Scaling Up

[Kryslin]

(Worm is the IP of Wildbow. No copyright infringement is intended)

After reading along with several Worm fan fics here, I decided to write my own. I'd like to thank MP3.1415Player, CmptrWz, DerekM, RHJunior, Taliserian for inspiration to even get this far.

As I'm not very good with Intro material, I'll just get on with the story...

*edit* : As this has come out several times, I will say this here as I'm getting tired of repeating myself :

This story draws on elements from Taylor Varga (by MP3.1415Player)and Mauling Snarks (by CmptrWz) for the setting, with a similar pacing. If you don't like these stories, you probably won't like this one. The stations of canon have been scattered not by butterflies (who are currently migrating), but by our late season hurricanes here in the US, augmented by the remaining J-58 turbo-ramjets, YJ-63 supercruising turbojets, and RS-25 SSME Block 2 Rocket Engines. BBFO, Ltd. provides the fuel.

Thank you.

*edit 06 Jan 2020* : A mature tag has been added; while the story itself is trying to stay in the PG-13 rating, the discussion in the thread has headed into mature territory. Monitum data.(You have been Warned.)

*edit 05 August 2020* : We have a FAQ, you can find it here. Be warned, spoilers abound.

 

[Kryslin]

0300 Tuesday 04 Jan 2011

Danny Hebert had tried to sleep. His daughter, Taylor, hadn't come home from school, and he had reported her missing. The police had interviewed him and filed the missing person's report. The sooner they found her, they'd noted, the better.

Brockton Bay was not kind to missing persons.

It was now 3:00 am, and he was still wide awake, with worry and fear, when there was a noise downstairs. He put on his glasses and made his way down to the living room. As he was reaching the bottom of the stair, whoever was in the house fell over, hitting the floor hard.

Turning the lights on, he could finally make out who it was on the floor. She was trying to get back up, struggling with the effort. Her clothes were covered with absolutely vile filth, and would probably have to be burned. Much of the flowing cascade of black hair would have to come off as well, for the same reason. Her glasses were broken, a spider web of cracks across one lens.

"Hi, Dad," Taylor said weakly, trying to be cheerful as she tried to get up off the floor, "Sorry I'm late..."

<Thud>

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

A quick call to 911, and a police squad and an ambulance were arriving at the Hebert's house. The police noted that Taylor was no longer a missing person, but, according to her initial statements, had been the victim of a vicious assault. Given her condition and initial statements, it was being escalated from aggravated assault to attempted homicide.

With a few more questions asked, Danny was locking up the house and on his way to the Hospital.

He managed to stay calm during his drive there. He couldn't believe what his daughter had said as the police took her initial statement, that she'd been thrown into her locker, which had been half-filled with used feminine hygiene products, and then locked in, and literally, left to rot.

More shocking, to him, was that she said she knew exactly who had done it. That knowledge comforted him little, though. Right now, all that mattered was his daughter being alright. She had slipped into unconsciousness before being loaded into the ambulance.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

Oblivious to what was going on around her, Taylor dreamed...

The forest she was walking through was quiet, eerily so, and shrouded in mist. There were no sounds save the dripping of water from the leaves. The trees and plants on one side of the path were twisted, bent, malformed. The plants on the other were healthy and grew straight and tall.

But still, there wasn't the sound of anything living.

'Am I dead?' she thought to herself, as she continued to walk down the mysterious path.

"No, child, you are not."

Taylor stopped at the sound of the voice. "Who are you," she called out. "And where are you?"

"I am here," said a voice on the dark and twisted side of the path. The voice was a woman's, old and weary.

"And I am here." said another voice from the opposite side. Older, Male, again weary, but somehow sounding wiser.

"Walk forward child," said the woman's voice. "My brother and I await you at the end of the path."

"You have come this far," said the man's voice, with good humor. "What are a few more steps?"

"It's not like I have anything else to do," muttered Taylor, some snark showing. She continued down the path towards the end.

The path came to an end at a cliff, with the mists parting to reveal mountains – huge, majestic, unearthly mountains – whose valleys were covered by clouds. Taylor could hear something moving down in the clouds that came up to the edge of the cliff. Something big.

That something broke through the fog.

Taylor had problems finding the right words to describe what she was seeing; She took a moment to chuckle at the absurdity of it – her late mother had been an English professor, and Taylor had a very extensive vocabulary and an extensive command of the language. Yet, at this moment, she could only come up with "Holy SHIT!"

Taylor simply didn't have enough adjectives to describe what she was seeing. Pale grayish-white, shimmering in the twilight of wherever she was. And big. Really, really big.

Then there was movement on the other side of chasm before her.

Again, there was a lack of words to describe what was coming through clouds in front of her. A rainbow of colors, a form that spoke of raw, monstrous power. And again, very, very big. Then, somewhere in Taylor's mind, the connection was made, and she figured she was about to find out if one could fall unconscious in a dream.

She was standing between two immense dragons in her dreamscape.

For several minutes, the dreamscape was quiet as the girl regarded the two dragons and vice versa.

The more monstrous one on her left spoke first. "No, you are not hallucinating," it said, in the woman's voice, though it was like listening to five older women speaking. "In fact, we're surprised that you're still standing here, most would have fled back down the path." The chorus of voices sounded amused.

"Kurya and Sonngrad chose well," noted the other, somewhat less monstrous dragon, who spoke with the male voice.

Both seemed amused, for some reason.

"Who are you, and why am I here?" Taylor asked politely – she did not want to upset two creatures who could use her for a lite snack, even in her dreams.

"Introductions are in order, then," noted the male. "I am called " and with that, he said something that no human throat could pronounce. "However, I have been known by many other names. Most humans have called me Bahamut, Lord of the North Wind."

"I'll forego my name in Draconic, unlike my brother," noted the chorus of female voices. "You may simply call me Tia... which is short for Tiamat."

"One of my few servants heard your cries from your imprisonment and torture," noted Bahamut," and aided in your return home. They could do little to help with your injuries, though. And, of course, I cannot act without my sister interfering in some fashion."

"Dear brother, at least I am not actively fighting against you anymore. We both agree that way would result in oblivion." Tiamat turned a head to look at Taylor." As it is, we are largely forgotten now, only having our native power, and our agents on the material plane are few. He has three of his servants left, mine are lost."

"So, Taylor Hebert, we are going to grant you a great gift, for good or ill," noted Tiamat. "I for my reasons, My brother for his. He knows as well as I that you cannot have order without chaos, everything must be balanced by its opposite. Are you willing to accept our gift?"

Taylor thought for a bit. Great power implies great responsibility. She had no idea who these two were. They weren't forcing this on her, they were giving her a choice.

"I have to ask," said Taylor respectfully, "what does this cost me? What happens to me if I refuse?"

"You show more wisdom than most, Taylor," noted Bahamut, chuckling. "It is a gift, freely given, to be used as you see fit, for good or ill. While I hope you'll try to do good, and my sister undoubtedly would be greatly amused by you attempting a rampage of destruction, we will both have to settle for something interesting instead, that lies in between the two. I only have my sister and my most loyal servants left to talk to. The rest of our kind has fallen silent over the millennia, and there are only so many times we can talk about the same things over and over again."

"And should you refuse, you will still be released from the locker, and taken to someone who can help you. Whatever happened before this, still happens."

Taylor found the answer somewhat comforting. "In other words," she chuckled, "You're bored, I'm entertainment, and if nothing else, someone for you to talk to. You know what, I'll accept your gifts. If nothing else it will make things interesting for everyone."

She could sense the two gargantuan creatures smiling. Two talons, each larger than Taylor's head, came to rest gently on her forehead. "I grant you the power to defend the weak, heal the sick, and provide refuge for those in need," intoned Bahamut, a spark of light forming at the end of the claw. It may not have had power crackling around it, but it was pure, comforting, and constant.

"I grant you the power to crush your enemies into dust, to rain destruction upon those who oppose you, and the strength to do whatever you need to do." Tiamat's point of energy was purplish in color. Both were crackling with power.

"And great wealth."

"Oh yes, Brother, we mustn't forget that."

"After all, what is a dragon without her hoard?"

Taylor's last thought was "Wait...what?"

With that, her dreamscape exploded in light and thunder.​

 

[Kryslin]

0315 Tuesday 04 Jan 2011

Taylor was hearing voices. Various voices shouting, yelling, calling out orders.

"I've got a pulse!" a nurse announced. "Good sinus rhythm."

"She's regaining consciousness." There was a doctor in Taylor's view as her eyes cracked open. "You're going to be OK, Ms. Hebert," he stated. "Your heart and breathing stopped, and we had to resuscitate you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Taylor said, trying to focus. "I understand." Her voice was muffled to her ears, due to the respirator mask on her face. She grimaced a bit – she felt sore all over.

"Pulse is getting stronger, blood oxygen is good," reported a nurse, monitoring her vitals.

"We're going to tell your father that you're conscious, and we're going to admit you for observation and run a few tests. We are going to have Panacea check you over when she comes in later today. There are a couple more cases more serious than you on the list, but it shouldn't be a problem. Right now, though, the only thing I want you to worry about is resting, OK?"

Taylor nodded, closing her eyes. Resting sounded good, she thought. With that, she was asleep before leaving the ER.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

0615 Tuesday 04 Jan 2011

Madison Clements saw the police parked outside Winslow High School. What she thought was going to be a mean spirited prank had turned into a nightmare for her. She had joined in tormenting Taylor because it was something she found amusing. However, as things had escalated, she was getting less sure about how much fun this actually was.

Then, yesterday they – Sophia, Emma, and herself, had pushed her into her locker, closed it, put a second lock on it, and left her there in a pile for rotting tampons and sanitary napkins. When she hadn't been seen all day, Madison began to get nervous. She had thought they were going to let her out after an hour. Sophia and Emma had other ideas, it seems.

She had spent the night getting more and more nervous, especially after looking up things like the penalties for the various forms of murder and manslaughter, and the definition of "Accessory to a criminal act". As she lay awake, having a sudden attack of conscience, she decided to turn herself in come the morning, and deal with the consequences of her actions.

She had kept a journal of all the things they had done to Taylor, so as not to repeat things. She also had print outs of e-mails and text messages. She gathered everything up, to take with her to school the next morning.

Leaving early, she had arrived as the doors were opened. She had noted the police cars out front as well.

Raising her chin up a bit she walked up to the police officer outside. "Officer," she said, her voice quavering a bit, "May I speak to whoever is in charge? I... have some evidence they may want to see."

A quick call on the radio had a response, and she was escorted up to the 3rd-floor corridor.

​

- - - - - - - - - -

​

"And you are?" asked the man the police officer had escorted her to.

"Madison Clements." was her quiet response.

"Miss Clements," said the detective, "I'm Detective Ramin. I understand you claim to have some evidence for us?"

"I do, sir," she said, quietly. She reached into her handbag and pulled out the journal and print outs. "I also know who did what and when... because I helped."

"Officer Smith," said the detective, "Take this young lady's statement. Miss Clements, you do realize that by telling me this, I may have to arrest you?"

"Sir, what we did was wrong. I'm willing to face the consequences of my actions."

"Very well. Smith, be very sure to read her her rights. Miss Clements, if you are under 14, your parent or a legal representative must be present. Are you stating that you are over 14 years old?" At Madison's nod, Detective Ramin continued. "We would prefer that you have counsel present. Are you waiving that right?" Again, Madison nodded.

"Keep in mind that while you are not under arrest, you are, by your own admission, now a person of interest in this case. Go ahead, Officer Smith will take your statement. If you want, you can stay here afterward, or we can provide transportation back home."

"I'll take that ride home," Madison said quietly. She wondered how she was going to break the news to her parents when she arrived home in a police car.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

0715 Tuesday 04 Jan 2011

Janice Blackwell was not in a good mood. It could equally be said that she was never in a good mood, to begin with. The custodial staff had called early in the AM, stating that the police were there, and they had a search warrant.

Shit, she thought, what has happened this time?

Violence was not an uncommon occurrence at Winslow High School. It was one of the worst schools in the city, because of both corruption in the local government, and the gang situation here in the city. The police were routinely on site, investigating some matter.

When she pulled into the parking lot, she knew there would be trouble. She was expecting a police cruiser or two, perhaps a wagon, or a couple of detectives. This had all three of those, plus a CSI van.

"Officer Smith," she asked, "what is going on here?" she asked the officer at the door.

"Principal Blackwell? Detective Ramin is waiting for you upstairs on the 3rd floor." The police officer was professional if anything else. "I'm here to make sure you see him, as he has questions for you."

The pinch-faced blonde woman scowled. "Very well, then," she grumbled. "Let's get this over with."

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

The police had a good section of the main corridor cordoned off, as the forensics people went about their business of documenting everything. Several were in hazmat suits, gathering up the waste products that the perpetrators had filled the locker with. The stench was powerful, and stomach-turning.

The locker itself had been torn open from the outside; It looked like Hookwolf, one of the Empire 88's cape enforcers, had gotten upset with it and used his powers on it. The infamous Neo-Nazi cape wouldn't have set it carefully off to the side, though.

More worrying was the strange footprints in the offal that had run out onto the floor. Larger than human, clearly showing a set of 4 toes, with a claw of some kind at the heel. These footprints had gone from the locker to the stairs, eventually fading away as the gruesome material wore off the foot.

Principal Blackwell was about to be greeted by the detective, who was called to the locker by the forensics technician. "Sir," he said, "I need you to look at this." The technician had focused his flashlight onto a single object.

It was a bloody, rotting tampon, and it was stuck into the steel wall of the locker. Not punched through the steel panel, but stuck in it, as if it had been a part of the steel making up the locker.

Detective Anil Ramin swore under his breath.

"I'm sorry to be so rude, Principal Blackwell, but I need to make a call right now," he said offhandedly. "This matter has gone from bad to worse."

"Dispatch, this is Ramin, requesting PRT assistance in a possible parahuman related crime..."

Shortly afterward, the technician found a small hidden video camera, with it's SD card under the locker shelf. "Most peculiar," the forensics technician noted as he carefully removed it from where it was mounted, bagging it as evidence.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

0745 Tuesday 04 Jan 2011

Sophia Hess showed no hesitation as she walked into school. She observed the presence of Brockton Bay's Police, arrogantly noting how ineffective they usually were in dealing with the rampant crime of the city.

Surprising her was the presence of one of the black PRT vans. A quick look around the parking lot showed no signs of any of the Protectorate, just the van. It made her a bit wary, but she continued on her path to her locker, and perhaps torment that worthless Hebert girl some more if she had gotten out of the locker.

Conspicuous by absence was her friend, Emma, and her hanger-on, Madison. Still, she grabbed her books from her locker and proceeded up to Hebert's locker. She could torment her prey by herself, though it would be more physical than Emma and Madison's mental and emotional torture.

The ancient PA system crackled to life. "Sophia Hess, please report to the principal's office IMMEDIATELY."

Grumbling, Sophia never got within sight of the crime scene that was most of the main corridor of the 3rd Floor.

The walk back down to the Principal's office was strangely quiet. Other students, who were beneath her notice, just watched as she made her way to the office.

"Please," said the secretary, "sit down. The principal will be with you shortly."

Emma was sitting there as well, sullen and silent.

Soon, both were called into the office, and their day was shot all to hell. There was a police detective there, along with two uniformed officers. What concerned Sophia more was the presence of 3 PRT officers. Principal Blackwell looked upset, more so than usual. After all, thought Sophia, the uptight, whiny bitch was never happy.

Things began to go downhill fast at that point, as the uniformed police officers moved over to Emma. "Emma Barnes, you are under arrest for attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent..." the police officer reading her Miranda rights as they handcuffed her.

Sophia flinched. She could easily escape since the PRT officers were normals, but she would out herself as a cape in doing so. She could probably take one or two of the officers out in hand-to-hand, but the other three would take her. She was good, but not that good. She was trapped, and she was in trouble.

Remain calm, she thought, and look for an opportunity.

That window closed with a slam as someone was admitted to the office, and principal Blackwell was led out. The PRT Lieutenant motioned to one of his two men, who leveled a wireless taser at her. "You've been recalled, Miss Hess," he said, looking down at her. "Give me your left hand."

As the girl simply stood there, he continued. "If you do not cooperate," he noted, "We will simply tase you, and carry you out the front door. Either way is fine with us, but the latter outs you as a parahuman, and I'd rather not have to fill that set of forms out. As it stands, you're in some deep trouble, and the Director wants to talk to you, and from the way she was going on, she wanted to talk to you yesterday."

The newcomer finally spoke. "I would advise you, Miss Hess, to be cooperative." The voice belonged to Deputy PRT Director Rennick, who normally worked out in the field. He was also cleared with the identities of the Wards ENE, so he knew who she was. "You aren't formally charged with anything -yet-, but what has come to light so far isn't helping your case."

Sullenly, Sophia held out her left arm, and a tinker tech bracelet was secured around her wrist. She damned well knew what it did, Armsmaster had made it specifically for her when she had been working as a rogue, hunting criminals like the wild animals they were.

"Now, if you'll hand over both of your phones," Mr. Rennick noted, "We'll be on our way."

"You can't do that," Sophia snarled. She had handed over her PRT phone, it was, after all, their property, but was loathe to hand over her personal phone.

"That was where you'd be wrong," the man noted. "Personal phone, NOW."

Both phones were placed into an evidence bag, sealed, and the time and date were written on it. "After you," he said, gesturing to the PRT officers to flank her as she was marched out of the building via the back entrance to the offices.

"Director Piggot will be wanting to talk to you as well, Principal Blackwell. I'd keep your calendar clear", noted Rennick before he exited the office.​

 

[Kryslin]

1030 Tuesday 04 Jan 2011

Director Emily Piggot sat in her office in the PRT headquarters. Sitting in front of her was an SD card and a copy of a girl's journal. She had seen some of the worst that humanity could do, and yet she could still be surprised by what depravity people could come up with.

Case in point, her latest problem, a Ward of the Protectorate ENE, named Shadow Stalker... aka Sophia Hess. Yesterday, based on video evidence, she and another girl, already in custody with the Police, had locked the Hebert Girl into her locker, and left her there, standing in a pile of rotting offal. The video was on the SD card, and it was pretty much damning evidence.

There had been a third girl involved, who had turned herself into police nearly an hour before Hess and the Barnes girl had been removed from the building. Not only did she confess to the police, but she had also brought a journal she had kept of all the things the three of them had done, so they didn't repeat things.

She was getting nauseous thinking about the things that were mentioned in that book.

Still, the girl had something of a conscience – she had thought that Sophia was going to let the Hebert girl out after an hour or so. When she still noticed that the girl was in there, she realized what she had been a part of, and tried to cry herself to sleep, her conscience giving her no comfort.

With her were Armsmaster and Miss Militia, leaders of the Protectorate ENE. They had watched the video, showing various petty thefts (and in one case, grand theft), multiple counts of assault, and finally, attempted murder. Even if it got knocked down to Negligent manslaughter, The pair were going to be tried as adults, and spend much of their adult life in jail. Even the one who had an attack of conscience would be looking at some kind of punishment.

Shame it's not serious enough to put Hess in the Birdcage, Emily thought. That would get her out of everyone's hair for good.

"We have a few minutes before Shadow Stalker, Principle Blackwell, and Agent Hamill arrive," noted Armsmaster, his jaw set in a way that conveyed cold anger. He took his job very seriously and took the reputation of the local Protectorate seriously. People who would tarnish that reputation tended to earn his ire. "Is there anything we need to discuss?" He gestured towards the screen. "This clearly shows her violating the terms of her probation."

Miss Militia could only shake her head. "The girl has issues," she noted. "We've received several complaints from the Wards, and have talked to her on her behavior. We saw some small improvement, and thought the matter was resolved."

"I will note that I have made multiple requests for a therapist to be here full time," Armsmaster stated. "Most of the Protectorate and all of the Wards are in need of counseling, Miss Hess more so than most."

"I've passed the requests up every time," noted Emily, pinching the bridge of her nose. "And every time I've been told none are available for a full-time posting." Emily Piggot knew very well that capes got their powers by literally having the worst day of their lives, causing them to go into an emotional breakdown, with all the mental trauma that caused. Every 1st generation trigger was a walking basket case, some more so than others. 2nd generation triggers were usually much less severe. Still the worst day of their lives, though.

With that, there was a knock at the door, and the expected visitors were admitted to the director's office.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

As the video came to a stop, showing several instances of theft, vandalism, and the attempted homicide, Emily Piggot fixed the three individuals seated in front of her with a glare that probably would set them on fire, if she had powers. She turned first to the PRT agent. "You are suspended pending an investigation into your activities for the last 2 years. I should have been notified of this when it started, not after she's tried to kill someone. The results of the investigation will determine whether or not you go to jail as an accessory to her crimes, or spend the next decade on half-pay in a containment zone."

"You," she said, fixing the principal with the gimlet stare, "should have called me when she," pointing to the PRT agent, "didn't do her job. As it is, you could very well drag the reputation of the entire regional PRT into the mud with your inaction. I would advise you that if the victim's family sues, you give them a generous settlement. Our legal team will be in touch about recovering any payments made to you and the school, and also a willful breach of contract on your part. The NDA you signed is still in force, so I wouldn't talk to anyone about what just happened. You won't like what happens then."

"And finally you, Sophia. While we complete our investigation, you will be confined to quarters here. When not eating in the cafeteria, or on console duty, you'll be there. If you don't find that to your liking, we can always find accommodations for you down in confinement. And, thanks to you, I get to have a very uncomfortable conversation with your mother about why her daughter is a suspect in a murder investigation."

Blackwell and Agent Hamill were lead out first, which left Emily Piggot and the 2 leaders of the ENE Protectorate with Sophia. "I want you out of my sight. Try to run, and I'll have you crucified, understand?"

"I hear you, Director," the teenager snarled, before exiting the room.

Soon, it was quiet again in the office.

"Something occurs to me," noted Armsmaster. "The victim would have been a prime candidate for a trigger event."

"Do we know who it was?" asked the director.

"I've checked the police blotter," noted Miss Militia, pulling out a notepad. "a miss Taylor Hebert was reported missing at 6pm by her father, Daniel Hebert. 9 hours later, she showed up at home, covered in filth and offal. An ambulance was called, and she was taken to Brockton General. A quick check of the records at Winslow indicated that the locker was hers."

"Stalker couldn't have picked a worse target to terrorize," groaned Director Piggot. "The daughter of the Dockworker's Union hiring manager, and nominally the person in charge of it."

"Indeed," replied Armsmaster, nodding. "The man has the respect of several officials and is thought of favorably by many more. He could, in all likelihood, paralyze the entire city with a few phone calls to the various labor unions." Miss Militia and Director Piggot both stared at him. "What? I do take some time to make note of the politics of the area."

Armsmaster may be socially clueless, noted Miss Militia to herself, but far from stupid.

"I don't want to give him the opportunity to do that," sighed Director Piggot. A twinge of pain crossed her face. "I have an appointment down in medical for dialysis. Read Aegis in on this, so he knows what's going on."

"I'll continue to monitor the situation with Ms. Hebert, then," noted Miss Militia. "I'll see what I can find out without breaking any of the unwritten rules."

"There is one outstanding question," noted Armsmaster, frowning slightly. "Someone or something got her out of that locker. The initial report noted that it looked like Hookwolf had gotten angry at it; there were two sets of holes punched through it, and then it was ripped off its hinges."

"So we have an unknown parahuman involved as well?" was the Director's pained response.

"I would like to investigate that possibility," he requested.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

Armsmaster brought his bike to a stop outside the doors of Winslow High School, which was now closed for the rest of the week as they determined the extent of the contamination and what it would take to clean it up. The initial reports, which he had reviewed, indicated it was going to be a long, involved process, similar to a level 2 biohazard clean up.

Initial reports had noted the presence of footprints that were not human. They were still present on the floor, as photographs were still being taken of everything in the hallway.

He pulled out a tinkertech scanner and activated it, the results being sent to a display on his visor. The results were inconclusive. The footprints were from no known living terrestrial animal. The dried blood proved to be human, as he suspected, though there where several different blood types mixed together.

The trail led him up the stairs, where he found several more spots of blood. The trail stopped at the access door for the roof, which was currently unlocked. The chain had been whole, removed from the door, with the lock still in place.

Opening the door led him out to the roof. Again, the scanner picked up more drops of blood, which he marked for the forensics people. It all came to a stop in the center of the roof. In fact, no footprints from the door to this spot at all, as if someone had gone back over the gravel with a broom to erase them. A slight smile creased his lips, and he adjusted the scanner to measure surface reflectivity.

The differences between weathered rock and rock that hadn't been exposed to the elements were small but measurable. A scan of one area near the door indicated someone had obscured the footprints. Having estimated the stride of the unknown, he uncovered several more. The results at the end were intriguing. The gravel had been disturbed in an angular pattern. And where there had been two footprints, there were now four, somewhat larger ones that had been obscured.

He noted this in his report, which he added to the file for the investigation. Whoever or whatever had aided Ms. Hebert was likely to remain a mystery for some time. He went back downstairs and informed the PRT forensics people about the additional blood spots and obscure evidence on the roof before he left.

He was listening to the initial statements as taken by the police when Mr. Hebert had called in the re-appearance of his daughter. Perhaps there was additional evidence there.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

A slow drive past the Hebert house revealed very little to his eyes, but his scanners had detected some anomalies: Some wind damage to the trees around the house, even though there had been no more than a gentle breeze during the night. The bloody footprints, which belonged to the shoes of the girl, simply appeared on the sidewalk. They proceeded to stagger up the steps to the door, and then an attempt to wipe the offal off on the doormat (which had been bagged for evidence) before entering the house. The police had also noted the abnormal trail leading to the door.

A clearer picture of how the girl had gotten home was emerging. Unless she remembered or had evidence of who had let her out, they may never have a clear idea of what happened that night. He sent off his information to his computers in his lab via a secure channel and continued onto his scheduled patrol for the evening.​

 

[Kryslin]

1030 Tuesday 04 Jan 2011

Taylor's stay in the observation unit at Brockton General wasn't going too well. Yes, she had been resuscitated, and her vitals were stable. However, she was running a decent fever and had enough IV antibiotics going to end most plagues in small, 3rd​ World countries. She had several infections; the scrapes and cuts she had given herself trying to escape had gotten infected from the biohazards in the locker. Fortunately, she only had to last until the afternoon, and her fever had been kept under control by the anti-inflammatory drugs she'd been given.

Taylor chuckled to herself. She'd probably been given enough of those that she couldn't even think of starting an argument right now.

Sleep, such as it was, came in fits and starts.

She had noticed that her father was still there when she woke up around mid-morning. "Hey, Dad," she said.

The sound of her voice got his attention. He didn't say anything, he just came over and gave his daughter a hug, as best as he could. "I thought I'd lost you," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

"I'm kinda sorry I didn't mention things sooner," she noted guiltily.

"Don't be. Shame and embarrassment can be a powerful motivation to keep things hidden," He knew this all too well himself.

"I'm just glad to have you back," Taylor said quietly. "Shame it took me almost dying, though."

"One of the first things we do is get you out of Winslow," he said. "They obviously can't keep the students under control."

"No kidding," she grumbled. "In the last year, I think I saw three knife fights, the last of which they hadn't gotten the blood off the floor yet."

Danny looked horrified. "You're kidding, right? I knew that place was bad, but that bad?"

"Relax, Dad," said Taylor, smiling. "I'm kidding. The last one involved a beat down with a baseball bat. Blood's still there, though."

"Ugh, Gallows Humor." Her father shuddered. "Anyway, I've got to be going. Limited visiting hours. I've dropped off a duffel bag with some clothes since they had to burn the ones you were in; nothing spectacular, just some sweats, t-shirt, underwear, socks, shoes, and a jacket. I'll be back this afternoon, hopefully, Panacea will get you sorted out and we can get you home tonight. I filled out all the forms and waivers for that this morning. You're first on her list today, mainly because of the infections."

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

The day passed slowly, as Taylor fitfully rested. Nurses came in and checked her vitals, changed her IV bags, and made sure she was comfortable. She'd been taken off the oxygen around mid-morning and was able to enjoy a non-high school cafeteria lunch. It may not have looked like much (OK, it was a passable bacon cheeseburger), but hunger often makes the best seasoning, and she thought it tasted wonderful.

The TV had a bit of news about how the clean up at Winslow would take weeks and had a fair bit about how some poor girl had been bullied and then locked in her locker. No mention of the offal. Due to everyone involved being minors, no names were involved. There was also some mention of a cover-up by school officials, who were now suspended pending an investigation.

Couldn't have happened to a better bunch of people, Taylor thought to herself with grim satisfaction.

She turned the TV off, not wanting to watch the sports scores, or find out the weather for the day (which, being New England in January, could mean changes every half hour.

It was then she realized that she hadn't put on her glasses, and the TV had been crystal clear to her vision. In fact, she could clearly see the individual pixels on the screen from across the room.

She put her hand to her head and found out that she didn't have any hair left on her head. Or rather, she could feel the stubble of new hair growing in on her scalp. Dad had told her the condition she was in when they had admitted her, they must have found it easier and safer to have shaved all her hair off to get most of the filth off of her and incinerate it.

Ah, well, she thought, it'll grow back. At least I'm alive.

It did leave her with a couple of questions for Panacea, though.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

Early evening rolled around, and Brockton Bay's world-famous healer cape began making her rounds. Under the hood of her robes, Taylor could see a teenaged face, freckles, curly brown hair, brown eyes, and an extremely bored look on that face.

"Taylor Hebert?" The robed healer asked. "I'm Amy Dallon, though you may know me better as Panacea. I've been asked by the Staff to clear up your more serious issues." Like the gangrenous and necrotic infections that the antibiotics and bacteriophages were only just keeping from spreading, she thought. "Do I have your permission to continue?"

"Yes, you do," was Taylor's reply.

Amy gently touched Taylor's bare skin. As she did so, she could sense something... something flowing between the healer and herself. It started at the healer's hand, washed through her body, and then flowed back. As it did so, Taylor felt better. She couldn't see it, but the discoloration around the scratches on her legs cleared up, and the angry red scratches on her hand and arms faded away into nothing.

"Oh, wow..." noted Panacea as she finished. "Just... wow." She looked somewhat bemused.

"Is something wrong," Taylor asked, frowning. "I'd rather not have something else go terribly wrong today."

"No, no... nothing is wrong," Amy replied, shaking her head as if to clear it. Then she went and made sure the door to the room was closed. "First off, you've triggered sometime within the last 48 hours, probably while you were in that locker. I am legally required to tell you this. It does not get reported. I've got some pamphlets to give you in that case."

"How could you tell?" Taylor interrupted.

"I can see the very minor brain damage caused by your trigger, and the fact you have both Corona Pollentia and Gemma in your brain," was Amy's ready, if somewhat bored reply.

"Sorry, continue."

"The first one is about dealing with the aftermath of trigger events, contact numbers for the PRT and Protectorate, The 'Unwritten Rules' and how they generally work, and how New Wave works and how to contact us. I'm only required to give you the first two, the third is something all capes really need to know from the start, and the last is a courtesy."

"I was wondering how you could have a pamphlet on something that wasn't written," noted Taylor with a grin," but I realized that these were printed."

"I was going to say they were typed," said Amy, a small smile forming on her face. "Not often someone beats me to it. Anyway, You're going to be very hungry for the next few days as your body continues to recover. I would recommend that you take it easy as well, because of the remnants of your concussion. Your discharge instructions will say pretty much the same."

"Also, your hair will grow back somewhat faster," the Healer continued. "If only for a couple of days. After your metabolism drops back to normal, it will continue to grow normally."

"OK, got it. So what was the 'Wow' about?" asked Taylor. "Is it something I'm going to have to worry about?"

"Maybe?" Amy answered. "Your DNA is subtly different than most people, and most capes. I've seen something like this in the few Changers I've healed since I triggered. It might be something to look into. Some of the changes I've noted are for the gathering, generation, and transmission of some form of energy, though I can't say what..."

"...And I got the distinct impression something was chuckling at me."

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

Danny arrived later that evening. Taylor pretty much repeated the conversation she'd had with Panacea earlier.

"So, you're a cape now." Danny deadpanned.

"Yep."

"Who can gather, generate, and transmit some unknown form of energy."

"Yep."

"Whose DNA has been subtly altered."

"Again, Yep."

"Whose vision has been corrected to better than 20/20?"

"Apparently."

"Who, even though powers are known to give you some instinctual idea on how to use them, has no idea on how to use them."

"Correct." Taylor paused. "Well, maybe not."

"Run out of short answers?" Danny smiled a bit. As odd as this conversation was, He and Taylor hadn't had one this long since his wife Annette had died two years ago, both of them wallowing in their own grief and depression.

"Well," replied Taylor, grinning, " the short answer wouldn't be the correct one. Some things are passive, like better hearing and sense of smell, or the fact that If I concentrate a bit, I can see the flow of some kind of energy. Living things have it, but some of it radiates from the sky, and when Panacea used her powers on me, I could see it flow from her to me, and back again."

"And then," Taylor continued," I have a bunch of mental... dials, levers, buttons, and gauges? They're all labeled in some strange letters, and I get the sneaking suspicion that some of them should not be used in an enclosed space."

"Why is that?"

"Possibly because they've been grayed out, or they have a red 'X' over them?"

"I've also got a pair of... bar gauges? One is red, the other is blue. Both are slowly filling. Ah, a grayed-out button has lit up with a green color now."

Danny nodded. "Sounds like since you're fresh out of the gate, you have to build up a certain amount of power before you can use things. However, I think we can both agree, no experimenting until we're someplace other than the hospital or home."​

 

[Kryslin]

0830 Wednesday 05 Jan 2011

The hospital had decided to keep Taylor overnight for observation, mainly because of the noted brain damage and the healing concussion. A brief check by the doctors (and an MRI) had shown that the damage was mostly healed, as it had been fairly minor. They'd still recommended a couple days more rest due to the concussion.

Danny was in the room, waiting for his daughter to change out of her pajamas and hospital gown and into the clothes he had brought from home.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Taylor?"

"I think I have a small problem."

"Should I call the nurse?"

"No, this problem falls under strange, but not medical."

"And the problem is?"

"I appear to have grown a bit in the last 48 hours."

And with that, she walked out of the bathroom.

Her t-shirt had a gap between the hem and top of her sweats, and was stretched tight across her shoulders and chest, mainly because her shoulders were broader, and not because of the slight increase in bust size. Her shoes and socks fit – if barely. Her jacket fit, but there was no way she'd be able to zip it closed. And finally, she noted her hair had grown back some. A look in the mirror showed that it was a deep, rich bronze; Almost black, that glinted with coppery and golden tones. It was simply very, very short.

"Yep, definitely a small problem," Danny noted. "Your clothes' problem, though, and not yours. You might be able to get a sweatshirt that fits better at the gift shop."

"That should work, for now," replied Taylor. "I think I'm going to need to get some new clothes, though."

"Let's work on getting you home first, OK?"

"Could we stop at Fugly's on the way? I'm starving... again," complained Taylor. "When Panacea told me I'd need to eat more for a while, I didn't realize I would have the urge to gnaw my own arm off and eat it..."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

Taylor leaned back in the passenger seat of her father's car. She had almost inhaled the three double cheeseburgers they'd ordered while driving home from the hospital.

Home was in one of the better neighborhoods. Definitely middle class, somewhat affluent, but not wealthy. Well built houses typical of a coastal New England town, sturdy enough to take most of what the weather could throw at them.

After eating enough cheeseburgers for 3 other people, they finally made it home. It may not have been much to look at, but it had weathered the years quite well. Dad had cleaned up the mess Taylor had left on the throw rug in the foyer and had generally straightened up. Eventually, she made her way up to her bedroom.

It had been straightened up a bit, but things were pretty much the same as when she left it two mornings ago. Except for the pair of boxes that were sitting on the bed.

Taylor stuck her head out of her bedroom door. "Dad," she yelled down, "did I get any packages in the last couple of days?"

"A couple yesterday," came back the reply from the kitchen. "I put them on your bed."

"Thanks, Dad." She walked over to the bed, looking at the suspect boxes. Addressed to her, obviously, no return address. Lifting each box, she found both to have some weight to them, one more so than the other. She quickly found a utility knife in her desk, and carefully slit the tape, opening the boxes.

The heavier of the two boxes contained a large, antique book. Heavy leather bindings, locked clasp made out of some metal Taylor couldn't identify. The key was in an envelope at the bottom of the box. No letter of explanation or anything.

The other box was something of a mystery. It contained a finely crafted leather bag. Despite not looking like it had much in it, it was still fairly heavy. There were also a couple of envelopes in the box. As Taylor read the first one, she was almost in shock. What she had thought was a dream, had turned out to have actually happened? It was actually from the five-headed one, Tia...

Taylor:

I might not be a very nice person or even a very good one, but I do value my appearance, in whatever form I wear. Like most dragons, my vanity is one of my weaknesses. My brother has reminded me that a possible side effect of our gift is that you might, for lack of a better term, grow. I would be very upset at the thought that nothing I have would fit anymore.

So, as something that is still quite new to me – an apology – I offer a few items of clothing that should resize as needed. My brother reminded me to keep it simple, almost plain. I have included a couple of blouses, skirts, undergarments, pants, plus some comfortable shoes. When I've walked the material plane as a human, good comfortable shoes made all the difference.

I've also included something less plain and humble.

Tia

PS – It's all in the bag, which is also a gift.

Idly, Taylor wondered if she should be nervous when some polychromatic, five-headed, gargantuan monster from the pits used a smiley emoticons in her correspondence – one for every head, at that.

At the very least, she thought, I should at least look at them.

So, she unloaded the bag, which she soon discovered held far more than it should. The letter was fairly accurate in what the bag contained – it hadn't mentioned the t-shirts and jeans, though. She was glad those had been included. While the blouses, skirts, and slacks were nice, she'd go nuts wearing them all the time. The pair of slippers were very comfortable when she tried them on.

The dress that was included was stunning; it started off around the collar a bright red and fading to a red so dark it was nearly black at the hem and cuffs. The bustline was modest enough, she supposed, not that she had much of that to show off. It came with a pair of matching undergarments and shoes.

Were those actual rubies on the sleeve and around the collar?

Wow.

That led Taylor to another problem: What did she tell her father about this? She knew of his issues with parahumans, popularly known as capes, because of the passing resemblance to the old comic book superheroes. Her late mother was more into the cape scene than her father ever was.

Still, he knew that she'd triggered, she'd told him at the hospital. She still had no idea what her powers did, exactly, only that she had them. And some of them gave the impression that they required a lot of space to use. How could she find out what they were and what they did?

Some of her changes had been physical in nature. She had grown somewhat in the last 48 hours, going from her average five and a half feet to nearly six feet in less than three days. In the world of capes, this wasn't all that unusual. Her height and weight had been recorded coming into the hospital, but not going out, probably because of the unwritten rules... maybe? She wasn't sure.

"Taylor?" Her Dad called from the hallway.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Safe to come in?"

Taylor sighed a bit. "Yeah, sure come on in." So much for enhanced hearing letting me know my Dad's coming up the stairs...

Danny noted the pile of clothes on the bed. "Where did those come from?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in a pretty good imitation of Mr. Spock, from the old TV show Star Trek.

"It appears my powers come with a partial replacement wardrobe, including one formal gown." Taylor held up the dress that had been in the package.

Danny looked it over. "That's something else," he finally said. "I think those are real rubies, and some of the thread in the cuffs is some metal I'm not familiar with. It looks like silver, but from what little I know, it's never been used for thread, because it tarnishes." He looked at his daughter. "Are you sure you're not telling me something?"

"I didn't want to tell you at the hospital," replied Taylor. "I think my trigger was a little... odd. Can you give me a minute, and I'll tell you the whole story downstairs over something to eat. I'm hungry again."

Danny nodded. "My daughter, the bottomless pit," he noted with a chuckle. "We've still got some fruit in the 'fridge."

- - - - - - - - - -​

Twenty minutes, and a half dozen apples, oranges, and bananas later, Taylor had gone through all she remembered about her trigger event.

"So, someone gave you a gift of powers?" Danny was having trouble not gaping slack-jawed at his daughter.

"As far as I can tell," Taylor answered. "One seemed to be hero oriented – protect the weak, heal the sick, uphold justice. The other, seemed villainous – raining terror and destruction on your enemies and sheer unholy vengeance. I wasn't going to believe any of it until I saw the letter in the second box."

Danny examined the letter, again. It was handwritten, on vellum. It looked like the writing was with a quill or fountain pen, in black ink that was so black it looked like a void in the paper. The writing was impeccable as well.

"Have you checked the second envelope?" asked Danny. "You did say there were two of them."

"I'm almost afraid of what I'm going to find," was Taylor's reply.

Their discussion was interrupted by the phone ringing.

"I'll get it," said Danny, walking over to the phone, and having a short discussion with someone on the phone. "That was Detective Ramin," he said when he returned to the table. "He wants to ask you a few questions, and if you have any more evidence against the three who locked you in the locker. Also to return your camera that was mounted in your locker...?"

"This week is getting stranger and stranger," sighed Taylor. "I have no idea what he's talking about. On the other hand, I do have a pile of stuff we can hand over to him regarding Sophia, Emma, and Madison." She got up from the table. "I'll go get that, and the second letter."

A moment later, she was back, carrying a stack of notebooks and the second letter. She let her father look over the pile of log entries she had dumped in front of him, while she looked over the envelope. It was a typical manila envelope, with a simple label on it that read "To: T. Hebert". Inside was another handwritten letter, similar to the first. The writing was less fancy, stronger, more business-like. The remainder appeared to be several logs from a 3rd party in this matter.

She began to read the letter:

Ms. Herbert:

I find myself in the awkward position of having to apologize for the actions of one of my followers. Her actions, while forwarding the cause of seeing justice done, will undoubtedly complicate matters for you. Do not think ill of Crystrani, she is young, and enjoys the company of humans. She also has a strong belief in seeing justice served and despises bullies.

It appears that she purchased an easily concealable, sophisticated video camera and placed it in your locker without your knowledge, sometime last year. It will soon come to light that there is no way that you could have purchased it, due to its high cost. She admitted to it being something called tinkertech. I will admit that I am not conversant with local slang and idioms, so I can only assume it is similar to having to commission a master artificer to make something,

She was also the one who pulled you out of the locker and brought you home.

And yes, Crystrani's human guise went to the same... institution as you did. I cannot bear to call that cesspit a school. Your very own 'unwritten rules' keeps me from telling you anything more. Neither of us thinks it wise at this time for you to meet. Perhaps later, though.

She has, however, sent along her written logs of things she observed. Hopefully, this will aid in the prosecution of those despicable people.

B.

There was also a stamped sigil on the parchment.

She looked over at her father, who was trembling with controlled fury. "Excuse me for a moment," he said, as he walked towards the basement stairs. "I need to vent." With that, he went down the stairs, closing the door behind him.

A couple minutes later, there was the sound of something being smashed to bits and an incoherent stream of profanity and expletives. This went on for a couple of minutes before he returned, fetching an ice pack from the freezer before sitting down. "I feel much better now," he exclaimed, "Though I might have overdone it a bit."

"You think?" Taylor said, chuckling. "Pretty sure I heard a couple of new ones while something was getting destroyed. Oh, you can add this to the pile of evidence as well. Apparently, someone was working in the background to ensure the trio got what was coming to them. The camera belongs to them, too."

"Why didn't they act sooner?" Danny inquired, still reading through the logs.

"I don't know. The letter in the second envelope mentions the Unwritten Rules. Maybe they couldn't, without outing themselves?" Taylor shrugged. "Cape stuff makes things more complicated than it needs to, it seems."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

Dinner that evening turned out to be a lot of pizza. Given her boosted metabolism, Taylor absolutely demolished 2 large pizzas by herself, leaving the third for her father. An evening of watching TV soon lead to Taylor heading for bed, Danny staying up a bit longer to clean things up before retiring for the evening.

He was a bit concerned about Taylor if he was honest with himself. She was just barely recovering from her mother's death, and she had mentioned some difficulties at school. Then, this happened, and now she was talking about dragons or some such, granting her powers and giving her gifts. If he wasn't already aware of the fact that powers often do strange things to a cape's mind, he'd swear Taylor was delusional.

Then again, there was the physical evidence; the packages that had arrived, one from each of Taylor's mysterious benefactors. The one had been a gift of clothing, something that she was going to need to replace since very little of what she had would fit properly any more. He was a little leery about it and suspected Taylor was as well. Still, it was a couple of days of clothes at most and would allow them to go out and purchase new clothing without Taylor being dressed inappropriately.

He turned towards the nightstand and looked at the picture there. "Well, Annette," he said to the picture of his late wife," Your little girl has become a cape, apparently. You were right, the weirdness started almost immediately." He reached over and turned off the light, and went to sleep.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

Taylor fell asleep almost instantly, despite having taken it easy for the entire day. When your Doctor and the world-famous cape healer whom the Doctor respects both tell you to take it easy, you tend to listen. Healing, even that pushed by Panacea, tended to take a lot out of a person. The body itself needed time to recover.

She was back in the forest. The mist was gone, and she was standing at the top of the cliff. The landscape that had been under the obscuring clouds and mist was beautiful. Raw, primeval nature the likes of which only existed in the most remote places.

This time, nature was present in abundance. Birds called in the trees, she could see small animals skittering about in the trees and brush, and catch glimpses of much larger animals watching her. The time seemed to be mid-morning, and air just the right temperature, and a few fluffy clouds floated by.

"Nice day, isn't it?"

Taylor turned to face the sound of the voice and discovered that you could, indeed, faint in your own dream. As the dream faded into darkness, she thought she heard the voice mutter "Why do they always do that?"

- - - - - - - - - -

​

When Taylor came to, she found she was laying in a hammock in the shade. She could hear someone humming as they were doing something nearby.

"Hey, you're awake!" There was that voice again. Taylor clamped her eyes shut.

"If I open my eyes and see you, am I going to faint again?" Taylor asked, trying to keep her voice even.

"I'm sorry about that," the voice said, "It shouldn't happen again." The voice, which was definitely a young girl's voice, did sound very apologetic as if what had happened was an honest mistake.

Very slowly, and carefully, Taylor opened her eyes. Yep, in a hammock. Strung between a couple of pine or spruce trees next to a clearing. A cheery little campfire was going, and a kettle of water had just been set on the griddle.

There was a tent set up, kind of like an old army tent. It was from that the girl's voice had come from.

"I'm gonna come out now, OK?" With that, her mystery host stepped out of the tent. She was tall, yet lightly built. Her sandy brown hair was cut shoulder length. Her face was one that could be described as cute. Green eyes, hinting at laughter, a mouth that readily turned up into a grin or smile, a nose just the right shape and size, and a few well-placed freckles.

Her clothes looked like they were well suited to living a bit on the rough side, though they weren't normal Earth Bet hiking and camping clothes. These were all homespun cloth and leather, all of it well made, from the boots up to the tunic and belt. A few adornments, possibly a bit of silver and turquoise, completed the outfit.

The one feature that caught Taylor's attention was her host's slightly pointed ears. Just enough to be noticeable, yet not long enough to be distracting.

She had been watching Taylor and seemed relieved when Taylor didn't faint. "Hi, I'm Naichi!" The girl just exuded energy, being one of those who seemed perpetually happy and cheerful. "And you're Taylor. Now that we got introductions out of the way, would you care for some lunch? I'm making some instant ramen..."

"Sure," noted Taylor, smiling a bit. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. While Grandpa and Auntie – I'm not really related, and if I was she'd be my great aunt – like to be all mysterious and vague, and let people figure things out on their own, My father is more practical and direct. However, he can be a bit too much, so he asked me to try and help teach you a few things." She then looked down and muttered under her breath. "Plus, I'm being punished for something I did."

- - - - - - - - - -

​

The ramen turned out to be pretty good, despite being called instant ramen. Perhaps because this was a dream, and impossible things could happen here?

"Aaah," noted Naichi, setting her bowl and chopsticks aside on a camp table. "That was really good." A rather unfeminine burp followed that statement. "Excuse me!" and that was followed by a bunch of giggles.

"Yes," replied Taylor, smiling, "It was pretty good. Thanks for the noodles. Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Sure," answered Naichi.

"That was you on the cliff, right?"

"Yeah, that's what I normally look like." The girl's voice sounded sad.

"Your Grandpa, he's kinda like that, only about the size of that mountain over there?" She pointed to a smallish mountain visible through the trees.

"Now you're being silly. He's only as big as the hill in front of it!"

Taylor sighed and smiled. "And you're aunt, similar size, but with multiple heads?"

"Uh-uh," Naichi replied, nodding her head. "She's trying real hard to at least be good. She's not very nice sometimes, but she's learning. Old habits, I guess, are hard to break."

"So that means all of you are different kinds of dragons?"

"Yep," said the girl, nodding.

"Your Grandfather and Great Aunt both gave me a gift. What does that make me?"

"A cousin!" and with that, Naichi gave Taylor an enthusiastic, bone-crunching hug.

Taylor, not quite knowing what to do, simply returned the hug.

- - - - - - - - - -

​

The rest of the dream time went into learning about what she could do now. Her sense of hearing and smell had, for the lack of a suitable word, a volume control. With a little practice, she could turn it up and down. At the minimum, her smell and hearing were slightly better than human, At the maximum, it was insane the sheer things she could smell and hear.

Her vision, besides being better than an eagle's now, also included being able to see in the infra-red and ultraviolet spectrum and could see in low light conditions better than most nocturnal animals. She could also see what Naichi called 'mana' flowing.

"It's got a lot of names," she'd explained. "Mana, vis, quintessence, morphic resonance field, magic," and a few words in languages she didn't comprehend. "It's what makes our powers work. I'm sorry I can't explain it very well.

"OK, now on to the really interesting things, everything a dragon should know how to do. The first thing you'll need to learn is shape-changing. All dragons have a true form," Naichi explained, "I just want to change, and my magic does the rest." And suddenly, a golden dragon was standing where Naichi had been. No body horror of a slow, painful, gruesome transformation, just a twinkle of bluish light, and the change was done.

Naichi, even as a dragon, was still cute. She might be larger than a horse and equipped with enough natural cutlery to make a chef jealous, but the absence of hard sharp edges gave her a softer, friendlier look.

"Oh, wow," said Taylor. "That's..."

"Awesome, cool, neat...?" Naichi's voice was about an octave deeper but was still filled with good humor.

"I was going to say 'Impossible', or 'Bullshit'," noted Taylor, "But obviously it isn't, because the evidence says otherwise. Let's see what happens when I try..."

Taylor thought about it a bit and concentrated, She could feel the energy within her flowing, being channeled. Then, finally, something happened. She felt her body flux and change. Her point of view went from just above ground level to some 20 feet into the air. She could see the end of a metallic, golden scaled muzzle. She looked at her arms, now covered in a fine metallic sheen of scales. She craned her head around on her long neck, taking in the rest of her body.

She was seated on her haunches, her tail running out behind her. Her feet and hands were tipped with claws that appeared to be very sharp. Reaching up to her head, she felt her ears, and the horns there, and the mane she had running down her neck. And then there were the bat-like wings, which she slowly unfurled and furled.

"Wow, you're pretty big," came the explanation from the smaller golden dragon sitting in front of her. Naichi maybe came up to half of Taylor's height.

Taylor also noted that one particular mental control had gone from all the way left, to all the way right. There was also a middle position marked. She imagined the control turning to the middle position. Again, she felt her form shift, and soon Naichi was looking down at her a bit.

"That's cool and all," said Naichi, "but I do need you back to your true form for the next part, OK? While this doesn't apply in your dreams, in the waking world, you do have a limit on how many times you can change in a day. Most can manage three times a day just so you know."

The next few lessons involved more of the draconic basics – how to breathe fire and how to fly. Naichi proved to be a good teacher, her friendly manner making learning how to use the basics of her powers fun.

 

[Kryslin]

0630 Thursday 06 Jan 2011

Taylor had felt extremely good when she woke up.

The sun was just beginning to rise, and she could smell breakfast cooking downstairs. Mmmmm, she thought, Bacon.

She could remember her dream, if you could call it that, in almost perfect clarity. A few of her mental 'controls' now had labels in English, with the draconic scribbled out. Naichi had taught her what a few of the symbols meant, it was fairly straight forward. Still, it would take her years to learn the language.

The little bit of trial and error while learning the basics Naichi thought she needed to know had actually gotten a few labels on another mental list semi-translated. Some of them were still grayed out, though. Smiling a little, she made her way downstairs and helped get the table set for breakfast, which was soon served.

"I hope your appetite doesn't stay like this," Danny noted as Taylor began inhaling the bacon and eggs. "I don't think I can afford the food bill."

"Panacea did say a few days," answered Taylor. "Which means at least three. Hopefully, it stops after today."

"Anyway, we've got an appointment today down at the police station with Detective Ramin. I figured we do that, have some lunch, and do a little shopping, and pick up some more groceries."

"Sounds like a plan," Taylor said between mouthfuls of bacon and eggs. "Dad, I've got a question for you..."

"What is it?"

"Is there any place in the docks, or even in the DWU yard, where I could practice with my powers?"

If he had been caught by surprise by his daughter's question, it didn't show. "The best place for anything truly destructive would be out in the ship's graveyard," he admitted, "Nothing of value there, though it is out in the open. From what I've heard, there's an unofficial truce there. Mind your own business, don't bother anyone else, and you won't be bothered."

"If you want somewhere more private, I think we've got a couple of old buildings that are empty in the yard. No one will be there on Sunday, and because of the work we usually do, excessive amounts of noise won't be noticed. Large explosions, however, tend to draw the attention of local law enforcement and the Protectorate."

Then he fixed his daughter with a puzzled look. "I thought, however, that your powers were a mystery to you..."

Taylor laughed. "After I fell asleep last night, I had the strangest dream..." And she began to explain the entire encounter to her father, who actually laughed at some of Naichi's antics.

"Okay," admitted Danny, "my curiosity is piqued. I'd like to see these 'basics' of yours. We'll make to trip out there Sunday afternoon."

"Also, it sounds like you have some friends in odd places."

Danny silently wondered how much weirder could it get?

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

Friday 07 Jan 2011 - Saturday 08 Jan 2011

The remainder of the week passed by fairly quickly. The interview with the detective went well. The story about the camera was plausible (and Taylor had to admit, it was a very nice tinkertech camera), and the logs, both hers and an anonymous 3rd party's, would help with the case.

Shopping included getting a pair of smartphones. "No sense in letting my fears kill either of us," Danny noted while setting things up. "If we keep them on us, we can get help when needed." Taylor didn't disagree with his reasoning. She also picked up a couple of cheap disposable phones as well.

And, of course, Taylor needed to do the one thing she almost hated – clothes shopping. Her gift of clothes was three days of clothes, most of which were, as described, simple and plain… except for the dress that was probably worth more than the house was. Thus it was she was finding out her new sizes, actually had to shop in a woman's "Big and Tall" store because of her height, and managed to cover the basics so she wasn't washing clothes every three days.

Dinner was simple, and then a night without weird dreams with either gargantuan ancient powers or cute bubbly adolescent dragons. In her dreams, Taylor was flying and loving it, her spirit free.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

1400 Sunday 09 Jan 2011

Sunday was a fairly pleasant day. It was bright and sunny, and many people were out and about enjoying the day. Even the gangs were limiting their activities along the boardwalk to just glaring at each other if other, rival gang members were around.

Taylor had been playing with her enhanced senses during the walk. She had quickly learned that eavesdroppers learned unpleasant and embarrassing things, so until she learned to filter what she was hearing better, she kept the hearing near the minimum.

Scent, however, was proving interesting. She was noting how everyone had a different scent. For instance, that tall Japanese man with his daughter in tow. She could smell his sense of satisfaction with things, the affection for his daughter, and a slight overtone of something that had gotten hot recently.

Then there was something else that sent a shiver down her spine. The man was staring at her, one eyebrow raised. At seeing Taylor shake her head slightly, he nodded and was led away by his daughter.

"Taylor?" Danny poked his daughter, who was watching the man walk away. "Anyone home?"

Taylor shook her head. "Yeah, I'm here. I think it is in our best interest to make our way to the DWU yard now. If that was who I thought it was, I may have gotten away with a very light reminder about The Unwritten Rules."

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

Kenta Higashi was lost in thought as his daughter drug him around. There had been something odd about that tall girl. He had sensed it, and he was sure she had somehow sensed him. She seemed to have gotten the unspoken message, though.

He was taking one of his rare "Days Off." These usually coincided with the "Out of Town" weekends at the hospital, since an unofficial truce between the 3 major gangs kept criminal activities to the barest of minimums while critical medical cases were brought in from around the country to Brockton General Hospital for Panacea's attention. Very few of the rank and file would willingly break that truce. Examples had been made of early ones. No one in the ABB wanted to become another example.

His daughter was enjoying herself, that much was certain. Takara-chan took after her mother than himself. They both took pains to keep his business away from her. Takara knew her Daddy had to travel for work, and that excuse worked, for now.

Mei and Takara were his treasure and the joy of his life. He would do anything for them... A fact that Takara, all of 6 years old, could mercilessly exploit when she wanted.

"Can I have a hot dog, Daddy?" She asked, politely. She was even trying to keep the dreaded puppy dog eyes out of her expression.

With a slight nod and a smile, he dug out a roll of cash and began counting out bills.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

At another table, A couple of friends sat at a window seat.

One had her head down on the table. She had her eyes closed, muttering "Ow, ow, ow, ow..." Her blond hair fell over her face as she rested her head there

Her companion was a tall, muscular young black man, carrying a couple of drinks with him. He eyed his companion with some worry. "Are you going to be Okay, Lisa?" he asked. "What happened?"

"Damned headaches," she grumbled. "Ibuprofen, please."

Lisa had given him the painkillers to keep her from popping the things in her mouth like candy. Of the legal painkillers, they were the best at taking the edge off her thinker headaches. He handed her two tablets.

"Two More."

"There was a reason you gave me these," muttered Brian. "You're dangerously close to overdosing on them now."

"Pills first, coffee second, talk last."

Brian handed over two more tablets, which greedily got taken, followed by the coffee. "No more for 4 hours. Try to take it easy for a while, OK?"

Lisa just sat there, her head resting on the table.

After a few minutes, she leaned back into the booth. "So what brought on the migraine?"

"If having the local rage-beast walking around wasn't bad enough," she grumbled, "Having my...intuition... start gibbering at me and state 'Here Be Dragons!' before hitting me in the head with a sledgehammer just takes the cake." Lisa used the word intuition in public as a substitute for her thinker power.

"Who was it?" Brian sipped at his coffee.

"Tall girl, really dark hair with metallic highlights. Nearly as tall as her father she was walking with."

"Someone we should be concerned about?" Brian asked.

"Someone we should be very careful with." With that, Lisa laid her head back down on the table.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

One of Taylor's biggest concerns while doing this was her father. She didn't know how he'd take her alternate forms, especially the larger one. At the very least, she'd start with how much she'd been enhanced by the process, and then work her way through her known powers.

While she was stronger than she had been, she was still within normal human ranges of Strength, topping out at around 250 pounds. She did some basic hand-eye coordination tests, namely picking up things in an order her father called out, and after running around the building 4 times, she barely felt winded.

"Are you sitting down now?" Taylor asked her father. She didn't want him to faint from a standing position, and severely injure himself in the fall. "I'm about to try the shapeshifting."

"I'm down, and I've even closed my eyes."

With that, she shifted to the middle form.

"You can open them, slowly." Taylor's voice was a little deeper, but still recognizable as hers.

Danny could hear something scraping along the ground, and something like leather moving around. He slowly opened his eyes, and nearly went slack-jawed.

Taylor's middle stage added another foot and a half to her height. Her features had shifted to a more reptilian form, covered in golden scales. The eyes were recognizable as hers. The head had an elongated muzzle, the mouth was filled with many, many sharp teeth. The neck had stretched out some, allowing Taylor to actually look behind her. Her ears had moved up toward the top of her head, becoming more animal-like, and could move independently of each other. Her broad shoulders would be the envy of any of the dockworkers. The arms and hands were surprisingly human, each digit ending in claws that looked extremely sharp. From there, her torso flowed down into a wiry build. Her legs were built more like a cat's, with each foot ending in 4 toes and requisite sharp talons. Her tail flowed from her hips, trailing another 5 feet.

The surprise was the leathery, bat-like wings, which she had half spread. The membrane stretched between the fingers was translucent. Curiously, Danny pushed on the surface and found it to be rather unyielding. If there were scales along the wings, they were so fine as to be invisible.

"So," he asked quietly, "Can you fly?"

"So far," came Taylor's reply, "Only in my dreams. Let's find out if the experience transfers to the waking world." She stretched her wings out to nearly full and then brought them down. Very gently and slowly, she rose into the air, hovering there without much effort, her wings slowly beating.

"OK, that worked." Taylor looked pleased. "Now for the next part." With that, she gained a little bit of altitude. Within a few minutes, she was making lazy swoops in the large building.

Danny noted that she was enjoying every minute of the short test flight. "I hate to break it to you, but you've forgotten the most important part of flying," he called out. Taylor could hear the smug in his voice.

"What would that be?" Taylor asked as she started to slow down to land.

"Landing."

It should be noted that this quip happened just as Taylor was getting ready to flare, to reduce her forward speed enough to gently land. Instead, she killed all of her forward speed, causing her to drop vertically the last 3 feet or so, and land on her butt.

"Note to self," she muttered as she got up, "concentrate on the task at hand." She knocked the dust and dirt off her scales.

"As funny as that was," Danny noted, still chuckling, "Are you OK?"

"Only my pride and the floor are hurt," Taylor replied. "Dragon scale and hide are supposed to be pretty tough." She looked at the divot in the concrete of the old boathouse. "Case in point."

Danny looked down at the divot. "I'll get a couple of guys out here on Monday to patch it." He looked at his daughter and asked: "How much do you weigh like that?"

Taylor shrugged. "A little over a quarter ton? Until I can find a freight scale, I only have a rough guess, based on the math. Dad, I'm going to need you to sit down again. Time to see if the rest of the transformation works..."

As Danny did so, Taylor changed.

What stood before Danny when he re-opened his eyes was something he could only call terrifyingly awesome.

Taylor was longer than a freight locomotive and nearly as tall at the shoulders. She had the beauty of a predator which was heightened by the wall of shimmering golden scales, and a feathery golden mane that ran from her head to her forequarters. That was the awesome part, as the form encompassed both beauty and grace.

The terrifying part comes from the dagger-like teeth, the front claws which were like short swords, and the rear talons, for which Danny had no reference. They all looked extremely sharp and were probably impossibly tough. There was also the gibbering of his hindbrain, reacting to the presence of a large reptilian predator that might have chased his mammalian ancestors in prehistoric times.

Taylor unfurled her wings, and slowly turned herself to face her father. "So," she asked, her voice having dropped another octave," what do you think?"

Danny gulped, then smiled. "Terrifyingly awesome. It's a strange mix of beauty and raw power that works really well. Still, whatever form you wear, you're still my beautiful baby girl, who can now fly, breathe fire, and scare the living daylights out of those people not prepared for it."

The corners of her mouth turned up in the equivalent of a draconic smile. "Thanks, Dad."​

 

[Kryslin]

1900 Sunday 09 Jan 2011

They had arrived home without incident. After a light supper and clean up of the dishes, Danny and Taylor were both sitting at the table.

"So, what are you planning to do?" he asked.

"About what?" was Taylor's reply, enjoying a nice cup of tea.

"Being a dragon, or a cape, or whatever you've become." was her Father's reply.

"Well," said Taylor after a sip of tea, "I could do nothing, and go crazy not using my powers. Even I know that powers want to be used. The bit of flying in the boathouse took a bit of an edge off, So I suspect that I have to fly every so often."

"I don't think that's an option," noted Danny. "I don't want to come home from work and find out from the TV news that my daughter is on a rampage."

"I could become an independent cape," Taylor continued. "There are plenty of drawbacks, like a real short life expectancy, and no support, but I have the freedom to choose my own path."

"One of those drawbacks is no protection for your family and friends," Danny somberly replied. "You would have to be very careful between your various identities. However, your life expectancy might be a bit longer than most independent capes..."

"I could join the Wards," offered Taylor. "Plenty of pluses – health care, income, support, help with branding - though honestly, I don't see how they could market me as anything other than a dragon. On the downside, rigid control, help with branding, and loads of paperwork."

"The same thing with joining New Wave," her father added, "except no income, no paperwork, and even more rigid control and branding. Also, you'd have to reveal your identity, which leaves me open for all kinds of trouble."

"No one forgets about what happened to Fleur," muttered Taylor. "New Wave isn't an option."

"The Guild isn't an option," noted Danny. "They'd send you to the Protectorate Wards first."

"I could decide to join some villain's group, but I find my choices there to even less desirable than going independent," Taylor said as she sipped at some iced tea.

"Looks like I'll be getting an appointment for power testing and joining the Wards next week, then," she continued, finishing off her tea. "I wonder if they'll help me with getting back into school."

"Before you make that call," Danny said, his tone serious, "I think you need to know something. The PRT has been handling the investigation, not the police."

"OK," said Taylor. "There's a question that needs to be answered. Why did the PRT get involved? That would mean there's a cape involved, and as far as I know, Sophia, Emma, and Madison aren't capes..."

Danny sighed. "Emma is currently in Jail; her father refuses to post her bail. Alan's found sufficient evidence at home that pretty much means Emma is going to be tried as an adult. The official charges are second-degree Attempted Homicide, Grand Theft, Aggravated Assault. Madison is under house arrest; She came clean the morning the police executed a search warrant on the school. She's likely to get a plea bargain and avoid prison. "

"What about Sophia?" Taylor asked. She had been listening very intently to her father's words.

"She's why the PRT is involved. It's not widely known, but she's a Ward. Shadow Stalker." Danny had to sign a pile of security agreements and non-disclosure agreements when Deputy Direct Rennick had talked to him about why the PRT was involved in the case while Taylor was recovering. He watched Taylor closely.

Taylor sat there. The look on her face was one that made Danny want to go over there and hug her under the mood passed. Then, Taylor started laughing. It wasn't a pleasant laugh, Danny had often heard it coming from broken men, whose world has come crashing down on them. The mad, fey laughter soon gave way to tears, and wracking sobs as all the pain of the last two years finally came pouring out.

Danny gave in to the urge to give his daughter that hug, and let her cry into his shoulder until she had no more tears left.

"Feel better, now?" Danny asked as Taylor was wiping her eyes.

Taylor just sat there for a moment, then sighed, her shoulder's slumping.

"Not upset?" her father asked, a bit concerned.

"I'm furious," answered Taylor. "As in, I want to go and drag the three of them out into the street, smear them into a paste, burn whatever's left into fine, white ash, then repeat the process on Blackwell and Winslow."

"It might make me feel better, releasing that rage," she said, "but in the end, it would make more people here in Brockton Bay suffer needlessly because of a cape. If anything, I want to be better than those three."

"If anything," she continued, "I think I will follow the advice of George Herbert."

"Ah," Danny smiled. "Living well is the best revenge."

"Planning on going back to Winslow?" Danny asked, steeling himself for his daughter's reply.

"No. Hell No. Fuck No," muttered Taylor, darkly. "Just... No."

Danny could sense... something... building behind Taylor's words. There was a fury he could sense, and it made his towering fits of anger look like a two-year-old's tantrums. "Well, one of the benefits of Ward membership is they help with school placement. "

"So, you're still going the Ward route, then?" he asked.

"Looks like it," Taylor reluctantly answered. "The pluses still outweigh the minuses. I'll have to deal with the restrictions, I guess."
.
"You know they'll try to make you more approachable by children..." Danny commented.

"Then their marketing guy had better be a genius," she snarked, "How can you make 10 tons of scales, teeth, and claws more approachable to kids?"

"I'm sure the PRT will find a way," Danny noted smugly.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

Night came, and with it, another strangely lucid dream.

She was in a different place. Not the alpine forest this time, but a cave.

It was a fairly large cave, and surprisingly warm and dry. An orange light provided some illumination, cause some of the stone and crystal formations to glimmer and sparkle as the light danced. The strange thing was that the floor of the cave was smooth, with no rock formations. In fact, it was smooth paving stones, expertly cut and fitted by someone's expert hands.

She inhaled, to see what scents she could pick up. Very little smelled damp. She could smell someone within, the smell of drink, and a haunch of roast. The scent of the person was familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"Come forward, child," called Tiamat from farther within. "As this place is yours, nothing shall happen to you here. I am only a visitor."

This place was hers? Taylor began walking forward, the light growing brighter. As she rounded the last corner, she looked upon a chamber. There was a pile of treasure – it could only be called that – heaped up on one side. To the other, was a smallish table, with a couple of human-sized chairs. In one sat the human avatar of Tiamat.

She was beautiful, Taylor thought. It was a dark beauty, a face that had once harbored great cruelty and evil. Now, she appeared to simply be tired. Her black tresses streaked with steel gray and white, flowed down her back, and her ruby eyes watched with some amusement. The dress she wore was probably the original of the one Taylor had hanging in her closet. It clung to her figure, adding a dark seductiveness to the beauty. She looked every inch the queen she claimed to be.

"Please," Tiamat asked, "Sit, And talk." She gestured to the other chair.

"I would like to thank you for the clothes," Taylor said. "They really have helped a lot."

"You're welcome, Taylor." Tiamat took a drink from a goblet. "Do you like this?"

"The lair?" Taylor replied. "There's part of me that is finding this really weird. Another part wants me to grovel, telling you that I'm not worthy of your gifts, and the third part wants to be courteous, and thank you for your generosity. I also have to ask 'Why?'"

At that, the ancient queen of the dragons laughed. It wasn't an evil or insane laugh. It was one of amusement, and one, she suspected, that had seldom seen use. "An honest answer, that." Tiamat leaned forward, giving Taylor her full scrutiny. "My brother was right, you are wise beyond your years."

"The 'why' of matters is never simple," Tiamat stated. "I could be enigmatic and say 'Because, Reasons.', but that doesn't answer the question you've asked, and I find it easier to be much more direct. I have unimaginable wealth at my disposable, child, that does me little good. Suffice to say, our actions had inconvenienced you, and I wished to lessen that inconvenience. My brother was a moderating influence on my decision, I wanted to gift you an entire wardrobe of clothing, he convinced me to just a few, basic, simple items that would allow you to get by until you could purchase things of your own."

She leaned back in the chair. "Likewise this," she said, gesturing around her, "is yours. You may find you need to retreat here every so often. Every dragon needs its lair. It is a place of power and solitude."

Taylor nodded. "I seem to remember something said between you and your brother at the end of our previous meeting about this. I must ask, which kingdom in what world got sacked for the treasure in here?" It seemed a logical question, after all. The myths and tales spoke about dragons often spoke of such things, and there was often a grain of truth to them.

"Dear child," Tiamat answered, smiling, "If I knew, I'd tell you. And no, you won't have to eat any virgin princesses, either. There used to be hundreds of thousands of dragons in ages past, spread across a multitude of worlds. Now, only a handful remain. All of those lost hoards became part of mine, or my brother's. This simply represents a merely adequate lair and hoard for a dragon of your stature. It is mostly coin and gems, a couple sets of tomes, and some small trinkets. Cataloging it will be your task."

"I have to ask," said Taylor, curious. "Why do dragons sleep on a pile of coins?"

"Actually," Tiamat replied, "It helps maintain one's scales. A couple of rolls on a pile of coins helps remove the loose ones..."

The conversation went on for a while, Taylor getting all sorts of anecdotes about dragons, their habits, and some lore. In the end, however, Tiamat had to depart, leaving Taylor alone in the lair. So, she decided to poke around a bit. There were a couple of unfurnished rooms off to the side with the table, just simple bare stone walls and heavy, rough-hewn wooden doors. The coins were of various precious metals, stamped with various symbols that she didn't recognize. The tomes were off on one side of the pile, in a couple of massive chests. She couldn't find any of the trinkets that had been mentioned, though she suspected they were buried under the pile of coins.

She shifted to her full-on dragon form, and actually tried a roll in her modest pile of treasure...

It felt wonderful.

She snapped up what was left of the meat, before settling back down on the pile, and falling asleep...

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

0700 Monday 10 January 2011

The sound of her alarm clock rudely awakened her. Very carefully, she reached over and switched it off. She was still getting used to her strength and larger size and didn't want to break too many things. Again, her night's rest had simply been wonderful

Sitting on top of the tome on her desk – which she had yet to crack open and read – was a slip of paper. On it was a simple ring, again of the strange silvery metal that was woven into the dress.

Taylor:

Until you manage to learn how to move you and anything you carry to your lair, this will help you move between where ever you are and there. Saying 'Lair' while wearing it will take you there, and "Return" will take you back from wherever you last left. I've been told you can set a number of other, specific locations, but I'll leave that to you to puzzle out.

It will resize itself to fit whatever form you have taken.

Tia.

Normally, Taylor would be very, very suspicious of all these gifts. Many of them broke nearly all the rules as she knew them about powers, and she had a whole grab bag of powers. Beyond the brute, changer, blaster, mover, and thinker powers, apparently one of her limited uses per day powers was a minor healing ability – a striker power because she had to touch what she wanted to affect. This ring added another mover power to her power set. Hell, the PRT would probably just throw a trump rating at her, then throw their arms in the air in frustration.

Being granted powers had begun to turn her life inside out. At the very least, the beings who had granted her those powers were trying to make sure the transition from normal person to whatever she had become was somewhat less bumpy.

Taylor sat there, thinking. She doubted she could bring the coins in her pile into this world and sell them for money. She'd have to explain where the precious metals had come from, or the gems, which she assumed would be considered stolen if she couldn't provide provenance for them. Also, considering the size of the pile, it would seriously mess with the local economy. She suspected that the ring was keyed specifically to her as well, and wouldn't work for anyone else. Or, if it did, it would transport them to what they considered their "Lair".

She took the ring and placed it on her finger. It started off too big and shrank to comfortably fit on her finger.

Looking at the massive leather-bound tome on her desk again, she decided that she'd crack it open today and start reading it. It had been sent to her, so it must contain something important that she would need to know, or at least reference.

However, it could wait until after breakfast.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

A few phone calls were made after said breakfast, which had been fairly normal, Taylor's boosted metabolism finally returning to near normal.

"Well," Danny reported, "You've got a power testing appointment tomorrow, at 1pm. You've got another appointment with the PRT legal department at 9am."

"With the Legal department?" Taylor's response was incredulous. "What did I do to deserve that?

"I suspect it has to do with the preliminary findings of their internal investigation." Danny shrugged, chuckling. "I suspect we'll be at the PRT building downtown most of the day."

"I wanted to do this," moaned Taylor. "I suppose I can deal with it."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

0930 Monday 10 January 2011

Emily Piggot planted her head into her desk.

The problems that Shadow Stalker had caused had just gotten more complicated.

"Tell me, Hannah," she asked the woman sitting on the other side of the desk," How could this get any worse?"

Miss Militia shrugged. "An Endbringer could be involved," she answered. "It's always a Simurgh plot."

"I did not need to hear that." Emily sat back in her chair, twinging in pain.

"At least Armsmaster was right," Hannah continued. "Danny Hebert's daughter did trigger in the locker." She scribbled something down on her ever-present notepad.

"A little investigative work turned up some basic information about Ms. Hebert: A quick check with the authorities got me her ID which has her wearing glasses, and standing 5'6". A couple of sightings in the boardwalk would place her height just under her father's 6'3", without glasses. She also showed some physical development."

"Not all that uncommon," noted the director.

"Over three days?"

"Point."

"Imagine my lack of surprise, then," Miss Militia continued, "when I got a call from Mr. Hebert, stating he wants to bring his daughter in for power testing and possible Wards application."

"Things just got worse," moaned Director Piggot. "We still haven't completed our investigation of Ms. Hess. Things could get potentially ugly if we have a standard meet & greet with the new ward, and she's still in the building. Especially if they decide to unmask."

"On the plus side," Miss Militia stated, "Mr. Hebert will want to look over any contract agreement before his daughter signs it. We might have a few days grace to get things in order."

"Hopefully, that's what Legal wants to talk to them about first."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

Taylor had spent the morning leafing through the large tome that had arrived last week. While not reading it, she did skim it enough to get a general idea of what the sections contained – basically a history, from the first dragons, through the various wars and struggles, to the eventual fall and twilight of the race, leaving only a handful of individuals.

The second part was a little more interesting, an explanation of how they thought their powers worked. It matched up, on the surface, with what Naichi had explained, though it was a far more clinical explanation. It included a basic anatomy lesson as well.

The third part seemed nonsense to Taylor – it was a primer on magic – until she realized that up until a week ago, Taylor would have considered any dragon besides Lung to be nonsense as well. It explained that they could sense it, store it, and channel it for various effects. It also explained a couple of methods that would improve how fast one could recharge their reserves.

The first method described was one Taylor would stay away from, as it involved 'draining' other creatures of their mana. While a little bit was typically OK, taking too much could result in serious problems, like death.

The second was a more passive method but was probably more difficult since it involved maintaining a certain level of concentration at all times. However, it absorbed mana radiated into the environment, kind of like how plants absorbed sunlight.

The rest of the book was about what you could do with this so-called magic, and the various means to achieve those effects.

Some of those, she idly noticed, were easily understood. Her mental interface to her powers had several of these listed and appeared to be ready for use.

Just how many powers did she have, anyway? It looked like she was a grab bag cape, with a whole host of minor and useful powers plus a few major powers tossed in.

The PRT and Protectorate are going to flip when I go in for power testing, Taylor thought. Which is tomorrow afternoon...

 

[Kryslin]

80+ Years Prior

She sat overlooking the ruins of her hall. The roof was missing over parts of it, the tables overturned. There was no boisterous minions, no food to be served and thrown about, just the quiet of the night as the former lady of the manor looked over what had been, and contemplated what had brought her to this point.

The figure that sat on the remaining chair was a regal one, her long black hair down past her waist. Her face, with its ruby-red eyes, was ageless but looked excessively wearied and careworn. Fading cruelty could be seen on her face, replaced with sorrow. Her gown, once the envy of Empresses and Queens, was now a tattered ruin. Amid the soot and dirt on her face, one could see the tracks of tears.

The dark lady cried, moaning her loss; her kin, first husband, children, and her many lovers. Gone, all gone, lost to her overweening ambition, pride, and ego. She still had her immeasurable wealth, cold comfort that it was Many had tried to take it from her, including those more powerful and devious than herself. She had been betrayed many, many times. And each betrayal had hurt, regardless of what she had said or sworn at the time. Each betrayal had chipped away at the hardened bastion of her heart.

She had spent her power and influence recklessly, heedless of the consequences. What she had sown, she had reaped sevenfold. Her children were slain, lost, or enslaved, her minions destroyed. Her schemes laid bare, her influence all for naught. Her rage was impotent, and she was powerless against the truth of what had happened, no longer blind to what she had wrought.

What had it bought her, through the ages?

Nothing but pain, and despair.

In the gloom of her destroyed throne room, Tiamat wept, her sobs becoming wails as despair overcame her.

​

-oOo-

​

As the years passed by uncounted, she wandered the Outlands. She went where her feet lead her. There was no rhyme or reason to her wanderings, just a random, meandering path, eating when she needed to, sleeping when she had no other choice. Her slumbers did not last long, because her dreams often woke her, and she was loathe to return to sleep. Thus, she'd rest for a few, scant hours, and continue plodding along, not know or caring where she was headed.

Her fair-seeming had long since fallen – It had been a lie, a deception, to hide from the world, and herself. No longer caring, the monster that she was simply wandered, free for all to see. Those who lived in the Outlands let her be; they all knew who she was. That reputation, alone, was enough to protect her. She had wandered through the gate towns, never causing trouble. Some of the populace fled as she walked through. Others, braver than others, stayed, and watched her as she simply plodded through the town. No one tried to fight her, just watched her as she passed, in silence.

It was as she walked through one of these towns that a small figure made her stop. Compared to her, the child was small and frail, in contrast to the monstrous and hideous visage of the broken dragon queen. She didn't want any more death to weigh on her soul, so she simply came to a stop, and her heads simply looked at the girl in front of her, and waited for her to move. It was then that she realized the child was blind.

The child held something in her hands and held it out towards the nearest head. "This is for you," the child said, smiling. "You must be hungry." Her voice was kind and gentle.

With a shimmer, the monstrous form was gone, leaving behind the broken queen in her tatters. Slowly, she reached out and took the small pie from the child's hands.

And for the first time in her wanderings, she spoke. "Thank You," she said. It was one of the few times in her existence that someone had been genuinely kind to her.

"You're welcome," replied the child, a gentle smile on her face.

​

-oOo-

​

The small treat had done very little to nourish her body. She knew, all too well, what that required. The orgy of slaughter, blood, and gore required to sate the furnace of her body was the stuff of horrific legend and myth. What it had done, though, had kindled a spark in her heart. It was a dangerous thing, that spark. She frowned, thinking about how she had crushed that spark whenever she could find it.

Hope was a dangerous thing if you were a tyrant. However, to those in despair, it was like a drink of water in a desert.

If one person cared, she thought, perhaps another does as well.

No longer would she wander, she had a destination now, one where this would end, for good or ill. She knew where it was, and with new determination, she began walking towards a huge, majestic set of mountains easily seen in the distance. Her pace was steady, if slow. She made no effort to hide, or her passage. And despite the actual distance, it passed quickly.

She found herself at her destination, a ruined gate of a mighty fortification. The gates of mithril and adamant lay cast to the sides where she herself had thrown them, the proud towers thrown down and smashed, leaving the field strewn with rubble and debris. Yet, flowers grew everywhere, in a riot of colors, despite the horror and carnage that had happened here.

The ruined arch had been cleared, and the road beyond was open. In front of the arch stood her brother's herald, a prime example of his breed. She approached slowly, under his watchful gaze. She stopped, just out of the range of her breath. She laid 4 of her heads on the ground, eyes closed. "I have come to see my brother," the central head said quietly, "and submit myself to his authority." With that, her central head was laid on the ground, the classic posture of submission among dragons.

Sonngrad raised an eye ridge as Tiamat presented herself in surrender to him. He saw a broken, defeated creature, almost a shadow of the nigh-unstoppable force of nature she had been. He could sense no others with her, she was alone, and she was telling the truth.

"Please, rise," he rumbled. "I shall have to send someone ahead with a message, and it may be a wait for the reply." He gestured to a relatively clear area inside the gate where she could wait.

Tiamat rose to her feet and moved over to the indicated area. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I do not deserve even this small amount of hospitality."

"No, I suppose you do not, given your history," noted Sonngrad. "However, I have my instructions should you ever approach peacefully, and that is to extend every courtesy we have available, scant though it may be."

"I appreciate it nonetheless," admitted Tiamat. "Go ahead, send your messenger. I shall not do anything but wait."

Sonngrad nodded. "Naichi," he said to a small gold dragon nearby, "Go tell Lord Bahamut his sister has arrived in submission."

"Yes, sire," squeaked the wyrmling. With that, she flew off, faster than any bird could.

​

-oOo-


​

The last time Bahamut had spoken to his sister had literally been ages ago, on the eve of her banishment from the Outlands, when she had slain their older brother in a fit of blind rage. The words that were spoken then were not kind, and she had begun her descent into darkness and depravity. Her constant scheming between her followers and his had led to the slow depletion of their numbers. There were four metallics left; Kurya and Sonngrad, and their sole surviving offspring, Naichi. Lyndraen was old, and not long for this world, but she had a single egg, nearly ready to hatch.

His followers had enacted a terrible toll on hers. He may have two of his followers living, plus an old friend and their hatchlings, but they had dug out every last chromatic dragon they could find over the ages and cast them down. There were a few left, scattered across the material plane, most little better than beasts.

A sad end, to a proud race, he thought to himself. And the blame, if there is any, is shared by all.

He began the long, slow walk down the mountain from his abode. He could easily fly the distance in a fraction of the time, but he still needed time to think. It is this one single thing he had hoped would come to pass – his sister returning to her hatching ground of her on will – but he had actually no idea what he would do.

"Bah," he muttered to himself. "So much for the wisdom of the ages..." All this time, and not a single idea of what to do.

Naichi, who had been walking next to him, pricked up her ears at his mutterings. "My lord," she asked respectively, "is something wrong?"

"No, youngster," he replied, "nothing is wrong. Remember that a long life does not necessarily mean wisdom. I have lived for ages, and am no wiser for it. If anything, I am an old fool."

"If that's the case, my lord," Naichi said respectfully," you're probably the wisest fool there is."

With that said, the only thing he could do is chuckle.

​

-oOo-

​

They turned that last corner and came up the pair sitting there, making light conversation. Sonngrad backed away from Tiamat, moving to his lord's side, whispering his own observations to Bahamut.

Brother and sister looked at each other for the first time in several centuries. Despite the neglect and privations of her wanderings, Tiamat looked much like she had when she actually tore the gates off the hinges, shattering them on the rock of the mountain. Yes, she was dirty, but she was still whole and in fairly good condition. It was what he didn't see – arrogance, rage, cruelty – that was surprising. She just lay there, watching him with one head. Nothing said, no movement made.

"Hello, brother," she said, quietly.

"Sister," he replied, "why are you here?"

"I have nothing, now," she explained, quietly. "save for a small spark of hope, and a great deal of despair. As I told Sonngrad, I shall tell you. I submit myself to your authority."

"You are asking me to judge you?" asked the platinum dragon, in a low voice.

The one head speaking nodded in affirmation.

Bahamut sighed, his eyes closed. "I cannot." Tiamat looked shocked, Sonngrad looked puzzled, and Naichi looked confused. "So, I will ask Naichi what your punishment should be..."

"Before I think about this, my lord," asked Naichi, "why me?"

"Because, child, you are one of the few who haven't been affected by the ages-long conflict. You only know what has been recorded in my archives, never having been directly involved."

Naichi's small muzzle scrunched up in concentration. "Okay… from what I know, you were both tricked into doing bad things. For a while, you both were kind of going through the motions of living, just kind of existed. Eventually, you moved on and grew up, but from what I've read, she never really did."

"Continue," asked Bahamut nodding as Naichi explained what she was thinking about.

"Still, she did do a bunch of really bad things. And I know she really wants you to end her life, to escape the pain she has caused, which she's feeling now." Naichi shook her small head, trying to clear it. "But that's just running away."

"I don't think she's ever, really truly experienced life," the small dragon said quietly. "So, my judgment is that she lives. She'll have to come to terms with what she's done, and live with the consequences of her actions, instead of running away from them. I can't think of a worse punishment."

Bahamut smiled. Leave it to the youngest among them to think there was a lesson to be learned from eons of folly. "As you have stated, sister, you have submitted to my authority. You have heard Naichi's counsel yourself. You shall live the remainder of your life with the memory of what you have done, and experience life, and all that entails. That is my judgment."

He placed his head down near his sister's central head and whispered: "Shall we start over again?" The voice was kind.

"Yes," Tiamat whispered in reply.

"Then welcome home."​

 

[Kryslin]

And thus we come to the end of the first arc. Your comments and criticisms are welcome, flames and such will be routed to /dev/null. Actionable posts will be reported as a matter of due course.

I hope to maintain a post per week posting rate; so far, I'm doing pretty good. My proofreaders are going through arc 2 at the moment, and I should start posting it next Saturday.

 

[Shadowcub]

I like this, you had me at dragons, as long as its not a gamer fic I'm in. Those just get tiring on grinding up. Madison is still trash......looks like she kept herself a insurance policy against Emma and Sophia.

And this Taylor loves money. And is a real dragon, not a wannabe like Lung.
And my two favorite dragons in mythology. 🤗 🤗 🤗 🤗 🤗 😈
Bug off PRT!🤪

 

[Kryslin]

...as long as its not a gamer fic I'm in...

Click to shrink...

While it may have it's origins in gaming - I've been playing D&D for quite a long time (long than some people here have been alive, in fact) - Nope, no grinding.
I'm also a firm believer in "it's not the destination, but the journey."

 

[Shadowcub]

While it may have it's origins in gaming - I've been playing D&D for quite a long time (long than some people here have been alive, in fact) - Nope, no grinding.
I'm also a firm believer it's not the destination, but the journey.

Click to shrink...

I like it, my comments about grinding up is that having to constantly read luck, intelligence, I've only recently gotten into that with the Dark Souls games, and I'm try'na get past the constant stats.🤣

 

[Kryslin]

Something I've noticed : As I am using a macro to convert the LibreOffice text into BBCode, there are some really strange typos that have creeped in because LibreOffice/OpenOffice keeps the revisions until you commit the changes.

If you find something strange, let me know, and I'll get it corrected.

 

[Mgunh1]

You've got a few doubled up words and phrases here and there which are probably formatting errors. All in all a neat idea and I quite enjoy DnD crossovers so I'm definitely watching this.

 

[Kaws]

I like. I hope you keep it up!!!

 

[Saintmichael95]

Hmmm. It's decent, and I've definitely read worse, but I do have a few issues.

I guess I'll start with the ooc-ness. Most of the familiar characters seem at least a little ooc, or in Sophia's case very OOC. I find it very difficult to believe that she would just knuckle under when she's about to be arrested. At that point, she wouldn't have cared about being outed, she would have at least tried to bolt out, possibility of getting tazed be damned. Then there is also Danny. He seems far too accepting of this entire situation. I mean, his daughter is talking about how she got her powers from some inter-dimensional dragons and his reaction seems to boil down to "Oh ThAt'S NiCe wHAt dO yOUr pOweRs DooOo?" Granted that's me being a bit silly and over-exaggerating a bit, but that's the way his reaction comes off to me. Overall, he comes off as pretty wooden. Taylor also comes off as OOC, being far too open and willing to join the Wards.

And don't even get me started on Lung. I find it very difficult to believe that he would be a loving father and husband when he's the head of a gang that regularly kidnaps young women and essentially sells them into sex slavery.

Finally there's the pacing. Things seem to be happening overly fast and a bit too neatly. For example, it seems as if Taylor is just having everything handed to her without her having to earn it. Alot of the potential problems and sources of conflict are being swept away overly conveniently and largely without Taylor even having to lift a finger. For example, the fact that one of Bahamut's followers just happened to go to Winslow and just decided to put an expensive tinkertech camera in it, thus catching many of the Trio's acts on camera and providing even more evidence when it already seemed like an open and shut case with Madison's testimony and the fact that a tampon was stuck halfway in the wall of the locker, implicating Sophia. It honestly seems as though the story's plot wouldn't actually change at all if the camera was never there.

I mean, even the clothes issue was just handwaved away with hardly a problem.

As far as the characters themselves and their interactions go and the events of this first arc, it just feels so... forced. As if you are prioritizing what you want for the plot instead of letting the characters react as they would in accordance to their personalities. It's like dressing the hulk in a tutu and having him attend a tea party (that would actually be hilarious). While it's not nearly as bad as that, it does still stick out like a sore thumb.

Now that I've said my peace there, here's some corrections:

Pale grayishgreyish white, shimmering in the twilight of wherever she was. And big. Really, really big.

Click to shrink...

grayish

"Miss Clemens," said the detective, "I'm Detective Ramin. I understand you claim to have some evidence for us?"

Click to shrink...

I don't think she actually introduced herself here, so I fail to see how he could know her name.

Not only did she confess to the police, she had also brought a journal she had kept of all the things the 3 of them had done, so they didn't repeat things.

Click to shrink...

9 hours later, she showed up at home, covered in filth and offal.

Click to shrink...

When writing a story, it's generally accepted as proper to write the words for numbers when they're less than 10, i.e. three instead of 3, nine instead of 9 etc. Here's a quick little guide for this kind of thing: When to Spell Out Numbers in Writing (Guide + Examples) | Scribendi

Some of her changes had been physicalphyiscal in nature. She had grown somewhat in the last 48 hours, going from her average 5 and a half feet to nearly 6 feet in less than 3 days.

Click to shrink...

*physical
Also: five, six and three (and possibly fourty-eight if you want to stay consistent in that sentence.)

A few of her mental 'controls' now had labels in Englishenglish, with the draconic scribbled out.

Click to shrink...

English

The little bit of trial and error while learning the basics Naichi thought she needed to know had actually gotten a few labels on another mental list semi-translated. Some of them were still grayedgreyed out, though.

Click to shrink...

grayed

"The best place for anything truly destructive would be out in the ship's graveyard,"

Click to shrink...

ship graveyard, (this is more just my own personal OCD-esque thing, but ships can't own a graveyard)

Taylor shrugged. "A little over a quarter ton? Until I can find a freight scale, I only have a roughly guess, based on the math.

Click to shrink...

rough

"I could join the Wards," offered Taylor. "Plenty of plusesplusses - health care, income, support, help with branding - though honestly, I don't see how they could market me as anything other than a dragon.

Click to shrink...

pluses

"Looks like it," Taylor answered. "The plusesplusses outweigh the minuses. I'll have to deal with the restrictions, I guess."

Click to shrink...

pluses

Alrighty, that's all I noticed.

 

[MangoFlan]

Interesting read.

Typo alerto, señora Kryslin

"Miss Clemens," said the detective, "I'm Detective Ramin. I understand you claim to have some evidence for us?"

Click to shrink...

Miss Clemens, you do realize that by telling me this, I may have to arrest you?

Click to shrink...

Smith, be very sure to read her her rights. Miss Clemens,

Click to shrink...

Several instances of should-be Clements.

Some of her changes had been physicalphyiscal in nature.

Click to shrink...

Physical

typical manilamanilla envelope

Click to shrink...

manilla

his sister returning to her hatching ground of her on will

Click to shrink...

own

 

[Kryslin]

Thank you for the typo alerts. I should have taken care of the issue that was causing them in LibreOffice on export to BBCode, and I think I've got it squished now. That should also be it for the typos as well... I hope.

 

[Geoul]

Hmmm. It's decent, and I've definitely read worse, but I do have a few issues.

I guess I'll start with the ooc-ness. Most of the familiar characters seem at least a little ooc, or in Sophia's case very OOC. I find it very difficult to believe that she would just knuckle under when she's about to be arrested. At that point, she wouldn't have cared about being outed, she would have at least tried to bolt out, possibility of getting tazed be damned. Then there is also Danny. He seems far too accepting of this entire situation. I mean, his daughter is talking about how she got her powers from some inter-dimensional dragons and his reaction seems to boil down to "Oh ThAt'S NiCe wHAt dO yOUr pOweRs DooOo?" Granted that's me being a bit silly and over-exaggerating a bit, but that's the way his reaction comes off to me. Overall, he comes off as pretty wooden. Taylor also comes off as OOC, being far too open and willing to join the Wards.

And don't even get me started on Lung. I find it very difficult to believe that he would be a loving father and husband when he's the head of a gang that regularly kidnaps young women and essentially sells them into sex slavery.

Finally there's the pacing. Things seem to be happening overly fast and a bit too neatly. For example, it seems as if Taylor is just having everything handed to her without her having to earn it. Alot of the potential problems and sources of conflict are being swept away overly conveniently and largely without Taylor even having to lift a finger. For example, the fact that one of Bahamut's followers just happened to go to Winslow and just decided to put an expensive tinkertech camera in it, thus catching many of the Trio's acts on camera and providing even more evidence when it already seemed like an open and shut case with Madison's testimony and the fact that a tampon was stuck halfway in the wall of the locker, implicating Sophia. It honestly seems as though the story's plot wouldn't actually change at all if the camera was never there.

I mean, even the clothes issue was just handwaved away with hardly a problem.

As far as the characters themselves and their interactions go and the events of this first arc, it just feels so... forced. As if you are prioritizing what you want for the plot instead of letting the characters react as they would in accordance to their personalities. It's like dressing the hulk in a tutu and having him attend a tea party (that would actually be hilarious). While it's not nearly as bad as that, it does still stick out like a sore thumb.

Now that I've said my peace there, here's some corrections:


grayish

I don't think she actually introduced herself here, so I fail to see how he could know her name.



When writing a story, it's generally accepted as proper to write the words for numbers when they're less than 10, i.e. three instead of 3, nine instead of 9 etc. Here's a quick little guide for this kind of thing: When to Spell Out Numbers in Writing (Guide + Examples) | Scribendi

*physical
Also: five, six and three (and possibly fourty-eight if you want to stay consistent in that sentence.)


English

grayed

ship graveyard, (this is more just my own personal OCD-esque thing, but ships can't own a graveyard)

rough

pluses

pluses

Alrighty, that's all I noticed.

Click to shrink...

I agree with your criticisms. For instance Taylor catches Lisa actively spying on her, and while she doesn't say her boss is a villain why would a hero do that. What does Taylor do, oh it's fine go on your merry way you spy who is endangering my father. As for lung, the author is not basing them on the real lung, they are basing them off the lung in mauling snarks, a fanfiction world where villains are just let to do as they please as long as they are polite about it.

 

[the DragonBard]

Oh, this will be interesting.

Wonder what happens when Taylor finds out she could potentially either A) track down the afterlife her mother went to and visit her, or B) develop the skills to raise her mother from the dead.

I wonder if Taylor is limited (limited he says, HAH) to the powers of a gold dragon, or if she also got a character class out of it. Favored Soul maybe.

 

[Zeuseus]

Yeah, gotta agree with Geoul on the Lisa thing, that interaction just seemed really out of place. Taylor's reaction to Sophia being a Ward seemed odd too, like one moment she's having a breakdown and the next she's perfectly fine with joining the Wards? Just feels like there was part of the chapter missing where Taylor worked through that issue and decided that it wasn't the PRT's fault or something.

As for the Lung issue, as a reader of both Taylor Varga and Mauling Snarks I'm just going to assume that Lung's criminal businesses are more consensual than in canon when it comes to things like illegal brothels and so forth.

 

[Kryslin]

@Zeuseus @Geoul @Saintmichael95 : Thank you for your criticism, I'll try to keep it in mind moving forward.

Yeah, Mea culpa, I'm bobbling things here. I'll see if I can sort some of the mess out as I go along. There are explanations coming at some point, it's a matter of when that's the question.

 

[goku90504]

"We're going to tell your father that you're conscious, , and we're going to admit you for observation and run a few tests. We are going to have Panacea check you over when she comes in later today.

Click to shrink...

missing words? or extra comma?

"Very well. Smith, be very sure to read her her rights. Miss Clements, if you are under 14, your parent or a legal representative must be present. Are stating that you are over 14 years old?"

Click to shrink...

are you stating?

Danny looked horrified. "Your kidding, right? I knew that place was bad, but that bad?"

Click to shrink...

you're

"Is something wrong," Taylor asked, frowning. "I'd rather not have something else go terribly wrong today."

Click to shrink...

wrong?

"Nothing of value there, thought it is out in the open. From what I've heard, there's an unofficial truce there. Mind your own business, don't bother anyone else, and you won't be bothered."

Click to shrink...

though

 

[Faraway-R]

MP3.1415Player, CmptrWz, DerekM, RHJunior, Taliserian

Click to shrink...

Okay, I recognize MPpi (Taylor Varga), CmptrWz (Mauling Snarks) and DerekM (A Ship of Fools - A Taylor Varga Omake) as inspirations.
What are the inspirations from RHJ and Tali?

0615 Tuesday 04 Jan 2011
Madison Clements saw the police parked outside Winslow High School. What she thought was going to be a mean spirited prank had turned into a nightmare for her. She had joined in Taylor's torment because it was something she found amusing. However, as things had escalated, she was getting less sure about how much fun this actually was.

Then, yesterday they – Sophia, Emma and herself, had pushed her into her locker, closed it, put a second lock on it, and left her there in a pile for rotting tampons and sanitary napkins. When she hadn't been seen all day, Madison began to get nervous. She had thought they were going to let her out after an hour. Sophia and Emma had other ideas, it seems.

She had spent the night getting more and more nervous, especially after looking up things like the penalties for the various forms of murder and manslaughter, and the definition of "Accessory to a criminal act". As she lay awake, having a sudden attack of conscience, she decided to turn herself in come the morning, and deal with the consequences of her actions.

She had kept a journal of all the things they had done to Taylor, so as not to repeat things. She also had print outs of e-mails and text messages. She gathered everything up, to take with her to school the next morning.

Click to shrink...

Color me surprised. Say, if anyone versed in legalese can chime in - does it help if two independently maintained harassment journals from separate sources are submitted as colloborating evidence - as opposed to a single source harassment journal which (in canon) was mostly dismissed as hearsay?

Overall - I don't disagree with St. Michael. The story is decent but not wonderful.