Taylor Has a Strange Hobby (Yandere!Taylor)

[BlueNine]

Cross-posting this from SB for more EXPOSURE. You can find the Spacebattles thread for this story here.

If you couldn't guess from the title label, this is a comedy and crack-played-mostly-straight. This is NOT based off of Yandere Simulator, as Hearts Aflutter is.

Sophia x Taylor. Yes, really. It is both less and more weird than you're thinking.

Blurb:

Taylor Hebert is a pure maiden who has done nothing wrong (that you can prove beyond a reasonable doubt in a court of law). She does her best to help the downtrodden in a city rife with crime and poverty. However, she has always despaired over her bad luck with love.

So when a stunning girl with breathtaking anger issues takes an interest in her, Taylor is reluctantly hopeful that she's met "the one." This time, Taylor is going to do whatever she can to ensure that she gets her happily ever after.

A story of the thorny path to true love.

<~@~> <~@~> <~@~>

Chapter 1​

Hello, everyone! My name is Taylor Hebert, and I am a creep. I'd like to make that clear right from the start. Please don't make excuses for me; there is no good reason why you should feel sympathy towards my cause.

You see, although my tastes are unusual, that is not why I consider myself to be a creep. Once I realized that I was… different, I did quite a bit of research online. There are sadists, and masochists, and all other manner of "deviants," but most of them manage to find a community or a mutually accepting partner. You might find them odd or scary, but they are largely harmless. Consenting adults who have discovered a way to find fulfillment through carefully negotiated exercises of power and control. If everyone involved knows the rules of the game and decides to play it willingly, then how can you fault them?

And then there's me. I don't know how to put it politely, so I'll just say it.

I enjoy when girls bully me.

It's been this way as long as I can remember, although I didn't understand my feelings for a long time. When other girls picked on me or pushed me or called me names, the adults would always discipline them and ask me if I was okay. I was confused. Why wouldn't I be okay? Then they said that bullying hurt people's feelings, that it made them sad. I was still confused, but I began to understand that the way I was reacting wasn't normal. My heart wasn't the right kind.

Now, you might be thinking, 'Oh, you're overreacting! Come on, Taylor, just find a nice girl who would be happy to play your game with you.'

No. It's not the same. I don't expect you to get it. I don't get it. But if a girl isn't bullying me naturally, then…

It's not the same.

I asked Emma, my best friend, to try it for me. Yes, we are perhaps a little too close to be considered "just friends." I cannot fully express how grateful I am to have her. She did a fantastic job, actually. The words she said, her body language, her sneers and cold smiles, they were all spot on. Another girl would have withered into nothingness beneath the force of her bullying. It was beautiful and sharp and perfect. But while I felt a faint twinge of satisfaction, it was just not right.

I thanked her profusely, but we never tried it again.

There were others. Them I did not tell what I wanted. Once I made that decision, I accepted that I was truly a creep. I learned how to spot the mean girls, learned what made them tick. I developed strategies and techniques to lure them into my orbit. Were they victims? Maybe. Perhaps I provoked dark parts of their personalities that would have otherwise lay dormant. However, I will say that I rarely did anything more than make myself prey that they could not resist.

I am going to tell you something now that you may find hard to believe because of what you have been taught. Very few bullies do what they do for the exact same reasons. That makes sense logically, but we're often given blanket advice for how to deal with them. "All bullies are cowards," they say. "You've just got to stand up to them." "Bullies are just looking for a reaction," they say. "You just have to ignore them."

As an enthusiast in the field, I can confidently say that you can't apply such generalized solutions. Some bullies want to feel stronger by tearing you down. Some want to remove you as a social rival. Others simply want to see you suffer. It would be nice if you could just do one thing and know that bullying would arise from it, but the truth is that each bully is a unique individual and needs to be treated as such.

It was difficult, sometimes, despite the effort I put in. Lots of girls were afraid of Emma and what she might do to them for harassing her friend. Even though Emma knew what I was, she often found it hard to just let girls insult and berate me. I am unworthy of such a considerate companion.

As for the boys who mistook me for a weak target because of my playacting, well… they learned better.

Things became even more challenging once we entered high school. Emma "developed" quickly, and between her appearance and keen social skills there were few girls in our year willing to cross her. Then my mom passed away, and I quickly lost any remaining motivation to pursue my hobby. Both Dad and I were lost, adrift. I don't know what I would have done without Emma.

I didn't want to drag her down, though. She was strong but also oddly fragile. She needed reassurance. Direction. Things I could not properly provide in my state of mind at the time. I decided to go to summer camp as planned. It was a pleasant distraction and I think it gave us the temporary distance we needed.

After a few days at camp, I dropped some quarters into a grimy pay-phone and called her. We chatted about inane things, trying to get back to our version of normalcy. Then the call suddenly dropped. I looked at the receiver, eyes narrowed, then dropped in the extra quarters I had been saving in case our conversation went on longer than expected. It rang until the call went to voice-mail.

Concerning.

I called my dad, did my obligatory check-in, and asked him to make sure that Emma and her dad made it home alright. Once I hung up, I decided that I was going to get a cell-phone, regardless of my own feelings about them. It was unacceptable that I had to rely on spare change and archaic technology to stay in contact with my friend.

<~@~>

Emma had been attacked. That was beyond unacceptable. Something needed to be done. Not physical violence, of course; a smart girl's weapons are her mind and her words. But something would happen, and the people who hurt my friend would pay, and pay, and pay.

I am patient and I am capable of dangerous obsessions.

Absurdly, Emma had initially tried to hide what had happened from me. As if it were even remotely plausible that she would cut off her hair and withdraw from the world on a whim. I suspected someone else's influence. Emma was impressionable if you appealed to her in the right ways. I asked her about it directly and she admitted to having a new friend.

Sophia Hess.

I insisted on meeting this new girl and Emma hesitantly obliged me.

And… wow.

<~@~>

Taylor said her goodbyes and departed. Sophia watched Taylor as she left. "Your friend gives me the creeps," she said once Taylor was gone.

Emma frowned. "Taylor? Why?"

"I dunno. She just does. You should cut her off."

"I can't do that! Taylor's my best friend."

"Maybe, but you need to think of yourself first. You can't get stronger if you let some weirdo drag you down."

"Taylor's not-" Emma hesitated, "She's not dragging me down. She's way stronger than you know."

Sophia scoffed. "She'd fold under any real pressure. She wouldn't have survived what you went through."

Emma shook her head. "She's stronger than me."

Sophia raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"Absolutely."

Sophia got a gleam in her eye. "We'll see. I'll show you what she's really made of."

Emma froze. "Um, Sophia? I would strongly recommend that you not do whatever it is you're thinking right now."

"Why? Scared that I'll prove you wrong?"

Emma closed her eyes and took a deep breath, carefully schooling her features. "You know what? You're right. Go ahead and… 'see what she's made of.'"

Sophia smirked. "I will."

 

[BlueNine]

Chapter 2​

Hello again, readers! It's me, Taylor. The girl who goes to unnatural lengths to amuse herself. Are you still reading this? That's surprising. I'm not a very admirable protagonist. There are probably real heroines who are more worthy of your time.

Still not leaving? Alright. You're in this with me, now.

Last night, Emma called me and asked me to be "nice" to Sophia. Emma said that while Sophia could be abrasive, that she owed her a debt, and that she would appreciate if I didn't do anything "drastic." I assured her that I could control myself, and she brought up Jennifer. Rude. Emma made plenty of mistakes, but did you see me dredging those up? Besides, I could already tell that Sophia wouldn't disappoint me the way Jennifer had.

However, Emma had asked nicely, so it would be impolite not to at least make an effort. I wouldn't try to entrap Sophia into my game. But I could hardly be faulted if she came after me on her own, right? A victim has a right to defend herself, doesn't she?

Hmm. You're not buying that either? Oh well.

<~@~>

Day one of Taylor's Sophia Observation Diary: today, Sophia tripped me in the hall. I wasn't sure how to react; it's not my usual fare. Bullying from girls usually runs along social lines. Insults, reputation destruction, that kind of thing. Sometimes there's a physical element involved, but it's usually meant to emphasize their superior position in the pecking order. However, Sophia didn't even say anything; she just smirked at me and walked away. Is she a physical purist? A fan of the classics? Only time will tell.

<~@~>

Day five of Taylor's Sophia Observation Diary: today, Sophia took me aside and gave me a rather heated lecture about "dragging Emma down." She actually grabbed me by the front of my jacket. How aggressive. At first I wasn't sure how I felt about Sophia's hands-on style of bullying, but it's growing on me. Unlike most girls, she definitely has the muscle to pull it off. She must work out.

I haven't needed to do anything special to keep her attention. It seems that my continued existence alone is enough to rile her up. It's refreshing. I feel like I can really be myself around her.

<~@~>

"Alright, spill it," Sophia said.

Emma blinked and looked up from her magazine. "I'm sorry?"

"What's the deal with Hebert? I've been giving her shit all week but it's like what I do doesn't even register."

Emma smiled benignly. "Oh, I'm sure she registers you."

Sophia pointed an accusatory finger. "That. You know something, so stop giving me that shit-eating smile and say it."

"Whatever could you mean, Sophia?" Emma asked. "You're the one with the keen predatory instincts. How could my intimate knowledge of my best friend possibly compare to that?"

Sophia scowled. "Fine. But this doesn't prove anything. I'll find out what's up with her one way or another."

"Have fun with that," Emma said, flipping to the next page.

<~@~>

"Why are you sulking?" Emma asked.

"I'm not sulking," I said sulkily. Emma rolled her eyes and I harrumphed. "It's stupid," I said.

"I assumed so."

"Hey!" I said, slapping her shoulder lightly. "Shouldn't you be more supportive?"

"I would be if I thought it wasn't something stupid." Emma sighed. "I'm still going to listen, though, because apparently I have the patience of a saint."

I pouted and fiddled with my backpack strap before responding. "Sophia pushed some girl in P.E. today."

"And this is a problem because…?"

"Well, why would she do something like that? Do you think I'm not enough for her?"

Emma closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples.

<~@~>

Day nine of Taylor's Sophia Observation Diary: Sophia was out of sorts today. I smiled at her, which I can typically rely on to elicit at least a sneer, but she just ignored me. I talked to Emma and she agreed that Sophia seems to have lost some of her usual spark as of late. This warrants further investigation.

<~@~>

Sophia slid her backpack off her shoulder and tossed it in the corner of her room. Then she took a deep breath and prepared to go to the kitchen. Passing through the living room was always a little tense, because Steven usually took that as an opportunity to nag her about something or another. It wasn't a big deal, not really, and it could hardly be called abuse. But it wore on her. A constant stream of negativity and passive aggressive criticism, right at the point in the day where she wanted to relax and unwind. Lately it had just been… too much, on top of everything else.

"You home early, Sophie? I thought you were gonna put in some extra hours at the library to study for your tests. You know your grades ain't so hot, right?" "Why're you home so late, Sophie? You think we're gonna do your chores for you?" On and on and on.

And she hated being called "Sophie."

But she wasn't a little bitch, so she would deal with it. She put her shoulders up and made a beeline straight for the kitchen. She saw him out of the corner of her eye, watching his dumb-ass conservative "news" garbage in his normal spot. She paused, bracing herself, but nothing happened. Continuing on, she quickly put together her usual peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Still nothing. Sophia glanced over. Their eyes met, and his gaze snapped straight ahead. Was he avoiding her? She looked more closely and saw that he was sweating.

"What?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Steven said.

"What's going on?"

"What? Nothing."

Sophia didn't need to be an experienced vigilante to know when someone was lying. But… "Whatever," she said, turning to take her sandwich back to her room.

"Um, Sophie?" Steven said, and she turned back. He cleared his throat. "Sophia, I mean. I… know that you've been working hard, and I'm sorry." A rivulet of sweat cut its way down his forehead.

"You're sorry?" Sophia asked, in the same tone she would have used if she had said "you're a pterodactyl?"

"Yeah, uh. You know. I've been on your back about stuff, giving you a hard time. I'll try to ease up."

"Okay?" Sophia said. "Thanks. I'm gonna… go, now."

"Alright. Uh, good talking to you."

What the fuck?

<~@~>

Hebert came up to Sophia and looked closely at her face, her head tilted slightly.

"The fuck do you want?" Sophia asked.

Hebert nodded. "Yes, that's much better."

"The hell are you talking about? Fuck off."

Hebert smiled. "Right," she said. "I'll see you in P.E." She walked off.

What the FUCK?

<~@~>

Dean sighed as Victoria stormed away. You would think that being an empath would make relationships easier, but it certainly didn't feel that way to him. He could tell that his girlfriend was flipping out over something he said perfectly well without a parahuman ability, thank you very much. He drank his milkshake slowly, staring blankly into the dwindling beverage.

As he sat and pondered, two girls strode quickly past him, one dragging the other by the wrist.

Was that…? He craned his neck to see Sophia Hess pulling another girl rather forcefully behind her.

"What the hell?" he murmured, standing up to follow them. Sophia could be hostile at times, but she usually refrained from anything more than glares and the occasional insult. Was she hurting people in her civilian life?

As he left the restaurant, he turned to see Sophia pretty much throwing the other girl into an alley. Frowning, he got closer in case he needed to intervene. He peeked around the corner.

Sophia was pushing the girl against a wall, her aura alight with a black-spotted crimson glow. Anger mixed with frustration. "You just don't get it, do you? What do I have to do to make you understand?"

"I don't know," the other girl said. "What do you want to do?" Curly black hair fell in front of her wide eyes. Her aura was… Dean did a double-take. Based on the situation, he would have expected the muddy blue of fear. If not that, a putrid green of resentment or perhaps a clear red of defiance.

None of those were the case.

It was actually pretty spectacular. Most auras were somewhat muddled, reflecting a wide range of mixed feelings. This girl's aura was a very clean split of an almost incandescent yellow with a smaller layer of shimmering pink beneath it.

Yellow was excitement. Bright yellow meant something along the lines of "excitement about something one was anticipating." Pink was affection. That could mean a lot of things, and it was often difficult to tease out exactly what kind of affection someone was feeling amidst other emotions. However, it was clear that the girl wasn't opposed to her situation in any way and, well…

Sophia stared into the girl's eyes, their faces dangerously close. The bloody red of her aura gradually gave way to the orange-yellow of uncertain curiosity. The other girl's breath quickened as the moment lingered electrically between them.

Dean turned away and left them to their moment.

<~@~>

Sophia was eating cereal in the Wards' break room when Dean came in.

"Uh, hey Sophia," he said. She grunted in an acknowledging way. "You mind if I sit with you?" he asked.

She slowly chewed a mouthful of Cap N' Crunch. "Free country," she drawled.

"Alright," he said, sitting across from her. "So how've you been?"

Sophia rolled her eyes. "Okay, what?"

"Huh?"

"What do you want? You look tense as hell trying to make small talk. Just say what you want to say."

Dean winced. "Yeah, alright. I just wanted to say that I know that you don't really get along with the team, but we're here to support you. If you have anything that's on your mind, you can talk to one of us. It'd just be between you and whoever you chose to talk to. No need to do the whole song and dance with the shrinks."

Sophia's eyes narrowed. "Something on my mind? Like what?"

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it. "Nothing. I just wanted you to know you've got people here who've got your back."

"You know something," Sophia growled. "What is it?"

Dean sighed. "It's really none of my business. I won't bring it up unless you do first."

"Dean, I'm getting real tired of people being all cryptic and shit. If you don't spit it out right this second, I'm going to hit you."

Dean raised his hands. "Fine, fine. I saw you with your… girlfriend, I guess. It's no big deal."

"My what."

"Hey, it's fine. I won't say anything, and I'm not going to pressure you. Just… I know how hard this town can be on people who are different. If things get to be too much, please find someone to talk to. It doesn't have to be me."

"Dean, I really think you're misunderstanding whatever it was you saw."

Dean gave her a tolerant smile. "Okay. That's alright. If you want, we can pretend like this conversation never happened."

"What? No! I'm not… on the down-low. I seriously have no idea what you're talking about."

Dean stood. "Got it," he said. "I'll see you later." Sophia stood as well. Dean froze for a moment and then beat a hasty retreat with Sophia hot on his heels.

"Dean! Get back here!"

"Hell no! Missy, save me!"

<~@~> <~@~> <~@~>

 

[BlueNine]

Chapter 3​

Aloha, readers! It is I, Taylor, your favorite lovable oddball. If you've gotten this far, I must say that I'm impressed. Do you see something of me in yourself? Is that why you're still here? If so, I feel compelled to remind you that I am a rather poor choice of role model. I have my fun, but there is always a price to pay.

Anyways, let's get back to it. We have people waiting for us.

So, let's get the most exciting news out of the way first. Sophia was a super-heroine. She was reasonably careful about hiding it, but I had been stalking keeping a concerned eye on her for several weeks now. There wasn't much about her I didn't know.

Her cape name was Shadow Stalker. So edgy, so aggressive. So wonderfully Sophia. I knew she was special, but this added an entirely new dimension to things. It also explained her fantastic physicality. A heroine could hardly have poor fitness, now could she?

I wondered if this was why she had become more distant lately. Was she too stressed out with her new Ward duties to pay attention to little old me? I shook my head. It would be easy to blame someone else, but the truth was that I had gotten complacent. Our honeymoon phase had lured me into believing that we would stay at a certain level of excitement without any extra effort on my part. That was inconsiderate of me. As Ursula K. LeGuin said, "Love does not simply sit there, like a stone. It has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new." Sophia had been putting a lot of effort in, hadn't she? Every day, she came up with a new and delightful way to push me around or threaten me. It was only to be expected that I reciprocate some of that passion.

But how to spice things up? Sophia had pretty much given up on showing Emma how "weak" I was. Unless I did something truly awful, I doubted that I could stoke that fire up again. Besides, using our mutual connection to Emma to play my game would be beyond the pale, even for me. I approved of how Sophia tried to protect Emma and I didn't want to strain that in any way. I needed to find an entirely new angle of attack.

I rifled through my mental files of Sophia's life. She was rather busy, balancing her classes with Track and her Wards activities. She didn't have a lot of actual friends other than Emma, mostly due to her hyper-competitive and confrontational personality. Absolutely everything had to be a contest of strength and power with her. I mean, I personally enjoyed the constant hostility and dominance games, but I could see where others might find it trying. It had already caused some friction with her teammates in Track. I presumed it also didn't endear her to her colleagues in the Wards program, though I had frustratingly little visibility into that. It galled me that there was this whole part of her life that I wasn't privy to. I would find a way in. Just not yet.

Track, though… that was far more accessible. There were a few ways that I could use Sophia's worship of strength if I joined the Track team. First, I could perform poorly. That would encourage Sophia to push me around in an attempt to either increase my performance or drive me off the team. Second, I could compete with her to the point that she considered me a rival. I had undertaken a similar gambit in the academic field with another girl. That had been a somewhat short-lived and painstaking effort, but it had given me a warm sense of accomplishment to provoke the typically calm and strait-laced young lady into a poisonous fury.

There were other scenarios that might unfold depending on how things went, but there was no way to know until I got started. I'd just have to play it by ear.

<~@~>

I had been running for a while for fun. My build lent itself well to the task. If you run away from me, I'll probably catch you! Haha.

But seriously. I was pretty fast. Not as fast as Sophia, but at a reasonable level to be participating in a high school Track team. I would be putting in some work to bring myself to a higher competitive standard, but that would be in private. On the field, I would be sandbagging pretty significantly.

Operation: Lazy Gazelle was underway.

<~@~>

I stretched and made small talk for a while with a few of the other Track members until Sophia showed up at her customary time. She affixed me with the sort of glare that she hadn't given me in weeks. I knew that this was a good idea.

"What are you doing here, Hebert?" she asked, scowling.

"Oh, hello, Sophia! Are you trying out for the Track team, too?"

"Fuck off. You know I'm on the team. Are you here just to piss me off? Is that it?"

"Jesus, Hess, chill out," Jessica Hargrove said. "Not everything revolves around you."

"Thank you, Jessica," I said, favoring the tall blonde girl with a grateful smile. I turned back to Sophia. "Why would I want to piss you off, Sophia? I'm here because Track looks like fun."

"This isn't a game, Hebert," she said, pointing at me. "If you drag down the team because you're just here to dick around, I'll make you regret it."

Promises, promises.

I blinked innocently, a feat I acquired from Emma. "I certainly won't try to make our team lose any games," I said. I was rewarded with a little vein popping out on Sophia's temple before she stormed off.

<~@~>

"Are you harassing Sophia again?" Emma asked, primly spearing a cherry tomato from her salad. I supposed I should get more disciplined with my own diet now that I was an athlete.

"Why? Did she say something about me?" I asked eagerly.

Emma rolled her eyes and popped the tomato into her mouth. "I swear to God, I feel like I'm a relationship counselor. I should charge by the hour to listen to the two of you."

My shoulders sagged. "Oh. I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Emma was so patient that I often forgot how difficult it must be to deal with all of my… oddities.

Emma sighed. "It's fine. What's high school without relationship drama?"

"Are you sure? We can spend more time together. Maybe do something with just the two of us."

"Okay, stop. You sound like you're trying to keep our marriage from falling apart."

I gasped. "It's falling apart?" She scoffed and I took her hand in both of my own. "Come on, baby, you know you'll always be my top priority. Sophia is just a concubine."

Emma gave me a flat look. "I'll tell her you called her that.'"

I did some mental calculations, then winced. "Please don't." Despite what you might think, there is a limit to the level of violence that I willingly invite upon my person.

<~@~>

Sophia was in hurdles and sprints, so I was sticking with middle distance runs and relay for now. Crowding her too much in the early phases of the plan would be counterproductive. At the moment, I was working on relay. Relay was a little trickier to fudge because unlike with solo events, it made me accountable to my partners. My performance directly affected their performance. So I wasn't doing my best, exactly, but I also wasn't languishing in the middle of the pack as I had originally intended. I was actually starting to have fun working together with my partners.

Luckily, Sophia had a strong enough bias against me that even a slightly lackluster showing on my part was enough to get her teeth gnashing. She even did the wall-push thing to me again, which was definitely one of my favorites. Fun fact: while I was, uh, doing Internet research, I found that the Japanese call this maneuver kabe-don, which translates to "wall smack" or "wall bang." "Bang" the sound effect. Not the… other thing. It's a "seduction" technique common in their books, TV shows, etc., although there's some debate whether or not it's something you should actually try in real life.

All I can say is that I was definitely a fan. The looming, the feeling of being cornered, the audible demonstration of physical strength… mwah. That's me doing the Italian chef fingertip kiss thing.

Anyways, what were we talking about, again? Oh, right. Track. It was going pretty well, all things considered. What I found was that Sophia didn't really care about my results. At least, not precisely. She cared about my attitude. My work ethic. It was actually very interesting. If you didn't know her, it'd be easy to write her off as a dumb jock, but she had a relatively involved ideology about strength, willpower, and survival. To her, your "worth" was based on how hard you fought in the face of adversity. Your actual strength and capability were incidental to your willingness to struggle. The worst possible sins were to give up or allow yourself to fall into despair.

Emma had fought back against her attackers, which meant that Sophia put her into the "survivor" camp. I, on the other hand, had not fought back at any point during Sophia's various "attacks" upon me, so I was not a survivor. However, I also wasn't backing down or running away, so I wasn't exactly a "victim," either. Thus, I was in a weird sort of twilight zone in Sophia's binary worldview. It irritated her. She was constantly testing me to see if she could manage to put me into one of her neatly separated groups.

In practical terms, this meant I could steadily improve and thus avoid antagonizing my teammates, but at the same time I could still play with Sophia by displaying certain behaviors. Silliness. Laziness. Naivety. Anything that suggested that I wasn't always ready to fight back with all my might against the whims of a hostile and impersonal universe. I worried sometimes about how much stress Sophia was under, living that way.

The considerate thing to do would be to give her a convenient target upon which to vent her frustrations, right?

Huh? You're not buying that either? You're getting too clever for me, readers. Maybe you're spending too much time around me.

I stood on the sidelines, clapping enthusiastically as Sophia successfully cleared hurdle after hurdle. The other girls were giving me some confused looks, which I suppose was fair. I had been relentlessly positive towards Sophia, despite her utter lack of warmth in return. Jessica praised me for what she apparently perceived as "kill them with kindness" social maneuvering, but the rest seemed to think I was just nuts. Why continue to spend energy on someone who did nothing but lash out at you?

Speaking of which, here she came now.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her face stony with restrained anger.

"Cheering you on," I said, smiling.

"Are you mocking me?"

"Absolutely not," I replied, and that was the truth. Sophia was marvelous on the track. Getting to watch her in action was a welcome benefit to this plan.

She stared unblinkingly at me, seeming to search me for any sign of deception or disrespect. Pro tip for you: an experienced bully will often have a keen sense for disrespect. A bully's perspective often hinges on power, and respect is an acknowledgment of that power. I didn't want to challenge Sophia directly, which meant that I would keep our conversations clean of anything that could be viewed as innately rude or disrespectful.

"So what's your game, then?" she demanded. "We're not friends. I don't know how to make that any clearer to you."

"Hmm. I don't know. I understand that you don't like me, but I think you're just… great."

Sophia's eyebrows rose. "Are you kidding me? I've done nothing but give you shit every time we interact."

"Mm. Yeah," I said dreamily.

"You're a freak, Hebert."

"Uh-huh. What else?"

Sophia glared at me, then strode purposefully away.

Is it fair for one person to have all this fun?

<~@~>

Madison sighed deeply in between bites of her sandwich. She had hoped that high school would be different, but here she was eating lunch in the bathroom again. She didn't really understand what it was that made her such a bully magnet. She tried dressing better and being more social, but she had unerringly been targeted by "mean girls." All of her nascent friends had dropped her as soon as it became clear that she was persona non grata to Jennifer Schultz and Evie Walker. They were pretty, their families were rich, and for whatever reason they hated Madison's guts. No, that wasn't completely accurate. You couldn't really hate someone who you considered to be completely beneath you. Madison was just… prey.

She took a slow breath, then opened the stall door to toss her trash. She had just begun to wash her hands when The Bitches pushed their way into the bathroom, chatting loudly.

"Like, what did she think was going to happen?" Evie was saying. Then she locked eyes with Madison. A wolfish grin spread across her face. "Oh, hey, Maddie. How's it going?"

"Um, fine," Madison said. "I'm just gonna-" she tried to slip by, but Jennifer pushed her back.

"Not gonna ask how we are?" Jennifer asked, sneering. "Rude. C'mon, Maddie, don't you want to talk to us?"

"Yeah, Maddie, aren't we friends?" Evie said.

"Sure," Madison said colorlessly.

"That's right," Jennifer said, stepping up and plucking at Madison's shirt. "And as your friend, I have to tell you that this top looks like you dug it up from your grandma's closet." Jennifer gave her a look of faux pity.

"You need to put in an effort to be fashionable, Maddie," Evie said. "It's the only way that boys will ever want to look at someone like you."

"Luckily for you, you have two good friends who'll help you out," Jennifer said. "For a small… consultancy fee, of course."

What a joke. These harpies probably made more in a month's allowance than Madison would see in a year. This extortion was just a way to twist the knife.

"So you want money?" Madison asked.

Jennifer smiled at her. "This isn't about what I want, Maddie. It's about what you need. Just ask me nicely, and I'll help you out."

Madison sighed and dug around in her backpack, pulling out a few bills and holding them out. "Please, Jennifer, will you-"

She was interrupted as someone else entered the restroom, a tall girl with long, dark hair. Their eyes met for a moment, and the girl paused, looking over the tableau before her.

"Ah," the girl said. "Jennifer, Evelyn. Lovely to see the two of you again."

Jennifer visibly swallowed. "Hi, Taylor. N-nice to see you too."

Did she just stutter?

The new girl - Taylor - nodded slowly before glancing at Madison. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Taylor. Pleasure to meet you." Taylor enunciated very clearly, giving the impression that she was choosing her words with care.

"Hey," Madison said. "I'm Madison."

"Hello, Madison. I'm sorry I interrupted your conversation. Are you friends with Jennifer and Evelyn?"

"We weren't-" Evie began, and Jennifer made a frantic gesture at her to cut her off. Taylor's eyes flicked over to them for a moment before drifting back to Madison.

Okay, I have no idea what's going on. "Um, I guess," Madison said.

"Hmm," Taylor said, giving her an assessing look. Madison felt strangely vulnerable under that gaze. Thankfully, the other girl eventually looked away. "Jennifer, are you having financial difficulties?" Taylor asked.

Jennifer cleared her throat. "That was just… I mean, I lent Madison some money and she's paying me back."

Madison tried not to react to the blatant lie, knowing that snitching would only make things worse.

Taylor laughed. "Oh, so that was it. You're such a generous soul, Jennifer. You know, I think I'll try and follow your example," she said, withdrawing a wallet from her backpack. "How much does she owe you? I'll cover it."

Jennifer raised her hands. "Uh, actually, it's not a big deal. I'll get my allowance this week. Madison, we can just call it square," she said, smiling unconvincingly at Madison.

"Wow," Taylor said. "Are you sure? I would be happy to do it." Somehow, that innocuous sentence sounded like a threat. Jennifer nodded quickly and Taylor shook her head in apparent amazement. "Your magnanimity really knows no bounds."

"Thank you?" Jennifer said.

Taylor smiled broadly. "Well, I don't mean to hold you girls up. I'll see you around." The Bitches bobbed their heads and scurried off. Madison made to follow their lead. "Oh, Madison? Could I talk to you for a minute?" Taylor said.

What is it now? Am I replacing two bullies with another one?

"Alright," Madison said, meekly trying to avoid looking directly at Taylor.

The dark haired girl stepped closer, cocking her head as if she was examining a particularly strange animal. "Were those girls… bothering you?" she asked quietly. "Feel free to tell me the truth."

Madison shrank in on herself. "W-what do you mean?" Taylor's concern seemed genuine, but Madison couldn't help but suspect that this was just another ploy to raise her hopes before dashing them again.

Taylor leaned in slightly, as if to impart a secret. "Are you the victim of unwanted bullying?"

Madison giggled. She couldn't help it. "Are you saying that there's such a thing as wanted bullying?" she asked, glancing up. Taylor's large hazel eyes were focused with strange intensity on Madison's face.

A corner of Taylor's wide lips quirked up in a half-smile. "That would be rather unusual, wouldn't it? So, were they? Bothering you, I mean."

Madison took a deep breath and sighed. "Yeah. For a few weeks now. Do you have any idea why they're so fixated on me? You seem you like you know them."

Taylor made a thoughtful noise. "There are a few reasons I can think of. First would be your-" Taylor shook her head. "Never mind. You don't have to worry. I'll handle it."

"What, really?"

"Of course," Taylor said, a tiny smile on her face.

"Um, well, thank you." A small, vigilant voice spoke up in her mind. "What do you want?" she asked, tensing.

"Want?"

"Yeah. In return for helping me."

Taylor gave her an odd look, then shook her head. "You don't need to give me anything. No one deserves to suffer through such banal and unpleasant bullying."

Banal? Madison ignored the odd word choice. "Okay. I guess I'll see you around, then. Thanks again."

Taylor inclined her head. "You're very welcome. Be careful out there."

Madison nodded and took off. Taylor seemed nice. A bit weird, but nice.

<~@~><~@~><~@~>

 

[BlueNine]

Chapter 4​

I took a seat across from Emma at the cafeteria table and carefully pulled out my lunch. We ate together in the kind of silence that only close friends can bear.

"I made a new friend," I said, dabbing at the corner of my mouth with a napkin.

Emma grunted. Well, she's a dainty young lady, so I'll be charitable and say she made a thoughtful noise. "A friend, or a friend?" she said, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"I'm not sure what you're implying."

"Whatever. Who is she?"

"Her name is Madison Clements. I would appreciate if you helped me look after her."

"Look after her? Wait, how old is this girl?" Emma asked, with perhaps a touch of unfair suspicion.

"She's in our year. But she's… eminently prone to bullying. We should probably keep her away from Sophia."

Emma grinned. "Jealous?"

"Rude," I said, turning my nose up indignantly. "I'll have you know that I have Madison's best interests at heart. You'll understand when you see her."

Emma giggled. "If you say so. But I still think you're exaggerating. Sophia is a bit intense, but she doesn't just attack people out of nowhere." I looked Emma in the eye for a long few seconds, impressing the full weight of my skepticism onto her until she broke our gaze and sighed. "Yeah, alright," she said.

<~@~>

Emma gave Madison Clements a once-over as Taylor guided the girl into a seat at their usual table. She could see why Taylor called her "prone to bullying," even if her friend's phrasing was a little weird. Madison was cute in a stereotypically girlish way. Small, meek, and vulnerable. Her slim shoulders hunched forward and her big doe eyes remained fixed submissively on the floor. She probably attracted a lot of attention from guys who liked that kind of thing, someone to protect and impress with their "masculine prowess."

Boring.

Anyways, it'd be easy for other girls to interpret Madison's behavior as a calculated appeal to boys. One of the unspoken rules of high school life was that you couldn't be seen as trying too hard. Girls especially had to walk a fine line when it came to presenting themselves. Too much appeal and you were a whore, a slut who paraded around for attention and favors. Too little and you were frigid, a stuck-up bitch who thought she was too good to deal with her peers. Despite her natural skill at keeping the balance, even Emma had to admit it was a pain sometimes. She couldn't imagine being like Taylor, who seemingly manipulated her own image for fun.

Beyond the typical jealousy and resentment Madison might get, there were some girls who simply wanted someone weak who they could hurt. Emma loved Taylor dearly, but her friend's hobby exposed her to some truly awful parts of high school humanity. It was hard to watch Taylor encourage these horrible psycho bitches who only seemed to enjoy making others miserable. On the upside, it was always funny to see their horrified confusion once they realized that the "hunter" had become the "hunted." Now Sophia had fallen into the same trap, which was… terrible.

And just a little bit funny.

Emma warned Sophia, several times, but she just refused to listen. So yes, Emma indulged in a little schadenfreude as Sophia's smug and melodramatic worldview failed spectacularly time and time again in the face of Taylor's invincible oddness. Sophia honestly couldn't seem to help herself. If Taylor was there, Sophia had to attack her in some way, and Taylor certainly wasn't discouraging her. Emma snorted. Maybe it's true love.

It wasn't as though anyone was getting hurt, so Sophia could just figure things out the hard way.

"Madison, this is Emma," Taylor said coaxingly to the new girl, like she was reassuring a child. "I know she looks scary, but she's really nice."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Scary?"

Taylor smiled. "Admit it: you've got a 'mean girl' face." Emma took a casual swipe at her which she dodged easily. "Domestic violence!" Taylor cried.

"Ignore this weirdo, please," Emma said, addressing Madison. "It's nice to meet you."

Madison shrunk back at the attention, hiding behind Taylor. Right. Because I'm the dangerous one here. "Um, hello. Nice to meet you," Madison said.

Taylor put her hand on Emma's shoulder. "Emma is the strongest girl in our year; she'll protect you when I'm not around."

Emma groaned. "You make it sound like we're a prison gang. We're not, by the way," she said, waving away Madison's clear concern. "Kinda sucks that I have to make that clear. This school is a shithole." Empire goons had tried to cozy up to her a few times, and one of them had been too dumb to take "no" for an answer. The day after he grabbed her forearm hard enough to bruise, he had been none-too-gently arrested in the middle of class; she still didn't know for what.

Bad things happened to people who crossed the line with her. She had learned not to ask too many questions about that.

"You don't have to hang out with us if you don't want to," Emma said diplomatically. "I know Taylor can be pushy." Taylor gasped dramatically, a hand to her chest in mock indignation.

"That's okay," Madison said, a small smile gracing her features. "I'd like to hang out with you." Ugh, she really is cute. Like a helpless little animal. It makes me want to squish her. Emma blinked. Where did that come from? Was Madison actually some sort of natural bully magnet? Scary.

"Great!" Taylor said, clapping her hands together. "We sit at this table pretty much every day for lunch, so you're welcome to join us." Taylor raised a finger. "One more thing. We have another friend in our group: Sophia. Here are some pictures of her." Taylor pulled out her phone and went through a lot of images. Sophia running track. Sophia drinking at a water faucet. Sophia wiping sweat off her forehead. Sophia angrily lunging at the camera. It seemed like this was just going to go on and on, so Emma lightly slapped her friend's wrist to stop her. Taylor coughed and blushed, apparently finding her only ounce of shame. "Uh, right. Anyways, she's a little… how did you put it, Emma?"

"Intense."

"Right, intense. So try not to get on her nerves too much. In fact, don't talk to her. Or look her in the eye."

Madison looked like she was taking Taylor seriously, so Emma cut in. "Again, please ignore Taylor. We just wanted to let you know that you might find her… intimidating. But you'll be fine."

Madison nodded uncertainly.

<~@~>

Sophia half-stumbled towards the bathroom, her legs protesting the vigorous exercise she had just put them through. As she approached the door, a petite girl with long brown hair came out. Their eyes met briefly and the girl inhaled sharply, her face turning pale.

"I'm sorry!" the girl cried as she ran away.

What the fuck?

<~@~>

Madison had had a stressful week as she settled into her new friend group. Emma and Sophia had both set off all sorts of alarm bells in her mind. Pretty, popular girls with confident personalities? It had been impossible to see them as anything other than dangerous threats. Even Taylor herself was a bit scary, if Madison was being honest. She didn't seem like a bully, but she gave off the unnerving impression that she could tear you apart and was just being polite as a favor.

However, after an initial period of uneasiness, Madison had begun to accept that the trio of girls weren't out to get her. She could even look Sophia in the eye without flinching, now. "Intense," Emma called her. That was definitely accurate. Everything was a competition to Sophia; it was terrifying and exhausting to talk to her.

Luckily, Taylor had coached Madison on how to deal with her. Never back down. Never let an insult or barb pass unchallenged. It was hard, especially at first. Sophia had a knack for sensing weakness, something which Madison felt she possessed in abundance. Every instinct had screamed at her not to push back or stand her ground. But once she did so - occasionally with a little help from Emma or Taylor - Sophia eased off a lot.

Madison still didn't fully understand the relationship between Sophia and Taylor. At first glance it seemed incredibly hostile, with Sophia attacking Taylor verbally at every opportunity. But Taylor seemed completely unbothered by it, even a little amused. Maybe they were really close and that was their form of banter? Taylor didn't take any of her own advice when it came to dealing with Sophia, so Madison assumed it had to be intentional.

In any case, Sophia had more or less accepted her, and Taylor and Emma were really nice. Surprisingly, Madison had found it easiest to get along with Emma. As Taylor had joked, Emma Barnes gave every indication of being the archetypal "mean girl," the natural enemy of girls like Madison. She was the kind of person that rocketed to the top of the high school pecking order. Her family was rich, she had a keen eye for fashion, and she was gorgeous in a way that one could only attain through a combination of genetic luck and hard work. On top of all that, she had social savvy. Emma had an effortless way of instantly judging the "right" thing to do in any social situation and acting it out accordingly.

However, Emma didn't use her position to push people around. She definitely had a queen bee side, cutting down would-be social assailants without mercy, but to most everyone else she was fair and reasonable. To her friends, she was caring and sensitive. Emma always knew when Madison was nervous and did her best to make her more comfortable. They spent a lot of time talking together since Taylor and Sophia were often busy with track. Slowly, gradually, Madison felt more comfortable opening up to her.

"I, um, I'm interested in fashion design," Madison said, wincing a little. Once Jennifer had gotten a hold of that fact, she had taken to calling Madison a "fag hag," insinuating that she was just fishing for attention from gay guys because she couldn't get straight guys to look at her. "It's just a hobby, though," she quickly followed up, trying to downplay it.

"Hmm. So you're not planning on going to school for it? There are some really good fashion programs in colleges in New York," Emma said.

Madison perked up. "Is that what you're doing?"

Emma shook her head. "No, I'm a model, so I know some people in those circles."

"Really? Can I see your portfolio?" Madison asked. "I mean, if it's okay with you. I don't want to be nosy. Sorry."

Emma smiled, cute dimples forming on her face. "That's alright. It's not that exciting, mostly low-level stuff for local magazines."

"That's okay! I'm more interested in commercial material than high-end runway stuff anyways."

"Sure. I'll bring it in tomorrow, then."

"Awesome! Runway models are usually tall and super-thin, but I'm interested in clothes for other body types. Petite, plus size, whatever. There are models for those niches, but I still feel like they're being neglected as a market. Sure, you can get a different size of whatever piece, but it's obvious the clothes weren't made for them. Why should shorter girls have less options to feel stylish? Or heavier girls? Or bustier ones? I mean, you have an amazing body, and I bet that you still struggle sometimes to find something that fits you properly. Am I right?"

Emma's smile turned warm. "You're right. And… thank you, for the compliment. I see you have some strong opinions about this."

Madison blushed. "I mean, I guess so. Sorry for unloading that on you."

"It's fine. It's good to be passionate about something."

"Thanks." Madison kicked herself mentally. Emma was probably just being nice. No one wanted to hear her dumb fashion philosophy.

"So, can I see your work too?"

Madison's heart skipped a beat. "Huh? I mean, like I said, it's just a hobby, it's not really that good…"

"I'd still like to see it, if you're comfortable with showing me."

Madison glanced at Emma, part of her still afraid this was a setup to another joke at her expense. But she wanted to believe that Emma was being genuine. She wanted to try. "Okay," she said quietly.

<~@~>

Sophia hated being sick. Besides the obvious pain and misery of illness, it underscored the fact that there were certain things you just couldn't control. It didn't matter how fit or strong you were. People got sick, people died. That's just how life was. Unless you got some crazy fucking regeneration power or something. Could Crawler get sick? Sophia wondered how much ass she could kick if she had that kind of power. Her ability was useful, definitely, but sometimes she really wished for a basic-bitch Brute ability. It wouldn't need to be anything crazy; just something to let her haul off and splatter a skinhead across the pavement.

She would have a harder time with PR if she had Crawler's ability, for sure. The ENE Image department had let her keep her old vigilante name and costume, calling it "acceptably edgy." She'd like to see those self-satisfied assholes hand-wave Crawler-Sophia's appearance away as "marketable to certain demographics."

"Brockton Bay, say hello to your new Ward, a giant fuck-off acid-spitting tentacle monster!"

Sophia chuckled to herself for a bit before shaking her head. Her fever was making her loopy. She groaned. Her throat was dry and she didn't want to get up for water. Frustratingly, there was no one around to get it for her. Terry was out, her mother was working, and it'd be a cold day in Hell before she asked Steven for anything. She tried not to focus on the gross gurgling of her breath. She lost track of time as she flickered in and out of the hazy semi-consciousness that accompanied her fever.

The doorbell rang. Sophia noted this distantly, considered mustering the willpower to care, and decided against it. Muffled voices murmured in the living room. Soon after, someone knocked tentatively on her door.

"Um, Sophie? Sophia, I mean," Steven said. "Your friend is here to see you."

Huh? "Wha-?" she mumbled. Why would Emma be at her house in the middle of a school day?

The door creaked open slowly. "Thank you Steven, I've got it from here," Hebert's voice said.

"O-okay." Steven's footsteps faded back to the living room.

Sophia squinted and craned her neck to see Taylor fucking Hebert smiling down at her, a pot of something in her hands.

"Hi there Sophia. How are you feeling?"

Sophia groaned. Hebert sounded completely sincere, which was one of the many irritating things about her. Sophia could never read her properly. "The fuck are you doing here?" she slurred.

Hebert smiled. "I heard you were sick, so I took the afternoon off."

"Are you seriously still fucking with me in my own house? Go 'way. Let me sleep."

"I'm not… fucking with you," Hebert said, making a face as the profanity left her mouth. "I'm honestly here to take care of you while you're sick."

Sophia squinted at her warily. "No shit?"

Hebert nodded. "I promise. We can play when you're feeling better."

"What the hell does that even- you know what, I don't care. Get me some water."

"Of course," Hebert said, gliding out of the room. She returned with a glass of water and a bowl of something with steam rising off it.

"What's that?" Sophia asked, grunting as she forced herself to sit up.

"It's a kind of rice porridge. It's nice and mild so it won't upset your stomach, and I added some pork since I know that's your favorite."

"You are so weird," Sophia said, shaking her head. "Alright, gimme." Hebert handed it over and Sophia took a careful spoonful. She paused as she saw Hebert staring at her, apparently enthralled by watching her eat. "Can you not?"

Hebert blinked. "Oh, sorry," she said, looking around in a completely unconvincing way.

Sophia blew on the spoonful and took a sip. "It's good," she said grudgingly. Mild, with just a hint of salty pork flavor and ginger to break up the monotony. "Did you make this?"

"Yes," Hebert said, still conspicuously looking anywhere but at Sophia's face. "I make a different version for Emma when she's sick. She likes veggies, but since you're not a fan I left them out."

Sophia decided to let Hebert's usual creepy knowledge of her preferences and habits slide this time. "So you seriously cut class to bring me soup?"

"Porridge," Hebert corrected, like the annoying nerd she was. "And not exactly. I got proper permission from the administrative staff."

"What, did you make up an excuse?"

"No, I just asked politely," Hebert said, in that smug "I know something you don't" way that she had.

"Whatever. Thanks for the soup," she said, on purpose. "You can go now."

"You're welcome," Hebert said brightly. "I'll leave you the rest in a resealable container. You can heat it up on the stove top." She smiled, showing no signs of leaving.

"Fine, thanks. Go away."

"But you still look feverish. Can I help wipe down your body with a cool wet cloth?"

"Fuck off!"

<~@~>

Sophia threw the skinhead to the ground and none-too-gently cranked some zip tie cuffs onto his wrists. It was good to get back on the street after being stuck in bed for a week. Aegis gave her a look but didn't say anything. Sophia smirked. Boy scout Carlos might be, he was also brown. He gave her a lot of leeway when it came to dealing with Empire thugs, as well he should. The Empire cape lineup alone outnumbered the whole damn ENE Protectorate. There were whole neighborhoods where walking around as a non-white was essentially an invitation to get your ass beat or worse. Those "danger zones" grew by the day, only barely held in check by another violent race-based gang. Not Asian? Not white? Too fucking bad for you. Better hope you're rich enough to live Downtown where the cops actually gave a shit.

So who cared if some of the New Hitler Youth got roughed up when they were taken into custody? Certainly neither of the two melanin-rich junior superheroes on this patrol.

"I'm going to speak to the victim," Carlos said in his "authoritative" voice. "You keep an eye on the perp." Sophia gave him a sloppy two-finger salute and he sighed before walking over to the shaking Hispanic lady who the shit-bag had attacked.

The skinhead didn't seem to know when to cut his losses, because he was still cursing up a storm as he lay on the pavement.

"You fucks don't know who you're dealing with! I'll have Hookwolf on your asses! You think you can treat me like this? This is police brutality!"

Blah, blah, blah.

Sophia casually stepped on the space between his shoulder blades. "Hookwolf?" she said, sneering. "I'm a Ward, dipshit. You think Hookwolf is gonna risk that kind of heat for a little bitch like you?"

Something rustled in a nearby alley and Sophia snapped a crossbow up in that direction. Her eyes scanned the alley carefully for any sign of motion.

Nothing.

She scoffed and took her foot off. "Also, not a cop, dumbass." She bent down to flick him on the back of the head a few times for good measure.

<~@~>

"Emma, I've decided to resort to a life of crime."

"What?"

<~@~>

I didn't end up resorting to a life of crime. I was really grateful Emma was my friend. She kept me from making dumb mistakes.

If I were going to get involved in Sophia's cape life, I needed powers of my own. As Emma repeatedly emphasized to me, messing around with capes as a regular person was a horrible and almost invariably fatal idea. Being an independent Villain wasn't much better. I liked my hobby, certainly, but not enough to get myself killed and leave Dad all alone.

Getting powers was a challenge, to put it lightly. The biggest hurdle was that there wasn't a real consensus about how to get them. A prevailing theory was that it had something to do with trauma, which wasn't exactly helpful. Could you intentionally traumatize yourself? What kind of trauma was enough? Why didn't everyone who experienced trauma get powers? Capes themselves didn't like to talk about it, which was understandable. Who would want to make their painful experiences available to the public? Unfortunately, that meant a lot of questions went unanswered.

I looked for a more reliable method. After a lot of poking around, I found one. It was honestly very shady and I took a foolish risk by pursuing it, but it worked out in the end.

<~@~>

"You may stop whenever you like."

"I'm fine, Doctor."

"There's no need to push yourself excessively. There's no way to 'fail' this test."

"Okay, Doctor."

"…Are you certain you're alright? By my readings, you should be in a great deal of discomfort."

"Is that bad?"

"…What?"

<~@~>

I clung to Emma, sniffling. "It's horrible. I asked for a simple defensive power and I got this. What am I supposed to do with this?"

"I don't know… be a hero? Isn't your power really strong?"

"Yeah, it is! How is Sophia supposed to overpower me and step on me?"

"Okay, number one, TMI. Number two, suck it up and go make a difference. I'm sick of having my hometown be the Nazi capital of the United States."

"I don't wanna."

"Taylor…"

"Fine."

<~@~>

"Dad, I'm a cape."

"Wha- are you serious, sweetie?"

"Yes. I have powers. I'd like to join the Wards."

Dad sighed, sagging in relief. "Thank God. I know your mother might not approve of you working for the government, but I want you to be safe. You haven't… done anything, have you? Sneaking out at night to beat up thugs?"

"Of course not," I said. "I'm looking forward to being a proper hero."

<~@~> <~@~><~@~>

 

[BlueNine]

Chapter 5​

Buongiorno, readers! It is I, Taylor, fun-loving creep and applicant for the position of state-sponsored superheroine. At this point in the story, I had just completed my initial interview with a stoic PRT agent and gone through a battery of screenings and background checks to make sure I wasn't a Villain trying to infiltrate the PRT. That'd be a gutsy move. Dumb, but gutsy. As strapped for manpower as they were, the PRT ENE had a lot of experience with Villains and they didn't mess around with their security measures.

Once it was determined that I probably wouldn't Master or assassinate important people, I got to meet Miss Militia (squee!). Alexandria was still my favorite Protectorate heroine for obvious reasons - just look at her imposing costume and merciless power - but Miss Militia was awesome too. While most people saw her as "Mom Militia" because her public persona was friendly and warm, I had a collection of clips of her annihilating criminals that crossed the line. The disparity between her two personalities just made her that much more appealing.

Oh, and Armsmaster stopped by for a bit. He didn't seem like a real "people person," but that was okay. He asked good questions about my power and he felt like he knew what he was doing. I liked his armor.

Now it was time to meet the Wards. I had already done my research once I learned Sophia was on the team, so I was aware of the lineup and their respective abilities. In terms of role, I would probably be replacing Aegis as the primary front-liner. He had a sort of adaptive biology power that allowed him to interchange organ functions, e.g. breathing with his skin or using his liver to pump blood. This let him function as a sort of odd Brute that could take a lot of damage without losing combat capability. Adding flight onto that made him a reasonably mobile damage sponge.

However, as a defensive cape I had him thoroughly beat. He would likely be moved to an "off-tank" role, protecting the back line while I took point and drew the enemy's attacks. Not really my style, to be honest. You might be a little skeptical of that, so let me clear up a misconception you might have. You can't just generalize all violence and say "oh, since you like Sophia pushing you, you'll probably like a Villain hitting you as well." Nope. I'm not into casual encounters with strangers. I need a committed relationship with a proper emotional connection.

My point is, we all like what we like. Just because the front-line role would involve me getting attacked doesn't mean it was my "thing." I don't like pain just for the heck of it. Before Sophia, I didn't really see the appeal of physical confrontation in general. However, it would be the most effective way to keep Sophia (and the team, I suppose) safe, so I'd "suck it up," as Emma had commanded.

Emma could be very blunt sometimes. Well, it was understandable with me as her best friend.

I descended the elevator with Miss Militia, who, if I haven't mentioned it, is incredibly cool. Dad had wanted to accompany me when I visited the Wards, but it felt too much like having your mom come to school with you.

…And now I'm sad. Anyhow, Dad was having oodles of fun discussing contract specifics with Director Piggot, so don't feel too bad for him.

Back to the Wards.

We lingered out in the hallway for a minute as the Wards gathered and masked up. I patiently waited until the red light stopped flashing, then Miss Militia used a bio-metric scanner to get us in. I wondered how much of the tech on site was Tinker made. Tinkertech was apparently maintenance intensive, so they'd probably need a dedicated Tinker just to keep the systems running. I doubted that Armsmaster had the time to do that himself.

I followed Miss Militia into the Wards area, my heart fluttering like a songbird. I'd finally get to see Sophia in the workplace. Openly, that is.

The "Wards area" was basically an apartment divided by futuristic-looking prefabricated walls. Break room. Computer area. Kitchen. Living quarters. The "living room" was circular, giving it an odd spaceship-like feeling. The Wards themselves were lined up near a big sectional couch, their body language curious. I saw Sophia and had to slap down an urge to wave. I wasn't supposed to know who she was.

Ah, but Sophia looked amazing in her costume. I had only ever seen it from a distance. Edgy, dark, and aggressive, just like Sophia herself. I yearned for her armored forearms and combat boots to put me in my place. Not that they could, anymore. I wept inside.

"Afternoon, everyone," Miss Militia said. "This young lady is considering joining the team. You can call her Vanguard for the time being."

I stepped forward with a friendly smile. "Hello! I hope we can all get along." I did my best not to let my gazer linger on Sophia as I looked across the group. She twitched as our eyes met, because of course she could recognize me with just a silly domino mask to disguise my face. Interestingly, Gallant also fidgeted a little. Does he know me from somewhere?

Vista slipped into my personal space so fast she must have used her power. She reached out and shook my hand. "Hi, I'm Vista. I'm so glad you're thinking about joining. We desperately need another girl on the team."

Sophia growled. Oh my. "What am I, chopped liver?"

Vista stuck her tongue out. "I'm pretty sure you've got more testosterone than any of the guys."

Miss Militia cleared her throat. "Children, please behave in front of our guest."

I laughed. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Vista. I'm a big fan of your work. I'm fairly sure I'll be joining." Vista beamed up at me and I was wracked by a powerful urge to pat her head.

No, bad Taylor. No head pats for the highly experienced Shaker Nine. Respect. Respect and dignity.

"So, what's your ability?" Sophia asked. She wasn't glaring, just… looking at me with great interest. I froze. Sophia rarely looked at me with so much emotion unless it was anger or disgust.

Gallant cut in. "Maybe the rest of us should introduce ourselves first," he said. Sophia shot him a look but made a "go on" gesture. Gallant nodded and turned to me. "I'm Gallant. It's nice to meet you."

I shook his hand. "Likewise." Gallant was smooth, but I still picked up an undercurrent of… something. Discomfort? He glanced at Sophia, just for a moment. Interesting. Was he worried that Sophia might scare me off? My smile widened and his slipped a bit.

The others introduced themselves as well, though I already knew their names and faces. They didn't fully detail their powers, which I thought was wise. I wasn't technically on the team yet.

"Well, again, it's great to meet you all. My temporary cape name is Vanguard. My power is somewhat odd. Damage that I take is reduced by a large amount. I can transfer that durability to items or people that I'm touching. Also, I have a measure of super-strength and can make a weapon I'm holding hit very hard." I was doing my best to gloss over my powers but it was still painful to admit.

Okay, if I can be honest for a moment, I was being ungrateful. I had great powers. They kept me safe, were reasonably straightforward, and gave me strong defensive and offensive options. Dad worried, as he was wont to do, but it comforted him to know that I was almost impossible to hurt.

Let's go into a little more detail. I couldn't pay enough to specify exactly what kind of power I wanted, so I agreed to let the mysterious Cape Illuminati test a vial on me with the ambiguous parameter of "defensively focused." Also I agreed to cooperate with them in the future, but that's not important right now.

According to Doctor Mother, who was a nice lady with a very "in-charge" voice, I had a strong manifestation of the power I was given. Basically, I was pseudo-invincible to conventional damage. What do I mean by "conventional?" Pretty much anything you can think of. Fire, explosions, bullets, blunt force trauma, slashing and stabbing. It was all the same to my power. I could be hurt, but only by a small portion of the actual attack. Bullets left small bruises. Blades left paper-cuts.

The total power behind attacks dealt to me was irrelevant, at least to the point that we tested. It was like my power put a limit on how quickly I could be hurt within a given time period. A rapid barrage of 50 caliber rifle bullets dealt the same damage to me as a couple of nine millimeter handgun rounds. Yes, we checked that. I supposed it was useful information to know in case I wanted to rush a heavily fortified military installation.

As part of our agreement, I also let Doctor Mother bring in other capes to see how our powers interacted. I trumped pretty much all of the "direct" attacks and dampened most of the weird ones. Master abilities gave me some trouble, as did a few Trump powers. I knew it was dumb, but a part of me was relieved I still had some vulnerabilities.

Oh, and if my crazy defensive ability wasn't enough, I had a healthy chunk of super-strength. It wasn't anything near Alexandria levels, but it was beyond what a normal human was capable of. Then there was the weapon thing. We won't even talk about that for now. Suffice it to say that I'd be doing a lot of training to hold back.

The fly in the ointment was that all this ruined my original plan. I wanted a "wimpy" power that would protect me but also be weak enough for Sophia to verbally abuse me over. How was that supposed to work now? Well, there was no use complaining about it. I was at peace with my ability. I just needed to adapt my plan.

"That sounds like a useful Brute power-set," Aegis said, smiling. "You'll probably be training with me, then."

I smiled and nodded. You don't even know what a Brute power is, you squishy redundant meatball.

…I may have still been bitter. Forgive me, readers. I was mourning the loss of my maidenly frailty.

We retired to the break room table and engaged in pleasant small talk. Miss Militia departed when it became clear that we were getting along alright. Sophia remained aloof, though her eyes stayed on me. I hoped she wasn't jealous of my ability. That could serve as in-road to rousing her anger, but it felt like a "jerk move," as Emma would call it. Sophia considered strength to be one of the core pillars of her being, so mocking her for being weaker than I was would hurt her in a deep way.

No one was allowed to hurt her like that. Especially not me.

The conversation wound down naturally, so I said my farewells and prepared to head up to the Director's office. As I was about to head out the door, Sophia caught me by the arm and pulled me aside. I had to purposefully let her do it. Damn super-strength.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" she murmured.

"Sure," I said. I peeked at Gallant. He looked… smug? Content? What in the world was that about? I thought he'd be concerned, given how he interrupted when Sophia tried to talk to me before.

I didn't like when people behaved in ways I didn't understand. I'm keeping an eye on you. He flinched and looked away.

I let Sophia lead me to what appeared to be her room. My heart skipped at the thought of going inside, but we stayed in the hallway.

"You okay, Hebert?" she asked.

I blinked. Of all the things I expected her to want to talk about, my well-being wasn't one of them. "I'm… fine. How do you know my name?"

Sophia rolled her eyes at me. "Really? You know my exact measurements. Which is still very creepy, by the way. Can you seriously not recognize me?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Sophia. I thought we were supposed to pretend not to know capes' civilian identities."

"You're gonna know officially soon anyways. Who cares? Anyways, are you alright?"

I paused, thinking quickly. Oh, she thinks I'm a natural Trigger. I learned more about the normal trigger process during my time with Doctor Mother. Apparently I had the capability to trigger naturally, but I wasn't willing to wait for an inescapable horrific trauma to get my "normal" powers. That did raise the question of how Sophia triggered. If I ever found out who was responsible…

I shook my head and gave Sophia a reassuring smile. "I'm okay. Thank you for asking."

Sophia grunted. "Fine. Are you… safe, staying at home?"

I froze again. Sophia and I had a clear-cut dynamic: I bugged her, she lashed out at me. But now there was concern, real concern, in her voice. I didn't know what to do with it. So like a coward, I retreated back into familiar territory.

"Yes, I'm safe," I said. I grinned and spread my arms wide. "I'd feel better with a hug, though." This was a familiar scene. She'd roll her eyes and mush my face with her hand and things would go back to normal.

Except she didn't. She did sigh in exasperation, but then she stepped forward to give me a half-hearted yet completely voluntary hug. My whole body tensed, and more out of habit than anything else I gently returned the embrace. It wasn't like hugging Emma at all. It felt like lightning was dancing underneath my skin. My blood was full of fire and sunlight. I pulled her closer.

"Tight," Sophia gasped.

I released her, and abruptly I felt awful. Not because I couldn't control my strength. Because we just had a moment, a beautiful crystalline experience, and it stemmed from a lie. She thought she was consoling me in what she perceived to be our shared struggle.

Lie, lie, lie.

I know you might not believe me, but I often feel guilt about what I do. I have fun with the game and the chase, but I don't like the fact that I'm a manipulative predator. I don't like that my partners always end up running away from me.

"Thank you," I said, looking away.

"Yeah, whatever," Sophia replied. "Don't think we're gonna be all 'kumbaya' and shit just because you have powers now, okay? And we're telling Emma if you haven't already."

I nodded, relieved.

<~@~>

Director Piggot was fun. I wouldn't call her a bully, but she shared enough hallmarks with one that I knew how to handle her. She demanded respect and had little patience for frivolity or back-talk. She responded aggressively to attacks against her position of power. Typical authoritarian bully traits.

Luckily, she seemed more pragmatic than tyrannical. That meant that her insistence on obedience was more about achieving goals than inflating her ego. That can be a difficult distinction for a layman to make, but please trust me as a subject matter expert.

So here was the Taylor Hebert Playbook for Dealing with Boss-Lady Piggot:

1. Follow orders and build her trust in my reliability as an asset.

2. Don't do anything that would surprise her or put her in an awkward position.

3. Go through proper channels for complaints or suggestions. Don't question her authority in front of the troops.

Easy, right? Real authoritarian bullies are different because they're essentially addicted to dominance. You can appease and obey all you want and the demands will just keep escalating.

While we're on the subject, I'd like to take a moment to speak up for my "cousins in oddness" and make it clear that a strong desire for dominance isn't necessarily bad, per se. There's a difference between an authoritarian bully and a healthy dominant personality. A proper Dominant is conscious of their responsibilities in the decision-making role, and attends to the boundaries and needs of those beneath them. An authoritarian bully typically has little concern for those things.

Sorry, we got a little sidetracked, didn't we? In any case, I didn't think Director Piggot was malicious. She did seem a little touchy about capes for some reason, but I had worked around more difficult quirks.

Once I completed a lot of paperwork and boring procedural stuff that you don't need to read about, I was officially a Ward of the PRT ENE. Pro tip for dealing with bureaucracies: you want all the administrators and clerical staff and whatnot to like you. I know I just talked about the importance of keeping the boss happy, but these people are the red blood cells of the organizational body. You do not want to annoy them. That means you complete forms properly and on time. You don't complain excessively about the organizational requirements. You make their lives easier. They'll be more willing to give a little latitude to someone who's been easy to work with.

I am an unusual person, if you hadn't figured that out. The more tolerance people are inclined to extend to me, the better.

Now it was time for power testing.

<~@~>

As expected, the technicians were all atwitter over my results. I won't describe the whole testing process, because who wants to read about me breaking stuff and getting hit for several paragraphs? Besides, I just told you about my powers. To summarize, I was very very hard to damage and I could pulverize pretty much anything if I had a weapon in my hand. "Weapon" was an ambiguous term, by the way. I smashed an armored car frame with a pool noodle. I felt like a cartoon character.

On the bright side, the techs ran out of things to hit me with and I managed to convince Miss Militia to shoot me. She was all bashful and hesitant about it, which was… surprisingly exciting.

…But it was all about science, I swear! Sadly, she called it quits before we could get to the mini-gun.

Armsmaster showed up at one point and tried some Tinker weapons on me. That didn't seem like a big deal in the heat of the moment, but I later surmised that it was a little out of bounds to use highly destructive Tinkertech on a new Ward with a barely tested power. I was fine, though, which apparently boosted my Brute rating significantly. Yay.

One of the things the technicians were most excited about was the fact that I could transfer my durability to people as well as objects and weapons. If I was holding onto someone or touching them with my weapon, I could make them just as annoyingly hard to damage as I was. That was a big deal. Nigh-invulnerable heroes on demand.

Everyone politely avoided pointing out the obvious parallels between me and the Siberian.

Emma was right that I had a moral obligation to try and make a difference. With the right application of my ability, we could turn the tide in the fight against parahuman crime.

Although Panacea was on hand in case of a serious injury, she only had to heal a couple minor cuts and bruises. She was delightfully prickly. If I didn't already have a special someone, I would have been more than happy to let her take her simmering anger out on me. I sensed she could be exceptionally hurtful if she put her mind to it.

Actually… wasn't it bad that the best healer in the world was practically oozing frustration and bitterness? Were there no actual adults concerned about that? I made a mental note to pass the problem on to someone responsible.

…What? Do you want me to get involved?

Probably a bad idea.

<~@~>

Emma smiled as she scrolled through the messages Madison sent her. For such a timid girl, Madison could be very talkative once she felt safe.

Taylor sighed.

Emma took a deep breath and started typing out her response.

Taylor sighed again.

"What?" Emma demanded.

"What?" Taylor replied.

"I don't wanna play the 'guess what I'm thinking' game today, Tay. Let's hear it."

Taylor frowned. "I think Sophia is starting to respect me."

"I assume that you're aware how much of a non-problem that is. Can we just pretend like I acted sympathetic here?"

"Mean! So mean!" Taylor said, making "shoulder punching" gestures in the air. She still didn't feel comfortable enough with her new strength to make contact in their normal play-fighting.

"How am I mean? The girl you love so desperately might respect you. Oh no," Emma drawled, holding her palms against her cheeks in mock dismay.

"You know how I am!" Taylor said, pouting. "She hasn't even said an unkind word to me since I joined… the team," she said, finishing her sentence in a low voice.

Emma patted her friend on the shoulder. "Yes, I know how you are. But don't you think it's time to try something a little more… honest? If she's warming up to you, why don't you try talking to her? Connect with her in a genuine way."

Taylor looked down. "I don't really know how."

"Come on, you're great at dealing with people. I think you're just scared of being honest. And that's understandable, it is, but you're not going to be able to get closer to her if you just keep playing games."

"But I like playing games," Taylor said, smiling wryly.

"It's up to you. But you've gotta ask yourself what you really want here." Emma finished her text message and sent it. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go look at clothes with Madison."

Taylor smirked.

"What?" Emma asked.

"Nothing."

<~@~>

Missy had mixed feelings about the new girl. Taylor was friendly enough, sure, and more importantly she showed Missy respect. Missy thought Taylor might have just been flattering her when she said she was a fan, but Taylor was deeply familiar with Missy's track record. Taylor could cite specific examples of how Missy contributed to fights and how she had improved in the use of her ability over time. She was also of the opinion that Missy was being underutilized, which won her points in Missy's book.

However, Taylor also seemed to be chummy with Sophia, which wasn't something that normal people were capable of. Now, Missy had dealt with a lot of jerks and even unmitigated assholes. She had fought Skidmark several times, for God's sake. He once called her a "little skank-ass bitch" after she had reflected one of his projectiles back at him.

Miss Militia had shot him the groin with a beanbag launcher for that.

Sophia, however, was one of the few people Missy knew that absolutely refused to even pretend to be nice. Ever. She had three modes: impatiently neutral, contemptuous, and angry/hateful. That was it. Who would gravitate towards that kind of person?

Speaking of which, there they were again, talking in low voices with their faces close together. Missy typically wasn't a snoop when it came to her teammates' personal business, but she really wanted to know what Taylor was like. She flexed her power carefully to shorten a small strip of space between them and her ear.

"-don't see how it's any of your business, Hebert," Sophia said.

"I just don't like it when you're rude to her."

"Are you serious? After all the shit I've said, this is where you draw the line? Because I snapped at poor little Missy?" Missy ground her teeth. Sophia was such a bitch.

"You can say whatever awful stuff you want to me, but I don't want you being mean to other people."

"God, you sound like a jealous girlfriend. Whatever, I don't want to deal with them anyways. Just keep them out of my way."

"Thank you. Our teammates aren't that bad, you know. Well, except for maybe Dennis. I don't think the two of you will ever get along. But I think if you'd like Missy if you got to know her."

"Missy? She's like, ten. The fuck would I talk to her about?" I'm twelve, you bitch!

"Twelve, actually, and she's a very capable and dedicated fighter. I've heard you insulting her about staying out of the fray, but that's not her fault. It's an organizational mandate. I intend to appeal to the PR department and Director Piggot to increase her combat involvement and get her some actual equipment. Hmm. I may also need to speak to the Youth Guard. But once I make that happen, she'll boost our effectiveness against Villains significantly."

Missy blinked in shock. Did Taylor really think she could make that happen? Missy had been trying forever to get more into the action. She was the highest rated cape on the team, as well as the Ward with the most overall experience, but apparently her age trumped all that. Little baby Missy couldn't get into more than the bare minimum of combat. Assholes.

"Jesus, you're a cape nerd too. Is there anything you're not a nerd about?" Sophia sighed. "Anyways, do you actually think you can get all those empty suits to actually give us the tools we need to be effective? All they care about is looking good for the rich assholes. And don't even get me started on the fucking Youth Guard."

Missy grimaced at agreeing with Sophia over something.

"They have their own interests just as we have ours," Taylor said. "But yes, I'm confident I can get them to make some concessions."

"I bet you anything they'll stonewall you."

Taylor paused. "Anything?" she asked, her voice breathy.

Sophia shrugged. "Sure. Believe me, I have tried what you're talking about. You think I like that we're all playing with kid gloves on? You have no idea how stubborn and annoying these red-tape assholes can be."

Taylor raised a finger. "To clarify, if I manage to enact significant improvements to our team's equipment and combat effectiveness, you will do any one thing that I say?"

Sophia visibly hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, why not? If you manage to do that - and that's a big 'if' - it'll be worth whatever you make me do."

"Pinky promise, then," Taylor said, holding out the little finger on her right hand.

"What? No. Get your damn pinky out of my face."

"Are you… afraid, to link pinkies with me and thus seal our agreement?"

"Fuck you, you pretentious bitch." Sophia initiated perhaps the most aggressive pinky swear Missy had ever seen.

…Are they friends, or not?

The two girls separated, Sophia storming into her room and Taylor practically skipping to the kitchen. In a fit of impulse, Missy warp-dashed over to Taylor and gave her a hug.

"Whoa, hi there, Missy," Taylor said, laughing. "What's the hug for? Not that I'll turn it down." She gingerly squeezed Missy back.

"I'm just glad you're on the team," Missy said.

Taylor was… unusual, but she was a good teammate.

<~@~>

Madison was having a fantastic time. She had so many ideas, and Emma was a big help when it came to visualizing how those ideas would look in real life. Drawings and designs were one thing, but there really was no substitute for seeing clothing on an actual person.

Admittedly, Emma made everything look good, so it was possible she wasn't the ideal model for Madison's purposes. Madison wanted to make a wide selection of clothing which had options for everyone. She was of the belief that designers didn't account for the full spectrum of body types, female body types especially. To be fair, it was a difficult challenge. If you wanted to be profitable, you had to make a design which could be worn by the "average" customer. Most people didn't want to go to a specialty boutique to purchase clothes made especially for them. They just wanted to go to the store and grab something off the rack that looked good. Madison would need to strike a balance between over-specialized and over-generic.

So the question became: what is average? There were several body measurements, many of which could vary independently. Should waist take precedence over bust? How about shoulders? How about hips? Madison's first task was to determine how many sufficiently unique categories of body types she needed to account for.

However, at this time, research had taken a backseat to relaxation. Emma was incredibly patient, but Madison didn't want to drag her around the whole day for her own benefit. Besides, it was nice to take a break from looking at clothing critically. For now it was just "does this look good?" or "do you like this?"

At some point Emma had kindly but firmly turned the tables on her, and now Madison was the one trying on outfits. Despite her interest in fashion, Madison didn't derive much enjoyment from picking clothing for herself. For most of her time in school, clothes had just served as camouflage. She did her best to dress in a way that made her seem weak and nonthreatening so that the bullies would leave her alone. But while that deterred some of them, others just took it as a sign that she was easy prey. Also, appearing meek and "cute" made boys want to defend her, and after a few such incidents she was painted as someone who played the victim to string boys along.

She had tried changing her image several times, but her nasty reputation had stuck. Eventually, she gave up. Why bother trying to express who she was if people were just going to make their own baseless assumptions?

So once the topic came around to what she wanted, Madison could only give noncommittal responses, hoping that Emma would lose interest. She didn't.

"Listen, if you don't give me some feedback, I'm just going to start picking things for you," Emma said.

Madison tensed, then felt that tension quickly drain out of her. "Sure, that's okay."

Emma grinned at her. "Are you sure? I could pick something embarrassing."

"I… I don't think you'd do that," Madison said. Emma wouldn't hurt her. "I trust you."

Emma's playful grin faltered. Then a small, more genuine smile slowly bloomed in its place. "I'm glad," she said. Madison nodded, words frozen in her chest. Emma cleared her throat. "Okay, let's start with tops and go from there."

"Sounds good," Madison said, following close behind.

<~@~><~@~><~@~>

AN: Gavel does not exist in this AU. I considered making an original power, but his "can be hurt, but only by a tiny bit" ability was too fitting. Also his cartoonishly strong attacks and defense are great for comedy.

 

[BlueNine]

Chapter 6​

If you are a returning reader, you'll know that I'm not much for the dominant role. However, the idea of having Sophia completely in my power was… wow. She agreed to do anything. My imagination ran wild, and as you might assume, that was rather dangerous.

I hoped this wasn't another compulsive fascination awakening within me. The one I had was more than enough. Go back to sleep, new thing!

I took several slow breaths. While it was tempting to immediately take action on our "bet," it was much too early. I had just joined the PRT. If I were to start pushing to get my way now, I would be dismissed as an overeager, overambitious teenager. Now was not the time to strike. Now was the time to watch, and stalk, and prepare for the hunt ahead.

I smiled, a fluffy feeling in my chest. Sophia's "predator" language was starting to infiltrate my vocabulary. She was so silly sometimes.

I was officially a Ward, but I needed to go through basic training and get my superheroine persona settled. A lot of people had strong opinions about their "image" as a hero, but I didn't have much of an opinion on the matter except for practicality's sake. I just needed decent armor and a weapon with reach. Past that, the PR guys could knock themselves out. They seemed like reasonably competent gentlemen.

<~@~>

"Like I said, Jeff, that's not gonna fly. There's too much overlap with Aegis' theme."

"I think it's fine to double up a little. Besides, we want to play up the 'protector' angle. What, do you wanna call her 'Pulverizer' instead? We've already got Shadow Stalker for the anti-hero role."

"You're straw-manning my argument and you know it. If we give the new girl a pure defensive theme, where's Aegis going to go? He's Aegis! As in "shield." As in "defender." We've already spent a lot of time building him up in the defensive position. Do you really want to waste all that?"

"Sheesh, alright, I get it. There's no need to-"

"Don't say it."

"Get so-"

"Don't fucking say it."

"Defensive."

<~@~>

There was some debate in the PR department over my heroic persona, so I was called in to give my feedback. My main priority was to include some sort of substantial armor, since I could apply a lesser version of my durability to things I wore. Now, you might be quibbling, readers. "Why bother insisting on armor when nothing really hurts you?" Or maybe, "you'd be X percent more agile if you just went with a standard bodysuit." To this, I would say that you're not the ones who'd be covered in tiny cuts and bruises after every single cape fight. I had super strength, so why not take advantage of heavier protective gear?

The PR guys agreed with my priorities since they didn't want me bleeding all over the place, even if it were from relatively minor wounds. Aegis' costume was dark red for a reason. You didn't want parents of potential Wards to see current Wards getting torn up and bloody.

My other, secret goal was to find a persona that would irritate Sophia. "Weak and helpless" was out. "Cute" was another promising option but didn't play well with a seriously armored costume. Also, my body type was more "striking" than cute.

I'm tall and skinny, is what I mean, okay? If only I could have Madison's wounded baby gazelle appeal…

After some brainstorming, the idea of a "knight" or "warrior" theme arose. It felt perfect. Sophia would never admit it directly, but she loved the idea of being an edgy anti-hero; someone who played by her own rules and disdained traditional heroic qualities. How did I know? Well, let's look at her chosen persona.

Shadow Stalker.

I rest my case.

Sophia hated the typical image of a hero, all the bright colors and idealism and selflessness. To her, all that was a facade, calculated pandering meant to appease the public while neglecting the "real" work that needed to be done to fight crime. How better to get under her skin than to choose a classically heroic theme like a knight? The chivalry, the honor, the mildly sexist archetype of rescuing helpless princesses. Just excellent all around.

To avoid clashing with Gallant's "techno-knight" niche, it was decided that I'd have a more mystical, medieval interpretation of the archetype. Rather than charming - and well, gallant - I'd be more of a serious warrior, the sword and shield which clashed head-on with villains.

I chose the name "Avalon."

I liked the King Arthur mythology and it had a lot of excellent options, but many of them were too esoteric for your average North American member of the public. What, you haven't heard about his shield, Wynebgwrthucher? How about his spear, Rhongomyniad? If you have, hello, my fellow lore nerd. But we have to accept that we're in the minority.

Most people knew that Avalon had something to do with the Arthurian legend, even if they didn't know the specific details. It was easily recognizable and evocative of magic and knights. The merchandising team gave it a thumbs up because it gave them creative options for mystical weapons and armor on figurines and such.

Lady Avalon, arbiter of justice and defender of the innocent, was ready to sally forth against the forces of evil.

<~@~>

I debuted and gave a speech. It was fine, although public speaking wasn't my forte. One on one conversations were much more rewarding in my experience. However, it was part of the job, so I smiled for the cameras, said heroic things, and answered softball questions. It was nice meeting with kids and giving out autographs, though it was odd since I hadn't accomplished anything yet.

I did enjoy showing off in my costume, which was a stylish set of plate armor with some colorful cloth accents. It didn't have the near-perfect coverage of real full plate, but that wasn't a huge concern for me. While an actual knight on an ancient battlefield needed to be concerned with all the people trying to find a gap in his armor to stab him, I was fine with an occasional attack slipping through. I just needed something to eat the majority of attacks. I had a Tinkertech fabric bodysuit underneath just in case.

What I was wearing today was the "base set," but there were a few designs planned. Apparently the budget for a Ward's costume was somewhat negotiable, and as a "highly marketable" cape I was given a degree of preferential treatment. It was endearing to see the costume team get all excited about the different variations of plate armor they could make for me. My strength combined with my durability-granting allowed them to try out some concepts and materials that would otherwise be impractical.

Emma scolded me for choosing my heroic character specifically to irritate Sophia, but I felt my choice was vindicated by the reactions it garnered. For months, Sophia directed contemptuous glares and biting insults at my glorious raiment. Even once her more explicit attacks died down, she always had a vague aura of disgust whenever she saw me in costume. It was amazing; my scheme had definitely gotten her right in the ideology.

Honesty could wait a while longer.

<~@~>

After a few weeks of acclimation, I felt mostly safe with my new strength. I had missed being able to hug Emma or my Dad firmly, so I was a tad clingy for a while. Even Madison couldn't escape my hugging spree, which provoked some hilariously sour expressions from Emma. Was someone perhaps a smidgen upset at my cuddling of the delightful Miss Clements? I wondered why that could be.

Sophia rebuffed my embraces. She had returned to her strict no-hugs policy after our moment in the Wards area. I had mixed feelings about this.

Fortunately, I got my fix of justifiable Sophia-contact as she put me into various joint locks and grappling moves. This was an important part of hand to hand training, so I requested repeated in-depth demonstrations to ensure that I mastered them.

Alright, you knew it was coming. Begin training montage.

Entertainment value aside, learning how to grab and subdue someone safely really was where I spent most of my focus. Most fighters learned a balanced mix of grappling and striking, but my super-strength made striking a little… iffy. I was just strong enough that punching normal people was dangerous, but not quite powerful enough for it to be an effective tactic against vehicles or other Brutes. I learned how to throw proper punches and kicks, but they were to be considered secondary to my grappling.

I also learned the basics of blocking and dodging, but the cost-benefit ratio of expending stamina to avoid being hit was just too high to make sense for me. Hookwolf could hit me in the face with a massive hay-maker and it would just sting a little. Besides, it was my job to take hits for the team. It was far more practical to receive attacks on my armor and use that as an opening to retaliate.

During the course of my training I became better acquainted with Victoria Dallon, another young superheroine with more strength than she knew what to do with. She was less of an airhead than PHO had led me to believe. She was bubbly and excitable, sure, but she was a fine conversationalist and seemed to take training seriously.

Victoria also had a grappling focused fighting style and we were both practically invincible, so we took the opportunity to practice "minimal necessary force" against a partner who wouldn't get pulped by a mistake. Aegis was a trooper but it was nevertheless unpleasant to hear his tendons ripping when I messed up.

Towards the end of the day we had some fun seeing how far Victoria could throw me. In a purely platonic way, of course. My mother did not raise a faithless harlot.

Panacea seemed to take umbrage at our little games, skewering me with saucy death glares the whole time. I couldn't get a proper read on her motivations. Was she jealous that her sister could treat me like a human Frisbee? Being a high tier Brute did have its perks. I refrained from digging any further. Someone else could talk to Panacea about her issues.

Lastly, we came to the Smash.

Yes, that capitalization is intentional, to differentiate it from lesser smashes. I decided to stick with foam weapons, at least to start. Even when I was holding back, my trusty pool noodle - or the Noodle of Terror, as it had been dubbed by various PRT personnel - routinely put out enough force to completely shatter a human rib cage. And yes, "rib shattering" is one of the measures they put on the training dummies.

Actual blunt weapons like hammers and batons absolutely obliterated things, and blades were especially nasty. The whole point of a blade was to concentrate force, so when I made one unbreakable and amplified the striking power by a huge amount… we all agreed there was no compelling reason for me to routinely carry a weapon that deadly.

After one too many annihilated practice dummies, I began practicing my Smashes with Assault. He had the ability to manipulate the kinetic energy of himself and things he touched, so I could throw monstrously powerful attacks at him without fear. With consistent practice, I became able to control the output. It was a bizarre sensation; it almost felt like my power was confused why I'd want to do anything other than crush things at full strength. But after repeated attempts I began to develop a sort of quasi muscle memory for lower levels of force.

Only once I was confident I could avoid turning someone into hamburger did I begin weapons training with Armsmaster. He was really, really good at fighting with a halberd. Seriously, even with super-strength I had never come close to beating him. However, it was crucial that I learn how to use a long weapon effectively, since that would be the main way I'd be taking people down. To that end, I practiced how to transfer my durability upon the impact of my weapon, letting me knock people over without crushing them. I worked on that tirelessly, until it was instinctive. I think many people dream about getting super-strength, but it's difficult to convey just how scary it is to be able to destroy everything around you with a moment of carelessness.

I mentioned my worries to a few people, but it was Miss Militia who I believed really understood my feelings. I had a mental image of her as always being in control, but she told me that when she was younger she often had moments where she feared and even hated her power. The sensation of always being armed, always ready to kill, wore on her. She could never truly put her weapon away.

Unfortunately, she didn't have any advice on how to make those feelings disappear. In fact, she told me to keep them close to my heart. That if I stopped considering how badly I could hurt people, I would lose something important.

I'm well aware of that, thank you.

Enough training montage.

<~@~>

I began to go on patrols. Don't get too excited. Did you really think there was going to be a fight scene this early? Despite the fact that I could flatten the majority of the Villains in the city, I was a wee baby Ward. By the rules, that meant I would need to go through quite a few easy and low-risk patrols before I engaged in anything even remotely dangerous. In fact, the Wards weren't technically supposed to be involved in combat at all, at least not against "serious" Villains. Our town had a lot of those, relatively speaking.

Now, it's not as though I was chomping at the bit to involve my peers in fights against murderous supervillains. My wager with Sophia aside, it'd be a far preferable option to get more experienced Protectorate heroes transfered to our city. However, some preliminary poking around revealed that Director Piggot was having a devil of a time getting more personnel and funding moved to our department. I wasn't sure if this was the result of politics or corruption or what-have-you, but it meant that for the foreseeable future I'd have to make do with what we had.

Let's get back to the patrol. I had done some "vanity" patrols with Wards in very safe areas, and now I had graduated to tagging along with a Protectorate hero on a slightly more risky route. Today I joined Assault, who I was often paired with due to our power synergy and "compatible personalities." I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Assault was an impulsive goofball with a poor sense of boundaries and…

Oh. Fair.

Once we cleared the current grid square, I tapped my communicator and reported in according to protocol. "Console, this is Avalon. Sector 5-Aleph is clear. Continuing northbound on Eighth Avenue. Over."

"Copy that, Avalon," Clockblocker said. Despite his comical personality, he usually did his job as Console operator properly. I nodded and went back to keeping an eye on my surroundings.

"You got a hang of this quickly, Squire," Assault said, grinning. He loved giving people silly nicknames. Not because he was trying to be mean, exactly, but because he liked to poke at you and see what you'd do about it. He delighted in irritating people he considered to be overly serious, which I could understand.

I shrugged. "It's not too hard to memorize the grid map and radio in my status," I said. "I assume it'd be more nerve-wracking while fighting."

Assault chuckled. "People react to danger differently. I have a feeling you'll be a cool customer."

"Because of my powers?"

"Well, that's part of it. But even strong capes can panic once a fight kicks off."

"Or lose their temper."

"Yeah, that too. A lot of parahumans have serious egos. They can't handle losing or looking bad." He shrugged. "You've gotta keep your cool. There are a lot of mind games involved in cape fights. Stay focused, stay balanced. Don't leave your team hanging because you're freaking out."

"Truly, Mr. Assault, you are an exemplar of discipline and professionalism," I deadpanned.

He laughed, patting me on the shoulder. "I'm glad you're on the team, kid. The Wards were getting a bit angsty before you joined up."

"Problems?"

Assault shook his head. "Oh, not exactly. Miss Shady Stalker is just a little… standoffish, is all. I think you've chilled her out."

I smiled. True to her word, Sophia had been directing the majority of her ire at me and had left the other Wards mostly alone. I considered that and frowned. On one hand, I was happy that I had Sophia all to myself. On the other hand, intentionally isolating your partner from other social interactions was classic abusive behavior. Those two viewpoints clashed briefly in my brain.

"She's actually pleasant to be around once you get to know her," I said.

Assault gave me a dubious glance. "Whatever floats your boat, I guess."

My eye twitched. Intellectually I knew that Sophia was antagonistic to most people, but it still irked me when outsiders made judgments about her.

"So, what's your relationship with Battery?" I asked abruptly.

Assault's steps faltered for a moment. "Where'd that come from, Squire?"

"Just curious." We'd see how he liked talking about his love interest. I confess that I also had a personal desire to know more; I was intrigued by "conventional" romantic attachments. The dance, the chase. The push and pull between two souls trying to navigate how they fit together.

How lovely it would be, to share my feelings openly with the one I loved.

"Hmm. Well, I'll leave it up to your imagination," he said, smirking.

"Are you sure? My imagination is quite vivid."

He waved his hand airily. "Knock yourself out. I doubt you can come up with anything crazier than the current betting pools."

"Are you referring to the theory that you are both siblings and passionate lovers?"

Assault barked out a laugh. "Right for the jugular, huh? I can see why you and Shady get along."

I hummed happily. "Yes, I suppose that's true." I eyed him sidelong. "Will you at least tell me how you feel about her? Battery, I mean."

"Persistent, are we? Okay. She's great! Earnest, hardworking, selfless. The ideal heroine." His expression was entirely neutral as he blandly listed off descriptors.

I clicked my tongue. "Stingy. Well, I bet if I talk to Battery she'll be an easier nut to crack."

It was fairly transparent bait, but he took it. He smiled warmly, his face relaxing. That was all I needed to be sure. "You might be surprised," he said.

"I see," I said. We walked for a minute in silence. "I'm glad you have someone you love so much."

Assault made a funny noise.

<~@~>

I sidled up to Battery after one of our monthly team briefings. She had an awesome costume, a skintight bodysuit with glowing circuit designs on it. "Hello," I said.

"Hi there, Avalon," she said, smiling. "How are you? Assault told me you've been doing well on your patrols."

"Oh, yes, no problems there. Assault is an excellent heroic mentor, despite his… irreverence. He's got a great sense of humor, too. I can see why you married him."

Battery choked. "What the- did he tell you? He's not supposed to-"

I grinned. "No, he didn't."

Battery paused before gathering herself and giving me a rueful smile in return. "Very sneaky. I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread that around. He and I are enjoying the betting pools."

I drew an "x" over my chest with my finger. "I will take this precious knowledge to my grave."

Battery snorted. "I was worried Assault would be a bad influence on you, but I can see that won't be a problem."

I nodded. "Would you mind sharing how you two got together? You can consider it the price of my silence."

"Romantic gossip, huh? Sometimes I forget that you're a teenage girl. Alright, let's go to the cafeteria."

We went down to the mess hall and acquired foodstuffs that somewhat approximated Sloppy Joes. Battery began her story in fits and starts, obviously glossing over some sort of mysterious context surrounding their initial meetings.

"He was… a pain in the ass, honestly. At least at first. He asked me out every day, for months."

I frowned. "He harassed you?"

Battery waggled her hand in a "so-so" gesture. "I mean… yes. I don't want to badmouth him. I hate people that complain constantly about their spouses. But, yes. There was a time where he refused to take 'no' for an answer. Fortunately, he's gotten better over time."

"That's still rather unpleasant." My mental image of Assault had taken a hit. I knew he had a tendency to push other peoples' boundaries, but this was a step past that.

Hush, readers. I am aware of my hypocrisy.

"Ah, sorry. I don't want to make you uncomfortable around him. He's a great guy in many ways, and his personality really has improved a lot since then. He's not perfect, but neither am I. I love him for who he is." Battery blushed at that admission. Cute. Too cute. I was gripped by an inexplicable urge to shake her.

I sighed. "Well, I can tell he loves you too. That's why I felt confident enough to make this bluff today."

Battery laughed. "You were very convincing. Caught me off guard."

"Yes, I hear that a lot," I said. "So how did he win you over?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure there's one single moment I can point to. Once I actually agreed to go on a date with him… I'm not sure how to describe it. It's like he was trying too hard, before that. Like he took my rejections as a challenge, so he put up a front, with all this bravado. Don't get me wrong, he's still a cocky guy now," she said, laughing. "But it was really turned up to eleven back then. Anyways, I finally told him I would go on a date with him if he did this thing I assumed he'd hate. I just wanted him to get off my back at that point. But he did it, and he surprised me. It showed me a side of him I hadn't seen before. So we went on some dates, and we talked, and I got to know him a little better. It took a while. He was still a bit of a swaggering prick for those first few dates."

I giggled, and Battery covered her mouth.

"Oh. Excuse my language. But anyways, once it became clear to him that the whole 'overly persistent jackass' thing wasn't winning him any points with me, we started having some more genuine conversations. And things just kind of… developed from there. I'm sorry if that's not terribly exciting or romantic."

I tilted my head from side to side. "Genuine, huh?" It was as I feared. This supported Emma's theory that I'd need to be honest at some point. "When did the two of you feel comfortable enough to start negotiating the hitting?"

Battery blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"The hitting. I've seen you strike your husband at least twice during every interaction. I understand that Assault has a kinetic manipulation ability, but you two did go through a proper negotiation regarding physical impact, yes?"

"Wha- you make it sound like domestic violence! I smack him when he's being an ass, but it's not like I'm hurting him! I can't hurt him, with his power!"

I clicked my tongue disapprovingly. "His power doesn't work on impacts he's not expecting, correct? And regardless of that, domestic abuse can manifest in many forms which don't leave visible injuries. That's no reason to take them less seriously."

"Avalon, please. You're exaggerating. I'm not abusing my husband."

"I see. You're simply hitting him, repeatedly, in a manner that the two of you neither discussed nor agreed upon in advance."

"I… yes, technically, but you're making it sound worse than it is! He's never complained about it."

"I see. Because abuse victims are known for speaking up about their ordeals." Battery's mouth worked silently. I stood. "I think I should go. Please carefully consider the boundaries of consent you have established with your husband." I paused. "Thank you for telling me your romantic stories. Goodbye." I walked away.

Perhaps I'd need to look for another relationship to use as a proper example.

<~@~>

Sophia worked on the Wing Chun dummy, toughening up her forearms by practicing blocks again and again on the wooden arms. It was a calming meditative exercise for her. Block. Block. Block. One movement flowing into another, deflecting an endless series of phantom strikes thrown her way. She continued until her timer went off, and she took a minute to cool down. Someone cleared their throat behind her.

Hebert.

It was a little unsettling how Sophia could identify Hebert solely by her cough. Between track and the Wards, they spent way too much time together now. Dennis had been an annoying little shit by constantly calling Hebert Sophia's "work wife."

Sophia turned. Sure enough, Hebert was standing there, looking sheepish. That was an unusual look for her. Normally her default state was either smug, oblivious, or goofy.

"Sup, Hebert," Sophia said. "What do you want?"

Hebert fidgeted. "I, um… I wanted to ask you a question. A serious question. No messing around."

Sophia raised an eyebrow. If she had to make a list of Hebert's top ten favorite activities, she'd put "messing around" in at least the first five slots. Hebert seemed to absolutely delight in fucking with people, Sophia in particular. But she seemed serious at the moment, so Sophia would hear her out. "Okay," Sophia said slowly. "Shoot."

Hebert took a deep breath. "Do I… bother you?"

Sophia shook her head in disbelief. "What? What kind of question is that? You go out of your way to piss me off all the time. Or are you saying that's all been on accident?"

"I… I understand that we have our back-and-forth. But do you feel like I'm harassing you? Does my behavior make you uncomfortable?"

"What- where is this coming from? I'm not a little bitch, Hebert. I can take whatever you dish out and give it back twice as hard."

Hebert swallowed, her cheeks reddening. "Of course you can. I never thought you were a, um, 'little bitch.' You're one of the strongest people I know," she said, looking Sophia right in the eye. Hebert's expression was completely open, without a trace of the usual playfulness.

Sophia tensed. "Y-You're goddamn right," she stammered. Why am I stammering? Why the fuck am I stammering? "So save the touchy-feely shit for someone who needs it."

Hebert smiled, nodding. "Okay. I will. I'm glad we had this talk."

"Whatever. Go away and let me train in peace."

"Sure." Hebert practically skipped away.

Weirdo.

Sophia went back to her training.

<~@~><~@~><~@~>

AN: There was a relative decrease in bantz and bulli in this chapter compared to baseline, so I apologize.

Thanks to 6thfloormadness and his fic Hammer Time, from which I've stolen several things, including the cape name.

Argentorum made me promise to fulfill double my typical bulli quota in the next installment in exchange for his much-appreciated assistance in editing this chapter. Thankee kindly. Credit also to HorizonTheTransient for the "defensive" joke.

 

[BlueNine]

Chapter 7​

Panacea was glaring at me. Listen, I honestly tried to avoid this, okay? I talked to her mother and tried to be as diplomatic as I could. Your daughter seems like she's under a lot of stress, I don't want to be presumptuous, could you please make sure she's doing alright, yada yada yada.

She blew me off. Carol Dallon, high-profile heroine and lawyer, totally blew me off. A little rudely, too. However, it seemed that she at least partially took my words to heart, because Amy Dallon was now confronting me for "ratting her out." Goodness, Mrs. Dallon, what was the point of going to you directly? Why'd you have to drop my name into the conversation?

Also, how was inquiring after someone's wellbeing "ratting them out?" Panacea was so unreasonable. A desirable trait in a bully, but not so much in an acquaintance from work.

"Carol said you told her I acted unprofessionally."

Uh, no? How did Carol get "unprofessional" out of what I said? This feels like a bad game of Telephone.

"She may have misunderstood me," I said, generously. "I was simply expressing concern for your wellbeing."

"Huh? How is that any of your business? Why are you calling Carol?"

Because I thought your mom would actually listen to what I said and act on it in a discreet and reasonable manner? I should have done more research into her personality.

"I understand that we're not friends, exactly, but I'd consider us colleagues. I just wanted to make sure you're alright. I apologize if I overstepped my boundaries; you seem to be under a lot of stress."

Panacea scowled. She had a diverse array of upset expressions. Sophia had her beat in the pure anger category, though. "Yeah, I'm under some stress," Panacea said. "I've got a lot on my plate. Work that only I can do. That doesn't mean you have to go behind my back and talk to Carol about it."

It's pretty weird that she calls her mom by her first name. Although I guess their relationship isn't too great, based on this tangled mess of communication.

"I apologize again," I said. "I didn't mean for what I said to be taken as an accusation, and I didn't mean to go over your head. Would you like to talk about it now?"

Panacea rolled her eyes. "What's there to talk about? I've got stress, I'm dealing with it."

From what I had seen, "dealing with it" entailed repressing whatever feelings she had and occasionally lashing out. Believe me, I am well versed with that pattern of behavior.

I kept my face neutral. "Do you think that whatever strategies you're using to cope will work in the long term?"

Panacea winced. Now for her to get defensive. "Why do you care how I'm coping? I do my job. I'm not hurting anyone." Yeah, I had her. Wait, no, I don't want to have her. Disengage!

"Yes, you're doing a stellar job."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

Why? Why must you tempt me so? "No," I said, biting out the word as I forced down my natural instincts. "Definitely not."

Panacea glared at me. "Whatever. Mind your own fucking business. And if you've got a problem with me, you talk to me. Don't call Carol again." She brushed past me on her way out of the room.


<~@~>

Panacea avoided me for a few weeks after that, and I did my best to give her space. Sadly, I couldn't just leave her alone forever. Why? I don't rightly know. Let's just file it under "sometimes Taylor can't help herself."

Once she cooled down a bit, I used my sinister powers of manipulation to bait her into yelling at me. I know how that looks, but I swear it was entirely innocent. Or benevolent? I wasn't just doing it for my own edification, is what I'm saying. She needed an outlet of some kind to release stress.

As I suspected, she was creatively, caustically mean. However, I could tell that her heart wasn't really in it. I think she just didn't have anyone she felt she could spit venom at. And boy, did she have a lot of it. Fortunately I, verbal abuse sponge supreme, was there to gracefully accept her baseless insults and accusations.

Eventually the pointless arguments turned into general venting sessions. At that point Amy got hesitant, and I recognized what she was feeling. The fear of rejection. The insidious certainty that your true self would be seen and considered repulsive.

So I just listened. I was good at that.

Panacea, Amy, didn't like herself very much. She didn't say so outright, but it became increasingly clear over the course of our conversations. All of her successes were downplayed. All of her perceived failures were inflated. Beyond that, there was something that lay underneath it all, some flaw or fault that was stuck in her heart like a festering splinter.

Finally I nudged her to talk about it and she turned miserable.

"It's disgusting. I don't think you'll want to talk to me anymore if I tell you."

"Amy, believe me, there is almost nothing you could say that would shock me."

"You say that, but you don't really understand."

"I don't understand?" I said quietly. "I don't understand that you're afraid? That you think that you're so defective that you can never be fixed? That you feel like your entire life is spent lying to people? Tell me what I don't understand."

Amy stared at me wide-eyed. "Do you- what are you-"

I closed my eyes. "I would like to tell you a secret now. Would you like to hear it?"

Amy cleared her throat. "Um. I guess?" She took a deep breath. "Yes. I would. You've been listening to me for a long time. I'll listen to you now."

I nodded. "Thank you."



<~@~>

"Holy shit," Amy said.

"Yes, that's the typical reaction." I didn't tell her all of it, of course, but enough to get the point across.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine. I understand."

"No, please! I'm not disgusted or anything. It's just… a lot to take in."

"I get it."

"Thank you for sharing that with me. I'll never tell anyone else. I promise."

I nodded. "I appreciate that. And just to be clear, you don't need to feel obligated to tell me your own secret."

Amy rubbed the back of her neck. "Um, no, it's fine. I can tell you. It's just…" She paused, her eyes swimming.

"What?" I prompted gently.

"Well… okay. I…" she took a slow, deep breath. "I like my sister. Romantically."

"I see," I said, nodding. I looked at her expectantly.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing. So…" I trailed off. "Is that it?"

"Is that not enough? It's messed up! She's my sister!"

"Didn't you say you were adopted?"

"Yeah, technically… but I grew up with her!"

"Okay. That could be distressing, I suppose."

"Wha- why do you look disappointed?!"

"Sorry. I don't really get why you're so upset. Has your attraction made you do anything unethical? Have you sexually harassed her or otherwise made unwanted advances? Oh, perhaps you've pilfered items of importance in order to build a shrine to her."

"No! What are you talking about?! I wouldn't do any of that!"

"Then you have a one-sided infatuation you haven't done anything about? That's it?"

Amy sighed. "You're killing me. I just revealed my darkest secret. Can you at least pretend to take it seriously?"

I thought for a moment. "No. Your secret is lame, and I regret telling you mine in exchange for it."

"Lame? Fuck you! This has been eating me alive!"

"Incredibly lame. I even told you about the Papaya Gambit, and this is what you give me in return? You have a crush on a pretty girl you're not even related to. Wow. How terrible. I want a refund for this heart to heart."

The rest of the conversation was mostly shouting. I deemed this therapeutic intervention successful.

<~@~>

Patrols with Sophia were the best. Today, as with all "pure Wards" patrols, we were on an absurdly safe route, meaning that I had no real need to maintain a high level of vigilance. It was just a nice little stroll with the girl I loved, savoring her sighs of disgust. I loved waving to people, encouraging them to talk to us and shake our hands. Kids in particular had a special Sophia-annoyance factor that really couldn't be replicated elsewhere.

"Can you not?" Sophia snapped. "I swear, you flag down every single person we see."

"It is part of our duty as Wards to present a friendly face to the public," I said, heroically.

"Kiss my ass. I know you. There's no way you really believe all that rah-rah PR bullshit."

My helmet hid a blush. She really was getting to know me. It was inevitable with all the time we spent together. "Perhaps not. But it doesn't hurt anyone to be nice and chat with people now and then."

"You know what else doesn't hurt? Getting rid of the gang-bangers that are murdering those nice people every day. Comparatively, this is a huge fucking waste of time."

"I know you're frustrated, but we'll get our chance. If we prove that we can be trusted, we'll be given more opportunities."

"You're a real optimist, huh? We just need to do our jobs like good little girls and things will work out. Right."

"I suppose we'll just have to see."

Sophia huffed but let me have the last word. That was a new development. With most people, she absolutely had to finish the conversation with a jab of some sort. We walked in companionable, frustrated silence for a while longer.

We crossed into the shopping district Downtown, all steel and glass and overpriced boutique storefronts. This was one of Sophia's least favorite routes; I could always count on it to put her in a foul mood. Not only was it the epitome of "rich people bubble," it also had the highest concentration of dedicated cape fans lying in wait.

I thought that fans would be dissuaded by Sophia's potent "back off" aura, but there was a small but non-trivial contingent of fellow angry-girl aficionados who were delighted to be snapped at and ignored by her. There was even a Shadow Stalker fan page, which I may or may not have been a member of. I allowed my compatriots their admiration so long as they knew their place.

As we passed in front of the mall complex, we were swarmed by those looking for photos and autographs. Sophia had negotiated with the PR people so that she only had to do the bare minimum of public engagement, on account of her anti-hero persona. I, on the other hand, was practically a theme park mascot. All sorts of people took their pictures with me and had their kids meet me. I didn't really mind, other than the fact that my introversion made extended social events tiring.

The crowd was just beginning to thin as a burst of brassy fanfare blared out above us. The pedestrians on the street milled around, some panning around with their phones as they looked around for the source of the noise. As I scanned the street, a puff of thick black smoke erupted from the ground, a peal of thunder accompanying the effect. Two robed figures materialized from the cloud, their hands outstretched.

Most of the pedestrians scattered and hustled away like reasonable human beings, but a distressing number of rubberneckers loitered around, eager to record or watch the incident.

"Stalker, call it in," I said. "I'll try and talk to them." Sophia shot me a glare for telling her what to do, but tapped her comm and started speaking into it.

"Hello there!" I called out, my hands spread non-threateningly. "I'm Avalon with the Wards ENE. Are you two putting on a performance?"

One of the figures cackled. "We know very well who you are, Lady Avalon. That is why we are here."

I frowned. "You have me at a disadvantage, sir. May I ask your name?"

The other figure harrumphed. Honest to God harrumphed, as if we were in a production of A Christmas Carol. Okay, maybe I encouraged them by speaking in character. "You have no need of our names, Lady Knight. All you need to know is that we are here to test your mettle." He pulled out a gnarled wooden staff with a purple crystal on the end of it and waved it in a broad arc. "Minions! Come forth!"

As he waved his staff across the ground, more jets of smoke billowed from the street, resolving into squat green humanoid creatures holding a variety of crude weapons. I had read enough fantasy novels to recognize them immediately. Goblins. Several dozen of them gathered into a rough mob, staring at me with hateful yellow eyes.

"Ah!" I said, nodding. "You two must be Uber and Leet. The video game themed villains who assaulted those sex workers."

"That was one time!" one of them protested. "We never did anything like that again."

"Unfortunately, that is not an acceptable legal defense," I said, presenting my foam spear. It totally wasn't just a longer and better-balanced pool noodle with a stiffer core. It was a spear. My very own polyethylene Rhongomyniad. It still didn't have a pointed tip, though. Even foam "blades" were too dangerous.

I glanced away. Sophia was attempting to disperse the stragglers, to mixed success. Many of them were dragging their feet at the prospect of missing a potential cape fight. I turned back to the villains. "Surrender, so that you may be properly judged by the Law." They weren't going to surrender and we all knew it, but it was necessary to give them the option and it stalled for a few more moments so that reinforcements could arrive.

"The Law has no power over us!" the other one - Uber? - shouted, his voice carrying. "Now you will see the true-" he cut off to frantically dodge a flying projectile aimed at his chest. "You dare-" he cursed and dove behind cover to avoid another bolt.

Everyone took a moment to look at Sophia, who was calmly reloading her crossbows. "What?" she asked. "They aren't surrendering."

"Attack, minions!" the one I assumed to be Leet shouted, pointing his staff at us. The mob of goblins chattered and screeched, surging forward with their weapons waving wildly. People started screaming behind me. Annoying. Did they not realize the situation was dangerous up until this point?

The goblins neared and I tapped a button on my wrist, sealing my helmet and beginning a flow of oxygen. It was unlikely that Uber and Leet would make a dangerous Tinker-tech pathogen, but it was best not to take chances with potentially infectious bio-tinker creations.

The first of the monsters entered my engagement distance and I swatted them with a broad sweep. The only real danger here would be if they dog-piled me and restricted my mobility, so I kept moving, exploiting my reach advantage to smack down any that came close.

In my peripheral vision I saw Sophia exchanging fire with the two Villains, the latter shooting purplish bolts of energy from their staves. I frowned. Sophia was immune to most forms of normal damage in her shadow form, but electricity and some exotic effects could harm her. I began to make a bee-line for Uber and Leet, then saw a stray goblin chasing after fleeing civilians. I cursed and charged it down, shouting to get its attention. It turned just in time to get sent flying by a flick of my spear, its body skipping on the pavement like a stone across a pond. It came to a halt about thirty feet away and burst into a shower of red pixels.

So, not really alive, then? That makes things simpler.

I turned to face the mob that was still faithfully pursuing me. From there, I proceeded to mow them down. That's really the only way to describe it. There was very little martial skill involved, just swinging in huge arcs back and forth. Red pixels filled my vision as goblins perished with every swing.

Sophia screamed.

I whipped my head around to see her collapsed against a tree, one hand held against her side. Her torso crackled with purple energy.

I looked to the villains. Their body language was hesitant, their weapons lowered. Perhaps they didn't expect to actually hit her. Perhaps their projectiles had a poor interaction with Sophia's Breaker state.

Irrelevant.

Goblins got in my way. They died. The villains panicked, summoning more monsters. Those died too.

They summoned a troll, a gigantic slavering monster with a club the size of a park bench. It swung at me. I parried it with enough force to break the creature's hand with an audible snap. On my return stroke I thrust at the center of its chest, punching a hole straight through. Another flick shattered its knee. I struck the falling body out of my path.

Leet waved his staff, forming a translucent purple dome over him and his partner. "You haven't seen the last of us, Lady-"

I brought my weapon down in an overhead strike. The dome shattered, shards of energy fizzling as they dispersed. The force of my Smash followed through into the pavement, sending chunks of asphalt flying with a thunderous crash.

"Oh, shit!" The villains stumbled as they hastily backpedaled, firing at me. I tanked them, trusting in my power. I could not be stopped.

Uber fumbled with something at his waist. I swept his legs out from under him, pointing my spear at his head. "No more games."

He gulped. "Y-yeah, no problem." He set down his staff and raised his hands above his head. "Dude, put down your staff. We're done," he said to his partner, who was still shaking with his weapon pointed at me. Leet nodded and dropped it, getting unsteadily to his knees.

"What did you hit her with?" I demanded.

"It was just a stun bolt," Leet said. "It should be harmless. Maybe a little numbness at most."

"Harmless?" I echoed. I craned my head to see Sophia while keeping the villains in my sight. "Stalker, you okay?" I shouted.

"I'm fine," Sophia yelled back. She pushed herself to her feet and limped over to me, still clutching at her side and holding a crossbow with her free hand. "Just stings like a bitch," she said, inhaling sharply. She shot Leet in the chest with a tranq bolt and he fell on his side. I dragged Leet's insensate form over to Uber and cuffed them both.

Once I was confident they were secure, I hovered over Sophia. She teetered and leaned against me lightly. I reflexively picked her up using what we in the business call a "bridal carry."

"Don't worry, I've got you."

"What the fuck?! Put me down!"

Sirens drew closer.

<~@~>

"So you've never done this before?" Emma asked.

"Yeah, first time," Madison said, slowly pulling her arms through the water to practice the strokes. Emma held her around the waist, keeping her afloat.

"Well, you seem to be picking it up."

"Maybe you're just a really good teacher."

"Oh? You ready to try on your own?"

"Nooo! Hold me, hold me!" Madison giggled.

"Alright," Emma said, smiling. "I'll hold you as long as you want." Madison coughed and spluttered. "Are you okay? Did you get water in your nose?" Emma asked.

"N-no, I'm fine."

<~@~>

"You did a fine job, Avalon," Director Piggot said.

"Thank you, ma'am." I worked to keep the surprise off my face. I thought she might have some objections to the level of force I used, even against "fake" opponents.

"No need to look so surprised," the Director said. Drat, she's good! "I'll back my people up as long as they do their best not to cross the line. Your partner was injured and there were Tinker-tech creatures everywhere. You did what you had to do to bring the situation under control."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't consider this carte blanche to crush every criminal you come across. Remember that you have a massive potential for violence and a corresponding duty to harness it for good. Accountability. Responsibility. Restraint. That's what separates us from mere vigilantes and thugs."

"Understood, ma'am."

The Director nodded. "Dismissed."

<~@~>

Director Piggot watched the helmet-cam footage of Avalon slaughtering goblins one last time, smiled, then closed the video.

<~@~>

A few weeks later, I received a suitably shady correspondence via email from Cauldron, aka the Cape Illuminati. My presence was requested. I was still unsure if all the cloak and dagger melodrama was actually for security or if the leadership was just having fun.

I passed through a portal - which was an incredibly useful power, by the way - and stepped into a white-tiled waiting area. Most of the Cauldron facilities I had seen thus far looked similar, like a series of pre-fabricated "secret futuristic base" rooms. The portal closed behind me. There was a couch and a few chairs, but I rarely had to wait around for Cauldron's agents. They were big on punctuality.

True to form, a door across from me promptly opened, admitting a woman in a suit and hat.

And… wow.

It was difficult to pinpoint the exact qualities of her presence that made her so imposing. It wasn't just her appearance, though that in and of itself was impressive. Her suit was precisely tailored and her tie was immaculate. Her black hair fell in silky waves from under her snazzy fedora. The fedora is a much-maligned piece of head-wear in modern times, associated largely with people who are trying too hard. However, this woman wore her fedora like she deserved to. She hadn't even spoken yet and I could already sense the utter confidence she exuded with every expression and gesture.

Her eyes fell upon me and I shivered, feeling intensely vulnerable in a way I hadn't experienced since I received my powers.

"I am Contessa," the woman said. "You will be cooperating with me today."

"Y-yes ma'am."

She pointed at a line of lockers along the wall. "In the far left locker you will find all the equipment you will need. Take it."

I bobbed my head and hurried over to the locker, pulling it open. Inside was a flak jacket, a combat helmet with visor, a burlap sack, and a sledgehammer. In my haste I almost missed a rubber duck tucked into the far corner. "Do I-"

"Bring it," Contessa said. "Keep it on your person at all times."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good. Follow me." Contessa turned on her heel and strode out the door, leaving me to scramble after her.

<~@~>

The creature roared, stabbing pointlessly at me with its myriad limbs.

Contessa shot it in its legs and it fell, scrabbling along the dirt trail to try and reach her. "Put it in the sack and grant it durability," she said. I obeyed.

<~@~>

There were a lot of people screaming in German and shooting at me. Also, everything was on fire. Contessa casually typed away at a keyboard while I held the doorway. "Done," she said. "We're leaving."

<~@~>

"Deploy the duck."

<~@~>

After a long day of assorted tasks, I was dumped back in the forest clearing I initially started from. Contessa stared at me and a frisson ran up my spine.

"You are a joke of a human being. However, you are not entirely useless. You will assist me again in the future."

"Y-yes! Of course!" I would do absolutely anything that this spectacular woman wanted me to.

"Good," she said, patting me on the head. My face flushed hot. She turned to step through the portal.

"Um, Miss Contessa?" I said. She paused and looked at me. I swallowed. "I really like your hat."

She blinked and a corner of her mouth crept up in what could arguably be called a smile. "Thank you." She entered the portal and vanished.

My heart didn't stop racing until I got home.

<~@~>

Sophia finally got cleared from Medical, the minor muscle weakness which had been plaguing her all but gone. Those geeks had better watch their backs once they inevitably busted out of prison. She hadn't thought anything could hurt more than getting an electric shock when she was in shadow-form, but that Tinker bullshit laser had proven her wrong.

She snorted. Her temper was soothed by the memory of seeing those jackasses practically piss themselves as Hebert rushed them. Much as Sophia hated to admit it, Hebert had really kicked ass. Killed that huge troll thing and took Uber and Leet down no problem. Sophia was still a little bitter over the fact that Taylor "Being an Annoying Bitch is My Motto" Hebert got such a powerful Brute ability, but she could set aside her personal feelings about that in the interest of seeing villains get destroyed.

Speak of the devil, Hebert came around the corner of the hallway, waving energetically like the dork she was. "Hi Sophia! Are you feeling better? No more muscle aches?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't pick me up again."

Hebert scratched her head and laughed. "Sorry about that."

"You better be." That had been an intensely humiliating experience, and a photo of the ordeal had somehow found its way online. She didn't dare to look at any of the discussion threads; she was on the verge of ulcers as it was.

"I am, I am. And, um, I wanted to give you another apology."

"For what?" Sophia asked warily.

"I… can't exactly say. Honestly, you probably wouldn't think it was a big deal. But I feel like I let you down." Hebert shook her head. "No, I did let you down. I was weak, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Sophia squinted. "Alright, whatever. Glad to hear that, I guess."

"Thank you. I know this doesn't really make sense to you. I just wanted to say it."

"Fine. You're forgiven. Is that it?"

"Yeah, that's all. Oh, uh, do you wanna get something to eat?"

Sophia instinctively opened her mouth to decline, then paused. She did still owe Hebert for wrecking those douchebags. "Why not?" she said.

Hebert's face lit up. "Yay!" Then she cracked one of her usual smirks. "Are you sure you don't need me to carry you to the cafeteria? We can do piggyback if bridal carry is too embarrassing."

"Don't push it."

<~@~> <~@~> <~@~>
AN:
"It's not cheating if it's Contessa." -Argentorum

 

[BlueNine]

Chapter 8​

Hello there, readers. Welcome to yet another installment of Cirque du Taylor. Time passes, and yet I remain as strange as ever. Can a person truly change their nature?

Let's get back to the story.

My hobby requires a measure of social ability. I need to understand what people want and how to talk to them. However, I would not say that I have any prodigious natural talent in this area. Emma does. She's a prime example of someone who "just has it." She doesn't have to think in-depth about social dynamics; she simply perceives and reacts in the same way a dog catches a thrown tennis ball.

Is that an unflattering analogy? I'll stand by it. Dogs are great. We should all strive to be more dog-like.

Anyways, I'm not a golden retriever. I've had to learn how to socialize the hard way: through trial and error. After a series of blunders, this is my advice: learn how to listen properly. People love being listened to. They want to tell you things. You don't have to be Machiavelli to glean useful information from a conversation. If you show that you're interested in what someone has to say, their words will often flow naturally.

Thus, phase one of the Wards Improvement Project was simply to talk, and listen.

<~@~>

I didn't really know anything about the Youth Guard before I started my Ward career. In my mind they were sort of a nebulous Child Protective Services knockoff that people donated to so they could get charity bumper stickers. However, it turned out to be a relatively powerful force within the PRT sphere of influence. They had some serious legal teeth and didn't hesitate to use them if they thought Wards were being exploited or mistreated.

As with all PRT departments, we had an on-staff Youth Guard agent. I had only met her a few times during my on-boarding procedure, to verify that Wards duties wouldn't be too onerous for me. I felt a little guilty when she tiptoed around my "trigger event" and asked if I needed any counseling or special help. Come to think of it, shouldn't counseling or therapy be required if they assumed every Ward was a traumatized child? Something to consider for later.

Elise Warner was a friendly lady in her mid thirties with an incongruously severe face. Her frequent smiles dampened the effect somewhat, but with a neutral expression she looked like a particularly disappointed vampire aristocrat. She really was quite nice, though.

"Hello, Taylor," she said, tucking a lock of pale blonde hair behind her ear as she glanced at me from her laptop. "Sorry, I'm just finishing this email really quick. Would you like a snickerdoodle? They're homemade." She gestured to a sealed plastic container on her desk. See? So nice.

"Sure. Thank you, Miss Warner." I took one and sat, nibbling at the cookie. Wow, this is good. Food was a delightful way to show love, and I could sense the care this confection had been made with.

I waited patiently, looking over her office. A stack of files sprawled on a corner of her desk. A picture of her, a bearded man, and a young girl, maybe five or six years old. I glanced at her ring finger to verify that she was married. She had a ring with no diamond. Pragmatic, maybe? My mom had always been vocal about how unnecessary diamond rings were. Not only were the gems overpriced and mined by exploitative labor, she argued, it also perpetuated the archaic narrative that a man needed to give his wife an expensive piece of financial collateral so she could escape the marriage.

"If you love someone, Taylor, your relationship should be on equal footing," my mom had said, hugging me. "You're partners, after all."

I squirmed at the many ways I had let her down. Even after she learned about my oddity, she had always supported me and tried to teach me how to handle my feelings in an honest and healthy way.

I failed her. I was trying, though. Trying to do better.

Miss Warner struck a key forcefully and set her laptop aside. "Okay, done. Sorry. Thanks for waiting."

"No worries. Busy day, Miss Warner?"

"Always," she said with a wry smile. "And you can call me Elise."

"Sure. Is now a bad time? I can reschedule if you're swamped."

"Ah, it's fine. Now is as good a time as any. I've just got the usual reports and such to submit."

"I see. Do you enjoy your work?"

"Depends which day you ask me. But yes, for the most part. It's not always fun, but I think it's worthwhile. Someone needs to make sure you cape kids have some balance in your lives." Elise took a sip out of a mug. "Oh, congratulations on arresting Uber and Leet, by the way. I watched the video."

I chuckled nervously, hoping my little display of temper wasn't going to impact our conversation. "Thank you. They're not exactly criminal masterminds, but I'm glad they're not putting people in danger anymore." That sounded properly heroic, right?

"You don't have to look so nervous," she said. What the heck? Are my emotions really that transparent? "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not waiting to swoop down on you whenever you get into a cape fight."

"I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea," I said. "I'm not a violent person, really. I had to protect my partner." And I always would.

"Of course. How is Sophia, by the way? I saw the medical report, but she tends to avoid talking to me in person."

"Much improved," I said, smiling broadly. "We had lunch yesterday and her muscles seem to be in fine fettle. We're hopeful that she'll be able to run track again next week."

"You're on the team together at Winslow, correct?"

"Yes, though she's far more skilled than I. You should see her on hurdles. Amazing," I said dreamily. I blinked. Elise was perceptive; it wouldn't do to lose myself in reveries.

However, she just kept smiling. "I'm glad you have someone you know on the Wards team. The initial adjustment period can be tough."

I nodded. "She's been a delight to work with. Everyone else has been fairly pleasant as well."

"I'm happy to hear that. Are you doing alright with your schedule? School, track, and Wards don't leave you a lot of free time."

I spent the majority of that time with Sophia, so it was hardly a chore. "It's fine. I'm not feeling burnt out." Ah. The conversation had derailed. "Um, anyways, do you mind if we talked about what I sent you in that email?"

"Yeah, of course. You were curious about the role of the Youth Guard?"

"Sort of. I've read the pamphlets and the website. I'm more interested in your interpretation of it, specifically. You said something about balance?"

"Right. Yes. In my opinion, the main purpose of the Youth Guard is to make sure being a cape doesn't swallow a Ward's whole life. That means making sure they have time to relax, spend time with their friends, go to class, et cetera. I understand that it's important to a lot of you to try and make a difference, but you deserve a chance to enjoy your youth. That means making sure that the PRT doesn't overstep their bounds in how much work they give you."

"I see. But you're not totally opposed to the idea of Wards fighting villains? I thought the Youth Guard was against that, at least officially."

"Hmm. I'd say it's a little more complicated than that. It'd be unrealistic for me to say 'Wards can never get into a fight.' I'm aware of how many villains there are in this city. However, it is my job to ensure that you're not being thrown into dangerous situations needlessly."

"So you do think there's some nuance."

"Oh, absolutely. There's a lot to take into account. Let's take you, for example. You have an ability which makes you very durable and strong. Does that mean we should just send you out against violent villains? If we were just considering physical danger, then why not? However, even though you might be at less risk of physical injury, you'd still be seeing people get hurt or even killed on a regular basis. Even trained soldiers can only take so much of that before it starts to take a toll on them. Your mental health is important. You're not a mindless weapon of the state."

"You've put a lot of thought into this."

Elise laughed. "Yes, I guess so. You got me going." She spread her hands. "Listen, the policies are never perfect. I'm always engaged in a dialog with the PRT to find the right balance of involvement for any given Ward. After your fight with Uber and Leet, we had a meeting. Could that fight have been avoided? Is something like that likely to happen again? Were you and Sophia put at unnecessary risk?" She made a weighing gesture with her palms. "I decided that the current protocols weren't at fault, so there was no need to harp on it."

"Huh. That's very… reasonable." That was good and bad. Emotional people could be easier to sway, but reasonable people were often easier to predict.

"Surprised?" Elise said, grinning. "I'm on your side, Taylor. Even if it doesn't feel that way sometimes."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said. "Well, I think you've answered my question. Thank you for your time."

"Of course. Tell Sophia I said hello, will you?"

<~@~>

I knocked on Commander Calvert's open office door and he turned to look at me. "Ah, Taylor. Come right in."

I settled into a seat across from him, admiring his exceptionally neat workstation. "How are you doing, sir?"

"Fine, fine. And like I told you, you can just call me Tom. I'm not your commanding officer." He attempted a friendly smile. Some people aren't great at smiling. That's okay. Thomas Calvert had other redeeming qualities. He had a devious mind for strategy, and he was so enamored of his own cleverness that he required little prompting to share his thoughts. In simpler terms, he was a show-off. I didn't mind. Emma was a bit of a show-off as well.

I grinned. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm pretty sure that would annoy you, sir." It was true that he wasn't really in my chain of command; he was a PRT strike team leader. However, he was most agreeable (and talkative) when I showed him deference. He seemed to relish authority even more than Director Piggot.

Commander Calvert gave me a measuring look. "Do as you like, then. You wanted to discuss your plan?"

"Yes," I said, perking up. I handed him a folder of notes. I had already confided in him regarding the generalities of the Wards Improvement Project. He was the type of person who enjoyed being in on secrets. "I've refined my approach a little after talking to the Youth Guard agent. I think I'll talk to the PR department next, then Armsmaster. What do you think, sir?"

He flipped through the notes. "You seem to be on the right track," he said. "Though I believe you've overlooked certain indirect factors that may influence the reception of your proposal."

"Oh? Do tell, sir."

He nodded and went on to describe an array of political and organizational trends surrounding the Wards program, along with how those trends tied into the Protectorate and PRT.

"You cannot simply anticipate how the individuals directly involved will react," he said. "You must understand the larger context in which their motivations and decisions operate. The big picture, if you will. The big picture is key."

I scribbled furiously to get all my notes down. "That's very helpful, sir. Thank you for your insight."

"Of course. I wish you luck in your endeavor."

"Much appreciated, sir." I paused. "I have one more matter I'd like to ask you about, if you're willing."

He made a steeple with his fingertips. "Go on."

I leaned in and lowered my voice. "How much do you know about Empire Eighty-Eight, sir?"

He raised a single eyebrow. I was pretty sure he practiced these dramatic gestures and expressions. I appreciated the work he put into his persona. "As much as any law enforcement professional in this city," he said. "They're a white supremacist organized crime group with a significant roster of capes. Is there something specific you want to know?"

I cleared my throat. "So, from a purely hypothetical standpoint, how would you go about dismantling them as an organization?" They posed an existential threat to Sophia, so they had to go sooner or later. And they were ideologically repugnant, obviously.

Commander Calvert's other eyebrow rose to join the first. "I hope you're not planning on doing anything… rash."

"No, sir. Definitely not."

He stared at me and I put on my poker face. Not that it had been doing me much good lately. "May I ask if you have a personal motive for asking this question?"

"Yes, sir. Though I'd like to keep the details to myself."

He nodded. "Understandable. Unfortunately, I cannot in good conscience facilitate your vendetta. You have a potent ability, but many strong capes have fallen against the Empire. Be patient. Do your best as a Ward. The Empire's time will come."

"If you say so, sir. I'll be patient." I smiled. "Would you mind indulging my academic curiosity about the subject, then? I promise I won't do anything dumb with what you tell me."

He snorted. "You're a teenager. The purpose of this phase in your life is for you to do dumb things. And to learn from them, ideally."

"Fine, then." I looked away and sighed dramatically. "Such a pity. I was so looking forward to hearing about Commander Calvert's ingenious scheme. I suppose destroying Empire Eighty-Eight is too daunting a task for even his diabolical intellect to undertake. Sigh."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to bait me? And did you just say 'sigh' out loud?"

"Oh, don't mind me, sir. I'm just bemoaning my woeful teenage ignorance over here."

Thomas Calvert scowled.

<~@~>

Commander Calvert slapped a marked-up territory map of Brockton Bay with a baton. "Whether we wanted it or not, we've stepped into a war with the Empire in the Bay. Their territory extends from here, to here," he said, indicating parts of the map. "They have a hefty roster of capes, making direct confrontation unwise. We cannot simply back down, but any extended cape fight is tilted in their favor. Time is not on our side. The situation is further complicated by the fact that they have support from other white supremacist organizations, both foreign and domestic. However," he said, collapsing the baton, "there are ways around these difficulties. Let's talk about ways to take out their command."

<~@~>

I had meetings with the PR department and Armsmaster next week, but in the meantime I had another conversation to attend to. I knocked on the front door of the Dallon home. After a minute Amy cracked the door and poked her head out.

"What do you want?"

"Hello to you too, Amy! Can we talk?"

"About what?"

"I'd like to apologize."

Amy squinted at me but took a step back, opening the door. "Fine. Come in." I opened my mouth but she cut me off. "Not here. Let's go to my room."

Mr. Dallon waved at me from the couch as I passed. "Hi Taylor!"

"Hi Mr. Dallon!"

Amy grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me along. Well, I let her have the illusion of doing so. "Come on."

We entered her room upstairs and she shut the door behind her. She situated herself in her desk chair and folded her arms. "So? Talk."

I looked around and sat on the floor cross-legged. "Right. So, I've come to the realization that I may have been a bit… tactless, in our last conversation." Emma had been quite vehement about that. Rather sharply sarcastic, too. Hopefully Madison had the backbone to stand up to that facet of Emma's personality.

"Tactless. That's a word for it."

I bit my lip. "Yeah. I was trying to help, but I got excited and I said some hurtful things."

Amy glared at me. "You know, I haven't heard an actual apology yet."

I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for being so dismissive of your problems. It was cruel of me."

Amy held her glare for another few seconds then sighed, looking away. "Whatever. I've said worse things to you. And while it wasn't exactly pleasant, it was helpful to have someone pull me out of my head a little. I'm still not gonna thank you for it."

"I understand. May I elaborate on what I meant when I said those things?"

"I guess. I'd appreciate if you could do it without being a huge bitch, though."

"I'll do my best." I paused to gather my thoughts. "So, I understand that you're upset about your attraction to your sister. And she is your sister in every way that matters, so I apologize for making that crack about you two not being related." Amy grunted but made a "go on" gesture. "I'm not going to argue about whether those feelings are good or bad. What I will argue is that simply having those feelings does not make you a bad person."

Amy grimaced. "Even if I've had fucked up fantasies? Like, really horrible stuff. I don't think a good person would think about the things I do."

I laughed and Amy frowned. "Oh, sorry. I'm not mocking you. But if we were morally accountable for our fantasies, we would all be in serious trouble. Thankfully, I don't think that's the case. I have enough things I've actually done to answer for."

Amy gave an exasperated sigh. "I mean… logically, I understand what you're saying. But it's exhausting, having this hang over my head. It feels like it's just a matter of time before I snap and do something unforgivable."

"Hmm. I don't know if I'm really qualified to give you advice here. All I can say is that for me personally, I try to think about my desires carefully. Weigh the pros and cons. Like, it might feel good to do the things I'm fantasizing about, but who would it hurt? Would those consequences be worth the brief pleasure it would bring me?"

I scratched my head. "When a desire comes up, you've got to, how do I put this… set it to the side? Look at it objectively. It's not an inescapable curse; it's a feeling. A passing urge. It might be appealing or powerful in the moment, but you don't have to dwell on it. You can just examine it and let it go." I laughed mirthlessly. "Easier said than done, obviously. But I'm doing my best, for the people I love."

"That's… admirable." Amy wrung her hands. "You're right. It sucks, but I'm just gonna have to deal with it and put these feelings away. I can't hurt Victoria. I won't."

I smiled. "Good. Keep that in mind. And you're welcome to talk to me any time you feel like you're struggling." I cleared my throat. "Although I'd recommend you find an actual therapist or something. I don't feel that I'm the healthiest source of advice for you."

Amy laughed. "I think you're doing an okay job. Um, and you can talk to me, too. I feel kind of shitty just unloading my issues on you without giving you anything in return."

"I appreciate the offer." I almost stood to leave, then paused as a thought struck me. "Listen, Victoria might be an inappropriate partner for you, but I'd like to reassure you that there's absolutely nothing shameful about being smitten with a gorgeous and powerful girl with a domineering personality. If that's your type, I would be happy to help-"

Amy thrust a fuzzy pink sock-clad foot on my face. "Please stop helping now," she said.

"Um, Amy?" I said, my voice slightly muffled. "As nice as this is, I'd like to stay as just friends."

"Oh, shit!" Amy hastily retracted her foot. "Sorry. I forgot."

"That's alright," I said, taking a slow breath to calm my pulse.

"Did… did you like that?"

I looked her in the eye. "Do you want an answer to that question?"

"…No thank you. Sorry."

<~@~>

"I hope you like it," Madison said, her head ducked and her eyes shyly upturned.

"It looks great," Emma said, holding up the blueberry muffin. "Smells amazing, too." She meticulously pulled a corner off the top and popped it into her mouth. She closed her eyes and moaned, sending a jolt of something through Madison's core. "It's melting in my mouth. So good."

Madison swallowed and did her best not to stare. "I'm… glad you're enjoying it."

"I love it," Emma said, smiling and putting a hand on Madison's elbow. "You'll make a fantastic wife some day."

"Th-thanks."

A tiny voice screamed in Madison's head.

<~@~>

AN: Thanks to @Elpis for his assistance with this chapter.

Sorry Sophia wasn't physically present. Even close couples need to take a break from each other's presence every once in a while.

No "baiting" jokes in the comments, please. You know what I'm talking about!

 

[BlueNine]

Chapter 9
​

Hello readers, and welcome once more to The Hero's Journey, AKA "Taylor tries really hard to get a girlfriend." Because let's be honest, as much as I loved her, Sophia wasn't really my girlfriend yet.

YET.

So, where were we? Right, talking to the PR folks. Officially, their overarching department within the PRT was known as Image. Public relations, public perception, and merchandising. Theoretically, I didn't need their approval to execute my plan. I only needed to convince Director Piggot and perhaps Miss Militia or Armsmaster. However, I had to keep my eye on the big picture, as Commander Calvert had advised.

The Youth Guard, for example, could potentially put pressure on the PRT to roll back any policy changes they considered "too dangerous." Similarly, the PR guys (and gals) could object to decisions that they viewed as negatively impacting the public perception of the Wards. Any aspect that affected how heroes presented themselves, including equipment, would require Image to give it at least a cursory review. If they objected too much, they might kick their complaints up the chain. Glenn Chambers, head of Image, was rumored to have strong opinions on what it meant to be "heroic."

It wasn't enough to rush changes through. I had to come up with a solution that would stick.

The Wards had our own Image sub-department on the PRT base. Others were involved in merchandising and costume design and such, but there were only three employees who actually spent every day on site to manage our PR needs.

Their office reminded me of those scenes in crime thrillers where the detective searches the killer's home and finds a room covered in newspaper clippings related to their grisly murders. Every wall was absolutely plastered with newspaper and magazine articles. Ward debuts. Op-eds and interviews with local news stations. Cape fights where a Ward was involved, for better or worse. Printouts of blog posts.

A huge whiteboard dominated the far wall, scribbled upon with planned press and community service events. My cape name was surrounded by doodles of medieval weapons and little notes about my persona. I spotted a circled note that said "Knight/princess?!"

"Oh, Taylor!" I looked away from the board. Janet waved at me from behind her laptop, the top of her horn-rimmed glasses barely visible from her slouched position. I had never seen anyone under fifty wear those before, but Janet pulled them off somehow. "Is it five already? Crap." She turned and leaned over her desk. "Jeff, do you have the revised proposal for the thing at the park?"

Jeff rubbed at his eyes. "Uh, yeah, just give me a minute to proofread it and I'll shoot it over to you."

"Take your time. I just want to get it in before end of day tomorrow." Janet nodded at me. "We're trying to set up a kind of 'Wards day in the park.' Barbecue, volleyball, that kind of thing. Real casual. The security guys are giving us push-back because of the venue. Something about access points."

There was a time when I would have dismissed the possibility of criminals attacking a state-sponsored children's barbecue event, but that was before villains ambushed me to produce livestream material. As Sophia would say, some people were just assholes.

"Sounds like fun," I said. "I'll try not to beat the general public too badly at volleyball." A real athlete would most likely beat me at their game of choice, but between my height and strength I had a considerable edge in most physical activities. I actually was sandbagging in track now.

Ted piped up from the corner. "Oh, you can beat them. In fact, please do. People love sharing clips of capes doing over the top sports stuff. Harmless displays of super-strength are good. Just don't nail any kids in the face with a ball, please."

"Is there a story behind that request?"

"All I can say is that I'd rather not have any more conversations with the legal department," Ted said, sighing.

"I'll try to keep the concussions to a minimum." I frowned. "Am I going to be in full plate the whole day?" My costume was surprisingly easy to move in, but it might get hot playing sports in the sun.

"Probably not," Janet said. "You can go with your ceremonial costume. More approachable that way." She closed her laptop. "Anyways. Let's chat. You want to talk here? Or we can go to a conference room."

"Here's fine." I rolled a chair over and Ted and Jeff scooted over to join us.

"So you mentioned something about a revamp?" Janet said, settling her laptop onto her knee.

"I guess you could call it that," I said, shrugging. "I just want to make sure that my team has the protective equipment necessary to stay safe."

Jeff snorted. "You're not getting guns."

"Of course not," I said. "That was never in question." At least not out loud.

Ted lightly kicked Jeff's chair. "Okay, okay, sorry," Jeff said, holding his hands up in surrender. "You wouldn't believe how many times people try to sneak that in as 'necessary for self-defense.' If Wards are being put in situations where they need to be packing heat to survive, then you've got way bigger problems than equipment."

"So what were you thinking, Taylor?" Janet asked, giving Jeff a warning look.

"I'm not sure, exactly," I said carefully. "That's part of why I wanted to talk. What're some of your guidelines besides 'no guns'?"

"It varies," Ted said. "There aren't a lot of hard rules. Kid Win has his laser pistols, for example. Are those 'guns'? Kind of. But they don't give off the same vibe that a 'regular' gun would. Our main concern is that we don't want people to look at you and think 'cop' or 'soldier.' You're young super-heroes, and that's how you have to come across."

"Is that why has Vista been denied basic self-defense gear? I'm not saying we should hand her a rifle, but a stun-gun or baton would go a long way."

"Eh," Jeff said, waggling his hand. "Vista is kind of a special case." I opened my mouth and Jeff quickly cut me off. "Hey, I'm not insulting her. She does an amazing job. I have no doubt that she can handle herself in a fight. But the truth is, she's small and cute. We don't want pictures of her beating on people. Or - God forbid - her getting beaten."

I took a deep breath. "I get that. And of course I don't want Vista to get hurt. She's adorable. I want to pick her up and never let her go. So I'd understand if the policy was 'don't put Vista in danger at all.' I wouldn't necessarily agree, but I'd understand." I threw my hands up. "But that's not how it is, right? She's out in the field with the rest of us, taking the same risks. We can't do this 'one foot in the pool' thing where we pretend that we can have her fight, but only a little bit." I hadn't planned to get so passionate about this discussion, but Missy had a certain "precocious little sister" quality that compelled me to leap to her defense.

"Listen, I hear you," Janet said, taking off her glasses to rub at the bridge of her nose. "It's not ideal. And I know it seems like we're just getting in the way for no reason, but I promise you that we're doing our best to make compromises." She put her glasses back on and pursed her lips in concentration. "Tell you what. If you can come up with some sort of idea that will make Vista safer without putting her 'in the fray,' so to speak, then I'd be happy to back your play." She turned to her coworkers. "You guys see any problem with that?"

Ted shook his head.

Jeff shrugged. "I'm cool with it. I'm curious what she'll come up with."

I leaned back in my chair. "Okay. I can work with that. I appreciate the, uh, compromise."

"Of course," Janet said. "And we appreciate how patient you've been. You've been doing great following the guidelines we gave you. Believe me, not everyone does." She snapped her fingers. "Right, before you go, do you have a minute to touch base on the Uber and Leet fight?"

"Uh, sure. I already filed my after action report on that, though." I folded my arms. I wasn't about to endure a lecture about being "too scary." I was defending Sophia and that was that, as far as I was concerned.

"We're not going to hassle you about it," Ted said, laughing. I gave him a flat look. "Your face," he said, covering his chuckles with the back of his hand. I rolled my eyes. "Sorry. Anyways. Social media buzz has been very positive about the dynamic between you and Shadow Stalker. That video of you picking her up is still trending."

I knew.

Be careful what you say on the Internet, kids. You never know who's watching.

"I see."

"Since you two seem to get along so well, we were thinking we might pair you up more frequently. Play up the buddy cop angle. Jeff here proposed a knight and princess type deal," he said, managing to convey a great deal of disdain with a simple gesture in Jeff's direction. "But I think we all know how ridiculous that is."

"I wasn't suggesting that we put Stalker in a princess outfit!" Jeff said. "I just thought the juxtaposition of harshness and vulnerability was what made the scenario so popular."

"The gap moe," I said, nodding absently as I imagined Sophia dressed like a princess.

"Yeah, yeah! You know what I'm talking about! People love tsunderes."

"I can understand the appeal."

"Oh God, you too?" Ted said. "Please don't get him started. And for God's sake, Jeff, don't use 'shipping' terms to describe our Wards."

"Well actually, it's not-"

"I don't care!"

Janet cleared her throat. "Back to the point," she said. "We were going to pass along a recommendation to put you two together on patrol when the schedule permits. Does that sound like a plan?"

I grinned and opened my mouth to agree, then paused. "Have you mentioned this to Stalker?"

The Image trio glanced at each other. "We figured we'd put in the request first. See if it even gets accepted," Jeff said.

I smirked. "Are you scared of her?"

Jeff chuckled unconvincingly. "Of course not. She's just a little… contrary, when it comes to PR. If she knows the request came from us, she'll probably balk."

"Maybe," I said. "But I don't feel comfortable going over her head on this." Shockingly, I was telling the truth here. I supposed I was a little guilty about all the other underhanded means I had used to get as close to Sophia as I was at this point.

Janet sighed. "Yeah, we should probably be adults about it." Ted and Jeff groaned. "Oh, shut up," Janet said. "I'll send her the email. Cowards."

I laughed. "Good luck. I can talk to her about it, if you want."

"Thank you. That'd be helpful," Janet said, giving me the weary smile of a woman with an arduous task ahead of her.

<~@~>

Sophia shifted her weight anxiously from one foot to the other as she stood on the doorstep of the Hebert home. She didn't really do these kind of family pot luck things. Her real dad's family was entirely out of the picture and her mom was barely on speaking terms with hers. The closest thing she had experienced was Christmas dinner with cousins.

Hebert and Emma had insisted that she didn't have to bring anything, but Sophia hated being dead weight. Unfortunately, her desire to contribute was complicated by her inability to make anything more complex than a ham sandwich. Thus, she ended up bringing several two liter bottles of soda. Name brand, of course. She refused to be called a cheapskate.

She knocked and waited. Hebert cracked the door. Then, as she always did whenever she caught sight of Sophia, Hebert broke out into a wide grin. Sophia still didn't understand why Hebert did that. At first, Sophia was sure it was some sort of passive aggressive act. There was no way that Hebert would be so excited to see someone who had given her all sorts of shit.

And yet, months later, Hebert still greeted her with dog-like enthusiasm. Every single time. If it were an act, then Hebert was insanely dedicated to the bit.

Sophia had friends, or at least people who were willing to put up with her, but she rarely encountered anyone who actively enjoyed her presence. She understood why, of course. She didn't put up with shit and she didn't hesitate to push people's buttons to see what they were really about. Those qualities weren't particularly helpful for "getting along well with others." But so what? If she had to kiss ass to get people to like her, she would rather be alone.

"Hi, Sophia! Glad you could make it!" Hebert said.

Sophia grunted. "Yeah, sure. Can I come in?"

"Oh, of course!" Hebert said, opening the door all the way and making a wide "be my guest" gesture.

Sophia kicked her shoes off in the entryway and swatted away Hebert's attempts to take the soda. "Cut it out. Where should I put this?"

"Kitchen, I think. This way."

Sophia followed her into the living room, where Emma and Hebert's dad were chatting on the couch. Her dad stood, proving himself to be the genetic source of Hebert's frustrating height. Seriously, the girl's long legs were just totally unfair.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you. I'm Danny Hebert. Taylor's dad." He reached out his hand.

Sophia glanced at it for a moment before shaking it. His hands were callused and rough. Blue collar guy, probably. "Hey. Sophia Hess."

"Taylor's told me a lot about you," he said, and for a brief instant there was a brief glimmer of Hebert's "I know something you don't" quality in his eyes. Maybe I'm just being paranoid.

Pragmatically, it had made sense for Sophia and Hebert to unmask to each other's parents. If Sophia needed to contact Hebert's dad in the case of a cape emergency, it was better that he know her civilian ID ahead of time. Still, it was uncomfortable to know that a virtual stranger was privy to one of her biggest secrets. They had only met once before, and Sophia had been in costume at the time. She felt exposed seeing him face to face.

Sophia shot a look over at Hebert, who predictably was smiling like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "Good things, I hope," Sophia said.

Mr. Hebert chuckled. "Lots of good things. I haven't been able to make it to any of the track meets, but I hear you're quite the terror on the hurdles."

Sophia plastered a smile on her face. "I do my best."

"Dad, let Sophia put her down her sodas before you start talking her ear off," Hebert said.

Sophia tensed at the irreverence in her tone, but Mr. Hebert just laughed. "Right, sorry. Taylor and Madison have been working hard on dinner. I hope you're hungry."

Sophia nodded and followed Hebert to the kitchen. Madison was checking a meat thermometer with a wire leading into the oven.

"Oh, hi Sophia," Madison said, not quite making eye contact. The girl was an odd mix of meekness and determination. Sophia's first impression of her had been "weakling," but she quickly grew a spine after hanging out with Emma. She was still a bit too nice, but she refused to be pushed past a certain limit. "You wanna toss those sodas in the fridge? There should be space."

Sophia performed a little creative shuffling of food and crammed the drinks in. As she did, Madison grabbed Hebert for prep work, leaving Sophia to awkwardly stand around watching them. She opened her mouth, torn between offering to help and just getting out of the way. After a few seconds the latter option won out and she wandered back into the living room.

Emma turned to grin at her. "They kick you out of the kitchen too? Madison has been very focused today."

Sophia snorted. "It's fine. I can't cook worth a da- uh, darn, anyways," she said, catching herself as she glanced at Mr. Hebert.

He smirked. "I work for the Dockworker's Association. I don't mind a little cussing."

Well, that made for precisely one adult in her life that felt that way. She settled into a well-worn armchair in the corner.

"So, uh, thanks for having me over, Mr. Hebert." Sophia said.

"Of course," Mr. Hebert said. "And you can call me Danny, although I know how awkward that would be." He laughed. Sophia forced a laugh of her own.

Emma sighed. "Uncle Danny, the only reason it's not weird for me is because I've known you for basically my whole life. Did you ever call your friends' parents by their names?"

"Oh, Hell no," Mr. Hebert said. "My own father made me call him 'sir.' But I'd never inflict that on Taylor or her friends. I'd prefer if my child actually liked me, thank you very much."

Sophia's jaw tightened. Her mother had dated a lot of assholes, but the ones who pretended to be Sophia's "friend" had been the worst. They all wanted to control her in one way or another. If they weren't open about how, then…

Sophia folded her hands on her lap and focused on her breathing.

Madison leaned into the room. "Dinner's ready!" she yelled, waving an oven mitt over her head.

<~@~>

Sophia had to admit that Madison and Hebert had made a pretty damn good dinner. While Sophia's mother was a passable cook, she had no real flair for it. It was nice to have a home cooked meal made with some enthusiasm. The other girls carried the conversation, as usual, leaving Sophia to enjoy her food in peace. Hebert's dad was at the table, but after an uncomfortable few minutes she began to tune him out.

The meal began to wind down, and Hebert cleared her throat. Sophia looked at her and Hebert tilted her head at Madison questioningly. Sophia sighed and nodded.

This was the point of this little get-together, after all.

"Right, so… Madison, we have something to tell you," Hebert said.

Madison blinked, then nodded firmly, her face resolute. "Of course. You can tell me anything."

Hebert took a deep breath. "Sophia and I are capes. Wards, actually."

Madison froze, her eyes flicking to Sophia and back to Hebert. "Oh. How… surprising."

Sophia's eyes narrowed. "You knew."

"I suspected."

"Really?" Hebert said. "What gave us away?"

Madison bit her lower lip and fussed with her napkin. "Well, I saw that clip of Avalon picking up Shadow Stalker, and, um…"

Sophia glared at Hebert, whose face had assumed an almost maliciously innocent expression. Then Emma snorted, and she and Hebert started cracking up.

<~@~>

Hebert insisted on doing the dishes by herself and Emma and Madison were engrossed in some sort of fashion discussion, so Sophia slunk off to cool down a bit. Unfortunately, she only had a few minutes to enjoy her solitude before Hebert's dad entered the room and sat on the couch across from her.

"Great dinner, huh?" he said, smiling. "Taylor doesn't get her cooking talent from me, that's for sure."

Small talk, huh? Easy enough. "Yeah, I'm more of a 'sandwiches and cereal' kind of girl."

He laughed. "Nothing wrong with that." He paused, visibly considering his next words. "So, are you comfortable with Madison knowing about your cape identity?"

Sophia shrugged. "I'm not worried about it. I don't think she'll tell anyone, if that's what you're asking."

"Hmm. I worry about Taylor. I've read about the 'gentleman's agreement' that capes have, but… well. It's the gangs. They'll do whatever they can get away with, just like always."

Sophia snorted. "You're talking about the unwritten rules? Yeah. Villains pretend to care about that, but who's gonna come down on Lung if he decides to push the envelope? As long as he doesn't kill anyone important, it's business as usual."

Mr. Hebert sighed. "It really doesn't feel like anyone is safe these days."

"All I know is that there's a lot of work to be done. Hopefully Heb-… Taylor and I can do some damage where it matters."

Mr. Hebert shook his head. "I want to support you two, but I can't help but be concerned. It's a crazy world where we send high schoolers to fight supervillains."

"It is what it is. We watch each other's backs. And Taylor's pretty strong." And wasn't that a weird thing to say and mean?

"I'm glad to hear that. Are you two getting along alright?"

Sophia fidgeted. "Sure. No problem."

Mr. Hebert gave her a wry smile. "Really? I love my daughter, but I know that she can be difficult at times."

Sophia agreed, but hearing that come out of Hebert's father's mouth bothered her for some reason. "Difficult? Difficult how?" she asked.

Mr. Hebert scratched his balding head. "Well, she can be stubborn. She's like me that way. Like her mother too, to be honest. Once she gets something in her head, she has a hard time letting it go."

"That sounds frustrating," Sophia said, carefully casual. "How do you handle that?"

"Handle it?"

Sophia made a dismissive gesture. "Oh, well, you know. You have to lay down the law every once in a while, right?"

"I guess. But Taylor has never really given me a reason to discipline her seriously."

"Ah, come on. I don't think anyone would blame you if you lost your temper a bit. Stubborn daughter, doesn't do what you say. You just gonna let her walk all over you?" Sophia said those words lightly, but she watched him closely out of the corner of her eye.

Mr. Hebert grimaced. "Well, that's what a lot of parents think. My father was that way. If you'll excuse my language, he was a serious bastard. Angry all the time. Any time I didn't do exactly what he wanted, he'd scream and hit me and call it 'discipline.' I call it being a violent asshole who takes out his failings on a child."

Sophia gave a startled laugh despite herself. "So you're not a believer in the whole 'spare the rod' thing?"

He tapped his fingers on the armrest of his seat. "I believe that if you can't assert your authority as a parent without behaving that way, you're a weak person. It doesn't make you 'tough' to beat your child down and make them afraid of you." He winced. "I have a temper, yeah, same as my father. Sometimes I'll get upset with Taylor. Angry, even. But I would never lay a hand on her." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "And I try my best not to raise my voice. Words matter too."

Sophia looked away. "Yes, they do."

Mr. Hebert cleared his throat. "I'm not sure if I need to tell you this, but don't ever accept that kind of treatment. From your parents, coaches, whoever. There's no justification for it, so don't accept any excuses about them trying to 'toughen you up' or 'enforce discipline.' It's abuse, plain and simple."

Sophia swallowed hard. "Yeah. I know."

He gave a dry laugh. "Sorry. Got a little heavy there. Didn't mean to give you a lecture."

"You're good. I… it's good to know where you stand on that."

"Of course." He smiled. "I'm happy that you're looking after Taylor."

Sophia frowned. What did that have to do with anything? "I mean… yeah. I've got her back in the field, no problem."

He chuckled. "Right, right."

<~@~>

The summer heat grudgingly withdrew as the night progressed, allowing Emma and Madison to sit in the backyard comfortably. They situated themselves on the singular piece of yard furniture, a swinging bench seat with an awning.

"Dinner was great," Emma said. She was so close that Madison could pick out the other girl's subtle freckles by the glow of the moon.

"Taylor helped a lot," Madison said, her gaze falling to her lap.

"You did a really good job, though," Emma said, lightly bumping their shoulders together. "The dessert was amazing."

Emma never let Madison shy away from a compliment. The only way out was to accept it gracefully. "Thank you," Madison said softly.

"No, thank you." Emma said, grinning. "Although you're not doing my waistline any favors. I don't think I've ever eaten that much pie in one sitting."

They sat in silence for a while, leaving Madison's attention with nothing to focus on other than the fact that she and Emma were sitting practically hip to hip. She could feel Emma's body heat against her side. Or was she imagining it? She tried valiantly to look straight ahead and "be cool."

Nothing to be concerned about. Just sitting together. Very close to each other. Almost cuddling. Totally not a problem. No reason to be a spaz.

"So are you feeling okay about what Taylor told you?" Emma asked. Madison squeaked.

"Uh, what? What about Taylor?"

Emma laughed. "The cape stuff. We were a little worried you might be upset we were leaving you out."

Madison shook her head. "No, I get it. Being a cape is dangerous. You have to be careful who you trust."

"We trust you, Madison. It's just… complicated. Just by telling you, we've kind of put you at risk. We weren't sure what the 'right' thing to do was."

"Well… I guess that's true, but I'm still happy that you told me." Madison's back straightened. "I want to be a good friend. That means being supportive even when things are hard. So I'll do my best."

"I know you will," Emma said, smiling warmly. She reached out to brush a strand of hair off Madison's face. "You're always so thoughtful. I love that about you."

Taylor poked her head out from the house. "Emma! Your dad is here to pick you up!"

Emma nodded. "Alright. See you tomorrow," she said, patting Madison's hand. Emma stood and went in the house.

Madison sat stock still. She took a very slow breath, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her pursed lips.

Okay.

That.

Is.

ENOUGH.

<~@~><~@~><~@~>

AN: Slightly more serious chapter this go around. It fought me continuously. Thanks to @LacksCreativity for his assistance with the PR section.

 

[BlueNine]

Chapter 10​

Hi, readers. Sorry that I don't have a fun introduction for you today. I was contemplating several difficult questions. Like, what kind of a date would Sophia prefer? And how could I convince her to go on said date with me?

What? These were challenging questions. I couldn't use the precedent of traditional wisdom. Traditionally, a date was a social activity used to feel out the compatibility between two prospective partners. But what was the point of that? I already knew that Sophia was perfect for me. So this wouldn't be a "normal" date. Frankly, I didn't understand this new thing that Sophia and I were building together. All I knew was that it wasn't just one of my games anymore.

The ambiguity frayed the edges of my twisted heart.

I was not a creature of doubt, yet I found myself drowning in contradictions. I wanted Sophia's love as well as her disdain, her happiness as well as her rage. These opposing priorities had led to a plateau in my progress. Sophia no longer saw me as someone who could be crushed or driven away, and I couldn't bring myself to make her hate me in earnest. A lukewarm approach brought lukewarm results.

I had to do something, make something happen. That was where the idea of a date came in. It would need to be something that clearly broke our normal pattern. Hopefully this new landscape would encourage Sophia to open up and give me insight into what she needed on a deeper level. Could we negotiate a "proper" relationship where we were both fulfilled, somehow? Part of me hoped that it would prove impossible so I could cut bait as usual.

So how to go about the date? I was stumped. I had infiltrated practically every corner of Sophia's life, so I should have known exactly where to go from here. Yet when I sifted through what I knew of her, it all seemed so superficial. Like I was merely peeking through the windows of her true self. She liked to compete, which was why she was so skilled at track and combat. But I did those things with her every day. I needed something novel, exciting.

My phone buzzed and I flipped it over. Madison.

Can we meet up? Want to talk in person.

Well that was ominous. And odd. Madison rarely texted me out of the blue. I shrugged. Whatever it was about, it might provide a welcome distraction from my brooding.

Sure. When and where?

<~@~>

Madison and I met in the morning, before school started. The parking lot was desolate except for teachers' vehicles and a handful of football players making their way over to the field. Madison gestured for me to follow her over to "The Tree," a sizable Oak that students used as a landmark and shaded hangout spot.

"So, what's up?" I asked.

Madison took a deep breath and wrung her hands, spots of red blossoming on her cheeks. "I, um… I wanted to ask you a question."

Uh-oh, this is feeling dangerously romantic. "Sure, go ahead."

Madison closed her eyes, exhaled slowly, then looked at me directly. "Are you going out with Emma?"

I nearly laughed but managed to turn it into a cough. Of course not. "You mean, like…?"

"Like romantically. Like… girlfriend and girlfriend."

I smiled. "No, we're not girlfriends." Relief flooded onto Madison's face so blatantly that I was seized by an impish impulse. "We're married," I said.

Madison's jaw dropped. That's usually an exaggerated turn of phrase, but her mouth was actually wide open here. "M-married?"

"Yup," I said, holding up my left hand. Emma and I had matching rings on our ring fingers, part of an inside joke that we were "so close we might as well be married." I scratched my chin. "Must be going on… two years now? Yeah, about that."

"Oh," she said, her shoulders drooping. Her bottom lip started to quiver. "That's… okay. I'm happy for you. I'm just gonna— " she trailed off, her eyes getting misty.

An unexpected spike of guilt crashed into my gut. I flailed my hands in panic. "Oh, hey, no! It was a joke!"

"A joke?" Madison asked in a tiny voice, sniffling.

"Yeah, a joke. A bad joke. Please don't cry." I pulled her into a hug and patted her head.

Wow. She's like the Chosen One of bullying victims, Bad Taylor said. I started bullying her before I even realized it. But I'm also enjoying this hug. Maybe we can alternate between comforting her and making her cry.

Shut up and explain yourself, idiot! Good Taylor said. Coincidentally, Good Taylor's voice sounded a lot like Emma.

Madison rubbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm okay. I won't cry."

"No, I'm sorry. Emma and I aren't married, or even going out. We're just friends."

"R-really?" she asked, her big eyes full of hope.

"Really," I said, nodding. I smirked. "So you're free to ask her out."

"What?" Madison squeaked. "I don't— " she looked up and abandoned the obvious lie she was about to tell. She sighed, leaning against the tree. "I don't even know if she likes me that way."

"Hmm," I said. I was fairly certain that Emma did, in fact, like Madison that way, but I didn't know if telling Madison that was the right thing to do. Sure, I'd be "helping them along," but it might mess up their natural progression. Also, Emma would probably be quite upset if she learned I had been meddling. She was all tied up in knots about not "pushing Madison too hard." Which was understandable, since Madison was by all appearances a fragile little doll-girl, but clearly Madison didn't want that kind of consideration right now. "I'm not sure, either," I said.

Madison looked me in the eye. "She's been saying some stuff that makes me think she might be interested. Has she told you anything?"

"Not specifically, no. And I think it'd be better if you asked her directly."

Madison grabbed my wrists. I'd give it a seven point five out of ten on the "forceful grasp" scale. "You don't get it. I'm trapped in this… romantic comedy hell. She kisses my cheeks. She rubs my shoulders. She tells me how cute I am and how much she loves spending time with me. It's all just short of being romantic for sure, and I don't want to read too much into it. Does she even like girls?"

I gently extricated myself from her grip. "I'm sorry, but if you really want to know what she's thinking, then you'll have to ask her."

"Fine," she said, scowling. Her expression softened. "Sorry. I know I shouldn't be going around her back like this. I'm just so frustrated."

"I understand. Do you want me to ask her for you? Or maybe casually let her know you might be interested?"

Madison frowned. "I don't know. It'll be tough, but I feel like this is something I should do on my own."

"That's very mature. So, are you going to make the first move?"

"I… maybe? I'm not even sure what I'm feeling, to be honest. I've never liked a girl this way before. Maybe it's just a crush. Or, you know, admiration. Like, I just think she's really cool."

"She is very cool," I said, nodding. "So would you be okay with staying just friends?"

Madison visibly considered the question for a few seconds before hissing and kicking the tree. "No! Fuck! I wouldn't. But I also don't want to mess things up and make her hate me. Shit!"

Seeing her curse was way too adorable. "Even if she hypothetically turned you down, I don't think she'd hate you. Why not give it a shot and see what happens?"

Madison scoffed. "Just 'see what happens,' huh? I can't risk blowing up one of the only real friendships I've had since elementary school. I just can't."

I shrugged. "Well, if you're not willing to make the first move, you're just going to have to be patient."

Madison sighed, hanging her head. Then she froze. She glanced up at me. "Maybe not. I have an idea."

Something about Madison's tone made Bad Taylor perk up. "Oh, really?"

"You're her best friend, right? So you must know about her… preferences."

I paused, then smiled. "I might."

<~@~>

Madison was a coward. She knew that very well. Despite her earlier resolve, she was now sidling up to the problem without facing it directly. In plainer language, she had chickened out.

Originally, Madison's plan had been to tailor her image to fit Emma's preferences. The few details that Madison had managed to wheedle out of Taylor had suggested that Emma was at least capable of finding girls attractive, which was good to know. The question now was if Madison could appeal to Emma enough to make her recognize and admit any romantic feelings she might have. It was a childish plan, but it was as much as Madison was willing to risk.

And in a darker part of Madison's heart, she wanted revenge. To turn the tables in this dance of infatuation and uncertainty. To have the upper hand.

So when she explained her plan to Taylor, she expected scorn or maybe pity at best. What Madison didn't expect was for Taylor to launch into an astonishingly well-articulated lecture about what she called her "attraction philosophy." Madison was stunned. As far as she had seen, Taylor had never even flirted with anyone. Had she been concealing this passion for romance this whole time?

Unless… no, that's ridiculous.

The most impressive — and terrifying — part of her philosophy was how methodical it was. Almost scientific. She had developed a thorough and systematic framework for how one person could deliberately appeal to another while giving the appearance of acting naturally.

By itself, that sounded like something a cold-hearted sociopath would do. But far from being cold, Taylor's face was alight as she spoke, like she was so full of love for love that it was shining forth into the world. Madison couldn't help but be encouraged by that light, to dare to wish for someone to call her own.

"But remember," Taylor had said, "these are only tools. What matters is you. You have unique qualities to bring to the table. Use them."

Madison squeezed her hand into a fist.

<~@~>

Madison didn't want to push, but she knew that a purely passive strategy wouldn't be enough to break through to Emma. To begin, she doubled down on qualities that Emma had already responded positively to. It sounded manipulative, but who didn't want to make their crush happy? It wasn't as though she was pretending to be someone she wasn't. She was just being more of who she already was… in a particular direction.

First, Emma liked to help Madison with things. Madison was careful about leveraging this; she didn't want to be a mooch, and she hated the idea of playing the wounded gazelle as her bullies had accused her. And yet, Emma seemed to genuinely enjoy helping and teaching her, so where was the harm? She wasn't exploiting Emma's goodwill. She just allowed the situations to unfold and offered doe-eyed gratitude and admiration.

It was a plan that relied on Madison's cuteness. She had downplayed that part of herself for a long time, but now she could make it work to her advantage for once.

She found that she was exceptionally good at it.

<~@~>

Madison offered to make Emma lunch on a daily basis. It was a risky move, one that couldn't easily be played off as "just being friendly." Madison was clearly going out of her way for Emma every day. You wouldn't do that for someone unless you liked them a lot. But Emma had mentioned how much she liked Madison's considerate nature, so it was a clear path to take.

Sophia — being Sophia — had been compelled to comment. "Looking pretty domestic over there." She smirked. "Can I get one of those little lunches, too? Or is it just Emma who gets special treatment?"

Madison flinched, then dug deep for her backbone. Sophia didn't really want to hurt her. She just liked poking to see what people would do about it. Madison opened her mouth to retort. Wait. This could work. One of Taylor's key pieces of advice was "be both predictable and unpredictable." That was to say, one should have consistent and appealing traits, but should not be taken for granted.

"Sure, Sophia. I wouldn't want you to feel left out. What kind of foods do you like?"

Sophia blinked in surprise, and for some reason Taylor shot Madison a dirty look. What's her problem? I'm following her strategy.

"Whatever," Sophia said. "I was just fucking with you."

"Oh, I insist," Madison said, baring her teeth. "Why don't you let me make something for you and see how you like it?" Madison purposefully didn't look at Emma, whose eyes had narrowed.

Taylor cleared her throat. "She has a minor allergy to shellfish and dislikes most vegetables apart from broccoli. Apart from that, she has a texture sensitivity when it comes to mushy foods like mashed potatoes. And also— "

"You are so fucking creepy." Sophia said, cutting her off. "How do you even know all that?"

Taylor grinned. "Shall we discuss your preferences in dessert?"

They continued to bicker and Madison glanced at Emma, who smoothly twisted her frown into a polite smile.

<~@~>

While Madison wasn't a social butterfly, she had developed a kind of instinct for the flow of how people behaved. She had to, in order to predict how bullies would act. So while Madison couldn't have explained her conclusion in concrete terms, she knew that today was the time to push.

The tactic she had planned was a cheap shot at best. However, she was gambling that it would culminate with her other efforts. A last straw to break the camel's back. She adjusted her ribbon and strode into the cafeteria with as much confidence as she could muster. She spotted Emma and made a quick course correction so that her approach would be dead-on.

Madison caught Taylor's eye, and the other girl gave her a quick once-over before giving a subtle nod of approval. Good. She had better be right about this.

Emma was focused on her salad, so Madison coughed as she walked up. She was rewarded by a rather dramatic double-take as Emma took notice of her.

"Wha- what is…?" Emma trailed off, a dazed look on her face as she openly looked Madison up and down.

Wow. I guess Taylor wasn't totally full of it. Madison had zoned out for most of Taylor's explanation about the "attractive principles" underlying the thigh-high sock and mini-skirt combination, but it certainly seemed to have an impact. It was odd, since Madison had worn short skirts before and never gotten that kind of reaction. Maybe it was the full ensemble. Madison had tried to balance the skimpiness of the skirt with a conservative white button-down shirt and black ribbon tie, but somehow the contrast only made the overall effect more risque.

"Do you like my outfit?" Madison asked. "I'm trying a new look."

Disappointingly, Emma was quick to regain her composure. She nodded. "Um, yeah. It looks good."

The initial reaction wasn't bad, but I was hoping she'd be more off-balance. "Do you think I should wear things like this more often?" Do you care? Do you feel anything when you look at me?

Emma smiled, meeting her gaze. "It suits you."

Oh my God, boring. That sounds like something my mom would say. Madison frantically dispelled some images that arose at that thought. Fine. Drastic times, drastic measures. She stepped one foot onto the bench directly across from Emma, putting her leg prominently on display. "I haven't really worn socks like these before, but they're growing on me." She ran a finger underneath the band of the sock and tugged on it, then let it snap back to her skin. She peeked up.

Emma's face was neutral, almost uncannily so. However, her pupils had dilated quite a bit. Is that interest, or just surprise? "They're very nice," Emma said softly.

Madison quelled a sigh and sat down at the table. Nice, huh? I guess it's better than nothing. "Okay. Thanks for the feedback."

After a minute of eating in silence, Emma stood. "I'll be right back." She walked off.

Madison looked to Taylor, who gave her a thumbs up. "You think so?" Madison asked.

"I thought it went well," Taylor said.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I hope you're right. I was optimistic in the beginning, but…" Madison shook her head. "I'm not sure I'm having a real effect."

<~@~>

As Emma arrived home, she made a bee-line for her room, giving her family only the most perfunctory of greetings. She closed the door, took a deep breath, and stared at her bed for a few moments before flopping onto it face-first. Emma remained in that position for a while, then reached out blindly to grab a pillow. She rolled over and secured the pillow firmly over her face, heedless of how it smeared her makeup.

Then she screamed.

Emma wasn't dense enough to think that her "like" for Madison was purely platonic. Emma wasn't an awfully self-aware person by nature, but being Taylor's best friend required a certain level of introspection. Where were the boundaries between romance and friendship? What kind of relationship was acceptable and healthy? What did she actually want from her relationships? Thus, she was more aware of her own feelings than she might have otherwise been.

So yes, she liked Madison a lot, crossing well over the line of platonic affection. However, Emma had mostly kept a lid on it. Madison was barely beginning to come out of her shell, looking to Emma for reassurance and guidance. It wouldn't have been right for Emma to push Madison into a relationship from a position of power like that.

And yet, Emma's self-control had been eroding. The reason was simple.

SHE IS SO. FUCKING. CUTE.

Emma punched her pillow over and over again. The last couple weeks had felt like a gradual descent into madness. It had started with a small intrusive thought. Madison had smiled and blushed, and something about that expression had caused Emma's brain to provide her with an abrupt and vividly imagined suggestion.

Why don't you kiss her neck?

It was a mostly harmless thought, but it had arisen so suddenly that Emma had squashed it, shoving it back into her subconscious. That had turned out to be a mistake. Trying to suppress the part of her which had spontaneously emerged had only made her mind more inclined to focus on it. She was now subject to a steady barrage of images and scenarios.

Why don't you have her sit on your lap?

Why don't you run your fingers through her hair?

None of it had been completely off-the-wall, but the constant need for discipline was exhausting. Each conversation now felt like a pitched internal struggle not to tackle Madison and cuddle her mercilessly. Saint Emma was pretty much done bullshitting herself about virtuously denying her worldly desires for the sake of healthy power dynamics.

I don't care anymore. I want to be selfish.

She paused, breathing heavily.

Calm down. Taylor is the maniac. You're the reasonable one. You're in control of your urges, not the other way around.

Then the Sock Incident popped into her head and she writhed, smashing the pillow back onto her face as she yelled wordlessly. Madison's little show of leg had elicited a distressingly long moment where Emma had envisioned lunging across the table and doing things. It had taken Emma a supreme effort of will to keep her face straight.

I am LOSING MY SHIT here! What am I supposed to do? Am I going to have to ask Taylor? I really don't want to.

Emma groaned.

<~@~>

Madison heaved yet another sigh as she made her way to the parking lot. She had worn another variation of the schoolgirl outfit today and it had garnered another satisfying reaction. However, when she caught sight of herself in the reflection of a window, all she could think was that she was fooling herself. Dressing up, sneaking around, it was all just running away from what she really had to do: either talk to Emma honestly, or give up.

I don't want to be alone again. I like being her friend. It's probably better to just leave things the way they are.

"Hey! Madison!" Madison turned and cursed internally. Randy Pierce gave her one of those chin-pointing upward nods that guys did when they were trying to be cool. Randy was a pain in the ass. He never really bothered her, but he often got a little more chummy than she was comfortable with. He also hung out with some Empire guys, although she wasn't sure if he was actually involved with the gang. With both Taylor and Sophia going to Winslow, the gang kids had become a lot more low-profile. Still, it probably wouldn't be safe to just tell him to get lost. A couple of his buddies were lingering nearby.

"Uh, hey Randy." Madison tried not to make eye contact.

"That's a nice outfit you've got there. You look good."

"Thank you," Madison said carefully. Keep it short, don't elaborate. Some guys interpreted any coy response to a compliment as a signal to keep pushing.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Randy said, giving her a winning smile. Something about his face made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

"That's okay."

"Cool, cool. So, uh, Jeff Cooper is having a party this weekend, and I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go."

"Oh, well, I'm not really much of a party girl," Madison said. "Thanks for the invitation, though."

"Aw, come on, give it a shot," Randy said. "You'll have fun. I'll introduce you to some people. Or we could just hang out, keep it chill."

"No, thank you," Madison said, a bit more firmly. "I appreciate it, but I'd rather not."

"Seriously? What's holding you back? Come on, tell me."

"I just don't want to go, okay?" Madison snapped. She was irritable and this conversation was draining the last of her patience. "Just… back off."

Randy's friends snickered and he glanced at them before shooting a glare Madison's way. "Fine, whatever. You don't have to be such a bitch about it. I was just trying to be nice."

"No, you were just refusing to take 'no' for an answer. I'm not interested. Take a hint."

"Fuck you," Randy spat. "I don't know why I bothered. Seems like you bat for the other team anyways."

Madison froze. It felt like icy fingers were climbing her spine. "Y-you don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, really? I see you hanging off Emma Barnes all the time. You two a little closer than you let on?"

The icy sensation vaporized under a boiling flash of anger. "Eat shit, Randy. You ever consider that you're just so disgusting that no girl would ever be interested in you?"

Randy took a furious step closer, his body language tensing, but Madison stood her ground. He paused and his eyes narrowed. "I know some guys, you know?" he said, leering. "They could make things very hard for you and your girlfriend."

Madison's pulse thundered in her ears. But despite all his bluster, this asshole wasn't any scarier than Sophia. She summoned some of that energy to brace herself. "You don't have the balls, you pathetic prick. Go fuck yourself." She spun and briskly strode away.

<~@~>

Emma pulled me aside. "Talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," I said.

Emma led me to an empty classroom before speaking again. "You know Randy Pierce?"

"I know everybody," I said. Emma gave me a look. I chuckled. "Only by name. He's loosely affiliated with some Empire kids." Since Neo-Nazis posed a threat to pretty much everyone I loved, I made a point of knowing who they and their friends were.

Emma folded her arms. "That's him. I want him gone."

"Gone, or… gone?"

"I never want to see his face again. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes," I said slowly. "May I ask what he did?" Not that it mattered, but it was possible it'd be helpful to know.

Emma's face grew cold and empty, the way it got when she was truly angry. "He threatened Madison."

"Ah," I said. "I'll try to get it done by next week."

<~@~>

Good news, readers! I now had a great idea for a date activity with Sophia.

<~@~><~@~><~@~>

AN: Sorry for the delay. I've been busy with work, and I went back and forth with this chapter when I had the time to work on it.

As you can probably guess, we will be returning to the Taylor and Sophia Show in the next installment.