebody getting dangerously mad about being outdone by somebody like me. (Younger, a girl, or of my skin colour, most likely, though my accent, class, and/or foreign refugee status were also possibilities. The rest were things to be discreet in their own right, and if they were uncovered I probably had bigger problems.)

But there's a difference between keeping quiet about something, especially something nobody else cares to look into and that isn't any of their business anyway, and actively maintaining a lie about it. It would come up, every single maths class at a minimum, it would be miserable every time it did, stifling in too-simple equations and guilt-inducing both at once, and eventually I would screw up the lie somehow. And then it'd be worse than if I'd just been honest in the first place. Cause more problems.

And this was already problematic enough.

 

[Obscura]

A pretty decently long time ago, a small child who was not yet called Jacqueline (though she was still Colere, even if nobody realised she was a she just yet) was pretty smart, particularly in matters of academics. She finished assignments quickly, did very well on tests, and even understood words like academics and assignments and could use them properly in sentences. This caused problems with the other children around her, particularly those in her class, and she didn't understand why.

(Or, indeed, the why behind any of the problems they had with her, or even which were which to any extent beyond what was blatantly shouted at her, but the idea of having problems because she was smart was a particularly vexing one)

So, when it finally irked her enough, she set out into the big, brave world, or at least the biggest, bravest part of it she knew (the school library) and did her best to figure it all out. What the issue was, why it happened, what the other children were thinking, and, most importantly, how to fix it.

Seven and a half chronological years later (Earth Bet time) I was here, the land that school stood upon was no longer land, and most if not all of those other children were dead. I understood people, sociability, and politics better than that to-oneday-be Jacqueline could have even imagined, and I knew exactly what the problem(s) was/were back then. I was once again facing problems because of being too smart. I knew exactly what the trouble was this time, and I knew exactly why it was happening. And I had a pretty good idea what Taylor was thinking.

And I still had no idea how to fix it.


That idea, too, was a particularly vexing one. So at least I had that much in common with myself.


This wasn't quite the same issue, at least on the surface. Taylor probably wasn't going to take her problems out on me verbally or through shunning and the like, and she definitely wasn't going to do so physically.

… this is the part where I would normally say something catty about those who didn't live up to that standard, but it's not nice to speak ill of the dead. They were just dumb (and, admittedly, kinda bigoted) kids anyway, and I bet at least some of them would have grown up okay. I can't say I have any particularly fond memories of that bunch, but we were children.

None of us deserved Leviathan.


Moving on.

At its heart, or at least its root, this was the same problem: the all too human tendency of comparison. I was fairly sure Taylor had, in fact, done at least reasonably well, but "reasonably well" doesn't look so good when stacked up against the truly exceptional. Especially when those are the only two points of comparison.

I wasn't about to judge her for having human limits. I had them too, and they were only looser than they should have been due to a pretty extreme outside-context incident. Danny probably wouldn't either and I suspected he would be supportive even if he did. Armsmaster and the rest of the Protectorate/PRT would have at least the other Wards to compare it to, and probably had more realistic expectations anyway. And of course Arcadia's staff and (other) students would have a decent understanding of what people our age should be capable of.

The only person who would be down on Taylor for this was Taylor. Unfortunately, that would be enough to cause problems. That anybody else who was down on her for other reasons (and there would be some, that was the way the world worked) could find it a convenient weapon and possibly even excuse was the least of it, or at least the furthest from becoming immediately relevant. She was already far too prone to beating herself up (strictly metaphorically, as far as I know) for comfort.

And this time there really wasn't anything I could do to stop it. Not without making it worse.


Oh, I could tell her she did fine, before or after checking, and I wouldn't be lying. But since I'd done so much better there was every chance it would just sound condescending, no matter how sincere it was.

If she didn't, and I do like to think that Taylor knew me better than that even if we'd only known each other for a very short time, it might honestly be worse. There'd be no backlash on me, but Taylor was used to being condescended to. It was one of her bullies' most common tactics, and one she'd mostly grown numb to when it wasn't combined with other hurts.

In contrast, there was no way to tell how she'd respond if a younger girl who she was supposed to be taking care of (even if I personally felt it was at least as much the other way around) who passed a test she failed (even if she really didn't, and it wasn't actually a pass-fail system to begin with) and then "stepped down" to try to comfort her over her (perceived) inadequacy. It was entirely possible that would actually cut deeper than just being condescended to.

Although probably not deeper than being betrayed by a friend/sister she trusted. Especially with the issues she still had from the last time she thought that happened.

There was a reason why the Not-Emma's condescension always hurt more. And there was a reason why I hadn't needed to be told that it did.

Maybe Taylor would have taken my attempt to comfort her as mockery. Maybe she wouldn't have. Either way could have gone disastrously wrong.

Either way, I didn't dare risk it.


So I pretended not to notice. Perhaps it was cowardly of me, but I didn't think there was anything I could do to help. Not directly. Not with this. So I went with my other skillset:

Getting other people to do stuff for me.

 

[Obscura]

Securing privacy to talk with Armsmaster was a fairly simple matter. Taylor had the perfect powerset for a spy, but she also had the mindset of a guilty teenager. I simply told her I needed to ask the man about something and asked her not to listen in because it would be embarrassing if she heard.

It wasn't a lie. That it would be more embarrassing for her than for me didn't need to be brought up.

With a hug (of her own initiative, I'm proud to say, even if she did seem to be forcing herself to do so), she left. Considerably more bugs than I'd realised could be in a room without being obvious about it left with her.


It did occur to me that if she could pull that off, she could probably leave behind enough to listen in without me ever noticing, but I was pretty sure she wouldn't. Not only did I trust her, I knew she wanted me to trust her, and that she'd had enough of her personal stuff turned against her to know the consequences of sneaking in on private matters.


Armsmaster had overheard us, of course. He was a professional hero, and that meant situational awareness was a key job skill. And even if he hadn't, Taylor leaving with all her bugs but without me was probably more than enough to make it pretty clear that I wanted a private conversation. Almost as soon as Taylor closed the door behind her he asked what was the matter.

A part of me considered taking offence to the idea that I would only talk to him if I had a problem that I needed help with, but between sending Taylor away and my recent history it was a pretty reasonable assumption.

Though that thought process, and my attempts at figuring out how to breach the subject, still took long enough that he took it as a cue to continue.

"Are you concerned with your performance on the assessment? I am not the official grader, but you appear to have done very well," he asked kindly.

I wasn't even surprised that he'd already gone over mine in enough detail to know that. It was, ultimately, still high school math, and his helmet was probably better than any calculator on the market on the off chance he actually needed one for the job.

Or maybe he'd just checked which questions had been answered and which hadn't, which was what I would have assumed if it had been anybody else.


"I'm pretty sure I did, yeah. I'm not entirely confident about a few of my answers towards the end, but I definitely got a fair way past my grade level," I carelessly understated.

Armsmaster nodded in a manner of fact way that strongly suggested he wasn't surprised. I supposed that was one less person I'd need to talk to about how I'd pulled that off, but I did wonder where that faith in me came from.

Briefly. I had more pressing concerns. Maybe I'd come back to it eventually.

"but I'm worried about Taylor." I finished the sentence a little quieter than I'd started it, despite the fact that it was only the two of us in the room. It did at least serve as a decent, though probably redundant, audio cue that the matter was one for discretion.

And I did appreciate the way he lowered his voice to match as he told me that "I can't let you look at her exam, professionally speaking, but it looked to me like you were correct before: she did fine."

No surprise there.

"And I know that, and you know that, but the person who needs to know that is Taylor. She's got that little voice in her head telling her she's dumb and can't do anything right, you know? That's why I needed to tell her she'd do fine in the first place."

"That seems like a likely result of recent events, yes."

"Right, and now I've gone and set the bar impossibly high. She saw me do the whole thing, and even if she logically knows better that's going to get her thinking she should be able to do the same, and that it's her fault if she can't."

"... and you can't tell her she performed acceptably, because coming from somebody who did so much obviously better it would ring hollow."

"Yeah." He was right, even if he said it like a profound revelation, like he was only just now figuring out some arcane mystery that had stymied him in the past. Maybe he was.

I was reminded of myselves, in the before times, and felt a deep bond of kinship in the moment.


And then for several moments after that as we stood in silence, trying to think our way out of the situation. I came up with nothing beyond "somebody should probably talk to Danny about this."

Thankfully, Armsmaster had a few more ideas than that.

And also that, the first thing he said when he finally broke the silence was that he'd precisely that. (Or at least I'm not aware of any other "Mr. Hebert"s he could have been referring to. It's not exactly a super-common name in this town, even if it isn't quite as unusual as "Colere".)

"I'll also include it in my notes for Arcadia," he continued. "They know about the bullying, so they probably already suspect self-esteem might be an issue, but I'm sure they'll appreciate the specifics."


"And hopefully do something about it" was left unsaid. With Arcadia, though, I didn't think it'd go unfulfilled. With Winslow, or even a more typical American High School, it was quite possible there wouldn't even be an attempt, but Arcadia held itself to a higher standard. Probably all the more so when their prestigious and profitable position as the "Ward School" was potentially at stake.


"And I do appreciate you coming to me with this. I know it can't have been easy," he went on to say, despite the fact that it actually was. Even I couldn't say why I trusted him so easily though, so it was hardly reasonable to expect him to know I did. Much less take it for granted.

So I just hugged him.

 

[Obscura]

Colin:

It really was relaxing, having nothing more important he needed to be doing than watching two teenagers taking a test. Dragon had been right to insist, shifting to something low-intensity was exactly what he'd needed after the long exertions of the day, the night, and the previous day.

Colin knew more work wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind, she'd been reluctant enough to let him handle informing the other Wards of the last night's events after the over sixteen hours of intensive activity he'd done during the crises and the immediate aftermath, but this wasn't exactly difficult and he couldn't go out of costume or leave the building until the next shift was rested and ready to respond to any potential emergencies.

And there was something fulfilling about this, anyway. Colin wasn't sure what it was, but for the moment he wasn't inclined to question it.


Neither was Dragon, apparently, when she made it clear that she'd noticed by notifying him that there was precisely one minute left of the allocated exam time. That she didn't sound disapproving was enough to indicate that she too found it suitable.

Dragon was easy to understand like that. Colin was pretty sure she did it on purpose, but that didn't mean he didn't appreciate it.


The tests themselves, well, they were and weren't surprising. Taylor was slightly ahead of where she was supposed to be, according to Arcadia. Not enough so to be particularly notable in and of itself, but under the circumstances it was more than respectable.

Jacqueline, on the other hand, Colin expected to go considerably beyond where she was "supposed" to be. Her grades and grade level were enough to justify that expectation: she was a year ahead and still a straight A student. Her impressive track record in keeping a level head in stressful situations (when she actively needed to) only added to that impression.

He still hadn't expected her to finish the exam. She was clearly struggling a bit by the end of it, and there were still a few mistakes even in the much-revised version of the last page she'd finally handed him, but a fourteen year old struggling with material that would normally be taught at the post-secondary level was praiseworthy in and of itself. Arcadia was the only high school in the city that even offered those courses, and strictly as an option for the particularly mathematically inclined among its already somewhat selective student body.

Despite knowing that in all honesty he had very little to do with this outcome, Colin found himself proud of her.


Their conversation at the door was something Colin very carefully didn't eavesdrop on, but when Taylor left and very carefully took every bug in the room with her, leaving behind an awkward Jacqueline, it wasn't hard to guess that a private conversation was in the offing.

(Dragon left the call as Taylor was leaving, ostensibly to resume work on analysing the recovered Bakuda bombs. Colin wasn't fooled, he knew she'd been doing it all along. As sound as he was realising Dragon's advice generally was, the woman wasn't much better about following it than Colin was. Especially when it came to their shared workaholic tendencies.)

That way Jacqueline relaxed when the door closed was enough for Colin to guess that there was a problem, even if it did take some time to coax it out of her.

(It was good to know she neither underestimated nor overestimated what she was capable of. Colin had seen both destroy heroes. The latter, yesterday had shown him, had come far too close to destroying him. It wasn't exactly a surprise that Jacqueline wasn't falling into that trap, given her track record, but he appreciated it all the same.)


"...but I'm worried about Taylor."

Colin wasn't sure if he was surprised that Jacqueline's problem wasn't Jacqueline's problem. On the one hand, the girl undeniably had a considerable number of her own problems. On the other hand, her record clearly indicated that that hadn't stopped her from getting involved with those belonging to the people she cared about, or from talking about her own in front of them.

Lacking any better ideas, Colin just lowered his voice to match and told her Taylor did fine. It was the truth, after all.


"And I know that, and you know that, but the person who most needs to know that is Taylor. She's got that little voice in her head telling her she's dumb and can't do anything right, you know? That's why I needed to tell her she'd do fine in the first place."

That… did make sense, after everything that had happened. And Colin wasn't afraid to admit it.

"Right, and now I've gone and set the bar impossibly high. She saw me do the whole thing, and even if she logically knows better that's going to get her thinking she should be able to do the same, and that it's her fault if she can't."


It all fitted. Colin wouldn't have put it together himself, but when she laid it all out like that it made sense. Except for the part where Jacqueline was telling him all this without even trying to help Taylor through her problem herself.

Then he remembered something Dragon had told him, a few months ago, about a problem with one of her local Tinkers. Colin hadn't cared enough to try and figure it out then and there, but looking back…

"... and you can't tell her she performed acceptably, because coming from somebody who did so much obviously better it would ring hollow."

"Yeah."


That explained so much. With Kid Win, with Triumph, with at least half the Wards who'd been under his command over the years and more than a few of the Protectorate members he'd interacted with, especially the weaker Tinkers.

Colin had a lot to talk to Dragon about. He barely noticed promising to talk to the Heberts, didn't even notice he'd only mentioned the senior one until he'd moved on to promising to share with Arcadia. There was so much to do that he almost forgot the standard courtesies for this type of situation he'd looked up scant hours before.

Then he was being hugged, and he resolved to do what he could for Jacqueline and Taylor's issue before he moved on to his own. It was the least he could do.