Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
Noted!
Also, no public mention of Coil. Now, his brand of fuckery won't be missed if so, but he -was- one of the plot drivers...
(Symphogear/Worm) Glassbreaker
- Thread starter silverpower
- Start date
- Crossover
Also, no public mention of Coil. Now, his brand of fuckery won't be missed if so, but he -was- one of the plot drivers...
TheWonko
Forgot to set a title
- Location
- Earth
No mention of Coil yet. Actually, come to think of it, no mention of Coil ever.
Last edited:
- Location
- Belgium
I thought I'd drop this as well, I once did some research about the origins of the relics in Symphogear canon.
Here goes:
Gungnir - Spear of Odin (Norse myth)
Ame-No-Habakiri - lit: Slash of Heavenly Wings: A totsuka-no-tsurugi blade used by Susano'o to slay the Orochi (Japanese myth)
Ichaival - Bow of Odin (Norse Myth)
Armor of Nehushtan - a Nehushtan is a sacred object in the form of a snake of Brass in a pole. According to the Torah, Moses used one to cure the Israelites form snake bites (Hebrew Myth)
Durandal - Sword of Roland, paladin of Charlemagne (French literature)
Shul Shagana - Astral Goddess (Sumerian myth)
Igalima - God/Goddess, brother/sister of Shul Shagana (Sumerian myth)
Shenshou Jing - lit: God Beast Mirror: a shinjukyo, consider it a chinese version of the Yata-no-kagami (No specific origin)
Airgetlam - lit: Silver Arm: from "Nuade Airgetlam" the first king of the "Tuatha Dé Danann" a mythical superhuman race (Irish myth)
Dur Da Bla - aka Uaithne, the harp of the Dagda, one of the "Tuatha Dé Danann" (Irish myth)
Dainsleif - Dwarven made sword, owned by king Högni (Norse myth)
Here goes:
Gungnir - Spear of Odin (Norse myth)
Ame-No-Habakiri - lit: Slash of Heavenly Wings: A totsuka-no-tsurugi blade used by Susano'o to slay the Orochi (Japanese myth)
Ichaival - Bow of Odin (Norse Myth)
Armor of Nehushtan - a Nehushtan is a sacred object in the form of a snake of Brass in a pole. According to the Torah, Moses used one to cure the Israelites form snake bites (Hebrew Myth)
Durandal - Sword of Roland, paladin of Charlemagne (French literature)
Shul Shagana - Astral Goddess (Sumerian myth)
Igalima - God/Goddess, brother/sister of Shul Shagana (Sumerian myth)
Shenshou Jing - lit: God Beast Mirror: a shinjukyo, consider it a chinese version of the Yata-no-kagami (No specific origin)
Airgetlam - lit: Silver Arm: from "Nuade Airgetlam" the first king of the "Tuatha Dé Danann" a mythical superhuman race (Irish myth)
Dur Da Bla - aka Uaithne, the harp of the Dagda, one of the "Tuatha Dé Danann" (Irish myth)
Dainsleif - Dwarven made sword, owned by king Högni (Norse myth)
- Location
- Scotland
@drag00n001
The Ichaival from Symphogear canon was actually taken from Fire Emblem, there was a Wikipedia entry from Dec '13 stating that it belonged to Odin, with another source claiming it was from Ydalir, the home of Ullr.
However the user who uploaded that entry has made no other contributions to the site and with a lack fo sources the claim is dubious at best.
Fire Emblem lists Yewfelle (イチイバル Ichībaru lit. Ichaival; transliterated as the Ichii-bal in the Fire Emblem Museum) originially released in Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War in 1996, stating it as the bow wielded by Ullr and his descendants.
It's most likely that this is where Symphogear draws from for inspiration.
Interestingly however folkmusic from the Faroe Islands ("finskan boga í hendi") peg Odin as using a Saami bow which is never given a name, so at least there is some basis for his owning a bow in mythology.
The Ichaival from Symphogear canon was actually taken from Fire Emblem, there was a Wikipedia entry from Dec '13 stating that it belonged to Odin, with another source claiming it was from Ydalir, the home of Ullr.
However the user who uploaded that entry has made no other contributions to the site and with a lack fo sources the claim is dubious at best.
Fire Emblem lists Yewfelle (イチイバル Ichībaru lit. Ichaival; transliterated as the Ichii-bal in the Fire Emblem Museum) originially released in Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War in 1996, stating it as the bow wielded by Ullr and his descendants.
It's most likely that this is where Symphogear draws from for inspiration.
Interestingly however folkmusic from the Faroe Islands ("finskan boga í hendi") peg Odin as using a Saami bow which is never given a name, so at least there is some basis for his owning a bow in mythology.
2.0 (Emily Piggot)
silverpower
Communism is yuri and nothing else!
- Location
- Portland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
February 26, 2011
Brockton Bay, MA
5:31am
[Emily Piggot]
Deserted.
That was my first impression of Ellisburg. Two days ago, it was a small but lively town in upstate New York, centered around a paper mill. A day ago, we got a panicked call from the PRT rep, which was cut off before he could do anything more than breathlessly ask for backup. State troopers tried to enter the town a few hours later, but were chased off by what their reports described as "monsters". We were formally called up after six hours and on a transport within minutes.
Killing monsters? Bringing in their makers? That's our job. Other teams may derisively call us bug hunters, like in Aliens, but we know better. We go in, assess targets, perform search and rescue, and we either get rid of the source or we call in airstrikes. It's hard, messy work, but it's important. And with the so-called Noise coming out of the dimensional cracks? We had the toughest jobs. Fortunately, there's little to suggest that the Noise were related to what was going on here, but I brought along some emitter grenades, just in case.
Even if there were Noise, though, I had to admit the four B-52s loitering in the area with strike orders ready to incinerate the whole area made me feel a little better.
"It's too quiet. Way too quiet. If there's monsters on the loose, shouldn't we be hearing them?" Jameson's our squad automatic carrier. He's a bit… new. I realize subvocals aren't fully audible but I can sort of hear him talk.
"Not necessarily. Could be hibernating, waiting to surprise us." Rudy, our team sniper.
"Rudy's got the right idea. We don't know what hit this place. Keep off the mic unless you've got something important to say." I almost hiss the last part.
Along the way, we see piles of ashes. Someone could've gotten lucky and set the monsters on fire.
"Squelching sounds ahead."
Fuck. I bring my SR-25 up, aiming through the scope.
"Contact!" Jameson's already brought up his SAW and started firing. Those monsters aren't Noise - they look more like goblins out of some awful fairy tale. I open fire myself, tearing the creatures to shreds. They don't seem to have any ranged abilities, thankfully, and we cut them down quickly.
Rudy's looking through his scope, frowning. "I don't think the creatures were after us."
Harris, one of our rifle troopers, pipes up. "Of course they were after us. They ran right at us!"
Call it intuition, call it experience, call it whatever. "No. They were fleeing. We ended up in their path, that's all. The monsters are hostile but they're not seeking us out."
I hear a call over the radio. "Noise! We've got Noise!"
"Where?"
"They're all around us!"
I can hear gunfire, and lots of it. The squelching sounds are getting louder. "Emitters. We need kill zones now. Get ready."
My team's good - within a few minutes, we have the emitters deployed and wired into a multichannel detonator. A few are kept in reserve, and those of us with grenade launchers are now only loaded with emitters.
The radio crackles. "Calvert! What the fuck are you-AAAUGH FUCK!"
I hear Team Beta's second in command speak up. "Mission takes priority. Evacuating the Principal now." A sharp report echoes over the channel. "After you, Doctor. We only have so many decoys."
Before I know it, they're upon us. We fire our weapons, and it does nothing. The emitters do nothing. We keep firing, but it isn't long before I'm the only one standing. I drop my empty mag and move to chamber a new one, squeezing off the loaded grenade from my rifle as I do so. The pulse throws me backwards into more Noise. With a steady, painful finality, my arms and back burn with a torturous agony as the Noise annihilates-!
As she did on so many nights, Emily Piggot woke up in terror, bathed in her own sweat.
She cursed under her breath. It had been almost a decade and she still wasn't over it. The augmentation revolution may have given her her kidneys, her joints and her life back, but it came far too late to let her participate in field ops ever again.
Not, she thought wryly, that she should be going into the field anyway. That was a young soldier's game, not something she was particularly suited for. Besides, fighting Noise took a lot out of a person. She definitely appreciated each and every one of her troopers who volunteered for anti-Noise duties, but the fact remained that it wasn't something she was capable of contributing to in the field.
So she commanded a desk, and through it all of the PRT's personnel in Southeast Massachusetts and northern Rhode Island. Her district was called East Northeast, since at one point it had been the regional command point for everything east of New York State. Successive reorganizations whittled down her district from a regional command to a backwater, not that she had ever truly been a regional director.
Enough brooding. She frowned, then picked up her PRT-issued smartphone, checking her blood filter status. Ninety-two percent efficiency; her new kidneys were handling their bodily functions competently. She nodded to herself and set to dressing for the day.
After her morning meetings, and a working lunch, she expected a crisis. After all, with the National Renaissance Conference in town, neo-Nazis had been pouring into the city for the past two days. The city she was responsible for protecting was bracing for the worst. So far, only a few hate crimes had been reported, dealt with harshly by the BBPD. After what the media dubbed the "White Rage" crime spree last year, the police were in no mood to tolerate the antics of drunken skinhead thugs. That's what tends to happen when skinheads gun down cops, after all. Even leaving aside the public and gratuitous sprees of assault, grand theft and murder. Some neo-Nazi parahumans had even joined in the rampage, which had almost created a jurisdictional clusterfuck.
There. The dreaded buzz of her intercom. She glanced down at the lights; it was a priority three. Important enough to require her personal attention, but not Endbringer or Chief Director important. "Yes?"
"Skipper here to see you, ma'am. It's about the altercation last Saturday."
Emily grimaced. "Not the one on Sunday?"
"Ma'am, I just screen them." She could hear her secretary smiling at her.
"Send her in."
Skipper walked in, clearly uncomfortable. She gestured towards the chairs in front of her desk. "Have a seat. What's on your mind?"
She sat down, looking anxious. "Uh. PRT called a couple days, said they wanted to speak to me about the Shadow Stalker… thing. So... I'm here."
She suppressed the urge to groan. "So. Two separate incidents last week. First, you had an altercation with one of my Wards. Then, on Monday I receive an after-action report from a rogue team that you had another altercation with one of their prospective members." Emily was not in the mood for this conversation. "So yes, I do want to speak with you. I've already spoken with Shadow Stalker, but before I commit to resolving this matter I need your version of events."
As she expected, Skipper shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "Couldn't you just, uh… ask the Wards? The other ones? They seemed nice enough, though I didn't meet all of them."
"I have spoken to them, yes. But I need you to explain, as well."
Skipper sighed. "Shadow Stalker harassed me at school, in her civilian guise, for almost two years. If it wasn't her, it was one of her clique. Julia, Steven, half the track team…"
Emily nodded. Inwardly, she was seething. If Blackwell hadn't been ashed by the Noise, she'd have had her brought in. Sophia's handler had been fired during the corruption sweep that had been sparked by Madison's allegations in her civilian identity. She'd accused Shadow Stalker's civilian identity of this exact crime, in fact.
For her part, Shadow Stalker had denied putting Skipper into the locker, although she'd offhandedly mentioned that she'd sealed up Madison's locker with her powers. When questioned further, it was because, in her words "it smelled like that biohazard waste container we recovered from the Merchants back in December, only worse".
"Shadow Stalker sealed up that locker. How did you end up in it?"
Skipper frowned. "One of her jock buddies pushed me in. She came along five minutes later and sealed it - stuck her hand in. My friend wasn't able to open it at first, and I caught a brief glimpse of the locker door when she did open it. She'd ripped it off."
Emily briefly checked the evidence log from the Winslow massacre. "We recovered a locker door at the scene. 394, I believe? It did have carbonized biologicals with a high concentration of hemoglobin, as well as indications of being opened through the use of a tool and augmented strength. The latch mechanisms were indeed welded to the locker's housing, and still attached to the door."
Skipper nodded at that. "Sounds about right."
Emily leaned forward a bit. "So why did you fight her?"
My blood thundered in my ears. I'd know that fucking voice, that flippant, dismissive tone of hers anywhere.
Shadow Stalker was Sophia Hess, that fucking track star bitch that ruined my life. Why wouldn't Sophia be here? Clearly the universe wasn't done shitting on me yet. And Sophia was staring at me. After what felt like an eternity, she spoke.
"Hah! So the wannabe social butterfly got herself powers! Maybe you'll actually be worth a damn in the field." Sophia smirked at me.
My mouth worked open and closed.
Aegis stood up, seeming very irritated. "Shadow Stalker. Quit antagonizing the prospectives."
I finally found my voice. "I… you bullied me. You bullied me, Sophia. How the hell did you get to be a hero?"
"Huh. Guess your power didn't give you any more of a spine. You still complain about everything and follow idiots like a lost puppy." Now she's irritated, but what else is new?
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the other Wards shifting uncomfortably.
"Is that what all of that was? Some kind of sick 'character building exercise', then?"
"Who cares about a bunch of stupid normie kids or the wannabe gangbangers? You got powers! What's a little high school drama, compared to what you have? You're above that shit now." Irritation and boredom! You'd think she'd remember one of the people she'd singled out for tormenting ever since I started the 9th grade.
I should've gone to Immaculata, but no, my dad just had to alienate the principal there. Instead I ended up stuck in that hellscape.
"I… I…" I'd always dreamed of removing that smirk from her face, and here I was, blowing it.
"Whatever. Aegis, are we done here or do I have to keep listening to this delusional brat?" She was already turning around to leave.
I didn't hear what he said next. Or what she'd snapped back with, or the other Wards yelling at each other all at once. I sort of zoned out.
When I looked back up, she was standing right in front of me, staring at the door behind me. "Move, brat." Clearly, she was enraged.
Frankly?
So was I.
So I swung at her, my palm open. I hadn't even thought to curl it into a fist - I was going to slap her, but I wanted to punch her too, and…
"You know the rest. Apparently that's called a palm strike? Broke her nose with it. I hesitated at first, then I just started swinging wildly, then, well… Vista, I think? Somehow she pulled us apart." Skipper frowned, staring at her sneakers.
The Director kept her face still. Truth be told, Shadow Stalker was on Piggot's last nerve. Excessive force during her unsanctioned "solo patrols" - patrols she hadn't been cleared for yet, evading the spirit of her probation terms, the time she'd been caught a week ago with standard broadheads in her loadout… all this added up to one conclusion.
Shadow Stalker had to become somebody else's problem. Despite being one of the more effective capes against the Noise breakouts - and she had acquitted herself well in the defense of Shelter 2-C - she was far too much of a legal and public relations liability. It was already clear that Shadow Stalker's rehabilitation wasn't likely with her local resources. If the investigation into Ms. Clements' claims bore fruit, she would have ample justification to escalate Shadow Stalker's case. While she was tempted to foist her upon the Cheyenne Nexus Containment Zone, that wasn't something she could or would do lightly. The life of Noise fighters tended to be short, and painful - entirely incompatible with the stated goals of the Wards program.
Thanks to the updated transfer request file on her desk, she had a possible answer. New York City had a couple of Wards who were interested in leaving. One of them, Flechette, would be relatively easy to on-board, and would soon be eligible for the Protectorate team. She'd specifically requested an "active city" and no longer wished to remain in New York. Bad memories, perhaps, but not her problem. She nodded to herself - if only all personnel problems were so easy to resolve.
"Very well, Skipper. What about the next incident?"
"Um. I was walking through the docks, to find a good spot to try out my powers. I'd been really, really, restless for weeks by that point." Now she was fidgeting. "I didn't bring anything fancy - just some skater pads my nephew left at the house, my hoodie, and a scarf. I was crossing the Docks to the Boneyard and there's an expensive SUV sitting there in a parking lot. A Mercedes-Benz, I think. I'd have ignored it, but there was somebody suspicious-looking picking the lock. I skipped towards them, and they smashed the window instead, grabbed a briefcase from the car, then they made the briefcase disappear."
"Sounds reasonable so far."
"Yeah. I chased them for several blocks, but I couldn't keep up with their rollerblades, so I started using my power. At first, I didn't need to explode, which was good for the car that nearly crashed into me. After that, it was harder to hold back. The… perp? Suspect? Circus headed into a parking lot, and when I headed in, I… screwed up. I blew up a guard shack. The shack didn't have anyone in it - I think it was abandoned. So anyway, I started trying to trap them in the parking lot by making craters. Instead, they turned the tables on me with a flashbang. I think? Whatever you call stun grenades, I guess. Anyway, the sound didn't get me, but I was blinded. Maybe my power thought the sound was part of a blast and protected me from it, I dunno. That's when I heard Synth coming at me, but I thought she was Circus, so I skipped into her. Just before I landed and exploded, I realized who she actually was. I felt like such a dumbass."
"Did she survive?"
"Yeah… yeah. Synth has to be a brute, I think, because all she did was make a loud wheezing sound and then grabbed me to punch me. I was terrified she was going to punch me senseless, but then she just got up and demanded to know what I was doing. We talked for a bit, her team drove me around in circles for a while, and they explained all this cape stuff to me. The 'cape game', unspoken rules, masking codes, things like that. They even told me about power compulsions… and I hadn't used my powers since you people did power testing with me a few weeks ago. Why didn't anybody tell me about that? I feel so stupid." Skipper was looking down at the floor, clearly ashamed of her actions.
"The Others, right?"
"Yeah." She continued to stare down at the floor.
Emily sat back and thought for a moment. What the girl had said lined up with the after-action report the Others had submitted, like they did after all interactions with PRT-aligned capes. Almost a model independent team, really, as far as the paperwork was concerned. Regardless, it seemed that they had given Madison The Superpower Talk, explaining the unfortunately-necessary Unspoken Rules, the use compulsion, and so on. All the things that should have been explained when the PRT officer and Miss Militia first visited her in the hospital, in fact. Emily was going to have to look into that later.
More concerning was Madison's story of what happened when she met the Wards. Her story matched the Wards debriefings she had read through, especially the one from Gallant, which ended with "The emotions those two are throwing off... [the Director]'s going to have to pick one of them, because they won't work together. There's just far too much hostility between the two. I think Shadow Stalker caused Skipper's trigger event, but I can't be sure."
Added to the fact that the Clements family was busy suing anyone even remotely involved with the Winslow incident, including one Sophia Hess, her family, and her (now former) social worker, this whole situation was, at best, a minefield.
"Miss Clements," she finally said, "The Wards and the PRT take a dim view of heroes going on solo patrols. We have our protocols for a reason, and that reason is to keep our people alive."
The girl winced.
"However, since at the time of your... interaction with Circus you were not part of the PRT, Wards, or Protectorate, you couldn't have been expected to know that. And given that the owner of the parking lot has not come forward to press any charges, and that you seem to have actually learned your lesson about property damage and situational awareness, there's not much I can do with this except remind you that, given recent events, all the Wards are now closely monitored for... problematic behaviors. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am, I think I do."
"Good. Then I don't expect to have to have this talk with you again. Have a good day."
Skipper started to gather herself up to leave. "Oh! Um. I have a question."
"Yes?"
"Is it okay if… I'm around the Others?"
"Fraternization between Wards and legally-declared rogues is permitted, but if and when you're on patrol, you're expected to follow orders should you encounter rogues. I should point out that you're not currently a Ward, and your status with the PRT is legally in limbo because of the lawsuits regarding you. That means you won't be able to join the Others legally, either, and your parents have to sign a waiver in any case."
"But as long as I don't actually join them, it's okay?"
"Yes. Have a good day."
Skipper's face lit up and she skipped (but not Skipped) out of the Director's office. Once she was alone, Emily sighed and called up the crisis point paperwork.
Well, that explained it. Miss Militia did her best, but Madison had been in shock at the time. There was supposed to have been a follow-up meeting before the power testing - one that in Madison's file, had been postponed indefinitely. Idly, she checked the case worker's name, and growled as the name of that incompetent do-nothing appeared on her screen.
Well, that was an explanation at least, but not an excuse. Madison Clements' case was turning up even more internal review topics than anyone knew. Including case reassignment when the original caseworker is fired for gross incompetence. He would simply have to do without the PRT's legal eagles watching his back, but if he'd wanted that, maybe he should have done his job.
Setting a note to add case reassignments to the ever-growing pile of policy review topics, Emily turned back to the rest of her work. Another requisition from Kid Win and Armsmaster for a case of "DragonTech SMD ultracapacitors".
Paperwork was the bane of every PRT officer. Ever since she'd been a grunt, she'd hated dealing with bureaucratic box-ticking. She understood that it was important and necessary, but with the internal reviews underway, she couldn't delegate as much as she liked.
She liked dealing with registered rogues more than her own capes, sometimes. Unreliable when it came to fighting crime, but staying out of trouble? That was something most rogues could handle. Synth in particular was an interesting case. She'd first been seen bringing Skipper to a hospital during the class-six Noise outbreak, which made it likely that she knew who Skipper was in her civilian life, and that Skipper knew who Synth was too. Something to keep in mind. Later reports involved one of her beams briefly being fired into the sky, and then a month of random sightings of her testing her powers on one of the Boneyard's ships. She'd run into Wards and even Glory Girl before, politely but firmly declining to join in cape fights, patrols or the Wards program.
It probably didn't hurt that the leader of the Others was usually accompanying her. Burnout had been something of a headache at first, and it didn't help that her partner, Queen, had become a leftist parahuman cause célèbre several years ago when Columbus PRT had picked her up and then proceeded to lose the case quite soundly. But they'd both turned over a new leaf in Brockton Bay, even if Burnout occasionally threatened to "turn Skidmark into a fucking skidmark for killing [their] sister".
She glanced up briefly at her clock. It was after 5PM - time to start prepping for the weekend Protectorate briefing at 7:30. She was about to press the intercom when it buzzed.
"Ma'am, you have a visitor."
Emily groaned. "I'm busy preparing for a briefing and it's not on the schedule. Tell them to make an appointment."
"Uh… Ma'am, I'm not sure I can."
What? "What do you mean? Just say 'if you don't have an appointment, you can't see the Director'."
Instead of a response over the intercom, the door opened. In walked a man Emily Piggot recognized and dearly wished she didn't.
"What your dear secretary meant," said the man, gesturing with his briefcase, "Is that I am my own appointment."
"Lieutenant Calvert," Emily said in a clipped voice as she stood up, "I never thought I'd see you in my office."
"Oh, no, not lieutenant, not anymore. It's just 'Agent Calvert' now. Much easier to spell."
"And here I thought there hadn't been a change in your rank," Emily grinned tightly, "Alas."
"I do what needs to be done." Agent Calvert smiled. "I have pressing business in this city, and with your agency."
"Clearly. Why are you here?"
"When are you planning to detain Synth? We've had a capture and procure order on her since Monday." Agent Calvert handed over a piece of paper. "In case your secretary misfiled it."
Emily gritted her teeth as she read through it. "We don't interfere in your agency's affairs… whatever the hell they are."
The Department of Sacrist Operations, an obscure agency in the Department of Defense. Their existence wasn't classified, but everything else about them was. All the Director knew was that apparently the PRT had to be their gofers due to an obscure regulatory clause. The DSO dealt in black-project tinkertech of some sort, and were the ones testing the Project ASM technology - a device that, if the DSO was to be believed, promised to give baseline humans powers.
Agent Calvert sniffed at this. "The order is lawful and has been signed by a judge. Further, you failed to duly inform us about the misuse of classified deep technologies."
"Then why am I the first to hear about this?"
He produced another piece of paper. "Here. Sign this."
Reluctantly, the Director looked it over. It was an NDA, countersigned by the Chief Director herself. She picked up a pen and grudgingly signed it.
"Thank you. What I am about to discuss is classified."
Emily felt under her desk and pressed a button, turning on the active jammers and anti-spying measures. After a minute, the windows and doors finished sealing themselves shut, and the light on her desk console turned green. She nodded to him.
"We're secure. Say your piece."
"Very well. We want our technology back, and its wielder. One of your local rogue capes isn't really a cape. She uses a classified next-generation anti-Noise ASM system, which she is not supposed to have." Calvert passed yet another sheet to her. "Her MIRIS interim change report. She wrote in the ASM section the model number of her classified technology. pSG-m00. That's damning on its own, but we also have documented evidence of an unauthorized activation of this system far outside of the testing labs."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"We require her full name and all other personally identifiable information. This order requires your agency to turn over everything you know about the unauthorized user of our technology."
"NEPEA-5 was repealed almost a decade ago. The Vikare Act and the Osaka Accords are still in effect. We do not have that information because we do not record it. What you see in her MIRIS records is what we have." Idiot. The PRT and especially the MIRIS rogues program could never function if every random parahuman lived in fear that they would be conscripted into the Protectorate simply by speaking to any of their representatives. The DSO, on the other hand…
He recovered with aplomb. "Very well. I need all the data you do have on her. We believe we know who she is - a criminal malcontent with multiple brushes with the law. She carries a weapon system that's an A-class threat all on its own. It is your agency's duty to cooperate in her apprehension, the confiscation of her stolen technology, and to remand her to our custody as soon as possible."
She sighed. "Your intel is likely off. Synth's been a model rogue. In her only cape fight, she stepped in and de-escalated a conflict between a prospective Ward and a local rogue, risking death in the process. Your evidence that Synth is somehow some A-class villainous threat is lacking, but the PRT will cooperate as required." After the utter clusterfuck in Denver, it was passed down from higher up that it was best to just give the DSO's agents whatever they wanted and not ask questions, full-scale gang wars be damned.
"The technology in question is classified above your level. I am telling you as much as your clearance level allows. Nevertheless, the DSO appreciates your cooperation. Good evening."
That smarmy, self-satisfied prick.
She watched him swagger away, then called Legal to inform them of the capture order. She wasn't required to force the Protectorate branch to drop everything and attempt to capture her, but she did have to follow procedure. For once, Emily found herself upset that a cape in her jurisdiction had actually filled out their paperwork properly. Her office could have avoided so much trouble if Synth had waited until she'd properly debuted as a cape, since she wasn't the hobopunching type. Parahuman excessive force meant a headache, which was why she liked dealing with the Others - they stayed to themselves and only fought when necessary.
Emily put it out of her mind. The briefing was important, and apparently the Customs, FBI and the BBPD liaisons had invited themselves. It wouldn't do to be unprepared.
The Director sat down in her chair, groaning. In a few minutes, she'd have an agent drive her home, but the briefing had been very stressful, so she wanted a chance to catch her breath. Customs and the FBI had briefed the PRT and especially the Protectorate on some of the more prominent Geisselschaft agents and neo-Nazis at the convention. Apparently one of the white power bands coming in to perform at the conference from overseas - "Zyklon Beta" - had caused a small riot at Logan earlier today, attempting to smuggle in advanced automatic rifles and tinkertech powersuits in the cargo hold of their airline charter and then fighting the Customs agents and Boston police that tried to apprehend them. Meanwhile, BBPD mostly complained that the PRT wasn't taking the threat posed by the "National Renaissance Conference" seriously. She had reminded them that the PRT was tied down trying to suppress the ongoing Empire-Merchants turf war, but agreed to detach more PRT squads for convention center patrols.
She was about to pick up the phone and call the dispatch desk, when the phone rang of its own accord. Emily mentally shrugged and picked it up.
"Director Piggot speaking."
"Ma'am, we have a developing situation."
"What kind of situation?"
"A riot at the Doomhaus venue in the docks. Rune, Blazer, Alabaster and three dozen unpowered neo-Nazis are assaulting the place, and there's signs of the concertgoers fighting back. Multiple 911 calls."
She wanted to groan. Or scream. "Christ. That's ABB territory. Very well, dispatch what we have. Contain the riot."
"Are you authorizing confoam for riot control, ma'am?"
Piggot glared through her phone. "Yes. Get the situation under control before Lung decides to."
Why couldn't she have a peaceful Saturday, for once?
AN: And with that, we're almost caught up! 2.2 is still a grind. It's really hard to write a montage of "watches a magical girl show" - certainly much harder than you'd think.
Sorry I didn't repost it until today. x_x But we're almost caught up! I'm closing in on finals, so 2.2 proper may be delayed.
Brockton Bay, MA
5:31am
[Emily Piggot]
Deserted.
That was my first impression of Ellisburg. Two days ago, it was a small but lively town in upstate New York, centered around a paper mill. A day ago, we got a panicked call from the PRT rep, which was cut off before he could do anything more than breathlessly ask for backup. State troopers tried to enter the town a few hours later, but were chased off by what their reports described as "monsters". We were formally called up after six hours and on a transport within minutes.
Killing monsters? Bringing in their makers? That's our job. Other teams may derisively call us bug hunters, like in Aliens, but we know better. We go in, assess targets, perform search and rescue, and we either get rid of the source or we call in airstrikes. It's hard, messy work, but it's important. And with the so-called Noise coming out of the dimensional cracks? We had the toughest jobs. Fortunately, there's little to suggest that the Noise were related to what was going on here, but I brought along some emitter grenades, just in case.
Even if there were Noise, though, I had to admit the four B-52s loitering in the area with strike orders ready to incinerate the whole area made me feel a little better.
"It's too quiet. Way too quiet. If there's monsters on the loose, shouldn't we be hearing them?" Jameson's our squad automatic carrier. He's a bit… new. I realize subvocals aren't fully audible but I can sort of hear him talk.
"Not necessarily. Could be hibernating, waiting to surprise us." Rudy, our team sniper.
"Rudy's got the right idea. We don't know what hit this place. Keep off the mic unless you've got something important to say." I almost hiss the last part.
Along the way, we see piles of ashes. Someone could've gotten lucky and set the monsters on fire.
"Squelching sounds ahead."
Fuck. I bring my SR-25 up, aiming through the scope.
"Contact!" Jameson's already brought up his SAW and started firing. Those monsters aren't Noise - they look more like goblins out of some awful fairy tale. I open fire myself, tearing the creatures to shreds. They don't seem to have any ranged abilities, thankfully, and we cut them down quickly.
Rudy's looking through his scope, frowning. "I don't think the creatures were after us."
Harris, one of our rifle troopers, pipes up. "Of course they were after us. They ran right at us!"
Call it intuition, call it experience, call it whatever. "No. They were fleeing. We ended up in their path, that's all. The monsters are hostile but they're not seeking us out."
I hear a call over the radio. "Noise! We've got Noise!"
"Where?"
"They're all around us!"
I can hear gunfire, and lots of it. The squelching sounds are getting louder. "Emitters. We need kill zones now. Get ready."
My team's good - within a few minutes, we have the emitters deployed and wired into a multichannel detonator. A few are kept in reserve, and those of us with grenade launchers are now only loaded with emitters.
The radio crackles. "Calvert! What the fuck are you-AAAUGH FUCK!"
I hear Team Beta's second in command speak up. "Mission takes priority. Evacuating the Principal now." A sharp report echoes over the channel. "After you, Doctor. We only have so many decoys."
Before I know it, they're upon us. We fire our weapons, and it does nothing. The emitters do nothing. We keep firing, but it isn't long before I'm the only one standing. I drop my empty mag and move to chamber a new one, squeezing off the loaded grenade from my rifle as I do so. The pulse throws me backwards into more Noise. With a steady, painful finality, my arms and back burn with a torturous agony as the Noise annihilates-!
As she did on so many nights, Emily Piggot woke up in terror, bathed in her own sweat.
She cursed under her breath. It had been almost a decade and she still wasn't over it. The augmentation revolution may have given her her kidneys, her joints and her life back, but it came far too late to let her participate in field ops ever again.
Not, she thought wryly, that she should be going into the field anyway. That was a young soldier's game, not something she was particularly suited for. Besides, fighting Noise took a lot out of a person. She definitely appreciated each and every one of her troopers who volunteered for anti-Noise duties, but the fact remained that it wasn't something she was capable of contributing to in the field.
So she commanded a desk, and through it all of the PRT's personnel in Southeast Massachusetts and northern Rhode Island. Her district was called East Northeast, since at one point it had been the regional command point for everything east of New York State. Successive reorganizations whittled down her district from a regional command to a backwater, not that she had ever truly been a regional director.
Enough brooding. She frowned, then picked up her PRT-issued smartphone, checking her blood filter status. Ninety-two percent efficiency; her new kidneys were handling their bodily functions competently. She nodded to herself and set to dressing for the day.
After her morning meetings, and a working lunch, she expected a crisis. After all, with the National Renaissance Conference in town, neo-Nazis had been pouring into the city for the past two days. The city she was responsible for protecting was bracing for the worst. So far, only a few hate crimes had been reported, dealt with harshly by the BBPD. After what the media dubbed the "White Rage" crime spree last year, the police were in no mood to tolerate the antics of drunken skinhead thugs. That's what tends to happen when skinheads gun down cops, after all. Even leaving aside the public and gratuitous sprees of assault, grand theft and murder. Some neo-Nazi parahumans had even joined in the rampage, which had almost created a jurisdictional clusterfuck.
There. The dreaded buzz of her intercom. She glanced down at the lights; it was a priority three. Important enough to require her personal attention, but not Endbringer or Chief Director important. "Yes?"
"Skipper here to see you, ma'am. It's about the altercation last Saturday."
Emily grimaced. "Not the one on Sunday?"
"Ma'am, I just screen them." She could hear her secretary smiling at her.
"Send her in."
Skipper walked in, clearly uncomfortable. She gestured towards the chairs in front of her desk. "Have a seat. What's on your mind?"
She sat down, looking anxious. "Uh. PRT called a couple days, said they wanted to speak to me about the Shadow Stalker… thing. So... I'm here."
She suppressed the urge to groan. "So. Two separate incidents last week. First, you had an altercation with one of my Wards. Then, on Monday I receive an after-action report from a rogue team that you had another altercation with one of their prospective members." Emily was not in the mood for this conversation. "So yes, I do want to speak with you. I've already spoken with Shadow Stalker, but before I commit to resolving this matter I need your version of events."
As she expected, Skipper shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "Couldn't you just, uh… ask the Wards? The other ones? They seemed nice enough, though I didn't meet all of them."
"I have spoken to them, yes. But I need you to explain, as well."
Skipper sighed. "Shadow Stalker harassed me at school, in her civilian guise, for almost two years. If it wasn't her, it was one of her clique. Julia, Steven, half the track team…"
Emily nodded. Inwardly, she was seething. If Blackwell hadn't been ashed by the Noise, she'd have had her brought in. Sophia's handler had been fired during the corruption sweep that had been sparked by Madison's allegations in her civilian identity. She'd accused Shadow Stalker's civilian identity of this exact crime, in fact.
For her part, Shadow Stalker had denied putting Skipper into the locker, although she'd offhandedly mentioned that she'd sealed up Madison's locker with her powers. When questioned further, it was because, in her words "it smelled like that biohazard waste container we recovered from the Merchants back in December, only worse".
"Shadow Stalker sealed up that locker. How did you end up in it?"
Skipper frowned. "One of her jock buddies pushed me in. She came along five minutes later and sealed it - stuck her hand in. My friend wasn't able to open it at first, and I caught a brief glimpse of the locker door when she did open it. She'd ripped it off."
Emily briefly checked the evidence log from the Winslow massacre. "We recovered a locker door at the scene. 394, I believe? It did have carbonized biologicals with a high concentration of hemoglobin, as well as indications of being opened through the use of a tool and augmented strength. The latch mechanisms were indeed welded to the locker's housing, and still attached to the door."
Skipper nodded at that. "Sounds about right."
Emily leaned forward a bit. "So why did you fight her?"
[Madison]
My blood thundered in my ears. I'd know that fucking voice, that flippant, dismissive tone of hers anywhere.
Shadow Stalker was Sophia Hess, that fucking track star bitch that ruined my life. Why wouldn't Sophia be here? Clearly the universe wasn't done shitting on me yet. And Sophia was staring at me. After what felt like an eternity, she spoke.
"Hah! So the wannabe social butterfly got herself powers! Maybe you'll actually be worth a damn in the field." Sophia smirked at me.
My mouth worked open and closed.
Aegis stood up, seeming very irritated. "Shadow Stalker. Quit antagonizing the prospectives."
I finally found my voice. "I… you bullied me. You bullied me, Sophia. How the hell did you get to be a hero?"
"Huh. Guess your power didn't give you any more of a spine. You still complain about everything and follow idiots like a lost puppy." Now she's irritated, but what else is new?
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the other Wards shifting uncomfortably.
"Is that what all of that was? Some kind of sick 'character building exercise', then?"
"Who cares about a bunch of stupid normie kids or the wannabe gangbangers? You got powers! What's a little high school drama, compared to what you have? You're above that shit now." Irritation and boredom! You'd think she'd remember one of the people she'd singled out for tormenting ever since I started the 9th grade.
I should've gone to Immaculata, but no, my dad just had to alienate the principal there. Instead I ended up stuck in that hellscape.
"I… I…" I'd always dreamed of removing that smirk from her face, and here I was, blowing it.
"Whatever. Aegis, are we done here or do I have to keep listening to this delusional brat?" She was already turning around to leave.
I didn't hear what he said next. Or what she'd snapped back with, or the other Wards yelling at each other all at once. I sort of zoned out.
When I looked back up, she was standing right in front of me, staring at the door behind me. "Move, brat." Clearly, she was enraged.
Frankly?
So was I.
So I swung at her, my palm open. I hadn't even thought to curl it into a fist - I was going to slap her, but I wanted to punch her too, and…
"You know the rest. Apparently that's called a palm strike? Broke her nose with it. I hesitated at first, then I just started swinging wildly, then, well… Vista, I think? Somehow she pulled us apart." Skipper frowned, staring at her sneakers.
The Director kept her face still. Truth be told, Shadow Stalker was on Piggot's last nerve. Excessive force during her unsanctioned "solo patrols" - patrols she hadn't been cleared for yet, evading the spirit of her probation terms, the time she'd been caught a week ago with standard broadheads in her loadout… all this added up to one conclusion.
Shadow Stalker had to become somebody else's problem. Despite being one of the more effective capes against the Noise breakouts - and she had acquitted herself well in the defense of Shelter 2-C - she was far too much of a legal and public relations liability. It was already clear that Shadow Stalker's rehabilitation wasn't likely with her local resources. If the investigation into Ms. Clements' claims bore fruit, she would have ample justification to escalate Shadow Stalker's case. While she was tempted to foist her upon the Cheyenne Nexus Containment Zone, that wasn't something she could or would do lightly. The life of Noise fighters tended to be short, and painful - entirely incompatible with the stated goals of the Wards program.
Thanks to the updated transfer request file on her desk, she had a possible answer. New York City had a couple of Wards who were interested in leaving. One of them, Flechette, would be relatively easy to on-board, and would soon be eligible for the Protectorate team. She'd specifically requested an "active city" and no longer wished to remain in New York. Bad memories, perhaps, but not her problem. She nodded to herself - if only all personnel problems were so easy to resolve.
"Very well, Skipper. What about the next incident?"
"Um. I was walking through the docks, to find a good spot to try out my powers. I'd been really, really, restless for weeks by that point." Now she was fidgeting. "I didn't bring anything fancy - just some skater pads my nephew left at the house, my hoodie, and a scarf. I was crossing the Docks to the Boneyard and there's an expensive SUV sitting there in a parking lot. A Mercedes-Benz, I think. I'd have ignored it, but there was somebody suspicious-looking picking the lock. I skipped towards them, and they smashed the window instead, grabbed a briefcase from the car, then they made the briefcase disappear."
"Sounds reasonable so far."
"Yeah. I chased them for several blocks, but I couldn't keep up with their rollerblades, so I started using my power. At first, I didn't need to explode, which was good for the car that nearly crashed into me. After that, it was harder to hold back. The… perp? Suspect? Circus headed into a parking lot, and when I headed in, I… screwed up. I blew up a guard shack. The shack didn't have anyone in it - I think it was abandoned. So anyway, I started trying to trap them in the parking lot by making craters. Instead, they turned the tables on me with a flashbang. I think? Whatever you call stun grenades, I guess. Anyway, the sound didn't get me, but I was blinded. Maybe my power thought the sound was part of a blast and protected me from it, I dunno. That's when I heard Synth coming at me, but I thought she was Circus, so I skipped into her. Just before I landed and exploded, I realized who she actually was. I felt like such a dumbass."
"Did she survive?"
"Yeah… yeah. Synth has to be a brute, I think, because all she did was make a loud wheezing sound and then grabbed me to punch me. I was terrified she was going to punch me senseless, but then she just got up and demanded to know what I was doing. We talked for a bit, her team drove me around in circles for a while, and they explained all this cape stuff to me. The 'cape game', unspoken rules, masking codes, things like that. They even told me about power compulsions… and I hadn't used my powers since you people did power testing with me a few weeks ago. Why didn't anybody tell me about that? I feel so stupid." Skipper was looking down at the floor, clearly ashamed of her actions.
"The Others, right?"
"Yeah." She continued to stare down at the floor.
Emily sat back and thought for a moment. What the girl had said lined up with the after-action report the Others had submitted, like they did after all interactions with PRT-aligned capes. Almost a model independent team, really, as far as the paperwork was concerned. Regardless, it seemed that they had given Madison The Superpower Talk, explaining the unfortunately-necessary Unspoken Rules, the use compulsion, and so on. All the things that should have been explained when the PRT officer and Miss Militia first visited her in the hospital, in fact. Emily was going to have to look into that later.
More concerning was Madison's story of what happened when she met the Wards. Her story matched the Wards debriefings she had read through, especially the one from Gallant, which ended with "The emotions those two are throwing off... [the Director]'s going to have to pick one of them, because they won't work together. There's just far too much hostility between the two. I think Shadow Stalker caused Skipper's trigger event, but I can't be sure."
Added to the fact that the Clements family was busy suing anyone even remotely involved with the Winslow incident, including one Sophia Hess, her family, and her (now former) social worker, this whole situation was, at best, a minefield.
"Miss Clements," she finally said, "The Wards and the PRT take a dim view of heroes going on solo patrols. We have our protocols for a reason, and that reason is to keep our people alive."
The girl winced.
"However, since at the time of your... interaction with Circus you were not part of the PRT, Wards, or Protectorate, you couldn't have been expected to know that. And given that the owner of the parking lot has not come forward to press any charges, and that you seem to have actually learned your lesson about property damage and situational awareness, there's not much I can do with this except remind you that, given recent events, all the Wards are now closely monitored for... problematic behaviors. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am, I think I do."
"Good. Then I don't expect to have to have this talk with you again. Have a good day."
Skipper started to gather herself up to leave. "Oh! Um. I have a question."
"Yes?"
"Is it okay if… I'm around the Others?"
"Fraternization between Wards and legally-declared rogues is permitted, but if and when you're on patrol, you're expected to follow orders should you encounter rogues. I should point out that you're not currently a Ward, and your status with the PRT is legally in limbo because of the lawsuits regarding you. That means you won't be able to join the Others legally, either, and your parents have to sign a waiver in any case."
"But as long as I don't actually join them, it's okay?"
"Yes. Have a good day."
Skipper's face lit up and she skipped (but not Skipped) out of the Director's office. Once she was alone, Emily sighed and called up the crisis point paperwork.
Well, that explained it. Miss Militia did her best, but Madison had been in shock at the time. There was supposed to have been a follow-up meeting before the power testing - one that in Madison's file, had been postponed indefinitely. Idly, she checked the case worker's name, and growled as the name of that incompetent do-nothing appeared on her screen.
Well, that was an explanation at least, but not an excuse. Madison Clements' case was turning up even more internal review topics than anyone knew. Including case reassignment when the original caseworker is fired for gross incompetence. He would simply have to do without the PRT's legal eagles watching his back, but if he'd wanted that, maybe he should have done his job.
Setting a note to add case reassignments to the ever-growing pile of policy review topics, Emily turned back to the rest of her work. Another requisition from Kid Win and Armsmaster for a case of "DragonTech SMD ultracapacitors".
Paperwork was the bane of every PRT officer. Ever since she'd been a grunt, she'd hated dealing with bureaucratic box-ticking. She understood that it was important and necessary, but with the internal reviews underway, she couldn't delegate as much as she liked.
She liked dealing with registered rogues more than her own capes, sometimes. Unreliable when it came to fighting crime, but staying out of trouble? That was something most rogues could handle. Synth in particular was an interesting case. She'd first been seen bringing Skipper to a hospital during the class-six Noise outbreak, which made it likely that she knew who Skipper was in her civilian life, and that Skipper knew who Synth was too. Something to keep in mind. Later reports involved one of her beams briefly being fired into the sky, and then a month of random sightings of her testing her powers on one of the Boneyard's ships. She'd run into Wards and even Glory Girl before, politely but firmly declining to join in cape fights, patrols or the Wards program.
It probably didn't hurt that the leader of the Others was usually accompanying her. Burnout had been something of a headache at first, and it didn't help that her partner, Queen, had become a leftist parahuman cause célèbre several years ago when Columbus PRT had picked her up and then proceeded to lose the case quite soundly. But they'd both turned over a new leaf in Brockton Bay, even if Burnout occasionally threatened to "turn Skidmark into a fucking skidmark for killing [their] sister".
She glanced up briefly at her clock. It was after 5PM - time to start prepping for the weekend Protectorate briefing at 7:30. She was about to press the intercom when it buzzed.
"Ma'am, you have a visitor."
Emily groaned. "I'm busy preparing for a briefing and it's not on the schedule. Tell them to make an appointment."
"Uh… Ma'am, I'm not sure I can."
What? "What do you mean? Just say 'if you don't have an appointment, you can't see the Director'."
Instead of a response over the intercom, the door opened. In walked a man Emily Piggot recognized and dearly wished she didn't.
"What your dear secretary meant," said the man, gesturing with his briefcase, "Is that I am my own appointment."
"Lieutenant Calvert," Emily said in a clipped voice as she stood up, "I never thought I'd see you in my office."
"Oh, no, not lieutenant, not anymore. It's just 'Agent Calvert' now. Much easier to spell."
"And here I thought there hadn't been a change in your rank," Emily grinned tightly, "Alas."
"I do what needs to be done." Agent Calvert smiled. "I have pressing business in this city, and with your agency."
"Clearly. Why are you here?"
"When are you planning to detain Synth? We've had a capture and procure order on her since Monday." Agent Calvert handed over a piece of paper. "In case your secretary misfiled it."
Emily gritted her teeth as she read through it. "We don't interfere in your agency's affairs… whatever the hell they are."
The Department of Sacrist Operations, an obscure agency in the Department of Defense. Their existence wasn't classified, but everything else about them was. All the Director knew was that apparently the PRT had to be their gofers due to an obscure regulatory clause. The DSO dealt in black-project tinkertech of some sort, and were the ones testing the Project ASM technology - a device that, if the DSO was to be believed, promised to give baseline humans powers.
Agent Calvert sniffed at this. "The order is lawful and has been signed by a judge. Further, you failed to duly inform us about the misuse of classified deep technologies."
"Then why am I the first to hear about this?"
He produced another piece of paper. "Here. Sign this."
Reluctantly, the Director looked it over. It was an NDA, countersigned by the Chief Director herself. She picked up a pen and grudgingly signed it.
"Thank you. What I am about to discuss is classified."
Emily felt under her desk and pressed a button, turning on the active jammers and anti-spying measures. After a minute, the windows and doors finished sealing themselves shut, and the light on her desk console turned green. She nodded to him.
"We're secure. Say your piece."
"Very well. We want our technology back, and its wielder. One of your local rogue capes isn't really a cape. She uses a classified next-generation anti-Noise ASM system, which she is not supposed to have." Calvert passed yet another sheet to her. "Her MIRIS interim change report. She wrote in the ASM section the model number of her classified technology. pSG-m00. That's damning on its own, but we also have documented evidence of an unauthorized activation of this system far outside of the testing labs."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"We require her full name and all other personally identifiable information. This order requires your agency to turn over everything you know about the unauthorized user of our technology."
"NEPEA-5 was repealed almost a decade ago. The Vikare Act and the Osaka Accords are still in effect. We do not have that information because we do not record it. What you see in her MIRIS records is what we have." Idiot. The PRT and especially the MIRIS rogues program could never function if every random parahuman lived in fear that they would be conscripted into the Protectorate simply by speaking to any of their representatives. The DSO, on the other hand…
He recovered with aplomb. "Very well. I need all the data you do have on her. We believe we know who she is - a criminal malcontent with multiple brushes with the law. She carries a weapon system that's an A-class threat all on its own. It is your agency's duty to cooperate in her apprehension, the confiscation of her stolen technology, and to remand her to our custody as soon as possible."
She sighed. "Your intel is likely off. Synth's been a model rogue. In her only cape fight, she stepped in and de-escalated a conflict between a prospective Ward and a local rogue, risking death in the process. Your evidence that Synth is somehow some A-class villainous threat is lacking, but the PRT will cooperate as required." After the utter clusterfuck in Denver, it was passed down from higher up that it was best to just give the DSO's agents whatever they wanted and not ask questions, full-scale gang wars be damned.
"The technology in question is classified above your level. I am telling you as much as your clearance level allows. Nevertheless, the DSO appreciates your cooperation. Good evening."
That smarmy, self-satisfied prick.
She watched him swagger away, then called Legal to inform them of the capture order. She wasn't required to force the Protectorate branch to drop everything and attempt to capture her, but she did have to follow procedure. For once, Emily found herself upset that a cape in her jurisdiction had actually filled out their paperwork properly. Her office could have avoided so much trouble if Synth had waited until she'd properly debuted as a cape, since she wasn't the hobopunching type. Parahuman excessive force meant a headache, which was why she liked dealing with the Others - they stayed to themselves and only fought when necessary.
Emily put it out of her mind. The briefing was important, and apparently the Customs, FBI and the BBPD liaisons had invited themselves. It wouldn't do to be unprepared.
The Director sat down in her chair, groaning. In a few minutes, she'd have an agent drive her home, but the briefing had been very stressful, so she wanted a chance to catch her breath. Customs and the FBI had briefed the PRT and especially the Protectorate on some of the more prominent Geisselschaft agents and neo-Nazis at the convention. Apparently one of the white power bands coming in to perform at the conference from overseas - "Zyklon Beta" - had caused a small riot at Logan earlier today, attempting to smuggle in advanced automatic rifles and tinkertech powersuits in the cargo hold of their airline charter and then fighting the Customs agents and Boston police that tried to apprehend them. Meanwhile, BBPD mostly complained that the PRT wasn't taking the threat posed by the "National Renaissance Conference" seriously. She had reminded them that the PRT was tied down trying to suppress the ongoing Empire-Merchants turf war, but agreed to detach more PRT squads for convention center patrols.
She was about to pick up the phone and call the dispatch desk, when the phone rang of its own accord. Emily mentally shrugged and picked it up.
"Director Piggot speaking."
"Ma'am, we have a developing situation."
"What kind of situation?"
"A riot at the Doomhaus venue in the docks. Rune, Blazer, Alabaster and three dozen unpowered neo-Nazis are assaulting the place, and there's signs of the concertgoers fighting back. Multiple 911 calls."
She wanted to groan. Or scream. "Christ. That's ABB territory. Very well, dispatch what we have. Contain the riot."
"Are you authorizing confoam for riot control, ma'am?"
Piggot glared through her phone. "Yes. Get the situation under control before Lung decides to."
Why couldn't she have a peaceful Saturday, for once?
AN: And with that, we're almost caught up! 2.2 is still a grind. It's really hard to write a montage of "watches a magical girl show" - certainly much harder than you'd think.
Sorry I didn't repost it until today. x_x But we're almost caught up! I'm closing in on finals, so 2.2 proper may be delayed.
silverpower
Communism is yuri and nothing else!
- Location
- Portland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Yeah, though I figured changing him up some would be great. He's still a piece of shit, but now he's got bigger ambitions than Boston's rougher sister city, and knows people with, shall we say, actionable ambitions.
- Location
- Europe
Correct, He's Agent Calvert, code name: Coil.
I so hope on this blowing up in their faces, sooo hard...
Like say, mayor noise attacks that turn Syth into the only effective counter nearby.
You know, I would laugh if after arresting Taylor, they find out she's not only already cleared for everything, but also has the ownership papers already filled as that tech's official user, by dear mommy.
And then they need to let her go, since she's the only one that can stop that Noice Attack, death in the water.
Say, what happend to Bakuda?
She still alive or not?
As for the Others, are they getting the Villian designation, thanks to Agent Calvert???
Man, that could cause a backlash, I can see the local gangs actually closing rank in order to protect them, simply because they have anti-Noice capabilities, the moment they realise this.
Que a angry Piggot cursing out Calvert.
Even worse if Japanish Symphogear girls have just arrived.
Heh, that could also be a way to have Taylor having all the right paper works having been done, already.
See a mad Calvert getting talked down with, it's quite above you're lots security clearence, thus you lot where not informed, besides, it's not as if you lot could have easily read the original autorisation(?) if you never learned the launguage(?) or accessing it from the other side of the globe.
On that, whats Taylor her mom, currently doing?
Would laugh if it turns out that Taylor now has two such autorisation documentation papers, from both sides of the program.
Mommy dearest would not let her daughter without protection, so a high change Taylor is actually documented as that Symphogear it's user.
And the worsed of it?
Agent Calvert is causing such a mesh, that the Others won't thrust the US Goverment, again.
Potentially making them very willing for a relocation to Japan, to the horror of the US Goverment.
Lets face facts, The Others are actually aware that they can be branded villains, anytime the goverment wants, so they probably have some emergency plans ready for this possibility, already.
Would laugh if it's along the lines of Carrier Command, you know.
Destination...Japan.
Funny enough, that would mean island hopping for the needed supplies, like food and tinker materials, plus the random Noice Attacks happening on said islands.
If that does happen, then I hope that they take a look at the USS Freedom (LCS-1), the USS Independence (LCS-2) and the USS Zumwalt (DDG-1000), as well, in order to make that Carrier Command it's Command Carrier it's shape that much more logical.
O well, we will see what will happen next, in a little while, I bet.
Still, I do wonder what for escape options they have, since I bet they have more then one.
Would laugh if it's Thunderbirds styled, you know.
Well, that or the Mad Max 5 war-rig.
One thing is sure, it will be chaos.
Heh, I would sooo laugh if the Japanish Symphogear project part would take in The Others as their USA Brance(?).
Though for some reason, the island hopping to reach Japan, sounds quite interesting to me, what with the whole remaining US Navy on their tail...
Especially if they managed to apply the Crystal repair stuff, with metal instead and then managed to program in the wanted form, plus which pile of resources to use for this.
On the other hand, a Galaxy Express styled Big Boy would also be fun for them to escape on.
Who needs routeways(?)....or rails, when you can fly.
Though the Transformers Armada/Energon style hardlight rails system could also be fun for that.
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Considering Piggot considers them model rouges who file reports as required I think the local PRT would refuse to immediately do that, noting that Calvert won't even say when Synth's symphogear was allegedly stolen or from where.
Probably working at the facility housing Maria, Serena, Kirika, Shirabe, and a whole bunch of other receptor children while plotting to finish what String Theory started, except without demanding ransom
Hence Burnout apparently supplying anti-Noise weaponry to the government. Alienate The Others and that source dries up
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2.1 (Initiation)
silverpower
Communism is yuri and nothing else!
- Location
- Portland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
February 22, 2011
Brockton Bay, MA
7:42am
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).
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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- Location
- Italy
I was wondering about this, since at least while reading there wasn't anything that jumped at me to signal her orientation. So I went back and reread it, and I guess this part is what you meant:
But is 'different league' some kind of slang? I only ever heard it as in a 'I'm superior' kind of way, and a cursory search doesn't tell me more than that. Or am I missing something else?
silverpower
Communism is yuri and nothing else!
- Location
- Portland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I meant it in a "I'm really gay, how did you not pick up on this, aren't you silly" sort of way, but I can re-word it to be more clear - if nothing else, my word choice is really clumsy. I just need to sleep on it first.
- Location
- Belgium
Ah, thanks.
Ichaival is the one of the two relics i had to rely upon the Symphogear wikia in order to find anything (The armor of Nehushtan was the other)
Problem with many myths is that many writers use different names for the same objects, and often actual names only end up given after many rewrites.
Include the fact that many rewrites during the Middle ages were written by people who couldn't read, and were thus closer to redrawing the text, make stuff even harder.
Did you know that Odin also used a sword? That thing was more often than not described as 'Odin's Flame'.
And if it ended up being translated makes things even harder.
The most famous thing about that one is the sword Excalibur. That sword was originally named in Welsh: Caledfwlch. In other languages, it has even a lot of other variants, including Caliburn.
Very small detail: Excalibur was the sword given to Arthur by the Lady of the Lake, after the Sword in the Stone broke. Lots of modern movies or stories consider the 2 different swords the same blade.
Ichaival is probably the name of Odin's bow (or a bow somewhere in Norse myth), but I strongly believe you have to spend a lot of time researching mythology to even find a proper reference to it.
Fairly obscure things like that tend to only been described in 1 single poem of that era, and thus it takes a lot of time in order to find them.
Or, of course, it is also possible that the name was given by the Fire Emblem developers. Still, the name is clearly not Japanese, so it probably did have it's origin in some kind of myth.
If I consider the word Yewfelle, it might refer to 'fallen (branch) of yew' or 'fierce yew'. For all we know, it refers to a stronger-than-average bow made of Yew.
In old Norse myth, the world tree Yggdrasil is considered an Ash tree, but it has 4 different possible translations:
1. Yggr Drasill : Odin's Horse / Odin's Gallows - Ygg(r) is an older name for Odin, and an old name for Gallows is 'the Horse of the Hanged' - Odin hung himself on the World Tree in order to attain wisdom (some stories speak of how he was kept in place by a spear through the chest (a spear that may or may not be Gungnir)
2. Askr Ygg Drasill : Ash-tree Odin's Horse - The Ash Tree upon which Odin is Hung - Similar to 1, there is discussion on whether the full name if 'Askr Yggdrasill', or just 'Yggdrasill'
3. Yggr Drasill : While Ygg(r) is an old name for Odin, Yggr can also mean Terror - This one would than mean 'Tree of Terror', 'Gallows of Terror'
4. Yggia Drasil : Yew Pillar - with Yggia coming from Ygwja (Yew tree) and Drasil from Dher (Support)
Only the last claims Yggdrasil as a Yew tree, and only the 2 specifically states Yggdrasil to be an Ash tree.
See what I mean with many writers and many translations? The Yggdrasil is described in at least 5 different writings.
Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
Huh...it's been many years since this was a going concern. Anyone help me out on whether teenage driving curfews are a normal thing these days, superpowers aside?
If they didn't know each other, this would be a classic meetcute. ;P
Handholding in public? How l-lewd.
Pour one out for the poor Winslow weeb who didn't know better.
Not to stereotype but...that does not strike me as a capturable target, my dude.
How very...un-gallant of you.
With how annoyed Taylor was at Madison for her antics trying to collar Circus, I cannot think that any of the Others would be appreciative of Vicky's practice breaking the pavement just to intimidate thugs.
Oi, c'mon, this is Arcadia. Surely they can afford to give out normal forks without fearing students would get stabbed with them. :3
...que?
I had to double check the front page for a bit for whether Taylor's appearance was (much) different in this fic. I actually don't think it really came up in-story?
- Location
- Vietnam
Hey I just wondering when will the next chapter be up?
- Location
- Untied state of America
Is vicky going to be a big part of the story
- Location
- Europe
When it's up, you know.
It's more polite to ask how the next chapter is going, less pickfork reactions, too.
silverpower
Communism is yuri and nothing else!
- Location
- Portland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
It's coming. I have free time this week (go me). Though even if I finish it today, I have to run it by my beta and get them to fix it up, then I post it to AO3, here and SB in that order.
Vicky isn't going to be a huge part of the story, but they'll meet, eventually. I genuinely haven't decided when.
ETA: It's in @TheWonko's hands. Hopefully I'll have it up tonight.
I'm hoping to get the next one done before April ends, but no promises.
Vicky isn't going to be a huge part of the story, but they'll meet, eventually. I genuinely haven't decided when.
ETA: It's in @TheWonko's hands. Hopefully I'll have it up tonight.
I'm hoping to get the next one done before April ends, but no promises.
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2.2 (Initiation)
silverpower
Communism is yuri and nothing else!
- Location
- Portland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
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…"
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.
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.
- Location
- Untied state of America
Really end it like that you dirty bastard. (Jk) i loved it keep up the good work
Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
Smooooooooth.
Waitatic, coworkers with -Dean-? Hmm...
Is there a misattrbution here? Reina's going to high-five Madison but is also baffled and amused?
Huh. Casual nonchalance here...or partial obliviousness?
*tilts head* Pretty Cure?
Aha.
Ooooof.
*facepalm* Obliviousness, then. Or something. This does feel a little bit inconsistent vs I feel earlier parts seem to portray her crushing on Diana more actively?
Heh. When Tsubasa shows up, I fully expect Taylor to say her voice sounds familiar, like she heard it in an anime...
The joke being that Tsubasa's VA, Nana Mizuki, also played Tsubomi from Heartcatch, and a ton of other roles, notable ones being Hinata from Naurto, Fate (and Alicia) from Nanoha, Moka from Rosario to Vampire, and (for a recent videogame roll that doesn't yet exist in-universe) Ann from Persona 5.
The joke being that Tsubasa's VA, Nana Mizuki, also played Tsubomi from Heartcatch, and a ton of other roles, notable ones being Hinata from Naurto, Fate (and Alicia) from Nanoha, Moka from Rosario to Vampire, and (for a recent videogame roll that doesn't yet exist in-universe) Ann from Persona 5.