Taylor has been many things. This time she's the kitsune daughter of an ancient terror. After magic slowly faded from the world centuries ago, most beings of myth and legend went dormant or died from lack of it. However, the arrival of the Enities dramatically reversed that, and now many things are waking up. Including some old enemies of the being currently going by the name Annette Hebert, and as far as they're concerned the sins of the mother are very definitely inherited by her last surviving child.
The Last Daughter (Worm/Mythology)
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Chapter 1
- Location
- Alaska, USA
Assault stood at the stairwell of the third floor of Winslow High, observing the devastated hallway. He would have said a bomb had gone off, like the initial report had said, but the lack of any kind of scorching or carbonization belayed that. PRT officers were carefully securing the scene, taking care not to step in the rotting bloody refuse that had been blasted across the hallway, blast pattern forming a cone that pointed towards the remains of what had once been a bank of lockers, now shattered with most of it turned into shrapnel that had thoroughly perforated everything in the hallway, including the doors of two unused classrooms, the remainder reduced to a knee height pile of metal scrap.
And the reason the PRT was securing the site while the BBPD handled the interviews: a trail of alarmingly large bloody pawprints, fading out as they reached the stairs, accompanied by the occasional droplet of fresh blood.
Carefully stepping around the prints he approached Armsmaster, who was seemingly staring at a blank section of wall like a drone whose pilot had stepped away for a moment, which probably meant he was doing something on his HUD.
"So what's the deal with our new trigger?" Assault asked, causing Armsmaster to startle slightly, "Changer, obviously, but what else?"
"Stride length indicates that the Changer form is taller than a great dane, between three and a half and four feet at the shoulder, while print analysis suggests a canine or vulpine body plan. The lockers were destroyed by either kinetic force or massive overpressure, like Stormtiger. You hard counter both options, so you'll be on point when we locate them."
Assault nodded. "The fact that they just left the school rather than going Carrie says good things about them. Soft sell on the Wards?"
"Along with pointing out that there's no way we can keep the gangs from learning their identity, no matter how many NDAs we throw around. This is just too public."
They observed the troopers continue to take photos of the scene while they waited for a hazmat team to arrive. A while later the sound of footsteps on the stairs caused the pair to turn, Battery appearing shortly after.
"So what did Stalker have to say?" Assault asked.
"Our victim's name is Taylor Hebert. Stalker claims that she is troubled, constantly causing problems, and locked herself into her locker with … that this morning as a cry for attention."
He didn't believe that for a second.
"Raise your hand if you're surprised Stalker is blaming the victim," he said with black humor.
None of the capes nor any of the troopers listening in raised their hand.
"Console to Armsmaster."
Arsmaster placed his finger to his ear to signal he was talking on the radio.
"Go ahead Console."
"We are getting reports of a new cape heading towards the residential area of the docks. Appears to be a human sized fox with five tails, rear half caked in, quote, 'bloody trash and cloth scraps."
"That matches what we found here," Armsmaster said, moving towards the stairs and signaling for the other two to follow.
"The cape appears to be emitting a Stranger power, witnesses are reporting that they didn't realize anything was strange about a bloody kitsune walking down the street until well after they had left line of sight. Fur coloration is described as black and gray."
"Understood. Is Kitsune her provisional alias?"
"Ten-four. Her, Armsmaster?"
"Affirmative. We have a tentative lead on her identity. Add to the record that we found the remains of clothing at the Winslow scene that imply that she can't take clothing with her when she changes."
"Ten-four."
"I'm going to check the main office," Battery said as they reached the ground floor, "see if there's anything there on what led up to this."
Armsmaster nodded and she split off.
"Console I'm going to need Kitsune's last known sighting."
"Already compiled, Armsmaster. Sending now."
Assault looked at the ten-foot-tall wrought iron gate that had been pushed open, set into an equally tall brick wall topped with iron spikes that ringed the whole block. Inside was a scene out of an old growth forest, towering pines casting dark, almost black, shadows in the watery winter sunlight that made it through the cloud cover, dense foliage obscuring the trail that led within. It was a scene that should have been visible from most of the bay.
It wasn't.
They hadn't been able to see it themselves until they were less than a block away, and even now Assault's eyes struggled not to slide off the strange forest in the middle of the docks, nestled between two low-income neighborhoods. He suspected that if he didn't know it was there he wouldn't be able to see it, a suspicion borne out by the fact that spotters on the Rig couldn't find it, despite having a clear line of sight.
Now several PRT vans had blocked off the street, unloading several squads and a bunch of analysis equipment, and Assault was about to enter with a pair of troopers, one with containment foam, the other a M-4 carbine – just in case – at the insistence of Director Piggot, and all three had been fitted with additional sensors and recording equipment that would be recording locally and broadcasting back to the equipment van parked two blocks away. Armsmaster, Miss Militia, and Dauntless were also standing by with a heavy assault squad in case they needed extraction.
Overkill? Maybe, but it certainly reassured Assault and the two troopers heading in with him.
"Final comms check," Assault said.
"Loud and clear," Piggot said from back at HQ.
"Anything we need to know before we head in?"
"Just heard back from city hall," chimed in Deputy-Director Renick, "property was purchased in 1989 by Annette Hebert, mother of Taylor Hebert, deceased in a traffic accident two years ago. Land is still in Annette Hebert's name, and taxes are up to date."
"Understood. Wish us luck."
Assault stepped into the opening of the gate and called out "Ms. Hebert? This is the Protectorate, can you come talk with us, please?"
After a long pause with no response he tried again
"Ms. Hebert? You are not in trouble, we just want to find out what happened and why."
Once again he received nothing but silence. With a brief grimace he pushed the gate open wider so that the containment foam trooper could easily pass and entered the forest. Things got weird when they reached the bend in the trail though.
"Whoa," Assault murmured as reality twisted like when Vista decided to violate space-time.
"Spatial warping detected," Armsmaster announced over coms.
"Good to know that wasn't in our heads," Assault replied, and stepped into the clearing that very definitely was not there a second ago.
It was a fairly large clearing of verdant shin-high green grass, easily large enough to contain a city block, which when combined with the dense deciduous old growth that somehow still possessed all of their leaves and complete absence of city noise made it blatantly obvious that spacial shenanigans were afoot, because just the area he could see was several times larger than the perimeter they had observed in Brockton Bay.
Centered in the clearing atop a four foot tall circular granite platform ringed in stairs a good hundred feet across was a shinto style shrine, made of brilliant red wood and slate shingles illuminated by a ray of golden sunlight, which should not have been possible as the sky was a uniform grey today. The temperature had also jumped by what felt like twenty degrees, from the mid thirties to upper fifties. The trail ended in front of him was a mossy stone torii gate with a symbol he didn't recognize on it, and there were numerous other gates marking the heads of trails leading away from the clearing. Looking back he saw a slowly shifting blob of color, like drops of oil based ink in water, hanging in the air that made his eyes hurt.
"Can you guys read me?" Assault asked over the radio.
"Affirmative," Armsmaster's voice had a easily noticeable staticy buzz to it, "signal strength has dropped by over sixty percent and we're getting quite a bit of interference, but we still read you and are receiving the feed from your body cams."
"I'm thinking pocket dimension."
"I concur."
Turning back around he noticed a black, red, and white mass about halfway between the edge of the platform and the shrine, the near edge-on perspective making things difficult. Was that Ms. Hebert?
Assault took a step forward before he realized that the other tori likely led to other exits, and they all looked the same save for the symbol in the arch. He turned to the troopers.
"I need you to stay here so we can find our way out."
They nodded, and he started towards the pile of fluff on the stone platform.
The white quickly resolved itself to be a fluffy white wolf as he mounted the steps, with fur so pure it was nearly glowing, grooming the head and neck of the much larger black fox it was lying beside. The fox was definitely Kitsune, who was definitely Ms. Hebert. The bloody rotting tampons stuck to her hindquarters made that obvious. She was sprawled on her side, as though she had flopped over mid stride.
"Ms. Hebert?"
"She won't wake," the wolf spoke with the voice of a mature woman with a Japanese accent.
Assault paused and gave the canine a closer look. Big, likely bigger than all but the largest wolf, thick fluffy fur a shade of white so pure it was almost painful to look at, and was slightly transparent. Projection?
"Who might you be ma'am?" he asked warily.
"I am Amaterasu."
It took him a moment to place the name.
"Isn't that the name of one of the capes running Japan after Kyushu?"
"I am quite a bit more than a mere cape."
Given that she was apparently maintaining a projection on the opposite side of the world, Assault could admit that her arrogance wasn't wholly undeserved. There was a pop and one of the tinkertech sensors Armsmaster had attached to his belt released the magic green smoke that made it work.
"It appears that you are on a bit of a time limit," Amaterasu noted.
Assault activated his com and his earpiece promptly exploded with a pop that nearly ruptured his eardrum. Swearing at the lance of pain spiking into his head he ripped it from his ear.
"Electronics don't tend to last long in high magic environments," the wolf projection noted as he observed the smoldering earpiece, "I suspect it's because copper and gold are both excellent conductors of magic as well as electricity."
Magic? He shook his head and refocused, supposed magic wasn't important right now. Dropping the earpiece he knelt next to Kitsune and shook her shoulder, trying to wake her. With the loss of communication they were on a timer before the assault squad came storming in. When she didn't stir he pulled back an eyelid, revealing shockingly amber eyes that were fully dilated, and didn't contract when he shown a penlight in them.
"She's got a concussion," he noted.
"I did what I could to reduce the mental and spiritual trauma, but there's only so much I can do, given that I am not physically here. She definitely needs to see someone about her wounds on her hind legs. I suspect they're infected."
Assault slid his arms under Kitsune and lifted her into a bridal carry, noting that she had at least two inches of fluff on her, resulting in her being almost a half-foot thinner and much lighter than he was expecting.
"So why didn't you send her to a hospital?"
"You have it backwards, young Assault. She called me."
He stilled and eyed the wolf. He hadn't given his name, and wasn't internationally famous, so how did she know it?
"While we are not friends, since her atonement I have always counted Tamamo-no-Mae as one of my closest and most powerful allies, so of course I will answer when her last surviving child calls in distress."
"Tamamo-no-Mae. Also known as Annette Hebert?"
"I do believe that is the human name she is using in this age, yes. I recommend staying out of her way when she finds out what happened. She may be reformed and only have a pale shadow of her former might, she is still a kingdom-killer who has brought multiple nations to ruin in the past."
Assault swallowed, having the sinking feeling that he had gotten involved in something far, far above his paygrade.
"She… was killed two years ago in a car accident."
"And it stuck this time?"
"…come again?"
"Tamamo has always had a… complicated relationship with death. She has been slain and returned several times, though not without cost. Her daughter's state answers my question though. She hasn't come back. Yet, at least."
"She hasn't."
"Hmm."
Amaterasu stood, vibrant red markings materializing on her fur.
"Much as I would like to continue chatting, we both have places we need to be. Don't drop her."
Reality inverted, and Assault found himself standing on the sidewalk where he had entered, Kitsune in his arms and both troopers on either side, magic smoke wafting out of every piece of technology on their persons, the assault team in the process of stacking up to breach. As a bunch of people began shouting he looked behind him and wasn't surprised to see that the gate had disappeared. So had the forest. The wall was still there at least.
"Assault, report," Armsmaster ordered as he stomped up.
"Shit got weird, boss. So weird I'm probably going to be spending the night in the M/S tank."
I awoke to the sound of distant fans, the faint beeping and clicking of machines, and the smell of antiseptics and chemicals. Stretching lightly I could feel that I was lying on my side in my kitsune form, five tails splayed on the bed below me and poking out from under the light sheet draped over me.
Wait.
Since when had I had a kitsune form? It was familiar, natural even, something I should remember, but was actively sliding away from me, hidden by a shimmering, fractured, frosted pane of glass, knowledge leaking through the cracks. I remembered the locker, the rot I had been forced into, how the insects had begun to crawl on my and dig into my flesh, eating me-
I took a deep breath and forced my bile back down. Focus. What happened, how did I get out?
The memory actively fought me, beyond the barest, broadest aspects trying to remember any details was like trying to hold liquid sand, sliding through my metaphorical fingers, and my memory of remembering was… spotty. I couldn't remember how long I'd been in the locker before I'd changed form and busted out with… my magic? That… felt right… and I could feel it now, thrumming beneath my skin, and knew that it had always been there, even if I could not remember it. I remembered remembering of a safe place that I couldn't recall now, except that it wasn't my house, and pushing my magic to make people ignore me as I had headed there.
This was maddening. I could feel my memories in my mind, blocked from me by the cracked pane of glass. Pulling on my magic I tore at the artificial division in my head. It resisted for a moment, then shattered like tempered glass, fracturing into ever smaller fragments that disintegrated into wisps of magic.
And I remembered.
How could I have forgotten the very form I was born-
No. Not forgotten. Made to forget.
Who? And why?
When was easy enough to figure out: when Mom died in the car crash… a car crash that wasn't suspicious as much as a blatantly obvious cover-up. Mom didn't drive. She didn't need to, given her sustained speed in kitsune form.
So why was she in the car? Had shenanigans happened again?
A deep breath brought the smell of chemicals back to the forefront of my mind and I forced myself away from the line of thought. This was not the place nor the time.
Opening my eyes I raised my head and looked around. It was a white hospital room, about five yards square though a good third was taken up by various machines, most inactive, with myself lying on a gurney in the middle of the room, an IV in my left forepaw, a toilet in the corner with a ceiling mounted privacy curtain, a camera just outside the curtain that was angled so that even with the curtain open the toilet was in a blind spot, and a solid metal door with a small mesh reinforced window set in it and a piece of paper with writing taped to it.
As I shifted on the gurney my bladder abruptly informed me that it was full to near bursting. Wincing I clambered off the gurney, deciding not to try to take out the IV once I saw it was on a wheeled stand. Thankfully with my memory restored I knew how to use the toilet in my kitsune form without making a mess, even though I was significantly bigger than the last time I'd done it. I distinctly recalled Emma making a few crude comments about it when we were ten… at least whoever had wiped my memory had wiped Emma's as well, there's no way she would have resisted making snide remarks about my "fuzzy form" as we called it… which might have been a factor in why Emma turned on me now that I thought about it.
Once I was finished with my business, which took quite a bit longer than normal due to how full my bladder was, I read the message taped to the door.
Miss Hebert,
First of all, you are not under arrest.
You are in the isolation ward of the medical wing at PRT Headquarters. Due to the biohazards you were exposed to you have been quarantined in accordance with CDC guidelines. Despite being immediately healed by Panacea the decision was made, with the knowledge and approval of your father, to follow these so as to remove any possible leverage any defense attorneys might come up with.
Suffice to say that those responsible will NOT be getting away with what they did to you, the attack made international news, mainly due to the media calling a bioterror attack and whipping the public into hysteria for ratings, but it got the full might of the federal government involved. Between the PRT, Protectorate, FBI, NSA, a spook I'm fairly certain belongs to the CIA, and Eidolon being called in to make sure there is not going to be a mass outbreak of a superbug due to the materials used to try to kill you with (I don't know whether to thank or curse the media for that bit of public hysteria), I am certain that we will have at least one, if not all, of those responsible for this in custody by the time you leave quarantine.
Unfortunately, we were unable to lock down your identity. Too many people knew you were in the locker. Half an hour ago, as of me typing this, your identity was made public.
If you wake when Panacea expects you to, you will have been in quarantine for three days, and can be released at 6:00pm. Your father will be there. Please do not break the laptop you were provided.
Director Emily Piggot, PRT ENE
P.S. If you ever get the opportunity to meet Eidolon, don't.
The postscript was handwritten, compared to the rest of the typed letter. A glance around revealed an old somewhat battered laptop resting against the gurney. Not wanting to lie on the floor I hopped back up onto the gurney and settled down into a loaf, facing the door with my tails hanging off either side, before grabbing the laptop with my magic and setting it down in front of me, my blue-white markings briefly fading into visibility as I used my magic. Telekinesis was the first magical skill most kitsune learned due to its utility, and despite being a bit rusty due to not using it for two years I was still capable of fine manipulation with it, which meant I could use the keyboard without breaking it.
I stared at nothing as the laptop slowly booted up. Things weren't good by any means, but they could honestly be worse. Ignoring being arrested, I was very lucky to have not gone catatonic when all of my memories of magic or being non-human were sealed away. Mind magic was tricky and dangerous, mass memory modification especially so. Given the presence of "people" like Heartbreaker I had been taught the symptoms victims usually displayed: apathy, listlessness, a pervasive sense of loss, and increased vulnerability to manipulation. Combine that with losing Mom and if the mind wiper had missed anyone they wouldn't have bothered to look too closely, chalking it up to just depression.
Speaking of, thinking of Mom's death still hurt, but with my memories restored it was no longer the all encompassing grief that loomed over everything. Mom wouldn't have wanted us to wallow… and death hadn't held her long term before. It wouldn't be anytime soon, the fastest she'd ever returned was a decade and I doubted it would take her less than fifteen years, probably closer to twenty, but she would be back. There was a catch, of course. Forcing your way back onto the mortal coil like that… you always left a part of yourself behind. At her height, it had taken the combined might of multiple pantheons to bring Mom down the first time, and she'd still carved a bloody path through China, Korea, and Japan before falling. By the time she incarnated as Annette Hebert, multiple deaths later, Mom had been reduced to the power of a three-tails.
The computer reached the login screen and I manipulated the touchpad with a claw to select guest. I'd need to figure out how to break Dad's memory block without hurting him, hopefully Mom's library had something… and it hadn't been looted. That, at least, was unlikely, it was hidden in a pocket dimension that required a kitsune to access. Mom never did figure out how to grant Dad access in a way that wouldn't compromise security. But someone knew enough to wipe every memory of her from multiple people….
The distinctive opening music clip of Windows XP drew me out of half-formed plans and ideas. A glance at the date-time in the corner confirmed that three days had passed and it was 11:56am, so I had several hours until I could leave. Grooming myself to pass the time crossed my mind, my fur was somewhat matted and disheveled, but I quickly discarded it. I didn't want to put on a show for whoever watched the recording the camera was undoubtedly making, I could wait until I got home for a shower and proper brushing. I wondered where my favorite brush got off to… and whether we'd need to stock up on drain cleaner. Two years without any grooming meant I had a lot of loose fuzz.
Finally I gave into morbid curiosity and pulled up Explorer to see what had happened to Winslow. Due to mental backlash from mostly breaking the memory enchantment I didn't remember much beyond getting shoved in, thankfully, and what I did remember was… smeared was the best word that came to mind. True to the director's letter, the third result from the top was an article from the BBC with the headline "bioterror attack on US high school". I settled in to find out what had happened over the last few days.
Winslow was obviously closed as the CDC decontaminated the place, and a lot of the staff had been arrested, including Blackwell. A bunch of students had fled when the cops showed up and now had arrest warrants out for them because of that, under suspicion of them being accessories or accomplices. I winced when I read where the Protectorate had picked me up, having inadvertently led them to Mom's shrine. Someone had managed to get a long-distance picture of Assault carrying me in kitsune form towards an ambulance… and I was being identified by name in the comments of various videos and on PHO, despite the best efforts of the various mods. My identity was well and truly out.
That… it wasn't the end of the world, but it was a major problem. Dad couldn't defend himself that well, not since Iron Rain impaled him with her spears about a year before I was born, leaving him with just three-quarters of one lung left. The scarring was impressive and horrifying, given he'd been impaled all the way through. The only thing Dad or Mom ever said about that fight was that they had had to kill a bunch of people to escape, and that they had gotten arrogant and complacent. They didn't like to talk about it.
I was not ready to face capes. I couldn't even hold my own against Sophia, a "mere" high school bully/thug far less dangerous than nearly all capes, and the last time I'd faced my father in a full contact spar he'd won five-nil with no match lasting longer than two minutes, and he was a self-admitted out-of-shape cripple. I hadn't even managed to touch him once. Granted I'd been twelve and only had four tails at the time, but that had been humbling. Which once again made me wonder what the hell Mom had done to me in the womb and just after birth. Kitsune are born with one tail and usually earn their second between their eighth and twelfth decade; I'd been born with three. And would probably have my sixth by the time I was thirty. Neither I nor Dad had ever gotten an answer out of Mom though. The only information she provided was that she had been the only one to sacrifice anything, but what Mom sacrificed, she never said. Dad suspected her fertility, and that I was the last child she'd ever have.
It is without a shred of arrogance to state that I will be the most powerful kitsune to ever live… provided I survive. All my vast magical power does nothing to increase my durability, nor does it provide the skill to use it effectively or efficiently. A bullet will kill me just as effectively as any other mortal.
I took a deep breath and refocused. We had a plan, back before Mom died. I hadn't wanted to hide away what I am for my whole life, and capes provided an opportunity. The first step of the original plan was me going to summer camp to make sure I could tolerate being in a form other than the one I was born in for prolonged periods of time – some kitsune couldn't – then head to public school with Emma to learn how my human generation behaved, with Emma assisting and providing cover for any inadvertent slip ups. Following my fifteenth birthday I would begin physical and magical training so that I could escape any cape I encounter if I couldn't hold my own. Once I was eighteen we would have introduced me by way of me removing the container ship that was blocking the bay with a ritual Mom had designed but wasn't strong enough to power anymore.
Then Mom died, our memories were erased, and Emma went insane.
This was not how I wanted my kitsune form to be made public… but we could work with this.
The intercom clicked on and a woman spoke
"Miss Hebert, this is Officer Barr with the PRT. Are you willing to give a statement on what happened to you at Winslow?"
"I am," I said, raising my head to look at the intercom on the ceiling.
"And you can speak in that form. Good, I was worried we'd need to get creative. Okay, recording… on. This is Officer Michele Barr interviewing Miss Taylor Hebert about the event that took place at Winslow High on January…"
The interview went on for several hours, mainly because we also covered the bullying leading up to the locker. Under her guidance and gentle prodding I remembered a lot more than I expected, and she helped me through the more difficult parts, like Mom's flute. Eight hundred years old and a gift to Mom from one of my long dead elder half-siblings, and I had allowed it to be destroyed. I didn't know what Emma had done with the remains, so I couldn't even try to repair it with magic.
We took an hour-long lunch break when a nurse showed up with food in full HAZMAT suit, something that everyone agreed was unnecessary, but procedure demanded it and everyone was dotting their i's and crossing their t's so that when the trials started the defense wouldn't be able to quibble about this. It was embarrassing to start drooling and wagging my tails at the scent of venison and liver, though it made the nurse laugh. The rice and vegetables were alright, I suppose, but liver… it'd been so long since I had any, and it was fresh too! The nurse was still grinning as he left after taking my vitals and taking out the IV. It almost made up for having to relieve what the trio and their lackeys had done to Officer Barr, and I didn't forget to mention the journal I had been keeping that she was very interested in. She wanted me, or my Dad, to stop by tomorrow to drop it off so they could enter it into evidence.
Once the interview ended I settled down for a nap, feeling emotionally drained.
I awoke to the loud clack of the door opening.
"Miss Hebert?"
I yawned widely and blinked at the PRT trooper who was holding the door open.
"It's six-o'clock. Time for you to leave."
I stood and gave a good long stretch before bouncing over the foot of the gurney and trotting through the door into the airlock separating the room from the rest of the medical wing.
"Good grief you shed a lot," the trooper murmured as he moved past me to open the outer door.
A human probably wouldn't have been able to hear him through the full-face helmet, but my ears weren't for show. That said I had left a layer of dark fuzz over the gurney. Several comments went through my mind, but in the end I gave voice to none of them. The moment the door opened I was sniffing the air, quickly catching Dad's scent and darting through as soon as I could fit without running into the trooper.
Dad was standing by the nurse station, apparently talking with Panacea who was standing next to him, and turned as he saw me. I popped up on my hind legs and glomped him with a tackle hug, prompting a grunt of exertion as he barely resisted being bowled over, and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent as my tails swept the floor as they wagged.
"Hello, my little fox," he murmured into my ear as he ran a hand through the fur of my back while holding me with the other, "it's good to see you back in your fluffy from."
I pulled back so I could look at him in surprise.
"You remember?"
"I did as soon as I saw you through the window two days ago. Felt like an ice pick being driven into my head," he said, looking up at me.
I realized that standing on my hind legs as I was I was taller than Dad, which was new. Dropping down I saw that my shoulder was level with his waist, which was a significant growth spurt over the past two years.
"You got bigger," he noted.
"Or you got shorter," I retorted, "maybe you're shrinking in your old age?"
My enjoyment of the faux indignant look on Dad's face was interrupted when Panacea huffed a barely there laugh, reminding me that we weren't alone.
"Hello Panacea," I said, offering her a paw to shake.
"Hello miss He…" I could see the moment she mentally checked out after grabbing my paw.
…Crap she can see biology can't she? Like most mythical creatures kitsune biology runs off of magic as much as biochemistry, to the point that removing all magic from my body would result in mass cell death (I didn't ask Mom how she found that out, but I paid very close attention to how to recognize when I entered a null zone powerful enough to be actively hazardous to my health). Cape powers were not magic, and did not, possibly could not, interact with magic, save for accidental second and third order side effects. Had Panacea froze because her power locked up trying to understand magic? Hadn't she healed me before?
"Panacea?" Dad asked, waving his hand in front of her face. She didn't even twitch.
Given this happened when she grabbed my paw he took the obvious next step of reaching down to sperate us, only for her to gasp and jerk her hand away the moment he made contact.
"I'm so sorry," Panacea babbled, "your biology is so fascinating that I get lost in it without something to focus on."
"How so?" I asked, sitting down and cocking my head in curiosity.
"Your body is saturated with an energy that I can only see the… shadow of, to the point that it forms a core component of your biology. I can't affect it, or make anything that can affect it beyond copying structures your body already has, and I can't figure out how those work either."
That was interesting.
"What else have you noticed?" I asked.
"…You DNA correction and repair are really, really good, far better than anything I've ever seen. Also your telomeres don't degrade from cell division."
That sounded important, but I didn't understand biology enough to get it, and from the expression on his face neither did Dad. After a long moment Panacea realized that and explained
"…She has theoretical biological immortality. In practice carcinogen and heavy metal build up will kill her eventually if you don't find a way to get rid of them."
Given that no kitsune has ever died from old age that wasn't a surprise. Something that the healer noticed.
"You knew," she stated, "the locker wasn't your trigger event was it?"
"No," I admitted.
"How long have you been a parahuman?" she asked before frantically adding "If you want to answer, you don't have to."
Dad and I traded a long look. On one paw she was right in that we didn't need to answer, but this was Panacea, one of if not the best healer capes in the world. Having a good relationship with her could quite literally be the difference between life or death in the future. Dad raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged back. He thought for a moment longer.
"We're not willing to answer that question here," he said apologetically, "However," he offered Panacea his forefinger, "this should give you an idea."
Clever. Dad's old wounds would give her an idea alright. It was the wrong idea, but it was certainly an idea. After a moment's hesitation Panacea grabbed Dad's finger.
"That is old damage. Very old. Who did you piss off so badly?"
"Empire."
"Ah. You don't have enough fat for me to fix this."
"What about programming my body to regenerate the damage over several months?"
"That – I – I can't do that," she lied.
It was a lie so blatant, to both my nose and my eyes, that I couldn't help but interject
"Yet you can make something in an attempt to interact with the energy in my body?"
Panacea froze, eyes darting between Dad, me, and the trooper respectfully standing several yards away, patiently giving us an illusion of privacy. Several pieces fell into place. Her power wasn't healing, it was biomancy. Biokekisis? Why was she hiding –
"Miss Dallon," Dad said quietly, faster on the uptake, gently wrapping his other hand over Panacea's as the girl started to panic, "You are not Bonesaw. You are not Nilbog."
"But I could be," she whispered, "I could be so much worse than them."
"The potential to do something does not mean you will."
"I could kill the planet."
Her whisper was even softer this time, almost begging us to condemn her. Yet all I could think was welcome to the club.
"Give me a dozen good men and a week and I could crash the continental US power grid such that it would take years to rebuild, without using a single parahuman power or tinkertech," was Dad's response, "That doesn't mean I will. Why would I? It would make everyone's life worse, including mine and Taylor's. I don't want that."
Panacea pulled her hand away and seemed to huddle into herself. Dad pulled out a business card and a pen and quickly scribbled our home phone number on the back.
"Here," he said, holding the card out to her, "if you ever feel the need to experiment, call me. I'll set something up."
She stared at it for a long moment before silently taking it and walking out of the room. Once she was gone the trooper approached us.
"Ready to leave, sir, ma'am?"
We nodded.
"You're being cuddly today," Dad remarked as I wrapped myself around his legs as we rode the elevator down, his hand absently stroking the fur of my shoulder.
I… was, wasn't I. I haven't been like this since… Mom died. Interesting. I'm glad that the bleakness from before the locker doesn't seem to have a hold over me right now, but that's more than a little suspicious. Given the thoughtful expression on Dad's face he's thinking something similar.
"We'll talk about it when we get home," he breathed, quietly that my vulpine hearing could catch it but not the trooper escorting us out.
The rest of the way out of PRT HQ into the employee parking lot where Dad had parked his old F150 with a truck bed roof mod was predictably forgettable, the trooper leaving us at the exit to the building. As Dad walked around the front I popped open the passenger door with magic and jumped in, squirming around so I could sit in the seat without crushing my tails and hunched over so I wouldn't crack my head on the roof. Again. Despite that my neck and head were still pressed against the roof of the cab.
Dad paused as he opened the driver door.
"Aren't you going to shift to human form?"
"Nope," I instantly replied.
"You sure? I've got some of your clothes stashed behind the seat."
"I'm sure."
"You're going to cramp," he warned.
I shrugged. I really didn't want to shift into human form right now. After looking at me a moment longer he shrugged in a "your funeral" way, started the truck, and began to drive.
AN: Michele Barr is a member of WEDGDG with an interrogation thinker power that lets her know what questions to ask to get the maximum amount of information out of whoever she's talking to.
Also, be aware I'm going to be playing very fast and loose with mythology, which has never been a static or coherent thing in the first place.
And the reason the PRT was securing the site while the BBPD handled the interviews: a trail of alarmingly large bloody pawprints, fading out as they reached the stairs, accompanied by the occasional droplet of fresh blood.
Carefully stepping around the prints he approached Armsmaster, who was seemingly staring at a blank section of wall like a drone whose pilot had stepped away for a moment, which probably meant he was doing something on his HUD.
"So what's the deal with our new trigger?" Assault asked, causing Armsmaster to startle slightly, "Changer, obviously, but what else?"
"Stride length indicates that the Changer form is taller than a great dane, between three and a half and four feet at the shoulder, while print analysis suggests a canine or vulpine body plan. The lockers were destroyed by either kinetic force or massive overpressure, like Stormtiger. You hard counter both options, so you'll be on point when we locate them."
Assault nodded. "The fact that they just left the school rather than going Carrie says good things about them. Soft sell on the Wards?"
"Along with pointing out that there's no way we can keep the gangs from learning their identity, no matter how many NDAs we throw around. This is just too public."
They observed the troopers continue to take photos of the scene while they waited for a hazmat team to arrive. A while later the sound of footsteps on the stairs caused the pair to turn, Battery appearing shortly after.
"So what did Stalker have to say?" Assault asked.
"Our victim's name is Taylor Hebert. Stalker claims that she is troubled, constantly causing problems, and locked herself into her locker with … that this morning as a cry for attention."
He didn't believe that for a second.
"Raise your hand if you're surprised Stalker is blaming the victim," he said with black humor.
None of the capes nor any of the troopers listening in raised their hand.
"Console to Armsmaster."
Arsmaster placed his finger to his ear to signal he was talking on the radio.
"Go ahead Console."
"We are getting reports of a new cape heading towards the residential area of the docks. Appears to be a human sized fox with five tails, rear half caked in, quote, 'bloody trash and cloth scraps."
"That matches what we found here," Armsmaster said, moving towards the stairs and signaling for the other two to follow.
"The cape appears to be emitting a Stranger power, witnesses are reporting that they didn't realize anything was strange about a bloody kitsune walking down the street until well after they had left line of sight. Fur coloration is described as black and gray."
"Understood. Is Kitsune her provisional alias?"
"Ten-four. Her, Armsmaster?"
"Affirmative. We have a tentative lead on her identity. Add to the record that we found the remains of clothing at the Winslow scene that imply that she can't take clothing with her when she changes."
"Ten-four."
"I'm going to check the main office," Battery said as they reached the ground floor, "see if there's anything there on what led up to this."
Armsmaster nodded and she split off.
"Console I'm going to need Kitsune's last known sighting."
"Already compiled, Armsmaster. Sending now."
Assault looked at the ten-foot-tall wrought iron gate that had been pushed open, set into an equally tall brick wall topped with iron spikes that ringed the whole block. Inside was a scene out of an old growth forest, towering pines casting dark, almost black, shadows in the watery winter sunlight that made it through the cloud cover, dense foliage obscuring the trail that led within. It was a scene that should have been visible from most of the bay.
It wasn't.
They hadn't been able to see it themselves until they were less than a block away, and even now Assault's eyes struggled not to slide off the strange forest in the middle of the docks, nestled between two low-income neighborhoods. He suspected that if he didn't know it was there he wouldn't be able to see it, a suspicion borne out by the fact that spotters on the Rig couldn't find it, despite having a clear line of sight.
Now several PRT vans had blocked off the street, unloading several squads and a bunch of analysis equipment, and Assault was about to enter with a pair of troopers, one with containment foam, the other a M-4 carbine – just in case – at the insistence of Director Piggot, and all three had been fitted with additional sensors and recording equipment that would be recording locally and broadcasting back to the equipment van parked two blocks away. Armsmaster, Miss Militia, and Dauntless were also standing by with a heavy assault squad in case they needed extraction.
Overkill? Maybe, but it certainly reassured Assault and the two troopers heading in with him.
"Final comms check," Assault said.
"Loud and clear," Piggot said from back at HQ.
"Anything we need to know before we head in?"
"Just heard back from city hall," chimed in Deputy-Director Renick, "property was purchased in 1989 by Annette Hebert, mother of Taylor Hebert, deceased in a traffic accident two years ago. Land is still in Annette Hebert's name, and taxes are up to date."
"Understood. Wish us luck."
Assault stepped into the opening of the gate and called out "Ms. Hebert? This is the Protectorate, can you come talk with us, please?"
After a long pause with no response he tried again
"Ms. Hebert? You are not in trouble, we just want to find out what happened and why."
Once again he received nothing but silence. With a brief grimace he pushed the gate open wider so that the containment foam trooper could easily pass and entered the forest. Things got weird when they reached the bend in the trail though.
"Whoa," Assault murmured as reality twisted like when Vista decided to violate space-time.
"Spatial warping detected," Armsmaster announced over coms.
"Good to know that wasn't in our heads," Assault replied, and stepped into the clearing that very definitely was not there a second ago.
It was a fairly large clearing of verdant shin-high green grass, easily large enough to contain a city block, which when combined with the dense deciduous old growth that somehow still possessed all of their leaves and complete absence of city noise made it blatantly obvious that spacial shenanigans were afoot, because just the area he could see was several times larger than the perimeter they had observed in Brockton Bay.
Centered in the clearing atop a four foot tall circular granite platform ringed in stairs a good hundred feet across was a shinto style shrine, made of brilliant red wood and slate shingles illuminated by a ray of golden sunlight, which should not have been possible as the sky was a uniform grey today. The temperature had also jumped by what felt like twenty degrees, from the mid thirties to upper fifties. The trail ended in front of him was a mossy stone torii gate with a symbol he didn't recognize on it, and there were numerous other gates marking the heads of trails leading away from the clearing. Looking back he saw a slowly shifting blob of color, like drops of oil based ink in water, hanging in the air that made his eyes hurt.
"Can you guys read me?" Assault asked over the radio.
"Affirmative," Armsmaster's voice had a easily noticeable staticy buzz to it, "signal strength has dropped by over sixty percent and we're getting quite a bit of interference, but we still read you and are receiving the feed from your body cams."
"I'm thinking pocket dimension."
"I concur."
Turning back around he noticed a black, red, and white mass about halfway between the edge of the platform and the shrine, the near edge-on perspective making things difficult. Was that Ms. Hebert?
Assault took a step forward before he realized that the other tori likely led to other exits, and they all looked the same save for the symbol in the arch. He turned to the troopers.
"I need you to stay here so we can find our way out."
They nodded, and he started towards the pile of fluff on the stone platform.
The white quickly resolved itself to be a fluffy white wolf as he mounted the steps, with fur so pure it was nearly glowing, grooming the head and neck of the much larger black fox it was lying beside. The fox was definitely Kitsune, who was definitely Ms. Hebert. The bloody rotting tampons stuck to her hindquarters made that obvious. She was sprawled on her side, as though she had flopped over mid stride.
"Ms. Hebert?"
"She won't wake," the wolf spoke with the voice of a mature woman with a Japanese accent.
Assault paused and gave the canine a closer look. Big, likely bigger than all but the largest wolf, thick fluffy fur a shade of white so pure it was almost painful to look at, and was slightly transparent. Projection?
"Who might you be ma'am?" he asked warily.
"I am Amaterasu."
It took him a moment to place the name.
"Isn't that the name of one of the capes running Japan after Kyushu?"
"I am quite a bit more than a mere cape."
Given that she was apparently maintaining a projection on the opposite side of the world, Assault could admit that her arrogance wasn't wholly undeserved. There was a pop and one of the tinkertech sensors Armsmaster had attached to his belt released the magic green smoke that made it work.
"It appears that you are on a bit of a time limit," Amaterasu noted.
Assault activated his com and his earpiece promptly exploded with a pop that nearly ruptured his eardrum. Swearing at the lance of pain spiking into his head he ripped it from his ear.
"Electronics don't tend to last long in high magic environments," the wolf projection noted as he observed the smoldering earpiece, "I suspect it's because copper and gold are both excellent conductors of magic as well as electricity."
Magic? He shook his head and refocused, supposed magic wasn't important right now. Dropping the earpiece he knelt next to Kitsune and shook her shoulder, trying to wake her. With the loss of communication they were on a timer before the assault squad came storming in. When she didn't stir he pulled back an eyelid, revealing shockingly amber eyes that were fully dilated, and didn't contract when he shown a penlight in them.
"She's got a concussion," he noted.
"I did what I could to reduce the mental and spiritual trauma, but there's only so much I can do, given that I am not physically here. She definitely needs to see someone about her wounds on her hind legs. I suspect they're infected."
Assault slid his arms under Kitsune and lifted her into a bridal carry, noting that she had at least two inches of fluff on her, resulting in her being almost a half-foot thinner and much lighter than he was expecting.
"So why didn't you send her to a hospital?"
"You have it backwards, young Assault. She called me."
He stilled and eyed the wolf. He hadn't given his name, and wasn't internationally famous, so how did she know it?
"While we are not friends, since her atonement I have always counted Tamamo-no-Mae as one of my closest and most powerful allies, so of course I will answer when her last surviving child calls in distress."
"Tamamo-no-Mae. Also known as Annette Hebert?"
"I do believe that is the human name she is using in this age, yes. I recommend staying out of her way when she finds out what happened. She may be reformed and only have a pale shadow of her former might, she is still a kingdom-killer who has brought multiple nations to ruin in the past."
Assault swallowed, having the sinking feeling that he had gotten involved in something far, far above his paygrade.
"She… was killed two years ago in a car accident."
"And it stuck this time?"
"…come again?"
"Tamamo has always had a… complicated relationship with death. She has been slain and returned several times, though not without cost. Her daughter's state answers my question though. She hasn't come back. Yet, at least."
"She hasn't."
"Hmm."
Amaterasu stood, vibrant red markings materializing on her fur.
"Much as I would like to continue chatting, we both have places we need to be. Don't drop her."
Reality inverted, and Assault found himself standing on the sidewalk where he had entered, Kitsune in his arms and both troopers on either side, magic smoke wafting out of every piece of technology on their persons, the assault team in the process of stacking up to breach. As a bunch of people began shouting he looked behind him and wasn't surprised to see that the gate had disappeared. So had the forest. The wall was still there at least.
"Assault, report," Armsmaster ordered as he stomped up.
"Shit got weird, boss. So weird I'm probably going to be spending the night in the M/S tank."
I awoke to the sound of distant fans, the faint beeping and clicking of machines, and the smell of antiseptics and chemicals. Stretching lightly I could feel that I was lying on my side in my kitsune form, five tails splayed on the bed below me and poking out from under the light sheet draped over me.
Wait.
Since when had I had a kitsune form? It was familiar, natural even, something I should remember, but was actively sliding away from me, hidden by a shimmering, fractured, frosted pane of glass, knowledge leaking through the cracks. I remembered the locker, the rot I had been forced into, how the insects had begun to crawl on my and dig into my flesh, eating me-
I took a deep breath and forced my bile back down. Focus. What happened, how did I get out?
The memory actively fought me, beyond the barest, broadest aspects trying to remember any details was like trying to hold liquid sand, sliding through my metaphorical fingers, and my memory of remembering was… spotty. I couldn't remember how long I'd been in the locker before I'd changed form and busted out with… my magic? That… felt right… and I could feel it now, thrumming beneath my skin, and knew that it had always been there, even if I could not remember it. I remembered remembering of a safe place that I couldn't recall now, except that it wasn't my house, and pushing my magic to make people ignore me as I had headed there.
This was maddening. I could feel my memories in my mind, blocked from me by the cracked pane of glass. Pulling on my magic I tore at the artificial division in my head. It resisted for a moment, then shattered like tempered glass, fracturing into ever smaller fragments that disintegrated into wisps of magic.
And I remembered.
How could I have forgotten the very form I was born-
No. Not forgotten. Made to forget.
Who? And why?
When was easy enough to figure out: when Mom died in the car crash… a car crash that wasn't suspicious as much as a blatantly obvious cover-up. Mom didn't drive. She didn't need to, given her sustained speed in kitsune form.
So why was she in the car? Had shenanigans happened again?
A deep breath brought the smell of chemicals back to the forefront of my mind and I forced myself away from the line of thought. This was not the place nor the time.
Opening my eyes I raised my head and looked around. It was a white hospital room, about five yards square though a good third was taken up by various machines, most inactive, with myself lying on a gurney in the middle of the room, an IV in my left forepaw, a toilet in the corner with a ceiling mounted privacy curtain, a camera just outside the curtain that was angled so that even with the curtain open the toilet was in a blind spot, and a solid metal door with a small mesh reinforced window set in it and a piece of paper with writing taped to it.
As I shifted on the gurney my bladder abruptly informed me that it was full to near bursting. Wincing I clambered off the gurney, deciding not to try to take out the IV once I saw it was on a wheeled stand. Thankfully with my memory restored I knew how to use the toilet in my kitsune form without making a mess, even though I was significantly bigger than the last time I'd done it. I distinctly recalled Emma making a few crude comments about it when we were ten… at least whoever had wiped my memory had wiped Emma's as well, there's no way she would have resisted making snide remarks about my "fuzzy form" as we called it… which might have been a factor in why Emma turned on me now that I thought about it.
Once I was finished with my business, which took quite a bit longer than normal due to how full my bladder was, I read the message taped to the door.
Miss Hebert,
First of all, you are not under arrest.
You are in the isolation ward of the medical wing at PRT Headquarters. Due to the biohazards you were exposed to you have been quarantined in accordance with CDC guidelines. Despite being immediately healed by Panacea the decision was made, with the knowledge and approval of your father, to follow these so as to remove any possible leverage any defense attorneys might come up with.
Suffice to say that those responsible will NOT be getting away with what they did to you, the attack made international news, mainly due to the media calling a bioterror attack and whipping the public into hysteria for ratings, but it got the full might of the federal government involved. Between the PRT, Protectorate, FBI, NSA, a spook I'm fairly certain belongs to the CIA, and Eidolon being called in to make sure there is not going to be a mass outbreak of a superbug due to the materials used to try to kill you with (I don't know whether to thank or curse the media for that bit of public hysteria), I am certain that we will have at least one, if not all, of those responsible for this in custody by the time you leave quarantine.
Unfortunately, we were unable to lock down your identity. Too many people knew you were in the locker. Half an hour ago, as of me typing this, your identity was made public.
If you wake when Panacea expects you to, you will have been in quarantine for three days, and can be released at 6:00pm. Your father will be there. Please do not break the laptop you were provided.
Director Emily Piggot, PRT ENE
P.S. If you ever get the opportunity to meet Eidolon, don't.
The postscript was handwritten, compared to the rest of the typed letter. A glance around revealed an old somewhat battered laptop resting against the gurney. Not wanting to lie on the floor I hopped back up onto the gurney and settled down into a loaf, facing the door with my tails hanging off either side, before grabbing the laptop with my magic and setting it down in front of me, my blue-white markings briefly fading into visibility as I used my magic. Telekinesis was the first magical skill most kitsune learned due to its utility, and despite being a bit rusty due to not using it for two years I was still capable of fine manipulation with it, which meant I could use the keyboard without breaking it.
I stared at nothing as the laptop slowly booted up. Things weren't good by any means, but they could honestly be worse. Ignoring being arrested, I was very lucky to have not gone catatonic when all of my memories of magic or being non-human were sealed away. Mind magic was tricky and dangerous, mass memory modification especially so. Given the presence of "people" like Heartbreaker I had been taught the symptoms victims usually displayed: apathy, listlessness, a pervasive sense of loss, and increased vulnerability to manipulation. Combine that with losing Mom and if the mind wiper had missed anyone they wouldn't have bothered to look too closely, chalking it up to just depression.
Speaking of, thinking of Mom's death still hurt, but with my memories restored it was no longer the all encompassing grief that loomed over everything. Mom wouldn't have wanted us to wallow… and death hadn't held her long term before. It wouldn't be anytime soon, the fastest she'd ever returned was a decade and I doubted it would take her less than fifteen years, probably closer to twenty, but she would be back. There was a catch, of course. Forcing your way back onto the mortal coil like that… you always left a part of yourself behind. At her height, it had taken the combined might of multiple pantheons to bring Mom down the first time, and she'd still carved a bloody path through China, Korea, and Japan before falling. By the time she incarnated as Annette Hebert, multiple deaths later, Mom had been reduced to the power of a three-tails.
The computer reached the login screen and I manipulated the touchpad with a claw to select guest. I'd need to figure out how to break Dad's memory block without hurting him, hopefully Mom's library had something… and it hadn't been looted. That, at least, was unlikely, it was hidden in a pocket dimension that required a kitsune to access. Mom never did figure out how to grant Dad access in a way that wouldn't compromise security. But someone knew enough to wipe every memory of her from multiple people….
The distinctive opening music clip of Windows XP drew me out of half-formed plans and ideas. A glance at the date-time in the corner confirmed that three days had passed and it was 11:56am, so I had several hours until I could leave. Grooming myself to pass the time crossed my mind, my fur was somewhat matted and disheveled, but I quickly discarded it. I didn't want to put on a show for whoever watched the recording the camera was undoubtedly making, I could wait until I got home for a shower and proper brushing. I wondered where my favorite brush got off to… and whether we'd need to stock up on drain cleaner. Two years without any grooming meant I had a lot of loose fuzz.
Finally I gave into morbid curiosity and pulled up Explorer to see what had happened to Winslow. Due to mental backlash from mostly breaking the memory enchantment I didn't remember much beyond getting shoved in, thankfully, and what I did remember was… smeared was the best word that came to mind. True to the director's letter, the third result from the top was an article from the BBC with the headline "bioterror attack on US high school". I settled in to find out what had happened over the last few days.
Winslow was obviously closed as the CDC decontaminated the place, and a lot of the staff had been arrested, including Blackwell. A bunch of students had fled when the cops showed up and now had arrest warrants out for them because of that, under suspicion of them being accessories or accomplices. I winced when I read where the Protectorate had picked me up, having inadvertently led them to Mom's shrine. Someone had managed to get a long-distance picture of Assault carrying me in kitsune form towards an ambulance… and I was being identified by name in the comments of various videos and on PHO, despite the best efforts of the various mods. My identity was well and truly out.
That… it wasn't the end of the world, but it was a major problem. Dad couldn't defend himself that well, not since Iron Rain impaled him with her spears about a year before I was born, leaving him with just three-quarters of one lung left. The scarring was impressive and horrifying, given he'd been impaled all the way through. The only thing Dad or Mom ever said about that fight was that they had had to kill a bunch of people to escape, and that they had gotten arrogant and complacent. They didn't like to talk about it.
I was not ready to face capes. I couldn't even hold my own against Sophia, a "mere" high school bully/thug far less dangerous than nearly all capes, and the last time I'd faced my father in a full contact spar he'd won five-nil with no match lasting longer than two minutes, and he was a self-admitted out-of-shape cripple. I hadn't even managed to touch him once. Granted I'd been twelve and only had four tails at the time, but that had been humbling. Which once again made me wonder what the hell Mom had done to me in the womb and just after birth. Kitsune are born with one tail and usually earn their second between their eighth and twelfth decade; I'd been born with three. And would probably have my sixth by the time I was thirty. Neither I nor Dad had ever gotten an answer out of Mom though. The only information she provided was that she had been the only one to sacrifice anything, but what Mom sacrificed, she never said. Dad suspected her fertility, and that I was the last child she'd ever have.
It is without a shred of arrogance to state that I will be the most powerful kitsune to ever live… provided I survive. All my vast magical power does nothing to increase my durability, nor does it provide the skill to use it effectively or efficiently. A bullet will kill me just as effectively as any other mortal.
I took a deep breath and refocused. We had a plan, back before Mom died. I hadn't wanted to hide away what I am for my whole life, and capes provided an opportunity. The first step of the original plan was me going to summer camp to make sure I could tolerate being in a form other than the one I was born in for prolonged periods of time – some kitsune couldn't – then head to public school with Emma to learn how my human generation behaved, with Emma assisting and providing cover for any inadvertent slip ups. Following my fifteenth birthday I would begin physical and magical training so that I could escape any cape I encounter if I couldn't hold my own. Once I was eighteen we would have introduced me by way of me removing the container ship that was blocking the bay with a ritual Mom had designed but wasn't strong enough to power anymore.
Then Mom died, our memories were erased, and Emma went insane.
This was not how I wanted my kitsune form to be made public… but we could work with this.
The intercom clicked on and a woman spoke
"Miss Hebert, this is Officer Barr with the PRT. Are you willing to give a statement on what happened to you at Winslow?"
"I am," I said, raising my head to look at the intercom on the ceiling.
"And you can speak in that form. Good, I was worried we'd need to get creative. Okay, recording… on. This is Officer Michele Barr interviewing Miss Taylor Hebert about the event that took place at Winslow High on January…"
The interview went on for several hours, mainly because we also covered the bullying leading up to the locker. Under her guidance and gentle prodding I remembered a lot more than I expected, and she helped me through the more difficult parts, like Mom's flute. Eight hundred years old and a gift to Mom from one of my long dead elder half-siblings, and I had allowed it to be destroyed. I didn't know what Emma had done with the remains, so I couldn't even try to repair it with magic.
We took an hour-long lunch break when a nurse showed up with food in full HAZMAT suit, something that everyone agreed was unnecessary, but procedure demanded it and everyone was dotting their i's and crossing their t's so that when the trials started the defense wouldn't be able to quibble about this. It was embarrassing to start drooling and wagging my tails at the scent of venison and liver, though it made the nurse laugh. The rice and vegetables were alright, I suppose, but liver… it'd been so long since I had any, and it was fresh too! The nurse was still grinning as he left after taking my vitals and taking out the IV. It almost made up for having to relieve what the trio and their lackeys had done to Officer Barr, and I didn't forget to mention the journal I had been keeping that she was very interested in. She wanted me, or my Dad, to stop by tomorrow to drop it off so they could enter it into evidence.
Once the interview ended I settled down for a nap, feeling emotionally drained.
I awoke to the loud clack of the door opening.
"Miss Hebert?"
I yawned widely and blinked at the PRT trooper who was holding the door open.
"It's six-o'clock. Time for you to leave."
I stood and gave a good long stretch before bouncing over the foot of the gurney and trotting through the door into the airlock separating the room from the rest of the medical wing.
"Good grief you shed a lot," the trooper murmured as he moved past me to open the outer door.
A human probably wouldn't have been able to hear him through the full-face helmet, but my ears weren't for show. That said I had left a layer of dark fuzz over the gurney. Several comments went through my mind, but in the end I gave voice to none of them. The moment the door opened I was sniffing the air, quickly catching Dad's scent and darting through as soon as I could fit without running into the trooper.
Dad was standing by the nurse station, apparently talking with Panacea who was standing next to him, and turned as he saw me. I popped up on my hind legs and glomped him with a tackle hug, prompting a grunt of exertion as he barely resisted being bowled over, and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent as my tails swept the floor as they wagged.
"Hello, my little fox," he murmured into my ear as he ran a hand through the fur of my back while holding me with the other, "it's good to see you back in your fluffy from."
I pulled back so I could look at him in surprise.
"You remember?"
"I did as soon as I saw you through the window two days ago. Felt like an ice pick being driven into my head," he said, looking up at me.
I realized that standing on my hind legs as I was I was taller than Dad, which was new. Dropping down I saw that my shoulder was level with his waist, which was a significant growth spurt over the past two years.
"You got bigger," he noted.
"Or you got shorter," I retorted, "maybe you're shrinking in your old age?"
My enjoyment of the faux indignant look on Dad's face was interrupted when Panacea huffed a barely there laugh, reminding me that we weren't alone.
"Hello Panacea," I said, offering her a paw to shake.
"Hello miss He…" I could see the moment she mentally checked out after grabbing my paw.
…Crap she can see biology can't she? Like most mythical creatures kitsune biology runs off of magic as much as biochemistry, to the point that removing all magic from my body would result in mass cell death (I didn't ask Mom how she found that out, but I paid very close attention to how to recognize when I entered a null zone powerful enough to be actively hazardous to my health). Cape powers were not magic, and did not, possibly could not, interact with magic, save for accidental second and third order side effects. Had Panacea froze because her power locked up trying to understand magic? Hadn't she healed me before?
"Panacea?" Dad asked, waving his hand in front of her face. She didn't even twitch.
Given this happened when she grabbed my paw he took the obvious next step of reaching down to sperate us, only for her to gasp and jerk her hand away the moment he made contact.
"I'm so sorry," Panacea babbled, "your biology is so fascinating that I get lost in it without something to focus on."
"How so?" I asked, sitting down and cocking my head in curiosity.
"Your body is saturated with an energy that I can only see the… shadow of, to the point that it forms a core component of your biology. I can't affect it, or make anything that can affect it beyond copying structures your body already has, and I can't figure out how those work either."
That was interesting.
"What else have you noticed?" I asked.
"…You DNA correction and repair are really, really good, far better than anything I've ever seen. Also your telomeres don't degrade from cell division."
That sounded important, but I didn't understand biology enough to get it, and from the expression on his face neither did Dad. After a long moment Panacea realized that and explained
"…She has theoretical biological immortality. In practice carcinogen and heavy metal build up will kill her eventually if you don't find a way to get rid of them."
Given that no kitsune has ever died from old age that wasn't a surprise. Something that the healer noticed.
"You knew," she stated, "the locker wasn't your trigger event was it?"
"No," I admitted.
"How long have you been a parahuman?" she asked before frantically adding "If you want to answer, you don't have to."
Dad and I traded a long look. On one paw she was right in that we didn't need to answer, but this was Panacea, one of if not the best healer capes in the world. Having a good relationship with her could quite literally be the difference between life or death in the future. Dad raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged back. He thought for a moment longer.
"We're not willing to answer that question here," he said apologetically, "However," he offered Panacea his forefinger, "this should give you an idea."
Clever. Dad's old wounds would give her an idea alright. It was the wrong idea, but it was certainly an idea. After a moment's hesitation Panacea grabbed Dad's finger.
"That is old damage. Very old. Who did you piss off so badly?"
"Empire."
"Ah. You don't have enough fat for me to fix this."
"What about programming my body to regenerate the damage over several months?"
"That – I – I can't do that," she lied.
It was a lie so blatant, to both my nose and my eyes, that I couldn't help but interject
"Yet you can make something in an attempt to interact with the energy in my body?"
Panacea froze, eyes darting between Dad, me, and the trooper respectfully standing several yards away, patiently giving us an illusion of privacy. Several pieces fell into place. Her power wasn't healing, it was biomancy. Biokekisis? Why was she hiding –
"Miss Dallon," Dad said quietly, faster on the uptake, gently wrapping his other hand over Panacea's as the girl started to panic, "You are not Bonesaw. You are not Nilbog."
"But I could be," she whispered, "I could be so much worse than them."
"The potential to do something does not mean you will."
"I could kill the planet."
Her whisper was even softer this time, almost begging us to condemn her. Yet all I could think was welcome to the club.
"Give me a dozen good men and a week and I could crash the continental US power grid such that it would take years to rebuild, without using a single parahuman power or tinkertech," was Dad's response, "That doesn't mean I will. Why would I? It would make everyone's life worse, including mine and Taylor's. I don't want that."
Panacea pulled her hand away and seemed to huddle into herself. Dad pulled out a business card and a pen and quickly scribbled our home phone number on the back.
"Here," he said, holding the card out to her, "if you ever feel the need to experiment, call me. I'll set something up."
She stared at it for a long moment before silently taking it and walking out of the room. Once she was gone the trooper approached us.
"Ready to leave, sir, ma'am?"
We nodded.
"You're being cuddly today," Dad remarked as I wrapped myself around his legs as we rode the elevator down, his hand absently stroking the fur of my shoulder.
I… was, wasn't I. I haven't been like this since… Mom died. Interesting. I'm glad that the bleakness from before the locker doesn't seem to have a hold over me right now, but that's more than a little suspicious. Given the thoughtful expression on Dad's face he's thinking something similar.
"We'll talk about it when we get home," he breathed, quietly that my vulpine hearing could catch it but not the trooper escorting us out.
The rest of the way out of PRT HQ into the employee parking lot where Dad had parked his old F150 with a truck bed roof mod was predictably forgettable, the trooper leaving us at the exit to the building. As Dad walked around the front I popped open the passenger door with magic and jumped in, squirming around so I could sit in the seat without crushing my tails and hunched over so I wouldn't crack my head on the roof. Again. Despite that my neck and head were still pressed against the roof of the cab.
Dad paused as he opened the driver door.
"Aren't you going to shift to human form?"
"Nope," I instantly replied.
"You sure? I've got some of your clothes stashed behind the seat."
"I'm sure."
"You're going to cramp," he warned.
I shrugged. I really didn't want to shift into human form right now. After looking at me a moment longer he shrugged in a "your funeral" way, started the truck, and began to drive.
AN: Michele Barr is a member of WEDGDG with an interrogation thinker power that lets her know what questions to ask to get the maximum amount of information out of whoever she's talking to.
Also, be aware I'm going to be playing very fast and loose with mythology, which has never been a static or coherent thing in the first place.
- Location
- Alaska, USA
I've got plans for Coyote to make an appearance. Athena as well.
- Location
- Best England - United Kingdom
Well I'm down for any Kitsune Taylor fic while waiting for @Grounders10 to work her tails back to a Taste of Peaches.
Enjoyed this, though I generally suggest that authors wait until they have at least three chapters to post their own thread. Very long first chapters, like this one, get a by on that.
Sounds like Annette may be back, though it will likely be a while.
I almost wonder if Emma's betrayal might have been in part because of the memory wipe.
Sounds like Annette may be back, though it will likely be a while.
I almost wonder if Emma's betrayal might have been in part because of the memory wipe.
It does sound like it doesn't it? Not where I can reread to check but does it say the betrayal happened right after or was there a year between?
- Location
- Alaska, USA
Emma's encounter with the ABB and Sophia happened as in canon, which happened shortly after Annette was killed. The mind wipe was a contributing factor, not the sole cause.
I did say 'part' of the reason.
Sandy River DL
(Verified Destroyer Leader)
- Location
- Lake Michigan
- Pronouns
- Her/She
Huh, another 'heir of Tamamo' Taylor? This would make three, so watching.
What are the other ones?
Sandy River DL
(Verified Destroyer Leader)
- Location
- Lake Michigan
- Pronouns
- Her/She
One is a short scene in my ideas file (link in sig), and the other is an outline on Caer Azkaban.
Cut Scene: Amaterasu curses the Trio
- Location
- Alaska, USA
Here's a scene that I wound up cutting as I decided it didn't fit in with the story. This would have taken place just after Assault returns with Taylor.
CUT SCENE
"Sophia Hess. I know your name. I have seen your crimes. For your actions I curse you to wither. No matter what you do, what treatments you attempt, your strength will waste away till you struggle to stand on your own. Your eyesight will fade till you struggle to see. Your hearing will deafen till you struggle to hear. You will always know the helplessness of your victims.
"Madison Clements. I know your name. I have heard your cruelty. I curse you with empathy. You will always feel the pain, the fear, the despair of those around you, and every cruelty you inflict you will experience twice over.
"Emma Barnes. I know you. I know what you have done. I name you Traitor. I name you Oathbreaker. I name you Threat to Kith and Kin. I damn you, Emma Barnes. Your physical form shall reflect the state of your rotting soul, and I banish you from my sight. Never again shall you walk beneath the sun."
Emma led Sophia and Madison towards Winslow's front doors, the students finally being released by the cops, struggling to keep a grin off her face.
"I can't believe she did it," she said 'quietly', pitching her voice so all the nearby students could hear her, "Hebert actually blew up the school. I mean, I knew she had issues, and was a bit disturbed, but I didn't think she would actually blow up the school. Hey, Sophia, how long do you think Taylor's going to get once the cops catch her? Ten years? Twenty?"
"Hah," Sophia snorted, "it'll be life."
"Really?" Madison asked, still subdued.
Emma might have to do something about that. Mads was a bit of a coward, a reminder about what would happen if she snitched might be in order.
"Yeah," Sophia continued, "Let's face it, no matter what the official number is, the only way Hebert is leaving prison is in a body bag. I bet ten bucks someone shanks her in six months."
Emma opened her mouth to contribute, only for Julia to gag.
"Dear god, what is that stench?" she exclaimed.
Emma couldn't smell anything herself but she could guess what everyone else was reacting to.
"That's the shit Hebert stuck her bomb in before she set it off. You know, the stuff they had to call in the CDC to get rid of? I wonder if she'll be charged with bioterrorism for that."
Madison leaned close.
"Hey Emma are you ok? You're looking a bit grey."
She glanced down at her bare arms. Huh, so she was.
"Don't worry about it," she said, literally waving away Madison's concern, "it's just because I haven't been in the sun for too long. I swear it's like they're trying to torture us by keeping us locked up in here all day."
Then she stepped through the doors into the cloudy afternoon sunlight and shrieked as her bare skin began to burn.
CUT SCENE
AN: My initial plan was to form a sub-plot stemming from this where Emma uses this, along with the international incident caused by Ammy cursing the trio, to weasel out of initial punishment. After getting her memories back, and realizing that Taylor won't take her shit anymore, Emma decides that she has to get strong enough to put Taylor "back in her place" by any means necessary, and delves into black magic, dragging Sophia with her.
This would culminate in Emma attempting to use necromancy to raise Annette and bind her to Emma's will to torment Taylor. Except Emma doesn't get Annette Hebert. She gets Tamamo-no-Mae. At the height of her power, when she could solo gods and expect to win. At which point Emma and Sophia get a first hand experience as to why you shouldn't call up that which you cannot put down when Tamamo instantly breaks free. With predictable consequences.
It was at this point where I decided that this plot line skates a bit too close to revenge porn and sacrifices long term plot quality for immediate catharsis and cut it.
CUT SCENE
"Sophia Hess. I know your name. I have seen your crimes. For your actions I curse you to wither. No matter what you do, what treatments you attempt, your strength will waste away till you struggle to stand on your own. Your eyesight will fade till you struggle to see. Your hearing will deafen till you struggle to hear. You will always know the helplessness of your victims.
"Madison Clements. I know your name. I have heard your cruelty. I curse you with empathy. You will always feel the pain, the fear, the despair of those around you, and every cruelty you inflict you will experience twice over.
"Emma Barnes. I know you. I know what you have done. I name you Traitor. I name you Oathbreaker. I name you Threat to Kith and Kin. I damn you, Emma Barnes. Your physical form shall reflect the state of your rotting soul, and I banish you from my sight. Never again shall you walk beneath the sun."
Emma led Sophia and Madison towards Winslow's front doors, the students finally being released by the cops, struggling to keep a grin off her face.
"I can't believe she did it," she said 'quietly', pitching her voice so all the nearby students could hear her, "Hebert actually blew up the school. I mean, I knew she had issues, and was a bit disturbed, but I didn't think she would actually blow up the school. Hey, Sophia, how long do you think Taylor's going to get once the cops catch her? Ten years? Twenty?"
"Hah," Sophia snorted, "it'll be life."
"Really?" Madison asked, still subdued.
Emma might have to do something about that. Mads was a bit of a coward, a reminder about what would happen if she snitched might be in order.
"Yeah," Sophia continued, "Let's face it, no matter what the official number is, the only way Hebert is leaving prison is in a body bag. I bet ten bucks someone shanks her in six months."
Emma opened her mouth to contribute, only for Julia to gag.
"Dear god, what is that stench?" she exclaimed.
Emma couldn't smell anything herself but she could guess what everyone else was reacting to.
"That's the shit Hebert stuck her bomb in before she set it off. You know, the stuff they had to call in the CDC to get rid of? I wonder if she'll be charged with bioterrorism for that."
Madison leaned close.
"Hey Emma are you ok? You're looking a bit grey."
She glanced down at her bare arms. Huh, so she was.
"Don't worry about it," she said, literally waving away Madison's concern, "it's just because I haven't been in the sun for too long. I swear it's like they're trying to torture us by keeping us locked up in here all day."
Then she stepped through the doors into the cloudy afternoon sunlight and shrieked as her bare skin began to burn.
CUT SCENE
AN: My initial plan was to form a sub-plot stemming from this where Emma uses this, along with the international incident caused by Ammy cursing the trio, to weasel out of initial punishment. After getting her memories back, and realizing that Taylor won't take her shit anymore, Emma decides that she has to get strong enough to put Taylor "back in her place" by any means necessary, and delves into black magic, dragging Sophia with her.
This would culminate in Emma attempting to use necromancy to raise Annette and bind her to Emma's will to torment Taylor. Except Emma doesn't get Annette Hebert. She gets Tamamo-no-Mae. At the height of her power, when she could solo gods and expect to win. At which point Emma and Sophia get a first hand experience as to why you shouldn't call up that which you cannot put down when Tamamo instantly breaks free. With predictable consequences.
It was at this point where I decided that this plot line skates a bit too close to revenge porn and sacrifices long term plot quality for immediate catharsis and cut it.
Well, it could have worked as a villain introduction for Tamamo no Mae. If you wanted to in that direction, of course. Or you could run it as apocrypha/side story content, if you so choose, since it wouldn't have any bearing on the plot.
KillerFish
Grumpy Owl, Bird Lawyer
Since I have none of the background knowledge of Tamamo no Mae (without googling or looking on wiki), I can only do one thing. Watch and see how this develops.
@CenturionsofRome Are you going with the idea that Tamamo no Mae is Daji?
Tamamo is Daji?
- Location
- Alaska, USA
Yes, though she wasn't as horrible as the legends suggest, as that was the result of character assassination by an entire dynasty. That said, she was not a good person back then. The story of the prisoners? She used their corpses and deaths as fuel for magical rituals and reagents. The farmer and his feet? He couldn't afford footwear and frostbite had set in. Amputation was needed to prevent necrosis, though the farmer ended up dying of sepsis from the operation, and she did study the severed feet, but to analyze frostbite, not cold resistance. The pregnant mother? The child had implanted at the base of a fallopian tube and they couldn't save neither the mother nor the babe.
Basically she was sociopathic in the sense that she didn't consider humans as people, along with a strong streak of "waste not, want not", but she didn't go out of her way to cause suffering either. The emperor was just another mark to her.
Tamamo-no-Mae's theme song.
- Location
- Alaska, USA
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jA5p3RAxGPU
Honestly, Tamamo-no-Mae has a lot in common with Kratos. Whenever I'm thinking of scenes where Tamamo-no-Mae appears, and yes she will appear in the story, though I haven't figured out the details yet, this is the song I listen to.
Can't wait for the next chapter.
Responses to Taylor's reveal will be interesting. Especially from the ABB and Emma (when Emma gets her memory back.)
Responses to Taylor's reveal will be interesting. Especially from the ABB and Emma (when Emma gets her memory back.)
Sandy River DL
(Verified Destroyer Leader)
- Location
- Lake Michigan
- Pronouns
- Her/She
ABB: *Panicked Screaming*
Windborne
Devourer of Stories
- Location
- Oregon
Oh another Fluffy Taylor Fic, this is so getting a watch from me. I'm hoping the next chapter comes soon @CenturionsofRome, but take your time I just read stupidly quick so I'm always wanting more like the glutton I am. Not enough Foxy Fics on SV or SB for me at the speed I read at.
Chapter 2
- Location
- Alaska, USA
Dad was right. By the time we got home I had developed a dull ache under my shoulder blades, which all the stretching I did after hopping out of the truck couldn't get rid of. Normally we would have pulled into the garage before letting me out to keep the neighbors from seeing me in my fuzzy form, but one, that didn't really matter anymore, and two, the garage had accumulated a bunch of stuff over the past two years. Dad couldn't park his truck in it anymore.
Dad led the way to the front door, both of us stepping over the "rotten" step that was the trigger for a magical trap. I will need to recharge it at some point as Dad has little talent for magic, and I should check the rest of the warding arrays while I'm at it. They should still be good, two years isn't long enough for them to have decayed to the point they couldn't recharge, but given everything else that's happened…
As Dad began to remove his coat I closed the front door (which had a lever type handle instead of a round knob for easy operation by those with paws, like all doors in the house) with a tail and wandered towards the living room, taking in the scent of the house. It didn't smell as I remembered, unsurprisingly, but the lack of Mom's scent… it hurt. My own scent lingered from before I left for Winslow and it was alarming how much stress scent I had been putting out, along with the general negativity (I wasn't skilled enough to distinguish individual emotions by scent yet) that was pervasive in the lingering scents of both me and Dad. Thankfully we were now in much better mental shape with the removal of the memory block, a quick sniff confirmed that.
Our living room was set up in a J shape facing an old CRT TV which had a faraday cage for magic integrated into its casing, with Mom's long three-seater couch forming the long part, Dad's reclining armchair the joint, and my two-seater couch forming the tail against the wall. It was as I approached my couch that I realized that I had a new problem: I'd outgrown it. Sure, I could still fit if I curled up a bit and let my paws hang off the front, or put my head on the arm rest and let my tails dangle over the opposite one, but I wanted to sprawl. Turning I padded back over to Mom's couch, giving it a habitual sniff as I came alongside.
…It still smells like Mom.
I rolled onto the couch and burrowed into it, wriggling onto my back as I buried my nose into the crack between the armrest, back, and seat cushion, as I heard Dad rummage through the junk drawers in the kitchen. I lay there, paws in the air, inhaling the remnants of Mom's scent.
"Taylor?"
I looked at Dad, still on my back, and my tails started wiggling (not having enough room to fully wag) as I saw he was holding my brush.
"Please?" I didn't quite beg.
Smiling he sat down at the foot of the couch and ran the brush through my chest fur twice, then let out a breathless chuckle as he peeled a thick wad of fuzz off the brush. Time passed as I relaxed under Dad's brushing, a pile of fuzz steadily building up next to him. I was glad that I hadn't tried to groom myself, that much loose fur would have given me a hairball and I don't know which end it would have come out of. As I rolled so that Dad could brush my back he reluctantly spoke
"We need to talk about what happened."
"…Yeah. We do," I admitted.
"Where do you want to start?"
"With me being outed."
"Joining the Wards would offer protection," Dad said neutrally, "And you are not required to join the Protectorate once you reach eighteen."
True, but…
"I don't want to get locked into the whole Hero vs Villain mess," I replied, "It would also limit my ability to grow. Not to mention I can't see them not injecting themselves to get access to Mom's library once they learn of it as well as restricting what magics I can learn."
Dad nodded at that. I continued.
"I'm thinking that we should go ahead with the original plan to introduce me."
Dad paused.
"Are you sure? That plan was made with the assumptions of your abilities once you turned eighteen. And given you haven't been practicing magic for the past two years…"
"The plan also assumed that I would be giving an interview and maybe some demonstrations afterwards, along with showing off as I'm managing the ritual. That won't be happening. We might also need to change the drop off point to somewhere closer to the wreck rather than the DWU. But I think I can do it."
He resumed brushing.
"We should also come up with a variant in case you need to do it over two sessions. Yes, it'll lessen the impact, and the PRT will interject themselves and delay everything if we do, but that's better than hurting yourself because you overdid it. You'll need to let me into the Vault so I can get the plans and the catchment pylons. The gangs will be keeping their heads down for awhile due to the number of feds and Eidolon being in the city, so we should be ready by next Saturday."
Dad moved so he could start brushing my tails.
"We need to talk about the bullying. Emma and a Madison Clements have been arrested, with Eidolon in pursuit of a Sophia Hess. I can guess at why you didn't tell me – the apathy from the mind magic made you not want to and you came up with excuses to justify it – "
I nodded guiltily.
" – but do you have any idea what happened to Emma that turned her into this? How did it start?"
I gave him an overview, not going into details, from seeing Sophia at Emma's to their persecution of me, to the loss of Mom's flute, the last keepsake we had of one of my elder siblings.
"She did what?" Dad growled when I told him that last, "Annette is going to make an example of Emma for that, especially if we can't get the flute back or repair it."
"I still don't know what made Emma turn on me like that," I said.
"We can't ask the Barnes'," Dad said, "it could be construed as witness tampering or intimidation or something. No contact until after Emma's trial."
"Speaking of," I sighed, "Mom and the mind wipe."
"That was one of the first things I looked into after I got my memories back. The car was registered in her name, supposedly owned by her since three years before the 'car crash'."
"Definitely a government assassination then."
"Yes, but not necessarily by the US government," Dad pointed out, "The DMV databases aren't exactly a hardened system. But yes, either a government or someone with significant government connections. The Chinese and Koreans are the first that come to mind."
"The mind wipe complicates that."
"It does. I'm struggling to think of anyone with both the means, which is already a short list and mostly comprises of deities, and the motive to do that."
"The only names I can think of would have killed us rather than wipe our memories," I admitted.
Dad nodded.
"…I don't think we'll ever know who did it," he said quietly.
…And anyone strong enough to wipe our memories like this was more than strong enough to kill us effortlessly. Between the lack of leads and the implicit threat, there was no point in trying to investigate, at least until Mom came back. Maybe not even then.
"Speaking of the mind magic," I said leadingly, rolling onto my side with my paws against the couch back so Dad could finish brushing me, "What's going on with me? I like the change, but I would like to know why and how."
"I have a theory as to what's going on, but to test it I need you to shift to human form."
I grumbled, but focused. Like most shapeshifters kitsune tend to have preset forms, as free-form shapeshifting is significantly more difficult to learn and not as useful as it sounds, unless you were regularly doing espionage or similar. To make a preset form one had to know exactly what your new form looked like, and how it differed from your current form both mechanically – bone structure and musculature – and biologically – such as transitioning are from primarily perceiving the world through scent to sight – then ingraining the knowledge in your mind, often with magic to provide permanence, so that you didn't forget. Which was why I needed glasses in human form, I hadn't gotten the eyes right before I had to head off to the camp, and then I was stuck in that form.
Still, I thought as I began to shift on the couch (neither of us cared about nudity, given both Mom and I preferred to wander around in just our fur), why does he want me to shift into being a flat, overweight upright frog of a girl? Is he going –
I flinched, aborting the change and settling back into my kitsune form, the bitterness, self-loathing, despair, and general negativity vanishing as I did so. I shuddered. I did not like feeling like that, and feeling my mind change to my pre-locker mindset had been disturbing.
"Taylor?" Dad asked, "You okay?"
I told him what I felt. He grimaced.
"Your Mom mentioned this. Shapeshifters are vulnerable to a variant of DID. When exposed to a trauma over a period of time in a specific form the trauma becomes ingrained into the mentality of that form. The example she used was if you always use one form for combat, shifting into that form, even out of combat, will immediately drop you back into battle."
I considered that.
"So when I tried to shift to my human form, which I exclusively used at Winslow, it dropped me right back into that mindset."
He nodded.
"The only good thing about the mind magic is that it seems to have preserved your pre-Winslow mindset in your kitsune form," he said.
"Yeah," I muttered as tried to remotely examine the mentality of my human form without shifting, "That's one form I'm never using again."
"I'd be careful about abandoning forms the moment you suffer trauma in one," Dad warned, "I don't know what would happen, but there's no way that could be good for your long term mental health."
"…I wasn't suicidal," I hesitantly admitted, feeling the need to justify my decision, "but if I was put in a life or death situation… I don't think I would have tried very hard to survive it. I don't want to be that close to the edge again."
Dad took a deep breath, held it, and slowly let it out, muttering "must not burn down Winslow, must not burn down Winslow, must not burn down Winslow."
I laughed and nuzzled him. He hugged me back.
After a long moment he spoke
"We need to head back to the PRT tomorrow, the Director wants to meet with us. Not sure what about, but a Wards pitch is going to be a part of it."
"I also need to give the investigators my journal of the stuff the trio did."
"You documented it?"
I nodded.
"Could you… go get it for me, please?"
I pulled back so I could look Dad in the eye.
"You don't need to see it," I said.
"I think I do need to."
I stared at him for a long moment before conceding.
"Okay."
He gave me a sad smile and began to gather up the mound of shed fluff that was nearly as tall as I was.
"I'll go put this in the Stuffer downstairs while you do that."
I nodded and bounced over the armrest to not disturb the pile as I headed towards the stairs. The Stuffer was an invention of Mom's. Since leaving giant piles of shed fur in the trash would eventually be noticed, she came up with a magitech machine that could turn the shed fur into the insulating layer of heavy blankets, comforters, and sleeping bags that she would then sell at farmers markets and artisanal fairs. She'd come up with this fancy name for it, but Dad and I had called it the Stuffer for so long I couldn't remember the original name. Nudging the door to my bedroom open with my nose I trotted past my giant nest of a bed, which admittedly looked like an upscaled dog bed with throw pillows and some old stuffed toys that were somewhat worse for wear and slobber stained, into my small walk-in closet, past the kitsune outfits on the left – wait.
I stopped and looked again. There were several outfits for my kitsune form, all now too small for me, and covered in a fine layer of dust. I had walked past them, even bumped into them judging from the dust patterns, for years and I hadn't noticed a thing. I felt my fur start to bristle in alarm, before a thought occurred to me and I turned and rushed out my door. At the top of the stairs was a picture of three year old me, still in my baby fluff, sprawled on Mom's back, also in kitsune form, both of us napping on the couch. Dad and I had walked past this every day and hadn't seen anything. My fur stood on end as I realized that the spell had to have been using my magic to fuel itself to have had an active effect like this. Which meant whoever cast this had to have physical contact with me to anchor it to my magic. That I had no memory of it wasn't a surprise, of course they would have erased it, though that was assuming that I had been conscious when it happened and not nabbed while I was asleep.
I took a deep breath and gave myself a quick grooming to settle my fur before heading to grab my journal. We should start dinner soon, its going to be a long night. We need to figure out what we're going to say at the PRT tomorrow, I'll need to keep Dad from beating himself up over the bullying, and we need to find if any of Mom's clothing can be quickly modified to fit me. Kitsune clothing isn't something that you can get at the local Wal-Mart after all.
AN: obligatory disclaimer, neither Danny, Annette, nor the Author are psychologists.
Also, what is clothing for horses called?
By the way, isn't there a thing about kitsune and livers? I half recall there was something about that, or was it for jorogumo?
Dad led the way to the front door, both of us stepping over the "rotten" step that was the trigger for a magical trap. I will need to recharge it at some point as Dad has little talent for magic, and I should check the rest of the warding arrays while I'm at it. They should still be good, two years isn't long enough for them to have decayed to the point they couldn't recharge, but given everything else that's happened…
As Dad began to remove his coat I closed the front door (which had a lever type handle instead of a round knob for easy operation by those with paws, like all doors in the house) with a tail and wandered towards the living room, taking in the scent of the house. It didn't smell as I remembered, unsurprisingly, but the lack of Mom's scent… it hurt. My own scent lingered from before I left for Winslow and it was alarming how much stress scent I had been putting out, along with the general negativity (I wasn't skilled enough to distinguish individual emotions by scent yet) that was pervasive in the lingering scents of both me and Dad. Thankfully we were now in much better mental shape with the removal of the memory block, a quick sniff confirmed that.
Our living room was set up in a J shape facing an old CRT TV which had a faraday cage for magic integrated into its casing, with Mom's long three-seater couch forming the long part, Dad's reclining armchair the joint, and my two-seater couch forming the tail against the wall. It was as I approached my couch that I realized that I had a new problem: I'd outgrown it. Sure, I could still fit if I curled up a bit and let my paws hang off the front, or put my head on the arm rest and let my tails dangle over the opposite one, but I wanted to sprawl. Turning I padded back over to Mom's couch, giving it a habitual sniff as I came alongside.
…It still smells like Mom.
I rolled onto the couch and burrowed into it, wriggling onto my back as I buried my nose into the crack between the armrest, back, and seat cushion, as I heard Dad rummage through the junk drawers in the kitchen. I lay there, paws in the air, inhaling the remnants of Mom's scent.
"Taylor?"
I looked at Dad, still on my back, and my tails started wiggling (not having enough room to fully wag) as I saw he was holding my brush.
"Please?" I didn't quite beg.
Smiling he sat down at the foot of the couch and ran the brush through my chest fur twice, then let out a breathless chuckle as he peeled a thick wad of fuzz off the brush. Time passed as I relaxed under Dad's brushing, a pile of fuzz steadily building up next to him. I was glad that I hadn't tried to groom myself, that much loose fur would have given me a hairball and I don't know which end it would have come out of. As I rolled so that Dad could brush my back he reluctantly spoke
"We need to talk about what happened."
"…Yeah. We do," I admitted.
"Where do you want to start?"
"With me being outed."
"Joining the Wards would offer protection," Dad said neutrally, "And you are not required to join the Protectorate once you reach eighteen."
True, but…
"I don't want to get locked into the whole Hero vs Villain mess," I replied, "It would also limit my ability to grow. Not to mention I can't see them not injecting themselves to get access to Mom's library once they learn of it as well as restricting what magics I can learn."
Dad nodded at that. I continued.
"I'm thinking that we should go ahead with the original plan to introduce me."
Dad paused.
"Are you sure? That plan was made with the assumptions of your abilities once you turned eighteen. And given you haven't been practicing magic for the past two years…"
"The plan also assumed that I would be giving an interview and maybe some demonstrations afterwards, along with showing off as I'm managing the ritual. That won't be happening. We might also need to change the drop off point to somewhere closer to the wreck rather than the DWU. But I think I can do it."
He resumed brushing.
"We should also come up with a variant in case you need to do it over two sessions. Yes, it'll lessen the impact, and the PRT will interject themselves and delay everything if we do, but that's better than hurting yourself because you overdid it. You'll need to let me into the Vault so I can get the plans and the catchment pylons. The gangs will be keeping their heads down for awhile due to the number of feds and Eidolon being in the city, so we should be ready by next Saturday."
Dad moved so he could start brushing my tails.
"We need to talk about the bullying. Emma and a Madison Clements have been arrested, with Eidolon in pursuit of a Sophia Hess. I can guess at why you didn't tell me – the apathy from the mind magic made you not want to and you came up with excuses to justify it – "
I nodded guiltily.
" – but do you have any idea what happened to Emma that turned her into this? How did it start?"
I gave him an overview, not going into details, from seeing Sophia at Emma's to their persecution of me, to the loss of Mom's flute, the last keepsake we had of one of my elder siblings.
"She did what?" Dad growled when I told him that last, "Annette is going to make an example of Emma for that, especially if we can't get the flute back or repair it."
"I still don't know what made Emma turn on me like that," I said.
"We can't ask the Barnes'," Dad said, "it could be construed as witness tampering or intimidation or something. No contact until after Emma's trial."
"Speaking of," I sighed, "Mom and the mind wipe."
"That was one of the first things I looked into after I got my memories back. The car was registered in her name, supposedly owned by her since three years before the 'car crash'."
"Definitely a government assassination then."
"Yes, but not necessarily by the US government," Dad pointed out, "The DMV databases aren't exactly a hardened system. But yes, either a government or someone with significant government connections. The Chinese and Koreans are the first that come to mind."
"The mind wipe complicates that."
"It does. I'm struggling to think of anyone with both the means, which is already a short list and mostly comprises of deities, and the motive to do that."
"The only names I can think of would have killed us rather than wipe our memories," I admitted.
Dad nodded.
"…I don't think we'll ever know who did it," he said quietly.
…And anyone strong enough to wipe our memories like this was more than strong enough to kill us effortlessly. Between the lack of leads and the implicit threat, there was no point in trying to investigate, at least until Mom came back. Maybe not even then.
"Speaking of the mind magic," I said leadingly, rolling onto my side with my paws against the couch back so Dad could finish brushing me, "What's going on with me? I like the change, but I would like to know why and how."
"I have a theory as to what's going on, but to test it I need you to shift to human form."
I grumbled, but focused. Like most shapeshifters kitsune tend to have preset forms, as free-form shapeshifting is significantly more difficult to learn and not as useful as it sounds, unless you were regularly doing espionage or similar. To make a preset form one had to know exactly what your new form looked like, and how it differed from your current form both mechanically – bone structure and musculature – and biologically – such as transitioning are from primarily perceiving the world through scent to sight – then ingraining the knowledge in your mind, often with magic to provide permanence, so that you didn't forget. Which was why I needed glasses in human form, I hadn't gotten the eyes right before I had to head off to the camp, and then I was stuck in that form.
Still, I thought as I began to shift on the couch (neither of us cared about nudity, given both Mom and I preferred to wander around in just our fur), why does he want me to shift into being a flat, overweight upright frog of a girl? Is he going –
I flinched, aborting the change and settling back into my kitsune form, the bitterness, self-loathing, despair, and general negativity vanishing as I did so. I shuddered. I did not like feeling like that, and feeling my mind change to my pre-locker mindset had been disturbing.
"Taylor?" Dad asked, "You okay?"
I told him what I felt. He grimaced.
"Your Mom mentioned this. Shapeshifters are vulnerable to a variant of DID. When exposed to a trauma over a period of time in a specific form the trauma becomes ingrained into the mentality of that form. The example she used was if you always use one form for combat, shifting into that form, even out of combat, will immediately drop you back into battle."
I considered that.
"So when I tried to shift to my human form, which I exclusively used at Winslow, it dropped me right back into that mindset."
He nodded.
"The only good thing about the mind magic is that it seems to have preserved your pre-Winslow mindset in your kitsune form," he said.
"Yeah," I muttered as tried to remotely examine the mentality of my human form without shifting, "That's one form I'm never using again."
"I'd be careful about abandoning forms the moment you suffer trauma in one," Dad warned, "I don't know what would happen, but there's no way that could be good for your long term mental health."
"…I wasn't suicidal," I hesitantly admitted, feeling the need to justify my decision, "but if I was put in a life or death situation… I don't think I would have tried very hard to survive it. I don't want to be that close to the edge again."
Dad took a deep breath, held it, and slowly let it out, muttering "must not burn down Winslow, must not burn down Winslow, must not burn down Winslow."
I laughed and nuzzled him. He hugged me back.
After a long moment he spoke
"We need to head back to the PRT tomorrow, the Director wants to meet with us. Not sure what about, but a Wards pitch is going to be a part of it."
"I also need to give the investigators my journal of the stuff the trio did."
"You documented it?"
I nodded.
"Could you… go get it for me, please?"
I pulled back so I could look Dad in the eye.
"You don't need to see it," I said.
"I think I do need to."
I stared at him for a long moment before conceding.
"Okay."
He gave me a sad smile and began to gather up the mound of shed fluff that was nearly as tall as I was.
"I'll go put this in the Stuffer downstairs while you do that."
I nodded and bounced over the armrest to not disturb the pile as I headed towards the stairs. The Stuffer was an invention of Mom's. Since leaving giant piles of shed fur in the trash would eventually be noticed, she came up with a magitech machine that could turn the shed fur into the insulating layer of heavy blankets, comforters, and sleeping bags that she would then sell at farmers markets and artisanal fairs. She'd come up with this fancy name for it, but Dad and I had called it the Stuffer for so long I couldn't remember the original name. Nudging the door to my bedroom open with my nose I trotted past my giant nest of a bed, which admittedly looked like an upscaled dog bed with throw pillows and some old stuffed toys that were somewhat worse for wear and slobber stained, into my small walk-in closet, past the kitsune outfits on the left – wait.
I stopped and looked again. There were several outfits for my kitsune form, all now too small for me, and covered in a fine layer of dust. I had walked past them, even bumped into them judging from the dust patterns, for years and I hadn't noticed a thing. I felt my fur start to bristle in alarm, before a thought occurred to me and I turned and rushed out my door. At the top of the stairs was a picture of three year old me, still in my baby fluff, sprawled on Mom's back, also in kitsune form, both of us napping on the couch. Dad and I had walked past this every day and hadn't seen anything. My fur stood on end as I realized that the spell had to have been using my magic to fuel itself to have had an active effect like this. Which meant whoever cast this had to have physical contact with me to anchor it to my magic. That I had no memory of it wasn't a surprise, of course they would have erased it, though that was assuming that I had been conscious when it happened and not nabbed while I was asleep.
I took a deep breath and gave myself a quick grooming to settle my fur before heading to grab my journal. We should start dinner soon, its going to be a long night. We need to figure out what we're going to say at the PRT tomorrow, I'll need to keep Dad from beating himself up over the bullying, and we need to find if any of Mom's clothing can be quickly modified to fit me. Kitsune clothing isn't something that you can get at the local Wal-Mart after all.
AN: obligatory disclaimer, neither Danny, Annette, nor the Author are psychologists.
Also, what is clothing for horses called?
By the way, isn't there a thing about kitsune and livers? I half recall there was something about that, or was it for jorogumo?
Windborne
Devourer of Stories
- Location
- Oregon
Clothing for mounts, or really regalia as it's purely there for ornamentation whenever it's beyond a blanket in cold weather, is called barding.
Just so you are aware the terminology regarding Taylor's various forms you're using @CenturionsofRome is somewhat confusing. When you refer to Kitsune form it seems by context you're talking about her complete fox form, that being a quadrupedal fully vulpine form with multiple tails. When I think of the word Kitsune, when I'm not speaking or listening in Japanese at least, I have a mental image of a bipedal humanoid with fox ears and tail(s) as the only animal traits. An in between form, like Ahri or Tamamo from Fate. Some clarification is highly suggested, personally I'd just suggest you use fox for the full fox form, and Kitsune as the in between.
Just so you are aware the terminology regarding Taylor's various forms you're using @CenturionsofRome is somewhat confusing. When you refer to Kitsune form it seems by context you're talking about her complete fox form, that being a quadrupedal fully vulpine form with multiple tails. When I think of the word Kitsune, when I'm not speaking or listening in Japanese at least, I have a mental image of a bipedal humanoid with fox ears and tail(s) as the only animal traits. An in between form, like Ahri or Tamamo from Fate. Some clarification is highly suggested, personally I'd just suggest you use fox for the full fox form, and Kitsune as the in between.
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