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!
