The creation of this thread was something I've debated over in the past, but never really felt...
Scrawlings - [Ziel's Collected Works]
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The creation of this thread was something I've debated over in the past, but never really felt was necessary. Most of my fics were either already in their own dedicated thread, or in snippets in Worm General. With my having gotten away from the Worm fanfic scene somewhat, I wanted a place where I could collect my other works. Most of them are already on my FFN or Ao3 pages, but I wanted something that would let me connect with SB and SV once again without having to just drop links like a dork.
There are a handful of things I've written that never made it onto SB, so I'm going to use this as a chance to finally get some light on those, unfinished as they are.
I'm not actively seeking prompts, but feel free to suggest ideas or concepts you might want to see more of. Inspiration can be a fickle thing.
Table of Contents:
Worm
Speak With the Dead - Dead men tell no tales. Dead capes never shut up. Alt!Taylor, Glaistig Uiane powerswap
Yearning - Taylor begins remembering things from childhood. Things that never happened. Things her mother did.
Looking For Group - Purity tries to find a new super group to join. People seem to hate her for some reason.
Deusphage - Taylor becomes an Aragami, losing her humanity in the process. God Eater crossover.
Heartless - Taylor grows up a Vasil. Or- a very Heartbreaker Christmas.
Strangers on a Train - One little 'hello' can change everything. Jack mentors Taylor.
City in Night - Vampirism spreads through Brockton Bay
Stargazing - Taylor x Human!Simurgh
Bird and Bug - Taylor gets a new little Zizter.
Daddy Issues - Endbringer!Taylor discusses her psychological problems with Big Zizter
Family Business - Danny owns Somer's Rock. Featuring Chibi!Taylor.
Doctor Nine - You like surgery, don't you, Jackie? Bonesaw and Jack switch places.
Appointments - 1, 2 - Counting up the dead. MoordNag!Taylor.
Booke of Worms - Fairy tale style AUs
victims daughters.
Please Don't Touch the Flowers - 1, 2 - Touhou/Worm xover. Taylor runs into Brockton Bay's newest phenomenon, the Sunflower Lady.
Definitely a Doctor - Gaige meets Pandora's Littlest Surgeon (Worm/Borderlands)
The Way - Endbringer worship is a real thing, with tangible results. The first cults begin.
Ars Goetia - Taylor meets the Undersiders' mysterious benefactor. A tall man all in white, with inked fangs over his lips, and fascinating eyes.
Derivative - Stick a couple of people into close proximity for long periods of time, add stress, stir twice, bring to a boil. Primal chemistry. (Number Man x Contessa)
Azazel - The night before she goes back to school, she vomits. The next day is worse. (Surreal Horror)
RWBY
Vixen - Wynn Schnee is a crippled bird in a gilded cage.
RWBY Without R is just Woobie - Omake for 'Chaos Cannot Be Denied' (Wh40k/RWBY Xover)(Bumblebee)
Pokemon
Noblesse Oblige - A Team Plasma Grunt rises and falls. Blood and Honor in the name of the cause.
Mithradite - Lillie's visit to Selene takes a turn after she discovers Selene has made a terrible decision in her absence. (Moon x Lillie, Hurt/comfort)
Touhou
Dog of the Devils - Flandre asks for Sakuya for her birthday. [mild Saku/Flan]
Calvatia Gigantea 1, 2, 3 - Amanita Margatroid has uncovered a mystery: Why don't her parents live together? And more importantly, how is she going to fix it?
Harry Potter
Underestimated - Everyone always thinks they can get one over on the old man. (Parody of Super!Harry)
Parselbrat 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 - Harry discovers Parseltongue a little earlier. As magic goes, it's not very useful. It's enough to make a few friends though. And isn't that enough? (Fem!Harry)
Cephalophore - Two faerie siblings attend Hogwarts in post-canon. Brigitte O'Ciardha is looking forward to a year away from home. A year of low-stakes, minimal meddling older brothers, and definitely no stupid pixies. It'll be fun, and no one needs to lose their head over anything.
Binding of Isaac
Burnout - Urban Fantasy AU. The kids have grown and taken sides. Where magic hurts, and love hurts more.
Highway to Hell - Urban Fantasy AU continued. Jacob and Esau drive cross country to hunt down another family member. Car chases ensue. Jacob hates cornfields. Esau hates Eden. Androgynous fucker.
Overwatch
Nerve Damage - Mercy examines Genji's latest training injury, going through tests to make sure his sense of touch is still intact. At least, that's what she tells him. (Mercy x Genji) (Talon!Mercy)
Naruto
Nymphaea, 2, 3 - An Ame kunoichi begins exchanging messages with a fascinating stranger. Mentorship and family ensue. (OC and Konan-centric)
Dark Souls
Keep the Flame Alive, 2 - Anastacia of Astora tends her bonfire. Visitors come and go, fleeting as the flame. It is a lonely duty, but so it is, and so shall it be until the First Flame renews and finally burns her to ash. And just because an undead visited her is no reason to stop. Even if the undead keeps visiting. And bringing gifts. And being a rather dashing female knight. Oh dear. (F/F)
Borderlands
Dogpile - Being a bandit on Pandora is pretty fuckin rad. No one cares if you don't shower, or if you dabbled in cannibalism that one time. Or that your besties are a bunch of shitty skags. Did someone say convoy raid? Because it's convoy raid time, assholes! (OC-centric)
Girls Frontline
Sword Dance - Executioner does some repair work. Scarecrow lends a hand. (F/F)
Collected Worm Prompt List:
There are a handful of things I've written that never made it onto SB, so I'm going to use this as a chance to finally get some light on those, unfinished as they are.
I'm not actively seeking prompts, but feel free to suggest ideas or concepts you might want to see more of. Inspiration can be a fickle thing.
Table of Contents:
Worm
Speak With the Dead - Dead men tell no tales. Dead capes never shut up. Alt!Taylor, Glaistig Uiane powerswap
Yearning - Taylor begins remembering things from childhood. Things that never happened. Things her mother did.
Looking For Group - Purity tries to find a new super group to join. People seem to hate her for some reason.
Deusphage - Taylor becomes an Aragami, losing her humanity in the process. God Eater crossover.
Heartless - Taylor grows up a Vasil. Or- a very Heartbreaker Christmas.
Strangers on a Train - One little 'hello' can change everything. Jack mentors Taylor.
City in Night - Vampirism spreads through Brockton Bay
Stargazing - Taylor x Human!Simurgh
Bird and Bug - Taylor gets a new little Zizter.
Daddy Issues - Endbringer!Taylor discusses her psychological problems with Big Zizter
Family Business - Danny owns Somer's Rock. Featuring Chibi!Taylor.
Doctor Nine - You like surgery, don't you, Jackie? Bonesaw and Jack switch places.
Appointments - 1, 2 - Counting up the dead. MoordNag!Taylor.
Booke of Worms - Fairy tale style AUs
- The Earl of Manton (Siberian)
- The Rake's Daughter (Cherish)
Please Don't Touch the Flowers - 1, 2 - Touhou/Worm xover. Taylor runs into Brockton Bay's newest phenomenon, the Sunflower Lady.
Definitely a Doctor - Gaige meets Pandora's Littlest Surgeon (Worm/Borderlands)
The Way - Endbringer worship is a real thing, with tangible results. The first cults begin.
Ars Goetia - Taylor meets the Undersiders' mysterious benefactor. A tall man all in white, with inked fangs over his lips, and fascinating eyes.
Derivative - Stick a couple of people into close proximity for long periods of time, add stress, stir twice, bring to a boil. Primal chemistry. (Number Man x Contessa)
Azazel - The night before she goes back to school, she vomits. The next day is worse. (Surreal Horror)
RWBY
Vixen - Wynn Schnee is a crippled bird in a gilded cage.
RWBY Without R is just Woobie - Omake for 'Chaos Cannot Be Denied' (Wh40k/RWBY Xover)(Bumblebee)
Pokemon
Noblesse Oblige - A Team Plasma Grunt rises and falls. Blood and Honor in the name of the cause.
Mithradite - Lillie's visit to Selene takes a turn after she discovers Selene has made a terrible decision in her absence. (Moon x Lillie, Hurt/comfort)
Touhou
Dog of the Devils - Flandre asks for Sakuya for her birthday. [mild Saku/Flan]
Calvatia Gigantea 1, 2, 3 - Amanita Margatroid has uncovered a mystery: Why don't her parents live together? And more importantly, how is she going to fix it?
Harry Potter
Underestimated - Everyone always thinks they can get one over on the old man. (Parody of Super!Harry)
Parselbrat 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 - Harry discovers Parseltongue a little earlier. As magic goes, it's not very useful. It's enough to make a few friends though. And isn't that enough? (Fem!Harry)
Cephalophore - Two faerie siblings attend Hogwarts in post-canon. Brigitte O'Ciardha is looking forward to a year away from home. A year of low-stakes, minimal meddling older brothers, and definitely no stupid pixies. It'll be fun, and no one needs to lose their head over anything.
Binding of Isaac
Burnout - Urban Fantasy AU. The kids have grown and taken sides. Where magic hurts, and love hurts more.
Highway to Hell - Urban Fantasy AU continued. Jacob and Esau drive cross country to hunt down another family member. Car chases ensue. Jacob hates cornfields. Esau hates Eden. Androgynous fucker.
Overwatch
Nerve Damage - Mercy examines Genji's latest training injury, going through tests to make sure his sense of touch is still intact. At least, that's what she tells him. (Mercy x Genji) (Talon!Mercy)
Naruto
Nymphaea, 2, 3 - An Ame kunoichi begins exchanging messages with a fascinating stranger. Mentorship and family ensue. (OC and Konan-centric)
Dark Souls
Keep the Flame Alive, 2 - Anastacia of Astora tends her bonfire. Visitors come and go, fleeting as the flame. It is a lonely duty, but so it is, and so shall it be until the First Flame renews and finally burns her to ash. And just because an undead visited her is no reason to stop. Even if the undead keeps visiting. And bringing gifts. And being a rather dashing female knight. Oh dear. (F/F)
Borderlands
Dogpile - Being a bandit on Pandora is pretty fuckin rad. No one cares if you don't shower, or if you dabbled in cannibalism that one time. Or that your besties are a bunch of shitty skags. Did someone say convoy raid? Because it's convoy raid time, assholes! (OC-centric)
Girls Frontline
Sword Dance - Executioner does some repair work. Scarecrow lends a hand. (F/F)
Collected Worm Prompt List:
- Shards create tiny, chibi avatars around their host that only people with powers can see
- Harbinger stays with S9
- Contessa takes a day off to spend with Doctor Mom
- Alexandria wears metal underwear. Discuss.
- Coil doesn't find Tattletale, what does she do/where does she go?
- Greg's friendship with Sveta leads him to volunteer at a parahuman asylum
- Amy is adopted by the fine and upstanding Anders family. Who's more miserable, her or Theo?
- Parian gets a special order- the gown for a cape wedding
- Parian gets a special order- the suit for a cape funeral
- Black Kaze joins the ABB rather than going to the Birdcage
- Amy celebrates a lonely Father's Day for the dad she barely remembers
- Vista waits in line for the brand new My Little Horsie Movie. She runs into Sophia. Sophia is also in line.
- Medieval Worm- Taylor triggers and is instantly branded a witch. She runs for it.
- Dragon experiences food for the first time with her human body
- On a whim, Kaiser pretends to be a hero for a day, masquerading as "The Steel Avenger." No one is fooled. (Alt: Everyone is fooled.)
- The Wards stop for Chinese food at the same time as Lung.
- The asylum organizes a play- Labyrinth plays the princess. Burnscar is the prince.
- Night and Fog get slapped with babysitting duty for Aster.
- Tattletale hates Faultline not because Faultline is smarter, but because she totally served Tattletale in a dance-off.
- Missy Biron- Girl Scout Extraordinaire
- A Day in Dr. Yamada's life.
- Marquis gets a tattoo to commemorate his daughter, pre-Birdcage!Amy.
- Damsel of Distress finally pulls off a big job.
- Accord hosts a team-building exercise for the Ambassadors. Who lives?
- Kaiser discovers someone in E88 is gay. Who is it? (All of them.)
- Contessa takes one day off a year to spend with Doctor Mom.
- Annette and Danny both die in the car crash. Taylor goes to live with...
- Simurgh introduces the new girls, Tohu and Bohu, to the joys of human form. Human!Endbringers.
- Heartbreaker drops dead and leaves everything to Alec just to be an asshole. How does Alec handle his new harem?
- Magic themed capes try to summon a demon. It works.
- Skitter and Grue find time for an actual date. Fate conspires against them.
- Aisha lets Alec puppet her for the first time. He uses it to see what life is like through her eyes.
- Mannequin isn't really a Simurgh victim. That was just an excuse to get rid of his family. He knows the importance of removing dead weight after all.
- Scenes from Bonesaw's childhood. Six going on Nine.
- Bakuda nurses a crush for Lung.
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City In Night (Worm)
As my first actual post to this thread, I thought I'd post something totally new.
New as in it's been sitting on my harddrive for two years and never went anywhere. This idea originally came out of a prompt I suggested at the end of Speak with the Dead, but I could never quite get it to materialize. Main inspiration was definitely Salem's Lot by Stephen King.
City in Night
7:50pm
Elle peeked out the back door, biting her lip.
Through the gap, she could look into the garden behind the Palanquin. It was a small space, only half the width of the building, and itself barely wider than an alley. The gap let her catch a glimpse of the tall wooden fence that blocked out the street beyond, enclosing the garden on three sides.
She opened the door a little wider. The view grew to include the cluster of thin trees shading the sparse grass, and the little bench that sat against the left fence. The sight of the bench- empty, made her let out a low breath. Newter brought girls out back sometimes, and she didn't want to interrupt if he had.
The door opened just wide enough for her to slip through, and she shut it like it was made of glass.
She was having a good day. Good enough that she'd helped Emily set up the DJ's station for when the club opened in a little while. She'd even managed to talk to Emily while they worked, and carry on her end of the conversation and not come off sounding dumb.
But any more would be pushing her luck. Shamrock would have said something about not blowing a winning streak. So Elle was keeping quiet, trying to avoid having to talk to anyone.
She glanced down at the bench. Cigarette butts littered the ground around it, and a vague memory of some of the busboys smoking out here floated up to her. She turned away, walking into the grass.
The garden was well within her power, now grown to several blocks in size, but there was no need for anything big. On a good day, her view into those imaginary worlds was a crack, half-glimpsed like when she'd peered out into the garden. It made her power slower, more limited, but also easier to control, less distracting.
She focused, pulling from images of fields of grain, of grass bending in the wind. The patch of grass rippled, new shoots springing up from nothing, the gravel melting away to become thick, loamy dirt. Vines began twining up and down the fence, dark purple flowers blooming along them in bunches. More changes began- statues shifting their way out of the ground, the flowers were twisting into impossible hues and shapes, but she held out a hand and pushed her power to a stop.
The images flashed over her vision, wanting to come out, but she pushed harder. Slowly, they faded; the verdant landscapes giving way to the real world. She let the half-finished changes remain. To push them away would incite more visions. They'd fade on their own.
Elle kicked off her shoes and flopped down on her grass. It was a little too sharp, too prickly, not quite as she'd imagined it. She risked one last use of her power, and the grass shivered, laying a little less stiffly.
She ran her hands through the blades of grass, now softer than any she'd ever felt. A palpable relief rose in her. Another success. And she'd got her power under control before she turned the block into Narnia or something. This was a good day. It was a small thing, but Melanie had told her to take pride in the small things.
A breeze whistled through the slats in the fence, rustling the trees and grass. Elle lay back, staring up through the leaves into a sky painted orange by sunset. The day- the good day was almost over. For once, she was to just able to sit and stare, and have it mean something.
Slowly, the orange crept out of the sky, replaced by fingers of blue and purple. The Palanquin hummed into life behind her, a murmur of voices leaking out as the club filled up with early customers. The noise didn't spoil the moment, not even a bit. There were people inside, but she didn't have to talk to them. Not because she couldn't, but because she didn't want to. And that made all the difference in the world.
Elle inhaled, drinking in the calm. She'd have to go inside in a bit. Brockton Bay's January wasn't as cold as some, but the chill wasn't something she could stave off. Now that the sun was down, any warmth had left the air, leaving behind a briskness that made her want to burrow down into the grass.
She giggled softly at the thought. Infinite power over reality itself at her fingertips, and she still couldn't just magic up a sweater.
Maybe she could…
The visions rose up, faster than before. Landscapes. Warmth. Tropical islands with white sand stretching to the horizon. Deserts built of parched bone. A realm of fire and lava and iron. She pushed, reaching for the tropics. They blended, morphing as she imposed her thoughts. Beaches. But no, she couldn't warm the air, could she? Maybe she-
The wind blew again, and Elle blinked. The sky was full dark above her now. The trees were shadowy cutouts, leaves standing out against the haze of light pollution. Webs of brass and gold threaded themselves through the trees, glinting dully. The leaves were elongating, twirling to meld into the webs, forming the trees into an elaborate tangle of-
Ell pounded her fist against the ground. Even the grass felt different; mossier, ribbed with roots. It shuddered under her, flowing into dirt, and then sand, and then-
No. It was happening again. She was losing control, losing focus. She-
Her eyes swept over the worlds that could and would.
===
9:16pm
Michael Paulson twirled his mop, finishing the last bit of tile in the corner of the lobby. He nodded, spun his mop of in a parody of parade rest, and then grabbed the bucket.
"All done," he called to Eliza.
The blonde girl behind the desk didn't look up from her textbook. She made a noise like "mmh," and went on reading.
"Meaning we can go home," Michael added loudly.
Eliza mm-ed again, turned a page, made a note with her highlighter. Michael waited, leaning on his mop, for her to catch up. Talking to Eliza when she studied was like talking to the wall. It took a long moment before she jerked her head up, blinking owlishly.
"You're done?"
Michael swept his hand wide, gesturing at the glistening expanse of the lobby. The chore chart hadn't been kind today; mopping the front took forever. It was easier than cleaning the kennels, but the time it took made it his least favorite of all the jobs in the animal shelter.
Eliza dog-earred the corner of her page and closed the book. She stood with a groan and stretched, her skinny frame bending as she did so.
Michael felt his gaze slide up her, tracing the little folds in her shirt where it contoured her body. It was like using his power, his eye going inexorably to points, crossing the loose neck of her t-shirt to follow the smooth line of her collarbone; from there up her neck to her face, his eyes meeting hers.
She was smirking, one eyebrow arched roguishly. "How's the view?"
Michael sidled over to the front desk.
"Not bad," he said. "I might enjoy it more though if someone had helped me mop."
"You just want to see me in a maid outfit," Eliza shot back, grinning.
He shrugged. "It's not like sexy veterinarian is really a thing. I'll take what I can get."
Eliza laughed and began gathering her books while he carried his cleaning supplies over to the little storage closet on the side of the room. He tossed them in without turning on the lights, already tallying up all the things they needed to do in order to close.
He'd mopped, Eliza had cleaned the kennels, and Meredith was in the office doing paperwork. Reggie, Juno, Mikey, Samuel and… what was the terrier's name? Campbell? Something like that. They'd all gotten their medication, and he'd give them a final check before lights out. Juno had been picking her stitches. She'd need a cone during the night. Mercedes was due for an x-ray in the morning; he'd pencil that in before he left.
What else though?
An arm wrapped around his waist. Eliza grinned up at him from his side. "Hurry up, I want to show Meredith something."
"Something with the dogs?"
"Something like that," she said. "I think you're wrong about the sexy vet thing, and I bet she'll agree."
Still with Eliza clinging to him, Michael returned to the desk to write in Mercedes' x-ray.
"So… you're going to demonstrate?" he said distractedly.
He'd do another round of bloodwork for Mercedes. Just to be sure. That wasn't going to be fun. Merc was a dog-fight rescue, and even with his power there was only so much he could do to calm her. He'd-
Eliza squeezed his wrist. "I was thinking that you'd demonstrate for us."
Michael stopped mid-sentence, staring at her.
"You wanna be our sexy vet?" she said innocently.
Michael tried as hard as he could, but he couldn't control the blush that worked its way into his tanned cheeks. He knew Eliza had seen it when she snorted and let go of him.
He gave her a nudge with his elbow. "You know my feelings on office romance."
"No funny business in the break room?"
"No," he said, all mock-sternness, "It's-"
The dogs started barking. All the dogs at once. His reply was lost in the cacophony, muted in the lobby, but still ever-present wherever they could go in the shelter.
"The hell?" Eliza muttered. "What are they barking at?"
Michael cocked his head, listening. It was impossible to pick out individual dogs in the tumult; two-dozen animals were barking, howling, and snarling, and the sounds were reverberating against the concrete, forming a deafening wall of noise. He let his power loosen a bit, focusing on the general sounds from the kennels. The sound of breaking glass- a crash, something else breaking, and the dogs changed their tune.
They didn't qualify things in actual words; his power was doing that, translating their vague instincts into something he could understand.
-other-other-stranger-new-stranger-bad-intruder-defend-bite-bad-
"What's wrong?" Eliza said. She was looking at him, a hint of worry creeping into her face.
"I don't know," he said slowly. "Something doesn't feel right though. Go get Meredith and-"
"No." Eliza shook her head. "You're a fucking idiot if you expect me to let you go in there alone."
The stony determination in her expression took him aback. He didn't need his power to see that she was completely set on coming with him.
"Let's get Meredith," he amended, and Eliza nodded.
The dogs continued barking as he and Eliza moved to the door on the opposite side of the lobby from the closet. Unlike the utilitarian metal door of the closet, this door had a small wire-glass window, and a nameplate reading 'Staff Only.'
He pulled the door open. The office was dim, barely larger than the storage room, lit by a single computer screen. Meredith sat hunched over the keyboard, grumbling under her breath at the tall stack of forms beside her.
"Mere, someone's in the back," Eliza said breathlessly.
Meredith turned to look at them, her eyes reflecting back little rectangles of light from the screen.
"With the dogs?" she said, her face darkening. "What are we waiting for?"
"It's- I mean- better safe than sorry, right?" said Eliza.
Both girls exchanged a look at that, and Michael winced. He'd never seen that look before a couple of years ago. A few Merchants had busted in the back door of the shelter looking for pills. He'd been there, caught them at it and rushed in like an idiot. When it was all said and done, the gangers got away, and he got six weeks in intensive care and a new scar.
It was an ugly, puckered little thing like a cigarette burn, just below his right nipple where the bullet had gone in. And it still hadn't hurt nearly as much as realizing that he'd almost lost them.
"Hey," he said softly. "Don't. It's not going to be like then."
"No, no it's not," Meredith finished.
She bent to open the bottom drawer of the desk. From within, she withdrew a short, snubby revolver, the one thing she'd inherited from her father. Eliza made a small gasping noise, but Meredith ignored her, going through the motions of checking the cylinder and hammer. When she clicked the cylinder back into place, it seemed to echo through the room.
"Let's go," she said.
They were quiet, alone with their thoughts as they returned to the lobby. Halfway to the desk, Eliza held up a hand for them to wait. She scurried over and picked up the brick they used to prop open the front door on warm nights, hefting it like a shot put.
That left only him without a weapon. Michael's stomach churned as separated from them and went to the storage closet. There was an iron bar there, propped up against the water heater. It was a remnant, a leftover from when they'd first remodeled the building into a shelter. The bar didn't have any actual purpose, but they'd all agreed that it was good to have around just in case they found a use for it. It was cool against his palm, little bits of rust flaking off as he touched it.
"For… for them."
His voice hitched in the middle, his nerves betraying him. He wasn't a fighter. Never had been. It was why he'd never done the cape thing.
But for them- for them, he would be.
He returned to the lobby, and the girls fell in at his sides, their trio reformed. Eliza had her brick clutched to her chest, her face a little green. Meredith was stalking, pistol at her side, the other hand on his shoulder.
The dogs were still barking, but he could hear the intruder now, their low voice barely audible in the rare space between barks.
He put his hand against the right kennel door. They were metal, with a small circular window set at head height. The windows were plastic, fingerprint-smudged and scratched from long use. It was impossible to see more than blurs through them.
"Ready?" he whispered.
Meredith nodded, her face grim.
Eliza nudged his elbow. "If anything happens, we run. Okay?"
He copied Meredith's nod, not trusting his voice much at the moment.
"We all run," Eliza repeated. "All of us."
As one, they pushed the door open.
The dog kennel was one long building, all cinderblock, with a door at the far end leading to the cat kennel. Each kennel was identical, with chain-link fronted pens along each wall running the length of the floor.
Again, as one, they stopped and stared.
Someone had let the dogs out.
Someone who was standing in the midst of a veritable herd of furry bodies. The intruder turned, and Michael's heart leapt into his throat.
The young woman was auburn-haired, a shade darker than his. She wore a green military jacket, the front hanging open over bare skin, her jeans torn off at the knee, the fabric hanging in strips around her legs. She stood unconcerned in the throng, running muddy hands along every dog within reach.
"You!" Eliza hissed.
The woman jerked, her head coming up, her hair falling away from her face. Dark circles ran under hollow eyes, and her skin was nearly gray under the fluorescents, but it was a face Michael knew well.
He let the bar fall from his hand with a clatter and stepped forward to face her.
"Bitch."
===
9:30pm
Far across the city from the animal shelter, a man walked down the flight of stairs from the rooftop. He did up the last buttons on the white doctor's coat he now wore, long fingers moving smoothly, working by feel alone. The safety light in the stairs had been broken at some point, and now the man had to descend in darkness.
He was smiling the whole way down. The cities here were funny, their nights so light polluted that it was like having a second day. It wasn't a bad thing; he liked the change of scenery, but the end result was that the stairwell, unlit as it was, was actually more soothing than the night outside.
A line of light appeared below as a door opened, and someone entered the stairwell. The man stepped aside for the newcomer. He could see her clearly; a woman, wearing the twin to his jacket. She ascended with a cell phone held out in front of them as an impromptu flashlight. The man gave her his best smile as the light highlighted him.
"Dark, isn't it?" he said.
The woman gave a barking laugh, "Buddy, you want lighting, you go to Anders Memorial. Brockton General doesn't need piddly crap like lights."
His laugh filled the stairwell, and he descended past her.
"Hey." She had paused, looking back at him. "Are you new? I don't recognize you."
The man shrugged, deliberately shifting the white coat he wore. "I just transferred onto this shift. I was on graveyard before, down in pediatrics."
"Oh, I just thought- I dunno." She hesitated. "So, you know Doctor Mullhauser?"
"Mullhauser?" The man said slowly, like he was trying to recall. This was growing tiresome. He suddenly glanced down at his watch. "Damn! I've got to be back. Sorry, but duty calls!"
He hurried away down the stairs before she could get another word in. A passing conversation was one thing, easily bluffed. But the longer they spoke, the more likely he was to arouse suspicion. Better to cut and run and be forgotten than to overcompensate and blow his cover.
He exited the stairwell onto an almost blindingly well-lit corridor. Blinking surreptitiously, the man made his way toward the nurse's station. The desk sat at the juncture of two intersecting halls, deserted but for a single tired-looking nurse going through manila folders.
He paused there a moment, taking in a deep breath of hospital air. The scent universal to all hospitals filled his lungs, and his body dissected it, picking apart the individual strands of pine cleanser and anti-septic spray, of urine and sweat, and- he swallowed- of blood.
Tempting, but not now. It was a single scent he wanted, one not so mundane as the others. The trail led down the right side of the intersection. He followed the trail, giving a casual nod to the nurse as he looked up.
The new hallway ran only a short distance before a wall and a locked door blocked it. A sign reading 'Psychiatric Ward.' A smaller, hand-written sign was taped up just below it. 'Card reader on the fritz. If it doesn't work, call Maintenance (ext. 313)'
Helpful. His white coat had a nametag attached to one pocket. He bent down to press it against the reader. The reader beeped, a little red light flicking on it. It… stayed red.
He tried the door. Locked.
"Guess it's maintenance for me," he muttered, checking over his shoulder. The hall was empty, the nurse not visible.
It was the work of seconds to twist the door handle until the locking mechanism snapped. The handle itself bent, the metal plating around it rumpling. When he pulled his hand away, there were actually little ridges on the handle where his fingers had been.
Maintenance was going to have its work cut out for them.
The man slipped through the door, his smile back in place.
It was late enough that the psych ward was quiet; the hallway lights dimmed, and the lights in each patient's room were off. The smell of urine was stronger here, tinged with a sour undercurrent of fear-sweat. Fortunately, the trail he was following wasn't actually a scent. It took the form of a scent; an olfactory cue, a more educated type might have said, but it was really just his power conceptualizing something too complex for him to understand.
For that, he was grateful. The trail was a delight; airy, somehow multi-faceted, revealing new aspects the longer he examined it, like a dozen exotic perfumes vying for his attention. It wasn't quite what he'd imagined Panacea's power to look like; it felt more like a Thinker, really, but he wasn't complaining.
Room 304 was at the end of the hall, just short of a picture window with a little bench. He spared the window a glance, did a double-take, and then laughed. The stupid thing! It faced out on a distant wing of the hospital; an identical span of dark windows and dim hallways. The view below was the roof of a lower wing, all gray concrete stained with pigeon shit.
No wonder they were mad. He'd be mad too if that was all he had to look at.
The man turned and entered 304. The door was unlocked, and it wasn't hard to see why. The patient was tied to her bed, held at ankles and wrist by padded cuffs. Even her fingers were wrapped in mesh bags to prevent her clawing herself.
He flicked on the light. The girl stirred, her dark hair knotted like a wild woman's.
The trail led to her. The man frowned slightly. Definitely not Panacea then. He had thought… it was a hospital after all. How many parahumans could there be in one hospital? And Panacea was just so well known for visiting…
But beggars couldn't be choosers. Or would the saying about life and lemons be more appropriate here? He could get Panacea later.
"Dobrý večer, Sleeping Beauty!" he called cheerily.
The girl twisted again at the sound of his voice. The bed clothes were rumpled around her, the sheets kicked to the floor. Even her hospital gown was a mess, tangled about her thin body and hiked above the knee.
The man rested a hand on her ankle cuff. The chart at the foot of the bed was very helpful. Not Panacea indeed. He slid his hand to her ankle as he read, walking his fingers up her leg. The chart made him want to laugh again. They had all the puzzle pieces, but hadn't put it together. He hadn't even needed his powers to figure it out. A psychotic episode? Hardly.
"A troublesome power, isn't it?" he said to the girl. She didn't answer.
His fingers spidered up her knee.
"What do you say we leave this place, dear girl?"
Silence. He'd take that as a maybe.
The man tugged the hem of her gown down before walking his fingers up her hip.
"I'm collecting talented people, you see. There's someone very important who's going to be watching, and I'm going to put on a show for her."
His hand crept up and up to settle over her heart, his long fingers splayed out like a star. He could feel her heartbeat, low and slow in sleep.
"One night only, and I think you'd make a fine addition."
The man leaned down, tasting her scent. An excellent power indeed. He wasn't sure what it did, but it felt special. He wondered briefly what she would have called it.
The girl stirred, her eyes fluttering.
"Time to wake up."
Her eyes opened. She blinked once, and then her eyes shot open. The man leapt forward, but not in time to stop her from uttering a high, keening moan. He slapped his hand over her mouth, but she didn't stop making the sound.
"Calm, calm!" he hissed.
Either she didn't hear, or she didn't understand. She was pulling against the cuffs now, the bed shaking as her thin frame contorted itself. Her face was screwed up with pain, her rapid breaths hot against his palm as she kept moaning.
"Please, hush! You can-" What the girl could do, he didn't know. He closed his free hand around her throat and her moan choked off, the breath needed to scream no longer there.
"Hush."
She didn't stop writhing though, her eyes rolling, unseeing. The man sighed as he continued to hold her down. The powers would be wasted on her, mad as she was. What he was going to do was practically a public service.
The man leaned in, pressing her down- holding her down. He could feel her pulse, the vein in her neck thrumming away under his fingers.
"Carpe nocte, Taylor."
His lips met her throat, and she started trying to scream again.
For a long while, the only sound in the hospital room was the dull patter of her heels against the bed as she struggled. Eventually though, even those ceased.
Carpe jugulum.
===
9:35 pm
Bitch was silent for a long moment. One of the dogs nudged her, but she pushed him away with an absent hand.
"What are you doing here?" Michael said, shouting to be heard over the symphony of barking dogs.
Bitch's lips moved, but he couldn't hear her. Her reply was lost in the noise.
Michael grimaced, anger bleeding out from tensed nerves.
"Shut up!" he yelled.
Every dog stopped barking at once. A few whined, but most were looking to him now. Eliza stirred behind him, uneasy. He never used his power around them if he could help it.
Bitch looked angry now, spots of color rising in her pale cheeks.
"Why are you here?" he repeated.
"Don't yell at my dogs." She stepped forward, her fists balled. "Don't you fucking dare."
Meredith moved to stand at his side. "You broke in!"
Bitch froze, a muscle in her cheek twitching. Some of the anger had left her face, and Michael was shocked at what replaced it. Bone deep exhaustion. Bitch never showed weakness.
"Had- had to," Bitch said. "I- I was ordered to come here."
That was bad. If she'd been ordered, this was a cape thing. By unspoken agreement, both of them refrained from using their powers in the shelter. He let her keep bringing in strays she found for medical care, and she didn't cause any trouble. They'd known she was a cape, of course. He'd been getting emails from the Protectorate ever since he first registered as an independent, and their 'Villain Bulletin' featured Bitch prominently.
"Who ordered you?" Meredith spoke this time. She had both hands on her gun, still pointing it at the floor.
"Him. He-" Bitch swallowed, shaking her head. "Can't say. He makes it so you can't- can't fight back." She set a hand on one of the dogs, one of hers, a bulky Doberman with a clipped ear.
"Eliza, get back," Michael whispered. He let his power free, the world seeming to expand around his as his senses split. Bitch's body language was suddenly clear as day; frightened, coerced, angry, but also… her hands- she was preparing to fight. Beside him, Eliza was readjusting her grip on her brick, and Meredith was stepping back into a firing stance.
"Girls," he said, deathly quiet. "I want you to run."
"What- no!" Eliza hissed. "We're a team. We'll-"
"She's coming," he shot back. "Now go out the front and run. Call the police."
Meredith raised her pistol, pointing it directly at Bitch. "Hands up. Don't fuck around, Bitch."
Bitch's lips twitched, her brow furrowing with anger. She stepped forward, her other dogs coming to heel beside her.
She was coming. It was happening now. Bitch was angry, but he could see it, could read her words and body for cues. Knew that even if she didn't want to fight, she had to, and she'd always reacted to threats with aggression.
"Mere, Eliza, run now."
The girls flinched, and he turned to look as they fled. Eliza's face, white and stark, mouth twisted with the force of his betrayal. Meredith didn't look back, but he could read her, could read the hurt there. Because he'd broken his promise, his oath to them.
I will never use my power on you. Never.
Bitch was waiting for him when he turned back. "You should run too," she said.
"Wouldn't work. You're too fast. If they can get away, I'm happy with what happens."
"They better drive fast," she said. Something behind her eyes had gone dark. "Because I have to catch them too."
"Maybe you should just stop there," He commanded.
She flinched, her motions drawing to a halt.
"Won't… work," she gritted through clenched teeth. "Not now."
Bitch took a step forward, her limbs slow and clumsy like she was walking through tar. A wave of cold went down Michael's back. His commands weren't infallible, but they couldn't be shaken off just like that.
"Stop."
She took another step, this one a little faster.
"I said stop, Bitch!"
Another step. Then another. Her lips pulled back, exposing white, sharp teeth. No- not just teeth- she had fangs- long canines like one of her dogs.
"Run!" she snarled.
And then she howled.
===
I had more, but this was the longest continuous, largely finished section. Didn't have much more though.
If anyone cares, Michael is one of the OCs from Speak, making an appearance here. His power is a low level Master ability centered around communication. He can be understood regardless of what language someone speaks, and animals understand him as well. He can give weighted commands that generate a very strong impulse in the target to follow what was said. Being a generally decent human being, he tries very hard not to use it.
New as in it's been sitting on my harddrive for two years and never went anywhere. This idea originally came out of a prompt I suggested at the end of Speak with the Dead, but I could never quite get it to materialize. Main inspiration was definitely Salem's Lot by Stephen King.
City in Night
7:50pm
Elle peeked out the back door, biting her lip.
Through the gap, she could look into the garden behind the Palanquin. It was a small space, only half the width of the building, and itself barely wider than an alley. The gap let her catch a glimpse of the tall wooden fence that blocked out the street beyond, enclosing the garden on three sides.
She opened the door a little wider. The view grew to include the cluster of thin trees shading the sparse grass, and the little bench that sat against the left fence. The sight of the bench- empty, made her let out a low breath. Newter brought girls out back sometimes, and she didn't want to interrupt if he had.
The door opened just wide enough for her to slip through, and she shut it like it was made of glass.
She was having a good day. Good enough that she'd helped Emily set up the DJ's station for when the club opened in a little while. She'd even managed to talk to Emily while they worked, and carry on her end of the conversation and not come off sounding dumb.
But any more would be pushing her luck. Shamrock would have said something about not blowing a winning streak. So Elle was keeping quiet, trying to avoid having to talk to anyone.
She glanced down at the bench. Cigarette butts littered the ground around it, and a vague memory of some of the busboys smoking out here floated up to her. She turned away, walking into the grass.
The garden was well within her power, now grown to several blocks in size, but there was no need for anything big. On a good day, her view into those imaginary worlds was a crack, half-glimpsed like when she'd peered out into the garden. It made her power slower, more limited, but also easier to control, less distracting.
She focused, pulling from images of fields of grain, of grass bending in the wind. The patch of grass rippled, new shoots springing up from nothing, the gravel melting away to become thick, loamy dirt. Vines began twining up and down the fence, dark purple flowers blooming along them in bunches. More changes began- statues shifting their way out of the ground, the flowers were twisting into impossible hues and shapes, but she held out a hand and pushed her power to a stop.
The images flashed over her vision, wanting to come out, but she pushed harder. Slowly, they faded; the verdant landscapes giving way to the real world. She let the half-finished changes remain. To push them away would incite more visions. They'd fade on their own.
Elle kicked off her shoes and flopped down on her grass. It was a little too sharp, too prickly, not quite as she'd imagined it. She risked one last use of her power, and the grass shivered, laying a little less stiffly.
She ran her hands through the blades of grass, now softer than any she'd ever felt. A palpable relief rose in her. Another success. And she'd got her power under control before she turned the block into Narnia or something. This was a good day. It was a small thing, but Melanie had told her to take pride in the small things.
A breeze whistled through the slats in the fence, rustling the trees and grass. Elle lay back, staring up through the leaves into a sky painted orange by sunset. The day- the good day was almost over. For once, she was to just able to sit and stare, and have it mean something.
Slowly, the orange crept out of the sky, replaced by fingers of blue and purple. The Palanquin hummed into life behind her, a murmur of voices leaking out as the club filled up with early customers. The noise didn't spoil the moment, not even a bit. There were people inside, but she didn't have to talk to them. Not because she couldn't, but because she didn't want to. And that made all the difference in the world.
Elle inhaled, drinking in the calm. She'd have to go inside in a bit. Brockton Bay's January wasn't as cold as some, but the chill wasn't something she could stave off. Now that the sun was down, any warmth had left the air, leaving behind a briskness that made her want to burrow down into the grass.
She giggled softly at the thought. Infinite power over reality itself at her fingertips, and she still couldn't just magic up a sweater.
Maybe she could…
The visions rose up, faster than before. Landscapes. Warmth. Tropical islands with white sand stretching to the horizon. Deserts built of parched bone. A realm of fire and lava and iron. She pushed, reaching for the tropics. They blended, morphing as she imposed her thoughts. Beaches. But no, she couldn't warm the air, could she? Maybe she-
The wind blew again, and Elle blinked. The sky was full dark above her now. The trees were shadowy cutouts, leaves standing out against the haze of light pollution. Webs of brass and gold threaded themselves through the trees, glinting dully. The leaves were elongating, twirling to meld into the webs, forming the trees into an elaborate tangle of-
Ell pounded her fist against the ground. Even the grass felt different; mossier, ribbed with roots. It shuddered under her, flowing into dirt, and then sand, and then-
No. It was happening again. She was losing control, losing focus. She-
Her eyes swept over the worlds that could and would.
===
9:16pm
Michael Paulson twirled his mop, finishing the last bit of tile in the corner of the lobby. He nodded, spun his mop of in a parody of parade rest, and then grabbed the bucket.
"All done," he called to Eliza.
The blonde girl behind the desk didn't look up from her textbook. She made a noise like "mmh," and went on reading.
"Meaning we can go home," Michael added loudly.
Eliza mm-ed again, turned a page, made a note with her highlighter. Michael waited, leaning on his mop, for her to catch up. Talking to Eliza when she studied was like talking to the wall. It took a long moment before she jerked her head up, blinking owlishly.
"You're done?"
Michael swept his hand wide, gesturing at the glistening expanse of the lobby. The chore chart hadn't been kind today; mopping the front took forever. It was easier than cleaning the kennels, but the time it took made it his least favorite of all the jobs in the animal shelter.
Eliza dog-earred the corner of her page and closed the book. She stood with a groan and stretched, her skinny frame bending as she did so.
Michael felt his gaze slide up her, tracing the little folds in her shirt where it contoured her body. It was like using his power, his eye going inexorably to points, crossing the loose neck of her t-shirt to follow the smooth line of her collarbone; from there up her neck to her face, his eyes meeting hers.
She was smirking, one eyebrow arched roguishly. "How's the view?"
Michael sidled over to the front desk.
"Not bad," he said. "I might enjoy it more though if someone had helped me mop."
"You just want to see me in a maid outfit," Eliza shot back, grinning.
He shrugged. "It's not like sexy veterinarian is really a thing. I'll take what I can get."
Eliza laughed and began gathering her books while he carried his cleaning supplies over to the little storage closet on the side of the room. He tossed them in without turning on the lights, already tallying up all the things they needed to do in order to close.
He'd mopped, Eliza had cleaned the kennels, and Meredith was in the office doing paperwork. Reggie, Juno, Mikey, Samuel and… what was the terrier's name? Campbell? Something like that. They'd all gotten their medication, and he'd give them a final check before lights out. Juno had been picking her stitches. She'd need a cone during the night. Mercedes was due for an x-ray in the morning; he'd pencil that in before he left.
What else though?
An arm wrapped around his waist. Eliza grinned up at him from his side. "Hurry up, I want to show Meredith something."
"Something with the dogs?"
"Something like that," she said. "I think you're wrong about the sexy vet thing, and I bet she'll agree."
Still with Eliza clinging to him, Michael returned to the desk to write in Mercedes' x-ray.
"So… you're going to demonstrate?" he said distractedly.
He'd do another round of bloodwork for Mercedes. Just to be sure. That wasn't going to be fun. Merc was a dog-fight rescue, and even with his power there was only so much he could do to calm her. He'd-
Eliza squeezed his wrist. "I was thinking that you'd demonstrate for us."
Michael stopped mid-sentence, staring at her.
"You wanna be our sexy vet?" she said innocently.
Michael tried as hard as he could, but he couldn't control the blush that worked its way into his tanned cheeks. He knew Eliza had seen it when she snorted and let go of him.
He gave her a nudge with his elbow. "You know my feelings on office romance."
"No funny business in the break room?"
"No," he said, all mock-sternness, "It's-"
The dogs started barking. All the dogs at once. His reply was lost in the cacophony, muted in the lobby, but still ever-present wherever they could go in the shelter.
"The hell?" Eliza muttered. "What are they barking at?"
Michael cocked his head, listening. It was impossible to pick out individual dogs in the tumult; two-dozen animals were barking, howling, and snarling, and the sounds were reverberating against the concrete, forming a deafening wall of noise. He let his power loosen a bit, focusing on the general sounds from the kennels. The sound of breaking glass- a crash, something else breaking, and the dogs changed their tune.
They didn't qualify things in actual words; his power was doing that, translating their vague instincts into something he could understand.
-other-other-stranger-new-stranger-bad-intruder-defend-bite-bad-
"What's wrong?" Eliza said. She was looking at him, a hint of worry creeping into her face.
"I don't know," he said slowly. "Something doesn't feel right though. Go get Meredith and-"
"No." Eliza shook her head. "You're a fucking idiot if you expect me to let you go in there alone."
The stony determination in her expression took him aback. He didn't need his power to see that she was completely set on coming with him.
"Let's get Meredith," he amended, and Eliza nodded.
The dogs continued barking as he and Eliza moved to the door on the opposite side of the lobby from the closet. Unlike the utilitarian metal door of the closet, this door had a small wire-glass window, and a nameplate reading 'Staff Only.'
He pulled the door open. The office was dim, barely larger than the storage room, lit by a single computer screen. Meredith sat hunched over the keyboard, grumbling under her breath at the tall stack of forms beside her.
"Mere, someone's in the back," Eliza said breathlessly.
Meredith turned to look at them, her eyes reflecting back little rectangles of light from the screen.
"With the dogs?" she said, her face darkening. "What are we waiting for?"
"It's- I mean- better safe than sorry, right?" said Eliza.
Both girls exchanged a look at that, and Michael winced. He'd never seen that look before a couple of years ago. A few Merchants had busted in the back door of the shelter looking for pills. He'd been there, caught them at it and rushed in like an idiot. When it was all said and done, the gangers got away, and he got six weeks in intensive care and a new scar.
It was an ugly, puckered little thing like a cigarette burn, just below his right nipple where the bullet had gone in. And it still hadn't hurt nearly as much as realizing that he'd almost lost them.
"Hey," he said softly. "Don't. It's not going to be like then."
"No, no it's not," Meredith finished.
She bent to open the bottom drawer of the desk. From within, she withdrew a short, snubby revolver, the one thing she'd inherited from her father. Eliza made a small gasping noise, but Meredith ignored her, going through the motions of checking the cylinder and hammer. When she clicked the cylinder back into place, it seemed to echo through the room.
"Let's go," she said.
They were quiet, alone with their thoughts as they returned to the lobby. Halfway to the desk, Eliza held up a hand for them to wait. She scurried over and picked up the brick they used to prop open the front door on warm nights, hefting it like a shot put.
That left only him without a weapon. Michael's stomach churned as separated from them and went to the storage closet. There was an iron bar there, propped up against the water heater. It was a remnant, a leftover from when they'd first remodeled the building into a shelter. The bar didn't have any actual purpose, but they'd all agreed that it was good to have around just in case they found a use for it. It was cool against his palm, little bits of rust flaking off as he touched it.
"For… for them."
His voice hitched in the middle, his nerves betraying him. He wasn't a fighter. Never had been. It was why he'd never done the cape thing.
But for them- for them, he would be.
He returned to the lobby, and the girls fell in at his sides, their trio reformed. Eliza had her brick clutched to her chest, her face a little green. Meredith was stalking, pistol at her side, the other hand on his shoulder.
The dogs were still barking, but he could hear the intruder now, their low voice barely audible in the rare space between barks.
He put his hand against the right kennel door. They were metal, with a small circular window set at head height. The windows were plastic, fingerprint-smudged and scratched from long use. It was impossible to see more than blurs through them.
"Ready?" he whispered.
Meredith nodded, her face grim.
Eliza nudged his elbow. "If anything happens, we run. Okay?"
He copied Meredith's nod, not trusting his voice much at the moment.
"We all run," Eliza repeated. "All of us."
As one, they pushed the door open.
The dog kennel was one long building, all cinderblock, with a door at the far end leading to the cat kennel. Each kennel was identical, with chain-link fronted pens along each wall running the length of the floor.
Again, as one, they stopped and stared.
Someone had let the dogs out.
Someone who was standing in the midst of a veritable herd of furry bodies. The intruder turned, and Michael's heart leapt into his throat.
The young woman was auburn-haired, a shade darker than his. She wore a green military jacket, the front hanging open over bare skin, her jeans torn off at the knee, the fabric hanging in strips around her legs. She stood unconcerned in the throng, running muddy hands along every dog within reach.
"You!" Eliza hissed.
The woman jerked, her head coming up, her hair falling away from her face. Dark circles ran under hollow eyes, and her skin was nearly gray under the fluorescents, but it was a face Michael knew well.
He let the bar fall from his hand with a clatter and stepped forward to face her.
"Bitch."
===
9:30pm
Far across the city from the animal shelter, a man walked down the flight of stairs from the rooftop. He did up the last buttons on the white doctor's coat he now wore, long fingers moving smoothly, working by feel alone. The safety light in the stairs had been broken at some point, and now the man had to descend in darkness.
He was smiling the whole way down. The cities here were funny, their nights so light polluted that it was like having a second day. It wasn't a bad thing; he liked the change of scenery, but the end result was that the stairwell, unlit as it was, was actually more soothing than the night outside.
A line of light appeared below as a door opened, and someone entered the stairwell. The man stepped aside for the newcomer. He could see her clearly; a woman, wearing the twin to his jacket. She ascended with a cell phone held out in front of them as an impromptu flashlight. The man gave her his best smile as the light highlighted him.
"Dark, isn't it?" he said.
The woman gave a barking laugh, "Buddy, you want lighting, you go to Anders Memorial. Brockton General doesn't need piddly crap like lights."
His laugh filled the stairwell, and he descended past her.
"Hey." She had paused, looking back at him. "Are you new? I don't recognize you."
The man shrugged, deliberately shifting the white coat he wore. "I just transferred onto this shift. I was on graveyard before, down in pediatrics."
"Oh, I just thought- I dunno." She hesitated. "So, you know Doctor Mullhauser?"
"Mullhauser?" The man said slowly, like he was trying to recall. This was growing tiresome. He suddenly glanced down at his watch. "Damn! I've got to be back. Sorry, but duty calls!"
He hurried away down the stairs before she could get another word in. A passing conversation was one thing, easily bluffed. But the longer they spoke, the more likely he was to arouse suspicion. Better to cut and run and be forgotten than to overcompensate and blow his cover.
He exited the stairwell onto an almost blindingly well-lit corridor. Blinking surreptitiously, the man made his way toward the nurse's station. The desk sat at the juncture of two intersecting halls, deserted but for a single tired-looking nurse going through manila folders.
He paused there a moment, taking in a deep breath of hospital air. The scent universal to all hospitals filled his lungs, and his body dissected it, picking apart the individual strands of pine cleanser and anti-septic spray, of urine and sweat, and- he swallowed- of blood.
Tempting, but not now. It was a single scent he wanted, one not so mundane as the others. The trail led down the right side of the intersection. He followed the trail, giving a casual nod to the nurse as he looked up.
The new hallway ran only a short distance before a wall and a locked door blocked it. A sign reading 'Psychiatric Ward.' A smaller, hand-written sign was taped up just below it. 'Card reader on the fritz. If it doesn't work, call Maintenance (ext. 313)'
Helpful. His white coat had a nametag attached to one pocket. He bent down to press it against the reader. The reader beeped, a little red light flicking on it. It… stayed red.
He tried the door. Locked.
"Guess it's maintenance for me," he muttered, checking over his shoulder. The hall was empty, the nurse not visible.
It was the work of seconds to twist the door handle until the locking mechanism snapped. The handle itself bent, the metal plating around it rumpling. When he pulled his hand away, there were actually little ridges on the handle where his fingers had been.
Maintenance was going to have its work cut out for them.
The man slipped through the door, his smile back in place.
It was late enough that the psych ward was quiet; the hallway lights dimmed, and the lights in each patient's room were off. The smell of urine was stronger here, tinged with a sour undercurrent of fear-sweat. Fortunately, the trail he was following wasn't actually a scent. It took the form of a scent; an olfactory cue, a more educated type might have said, but it was really just his power conceptualizing something too complex for him to understand.
For that, he was grateful. The trail was a delight; airy, somehow multi-faceted, revealing new aspects the longer he examined it, like a dozen exotic perfumes vying for his attention. It wasn't quite what he'd imagined Panacea's power to look like; it felt more like a Thinker, really, but he wasn't complaining.
Room 304 was at the end of the hall, just short of a picture window with a little bench. He spared the window a glance, did a double-take, and then laughed. The stupid thing! It faced out on a distant wing of the hospital; an identical span of dark windows and dim hallways. The view below was the roof of a lower wing, all gray concrete stained with pigeon shit.
No wonder they were mad. He'd be mad too if that was all he had to look at.
The man turned and entered 304. The door was unlocked, and it wasn't hard to see why. The patient was tied to her bed, held at ankles and wrist by padded cuffs. Even her fingers were wrapped in mesh bags to prevent her clawing herself.
He flicked on the light. The girl stirred, her dark hair knotted like a wild woman's.
The trail led to her. The man frowned slightly. Definitely not Panacea then. He had thought… it was a hospital after all. How many parahumans could there be in one hospital? And Panacea was just so well known for visiting…
But beggars couldn't be choosers. Or would the saying about life and lemons be more appropriate here? He could get Panacea later.
"Dobrý večer, Sleeping Beauty!" he called cheerily.
The girl twisted again at the sound of his voice. The bed clothes were rumpled around her, the sheets kicked to the floor. Even her hospital gown was a mess, tangled about her thin body and hiked above the knee.
The man rested a hand on her ankle cuff. The chart at the foot of the bed was very helpful. Not Panacea indeed. He slid his hand to her ankle as he read, walking his fingers up her leg. The chart made him want to laugh again. They had all the puzzle pieces, but hadn't put it together. He hadn't even needed his powers to figure it out. A psychotic episode? Hardly.
"A troublesome power, isn't it?" he said to the girl. She didn't answer.
His fingers spidered up her knee.
"What do you say we leave this place, dear girl?"
Silence. He'd take that as a maybe.
The man tugged the hem of her gown down before walking his fingers up her hip.
"I'm collecting talented people, you see. There's someone very important who's going to be watching, and I'm going to put on a show for her."
His hand crept up and up to settle over her heart, his long fingers splayed out like a star. He could feel her heartbeat, low and slow in sleep.
"One night only, and I think you'd make a fine addition."
The man leaned down, tasting her scent. An excellent power indeed. He wasn't sure what it did, but it felt special. He wondered briefly what she would have called it.
The girl stirred, her eyes fluttering.
"Time to wake up."
Her eyes opened. She blinked once, and then her eyes shot open. The man leapt forward, but not in time to stop her from uttering a high, keening moan. He slapped his hand over her mouth, but she didn't stop making the sound.
"Calm, calm!" he hissed.
Either she didn't hear, or she didn't understand. She was pulling against the cuffs now, the bed shaking as her thin frame contorted itself. Her face was screwed up with pain, her rapid breaths hot against his palm as she kept moaning.
"Please, hush! You can-" What the girl could do, he didn't know. He closed his free hand around her throat and her moan choked off, the breath needed to scream no longer there.
"Hush."
She didn't stop writhing though, her eyes rolling, unseeing. The man sighed as he continued to hold her down. The powers would be wasted on her, mad as she was. What he was going to do was practically a public service.
The man leaned in, pressing her down- holding her down. He could feel her pulse, the vein in her neck thrumming away under his fingers.
"Carpe nocte, Taylor."
His lips met her throat, and she started trying to scream again.
For a long while, the only sound in the hospital room was the dull patter of her heels against the bed as she struggled. Eventually though, even those ceased.
Carpe jugulum.
===
9:35 pm
Bitch was silent for a long moment. One of the dogs nudged her, but she pushed him away with an absent hand.
"What are you doing here?" Michael said, shouting to be heard over the symphony of barking dogs.
Bitch's lips moved, but he couldn't hear her. Her reply was lost in the noise.
Michael grimaced, anger bleeding out from tensed nerves.
"Shut up!" he yelled.
Every dog stopped barking at once. A few whined, but most were looking to him now. Eliza stirred behind him, uneasy. He never used his power around them if he could help it.
Bitch looked angry now, spots of color rising in her pale cheeks.
"Why are you here?" he repeated.
"Don't yell at my dogs." She stepped forward, her fists balled. "Don't you fucking dare."
Meredith moved to stand at his side. "You broke in!"
Bitch froze, a muscle in her cheek twitching. Some of the anger had left her face, and Michael was shocked at what replaced it. Bone deep exhaustion. Bitch never showed weakness.
"Had- had to," Bitch said. "I- I was ordered to come here."
That was bad. If she'd been ordered, this was a cape thing. By unspoken agreement, both of them refrained from using their powers in the shelter. He let her keep bringing in strays she found for medical care, and she didn't cause any trouble. They'd known she was a cape, of course. He'd been getting emails from the Protectorate ever since he first registered as an independent, and their 'Villain Bulletin' featured Bitch prominently.
"Who ordered you?" Meredith spoke this time. She had both hands on her gun, still pointing it at the floor.
"Him. He-" Bitch swallowed, shaking her head. "Can't say. He makes it so you can't- can't fight back." She set a hand on one of the dogs, one of hers, a bulky Doberman with a clipped ear.
"Eliza, get back," Michael whispered. He let his power free, the world seeming to expand around his as his senses split. Bitch's body language was suddenly clear as day; frightened, coerced, angry, but also… her hands- she was preparing to fight. Beside him, Eliza was readjusting her grip on her brick, and Meredith was stepping back into a firing stance.
"Girls," he said, deathly quiet. "I want you to run."
"What- no!" Eliza hissed. "We're a team. We'll-"
"She's coming," he shot back. "Now go out the front and run. Call the police."
Meredith raised her pistol, pointing it directly at Bitch. "Hands up. Don't fuck around, Bitch."
Bitch's lips twitched, her brow furrowing with anger. She stepped forward, her other dogs coming to heel beside her.
She was coming. It was happening now. Bitch was angry, but he could see it, could read her words and body for cues. Knew that even if she didn't want to fight, she had to, and she'd always reacted to threats with aggression.
"Mere, Eliza, run now."
The girls flinched, and he turned to look as they fled. Eliza's face, white and stark, mouth twisted with the force of his betrayal. Meredith didn't look back, but he could read her, could read the hurt there. Because he'd broken his promise, his oath to them.
I will never use my power on you. Never.
Bitch was waiting for him when he turned back. "You should run too," she said.
"Wouldn't work. You're too fast. If they can get away, I'm happy with what happens."
"They better drive fast," she said. Something behind her eyes had gone dark. "Because I have to catch them too."
"Maybe you should just stop there," He commanded.
She flinched, her motions drawing to a halt.
"Won't… work," she gritted through clenched teeth. "Not now."
Bitch took a step forward, her limbs slow and clumsy like she was walking through tar. A wave of cold went down Michael's back. His commands weren't infallible, but they couldn't be shaken off just like that.
"Stop."
She took another step, this one a little faster.
"I said stop, Bitch!"
Another step. Then another. Her lips pulled back, exposing white, sharp teeth. No- not just teeth- she had fangs- long canines like one of her dogs.
"Run!" she snarled.
And then she howled.
===
I had more, but this was the longest continuous, largely finished section. Didn't have much more though.
If anyone cares, Michael is one of the OCs from Speak, making an appearance here. His power is a low level Master ability centered around communication. He can be understood regardless of what language someone speaks, and animals understand him as well. He can give weighted commands that generate a very strong impulse in the target to follow what was said. Being a generally decent human being, he tries very hard not to use it.
Underestimated (HP)
Underestimated
"Your time has come, old man!"
His voice reverberated through the Great Hall. Heads turned to stare at the boy- no, at the man standing in the doorway.
"Your reign of terror ends here, Dumbledore." Harry said coldly.
He had a veritable armory of magical artifacts around him. Rings and pendants, three separate faerie-made wands, his cloak of invisibility draped around his shoulders. Even the Sword of Gryffindor hung at his waist; once more wielded for a righteous cause. Harry stepped forward, clinking slightly with the weight of his gear.
Dumbledore gave no reaction for a long moment, only staring down at Harry from the teacher's table. Finally, Dumbledore rose wearily to his feet.
"Harry... I'm not sure what has prompted this, but-"
Harry cut him off. "You know what you did, Dumbledore! 'For the Greater Good,' wasn't it? No more. Don't try your befuddled old man act on me any longer."
Professor McGonagall stood then. "Mister Potter, what is the meaning of this?!" She shouted. "You can't possibly-"
The Boy Who Lived raised a glowing sapphire. "Silence, Minerva." He snapped his wrist once, and McGonagall fell senseless, the sapphire glowing even more sinisterly for an instant.
Dumbledore's benign smile vanished. Harry smirked back.
"No more blandishments about my mother's love, Dumbledore? Maybe you can send me to live with the Dursley's again. Oh wait," Harry's smirk grew wider. "I killed them already. My real family aren't a bunch of muggles. They weren't even the Potters."
"Harry, please." Dumbledore said. "It is not too late to change things."
"The only changes we'll have today is your end." Harry shot back. "Harry Potter is dead. Call me... Harry Arcturus Neverborn Extremis Black!"
The other students in the hall began muttering among themselves. A few snickered at Harry's new name.
"Now," Harry said. "Will you fight me, Dumbledore? Or will you lay down and die?"
He pocketed the glowing sapphire and raised a new magical artifact. A demon's sword, heritage of his true father. Forged in the flames of a nonspecific, probably vaguely Judeo-Christian Hell. Baptized in the blood of Harry's Veela mother and tempered with angel's tears. The blade did not glow. No, it was filled with unlight. The hall grew darker for its very presence.
Dumbledore sighed. "I see. If it must be this way... Mister Black, then it shall be. However..." Dumbledore paused for a moment, stroking his beard. "May I inquire if that is the particular demon sword that was sealed away in-"
Harry interrupted him again. "Yes! In the ruins of my father's home- the Iron Death Ice Fortress! My birthright, but for your interference!"
"I see." Dumbledore's smile returned.
"What?" Harry snarled. "You dare smirk at High Overlord Black?!"
Dumbledore raised his hands defensively. "Oh no, Mister Black. I was just thinking of the last time I saw that sword."
"When you banished my father and usurped my-"
This time it was Dumbledore who interrupted. "And I suppose that you read the book of spells sealed with it?"
"Yes, but-"
"And you did the accompanying rituals?"
"Yes!" Harry shouted triumphantly. "Even the Dark Rite of Fakshite!"
"Ah." Dumbledore's smile grew a little wider. "Well then, stop me if you've heard this one."
Dumbledore snapped his long fingers once, and then spoke a single word.
"Hubris."
At once, Harry's sword snapped in two. The pieces rusted into nothing in a matter of moments. The High Overlord Black found himself suddenly dizzy, barely able to stay standing. His new-found power deserted him in seconds; most of his magical trinkets fading and falling to pieces. Dumbledore simply stood there, still smiling benignly.
"Tell me, Mister Black, did you ever wonder what I was doing all these years as Headmaster?" Dumbledore chuckled. "You think you're the first special boy to come to Hogwarts? Oh no. It must be every decade or so that one of my students gets it into his head that he could do a better job. Tom Riddle was only the latest. Or... second latest, if we count you."
"What?!" Harry gasped. "But what about the Greater Good and all that?"
"The Greater Good?" Dumbledore shook his head pityingly. "I move our society towards the-" Dumbledore made air-quotes, "Greater Good, with every student who passes through our doors. A proper education and good friends are worth more to wizard kind than any magical rituals or silly artifacts."
"And the Sword of Greater Deathbane?" Harry said. The weight of his artifacts grew too much and he fell to his knees. Around him, students were finally backing away, deserting their spots at the long tables like rats deserting a sinking ship.
"Planted." Dumbledore said. "As was the Ritual of True Ascension, the Jewel of Grinding Souls, and most every other mysterious artifact you can think of. I wasn't sitting on my laurels this whole time, oh no." Dumbledore snapped his fingers once more, and one by one, Harry's remaining items crumbled away into dust.
"You really should have listened to Miss Granger some more," Dumbledore chided. "She'd have known that you can't be half-demon, vampire, veela, and whatever other silly races you've filled in the blanks with at the same time."
"Ah bollocks." Harry swore.
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes." He drew himself up; the air crackling with untold power, every drop of magical power held back for decades.
Harry quailed under the Headmaster's gaze. "No! Dumbledore, please!"
Harry Deathlord Dark'ness Dementia Black screamed with terror as the sentence was pronounced, each word screaming with death's knell.
"One-hundred points from Gryffindor!"
XXX
Original Prompt was: "I just want to see Dumbledore look upon Super-Harry, and, with a twinkle in his eyes, say some compassionate old mentor variant of, "What are you, a fucken casual? Git gud, scrub."
"Your time has come, old man!"
His voice reverberated through the Great Hall. Heads turned to stare at the boy- no, at the man standing in the doorway.
"Your reign of terror ends here, Dumbledore." Harry said coldly.
He had a veritable armory of magical artifacts around him. Rings and pendants, three separate faerie-made wands, his cloak of invisibility draped around his shoulders. Even the Sword of Gryffindor hung at his waist; once more wielded for a righteous cause. Harry stepped forward, clinking slightly with the weight of his gear.
Dumbledore gave no reaction for a long moment, only staring down at Harry from the teacher's table. Finally, Dumbledore rose wearily to his feet.
"Harry... I'm not sure what has prompted this, but-"
Harry cut him off. "You know what you did, Dumbledore! 'For the Greater Good,' wasn't it? No more. Don't try your befuddled old man act on me any longer."
Professor McGonagall stood then. "Mister Potter, what is the meaning of this?!" She shouted. "You can't possibly-"
The Boy Who Lived raised a glowing sapphire. "Silence, Minerva." He snapped his wrist once, and McGonagall fell senseless, the sapphire glowing even more sinisterly for an instant.
Dumbledore's benign smile vanished. Harry smirked back.
"No more blandishments about my mother's love, Dumbledore? Maybe you can send me to live with the Dursley's again. Oh wait," Harry's smirk grew wider. "I killed them already. My real family aren't a bunch of muggles. They weren't even the Potters."
"Harry, please." Dumbledore said. "It is not too late to change things."
"The only changes we'll have today is your end." Harry shot back. "Harry Potter is dead. Call me... Harry Arcturus Neverborn Extremis Black!"
The other students in the hall began muttering among themselves. A few snickered at Harry's new name.
"Now," Harry said. "Will you fight me, Dumbledore? Or will you lay down and die?"
He pocketed the glowing sapphire and raised a new magical artifact. A demon's sword, heritage of his true father. Forged in the flames of a nonspecific, probably vaguely Judeo-Christian Hell. Baptized in the blood of Harry's Veela mother and tempered with angel's tears. The blade did not glow. No, it was filled with unlight. The hall grew darker for its very presence.
Dumbledore sighed. "I see. If it must be this way... Mister Black, then it shall be. However..." Dumbledore paused for a moment, stroking his beard. "May I inquire if that is the particular demon sword that was sealed away in-"
Harry interrupted him again. "Yes! In the ruins of my father's home- the Iron Death Ice Fortress! My birthright, but for your interference!"
"I see." Dumbledore's smile returned.
"What?" Harry snarled. "You dare smirk at High Overlord Black?!"
Dumbledore raised his hands defensively. "Oh no, Mister Black. I was just thinking of the last time I saw that sword."
"When you banished my father and usurped my-"
This time it was Dumbledore who interrupted. "And I suppose that you read the book of spells sealed with it?"
"Yes, but-"
"And you did the accompanying rituals?"
"Yes!" Harry shouted triumphantly. "Even the Dark Rite of Fakshite!"
"Ah." Dumbledore's smile grew a little wider. "Well then, stop me if you've heard this one."
Dumbledore snapped his long fingers once, and then spoke a single word.
"Hubris."
At once, Harry's sword snapped in two. The pieces rusted into nothing in a matter of moments. The High Overlord Black found himself suddenly dizzy, barely able to stay standing. His new-found power deserted him in seconds; most of his magical trinkets fading and falling to pieces. Dumbledore simply stood there, still smiling benignly.
"Tell me, Mister Black, did you ever wonder what I was doing all these years as Headmaster?" Dumbledore chuckled. "You think you're the first special boy to come to Hogwarts? Oh no. It must be every decade or so that one of my students gets it into his head that he could do a better job. Tom Riddle was only the latest. Or... second latest, if we count you."
"What?!" Harry gasped. "But what about the Greater Good and all that?"
"The Greater Good?" Dumbledore shook his head pityingly. "I move our society towards the-" Dumbledore made air-quotes, "Greater Good, with every student who passes through our doors. A proper education and good friends are worth more to wizard kind than any magical rituals or silly artifacts."
"And the Sword of Greater Deathbane?" Harry said. The weight of his artifacts grew too much and he fell to his knees. Around him, students were finally backing away, deserting their spots at the long tables like rats deserting a sinking ship.
"Planted." Dumbledore said. "As was the Ritual of True Ascension, the Jewel of Grinding Souls, and most every other mysterious artifact you can think of. I wasn't sitting on my laurels this whole time, oh no." Dumbledore snapped his fingers once more, and one by one, Harry's remaining items crumbled away into dust.
"You really should have listened to Miss Granger some more," Dumbledore chided. "She'd have known that you can't be half-demon, vampire, veela, and whatever other silly races you've filled in the blanks with at the same time."
"Ah bollocks." Harry swore.
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes." He drew himself up; the air crackling with untold power, every drop of magical power held back for decades.
Harry quailed under the Headmaster's gaze. "No! Dumbledore, please!"
Harry Deathlord Dark'ness Dementia Black screamed with terror as the sentence was pronounced, each word screaming with death's knell.
"One-hundred points from Gryffindor!"
XXX
Original Prompt was: "I just want to see Dumbledore look upon Super-Harry, and, with a twinkle in his eyes, say some compassionate old mentor variant of, "What are you, a fucken casual? Git gud, scrub."
Stargazing (Worm, Taylor x Simurgh)
Stargazing
The sky overhead was bright, every star standing out against the velvet blackness. They were only a short drive outside the city, but the difference it made was unparalleled.
"Wow..." Taylor breathed. "It's beautiful."
"It is," Simone said. She was very pointedly not looking at the stars.
Taylor adjusted herself, scooting a little further up the hood of the car, her head still craned upward to watch the sky.
"You forget it's up there," Taylor said softly. "All of that, buried behind smog and light pollution."
"Yeah."
Simone leaned in, trying to follow Taylor's gaze. She'd seen the sky enough for ten lifetimes, and could name every star up there without thought. But like this, trying to see it through Taylor's eyes added a sort of magic to it.
"Look! A shooting star!"
Taylor pointed. A pinprick of light flashed across the sky in a long arc before... suddenly veering off at an odd angle.
"That was weird," Simone remarked. She snickered inwardly. It was weird alright, unless you knew that Dragon had a satellite in that quadrant, and wanted to say, interrupt her day.
Taylor sighed before looking back down at the earth. "This was nice."
Simone slid a little closer to her. "It was. I can't think of anyone else I'd share this with."
"Yeah..." Taylor hesitated for a moment before meeting her eye. "It's funny, I'm still not used to... doing this kind of thing... with friends."
Simone's smile twitched, her face suddenly frozen. Friends. Oh no. Oh no no no. They were not doing 'friends.'
"Like, I think I did something like this when I was a kid. Me and Emma in the backyard."
"Yeah?"
Taylor looked away, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. "Yeah. And it's stupid, but... I mean, we were like sisters."
Sisters? Wait, no, she could work with that. Sisters could work. Look at Tohu and Bohu, fucking twincestuous sluts.
"I don't really have a sister," Simone said slowly. "But I can imagine what that would feel like. How I'd feel if Levi or Ben turned on me."
Taylor nodded. "We were like sisters. But... that... that was then." Her voice hitched, but redoubled, gaining force the more she spoke. "It's not my fault she turned out the way she did. And all that shit she said about me, that was her."
"I talked to her about that once," Simone interjected. "Emma. She was so worried about being strong, being invulnerable, that she couldn't recognize how strong you were. How lucky she was to have you in her life. How special-"
"Simone," Taylor said. She was blushing. "That's a little much."
"No." Simone shook her head adamantly. "It's not."
She scooted closer, close enough that their thighs were touching. Close enough to smell the hint of perfume Taylor had put on, a rose scent that Simone knew had belonged to Taylor's mother.
"Listen, I said there was no one else I'd share this with, and I meant it," Simone said. "And if I have to beat it into your head that you're a beautiful, wonderful, goddamn special human being, then that's tough. And that's why I lov-"
Her cellphone rang.
FUCK EVERYONE.
"Ignore that."
Someone was dead. Someone was going to be so fucking dead for ruining her moment. Someone-
"Maybe you should just get it?" Taylor suggested, when the phone rang for the twelfth time.
Simone dug her phone out of her purse. The caller ID read simply, "Levi." The reason she hadn't say, used her precognition to look at it, might have been because she wanted to conserve every possible bit of psychic power for FUCKING LEVI SIDEWAYS BECAUSE HE RUINED HER DATE AND NO ONE GOT A SECOND DATE WITH TAYLOR HEBERT, AND EVEN IF TAYLOR DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS A DATE, DIDN'T MEAN IT STILL WASN'T A DATE-
"I'll be back in just a second."
She slipped off the hood of the car and rushed off into the woods. Only when she was a safe distance from Taylor did she answer.
"I'm gonna fucking murder you, Levi." Canary, who could literally talk people to death, could not have injected more murderous intent into her voice.
"Oh. Uh... hey," Levi stammered. "I was just calling because-"
"That gay swimming boys anime you like?" Simone growled. "None of them fuck. None of them will ever fuck. Not even in Season 2."
"Wha- AHH CMON!" Levi cried. "Why would you-"
"Listen closely," she said, her voice barely more than a hiss gritted through teeth. "Finish this call within the next five seconds or I'll personally spoil the plots of every show you watch from now until the sun explodes. And that's my warm up."
There were two seconds of silence - she counted, and Levi mumbled, "I'm supposed to attack and-"
"Spain."
"But what if Dadversary shows up? Shouldn't I-"
"SPAIN."
She did not just hang up. She reached out across the city, found Levi's phone and crushed it into a ball the size of a flea. Then she hung up her end of the call and walked back to Taylor.
The other girl was looking up at the sky again. She stopped when Simone came back to the car.
"Everything okay?"
"Just Levi being a dumbass," Simone said airily. "Boys."
She hopped back onto the hood of the car. But... now what? The mood was broken. Irreparably broken, and Taylor would never want another date because she'd killed the mood so badly and- Fuck. She was gonna kill Levi.
"Where was I?" Simone whispered. Why bother? Taylor had the romantic density of a neutron star. You had to lay it on thick or she'd never catch on.
"I believe," Taylor said softly. "You were just telling me that you love me."
Simone gaped at her. But Taylor was meeting her gaze now, and she was smiling.
"I've never had anyone say that to me."
"Wha.. wha..." Simone couldn't manage real words. Her brain was having a critical meltdown. She didn't use precog on Taylor, but this- this was unprecedented- unbelievable in the extreme!
"I think you're right. There's no one else I'd rather share this night with," Taylor said.
And then she leaned in and- and- AND-
Soft lips brushed hers. Taylor had on peach lip gloss, and her breath was warm, the barest brush across Simone's lips, and then Taylor was pulling away and-
Simone toppled backwards off the hood. She hit the dirt and didn't even feel it.
Taylor had- Taylor kissed her.
She stared up at the sky. Another shooting star ricocheted off Dragon's satellite and she barely noticed.
A shape moved in front of the sky. Taylor was leaning off the car, peering down at her.
"Are you okay?!"
Simone managed a delirious smile. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"
STARSTARSTARSTARSTAR
Omake:
"You said Spain! I went to Spain!"
Simone glared at Levi. The hydrokinetic scowled back.
"Madrid. I said Spain, and you went to Madrid."
"It is in Spain," Ben supplied. He was sitting a safe distance away. Or so he thought.
"Coastal Spain! Levi attacks coastal targets! How- gaahh!" Simone shook her head. God, the stupid. He was just so stupid. "How did you even get there!?"
Levi shrugged. "There's a river. I surfed."
Simone's eye twitched. "You know that basketball anime you just started?"
"Kuroko no- wait Simone don't!"
"They aren't ever going to fuck. Not now, not ever, and that I have to keep telling this just speaks to how fucking insane you are for thinking a show aimed at teenage boys is going to have gay fucking in it!"
Levi groaned and ran from the room, hands clamped over his ears. Simone dashed after him.
"That cycling show you watched last week? Season 2 is coming out, and there's no yaoi!"
The sky overhead was bright, every star standing out against the velvet blackness. They were only a short drive outside the city, but the difference it made was unparalleled.
"Wow..." Taylor breathed. "It's beautiful."
"It is," Simone said. She was very pointedly not looking at the stars.
Taylor adjusted herself, scooting a little further up the hood of the car, her head still craned upward to watch the sky.
"You forget it's up there," Taylor said softly. "All of that, buried behind smog and light pollution."
"Yeah."
Simone leaned in, trying to follow Taylor's gaze. She'd seen the sky enough for ten lifetimes, and could name every star up there without thought. But like this, trying to see it through Taylor's eyes added a sort of magic to it.
"Look! A shooting star!"
Taylor pointed. A pinprick of light flashed across the sky in a long arc before... suddenly veering off at an odd angle.
"That was weird," Simone remarked. She snickered inwardly. It was weird alright, unless you knew that Dragon had a satellite in that quadrant, and wanted to say, interrupt her day.
Taylor sighed before looking back down at the earth. "This was nice."
Simone slid a little closer to her. "It was. I can't think of anyone else I'd share this with."
"Yeah..." Taylor hesitated for a moment before meeting her eye. "It's funny, I'm still not used to... doing this kind of thing... with friends."
Simone's smile twitched, her face suddenly frozen. Friends. Oh no. Oh no no no. They were not doing 'friends.'
"Like, I think I did something like this when I was a kid. Me and Emma in the backyard."
"Yeah?"
Taylor looked away, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. "Yeah. And it's stupid, but... I mean, we were like sisters."
Sisters? Wait, no, she could work with that. Sisters could work. Look at Tohu and Bohu, fucking twincestuous sluts.
"I don't really have a sister," Simone said slowly. "But I can imagine what that would feel like. How I'd feel if Levi or Ben turned on me."
Taylor nodded. "We were like sisters. But... that... that was then." Her voice hitched, but redoubled, gaining force the more she spoke. "It's not my fault she turned out the way she did. And all that shit she said about me, that was her."
"I talked to her about that once," Simone interjected. "Emma. She was so worried about being strong, being invulnerable, that she couldn't recognize how strong you were. How lucky she was to have you in her life. How special-"
"Simone," Taylor said. She was blushing. "That's a little much."
"No." Simone shook her head adamantly. "It's not."
She scooted closer, close enough that their thighs were touching. Close enough to smell the hint of perfume Taylor had put on, a rose scent that Simone knew had belonged to Taylor's mother.
"Listen, I said there was no one else I'd share this with, and I meant it," Simone said. "And if I have to beat it into your head that you're a beautiful, wonderful, goddamn special human being, then that's tough. And that's why I lov-"
Her cellphone rang.
FUCK EVERYONE.
"Ignore that."
Someone was dead. Someone was going to be so fucking dead for ruining her moment. Someone-
"Maybe you should just get it?" Taylor suggested, when the phone rang for the twelfth time.
Simone dug her phone out of her purse. The caller ID read simply, "Levi." The reason she hadn't say, used her precognition to look at it, might have been because she wanted to conserve every possible bit of psychic power for FUCKING LEVI SIDEWAYS BECAUSE HE RUINED HER DATE AND NO ONE GOT A SECOND DATE WITH TAYLOR HEBERT, AND EVEN IF TAYLOR DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS A DATE, DIDN'T MEAN IT STILL WASN'T A DATE-
"I'll be back in just a second."
She slipped off the hood of the car and rushed off into the woods. Only when she was a safe distance from Taylor did she answer.
"I'm gonna fucking murder you, Levi." Canary, who could literally talk people to death, could not have injected more murderous intent into her voice.
"Oh. Uh... hey," Levi stammered. "I was just calling because-"
"That gay swimming boys anime you like?" Simone growled. "None of them fuck. None of them will ever fuck. Not even in Season 2."
"Wha- AHH CMON!" Levi cried. "Why would you-"
"Listen closely," she said, her voice barely more than a hiss gritted through teeth. "Finish this call within the next five seconds or I'll personally spoil the plots of every show you watch from now until the sun explodes. And that's my warm up."
There were two seconds of silence - she counted, and Levi mumbled, "I'm supposed to attack and-"
"Spain."
"But what if Dadversary shows up? Shouldn't I-"
"SPAIN."
She did not just hang up. She reached out across the city, found Levi's phone and crushed it into a ball the size of a flea. Then she hung up her end of the call and walked back to Taylor.
The other girl was looking up at the sky again. She stopped when Simone came back to the car.
"Everything okay?"
"Just Levi being a dumbass," Simone said airily. "Boys."
She hopped back onto the hood of the car. But... now what? The mood was broken. Irreparably broken, and Taylor would never want another date because she'd killed the mood so badly and- Fuck. She was gonna kill Levi.
"Where was I?" Simone whispered. Why bother? Taylor had the romantic density of a neutron star. You had to lay it on thick or she'd never catch on.
"I believe," Taylor said softly. "You were just telling me that you love me."
Simone gaped at her. But Taylor was meeting her gaze now, and she was smiling.
"I've never had anyone say that to me."
"Wha.. wha..." Simone couldn't manage real words. Her brain was having a critical meltdown. She didn't use precog on Taylor, but this- this was unprecedented- unbelievable in the extreme!
"I think you're right. There's no one else I'd rather share this night with," Taylor said.
And then she leaned in and- and- AND-
Soft lips brushed hers. Taylor had on peach lip gloss, and her breath was warm, the barest brush across Simone's lips, and then Taylor was pulling away and-
Simone toppled backwards off the hood. She hit the dirt and didn't even feel it.
Taylor had- Taylor kissed her.
She stared up at the sky. Another shooting star ricocheted off Dragon's satellite and she barely noticed.
A shape moved in front of the sky. Taylor was leaning off the car, peering down at her.
"Are you okay?!"
Simone managed a delirious smile. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"
STARSTARSTARSTARSTAR
Omake:
"You said Spain! I went to Spain!"
Simone glared at Levi. The hydrokinetic scowled back.
"Madrid. I said Spain, and you went to Madrid."
"It is in Spain," Ben supplied. He was sitting a safe distance away. Or so he thought.
"Coastal Spain! Levi attacks coastal targets! How- gaahh!" Simone shook her head. God, the stupid. He was just so stupid. "How did you even get there!?"
Levi shrugged. "There's a river. I surfed."
Simone's eye twitched. "You know that basketball anime you just started?"
"Kuroko no- wait Simone don't!"
"They aren't ever going to fuck. Not now, not ever, and that I have to keep telling this just speaks to how fucking insane you are for thinking a show aimed at teenage boys is going to have gay fucking in it!"
Levi groaned and ran from the room, hands clamped over his ears. Simone dashed after him.
"That cycling show you watched last week? Season 2 is coming out, and there's no yaoi!"
Bird and Bug (Worm, Little Zizter)
Bird and Bug
"Hi, what's your name? I'm Taylor!" I said.
The little girl had a long, tangled mane of white-blonde hair. So long that I couldn't even see her eyes. She'd been standing alone by the woods for a while, and I'd come over to see what she was doing. She looked kind of lonely.
When the girl didn't answer, I tried a different tactic. "Do you want to play tag? My friend Emma is getting some other kids together, and we're all gonna play tag."
The girl stood stock still, not answering. And stood. And stood…
What was her deal? Maybe she was shy. If I was shy, I'd want someone else to take the lead. So I held out a hand to the girl. Pale fingers crept around mine, and I beamed at her.
"Let's roll!"
We trotted back to the playground, hand in hand. Emma stood in a crowd of other kids, practically bouncing back and forth as she talked to everyone.
"Who's the brat?" Emma said, giving the girl a disapproving look.
"Dunno. She's gonna play tag with us." I hesitated. We hadn't actually gotten that far. "I think."
"She's too little."
"Emmmaaa." I said. "Be nice to… whatshername."
"You don't even know her name?"
"Simone."
Emma and I looked down. The girl's bangs had parted slightly, just enough that I could see a single gray eye peering at us. Her grip tightened a little bit, like she was scared of Emma.
"See, she said her name is Simone." I said triumphantly. "Simone, you wanna play tag with us?"
Simone gave the tiniest of nods.
Emma huffed, scuffing her shoes in the dirt. "Fine. But she better not cry if she gets tagged."
"That was what you did." I said.
"Yeah, but that was last year." Emma said. She gave Simone one last glance before turning back to the other kids.
I pulled Simone aside. "You know how to play, right?
Nod.
"You gonna be okay?"
Nod.
"…can you see where you're going?"
She hesitated.
"I thought so." I said, rummaging in my pockets. "My hair is super tangly too, and my mom always makes me carry this!" My blue ribbon fluttered in the breeze. I already had the green one in my hair. The blue one was in case I lost it, but Mom wouldn't mind if I let Simone borrow it.
Simone's eye got really big.
"Pretty, isn't it?"
Two nods.
"Right… now let's just…" I wrestled Simone's messy hair back and forced it into a rough ponytail. It took some work to get the ribbon tied, and it wasn't perfect. Not like Mom would have done.
When it was all said and done, Simone stood blinking owlishly; squinting her eyes even in the early morning sun. She was pale, almost ghostly with her hair. Privately, I thought she looked like an angel. Not like one of those cheesy cherubs, but one of the pretty ones who held trumpets and flaming swords and stuff.
"Thank you."
"It's just a ribbon." I was a little embarrassed. She liked the ribbon enough to actually say something.
I took Simone's hand again and led her back to Emma.
"Now that Taylor and… you are ready, we're gonna play tag!" Emma said. She seemed annoyed by seeing Simone still there, but I couldn't figure out why.
"Annd… you're it!" Emma tagged Simone on the top of her head and ran for it. All the kids scattered, screaming excitedly as they went. I was still holding Simone's hand.
"I could be it, if you want."
Simone shook her head. There was a faint blush on her cheeks, and she stared determinedly at Emma's fleeing back.
"I am it."
The resulting game of tag spanned not only the playground, but most of the nearby woods as well. By the time it ended, I was splattered with mud, and had a veritable birdsnest of hair with all the sticks and leaves caught in it. Funnily enough, I'd lost my ribbon somewhere. I lay slumped in the grass with my shoes kicked off.
"H-h- is your Mom coming to pick us up?" Emma panted, flopping down beside me.
She wasn't as dirty as I was, but she'd had to work a lot harder. Simone had tagged her back in record time. I wasn't sure, but I suspected that Simone had tagged Emma every time she was it. The little girl was surprisingly fast.
I checked her watch. Almost noon. "She should be here in a minute." Grass rustled behind us, and I looked up to see Simone sitting primly. She smiled broadly at us.
"Twelve times." Simone said, pointing to Emma. Emma gave her a dirty look.
"She's not allowed to play anymore."
"Emma!" Emma could be a sore loser sometimes, but she wasn't usually this bad. She really disliked Simone for some reason.
"Taylor, Emma, time to go!" Mom's voice carried easily over the whole playground.
I shot up, looking around for her. She was standing next to the car, waving at us.
"Bye, I hope I see you again." I said to Simone. I met a lot of neat people at the playground, but Simone was… she was kinda weird, but I liked her. She was fun.
"Cya." Emma said curtly.
We made our way over to the car. It was getting cloudy now. Big black clouds were blocking the sun. Mom had picked a good time to come.
"Taylor, what have you been doing? And Emma…" Mom sighed dejectedly. "You're both getting a bath when we get home. I'm not sending you home looking like a vagabond, Emma. I'd never hear the end of it from Alan."
"Sorry Mom." I said. I didn't like disappointing Mom, but I'd had enough fun today to make up for it. It was like math. Enough fun canceled out bathtime's unfun.
"Sorry Mrs. Hebert." Emma echoed.
"The things I put up with. I should have had a boy. Nobody complains when boys get dirty!" Mom said dramatically. She paused, looking over my shoulder. "Well, hey there. Who are you?"
I turned to find Simone standing there. A lock of hair had escaped her ponytail and fallen over one eye.
"This is Simone, Mom. We played together today."
Thunder rumbled ominously, and Mom looked at Simone with concern.
"Are your parents picking you up, sweetheart?"
Head shake.
"She's shy, Mom." I whispered.
"I see… Simone, do you live around here?"
Head shake.
"How are you getting home?"
Shrug.
"Do you know where you live? What your last name is?"
Two head shakes.
Mom looked to me for help. "Taylor?"
I shrugged. "I don't know." It hadn't come up. It's not like you needed a last name to play tag.
"Simone," Mom said. "How did you get here?"
"Sent."
"You were sent here?"
Nod.
"Who sent you? Your parents?
"Mission."
Mom was looking increasingly aggravated. "A mission?! What mission?"
Simone pointed at me. What the heck?
"Me?"
The look that passed over Mom's face was one I'd never seen before. She went from annoyed to scary in seconds. She took Simone's arm and pulled her away from us.
"Emma, Taylor, get in the car." She used the voice grownups only used when they were really, really serious.
Me and Emma watched from inside the car. The windows were shut, and we couldn't hear anything. We still had our noses pressed up against the glass, trying to see what Simone and Mom were talking about.
"You just had to talk to the weird kid, didn't you?" Emma said.
"She's not weird." Simone was pretty weird, but I wouldn't admit it to Emma.
"Why's she here for you?"
"Dunno. Maybe I'm like a secret princess or something."
Outside, Mom was talking very fast, moving her arms a lot. Simone seemed to be as quiet as before.
Simone nodded. Nodded again. Shook her head. Nodded.
Mom looked upset now. Her face was getting all red, and she was pacing back and forth.
"Fine!" She shouted loud enough for us to hear. Then she stormed back to the car and yanked open the door. Simone slid into the back seat.
"Mom?" I said.
"Not now." Mom said. "We're going home."
"Uh-" Emma cleared her throat.
"Emma's house first. Then home." Mom said. There was a vein pulsing in her temple. "Simone, buckle your seat belt."
By the time we took Emma home it was raining. Mom was so mad that she was leaning forward, muttering under her breath every time we hit a stoplight. She kept glancing in the mirror to look at me and Simone. Simone sat quietly and looked out the window. It didn't seem to bother her that Mom was mad.
The car had barely stopped moving into the driveway when Mom leapt out and herded us inside.
She pointed at Simone and then the couch. "You, sit." Then she pointed at me. "You… watch her. Both of you stay here."
I could smell something good from in the kitchen. It smelled like Dad was making lunch. He had the day off and was using it to catch up on housework. He had a lot to get done, but he'd promised to make time to hang a sign on my door that said "Taylor's Room." We all knew it was my room, but it was fun to have.
"Danny!" Mom called. There was the sound of pots clattering in the kitchen, and Dad burst into the living room. He had spaghetti sauce smeared across his cheek, and he looked worried.
"Annette? What is it?" He said. Then he saw Simone. "Who's that?"
"Kitchen." Mom said shortly. They vanished into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Simone.
"So… why are you here?" I said. "Like, what's your mission for?"
"Can't tell."
"You told my Mom."
"Part of the mission."
"What's it got to do with me?"
Head shake.
I groaned. She'd gone back to gestures. I was about to try and listen in on Mom and Dad's conversation when Simone pointed at the front door.
Someone knocked a second later. How did she…
"I'll get it. Taylor, do not open the door!" Mom shouted. She sounded just as mad as before. Simone pointed more insistently, looking at me.
"I should open the door." I said.
Nod.
She was pretty aggravating. Everything didn't have to be 20 Questions.
I went to the door. Simone smiled at me. And, as I opened the door, I had the sudden feeling that I was going to regret it.
The woman standing on the front porch looked kind of like Mom. Her black hair was cut in the same way, but she didn't dress like Mom at all. Mom definitely didn't own a fancy suit like this lady did. She didn't have an umbrella, but she was perfectly dry, even though it was still raining.
"Hello there." The lady said. She had a weird accent that I didn't recognize. "May I come in?"
"You're a stranger."
She smiled at me. "You can call me Contessa, if you want."
That didn't convince me. She was still a stranger. A stranger with a strange name.
"I'm here to see Simone too. May I come in?"
How did she know that? Simone had only been here for like ten minutes.
A hand grabbed my shoulder from behind and I jumped. Mom and Dad stood behind me, both of them dead serious.
"Hello." Contessa said to them. "May I?"
"No." Dad said.
"Yes. Mom said through gritted-teeth.
They looked at each other, and Dad relented.
"Thank you." Contessa said. I stepped aside and she walked in, tucking her hat under one arm.
"Hello Simone." She said. Simone blushed. She looked like she'd just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Contessa sat down beside her, still smiling pleasantly. Mom pointed me to a chair, and she and Dad stood next to me like guards.
"Explain." Dad said. He was the one getting mad now. I didn't like it when he got mad. He and Mom always ended up shouting at each other.
"Well, I was going to start from the beginning, but as someone," Contessa nodded at Simone, who blushed again. "Decided to show up early, I think I'll skip to the important parts."
She turned to me. "Taylor, how would you like a new little sister?"
I stared at Mom with eyes as big as plates. "You're pregnant?!"
Contessa snorted with laughter. Mom closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before she answered me.
"No Taylor, I'm not pregnant. She means Simone."
"What?" What she was saying didn't make any sense. What about Simone?
"Simone would be your sister." Contessa said. "How do you feel about that?"
I… I wasn't sure how to feel, really. Little sisters weren't supposed to drop out of the sky like this.
"Who are you? Are you Simone's mom?" I said.
"I was wondering the same thing." Dad said. "Who are you exactly?"
"No, Simone doesn't have a mother. Consider me a… an interested party. Mr. Hebert, this arrangement would be extremely advantageous to all parties. If you'd like, the organization I represent could provide assistance with-"
"No." Simone interrupted. "Hands off."
Contessa looked surprised, her ever-present smile fading. "I see. Simone, you would be…"
Nod.
"Ah. Completely and totally, then?"
Nod.
Contessa frowned. "I know you don't know how the path goes either. Surely we could provide some direction? Even with your knowledge, you're only a child."
Head shake.
I was completely lost. This felt less like two people having a conversation that was over my head, and more like two people being deliberately weird.
Contessa questioned Simone on a few other things, and when no clear answers came, she stood. "Mr. and Mrs. Hebert, if we could discuss this in the kitchen?"
Dad stomped into the kitchen, leaving Mom with me. She glared at Contessa.
"You don't have to agree to anything." Mom said to me. "Don't let her pressure you."
She and Contessa exited. The faint murmur of voices started up in the kitchen. Dad's was the loudest, but I still couldn't hear anything clearly. It seemed like people kept having conversations that I wasn't allowed to hear.
"Taylor." Simone said. There was a note of pleading in her voice. It sounded odd, compared to her normal monotone. "Mission!"
"I don't really understand. You want to be my sister, right?"
Nod.
"That lady isn't forcing you or anything? Like, if I say no, she's not going to throw you off a cliff or something?"
Head shake.
"All of this… why? Your mission?"
Nod.
We were back to 20 Questions again.
"If you become my sister, we're not doing the nod and shake thing. We're gonna talk."
Simone almost nodded, but then caught herself. She smiled at me. "Yes. Sisters."
"What if Mom and Dad say no?"
"Contessa. They will agree."
I sighed. Eight year olds weren't supposed to make big decisions like this. Couldn't it wait until I was a grownup? Like in three or four years, at least. I liked Simone, but even I knew that having a girl I'd just met be my sister was a bad idea.
"You'll get superpowers."
"Bull."
Simone shrugged. "You would agree anyway. You think having a sister will be fun."
…Yeah, I was going to, but I wasn't going to put up with any of that smart-allecky stuff.
Because when it came down to it, regardless of the consequences, it was just one of those choices that you knew the answer for. A gut feeling.
"What do you want? Like, what do you get out of all this?"
"Humanity. A sister."
That… that didn't answer my question at all. But… what the heck? Mom and Dad were gonna be furious, but I was almost nine. It was about time I started making big decisions.
"Alrighty then. Let's be sisters."
Simone held out her hand, and I took it, her pale fingers once more clasping mine. She squeaked with surprise as I pulled her into a tight hug. Her hands dithered about for a moment before she returned the hug.
It felt nice. Like we'd just done something good. Something important. As weird as today had been, I was excited for what was going to change now.
"Taylor." I let Simone go. She put her hands on my shoulders and pulled me down to eye-level. With a toss of her head, she whipped her bangs away and our eyes met. Her gray eyes had a frightening intensity. They bored into me, and I found I couldn't look away.
"Khepri."
The word echoed in my ears. A nonsense word. A name that meant nothing, though I knew it to be a name. Something shifted deep inside me. I felt the change, and-
Stars.
I saw stars.
Stars going out, one by one.
"Hi, what's your name? I'm Taylor!" I said.
The little girl had a long, tangled mane of white-blonde hair. So long that I couldn't even see her eyes. She'd been standing alone by the woods for a while, and I'd come over to see what she was doing. She looked kind of lonely.
When the girl didn't answer, I tried a different tactic. "Do you want to play tag? My friend Emma is getting some other kids together, and we're all gonna play tag."
The girl stood stock still, not answering. And stood. And stood…
What was her deal? Maybe she was shy. If I was shy, I'd want someone else to take the lead. So I held out a hand to the girl. Pale fingers crept around mine, and I beamed at her.
"Let's roll!"
We trotted back to the playground, hand in hand. Emma stood in a crowd of other kids, practically bouncing back and forth as she talked to everyone.
"Who's the brat?" Emma said, giving the girl a disapproving look.
"Dunno. She's gonna play tag with us." I hesitated. We hadn't actually gotten that far. "I think."
"She's too little."
"Emmmaaa." I said. "Be nice to… whatshername."
"You don't even know her name?"
"Simone."
Emma and I looked down. The girl's bangs had parted slightly, just enough that I could see a single gray eye peering at us. Her grip tightened a little bit, like she was scared of Emma.
"See, she said her name is Simone." I said triumphantly. "Simone, you wanna play tag with us?"
Simone gave the tiniest of nods.
Emma huffed, scuffing her shoes in the dirt. "Fine. But she better not cry if she gets tagged."
"That was what you did." I said.
"Yeah, but that was last year." Emma said. She gave Simone one last glance before turning back to the other kids.
I pulled Simone aside. "You know how to play, right?
Nod.
"You gonna be okay?"
Nod.
"…can you see where you're going?"
She hesitated.
"I thought so." I said, rummaging in my pockets. "My hair is super tangly too, and my mom always makes me carry this!" My blue ribbon fluttered in the breeze. I already had the green one in my hair. The blue one was in case I lost it, but Mom wouldn't mind if I let Simone borrow it.
Simone's eye got really big.
"Pretty, isn't it?"
Two nods.
"Right… now let's just…" I wrestled Simone's messy hair back and forced it into a rough ponytail. It took some work to get the ribbon tied, and it wasn't perfect. Not like Mom would have done.
When it was all said and done, Simone stood blinking owlishly; squinting her eyes even in the early morning sun. She was pale, almost ghostly with her hair. Privately, I thought she looked like an angel. Not like one of those cheesy cherubs, but one of the pretty ones who held trumpets and flaming swords and stuff.
"Thank you."
"It's just a ribbon." I was a little embarrassed. She liked the ribbon enough to actually say something.
I took Simone's hand again and led her back to Emma.
"Now that Taylor and… you are ready, we're gonna play tag!" Emma said. She seemed annoyed by seeing Simone still there, but I couldn't figure out why.
"Annd… you're it!" Emma tagged Simone on the top of her head and ran for it. All the kids scattered, screaming excitedly as they went. I was still holding Simone's hand.
"I could be it, if you want."
Simone shook her head. There was a faint blush on her cheeks, and she stared determinedly at Emma's fleeing back.
"I am it."
The resulting game of tag spanned not only the playground, but most of the nearby woods as well. By the time it ended, I was splattered with mud, and had a veritable birdsnest of hair with all the sticks and leaves caught in it. Funnily enough, I'd lost my ribbon somewhere. I lay slumped in the grass with my shoes kicked off.
"H-h- is your Mom coming to pick us up?" Emma panted, flopping down beside me.
She wasn't as dirty as I was, but she'd had to work a lot harder. Simone had tagged her back in record time. I wasn't sure, but I suspected that Simone had tagged Emma every time she was it. The little girl was surprisingly fast.
I checked her watch. Almost noon. "She should be here in a minute." Grass rustled behind us, and I looked up to see Simone sitting primly. She smiled broadly at us.
"Twelve times." Simone said, pointing to Emma. Emma gave her a dirty look.
"She's not allowed to play anymore."
"Emma!" Emma could be a sore loser sometimes, but she wasn't usually this bad. She really disliked Simone for some reason.
"Taylor, Emma, time to go!" Mom's voice carried easily over the whole playground.
I shot up, looking around for her. She was standing next to the car, waving at us.
"Bye, I hope I see you again." I said to Simone. I met a lot of neat people at the playground, but Simone was… she was kinda weird, but I liked her. She was fun.
"Cya." Emma said curtly.
We made our way over to the car. It was getting cloudy now. Big black clouds were blocking the sun. Mom had picked a good time to come.
"Taylor, what have you been doing? And Emma…" Mom sighed dejectedly. "You're both getting a bath when we get home. I'm not sending you home looking like a vagabond, Emma. I'd never hear the end of it from Alan."
"Sorry Mom." I said. I didn't like disappointing Mom, but I'd had enough fun today to make up for it. It was like math. Enough fun canceled out bathtime's unfun.
"Sorry Mrs. Hebert." Emma echoed.
"The things I put up with. I should have had a boy. Nobody complains when boys get dirty!" Mom said dramatically. She paused, looking over my shoulder. "Well, hey there. Who are you?"
I turned to find Simone standing there. A lock of hair had escaped her ponytail and fallen over one eye.
"This is Simone, Mom. We played together today."
Thunder rumbled ominously, and Mom looked at Simone with concern.
"Are your parents picking you up, sweetheart?"
Head shake.
"She's shy, Mom." I whispered.
"I see… Simone, do you live around here?"
Head shake.
"How are you getting home?"
Shrug.
"Do you know where you live? What your last name is?"
Two head shakes.
Mom looked to me for help. "Taylor?"
I shrugged. "I don't know." It hadn't come up. It's not like you needed a last name to play tag.
"Simone," Mom said. "How did you get here?"
"Sent."
"You were sent here?"
Nod.
"Who sent you? Your parents?
"Mission."
Mom was looking increasingly aggravated. "A mission?! What mission?"
Simone pointed at me. What the heck?
"Me?"
The look that passed over Mom's face was one I'd never seen before. She went from annoyed to scary in seconds. She took Simone's arm and pulled her away from us.
"Emma, Taylor, get in the car." She used the voice grownups only used when they were really, really serious.
Me and Emma watched from inside the car. The windows were shut, and we couldn't hear anything. We still had our noses pressed up against the glass, trying to see what Simone and Mom were talking about.
"You just had to talk to the weird kid, didn't you?" Emma said.
"She's not weird." Simone was pretty weird, but I wouldn't admit it to Emma.
"Why's she here for you?"
"Dunno. Maybe I'm like a secret princess or something."
Outside, Mom was talking very fast, moving her arms a lot. Simone seemed to be as quiet as before.
Simone nodded. Nodded again. Shook her head. Nodded.
Mom looked upset now. Her face was getting all red, and she was pacing back and forth.
"Fine!" She shouted loud enough for us to hear. Then she stormed back to the car and yanked open the door. Simone slid into the back seat.
"Mom?" I said.
"Not now." Mom said. "We're going home."
"Uh-" Emma cleared her throat.
"Emma's house first. Then home." Mom said. There was a vein pulsing in her temple. "Simone, buckle your seat belt."
By the time we took Emma home it was raining. Mom was so mad that she was leaning forward, muttering under her breath every time we hit a stoplight. She kept glancing in the mirror to look at me and Simone. Simone sat quietly and looked out the window. It didn't seem to bother her that Mom was mad.
The car had barely stopped moving into the driveway when Mom leapt out and herded us inside.
She pointed at Simone and then the couch. "You, sit." Then she pointed at me. "You… watch her. Both of you stay here."
I could smell something good from in the kitchen. It smelled like Dad was making lunch. He had the day off and was using it to catch up on housework. He had a lot to get done, but he'd promised to make time to hang a sign on my door that said "Taylor's Room." We all knew it was my room, but it was fun to have.
"Danny!" Mom called. There was the sound of pots clattering in the kitchen, and Dad burst into the living room. He had spaghetti sauce smeared across his cheek, and he looked worried.
"Annette? What is it?" He said. Then he saw Simone. "Who's that?"
"Kitchen." Mom said shortly. They vanished into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Simone.
"So… why are you here?" I said. "Like, what's your mission for?"
"Can't tell."
"You told my Mom."
"Part of the mission."
"What's it got to do with me?"
Head shake.
I groaned. She'd gone back to gestures. I was about to try and listen in on Mom and Dad's conversation when Simone pointed at the front door.
Someone knocked a second later. How did she…
"I'll get it. Taylor, do not open the door!" Mom shouted. She sounded just as mad as before. Simone pointed more insistently, looking at me.
"I should open the door." I said.
Nod.
She was pretty aggravating. Everything didn't have to be 20 Questions.
I went to the door. Simone smiled at me. And, as I opened the door, I had the sudden feeling that I was going to regret it.
The woman standing on the front porch looked kind of like Mom. Her black hair was cut in the same way, but she didn't dress like Mom at all. Mom definitely didn't own a fancy suit like this lady did. She didn't have an umbrella, but she was perfectly dry, even though it was still raining.
"Hello there." The lady said. She had a weird accent that I didn't recognize. "May I come in?"
"You're a stranger."
She smiled at me. "You can call me Contessa, if you want."
That didn't convince me. She was still a stranger. A stranger with a strange name.
"I'm here to see Simone too. May I come in?"
How did she know that? Simone had only been here for like ten minutes.
A hand grabbed my shoulder from behind and I jumped. Mom and Dad stood behind me, both of them dead serious.
"Hello." Contessa said to them. "May I?"
"No." Dad said.
"Yes. Mom said through gritted-teeth.
They looked at each other, and Dad relented.
"Thank you." Contessa said. I stepped aside and she walked in, tucking her hat under one arm.
"Hello Simone." She said. Simone blushed. She looked like she'd just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Contessa sat down beside her, still smiling pleasantly. Mom pointed me to a chair, and she and Dad stood next to me like guards.
"Explain." Dad said. He was the one getting mad now. I didn't like it when he got mad. He and Mom always ended up shouting at each other.
"Well, I was going to start from the beginning, but as someone," Contessa nodded at Simone, who blushed again. "Decided to show up early, I think I'll skip to the important parts."
She turned to me. "Taylor, how would you like a new little sister?"
I stared at Mom with eyes as big as plates. "You're pregnant?!"
Contessa snorted with laughter. Mom closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before she answered me.
"No Taylor, I'm not pregnant. She means Simone."
"What?" What she was saying didn't make any sense. What about Simone?
"Simone would be your sister." Contessa said. "How do you feel about that?"
I… I wasn't sure how to feel, really. Little sisters weren't supposed to drop out of the sky like this.
"Who are you? Are you Simone's mom?" I said.
"I was wondering the same thing." Dad said. "Who are you exactly?"
"No, Simone doesn't have a mother. Consider me a… an interested party. Mr. Hebert, this arrangement would be extremely advantageous to all parties. If you'd like, the organization I represent could provide assistance with-"
"No." Simone interrupted. "Hands off."
Contessa looked surprised, her ever-present smile fading. "I see. Simone, you would be…"
Nod.
"Ah. Completely and totally, then?"
Nod.
Contessa frowned. "I know you don't know how the path goes either. Surely we could provide some direction? Even with your knowledge, you're only a child."
Head shake.
I was completely lost. This felt less like two people having a conversation that was over my head, and more like two people being deliberately weird.
Contessa questioned Simone on a few other things, and when no clear answers came, she stood. "Mr. and Mrs. Hebert, if we could discuss this in the kitchen?"
Dad stomped into the kitchen, leaving Mom with me. She glared at Contessa.
"You don't have to agree to anything." Mom said to me. "Don't let her pressure you."
She and Contessa exited. The faint murmur of voices started up in the kitchen. Dad's was the loudest, but I still couldn't hear anything clearly. It seemed like people kept having conversations that I wasn't allowed to hear.
"Taylor." Simone said. There was a note of pleading in her voice. It sounded odd, compared to her normal monotone. "Mission!"
"I don't really understand. You want to be my sister, right?"
Nod.
"That lady isn't forcing you or anything? Like, if I say no, she's not going to throw you off a cliff or something?"
Head shake.
"All of this… why? Your mission?"
Nod.
We were back to 20 Questions again.
"If you become my sister, we're not doing the nod and shake thing. We're gonna talk."
Simone almost nodded, but then caught herself. She smiled at me. "Yes. Sisters."
"What if Mom and Dad say no?"
"Contessa. They will agree."
I sighed. Eight year olds weren't supposed to make big decisions like this. Couldn't it wait until I was a grownup? Like in three or four years, at least. I liked Simone, but even I knew that having a girl I'd just met be my sister was a bad idea.
"You'll get superpowers."
"Bull."
Simone shrugged. "You would agree anyway. You think having a sister will be fun."
…Yeah, I was going to, but I wasn't going to put up with any of that smart-allecky stuff.
Because when it came down to it, regardless of the consequences, it was just one of those choices that you knew the answer for. A gut feeling.
"What do you want? Like, what do you get out of all this?"
"Humanity. A sister."
That… that didn't answer my question at all. But… what the heck? Mom and Dad were gonna be furious, but I was almost nine. It was about time I started making big decisions.
"Alrighty then. Let's be sisters."
Simone held out her hand, and I took it, her pale fingers once more clasping mine. She squeaked with surprise as I pulled her into a tight hug. Her hands dithered about for a moment before she returned the hug.
It felt nice. Like we'd just done something good. Something important. As weird as today had been, I was excited for what was going to change now.
"Taylor." I let Simone go. She put her hands on my shoulders and pulled me down to eye-level. With a toss of her head, she whipped her bangs away and our eyes met. Her gray eyes had a frightening intensity. They bored into me, and I found I couldn't look away.
"Khepri."
The word echoed in my ears. A nonsense word. A name that meant nothing, though I knew it to be a name. Something shifted deep inside me. I felt the change, and-
Stars.
I saw stars.
Stars going out, one by one.
Daddy Issues (Worm)
This was the first fic I ever posted on SB. It came as an omake from an unpublished attempt at Endbringer!Taylor, but works fine as a standalone story.
If you've seen my FFN page, you'll notice that there's a chapter missing here. Chapter 3 was a oneshot about Human!Tohu and Bohu. It wasn't anything more than decent, and on reflection, I decided not to bother porting it over.
XXX
Daddy Issues
They flew high above the world. The blue in the sky was bleeding off into black. Even the clouds were far below them now. Sister took the lead, setting their flightpath with her usual unerring confidence. She followed, not directly, but mirroring Sister in a delayed helix, spiraling together. Her copy of Sister's powers told her that the shape of their flight was important- that it would inspire specific responses in observers, but her imitation was too limited to know more.
After a time, Sister stopped, the sun to her back. She faced Taylor, little more than a silhouette in front of the sun. Taylor spoke, her words audible even in the near-vacuum.
"I have a question."
"And I have answers." Sister replied smugly. Taylor rolled her eyes.
"Do you think I have- uh... Daddy issues?"
Sister raised an elegant eyebrow. "What brought this up?"
"Dad and I had a fight. And when I told Clockblocker, he made a joke about me having... you know."
"Oh Taylor..." Sister flew to her and took her hand. "Of course you have Daddy Issues."
"What?!" Taylor shouted.
"Shh." Sister began stroking her hair. "You have them, I have them, our brothers have them. Everyone has them."
"But-" Taylor sputtered. "I- you have them? How do you- you don't even have a dad."
"Of course I do. I think you even know who he is."
Taylor stopped and thought. It couldn't possibly be... No way. She couldn't be serious.
"Are you talking about Eidolon?"
Sister just smiled. After a moment, she pulled away and pointed down at the Earth.
"All of that," She swept her hands across the world. "All of that is Daddy Issues."
"So all of the murder and plotting were-"
"That's right. All three of us have a bone to pick with that man. We just have extreme ways of showing it. I take out my anger on fathers everywhere."
Taylor looked at her incredulously. "Seriously?"
"Why do you think there are so many ruined fathers out there? All me. Mannequin. Mad dad. Siberian. Sad Dad." Sister smirked. "I had Leviathan target Kaiser for the same reason."
"Seriously?!"
"Seriously. Why do you think we picked you? What would devastate your father more than anything else in the world?"
Taylor's jaw dropped, and she gaped at her sister in horror. "My... Dad?"
Sister's smile faded as she saw Taylor's face. "That was a joke!" She held up her hands defensively. "Just a joke. And nothing else."
Taylor didn't look any happier. "If Dad knew- he'd never..." She trailed off, her lip quivering.
Sister shifted, embracing her from behind. Her wings enfolded both of them, blocking out the world behind a layer of white.
"He'll never find out as long as you stick with me. Also, I think he deserves more credit than you give him. He really loves you, you know that?"
"Yeah." Taylor whispered. She let her wings retract, putting herself entirely in Sister's hands. "Why did you pick me anyway?"
"You're the best equipped to kill Eidolon, among other things." Sister put a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "Hmm... I guess that's a Daddy Issue also."
"For Father's Day this year, can we kill Heartbreaker or something? I want at least some good to come from your weird patricide thing." Taylor hesitated. "Or we could- You could celebrate with my dad and me."
Sister didn't answer. She just ran her fingers through Taylor's hair, combing it the way her mother used to. They stayed that way for a while, just floating along. Sister was the one to break the silence.
"Wave to Dragon!" She pointed at a light moving across the sky. Taylor waved. Sister just smiled her Mona Lisa smile and tweaked the satellite's course.
As the satellite drifted away on its new course, Sister spoke again. "I forgot about Dragon. I killed her father too."
"Daddy Issues." Taylor said. She sighed heavily. "Get Heartbreaker first. Then- uh... Does Jack Slash have any kids?"
"You could argue that Bonesaw is like an adopted daughter." Sister stared off into space, looking at a world only she could see. "I wonder if I can get Heartbreaker and Jack at the same time?"
Taylor smiled for the first time. "Show off."
Simurgh smiled back. "You haven't seen how Eidolon dies yet."
If you've seen my FFN page, you'll notice that there's a chapter missing here. Chapter 3 was a oneshot about Human!Tohu and Bohu. It wasn't anything more than decent, and on reflection, I decided not to bother porting it over.
XXX
Daddy Issues
They flew high above the world. The blue in the sky was bleeding off into black. Even the clouds were far below them now. Sister took the lead, setting their flightpath with her usual unerring confidence. She followed, not directly, but mirroring Sister in a delayed helix, spiraling together. Her copy of Sister's powers told her that the shape of their flight was important- that it would inspire specific responses in observers, but her imitation was too limited to know more.
After a time, Sister stopped, the sun to her back. She faced Taylor, little more than a silhouette in front of the sun. Taylor spoke, her words audible even in the near-vacuum.
"I have a question."
"And I have answers." Sister replied smugly. Taylor rolled her eyes.
"Do you think I have- uh... Daddy issues?"
Sister raised an elegant eyebrow. "What brought this up?"
"Dad and I had a fight. And when I told Clockblocker, he made a joke about me having... you know."
"Oh Taylor..." Sister flew to her and took her hand. "Of course you have Daddy Issues."
"What?!" Taylor shouted.
"Shh." Sister began stroking her hair. "You have them, I have them, our brothers have them. Everyone has them."
"But-" Taylor sputtered. "I- you have them? How do you- you don't even have a dad."
"Of course I do. I think you even know who he is."
Taylor stopped and thought. It couldn't possibly be... No way. She couldn't be serious.
"Are you talking about Eidolon?"
Sister just smiled. After a moment, she pulled away and pointed down at the Earth.
"All of that," She swept her hands across the world. "All of that is Daddy Issues."
"So all of the murder and plotting were-"
"That's right. All three of us have a bone to pick with that man. We just have extreme ways of showing it. I take out my anger on fathers everywhere."
Taylor looked at her incredulously. "Seriously?"
"Why do you think there are so many ruined fathers out there? All me. Mannequin. Mad dad. Siberian. Sad Dad." Sister smirked. "I had Leviathan target Kaiser for the same reason."
"Seriously?!"
"Seriously. Why do you think we picked you? What would devastate your father more than anything else in the world?"
Taylor's jaw dropped, and she gaped at her sister in horror. "My... Dad?"
Sister's smile faded as she saw Taylor's face. "That was a joke!" She held up her hands defensively. "Just a joke. And nothing else."
Taylor didn't look any happier. "If Dad knew- he'd never..." She trailed off, her lip quivering.
Sister shifted, embracing her from behind. Her wings enfolded both of them, blocking out the world behind a layer of white.
"He'll never find out as long as you stick with me. Also, I think he deserves more credit than you give him. He really loves you, you know that?"
"Yeah." Taylor whispered. She let her wings retract, putting herself entirely in Sister's hands. "Why did you pick me anyway?"
"You're the best equipped to kill Eidolon, among other things." Sister put a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "Hmm... I guess that's a Daddy Issue also."
"For Father's Day this year, can we kill Heartbreaker or something? I want at least some good to come from your weird patricide thing." Taylor hesitated. "Or we could- You could celebrate with my dad and me."
Sister didn't answer. She just ran her fingers through Taylor's hair, combing it the way her mother used to. They stayed that way for a while, just floating along. Sister was the one to break the silence.
"Wave to Dragon!" She pointed at a light moving across the sky. Taylor waved. Sister just smiled her Mona Lisa smile and tweaked the satellite's course.
As the satellite drifted away on its new course, Sister spoke again. "I forgot about Dragon. I killed her father too."
"Daddy Issues." Taylor said. She sighed heavily. "Get Heartbreaker first. Then- uh... Does Jack Slash have any kids?"
"You could argue that Bonesaw is like an adopted daughter." Sister stared off into space, looking at a world only she could see. "I wonder if I can get Heartbreaker and Jack at the same time?"
Taylor smiled for the first time. "Show off."
Simurgh smiled back. "You haven't seen how Eidolon dies yet."
Dog of the Devils (Touhou)
Dog of the Devils
1
Water heated to a boil in the copper kettle. The cup and saucer came from the top shelf- lilac patterned – Remilia was in a dour mood today, and the color was calming. The tea leaves were her own blend, carefully selected for freshness, and also for their mundanity. Remilia could taste the magic in supernatural breeds, and would complain that it ruined the flavor.
The oven dinged. Sakuya went on arranging the tea tray for another ten seconds before realizing that no one had handled the oven. She cleared her throat loudly.
The fairy chef, currently examining her reflection in the back of a ladle, yelped and turned. "Sorry, Boss."
The fairy opened the oven, releasing a burst of heat into the already steamy kitchen. She tried to take the baking tray, only to yelp again as she burned her hand.
"Oven mitts!" Sakuya snapped. She hadn't stopped arranging, but her free hand was toying with her pocket watch. If this took any longer, she was going to just do it herself, and damn the maid.
Surprisingly though, the fairy found her mitts and withdrew the tray before it burned. The scent of warm cookies filled the room, rich ginger and spices. The fairy even remembered to turn off the oven before she began icing the cookies with quick dabs of buttercream.
Sakuya allowed herself to look away and pour the first cup of tea. The tea was a rich black, and earthy, to compliment the sweetness of the cookies. It would steep for the four minutes it took Sakuya to get to Remilia, just in time to reach the ideal temperature and flavor.
She turned just as the fairy reached for a cookie, drooling slightly.
"Are you done?"
Another yelp, and the chef nearly flipped the cookie sheet with her flinch. "S-sorry, Boss! I just- they smelled really good, and I've never seen these before, and- and-"
Sakuya gave her a long, flat look. "Don't be here when I return."
The maid was already trembling as Sakuya did her final preparations. The teapot went on one side of the tray, wrapped in a cozy to keep it warm. The cup and saucer were in the middle, both for stability and temperature. Too close to the kettle and it would stay too hot. Six cookies, arranged in a neat circle on a plate, went on the far left, away from any heat that might melt the icing. The napkin was the final piece, accenting the tea cup with a crisp, triangular fold.
She lifted the tray and left the kitchen. The room was adjacent to the main dining room, but Remilia had decided to take her tea on the west veranda today. Sakuya thought she might be watching the moonrise, though the Lady had said little since she awoke.
The hallways in the mansion were not always the same, or even logically consistent with the dimensions of the house. The Kirisame girl had complained loudly on numerous occasions that the mazelike nature of the mansion was Patchouli's way to keep her out. Kirisame was, as always, mistaken. The spell was of Koakuma's invention, powered by a matrix Remilia had written.
It was their way of protecting Patchouli from undue exertion, and though it warped the halls and rooms at random, some features were static. Remilia's bedroom was always deep in the mansion, and Flandre's door was always at the end of a long, remote hallway. The trick to getting anywhere, especially when you had a tray full of steaming tea and cookies, was not to try.
Sakuya took a left at the first junction, another left, and paused to glare at a maid she'd caught shirking behind a suit of armor. A third left, then a right, and, instead of finding herself back at the kitchens, she turned into an entirely new colonnaded room, one side lined with windows. The doors to the west veranda were ahead, one ajar, letting in wisps of cool night air.
She moved steadily, heels clacking on the tile. The mental clock that had begun when she poured the tea was ticking towards zero. Just in time. She-
"Boss Maid! Boss Maid!"
Long practice kept her irritation from showing as she turned to face the interloper.
Sakuya frowned.
The maid was a mess. Cerulean hair singed, one sleeve of her uniform was torn away entirely, and the skirt had a clean hole through the center, like someone had fired a danmaku bullet between the fairy's legs.
"Yes?"
"Boss, I just came from downstairs! It was like, super dark down there, and there's all those bones and stuff, and it's scary, even though you always make me go anyway, and-"
"What do you need?" Sakuya said coolly. The timer for teatime was coming dangerously close to 'now.'
"Oh!" The maid blinked, seeming to remember why she was upset. "I was supposed to get Lady Flandre's dresses for the laundry, but she was awake, and she was soooo grumpy! But she uh- she said that she wanted to see you."
"You mean she wished to speak to her sister?"
Sakuya's frown deepened as the maid shook her head in response.
"Nuh-uh! She said 'Send me the Boss Maid, or I'll come get her myself.'" The maid gestured toward her ruined dress and hair. "She's really grumpy tonight."
"I see. Put that dress in the trash, and you are dismissed for the night. Fix your hair before tomorrow."
She strode towards the veranda, already preparing her apologies for the delay, when the maid called after her.
"But Lady Flandre said, 'Do it in five minutes!' And that was like forever ago because I couldn't find you."
Sakuya stopped. The words took an instant to set in, and then she had a hand on her watch.
Click .
The world went still and quiet, all the colors turning to inverted monochrome. Sakuya took flight. Half a second to drop the tray onto the table beside a frozen Remilia.
Click .
The eldest Scarlet was long-used to Sakuya's appearances, and didn't even twitch at her arrival.
"Milady, I apologize for my lateness, but something urgent with your sister seems to have come up."
Remilia tilted her head slightly. "Is that so? She's not rampaging again, is she?"
"No, Milady." She relayed what the maid had said to her, as fast as she could.
"Ah." Remilia yawned and waved a hand. "I slept poorly. I trust you can take care of it, Sakuya?"
"Yes, Milady."
She waited just long enough for Remilia to give an affirming nod before she touched her watch again.
Sakuya moved. She had all the time in the world, yes, but Flandre demanded urgency. She hadn't ever made a request like this, actually sending a messenger to relay it. If she wanted something, she'd usually just stand at her door and yell until someone heard her. Or, on bad days, kick down the door and come get what she wanted.
But sending a messenger? That was the kind of thing Remilia would do, and showed a degree of restraint that Flandre just didn't have. When Flandre Scarlet wanted something, she'd go get it herself, regardless of the consequences.
The air was stale, in Sakuya's timeless world, and flying without a breeze never failed to be an odd sensation. The spell matrix that warped the hallways had a distorting effect on time and space, and the mansion interior was always blurred and unfocused, the details nebulous when she stopped time.
It took her nearly ten minutes to locate the hallway leading to Flandre's domain. Today, it was sandwiched between two moonlit gardens, almost a mirror of the windowed colonnade that led to Remilia.
Time resumed as she touched down.
Flandre's door was open just a hair. Sakuya's initial thought that the maid had left it open was replaced by a more disquieting one: Flandre had left it open for her. Another degree of restraint that she'd rarely shown.
Sakuya pulled it fully open. The basement staircase yawned before her, the stench of old blood and death wafting up from the stones.
"Lady Scarlet, I'm here," she called. Her voice echoed down the stairs and vanished into the gloom.
There was no response from below.
She descended.
Flandre's realm was exempt from the space-changing magic that affected most of the house, but taking the stairs always held a degree of risk. Flandre's tantrums had left clawmarks gouged into the walls, and the stairs were not always whole. Sakuya opted to just hover a few inches off the pitted stones rather than risk tripping over loose rubble.
It was pitch black below. Sakuya whispered a cantrip as she went. It was something from the days before her life as Head Maid, when she'd had other reasons to need to see in the dark. The shadows flickered and then clarified, details looming up around her as the darkvision engaged.
The stairs came to a landing and then turned at a right angle, descending ten more yards before meeting the stone floor of the basement.
Sakuya continued hovering, her heels brushing over the scattered bones and mess that carpeted the room. Though, room didn't do it justice. The basement ran the full length and width of the mansion, and even with her spell, Sakuya couldn't penetrate far into the darkness. It was more like a cave. It smelled like a cave, all dampness and stale death.
"Lady Scarlet? You wished to see me?" Her voice was calm and steady. Another old habit. Vampires were predators, and responded to perceived weakness with aggression. It helped that she wasn't frightened of Flandre. The girl was dangerous, yes, but also fragile and childlike.
Sakuya was more worried about what had happened to trigger this change in Flandre's behavior than of what Flandre was actually doing with it.
She hovered aimlessly, crossing a long expanse of stone and bones.
"Sa-ku-yaaa." Flandre's voice sang from all around her.
Sakuya stopped.
Two eyes opened just at the edge of Sakuya's vision. Red, bright enough to shine through the dark.
"Milady. You called?"
The sound of small footsteps, of things crunching underfoot answered her. Flandre materialized from the shadows, wings chiming like bells on every step.
Her dress was crimson trimmed with white, her stockings pale against mary-janes. Her usual mobcap was absent, though her hair was neater than the usual blood-clotted tangle. And…
Sakuya's frown returned. It wasn't just Flandre's hair that was cleaner. Her dress was unstained, with none of the tears she accumulated playing in the basement. She often just went nude, with no one to see her, but here she was, fully dressed and groomed, and… smiling.
"Took you long enough," Flandre said, pouting playfully. "I bet Big Sis was being boring again, wasn't she?"
"The maid was tardy. I apologize for my delay though, Lady Scarlet."
"Doesn't matter." Flandre rolled her blazing eyes and kept walking, padding toward Sakuya. Sakuya stayed still, letting Flandre circle her, drawing ever inward until she spoke from just beside Sakuya's ear.
"You know what today is, Sakuya?"
"Thursday, January 5th, Milady. The year is-"
"Nope!" Flandre shook her head hard enough to send her wings ringing. "Don't care! What's next week?"
Sakuya paused for a moment, examining a mental calendar. Coming-Of-Age-Day was on the 11th, but the Scarlets didn't celebrate the Japanese holidays most of Gensokyo did, and Flandre was much too old for… Flandre was too old for…
Oh dear.
"Your birthday is January 15th."
"Yes!" Flandre darted around her and caught Sakuya's hands in a grip bordering on crushing. "My birthday! I'm going to be 500 this year, and I started thinking. I have nothing else to do down here but think. But maybe it's time I started being a little more grown up."
"I confess that your age had slipped my mind, Milady," Sakuya said, bowing her head apologetically. "Did you want to have a party this year?"
Now that she thought of it, she didn't think Remilia had ever actually celebrated a birthday in the time that she had known her. The numbers probably lost meaning after a couple centuries. Where in the hell had Flandre even come up with this idea?
"If you want." Flandre looked unenthused with the idea, floating listlessly a few feet away from Sakuya now.
"I would have to ask your sister. She would be in charge of the preparations, after all." And in charge of denying it, because a party would be overstimulating for Flandre, and likely deadly for everyone involved.
"Would there be gifts at a party? I thought- that's what I wanted to ask you about. I'm going to be more of a grownup now." Flandre gestured at her dress. "Doing grownup stuff, helping Remi with things."
Sakuya controlled her eye twitch. Where had Flandre gotten this notion from? Had the fairies said something to her? Fairies always had lots of stupid notions in their heads, and Flandre was just so impressionable. She was sheltered!
"But what I really wanted…" She was hesitating now, her words faltering. "Cuz you and Remi always do it, and I'm kinda… jealous, because all I have is the dumb food the maids bring, but…" Flandre trailed off, twiddling her fingers. If she'd been able to blush, she would have been.
"Yes, Milady?"
"I wanna… I wanna drink your blood, Sakuya."
Notes:
Likely to be no more than 2-3 chapters.
I had ideas of smutty Sakuya/Remilia stuff, with Remi drinking from Saku, and went on a kick of reading those fics, (all 4 of them... ;_; ), and then this popped up. Something that is neither smutty nor Saku/Remi. Honestly not sure what kicked this off. I'm not a big fan of Flandre at all.
1
Water heated to a boil in the copper kettle. The cup and saucer came from the top shelf- lilac patterned – Remilia was in a dour mood today, and the color was calming. The tea leaves were her own blend, carefully selected for freshness, and also for their mundanity. Remilia could taste the magic in supernatural breeds, and would complain that it ruined the flavor.
The oven dinged. Sakuya went on arranging the tea tray for another ten seconds before realizing that no one had handled the oven. She cleared her throat loudly.
The fairy chef, currently examining her reflection in the back of a ladle, yelped and turned. "Sorry, Boss."
The fairy opened the oven, releasing a burst of heat into the already steamy kitchen. She tried to take the baking tray, only to yelp again as she burned her hand.
"Oven mitts!" Sakuya snapped. She hadn't stopped arranging, but her free hand was toying with her pocket watch. If this took any longer, she was going to just do it herself, and damn the maid.
Surprisingly though, the fairy found her mitts and withdrew the tray before it burned. The scent of warm cookies filled the room, rich ginger and spices. The fairy even remembered to turn off the oven before she began icing the cookies with quick dabs of buttercream.
Sakuya allowed herself to look away and pour the first cup of tea. The tea was a rich black, and earthy, to compliment the sweetness of the cookies. It would steep for the four minutes it took Sakuya to get to Remilia, just in time to reach the ideal temperature and flavor.
She turned just as the fairy reached for a cookie, drooling slightly.
"Are you done?"
Another yelp, and the chef nearly flipped the cookie sheet with her flinch. "S-sorry, Boss! I just- they smelled really good, and I've never seen these before, and- and-"
Sakuya gave her a long, flat look. "Don't be here when I return."
The maid was already trembling as Sakuya did her final preparations. The teapot went on one side of the tray, wrapped in a cozy to keep it warm. The cup and saucer were in the middle, both for stability and temperature. Too close to the kettle and it would stay too hot. Six cookies, arranged in a neat circle on a plate, went on the far left, away from any heat that might melt the icing. The napkin was the final piece, accenting the tea cup with a crisp, triangular fold.
She lifted the tray and left the kitchen. The room was adjacent to the main dining room, but Remilia had decided to take her tea on the west veranda today. Sakuya thought she might be watching the moonrise, though the Lady had said little since she awoke.
The hallways in the mansion were not always the same, or even logically consistent with the dimensions of the house. The Kirisame girl had complained loudly on numerous occasions that the mazelike nature of the mansion was Patchouli's way to keep her out. Kirisame was, as always, mistaken. The spell was of Koakuma's invention, powered by a matrix Remilia had written.
It was their way of protecting Patchouli from undue exertion, and though it warped the halls and rooms at random, some features were static. Remilia's bedroom was always deep in the mansion, and Flandre's door was always at the end of a long, remote hallway. The trick to getting anywhere, especially when you had a tray full of steaming tea and cookies, was not to try.
Sakuya took a left at the first junction, another left, and paused to glare at a maid she'd caught shirking behind a suit of armor. A third left, then a right, and, instead of finding herself back at the kitchens, she turned into an entirely new colonnaded room, one side lined with windows. The doors to the west veranda were ahead, one ajar, letting in wisps of cool night air.
She moved steadily, heels clacking on the tile. The mental clock that had begun when she poured the tea was ticking towards zero. Just in time. She-
"Boss Maid! Boss Maid!"
Long practice kept her irritation from showing as she turned to face the interloper.
Sakuya frowned.
The maid was a mess. Cerulean hair singed, one sleeve of her uniform was torn away entirely, and the skirt had a clean hole through the center, like someone had fired a danmaku bullet between the fairy's legs.
"Yes?"
"Boss, I just came from downstairs! It was like, super dark down there, and there's all those bones and stuff, and it's scary, even though you always make me go anyway, and-"
"What do you need?" Sakuya said coolly. The timer for teatime was coming dangerously close to 'now.'
"Oh!" The maid blinked, seeming to remember why she was upset. "I was supposed to get Lady Flandre's dresses for the laundry, but she was awake, and she was soooo grumpy! But she uh- she said that she wanted to see you."
"You mean she wished to speak to her sister?"
Sakuya's frown deepened as the maid shook her head in response.
"Nuh-uh! She said 'Send me the Boss Maid, or I'll come get her myself.'" The maid gestured toward her ruined dress and hair. "She's really grumpy tonight."
"I see. Put that dress in the trash, and you are dismissed for the night. Fix your hair before tomorrow."
She strode towards the veranda, already preparing her apologies for the delay, when the maid called after her.
"But Lady Flandre said, 'Do it in five minutes!' And that was like forever ago because I couldn't find you."
Sakuya stopped. The words took an instant to set in, and then she had a hand on her watch.
Click .
The world went still and quiet, all the colors turning to inverted monochrome. Sakuya took flight. Half a second to drop the tray onto the table beside a frozen Remilia.
Click .
The eldest Scarlet was long-used to Sakuya's appearances, and didn't even twitch at her arrival.
"Milady, I apologize for my lateness, but something urgent with your sister seems to have come up."
Remilia tilted her head slightly. "Is that so? She's not rampaging again, is she?"
"No, Milady." She relayed what the maid had said to her, as fast as she could.
"Ah." Remilia yawned and waved a hand. "I slept poorly. I trust you can take care of it, Sakuya?"
"Yes, Milady."
She waited just long enough for Remilia to give an affirming nod before she touched her watch again.
Sakuya moved. She had all the time in the world, yes, but Flandre demanded urgency. She hadn't ever made a request like this, actually sending a messenger to relay it. If she wanted something, she'd usually just stand at her door and yell until someone heard her. Or, on bad days, kick down the door and come get what she wanted.
But sending a messenger? That was the kind of thing Remilia would do, and showed a degree of restraint that Flandre just didn't have. When Flandre Scarlet wanted something, she'd go get it herself, regardless of the consequences.
The air was stale, in Sakuya's timeless world, and flying without a breeze never failed to be an odd sensation. The spell matrix that warped the hallways had a distorting effect on time and space, and the mansion interior was always blurred and unfocused, the details nebulous when she stopped time.
It took her nearly ten minutes to locate the hallway leading to Flandre's domain. Today, it was sandwiched between two moonlit gardens, almost a mirror of the windowed colonnade that led to Remilia.
Time resumed as she touched down.
Flandre's door was open just a hair. Sakuya's initial thought that the maid had left it open was replaced by a more disquieting one: Flandre had left it open for her. Another degree of restraint that she'd rarely shown.
Sakuya pulled it fully open. The basement staircase yawned before her, the stench of old blood and death wafting up from the stones.
"Lady Scarlet, I'm here," she called. Her voice echoed down the stairs and vanished into the gloom.
There was no response from below.
She descended.
Flandre's realm was exempt from the space-changing magic that affected most of the house, but taking the stairs always held a degree of risk. Flandre's tantrums had left clawmarks gouged into the walls, and the stairs were not always whole. Sakuya opted to just hover a few inches off the pitted stones rather than risk tripping over loose rubble.
It was pitch black below. Sakuya whispered a cantrip as she went. It was something from the days before her life as Head Maid, when she'd had other reasons to need to see in the dark. The shadows flickered and then clarified, details looming up around her as the darkvision engaged.
The stairs came to a landing and then turned at a right angle, descending ten more yards before meeting the stone floor of the basement.
Sakuya continued hovering, her heels brushing over the scattered bones and mess that carpeted the room. Though, room didn't do it justice. The basement ran the full length and width of the mansion, and even with her spell, Sakuya couldn't penetrate far into the darkness. It was more like a cave. It smelled like a cave, all dampness and stale death.
"Lady Scarlet? You wished to see me?" Her voice was calm and steady. Another old habit. Vampires were predators, and responded to perceived weakness with aggression. It helped that she wasn't frightened of Flandre. The girl was dangerous, yes, but also fragile and childlike.
Sakuya was more worried about what had happened to trigger this change in Flandre's behavior than of what Flandre was actually doing with it.
She hovered aimlessly, crossing a long expanse of stone and bones.
"Sa-ku-yaaa." Flandre's voice sang from all around her.
Sakuya stopped.
Two eyes opened just at the edge of Sakuya's vision. Red, bright enough to shine through the dark.
"Milady. You called?"
The sound of small footsteps, of things crunching underfoot answered her. Flandre materialized from the shadows, wings chiming like bells on every step.
Her dress was crimson trimmed with white, her stockings pale against mary-janes. Her usual mobcap was absent, though her hair was neater than the usual blood-clotted tangle. And…
Sakuya's frown returned. It wasn't just Flandre's hair that was cleaner. Her dress was unstained, with none of the tears she accumulated playing in the basement. She often just went nude, with no one to see her, but here she was, fully dressed and groomed, and… smiling.
"Took you long enough," Flandre said, pouting playfully. "I bet Big Sis was being boring again, wasn't she?"
"The maid was tardy. I apologize for my delay though, Lady Scarlet."
"Doesn't matter." Flandre rolled her blazing eyes and kept walking, padding toward Sakuya. Sakuya stayed still, letting Flandre circle her, drawing ever inward until she spoke from just beside Sakuya's ear.
"You know what today is, Sakuya?"
"Thursday, January 5th, Milady. The year is-"
"Nope!" Flandre shook her head hard enough to send her wings ringing. "Don't care! What's next week?"
Sakuya paused for a moment, examining a mental calendar. Coming-Of-Age-Day was on the 11th, but the Scarlets didn't celebrate the Japanese holidays most of Gensokyo did, and Flandre was much too old for… Flandre was too old for…
Oh dear.
"Your birthday is January 15th."
"Yes!" Flandre darted around her and caught Sakuya's hands in a grip bordering on crushing. "My birthday! I'm going to be 500 this year, and I started thinking. I have nothing else to do down here but think. But maybe it's time I started being a little more grown up."
"I confess that your age had slipped my mind, Milady," Sakuya said, bowing her head apologetically. "Did you want to have a party this year?"
Now that she thought of it, she didn't think Remilia had ever actually celebrated a birthday in the time that she had known her. The numbers probably lost meaning after a couple centuries. Where in the hell had Flandre even come up with this idea?
"If you want." Flandre looked unenthused with the idea, floating listlessly a few feet away from Sakuya now.
"I would have to ask your sister. She would be in charge of the preparations, after all." And in charge of denying it, because a party would be overstimulating for Flandre, and likely deadly for everyone involved.
"Would there be gifts at a party? I thought- that's what I wanted to ask you about. I'm going to be more of a grownup now." Flandre gestured at her dress. "Doing grownup stuff, helping Remi with things."
Sakuya controlled her eye twitch. Where had Flandre gotten this notion from? Had the fairies said something to her? Fairies always had lots of stupid notions in their heads, and Flandre was just so impressionable. She was sheltered!
"But what I really wanted…" She was hesitating now, her words faltering. "Cuz you and Remi always do it, and I'm kinda… jealous, because all I have is the dumb food the maids bring, but…" Flandre trailed off, twiddling her fingers. If she'd been able to blush, she would have been.
"Yes, Milady?"
"I wanna… I wanna drink your blood, Sakuya."
Notes:
Likely to be no more than 2-3 chapters.
I had ideas of smutty Sakuya/Remilia stuff, with Remi drinking from Saku, and went on a kick of reading those fics, (all 4 of them... ;_; ), and then this popped up. Something that is neither smutty nor Saku/Remi. Honestly not sure what kicked this off. I'm not a big fan of Flandre at all.
Looking for Group (Worm)
Looking For Group
"So, I know we're always looking for new talent, but I hadn't pegged us as your... scene."
Purity rolled her glowing shoulders in a shrug. "You're my last resort."
"It couldn't have been that bad," Jack Slash said, rubbing his beard bemusedly.
"Think again," Purity muttered. "Ma- Kaiser is too much of a sociopath to deal with, and I'm sick of him trying to control me with our kids."
"Nine sociopaths, right here."
Purity didn't seem to hear him. "And so I tried joining other groups. The ABB were out, of course. The others were... problematic."
XXX
"Forgive me if I'm not convinced, Purity," Grue said. Black smoke wreathed his head, making his already dark presence even more ominous.
Purity bit her lip. Okay, Grue's black. Don't use the n-word. Don't call him 'boy.' Just be cool, and maybe Tattletale will agree to vote him out.
"I'm... I'm ready to turn over a new leaf."
Grue sighed visibly, his helmet dipping. Purity didn't miss the nudge Tattletale gave him in the ribs.
"I think we can agree to try."
He held out a hand. A very, very dark-skinned hand.
Purity's eye twitched. Wait. She had this. She knew what to do!
She fist-bumped him.
XXX
"We're mercenaries," Fautline said. "You're not exactly the subtle type, and a neo-nazi doesn't really help our image."
"I'm willing to change," Purity said, fingers drumming on her resume folder. "I- I'm really impressed by how you-"
She glanced around the empty dance floor of the Palanquin. Say something that'll make her trust you.
Her eyes settled on the pale blonde waif staring into space as an orange boy helped her cross to the stairs.
"I really admire your work with mental defectives."
XXX
"Wow. Just... wow," Jack Slash said.
"I know!" Purity shouted. "Nobody wants to give me a chance!"
XXX
"We do have programs that allow villains to make a new start. They're typically not as high profile as you, but I think we can work something out in another city." Armsmaster shuffled papers for a moment. "How do you feel about Detroit?"
"..." Purity said.
XXX
"I know it's awkward because I've beaten most of you into the ground before," Purity said. "But I think your ideals of openness and accountability are really... really... good..."
"If it was possible to hate someone to death..." Gallant muttered from his spot in the corner.
The rest of New Wave continued to give Purity the stink eye.
XXX
"Was there anyone you didn't try?" Jack asked. He sounded almost embarrassed now.
"Well..."
XXX
"..." Skidmark said.
"..." Squealer said.
Purity turned on her heel and walked away.
XXX
"I'm all out of options," Purity moaned. "No one wants to work with me. And you- you guys accept anyone!"
Jack cocked an eyebrow at her. "You're sure you'd fit in with the Nine?"
"I'm willing to try!" She sounded desperate now, and she was, and she was far past caring.
"We're a family," Jack said. "The Nine. So I don't think you'd have any problem if I mentioned that Burnscar is a flaming lesbian?"
Purity's smile tilted down on one side. "I- I think that's very... good for her, that she made that... lifestyle choice."
"And you have no problem with Crawler being African American?"
"Crawler is a giant monster!"
Jack jabbed a finger at her. "So suddenly you won't judge him on skin color?"
He stood up, towering over her. "I don't think this is going to work."
"Please, just give me a chance," she cried.
"Bonesaw's last name is 'Goldstein.'"
Purity flinched backwards. "No!"
"And Shatterbird is from Dubai!"
"Ahhh! Not there!" She had no idea where it was, only that it scared the shit out of her.
"Siberian is half-black, half-white!"
"Race traitor!"
"And she's technically a woman trapped in a man's body!"
Purity paused. "Wait, what?"
"So really, the only member of the Nine you'd get along with would be Mannequin. He's nice and white like you like." Jack sounded genuinely disgusted now.
"What about you and Cherish?"
"No one likes Cherish."
(Somewhere nearby, Cherish looked up from where she was making terrible life choices. "Hey!")
"And me..." Jack continued. "You remember Harbinger, of the original Nine?"
Purity nodded dumbly.
"He and I fucked. A lot."
She nodded again and stood up. "I- I think I'll just see myself out."
"Please do."
He even held the door for her.
"So, I know we're always looking for new talent, but I hadn't pegged us as your... scene."
Purity rolled her glowing shoulders in a shrug. "You're my last resort."
"It couldn't have been that bad," Jack Slash said, rubbing his beard bemusedly.
"Think again," Purity muttered. "Ma- Kaiser is too much of a sociopath to deal with, and I'm sick of him trying to control me with our kids."
"Nine sociopaths, right here."
Purity didn't seem to hear him. "And so I tried joining other groups. The ABB were out, of course. The others were... problematic."
XXX
"Forgive me if I'm not convinced, Purity," Grue said. Black smoke wreathed his head, making his already dark presence even more ominous.
Purity bit her lip. Okay, Grue's black. Don't use the n-word. Don't call him 'boy.' Just be cool, and maybe Tattletale will agree to vote him out.
"I'm... I'm ready to turn over a new leaf."
Grue sighed visibly, his helmet dipping. Purity didn't miss the nudge Tattletale gave him in the ribs.
"I think we can agree to try."
He held out a hand. A very, very dark-skinned hand.
Purity's eye twitched. Wait. She had this. She knew what to do!
She fist-bumped him.
XXX
"We're mercenaries," Fautline said. "You're not exactly the subtle type, and a neo-nazi doesn't really help our image."
"I'm willing to change," Purity said, fingers drumming on her resume folder. "I- I'm really impressed by how you-"
She glanced around the empty dance floor of the Palanquin. Say something that'll make her trust you.
Her eyes settled on the pale blonde waif staring into space as an orange boy helped her cross to the stairs.
"I really admire your work with mental defectives."
XXX
"Wow. Just... wow," Jack Slash said.
"I know!" Purity shouted. "Nobody wants to give me a chance!"
XXX
"We do have programs that allow villains to make a new start. They're typically not as high profile as you, but I think we can work something out in another city." Armsmaster shuffled papers for a moment. "How do you feel about Detroit?"
"..." Purity said.
XXX
"I know it's awkward because I've beaten most of you into the ground before," Purity said. "But I think your ideals of openness and accountability are really... really... good..."
"If it was possible to hate someone to death..." Gallant muttered from his spot in the corner.
The rest of New Wave continued to give Purity the stink eye.
XXX
"Was there anyone you didn't try?" Jack asked. He sounded almost embarrassed now.
"Well..."
XXX
"..." Skidmark said.
"..." Squealer said.
Purity turned on her heel and walked away.
XXX
"I'm all out of options," Purity moaned. "No one wants to work with me. And you- you guys accept anyone!"
Jack cocked an eyebrow at her. "You're sure you'd fit in with the Nine?"
"I'm willing to try!" She sounded desperate now, and she was, and she was far past caring.
"We're a family," Jack said. "The Nine. So I don't think you'd have any problem if I mentioned that Burnscar is a flaming lesbian?"
Purity's smile tilted down on one side. "I- I think that's very... good for her, that she made that... lifestyle choice."
"And you have no problem with Crawler being African American?"
"Crawler is a giant monster!"
Jack jabbed a finger at her. "So suddenly you won't judge him on skin color?"
He stood up, towering over her. "I don't think this is going to work."
"Please, just give me a chance," she cried.
"Bonesaw's last name is 'Goldstein.'"
Purity flinched backwards. "No!"
"And Shatterbird is from Dubai!"
"Ahhh! Not there!" She had no idea where it was, only that it scared the shit out of her.
"Siberian is half-black, half-white!"
"Race traitor!"
"And she's technically a woman trapped in a man's body!"
Purity paused. "Wait, what?"
"So really, the only member of the Nine you'd get along with would be Mannequin. He's nice and white like you like." Jack sounded genuinely disgusted now.
"What about you and Cherish?"
"No one likes Cherish."
(Somewhere nearby, Cherish looked up from where she was making terrible life choices. "Hey!")
"And me..." Jack continued. "You remember Harbinger, of the original Nine?"
Purity nodded dumbly.
"He and I fucked. A lot."
She nodded again and stood up. "I- I think I'll just see myself out."
"Please do."
He even held the door for her.
Deusphage (Worm/God Eater)
Deusphage
Original Prompt: Taylor as an Aragami from God Eater-Burst.
XXX
"Ready?"
The little creature chittered in acknowledgement, squirming and dancing back and forth on the bathroom tile like a puppy. I tossed my handful of nail clippings at it, and it leapt for them, snatching them out of the air with its tendrils and devouring them. I watched it intently for a sign of change, but it looked like the meal was too small to give it any growth.
It chirped again, sounding disappointed at the paltry meal.
"I know, sorry. Maybe... how about this?" I rummaged under the sink, holding up a handful of items for it to examine. After a long moment of serious consideration, it bit into a shampoo bottle, tearing the plastic apart with its jaws. The leftover shampoo still in the bottle frothed up, and the creature ended its meal with a bubble beard.
I laughed and picked it up so it could see itself in the mirror. "Look at you."
The tiny creature stared at its reflection; a bundle of hairlike tendrils wrapped around a six-legged body. It had a thin layer of growth on its blackish skin, more like moss than fur, and I suspected it had been chewing up the grass when I wasn't looking. It blinked, a cluster of red eyes set into its rounded face.
As I held it, its body shook gently and then swelled, gaining a bit of size and weight as it digested the shampoo bottle. After three weeks, it had gone from a clump of my own hair, cut free after Madison stuck gum in it, to an... animal the size of a small cat.
"What are you?" I whispered.
It responded with a quiet chirp, snuggling against my chest, its answer clear. It was mine.
XXX
I was more careful at school now.
Anything that left my body, any bits of me, would become creatures. I'd learned my lesson after an unfortunate shave-session that ended up spawning a bathtub full of tiny, maggot-like worms. My first had come to the rescue, devouring the worms in a matter of seconds and gaining its first growth spurt.
Hair and nails were the biggest hurdle. I had to feed anything to the creature. I'd worried briefly about my period and the horrors that might bring, but I didn't seem to have one anymore. Nor did I have to use the bathroom. I ate and drank, but I never got full.
School was still the biggest threat. The creature had to come with me. It got anxious without me, and the one time I'd left it alone, it had eaten a hole the size of a pizza in the drywall. It huddled in my backpack, and I prayed that it would obey me enough for that.
"Alright, I'll need your essays on contemporary cape culture. Pass them forward." Gladly waved the class into motion.
I dug into my bag. The creature wiggled happily as my fingers touched it, but I pressed it gently to the side, trying to keep it quiet. I found my homework folder and withdrew it. And- and...
"Are you shitting me?" I whispered.
A ragged stub was all the remained of my folder. A few torn pages, just long enough for me to see the title to my essay, ending in a shredded, torn edge.
It had eaten my homework.
Slowly, I put the folder back into my bag. Madison, who sat in front of me, turned to get my essay. She grinned when she saw that I had nothing.
"Didn't even bother, huh?"
"Shut up."
XXX
They cornered me outside after class. Their words washed over me. The same old insults.
Dumb. Stupid. Ugly. Unwanted. Slut. Bitch. Loser.
My hand tightened around my bag strap. The bag shook slightly, the creature reacting to my distress.
"No. Stay," I hissed.
"Talking to yourself now?" Emma chided.
The bag twitched. A thought came to me. A wild, vicious thought. If I opened the bag and let the creature at them, what would happen? It could eat anything.
Anything.
The creature went still inside, tensed, just waiting for me to unleash it.
Emma said something, but I didn't hear. The wave of mocking laughter was enough.
I turned and ran, shoving through the ring of girls. The exit loomed in front of me and I kept going.
XXX
We sat in the basement. I was leaning against a box of Mom's things, her old possessions scattered around me like dead leaves. It had been her that stopped me. Thoughts of what she would think if I let the creature go on Emma and the others.
I raised you better than that, she would say.
And... that wasn't true. I wasn't any better. I was ugly, so ugly on the inside. My hate had eaten me up, burnt away everything about me that Mom would have loved.
Slowly, I raised my backpack. The creature raised its stubby head to watch me.
"Chow down."
It tore the bag from my hand and ripped it to pieces in a matter of seconds. Bits of paper and fabric flew. The creature swallowed up the bag, my homework, pencils, folders, papers, gym clothes, text books... I watched, hands on my knees as it ate my last link to Winslow.
The creature finished the bag and started sniffing out the scraps, getting each one with painstaking care. A stray pen rolled to my feet, and I tossed it back to it. The creature snapped it in two, ink spurting across its many-eyed face like blood. It chewed and swallowed, and that was that.
"We're never going back there," I said.
The creature chittered, its body twitching and growing as it absorbed my bag. It had sprouted a set of small, conical horns around its face, pointing in odd directions. I had a feeling they'd get much larger as it did. Its eyes blinked, and its face shifted, eyes moving aside as another red eye swelled out of its skin. That made seven.
How much could it eat? I wondered. Could it just go on and on, endless, devouring the world like my anger had me?
I picked up the first thing that came to hand. A polaroid, fallen out of one of the album's from Mom's box. Mom and Dad, both young and happy, their arms around as they smiled at the camera.
I held it out to the creature. Stopped. Withdrew it.
"No." It was mine. My memory of Mom. It wasn't right for the creature to eat it.
I folded the picture, the paper crinkling as I creased it. And then I put it in my mouth.
It was easier to chew than I had imagined, and even easier to swallow.
The creature made a happy noise as it saw me eat.
The change came like a heat wave. My whole body shuddered involuntarily, my skin crawling. I exhaled, gasping, my hands clenching and twisting as the change took them.
It came as suddenly as it went, leaving me shaking on the floor.
The creature nuzzled my face, sounding worried.
"I'm... fine," I murmured.
I sat up slowly.
Held up my hands.
They had changed. Not a big thing. But they had changed all the same. Blue, tough skin, had grown over my hands and wrists, spreading in thin, metallic plates like armor. My nails had gone hard and silver, becoming almost clawlike. The back of my left hand boasted a small growth, a hard, cylindrical orange bump.
If I ate more, they would grow. The change would increase.
I knew that for certain now. Something I should have known since the creature first grew from my hair. I wasn't human any longer. There was no hiding this.
No going back now.
I opened the box of Mom's things. It felt... right. It would be my way of remembering her.
I'd swallow up the person named Taylor Hebert and become something new.
"Your name... It's... I'm going to call you Ouroboros," I said to the creature. "That's what we are."
Its eyes lit up and it cocked its head at me. It liked having a name, but more than that, it liked me acknowledging what I was.
I was no different from the creature now. We would eat and eat and eat, until we became something new, something better.
I tugged the first of Mom's things from the box.
"Let's eat."
XXX
A oneshot that I banged out in about 45 minutes. Imagine the creature as a Chibi-Ouroboros, and Taylor's transformation was leading toward Tsukuyomi.
In retrospect, this is probably one of my favorites of the oneshots. Very pleased with how it turned out. I'm hoping to do more God Eater stuff in the future, as I'm about 80% through GE2. Got a lotta inspiration for a fic, and possibly... some smut.
Original Prompt: Taylor as an Aragami from God Eater-Burst.
XXX
"Ready?"
The little creature chittered in acknowledgement, squirming and dancing back and forth on the bathroom tile like a puppy. I tossed my handful of nail clippings at it, and it leapt for them, snatching them out of the air with its tendrils and devouring them. I watched it intently for a sign of change, but it looked like the meal was too small to give it any growth.
It chirped again, sounding disappointed at the paltry meal.
"I know, sorry. Maybe... how about this?" I rummaged under the sink, holding up a handful of items for it to examine. After a long moment of serious consideration, it bit into a shampoo bottle, tearing the plastic apart with its jaws. The leftover shampoo still in the bottle frothed up, and the creature ended its meal with a bubble beard.
I laughed and picked it up so it could see itself in the mirror. "Look at you."
The tiny creature stared at its reflection; a bundle of hairlike tendrils wrapped around a six-legged body. It had a thin layer of growth on its blackish skin, more like moss than fur, and I suspected it had been chewing up the grass when I wasn't looking. It blinked, a cluster of red eyes set into its rounded face.
As I held it, its body shook gently and then swelled, gaining a bit of size and weight as it digested the shampoo bottle. After three weeks, it had gone from a clump of my own hair, cut free after Madison stuck gum in it, to an... animal the size of a small cat.
"What are you?" I whispered.
It responded with a quiet chirp, snuggling against my chest, its answer clear. It was mine.
XXX
I was more careful at school now.
Anything that left my body, any bits of me, would become creatures. I'd learned my lesson after an unfortunate shave-session that ended up spawning a bathtub full of tiny, maggot-like worms. My first had come to the rescue, devouring the worms in a matter of seconds and gaining its first growth spurt.
Hair and nails were the biggest hurdle. I had to feed anything to the creature. I'd worried briefly about my period and the horrors that might bring, but I didn't seem to have one anymore. Nor did I have to use the bathroom. I ate and drank, but I never got full.
School was still the biggest threat. The creature had to come with me. It got anxious without me, and the one time I'd left it alone, it had eaten a hole the size of a pizza in the drywall. It huddled in my backpack, and I prayed that it would obey me enough for that.
"Alright, I'll need your essays on contemporary cape culture. Pass them forward." Gladly waved the class into motion.
I dug into my bag. The creature wiggled happily as my fingers touched it, but I pressed it gently to the side, trying to keep it quiet. I found my homework folder and withdrew it. And- and...
"Are you shitting me?" I whispered.
A ragged stub was all the remained of my folder. A few torn pages, just long enough for me to see the title to my essay, ending in a shredded, torn edge.
It had eaten my homework.
Slowly, I put the folder back into my bag. Madison, who sat in front of me, turned to get my essay. She grinned when she saw that I had nothing.
"Didn't even bother, huh?"
"Shut up."
XXX
They cornered me outside after class. Their words washed over me. The same old insults.
Dumb. Stupid. Ugly. Unwanted. Slut. Bitch. Loser.
My hand tightened around my bag strap. The bag shook slightly, the creature reacting to my distress.
"No. Stay," I hissed.
"Talking to yourself now?" Emma chided.
The bag twitched. A thought came to me. A wild, vicious thought. If I opened the bag and let the creature at them, what would happen? It could eat anything.
Anything.
The creature went still inside, tensed, just waiting for me to unleash it.
Emma said something, but I didn't hear. The wave of mocking laughter was enough.
I turned and ran, shoving through the ring of girls. The exit loomed in front of me and I kept going.
XXX
We sat in the basement. I was leaning against a box of Mom's things, her old possessions scattered around me like dead leaves. It had been her that stopped me. Thoughts of what she would think if I let the creature go on Emma and the others.
I raised you better than that, she would say.
And... that wasn't true. I wasn't any better. I was ugly, so ugly on the inside. My hate had eaten me up, burnt away everything about me that Mom would have loved.
Slowly, I raised my backpack. The creature raised its stubby head to watch me.
"Chow down."
It tore the bag from my hand and ripped it to pieces in a matter of seconds. Bits of paper and fabric flew. The creature swallowed up the bag, my homework, pencils, folders, papers, gym clothes, text books... I watched, hands on my knees as it ate my last link to Winslow.
The creature finished the bag and started sniffing out the scraps, getting each one with painstaking care. A stray pen rolled to my feet, and I tossed it back to it. The creature snapped it in two, ink spurting across its many-eyed face like blood. It chewed and swallowed, and that was that.
"We're never going back there," I said.
The creature chittered, its body twitching and growing as it absorbed my bag. It had sprouted a set of small, conical horns around its face, pointing in odd directions. I had a feeling they'd get much larger as it did. Its eyes blinked, and its face shifted, eyes moving aside as another red eye swelled out of its skin. That made seven.
How much could it eat? I wondered. Could it just go on and on, endless, devouring the world like my anger had me?
I picked up the first thing that came to hand. A polaroid, fallen out of one of the album's from Mom's box. Mom and Dad, both young and happy, their arms around as they smiled at the camera.
I held it out to the creature. Stopped. Withdrew it.
"No." It was mine. My memory of Mom. It wasn't right for the creature to eat it.
I folded the picture, the paper crinkling as I creased it. And then I put it in my mouth.
It was easier to chew than I had imagined, and even easier to swallow.
The creature made a happy noise as it saw me eat.
The change came like a heat wave. My whole body shuddered involuntarily, my skin crawling. I exhaled, gasping, my hands clenching and twisting as the change took them.
It came as suddenly as it went, leaving me shaking on the floor.
The creature nuzzled my face, sounding worried.
"I'm... fine," I murmured.
I sat up slowly.
Held up my hands.
They had changed. Not a big thing. But they had changed all the same. Blue, tough skin, had grown over my hands and wrists, spreading in thin, metallic plates like armor. My nails had gone hard and silver, becoming almost clawlike. The back of my left hand boasted a small growth, a hard, cylindrical orange bump.
If I ate more, they would grow. The change would increase.
I knew that for certain now. Something I should have known since the creature first grew from my hair. I wasn't human any longer. There was no hiding this.
No going back now.
I opened the box of Mom's things. It felt... right. It would be my way of remembering her.
I'd swallow up the person named Taylor Hebert and become something new.
"Your name... It's... I'm going to call you Ouroboros," I said to the creature. "That's what we are."
Its eyes lit up and it cocked its head at me. It liked having a name, but more than that, it liked me acknowledging what I was.
I was no different from the creature now. We would eat and eat and eat, until we became something new, something better.
I tugged the first of Mom's things from the box.
"Let's eat."
XXX
A oneshot that I banged out in about 45 minutes. Imagine the creature as a Chibi-Ouroboros, and Taylor's transformation was leading toward Tsukuyomi.
In retrospect, this is probably one of my favorites of the oneshots. Very pleased with how it turned out. I'm hoping to do more God Eater stuff in the future, as I'm about 80% through GE2. Got a lotta inspiration for a fic, and possibly... some smut.
Heartless (Worm)
Heartless
I didn't have a lot of memories of Dad from early on. He didn't take a lot of interest in us until we got our powers. Before then, my strongest memory of him was at a party. The memory was clear as a bell, untouched by the dreamy haze that seems to fill all childhood memories. I couldn't have been more than five or six at the time.
Christmas at the Vasil household.
I was on his lap. That in itself was unusual. Dad wasn't the touchy-feely sort- not for us at least. The women- moms, bodyguards, whoever, they'd be all over him. But for us, his kids? Not a chance.
And yet I remembered. I was balanced across his lap, one of his arms around me. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the scent of evergreen needles and turkey. That blend of scents always made me think of home. Even years later, triggered by a whiff of sap or a man on the street. In that moment, I was home.
My Dad's scent, his strong arm around me, my back to his chest. The rumble of his laughter carried through me, and I couldn't help smiling too. I was too young then to understand what kind of man my father was. Too young to realize just how rare an opportunity I had then.
"Taylor, why don't you go first?" Dad said.
Mom beamed at him from where she sat at his elbow.
Dad motioned, and Cassie, his favorite bodyguard, picked up a present from under the tree. A couple of the other kids protested, but I ignored them. Not even Nicholas' furious glare could detract from the moment.
Dad loved me. I knew that with a child's certainty. It was a fact. Santa Claus was real, the sky was blue, Cherie was a jerk, and Dad loved me.
"Go ahead, Taylor." Mom said. The sunny warmth of her smile made the moment perfect. Dad loved me. Mom loved me.
I reached out with trembling hands to take the present from Cassie. It was blue, wrapped with green. The same shade of blue as Dad's eyes.
I told him so, and he smiled at me- another rarity, I would realize later. Not the charming smile he used on his women, but an honest, open smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Open your present." Dad said. His smile quirked at the edges. "You're making the others jealous."
Cherie scowled at me from across the room. I'd catch hell from her later, but so what? She didn't get to be the favorite. I was the favorite.
The paper crinkled under my fingers as I slowly unfolded the edges of the little box. Next came the ribbon, which I folded up and set carefully to one side. Ribbon gone, I finished unfolding the paper, revealing a box about the size of my hand.
I was almost shaking with restraint by then. For a five year old, holding back while opening presents was meeting the greatest temptation in life and coming out victorious. Moses, Gandhi, Taylor Vasil.
I slid the box top off with the care of a girl defusing a bomb. Tissue paper wrapped the present inside. I reached for it and-
Cold liquid splashed over me. I blinked up through glasses covered in red. A few drops fell from the tip of my nose, and I tasted something nasty and tart.
One of the women- a new girl- Lauren had spilled her drink on Dad. Red wine spread like clouds on Dad's clean white shirt, and my yellow Christmas dress was ruined. The empty wine glass lay on the rug, still beaded with wine.
Everyone in the room stared in horror at Lauren. The Christmas cheer had gone, replaced with a danger I could actually feel; like a thunderstorm on the horizon. Lauren gaped, her mouth working as she tried to say something.
"I- I oh God, Nikos, I didn't- I tripped and-" She babbled on, trying in vain to wipe some of the wine off Dad.
I shifted in Dad's lap, sticky and uncomfortable. Something cold brushed my fingers, and I looked down at my present. Wine sloshed around in the box, the tissue paper already turning to pulp. A glint of silver shone up through the wine.
Numbly, I tilted the present, letting the wine dribble out onto the carpet.
What remained, now just as sticky as I was, was a necklace. A silver chain, with a little pendant shaped like a cracked heart.
"Taylor, why don't you-" Mom reached for me, trying to get me away from Dad before he got angry.
His arm locked around me, almost painfully tight.
"No." He said, not looking at either of us. His gaze was fixed on Lauren. She was almost crying; her fear creeping over into hysteria.
"Taylor," Dad said. He sounded calm, but I could tell he wasn't. "Taylor, I want you to help me with something."
I nodded. Of course I would help him. He was my dad.
"Good girl." His free hand snapped up and caught Lauren's wrist. He jerked her forward and she fell to the carpet, too frightened to even stand. She just huddled there, her hands balled up on the stained rug, surrounded by a room of silent people.
"Taylor, what do you think is a good punishment for Lauren?" Dad said.
I twisted in his lap so I could look at him. He gave me another smile. It wasn't the nice smile he'd given me earlier.
"Don't be shy, sweetheart." Dad said. "Lauren has ruined our Christmas, so I think she deserves a little punishment."
She had messed everything up. But what was I supposed to say for punishment? I knew Dad could punish people with his powers, but I didn't have any powers.
"Nikos, please." Lauren whispered.
"Shut up." He growled. I could feel his whole body tense with anger, and she fell silent instantly.
"Well…" I hesitated. He was really mad, so the punishment had to be something that would make him happy. When I got in trouble, Mom usually took me aside and talked to me. But that wouldn't be good enough here. So… sometimes when I got really mad at Cherie or Jean-Paul, I imagined them getting beat up or run over by cars. But that was only imaginary.
It was a conundrum. I was on the spot in front of everyone. Dad was counting on me. I needed to think- Lauren was in trouble for making a mess. So… you punished a mess with a mess, right? Like when dogs made a mess on tv shows, the owner rubbed their nose in it.
"Hold this, please." I said to Mom. I handed her my present and got up. Everyone stayed quiet, watching me, waiting for me to pass judgment on Lauren. She stared up at me with eyes like saucers.
"Stay here." I told Lauren. If she ran off like Jean-Paul always did when he was in trouble, then she couldn't get punished.
I left the living room and headed for the kitchen. A murmur of talk broke out as I left the room, but Dad turned to watch me, one eyebrow raised.
When I returned, carrying the wine bottle in my arms, the murmur intensified. Cherie was giving me an odd, probing look, and Nicholas was grinning from beside her.
I stood over Lauren, cradling the wine bottle. The moment stretched out, Lauren frozen with horror.
And then I upended the bottle over her. Wine soaked into her sleek party dress and turned the carpet red around her. I held it over her until the bottle was empty and the carpet was swimming with wine.
I mustered all the sternness I could, channeling Mom's best 'angry grown-up' face.
"Clean it up."
"W-what?" Lauren stuttered, looking at me through a curtain of wine-clotted blonde hair.
I jabbed a finger at the soaked carpet.
"You made a mess. Now clean it up."
I'd seen this game before. On one of Dad's weird grown-up tv channels that I wasn't supposed to watch. And once when I accidentally walked in on Dad and Bermuda doing grown-up stuff.
"No hands." I ordered. "Now clean!"
Dad leaned forward and picked me up, settling me back in his lap. He looked down at me, giving me his nice smile again.
"You heard her." He said to Lauren. "Get every drop, or I'll be the one to punish you."
Lauren squeaked with fright, and then bent to try and drink up the wine. I felt a little bad, seeing her crouched there like a bad dog, but being able to sit with Dad outweighed it by a million.
His laughter rumbled in his chest once more, and he waved to the rest of the party. The uncomfortable silence finally broke, and people started talking again.
"Let's get the next present!" Dad roared. "Merry Christmas!"
Mom smiled at me and patted Dad's arm. Cherie was laughing so hard at Lauren that she was crying. Lauren was sobbing silently as she tried to lick the rug clean. Jean-Paul just rolled his eyes at her, and then at me. Whatever. He was just jealous.
Because in that moment, I knew that Mom and Dad loved me.
XXX
Basic premise came from a fic Prim the Amazing did where a pregnant Annette gets abducted during a trip to Montreal. Danny gets a bullet to the face, and Taylor grows up as a Vasil.
Chibi!Taylor continues to be my favorite Taylor.
I didn't have a lot of memories of Dad from early on. He didn't take a lot of interest in us until we got our powers. Before then, my strongest memory of him was at a party. The memory was clear as a bell, untouched by the dreamy haze that seems to fill all childhood memories. I couldn't have been more than five or six at the time.
Christmas at the Vasil household.
I was on his lap. That in itself was unusual. Dad wasn't the touchy-feely sort- not for us at least. The women- moms, bodyguards, whoever, they'd be all over him. But for us, his kids? Not a chance.
And yet I remembered. I was balanced across his lap, one of his arms around me. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the scent of evergreen needles and turkey. That blend of scents always made me think of home. Even years later, triggered by a whiff of sap or a man on the street. In that moment, I was home.
My Dad's scent, his strong arm around me, my back to his chest. The rumble of his laughter carried through me, and I couldn't help smiling too. I was too young then to understand what kind of man my father was. Too young to realize just how rare an opportunity I had then.
"Taylor, why don't you go first?" Dad said.
Mom beamed at him from where she sat at his elbow.
Dad motioned, and Cassie, his favorite bodyguard, picked up a present from under the tree. A couple of the other kids protested, but I ignored them. Not even Nicholas' furious glare could detract from the moment.
Dad loved me. I knew that with a child's certainty. It was a fact. Santa Claus was real, the sky was blue, Cherie was a jerk, and Dad loved me.
"Go ahead, Taylor." Mom said. The sunny warmth of her smile made the moment perfect. Dad loved me. Mom loved me.
I reached out with trembling hands to take the present from Cassie. It was blue, wrapped with green. The same shade of blue as Dad's eyes.
I told him so, and he smiled at me- another rarity, I would realize later. Not the charming smile he used on his women, but an honest, open smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Open your present." Dad said. His smile quirked at the edges. "You're making the others jealous."
Cherie scowled at me from across the room. I'd catch hell from her later, but so what? She didn't get to be the favorite. I was the favorite.
The paper crinkled under my fingers as I slowly unfolded the edges of the little box. Next came the ribbon, which I folded up and set carefully to one side. Ribbon gone, I finished unfolding the paper, revealing a box about the size of my hand.
I was almost shaking with restraint by then. For a five year old, holding back while opening presents was meeting the greatest temptation in life and coming out victorious. Moses, Gandhi, Taylor Vasil.
I slid the box top off with the care of a girl defusing a bomb. Tissue paper wrapped the present inside. I reached for it and-
Cold liquid splashed over me. I blinked up through glasses covered in red. A few drops fell from the tip of my nose, and I tasted something nasty and tart.
One of the women- a new girl- Lauren had spilled her drink on Dad. Red wine spread like clouds on Dad's clean white shirt, and my yellow Christmas dress was ruined. The empty wine glass lay on the rug, still beaded with wine.
Everyone in the room stared in horror at Lauren. The Christmas cheer had gone, replaced with a danger I could actually feel; like a thunderstorm on the horizon. Lauren gaped, her mouth working as she tried to say something.
"I- I oh God, Nikos, I didn't- I tripped and-" She babbled on, trying in vain to wipe some of the wine off Dad.
I shifted in Dad's lap, sticky and uncomfortable. Something cold brushed my fingers, and I looked down at my present. Wine sloshed around in the box, the tissue paper already turning to pulp. A glint of silver shone up through the wine.
Numbly, I tilted the present, letting the wine dribble out onto the carpet.
What remained, now just as sticky as I was, was a necklace. A silver chain, with a little pendant shaped like a cracked heart.
"Taylor, why don't you-" Mom reached for me, trying to get me away from Dad before he got angry.
His arm locked around me, almost painfully tight.
"No." He said, not looking at either of us. His gaze was fixed on Lauren. She was almost crying; her fear creeping over into hysteria.
"Taylor," Dad said. He sounded calm, but I could tell he wasn't. "Taylor, I want you to help me with something."
I nodded. Of course I would help him. He was my dad.
"Good girl." His free hand snapped up and caught Lauren's wrist. He jerked her forward and she fell to the carpet, too frightened to even stand. She just huddled there, her hands balled up on the stained rug, surrounded by a room of silent people.
"Taylor, what do you think is a good punishment for Lauren?" Dad said.
I twisted in his lap so I could look at him. He gave me another smile. It wasn't the nice smile he'd given me earlier.
"Don't be shy, sweetheart." Dad said. "Lauren has ruined our Christmas, so I think she deserves a little punishment."
She had messed everything up. But what was I supposed to say for punishment? I knew Dad could punish people with his powers, but I didn't have any powers.
"Nikos, please." Lauren whispered.
"Shut up." He growled. I could feel his whole body tense with anger, and she fell silent instantly.
"Well…" I hesitated. He was really mad, so the punishment had to be something that would make him happy. When I got in trouble, Mom usually took me aside and talked to me. But that wouldn't be good enough here. So… sometimes when I got really mad at Cherie or Jean-Paul, I imagined them getting beat up or run over by cars. But that was only imaginary.
It was a conundrum. I was on the spot in front of everyone. Dad was counting on me. I needed to think- Lauren was in trouble for making a mess. So… you punished a mess with a mess, right? Like when dogs made a mess on tv shows, the owner rubbed their nose in it.
"Hold this, please." I said to Mom. I handed her my present and got up. Everyone stayed quiet, watching me, waiting for me to pass judgment on Lauren. She stared up at me with eyes like saucers.
"Stay here." I told Lauren. If she ran off like Jean-Paul always did when he was in trouble, then she couldn't get punished.
I left the living room and headed for the kitchen. A murmur of talk broke out as I left the room, but Dad turned to watch me, one eyebrow raised.
When I returned, carrying the wine bottle in my arms, the murmur intensified. Cherie was giving me an odd, probing look, and Nicholas was grinning from beside her.
I stood over Lauren, cradling the wine bottle. The moment stretched out, Lauren frozen with horror.
And then I upended the bottle over her. Wine soaked into her sleek party dress and turned the carpet red around her. I held it over her until the bottle was empty and the carpet was swimming with wine.
I mustered all the sternness I could, channeling Mom's best 'angry grown-up' face.
"Clean it up."
"W-what?" Lauren stuttered, looking at me through a curtain of wine-clotted blonde hair.
I jabbed a finger at the soaked carpet.
"You made a mess. Now clean it up."
I'd seen this game before. On one of Dad's weird grown-up tv channels that I wasn't supposed to watch. And once when I accidentally walked in on Dad and Bermuda doing grown-up stuff.
"No hands." I ordered. "Now clean!"
Dad leaned forward and picked me up, settling me back in his lap. He looked down at me, giving me his nice smile again.
"You heard her." He said to Lauren. "Get every drop, or I'll be the one to punish you."
Lauren squeaked with fright, and then bent to try and drink up the wine. I felt a little bad, seeing her crouched there like a bad dog, but being able to sit with Dad outweighed it by a million.
His laughter rumbled in his chest once more, and he waved to the rest of the party. The uncomfortable silence finally broke, and people started talking again.
"Let's get the next present!" Dad roared. "Merry Christmas!"
Mom smiled at me and patted Dad's arm. Cherie was laughing so hard at Lauren that she was crying. Lauren was sobbing silently as she tried to lick the rug clean. Jean-Paul just rolled his eyes at her, and then at me. Whatever. He was just jealous.
Because in that moment, I knew that Mom and Dad loved me.
XXX
Basic premise came from a fic Prim the Amazing did where a pregnant Annette gets abducted during a trip to Montreal. Danny gets a bullet to the face, and Taylor grows up as a Vasil.
Chibi!Taylor continues to be my favorite Taylor.
Strangers on a Train (Worm)
Strangers on a Train
The driver gave her a long stare as she got on the bus. He opened his mouth as if to tell her to go away, and then shut it again, shaking his head. She fumbled for her bus pass and withdrew it dripping from a pocket, the laminated surface smeared with congealing soda.
"Just get in," the driver said, jerking his thumb toward the back of the bus.
She nodded and walked away before he could reconsider. Her shoes squished with each step, and she agonized over the sounds- could anyone else hear them?
The bus was sparsely populated; it was midday, and most people were either at work already, or done with their errands. She passed a few older women with shopping bags, and gave a wide berth to a tattooed man sitting in one of the side-seats. A Latino girl glanced up at her, and then did a double-take. Taylor hurried by, her head down.
The back seats were occupied by a trio of young men in the rough jackets she associated with blue-collar workers. They all looked at her, but no remarks came her way. It was only that that made her sit down where she was, rather than retreating back to the front. She was roughly 3/4s of the way back, in a small gulf where no one else sat.
The bus revved into motion, and she stared out the window, watching as the scenery changed around her. It was a distraction from the sickly-sweet reek of juice that surrounded her, and the way her hair was drying into stiff, tacky clumps.
They made it a few blocks before her eyes unfocused and she turned away, her mind churning over what had happened.
Emma.
That bathroom was one more place she couldn't hide now. Little by little, she was being hunted down and driven like- like a stupid, frightened rabbit.
Taylor closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the back of the seat in front of her.
Five more months of school. Just five more, she promised herself. It didn't make her feel better. Every day felt like a war; not hours long, but weeks. Prolonged campaigns from the other girls with the sole purpose of breaking her down.
She sighed, and unbidden, a little voice in her head added, 'Two more years.' Not five months. Five months plus two years.
A sticky bead of liquid slid down her cheek. It felt like a tear, but she wasn't crying. Tears hadn't done anything. She'd dried up long ago.
The bus stopped, and a few of the passengers departed through the side door. Several more got on at the front, filing down the aisle. She noticed them only vaguely; glancing up, checking for threats, for anyone who might do something, and then returned to staring at the floor.
A man sat down in the seat across the aisle from her. Taylor turned away so he couldn't see what a mess she was. Hopefully, and she almost laughed bitterly at the thought, he'd think she was just another homeless person.
The bus started up again, turning down a side street as it headed for the next stop. There would be four more before hers.
"Excuse me."
The landscape outside blurred into a mélange of shapes and colors; all dirty buildings and concrete.
"Miss?"
Taylor blinked. She looked up.
The man in the other seat was eyeing her. He held out a hand, and she drew back reflexively.
"It's alright," he said. He opened his hand, showing her a folded white handkerchief. "See?"
She stared, making no move to take it. Annoyance flared up inside her. Why couldn't he just leave her alone and mind his own business? She looked at him again. What was this about? People didn't just do stuff like this in Brockton Bay.
The man's age was indeterminate, older than thirty, maybe forty, from the fine lines at the corners of his dark eyes, but it was hard to say. He had a… vitality about him, something in the way he sat, and the calm, knowing smile on his face, that she hated at once. It was an ugly, basic feeling- jealousy that he was happier than her.
The man didn't lower his hand though. "I don't bite," he said, a note of laughter in his voice.
"What do you want?"
His smile widened just a bit. The man brushed a strand of his long, black hair back with his free hand, tucking it back into the loose ponytail he wore. "You looked like you needed to dry off."
"Don't worry about it." She knew she sounded rude, and didn't care. It wasn't his problem.
"Alright then." He pocketed the handkerchief, but didn't turn away. Taylor's annoyance grew into anger, her fists balling in her lap. Go away.
"How did that happen?"
"None of your business."
"Of course not." He shrugged lazily. "Doesn't mean I can't be curious."
She returned to looking out the window and didn't answer.
"I'm a bit of a people person," the man continued, his voice still calm and undaunted by her rejection. "And right now… I'd say you're having a bad time."
No shit.
"Teenage girl, alone on her own in the middle of a school day, all covered in… what is that- soda? Having trouble at school, darling?"
Taylor whipped around, all her frustration from the day boiling over, pushed past the breaking point by this man who just-wouldn't-go.
"Fuck off!" she hissed at him.
A few nearby passengers glanced back at her, and she lowered her voice even further, snarling her words at the man.
"Just leave me alone. What do you care, huh?!"
He only blinked slowly. "Like I said, kiddo, I'm just a curious observer. I saw someone in-" He paused. "Someone who needed someone else to talk to."
She curled her lip at him, uncaring of what he thought- he was a stranger. "Leave me alone."
"What does it cost you?"
That stopped her. She squinted at him through her smudged glasses. The man had an angular face, his chin lightly-stubbled; he looked vaguely familiar. She didn't know him from somewhere, did she? Was that why he was being so odd?
"What does what cost me?"
"To talk to me," he explained.
The bus came to a stop, and their conversation paused while passengers came on and off.
"Why would I want to talk to you?"
"Why not?"
She turned to fully face him for the first time. Her anger had ebbed, replaced with something more like incredulity at the man's sheer persistence.
"I'm a stranger," he said. "I don't want anything from you, and I thought you might like a friendly ear to ah- vent to." The man held up his hands as if to say 'why not?' "Besides, I'm only in town for a week or two, tops, for business."
Taylor didn't answer him. The red flags were still up; this whole thing felt eerie, but the man was just so earnest… and insistent. Was he maybe- was this a gang thing? Did gangs recruit like this? She bit her lip. What if it was some kind of weird sex thing? An older man trying to pick up a teenage girl.
She dismissed that thought as quickly as it came. Nobody was that desperate.
The bus rolled to a stop; the street outside well-known to her. Her stop. Taylor got up and moved toward the door.
She glanced back- was the man following her? No. He'd stayed sitting. As she stared, he looked up from his cell phone, smiled, and then nodded to her.
Her shoes squicking against the rubber floor mats, Taylor got off the bus and headed for home.
XXX
If she'd thought the next day of school was going to be better- and she hadn't, she'd have been wrong.
The trio had been emboldened by their success with the juice prank, and had come at her like a pack of wolves the second she walked through the door.
Taylor had promised herself- had promised her mother that she'd stick it out, school was more important, but it was a hollow thought.
She came back from lunch to find her locker ajar. The interior had been coated with a thick, tarry substance, globules of the stuff running down onto the floor. Pasted into the tar was a collage of words and letters cut from magazine pages.
Slut. Whore. Cancer. Bitch. Kill yourself. Cunt.
The centerpiece was four words orbited by a cloud of smaller expletives.
"HER DEATH. YOUR FAULT."
Taylor turned and ran.
She was in tears when the bus came, hating herself for them, but unable to stop.
Tired. She was so fucking tired of this.
The bus driver barely looked at her this time. She stumbled back to the seat she'd had the day before, and sank into it, her insides twisting with suppressed hate.
It was ten minutes before the next stop. She watched for the man this time, and was surprised at the relief she felt when he got on. He made his way to his seat, weaving through the other passengers with graceful ease.
Taylor took a deep breath. She had to tell someone. Journaling what they did wasn't enough. It didn't help. Telling dad would only make it worse.
"Do you-" She swallowed. "Do you still want to talk?"
"Of course." He held out a hand to her once again, empty this time. Not an offering, but a greeting. She reached out and shook it once, feeling smooth calluses against her palm.
"I'm Taylor."
The man's smile appeared once more.
"Call me Jacob."
XXX
This one came directly out of too many fics where Taylor runs into 'a really helpful blonde girl with freckles' in odd places around Brockton. I got tired of them and started thinking of other possibilities.
I came extremely close to getting another chapter of this one out, but when I went to finish the next one, I found out it had been lost when my last laptop died forever. I kind of lost momentum, and haven't really been able to catch the vibe I had when I was writing it.
The driver gave her a long stare as she got on the bus. He opened his mouth as if to tell her to go away, and then shut it again, shaking his head. She fumbled for her bus pass and withdrew it dripping from a pocket, the laminated surface smeared with congealing soda.
"Just get in," the driver said, jerking his thumb toward the back of the bus.
She nodded and walked away before he could reconsider. Her shoes squished with each step, and she agonized over the sounds- could anyone else hear them?
The bus was sparsely populated; it was midday, and most people were either at work already, or done with their errands. She passed a few older women with shopping bags, and gave a wide berth to a tattooed man sitting in one of the side-seats. A Latino girl glanced up at her, and then did a double-take. Taylor hurried by, her head down.
The back seats were occupied by a trio of young men in the rough jackets she associated with blue-collar workers. They all looked at her, but no remarks came her way. It was only that that made her sit down where she was, rather than retreating back to the front. She was roughly 3/4s of the way back, in a small gulf where no one else sat.
The bus revved into motion, and she stared out the window, watching as the scenery changed around her. It was a distraction from the sickly-sweet reek of juice that surrounded her, and the way her hair was drying into stiff, tacky clumps.
They made it a few blocks before her eyes unfocused and she turned away, her mind churning over what had happened.
Emma.
That bathroom was one more place she couldn't hide now. Little by little, she was being hunted down and driven like- like a stupid, frightened rabbit.
Taylor closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the back of the seat in front of her.
Five more months of school. Just five more, she promised herself. It didn't make her feel better. Every day felt like a war; not hours long, but weeks. Prolonged campaigns from the other girls with the sole purpose of breaking her down.
She sighed, and unbidden, a little voice in her head added, 'Two more years.' Not five months. Five months plus two years.
A sticky bead of liquid slid down her cheek. It felt like a tear, but she wasn't crying. Tears hadn't done anything. She'd dried up long ago.
The bus stopped, and a few of the passengers departed through the side door. Several more got on at the front, filing down the aisle. She noticed them only vaguely; glancing up, checking for threats, for anyone who might do something, and then returned to staring at the floor.
A man sat down in the seat across the aisle from her. Taylor turned away so he couldn't see what a mess she was. Hopefully, and she almost laughed bitterly at the thought, he'd think she was just another homeless person.
The bus started up again, turning down a side street as it headed for the next stop. There would be four more before hers.
"Excuse me."
The landscape outside blurred into a mélange of shapes and colors; all dirty buildings and concrete.
"Miss?"
Taylor blinked. She looked up.
The man in the other seat was eyeing her. He held out a hand, and she drew back reflexively.
"It's alright," he said. He opened his hand, showing her a folded white handkerchief. "See?"
She stared, making no move to take it. Annoyance flared up inside her. Why couldn't he just leave her alone and mind his own business? She looked at him again. What was this about? People didn't just do stuff like this in Brockton Bay.
The man's age was indeterminate, older than thirty, maybe forty, from the fine lines at the corners of his dark eyes, but it was hard to say. He had a… vitality about him, something in the way he sat, and the calm, knowing smile on his face, that she hated at once. It was an ugly, basic feeling- jealousy that he was happier than her.
The man didn't lower his hand though. "I don't bite," he said, a note of laughter in his voice.
"What do you want?"
His smile widened just a bit. The man brushed a strand of his long, black hair back with his free hand, tucking it back into the loose ponytail he wore. "You looked like you needed to dry off."
"Don't worry about it." She knew she sounded rude, and didn't care. It wasn't his problem.
"Alright then." He pocketed the handkerchief, but didn't turn away. Taylor's annoyance grew into anger, her fists balling in her lap. Go away.
"How did that happen?"
"None of your business."
"Of course not." He shrugged lazily. "Doesn't mean I can't be curious."
She returned to looking out the window and didn't answer.
"I'm a bit of a people person," the man continued, his voice still calm and undaunted by her rejection. "And right now… I'd say you're having a bad time."
No shit.
"Teenage girl, alone on her own in the middle of a school day, all covered in… what is that- soda? Having trouble at school, darling?"
Taylor whipped around, all her frustration from the day boiling over, pushed past the breaking point by this man who just-wouldn't-go.
"Fuck off!" she hissed at him.
A few nearby passengers glanced back at her, and she lowered her voice even further, snarling her words at the man.
"Just leave me alone. What do you care, huh?!"
He only blinked slowly. "Like I said, kiddo, I'm just a curious observer. I saw someone in-" He paused. "Someone who needed someone else to talk to."
She curled her lip at him, uncaring of what he thought- he was a stranger. "Leave me alone."
"What does it cost you?"
That stopped her. She squinted at him through her smudged glasses. The man had an angular face, his chin lightly-stubbled; he looked vaguely familiar. She didn't know him from somewhere, did she? Was that why he was being so odd?
"What does what cost me?"
"To talk to me," he explained.
The bus came to a stop, and their conversation paused while passengers came on and off.
"Why would I want to talk to you?"
"Why not?"
She turned to fully face him for the first time. Her anger had ebbed, replaced with something more like incredulity at the man's sheer persistence.
"I'm a stranger," he said. "I don't want anything from you, and I thought you might like a friendly ear to ah- vent to." The man held up his hands as if to say 'why not?' "Besides, I'm only in town for a week or two, tops, for business."
Taylor didn't answer him. The red flags were still up; this whole thing felt eerie, but the man was just so earnest… and insistent. Was he maybe- was this a gang thing? Did gangs recruit like this? She bit her lip. What if it was some kind of weird sex thing? An older man trying to pick up a teenage girl.
She dismissed that thought as quickly as it came. Nobody was that desperate.
The bus rolled to a stop; the street outside well-known to her. Her stop. Taylor got up and moved toward the door.
She glanced back- was the man following her? No. He'd stayed sitting. As she stared, he looked up from his cell phone, smiled, and then nodded to her.
Her shoes squicking against the rubber floor mats, Taylor got off the bus and headed for home.
XXX
If she'd thought the next day of school was going to be better- and she hadn't, she'd have been wrong.
The trio had been emboldened by their success with the juice prank, and had come at her like a pack of wolves the second she walked through the door.
Taylor had promised herself- had promised her mother that she'd stick it out, school was more important, but it was a hollow thought.
She came back from lunch to find her locker ajar. The interior had been coated with a thick, tarry substance, globules of the stuff running down onto the floor. Pasted into the tar was a collage of words and letters cut from magazine pages.
Slut. Whore. Cancer. Bitch. Kill yourself. Cunt.
The centerpiece was four words orbited by a cloud of smaller expletives.
"HER DEATH. YOUR FAULT."
Taylor turned and ran.
She was in tears when the bus came, hating herself for them, but unable to stop.
Tired. She was so fucking tired of this.
The bus driver barely looked at her this time. She stumbled back to the seat she'd had the day before, and sank into it, her insides twisting with suppressed hate.
It was ten minutes before the next stop. She watched for the man this time, and was surprised at the relief she felt when he got on. He made his way to his seat, weaving through the other passengers with graceful ease.
Taylor took a deep breath. She had to tell someone. Journaling what they did wasn't enough. It didn't help. Telling dad would only make it worse.
"Do you-" She swallowed. "Do you still want to talk?"
"Of course." He held out a hand to her once again, empty this time. Not an offering, but a greeting. She reached out and shook it once, feeling smooth calluses against her palm.
"I'm Taylor."
The man's smile appeared once more.
"Call me Jacob."
XXX
This one came directly out of too many fics where Taylor runs into 'a really helpful blonde girl with freckles' in odd places around Brockton. I got tired of them and started thinking of other possibilities.
I came extremely close to getting another chapter of this one out, but when I went to finish the next one, I found out it had been lost when my last laptop died forever. I kind of lost momentum, and haven't really been able to catch the vibe I had when I was writing it.
Family Business (Worm)
Family Business
The jukebox hitched, spluttered, and then died halfway through a scratchy rendition of Hotel California.
A few angry voices called out their displeasure, and Danny waved a hand to calm them. "Give me a minute."
He sidled out from behind the bar to go examine the aging machine. Plug, check. Cord, check. Record... Danny opened the case and plucked the record off the reel. That's enough of that one, I think. He pocketed it and shut the jukebox. Pressed the on button.
Silence.
"Cmon, Danno!" One of the regulars roared. "Give it a whack!"
Danny shrugged, and then knocked the back of his hand against the jukebox. It had worked for the Fonz after all.
Nothing.
"Lemme give it a try."
He looked up. Lauren was standing there, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Go for it."
He stepped back and let the barmaid take her shot. Lauren examined the jukebox for a long moment, her pretty face pensive.
"I think..." she murmured. "Here."
And then she hauled up and drove the heel of her combat boot into the front of the juke. The machine rocked back on two legs, teetered precariously for a moment, and then resettled with a deafening crash. A record clicked into place. They waited, breath held as the record whirred into life.
Dark Side of the Moon filled the bar.
Danny exhaled, raising a hand in acknowledgement as a few of the patrons made noises of congratulations.
"Thanks." He nodded to Lauren. "Didn't realize you knew your way around it."
She rubbed a hand through her hair, ruffling the short blond locks about, looking slightly embarrassed for some reason. "Just a magnetic touch, I guess."
Danny returned to the bar and started pouring out another drink for Louis. The old man gave an appreciate nod and buried his face in the beer.
Lauren joined Danny a moment later.
"How's everything in the back?" he said softly.
She very casually lifted a glass and began cleaning it with a dish rag.
"Should be fine. It's just the two old men talking shop. Big K's here, and two of Mark's guys."
She stretched to put the glass onto the top shelf, and as she did, her shirt sleeve pulled back, exposing the edge of her tattoo. He looked in spite of himself. The sleeve pulled back a little further as she set the glass down, just far enough for him to see the eagle holding the two black lightning bolts on her shoulder. And then she dropped down, adjusting herself.
"I meant to ask," she said. "I know there's been some talk about the Teeth lately. Butcher reincarnated again and he's making waves. You're right on the edge of their territory."
"Yeah."
He knew. He knew it bone deep.
"I could talk to Dad-"
"No." Danny shook his head.
"But-"
"No," he said again, more forcefully this time.
Lauren grimaced. "Neutrality is a dangerous game, Danny."
He met her eyes, his gaze even and unflinching.
"I know. But it's better than the alternative."
Lauren made to speak again, but a woman approached the bar. Though, 'woman' was pushing it. The girl couldn't have been more than sixteen. Danny exchanged a look with Lauren, both of them smiling now.
"Got a license?"
She did. It just had what looked like a school photo pasted over the actual picture.
He tossed the girl out with a gentle reminder to come back in five years and returned to the bar. Lauren was grinning as she mixed a drink.
"That was pretty brave," she snickered.
"Pretty stupid." He held up the fake license. The name read very clearly, "Patrick McKinley."
Lauren's shrill laughter drowned out the final notes of Tiny Dancer.
Danny was still smiling as he slipped into the back hallway. It could only be reached from behind the bar. There were four doors. Kitchen, office, and at the very end, just before the back door, the door to the back room. He headed for the office.
Only an hour or two now until Annie got off work and came by to pick up Taylor. Hopefully she hadn't gotten too bored and started rooting through his drawers again. Hopefully...
Danny stopped in the doorway. Taylor's coloring book was spread out across his desk, the pages open to a half-done picture of a dinosaur. She'd even stayed inside the lines, though he doubted whether any dinosaur was colored neon and chartreuse.
And Taylor was not in the room.
"Shit."
XXX
"I think that's amenable, don't you?" Marquis said.
Allfather examined the map of Brockton. Highlighted areas denoted their respective territories, and a line of push pins designated the proposed attack against the Teeth.
"How long will you need?" he said.
Marquis took a sip of his drink. "Within the week. Redrum is still out of action. I'm hoping Bastille will be back from her trip by the end of the week though."
Allfather nodded. He'd personally put Redrum in the hospital, but neither of them were going to bring that up. No, what Marquis was implying was that if Allfather were to say... use Blut's powers to heal Redrum, he would take steps to bring in Bastille.
Two more of Marquis' pieces on the field. Attrition from the Teeth would certainly get some of them, and it wouldn't be too hard to put Redrum back in the hospital...
"I'll get Blut," he ventured. "Redrum is useful enough to bring back."
Marquis smiled, the expression the only part of his face not hidden behind his bone mask. "Gracious of you." He turned and addressed one of the men behind him. "Talos, call Redrum and tell him to get ready."
The cape nodded and headed for the door. The door swung shut behind him.
Opened again.
Allfather turned to look. Had the man forgotten something?
"Hi!"
A little slip of a girl stared up at him. She had wide eyes, magnified even more by a set of thick glasses, and was practically swimming in an adult-sized t-shirt. The front of the shirt said "I Heart Alexandria" in big red letters.
"Who's this?" Marquis said.
"I'm Taylor!" The girl beamed at them. "My daddy owns the bar and I was in the office but I got bored. Are you a superhero?"
Allfather exchanged a look with Marquis that was clear even through his helm.
"Something like that."
XXX
Danny hurtled back to the bar. Lauren was still there, and had been joined by the short-order cook, Maggie. They both looked at him.
"Where's Taylor?!"
"Bathroom?" Lauren said.
"Not in the kitchen," Maggie ventured.
He tore away toward the bathroom.
The men's room was empty. He knocked on the women's door.
"Occupied!" Someone - not Taylor -said.
She couldn't have gone outside through the back door without setting off the fire alarm, and she couldn't go through the front without him seeing.
That only left...
He forced himself to a walk as he returned to the hall. One of the capes, a burly man in a bronze-colored tactical vest, was at the far end, his head bowed as he spoke into a cell phone. Danny came to the door to the back room.
Knocked. "Excuse me, it's Danny."
"Come in!" A deep voice he recognized as Allfather's called.
Danny opened the door.
Five men looked back at him. Five men, and one little girl sitting on Allfather's knee.
Danny thought his heart might stop.
"Daddy!" Taylor cried, her face alight with wonder. "Supervillains!"
"Yours?" Marquis said bemusedly.
"Er- ah- yes, she's mine." Danny stammered.
He walked slowly forward. Taylor seemed unperturbed by anything around her.
"She wasn't a bother, I hope?"
"None." Allfather said.
"Talks a lot though," an armored man leaning against the wall said. "It's like having Rain around as a kid."
Allfather chuckled. "Rain didn't talk nearly as much as you, Kaiser." He sighed. "They do grow up don't they, Marquis?"
The armored Nazi lifted Taylor under her arms and handed her to Danny. She latched onto him like a limpet and began regaling him with what kind of supervillain she was going to be.
"Sorry for any interruption," Danny said.
"It was no problem, I was just telling Allfather that I have a child about her age." Marquis said. "However..."
Danny paused, already preparing to take Taylor and run.
"Could I get a refill?" Marquis raised a glass.
"Of course, just a minute."
Danny turned and walked out of the room. He carried Taylor away, not back to the office, but behind the bar.
"Everything okay?" Lauren said.
"No."
He met Taylor's eyes. "Please be more careful. We're going to talk about this when I get back. Do not go anywhere."
And then he bent and kissed the top of her head, clutching her to him.
"Sorry," Taylor whispered.
"You worry me, sweetie."
He handed her to Lauren and went to the tap. He poured out the drinks and set them on a tray. As he headed back to the meeting room, Lauren spoke to Taylor.
"So, did you meet Allfather?"
"The big armored guy?"
Lauren laughed. "Yup." And then, so softly he almost didn't hear. "That's my dad, pretty cool huh?"
A moment of silence, as Taylor digested that fact, and then-
"My Dad's cooler."
XXX
A repost off of SB. Original premise was discussion of Danny owning Somer's Rock, and I wrote this as a response to someone doing a oneshot with Danny as bartender with Squealer. I wanted to do something with Allfather and Taylor, and having Iron Rain as the barmaid was just too fun not to do.
Probably my favorite of the oneshots I've done, and the one I'm most satisfied with. There's a small continuity error with the back of the bar, but I'm otherwise quite happy with it.
Not sure how I'd continue it, but probably with something in the vein of Taylor growing up with a steady supply of supervillains around her.
The jukebox hitched, spluttered, and then died halfway through a scratchy rendition of Hotel California.
A few angry voices called out their displeasure, and Danny waved a hand to calm them. "Give me a minute."
He sidled out from behind the bar to go examine the aging machine. Plug, check. Cord, check. Record... Danny opened the case and plucked the record off the reel. That's enough of that one, I think. He pocketed it and shut the jukebox. Pressed the on button.
Silence.
"Cmon, Danno!" One of the regulars roared. "Give it a whack!"
Danny shrugged, and then knocked the back of his hand against the jukebox. It had worked for the Fonz after all.
Nothing.
"Lemme give it a try."
He looked up. Lauren was standing there, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Go for it."
He stepped back and let the barmaid take her shot. Lauren examined the jukebox for a long moment, her pretty face pensive.
"I think..." she murmured. "Here."
And then she hauled up and drove the heel of her combat boot into the front of the juke. The machine rocked back on two legs, teetered precariously for a moment, and then resettled with a deafening crash. A record clicked into place. They waited, breath held as the record whirred into life.
Dark Side of the Moon filled the bar.
Danny exhaled, raising a hand in acknowledgement as a few of the patrons made noises of congratulations.
"Thanks." He nodded to Lauren. "Didn't realize you knew your way around it."
She rubbed a hand through her hair, ruffling the short blond locks about, looking slightly embarrassed for some reason. "Just a magnetic touch, I guess."
Danny returned to the bar and started pouring out another drink for Louis. The old man gave an appreciate nod and buried his face in the beer.
Lauren joined Danny a moment later.
"How's everything in the back?" he said softly.
She very casually lifted a glass and began cleaning it with a dish rag.
"Should be fine. It's just the two old men talking shop. Big K's here, and two of Mark's guys."
She stretched to put the glass onto the top shelf, and as she did, her shirt sleeve pulled back, exposing the edge of her tattoo. He looked in spite of himself. The sleeve pulled back a little further as she set the glass down, just far enough for him to see the eagle holding the two black lightning bolts on her shoulder. And then she dropped down, adjusting herself.
"I meant to ask," she said. "I know there's been some talk about the Teeth lately. Butcher reincarnated again and he's making waves. You're right on the edge of their territory."
"Yeah."
He knew. He knew it bone deep.
"I could talk to Dad-"
"No." Danny shook his head.
"But-"
"No," he said again, more forcefully this time.
Lauren grimaced. "Neutrality is a dangerous game, Danny."
He met her eyes, his gaze even and unflinching.
"I know. But it's better than the alternative."
Lauren made to speak again, but a woman approached the bar. Though, 'woman' was pushing it. The girl couldn't have been more than sixteen. Danny exchanged a look with Lauren, both of them smiling now.
"Got a license?"
She did. It just had what looked like a school photo pasted over the actual picture.
He tossed the girl out with a gentle reminder to come back in five years and returned to the bar. Lauren was grinning as she mixed a drink.
"That was pretty brave," she snickered.
"Pretty stupid." He held up the fake license. The name read very clearly, "Patrick McKinley."
Lauren's shrill laughter drowned out the final notes of Tiny Dancer.
Danny was still smiling as he slipped into the back hallway. It could only be reached from behind the bar. There were four doors. Kitchen, office, and at the very end, just before the back door, the door to the back room. He headed for the office.
Only an hour or two now until Annie got off work and came by to pick up Taylor. Hopefully she hadn't gotten too bored and started rooting through his drawers again. Hopefully...
Danny stopped in the doorway. Taylor's coloring book was spread out across his desk, the pages open to a half-done picture of a dinosaur. She'd even stayed inside the lines, though he doubted whether any dinosaur was colored neon and chartreuse.
And Taylor was not in the room.
"Shit."
XXX
"I think that's amenable, don't you?" Marquis said.
Allfather examined the map of Brockton. Highlighted areas denoted their respective territories, and a line of push pins designated the proposed attack against the Teeth.
"How long will you need?" he said.
Marquis took a sip of his drink. "Within the week. Redrum is still out of action. I'm hoping Bastille will be back from her trip by the end of the week though."
Allfather nodded. He'd personally put Redrum in the hospital, but neither of them were going to bring that up. No, what Marquis was implying was that if Allfather were to say... use Blut's powers to heal Redrum, he would take steps to bring in Bastille.
Two more of Marquis' pieces on the field. Attrition from the Teeth would certainly get some of them, and it wouldn't be too hard to put Redrum back in the hospital...
"I'll get Blut," he ventured. "Redrum is useful enough to bring back."
Marquis smiled, the expression the only part of his face not hidden behind his bone mask. "Gracious of you." He turned and addressed one of the men behind him. "Talos, call Redrum and tell him to get ready."
The cape nodded and headed for the door. The door swung shut behind him.
Opened again.
Allfather turned to look. Had the man forgotten something?
"Hi!"
A little slip of a girl stared up at him. She had wide eyes, magnified even more by a set of thick glasses, and was practically swimming in an adult-sized t-shirt. The front of the shirt said "I Heart Alexandria" in big red letters.
"Who's this?" Marquis said.
"I'm Taylor!" The girl beamed at them. "My daddy owns the bar and I was in the office but I got bored. Are you a superhero?"
Allfather exchanged a look with Marquis that was clear even through his helm.
"Something like that."
XXX
Danny hurtled back to the bar. Lauren was still there, and had been joined by the short-order cook, Maggie. They both looked at him.
"Where's Taylor?!"
"Bathroom?" Lauren said.
"Not in the kitchen," Maggie ventured.
He tore away toward the bathroom.
The men's room was empty. He knocked on the women's door.
"Occupied!" Someone - not Taylor -said.
She couldn't have gone outside through the back door without setting off the fire alarm, and she couldn't go through the front without him seeing.
That only left...
He forced himself to a walk as he returned to the hall. One of the capes, a burly man in a bronze-colored tactical vest, was at the far end, his head bowed as he spoke into a cell phone. Danny came to the door to the back room.
Knocked. "Excuse me, it's Danny."
"Come in!" A deep voice he recognized as Allfather's called.
Danny opened the door.
Five men looked back at him. Five men, and one little girl sitting on Allfather's knee.
Danny thought his heart might stop.
"Daddy!" Taylor cried, her face alight with wonder. "Supervillains!"
"Yours?" Marquis said bemusedly.
"Er- ah- yes, she's mine." Danny stammered.
He walked slowly forward. Taylor seemed unperturbed by anything around her.
"She wasn't a bother, I hope?"
"None." Allfather said.
"Talks a lot though," an armored man leaning against the wall said. "It's like having Rain around as a kid."
Allfather chuckled. "Rain didn't talk nearly as much as you, Kaiser." He sighed. "They do grow up don't they, Marquis?"
The armored Nazi lifted Taylor under her arms and handed her to Danny. She latched onto him like a limpet and began regaling him with what kind of supervillain she was going to be.
"Sorry for any interruption," Danny said.
"It was no problem, I was just telling Allfather that I have a child about her age." Marquis said. "However..."
Danny paused, already preparing to take Taylor and run.
"Could I get a refill?" Marquis raised a glass.
"Of course, just a minute."
Danny turned and walked out of the room. He carried Taylor away, not back to the office, but behind the bar.
"Everything okay?" Lauren said.
"No."
He met Taylor's eyes. "Please be more careful. We're going to talk about this when I get back. Do not go anywhere."
And then he bent and kissed the top of her head, clutching her to him.
"Sorry," Taylor whispered.
"You worry me, sweetie."
He handed her to Lauren and went to the tap. He poured out the drinks and set them on a tray. As he headed back to the meeting room, Lauren spoke to Taylor.
"So, did you meet Allfather?"
"The big armored guy?"
Lauren laughed. "Yup." And then, so softly he almost didn't hear. "That's my dad, pretty cool huh?"
A moment of silence, as Taylor digested that fact, and then-
"My Dad's cooler."
XXX
A repost off of SB. Original premise was discussion of Danny owning Somer's Rock, and I wrote this as a response to someone doing a oneshot with Danny as bartender with Squealer. I wanted to do something with Allfather and Taylor, and having Iron Rain as the barmaid was just too fun not to do.
Probably my favorite of the oneshots I've done, and the one I'm most satisfied with. There's a small continuity error with the back of the bar, but I'm otherwise quite happy with it.
Not sure how I'd continue it, but probably with something in the vein of Taylor growing up with a steady supply of supervillains around her.
Doctor Nine (Worm)
Doctor Nine
The doctor kneels behind him as he cuts. Each time, she leans a little closer, until she's whispering in his ear. Her breath is cherry licorice, but her hair smells like blood. Beneath that, a smell like the nurse's office at school lingers around her. He wonders if that's just how she naturally smells, like how Mommy smelled like violets, or Daddy gun oil.
"No no, Jackie," the doctor says. "That's crooked."
It's hard. If his hand shakes even a little, the arc goes wild. The scalpel blade is a tiny thing, and the cuts it makes are paper thin. It would be difficult even at an arm's length, and he's not at arm's length. No, the doctor has him cut from across the kitchen. (Daddy) The patient is propped up against the far wall, unconscious, already riddled with failed cuts.
He expects her to hit him; to yell and slap the side of his head like Daddy would, but she hasn't done that. Not even now, after he's messed up the cuts so many times.
But, in another way, what the doctor does is worse than hitting. Much worse.
"Let's try again." She says.
"I'm sorry." Jack says. His lips are dry, and he can't stop himself worrying the lower with his teeth.
"Don't be sorry, kiddo. Practice makes perfect, after all!"
Her hand leaves his to fish in the pocket of her coat. She has a lot of pockets and jingles like coins whenever she moves too quickly. The remote she withdraws looks like a tv remote, but with more buttons. This is the tenth time he's seen it today.
Click.
Spidery little robots emerge from one of the cupboards. It's the one where Mommy puts his cereal, low to the floor so he can reach it. He was big enough to make his own breakfast. The spiders click and whir across the linoleum until they reach the man. One spider deploys gauze from its abdomen, while the other wields a needle and thread to stitch the cut closed.
There are seven identical sutures on the man's bare torso alone.
Jack waits in silence. The doctor hums quietly to herself, idly twirling one of her long, blonde curls.
The spiders finish and return to their spot in the cupboard. Jack feels his hand begin to shake. She'll make him cut again now.
"Alrighty, Jackie, let's try it again." The doctor says.
"It's Jack." He says.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He shouldn't have said anything. Now he's in trouble. Being stupid is what let Daddy trick him in the first place.
But the doctor laughs, high and musical.
Jack actually turns in place to look at her. Kneeling, she's not much taller than he is, and he's still not sure about her age. Older than him, but younger than Mommy. Old enough to be an adult though.
She winks a mismatched eye at him before smiling. Her smile stretches from ear to ear.
Literally.
The ends of her mouth are stitched closed, but the line of threads goes wide, elongating her smile into something dreadful.
"Just Jack, huh? You know…" She says slowly, one mutilated lip quirking upward. "I never introduced myself. How rude of me."
Her hand, each nail painted with a red cross, sweeps out to point at the striped woman in the corner of the kitchen. Jack tries not to look at her. She's naked. The striped woman doesn't react to the attention; continues gnawing on (Mommy) a woman's arm.
"That's my bestie Siberian," the doctor croons. "And King, and Toothsome, and MurderRat, and Hatchethands, and…"
Each new name merits a new line of terror down Jack's spine. They aren't people. None of them are people. They're Frankensteins. Dead, ugly things stitched together like mismatched puzzle pieces. She brought Frankensteins into his house.
"And then there's me," she says. "Doctor Bonesaw, the one and only!"
The pause stretches out uncomfortably. Doctor Bonesaw, the one and only raises an eyebrow at him.
He fakes a smile.
"Yay."
She seems satisfied. She resettles herself behind him, one hand resting on his shoulder.
"Now then, Jack, can you begin with a six inch incision in the patient's throat? Make it vertical, beginning with the underside of the jaw and ending at the top of the sternum."
He doesn't know what any of the words mean, only that he's expected to cut again. He can't. Not again. Not even if it's Daddy. Because Daddy lied about a lot of things, but that didn't mean that Jack wanted him to-
Her cloying breath brushes his ear. "Do you need some help?"
He can't.
Jack spins, his swing wild. The silver arc sweeps out from the scalpel blade, cuts across two cabinets, the wall clock, Bonesaw's face, and then ends with the cabinets on the other side.
A coil of blonde hair hits the floor.
She slumps backward, joining her hair on the floor.
Siberian stands up, meat and gristle falling from lips suddenly bared in a snarl.
Jack raises the knife toward her too, but a sound freezes him on the spot.
Laughter.
The doctor sits up, head lolling bonelessly. The gash across her face goes from her right jawbone to her left temple. One side of her mouth is slack, the stitches severed, exposing the glistening flesh inside her cheek. Her right eye is a weeping, oozing mess, the eyelid in two flaps.
And she laughs. The sound bubbling up through a mouthful of blood to fill the kitchen. Her hand comes up to probe the cut; fingers pressing into it indiscriminately.
"Very good, Jack. That's the cleanest cut you've made all day." She rolls her head up, smiling crookedly. "Siberian, be a dear and get me that woman's eye, please."
Siberian nods.
Jack turns away, but the wet, squelching noises sends him heaving. He vomits into the potted plant by the door. One of the Frankensteins is standing next to the plant, looking at him. The thing's smell- like old, moldy meat, has him coughing up bile, trying to empty an already empty stomach.
A hand pats him on the back, rubs him gently, like Mommy always did when he got sick.
Jack turns, wiping his mouth.
Bonesaw beams down at him. The cut he made has already closed, but her face is still bloody.
"I'm sorry." He says.
He's not sorry. Doesn't know what to say anymore.
The world has stopped making sense.
"That's okay." Bonesaw says. "You'll get it with practice."
She holds the scalpel out to him.
"We've got all the time in the world, Jack."
Bonesaw winks at him with his mother's eye.
XXX
A repost of an old oneshot. Bonesaw and Jack switch places/characters, giving us an adult-Bonesaw recruting a six-year old Jack.
It didn't turn out quite as I'd hoped, and even now I can't think of it as anything more than 'interesting.' A lot of the narration style came out of rereading Stephen King's The Shining, and being inspired by Danny's child's perspective on horrifying things.
The doctor kneels behind him as he cuts. Each time, she leans a little closer, until she's whispering in his ear. Her breath is cherry licorice, but her hair smells like blood. Beneath that, a smell like the nurse's office at school lingers around her. He wonders if that's just how she naturally smells, like how Mommy smelled like violets, or Daddy gun oil.
"No no, Jackie," the doctor says. "That's crooked."
It's hard. If his hand shakes even a little, the arc goes wild. The scalpel blade is a tiny thing, and the cuts it makes are paper thin. It would be difficult even at an arm's length, and he's not at arm's length. No, the doctor has him cut from across the kitchen. (Daddy) The patient is propped up against the far wall, unconscious, already riddled with failed cuts.
He expects her to hit him; to yell and slap the side of his head like Daddy would, but she hasn't done that. Not even now, after he's messed up the cuts so many times.
But, in another way, what the doctor does is worse than hitting. Much worse.
"Let's try again." She says.
"I'm sorry." Jack says. His lips are dry, and he can't stop himself worrying the lower with his teeth.
"Don't be sorry, kiddo. Practice makes perfect, after all!"
Her hand leaves his to fish in the pocket of her coat. She has a lot of pockets and jingles like coins whenever she moves too quickly. The remote she withdraws looks like a tv remote, but with more buttons. This is the tenth time he's seen it today.
Click.
Spidery little robots emerge from one of the cupboards. It's the one where Mommy puts his cereal, low to the floor so he can reach it. He was big enough to make his own breakfast. The spiders click and whir across the linoleum until they reach the man. One spider deploys gauze from its abdomen, while the other wields a needle and thread to stitch the cut closed.
There are seven identical sutures on the man's bare torso alone.
Jack waits in silence. The doctor hums quietly to herself, idly twirling one of her long, blonde curls.
The spiders finish and return to their spot in the cupboard. Jack feels his hand begin to shake. She'll make him cut again now.
"Alrighty, Jackie, let's try it again." The doctor says.
"It's Jack." He says.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He shouldn't have said anything. Now he's in trouble. Being stupid is what let Daddy trick him in the first place.
But the doctor laughs, high and musical.
Jack actually turns in place to look at her. Kneeling, she's not much taller than he is, and he's still not sure about her age. Older than him, but younger than Mommy. Old enough to be an adult though.
She winks a mismatched eye at him before smiling. Her smile stretches from ear to ear.
Literally.
The ends of her mouth are stitched closed, but the line of threads goes wide, elongating her smile into something dreadful.
"Just Jack, huh? You know…" She says slowly, one mutilated lip quirking upward. "I never introduced myself. How rude of me."
Her hand, each nail painted with a red cross, sweeps out to point at the striped woman in the corner of the kitchen. Jack tries not to look at her. She's naked. The striped woman doesn't react to the attention; continues gnawing on (Mommy) a woman's arm.
"That's my bestie Siberian," the doctor croons. "And King, and Toothsome, and MurderRat, and Hatchethands, and…"
Each new name merits a new line of terror down Jack's spine. They aren't people. None of them are people. They're Frankensteins. Dead, ugly things stitched together like mismatched puzzle pieces. She brought Frankensteins into his house.
"And then there's me," she says. "Doctor Bonesaw, the one and only!"
The pause stretches out uncomfortably. Doctor Bonesaw, the one and only raises an eyebrow at him.
He fakes a smile.
"Yay."
She seems satisfied. She resettles herself behind him, one hand resting on his shoulder.
"Now then, Jack, can you begin with a six inch incision in the patient's throat? Make it vertical, beginning with the underside of the jaw and ending at the top of the sternum."
He doesn't know what any of the words mean, only that he's expected to cut again. He can't. Not again. Not even if it's Daddy. Because Daddy lied about a lot of things, but that didn't mean that Jack wanted him to-
Her cloying breath brushes his ear. "Do you need some help?"
He can't.
Jack spins, his swing wild. The silver arc sweeps out from the scalpel blade, cuts across two cabinets, the wall clock, Bonesaw's face, and then ends with the cabinets on the other side.
A coil of blonde hair hits the floor.
She slumps backward, joining her hair on the floor.
Siberian stands up, meat and gristle falling from lips suddenly bared in a snarl.
Jack raises the knife toward her too, but a sound freezes him on the spot.
Laughter.
The doctor sits up, head lolling bonelessly. The gash across her face goes from her right jawbone to her left temple. One side of her mouth is slack, the stitches severed, exposing the glistening flesh inside her cheek. Her right eye is a weeping, oozing mess, the eyelid in two flaps.
And she laughs. The sound bubbling up through a mouthful of blood to fill the kitchen. Her hand comes up to probe the cut; fingers pressing into it indiscriminately.
"Very good, Jack. That's the cleanest cut you've made all day." She rolls her head up, smiling crookedly. "Siberian, be a dear and get me that woman's eye, please."
Siberian nods.
Jack turns away, but the wet, squelching noises sends him heaving. He vomits into the potted plant by the door. One of the Frankensteins is standing next to the plant, looking at him. The thing's smell- like old, moldy meat, has him coughing up bile, trying to empty an already empty stomach.
A hand pats him on the back, rubs him gently, like Mommy always did when he got sick.
Jack turns, wiping his mouth.
Bonesaw beams down at him. The cut he made has already closed, but her face is still bloody.
"I'm sorry." He says.
He's not sorry. Doesn't know what to say anymore.
The world has stopped making sense.
"That's okay." Bonesaw says. "You'll get it with practice."
She holds the scalpel out to him.
"We've got all the time in the world, Jack."
Bonesaw winks at him with his mother's eye.
XXX
A repost of an old oneshot. Bonesaw and Jack switch places/characters, giving us an adult-Bonesaw recruting a six-year old Jack.
It didn't turn out quite as I'd hoped, and even now I can't think of it as anything more than 'interesting.' A lot of the narration style came out of rereading Stephen King's The Shining, and being inspired by Danny's child's perspective on horrifying things.
Appointments (Worm, MoordNag!Taylor)
Appointments
1
"This is it. Are you sure you're ready?"
The woman in the bed nodded. She leaned forward, her face catching the morning sun. The light illuminated all her fine lines, like wrinkles in thin paper.
"I've said my goodbyes." The woman said.
The girl sitting next to the bed held up a sheaf of papers. "You'll need to sign these, Mrs. Meers."
Mrs. Meers' hands shook slightly as she took the pages.
The girl swallowed audibly. "You can back out at any point. It's really okay."
"I- …no." Mrs. Meers reached out for the girl's hand. She patted it reassuringly. "I've had a good life."
"But-"
"No." Mrs. Meers said emphatically. "Trust me. For me to do some good with my- …like this. That's how I want it to end. I've spent too much time wasting away in this hospital bed."
Slowly, moving the pen with the too-delicate motions of an arthritic, Mrs. Meers began signing the papers. The girl sat silently, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
"There." Mrs. Meers held out the pages. The girl took them, placing them into a satchel bag. Mrs. Meers smiled at her. "Don't look so gloomy, child. I can't tell you how good it feels to just… finish it all up. No more waiting, no more wondering, none of that."
The girl hesitated for a moment before sighing resignedly. "Alright. If you're absolutely sure."
She stood. Her gray robe whisked softly as she moved.
"Do you have any last words? I can take a message to your family if you want."
Mrs. Meers shook her head. "I've told them what they needed to hear. I'm ready."
"O-okay… Just close your eyes. Count back from 10 and that'll be it."
Mrs. Meers shut her eyes. Her sense of relief was painted bold in every line of her face.
The girl shuddered briefly, and the room darkened as she used her power. The girl's shadow elongated, trailing up the wall and across the ceiling, growing impossibly. It thickened, growing black as pitch. Her guardian rose out of it. The shadow bubbled and rippled as he came.
He had a ram's skull this time. The eyesockets were as black as the shadow, and the bone was pitted with age. Skeletal feet left the shadow, dragging the darkness along behind him. He stood hunched under the low ceiling, hands resting on the girl's shoulders.
Mrs. Meers was quiet, seemingly listening to the sounds.
"Count, please." The girl whispered.
"10, 9, 8…" Mrs. Meers began.
The girl gestured, and he stepped forward. Utterly silent, he stretched out his withered hands to Mrs. Meers. She cried out as his fingers pressed against her chest, sinking in like he was reaching into water. The contact was only for an instant.
Mrs. Meers gasped once, and went limp. He leaned in. A horrible rasping noise came from his mouth; like he was tasting her last breath.
"Enough." The girl said.
Guardian straightened, returning to his place behind her. Once more, his bony hands rested on her shoulders. It was unclear whether the gesture was protective, possessive, or something in between. She patted one of his hands.
"Thanks."
He was silent. She stood staring at Mrs. Meers' body for a few moments before the door opened. A nurse poked his head in.
"Miss uh- Guide, are you ready to- Jesus Christ!" He stumbled backward, gaping at Guardian. Guardian turned his horned head slowly, tracking the newcomer. He looked to Guide as if waiting instruction.
"Not him." Guide said.
Guardian nodded once; the briefest jerk of his skull. She knew his response without looking.
"I'm done in here. Time of Death is…" Guide checked her watch. "19:20."
The nurse still looked nervous about Guardian, but he jotted down the ToD on his clipboard.
"Uh… I need to uh-" He gestured vaguely at Mrs. Meers.
"Of course." Guide said. "I'll be going. C'mon."
Guardian sank back into her shadow. It was only when the tips of his horns vanished that Guide moved. She gathered her things and left the room.
It never got any easier. She thought. Why did her power have to be so… frankly, it was monstrous. Utterly monstrous. Even if Mrs. Meers had been glad to go, she couldn't take any joy in having taken the old woman's life.
But at the same time, a part of her- a part she did her best to ignore at all costs, was tallying their newest gain.
Two-hundred-twenty-one…
If she was ever going to make a difference, she needed more.
Guide walked down the sterile hospital hallway. Nurses and doctors nodded to her as she went. She was as familiar a sight in the hospital as any of them. She walked until she reached her next destination.
Room 341. Mr. Redmond was waiting for his appointment with her.
Two-hundred-twenty-two…
XXX
A very, very early fic I had. This came out around the very beginning of Speak with the Dead. I had vague plans for the entire thing, eventually aiming towards Taylor/Amy. I ended up choosing to continue Speak over this, and eventually lost interest because I don't really care for Tay/Amy.
1
"This is it. Are you sure you're ready?"
The woman in the bed nodded. She leaned forward, her face catching the morning sun. The light illuminated all her fine lines, like wrinkles in thin paper.
"I've said my goodbyes." The woman said.
The girl sitting next to the bed held up a sheaf of papers. "You'll need to sign these, Mrs. Meers."
Mrs. Meers' hands shook slightly as she took the pages.
The girl swallowed audibly. "You can back out at any point. It's really okay."
"I- …no." Mrs. Meers reached out for the girl's hand. She patted it reassuringly. "I've had a good life."
"But-"
"No." Mrs. Meers said emphatically. "Trust me. For me to do some good with my- …like this. That's how I want it to end. I've spent too much time wasting away in this hospital bed."
Slowly, moving the pen with the too-delicate motions of an arthritic, Mrs. Meers began signing the papers. The girl sat silently, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
"There." Mrs. Meers held out the pages. The girl took them, placing them into a satchel bag. Mrs. Meers smiled at her. "Don't look so gloomy, child. I can't tell you how good it feels to just… finish it all up. No more waiting, no more wondering, none of that."
The girl hesitated for a moment before sighing resignedly. "Alright. If you're absolutely sure."
She stood. Her gray robe whisked softly as she moved.
"Do you have any last words? I can take a message to your family if you want."
Mrs. Meers shook her head. "I've told them what they needed to hear. I'm ready."
"O-okay… Just close your eyes. Count back from 10 and that'll be it."
Mrs. Meers shut her eyes. Her sense of relief was painted bold in every line of her face.
The girl shuddered briefly, and the room darkened as she used her power. The girl's shadow elongated, trailing up the wall and across the ceiling, growing impossibly. It thickened, growing black as pitch. Her guardian rose out of it. The shadow bubbled and rippled as he came.
He had a ram's skull this time. The eyesockets were as black as the shadow, and the bone was pitted with age. Skeletal feet left the shadow, dragging the darkness along behind him. He stood hunched under the low ceiling, hands resting on the girl's shoulders.
Mrs. Meers was quiet, seemingly listening to the sounds.
"Count, please." The girl whispered.
"10, 9, 8…" Mrs. Meers began.
The girl gestured, and he stepped forward. Utterly silent, he stretched out his withered hands to Mrs. Meers. She cried out as his fingers pressed against her chest, sinking in like he was reaching into water. The contact was only for an instant.
Mrs. Meers gasped once, and went limp. He leaned in. A horrible rasping noise came from his mouth; like he was tasting her last breath.
"Enough." The girl said.
Guardian straightened, returning to his place behind her. Once more, his bony hands rested on her shoulders. It was unclear whether the gesture was protective, possessive, or something in between. She patted one of his hands.
"Thanks."
He was silent. She stood staring at Mrs. Meers' body for a few moments before the door opened. A nurse poked his head in.
"Miss uh- Guide, are you ready to- Jesus Christ!" He stumbled backward, gaping at Guardian. Guardian turned his horned head slowly, tracking the newcomer. He looked to Guide as if waiting instruction.
"Not him." Guide said.
Guardian nodded once; the briefest jerk of his skull. She knew his response without looking.
"I'm done in here. Time of Death is…" Guide checked her watch. "19:20."
The nurse still looked nervous about Guardian, but he jotted down the ToD on his clipboard.
"Uh… I need to uh-" He gestured vaguely at Mrs. Meers.
"Of course." Guide said. "I'll be going. C'mon."
Guardian sank back into her shadow. It was only when the tips of his horns vanished that Guide moved. She gathered her things and left the room.
It never got any easier. She thought. Why did her power have to be so… frankly, it was monstrous. Utterly monstrous. Even if Mrs. Meers had been glad to go, she couldn't take any joy in having taken the old woman's life.
But at the same time, a part of her- a part she did her best to ignore at all costs, was tallying their newest gain.
Two-hundred-twenty-one…
If she was ever going to make a difference, she needed more.
Guide walked down the sterile hospital hallway. Nurses and doctors nodded to her as she went. She was as familiar a sight in the hospital as any of them. She walked until she reached her next destination.
Room 341. Mr. Redmond was waiting for his appointment with her.
Two-hundred-twenty-two…
XXX
A very, very early fic I had. This came out around the very beginning of Speak with the Dead. I had vague plans for the entire thing, eventually aiming towards Taylor/Amy. I ended up choosing to continue Speak over this, and eventually lost interest because I don't really care for Tay/Amy.
Appointments 2 (Worm, MoordNag!Taylor)
Appointments
2
Panacea waved half-heartedly at the nurses. The tall one- her name was… something with an 'M,' smiled as Panacea passed. She saw the woman every day. Why couldn't she remember her name?
"How are you doing?" She asked M. Maria, Mary, Megan, Mina…
M turned slightly, and Panacea could read her nametag.
Zelda.
What the hell?
She waited until the nurses were behind her before she rubbed her eyes. They still itched. She was too tired for this. How did the nurses always manage to stay so chipper? They came in, day in- day out, and had to deal with the patients. She only did it for a few hours a day- as many as she could manage- and it was still burning her out.
Left, then right to the elevator. She stepped around a patch of wet tile by Room 212.
One of the patients had vomited there when she came in. Ruptured appendix, two cracked short-ribs, a black eye, and a husband waiting in the wings with a set of bruised knuckles.
Classy.
The enclosed space of the elevator made her more conscious of the hospital's perpetual antiseptic smell. It had long since soaked into her clothes. She tried not to look at her reflection in the elevator's doors.
Her watch read 9:50. She'd spend 10 minutes having a coffee, then heal until 11:30. Victoria would meet her at the exit, fly her home, and she'd be in bed by 12. School from 7-3. Two hours at home for homework and family time, then back to the hospital.
Repeat, ad nauseam.
She smashed down her realization that the high point of her day was her five-minute flight home with Victoria. Why that was didn't bear thinking about. Not unless she wanted to spend the rest of the night in a nice little spiral of self-loathing. And of course, thinking about not thinking about it just made her think about it harder.
Ugly waves of guilt and shame began roiling in her stomach. She stopped halfway through the break room door. She didn't want coffee anymore. She turned, about to leave, and then froze in mid-step.
There was a cape sitting in the break room. Panacea went through the door before she could stop herself. Capes never came into Brockton General. They- she, for Panacea saw now that the newcomer was definitely a girl, was sitting at a table in a corner. She was flipping through one of the dog-eared magazines that accumulated in the break room over time.
The girl looked up as Panacea approached. Their outfits were actually similar, now that Panacea saw her clearly. They both wore hooded robes, with a face scarf. Black hair peeked out from the edges of the other girl's hood, and her scarf was a fine, lacy material.
She stared at the girl for a few awkward moments before remembering to speak.
"H-hi."
The girl's brown eyes went wide behind her glasses.
"Are you Pana-" She cut herself off, blushing slightly "Hi."
The girl held out a hand and Panacea took it without thinking. At once, details about the girl's body came streaming in.
Old breaks in both femurs- both healed. Healed fracture in her left wrist's growth plate. Moderate astigmatism. Germs touching her skin died on contact. Partially healed bruise on her right elbow. Bruised knee. Presence of Corona Gemma. Presence of Corona Pollentia. Chemical imbalance in brain that spoke of-
She jerked her hand away.
"Sorry!" She said. The girl looked confused.
"What for?" She said. "I'm uh- I'm Guide, by the way. You're Panacea, right?"
Panacea knew that name from somewhere. ...but where? She ought to pay better attention to other capes.
"Yeah. It's nice to meet you. You're with the PRT, aren't you?" That was a guess. She honestly had no idea.
Guide dropped her eyes to the tabletop. "Sort of." She said quietly.
Panacea wanted to slam her head into the table. She'd said three words to Guide and already managed to make her uncomfortable.
"Sorry." She said again. Guide met her gaze after a moment.
"No, you were right. I'm an ancillary Ward. I don't really patrol much."
Panacea nodded knowingly. "Yeah. It's kind of like that with me and New Wave." She turned to the coffee machine sitting in the corner. It would taste like sewer runoff, but she needed the caffeine right now. She took a deep breath and smiled at Guide.
"You want a coffee?"
"Sure." Guide said. "I like it with a lot of cream and-"
Something moved beneath the table, shaking it slightly. A hand rose up next to Guide. A bony hand. Wisps of… blackness trailed around the hand like smoke. It held up a cup of hospital coffee, still steaming.
Panacea gaped at the sight.
"Oh! Thanks Guardian. You charmer." Guide giggled. She clasped hands with the skeletal hand before it disappeared below the table. Panacea ducked down to look. There was nothing there but scuffed tile and chair legs.
"You want one?" Guide asked. She caught sight of Panacea's expression. "That was Guardian. Guardian, can you get Panacea a coffee?"
After a second, the table shook again, and the hand rose up with another coffee. Guide handed it to Panacea. She took it without thinking, still staring at Guide.
"What… was that? Another cape?"
Guide shook her head. "Nah. Guardian's part of my power. I've got a living shadow." She gestured at the chair across from her. Panacea realized she was still standing, and hurriedly sat down.
Panacea sipped her coffee, searching for something to say. She knew Guide's name from somewhere. It was on the tip of her tongue.
"So- you uh- work in hospitals too?" She finally said.
Guide dropped her gaze again. Her discomfort was palpable.
"Y-yeah. I've been doing it for about a month now."
A little bolt of excitement ran through Panacea as she thought of the implications. Another healer! Someone to take the burden off of her. There'd be that many less people who went unhealed now. Only…
"Are you a healer?" She said. Please please please-
Guide shifted in her seat, still not looking at her.
"I… well… I'm-" Guide pulled out a silver pocketwatch and checked the time. "I've gotta go." She stood jerkily and turned to leave. Panacea bolted in front of her.
"Hold up!" She needed to know. Guide tried to walk around, but Panacea stepped in front of her.
"Wait, please." A note of pleading crept into her voice. She didn't care. There was no way she was letting another healer just walk out of here.
"I- I really need to go." Guide said. The same pleading edge was in her voice.
Panacea opened her mouth to reply. She never got the chance. There was an explosion of black and something rose up behind Guide. It was too tall for the room; only fitting because it was hunched protectively around Guide. Skeletal arms upon arms upon arms embraced her from behind. Some held her tight; others pushed out as if to ward off Panacea. Billowing clouds of shadow surrounded them.
One empty eye socket peered from behind Guide's hood.
It was… looking at her. Somehow she knew that. Just like she knew that it didn't like her.
She stumbled backward, her legs smashing into a table, and fell.
Guide pulled away from the skeletal thing, moving toward her. Panacea scrambled away, trying to get away from the nightmarish creature. Guide stopped, holding up her hands.
"I- dammit- sorry- I just-" She stuttered. She shook herself, and when she spoke again, her voice was commanding. "Guardian, that's enough."
Guardian rustled its bones angrily, but released its hold on Guide. It took up position behind her, still glaring balefully at Panacea.
Guide pulled Panacea to her feet.
"Sorry, I'm really sorry about that. He's protective, and I didn't mean for that to happen, and…" She kept apologizing until Panacea stopped her.
"I was just surprised." Panacea said. That was an understatement. Her heart was still pounding like a jackhammer. Slowly, keeping her eyes on Guardian, she stepped out of Guide's way. The other girl didn't move.
"You're okay, right?" Guide said. Panacea nodded.
"Are you okay?" She asked. She was the last person to be asking anyone that, but even she could see that there was something bothering Guide.
"I'm… I'm not a healer." Guide whispered. "I didn't want to tell you. I visit the people that-" She swallowed. Guardian rested several of its hands on her shoulders.
"I see the people that you can't heal."
Panacea stared at her. What did that- …realization crashed home. Victoria had mentioned Guide to her. Because Guide was visiting the Brockton hospitals. Because Guide-
"You're… that Guide." Panacea said through numb lips.
Guide nodded.
"The one who kills patients."
"It's not like that-" Guide began. Panacea cut her off.
"You kill people! All to feed that- thing." She waved a hand at Guardian.
Her anger and disappointment were growing. Guide wasn't a healer at all. Just some opportunistic vulture that preyed on the ill.
"I don't like it any more than you." Guide snapped, spots of color blooming in her cheeks.
Panacea sneered at her. It wasn't enough that she couldn't heal everyone; this bottom feeder had to come in and remind her of it. Guide fed on her failures. Every person she didn't or couldn't heal was another candidate for the other girl's predations.
"Monster." She hissed. And with that, she turned and stormed out of the break room. She looked back only once. Guide was standing stock-still. Guardian was wrapped around her again, stroking her hair.
She slammed the door behind her.
2
Panacea waved half-heartedly at the nurses. The tall one- her name was… something with an 'M,' smiled as Panacea passed. She saw the woman every day. Why couldn't she remember her name?
"How are you doing?" She asked M. Maria, Mary, Megan, Mina…
M turned slightly, and Panacea could read her nametag.
Zelda.
What the hell?
She waited until the nurses were behind her before she rubbed her eyes. They still itched. She was too tired for this. How did the nurses always manage to stay so chipper? They came in, day in- day out, and had to deal with the patients. She only did it for a few hours a day- as many as she could manage- and it was still burning her out.
Left, then right to the elevator. She stepped around a patch of wet tile by Room 212.
One of the patients had vomited there when she came in. Ruptured appendix, two cracked short-ribs, a black eye, and a husband waiting in the wings with a set of bruised knuckles.
Classy.
The enclosed space of the elevator made her more conscious of the hospital's perpetual antiseptic smell. It had long since soaked into her clothes. She tried not to look at her reflection in the elevator's doors.
Her watch read 9:50. She'd spend 10 minutes having a coffee, then heal until 11:30. Victoria would meet her at the exit, fly her home, and she'd be in bed by 12. School from 7-3. Two hours at home for homework and family time, then back to the hospital.
Repeat, ad nauseam.
She smashed down her realization that the high point of her day was her five-minute flight home with Victoria. Why that was didn't bear thinking about. Not unless she wanted to spend the rest of the night in a nice little spiral of self-loathing. And of course, thinking about not thinking about it just made her think about it harder.
Ugly waves of guilt and shame began roiling in her stomach. She stopped halfway through the break room door. She didn't want coffee anymore. She turned, about to leave, and then froze in mid-step.
There was a cape sitting in the break room. Panacea went through the door before she could stop herself. Capes never came into Brockton General. They- she, for Panacea saw now that the newcomer was definitely a girl, was sitting at a table in a corner. She was flipping through one of the dog-eared magazines that accumulated in the break room over time.
The girl looked up as Panacea approached. Their outfits were actually similar, now that Panacea saw her clearly. They both wore hooded robes, with a face scarf. Black hair peeked out from the edges of the other girl's hood, and her scarf was a fine, lacy material.
She stared at the girl for a few awkward moments before remembering to speak.
"H-hi."
The girl's brown eyes went wide behind her glasses.
"Are you Pana-" She cut herself off, blushing slightly "Hi."
The girl held out a hand and Panacea took it without thinking. At once, details about the girl's body came streaming in.
Old breaks in both femurs- both healed. Healed fracture in her left wrist's growth plate. Moderate astigmatism. Germs touching her skin died on contact. Partially healed bruise on her right elbow. Bruised knee. Presence of Corona Gemma. Presence of Corona Pollentia. Chemical imbalance in brain that spoke of-
She jerked her hand away.
"Sorry!" She said. The girl looked confused.
"What for?" She said. "I'm uh- I'm Guide, by the way. You're Panacea, right?"
Panacea knew that name from somewhere. ...but where? She ought to pay better attention to other capes.
"Yeah. It's nice to meet you. You're with the PRT, aren't you?" That was a guess. She honestly had no idea.
Guide dropped her eyes to the tabletop. "Sort of." She said quietly.
Panacea wanted to slam her head into the table. She'd said three words to Guide and already managed to make her uncomfortable.
"Sorry." She said again. Guide met her gaze after a moment.
"No, you were right. I'm an ancillary Ward. I don't really patrol much."
Panacea nodded knowingly. "Yeah. It's kind of like that with me and New Wave." She turned to the coffee machine sitting in the corner. It would taste like sewer runoff, but she needed the caffeine right now. She took a deep breath and smiled at Guide.
"You want a coffee?"
"Sure." Guide said. "I like it with a lot of cream and-"
Something moved beneath the table, shaking it slightly. A hand rose up next to Guide. A bony hand. Wisps of… blackness trailed around the hand like smoke. It held up a cup of hospital coffee, still steaming.
Panacea gaped at the sight.
"Oh! Thanks Guardian. You charmer." Guide giggled. She clasped hands with the skeletal hand before it disappeared below the table. Panacea ducked down to look. There was nothing there but scuffed tile and chair legs.
"You want one?" Guide asked. She caught sight of Panacea's expression. "That was Guardian. Guardian, can you get Panacea a coffee?"
After a second, the table shook again, and the hand rose up with another coffee. Guide handed it to Panacea. She took it without thinking, still staring at Guide.
"What… was that? Another cape?"
Guide shook her head. "Nah. Guardian's part of my power. I've got a living shadow." She gestured at the chair across from her. Panacea realized she was still standing, and hurriedly sat down.
Panacea sipped her coffee, searching for something to say. She knew Guide's name from somewhere. It was on the tip of her tongue.
"So- you uh- work in hospitals too?" She finally said.
Guide dropped her gaze again. Her discomfort was palpable.
"Y-yeah. I've been doing it for about a month now."
A little bolt of excitement ran through Panacea as she thought of the implications. Another healer! Someone to take the burden off of her. There'd be that many less people who went unhealed now. Only…
"Are you a healer?" She said. Please please please-
Guide shifted in her seat, still not looking at her.
"I… well… I'm-" Guide pulled out a silver pocketwatch and checked the time. "I've gotta go." She stood jerkily and turned to leave. Panacea bolted in front of her.
"Hold up!" She needed to know. Guide tried to walk around, but Panacea stepped in front of her.
"Wait, please." A note of pleading crept into her voice. She didn't care. There was no way she was letting another healer just walk out of here.
"I- I really need to go." Guide said. The same pleading edge was in her voice.
Panacea opened her mouth to reply. She never got the chance. There was an explosion of black and something rose up behind Guide. It was too tall for the room; only fitting because it was hunched protectively around Guide. Skeletal arms upon arms upon arms embraced her from behind. Some held her tight; others pushed out as if to ward off Panacea. Billowing clouds of shadow surrounded them.
One empty eye socket peered from behind Guide's hood.
It was… looking at her. Somehow she knew that. Just like she knew that it didn't like her.
She stumbled backward, her legs smashing into a table, and fell.
Guide pulled away from the skeletal thing, moving toward her. Panacea scrambled away, trying to get away from the nightmarish creature. Guide stopped, holding up her hands.
"I- dammit- sorry- I just-" She stuttered. She shook herself, and when she spoke again, her voice was commanding. "Guardian, that's enough."
Guardian rustled its bones angrily, but released its hold on Guide. It took up position behind her, still glaring balefully at Panacea.
Guide pulled Panacea to her feet.
"Sorry, I'm really sorry about that. He's protective, and I didn't mean for that to happen, and…" She kept apologizing until Panacea stopped her.
"I was just surprised." Panacea said. That was an understatement. Her heart was still pounding like a jackhammer. Slowly, keeping her eyes on Guardian, she stepped out of Guide's way. The other girl didn't move.
"You're okay, right?" Guide said. Panacea nodded.
"Are you okay?" She asked. She was the last person to be asking anyone that, but even she could see that there was something bothering Guide.
"I'm… I'm not a healer." Guide whispered. "I didn't want to tell you. I visit the people that-" She swallowed. Guardian rested several of its hands on her shoulders.
"I see the people that you can't heal."
Panacea stared at her. What did that- …realization crashed home. Victoria had mentioned Guide to her. Because Guide was visiting the Brockton hospitals. Because Guide-
"You're… that Guide." Panacea said through numb lips.
Guide nodded.
"The one who kills patients."
"It's not like that-" Guide began. Panacea cut her off.
"You kill people! All to feed that- thing." She waved a hand at Guardian.
Her anger and disappointment were growing. Guide wasn't a healer at all. Just some opportunistic vulture that preyed on the ill.
"I don't like it any more than you." Guide snapped, spots of color blooming in her cheeks.
Panacea sneered at her. It wasn't enough that she couldn't heal everyone; this bottom feeder had to come in and remind her of it. Guide fed on her failures. Every person she didn't or couldn't heal was another candidate for the other girl's predations.
"Monster." She hissed. And with that, she turned and stormed out of the break room. She looked back only once. Guide was standing stock-still. Guardian was wrapped around her again, stroking her hair.
She slammed the door behind her.
Booke of Worms 1- Earl of Manton (Worm, FairyTale!AU)
Booke of Worms
1- The Earl of Manton
The Earl of Manton was a traveler. In his youth, he walked from one end of the continent to the other. He saw lands beyond imagination; things never seen by any of his countrymen.
He did not walk the lands out of any lust for gold or spice or trade. He traveled because he was a traveler. For him, meeting new people in strange places was a gift far beyond any material wealth. Even in lands where the folk did not speak a language he knew, he was met as a friend, for his kind, good-hearted nature made friends where another would have found enemies.
The Earl traveled for many years. When he'd seen enough of the continent, he boarded a ship to Africa. It was like nothing he'd ever seen. The people, the animals, the places were like something out of a dream.
He would say later that "the first time I saw Kilimanjaro, I wept." And it was true. He had wept, for Africa was truly that beautiful.
His time there was dear to him above almost all else. But even beyond his love of travel, the Earl held his family in his heart. His wife and daughter were his world. His love for them was boundless.
He loved them so that he even gave up traveling for them. Another man might have grown to resent his family for taking something he loved so much, but the Earl knew that his family was worth more than any sights he might see.
And so, he settled down, turning his sights to managing his Earldom and providing for his family. He was a brilliant man, made cunning and canny by his travels. Under his hand, the Manton family's star rose, becoming a true jewel of England. His lands were peaceful and well-tended, and the people content, for the Earl knew that he must govern with an even hand.
But all was not well, sickness spread throughout the land. The Lady of Worms walked near to Manton, and plague walked with her. The Earl was untouched, spared even a glancing blow from the reaper's blade, but his wife and daughter were not so lucky.
His wife grew weaker and weaker, wasting away slowly, agonizingly, fighting for each day but still losing ground. The Earl called for all his physicians, but they were too busy fighting the Lady's plague, and could not come. The Earl sent word to London, begging for help. But the men who had once called the Earl friend were cowardly.
"What if it brings the plague down on us?" They moaned.
No doctors would come to the Earl.
He turned to alchemy, pouring over all the books in his library. Every scrap of mystic knowledge he'd collected over the years fueled his burning desire to cure his family. He grew more desperate with each day, becoming ever more frantic in his efforts.
It is said that the Earl knew much of alchemy; that he knew many of the secrets kept even from more accomplished alchemists. Though he would never be as accomplished (or mad) as the great Chirugeon, the Earl was brilliant in all things. But even he could not break the plague that gripped his family.
The Lady's touch was as sure as the seasons, and his wife passed first. The Earl held her hand on her deathbed, his alchemy forgotten; begging, pleading, praying for her to please hold on. Let God give him one more day, one more try.
The miracle did not come. Her death was as slow and agonizing as her sickness, and she died screaming. The Earl sat beside her bed for a long time then, talking quietly to her, though she could not hear any more.
When the sun rose, the Earl covered her with a sheet and left the room. He did not go see his daughter, returning instead to his alchemy. If before he was determined, now he was a man possessed. The kind, gentle light that shone from his eyes had faded, replaced with an eerie calm. The servants who saw him whispered to each other.
"The Earl's gone mad." They hissed.
And then they fled the house, leaving the Earl alone with his daughter.
He did not notice. From day to night he worked, searching ever more for a cure. His daughter wasted away, just as her mother had done.
The Earl would stop working every now and then to look to the sky.
"Please, let me save her." He prayed.
There was no answer, just as there had been no miracle.
His experiments grew more and more desperate; more demented with each day. He crossed lines not meant to be crossed by mortal man, searching ceaselessly. And he still failed. Each new hope was dashed to pieces in the inexorable face of the plague.
Finally, his daughter lay on her deathbed, and the Earl knew her time had come. He went to his study and locked the door.
In the rear of the study, chained to a pedestal, surrounded by holy wafer, was a book. It was a Black Book. One of the Black Books come out of the North when Lemuria fell. He had sworn never to open it as long as he lived, but he did it then, and thought little of it.
And in its pages, he read the words he needed.
The study grew dark, the candles burning out one by one. The Earl waited, and as the last candle faded, he saw that his summons had been successful.
The Devil stood in the shadows, and he laughed at the Earl. It was no wonder the Earl's prayers had failed if he'd been harboring the will to do such a thing. But the Earl only nodded and made his wish.
"Let my daughter be well. Take the plague from her."
The Earl needed more, needed to be sure that his daughter would never take ill again. And he thought of Africa; thought of the stories of Africa that his daughter loved so dearly.
"Devil, take the plague and make her strong!" The Earl cried. "Do this and I am yours!"
The Devil just smiled. A great darkness seemed to pass across the room, and then he was gone.
The Earl rushed to his daughter's bedside, eager to see that the deal was done.
His daughter lay dead. The Earl's final gambit had come too late.
The Earl fell to his knees, clutching her withered hand, and…
His daughter put a hand on his shoulder.
But she was not the girl in the bed.
A new daughter stood beside the Earl. But she was not his daughter.
"What have you done to her?" The Earl shouted.
The Devil's laughter rang through the room. "I made her better. Didn't she just love your stories of Africa? Now she can be as strong as the lion, and as graceful as the gazelle!"
The Earl stared in horror at his un-daughter. Even her skin was striped and mottled like the zebra.
He'd given it all, and lost everything. He had damned himself and still lost his daughter. The only thing left in the world was the un-daughter. And she was little more than a shade; an echo of his daughter, made perverse by the Devil's hand.
The Earl reached out slowly and embraced the un-daughter.
And then he began to laugh.
XXX
I vaguely recall this coming out of a prompt about Fantasy AUs for Worm. My attempt at doing a fairy tale style story. Not my most successful attempt. Probably could have done with another draft, but I like the general vibe.
1- The Earl of Manton
The Earl of Manton was a traveler. In his youth, he walked from one end of the continent to the other. He saw lands beyond imagination; things never seen by any of his countrymen.
He did not walk the lands out of any lust for gold or spice or trade. He traveled because he was a traveler. For him, meeting new people in strange places was a gift far beyond any material wealth. Even in lands where the folk did not speak a language he knew, he was met as a friend, for his kind, good-hearted nature made friends where another would have found enemies.
The Earl traveled for many years. When he'd seen enough of the continent, he boarded a ship to Africa. It was like nothing he'd ever seen. The people, the animals, the places were like something out of a dream.
He would say later that "the first time I saw Kilimanjaro, I wept." And it was true. He had wept, for Africa was truly that beautiful.
His time there was dear to him above almost all else. But even beyond his love of travel, the Earl held his family in his heart. His wife and daughter were his world. His love for them was boundless.
He loved them so that he even gave up traveling for them. Another man might have grown to resent his family for taking something he loved so much, but the Earl knew that his family was worth more than any sights he might see.
And so, he settled down, turning his sights to managing his Earldom and providing for his family. He was a brilliant man, made cunning and canny by his travels. Under his hand, the Manton family's star rose, becoming a true jewel of England. His lands were peaceful and well-tended, and the people content, for the Earl knew that he must govern with an even hand.
But all was not well, sickness spread throughout the land. The Lady of Worms walked near to Manton, and plague walked with her. The Earl was untouched, spared even a glancing blow from the reaper's blade, but his wife and daughter were not so lucky.
His wife grew weaker and weaker, wasting away slowly, agonizingly, fighting for each day but still losing ground. The Earl called for all his physicians, but they were too busy fighting the Lady's plague, and could not come. The Earl sent word to London, begging for help. But the men who had once called the Earl friend were cowardly.
"What if it brings the plague down on us?" They moaned.
No doctors would come to the Earl.
He turned to alchemy, pouring over all the books in his library. Every scrap of mystic knowledge he'd collected over the years fueled his burning desire to cure his family. He grew more desperate with each day, becoming ever more frantic in his efforts.
It is said that the Earl knew much of alchemy; that he knew many of the secrets kept even from more accomplished alchemists. Though he would never be as accomplished (or mad) as the great Chirugeon, the Earl was brilliant in all things. But even he could not break the plague that gripped his family.
The Lady's touch was as sure as the seasons, and his wife passed first. The Earl held her hand on her deathbed, his alchemy forgotten; begging, pleading, praying for her to please hold on. Let God give him one more day, one more try.
The miracle did not come. Her death was as slow and agonizing as her sickness, and she died screaming. The Earl sat beside her bed for a long time then, talking quietly to her, though she could not hear any more.
When the sun rose, the Earl covered her with a sheet and left the room. He did not go see his daughter, returning instead to his alchemy. If before he was determined, now he was a man possessed. The kind, gentle light that shone from his eyes had faded, replaced with an eerie calm. The servants who saw him whispered to each other.
"The Earl's gone mad." They hissed.
And then they fled the house, leaving the Earl alone with his daughter.
He did not notice. From day to night he worked, searching ever more for a cure. His daughter wasted away, just as her mother had done.
The Earl would stop working every now and then to look to the sky.
"Please, let me save her." He prayed.
There was no answer, just as there had been no miracle.
His experiments grew more and more desperate; more demented with each day. He crossed lines not meant to be crossed by mortal man, searching ceaselessly. And he still failed. Each new hope was dashed to pieces in the inexorable face of the plague.
Finally, his daughter lay on her deathbed, and the Earl knew her time had come. He went to his study and locked the door.
In the rear of the study, chained to a pedestal, surrounded by holy wafer, was a book. It was a Black Book. One of the Black Books come out of the North when Lemuria fell. He had sworn never to open it as long as he lived, but he did it then, and thought little of it.
And in its pages, he read the words he needed.
The study grew dark, the candles burning out one by one. The Earl waited, and as the last candle faded, he saw that his summons had been successful.
The Devil stood in the shadows, and he laughed at the Earl. It was no wonder the Earl's prayers had failed if he'd been harboring the will to do such a thing. But the Earl only nodded and made his wish.
"Let my daughter be well. Take the plague from her."
The Earl needed more, needed to be sure that his daughter would never take ill again. And he thought of Africa; thought of the stories of Africa that his daughter loved so dearly.
"Devil, take the plague and make her strong!" The Earl cried. "Do this and I am yours!"
The Devil just smiled. A great darkness seemed to pass across the room, and then he was gone.
The Earl rushed to his daughter's bedside, eager to see that the deal was done.
His daughter lay dead. The Earl's final gambit had come too late.
The Earl fell to his knees, clutching her withered hand, and…
His daughter put a hand on his shoulder.
But she was not the girl in the bed.
A new daughter stood beside the Earl. But she was not his daughter.
"What have you done to her?" The Earl shouted.
The Devil's laughter rang through the room. "I made her better. Didn't she just love your stories of Africa? Now she can be as strong as the lion, and as graceful as the gazelle!"
The Earl stared in horror at his un-daughter. Even her skin was striped and mottled like the zebra.
He'd given it all, and lost everything. He had damned himself and still lost his daughter. The only thing left in the world was the un-daughter. And she was little more than a shade; an echo of his daughter, made perverse by the Devil's hand.
The Earl reached out slowly and embraced the un-daughter.
And then he began to laugh.
XXX
I vaguely recall this coming out of a prompt about Fantasy AUs for Worm. My attempt at doing a fairy tale style story. Not my most successful attempt. Probably could have done with another draft, but I like the general vibe.
Booke of Worms 2- The Rake's Daughter (Worm, FairyTale!AU)
Booke of Worms
2 - The Rake's Daughter
The Rake was a man who wanted for nothing. He ate as he pleased, walked where he wished, and could always find a place to lay his head when the urge took him. While many others enjoyed similarly free-wheeling lives, the Rake was different.
He had not worked for his.
The leisure time he enjoyed in such quantities was time an honest man would have spent making a living. The Rake spent it carousing in bars, drinking on the coin of others. When the time came to pay, the Rake would always have an excuse. He would take his hat in his hand and smile earnestly.
"Friend, I'm on hard times and have not the coin at the moment." The Rake would say.
And because he always chose kind-hearted drinking companions, the issue would be pushed aside, the cost paid, and the Rake free to drink the night away. There were always more good, generous folk for the Rake to swindle, and he did so with a light heart.
Many were taken in in this way, and most not at something as minor as a drink. No, the Rake fancied himself a charmer. The same honeyed tongue that filched other men's money was the same that filched their wives as well.
The Rake would come calling when the men were away. Where another stranger might be turned away, the Rake was welcomed in. His honest face and gentle countenance unlocked many doors for him. Even faithful wives found themselves lured in by the Rake's siren song; their kindness and trust fooled by his words.
"I swear," the Rake would say to them. "You must be the most beautiful maid in all of Christendom. May I trouble you for a moment?"
And trouble them he did. The Rake left scores of broken marriages and sullied wives all across England. Each time he would swoop in, take his fill, and then move on, scurrying to the next town to work his wiles again. More shameless than any beast, and even more rapacious in his own way, the Rake was a blight on all he met.
Eventually though, the Rake tired of his vagrant life. Where some might have found this a time to make a new start, to make an honest living for once, the Rake thought otherwise.
"I shall be like a sheikh." He said, admiring his reflection in a lake.
And so he set to work. Using his adder's tongue, the Rake gathered women. Soon, the Rake kept his own harem, treating the women as little better than animals for his amusement. Their coin and labor paid the costs, while the Rake sat idle, reaping the benefits like a great spider.
Where conflict arose, the Rake was always there to soothe it.
"Please, dearest," he would say. "We are a family, let us not fight."
And each time the wives would retreat, lest he turn his sweet words sharp, tearing into them with the same skill he might use to calm. He cared not either way, so long as they obeyed.
As time went on, the Rake was blessed with many children from his wives. He paid them even less mind than he did his women, for they had nothing to offer him. Little more than a messy consequence of his predations. Unwanted, and undesired, the children were little more than spectators to the Rake's decadent court.
As a fruit left untended grows sour and spoiled, the children rotted. They had no father to teach them discipline, for the Rake knew nothing of discipline or fatherhood. And where the children should have learned duty and compassion from their mothers, they learned nothing, For the mothers already had a child of sorts, and his name was the Rake. He was their world; his demands and desires above all others.
The children grew wild, weaned on their parents' debauchery. Each learned of the power their father wielded; of his skill with words. And in turn, the children became wordsmiths of their own, honing and tempering their misdeeds with the same sweet lies that their father begat them.
Words have their own magic, and the magic that the children wrought was among the foulest. Each had their own passion. The eldest boy liked to frighten others, to terrify them into doing his bidding. One of the younger boys was fond of ensnaring with his words. He would spin them slowly, winding them around an unwitting mark until they found themselves caught and danced about like a puppet. The youngest daughter spoke in riddles, hiding her wishes between the words so to influence the mind.
But the worst was the eldest daughter. She was not the worst in deed or thought. No, the eldest was worst because she had ambition. Where her siblings were content with their sybaritic lot in life, the eldest was not. She wanted more. Where even the Rake settled with a handful, the daughter desired an empire. Always more. More power, more control, with her holding the reins.
She started small. If her father could do it, so could she. If she controlled him, then she would wield the power in the family. So she laid plans. She studied the ways in which the Rake and her siblings spoke. How they manipulated and schemed. How they controlled. They were second rate to her, of course. How brilliant she was, to think of this plan.
She turned each method in her favor, weaving the plan like Arachne at her loom. Her father would fall to her; there was no shred of doubt in her mind at that.
And when the time came?
Her plan failed. The eldest daughter's weeks of effort came to naught. The Rake saw through her scheme in a moment, and ripped it apart in another. Surrounded by his wives, the Rake laughed at her, positively shaking with amusement.
"A poor try, my most cherished daughter." He said. "I will be lenient this time."
The eldest daughter bowed her head that day. It was only when she left his sight that she raged, striking out blindly in her fury.
The Rake's kindness had stemmed from pity at her attempt. As though he was too embarrassed by it to punish her. He didn't consider her a threat.
"I shall best him!" The eldest daughter shrieked, alone with her anger. "And then we will see who is lenient!"
She renewed her scheming with new vigor. Where before she had studied idly, now she threw herself into the plot with almost monastic focus. Every failing in her previous plan was dissected; every flaw unraveled and reforged in the crucible of her greed.
This time, her plan was perfect. Her previous plan had been an exercise in arrogance. As though it really would have worked. Laughable that she'd thought so. How silly she'd been.
And then the second plan failed as well. The Rake was barely troubled by its intricacies; not deceived at all.
"Cherished daughter," the Rake said, frowning. "You try my patience. Do so again and I will see that you regret it."
The eldest bowed her head again, hiding her tears from her father.
Where another of the Rake's children might have cut their losses, the eldest would not. Her second defeat had only intensified her fervor. It was an insult to her; a spot on her shining, swollen pride.
This time, the eldest daughter did not bother with studies or examinations. She would do anything to have her victory. Her father was but a mortal man, and all men have their limits. The eldest daughter's pride knew none of these limits. If she could not outwit, she reasoned, then she must overwhelm.
And so she left the Rake's mansion. From there, she traveled alone, over hill and dale, until she reached a foul swamp. She peered into the murky gloom, eyeing the fetid waters.
"Farther in." She mused.
She lifted her skirts and waded in. Vile creatures slipped and swam around her legs as she walked, but the eldest daughter was undeterred. Her victory was worth any amount of foulness.
Finally, in the heart of the swamp, the eldest daughter found what she was seeking. There, in the crook of a tree, slept a serpent. Its sinuous trunk was as thick around as a strong man's chest and its scales as hard as any armor.
"Brother Snake," the eldest daughter called. "I ask a boon!"
The snake opened one eye.
"Please, Brother Snake. Grant me some of your poison."
The snake opened its second eye, fixing the eldest daughter.
"What will you offer?" He rumbled.
The eldest daughter smiled broadly. She told the snake of her plans, and of all the things she might bring him once she had the power. Such glorious sweet meats, suckling pigs, gold and riches of all sorts. The daughter wove a tapestry for him with her words, threading each new gift with ever greater praise.
The snake was not fooled in the slightest. The eldest daughter thought herself smarter than he, but few are those who can trick a serpent. She spoke with ever more grandiosity, and the snake merely nodded to each new prize.
"I will give you my venom." The snake said finally.
"And the boon?" She said.
The snake's magnanimous smile shamed any the Rake had ever had.
"There will be no need for a boon." The snake said. "Take freely and enjoy."
He opened his mouth and let fall a single drop of venom from his saber fangs. It fell like a bead of amber onto the waiting tongue of the eldest daughter. The daughter shrieked with pain as the venom burned into her, staining her lips and tongue with poison. It was like being baptized in fire, and her screams carried all through the swamp.
When the pain finally faded, the eldest daughter was alone. She made her way home, this time traveling more slowly. Only the certainty of her victory allowed her to push on, even though she was weary and pained from the poison.
With no pause to rest, the eldest daughter pushed her way into her father's court. The Rake frowned as she approached, for his indulgences for her had worn thin. The other children whispered behind their hands and the mothers tittered. The eldest daughter only smiled secretively.
When all had fallen silent, the eldest daughter spread her hands and spoke. Where before she had cajoled and threatened, beguiled and tricked; now she simply spoke. She barely raised her voice, and yet the words stabbed into all who heard them. The eldest daughter knew now. Her serpent's tongue knew the words that would hurt most. Words that she could wield more keenly than any blade. Words that could not be resisted or ignored; piercing straight to the mind.
She pierced her audience with them, and they cried out, for the words hurt them. The eldest daughter found the chinks in their armor with ease. Their joys and sorrows were as an open book to her, and she laid out every failing with unseemly joy.
The brunt of her words were turned on the Rake. He was a veteran of innumerable dialogues, but even he quailed now. The poison in the eldest daughter's argument sheered through his words; turned them feeble and dull in his mouth.
When the eldest daughter finished her speech, the Rake rose to his feet. He took a few shaking steps forward, and then fell to the ground, stone dead. She had spoken him to death, like a siren; her argument too terrible for him to even comprehend.
The eldest daughter stepped over his corpse to take his seat at the head of the room.
"Let us rejoice!" She cried.
Only, the mothers and siblings wailed and covered their ears at her words.
"Please, let us feast and make merry." The eldest daughter said.
And again, the others gnashed their teeth as she spoke. She tried again and again to speak to them, but it hurt them each time. Her every word cut like a knife. Even her kindest praise came as barbed as an arrow. The more she tried to talk sense into her family, the more they suffered.
Finally, one of the youngest fell, struck dead by the eldest's pleas. The eldest brother rose from his seat and rallied the others.
"Cast her out!" He roared.
No amount of her words could stop them. They suffered through the pain and chased her from the house with stones until her words could no longer reach them. Beaten and bruised, the eldest daughter sat weeping at a crossroads.
The serpent had repaid her with a poisoned chalice.
She had gotten exactly what she wished for.
Her words were venom.
She wept there at the crossroads for a long time before stirring. The eldest daughter was no longer anyone's daughter.
She traveled alone, much as the Rake had done so long ago. And where he had found amusement and entertainment, the girl found only anger and fear. She could no longer so much as greet others without being driven from them like a leper.
It would be a pitiable state for any, but the girl was still the same arrogant child she had always been. She took each rejection as further proof that others were simply not worthy of her presence. She didn't want to associate with vermin like that anyway.
With every shunning, she grew harder, more vicious and venomous. Where she would once have greeted another as a friend, she now met them as an enemy. Her poisoned words were turned indiscriminately against all she crossed. Instead of remaining silent, she spoke and sang as loudly as she could, crying out the deepest fears and shames of all she saw.
"The priest indulges on your coin!" She would shout. "Goodwife Selwin committed adultery with the baker! Cowardly fraud of a soldier- you never went to war!"
The girl had become more like her father than she realized. Like a traveling plague, she wandered the country, spreading her unique misery to all. Each new encounter was an opportunity for her to tear into others; each new village a stage for her to cry her loathing. When she was driven away now, it was only further incentive for her to hate more.
It was on one of these occasions that she met Jack Scratch.
The girl sat at yet another crossroads, nursing her wounds, when a shadow crossed hers. A rider towered over her; a man with hair and eyes as black as his cloak. Seven others followed him.
"My dear, why are you hurt?" He said, not unkindly.
She glared at him.
"Go away, murderer!" She snapped. "Cannibal! Freak! Unloved orphan bastard!"
The rider didn't even flinch as she spoke. He only laughed and started twirling a knife in one hand.
"Such a tongue," he mused. "Would you perhaps care to ride with me for a time?"
The girl made to call him more names, to pick his wounds with such venom that he would drop dead on the spot. But when she spoke, the words that came were-
"I would be delighted."
For she knew this man. He was Jack Scratch, and these were his Riders. The girl had not forgotten her earlier ambitions. Her urge to rule had not abated. Certainly, this man held more power than the Rake had. Why, ruling the household was positively small-minded compared to this.
And so, the cherished former daughter found herself traveling alongside Jack Scratch and his Riders. They could withstand her venom in a way that no one she'd ever met could. But that was acceptable, for the girl could spin her poisonous words slower than time, and deeper than any blade.
Her venom would seep through the cracks and eat away at them, bit by bit.
Because her tongue was sharper than any sword.
And her greed vaster than the world.
===
Another entry in the Fairy Tale!Worm category. Someone got inspired by my previous snippet, 'The Earl of Manton,' and wrote something really neat about Dragon and Armsmaster, and it made me want to write this.
Little bit more of a fairy tale feel to this one. It's a little muddled though. Cherish was meant to be a gossipy, lying child in the original draft. Someone who constantly deceives her parents until she's punished with poison tongue or something. Something with a moral at the end like you'd see in a bad fairy tale. This ended up being more... betrayal-y. Also, Cherish has a habit of being an arrogant, prideful little bitch, so that was governing most of this.
Meant for the Vasils to be witches, but kinda forgot. Would have made a little more sense that way, I think, but I like the imagery of Cherish seeking out snakes just to win.
2 - The Rake's Daughter
The Rake was a man who wanted for nothing. He ate as he pleased, walked where he wished, and could always find a place to lay his head when the urge took him. While many others enjoyed similarly free-wheeling lives, the Rake was different.
He had not worked for his.
The leisure time he enjoyed in such quantities was time an honest man would have spent making a living. The Rake spent it carousing in bars, drinking on the coin of others. When the time came to pay, the Rake would always have an excuse. He would take his hat in his hand and smile earnestly.
"Friend, I'm on hard times and have not the coin at the moment." The Rake would say.
And because he always chose kind-hearted drinking companions, the issue would be pushed aside, the cost paid, and the Rake free to drink the night away. There were always more good, generous folk for the Rake to swindle, and he did so with a light heart.
Many were taken in in this way, and most not at something as minor as a drink. No, the Rake fancied himself a charmer. The same honeyed tongue that filched other men's money was the same that filched their wives as well.
The Rake would come calling when the men were away. Where another stranger might be turned away, the Rake was welcomed in. His honest face and gentle countenance unlocked many doors for him. Even faithful wives found themselves lured in by the Rake's siren song; their kindness and trust fooled by his words.
"I swear," the Rake would say to them. "You must be the most beautiful maid in all of Christendom. May I trouble you for a moment?"
And trouble them he did. The Rake left scores of broken marriages and sullied wives all across England. Each time he would swoop in, take his fill, and then move on, scurrying to the next town to work his wiles again. More shameless than any beast, and even more rapacious in his own way, the Rake was a blight on all he met.
Eventually though, the Rake tired of his vagrant life. Where some might have found this a time to make a new start, to make an honest living for once, the Rake thought otherwise.
"I shall be like a sheikh." He said, admiring his reflection in a lake.
And so he set to work. Using his adder's tongue, the Rake gathered women. Soon, the Rake kept his own harem, treating the women as little better than animals for his amusement. Their coin and labor paid the costs, while the Rake sat idle, reaping the benefits like a great spider.
Where conflict arose, the Rake was always there to soothe it.
"Please, dearest," he would say. "We are a family, let us not fight."
And each time the wives would retreat, lest he turn his sweet words sharp, tearing into them with the same skill he might use to calm. He cared not either way, so long as they obeyed.
As time went on, the Rake was blessed with many children from his wives. He paid them even less mind than he did his women, for they had nothing to offer him. Little more than a messy consequence of his predations. Unwanted, and undesired, the children were little more than spectators to the Rake's decadent court.
As a fruit left untended grows sour and spoiled, the children rotted. They had no father to teach them discipline, for the Rake knew nothing of discipline or fatherhood. And where the children should have learned duty and compassion from their mothers, they learned nothing, For the mothers already had a child of sorts, and his name was the Rake. He was their world; his demands and desires above all others.
The children grew wild, weaned on their parents' debauchery. Each learned of the power their father wielded; of his skill with words. And in turn, the children became wordsmiths of their own, honing and tempering their misdeeds with the same sweet lies that their father begat them.
Words have their own magic, and the magic that the children wrought was among the foulest. Each had their own passion. The eldest boy liked to frighten others, to terrify them into doing his bidding. One of the younger boys was fond of ensnaring with his words. He would spin them slowly, winding them around an unwitting mark until they found themselves caught and danced about like a puppet. The youngest daughter spoke in riddles, hiding her wishes between the words so to influence the mind.
But the worst was the eldest daughter. She was not the worst in deed or thought. No, the eldest was worst because she had ambition. Where her siblings were content with their sybaritic lot in life, the eldest was not. She wanted more. Where even the Rake settled with a handful, the daughter desired an empire. Always more. More power, more control, with her holding the reins.
She started small. If her father could do it, so could she. If she controlled him, then she would wield the power in the family. So she laid plans. She studied the ways in which the Rake and her siblings spoke. How they manipulated and schemed. How they controlled. They were second rate to her, of course. How brilliant she was, to think of this plan.
She turned each method in her favor, weaving the plan like Arachne at her loom. Her father would fall to her; there was no shred of doubt in her mind at that.
And when the time came?
Her plan failed. The eldest daughter's weeks of effort came to naught. The Rake saw through her scheme in a moment, and ripped it apart in another. Surrounded by his wives, the Rake laughed at her, positively shaking with amusement.
"A poor try, my most cherished daughter." He said. "I will be lenient this time."
The eldest daughter bowed her head that day. It was only when she left his sight that she raged, striking out blindly in her fury.
The Rake's kindness had stemmed from pity at her attempt. As though he was too embarrassed by it to punish her. He didn't consider her a threat.
"I shall best him!" The eldest daughter shrieked, alone with her anger. "And then we will see who is lenient!"
She renewed her scheming with new vigor. Where before she had studied idly, now she threw herself into the plot with almost monastic focus. Every failing in her previous plan was dissected; every flaw unraveled and reforged in the crucible of her greed.
This time, her plan was perfect. Her previous plan had been an exercise in arrogance. As though it really would have worked. Laughable that she'd thought so. How silly she'd been.
And then the second plan failed as well. The Rake was barely troubled by its intricacies; not deceived at all.
"Cherished daughter," the Rake said, frowning. "You try my patience. Do so again and I will see that you regret it."
The eldest bowed her head again, hiding her tears from her father.
Where another of the Rake's children might have cut their losses, the eldest would not. Her second defeat had only intensified her fervor. It was an insult to her; a spot on her shining, swollen pride.
This time, the eldest daughter did not bother with studies or examinations. She would do anything to have her victory. Her father was but a mortal man, and all men have their limits. The eldest daughter's pride knew none of these limits. If she could not outwit, she reasoned, then she must overwhelm.
And so she left the Rake's mansion. From there, she traveled alone, over hill and dale, until she reached a foul swamp. She peered into the murky gloom, eyeing the fetid waters.
"Farther in." She mused.
She lifted her skirts and waded in. Vile creatures slipped and swam around her legs as she walked, but the eldest daughter was undeterred. Her victory was worth any amount of foulness.
Finally, in the heart of the swamp, the eldest daughter found what she was seeking. There, in the crook of a tree, slept a serpent. Its sinuous trunk was as thick around as a strong man's chest and its scales as hard as any armor.
"Brother Snake," the eldest daughter called. "I ask a boon!"
The snake opened one eye.
"Please, Brother Snake. Grant me some of your poison."
The snake opened its second eye, fixing the eldest daughter.
"What will you offer?" He rumbled.
The eldest daughter smiled broadly. She told the snake of her plans, and of all the things she might bring him once she had the power. Such glorious sweet meats, suckling pigs, gold and riches of all sorts. The daughter wove a tapestry for him with her words, threading each new gift with ever greater praise.
The snake was not fooled in the slightest. The eldest daughter thought herself smarter than he, but few are those who can trick a serpent. She spoke with ever more grandiosity, and the snake merely nodded to each new prize.
"I will give you my venom." The snake said finally.
"And the boon?" She said.
The snake's magnanimous smile shamed any the Rake had ever had.
"There will be no need for a boon." The snake said. "Take freely and enjoy."
He opened his mouth and let fall a single drop of venom from his saber fangs. It fell like a bead of amber onto the waiting tongue of the eldest daughter. The daughter shrieked with pain as the venom burned into her, staining her lips and tongue with poison. It was like being baptized in fire, and her screams carried all through the swamp.
When the pain finally faded, the eldest daughter was alone. She made her way home, this time traveling more slowly. Only the certainty of her victory allowed her to push on, even though she was weary and pained from the poison.
With no pause to rest, the eldest daughter pushed her way into her father's court. The Rake frowned as she approached, for his indulgences for her had worn thin. The other children whispered behind their hands and the mothers tittered. The eldest daughter only smiled secretively.
When all had fallen silent, the eldest daughter spread her hands and spoke. Where before she had cajoled and threatened, beguiled and tricked; now she simply spoke. She barely raised her voice, and yet the words stabbed into all who heard them. The eldest daughter knew now. Her serpent's tongue knew the words that would hurt most. Words that she could wield more keenly than any blade. Words that could not be resisted or ignored; piercing straight to the mind.
She pierced her audience with them, and they cried out, for the words hurt them. The eldest daughter found the chinks in their armor with ease. Their joys and sorrows were as an open book to her, and she laid out every failing with unseemly joy.
The brunt of her words were turned on the Rake. He was a veteran of innumerable dialogues, but even he quailed now. The poison in the eldest daughter's argument sheered through his words; turned them feeble and dull in his mouth.
When the eldest daughter finished her speech, the Rake rose to his feet. He took a few shaking steps forward, and then fell to the ground, stone dead. She had spoken him to death, like a siren; her argument too terrible for him to even comprehend.
The eldest daughter stepped over his corpse to take his seat at the head of the room.
"Let us rejoice!" She cried.
Only, the mothers and siblings wailed and covered their ears at her words.
"Please, let us feast and make merry." The eldest daughter said.
And again, the others gnashed their teeth as she spoke. She tried again and again to speak to them, but it hurt them each time. Her every word cut like a knife. Even her kindest praise came as barbed as an arrow. The more she tried to talk sense into her family, the more they suffered.
Finally, one of the youngest fell, struck dead by the eldest's pleas. The eldest brother rose from his seat and rallied the others.
"Cast her out!" He roared.
No amount of her words could stop them. They suffered through the pain and chased her from the house with stones until her words could no longer reach them. Beaten and bruised, the eldest daughter sat weeping at a crossroads.
The serpent had repaid her with a poisoned chalice.
She had gotten exactly what she wished for.
Her words were venom.
She wept there at the crossroads for a long time before stirring. The eldest daughter was no longer anyone's daughter.
She traveled alone, much as the Rake had done so long ago. And where he had found amusement and entertainment, the girl found only anger and fear. She could no longer so much as greet others without being driven from them like a leper.
It would be a pitiable state for any, but the girl was still the same arrogant child she had always been. She took each rejection as further proof that others were simply not worthy of her presence. She didn't want to associate with vermin like that anyway.
With every shunning, she grew harder, more vicious and venomous. Where she would once have greeted another as a friend, she now met them as an enemy. Her poisoned words were turned indiscriminately against all she crossed. Instead of remaining silent, she spoke and sang as loudly as she could, crying out the deepest fears and shames of all she saw.
"The priest indulges on your coin!" She would shout. "Goodwife Selwin committed adultery with the baker! Cowardly fraud of a soldier- you never went to war!"
The girl had become more like her father than she realized. Like a traveling plague, she wandered the country, spreading her unique misery to all. Each new encounter was an opportunity for her to tear into others; each new village a stage for her to cry her loathing. When she was driven away now, it was only further incentive for her to hate more.
It was on one of these occasions that she met Jack Scratch.
The girl sat at yet another crossroads, nursing her wounds, when a shadow crossed hers. A rider towered over her; a man with hair and eyes as black as his cloak. Seven others followed him.
"My dear, why are you hurt?" He said, not unkindly.
She glared at him.
"Go away, murderer!" She snapped. "Cannibal! Freak! Unloved orphan bastard!"
The rider didn't even flinch as she spoke. He only laughed and started twirling a knife in one hand.
"Such a tongue," he mused. "Would you perhaps care to ride with me for a time?"
The girl made to call him more names, to pick his wounds with such venom that he would drop dead on the spot. But when she spoke, the words that came were-
"I would be delighted."
For she knew this man. He was Jack Scratch, and these were his Riders. The girl had not forgotten her earlier ambitions. Her urge to rule had not abated. Certainly, this man held more power than the Rake had. Why, ruling the household was positively small-minded compared to this.
And so, the cherished former daughter found herself traveling alongside Jack Scratch and his Riders. They could withstand her venom in a way that no one she'd ever met could. But that was acceptable, for the girl could spin her poisonous words slower than time, and deeper than any blade.
Her venom would seep through the cracks and eat away at them, bit by bit.
Because her tongue was sharper than any sword.
And her greed vaster than the world.
===
Another entry in the Fairy Tale!Worm category. Someone got inspired by my previous snippet, 'The Earl of Manton,' and wrote something really neat about Dragon and Armsmaster, and it made me want to write this.
Little bit more of a fairy tale feel to this one. It's a little muddled though. Cherish was meant to be a gossipy, lying child in the original draft. Someone who constantly deceives her parents until she's punished with poison tongue or something. Something with a moral at the end like you'd see in a bad fairy tale. This ended up being more... betrayal-y. Also, Cherish has a habit of being an arrogant, prideful little bitch, so that was governing most of this.
Meant for the Vasils to be witches, but kinda forgot. Would have made a little more sense that way, I think, but I like the imagery of Cherish seeking out snakes just to win.
Chimera 1 (Worm, Endbringer!Taylor)
Chimera
1
Somehow, when I imagined becoming a superhero, moments like this never occurred to me. I was on the roof of some building in ABB territory, nestled between an air vent and a wall. The incessant rattling of the vent didn't help my concentration, but if I moved the link would break and I'd have to start over. I wished I could have stayed with the form I got earlier. Flight made it so much easier to get out here, but her form was too cumbersome for what I had planned tonight.
I took a deep breath and tried again to shut out the world. The sounds of traffic in the distance, a helicopter passing overhead, the air duct; they weren't important. What mattered was inside me. My surroundings slowly faded away as I felt for my power. It was always there, but to actually draw on it was difficult and time-consuming.
Finally, after long minutes of concentration, I grasped it, starting it into motion. It welled up slowly, like filling a bathtub. Excitement bloomed at my success, but I pushed it down. Getting excited would break my focus just as much as getting angry would. I stayed motionless, waiting for my power to peak.
It took even more time to reach my limit. There was a close call when a car alarm went off a few streets over. I almost lost focus and ruined the whole process, only barely managing to hold onto it. Even this small bit of control was leaps and bounds over what it was like when I first triggered. As frustrating as my powers were at times, it was nice to see some progress.
Even at my limit, I continued holding onto it. Power without direction was useless. At worst, I'd just waste the charge and all the time I'd spent building it. At best, I'd maybe ping one of them. It'd be just as much of a waste of time if I got the wrong form for this fight.
I had run recon earlier, before I dismissed her form. The ABB drug lab next door was a factory with an open floor. There was little cover but for the long tables full of narcotics. The guards were heavily armed, and while I hadn't seen any capes, it was still a possibility for a target this deep in ABB territory. It wasn't suited for the Third, and I haven't tried the Second yet. I needed a form that could take a hit and dish one out. I wanted him. The First.
I pictured him in my head, imagining him as detailed as I could, willing my power to focus on him. And then, praying that this would work, I released my charge. Instantly, the energy burst out of me in an invisible wave. It flew in all directions, with me as the center. In less than a second, it crossed the horizon.
Finally. I wiggled out of my hiding spot and stretched. Now that I'd sent it out, I just had to wait for it to ping and come back. Behemoth would be pretty close by, wouldn't he? He stayed so deep in the Earth that he was almost equidistant from any point on the surface. So it didn't matter whether if he was in this hemisphere or not, any of my power that traveled downward would eventually hit him.
Although… Simurgh might be pretty close by; I'd pinged her quickly when I transformed earlier. I'd just have to hope that focusing on Behemoth would bias my wave toward him. I still wasn't sure if it worked like that, but I could hope.
It took almost twenty minutes for the wave to return. I spent the interim time looking at the city. It seemed bigger at night, and I think I liked it better. Night hid it; took the glare of reality off it. It was stupid to think that way- I knew that in many ways, Brockton only showed its true face at night. All the crime and violence didn't start up until the sun went down.
Maybe… maybe I liked that night gave the city possibilities. If I couldn't see what it was like, I could imagine it. It was like having a blank slate; all potential for something else. I could see it not how it was, but how it should be. How I wanted to make it. Going out like this to fight crime would change things for the better. Even if my powers came from Them, I wouldn't quit. Not until I'd made a difference for-
<contact>
(awareness)
<communication>
The connection was made.
…shit. I know instantly that I've hit the wrong one, but it's too late to start over now.
Even though he sleeps, we can still converse.
Our exchange is difficult to describe. There's nothing human to compare it to.
<greeting>
There are no words, only-
<intention>
meanings and thoughts.
A wave of feeling and imagery strikes me and I respond with one of my own.
I can tell him from the others just by his thoughts. He is swift, moving from topic to topic with ease. There's a certain flow to him that I find refreshing. Not as straightforward as his brother, but not as intricate as his sister. It's relaxing to sink into the ebb and pull of our mixed thoughts. There is no clumsy, awkward human communication here, only-
(union)
an exchange. I ask-
<request>
and he responds.
(assent)
(communion)
I change.
The world went dark as my eyes reconfigured. I had a moment of fear as I adjusted to this new change- my eyes hadn't shifted like this as Simurgh or Behemoth. It didn't hurt, but it was so strange as to be uncomfortable.
My skin itched, and there was an odd tugging sensation in my arms and legs. I was growing. Becoming more like Brother. Wait, no. Becoming more like him. He's not- he can't be. I shook my head to cancel that train of thought. That wasn't how it was, and it wasn't how I was.
My eyes reformed. The world gained a new layer. Lines of blue traced through the houses and streets. The lines ran straight, but curved at angles, forming a maze of linework around me. Lighter spots of blue dotted the pavement where there were puddles and runoff. Even the air and sky had a blue haze now as I perceived the water vapor in the air. It was interesting to see the city this way, but the real thrill came from the people.
Humans are what- 70% water? It had never been more apparent than now. Even through walls, I could see them. Blue shapes, more like silhouettes than people to my new vision. I closed my eyes to confirm a guess. I didn't even have to look. I could feel them. Not only the people, but all the water around me. It was like I had a map in my head of all the water.
Leviathan was growing on me; water vision was actually pretty cool. I wondered if Behemoth had a similar way to sense energy. I'd used his form the most, but hadn't gotten that ability yet. My changes progressed a little further each time- both in form and powers, so each union was a new learning experience.
I examined myself, noting the changes my new form had wrought. Judging from my clothes were stretched, I'd gained a few inches in height. Previous experiments using Behemoth and Simurgh had done a number on my closet, so tonight I'd just worn a cheap black hoodie and black pants. My face was probably not recognizable while transformed, but I'd included a bandanna to hide it, just in case. A layer of scales coated my body, a murky sort of green-gray. They were tough, transforming made me tougher overall, but I wasn't going to risk them against anything serious like a gun or a knife. Just because I'd regenerate while transformed didn't mean I wanted to.
My arms were definitely longer- probably a good six inches on each. Claws sprouted from each fingertip. I tested them on the wall, cutting deep furrows into the brick with ease. I'd have to watch those around people. It'd be too easy to kill someone. My legs were a few inches longer. They felt a little off. Like they weren't finished yet. Leviathan had reversed legs, digitalgrade or something like that. I guessed I would get those later on. I slipped off my shoes and put them in my backpack. My feet were probably tougher than any shoe at this point.
Alright. I'd gotten a new form. It was time to show the ABB who was boss. I vaulted over the edge of the roof and dropped three stories to the ground.
Ow.
I was extremely thankful that the alley was completely deserted. It took a little while for my legs to regenerate, and I spent the time haranguing myself for my stupidity. Of course Leviathan was going to have different capabilities than Behemoth. I could have made that drop easily as Behemoth because the energy would just redirect into the ground. Leviathan lacked that ability.
My enthusiasm gone, I managed to get to my feet. I'd taken nearly an hour getting this far, but the ABB members continued working inside the factory. This far into their territory, there'd be few interruptions so they could probably operate non-stop.
There was a fuse box on the wall further down the alley. I dug my claws into its metal frame and ripped the door off. The factory went dark as I destroyed the inside of the fuse box. The water-shapes of the gang members went into a flurry of activity. One shape directed the workers into one corner. The others started moving around the building. From their postures, it looked like several had guns, and all seemed to have at least some form of weapon.
I kicked in a side door and ran into the factory. The inside was dark, the only light coming through the high windows. It wasn't as dark as I'd hoped though. I'd have to rely on my dark clothes and scales to blend into the shadows. Water vision made it easy to see the ABB, but my regular vision wasn't much better than normal. Even if I could see them, it wouldn't do any good if I tripped over something in the dark.
As soon as I was away from the door, I ducked down behind a table to get my bearings. I was on the factory floor. The ABB members were still scurrying around trying to get things under control. My guess outside was right; most of them were carrying weapons.
That was going to be a problem. I'd planned to have Behemoth's form tonight. I could shake off gunfire easily as Behemoth, and his Blaster abilities could hit the ABB from across the floor. Instead, I was stuck with Leviathan, a form I had no idea how to use or even what it could do.
Now wasn't the time to experiment with it. One of the ABB was passing out flashlights. If I stayed where I was, they'd find me. I started crawling toward the back of the factory, where the ABB members were. There was a doorway back there that I thought led to an office. I'd take them out, search the office, and then call the police. Right… I'm sure it'd be as easy as that.
The floor underneath the tables was dusted with cocaine. My clothes were getting covered in the stuff, and I tried not to breathe too deeply. It probably couldn't affect me, but it wasn't worth risking. I was finding that Leviathan was definitely more agile than Behemoth. I maneuvered through the maze of table legs and old machinery without trouble. Even on all-fours, I moved quickly and quietly.
The gang members finished passing out flashlights, and one of them, an officer, began giving orders in another language. They were still a good thirty feet away, and I wanted to take them out before they started searching. I could hit the group all at once, but if they were spread out, I'd attacked from all sides.
I threw stealth to the wind and scrambled under the tables as fast as I could. Beakers and packages toppled to the floor as I bumped into tables. The ABB started shouting as they noticed the disturbance, but I didn't stop. My claws dug into the concrete floor and propelled me forward faster than a man could run.
Twenty.
They were shining flashlights under the tables.
Fifteen.
The factory rang with noise as someone started shooting.
Ten.
A bullet went past my ear with a horrible whining noise. I burst out from under the tables and leapt forward, covering the last ten feet in a single bound. I saw it in slow motion. The gangers were in disarray; some raising guns, others open-mouthed with terror, some even turning to run. A screaming roar ripped from my chest as I spread my claws.
I hit the officer in the chest with both feet, driving him into the ground. Without stopping, I went among them in a whirl of claws. I moved as I did under the tables, lizard-like, darting around their legs. One man fired wildly, hitting his fellows but missing me. I wove past knives and pipes with sinuous ease.
My every move was an attack. My wariness at this new form was forgotten as I ducked and dodged. Leviathan knew how to hurt them; how to make every motion count. When I struck, men fell back with ruined hands or cut tendons. My claws parted flesh at the lightest touch, moving with a surgical precision that this body knew. It was natural for this form to send gangers screaming. As natural as breathing.
The knot of gangers collapsed within moments. The few remaining ABB ran for their lives. The rest, too hurt to run, were left behind. I rose slowly, surrounded by the injured. The floor of the factory was coated with blood. I realized for the first time that I was covered in blood also. My clothes were soaked, but the worst parts were my hands. They were bloody all the way to the wrist. None of it was mine. The few blows they landed didn't even penetrate my scales.
The workers were still huddled in the corner, staring in horror. Some part of me was reacting the same way. I'd just hurt a lot of people really badly. Was this what a hero did? Another voice spoke up. They were just gang members- they'd probably done much worse things. None of them were dead. They were still alive, and they wouldn't be hurting anyone for a while.
I stood and debated with myself for a few moments. On one hand, I'd really overdone it- hurt them way more than I should have. On the other, I just couldn't feel bad about doing that to a bunch of drug-dealing thugs. But… I couldn't go around hurting people like that. It'd only be a matter of time before someone died. Actually- no. I couldn't do it because it wasn't right.
Heroes fought crime and helped people. Coming out tonight was all about being a hero.
I could still salvage this.
With that in mind, I stooped down to examine the remaining ABB members. None of the wounds seemed immediately life-threatening, but it was still possible for them to bleed out. I used my first aid training and began bandaging their wounds. A few shoved me away, but most were motionless with fear or pain. I used their shirts and bandannas as makeshift bandages, moving methodically through the crowd until I was satisfied that they were taken care of.
I'd have to practice with this form before I used it again. It was just too easy to kill someone, and I couldn't pull my punches in an unfamiliar body.
Wielding a flashlight, I started directing the workers out the side door I'd come in. They were only wearing underwear and it was chilly out, but they'd be okay until the police arrived. Most of them wouldn't look at me, averting their eyes out of fear. I couldn't blame them. I'd scared myself tonight.
1
Somehow, when I imagined becoming a superhero, moments like this never occurred to me. I was on the roof of some building in ABB territory, nestled between an air vent and a wall. The incessant rattling of the vent didn't help my concentration, but if I moved the link would break and I'd have to start over. I wished I could have stayed with the form I got earlier. Flight made it so much easier to get out here, but her form was too cumbersome for what I had planned tonight.
I took a deep breath and tried again to shut out the world. The sounds of traffic in the distance, a helicopter passing overhead, the air duct; they weren't important. What mattered was inside me. My surroundings slowly faded away as I felt for my power. It was always there, but to actually draw on it was difficult and time-consuming.
Finally, after long minutes of concentration, I grasped it, starting it into motion. It welled up slowly, like filling a bathtub. Excitement bloomed at my success, but I pushed it down. Getting excited would break my focus just as much as getting angry would. I stayed motionless, waiting for my power to peak.
It took even more time to reach my limit. There was a close call when a car alarm went off a few streets over. I almost lost focus and ruined the whole process, only barely managing to hold onto it. Even this small bit of control was leaps and bounds over what it was like when I first triggered. As frustrating as my powers were at times, it was nice to see some progress.
Even at my limit, I continued holding onto it. Power without direction was useless. At worst, I'd just waste the charge and all the time I'd spent building it. At best, I'd maybe ping one of them. It'd be just as much of a waste of time if I got the wrong form for this fight.
I had run recon earlier, before I dismissed her form. The ABB drug lab next door was a factory with an open floor. There was little cover but for the long tables full of narcotics. The guards were heavily armed, and while I hadn't seen any capes, it was still a possibility for a target this deep in ABB territory. It wasn't suited for the Third, and I haven't tried the Second yet. I needed a form that could take a hit and dish one out. I wanted him. The First.
I pictured him in my head, imagining him as detailed as I could, willing my power to focus on him. And then, praying that this would work, I released my charge. Instantly, the energy burst out of me in an invisible wave. It flew in all directions, with me as the center. In less than a second, it crossed the horizon.
Finally. I wiggled out of my hiding spot and stretched. Now that I'd sent it out, I just had to wait for it to ping and come back. Behemoth would be pretty close by, wouldn't he? He stayed so deep in the Earth that he was almost equidistant from any point on the surface. So it didn't matter whether if he was in this hemisphere or not, any of my power that traveled downward would eventually hit him.
Although… Simurgh might be pretty close by; I'd pinged her quickly when I transformed earlier. I'd just have to hope that focusing on Behemoth would bias my wave toward him. I still wasn't sure if it worked like that, but I could hope.
It took almost twenty minutes for the wave to return. I spent the interim time looking at the city. It seemed bigger at night, and I think I liked it better. Night hid it; took the glare of reality off it. It was stupid to think that way- I knew that in many ways, Brockton only showed its true face at night. All the crime and violence didn't start up until the sun went down.
Maybe… maybe I liked that night gave the city possibilities. If I couldn't see what it was like, I could imagine it. It was like having a blank slate; all potential for something else. I could see it not how it was, but how it should be. How I wanted to make it. Going out like this to fight crime would change things for the better. Even if my powers came from Them, I wouldn't quit. Not until I'd made a difference for-
<contact>
(awareness)
<communication>
The connection was made.
…shit. I know instantly that I've hit the wrong one, but it's too late to start over now.
Even though he sleeps, we can still converse.
Our exchange is difficult to describe. There's nothing human to compare it to.
<greeting>
There are no words, only-
<intention>
meanings and thoughts.
A wave of feeling and imagery strikes me and I respond with one of my own.
I can tell him from the others just by his thoughts. He is swift, moving from topic to topic with ease. There's a certain flow to him that I find refreshing. Not as straightforward as his brother, but not as intricate as his sister. It's relaxing to sink into the ebb and pull of our mixed thoughts. There is no clumsy, awkward human communication here, only-
(union)
an exchange. I ask-
<request>
and he responds.
(assent)
(communion)
I change.
The world went dark as my eyes reconfigured. I had a moment of fear as I adjusted to this new change- my eyes hadn't shifted like this as Simurgh or Behemoth. It didn't hurt, but it was so strange as to be uncomfortable.
My skin itched, and there was an odd tugging sensation in my arms and legs. I was growing. Becoming more like Brother. Wait, no. Becoming more like him. He's not- he can't be. I shook my head to cancel that train of thought. That wasn't how it was, and it wasn't how I was.
My eyes reformed. The world gained a new layer. Lines of blue traced through the houses and streets. The lines ran straight, but curved at angles, forming a maze of linework around me. Lighter spots of blue dotted the pavement where there were puddles and runoff. Even the air and sky had a blue haze now as I perceived the water vapor in the air. It was interesting to see the city this way, but the real thrill came from the people.
Humans are what- 70% water? It had never been more apparent than now. Even through walls, I could see them. Blue shapes, more like silhouettes than people to my new vision. I closed my eyes to confirm a guess. I didn't even have to look. I could feel them. Not only the people, but all the water around me. It was like I had a map in my head of all the water.
Leviathan was growing on me; water vision was actually pretty cool. I wondered if Behemoth had a similar way to sense energy. I'd used his form the most, but hadn't gotten that ability yet. My changes progressed a little further each time- both in form and powers, so each union was a new learning experience.
I examined myself, noting the changes my new form had wrought. Judging from my clothes were stretched, I'd gained a few inches in height. Previous experiments using Behemoth and Simurgh had done a number on my closet, so tonight I'd just worn a cheap black hoodie and black pants. My face was probably not recognizable while transformed, but I'd included a bandanna to hide it, just in case. A layer of scales coated my body, a murky sort of green-gray. They were tough, transforming made me tougher overall, but I wasn't going to risk them against anything serious like a gun or a knife. Just because I'd regenerate while transformed didn't mean I wanted to.
My arms were definitely longer- probably a good six inches on each. Claws sprouted from each fingertip. I tested them on the wall, cutting deep furrows into the brick with ease. I'd have to watch those around people. It'd be too easy to kill someone. My legs were a few inches longer. They felt a little off. Like they weren't finished yet. Leviathan had reversed legs, digitalgrade or something like that. I guessed I would get those later on. I slipped off my shoes and put them in my backpack. My feet were probably tougher than any shoe at this point.
Alright. I'd gotten a new form. It was time to show the ABB who was boss. I vaulted over the edge of the roof and dropped three stories to the ground.
Ow.
I was extremely thankful that the alley was completely deserted. It took a little while for my legs to regenerate, and I spent the time haranguing myself for my stupidity. Of course Leviathan was going to have different capabilities than Behemoth. I could have made that drop easily as Behemoth because the energy would just redirect into the ground. Leviathan lacked that ability.
My enthusiasm gone, I managed to get to my feet. I'd taken nearly an hour getting this far, but the ABB members continued working inside the factory. This far into their territory, there'd be few interruptions so they could probably operate non-stop.
There was a fuse box on the wall further down the alley. I dug my claws into its metal frame and ripped the door off. The factory went dark as I destroyed the inside of the fuse box. The water-shapes of the gang members went into a flurry of activity. One shape directed the workers into one corner. The others started moving around the building. From their postures, it looked like several had guns, and all seemed to have at least some form of weapon.
I kicked in a side door and ran into the factory. The inside was dark, the only light coming through the high windows. It wasn't as dark as I'd hoped though. I'd have to rely on my dark clothes and scales to blend into the shadows. Water vision made it easy to see the ABB, but my regular vision wasn't much better than normal. Even if I could see them, it wouldn't do any good if I tripped over something in the dark.
As soon as I was away from the door, I ducked down behind a table to get my bearings. I was on the factory floor. The ABB members were still scurrying around trying to get things under control. My guess outside was right; most of them were carrying weapons.
That was going to be a problem. I'd planned to have Behemoth's form tonight. I could shake off gunfire easily as Behemoth, and his Blaster abilities could hit the ABB from across the floor. Instead, I was stuck with Leviathan, a form I had no idea how to use or even what it could do.
Now wasn't the time to experiment with it. One of the ABB was passing out flashlights. If I stayed where I was, they'd find me. I started crawling toward the back of the factory, where the ABB members were. There was a doorway back there that I thought led to an office. I'd take them out, search the office, and then call the police. Right… I'm sure it'd be as easy as that.
The floor underneath the tables was dusted with cocaine. My clothes were getting covered in the stuff, and I tried not to breathe too deeply. It probably couldn't affect me, but it wasn't worth risking. I was finding that Leviathan was definitely more agile than Behemoth. I maneuvered through the maze of table legs and old machinery without trouble. Even on all-fours, I moved quickly and quietly.
The gang members finished passing out flashlights, and one of them, an officer, began giving orders in another language. They were still a good thirty feet away, and I wanted to take them out before they started searching. I could hit the group all at once, but if they were spread out, I'd attacked from all sides.
I threw stealth to the wind and scrambled under the tables as fast as I could. Beakers and packages toppled to the floor as I bumped into tables. The ABB started shouting as they noticed the disturbance, but I didn't stop. My claws dug into the concrete floor and propelled me forward faster than a man could run.
Twenty.
They were shining flashlights under the tables.
Fifteen.
The factory rang with noise as someone started shooting.
Ten.
A bullet went past my ear with a horrible whining noise. I burst out from under the tables and leapt forward, covering the last ten feet in a single bound. I saw it in slow motion. The gangers were in disarray; some raising guns, others open-mouthed with terror, some even turning to run. A screaming roar ripped from my chest as I spread my claws.
I hit the officer in the chest with both feet, driving him into the ground. Without stopping, I went among them in a whirl of claws. I moved as I did under the tables, lizard-like, darting around their legs. One man fired wildly, hitting his fellows but missing me. I wove past knives and pipes with sinuous ease.
My every move was an attack. My wariness at this new form was forgotten as I ducked and dodged. Leviathan knew how to hurt them; how to make every motion count. When I struck, men fell back with ruined hands or cut tendons. My claws parted flesh at the lightest touch, moving with a surgical precision that this body knew. It was natural for this form to send gangers screaming. As natural as breathing.
The knot of gangers collapsed within moments. The few remaining ABB ran for their lives. The rest, too hurt to run, were left behind. I rose slowly, surrounded by the injured. The floor of the factory was coated with blood. I realized for the first time that I was covered in blood also. My clothes were soaked, but the worst parts were my hands. They were bloody all the way to the wrist. None of it was mine. The few blows they landed didn't even penetrate my scales.
The workers were still huddled in the corner, staring in horror. Some part of me was reacting the same way. I'd just hurt a lot of people really badly. Was this what a hero did? Another voice spoke up. They were just gang members- they'd probably done much worse things. None of them were dead. They were still alive, and they wouldn't be hurting anyone for a while.
I stood and debated with myself for a few moments. On one hand, I'd really overdone it- hurt them way more than I should have. On the other, I just couldn't feel bad about doing that to a bunch of drug-dealing thugs. But… I couldn't go around hurting people like that. It'd only be a matter of time before someone died. Actually- no. I couldn't do it because it wasn't right.
Heroes fought crime and helped people. Coming out tonight was all about being a hero.
I could still salvage this.
With that in mind, I stooped down to examine the remaining ABB members. None of the wounds seemed immediately life-threatening, but it was still possible for them to bleed out. I used my first aid training and began bandaging their wounds. A few shoved me away, but most were motionless with fear or pain. I used their shirts and bandannas as makeshift bandages, moving methodically through the crowd until I was satisfied that they were taken care of.
I'd have to practice with this form before I used it again. It was just too easy to kill someone, and I couldn't pull my punches in an unfamiliar body.
Wielding a flashlight, I started directing the workers out the side door I'd come in. They were only wearing underwear and it was chilly out, but they'd be okay until the police arrived. Most of them wouldn't look at me, averting their eyes out of fear. I couldn't blame them. I'd scared myself tonight.
Chimera 2
Chimera
1.2
Once the workers were all herded out, I headed back to the gangers. I requisitioned a cell phone from one and called 911.The operator came on immediately.
"Brockton Bay 911, what's your emergency?"
…most of the emergency was people I'd hurt. "Injured ABB members at 43rd and Pine. It's a- uh… drug warehouse." I said.
That was interesting; my voice was deeper in this form. That would come in handy. People would take me more seriously if they didn't think I was a teenage girl. And it meant I didn't have to worry about someone recognizing my voice.
"Are you injured ma'am?" The operator asked.
I looked at my bloody hands. "N-no. I provided first aid to the injured, but we'll still need the police."
"You said it was a gang building? What happened?"
"I'm a cape. There's a lot of injured ABB here."
"A parahuman? Do you have a codename?"
…shit. I'd forgotten to pick one. Whenever I'd tried, I'd end up with a bunch of stuff like "Endbringer Girl."
I hung up the phone and went into the office. All the office furniture was shoved into a corner. They'd been using the space to hold their money. Uneven stacks of bills sat around the room, and a long table in the center held bricks of cocaine. Probably the higher quality stuff.
There were plenty of duffle bags at hand. I grabbed every last bit of cash and ended up with four lumpy bags. I didn't think money would be so heavy. Even with my enhanced strength, it was a cumbersome load. I'd have to maintain Leviathan's form all the way home in order to carry it all.
As for the drugs… Now that the ABB were out of the way, I wanted to try something. If Leviathan had hydrokinesis, there was a very good chance I did too. I didn't get all of their powers- Behemoth's kill aura was something I was glad to be without, but something as basic as hydrokinesis I ought to have.
Water ran through pipes in the walls. If I could just- I reached out to it using my new senses, and pulled.
Nothing happened. I tried again, pulling harder. Still nothing.
What the hell?
Pushing, twisting, increasing the flow, reversing the flow, stopping it.
Nothing. None of my efforts so much as rippled the water. It kept flowing without any regard for me.
I pushed one last time and then gave up. I'd just ask Leviathan later. Shouldering the bags, I walked back to the alley. I'd climb back up and run home along the roofs. There would be less witnesses and interference that way.
Tonight had been… interesting. Interesting and frightening. I'd successfully shut down a drug mill and gotten a lot of ABB off the streets. On the other hand, I'd also come very close to crossing a line. All those heroic ideals I valued, and I'd forgotten them the instant I started fighting. That was going to be a priority from now on. If-
The sound of boots on gravel cut into my thoughts.
There was someone nearby. I hunched down behind a dumpster, dropping the money bags. They'd only get in the way if there was a fight. With my water-vision, I could see two shapes above me. They were on top of the same building I'd occupied earlier and they were getting closer.
I was concealed by the dumpster, but if they searched I'd be found in about 10 seconds. Regardless of who they were, I didn't want to be seen in Leviathan form down a dark alley. I didn't resemble him closely enough for anyone to draw a comparison, but I still stood out in a bad way.
I needed to change, but I didn't want to give up his powers. Could I maybe… If drawing on his form made me look more like him, then… I eased up on my power, letting Leviathan's form ebb away. I didn't release it entirely, just lessened its strength.
My eyes burned, and when I blinked, my water-vision was gone. I'd lost his powers, but my form wasn't different in any way. Dammit.
Two figures hit the pavement at the end of the alley. I peeked around the dumpster. Two men in bodysuits. Capes. Definitely a wonderful time to lose water-vision.
Frantically, I refocused my efforts on changing back to normal. Letting go of Leviathan's form hadn't worked. What if I held onto it even tighter? Not keeping it controlled, but pushing it down- suppressing it. I felt for his template, melded and shaped with my power, and forced it inward. The sense of direction was purely metaphorical, but that was how it felt. I pushed his form back into the well of my power, imposing my form instead of his. This time, when I released my hold, it stayed there.
All at once, my skin rippled and bubbled as my scales were pulled back into it. My clothes loosened, and I had to adjust my balance as my arms and legs shortened. The night became colder, and I was suddenly very aware that I was barefoot.
Even so, I'd never been so glad just to be me.
I peeked around the dumpster again. The two capes were closer; they'd be on top of me in a minute. They were close enough now that I could see them better. I let out a deep breath as I recognized them. Kid Win and Aegis. They were heroes- members of the Wards. We were on the same side.
Leaving the bags of money behind, I stepped out from behind the dumpster with my hands raised. Instantly, Aegis dropped into a ready-stance and Kid Win aimed his gun. There were a few very tense seconds before Aegis spoke.
"What are you doing?" He made it sound like an order.
"I was waiting." I said lamely. "I er- I'm the one who called the police."
"You called? The operator said there was a cape involved. Was that you?" Aegis said.
"There's blood all over her." Kid Win interrupted. He pressed a button on his rifle and a flashlight came on at the end of it. The light was blinding after being in darkness for so long.
My clothing was ruined. My hoodie was dusted with cocaine and damp with blood. The sleeves gaped open, stretched so far they'd torn. I realized that I'd forgotten to clean my hands. They were sticky, smeared to the wrist with blood. I checked that my bandanna was still on. It was crooked, but miraculously still in place.
"Identify yourself." Aegis said. They both looked even more serious now that they could see me clearly.
Crap. Again with the codename. I could improvise- I'd be… Something that doesn't mention the Endbringers. Er…
Kid Win pointed his gun right at my face.
"I don't have a codename." I said quietly. I hoped my flush of embarrassment wasn't visible around the bandanna. I was making a mess of this too. "It's my first time out."
Aegis motioned for me to continue.
"There was an ABB drug operation in there. I went in and stopped them."
Kid Win lowered his rifle, relaxing his stance. Aegis stayed where he was.
"Where'd the blood come from?" Aegis said.
Another hot streak of embarrassment ran through me. Telling a Ward- an honest to god PRT cape how I'd screwed up was infinitely worse than having just screwed up.
"I kind of… over did it."
"They're not dead, are they?" Aegis said. I shook my head. He sighed heavily and relaxed. "Let's go see." We made our way back to the side door of the factory. They stopped in the doorway while Kid Win fished around in his utility belt. He tossed something into the darkness, and after a moment, it ignited into a flare.
The harsh, flickering light of the flare made everything look so much worse. Like something out of a horror movie. Shadows were cast into stark relief, wavering under the flare light. Close to a dozen men were sitting on the factory floor, moaning in pain. Blood was splattered over almost twenty feet of floor, like the aftermath of some hellish rainstorm.
"Jesus Christ." Kid Win whispered. He and Aegis both stared at me.
"They're all alive." I said. "I did first aid on them." My excuses sounded incredibly feeble in the face of this bloodbath.
They went over to inspect the ABB members. Aegis looked them over, examining my makeshift bandages. Kid Win put a finger to his ear.
"The situation is under control. We're gonna need transport for... ten suspects, all injured."
Each gang member got their hands zip-tied together, and then searched by the duo. I stood by, awkwardly hovering in the background.
The PRT transports arrived quickly; they'd probably been close by, waiting for a signal. Most of the ABB were too injured to walk, so PRT officers put them on stretchers and loaded them into the transports.
The two Wards watched the gangers get loaded on, and then turned back to me.
"So- uh… you're a parahuman? What powers do you have?" Kid Win asked. He sounded as uncomfortable as I was.
"Yeah, I-" (channel Endbringers) "Can shapeshift. I had claws tonight, so that's why they're like that."
This was torture. Having to bare myself to these capes and explain my mistakes was agonizing.
Aegis stepped closer. "Listen, I know you were trying to help tonight. You said it was your first time out?" I nodded. "You did alright, but those people could have died. Even if they're ABB or Empire, you can't operate that way. If you keep going like this, you'll end up in prison."
It felt like the bottom suddenly dropped out of my stomach. There it was- a Ward was telling me that I was on the path to the Birdcage. My first time out and I'd done so poorly that they were bringing up the Birdcage.
"The Birdcage?" I whispered through numb lips.
Aegis held up a hand. "No, no. I'm just saying that there are still laws and regulations that cover how we can fight crime. There are rules. I'd like you to come with us. We can discuss this further back at PRT HQ."
My hands started shaking. They were arresting me. I'd earned a trip to the Birdcage on my first day.
"Aegis, you're scaring her." Kid Win said. He put a hand on my shoulder. "Look, we're not going to lock you up or anything. We just want to talk to you. Same way we do for all the new capes. You'll probably get an invitation to join the Wards."
What?! "The Wards?" I must have misheard. There was no way- after what I did tonight.
"Yeah. We try to recruit any capes we can. We're not going to turn you down just because of… all this." He waved a hand at the long smears of blood on the floor.
"You just… want to talk." I said slowly. My brain had come to a screaming halt. How could they possibly want me?
Kid Win nodded patiently. "Trust me on this. Even if you don't want to join the Wards, giving the PRT a face and a name makes a big difference in how they're going to handle you. They don't like unknown capes running around."
"Can I have a minute to think about this?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Go ahead."
I walked to the other side of the floor. After making sure neither Ward had followed me, I pulled off my bandanna. Deep breaths. Nice, deep breaths. The factory air was dusty and stank with coppery blood scent, but it still helped. Funny how I could fight all those ABB and not break a sweat, but talking to people left me a wreck.
That wasn't important at the moment though. I'd spend plenty of time ruminating over it later, but for now I needed to focus. They probably weren't going to arrest me. An elaborate trick to lure me in was possible, but it just didn't seem likely. I'd heard of new capes getting recruited by the PRT, so there was precedent for it. Hadn't Shadow Stalker joined up like that?
If they weren't going to arrest me, I had nothing to lose by going. Kid Win had said they might even offer me a job with the Wards. That… that was going to be something to think about. I'd have to hide my powers, for one. But on the other hand- it was the PRT. I'd be an official hero. Hadn't that been what I always wanted?
I tied my bandanna back on and went back to the Wards.
"I'm ready." I said.
"Good choice." Aegis said. "We'll go now. The police will handle the rest of this."
Kid Win smiled at me, then took my arm and positioned me between himself and Aegis. "Get ready, new girl." He pressed a button on his gauntlet. "Chariot- Aegis and Kid Win coming in with a guest. Zero delta nine nine zero five."
A voice spoke from his gauntlet. "Confirmed. Three coming in. Transport begins in 60 seconds."
I wondered why they didn't call the PRT transports like that earlier. Was this going to be different? After a moment, another thought occurred to me.
"Did you two just 'Good Cop, Bad Cop' me? Because that is totally-"
The world exploded in a flash of white.
1.2
Once the workers were all herded out, I headed back to the gangers. I requisitioned a cell phone from one and called 911.The operator came on immediately.
"Brockton Bay 911, what's your emergency?"
…most of the emergency was people I'd hurt. "Injured ABB members at 43rd and Pine. It's a- uh… drug warehouse." I said.
That was interesting; my voice was deeper in this form. That would come in handy. People would take me more seriously if they didn't think I was a teenage girl. And it meant I didn't have to worry about someone recognizing my voice.
"Are you injured ma'am?" The operator asked.
I looked at my bloody hands. "N-no. I provided first aid to the injured, but we'll still need the police."
"You said it was a gang building? What happened?"
"I'm a cape. There's a lot of injured ABB here."
"A parahuman? Do you have a codename?"
…shit. I'd forgotten to pick one. Whenever I'd tried, I'd end up with a bunch of stuff like "Endbringer Girl."
I hung up the phone and went into the office. All the office furniture was shoved into a corner. They'd been using the space to hold their money. Uneven stacks of bills sat around the room, and a long table in the center held bricks of cocaine. Probably the higher quality stuff.
There were plenty of duffle bags at hand. I grabbed every last bit of cash and ended up with four lumpy bags. I didn't think money would be so heavy. Even with my enhanced strength, it was a cumbersome load. I'd have to maintain Leviathan's form all the way home in order to carry it all.
As for the drugs… Now that the ABB were out of the way, I wanted to try something. If Leviathan had hydrokinesis, there was a very good chance I did too. I didn't get all of their powers- Behemoth's kill aura was something I was glad to be without, but something as basic as hydrokinesis I ought to have.
Water ran through pipes in the walls. If I could just- I reached out to it using my new senses, and pulled.
Nothing happened. I tried again, pulling harder. Still nothing.
What the hell?
Pushing, twisting, increasing the flow, reversing the flow, stopping it.
Nothing. None of my efforts so much as rippled the water. It kept flowing without any regard for me.
I pushed one last time and then gave up. I'd just ask Leviathan later. Shouldering the bags, I walked back to the alley. I'd climb back up and run home along the roofs. There would be less witnesses and interference that way.
Tonight had been… interesting. Interesting and frightening. I'd successfully shut down a drug mill and gotten a lot of ABB off the streets. On the other hand, I'd also come very close to crossing a line. All those heroic ideals I valued, and I'd forgotten them the instant I started fighting. That was going to be a priority from now on. If-
The sound of boots on gravel cut into my thoughts.
There was someone nearby. I hunched down behind a dumpster, dropping the money bags. They'd only get in the way if there was a fight. With my water-vision, I could see two shapes above me. They were on top of the same building I'd occupied earlier and they were getting closer.
I was concealed by the dumpster, but if they searched I'd be found in about 10 seconds. Regardless of who they were, I didn't want to be seen in Leviathan form down a dark alley. I didn't resemble him closely enough for anyone to draw a comparison, but I still stood out in a bad way.
I needed to change, but I didn't want to give up his powers. Could I maybe… If drawing on his form made me look more like him, then… I eased up on my power, letting Leviathan's form ebb away. I didn't release it entirely, just lessened its strength.
My eyes burned, and when I blinked, my water-vision was gone. I'd lost his powers, but my form wasn't different in any way. Dammit.
Two figures hit the pavement at the end of the alley. I peeked around the dumpster. Two men in bodysuits. Capes. Definitely a wonderful time to lose water-vision.
Frantically, I refocused my efforts on changing back to normal. Letting go of Leviathan's form hadn't worked. What if I held onto it even tighter? Not keeping it controlled, but pushing it down- suppressing it. I felt for his template, melded and shaped with my power, and forced it inward. The sense of direction was purely metaphorical, but that was how it felt. I pushed his form back into the well of my power, imposing my form instead of his. This time, when I released my hold, it stayed there.
All at once, my skin rippled and bubbled as my scales were pulled back into it. My clothes loosened, and I had to adjust my balance as my arms and legs shortened. The night became colder, and I was suddenly very aware that I was barefoot.
Even so, I'd never been so glad just to be me.
I peeked around the dumpster again. The two capes were closer; they'd be on top of me in a minute. They were close enough now that I could see them better. I let out a deep breath as I recognized them. Kid Win and Aegis. They were heroes- members of the Wards. We were on the same side.
Leaving the bags of money behind, I stepped out from behind the dumpster with my hands raised. Instantly, Aegis dropped into a ready-stance and Kid Win aimed his gun. There were a few very tense seconds before Aegis spoke.
"What are you doing?" He made it sound like an order.
"I was waiting." I said lamely. "I er- I'm the one who called the police."
"You called? The operator said there was a cape involved. Was that you?" Aegis said.
"There's blood all over her." Kid Win interrupted. He pressed a button on his rifle and a flashlight came on at the end of it. The light was blinding after being in darkness for so long.
My clothing was ruined. My hoodie was dusted with cocaine and damp with blood. The sleeves gaped open, stretched so far they'd torn. I realized that I'd forgotten to clean my hands. They were sticky, smeared to the wrist with blood. I checked that my bandanna was still on. It was crooked, but miraculously still in place.
"Identify yourself." Aegis said. They both looked even more serious now that they could see me clearly.
Crap. Again with the codename. I could improvise- I'd be… Something that doesn't mention the Endbringers. Er…
Kid Win pointed his gun right at my face.
"I don't have a codename." I said quietly. I hoped my flush of embarrassment wasn't visible around the bandanna. I was making a mess of this too. "It's my first time out."
Aegis motioned for me to continue.
"There was an ABB drug operation in there. I went in and stopped them."
Kid Win lowered his rifle, relaxing his stance. Aegis stayed where he was.
"Where'd the blood come from?" Aegis said.
Another hot streak of embarrassment ran through me. Telling a Ward- an honest to god PRT cape how I'd screwed up was infinitely worse than having just screwed up.
"I kind of… over did it."
"They're not dead, are they?" Aegis said. I shook my head. He sighed heavily and relaxed. "Let's go see." We made our way back to the side door of the factory. They stopped in the doorway while Kid Win fished around in his utility belt. He tossed something into the darkness, and after a moment, it ignited into a flare.
The harsh, flickering light of the flare made everything look so much worse. Like something out of a horror movie. Shadows were cast into stark relief, wavering under the flare light. Close to a dozen men were sitting on the factory floor, moaning in pain. Blood was splattered over almost twenty feet of floor, like the aftermath of some hellish rainstorm.
"Jesus Christ." Kid Win whispered. He and Aegis both stared at me.
"They're all alive." I said. "I did first aid on them." My excuses sounded incredibly feeble in the face of this bloodbath.
They went over to inspect the ABB members. Aegis looked them over, examining my makeshift bandages. Kid Win put a finger to his ear.
"The situation is under control. We're gonna need transport for... ten suspects, all injured."
Each gang member got their hands zip-tied together, and then searched by the duo. I stood by, awkwardly hovering in the background.
The PRT transports arrived quickly; they'd probably been close by, waiting for a signal. Most of the ABB were too injured to walk, so PRT officers put them on stretchers and loaded them into the transports.
The two Wards watched the gangers get loaded on, and then turned back to me.
"So- uh… you're a parahuman? What powers do you have?" Kid Win asked. He sounded as uncomfortable as I was.
"Yeah, I-" (channel Endbringers) "Can shapeshift. I had claws tonight, so that's why they're like that."
This was torture. Having to bare myself to these capes and explain my mistakes was agonizing.
Aegis stepped closer. "Listen, I know you were trying to help tonight. You said it was your first time out?" I nodded. "You did alright, but those people could have died. Even if they're ABB or Empire, you can't operate that way. If you keep going like this, you'll end up in prison."
It felt like the bottom suddenly dropped out of my stomach. There it was- a Ward was telling me that I was on the path to the Birdcage. My first time out and I'd done so poorly that they were bringing up the Birdcage.
"The Birdcage?" I whispered through numb lips.
Aegis held up a hand. "No, no. I'm just saying that there are still laws and regulations that cover how we can fight crime. There are rules. I'd like you to come with us. We can discuss this further back at PRT HQ."
My hands started shaking. They were arresting me. I'd earned a trip to the Birdcage on my first day.
"Aegis, you're scaring her." Kid Win said. He put a hand on my shoulder. "Look, we're not going to lock you up or anything. We just want to talk to you. Same way we do for all the new capes. You'll probably get an invitation to join the Wards."
What?! "The Wards?" I must have misheard. There was no way- after what I did tonight.
"Yeah. We try to recruit any capes we can. We're not going to turn you down just because of… all this." He waved a hand at the long smears of blood on the floor.
"You just… want to talk." I said slowly. My brain had come to a screaming halt. How could they possibly want me?
Kid Win nodded patiently. "Trust me on this. Even if you don't want to join the Wards, giving the PRT a face and a name makes a big difference in how they're going to handle you. They don't like unknown capes running around."
"Can I have a minute to think about this?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Go ahead."
I walked to the other side of the floor. After making sure neither Ward had followed me, I pulled off my bandanna. Deep breaths. Nice, deep breaths. The factory air was dusty and stank with coppery blood scent, but it still helped. Funny how I could fight all those ABB and not break a sweat, but talking to people left me a wreck.
That wasn't important at the moment though. I'd spend plenty of time ruminating over it later, but for now I needed to focus. They probably weren't going to arrest me. An elaborate trick to lure me in was possible, but it just didn't seem likely. I'd heard of new capes getting recruited by the PRT, so there was precedent for it. Hadn't Shadow Stalker joined up like that?
If they weren't going to arrest me, I had nothing to lose by going. Kid Win had said they might even offer me a job with the Wards. That… that was going to be something to think about. I'd have to hide my powers, for one. But on the other hand- it was the PRT. I'd be an official hero. Hadn't that been what I always wanted?
I tied my bandanna back on and went back to the Wards.
"I'm ready." I said.
"Good choice." Aegis said. "We'll go now. The police will handle the rest of this."
Kid Win smiled at me, then took my arm and positioned me between himself and Aegis. "Get ready, new girl." He pressed a button on his gauntlet. "Chariot- Aegis and Kid Win coming in with a guest. Zero delta nine nine zero five."
A voice spoke from his gauntlet. "Confirmed. Three coming in. Transport begins in 60 seconds."
I wondered why they didn't call the PRT transports like that earlier. Was this going to be different? After a moment, another thought occurred to me.
"Did you two just 'Good Cop, Bad Cop' me? Because that is totally-"
The world exploded in a flash of white.
Chimera 3
Chimera
1.3
I had the sensation of being turned inside out and then shaken to bits. None of my senses worked; I was nowhere and everywhere. It lasted for far longer than it should have- seconds bleeding into minutes. We were teleporting, weren't we? Shouldn't this only take a few seconds? And yet it continued. Endlessly. Time meant nothing with nothing to base it off. There was only my mind, floating helplessly in a void.
The feeling of distortion, of nothingness grew worse and worse until I couldn't stand it. Memories of Emma- of hands beat bloody on metal- the stinking darkness. I was back there. This was the locker. The void was empty, but it closed in regardless. Too close. All around me-
Leviathan spoke.
(danger)
A question. I responded.
<confusion>
<fear>
His response came immediately.
A vision of rocks on the seashore, standing firmly against the tide, and a feeling- oneness. The reiteration of our unity.
(strength)
I sank into our link. His message didn't fade. I clung to it- to his presence, using it to hold back the dark. Memories struck me. The locker. Things moving in the dark. Rotting, visceral nothingness. A faint recollection of stars, and then…
(union)
(kinship)
They had spoken to me. Comforted me in the same way he did now.
We were together.
The void didn't scare me anymore. We waited patiently, as was our way. In the same way that he waited, sleeping, for his time, I would wait for-
Hands scraped on concrete. Legs tangled together. Eyes burned by the sudden light.
Meaningless. We were together, and-
I felt the change and let my link with Leviathan fade.
My senses rushed back to me at once. A face swam above me, blurred and indistinct. Someone was shaking me. Shouted words that meant nothing.
"Hey! Hey!" Someone- A boy in red goggles kept shaking me. He was- Kid Win kept shaking me. I didn't like people shaking me. I put my hands on his wrists and pushed him away.
"Are you alright?" He asked. Words that I understood the more he said them.
Slowly, I took my bearings. I was on the ground. Kid Win was above me. My clothes were a mess. The girls at school had beaten me up. No, that wasn't right. I was fighting crime tonight. This was my costume. Kid Win was a Ward. They wanted to take me to the PRT to 'just talk.' We had… transported there? Teleported?
The scene was still blurry. My glasses were probably dirty. I pulled them off and the world came into focus. That got my attention. I tested my vision with my glasses on and off. I didn't need them anymore. Had my powers done that? I tucked them into a pocket. I'd investigate later.
"Are you alright?" Kid Win repeated. I fully understood what he was saying for the first time.
"Don't know." I said. My voice came out as a rasp. The words felt strange. Too simple after all that time spent communicating with Leviathan. Just sounds. No intentions or pictures.
"What happened?" I asked Kid Win. He shook his head.
"I don't know. We teleported back to PRT and something went wrong. It took longer than it should have. Like we were in limbo or something. Aegis and I were fine, but you uh- freaked out. Had a seizure, I think."
"How long were we in?"
Kid Win checked his watch. "Almost 40 minutes. Something really got fucked up with the transport. It's supposed to only be a second or two." 40 minutes. Christ. It had felt like days.
I made to get up and he stopped me. "Easy. Aegis is getting a medic. We need to make sure you're okay first."
"I'm just gonna walk around." I said. I needed to do something. Laying there felt too vulnerable. Too exposed- I touched my face.
"Where's my mask?"
"Oh uh- listen, normally we'd never do that, but we thought you might choke on your tongue." He held up my bandanna. My hands were shaking as I took it from him. My whole body was shaking, and I couldn't stop it.
"I'm really sorry to unmask you, but we-"
"Don't worry about it." I said. I was too tired to care. It had been a paper-thin disguise to begin with, and Kid Win wasn't going to know me from Eve. I still tied it back on.
"Aegis saw too?" I asked.
"Yeah. But he won't say anything. That's one of the Rules." I could actually hear the capitalization when he said it.
"Rules?"
"The Unwritten Rules for capes. Don't kill. Don't go after someone when they're not in costume. Stuff like that."
I pulled myself up to a seated position. Kid Win sat down beside me.
"You sure you're okay?" He was so worried about me. It was kind of off-putting for someone to care so much. He and Aegis had been suspicious not too long ago. Could they really open up to a stranger that fast?
"Could you…" Something to help me not think about that void. Anything to help me stop shaking. "Could you tell me about the Rules?" I asked.
He looked surprised at my answer, but started talking anyway.
"Okay, there's not a list or anything, but there are rules that generally every cape follows unless they wanna get hunted down. 'Don't kill' is the big one. Capes who start killing don't last long. Then you've got stuff like…"
He talked, and after a while, despite my initial reticence, I talked back. How long had it been since I had a real conversation with someone my age? Someone who didn't hate my guts. He told me about the Rules, and had just started on the dynamics of heroes, rogues and villains when Aegis returned.
There were a few white-clad PRT officers who I assumed were medics, and a dozen armored PRT with guns. Just in case, probably. Hot on their heels were two capes. I recognized the first, a man in power armor, as Armsmaster, but the second was an unknown. He wore power armor as well, sleeker than Armsmaster's, but less elaborate. He looked younger, so I thought he might be a Ward.
Armsmaster took the lead, with Aegis and the boy standing to his sides. Kid Win scrambled to his feet. I made to follow, but Armsmaster held up a hand.
"Stay seated please." I knew Armsmaster by sight, but I'd never heard him speak before. He even sounded like a superhero.
"We're not sure what happened with the teleport. Before we continue, I'd prefer that you undergo a medical examination. If you don't mind, Miss…" He stopped, waiting for my name.
"Uh-" Again with the names! If they kept putting me on the spot like this, I was eventually going to say something damning. I needed something that summed up who I was as a cape that also didn't blow my secret. Vessel. Channeler. Adapter. Monster Girl…
(sister)
"Chimera."
The word came unbidden. Where had that come from? I'd never-
(amusement)
A peal of laughter ran through my thoughts. Dammit. Her. She just couldn't mind her own business.
The worst part was that she was completely right. Like always.
The name was perfect.
The melding of three beasts.
Chimera.
That was who I was.
1.3
I had the sensation of being turned inside out and then shaken to bits. None of my senses worked; I was nowhere and everywhere. It lasted for far longer than it should have- seconds bleeding into minutes. We were teleporting, weren't we? Shouldn't this only take a few seconds? And yet it continued. Endlessly. Time meant nothing with nothing to base it off. There was only my mind, floating helplessly in a void.
The feeling of distortion, of nothingness grew worse and worse until I couldn't stand it. Memories of Emma- of hands beat bloody on metal- the stinking darkness. I was back there. This was the locker. The void was empty, but it closed in regardless. Too close. All around me-
Leviathan spoke.
(danger)
A question. I responded.
<confusion>
<fear>
His response came immediately.
A vision of rocks on the seashore, standing firmly against the tide, and a feeling- oneness. The reiteration of our unity.
(strength)
I sank into our link. His message didn't fade. I clung to it- to his presence, using it to hold back the dark. Memories struck me. The locker. Things moving in the dark. Rotting, visceral nothingness. A faint recollection of stars, and then…
(union)
(kinship)
They had spoken to me. Comforted me in the same way he did now.
We were together.
The void didn't scare me anymore. We waited patiently, as was our way. In the same way that he waited, sleeping, for his time, I would wait for-
Hands scraped on concrete. Legs tangled together. Eyes burned by the sudden light.
Meaningless. We were together, and-
I felt the change and let my link with Leviathan fade.
My senses rushed back to me at once. A face swam above me, blurred and indistinct. Someone was shaking me. Shouted words that meant nothing.
"Hey! Hey!" Someone- A boy in red goggles kept shaking me. He was- Kid Win kept shaking me. I didn't like people shaking me. I put my hands on his wrists and pushed him away.
"Are you alright?" He asked. Words that I understood the more he said them.
Slowly, I took my bearings. I was on the ground. Kid Win was above me. My clothes were a mess. The girls at school had beaten me up. No, that wasn't right. I was fighting crime tonight. This was my costume. Kid Win was a Ward. They wanted to take me to the PRT to 'just talk.' We had… transported there? Teleported?
The scene was still blurry. My glasses were probably dirty. I pulled them off and the world came into focus. That got my attention. I tested my vision with my glasses on and off. I didn't need them anymore. Had my powers done that? I tucked them into a pocket. I'd investigate later.
"Are you alright?" Kid Win repeated. I fully understood what he was saying for the first time.
"Don't know." I said. My voice came out as a rasp. The words felt strange. Too simple after all that time spent communicating with Leviathan. Just sounds. No intentions or pictures.
"What happened?" I asked Kid Win. He shook his head.
"I don't know. We teleported back to PRT and something went wrong. It took longer than it should have. Like we were in limbo or something. Aegis and I were fine, but you uh- freaked out. Had a seizure, I think."
"How long were we in?"
Kid Win checked his watch. "Almost 40 minutes. Something really got fucked up with the transport. It's supposed to only be a second or two." 40 minutes. Christ. It had felt like days.
I made to get up and he stopped me. "Easy. Aegis is getting a medic. We need to make sure you're okay first."
"I'm just gonna walk around." I said. I needed to do something. Laying there felt too vulnerable. Too exposed- I touched my face.
"Where's my mask?"
"Oh uh- listen, normally we'd never do that, but we thought you might choke on your tongue." He held up my bandanna. My hands were shaking as I took it from him. My whole body was shaking, and I couldn't stop it.
"I'm really sorry to unmask you, but we-"
"Don't worry about it." I said. I was too tired to care. It had been a paper-thin disguise to begin with, and Kid Win wasn't going to know me from Eve. I still tied it back on.
"Aegis saw too?" I asked.
"Yeah. But he won't say anything. That's one of the Rules." I could actually hear the capitalization when he said it.
"Rules?"
"The Unwritten Rules for capes. Don't kill. Don't go after someone when they're not in costume. Stuff like that."
I pulled myself up to a seated position. Kid Win sat down beside me.
"You sure you're okay?" He was so worried about me. It was kind of off-putting for someone to care so much. He and Aegis had been suspicious not too long ago. Could they really open up to a stranger that fast?
"Could you…" Something to help me not think about that void. Anything to help me stop shaking. "Could you tell me about the Rules?" I asked.
He looked surprised at my answer, but started talking anyway.
"Okay, there's not a list or anything, but there are rules that generally every cape follows unless they wanna get hunted down. 'Don't kill' is the big one. Capes who start killing don't last long. Then you've got stuff like…"
He talked, and after a while, despite my initial reticence, I talked back. How long had it been since I had a real conversation with someone my age? Someone who didn't hate my guts. He told me about the Rules, and had just started on the dynamics of heroes, rogues and villains when Aegis returned.
There were a few white-clad PRT officers who I assumed were medics, and a dozen armored PRT with guns. Just in case, probably. Hot on their heels were two capes. I recognized the first, a man in power armor, as Armsmaster, but the second was an unknown. He wore power armor as well, sleeker than Armsmaster's, but less elaborate. He looked younger, so I thought he might be a Ward.
Armsmaster took the lead, with Aegis and the boy standing to his sides. Kid Win scrambled to his feet. I made to follow, but Armsmaster held up a hand.
"Stay seated please." I knew Armsmaster by sight, but I'd never heard him speak before. He even sounded like a superhero.
"We're not sure what happened with the teleport. Before we continue, I'd prefer that you undergo a medical examination. If you don't mind, Miss…" He stopped, waiting for my name.
"Uh-" Again with the names! If they kept putting me on the spot like this, I was eventually going to say something damning. I needed something that summed up who I was as a cape that also didn't blow my secret. Vessel. Channeler. Adapter. Monster Girl…
(sister)
"Chimera."
The word came unbidden. Where had that come from? I'd never-
(amusement)
A peal of laughter ran through my thoughts. Dammit. Her. She just couldn't mind her own business.
The worst part was that she was completely right. Like always.
The name was perfect.
The melding of three beasts.
Chimera.
That was who I was.
Chimera 4
Chimera
1.4
It was nearly 3am by the time we finished. I'd gone through an endless battery of tests and exams at the hands of the PRT medical staff. Some were simple- blood samples, heart rate, listening to my lungs, things I'd see at any regular hospital. Others used machines more advanced than anything I'd seen before; some I thought might even be tinkermade.
Regardless of whether I understood them, all the tests were still awkward and uncomfortable. Paper gowns and doctors with cold, cold hands were not the way I wanted to spend my first night as a hero.
My embarrassment was compounded by the presence of Armsmaster and Chariot. The older hero insisted that they be there to figure what had gone wrong. I had the feeling that he blamed Chariot for what had happened. My money was on myself rather than Chariot. How was he supposed to know that I was some kind of… whatever the hell I was?
The tests finally ended, and everyone filed out of the room so I could get dressed. The clothes I'd worn were basically bloody rags, so I just let the doctors throw them away. For a replacement, I was given a plain black bodysuit. It was one of the spare costumes they had on hand for when a cape got their clothes damaged.
I wasn't keen on wearing a bodysuit, but once I actually got it on I was gratified by what I saw. All the weeks I'd spent training my powers had been weeks spent running. I still wasn't going to win any beauty contests, but for the first time in my life, I could look at myself and like what I saw. That revelation almost made up for having to go through all the medical tests.
As a bonus, the costume came with a full-face mask. I had to put my hair up to get it on, but I felt better once I did. Aegis and Kid Win may have known what I looked like, but I didn't intend to share with anyone else tonight. I'd left my bandanna on during the exams, but it was a pretty pitiful disguise. When I made my own costume, I'd definitely have something more concealing.
Part of me was worried that the PRT could track me down now. They had blood samples, and they'd seen most of my face, so it couldn't be too hard for them. I just had a feeling that they wouldn't. Like it'd be against the Rules that Kid Win told me about. On a more cynical level, I reasoned that it'd be a bad move for them to track me down using medical information I'd given freely. A violation of my confidence or something.
Once I had the costume on, I went into the waiting room. The clock on the wall read 3:14. By the time I got home, it'd be time for me to get up. There was no way I was going to school on no sleep. It'd be like painting a bullseye on my back. I'd have to tell Dad that I was sick, or maybe just skip school once he left. As it was, my whole body ached from the teleport, and the late hour was catching up with me.
Chariot and Armsmaster had their heads together with the doctors, poring over some papers. They looked up as I approached. Chariot grinned uneasily.
"H-hey. We got your results back." He said. He was nervous. Did he think I was mad about the teleport?
Armsmaster rifled through the papers before selecting one and handing it to me.
"The summary of your analysis." He said. "Your results were within normal ranges for a teenage girl on almost all counts."
"Almost?" I said. Did they know? Had they somehow found out about my link to the others?
"Yes." He pointed to a highlighted section on one page. "There's an unknown crystal compound in your blood. We're assuming that it's linked to your powers, but that's just a theory. Do you have any idea what it is?"
(caution)
Simurgh spoke to me. I had been about to lie to Armsmaster and tell him that I had no idea what they were. She was indicating that it was dangerous somehow. Dangerous to lie, but telling him the truth would be suicide. Regardless of who I was, they weren't going to tolerate someone with my abilities running around.
She thought this was a big enough deal to force our link. I hadn't been connected with her like I was with Leviathan. She had initiated contact all on her own. Our contact earlier had been for a joke, but she was all business now. This was the first time it had happened. She was usually content just to meddle for fun. If she was serious, then it was vitally important that Armsmaster trust me.
She spoke again. Images of bent arrows, lines curving in the sand, fingers broken, paths that doubled back on themselves. A feeling of deception.
(mislead)
She wanted me to bend the truth.
I glanced over the forms for a moment, pretending to study them. I couldn't make heads or tails of them, but stalling gave me time to think. Finally, I looked up, meeting Armsmaster's gaze. It was hard to make out his eyes behind his visor, but I did my best to meet them.
"I'm not sure what they are, but I think you're right about my powers. I didn't explain how they worked, did I?" I said.
Armsmaster shook his head. "Would you mind?"
"Sure." I said. Chariot leaned in, looking interested. "I can uh- sort of ping people with my powers. People I ping-"
"Ping?" Chariot interrupted.
"Like radar. I send out a wave and bounce it off someone. Whoever I ping, I can copy their powers." None of that was untrue, I'd just left out some key details.
"You can use this on anyone? How many at a time?" Armsmaster said. He was having a hard time keeping the amazement out of his voice.
His response actually raised more questions for me. Could I hit someone who wasn't an Endbringer? I was linked to Simurgh and Leviathan at the same time, could I mimic both their powers? When I answered, I didn't have to fake my surprise.
"I didn't think of that. So far I've had trouble not hitting people at random. Like tonight, I got the wrong powers for what I wanted to do, and things got messed up. I've got a bunch of drawbacks like that. It takes forever to charge up my powers, and I only get a watered down version of the people I copy."
All of that was true as well. I was actually pleased at how well I'd maneuvered. Simurgh would be proud.
Armsmaster rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "That's quite an ability you've got. Would you mind going through some more tests? We could examine your power and see how it affects Chariot's tech."
Chariot cleared his throat. "Sir, it's 3:30. I have school in the morning. Chimera probably does too." Armsmaster looked between us. I nodded at what Chariot had said. I wasn't going to school, but I damn well wasn't spending all night getting tested.
"I suppose it is getting late." Armsmaster said. "Chariot, you're dismissed. Chimera, would you be able to come back tomorrow? I'd like to talk to you about joining the Wards. We all got a little… distracted tonight." He smiled for the first time.
"Sure. It shouldn't be a problem." I said. The Wards. They were really serious about it.
Armsmaster handed me a business card. "That has my contact information on it. Use it if you can't come or need to reschedule."
"Sorry about the teleporter." Chariot said again. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine. Really." I actually felt like I'd gone ten rounds with Behemoth, but Chariot seemed pretty upset about the whole thing. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
"Y-yeah, I just didn't want- I mean, as long as you're okay." He said, shifting uncomfortably.
"We'll work on it tomorrow. The test samples I sent to Dragon should be back by then." Armsmaster said. "Chimera, I'll walk you out." He moved toward the door and I fell into step beside him.
"Did you say 'Dragon'?" I asked. "The Dragon?"
"Yes. I sent a copy of your test results and a sample of your blood to her."
"I thought Dragon mostly made power armor and stuff?"
Armsmaster paused as we got into an elevator. I could barely feel when it started moving.
"Dragon works with many of the PRT's tinkers. She's versatile. Biology is not one of my strong fields, but it's one that she's familiar with, so I asked for her help."
The elevator stopped and we got out in the lobby. It was empty but for a few guards at the desk.
"That's pretty impressive that she can do all that." I said.
"Yes, yes it is." Armsmaster smiled again. "Dragon is quite impressive."
I was surprised at how much a smile changed his demeanor. I thought I might like him better if he smiled more. It made him more human.
We walked to the exit. The automatic doors slid open as we approached, letting in the chilly night air. I could see the night sky, washed out by the city lights, stars twinkling faintly in the background. The breeze carried the salty tang of the ocean, and I inhaled deeply, drinking it in. After hours in the sterile PRT medical ward, it was absolutely beautiful.
Armsmaster held out a hand and I shook it. "I hope to see you again, Chimera." He said simply, already turning to leave.
As I walked away, I angled away from the path leading to the docks, heading into a patch of deep shadow by the edge of the artificial island. The spot was dark; the spotlights covering the rest of the area were burnt out. It wasn't a perfect spot, but it was better than standing in the open.
I looked up, watching the sky. I could feel her, far overhead, drifting along like a rogue star. With a sigh, I thanked her for her help tonight. She annoyed the hell out of me, but she did help.
<gratitude>
She responded with a laugh like birdsong, and then spoke. A vision of eggs hatching, my mother holding me as an infant, the sun rising over the horizon. A feeling of hope.
(beginning)
Indeed. Things would be different from now on. I'd be more than just Taylor Hebert.
<agreement>
<union>
Our link surged as I drew on it, copying her form into my well. I unzipped the back of the borrowed jumpsuit and let the change come.
Feathers twirled and grew, elongating into elegant, alabaster white wings. Wings upon wings, asymmetrical, folded around me like an embrace. I brushed my hands across my feathers, letting the tips and edges play through my fingers. It was something I did whenever I took her form. Something about the softness of her wings, that I could touch them this way, when I knew them to be razor sharp and as hard as iron. Something about that delighted me. Maybe I felt closer to her by doing it.
I contented myself with that while I waited. The next change typically took a little longer, probably to let my body reconfigure for the necessary power. After a few minutes, my senses expanded, extending around me in a field. My telekinetic range was larger than it was last time. I pulled myself into the air with it, leaving the earth without ever using my wings. It was only when I reached the end of my range that I spread them.
They opened all at once, blooming around me like a flower. I stretched them to their limit, enjoying their increased size. My new muscles ached to be used. There was no way I'd run home as Leviathan. Not when I could do this.
With my heart lighter than it had been in weeks, I took flight in a shower of shining feathers. And when I laughed, cheering my delight into the sky, I sounded just like her.
<joy>
1.4
It was nearly 3am by the time we finished. I'd gone through an endless battery of tests and exams at the hands of the PRT medical staff. Some were simple- blood samples, heart rate, listening to my lungs, things I'd see at any regular hospital. Others used machines more advanced than anything I'd seen before; some I thought might even be tinkermade.
Regardless of whether I understood them, all the tests were still awkward and uncomfortable. Paper gowns and doctors with cold, cold hands were not the way I wanted to spend my first night as a hero.
My embarrassment was compounded by the presence of Armsmaster and Chariot. The older hero insisted that they be there to figure what had gone wrong. I had the feeling that he blamed Chariot for what had happened. My money was on myself rather than Chariot. How was he supposed to know that I was some kind of… whatever the hell I was?
The tests finally ended, and everyone filed out of the room so I could get dressed. The clothes I'd worn were basically bloody rags, so I just let the doctors throw them away. For a replacement, I was given a plain black bodysuit. It was one of the spare costumes they had on hand for when a cape got their clothes damaged.
I wasn't keen on wearing a bodysuit, but once I actually got it on I was gratified by what I saw. All the weeks I'd spent training my powers had been weeks spent running. I still wasn't going to win any beauty contests, but for the first time in my life, I could look at myself and like what I saw. That revelation almost made up for having to go through all the medical tests.
As a bonus, the costume came with a full-face mask. I had to put my hair up to get it on, but I felt better once I did. Aegis and Kid Win may have known what I looked like, but I didn't intend to share with anyone else tonight. I'd left my bandanna on during the exams, but it was a pretty pitiful disguise. When I made my own costume, I'd definitely have something more concealing.
Part of me was worried that the PRT could track me down now. They had blood samples, and they'd seen most of my face, so it couldn't be too hard for them. I just had a feeling that they wouldn't. Like it'd be against the Rules that Kid Win told me about. On a more cynical level, I reasoned that it'd be a bad move for them to track me down using medical information I'd given freely. A violation of my confidence or something.
Once I had the costume on, I went into the waiting room. The clock on the wall read 3:14. By the time I got home, it'd be time for me to get up. There was no way I was going to school on no sleep. It'd be like painting a bullseye on my back. I'd have to tell Dad that I was sick, or maybe just skip school once he left. As it was, my whole body ached from the teleport, and the late hour was catching up with me.
Chariot and Armsmaster had their heads together with the doctors, poring over some papers. They looked up as I approached. Chariot grinned uneasily.
"H-hey. We got your results back." He said. He was nervous. Did he think I was mad about the teleport?
Armsmaster rifled through the papers before selecting one and handing it to me.
"The summary of your analysis." He said. "Your results were within normal ranges for a teenage girl on almost all counts."
"Almost?" I said. Did they know? Had they somehow found out about my link to the others?
"Yes." He pointed to a highlighted section on one page. "There's an unknown crystal compound in your blood. We're assuming that it's linked to your powers, but that's just a theory. Do you have any idea what it is?"
(caution)
Simurgh spoke to me. I had been about to lie to Armsmaster and tell him that I had no idea what they were. She was indicating that it was dangerous somehow. Dangerous to lie, but telling him the truth would be suicide. Regardless of who I was, they weren't going to tolerate someone with my abilities running around.
She thought this was a big enough deal to force our link. I hadn't been connected with her like I was with Leviathan. She had initiated contact all on her own. Our contact earlier had been for a joke, but she was all business now. This was the first time it had happened. She was usually content just to meddle for fun. If she was serious, then it was vitally important that Armsmaster trust me.
She spoke again. Images of bent arrows, lines curving in the sand, fingers broken, paths that doubled back on themselves. A feeling of deception.
(mislead)
She wanted me to bend the truth.
I glanced over the forms for a moment, pretending to study them. I couldn't make heads or tails of them, but stalling gave me time to think. Finally, I looked up, meeting Armsmaster's gaze. It was hard to make out his eyes behind his visor, but I did my best to meet them.
"I'm not sure what they are, but I think you're right about my powers. I didn't explain how they worked, did I?" I said.
Armsmaster shook his head. "Would you mind?"
"Sure." I said. Chariot leaned in, looking interested. "I can uh- sort of ping people with my powers. People I ping-"
"Ping?" Chariot interrupted.
"Like radar. I send out a wave and bounce it off someone. Whoever I ping, I can copy their powers." None of that was untrue, I'd just left out some key details.
"You can use this on anyone? How many at a time?" Armsmaster said. He was having a hard time keeping the amazement out of his voice.
His response actually raised more questions for me. Could I hit someone who wasn't an Endbringer? I was linked to Simurgh and Leviathan at the same time, could I mimic both their powers? When I answered, I didn't have to fake my surprise.
"I didn't think of that. So far I've had trouble not hitting people at random. Like tonight, I got the wrong powers for what I wanted to do, and things got messed up. I've got a bunch of drawbacks like that. It takes forever to charge up my powers, and I only get a watered down version of the people I copy."
All of that was true as well. I was actually pleased at how well I'd maneuvered. Simurgh would be proud.
Armsmaster rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "That's quite an ability you've got. Would you mind going through some more tests? We could examine your power and see how it affects Chariot's tech."
Chariot cleared his throat. "Sir, it's 3:30. I have school in the morning. Chimera probably does too." Armsmaster looked between us. I nodded at what Chariot had said. I wasn't going to school, but I damn well wasn't spending all night getting tested.
"I suppose it is getting late." Armsmaster said. "Chariot, you're dismissed. Chimera, would you be able to come back tomorrow? I'd like to talk to you about joining the Wards. We all got a little… distracted tonight." He smiled for the first time.
"Sure. It shouldn't be a problem." I said. The Wards. They were really serious about it.
Armsmaster handed me a business card. "That has my contact information on it. Use it if you can't come or need to reschedule."
"Sorry about the teleporter." Chariot said again. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine. Really." I actually felt like I'd gone ten rounds with Behemoth, but Chariot seemed pretty upset about the whole thing. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
"Y-yeah, I just didn't want- I mean, as long as you're okay." He said, shifting uncomfortably.
"We'll work on it tomorrow. The test samples I sent to Dragon should be back by then." Armsmaster said. "Chimera, I'll walk you out." He moved toward the door and I fell into step beside him.
"Did you say 'Dragon'?" I asked. "The Dragon?"
"Yes. I sent a copy of your test results and a sample of your blood to her."
"I thought Dragon mostly made power armor and stuff?"
Armsmaster paused as we got into an elevator. I could barely feel when it started moving.
"Dragon works with many of the PRT's tinkers. She's versatile. Biology is not one of my strong fields, but it's one that she's familiar with, so I asked for her help."
The elevator stopped and we got out in the lobby. It was empty but for a few guards at the desk.
"That's pretty impressive that she can do all that." I said.
"Yes, yes it is." Armsmaster smiled again. "Dragon is quite impressive."
I was surprised at how much a smile changed his demeanor. I thought I might like him better if he smiled more. It made him more human.
We walked to the exit. The automatic doors slid open as we approached, letting in the chilly night air. I could see the night sky, washed out by the city lights, stars twinkling faintly in the background. The breeze carried the salty tang of the ocean, and I inhaled deeply, drinking it in. After hours in the sterile PRT medical ward, it was absolutely beautiful.
Armsmaster held out a hand and I shook it. "I hope to see you again, Chimera." He said simply, already turning to leave.
As I walked away, I angled away from the path leading to the docks, heading into a patch of deep shadow by the edge of the artificial island. The spot was dark; the spotlights covering the rest of the area were burnt out. It wasn't a perfect spot, but it was better than standing in the open.
I looked up, watching the sky. I could feel her, far overhead, drifting along like a rogue star. With a sigh, I thanked her for her help tonight. She annoyed the hell out of me, but she did help.
<gratitude>
She responded with a laugh like birdsong, and then spoke. A vision of eggs hatching, my mother holding me as an infant, the sun rising over the horizon. A feeling of hope.
(beginning)
Indeed. Things would be different from now on. I'd be more than just Taylor Hebert.
<agreement>
<union>
Our link surged as I drew on it, copying her form into my well. I unzipped the back of the borrowed jumpsuit and let the change come.
Feathers twirled and grew, elongating into elegant, alabaster white wings. Wings upon wings, asymmetrical, folded around me like an embrace. I brushed my hands across my feathers, letting the tips and edges play through my fingers. It was something I did whenever I took her form. Something about the softness of her wings, that I could touch them this way, when I knew them to be razor sharp and as hard as iron. Something about that delighted me. Maybe I felt closer to her by doing it.
I contented myself with that while I waited. The next change typically took a little longer, probably to let my body reconfigure for the necessary power. After a few minutes, my senses expanded, extending around me in a field. My telekinetic range was larger than it was last time. I pulled myself into the air with it, leaving the earth without ever using my wings. It was only when I reached the end of my range that I spread them.
They opened all at once, blooming around me like a flower. I stretched them to their limit, enjoying their increased size. My new muscles ached to be used. There was no way I'd run home as Leviathan. Not when I could do this.
With my heart lighter than it had been in weeks, I took flight in a shower of shining feathers. And when I laughed, cheering my delight into the sky, I sounded just like her.
<joy>
Chimera 5
Chimera
1.5
I woke to the sound of something breaking. That something was my alarm clock, and it was broken because I'd just smashed it flat. I groaned, slumping back into my sheets. What a stupid cliché. I thought that kind of thing only happened in movies. It took a few more moments of grumbling before I realized what I'd just done.
I didn't have the ability to hit that hard. It was only when I was transformed that I could-
Shit. I jerked out of bed, flinging the covers aside. I was normal, except for my arm. It was scaly all the way to the shoulder, and my claws were back. I'd just used Leviathan's form to pulverize my clock.
Not only had I transformed in my sleep, I'd done it without being connected to Leviathan. I'd broken my links with him and Simurgh before I fell asleep. I was alone in my head, and I could still feel their forms. That meant there was a distinction between the link and the form. Until this point, I'd just considered them the same, and banished the form when I broke the link. I must have forgotten last night and kept the forms. If I could hold onto the copies indefinitely, then one of my biggest drawbacks had just disappeared.
Dad's footsteps on the stairs interrupted my thoughts. I had a suspiciously smashed clock and a very obvious monster-arm. Okay, I'd hide the clock and- a feather drifted onto the covers. I checked with my non-Leviathan hand. My hair was full of loose feathers. Loose, shining white Simurgh feathers that I'd forgotten to reabsorb were tangled in my curls. More of them fell out as I probed my hair.
Dad was coming down the hall now. I scrambled into motion, trying to do everything at once. I snatched up pieces of the clock with one hand, while picking up feathers with the other. At the same time, I focused on my power, imposing my form over Leviathan's. The scales began receding in waves, sliding back under my skin and disappearing.
My claws retracted right as I picked up the final piece of clock, and I fumbled the entire handful. It crashed to the floor, scattering broken bits everywhere. My frantic movements had only dislodged more feathers, most of which fluttered down to join the clock on the floor.
Dad was at the door, and there was no way to pick up everything in time. I resorted to the only option I had. The refuge of all kids in trouble. I hid under the covers. A second later, Dad opened the door a crack.
"Taylor? I heard a crash, are you alright?" He said quietly.
I hadn't been alright in a very long time. But I couldn't tell him that; he had enough troubles of his own. It wouldn't be right to burden him with mine. I settled for groaning, my voice muffled by my blankets.
"Broke the clock."
"I can see that. It's- are those feathers?" He said.
I groaned more. "I think the comforter ripped when I dropped the clock." I let some of my tiredness bleed through into my voice. It wasn't something I had to fake; I'd only gotten about two hours of sleep, and my body still ached from last night's misadventures.
"Are you alright? You don't sound good." His voice sounded nearer.
"Just give me a minute. I'm really dizzy."
"Should I call a doctor?"
I needed to gamble. 'I'm dizzy' wasn't convincing material. Slowly, I stirred from under the covers and looked at him.
"You tell me."
I could only imagine how I looked, but judging by how I felt, it couldn't be too good. He stared for a moment, and then burst into laughter. I almost didn't believe what I was seeing. It was fully-bodied, hands on knees, red-faced laughter.
"Oh Taylor… You're covered in feathers. It looks like you're turning into a bird."
I ran a hand through my hair, and pretended to look surprised at the feather I pulled free. I tossed it away and flopped back on my pillow with a groan. The motion sent feathers flying everywhere. Dad started laughing again. I wanted to scold him, but hearing him crack up was almost unreal. How long had it been since I heard him laugh like that?
"My daughter, the bird girl." He bit back a chuckle "You do look sick though. Do you want to stay home?"
"Yes." No way was I going to play coy and risk going to school this tired. The girls would notice weakness like that in a heartbeat. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.
"They aren't… you're doing okay at school, right?" He asked. I hated the concern in his voice. I hated it even more that he knew. He had his problems, and there was nothing he could do to help me, but he'd still worry anyway. All I was doing was making things worse for him.
"Things have been better since- …since then. They got bored and stopped."
He exhaled, some of the tension leaving his face. "You'd tell me if it started up again, wouldn't you?"
Glue on the seats in first period. Rumors in second. A shove in the hall on the way to third. Lunch spent hiding, or more often, failing to hide. Tripped on the stairs going to fourth. More words in fifth…
"Yeah. I'd tell you." I lied to him with a straight face.
He reached out, and I flinched away from the motion. He stopped, his hand outstretched, wearing an expression I'd never seen before. We stared at each other, and I found I couldn't meet his gaze. Not when he looked like that; the corners of his mouth twisting down like he was in pain, his eyes boring into me. Finally, he pulled his hand away and stood up.
"Taylor… I- please, talk to me when you're ready." He walked to the door, broken clock pieces crunching underfoot. He stopped, looking back at me, and I thought he would say something, but he didn't.
After he left for work, I sat there for a long time, looking at the mess around me. What was I supposed to do? He couldn't help, and telling him only hurt him worse. I couldn't let him know the full truth until I had an escape. I'd tell him when I joined the Wards. I'd go to Arcadia and be done with the whole thing. Until then, I'd lie without hesitation; because it was better that he didn't know.
I said that. I had all my plans and rationalizations, but they didn't erase that look Dad had worn from my memory. For all my concerns about not hurting him, I was still doing it.
When I finally dragged myself out of bed any excitement I might have had towards today was gone. After checking that Dad was definitely at work, I headed for the basement. I needed to get a handle on my powers before I blew my cover.
Sitting on the basement floor, I probed inward, into my well. Leviathan and Simurgh's forms were still there. It was like they were submerged in my power. Until I pulled them free, they were dormant, waiting to be used.
I drew on Leviathan, pulling his shape from my memory, imposing it over my own. Scales slid out from under my skin in neat rows. Claws sprouted, and after a moment of blindness, my water vision returned. I tested with my eyes closed. I could feel the water around me like I had last night. I didn't really need my eyes to do it. That made them more of an interface than a necessity. That also meant it wasn't really water-vision, more like water-sensing, or hydrokinesis or something.
As I examined myself, I realized that using my power was like allowing the new form a share of my body. My own form was still there, but I was letting Leviathan overlap it. That led to a series of experiments drawing on his form in greater and lesser amounts.
It took some effort, but I eventually got a handle on the degree to which I changed. I got the best results when I took the change slowly. I'd let myself gradually change until I hit a certain point, and then I'd push the rest of his form away.
At the highest level I was willing to let it go, using Leviathan's form left me almost 7 feet tall, with a full coat of thick, reptilian scales and the beginnings of a tail. My limits grew every time I channeled forms. My transformation last night hadn't been anything as big as this. The more I let his form dominate, the sharper my water-sensing got. I still couldn't manipulate water though, which irked me. That was his basic power, and I couldn't use it.
Going that far was interesting, but it wasn't something I planned on doing with the Wards. There was just too much risk of someone recognizing who I was copying. Leviathan I might be able to pass off as another cape, but Simurgh was painfully obvious. No one had wings like hers.
…wings that I'd used in front of the PRT HQ last night. It had been dark out, but I'd still used them. That wasn't something I could pull again. I'd have to find a different way to fly.
With that weighing on me, I continued my experiments with Leviathan. I let his form recede until it was at its barest minimum. My physical changes returned to normal, but I kept his water-sensing. That earned a shrug. It was a decent enough sensory ability, and I could use it without any transformations. I could probably use it to track criminals.
My stomach growled, and I checked my watch. 9:20. Knowing that school had started and that I wasn't there was a relief. I'd dodged another day. I was feeling a little better already from my experiments, and this newest knowledge clinched things. It was breakfast time.
On a whim, I held onto Leviathan's form as I made breakfast. It wasn't good for much more than a novelty, but seeing water move in the pipes was still neat. Thinking of the long day ahead of me, I whipped up an omelet. Something to keep me going at the PRT.
I set the pan in the sink to soak, and headed for the table. I had my omelet in one hand, and my orange juice in another. I'd turn today around. I'd become a hero, and then I could finally tell Dad everyth-
I tripped over an old newspaper on the floor. The omelet stuck to the plate, but my juice flew into the air. My new senses made it worse. I could feel exactly how and where the juice was going to splatter across the kitchen. I reached out helplessly, trying to catch some of it in the now empty glass. There was no chance. It arced in slow-motion across the kitchen.
I saw it in freefall, it was going to hit the floor and-
… it stopped. The orange juice hung in a frozen spray. I gaped at it. How the hell did I do that? I pulled on it, using my power. It didn't move. I pushed. Nothing. Just like last night, nothing I tried did anything to the water. But when I saw it about to splash, it just stopped? Was it subconscious?
How did Leviathan move water? I didn't know. Was that… I groaned. It couldn't be that easy. It was just like Simurgh's telekinesis. I didn't have to think about it, I just used it. His hydrokinesis wasn't from some magic beam, he just willed the water to move, and it moved. I'd been overthinking it.
This time, I didn't reach out with my power, I just knew that the juice would move, in the same way that I knew my arms would move if I wanted them to. Every drop flew back into my glass.
I raised my hands in victory. "Hydro-fucking-kinesis!"
My omelet was delicious.
XXX
After breakfast, I returned to my tests with new vigor.
I pushed Leviathan's template away and pulled Simurgh's to the surface. I didn't need to test her upper limits like I did with him. I'd gone that far last night. That, and her wings wouldn't fit in the basement. Instead, I focused on her lower limits. Just like with Leviathan, I had a level where I got her powers but didn't transform.
The plate wobbled, but I levitated it from across the basement and pulled it to me like a frisbee. My range was about the same as last night, 15-feet or so. My main issue there was weight limits. I could lift small objects at range without trouble, but anything over 20 pounds was a serious effort.
And that didn't make sense. I could lift myself easily. I definitely weighed more than 20 lbs, especially in her form. I tested it, pulling myself into the air until I touched the ceiling. It was effortless. I decided that I needed to be on the ceiling, and I was. Stupid limits.
The wall clock told me that it was going on 11am, and I decided that I'd had enough basement tests for one day. I floated back down to the floor. I'd head over to the PRT now and-… how? Was I really going to take the bus over there?
I could fly, but Simurgh was too obvious. Leviathan could probably run on rooftops without any trouble. I hadn't tested it, but I had a feeling that my physical abilities in his form, even at the lowest level, were still superhuman. The PRT Headquarters were on the other side of the city though. I didn't think I could make the run even with his powers.
I'd could use both and fly part way, and then run the rest. Or I could… I could use both.
A grin spread across my face.
1.5
I woke to the sound of something breaking. That something was my alarm clock, and it was broken because I'd just smashed it flat. I groaned, slumping back into my sheets. What a stupid cliché. I thought that kind of thing only happened in movies. It took a few more moments of grumbling before I realized what I'd just done.
I didn't have the ability to hit that hard. It was only when I was transformed that I could-
Shit. I jerked out of bed, flinging the covers aside. I was normal, except for my arm. It was scaly all the way to the shoulder, and my claws were back. I'd just used Leviathan's form to pulverize my clock.
Not only had I transformed in my sleep, I'd done it without being connected to Leviathan. I'd broken my links with him and Simurgh before I fell asleep. I was alone in my head, and I could still feel their forms. That meant there was a distinction between the link and the form. Until this point, I'd just considered them the same, and banished the form when I broke the link. I must have forgotten last night and kept the forms. If I could hold onto the copies indefinitely, then one of my biggest drawbacks had just disappeared.
Dad's footsteps on the stairs interrupted my thoughts. I had a suspiciously smashed clock and a very obvious monster-arm. Okay, I'd hide the clock and- a feather drifted onto the covers. I checked with my non-Leviathan hand. My hair was full of loose feathers. Loose, shining white Simurgh feathers that I'd forgotten to reabsorb were tangled in my curls. More of them fell out as I probed my hair.
Dad was coming down the hall now. I scrambled into motion, trying to do everything at once. I snatched up pieces of the clock with one hand, while picking up feathers with the other. At the same time, I focused on my power, imposing my form over Leviathan's. The scales began receding in waves, sliding back under my skin and disappearing.
My claws retracted right as I picked up the final piece of clock, and I fumbled the entire handful. It crashed to the floor, scattering broken bits everywhere. My frantic movements had only dislodged more feathers, most of which fluttered down to join the clock on the floor.
Dad was at the door, and there was no way to pick up everything in time. I resorted to the only option I had. The refuge of all kids in trouble. I hid under the covers. A second later, Dad opened the door a crack.
"Taylor? I heard a crash, are you alright?" He said quietly.
I hadn't been alright in a very long time. But I couldn't tell him that; he had enough troubles of his own. It wouldn't be right to burden him with mine. I settled for groaning, my voice muffled by my blankets.
"Broke the clock."
"I can see that. It's- are those feathers?" He said.
I groaned more. "I think the comforter ripped when I dropped the clock." I let some of my tiredness bleed through into my voice. It wasn't something I had to fake; I'd only gotten about two hours of sleep, and my body still ached from last night's misadventures.
"Are you alright? You don't sound good." His voice sounded nearer.
"Just give me a minute. I'm really dizzy."
"Should I call a doctor?"
I needed to gamble. 'I'm dizzy' wasn't convincing material. Slowly, I stirred from under the covers and looked at him.
"You tell me."
I could only imagine how I looked, but judging by how I felt, it couldn't be too good. He stared for a moment, and then burst into laughter. I almost didn't believe what I was seeing. It was fully-bodied, hands on knees, red-faced laughter.
"Oh Taylor… You're covered in feathers. It looks like you're turning into a bird."
I ran a hand through my hair, and pretended to look surprised at the feather I pulled free. I tossed it away and flopped back on my pillow with a groan. The motion sent feathers flying everywhere. Dad started laughing again. I wanted to scold him, but hearing him crack up was almost unreal. How long had it been since I heard him laugh like that?
"My daughter, the bird girl." He bit back a chuckle "You do look sick though. Do you want to stay home?"
"Yes." No way was I going to play coy and risk going to school this tired. The girls would notice weakness like that in a heartbeat. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.
"They aren't… you're doing okay at school, right?" He asked. I hated the concern in his voice. I hated it even more that he knew. He had his problems, and there was nothing he could do to help me, but he'd still worry anyway. All I was doing was making things worse for him.
"Things have been better since- …since then. They got bored and stopped."
He exhaled, some of the tension leaving his face. "You'd tell me if it started up again, wouldn't you?"
Glue on the seats in first period. Rumors in second. A shove in the hall on the way to third. Lunch spent hiding, or more often, failing to hide. Tripped on the stairs going to fourth. More words in fifth…
"Yeah. I'd tell you." I lied to him with a straight face.
He reached out, and I flinched away from the motion. He stopped, his hand outstretched, wearing an expression I'd never seen before. We stared at each other, and I found I couldn't meet his gaze. Not when he looked like that; the corners of his mouth twisting down like he was in pain, his eyes boring into me. Finally, he pulled his hand away and stood up.
"Taylor… I- please, talk to me when you're ready." He walked to the door, broken clock pieces crunching underfoot. He stopped, looking back at me, and I thought he would say something, but he didn't.
After he left for work, I sat there for a long time, looking at the mess around me. What was I supposed to do? He couldn't help, and telling him only hurt him worse. I couldn't let him know the full truth until I had an escape. I'd tell him when I joined the Wards. I'd go to Arcadia and be done with the whole thing. Until then, I'd lie without hesitation; because it was better that he didn't know.
I said that. I had all my plans and rationalizations, but they didn't erase that look Dad had worn from my memory. For all my concerns about not hurting him, I was still doing it.
When I finally dragged myself out of bed any excitement I might have had towards today was gone. After checking that Dad was definitely at work, I headed for the basement. I needed to get a handle on my powers before I blew my cover.
Sitting on the basement floor, I probed inward, into my well. Leviathan and Simurgh's forms were still there. It was like they were submerged in my power. Until I pulled them free, they were dormant, waiting to be used.
I drew on Leviathan, pulling his shape from my memory, imposing it over my own. Scales slid out from under my skin in neat rows. Claws sprouted, and after a moment of blindness, my water vision returned. I tested with my eyes closed. I could feel the water around me like I had last night. I didn't really need my eyes to do it. That made them more of an interface than a necessity. That also meant it wasn't really water-vision, more like water-sensing, or hydrokinesis or something.
As I examined myself, I realized that using my power was like allowing the new form a share of my body. My own form was still there, but I was letting Leviathan overlap it. That led to a series of experiments drawing on his form in greater and lesser amounts.
It took some effort, but I eventually got a handle on the degree to which I changed. I got the best results when I took the change slowly. I'd let myself gradually change until I hit a certain point, and then I'd push the rest of his form away.
At the highest level I was willing to let it go, using Leviathan's form left me almost 7 feet tall, with a full coat of thick, reptilian scales and the beginnings of a tail. My limits grew every time I channeled forms. My transformation last night hadn't been anything as big as this. The more I let his form dominate, the sharper my water-sensing got. I still couldn't manipulate water though, which irked me. That was his basic power, and I couldn't use it.
Going that far was interesting, but it wasn't something I planned on doing with the Wards. There was just too much risk of someone recognizing who I was copying. Leviathan I might be able to pass off as another cape, but Simurgh was painfully obvious. No one had wings like hers.
…wings that I'd used in front of the PRT HQ last night. It had been dark out, but I'd still used them. That wasn't something I could pull again. I'd have to find a different way to fly.
With that weighing on me, I continued my experiments with Leviathan. I let his form recede until it was at its barest minimum. My physical changes returned to normal, but I kept his water-sensing. That earned a shrug. It was a decent enough sensory ability, and I could use it without any transformations. I could probably use it to track criminals.
My stomach growled, and I checked my watch. 9:20. Knowing that school had started and that I wasn't there was a relief. I'd dodged another day. I was feeling a little better already from my experiments, and this newest knowledge clinched things. It was breakfast time.
On a whim, I held onto Leviathan's form as I made breakfast. It wasn't good for much more than a novelty, but seeing water move in the pipes was still neat. Thinking of the long day ahead of me, I whipped up an omelet. Something to keep me going at the PRT.
I set the pan in the sink to soak, and headed for the table. I had my omelet in one hand, and my orange juice in another. I'd turn today around. I'd become a hero, and then I could finally tell Dad everyth-
I tripped over an old newspaper on the floor. The omelet stuck to the plate, but my juice flew into the air. My new senses made it worse. I could feel exactly how and where the juice was going to splatter across the kitchen. I reached out helplessly, trying to catch some of it in the now empty glass. There was no chance. It arced in slow-motion across the kitchen.
I saw it in freefall, it was going to hit the floor and-
… it stopped. The orange juice hung in a frozen spray. I gaped at it. How the hell did I do that? I pulled on it, using my power. It didn't move. I pushed. Nothing. Just like last night, nothing I tried did anything to the water. But when I saw it about to splash, it just stopped? Was it subconscious?
How did Leviathan move water? I didn't know. Was that… I groaned. It couldn't be that easy. It was just like Simurgh's telekinesis. I didn't have to think about it, I just used it. His hydrokinesis wasn't from some magic beam, he just willed the water to move, and it moved. I'd been overthinking it.
This time, I didn't reach out with my power, I just knew that the juice would move, in the same way that I knew my arms would move if I wanted them to. Every drop flew back into my glass.
I raised my hands in victory. "Hydro-fucking-kinesis!"
My omelet was delicious.
XXX
After breakfast, I returned to my tests with new vigor.
I pushed Leviathan's template away and pulled Simurgh's to the surface. I didn't need to test her upper limits like I did with him. I'd gone that far last night. That, and her wings wouldn't fit in the basement. Instead, I focused on her lower limits. Just like with Leviathan, I had a level where I got her powers but didn't transform.
The plate wobbled, but I levitated it from across the basement and pulled it to me like a frisbee. My range was about the same as last night, 15-feet or so. My main issue there was weight limits. I could lift small objects at range without trouble, but anything over 20 pounds was a serious effort.
And that didn't make sense. I could lift myself easily. I definitely weighed more than 20 lbs, especially in her form. I tested it, pulling myself into the air until I touched the ceiling. It was effortless. I decided that I needed to be on the ceiling, and I was. Stupid limits.
The wall clock told me that it was going on 11am, and I decided that I'd had enough basement tests for one day. I floated back down to the floor. I'd head over to the PRT now and-… how? Was I really going to take the bus over there?
I could fly, but Simurgh was too obvious. Leviathan could probably run on rooftops without any trouble. I hadn't tested it, but I had a feeling that my physical abilities in his form, even at the lowest level, were still superhuman. The PRT Headquarters were on the other side of the city though. I didn't think I could make the run even with his powers.
I'd could use both and fly part way, and then run the rest. Or I could… I could use both.
A grin spread across my face.
Chimera 6
Chimera
1.6
Brockton Bay looked different from the air. Nicer, somehow. My only flights so far had been at night, so seeing the city during the day was a change. It was a welcome change. Nighttime hid the city's flaws, but daylight reminded me that it was still alive. Even if the buildings were rundown, or there were neighborhoods where the only color was graffiti, I could see the people.
They were tiny from where I was at, but I could still see them. There were just so many of them. Brockton Bay wasn't the largest city around, but it had never quite hit me how many people lived here. All of them, scurrying about the city, just trying to live their lives. Seeing it like this, looking at the city as a whole, was like stepping back and having the pieces of a Magic Eye fall together.
Dad had spent so much time fighting to fix Brockton, and I'd never quite got it until now. It was about the people. All the people. The people were the city. What affected the city affected the people. By trying to fix the city, Dad was trying to help them.
It was big picture stuff. You help the city improve, and that helps the people. Love flashed through me as I thought of Dad. Was there ever a time when he wasn't fighting to keep things going for his workers? I needed to tell him how proud I was of him sometime.
I hit a crossbreeze and turned with it, soaring out towards the bay. Gaps in the clouds sent sunlight onto the water in huge glittering arcs. The wind carried me across one, and I rose high into the sky on a thermal. Even at this height, it was still warm out, and I was content to just glide along, riding the thermals as I basked in the sun.
In the distance, I could see the rusted hulks that blocked the north part of the bay. So much of the city was affected by the Ship Graveyard. How much easier would Dad's job be if shipping came back? I made a note- no. I promised myself- I'd find a way to fix the Graveyard. How could I have Leviathan's form and not use it to fix the giant underwater problem that was the Graveyard?
From the way it flowed, the wind current I was on went out to sea. I banked to the right and dropped out of it. A long arcing turn took me back towards the city. The Protectorate Headquarters was straight ahead, floating in the harbor. There was a faint soap bubble sheen around it where the forcefields were. I was flying against the wind now, and had to start using my wings rather than gliding.
My wings were weak and undeveloped. They burned with the effort of flying into the wind. It wasn't like flying using Simurgh's borrowed form. Her wings had come with strength, stamina, and the knowledge to use them. My new wings were something I'd created with my power. They needed to be developed like any other muscle, and I needed to be familiar with how they worked.
It would take some work to get them up to scratch, but at least no one would mistake me for Simurgh now. I'd changed their form completely. Her angelic wings were just too distinctive. The new ones were bat-like, almost dragonish. They were still white, but rather than Simurgh's alabaster, mine were like sun-bleached bone.
During my experiments, I'd eventually figured out that I could use my own shape as a template. In the same way I had "Leviathan" and "Simurgh" shapes, I also had a "Taylor" shape. I had total control over the shapes of any of my templates. I could mix and match them as I pleased, and combine them into new forms.
My wings were built using Simurgh's as a base, with a modified structure of my hands imposed over them. I'd reasoned that bat wings were basically specialized hands, so I'd worked with mine as the reference. Leviathan's leathery hide formed the skin on the wings; I wanted them to be durable. My skin formed the wing membranes. It was creepy, but it worked.
As I neared the PRT HQ, I circled around, well outside the forcefield range. There was a dock where visitors arrived that led to the front entrance. I stopped there, lowering myself to the ground with careful wing beats. Newly arrived visitors pointed up at me; some even pulled out cameras.
I let my wings retract, the flesh melding together until it sank back into my body. I'd had to cut slits in the back of another hoodie, but it hadn't felt right to show up in the costume they'd given me. I'd worn white today. It blended with the clouds and gave off a better impression than black. It had meant that I'd had to fall back on my hood/bandanna combo, though.
All the PRT officers in the area came running. Two began herding the visitors away, while the rest stood a cautious distance away from me. No one had drawn weapons yet, but the way they were looking at me was definitely hostile.
"Identify yourself!" One officer barked. The others were fanning out to circle me.
I held my hands up. "I'm Chimera. I have an appointment with Armsmaster. Here, let me just-" I very slowly, very non-threateningly, reached into my pocket and pulled out Armsmaster's business card.
The officer who'd spoken moved forward to take it. He stepped away from me, and then looked it over. The other officers kept watching me while he spoke into his radio. After a moment, he turned back to me and nodded.
"Miss, please come with me." That was a pretty neutral answer, but the other officers were walking back to their posts, so it seemed like I was okay. He led me into the building and we stopped at the front desk. I waited as he spoke to the attendant, who handed me a 'Guest' badge.
"Keep that on at all times." My escort said.
Now that I was up-close, I saw that his badge read 'Jackson.' He held out a hand toward the elevator, and we walked toward it. I noticed that despite him leading me, he always kept an eye on me and never showed me his back. Was he just paranoid, or were the PRT that worried about strange capes?
We rode in the same elevator I'd used with Armsmaster the night before. It took us up to one of the highest floors in a matter of moments. The doors opened onto a waiting room. It was well furnished, but it was definitely just a waiting room. Uncomfortable chairs, fake plant, glasstop table, etc.
"Armsmaster is in a meeting. You'll need to wait here. Please don't leave this room."
With that, he returned to the elevator and left. Geez. I wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but that guy made me look like a charmer. I hoped all the PRT officers weren't that bad. At least all the capes I'd met so far were nice.
I sat down on one of the chairs. There was a stack of magazines on the table. I pretended to leaf through one while I focused my power. Simurgh had saved me during my conversation with Armsmaster. I wanted my link to her active, just in case.
For all the progress I'd made with my other powers today, linking to the Endbringers was just as arduous as it was last night. My power gathered slowly, rising up within me. The magazine pages blurred as my eyes unfocused. Jackson hadn't said when Armsmaster would see me. I needed to get the signal sent out before then. It'd take a while for her to ping and respond, but as long as it was sent, I'd have a chance.
The tick-tock of the clock on the wall actually helped me focus. Most noise threw me off, but the monotonous rhythm of the clock was something I could drift into; something to force other distractions away. I risked a glance at it and saw that I'd been sitting for almost 15 minutes.
The magazine crumpled in my hand as I forced myself to focus. I wasn't going to mess it up now, not when I was so close. My well filled, drop by metaphorical drop… I was nearly there. Almost… just… about… there!
Without hesitation, I released the wave, willing it to focus on my skyborn sister. Behemoth and Leviathan would be useless in this situation. They knew tactics and strategy, but Simurgh just couldn't be beat with all her pre-, post-, and various other cognitions. If talking to the other two was like having a phone conversation, Simurgh was like having someone in the room with you.
I let out a deep breath and slumped back in my chair. For something that was basically sitting quietly and meditating, charging my power was pretty stressful. I'd gotten the wave out though. Now all I could do was wait and hope. If I was lucky, she'd respond before Armsmaster showed-
(sister)
(busy)
(detect)
What? It'd only been a minute; she couldn't have gotten the message already. How could- oh right. Precognition. She'd seen herself getting a message or something. I tried to send a response, but there was no connection. She'd spoken to me and then broken the link.
…did she say she was busy? How was she busy? She multi-tasked like a million things at once! I focused more on what she'd said, decoding the mix of thought and intention that we spoke in.
Ripples in water, a song like glass scraped across bells, strings drawn taut, humans screaming. A sense of deepest fulfillment.
(busy)
Oh. That kind of busy. I'd basically been bothering her at work. No wonder she hadn't wanted to talk. What else had she said though?
A tightrope walker, deer bolting before the hunter, a woman stepping out of the way of a speeding truck. Wariness.
(detect)
Did she mean that I was supposed to look for something? The wariness was the same feeling she'd sent when she guided me with Armsmaster. So she wanted me to be cautious, or maybe… she wanted me to look for threats? The images she'd sent were of evading dangerous circumstances. The way my mind had translated it was "detect" though. I should look out for dangerous situations so I could avoid them?
That didn't seem right. I still didn't understand what she wanted me to do. I'd have to ask her-
(sister)
Behemoth spoke to me. But I hadn't contacted him. Had I pinged two at once?
(redirect)
He was telling me that Simurgh had redirected my wave to him. That was nice of her. He wasn't who I'd hoped for, but it was still reassuring to be connected to one of them. While I had him…
<query>
I sent him the same message Simurgh had sent me. Maybe he'd know what it meant. He responded quickly.
Birds fleeing the volcano before it erupts, the jagged line of a seismic reading, Simurgh evading one of Scion's laser blasts. Awareness.
(sight)
That… that was still confusing. It helped though. Detection. Seeing. Evading danger. They wanted me to look out for dangerous situations to avoid them. But there was more to it than that. Something I was missing. I thought of the final segment of Behemoth's message.
I'd seen her. White wings over a snowy city. Scion, little more than a silhouette within a nimbus of power. He fired a laser as thick as a house and she dodged it- wait. She didn't even dodge it. She was out of the way before he fired.
What had else had Behemoth said? Birds fleeing the volcano before it erupted. Simurgh dodging before the beam was fired. She was telling me to use her precognition to look ahead and avoid danger!
I channeled her form, keeping it below the transformation threshold. I could feel feathers slithering under my skin, waiting to be wings. After a moment, my telekinesis kicked in too. But no precognition. How was I even supposed to- I groaned with frustration. This was hydrokinesis all over again!
Wait. I'd figured out hydrokinesis by just using it. So instead of trying to force precognition, I should just use it. I closed my eyes and began clearing my mind. I focused my intention, I was going to look forward and see what my meeting with Armsmaster would be like.
…I sat there, focusing as hard as I could for a few minutes before I gave it up. The beginnings of a headache needled the back of my eyes. So I didn't know how to use precognition. Were all my powers going to be this frustrating?
The door at the end of the room opened. Armsmaster entered.
"Chimera, the Director will see you now." He said.
Didn't see that coming.
1.6
Brockton Bay looked different from the air. Nicer, somehow. My only flights so far had been at night, so seeing the city during the day was a change. It was a welcome change. Nighttime hid the city's flaws, but daylight reminded me that it was still alive. Even if the buildings were rundown, or there were neighborhoods where the only color was graffiti, I could see the people.
They were tiny from where I was at, but I could still see them. There were just so many of them. Brockton Bay wasn't the largest city around, but it had never quite hit me how many people lived here. All of them, scurrying about the city, just trying to live their lives. Seeing it like this, looking at the city as a whole, was like stepping back and having the pieces of a Magic Eye fall together.
Dad had spent so much time fighting to fix Brockton, and I'd never quite got it until now. It was about the people. All the people. The people were the city. What affected the city affected the people. By trying to fix the city, Dad was trying to help them.
It was big picture stuff. You help the city improve, and that helps the people. Love flashed through me as I thought of Dad. Was there ever a time when he wasn't fighting to keep things going for his workers? I needed to tell him how proud I was of him sometime.
I hit a crossbreeze and turned with it, soaring out towards the bay. Gaps in the clouds sent sunlight onto the water in huge glittering arcs. The wind carried me across one, and I rose high into the sky on a thermal. Even at this height, it was still warm out, and I was content to just glide along, riding the thermals as I basked in the sun.
In the distance, I could see the rusted hulks that blocked the north part of the bay. So much of the city was affected by the Ship Graveyard. How much easier would Dad's job be if shipping came back? I made a note- no. I promised myself- I'd find a way to fix the Graveyard. How could I have Leviathan's form and not use it to fix the giant underwater problem that was the Graveyard?
From the way it flowed, the wind current I was on went out to sea. I banked to the right and dropped out of it. A long arcing turn took me back towards the city. The Protectorate Headquarters was straight ahead, floating in the harbor. There was a faint soap bubble sheen around it where the forcefields were. I was flying against the wind now, and had to start using my wings rather than gliding.
My wings were weak and undeveloped. They burned with the effort of flying into the wind. It wasn't like flying using Simurgh's borrowed form. Her wings had come with strength, stamina, and the knowledge to use them. My new wings were something I'd created with my power. They needed to be developed like any other muscle, and I needed to be familiar with how they worked.
It would take some work to get them up to scratch, but at least no one would mistake me for Simurgh now. I'd changed their form completely. Her angelic wings were just too distinctive. The new ones were bat-like, almost dragonish. They were still white, but rather than Simurgh's alabaster, mine were like sun-bleached bone.
During my experiments, I'd eventually figured out that I could use my own shape as a template. In the same way I had "Leviathan" and "Simurgh" shapes, I also had a "Taylor" shape. I had total control over the shapes of any of my templates. I could mix and match them as I pleased, and combine them into new forms.
My wings were built using Simurgh's as a base, with a modified structure of my hands imposed over them. I'd reasoned that bat wings were basically specialized hands, so I'd worked with mine as the reference. Leviathan's leathery hide formed the skin on the wings; I wanted them to be durable. My skin formed the wing membranes. It was creepy, but it worked.
As I neared the PRT HQ, I circled around, well outside the forcefield range. There was a dock where visitors arrived that led to the front entrance. I stopped there, lowering myself to the ground with careful wing beats. Newly arrived visitors pointed up at me; some even pulled out cameras.
I let my wings retract, the flesh melding together until it sank back into my body. I'd had to cut slits in the back of another hoodie, but it hadn't felt right to show up in the costume they'd given me. I'd worn white today. It blended with the clouds and gave off a better impression than black. It had meant that I'd had to fall back on my hood/bandanna combo, though.
All the PRT officers in the area came running. Two began herding the visitors away, while the rest stood a cautious distance away from me. No one had drawn weapons yet, but the way they were looking at me was definitely hostile.
"Identify yourself!" One officer barked. The others were fanning out to circle me.
I held my hands up. "I'm Chimera. I have an appointment with Armsmaster. Here, let me just-" I very slowly, very non-threateningly, reached into my pocket and pulled out Armsmaster's business card.
The officer who'd spoken moved forward to take it. He stepped away from me, and then looked it over. The other officers kept watching me while he spoke into his radio. After a moment, he turned back to me and nodded.
"Miss, please come with me." That was a pretty neutral answer, but the other officers were walking back to their posts, so it seemed like I was okay. He led me into the building and we stopped at the front desk. I waited as he spoke to the attendant, who handed me a 'Guest' badge.
"Keep that on at all times." My escort said.
Now that I was up-close, I saw that his badge read 'Jackson.' He held out a hand toward the elevator, and we walked toward it. I noticed that despite him leading me, he always kept an eye on me and never showed me his back. Was he just paranoid, or were the PRT that worried about strange capes?
We rode in the same elevator I'd used with Armsmaster the night before. It took us up to one of the highest floors in a matter of moments. The doors opened onto a waiting room. It was well furnished, but it was definitely just a waiting room. Uncomfortable chairs, fake plant, glasstop table, etc.
"Armsmaster is in a meeting. You'll need to wait here. Please don't leave this room."
With that, he returned to the elevator and left. Geez. I wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but that guy made me look like a charmer. I hoped all the PRT officers weren't that bad. At least all the capes I'd met so far were nice.
I sat down on one of the chairs. There was a stack of magazines on the table. I pretended to leaf through one while I focused my power. Simurgh had saved me during my conversation with Armsmaster. I wanted my link to her active, just in case.
For all the progress I'd made with my other powers today, linking to the Endbringers was just as arduous as it was last night. My power gathered slowly, rising up within me. The magazine pages blurred as my eyes unfocused. Jackson hadn't said when Armsmaster would see me. I needed to get the signal sent out before then. It'd take a while for her to ping and respond, but as long as it was sent, I'd have a chance.
The tick-tock of the clock on the wall actually helped me focus. Most noise threw me off, but the monotonous rhythm of the clock was something I could drift into; something to force other distractions away. I risked a glance at it and saw that I'd been sitting for almost 15 minutes.
The magazine crumpled in my hand as I forced myself to focus. I wasn't going to mess it up now, not when I was so close. My well filled, drop by metaphorical drop… I was nearly there. Almost… just… about… there!
Without hesitation, I released the wave, willing it to focus on my skyborn sister. Behemoth and Leviathan would be useless in this situation. They knew tactics and strategy, but Simurgh just couldn't be beat with all her pre-, post-, and various other cognitions. If talking to the other two was like having a phone conversation, Simurgh was like having someone in the room with you.
I let out a deep breath and slumped back in my chair. For something that was basically sitting quietly and meditating, charging my power was pretty stressful. I'd gotten the wave out though. Now all I could do was wait and hope. If I was lucky, she'd respond before Armsmaster showed-
(sister)
(busy)
(detect)
What? It'd only been a minute; she couldn't have gotten the message already. How could- oh right. Precognition. She'd seen herself getting a message or something. I tried to send a response, but there was no connection. She'd spoken to me and then broken the link.
…did she say she was busy? How was she busy? She multi-tasked like a million things at once! I focused more on what she'd said, decoding the mix of thought and intention that we spoke in.
Ripples in water, a song like glass scraped across bells, strings drawn taut, humans screaming. A sense of deepest fulfillment.
(busy)
Oh. That kind of busy. I'd basically been bothering her at work. No wonder she hadn't wanted to talk. What else had she said though?
A tightrope walker, deer bolting before the hunter, a woman stepping out of the way of a speeding truck. Wariness.
(detect)
Did she mean that I was supposed to look for something? The wariness was the same feeling she'd sent when she guided me with Armsmaster. So she wanted me to be cautious, or maybe… she wanted me to look for threats? The images she'd sent were of evading dangerous circumstances. The way my mind had translated it was "detect" though. I should look out for dangerous situations so I could avoid them?
That didn't seem right. I still didn't understand what she wanted me to do. I'd have to ask her-
(sister)
Behemoth spoke to me. But I hadn't contacted him. Had I pinged two at once?
(redirect)
He was telling me that Simurgh had redirected my wave to him. That was nice of her. He wasn't who I'd hoped for, but it was still reassuring to be connected to one of them. While I had him…
<query>
I sent him the same message Simurgh had sent me. Maybe he'd know what it meant. He responded quickly.
Birds fleeing the volcano before it erupts, the jagged line of a seismic reading, Simurgh evading one of Scion's laser blasts. Awareness.
(sight)
That… that was still confusing. It helped though. Detection. Seeing. Evading danger. They wanted me to look out for dangerous situations to avoid them. But there was more to it than that. Something I was missing. I thought of the final segment of Behemoth's message.
I'd seen her. White wings over a snowy city. Scion, little more than a silhouette within a nimbus of power. He fired a laser as thick as a house and she dodged it- wait. She didn't even dodge it. She was out of the way before he fired.
What had else had Behemoth said? Birds fleeing the volcano before it erupted. Simurgh dodging before the beam was fired. She was telling me to use her precognition to look ahead and avoid danger!
I channeled her form, keeping it below the transformation threshold. I could feel feathers slithering under my skin, waiting to be wings. After a moment, my telekinesis kicked in too. But no precognition. How was I even supposed to- I groaned with frustration. This was hydrokinesis all over again!
Wait. I'd figured out hydrokinesis by just using it. So instead of trying to force precognition, I should just use it. I closed my eyes and began clearing my mind. I focused my intention, I was going to look forward and see what my meeting with Armsmaster would be like.
…I sat there, focusing as hard as I could for a few minutes before I gave it up. The beginnings of a headache needled the back of my eyes. So I didn't know how to use precognition. Were all my powers going to be this frustrating?
The door at the end of the room opened. Armsmaster entered.
"Chimera, the Director will see you now." He said.
Didn't see that coming.
Chimera 7
Chimera
1.7
Even though I'd met him before, seeing Armsmaster in a waiting room was almost surreal. Fake plant, ugly stock painting, man in power armor, watercooler. Actually, I take that back. It was surreal because it had just hit me that he was a member of the Protectorate. One of the big-name members. This was someone who had his own action figure. I'd had a conversation with the Armsmaster last night.
I leapt to my feet to shake his hand.
"H-hey." I said.
"It's good to see you again, Chimera. Please-" he gestured down the hall. We proceeded through a maze of identical looking hallways. Armsmaster was in the lead, and I trailed a few steps behind him. As I walked, I noticed there was a faint sort of… hum coming off of him. I hadn't heard it when I'd met him before.
"Do you hear that?" I asked. He turned to look at me.
"Do I hear what?"
"It's like you're humming. Kinda like how you can hear fluorescent lights buzzing."
He narrowed his eyes behind his visor. "Is this one of your powers?"
Was this one of Simurgh's abilities? I'd been trying for precog, not… whatever this was.
"I hadn't thought of that. I'm using a power I've never tried before. It was supposed to do something else. It's not really doing anything right now."
I focused on the humming. He was the only source of the noise that I could hear. Only, now that I focused on it, I didn't think I was hearing it. I stuck my fingers in my ears and the humming was still loud and clear.
"It's mental." I said.
"Possibly a Thinker ability then. It's just the humming?"
I nodded.
"We can test it after the meeting if you like. It won't interfere with meeting the Director, will it?"
"No."
He stopped at a door. It was indistinguishable from any door I'd seen so far.
"We're here."
Armsmaster directed me into a conference room. A long, polished table took up most of the space. The far wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, and I could see the Boardwalk in the distance. A woman stood looking out the windows, framed by the sky. As we entered, she turned.
She was dark-skinned, heavyset in a way that was passing into obese. Two things struck me about her. The first, was that she had presence. She was just standing there by the window, and I knew instantly that she was calling the shots in this room. It was the same force of personality that I associated with Alexandria or Simurgh. The second, was that she was humming like Armsmaster. The frequency was different though, less intense than his. It wasn't parahuman detection then. PRT officials were required to be baselines. What the hell was I picking up on?
She walked to one side of the table, and I went to the opposite. Armsmaster took up position behind her, standing against the wall.
"Chimera, this is Director Piggot. She's the head of this Protectorate Branch." Armsmaster said.
"Nice to meet you." I said. I returned her businesslike smile with one of my own. She couldn't see it, but it was the thought that counted.
"Chimera." She held out a hand, and I shook it. We both took our seats.
"Before we begin," Piggot said. "I understand that there was an accident this morning with one of our teleporters. How are you feeling?"
I blinked with surprise. "Oh- uh- I'm fine. I got checked out at the hospital downstairs and they said I was okay."
Piggot nodded. "Good. If you experience any adverse effects from the accident, please feel free to speak to our medical staff about it."
"Thank you. I'm okay at the moment, but I'll remember that."
"Very well." She set a manila folder on the table. "Now then, you were interested in joining the Wards."
"Yeah- er, yes ma'am." I stuttered. I was nervous already, and something about her reminded me of the principal at Winslow.
Piggot began explaining how the Wards worked, and the way things were set up to protect them. Some of it I liked the sound of- patrolling the city, working with the other Wards, fighting crime. Some of it I wasn't so hot on. She mentioned 'restrictions' a number of times. How were they supposed to fight crime if they kept restricting themselves?
She rifled through the folder and handed me a sheaf of papers. "The details are listed here. There's some paperwork in the back you'll need to complete."
I flipped to the paperwork, but she held up a hand to stop me. "As you are underage, your parent or legal guardian is required to sign this as well."
That gave me pause. If I wanted to join the Wards, I'd have to tell Dad. It made sense, being a Ward would be a lot easier if he was on board. I'd have to explain where I was going and where I was getting my money from, for one thing. Even if I'd intended to tell him at some point, I just hadn't thought it'd be so soon.
Maybe it was better this way. If they forced my hand, I wouldn't be able to procrastinate. He deserved to know. And he would find out when they transferred me to Arcadia- Arcadia. I'd almost forgotten.
"If I join the Wards, will I be transferred to Arcadia?" I asked.
Armsmaster leaned forward a little. "If you want. A number of the Wards have attended Arcadia, so it wouldn't be a big deal."
'Attended' as in the past-tense? Was he being deliberately vague so he wouldn't have to say that the current Wards went there? But he'd still said yes. I could escape Winslow.
Piggot and Armsmaster exchanged a glance as I sighed with relief.
"Okay. I'd want to do that." I said. "Should I call my Dad now?"
"Why don't you meet the Wards before you make any decisions?" Piggot said. "They're going to be your teammates after all."
XXX
I decided that made sense, and Armsmaster and I left the conference room to walk across the building. He turned to me as we walked.
"Did you figure out what that new power is doing?" He asked.
"Not yet. It activated for Piggot too. It wasn't as loud as it is with you though." I shrugged, "I thought it was supposed to be precognition, but I can never figure out any of my powers."
"Precognition!?" Armsmaster sounded shocked.
"Yeah. I was nervous and wanted to see how the meeting would go, so I tried to ping someone with precognition."
"You can just pick a power and search for it?" Armsmaster was getting more and more agitated. We had stopped walking and he was staring at me. The humming that came from him amped up a notch.
"N-no." I remembered what Simurgh had said last night. I shouldn't lie to him. "There's… I've got a few people who I can consistently ping. But even then, I get them mixed up a lot. I usually just end up with hydrokinesis or super strength."
He looked at me for a long moment, not speaking. Finally, he sighed and started walking.
"You are going for powers testing as soon as you join."
XXX
Armsmaster directed me into a room, but stayed outside, citing paperwork he had to do. "Just come out when you're done." He said. He looked very tired all of a sudden.
The room was large and circular, with the walls curving up to a domed ceiling. Computers and monitors lined the walls, and there was a circular table in the center. Dividers sectioned off parts of the room, and other doorways led away. Small touches made the room more personal; a picture frame here, posters on the dividers, a video game console hooked up to one of the monitors.
There were machine parts scattered all over the center table. Two boys were arguing heatedly while they searched through the piles of parts.
"It's not my fault that you can't keep track of your things!" snapped Kid Win.
"Yes it is!" Chariot yelled back. "You've got your junk everywhere! I can't find the transponder I need to fix my teleporter!" He wasn't wearing his armor. Instead, he'd just slapped on a domino mask over street clothes.
A third boy stood by, frowning as he watched the argument. I didn't recognize him. He had a metallic gray bodysuit on that reminded me of Gallant, but Gallant wore power armor. A younger girl was reading a magazine with her feet up on one of the computer consoles. Green dress, visor- that had to be Vista. I'd seen her picture before, but never put a name to the face. She was pointedly ignoring Kid Win and Chariot.
Even though I'd met two of the Wards last night, seeing them like this was intimidating. These were people I'd seen on the news. Honest to god superheroes. I hoped to be one of them, but at the moment, I was too embarrassed to speak.
Kid Win piled a stack of circuit boards onto a chair. "You're the one messing up my system-"
The boy in gray cleared his throat, looking at me. "We have a guest." They all looked at me as one.
Kid Win raised a hand. "Hey, Chimera, what's up?" Chariot stepped back, looking surprised to see me. He copied Kid Win's wave, but with less enthusiasm. As I looked at him, I noticed that he was humming as well. It was a lot louder than Armsmaster's; almost like someone talking in another room.
Gallant? stepped forward, about to speak, and was instantly cut off by a green blur. Vista appeared in front of me out of nowhere. I didn't squeak with surprise. Definitely.
"Chimera? Nice to meet you. I'm Vista." She said, offering me a hand. We shook hands with an unusual amount of intensity, and she made way for the third boy.
"Gallant." He said, his handshake firm and businesslike.
"I wondered." I said. "Don't you usually wear armor?"
He looked down at his bodysuit. "Oh, that's only when I'm on patrol. There's no reason for me to wear it around the base."
Kid Win snorted. "Yeah, but don't let Armsmaster hear that."
We all laughed. I had a good idea of what they were getting at. Armsmaster seemed like a "no-downtime" kind of guy.
"Anyway," Vista said, smiling innocently. "Chimera, how was it that you met Kid and Aegis? Something about an exploding teleporter?"
Chariot slammed one of his tools onto the table. "That's not how it happened." He said. "I still don't know what the problem was, and I can't find the parts I need because of someone."
Kid Win grimaced. "Don't blame me because-"
"So, Chimera, you were thinking of joining the Wards!" Gallant said loudly, speaking over Kid Win.
"Y-yeah." I said. I was starting to feel bad for Chariot. He'd gotten a lot of heat for something that I was pretty sure was my fault. "But that teleporter- that was just an accident. Could have happened to anyone."
Chariot smiled at me. I turned to Vista and continued. "I met Kid Win and Aegis after I called in a bust and they showed up. They invited me to come back here and get the tour."
"That's her way of saying that she scared the hell out of us and we didn't know how to react." Kid Win said, grinning.
"It wasn't that bad." I protested.
"You looked like you stepped out of a horror movie." Kid said. "Didn't she, Aegis?" They were looking over my shoulder. I turned and saw Aegis standing in the doorway.
"I've seen worse." Aegis said. He walked over and put a hand on my shoulder. "Chimera meant well."
I wasn't sure if that was better or worse than what Kid Win had said. The other Wards greeted Aegis. He sat down heavily in a chair.
"How was your patrol?" Vista asked.
I could hear Aegis' sigh even through his faceless mask. "Shadow Stalker was being difficult."
"Oh." Vista said. Gallant chuckled quietly. That gave me pause. Was Shadow Stalker enough of a problem that Vista would instantly know what Aegis was talking about? I wanted to ask, but it felt like dirty laundry; something that wasn't my business. I took a seat next to Kid Win at the table so I didn't just keep standing there awkwardly.
"Where's she at now?" Kid asked. He'd returned to messing with the machines scattered across the tabletop.
"She got angry and stormed off."
"What was it this time?" Vista said dryly. Aegis shrugged.
"Probably the usual. I can never tell with her." He turned to me. "Shadow Stalker is a probationary Ward. She's-"
"A bitch." Chariot muttered.
"Opinionated." Aegis continued. "She used to be a vigilante, and she takes a very strong stance against criminals. Maybe you'll get along with her better than we do."
"That thing with the ABB last night is right up her alley." Kid Win said. "She'd love to go nuts on a gang like that."
This news was making me uneasy. Would they really keep someone that violent around? What did 'probationary' even mean for a Ward?
"Don't worry about it." Gallant said from across the table. "You probably won't have to work with her much. She patrols alone most of the time."
"She can't really be that bad, can-"
The emergency alarms cut off the rest of my words. Everyone looked up, frozen with shock. A voice came over the intercom. "Attention, this is Armsmaster. We have a confirmed Endbringer sighting. The Simurgh has touched down in Canberra, Australia. Report to the briefing room immediately."
Oh, so that's where she went.
1.7
Even though I'd met him before, seeing Armsmaster in a waiting room was almost surreal. Fake plant, ugly stock painting, man in power armor, watercooler. Actually, I take that back. It was surreal because it had just hit me that he was a member of the Protectorate. One of the big-name members. This was someone who had his own action figure. I'd had a conversation with the Armsmaster last night.
I leapt to my feet to shake his hand.
"H-hey." I said.
"It's good to see you again, Chimera. Please-" he gestured down the hall. We proceeded through a maze of identical looking hallways. Armsmaster was in the lead, and I trailed a few steps behind him. As I walked, I noticed there was a faint sort of… hum coming off of him. I hadn't heard it when I'd met him before.
"Do you hear that?" I asked. He turned to look at me.
"Do I hear what?"
"It's like you're humming. Kinda like how you can hear fluorescent lights buzzing."
He narrowed his eyes behind his visor. "Is this one of your powers?"
Was this one of Simurgh's abilities? I'd been trying for precog, not… whatever this was.
"I hadn't thought of that. I'm using a power I've never tried before. It was supposed to do something else. It's not really doing anything right now."
I focused on the humming. He was the only source of the noise that I could hear. Only, now that I focused on it, I didn't think I was hearing it. I stuck my fingers in my ears and the humming was still loud and clear.
"It's mental." I said.
"Possibly a Thinker ability then. It's just the humming?"
I nodded.
"We can test it after the meeting if you like. It won't interfere with meeting the Director, will it?"
"No."
He stopped at a door. It was indistinguishable from any door I'd seen so far.
"We're here."
Armsmaster directed me into a conference room. A long, polished table took up most of the space. The far wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, and I could see the Boardwalk in the distance. A woman stood looking out the windows, framed by the sky. As we entered, she turned.
She was dark-skinned, heavyset in a way that was passing into obese. Two things struck me about her. The first, was that she had presence. She was just standing there by the window, and I knew instantly that she was calling the shots in this room. It was the same force of personality that I associated with Alexandria or Simurgh. The second, was that she was humming like Armsmaster. The frequency was different though, less intense than his. It wasn't parahuman detection then. PRT officials were required to be baselines. What the hell was I picking up on?
She walked to one side of the table, and I went to the opposite. Armsmaster took up position behind her, standing against the wall.
"Chimera, this is Director Piggot. She's the head of this Protectorate Branch." Armsmaster said.
"Nice to meet you." I said. I returned her businesslike smile with one of my own. She couldn't see it, but it was the thought that counted.
"Chimera." She held out a hand, and I shook it. We both took our seats.
"Before we begin," Piggot said. "I understand that there was an accident this morning with one of our teleporters. How are you feeling?"
I blinked with surprise. "Oh- uh- I'm fine. I got checked out at the hospital downstairs and they said I was okay."
Piggot nodded. "Good. If you experience any adverse effects from the accident, please feel free to speak to our medical staff about it."
"Thank you. I'm okay at the moment, but I'll remember that."
"Very well." She set a manila folder on the table. "Now then, you were interested in joining the Wards."
"Yeah- er, yes ma'am." I stuttered. I was nervous already, and something about her reminded me of the principal at Winslow.
Piggot began explaining how the Wards worked, and the way things were set up to protect them. Some of it I liked the sound of- patrolling the city, working with the other Wards, fighting crime. Some of it I wasn't so hot on. She mentioned 'restrictions' a number of times. How were they supposed to fight crime if they kept restricting themselves?
She rifled through the folder and handed me a sheaf of papers. "The details are listed here. There's some paperwork in the back you'll need to complete."
I flipped to the paperwork, but she held up a hand to stop me. "As you are underage, your parent or legal guardian is required to sign this as well."
That gave me pause. If I wanted to join the Wards, I'd have to tell Dad. It made sense, being a Ward would be a lot easier if he was on board. I'd have to explain where I was going and where I was getting my money from, for one thing. Even if I'd intended to tell him at some point, I just hadn't thought it'd be so soon.
Maybe it was better this way. If they forced my hand, I wouldn't be able to procrastinate. He deserved to know. And he would find out when they transferred me to Arcadia- Arcadia. I'd almost forgotten.
"If I join the Wards, will I be transferred to Arcadia?" I asked.
Armsmaster leaned forward a little. "If you want. A number of the Wards have attended Arcadia, so it wouldn't be a big deal."
'Attended' as in the past-tense? Was he being deliberately vague so he wouldn't have to say that the current Wards went there? But he'd still said yes. I could escape Winslow.
Piggot and Armsmaster exchanged a glance as I sighed with relief.
"Okay. I'd want to do that." I said. "Should I call my Dad now?"
"Why don't you meet the Wards before you make any decisions?" Piggot said. "They're going to be your teammates after all."
XXX
I decided that made sense, and Armsmaster and I left the conference room to walk across the building. He turned to me as we walked.
"Did you figure out what that new power is doing?" He asked.
"Not yet. It activated for Piggot too. It wasn't as loud as it is with you though." I shrugged, "I thought it was supposed to be precognition, but I can never figure out any of my powers."
"Precognition!?" Armsmaster sounded shocked.
"Yeah. I was nervous and wanted to see how the meeting would go, so I tried to ping someone with precognition."
"You can just pick a power and search for it?" Armsmaster was getting more and more agitated. We had stopped walking and he was staring at me. The humming that came from him amped up a notch.
"N-no." I remembered what Simurgh had said last night. I shouldn't lie to him. "There's… I've got a few people who I can consistently ping. But even then, I get them mixed up a lot. I usually just end up with hydrokinesis or super strength."
He looked at me for a long moment, not speaking. Finally, he sighed and started walking.
"You are going for powers testing as soon as you join."
XXX
Armsmaster directed me into a room, but stayed outside, citing paperwork he had to do. "Just come out when you're done." He said. He looked very tired all of a sudden.
The room was large and circular, with the walls curving up to a domed ceiling. Computers and monitors lined the walls, and there was a circular table in the center. Dividers sectioned off parts of the room, and other doorways led away. Small touches made the room more personal; a picture frame here, posters on the dividers, a video game console hooked up to one of the monitors.
There were machine parts scattered all over the center table. Two boys were arguing heatedly while they searched through the piles of parts.
"It's not my fault that you can't keep track of your things!" snapped Kid Win.
"Yes it is!" Chariot yelled back. "You've got your junk everywhere! I can't find the transponder I need to fix my teleporter!" He wasn't wearing his armor. Instead, he'd just slapped on a domino mask over street clothes.
A third boy stood by, frowning as he watched the argument. I didn't recognize him. He had a metallic gray bodysuit on that reminded me of Gallant, but Gallant wore power armor. A younger girl was reading a magazine with her feet up on one of the computer consoles. Green dress, visor- that had to be Vista. I'd seen her picture before, but never put a name to the face. She was pointedly ignoring Kid Win and Chariot.
Even though I'd met two of the Wards last night, seeing them like this was intimidating. These were people I'd seen on the news. Honest to god superheroes. I hoped to be one of them, but at the moment, I was too embarrassed to speak.
Kid Win piled a stack of circuit boards onto a chair. "You're the one messing up my system-"
The boy in gray cleared his throat, looking at me. "We have a guest." They all looked at me as one.
Kid Win raised a hand. "Hey, Chimera, what's up?" Chariot stepped back, looking surprised to see me. He copied Kid Win's wave, but with less enthusiasm. As I looked at him, I noticed that he was humming as well. It was a lot louder than Armsmaster's; almost like someone talking in another room.
Gallant? stepped forward, about to speak, and was instantly cut off by a green blur. Vista appeared in front of me out of nowhere. I didn't squeak with surprise. Definitely.
"Chimera? Nice to meet you. I'm Vista." She said, offering me a hand. We shook hands with an unusual amount of intensity, and she made way for the third boy.
"Gallant." He said, his handshake firm and businesslike.
"I wondered." I said. "Don't you usually wear armor?"
He looked down at his bodysuit. "Oh, that's only when I'm on patrol. There's no reason for me to wear it around the base."
Kid Win snorted. "Yeah, but don't let Armsmaster hear that."
We all laughed. I had a good idea of what they were getting at. Armsmaster seemed like a "no-downtime" kind of guy.
"Anyway," Vista said, smiling innocently. "Chimera, how was it that you met Kid and Aegis? Something about an exploding teleporter?"
Chariot slammed one of his tools onto the table. "That's not how it happened." He said. "I still don't know what the problem was, and I can't find the parts I need because of someone."
Kid Win grimaced. "Don't blame me because-"
"So, Chimera, you were thinking of joining the Wards!" Gallant said loudly, speaking over Kid Win.
"Y-yeah." I said. I was starting to feel bad for Chariot. He'd gotten a lot of heat for something that I was pretty sure was my fault. "But that teleporter- that was just an accident. Could have happened to anyone."
Chariot smiled at me. I turned to Vista and continued. "I met Kid Win and Aegis after I called in a bust and they showed up. They invited me to come back here and get the tour."
"That's her way of saying that she scared the hell out of us and we didn't know how to react." Kid Win said, grinning.
"It wasn't that bad." I protested.
"You looked like you stepped out of a horror movie." Kid said. "Didn't she, Aegis?" They were looking over my shoulder. I turned and saw Aegis standing in the doorway.
"I've seen worse." Aegis said. He walked over and put a hand on my shoulder. "Chimera meant well."
I wasn't sure if that was better or worse than what Kid Win had said. The other Wards greeted Aegis. He sat down heavily in a chair.
"How was your patrol?" Vista asked.
I could hear Aegis' sigh even through his faceless mask. "Shadow Stalker was being difficult."
"Oh." Vista said. Gallant chuckled quietly. That gave me pause. Was Shadow Stalker enough of a problem that Vista would instantly know what Aegis was talking about? I wanted to ask, but it felt like dirty laundry; something that wasn't my business. I took a seat next to Kid Win at the table so I didn't just keep standing there awkwardly.
"Where's she at now?" Kid asked. He'd returned to messing with the machines scattered across the tabletop.
"She got angry and stormed off."
"What was it this time?" Vista said dryly. Aegis shrugged.
"Probably the usual. I can never tell with her." He turned to me. "Shadow Stalker is a probationary Ward. She's-"
"A bitch." Chariot muttered.
"Opinionated." Aegis continued. "She used to be a vigilante, and she takes a very strong stance against criminals. Maybe you'll get along with her better than we do."
"That thing with the ABB last night is right up her alley." Kid Win said. "She'd love to go nuts on a gang like that."
This news was making me uneasy. Would they really keep someone that violent around? What did 'probationary' even mean for a Ward?
"Don't worry about it." Gallant said from across the table. "You probably won't have to work with her much. She patrols alone most of the time."
"She can't really be that bad, can-"
The emergency alarms cut off the rest of my words. Everyone looked up, frozen with shock. A voice came over the intercom. "Attention, this is Armsmaster. We have a confirmed Endbringer sighting. The Simurgh has touched down in Canberra, Australia. Report to the briefing room immediately."
Oh, so that's where she went.
Chimera 8
Chimera
1.8
The Wards jumped into action as soon as the broadcast ended. Kid Win and Chariot ran through two of the side doors to get their gear. Aegis signaled Vista and Gallant.
"We'll go on ahead. They'll need time to get ready, and we can fill them in when they catch up." He paused, looking at me. "Chimera, you should probably come too."
"Are you sure? I'm not a Ward yet."
"No, I'm not sure, but it won't hurt for you to come." Aegis still sounded tired, but he was putting on a brave face. Was he really going to run off to fight an Endbringer when he was exhausted?
He led the remaining Wards and me out of the room and down a series of hallways. No one talked as we followed him. The Wards were probably frightened, but I wasn't sure how to feel. I had nothing to fear from Simurgh. There was a part of me that knew how fucked up that was.
We followed Aegis to the elevator and he hit the button for the briefing room. It was only after the elevator whirred into motion that Vista spoke.
"Have any of you ever been to an Endbringer fight?" she said quietly.
Gallant shook his head, but Aegis nodded.
"I fought Simurgh when she attacked Washington last year. It was…" He trailed off, looking into space for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was far off, like he was still remembering.
"You don't understand what an Endbringer is like until you've been up against one. It's not like fighting another cape. Other capes make sense. They're people just like you. Endbringers are- they're not like that. It's like there's nothing to them but killing. And Simurgh's the worst. She could just kill everyone with her song, but she doesn't. She makes a game of it."
The rest of the elevator ride was filled with an uncomfortable silence. We rode alone with our thoughts. I was feeling alienated again. It was a common feeling for me; the hallmark of my days at Winslow. I'd only felt it rarely since I got my powers, but this time they were the cause of it.
This was the first Endbringer attack since I triggered, and it was just now hitting home that my friends were genocidal monsters. I'd known that from Day 1, but something about hearing Aegis- hearing the hate and disgust for Simurgh in his voice, made it real for me.
I knew for certain now that there was a disconnect in my thoughts. When it came to them, it was like- not that they could do no wrong, but that I understood it. When Simurgh had told me earlier that she was about to attack, it had made all the sense in the world. When I thought about Leviathan sinking Kyushu, or Behemoth decimating Moscow, it felt right. What was happening to me?
The elevator dinged as it came to a stop on the 34th floor. I didn't notice that the Wards had disembarked until Gallant nudged me. The other Wards were still walking; they hadn't noticed that we'd stopped.
"Hey, are you alright?" He said. "Your feelings are all over the place."
"…what?" I said slowly. He leaned in, speaking to me quietly.
"It'll be okay. I know it's a lot for your first day, but it'll be okay."
I stared at him for a moment before I remembered that he was an empath. He could see right away that something was bothering me. What was I supposed to say? 'My powers are making me insane, thanks for letting me on the team.' No. This wasn't something I could tell anyone.
I shook my head. Gallant gave me a small smile. "Alright. Just let me know if you want to talk about it." The other Wards were entering a door just down the hall, and we rushed to catch up with them.
The briefing room was narrow, made crowded by all the people in it. A conference table ran the length of the room, facing a wall full of monitors. Piggot sat the head of the table with Armsmaster at her shoulder. Most of the other chairs were occupied by Protectorate capes or PRT officers who I assumed were baselines.
I recognized most of the capes from the news or the PHO Wiki. At Piggot's right hand was Miss Militia, and Assault and Battery sat next to her. Across from them were Dauntless, Velocity, and a young man in a gladiator style costume whose name I couldn't remember. Triumphant? Trumpet? Something to do with sound, I thought.
Aegis stood against the back wall, leaving the chairs for senior members, and we gathered around him. As we settled in, Clockblocker entered the room. He glanced around, looking for a seat before Vista waved at him.
"Thanks Vista." He murmured, joining us on the wall.
A few more PRT officers filed in, followed by Kid Win and Chariot. Both were out of breath, but were fully geared up for battle. Kid looked at the crowded room, and then dropped a lot of his weaponry outside the door. When they found their places with the other Wards, Armsmaster dimmed the lights.
"Approximately two hours ago, Simurgh descended on Canberra, the capital city of Australia. Her attack was preceded by the total failure of all electrical systems in Canberra."
"Total failure?" Kid Win said incredulously. "How did she do that?"
"Total as in all of it." Armsmaster said. "No cars, no cell towers, nothing. The citizens were reduced to fleeing on foot. It's likely that she used some form of Tinker tech to create this blackout."
The monitors flashed on, displaying a long distance shot of Simurgh. She was barely visible, illuminated only by the moonlight above a completely dark city. The picture was grainy, but I couldn't ignore the way my heart leapt when I saw her. It was one thing to talk to her, but seeing her in action was- I stamped down on that train of thought. She was killing people, and I was fangirling over her. My self-disgust burned like acid.
"Short-range reconnaissance drones failed to return. It appears that anything electrical that comes within range of the blackout effect fails."
The long-shot of Simurgh was replaced with aerial views of Canberra, and more shots of her from different angles. A red arrow appeared, pointing to a dark shape in one of the Simurgh pictures.
"We suspect that the source of the blackout is that object. The current primary objective is to destroy it. As long as the blackout remains, we are unable to deploy rescue efforts, or establish communications." Armsmaster frowned. He almost sounded angry. "Tinker tech also fails within the blackout range."
Kid Win cursed under his breath.
"Because of the blackout, we only became aware of the attack when an observation satellite passed overhead. Local teams are on the scene, but an organized counterattack has not yet occurred. There's no conventional way to get to Canberra in time, so we're going to be teleported there. Once teleported in, we will rendezvous with the other capes on the scene and coordinate our attack."
"Because of the blackout, I will remain on standby outside of the blackout zone. Miss Militia will be in charge. In the event an organized attack fails to form, or there are no other parahuman groups to work with, you will take your team and attempt to carry out the primary objective. Miss Militia-" Armsmaster looked to her, waiting.
She stood and began pointing around the table. "Assault, Battery, Triumph, with me. Dauntless, until we know if the blackout affects your gear, stay out of the area. You're with Armsmaster."
"Wards- Kid Win and Chariot with Armsmaster. Vista, Gallant, and Velocity will handle search and rescue. Aegis and Clockblocker will come with me."
Vista was standing next to me. She whispered something that I didn't catch when her name was called. Her hands were balled up in her dress. I put a hand on her shoulder. The gesture felt hollow. What right did I have to comfort her?
"Thanks." She said softly. But she didn't stop staring at Miss Militia, and she didn't let go of her dress.
"Ma'am, what about Chimera?" Aegis said. A sinking sensation spread through my belly. What? Hadn't I been included with the others?
Miss Militia paused, looking at me over her flag bandanna. She turned to Armsmaster, speaking to him too quietly to hear. After a moment she nodded and walked over to me.
"Chimera, I'm sorry, but you'll have to stay behind." She said.
"But I can fight!" I protested.
"Armsmaster told me that you can't teleport."
"But-"
"That you are unable to teleport." She interjected. "I understand that you want to help, but if you can't teleport, you aren't going to make it in time."
I sagged against the wall. I couldn't even do this. Some hero I was.
Miss Militia folded her arms. "It's your second day as a cape. You aren't ready for this. No one's ready for their first Endbringer, and I'm not letting you go out and get killed on your second day."
"I could-" I began weakly.
"Go home, Chimera. Trust me on this." She said. I was about to say something more, but she scowled at me. She kept scowling until I nodded.
Miss Militia went back to talk to Armsmaster, and I headed for the door on legs like lead.
"Chimera!" Kid Win called. I kept going.
I left the room full of capes behind. What was I supposed to do against Simurgh anyway? Or any of the Endbringers for that matter. I'd just assumed I'd fight them because that's what heroes did. I still wanted to be a hero, but now that I thought about it, I knew I couldn't fight them. It was unthinkable. It would be like hitting Dad.
That was… that was a pretty fucked up train of thought. A trio of walking-genocides was on the same level to me as Dad. My powers had done some disturbing things to my mind. That was becoming abundantly clear.
Still ruminating, I hit the button for the elevator. I felt two-faced, like I was a traitor for having my connection with the Endbringers. How could I be friends with the Wards when they might die against one of the Endbringers? Was there any satisfactory answer to that question?
The elevator hummed to a stop. I moved forward as the polished steel doors slid open, and then jumped back as I saw someone inside. A girl in a black cloak, wearing an armored bodysuit stormed out of the elevator. She headed down the hall toward the briefing room, and then stopped.
"Hey you."
I froze halfway into the elevator. Was that Shadow Stalker?
"Are you a new Ward or something?" She had her fingers hooked into her belt, watching me. I stepped back and let the elevator close.
"I was, uh- I was about to sign up when the alarms went off."
Having her stare at me like that was making me nervous. Hadn't the other Wards said she was some kind of violent vigilante? She was humming too. Louder than anyone else I'd heard so far. It was almost a dull roar. Like ocean waves in the distance, or a crowd all talking at once.
Shadow Stalker walked toward me. "Take my advice. Don't get roped into this fucking circus."
She was giving me advice. Huh.
"Is it that bad?" I asked.
"Yeah. You're pretty new right?"
I hadn't expected anything like this. Her tone wasn't friendly, and I couldn't read her face because of her mask, but she was giving me advice.
"I triggered a couple months ago, but I only went out as a cape last night."
"Just stay solo." She said. "Being a new cape is scary as shit, but the Wards don't get a fucking thing done. The Protectorate too. They're weak. All of them."
"You used to be a vigilante, didn't you?"
Shadow Stalker slouched angrily. "Yeah. They forced me in because they didn't like how I operated. Don't fall for it. All they'll do is tie your hands."
"Oh." I wasn't sure what to say to her. The other Wards seemed like more credible sources than she was. But it'd be lying to say I wasn't waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the PRT to be this friendly and accommodating was off-putting.
Shadow Stalker glanced at her watch. "Crap. I have to go." She held out a hand. "Shadow Stalker."
"Chimera." My bare hand met her gloved one. "Thanks for the advice."
"Chimera? No shit. You wrecked that warehouse full of ABB last night, didn't you?"
I blushed behind my mask. "Did everyone hear about that?"
She chuckled darkly. "Now I'm disappointed I told you not to join. I could use a teammate who doesn't fuck around. Those ABB assholes didn't know what hit them."
With that, she nodded to me and hurried toward the briefing room, leaving me even more confused than before. Knowing that I'd impressed Shadow Stalker didn't really make me feel better. And why did she seem so familiar? I didn't know anyone like her.
I snorted. I didn't know anyone. Probably just saw her on tv or something. I took the elevator down to the lobby, still thinking about my talk with Shadow Stalker. Why was she humming like that? What made her louder than Chariot or Armsmaster? Piggot had had it too, so it couldn't be power detection. It was supposed to be precognition, but it wasn't. What was a lesser form of precog? Super déjà vu?
The elevator came to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal the tiled expanse of the lobby. The PRT officers at the desk nodded to me as I left. It seemed like days since I'd come in to interview for the Wards. The doors to the Protectorate HQ shut behind me, leaving me alone on the front walk. The sun was past its zenith, but the day was still hot and bright.
Was everything really this normal outside? Shouldn't there be more… commotion with Simurgh attacking? It seemed like something that was big enough that people should stand up and take notice, but no, it was the same old Brockton Bay. I knew non-capes didn't pay much attention to Endbringers unless it directly involved them, but really?
I let my wings grow, unfurling through the holes in my hoodie. The few late afternoon tourists pointed as I changed. My wings arched around me, becoming more complex by the second. Their growth finished only as I spread them to their full span, unfolding each new length of flesh and bone into more wings. The membranes glowed red as the sun caught the blood running through them. I held them wide for just a moment, glorying in the sight. And then, with a single wing beat I shot into the sky, leaving only dust devils in my wake.
1.8
The Wards jumped into action as soon as the broadcast ended. Kid Win and Chariot ran through two of the side doors to get their gear. Aegis signaled Vista and Gallant.
"We'll go on ahead. They'll need time to get ready, and we can fill them in when they catch up." He paused, looking at me. "Chimera, you should probably come too."
"Are you sure? I'm not a Ward yet."
"No, I'm not sure, but it won't hurt for you to come." Aegis still sounded tired, but he was putting on a brave face. Was he really going to run off to fight an Endbringer when he was exhausted?
He led the remaining Wards and me out of the room and down a series of hallways. No one talked as we followed him. The Wards were probably frightened, but I wasn't sure how to feel. I had nothing to fear from Simurgh. There was a part of me that knew how fucked up that was.
We followed Aegis to the elevator and he hit the button for the briefing room. It was only after the elevator whirred into motion that Vista spoke.
"Have any of you ever been to an Endbringer fight?" she said quietly.
Gallant shook his head, but Aegis nodded.
"I fought Simurgh when she attacked Washington last year. It was…" He trailed off, looking into space for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was far off, like he was still remembering.
"You don't understand what an Endbringer is like until you've been up against one. It's not like fighting another cape. Other capes make sense. They're people just like you. Endbringers are- they're not like that. It's like there's nothing to them but killing. And Simurgh's the worst. She could just kill everyone with her song, but she doesn't. She makes a game of it."
The rest of the elevator ride was filled with an uncomfortable silence. We rode alone with our thoughts. I was feeling alienated again. It was a common feeling for me; the hallmark of my days at Winslow. I'd only felt it rarely since I got my powers, but this time they were the cause of it.
This was the first Endbringer attack since I triggered, and it was just now hitting home that my friends were genocidal monsters. I'd known that from Day 1, but something about hearing Aegis- hearing the hate and disgust for Simurgh in his voice, made it real for me.
I knew for certain now that there was a disconnect in my thoughts. When it came to them, it was like- not that they could do no wrong, but that I understood it. When Simurgh had told me earlier that she was about to attack, it had made all the sense in the world. When I thought about Leviathan sinking Kyushu, or Behemoth decimating Moscow, it felt right. What was happening to me?
The elevator dinged as it came to a stop on the 34th floor. I didn't notice that the Wards had disembarked until Gallant nudged me. The other Wards were still walking; they hadn't noticed that we'd stopped.
"Hey, are you alright?" He said. "Your feelings are all over the place."
"…what?" I said slowly. He leaned in, speaking to me quietly.
"It'll be okay. I know it's a lot for your first day, but it'll be okay."
I stared at him for a moment before I remembered that he was an empath. He could see right away that something was bothering me. What was I supposed to say? 'My powers are making me insane, thanks for letting me on the team.' No. This wasn't something I could tell anyone.
I shook my head. Gallant gave me a small smile. "Alright. Just let me know if you want to talk about it." The other Wards were entering a door just down the hall, and we rushed to catch up with them.
The briefing room was narrow, made crowded by all the people in it. A conference table ran the length of the room, facing a wall full of monitors. Piggot sat the head of the table with Armsmaster at her shoulder. Most of the other chairs were occupied by Protectorate capes or PRT officers who I assumed were baselines.
I recognized most of the capes from the news or the PHO Wiki. At Piggot's right hand was Miss Militia, and Assault and Battery sat next to her. Across from them were Dauntless, Velocity, and a young man in a gladiator style costume whose name I couldn't remember. Triumphant? Trumpet? Something to do with sound, I thought.
Aegis stood against the back wall, leaving the chairs for senior members, and we gathered around him. As we settled in, Clockblocker entered the room. He glanced around, looking for a seat before Vista waved at him.
"Thanks Vista." He murmured, joining us on the wall.
A few more PRT officers filed in, followed by Kid Win and Chariot. Both were out of breath, but were fully geared up for battle. Kid looked at the crowded room, and then dropped a lot of his weaponry outside the door. When they found their places with the other Wards, Armsmaster dimmed the lights.
"Approximately two hours ago, Simurgh descended on Canberra, the capital city of Australia. Her attack was preceded by the total failure of all electrical systems in Canberra."
"Total failure?" Kid Win said incredulously. "How did she do that?"
"Total as in all of it." Armsmaster said. "No cars, no cell towers, nothing. The citizens were reduced to fleeing on foot. It's likely that she used some form of Tinker tech to create this blackout."
The monitors flashed on, displaying a long distance shot of Simurgh. She was barely visible, illuminated only by the moonlight above a completely dark city. The picture was grainy, but I couldn't ignore the way my heart leapt when I saw her. It was one thing to talk to her, but seeing her in action was- I stamped down on that train of thought. She was killing people, and I was fangirling over her. My self-disgust burned like acid.
"Short-range reconnaissance drones failed to return. It appears that anything electrical that comes within range of the blackout effect fails."
The long-shot of Simurgh was replaced with aerial views of Canberra, and more shots of her from different angles. A red arrow appeared, pointing to a dark shape in one of the Simurgh pictures.
"We suspect that the source of the blackout is that object. The current primary objective is to destroy it. As long as the blackout remains, we are unable to deploy rescue efforts, or establish communications." Armsmaster frowned. He almost sounded angry. "Tinker tech also fails within the blackout range."
Kid Win cursed under his breath.
"Because of the blackout, we only became aware of the attack when an observation satellite passed overhead. Local teams are on the scene, but an organized counterattack has not yet occurred. There's no conventional way to get to Canberra in time, so we're going to be teleported there. Once teleported in, we will rendezvous with the other capes on the scene and coordinate our attack."
"Because of the blackout, I will remain on standby outside of the blackout zone. Miss Militia will be in charge. In the event an organized attack fails to form, or there are no other parahuman groups to work with, you will take your team and attempt to carry out the primary objective. Miss Militia-" Armsmaster looked to her, waiting.
She stood and began pointing around the table. "Assault, Battery, Triumph, with me. Dauntless, until we know if the blackout affects your gear, stay out of the area. You're with Armsmaster."
"Wards- Kid Win and Chariot with Armsmaster. Vista, Gallant, and Velocity will handle search and rescue. Aegis and Clockblocker will come with me."
Vista was standing next to me. She whispered something that I didn't catch when her name was called. Her hands were balled up in her dress. I put a hand on her shoulder. The gesture felt hollow. What right did I have to comfort her?
"Thanks." She said softly. But she didn't stop staring at Miss Militia, and she didn't let go of her dress.
"Ma'am, what about Chimera?" Aegis said. A sinking sensation spread through my belly. What? Hadn't I been included with the others?
Miss Militia paused, looking at me over her flag bandanna. She turned to Armsmaster, speaking to him too quietly to hear. After a moment she nodded and walked over to me.
"Chimera, I'm sorry, but you'll have to stay behind." She said.
"But I can fight!" I protested.
"Armsmaster told me that you can't teleport."
"But-"
"That you are unable to teleport." She interjected. "I understand that you want to help, but if you can't teleport, you aren't going to make it in time."
I sagged against the wall. I couldn't even do this. Some hero I was.
Miss Militia folded her arms. "It's your second day as a cape. You aren't ready for this. No one's ready for their first Endbringer, and I'm not letting you go out and get killed on your second day."
"I could-" I began weakly.
"Go home, Chimera. Trust me on this." She said. I was about to say something more, but she scowled at me. She kept scowling until I nodded.
Miss Militia went back to talk to Armsmaster, and I headed for the door on legs like lead.
"Chimera!" Kid Win called. I kept going.
I left the room full of capes behind. What was I supposed to do against Simurgh anyway? Or any of the Endbringers for that matter. I'd just assumed I'd fight them because that's what heroes did. I still wanted to be a hero, but now that I thought about it, I knew I couldn't fight them. It was unthinkable. It would be like hitting Dad.
That was… that was a pretty fucked up train of thought. A trio of walking-genocides was on the same level to me as Dad. My powers had done some disturbing things to my mind. That was becoming abundantly clear.
Still ruminating, I hit the button for the elevator. I felt two-faced, like I was a traitor for having my connection with the Endbringers. How could I be friends with the Wards when they might die against one of the Endbringers? Was there any satisfactory answer to that question?
The elevator hummed to a stop. I moved forward as the polished steel doors slid open, and then jumped back as I saw someone inside. A girl in a black cloak, wearing an armored bodysuit stormed out of the elevator. She headed down the hall toward the briefing room, and then stopped.
"Hey you."
I froze halfway into the elevator. Was that Shadow Stalker?
"Are you a new Ward or something?" She had her fingers hooked into her belt, watching me. I stepped back and let the elevator close.
"I was, uh- I was about to sign up when the alarms went off."
Having her stare at me like that was making me nervous. Hadn't the other Wards said she was some kind of violent vigilante? She was humming too. Louder than anyone else I'd heard so far. It was almost a dull roar. Like ocean waves in the distance, or a crowd all talking at once.
Shadow Stalker walked toward me. "Take my advice. Don't get roped into this fucking circus."
She was giving me advice. Huh.
"Is it that bad?" I asked.
"Yeah. You're pretty new right?"
I hadn't expected anything like this. Her tone wasn't friendly, and I couldn't read her face because of her mask, but she was giving me advice.
"I triggered a couple months ago, but I only went out as a cape last night."
"Just stay solo." She said. "Being a new cape is scary as shit, but the Wards don't get a fucking thing done. The Protectorate too. They're weak. All of them."
"You used to be a vigilante, didn't you?"
Shadow Stalker slouched angrily. "Yeah. They forced me in because they didn't like how I operated. Don't fall for it. All they'll do is tie your hands."
"Oh." I wasn't sure what to say to her. The other Wards seemed like more credible sources than she was. But it'd be lying to say I wasn't waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the PRT to be this friendly and accommodating was off-putting.
Shadow Stalker glanced at her watch. "Crap. I have to go." She held out a hand. "Shadow Stalker."
"Chimera." My bare hand met her gloved one. "Thanks for the advice."
"Chimera? No shit. You wrecked that warehouse full of ABB last night, didn't you?"
I blushed behind my mask. "Did everyone hear about that?"
She chuckled darkly. "Now I'm disappointed I told you not to join. I could use a teammate who doesn't fuck around. Those ABB assholes didn't know what hit them."
With that, she nodded to me and hurried toward the briefing room, leaving me even more confused than before. Knowing that I'd impressed Shadow Stalker didn't really make me feel better. And why did she seem so familiar? I didn't know anyone like her.
I snorted. I didn't know anyone. Probably just saw her on tv or something. I took the elevator down to the lobby, still thinking about my talk with Shadow Stalker. Why was she humming like that? What made her louder than Chariot or Armsmaster? Piggot had had it too, so it couldn't be power detection. It was supposed to be precognition, but it wasn't. What was a lesser form of precog? Super déjà vu?
The elevator came to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal the tiled expanse of the lobby. The PRT officers at the desk nodded to me as I left. It seemed like days since I'd come in to interview for the Wards. The doors to the Protectorate HQ shut behind me, leaving me alone on the front walk. The sun was past its zenith, but the day was still hot and bright.
Was everything really this normal outside? Shouldn't there be more… commotion with Simurgh attacking? It seemed like something that was big enough that people should stand up and take notice, but no, it was the same old Brockton Bay. I knew non-capes didn't pay much attention to Endbringers unless it directly involved them, but really?
I let my wings grow, unfurling through the holes in my hoodie. The few late afternoon tourists pointed as I changed. My wings arched around me, becoming more complex by the second. Their growth finished only as I spread them to their full span, unfolding each new length of flesh and bone into more wings. The membranes glowed red as the sun caught the blood running through them. I held them wide for just a moment, glorying in the sight. And then, with a single wing beat I shot into the sky, leaving only dust devils in my wake.