I think it probably started as a moral question "if his victims will go crazy without him, killing Heartbreaker also means dooming his victims and the innocent casualties those victims would create." There was also likely some hope at the start of Heartbreaker's career that the victims could be therapy'd into freedom, or perhaps un-Mastered. So the "kill heartbreaker" ball stalled, and by the time the movement finally gained enough momentum to actually go anywhere, Heartbreaker had set up too many contingencies. So, when pushed with more immediate threats like the Endbringers, the S9, and whatnot, the PRT/Protectorate/Government put the Heartbreaker Problem on a shelf for the next administration to deal with.
That said, I'd still say that Heartbreaker deserves a bullet. The longer he lives, the worse it'll be. But, of course, I acknowledge that I have the luxury of saying that whole simultaneously being free of he consequences that such an action would cause.
It might also be a political issue; whoever orders the trigger pulled gets the blame for all the chaos that follows, so nobody wants to give the order.
That callously dooms more people to horrors that are less publicly obvious, but people in charge have done worse things.
Mmmm. Tomorrow is the update. Contentment. Now to relax and wait while listening to Eden's Edge. So, how are things going on your end, Taliesin? Got a group of chapters written up already for putting up on the day or just writing them during the weak and adjusting as things go along? I'm curious as to your methods.
Mmmm. Tomorrow is the update. Contentment. Now to relax and wait while listening to Eden's Edge. So, how are things going on your end, Taliesin? Got a group of chapters written up already for putting up on the day or just writing them during the weak and adjusting as things go along? I'm curious as to your methods.
I'm pretty much done with Chapter 19, with a chunk of 20 and 21 written. I started with a big, big backlog so that I could ride out any slow spots. It's also been very useful to be able to go back and edit things in unreleased chapters as I think of little things to improve, like foreshadowing and so on. I do have a rough outline of the story, especially the ending, but the scene to scene details of how to get there work themselves out more or less as I go, with a detailed outline only a few scenes ahead of me at any given time.
I'm pretty much done with Chapter 19, with a chunk of 20 and 21 written. I started with a big, big backlog so that I could ride out any slow spots. It's also been very useful to be able to go back and edit things in unreleased chapters as I think of little things to improve, like foreshadowing and so on. I do have a rough outline of the story, especially the ending, but the scene to scene details of how to get there work themselves out more or less as I go, with a detailed outline only a few scenes ahead of me at any given time.
Sounds great to me! Really looking forward to more and how you spin this story in the coming months. Its become a definite favored to look forward to every Saturday.
It might also be a political issue; whoever orders the trigger pulled gets the blame for all the chaos that follows, so nobody wants to give the order.
There is also a legal issue. Nobody wants to start killing people for advertising. Heartbreaker doesn't do anything to people "against their will" other than changing what they want, which ultimately is the goal of advertising, and I find myself doubting that anyone would stop to think if they discovered an advertising process that had the same success rate from the same exposure as Heartbreaker's power has. Now, you will need to address this legally, and will probably just come down on "powers are a special case", but ultimately, free will doesn't really exist, and laws governing excessive influence over a person would need to address the difficulty inherent of their being no clear border between "desirable", "tolerable", and "too much". Combine that with the issue that "voluntary" is an entirely different dynamic because it is the nature of volunteering itself that is under attack... . Goodness knows that it would be nice to have some laws directly addressing abusive relationships...
There is also a legal issue. Nobody wants to start killing people for advertising. Heartbreaker doesn't do anything to people "against their will" other than changing what they want, which ultimately is the goal of advertising, and I find myself doubting that anyone would stop to think if they discovered an advertising process that had the same success rate from the same exposure as Heartbreaker's power has. Now, you will need to address this legally, and will probably just come down on "powers are a special case", but ultimately, free will doesn't really exist, and laws governing excessive influence over a person would need to address the difficulty inherent of their being no clear border between "desirable", "tolerable", and "too much". Combine that with the issue that "voluntary" is an entirely different dynamic because it is the nature of volunteering itself that is under attack... . Goodness knows that it would be nice to have some laws directly addressing abusive relationships...
What Heartbreaker does is a profound difference in degree from the sorts of everyday influences that people often shrug off. When people can't dismiss an influence it doesn't at all look voluntary.
As a small holiday present to everyone, I offer this scene that I wasn't able to fit in the story. It is non-canon, mostly because it solely exists for the sake of a terrible, terrible joke.
Kid Win entered the Wards common room with a USB stick in hand. Clockblocker and Vista sat at the big table eating pizza before their evening patrol.
"Hey guys," Kid Win said. "You two want to find out what happened to Victor?"
"Nobody's telling me anything when I ask. How did you find out?" Vista asked, looking intently at Kid Win, pizza forgotten.
He waved the memory stick. "Armsmaster gives me access to his private system for sharing tinkering information. There was a new folder with a recording. I haven't watched it yet, but from how it was labeled I'm pretty sure this is the surveillance footage of whatever happened."
"We know he died. You sure you want to see, Missy?" Clockblocker asked.
Vista crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "Put it on, Chris."
Kid Win made his way over to the media system connected to the big TV in the common room, and with a few clicks after inserting the memory stick the video came up. Clockblocker and Vista stood and made their way over to stand and watch.
What followed was the surveillance video of Victor shooting Brandish and Taylor Hebert's swift and brutal takedown of Victor, followed by her rendering first aid to the fallen Brandish before the clip ended and began to loop.
"I think- I think I'm going to-" Kid Win pressed a hand to his mouth and ran for the Wards bathroom.
"She's amazing," Vista said, watching intently.
"She is," Clockblocker agreed. "I think we should codename her Squirrel."
Vista turned her head. "Squirrel?"
"She's fast, hard to hit, and goes straight for the nuts," Clockblocker replied, voice dry.
The meaty slap of Vista's palm hitting her forehead briefly overcame the muffled sounds of Kid Win retching in the bathroom sink.
"Just for that, the next time we spar I'm going for your nuts," Vista muttered.
As a small holiday present to everyone, I offer this scene that I wasn't able to fit in the story. It is non-canon, mostly because it solely exists for the sake of a terrible, terrible joke.
*shrug* You could have canonized it. Clockblocker makes terrible jokes. Although I think he should have given Taylor the codename Squirrel Girl instead of just Squirrel.
*shrug* You could have canonized it. Clockblocker makes terrible jokes. Although I think he should have given Taylor the codename Squirrel Girl instead of just Squirrel.
A dark and gritty remake of Squirrel Girl, she's had it with costumed criminals and has come to town to bury nuts.
Puns aside, the reason ultimately comes down to the importance of maintaining a steady tone in the work. Jokes in a scene to relieve narrative tension are one thing, but a scene that doesn't really advance the plot and exists solely for a nut joke doesn't really fit the rest of the work, which is serious instead of comedic. It's best as a general rule if scenes always do more than one thing, too.
Sunday Afternoon, January 16th, 2011
Brockton Bay, New Hampshire, Earth Bet
PRT ENE Headquarters
I tensed from where I was still kneeling and putting pressure on Carol's wounds when I heard footsteps approaching at a run, but with relief I recognized the same silver-haired doctor who had examined me two days ago carrying a big red paramedic's bag as he rounded the corner. His ID tag read 'Dr. Townsend'.
"Sorry," he said as he approached. "The Empire's attacking the front of the building. Protectorate's out there now, but several troopers were badly hurt. They must be here to break out Victor."
Then he stopped and took in Victor, lying in a pool of blood with more blood and splattered brain matter covering a significant portion of the corridor behind the body.
"Jesus, I guess they won't be getting Victor," he said before shaking his head and kneeling by Carol as he unzipped the bag. "What happened? She get him?"
"Victor shot her as she tried to shield me. Then he turned his gun on me. That proved to be a poor life choice," I said, deliberately keeping my voice level. I wasn't letting myself think about how I'd just killed a man right then.
The doctor's eyebrows raised, and he paused a moment in ripping open the plastic packaging of a hemostatic trauma pad. "You killed him?"
"Yes," I said, and tilted my head towards Carol. "She's hemorrhaging."
He shook his head as if to clear it. "Right. Okay, move."
I lifted my hands and the soaked shirt. He applied the trauma pad and then leaned down on it to apply pressure; my knowledge told me the pad was a combat dressing treated with drugs to induce clotting quickly, something invented for the military to treat gunshot wounds on the battlefield.
I took the opportunity of having freed hands to check Carol's pulse at her wrist and counted a bit more than two beats per second. "She's tachycardic."
The doctor frowned, and I wasn't sure if it was at me or his patient. "It's the blood loss. I told two troopers to find a gurney and follow me, they should be here soon. We don't have an OR but we've got enough to keep her alive in the infirmary until the fight's finished. The other medical staff are busy with the wounded troopers though."
He nodded in the direction of my left arm. "You're bleeding."
I looked down, which unfortunately reminded me that after stripping off my shirt to use as an improvised bandage I was down to my bra. The bruising from Sophia was exposed and covered much of my left side in mottled purple.
Best not to think about any of that.
My left arm was indeed bleeding. There was a shallow furrow in the flesh on the outside edge, about three inches below my shoulder.
"Graze from when I rushed him," I explained.
"You rushed him," the doctor repeated, his voice flat.
"Yes. Only thing to do when you're unarmed and probably about to be shot, really. May I?" I asked, gesturing at the big medical bag.
The doctor shook his head in evident disbelief. "Be my guest, there should be rolls of gauze in there."
I found some and wrapped the wound up somewhat awkwardly with one hand after tearing it out of the sterile packaging. I had to hold one end in my teeth to tie it off with the knot over the wound to put pressure on it. It would need proper treatment later, antiseptic and stitches, but for now gauze was enough.
I used some more to wipe the blood off my face and arm as best I could.
It wasn't long before two troopers arrived with the promised gurney. One of the pair was limping, and his armor looked like it had been scratched to hell as if he'd been dragged down a road.
Between the four of us we managed to get Carol transferred to the gurney. I picked up the two phones, my journals, Carol's briefcase, and my likely ruined shirt, and then we were off to the infirmary.
We left Victor's body behind, the gun still in one limp hand.
Some time later in the infirmary the doctor had gotten an IV line into an unconscious Carol and started a blood transfusion. I kept pressure on the trauma pad while medical staff bustled around. Curtains kept me from seeing the condition of the troopers present as patients in other beds, but they were bad enough off to be keeping the infirmary's two doctors and four nurses busy.
"Where's my mom?!" Came a girl's voice, and I had to take a moment to push down an unaccountable sense of overwhelming terror that made me want to run.
"Vicky, aura!" I recognized Amy's voice from our brief conversation on the phone.
The feeling subsided. "Right, right. Where is she?"
"Over here!" I shouted. A moment later a hand was pulling back the curtain and Victoria Dallon flew to her mother's bedside, followed a moment later by a walking Amy Dallon. Neither of them were in costume, instead bundled up in regular winter coats. They must have come without stopping to change.
I lifted my arms and let myself slump back into the chair I'd been using with relief. My arms ached, especially my left. It was pulsing in pain with my heartbeat in a way I was trying to ignore.
"Hi, I'm Taylor. Kept her alive. She's all yours," I said, tiredly.
Amy immediately put her hand on Carol's arm and her gaze became distant. Vicky looked at me. "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" she asked.
I pointed at the blood soaked mess of cloth that hadn't entirely fallen into the medical waste bin where I'd thrown it.
"Oh," she said.
"Shirts make decent trauma pads if you have nothing else," I explained. "At least until they soak through."
Vicky looked down at her stricken mother as Amy worked.
"It's strange seeing mom shot, our costumes are bulletproof but I guess her work clothes aren't," she said quietly.
"We got really unlucky," I said. "Ran right into Victor during his escape attempt. He had a gun and threatened me with it. She shielded me, and he shot her. I'm sorry, she got hurt protecting me."
"Mom always says we're heroes first," Vicky said, and shook her head. "And it's not your fault you needed protecting, or that she got hurt. That's Victor's fault." She clenched her fists. "I'm going to beat him to a pulp when I find him."
"He's dead," I said quietly, shifting my gaze down to the floor. "I didn't have a choice."
Not a lie, but the words sure were misleading about why.
She turned to me with a look of shock. "You killed him?" Vicky lowered her voice. "How? Are you a cape?"
I shook my head. "Not a cape. Just wrestled him for the gun he stole and shot him with it."
"Whoa," Vicky said.
"Please don't tell anyone. I don't want the Empire finding out and killing me or my dad."
The feeling of Vicky's hand on my shoulder got me to raise my head.
She looked me in the eyes. "Don't worry, we won't tell anyone. Or let that happen."
I offered her a weak smile. "Thank you."
"Here," she said, shrugging off her coat and offering it to me.
"Thanks," I said, putting it on with a wince as it went over my left arm. It didn't fit well, I was taller and thinner than her, but I'd been feeling pretty exposed.
"I do want that back, but maybe I can take you shopping for new shirts. I bet mom wouldn't mind," she said.
I laughed despite myself. "Sure, when this is all over we can go shopping."
Vicky grinned, and I suspected that I'd just given her the perfect excuse to wheedle her mother's credit card for a shopping trip.
Oh well, too late now. And I really did need some decent clothes, Taylor's wardrobe was...not great. Almost everything that still fit was baggy enough to get lost in. A result of Taylor's attempts to look as unremarkable as possible in the vain hope that it would make a difference.
That was when Carol spoke, evidently awake. "Amy?" she asked and then coughed several times.
"Please don't move, nearly done," Amy said. "One of the bullets tumbled, it made a real mess."
All three of us waited until Amy removed her hand. Then she peeled off the big trauma pad, still sticky with drying blood, to reveal bloody but unmarred skin underneath and the two deformed bullets she'd pushed out of Carol's body.
Those she scooped up and tossed in the medical waste bin.
"Aw, Ames, what if Mom wanted them as a souvenir?" Vicky asked.
"I think I'd just as soon forget today, thank you," Carol said. "Amy, I saw Taylor get shot protecting me after I went down."
Amy nodded and walked around the gurney to where I was sitting, Vicky stepping out of her way.
"You don't have to do that, it's just a graze, I'm not dying or anything," I protested.
Amy rolled her eyes. "I'm here. Do I have permission to heal you?"
I sighed and held out my arm. "...It would be nice, thank you."
Amy touched me, and instantly all the pain I'd been ignoring was blissfully gone.
"Most of that was Shadow Stalker on Friday," I explained.
"Why were you fighting Shadow Stalker?" Vicky asked.
"It's related to a case, Victoria," Carol explained with a sigh.
"Ah, sorry Mom," Vicky said.
"Have I healed you before?" Amy asked, her gaze still distant.
"Yeah. Sunday, I think. I was unconscious. Severe infection, sepsis," I said.
"Oh, you were the one I did twice, with the air embolism. Your brain-"
I cleared my throat meaningfully.
"Right," Amy said, and thankfully said no more, although she gave me a long look. I wasn't sure what she was going to say, but if it had anything to do with my non-shard power doing something to my brain, I certainly did not want any monitoring devices in the building to pick it up.
After a moment she removed her hand. "There, I had to prioritize the laceration, tooth, muscles, and ribs. Your body is already depleted from the healing I did before, it would be dangerous for me to fix all the vasculature in the bruises. They'll heal on their own."
"Thank you," I said.
Amy shrugged.
"...So," I began after an awkward moment. "Do you two know what happened with the fight outside?"
"The Protectorate won; they were all out there. And there was an awful mess with smashed buildings and cars and steel everywhere. And the lobby is a disaster area. But the Empire capes must have run before we got here," Vicky said.
"I wonder what-" I began, but a blue gauntleted hand moved aside the curtain and Armsmaster stepped in.
His power armor was in rough shape. The right pauldron had been completely ripped off revealing mechanical components where the arm met the shoulder, and there were numerous visible dents and scrapes on the torso. It had to be a testament to Armsmaster's skill as a tinker that he was still able to move around in it.
"Greetings," he said. "Are you all well?"
"Thanks to Panacea," I said. "Victor shot us both before I put him down, Mrs. Dallon was severely wounded."
"I reviewed our security footage of the fight," he said, and his gaze lingered on me.
Carol sat up and swung her legs off the bed, facing Armsmaster. "If my client had killed Victor, that would make her and her father a target for Empire reprisal. That's why Victor was killed by an unnamed PRT trooper while attempting to use lethal force to effect his escape," she said quietly, her gaze drilling into Armsmaster's visor as he turned to look at her. "That is what all the PRT records will say, and you'll remove any video that suggests otherwise from your network."
"She's right," I said after a moment, breaking the staring contest between the two of them. "It's the best way to keep us safe."
Thank you, Carol Dallon, I thought to myself. "People might also think I'm a parahuman because of what I managed to accomplish, even though I'm not," I added.
Not a lie. My powers were from another source. Whatever that was.
"I don't want anyone trying to recruit me by force if they get my name from a stolen document. Or just not care if I'm not a parahuman and try to recruit me anyway, just because I've beaten two parahumans," I continued.
Armsmaster looked at me for a long moment. "The Director will need to clear it because it's against regulations to falsify records, but it might be the best option in this circumstance. I will speak to her."
"Are the Protectorate all okay?" I asked.
He rolled his right shoulder. "No serious injuries. A great deal of property damage, however," he replied. "I have other tasks. Brandish, Panacea, Glory Girl, Miss Hebert."
He nodded to us each, then departed.
Carol eyed the blood transfusion bag that was still connected to her arm. "I suppose I have to wait for this?"
"It will get you on your feet faster," Amy said. "And they can't reuse a partial blood bag."
Carol sighed and settled back in the bed to wait.
"I hope my dad is okay, he was supposed to have been here by now," I said.
"He's probably just caught in traffic. The streets outside were completely wrecked," Vicky told me.
I nodded. I could call him on our new phones, but I doubted he would answer, especially while he was in the car. He could call me if he needed to make sure I was safe and couldn't get to the PRT building.
"So Mrs. Dallon, what were you going to tell me about schooling arrangements?" I asked.
Carol took a breath, visibly switching trains of thought as she looked at the ceiling. "The school district doesn't have a mechanism for facilitating mid-year transfers, but the PRT's contract with Arcadia to enable them to place Wards doesn't actually require that the students they place be Wards, even though that was the intention. So they'll be naming you as a pick and you'll transfer in. If you want it," she said.
Arcadia. It would be better for my 'just a normal, definitely not parahuman teen' cover than switching to homeschooling, but it would eat up a lot of my time. Did I really want to do that?
Suddenly I was being hugged and feeling overwhelming joy. If anything it was more disorienting than the fear earlier, because my first instinct wasn't to push it away.
"Vicky, aura!" Amy said.
"Ah, right," Vicky said, and the feeling subsided. She pulled back from her hug. "You'll be with us! We can be friends, it'll be great!"
I thought about how Vicky must see me. The strange tired girl who'd just killed a villain without using powers, and who'd saved her mother's life. A girl who had been healed in the hospital by her sister only a week ago, which meant she had been terribly sick.
Vicky saw someone who'd helped her mom, and who probably needed a friend. So she wanted to help by being a friend.
Oh Vicky.
My voice wasn't entirely level when I spoke. "You're a good person, Victoria. I haven't had any friends in a long time. It would be nice to make some again."
She smiled, and it was a bit sad. "Call me Vicky."
I mirrored her smile. "Vicky it is then."
Then I shifted my gaze to Amy. "I would be glad to be your friend as well. I get the feeling you like being the quieter sister, though, and that's okay. I'm usually on the quiet side myself."
"I guess," Amy said. "I should go help the other injured."
I nodded, accepting, as she left.
She was a depressed, stressed out teenager dealing with things she couldn't tell anyone about.
One more thing for the todo list.
I was drifting, though. I needed to make a decision on Arcadia.
Making friends would be good for my mental health and stress levels. Mentally stabilizing power or no I would still make better decisions if I was in a mentally good place. Even if the friends were teenagers that were below the maturity level I'd prefer in friends, I could deal with it. I might end up mothering them, but there were worse things.
In addition to Vicky and Amy, I could befriend the Wards. Maybe even build a relationship that would enable me to recruit them to help me in the future. Clockblocker and Vista had strong powers with lots of potential, and Kid Win's tinker specialty of modular design was practically purpose built for collaboration, if I could figure out whatever his shard did to obfuscate his work. And they were all good people.
And if I ever got into trouble, if I was their friend they might be willing to bail me out.
A selfish thought, but not wrong.
Would Piggot ask them to keep an eye on me for anything odd, after this? It wouldn't surprise me, but I supposed it didn't matter.
I turned to Carol. "Please tell them that I would like to accept the transfer to Arcadia, Mrs. Dallon."
She nodded and gave me a small smile. "I think it'll be good for you, Taylor."
"I do too," I said, meaning it. "Also, I believe there are matters we need to discuss privately. Would you allow me to visit your home?"
Carol gave me a penetrating look. "Tomorrow," she said.
I nodded.
"Please invite Lady Photon," I added, earning an arched eyebrow.
"I assume you have a good reason and this isn't simply you wanting to meet her, Taylor?" Carol asked.
"There is a particular reason, yes," I said. "She will not find her time wasted."
It was time I placed some trust in Carol Dallon and New Wave. Carol already likely suspected something was off about me, and now was an opportune time to come clean. New Wave was also independent of the corruption and spy issues that the PRT had, and had enough strength to protect me for a time. And they had problems that I could fix in return. If they let me.
Oh well, it's good to know that despite having super knoledge charges she can still be incredibly stupid Haha
Going to Arcadia would eat up 8 hours of the day in which she does nothing but sit and lisent to someone who knows infinitely less than her about a subject.
1 hour of socialization with some idiot kids is not worth 8 hours lost every day + having to go to sleep early instead of using that time to tinker or train herself.
Of course it could be the author just wants to make this a fix-it fix without anything new and just follow every fanon cliche, which includes going to Arcadia, despite what an incredibly stupid desition it is on both her short terms and long term goals.
Oh well, it's good to know that despite having super knoledge charges she can still be incredibly stupid Haha
Going to Arcadia would eat up 8 hours of the day in which she does nothing but sit and lisent to someone who knows infinitely less than her about a subject.
1 hour of socialization with some idiot kids is not worth 8 hours lost every day + having to go to sleep early instead of using that time to tinker or train herself.
Of course it could be the author just wants to make this a fix-it fix without anything new and just follow every fanon cliche, which includes going to Arcadia, despite what an incredibly stupid desition it is on both her short terms and long term goals.
There are ways to make the time quite productive. There are useful things that look like 'taking notes', after all. We'll get to that later. But it's not just about the socialization and building contacts; it's also about maintaining a cover as a normal girl for as long as possible. Homeschooling doesn't do that nearly as well.
Plus, if necessary it's a convenient alibi.
I can reassure you that not many words will be devoted to the boring stuff. It's something to be glossed over in the narrative.
Arcadia will be good for her. And it seems Taylor definitely has allies and friends for life now. At least Vicky is absolutely going to be on her side of things, and Amy will appreciate her despite being her prickly little self. With Taylor and her both being introverts, hopefully they can bond a little. Especially with Hurricane Victoria dragging them around places.
The talk with New Wave will be fun!
And I can see the interested look in Colin's eyes, and can only imagine what Piggot is going to think of all this. At least the suggestion was taken on merit there. Othala won't rest until she finds Victor's killer. So its a good thing to do. Coil is probably already coiling. But yeah, she isn't a parahuman, so she will be of little use to him in his eyes. Unless somehow he figures out she IS special thanks to Tattletale. Which is unlikely as there is no shard stuff to read nor outward clue depending on the bullshit level TT is operating on.
The PRT response will be MOST interesting!
...can we gets a christmas present of an early chapter? ...probably not but siiigh. I will wait.
Oh well, it's good to know that despite having super knoledge charges she can still be incredibly stupid Haha
Going to Arcadia would eat up 8 hours of the day in which she does nothing but sit and lisent to someone who knows infinitely less than her about a subject.
1 hour of socialization with some idiot kids is not worth 8 hours lost every day + having to go to sleep early instead of using that time to tinker or train herself.
Of course it could be the author just wants to make this a fix-it fix without anything new and just follow every fanon cliche, which includes going to Arcadia, despite what an incredibly stupid desition it is on both her short terms and long term goals.
I think you are confusing Taylor with a robot, she's human, humans don't like being alone, not only that but Taylor wasn't able to make any friends before the MC's arrival, she may just want to fix that, you are seeing the protagonist too much as a character in a book than an actual human with thoughts and feelings.
I think you are confusing Taylor with a robot, she's human, humans don't like being alone, not only that but Taylor wasn't able to make any friends before the MC's arrival, she may just want to fix that, you are seeing the protagonist too much as a character in a book than an actual human with thoughts and feelings.
Not really, she is suposed to be an adult, not a kid.
Meaning she should choose what's best for her long term and considering all the knowledge she has of worm, she Knows That going to Arcadia is stupid.
She is just for some baffling reason trying to follow every dumb fix-it trope of worm. Instead of doing the smart thing that is shut up and turtle down for a while, if she needs interaction just call vicky or Amy on the phone and ask to hang out. Why would she need to waste 1/3 of the day sitting down and doing nothing just for an hour of socialization when what she needs to do is save the damm world?
Not really, she is suposed to be an adult, not a kid. Meaning she should choose what's best for her long term and considering all the knowledge she has of worm, she Knows That going to Arcadia is stupid. She is just for some baffling reason trying to follow every dumb fix-it trope of worm. Instead of doing the smart thing that is shut up and turtle down for a while, if she needs interaction just call vicky or Amy on the phone and ask to hang out. Why would she need to waste 1/3 of the day sitting down and doing nothing just for an hour of socialization when what she needs to do is save the damm world?
