2.1 (Initiation)
February 22, 2011
Brockton Bay, MA
7:42am

[Taylor]​

I hop off the 364, and start walking towards Arcadia's main building. My first day here, and I was early. Too early, if you asked me. Going to school "away from keyboard", as Diana loved to put it, was such a mistake.

I groaned, feeling the lack of sleep. I'd just had my first cape fight - broken one up, really - and then I spent an hour with Kat explaining to Madison the whole mess she'd been dumped into, living in Brockton Bay with powers. Plus a mini-lecture about the so-called 'unwritten rules' while driving Madison home, since Kat and I had forgotten to talk about it with her. Then I was stuck calming down her parents, eventually giving them the name of a tailor who could sort her out costume-wise. Finally I drove home, turned off the downstairs TV, put a blanket over my Dad and went to bed… at 1am.

I woke up early, belatedly remembering that I had to find the transfer paperwork. I ended up having to skip my session in the basement. There was a punching bag with Krieg's face taped on it, and he was due for a couple hundred punches and kicks. Overdue, now, because instead I had to grab my backpack, throw my hoodie over my jacket, lace my boots and run all-out to the nearest bus. I'd have driven myself, but technically I wasn't supposed to drive alone past 11pm or before 7am. The MIRIS paperwork to get that taken care of needed to be filed today, but at least I'd thought to stuff it into my backpack.

Naturally I'm not paying attention as I try to finish this energy drink, because clearly my life is a succession of bad decisions. That's why I'm surprised when another girl stumbles into me, and we fall off the walkway onto the snow-covered grass just outside the main gate of the school in a tangle of limbs and spilled Jolt and snow.

I look at the girl… oh! I forgot she goes to Arcadia. "Hi, Diana."

She smirks, and gets up. "Hi, yourself." She reaches out a hand, and I take it, planting my boots firmly and pulling myself up.

After adjusting my backpack and dusting off my hoodie, I realize that I have no idea where anything is. "Um… where's the office? I need to get the transfer stuff done."

"Oh! I'll show you." She takes my hand, still doing that half-smile, half-smirk thing that gets me every time. "Come on!"

After only a couple minutes of Diana leading me by the hand, we arrive. I'm seriously impressed with this place - they actually maintain the building, for one. There's no gang signs, no scorch marks. No cracked paint or water damage. It doesn't even stink of stale mold and vomit. More than a few of the students are new arrivals from Winslow, it's true, but the aura of despair that clung to Winslow isn't here.

Are there bullies here? I don't know. Diana says yes, but they tend to be slapped down more often.

Diana talks to the secretary, and the secretary addresses me. "Taylor Hebert?"

"That's me."

"Do you have your transfer paperwork?"

I nod and pull them out of my backpack, making sure to separate them from the MIRIS papers. That would be an embarrassing mix-up, outing myself to the school before I've even made a public debut.

She spends a few minutes looking over them, while Diana and I chit-chat. Before I know it, she takes off, mentioning something about taking care of something for the anime club. I guess it's not code for "ABB hangout" here. The secretary nods to herself, then picks up the phone.

"Taylor Hebert's here to see you, sir."

A pause.

"I understand. I'll send her in." She motions at the door as she hangs up, passing me some forms.

I walk in, clutching the forms. They look like a course schedule and some other papers, I think.

"Hello, Taylor. Please, sit." The principal gestured at a chair.

I sit down, passing him the papers. He looked through the small stack, pulling out a form - oh, the district transfer sheets I'd filled out - and handed the rest to me.

Before I can say anything, he speaks. "Taylor… you should know that we're aware of your disciplinary record. Normally, we wouldn't even consider a student with this many incidents, but apparently there are some mitigating factors, which we did consider when approving you."

Oh. The whole "get in a fistfight with a track star and two Empire brats" thing. That's the one that sticks out in my mind, since it was the one that made the bullying stop. It felt like every other day I was getting physical, or at very least extremely rude, with other students. Mostly Empire, but also the fucking jock brats who ran what the Empire and the ABB didn't in the school hierarchy.

I nodded. "It was that or be bullied all the time."

"I understand. And more than a few students spoke highly of you."

It's nice to be appreciated, I guess. I smile a bit at that. "Yes."

"With that said, I don't want to see you in my office quite as often as… as Blackwell did. Let the teachers handle it. We have a zero-tolerance policy on bullying."

Winslow claimed to have that, too. "As long as the teachers actually handle things, I won't get involved."

"They will. Give them a chance, please."

"Okay. I'll try."

"Good." He smiles at this. I kinda like him - he seems to have an actual spine, for one, unlike Blackwell. "You're dismissed, Ms. Hebert."

I nod and get up. He hands back my class schedule, and I walk out of the room. Homeroom and first class is in… ten minutes. Room 204, English with Mrs. Fallon.

I haven't found my locker yet. I'll figure that shit out later. In the meantime, I pull out the map and start walking. After a flight of stairs and a little looking around, I have it.

I take a breath, and walk inside. This is going to be awkward. The teacher immediately notices me.

"Hello. Are you the transfer student?"

I nod. "I'm Taylor. Uh, Taylor Hebert." I pass her my class schedule. Please don't make this awkward, please don't make this awkward…

She looks it over briefly, then passes it back. "Okay, then." She points out a seat. "I'll get your textbook and syllabus."

I nod quickly and take my seat. I don't really know anybody here, so this class feels really awkward. I get my textbook and syllabus, and look over it. Honestly, it seems like it's the same things we were doing in the online courses, which was really easy. The bell rings after a few minutes, and class starts. The teacher introduces me, and I shyly wave at the class. This is nothing like Winslow - I don't have to be hardcore and pretend I don't give a shit about anything around me. So, I pull out a notebook and pen, relax, and let talk of Chaucer float into my head.



Another bell, another glance at the schedule and the map, another few minutes of trying to find my next class. That class was World History. I was looking forward to seeing how a competent teacher taught the subject after the mess Mr. Gladly so often made of it back at Winslow. As I walk into the classroom though, I feel a familiar sinking feeling in my stomach. Some rich jock was standing over a pretty girl with shortish bottle-green hair, still wearing her scarf. The way she hunched in her chair told me she didn't want any of what he was selling. So much for the teachers doing their jobs, then. I walk up to the girl.

"Hi, I just transferred in. This is World History, right?" The girl and the jock both turn to look at me, her with some relief, him with... confusion? I guess he didn't like me interrupting his "flirting", despite the fact that the girl was very obviously uninterested in him.

"Uh, yeah. It is," the girl says.

"Cool. I'm Taylor, can you tell me where we're up to so far? I don't want to be too far behind."

"We had just gotten up to--" starts the jock.

I cut him off. "So what's your name anyway?"

"Stacie," she replies. "We had just gotten to the rise of parahumanity. Vikare in particular."

"Neat!" I say. "Is this seat taken?" I ask, pointing to the chair the jock was leaning on.

She smiles. "Not at all."

I sit down, pointedly leaning back until the jock removes his fingers from my chair. "Why are you wearing a scarf?"

Stacie blinks. "Oh!" She starts taking it off. "My first class is in the portables."

I nod at that. "They actually use those?"

"Yeah. They put them in after, you know, that big Noise outbreak. They needed more classrooms to take Winslow students in with. Hey, did you go there?"

"Mmhmm. Whatever your rumor mills said, they were probably exaggerating, but only a teensy bit."

She looks shocked. "Oh, damn." Something seems to click in her head. "Oh! You're Diana's big crush, aren't you?"

I blush bright red. "Oh my god. Wait, you know her? Cute girl, takes no shit, a little on the short side?" Um… "Good with computers? Plays guitar?"

She brightens. "Yeah! Oh my god!"

I can feel the jock's eyes on me. That does it - I turn around and glare at him. "Yes?"

"Uh. Hi, I'm Dean. Dean Stansfield." He has a way of saying it that sounds like I should be impressed. Stansfield, Stansfield… where have I heard that name?

Oh, right, his prick of a father.

Maxim Stansfield. CEO of an industrial concern - they had a factory out in the Docks. Back in the early 2000s the stupid motherfucker had the audacity to try using scab labor to move freight from the docks and the trainyard. He refused the standard Dockworker's Union contract and also refused to negotiate a reasonable one. The DWU picketed his factory, so he called up some security company to try and break the picket line. That security company had ties to the E88. Not that it helped them - the Empire were still reeling from the death of Allfather.

After a bloody riot, the dockworkers kicked their asses. We weren't going away and we'd fucked his schedule, so he became surprisingly eager to settle. Though needless to say, he - and the E88 - have hated us ever since.

Should I be rude to him? Not really. I mean, his daddy lost. Thinking about it, I don't really care either way. Tit for tat then. Short, to the point, feed him a conversation ender.

"Okay, whatever," I say shortly. "We're busy." Maybe that was a little rude, but really, I could've been so much worse.

Stacie giggles at this. "No offense, Dean, but I'm from a way different league than you, anyway."

Dean glares at me, then walks off to another table, shaking his head.

Stacie watches him walk off, then turns back towards me. "Thanks. He's kinda shaky with his girlfriend, so he's been hitting on cute girls to make Vicky jealous."

I blush a little. "Oh."

She shrugs, wobbling her hand a bit. "Cape groupies are weird."

Oh. That 'Vicky'. I don't know who Dean Stansfield really is - I literally met the dumbass a minute ago - but he's got a death wish if his idea of "make Glory Girl-sempai notice me again" is "flirt badly with queer girls". I've only met her once, back when I was training in the Boneyard, but Kat really doesn't like her. They certainly rant enough about the messes "Collateral Damage Barbie" makes when she intervenes. On top of that… she's just barely not a hobopuncher. Fuck that noise.

I'm about to say something, but then the teacher comes in. Mr. Phillips, apparently, now that I bother to look at the whiteboard.

"Okay, let me take attendance." He reads off a dozen or so names, then comes to mine. "Taylor… Herbert?"

"That's me. It's 'He-bert', though. No 'r'." Hopefully I'll only have to correct him once.

"Oh!" He makes a note. "Sorry about that. You're the transfer student, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. See me after class, then."

"Okay."

He finishes taking attendance, and launches right into lecture mode. "All right. So, last week we briefly mentioned the rise of the parahuman phenomenon. In that time, you have to understand, it was one body blow after another. Carter mishandling the Iran hostage crisis, the gas shortages in 1979 that continued through 1982, and the election of Ronald Reagan. The Soviet fears about his hardline tendencies evaporated when, on March 30th, 1981, President Reagan was assassinated with a Ruger revolver by a man who claimed Jodie Foster wanted him to do it. This left Vice President Bush in charge of what historians call "a total mess"."

"So to recap, on May 20th, 1982, Scion was first spotted by passengers on a cruise ship. They tried to communicate with him, and one passenger even touched him, curing that passenger of end-stage cancer. Scion flew off soon after, beginning the Parahuman Age. That passenger was the first superhero, Andrew Hawke, known as Vikare. Last Friday, we discussed his career, his death, and the Vikare Act. But there was, as you should all remember, a dark side to people gaining special powers."

Mr. Phillips looks around the room, making sure we're paying attention. "So. We all know who the first confirmed parahuman is, and who the first confirmed superhero is. But who was the first supervillain?"

Several of us raise our hands, including Stacie. Mr. Phillips calls on her. "Um, the Advisors were the first to declare it to the public back in '85, but I'd say the Butcher of China. She was active first."

He smiles at this. "Correct! Most assume the Advisors that rule the so-called Republic of Val Verde were the first. The historical consensus is actually that the first supervillain, who goes by One, first started her ascent in the Chinese Communist Party in early 1983. If you've never heard that term before, One is infamously nicknamed the "Butcher of China" by many of the Chinese diaspora for her actions. Her coup in 1987, ousting Deng Xiaoping and the Chinese Communist Party, resulted in the destruction of the unified Chinese state and led to the rival regional states such as the Chinese Union-Imperial and the Democratic Republic of Guangzhou…"



A couple hours later, and I'm off to lunch. I'm gradually learning my way around Arcadia - it's a lot easier to navigate than Winslow ever was. It's weird to settle back into the routine, but the online schooling they were offering as an alternative just wasn't as flexible as I'd hoped.

That, and I figured I'd like it better at Arcadia. Diana and Madison attend here, so I already have friends. Well, a friend and an acquaintance. Also, I'll probably be able to dual-enroll at Massasolt next year. Blackwell's type of malicious incompetence meant that I was never going to be eligible for that program while she was in charge of my schooling, but Arcadia probably won't screw me out of that. Probably.

It isn't long before I find the lunch room. I beeline straight for the vending machine - I nearly nodded off in third period, so clearly more caffeine is needed. A second can of Jolt isn't going to cut it, so I buy some Surge too. I open the Surge can almost absentmindedly, scanning the crowd for anyone familiar. Oh, huh - there's Stacie… and there's Diana and Madison, and a couple girls I don't recognize offhand, all at one table.

Naturally, I walk over there. As I approach, I can hear Diana and one of the girls I don't recognize offhand arguing. It sounds good-natured, though.

"…I mean, you like Candle Cove. I don't think you really get to be high and mighty about taste, Diana."

Diana wobbles her hand. "Candle Cove is weird existential horror pretending to be an early 70s puppet show. It's an icon of dark underground culture! There's a reason we covered the main theme at the last show, Stel-… oh hey, Taylor!" She looks like she wants to get up and hug me, but settles for waving me to the seat next to her, which I take gratefully.

I set my can down and lean forward, looking around. There's Stacie, who's talking to Madison and another girl. Looking at the girl who was chatting with Diana until I arrived, it's kinda obvious who she is. Stella Roth, another one of Winslow's old hellraisers. We've spent a few detentions together. She's great at punching Nazi brats, but she was always a bit weird around me, and I don't know why. Stella's wearing an Arcadia PE sweatshirt, which she's added some steel bangles to. At least… I think those are bangles?

Stella stares at me, sizing me up. I return her stare levelly - two can play that game.

Diana decides to interject before words were had between us. "So, these are my friends! Madison you've met before."

Madison waves shyly, and I nod in her general direction. "You're friends with Stella, Diana?"

Diana grins at Stella. "She's not so bad when you get to know her. I don't think you've met Reina."

I shake my head, smiling. "Nope. Hi."

Reina - the girl who'd been chatting with Stacie and Madison - looks me over and blushes, mumbling something. She's a short Japanese girl with long mostly-bleached hair and a fading tan, wearing a loud pink t-shirt under a white hoodie. A recovering Ganguro girl, then.

"I'm sorry?" I ask.

She speaks up a little louder."Mou tachi hitori?"

Oh. No wonder she's embarrassed. "Uh, yeah."

She looks a little more confident. "Stella's a little scary, but… you seem alright. Wait, you knew what I said?"

I nod at that. "I know some Japanese, but I'm really rusty. I haven't spoken it since I was ten, eleven?"

"Oh!" Reina's about to go on, but she notices Diana digging through her backpack. "What are you looking for, Diana-chan?"

"Um… no, that's the tape I was going to give her… ah, there it is!" Diana fishes out a tape and… my SDAT player!

"You got it working again?" I ask.

She nods. "I just needed to install a new set of heads, and replace one of the drive motors. The old heads were pretty trashed and the motor was binding."

I reach into my own backpack, finding the can of Jolt and my headphones easily enough. "Mind if I…?"

Diana hands it over, grinning. "No, go ahead. It's fully charged." She passes a tape to me, too. "I also got ahold of this when we were running down parts for the Stagea. It's a live tape from the DMC reunion tour a few months ago."

"Sweet." I press play, briefly, listening for the… yep, crowd noise, the opening of Satsugai. I decide to turn it off for the moment - I want to appreciate this fully, not in a crowded lunchroom, with students screaming at each other.

Wait, screaming students? I glance behind me and groan. A boy and a girl are screaming at each other - from here, I can't tell what about. Abruptly, I feel a strange absence, my Symphogear feeling a little warmer than usual. I turn back around in time to look at my friends, who are a little bit freaked out. Even Stella is white-knuckled, her spork having obviously broken in her hand.

I'm considering activating my 'gear, but before I can, the feeling goes away. Glancing back at the arguing couple, it looks like a teacher is talking to them. One of their tablemates, a girl in a trenchcoat, gets up, tells off the other girl, takes her backpack and tray, and starts walking away. I turn back to my soda. Stella goes back to eating, and if I'm not imagining things, her spork is fixed. That's weird, but I figure it's not my place to ask.

"What just happened?" I ask quietly.

"Vicky," Diana and a voice behind me say at the same time. Diana starts at that. The girl behind us walks around to Stella's side of the table and quietly asks her something.

"Suit yourself, spookybutt," Stella says, budging over a bit so the new girl can sit down.

Oh, the new girl is Amelia Pelham. That's unexpected.

The whole table sits in an awkward silence for a few minutes. I glance at Diana, wondering if this is a normal occurrence. Her half-panicked look tells me it's not. Still, why is she acting like this? It's not like the Others haven't dealt with New Wave before. The trick is to not let Glory Girl's aura catch you off-guard.

Wait... Glory Girl's aura... could that be why my Symphogear was acting strangely?

"So, your cousin finally do something stupid enough to make you leave?" Stella asks Amelia, breaking the silence before it can smother anyone to death.

"Yes and no," says Amelia, "It's... it's complicated."

"Let me guess," says Stella, "Her boyfriend was doing something very much like flirting with a girl in his World History class, only for a different girl to come along and shut him down?"

"Yeah, and he doesn't seem to understand why Vicky might not like that kind of behavior, even if--" Amelia stops talking and looks around the table, seeming to see the rest of us for the first time. "Even if he has a good reason for it. Still, it made me realize a few things about her, and about myself."

"Anything you'd like to share?"

"Not here, not now." She shakes her head. "How'd you know all that anyway?"

"Just a few minutes ago I was listening to Stacie here tell Diana how Dean Stansfield wouldn't leave her alone before one of her classes, only for Diana's... friend to come along and save her. It was very gallant of Taylor here to do that, don't you think?" Stella's smirking at me.

I cough, embarrassed. "Um. Yeah. Something about him annoyed me."

"Hard to imagine what it could possibly be. He's so straight-edged," says Diana with a wink. "I can't think of anything that would make you not like the great Dean Stansfield."

"Yeah, laugh it up," I say. "If I had known it would make Glory Girl fear-wave the entire cafeteria I--" I look at Stacie. "Frankly, I probably would've still done it. Some people need to learn to take a hint."

"Yup," says Stacie. "There are lots of people who can't see things right in front of them."

"So," says Diana, quickly. "I know how your World History class went, but tell me about the rest of your day. How many other fair maidens have you saved?"

I laugh, and spend the rest of lunch period telling my best friend about my day.



AN: 2.2 is starting to get a little traction. I've had a little time to rewatch the series I'm montaging, so I've already got two segments of that done - it's funny to watch a magical girl who only vaguely remembers watching magical girl shows, watch one herself. I need to actually rewatch up to the episode I'm including, which is frankly before things get really good.

So we're fully caught up! I'm frankly unsure I'll be able to get 2.2 done tomorrow. I know, I'm frustrated with myself too, but this is the weekend before the week before finals. It'll get done when it gets done, but don't worry, I haven't forgotten about y'all.

Oh, and the question Reina asks Taylor means "another tachi?". Tachi (and neko, the counterpart) is Japanese lesbian slang; you see it more often in more 'grounded'/'real' yuri works. Grossly oversimplified, she's asking if Taylor is butch (she is).
 
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2.2 (Initiation)
February 25, 2011
Brockton Bay, MA
11:49am

The "Sad Girls Table", as Stacie jokingly called it, was… kinda nice, actually. For an hour, I could relax, let my hair down (so to speak), talk to other girls about my life, hear about theirs. That's something I really didn't miss about Winslow.

"Taylor-chan?" asks Reina as I sit down. "Was that your Stagea in the parking lot?"

"Yeah, it is," I nod. "And you know you can just call me Taylor, right? You don't have to stand on ceremony with us or anything, Reina."

Reina blushes a little. "I… I know, Taylor. It's not easy to break that habit. You're allowed to drive?"

I lean back a little, smiling. "Yep, I got the last restriction on my license lifted yesterday; it's pretty great. It's not usually the case though, normally you have to be sixteen to drive on your own…"

"Isn't it eighteen in Japan?" asks Stacie from across the table.

Reina nods at that. "And that's just to get your provisional permit. It's not full driving privileges. I lived in Shinjuku, so all I could have was a scooter. It's not like the countryside where they are a bit more lenient." She sighs, idly twirling the ends of her hair with her fingers. "I wish I could get a car."

Diana leans in, smirking. "Ask Taylor to take you for a ride sometime! That's what I'd do."

"I haven't even broken it in yet… sure, what the hell… Reina, would you like me to demonstrate my car sometime?" I blush a little. God, I'm such a dork when it counts.

Reina beams. "I'd… yeah. I'd like that!"

"Do you say that to all the girls, Taylor?" Stacie's chuckling at her enthusiasm.

I affect a shrug, some good old fashioned nonchalance. "Just the cute ones."

Diana and… Madison, for some reason, are both blushing furiously, now. Goddammit. I glance up, seeing Stella and Amelia chatting as they walk over.

I didn't catch what Amelia asked her, but it must've been big, because Stella is still ranting as she sits down. "…Dean is not my therapist. Dean is not remotely qualified to be a therapist, let alone mine. I have a therapist at the BBQ and they're really awesome and kinda cute, and I attend weekly sessions with them. They're great, and they're ex-PRT. Like, they totally get it. Dean is the opposite of that in almost every conceivable way. So yeah, I wish he'd stop trying to be in therapist mode all the fucking time. It's fucking exhausting!"

Amelia nods at that. "I'm exhausted and all I did was listen to that."

Madison asks the obvious question. "Wait, that Dean? The one that made an ass of himself in front of Stacie and Taylor?"

Stella groans. "Yeah, that one."

I make a face, which Stella snorts at. "Do you hang out with him or something?"

"Not really? It's work bullshit. He's a co-worker of mine. He's taken it upon himself to be the shift therapist. Or shift wet blanket, if you ask me." Stella frowns. "I know I'm not the sunniest girl out there, but I wish he'd stop trying to get me to cheer up all the time. I have feelings too, even if he can't see that sometimes."

I lean forward. "Where do you work, Stella?"

Stella genuinely looks flustered. "Um, uh…nowhereyouveheardof…" She suddenly brightens and looks pointedly at Diana. "Hey, are you two still doing that concert thing, Diana?"

Diana smiles at that, already reaching into her backpack. "Oh, yeah! We totally are. I've got tickets. We're playing at Doomhaus, back to back with some death-metal band."

I shrug. "Brockton Metal City. They're a DMC cover band, but they don't quite have the theatrics down." I grimace, remembering their last show. "And last time they played, they couldn't pronounce Japanese worth a shit. Especially when they sing."

Stella snorts. "They can't be that bad."

Reina shakes her head. "My cousin is the drummer, and they practice at my house, in the garage below my room. They are that bad. They sound worse than... how do you say... a 12-year-old trying to sound tough."

Diana leans forward. "They don't even have a President!"

I shrug. "That's actually one point in their favor. If you can't be original, at least be entertaining. They don't really get why DMC was so awesome, but it doesn't stop them from trying. I think they'll be great once they get it."

Diana, meanwhile, passes tickets to Madison, Stella, Reina and Stacie. "Amelia? You want a ticket?"

Amelia looks conflicted for a bit, glancing at Stella sheepishly. "Um… I'm supposed to go on this… double date thing. With Vicky and her stupid boyfriend. I'm not sure I want to stand her up, but…"

Stella grins at her. "This'll be way more fun. And frankly I need to hang out more. It's an all-ages show, and a pretty cool venue. We can go out to eat later, if you like."

Amelia processes what Stella's saying, and blushes bright red. "Um… in that case, uh… Sure!"

Reina and Madison are about to high-five each other, but Stella glares at the two. They settle for giggling together. Diana smirks at them, and Reina looks a little baffled and amused at the same time.

We all chat for a few minutes longer, and then the bell rings.

As we head to the second floor, Diana stops me. She looks really, really nervous. "Hey, so my moms are working really late. You want to sleep over tonight, so we can rehearse early? You've never been to my place before, and I know it's really presumptuous of me, but…"

…Well, Dad's out of town for tonight. Dockworkers regional meeting in Boston, I think he said. "Sure. Should I bring food?"

She giggles, her nervousness banished. "Well, if you want to, I'd kill for some pizza."

I smile. "Sure. Marcire's? They've got a deal going."

Diana nods, then glances at her phone and curses. "Sorry, gotta go!" She practically darts up the stairs. I frown and check my own… oh fuck!



A few hours later, the final bell rings, and I head out of Arcadia - or try to. I'm almost out of the main hallway, after school, when Madison grabs my arm and asks me to talk to her in private about… stuff. After a couple moments of trying to subtly ask her if it's cape stuff and imply that maybe my car would be better for sensitive talks, I give up and let her steer me into an empty classroom.

I decide to speak up first. "Okay, what's up, and why couldn't we talk about it in my car?"

Madison nervously kneads her hands. "Mom and Dad got a call from the PRT. They want to talk to me about everything I've been doing. I met the Wards and it went badly, and then I blew up that parking lot chasing after Circus, and now… oh god, I'm in so much trouble. So. Much. The Director wants to personally debrief me! Tomorrow! That can't be good!" She makes a strangled, panicky noise.

That's really, really, not good. Let's keep the exploding girl calm here. "Okay?"

"I can't stand it, Taylor, I'm too nervous! I'm bouncing off the walls. Literally, last night. Bouncing." I can tell; Madison is practically squirming with energy.

I shrug, nonchalantly. "It's just the PRT, you learn to deal with them."

"You don't understand!" Madison's hissing at me, now. "They could make or break my entire future. And I hit one of their Wards!"

Okay, that's worrying, but not too much. "Was it Shadow Stalker? She probably deserved it."

"No, I… how'd you know?" She looks at me, confused. Some of her nervousness seems to dissipate.

I chuckle darkly. "Miss Edgelord has a bit of a rep. You're shocked, I can tell."

Madison leans against the wall, grumbling. "It's unspoken rules… stuff. I can't talk about it too much."

I sit on one of the nearby tables, shrugging off my backpack. "And that's why I'd prefer to talk in the car. Short of cape shit, my car has no listening devices. Who knows, at this place?"

Madison's sullen, as she replies. "It's neutral territory."

I shake my head. "Not really. It's a school, and it's an open secret that practically all the Wards go here, on top of New Wave and some Empire 88 prospective cape they haven't run down yet. Next time you get a chance, please ask Kat to give you some basic tradecraft lessons. I'm still amateur hour at that shit and I know better than to talk here for anything really important."

Madison's face falls. "Should we, uh…"

"Not really; you already blurted out the sensitive stuff." I sigh, toying with the end of my braid. "Look, if you were really in deep shit, you wouldn't get a polite phone call. You'd get the jackboot and confoam treatment, and they'd ask their questions in a remote cell."

Madison shudders. "So it won't be that bad?"

I shake my head. "Director Piggot isn't the nicest ever, but she's pretty reasonable. Harsh when you screw up, but reasonable."

She sighs. "If you say so."

I get up and join her on the wall, putting my arm around her. She smiles and leans a little closer. "You'll be fine. I've had to do it before - we got called on the carpet once, when Shadow Stalker started sniffing around the warehouse."

"How'd that go?"

"Well…"

[Five Months Ago]​

I'd never seen Rachel this pissed. "Hey! You! Come out here, you fucking Batman reject! Why'd you kick my cat?!"

The flickering form dropped down. "It wouldn't stop following me." She leveled a compact crossbow at us, as Rachel's powers continued enhancing her pack. "Now back off, asshole, and I'll forget this happened."

I glanced at Kat, keeping my wrench ready. I wasn't sure it'd do me any good, but it was better than nothing.

Kat looked angry. "This isn't your patrol route, kid. Buzz off."

"Don't call me that!"

Instead of replying, Kat put their shotgun away, pulling out a taser instead. "I said buzz off. I know you're still in the shit with the cape cops. I'm willing to let this go if you are, but if not..." They shrugged disdainfully. "I'm sure your handler will tell you to mind your business around my workshop. We're rogues. We're not bothering anybody. And the cats are following you because they're patrolling."

The vigilante paused, then pressed the side of her neck with her free hand. "Triumph, I'm busy! What? No, I'm still on my route. Okay, okay. Look, there was a cat following me. Like, stalking me. Yeah, one of Queen's cats. No, but it was suspicious. What? Fine. Shit. Yeah, the mechanic one was waving a gun at me, but she put it away. Didn't want to shoot a hero, I guess. Fine, 'they' put it away. Alright already. I'll link up with the kid." She looks at us. "You're free to go, don't cause trouble, blah blah blah."

Kat lowered their taser, wary, while the local cats parted to let her out. It isn't until she flew away with her phasing trick that we relaxed and headed back to the warehouse.


—*—​

"So yeah. We've run into her before."

"And how'd that debrief go?"

"She got her personal pay docked, no patrols for a month. She broke the rules, so…"

Madison frowns. "That's good. I guess. So…"

I smile and jiggle her shoulder. "You'll be fine. Trust me. Yeah, you screwed up. Shit happens, and they can't exactly afford to turn away heroes. The same thing that protected Shadow Stalker will protect you."

Madison looks a bit happier, at least. "Okay… okay. That helps. Thanks, Taylor!" She hugs me and runs out the door. I chuckle a bit, and head for my car. I need to go home first, get some clothes and my sequencer disks, and hit Marcire's for some pizza before I head over to Diana's.



Two hours later, with my dad placated, an overnight bag in the back, and a hot pizza in the front, my GPS app dings. Yep, this is Diana's house. As much as we hang out together at the warehouse, I don't think I've been to her place more than a few times, and even then only to pick her up or drop her off. I don't think I've ever been inside. Getting out, I grab my backpack from the rear hatch, then close it and go for the pizza. I'm almost to the door when it opens, revealing Diana, this time in sweatpants, socks and a tank top.

Diana beams at me, clearly excited. "Taylor! I wasn't sure you'd actually come by!"

"Yep. Just as I promised." I grin at her, motioning with the box. "A little help?"

She giggles, taking the pizza, then gestures me inside as she walks over to the kitchen to set them down. "Hm… half supreme meat-lovers... for Taylor, I guess, and… half pineapple, ham and jalapeño? For me? Wow. How'd you guess?"

I put the rest of the food down, selecting a can of root beer. "Easy. You only ask for it every time Kat orders pizza."

She nods. "Still. I know you think it's gross…"

I shrug, wobbling my hand. "Weird, not gross. I spent a year in Japan as a little kid. After that, well… nothing's all that strange anymore, food-wise? I just don't like it."

"Oh. Figures." She brightens somewhat. "I've got something to take care of upstairs."

I smile, making a shooing motion with my free hand. "I can take care of myself, you know."

Diana shrugs, then runs up the stairs. Meanwhile, I decide to take a look around. Her living room looks more or less like I'd expect - an old Hi-Vision plasma screen in one corner with speakers, complete with converter, a cable box and some game consoles and random media players. There's also a comfortable and worn-looking brown suede couch, some wooden thrift-store coffee table with several controllers, DVDs, and an old W-Max tape, and a blanket and a lumpy blue jacket with hi-vis stripes draped over a battered recliner. A semi-hidden security camera, more speakers and a couple of bookshelves round out the room. There's some pictures mounted on one of the walls, and I take a look at them. Yep, there's Diana's moms, and a few pictures of Diana herself. A couple are her as a baby and a toddler, and there's a few more that look more recent, like from her tween years. There's quite a few of those, but none in between. Those wedding pictures look really cute, though.

In the background, I hear a muffled thump from upstairs, and some cursing. I wander over to the stairs, and yell up. "You okay?"

More cursing, and some stuff rattling around. Finally, I hear a door opening, and seconds later, Diana's head pops out from behind the divider. "Yeah! I, uh, stuck myself wrong."

"Stuck yourself?"

"Yeah, I have to stick myself every week for my meds. Normally my mom does it for me, but you don't see her around tonight, do you?" She sighs. "Mind if I finish up? I'm okay, I just, you know. Fucked it up. Held my breath."

I nod dumbly. "Sure. Sure."

She sheepishly tosses off a thanks and heads back into the bathroom. I end up heading back to the living room, where I clear some space for the pizza box, then grab some plates from the kitchen. Upstairs, I can hear her bustling about - first in what I think is the bathroom, then her room. Soon enough, she heads down, a set of DVD cases in her hand. They're obvious bootlegs, but Diana doesn't seem to care. She puts them on the table, grabbing a slice of pizza and plating it.

"What are those?" I ask, pointing to the DVDs.

Diana takes a bite of her pizza slice and smiles. "So, I thought we'd watch a magical girl show."

"Uh… sure. I haven't watched one in a really long time." I frown, trying to remember. Some show with two girls that had to hold hands to transform, back in 2006. The name slips my mind. Futuriwa something Heart? I don't remember. I do remember liking it, though.

Diana finishes off the slice while I was lost in thought. "That's okay. This one should be pretty easy to follow. We're not going to watch the entire thing - there's forty-nine episodes - but we should be able to finish the first cour? The… first twelve or so episodes. If you'd like, we can pick it up later sometime."

I nod, grab my own slice and settle in, as Diana gets up and puts the first DVD into the player.

—*—

"…Just because I was… trying to help you change…" Oh my god, Erika looks so dejected, even after she ran off Tsubomi.

"That was your fault, Erika."

"Momo…"

"You speak before you think. That's a bad habit, you know?"


Diana titters at me, and I stifle a giggle.

Erika rounds on her, frustrated. "It has nothing to do with you," she grumbles. "Just leave me alone!"

"You sure aren't honest with yourself," Momo replies, smugly.


Diana smirks. "That's so a 'you' thing, though, Taylor."

I grumble good-naturedly under my breath. "It's true, but you shouldn't say it."

—*—

Tsubomi exclaims, glancing down frantically at her dress,"W-what the heck is this costume?"

I couldn't help it; we both laughed, though I was a bit more redfaced.

The fairy, at least, is thrilled. "Amazing! You really are a PreCure!"

The episode ends soon after, Tsubomi having named herself Cure Blossom. As the credits roll, Diana smiles at me, a question on her face. "Was it like that for you, Taylor?"

I shrug, waving my hand at the screen. "Nope, no animal mascot. It was a little bit of a letdown, honestly. And I carried myself with a little more dignity than that."

Diana smirks. "Just a little?"

"Just a little," I reply firmly. "I was more freaked out than I let on, though."

—*—

I wave at the screen smugly. "I'm calling it right now. Every girl's gay for Itsuki."

Diana just sputters. "It's episode six! How'd you figure that one out?!"

"Oh come on, it's obvious!"

"I… how!?" Diana's surprised, but oddly pleased.

—*—

I frown. I could've sworn I'd watched this before.

"So when are the white and black Cures showing up?" I ask, casually.

Diana snorts root beer up her nose. After frantically pausing the episode and cleaning herself up, she responds, coughing. "Wrong series." She blows her nose. "That's 'Futari wa Pretty Cure'. This is a later one, Heartcatch. If I'd known… yeah, we'd have watched that instead. When did you watch it?"

"When I was ten? Aunt Ryouko had the DVDs, so I binged them when I wasn't doing schoolwork. So now you know, I guess."

She giggles. "So that's why Reina says you sound like a bratty pre-teen when you talk to her in Japanese."

I facepalm. "Now you know my dark secret. I learned Japanese from a magical girl anime for pre-teens and Osakan dockworkers."

Diana just smirks at me, nodding.

—*—

We lay back, cuddling a bit, a little tired and definitely stuffed. After all, between the two of us we demolished an entire pizza. The ending of episode 12 was still playing on her TV.

Diana's nestled up to me on the couch, obviously content. "So that's Heartcatch Pretty Cure. What do you think so far, Taylor?"

I smile. "It's pretty good, yeah. I'm feeling really… nostalgic, though."

Diana nods. "Sorry. Should've figured mom stuff would, you know… come up."

I shrug. "It's alright. It's a good memory. God knows I don't have a lot of those." After all, watching your mom's, well, spirit die, like Mari's mom in Evangelion? Yeah, that proved rather scarring for twelve-year-old me.

She yawns and gets up. "Well. It's about my bedtime. It's like, eleven."

I groan. "Ah, shit, and we need to get to the warehouse by nine."

"Yep." She lifts my overnight bag over her shoulder, heading up the stairs. Halfway up, she stops. "Taylor! You coming?"

I mentally shake myself, then walk up the stairs behind Diana. She walks into one of the rooms, and I hear a thump. Following her, I look inside, and…

Damn. The first thing I notice is how clean it is. It's not like my room's dirty or anything, but the only sign that it might be inhabited by somebody is the neat array of Jolt battery cans next to one of her monitors, and a pocky packet. All her furniture's painted in pastels, with a patterned rug, a rainbow flag, a Sailor Moon poster and a Vogelchevalier wall scroll tying it together. She's got several computers and three monitors around her desk-workbench thing, which have stuffed animals on top. The big 'Intergraph' monitor has a half-dozen of them by itself. There's a good bit of fan noise, and I can see her favorite guitar on its stand near the closet. There's also some bookshelves, half filled with books and half with games, DVDs and beta tapes. There's what looks like an audio rack, but it's filled with computer stuff with lots of blinking lights. Finally there's a fairly large bed, decorated in pastels and absolutely covered in pillows.

Diana turns around, smiling. "So! This is my room. Sorry I couldn't get the air bed out. It's, uh… it's got a hole in it."

"So where do I sleep?" I ask.

Diana looks down, embarrassed, hand on head. "Well… yeah, I didn't think this through. I can sleep on the floor, or something."

I shrug. "It's okay, we'll share the bed, there's enough room." After Diana finishes sputtering, we get ready for bed. I get under the covers, then she turns out the light and gets in herself.

A few minutes later, Diana turns to me. "Taylor?"

"Yeah?"

She sounds nervous. "Are you… still with Charlotte?"

I somehow keep my composure. I try to not think about it. "No… she… found somebody else. It… wasn't going to work out. She lives in Brooklyn, I live here. We're not… long-distance relationship people." I sigh heavily. I mean… she can't come back. The Empire's in the terror business, after all, and their hate week scared away her family.

It's not fair. She gave me hope after my mom went nuts and Emma disappeared. She gave me friends, my love of synths, my first kiss, my first… everything, really. I wouldn't be half the girl I was without her. Then those bonehead pigfuckers go and riot and ruin everything for us. They did that to a lot of people, yeah. I can't help but take it personally, though.

"So you're… single?"

"I… I mean, technically, I guess? But I don't know if a relationship with anyone is in the cards right now." Truth is, I haven't thought about it, much. I have some crushes on other girls, but… I don't know. Would it work out?

"Oh." She sounds a little disappointed, as she turns over, her back facing me. "…good night, Taylor."

"G'night." I yawn.

As I close my eyes, Diana starts mumbling. I only catch the last bit of it as sleep overcomes her. "…should I tell her?"

I sigh, and let sleep take me. Whatever she wants to tell me… it can wait.



AN: So I passed my finals for Winter term, and I'm about to start the next term. Here's hoping I get the chance to do another chapter before April ends.

Some of you have been wanting Diana to be a bit more fleshed out... well, here's your wish.

Thanks to @TheWonko for betaing this, and M.Q. for helping me workshop Diana's background.
 
[Scrapped Alternate Chapter] 20.1 (The Truth Inside Your Mind Is...)
AN: So while this is scrapped, and in Apocrypha, this does contain spoilers for future material. Don't read it if you don't want spoilers for where I plan taking the metaplot, but most of them are, well. Minor, I'd say. I'll work on getting 2.3 ready for posting tomorrow, but @TheWonko finished getting their edits done before I got mine done, so this is going up first.

――​


Sakurai snaps her head up, clearly excited. "So that's what Cauldron's been trying to do! They were trying everything they could to make powerful capes, no matter what. And then, in my reality, they discovered my Sakurai Theory papers, they funded the Type 100, they made those fucking Wave Zero crystal farms, they were still making metaforms and those bottle capes. They could have taken over Earth - all the Earths - any time they wanted, but they didn't! I wondered why, but it makes so much sense now!"

Sarah and Lisa snap their fingers, interjecting. "They were making an army!" They look at each other, sheepishly.

I frown at this. "Yeah, to fight Scion. But that doesn't make sense. If they're trying to build a parahuman army, or an Adaptor army, or both, you'd need a leader, and we're a little too independent as a general rule for that."

I blanch, remembering my personal hell. "Unless... Project Marionette. The DFS override system. They were hoping to control the artificial sacrist modules. Thank fuck Dr. Ver wasn't ever able to control more than a couple of us, though."

Doctor Mother frowns at that. "Testing showed that a controller couldn't puppet more than five ASMs at a time without severe consequences. We encouraged the PRT to teach small-unit tactics to sacrist holders instead. We had explored a similar project for parahumans but ended up dumping the test subject on an alternate world."

Contessa - their Contessa nods. "Goddess?"

Doctor Mother sighs, nodding. "Perhaps a natural trigger could do it, if suitably modified. But we're not facing Scion anymore, are we? He's much worse."

Lisa, Hibiki and I turn to each other in horror, and run for the exit. "Taylor!"

After three tries, on the comm system, Dragon realizes we're seeking Cauldron's teleporter team. The bridge must have sent word, because the Clairvoyant frowns at us as we enter. He holds up a hand but says nothing. After almost a minute, Ryoko sweeps into the room, already Attuned to her module.

"Door to this universe's Taylor Hebert," she says, glancing at me. Addressing the three of us, she frowns. "Crossing the reality boundary messed up their powers. They probably won't be able to pull us back."

I nod. "We'll burn that bridge when we get to it. For now, we've got bigger problems."

Doormaker finally stabilizes the portal, and the four of us rush through. Lisa expertly leads us through the field hospital to the surgery room, wasting no time. She glances at the young surgeon-cape inside, then points towards a door. Almost on autopilot, I barge through, taking my cue from Lisa.

<Front Line Assembly - Spitting Wind>
Amelia's standing over my counterpart, her hands pressed to Weaver's face. She's obviously in pain, and the insects around her are acting strangely. There's a pervasive sense of wrongness in the room.

I hear a choked sob from behind me. Lisa. Tattletale might be smug and self-righteous, but she shouldn't have to see this.

Alarms blare in the back of my mind. My Symphogear's trying to warn me about something, and the mental intrusion alert is unfortunately one I know all too well - we might be too late. I step forward, already slipping into the familiar ritual of cleansing. Perceive the true metaphor of the powers, and what it does to the person… as the image begins to coalesce in my mind, the sense of wrongness only intensifies.

"Stay back, Hibiki!" That sounds like Sarah. Lisa, maybe?

My mirrors feel sluggish. I've never had my Armed Gear act up like this.

"[I can't just leave her!]" Hibiki… poor Hibiki. I should reassure her.

Feel your own music… but it's so far away.

"[Hibiki, she might be trapped. But if we go in there, we'll be trapped too, I'm not sure what we can do.]" Ryoko-san. She's being sensible… what a change.

Channel the phonic gain through the mirrors, set convergence… the emitters are only fitfully responding to commands; the Armed Gear's malfunctioning. Still. I'll power through. I've suffered worse.

"[Ryoko-san, she's not moving… I'm scared for her…]" I need to call out. Reassure Hibiki. Ask her for support. Maybe Miku could help me overcome whatever… this… is.

Everything's so slow. I try to speak, but nothing comes out. What's happening?

Lisa says what we're all thinking. "Shit. She's trapped."

It's too late. The other me might not be using a Marionette controller, but I'm trapped all the same.

――
Am I breathing? It seems so for now; the feedback system is handling that just fine. I may not need as much oxygen while Attuned, but the last thing I need is to black out.

Panacea's stopped whatever she was doing, collapsed on the ground. Weaver's looking at me strangely. Anguish, non-comprehension, terror. I don't think it's just me.

I try again to speak, but the only sound I make is a strangled, wheezing squeak. Shit.

Lisa tentatively calls out. "Weaver?" I can hear and feel Hibiki moving around, but Ryoko says something I can't catch, which seems to stop her. "Fuck. Nobody move. Let her get her bearings first." Figures. She doesn't know me, she just knows Weaver.

Ryoko doesn't take well to this. "[That idiot!]"

Lisa doesn't know much Japanese, but she can tell Ryoko's pissed. "Not helpful, Ryoko. Let's stay calm. Don't stray beyond the door. I'm still trying to figure out her range."


I can see the snot dripping from Weaver's nose, the tears she can't seem to cry. She's either under the grip of a really intense panic attack or her control power is so fucked she can't even use her own body.

I don't get it. Even against the Simurgh, I was still able to act freely. My body's deadlocked; even movements that should be automatic… aren't.

"[It's conceptual.] Yeah. Yeah. Whatever Panacea did to this… to Weaver, it must've mounted a conceptual attack on Taylor. Our Taylor, not yours."

"That's not how powers work."

"Says you. Powers are weaponized physics. Cain has crossed over into weaponized metaphysics."

"Goddammit, Taylor. Shit. Fuck." Lisa whispers something I can't quite catch to Ryoko.

"[Taylor, whatever Lisa-chan says, it's not directed at you. She's mad at her Taylor, not you, okay?]" Thanks, Ryoko.


I glance at one of my mirrors, still holding position, light dancing over it. The habitat wall separating this part of the cave from the field hospital collapses with a sucking sound as the barrier foam retreats. There's some scrambling as a lady in power armor joins Lisa, Hibiki, Ryoko and some little kid, dressed in surgeon's garb.

"What… Weaver?" Is that… Paige? I thought she stayed behind with Saint-Germain's crew, to help work the ritual.

"Canary? Don't… don't bother her. She's still getting her bearings. Wait." Lisa's trying to get some space. I can see Hibiki and Ryoko walking away, in the mirror.

"What happened, Weaver?" Canary, pleading for answers.


(Passenger? Any clues?)
What the fuck. Weaver? Is she talking to me, somehow? I didn't hear anything…

(Huh?) Something anguished, in pain.
"You never learned to ask for help when you needed it," Lisa says, almost accusing Weaver. Of what, I'm not sure. I dreamed of her, but that doesn't mean I know their backstories, their bonds. Not really. "I mean, you ask when you approach other groups, and it's like you're holding a gun to their heads as you ask, or you ask at a time when it's hard for them to say no, because all hell's about to break loose."

I think that that's Weaver, in my mind. Can I listen in?

(I'm hearing something of the girl in front of me. Lisa's looking at me like I've changed into something… grotesque. The Japanese woman with the strange armor is, if anything, even more revolted.)
Oh my gods. I can hear her. Oh… oh no. I can feel my heart breaking. Shit.

"Yeah, you asked Panacea. You asked me to play along and arrange stuff, when you went to go turn yourself in. Your handling of the school thing… well, I don't want to get into a pattern and start cutting too deep. Let's just say you make a decision by yourself, and then you use others to get help carrying it out. That's not really you asking for help, is it?"


(…I don't need this right now, Lisa.)
"While I'm saying all this, kiddo, you gotta know I love you. I adore you, warts and all. You saved me, as much as I like to think I saved you. All this stuff I'm bitching about, it's the same stuff that got us through some pretty hairy shit, and I love you for it as much as I groan about it. You're brilliant and you're reckless and you care too much about people in general when I really wish you'd leave things well enough alone and be selfish. But this?"

(This?)
"Shit," Lisa says. "You gotta forgive me, just this once. Because seeing this and knowing what you pulled hurts enough that I gotta say this. This makes me feel really sorry for your dad, because I'm starting to get a sense of what you put him through."

It might not be me she directed this at, but my heart feels drop-kicked all the same. Most of it's her, but… some of it might be me. I wasn't exactly daughter of the year material, though at least I avoided willing super-villainy. That doesn't help much right now, because I can feel her anguish through whatever perverse bond she's formed with me.

"There," she says. "I've said what I needed to say. I do have your back, here. Now we need to figure out how we're going to fix this."

"
This isn't easily reversed." The little surgeon girl's back, and she's brought some of Weaver's crew. Marquis, a couple men I don't recognize.

"I'm open to
trying." Lisa, again.

Marquis is looking around. Lisa had paced out something - Weaver's new range, maybe? - while I wasn't looking.

"I'm not hearing a resounding
yes here."

Ryoko chooses to speak up. "Well, Weaver's trapped the solution I would propose."

"What's she going to do, shoot her with love and acceptance?"

"The truth's more complicated than that, but yes, that's exactly what she was going to do. I can't exactly give you a crash course in applied and experimental metaphysics here, but trust me when I tell you that would work. I literally wrote the book on this. I know what I'm talking about."

"Well… huh? Careful!" Lisa says, as Marquis strides forward, stopping right at the circle Lisa'd scuffed out earlier.


I can hear a grinding sound, and then a large bone-like thing springs out near Weaver, pushing into her chest and then splitting, trapping her as it pushes her to the wall.
(I thought she had my back…)
I'd respond, but right now I need to escape her influence. A sort of skeletal hand springs out of the ground in front of me and Panacea, shoving the both of us back across the line. Panacea quickly stirs, and I feel slightly better… but I still can't move. I feel like the distance is helping, but for whatever reason it didn't break her hold over me.

"Oh shit. Synth's still under her control." Lisa steps in front of me, looking me over. I'm trying my best to respond. "Well? You're the metaphysician, you tell me what's going on, Sakurai. And you, Panacea! What the fuck did you do to her?"

"Weaver asked me to unlock her powers. Take the restrictions off."

In stereo, Ryoko and Lisa turn on her. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"She's the one who wanted Bonesaw to do it. I just did it correctly." Panacea replies, sullenly.

Ryoko huffs. "[How annoying.] Our Amelia isn't nearly this much of a fool. Well, do you understand what you've done? Metaphysically? Like, at all?"

Panacea glares at Ryoko, defiant. "What does metaphysics have to do with anything? Her powers are unleashed now, like she wanted. I told her it was a stupid idea, but she wouldn't take no for an answer. And if you don't have anything constructive to say,
Tattletale, I'll fuse those smug lips of yours shut."

I've only seen
that look on Ryoko's face a few times. She's absolutely livid. I think she'd straight-up strangle Panacea if she thought it'd help. "You stupid, stubborn child! You didn't unleash jack fucking shit! You didn't change her synthesis, you ripped away her power's mediator. Her mind, her very soul, is being unraveled by her power now! You destroyed the only fucking barrier that poor girl had against the cosmic horror leech us parahumans call our fucking powers. Did you think about that?! No, you played god because your own cosmic horror leech told you it'd be cool and good. Well, congratulations, you stupid brat, you've doomed Weaver. She can't even coordinate other people like she hoped. Cain will pulp her because she's too fucking addled to Attune with a sacrist, and that's the only way you can fight Adam fucking Weishaupt without him turning you into a bloody smear on the ground. I hope you can live with yourself, because if we can't fix this, and fast, none of us will be living with anyone!"

Panacea looks at all of us, barely concealed horror on her face. "M-mediator? Synthesis?"

Lisa snaps her fingers. "So that's why we can't fully connect with our powers! It'd change us too much, we'd just be puppets our powers wear. Like Contessa, but worse... much much worse. Our coronae act as mediators, and that creates the gestalt that lets us express our powers."

Ryoko beams. "Like I told Sarah, you have potential. That's more or less right, Lisa. Normally it wouldn't have such… dire consequences, but Cain's arrival's changed things. He's literally rewriting the rules of reality to exist and act, and that's having side effects."

"So what can we do?" Lisa's staring at Weaver, occasionally glancing at me.

Ryoko, instead of responding, turns and faces me, then grips my hand. "[Hibiki?]"

"[Yeah?]"

"[Come here. Taylor-chan might not be able to ask for your help, but…]"

A familiar clatter of boots. Hibiki walks over to me, as Ryoko moves out of the way, and takes my hand.

"[Taylor? I know you can hear me. Listen. This isn't something you can solve in the real world. You need to let go of the Material. Concentrate on Weaver. If I'm right, she's connected with you now. Help her.]"

Ryoko's pleading with me. Hibiki grips my hands tightly. Despite everything, I manage to twitch my pinky, tapping it against hers, which makes her smile.

"[Taylor… we've been through so much together. I know I'm not Diana, but I'm here, and I'll help you get through this. We never fight alone. Okay?]"


I want to smile, but I can't.

(Control. I need control. I can still feel her, but she won't move.)
Hibiki's either really sensitive, or really wishful, because she squeezes my hands gently. "[Help her. Please. Nobody deserves this.]"

I focus on Hibiki's hands, gripping mine, feeling her faith in me. I know she won't let go, no matter what, and so I let go of everything else.

――
I open my eyes and find myself in the hall of mirrors again. Everything looks fine… aside from the iridescent darklight tentacles gripping the platform. The tentacle creature looked like something out of my nightmares - a spider with legs that ended in thousands of pseudopods.

Taking it in, it's exactly what I expected from my nightmares. Everything about it feels wrong, perverse, a violation of souls in and of itself. An absolute form of Control, its only purpose to meticulously puppet anything and everything in its grasp.

Checking quickly, I make sure my Symphogear is still responding. Its metaphor is still valid here, which is really good news. I glance around, satisfied that both the Great Mirror and Dainsleif are still where they should be. I step beyond the mirror, and find the source of the wrongness. A teenage girl, bound to her ego platform by thick webbing and chains. If I'm not mistaken, the links are self-tightening.

…That's a mental image I could have done without.

The girl looks up, and I get a good look at her. It's a body blow - I know this girl.

She's… me. My counterpart, my opposite.

This must be Khepri. An abomination that dominates other people. She's my road not taken, the corruption I'd always feared. Only… she's not who I'd thought she'd be. I'd expected, subconsciously, that she'd be, well, evil. This girl? She's just broken, on the wheel of her own power.

Speaking of the devil, she looks up, weary, her eyes dulled by something, a rictus of bitterness on her face. "Passenger?"

I shake my head. "I'm Taylor."

She smiles sadly. "That's my line, I think."

I offer a shrug. "It's your head too. My cape name is - was; I don't bother using it anymore - Synth. And I suppose we're each other's prisoner."

"How so? I can't seem to control you. I can barely control my own body."

I point at the Great Mirror. "Turns out that powers don't like looking into the mirror of the soul very much. People too, for that matter, but powers seem especially vulnerable. But that doesn't free me. I'm your prisoner, but you're my prisoner too. We're stuck together, like it or not."

She huffs. "I didn't ask to be saddled with some naif version of me. You let me go, I'll let you go."

I shake my head, stepping closer. "I can't. Your power latched onto me. You're not in the driver's seat anymore."

Weaver looks at me like I just invited her to dinner with Finè or something. "That's impossible. I act through my power, not the other way around."

Another step. "If that's the case, why are you bound? This is a space of True Metaphor. Everything you see here is what things really are. And from where I'm standing, there's no possible way you're in control. Not really. You're not even directing your own power - your power is trying to subsume my ego, but it doesn't understand what it's looking at. Yet."

Something flashes through her dull eyes, quickly squelched. "Well, I probably deserve it anyway. I'm the terrifying bug controller. Haven't you noticed? There's nothing good about me. When I try to be a hero, I'm a failure. When I choose, I choose badly. But I'm not about to leave my friends to die. I'm going to defeat Scion, with or without your help."

I smile. "That's the spirit."

"You don't really know me, do you? I'm a fuck-up. Lisa's right. I can't connect to others. I'm too messed up for that." Her eyes twitch again. "Wait, why am I saying all of this?"

Another step forward, a sadder smile. "That's my power. It's… not all fun and games and monsters of the week. My power is a divine mirror. In this state, when Attuned? I'm a divine mirror. Mirrors can show you the ugly, naked truth of yourself, or assist you in the greatest of self-deceptions. Even I'm not totally immune to it. And you? You're standing right in front of it."

She might be saying no, but her heart's saying yes, because her bonds start shaking. "This is crazy. You don't want me for an ally. I was a failure as a hero. When I was a villain, I could at least change things, but… not for the better. Not really. Every time I choose, I feel, deep inside, like… like I chose wrong. Like I've been cursed. And then I shrug my shoulders and keep going, because… because it's all I know how to do."

"We make history, but we don't make it as we please."

Weaver glares, the webs jiggling from the strain. "No shit. You play the cards you're dealt. You don't need to quote Marx at me. I'm not a magical girl or whatever the hell you are. I can't wish away my failures, and I don't get a power boost just in time to beat the monster of the week. I didn't have Panacea do this to me because I wanted this. I'm trying to save the world and I don't have time to negotiate with you. Let me go!"

I step forward, snapping my right arm down. My Armed Gear slides out, into my hand. I'm so close. "You don't have time not to. We're not the only one to get power boosts. What you made your Amy do to you might have worked, if Scion were still himself, but Cain is different. Cain will take the very Concept of Destruction and use it against you. It doesn't matter how many capes you can take control of, it won't be enough against that."

She looks at me strangely. "Scion's still Scion. What the hell is Cain?"

Instead of speaking, I show her, directing memories into the Great Mirror. His reveal, his destruction of the archives, the showdown at the Leviathan memorial shrine, his Baphomet transformation… and his appearance in Cauldron's Flesh Garden.

― ―

"Mutual understanding?!" Adam sneers.

"I prefer a mutual embrace! I love you, Adam!" Tiki, impossibly, is still moving, still acting. Contemptuously, he crushes Tiki's head under his shoe, forever snuffing her out.

"As if that were possible from within the curse of
balal's grasp! Not without surpassing those who put it in place: the Custodians! Not without suborning the Wish-Drivers!" Adam pauses, with that fucking shit-eating smirk on his punchable face. "However, if someone were to unite the people, with a perfect leader commanding a perfect army, it's a whole other story!"

― ―
Weaver gasps, her expression horrified.

― ―
Adam, restored to his pseudo-human form, glowing with that iridescent darklight, sneers at us. "You thought it'd be that easy to kill me? I've consumed these simple-minded beasts, and gained powers beyond your reckoning, become the one thing the Custodians truly fear! I wield superior thought, and these… space worms… wield superior power. I am a new synthesis. If I cannot be the beginning of a new dynasty on this planet, then I will be the murderer of it! No longer am I your Adam, now I am your Cain!"

Hibiki's already rushing out, her armor igniting and flinging her forward, with the melee fighters following just behind her. Both Miku and I hammer his form with our signature twin-beam attack, while Chris pumps missile after missile into him. It doesn't seem to be doing much, though.

He simply turns aside and opens a dimensional portal. "There are more iterations of these beasts in the multiverse. I will take them, consume them, and ensure my rule! All the worlds shall bow before me or perish!" Before we can really react, he steps through, the portal closing behind him.


― ―
"Weaver, that? That's the end of this path of yours. All of humanity under your perfect thrall, none of us human any more. And you as a mad god looking down on us, still raging because we aren't what you thought. Now I may not be an expert, but that's not the sort of thing Taylor Hebert would want."

Something in her eyes shifts. "Then what do you want me to do, huh?! I'm out of options! This was my last chance to make a difference, and you're telling me it's all for nothing, that I destroyed myself for no reason!"

Another step, my Strike Fan energizing. "I know you're hurting. I know you feel unworthy of anything except this burden you carry, this power you wield. But… you can do better. That's what I'm trying to tell you. You have options now. You can rewrite your very destiny. That's the miracle that makes us, us. We make our own fates, we make a difference, together. You're afraid to push me out because your power is trying to subsume you, consume your very soul, and without me holding your power and you apart, propping up your ego barrier, you'd be mutilated into a cruel parody of yourself. And nobody deserves that." I reach my hand out to her. "Let's go. Together. You're just like me. You have the potential, even if you don't think yourself worthy of it just yet, and we have another of these devices. Better to be a magical girl than a monster of the week, after all."

She glances up, the light flickering in and out of her eyes. "I think the Queen would object."

I raise my Strike Fan, already looking to the roots of her bindings. "I don't give a shit."

She smiles. "Do it."

― ―​

Abruptly, we both start screaming, in the material. A high-pitched scream of raw anguish. Hibiki clutches my hands more tightly. From what I can see, Weaver's screaming as well.

― ―​

Weaver drops to the ground, standing firmly on her own ego. If we'd waited too much longer, it'd have been ablated away entirely. As it is, the floor of her mindscape floods with her energy.

"Is… is that it? I feel… clean. Clean and… so alone." Weaver's fully herself, and rather conflicted too.

Before I can answer, the monster-machine, the [Queen Administrator] shifts, its pseudopods reaching out for us. I promptly slash them away.

For the next few minutes, I keep sweeping away its pseudopods. I barely burn away a leg's worth before it presents another, fully healed tentacle. Weaver keeps backing away from the monster, towards the Great Mirror. I growl and switch to my Moonlight Storm, the mirror array already sucking in as much of the roiling light energies as I can gather. It doesn't take long to charge the Storm, the mirrors keeping ahead of the swarm of pseudopods.

As I unleash it, I see Weaver turn, briefly freeze in front of the mirror… then she charges across the gap between our egos. By the time the Moonlight Storm dissipates, the [Queen Administrator] reeling from having half its legs and much of its body burned off, Weaver's sprinting flat-out towards Dainsleif.

I turn around and barely get a chance to scream "Weaver, don't!" before the machine smashes me aside. It launches me clear to the Dainsleif pedestal.

Weaver's already reached it, and I can only watch in horror as she grabs the hilt. I pull myself up, and fly over, as Weaver just stands there, twitching and whimpering in pain.

"Weaver… why?" I ask, plaintively, floating towards the cursed sword of murder and the girl trying to use it.

Weaver's in obvious pain, tears flowing freely. "I… because we're the same. We'll do whatever it takes… for our friends. Because… we can't just stand by and do nothing. It's why I did… everything I did. No matter the cost."

I'm crying too, as I reach out, and grasp the hilt. "You can't Ignite alone." The creature's already reforming. It's injured, but I can't kill it with just my own power. "We have to accept the darkness in our hearts and control it. Then and only then can we Ignite."

"How? I…" Weaver gasps, as our fingers intertwine on the hilt.

Oh. Oh my gods. I can See her. Everything she's done, everything she was, everything she is. It's so terrifying, but underneath it all… I know why she did what she did. Why I might have done the same. I can vaguely hear her sobbing in the background, as we both start pulling at the sword…

― ―
I open my eyes. Weaver's flailing, reaching out towards me. I try reaching out to her, but it's so far away… and then I hear a crack, as both Hibiki and I are pushed forward by my drive boots and the bone hand retreats into the ground.

Hibiki grabs onto her own Symphogear as the [Queen Administrator] seizes control of her. We weren't very far apart to begin with, and I see Weaver reaching for the Symphogear.

As I land, she seizes it, pinches the activator, and screams, pulling it away from me… no. It's all three of us! Hibiki, jerkily, does the same.

Our voices joined as one! "Ignite module! [Unsheathe!]"
 
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2.3 (Initiation)
February 26, 2011
Brockton Bay, MA
7:31am

I wake up the next morning to the smell of food. It's probably Diana making us breakfast. I grab my toiletries and head into the bathroom. I can hear the other shower running, as I start getting myself ready for the day. I shower quickly, then head to the sink. I figure I need to at least clean my face so I can do my makeup later.

I'm halfway through checking my braid when a very tired woman - who looks very like Diana - stumbles past me into the shower room. She turns around, doing a double-take. I wave with my free hand awkwardly. After a few more seconds blearily staring at me, she shrugs and heads into the shower herself.

Well, that was awkward. I finish tidying the ends of my braid, then head downstairs. Diana's chatting with another woman who resembles her - probably her mom, or at least one of them. Diana waves me over, pointing at a plate. On it are a couple of breakfast burritos. She knows me far too well. I sit down and start eating.

Her mom speaks up. "So, this is the friend you invited over?"

Diana nods. "Mom, this is Taylor. She works at the warehouse, and she's in my band, too. Taylor, this is Citlalli, my mom… one of them, anyway."

I wave, sheepishly. "Um… hi." I shake my head a bit. "Bluh. I'm still a bit sleepy."

Citlalli shrugs at that. "Aren't we all. I'm on second shift, and, well, Brockton Bay's EMS is always busy, so I don't get a lot of downtime."

Ahhhh. It clicks. "So that's your jacket in the living room?"

She glances at it, then nods. "Yeah. I'm three days into this week. One more, and…" She breaks off, and Diana's about to speak up, but she sees her other mom come into the kitchen, almost shambling along.

Diana stifles a giggle, like she knows what's coming next. Her other mom, glancing at me suspiciously, pulls out a large tumbler, and fills it with ice, then grabs one of those Pyrex mixing cups and tips in both sugar and creamer… and quite a bit of it. She then pours coffee into the mixing cup, blends the whole mess with a spoon and tips the results into her cup of ice. She waits a few seconds for the ice cubes to stop popping, takes a few pills in the meantime, then she guzzles the whole thing and starts the whole process again, occasionally glancing at me.

I blink, dumbfounded.

Satisfied that she has enough caffeine in her second cup of iced coffee to kill a horse, she finally sits down, and glances around the table, looking at her food.

Diana decides to pipe up. "So, you've met Ana, my other mom! She's… not a morning person."

Ana rolls her eyes at her daughter. "Especially when you end up taking the last train to Brockton. I got in just after one o'clock. Who're you?"

I plaster a smile on my face. "I'm… uh, I'm Taylor. Diana's friend."

The wheels turn slowly in her mind, then she blinks and smiles at me. "Oh! I'm sorry. I've been pulling a lot of hours on this damn firmware project. Like my daughter said, I'm really not a morning person. Nobody talks to me before the first cup of coffee, because…"

Impishly, I say, "Because you'll bite their heads off?"

Ana laughs at this. She's got a nice laugh, sort of like Diana's. "No, no. I'm just not coherent. Citlalli thinks I sound like a zombie when I'm like that." She leans forward. "So, you're Diana's new girlfriend?"

Diana looks scandalized. "MOM!"

I'm just sputtering. I can't think of anything to say to that. Am I Diana's girlfriend? How should I know?! I've only had one girlfriend before and… aaaaaugh! Stop thinking about this, Taylor, it's not helping!

Citlalli gives her wife a sharp look. "Don't embarrass her, please."

Ana facepalms, then forges ahead. "So, are you two excited to perform?"

I finally relax a bit. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Diana's nodding along. "I'm a little nervous. Doomhaus usually draws a good crowd, but this is like the third, fourth time we've played a show."

I shrug. "We need more practice, yeah."

Citlalli frowns. "I'm a little worried about you two. The National Renaissance Conference is in town, and that means the Empire's out in force."

"Here and in Boston," sighs Ana. "The reason I was stuck on the last train was because some fuckhead band playing for the Nazis tried to smuggle weapons through Logan in their stage cases. So naturally, Boston's 'finest' declared security theater on all public transport and delayed everything for an hour. My train driver was so pissed off, but hey, at least he gets overtime."

Diana makes a face. "I know, I know. Kat will be playing with us, though, and Rachel, and they're pretty scary when they put their minds to it."

Ana nods. "I mean, it's important to her. And you can't make her shrink back from the fucking Nazis. The Empire will do whatever they want. I won't have any daughter of mine running away from hypothetical Nazis, though."

Citlalli frowns, her forehead dropping onto her palm. "I know. I just… look, Diana, Taylor? Just… be safe, okay? Don't borrow trouble."

Ana nods. "Am I still invited?"

I shrug, glancing at Diana. She answers for me. "Yes, Mom. I gave you a ticket."

Ana beams. "Good! So, when are you planning on dating her, Diana? Taylor seems like a nice girl. When I was around your age, there was this…"

Diana makes a show of glancing at the clock in the room. "Uhm… oh, shit, Taylor, look at the time! We'd better get going!"

I glance at it, shrug, and put my plate in the sink, rinsing it off in record time. Following Diana upstairs, I quickly stuff my clothes back into my overnight bag.

In Diana's defense, I wouldn't answer her either.

—*—​

We arrive at the warehouse a half-hour later. Brick spots us walking in and dashes inside, presumably to warn his mistress. By the time we've made it to the practice space, Rachel's already there, spinning on Kat's drum set seat.

"Kat's still getting ready," she says without preamble. "I'm going to check the boards. Taylor, a little help?"

"Sure," I say. And for the next hour, I busy myself rechecking my synthesizer racks with Rachel. It wouldn't do to blast feedback at people (unintentionally) or lose half the board to a voltage spike. Meanwhile, Diana busies herself running through her part of the set with a personal amp. Kat eventually arrives and starts taking apart their drum kit - of the four of us, they've got the least gear to work through.

Kat's halfway through disassembling their kit when they speak up, almost out of nowhere. "Hey, have you come up with a song yet, Taylor?"

I sputter a bit, then shrug. "I've been really busy. I might have something, but…"

"But…?"

I frown, frustration on my face as I wind up the MIDI controller harness. "It's just not coming together. Nothing feels right, just, well…" I drop my voice an octave, sarcastically. "Oh, look at me, I cut up a bunch of Bush speeches back from 1983 about threatening to nuke Iran or something. Clearly I'm saying something totally new and not just ripping off Nerve War's gimmick." I shove the cable almost angrily into its bag and toss it into the gear box, returning to a normal voice. "Nobody wants to hear it."

Kat pauses. "Hmm. Yeah, I get it." A smile creeps across their face. "You'd totally do that, though."

I snort. "Maybe. But there won't be much for us to play live."

"Maybe not," they say, "But it can't hurt to try something. Worst that happens is you sound dumb."

"Yeah, I know," I say, "But writing is hard."

"Then don't write," grunts Rachel as she picks up a load of gear to take down to the van, "Just say what you mean."

Rachel disappears down the stairs and I'm left to finish packing my gear in silence.

"She's right, you know," says Diana after a minute. "We should just say what we mean, not dance around the issue."

"Yeah, I know. But putting yourself out there like that… It's hard, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know."

We descend into silence as Rachel comes back up for another load. Once she's gone, Diana speaks up again.

"Taylor, I—"

"SHIT!" comes a shout from downstairs, it's Kat, calmly panicking. "Taylor, the Doom Wagon's on fire! Get down here and help me put it out!"

I shrug to Diana and grin sheepishly. "I guess we're taking my car today."

—*—​

Kat said the cause was a remote-control subsystem they had installed mid-fugue last night without fully testing it. That was frustrating, but I guess it couldn't be helped. By the time we got the Doom Wagon extinguished, we were running late. Very late. We hauled collective ass to Doomhaus and arrived just in time for our sound check. With that out of the way we were shuffled into the green room to wait for our set to start.

"I'm not eating this," says Rachel looking warily at the spread of granola bars set around a veggie tray that management had provided. "It smells off."

"That's just the smoke from the fire," says Kat. "You know how it sticks to your hair."

"Still, I'm going to get some real food. Kat, come with me."

"Yeah, alright," says Kat, "why not. But we're on in 40 minutes; I want us back here in 30, just in case Krauser blows his vocal chords again and we have to go on early."

Rachel nods and heads out the door. Kat pauses, and turns to me. "Taylor, I have some homework for you."

"What?"

"Take some paper and write some lyrics. You said you had some ideas, get them out of your head and onto paper." Before I can say anything, they vanish after Rachel.

I grab a pad of paper from the table in a corner of the room and flop onto a couch. Most of what I have are just disconnected thoughts or scraps of lyrics. Nothing workable. Not yet. I start writing at random, just to see what comes out.

Lost in a world gone astray
A shattered dreamland, nothing but shadows now
Merciful gods will mean nothing at all
Reclaim our lives here and now


I'm getting pretty into it, humming something approaching a melody when a loud buzz startles me out of my reverie. I look to my side and see Diana, scrambling to pull her phone from her back pocket.

"I, uh, my mom just got here," she says by way of explanation once she's able to see her phone screen. "She wants to know 'when the good music starts'."

I laugh. "Probably once we're done. Go show her where our seats are. I'll be fine back here."

"Alright," she says, and goes to find her mom, leaving me alone. I turn back to my notepad and start scribbling out more words until I hear the noise BMC generously calls music stop, replaced by the muffled sound of a voice. I get up and headed to the stage entrance, where Kat, Rachel, and Diana are gathering.

"Ah, good," says Kat. "I was about to send Rachel to get you. We're on after this."

I nod, and steel myself to go on. Krauser III eventually finishes his patter and announces us. We walk onto the stage to reasonable applause and settle into out positions. Rather than introduce ourselves to the crowd, I signal Kat to start the beat for our first song, a cover of Skinny Puppy's "Assimilate". The audience likes it. I'll say one thing about BMC, they at least know how to warm up a crowd.

Once the first song is done, I introduce the band, then move us quickly into our second song, Haujobb's "Dead Market". Another cover, but a technically challenging one, and I'm glad we finally got it down, even without the extra practice.

—*—
Halfway through our set, I look over the mosh pit and see Stella thrashing like nobody's business, never seeming to hit anyone, despite her speed. Impressive. Except… yeah. Someone just threw a punch at her. A short kid, kind of overweight. He immediately regrets his choice as a tall butch woman punches him, which pushes him back a good three feet through the mosh. Also impressive. It also causes enough of a stir that we all stop playing. As the crowd disperses around the boy. Confused mutters come from the front of house as people who didn't see what happened start to wonder why we've stopped playing.

"An excellent start to the weekend!" calls a reedy voice from the bar area. "I thought the NRC would be boring, but instead a fight between all you degenerates just starts on its own! Amazing!"

I squint past the stage lights to get a look at the guy talking. Receding hairline, sunglasses indoors, and tactical gear that looked fake even from here. Oh, fuck, not this dipshit. It's Blazer. Sorry, "blaZer: Combat Cop" as his YouTube channel proclaims him. A combat thinker not even with the E88, just kind of… next to them. He goes around the East Coast hobopunching and posting the videos online like a more racist and somehow less effective Uber and Leet. Last I heard he was wanted in about twelve different jurisdictions for Impersonating an Officer, and now he was here, somehow an even bigger prick in person than he is online. Great. I grab the mic and point him and the boy out.

"Security, can you detain them?"

Two burly guards moved toward each of the troublemakers. The boy hung his head and started to go with them when Blazer started shouting again.

"No, Theo! Don't go with them! This is censorship! Remember we have freedom of speech! They can't stop us from telling the truth!"

I sigh and turn back to the audience. "Sorry about that folks, but what's a show in Brockton Bay without the unfortunate local color?" Scattered laugh greets my attempt at a joke, and I smile. "Let's get back to the show, shall we?"

I signal to Kat to start the beat again and haven't even played the first chord when the wall blows inward. Through the dust I see a worryingly large number of figures, most walking, but a few on a platform floating ominously above the rest.

Fuck. Blazer had backup.

"Look," I say toward the still billowing cloud of dust. "If you want Blazer, just take him. You've got maybe fifteen minutes to get out of here before Lung shows up. Or did you think you could bomb one of his venues and just hang around for autographs?"

"Oh, Lung's busy on the other side of town, girlie," says a voice from inside the cloud. "Posturing to make the foot soldiers think twice about wearing colors during the convention." The speaker stepped out of the the dust and double fuck. It was Alabaster. Behind him the cloud settled, revealing maybe two dozen burly skinheads and an assortment of capes. Rune was there, on the floating platform, so was Cricket, and a few other capes. This was not good. Not good at all.

Alabaster kept talking. "So, I'd like to see what you degenerate pussies plan to do to stop us from clearing all of you out. Maybe sing at us, that'll help, right?"

Actually… that wasn't a bad idea. I turn to Rachel, who nods.

"If you're not a Nazi, get out the back!" she yells and dives to the smoke machine just off stage. With the cover of the now-stampeding crowd and the suddenly-overclocked fog machine, I drop my synth controller, and give it a push. It slides away to a corner as the fog envelops the stage. I don't have too long - if nothing else, the machine will run out of fluid pretty quick. The fog might also choke me to death, but I'm not worried about that right now. Almost frantically, I pull out my pendant, take a couple breaths to center myself, then sing the aria.

It feels different, almost immediately. Before, it felt like putting on clothes. A flash of the strange energies, and I'd be encased in armor that strengthened me, that gave me weapons to fight with. Now? I'm in so much goddamned pain. This isn't the most excruciating thing I've ever felt, but it's too close for comfort. There's just far too much energy for me to contain. The armor's not forming, either.

I'm not on fire, but I might as well be. Try as I might, I let out a whimper, then drop to my knees, screaming. I don't get it! Why isn't my Symphogear working?!

~ let go ~​

What?

I try to stop the Symphogear from transforming, but it's not responding. Whatever's going on, it's just stuck. And then, it hits me.

All this time, I've been trying to force my Symphogear to play my music. I hold the song in my head and force it through my Symphogear. I'm not performing it, I'm just playing back someone else's song in my head, and singing along.

But that's not what a Symphogear is, is it? It's not a glorified speaker system, it's an instrument, and it's waiting for me to play it. I tentatively reach into my mind for the controls. It only takes a few moments to understand them, and I gasp, really understanding the Symphogear for the first time. Thousands of pedals, effects, channels, instruments, all of it ready for my heart to flow through, all of it ready for me to finally sing my song.

So, I do.

(Senki Zesshou Symphogear G Character Song 3 - Dark Oblivion)​

My armor stops spasming and sliding, and instead flows together, made anew. The color doesn't change, but the boots shift, slightly taller, with more powerful engines. The bear-trap visor simplifies itself, while the crown shifts into a pair of sensor nodes on each side. The interface also shifts, giving me much more useful, compact status updates. The heels are much lower - they're practically flats now, but they encase my feet more like my boots. The mysterious Armed Gear shifts from [disabled] to [ready] status - I guess I really was hard up for phonic gain.

As the bubble vanishes, it blows away the fog. It's very dramatic… but my cover is blown. Ah, well, nothing for it. I point at Alabaster, then with less than a gesture, I feel my Armed Gear, the Moonlight Blade, slide into my hand, the gain surging into it.

I'm grinning, feeling the surge of phonic gain, giddy as my soul meshes with my inner music for the first time. "So, I got asked earlier, why don't I have songs of my own?" My boots surge to life, and my whips spring out, ready and powerful. "Well, now I do, and I'm going to sing them tonight. Fuck fascism!"

AN: So after almost 40,000 words, Taylor finally sings the karaoke of her heart! You love to see it, folks.

Sorry it took me six months to write it. I got stuck on the middle section, which @TheWonko ended up doing most of.
 
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