Chapter 11
- Location
- Marietta, OH USA
Chapter 11
Chapter Text
"The time is 10:30 AM, January 3rd...The time is 10:30 AM, January 3rd..."
Adrian woke. Sunlight was streaming down through the skylight onto his bed. Dang it. He rolled over, yawned, stretched, scratched his fur. Wow. He blinked in surprise. He felt... good? No, he felt great. He felt better than he had since the first day of his metamorphosis. He stood up and stretched again, twisting and flexing. Nothing ached, nothing was sore, he felt like he was literally brand new. "Holy cow, I should market this," he muttered in amazement. "Emerald Dream day spa. Sleep your aches and pains away. I could make a mint."
Then he bolted to the bathroom. There were consequences for sleeping for a week…
When he came back out he was purged, freshly hosed down and ready to go. (His "shower" was actually a circular cabinet lined with high pressure sprayers and a high power hot air blower. It was like cycling yourself through a car wash, but it took less than sixty seconds and hey, when you're covered with hair….)
It had been a strange time in his pocket dimension. It felt like he had spent nearly all of his time there sleeping. Dream within a dream indeed. But quite a bit of it had been spent talking with Agent, getting advice on his powers, suggestions for his next course of actions, lessons in how to expand his abilities and skills. He was startled to learn that some of the things he had done were actual breakthroughs.
But now he needed to get cleaned up and dressed. Taylor was probably going spare wondering where he'd gotten to. But so long as he showed up in time for--
"The time is 10:30 AM, January 3rd...The time is 10:30 AM, January 3rd..."
He whipped around and looked at the clock. He grabbed it off the nightstand. "Oh no, no no no," he said. "ARGH! I missed New Years. I missed New Years!! I promised her and I..." He banged his head against a nearby roof beam. "I should have sent an email, I-- I should have told her about-- No, but-- Ah. Crap..." He was going to have to crawl to make it up to her. He only hoped…
Ice shot down his spine.
"The time is 10:30 AM, January 3rd...The time is 10:30 AM, January 3rd..."
January 3rd. And it was nearly noon. No. Oh no no no no. NO!
Pigeons flew for their lives as a desperate worgen exploded through the skylight below them. He was dressed in all he had, a tee, some sweats and a hoodie. There was no time to try and clean his costume or assemble the last of his gear. There was no time for anything. Taylor was on a collision course with the single worst day of her life, one that could possibly destroy it.
And even running at top speed, he was still miles away from Winslow.
He transformed into his owl form and shot into the sky.
Taylor barely noticed the cutting remarks from the other girls as she made her way to her locker. For once, not because she was trying to ignore them; for once it was because she simply couldn't care.
Adrian hadn't come back.
At first, when he hadn't shown up on New Year's like he'd promised she'd been hurt. Then she'd thought about how he had been so distant, how he'd stopped calling, how he hadn't answered his phone for a whole week, and she'd gotten angry. But then he'd not answered his phone on the first. Or the second. Or today. And he hadn't been in class… and she'd gone from angry to worried. She'd spent the whole day thus far just bouncing from one of those three emotions to another without any rhyme or reason. Good night, was this what being in a relationship was like? How did anyone think like this?
"Hey Taylor… you feeling... not so fresh?" Madison taunted.
That snapped out of her funk. What had brought that particular barb on? Suddenly she noticed that all the other girls were giving the back corner where her locker was a wide berth. She got closer… and that was when she noticed the smell.
The smell coming from her locker. Like… rotting… she gagged. Something was oozing from the bottom--
Almost as if mesmerized, she reached out and flipped the catch. The door sprang open and she nearly vomited at what spilled out. Used tampons and… things… spilled out on the floor. Roaches ran out, scurrying everywhere. Female cries of revulsion and disgust filled the air followed by falsetto shrieks as most of the girls fled the wave of scuttling cockroaches as fast as they could go.
Taylor clutched her hands to her mouth in horror. No, this couldn't be real, nobody would be this vile--
Three pairs of hands seized her and spun her around. She found herself facing Emma, Madison and Sophia. The expressions on their faces were uglier than she could have ever imagined. "Time for a little remedial solitary, sweety-poo," Sophia said. She screamed and fought, but she was no physical match for Sophia, much less all three of them. As one the three of them shoved her backwards into the filth filled locker and slammed the door shut. She heard the click of a lock snapping shut in the latch.
The filth oozed up around her legs; she felt roaches and bugs crawling on them. "Oh God, please, don't do this!" she screamed. All she heard was their taunting laughter as they started to walk away. They were leaving-- everyone was leaving!! "NO!"
No, wait, they saw the mess someone would go get a teacher or custodian-- except she realized: the only ones who had been there were the Trio's hangers on. They had to have seen her stuff this filth IN here too… the horror grew on her as she realized the entire class was going to leave her in here, and tell noone.
She started to hyperventilate. Something in the pocket of her hoodie clacked against the wall of her prison. Hope dawned like an angel taking wing. Her phone. Her new phone, oh God bless you Dad's-friend-at-work whoever you are… desperately, carefully, she eased the slick black rectangle out of her pocket. If she dropped it--
She didn't drop it. She could have sobbed with relief as she brought it up to her face and used the thumbprint to activate it. Just as she started to dial she heard three sets running sneakers back in on the tile floor. Sophia's voice rang out. "Dammit you idiots she's still got the phone!" They ran up and banged on the door.
Don't you dare you bitch!" Emma snarled.
Taylor kept dialing. 911, no time for anything else. The dialtone purred once, twice, someone picked up-- "Hello, 911, what is the nature of--" And then a spectral hand made of shadow and smoke passed through the locker door and grabbed for the phone.
Taylor shrieked and grappled with the hand for her lifeline. The hand was joined by a shadowy female face that snarled as they struggled. Suddenly the phone in her hand turned to smoke and slipped through her fingers. It vanished through the door. The smoky girl's face went from a hateful snarl to a hateful smirk. "Nice try, bitch," it said in Sophia's voice, and disappeared.
Taylor felt her heart stop, her brain freeze. It was like the whole world lurched to one side as blood drained from her face. Sophia Hess was a cape. Sophia Hess was a cape. And there was only one cape in Brockton Bay that had shadow powers like that. She'd been all over the news for months after she'd signed on board with the Protectorate.
Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker. A Brockton Bay Ward.
The girl who had made Taylor Hebert's life a living hell was a hero.
Taylor blacked out.
Adrian hit the front steps of the school and transformed, not even breaking stride. He slammed the doors open and charged down the hall, in full-blown Worgen form. The halls were clear; it must be between classes. He saw the school security guard back around a corner, yelping into his walkie talkie. He didn't care. He didn't care if he was seen in this form or if anyone put two and two together or anything else. And nobody better try to stop him. God help them if they tried.
He heard someone in business shoes trying to pursue, shouting about security and halt and all that other good stuff. Well good luck Barney Fife. He skidded around the corner to Taylor's cul-de-sac… the little dead end hall where her locker stood. Noone was there. He strode over to the locked door as patent leather shoes clackity-clacked up behind him and ripped the door open.
It was empty… save for Obie. He was lounging in the upper compartment looking bored as a mini-bot with only headlights for a face could look. Adrian felt a momentary wave of confusion. What? "Where is she?" he asked Obie. Obie shrugged.
"Sir! Step away from the locker and assume the position," someone with a high reedy voice said. He turned around: standing behind him was a potbellied old man with a white mustache and wearing the uniform of a security officer. He had what looked like a can of mace and a taser leveled at him. To his credit he wasn't shaking in the least, despite being old enough that a light breeze should have sent him tottering.
"Knock it off, Willoughby, it's me," Adrian said. Normally he pitied the old man for having such a shinola job as Winslow High security. But he did not have the patience to deal with the eighty-year-old senility victim, not right now.
Willoughby squinted at him, confused. "Me who?" He blinked his rheumy eyes. "...Adrian?" he said in surprise.
Crud, Adrian thought. Talk about a paper thin disguise.
Up behind him came two more security guards-- crap, if they spent as much on teachers as they did on rent-a-cops-- and Principal Blackwell. "Stop right there!" she shouted. "I don't know who you are, mister, but you cannot go tearing through the school like this-- there are laws--"
"Oh, it's all right Miss Blackwell," Willoughby said, turning with a smile on his face. "It's just--" A massive furry hand slapped, gently but firmly, over his mouth. He paused, then nodded his understanding of the unspoken request. "He's, ah, someone I can vouch for," he said. And gave Adrian a knowing wink. Good grief.
Adrian growled and clenched his fists. "This is urgent. I need to know where Taylor Hebert is, right now!"
Perhaps having the Protectorate and the PRT trooping in and out of her office had made Blackwell and her staff blase' about capes. Perhaps they were just stupid from lead in the drinking water. But Blackwell of course decided this was the time to get officious with a seven foot tall werewolf. "I'm not going to tell some random cape off the streets where one of our students-- YALK!" she cut off with a strangled noise as Adrian grabbed her by her jacket and lifted her off the ground.
"I'm not asking, I'm telling," the suddenly MUCH more frightening cape said, his eyes burning. "tell me where Taylor is N---"
Locker.
Every student has a locker.
No, you fool, every student has two.
One for their classes, and one--
"The gym," Adrian said. "Oh I'm an idiot--" he dropped to all fours and raced down the corridor, disappearing around a corner before Blackwell and her security guards could move two steps.
Adrian hit the gym doors and flew across the floor, eliciting shouts and screams from the students idling their lunch hour there. He was halfway across the gym floor when something that felt like a steel pile driver fell out of the sky and slammed him to the floor. He slid across the waxed floor, stunned insensate…
A form, vast, polydimensional, incomprehensible.
A lesser part, descending--
Voices speaking one word in a thousand voices and ten thousand shades of meaning--
the offer made--
collaboration--
confusion--
ERROR--
DAMAGE--
Something at cross purposes, shorting out like a thousand circuits struck by a thousand bolts of lightning--
Adrian woke up, lying on the gym floor, tongue hanging out of his muzzle. "What--?" Brief memories of a vision of something giant, fractal… Taylor had triggered.
But something told him that something had gone very, very wrong…
"Taylor!" he bellowed, leaping to his feet. He crashed into the locker room door, dove inside, where was she, dear lord that smell? Sounds, moaning, crying, screaming, someone thrashing in a confined metal space… He followed his senses to the back of the locker room-- Oh Taylor, why do you always pick places so hidden from sight? He needed no clues to figure out which locker was hers; the reek alone was enough, even if there hadn't been filth scattered on the floor. The door was shaking and rattling with her frantic efforts to be free.
He drew back and rammed his claws through the door. He flexed his fingers to get a grip and then ripped it completely out like he was tearing tinfoil. The locker spilled its contents onto the floor. There was an impression of flailing limbs, a tangled mane of luxurious black hair with a broken glass butterfly in it--
He caught her in the crook of his arm. "It's okay, Taylor, I'm here Taylor, oh I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry..." He looked down at her and his voice choked off with horror. She was writhing in agony as the bones under her flesh twisted and distorted, her fingers twisting into claws, the bones in her face and jaw pushing outward and sinking back, teeth warping into fangs…
Moments later a worgen running on three limbs burst out of the gym fire exits and began racing down the snowy street, tearing through intersections and leaping over cars as if they were standing still. On his neck perched an Alarm-O-Bot with its siren and strobe light going full blast; in the crook of his arm was a girl writhing in pain. "Obie, Telephone!" he barked. Obie muted his alarm and pulled Adrian's cellphone out of his backpack. The robot held the phone to Adrian's ear. "MyPhone: Dial Danny Hebert." The voice-activated dialer began ringing.
"Mr Taylor! I mean Mr Hebert! This is Adrian--- No time to explain--" he leaped over a stalled minivan and kept running. "It's Taylor. There was a nasty incident at the school--- she's Triggered. She's been hurt, I'm taking her to the hospital. First General, close to the high school. Because I'm FASTER, dammit. I don't know how bad it is, sir-- PLEASE, just listen! Get there as soon as you can-- I'll call back when we arrive and the instant I know anything specific---" a sense of foreshadowing struck him and the last came out a little louder. "And for God's sake DRIVE CAREFULLY, Dammit. She doesn't need to wake up to TWO dead parents! End call!" The phone hung itself up; Obie stowed it in the backpack and revved up his siren again.
Less than a minute later the ER staff of First General nearly had the life scared out of them when a gigantic werewolf with a siren and police light on its head came charging through the emergency room doors. "Get me a Cape doctor," he roared, "get me a cape doctor NOW!"
"...And for God's sake DRIVE CAREFULLY, Dammit. She doesn't need to wake up to TWO dead parents! End Call!"(click)
Those words echoed in Danny's head as he navigated the Brockton Bay traffic. Every time his heart started pounding, every time he was tempted to slam his gas pedal to the floor and get to his little girl, damn the consequences, those words repeated themselves to him, all but rang in his ears. A more foolish man would have been wasting time being steamed at a teenage boy for speaking to him in that manner, but Danny wasn't a more foolish man. And that echoing remonstration probably saved his life a half dozen times on his way to the hospital.
Every hospital in America had a Cape wing. Trigger events were still, statistically, rarer than lightning strikes. But every state had at least one team of Cape heroes, and at least a handful of rogues and yes, villains. All of them needed specialty care, both because of and to account for their unique needs and often impossible biologies, so any hospital of any reputability had at least one Cape medical expert on staff, and one or two rooms set aside in case of an unexpected arrival in the ER.
First General had a pretty good setup in that line… an actual full wing, a dedicated staff, and the added benefit of regular visits by Panacea. So they weren't skimping on his daughter. The knowledge that she was in good hands, possibly the best of hands, was a small compensation indeed for the knowledge that his little girl had Triggered.
The moment that he had arrived, they had swept him up to Taylor's floor and room. (How had they known? Was there a Thinker on staff?) He was confused when they fit him out with what looked like a full surgical outfit, including a surgeon's cap and mask. Even gloves. The staff explained it was standard procedure with Cape patients and their family members, in order to preserve their secret identities. It was also a lot less obvious than having them walking around in a lone ranger mask and cape.
Secret identities…
Panacea had been waiting for him at the door to the Cape wing. She was wringing her hands and looking less than copacetic. "Mister H.T.?" she asked. He nodded; that was the code name that they'd agreed on for him down in the lobby. "I've already looked over H.T. Junior--" Taylor's code name-- "And… I won't lie, it's not good."
His heart chilled. "What's wrong with my baby girl?" he asked, his voice threatening to break.
"That's… the problem. We don't know," she lamented. "I don't know. I used my powers to examine her, and they're just giving me-- gibberish." She looked frustrated, depressed, outraged, sorrowful, betrayed. "Her body is-- it's in a continual state of flux, morphing, the bones and organs constantly changing shape. Not in any way that interferes with their functioning, but the process is terribly painful. We've put her on a morphine drip, kept her unconscious to spare her the discomfort…." she clenched her fists in anger at her own impotence. "The closest I or anyone can figure out is that she triggered, and the trigger-- failed halfway somehow. It's a meaningless diagnosis I know--"
"You did what you could," he said. The words tasted wooden on his tongue. "I'm glad you were here."
"I.. came in as favor to a friend," she said.
"Hello?"
The voice on the line was urgent, desperate with need. "Panacea, this is-- well it doesn't matter who I am-- You're the only one who could help--"
"I'm sorry sir, I don't do requests..."
"Listen, we have a mutual friend--"
"I'm sure that's possible sir, but..."
"He said to say 'the seedling sleeps till spring.'"
Amy froze. "I'm listening."
"I wish he was here," she said quietly. She shook herself. "Your daughter is this way. I should tell you, she has--- a friend with her-- He brought her here and refuses to leave."
"I know about him," Danny said. "He's…" he stepped through the door. There was his baby girl, lying on a hospital bed, morphine drip in her arm.
There sitting slouched on the floor next to her bed was a giant black werewolf.
"...A family friend," Danny said. He was rather proud of himself; his voice only shifted octave once.
"Oh. Uh. Good." Panacea backed out of the room. "I'll just leave you alone. If you...need … buzzer. Thingy. Yeah." She pulled the curtain and closed the door.
The wolfman looked up. His eyes were a startling yellow. "Hello, Mr. Hebert," he said hollowly. "I'm sorry we had to meet like this." Danny had expected a rough, growly voice. Instead it was deep, warm and mellow, like James Earl Jones or Barry White. Women would melt at that voice.
Danny sat down in the visitor's chair. Something toddled out from under the bed. It looked like the toy robot he'd seen her playing with once or twice. The wolfman… Adrian… looked down at it and half-smiled. "Don't worry about him," he said softly. "I warned him that if he made a peep I'd turn him into a can koozy."
Danny felt like a jigsaw puzzle of revelations was coming together in his head. Or maybe tumbling together like tiles on a scrabble board. "You're… you're Skinwalker. Or whatever you're calling yourself this week." The tone was a little bitter.
"I did end up with a few nom de plumes along the way, didn't I," Adrian said.
"You...built him?" Danny asked, pointing at the little tinkerbot.
Adrian nodded. "He was supposed to protect her," he said. "He did a pretty good job-- till today." The tiny robot drooped as if in shame. "It's not your fault Obie. Those… three… did an end run around us." Adrian closed his eyes, his ears laid back. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I wasn't there for her when I was supposed to be--"
News stories over the past week flashed through Danny's memory. "The Merchants," he said. "The Protectorate was out there blowing their trumpet about how they did a mop up on the last of the group. But the eyewitness accounts, the info on PHO… they're all talking about this one cape who hit them in the middle of a big, big recruiting party..."
"Sex, Drugs, Rape, Murder, Prostitution, Death Matches, and Rock and Roll," Adrian said, flashing a peace sign.
"They said you tore them apart like a wet cardboard box." Danny said. He could believe it. The wolfman in front of him had arms that would take three of his dockworkers to make.
"Messed 'em up, yah." Adrian said. He didn't sound particularly triumphant. "But got messed up pretty good in return. I had to go and hide, lick my wounds. That's where I was all week. I was hiding in my lair in a sort of hibernation, recuperating from that last fight. That and the month long campaign right before it," he confessed. He scratched his head. "If I hadn't been so stupid..."
Danny looked him over, as if trying to read him. "How did you get involved with my daughter?"
Adrian looked at him. Suddenly he began to shrink, his fur thinning, his claws shortening, his muzzle pressing into his face until a young man of about sixteen sat in front of him. "I was like this when we met," he said. "She doesn't know yet about.." he waved his hand, indicating himself. Danny nodded. "First day at Winslow, some epic bimbettes were making her life miserable. I stepped in and tried to help out. Hanging out with her, giving some of the nastier ones the brushoff, and… just being her friend. We just sorta clicked." More than I ever suspected I would, Adrian thought to himself. "But I couldn't always be there. I knew they were going to try something the first day back from vacation, I just KNEW it, but I---" he clenched his fist and his jaw. He looked at Danny. In his human form his eyes were grey, Danny noticed. But flecks of gold seemed to appear the more intense he got.
He described what the Trio had done, how he had found her. Danny's knuckles went white as he clenched his fists around the arms of his chair.
"I kept my mouth shut about it, out of respect for her wishes, sir," Adrian said. "But it's gone too far. Those three? Their names are Madison Clements, Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess. They're the bitch queens of Winslow and they think they can get away with ANYTHING because they're popular, and wealthy, and because Emma's Daddy is a lawyer…. And apparently the school believes it too."
Danny's mind reeled. Emma? Alan Barnes' little girl? Taylor's best friend? "No," Danny whispered.
"Yes." Adrian's face went stony. "And… this part is bad, sir. Really bad. As in just telling you could get me arrested and thrown in prison till I'm old and gray if anyone found out. Or hunted down by capes and killed. But you have to know.
"Sophia Hess is a cape. Not just any cape, but Shadow Stalker-- the new team member of the Brockton Bay Wards. That's why the school doesn't do anything, why Blackwell ignores any of Taylor's complaints and turns them around on her. They don't want to lose the cash bonuses they get for having a Ward--- Mr. Hebert, no--"
Danny started to rise from his chair. He was going to… he didn't know what he was going to do but he never got the chance. The wolfman was back and he'd grabbed Danny by the shoulders and forced him back down in the chair. "Mr. Hebert you absolutely cannot act on this information," he said. "Revealing the identity of a Protectorate Ward is a Federal Offense. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. And that's not counting what capes-- heroes, rogues AND villains-- would do to you if they caught you unmasking a cape. Do you get what I'm saying?" Danny struggled with himself, but finally gained control. He sat back in his chair and nodded, infuriated and ashamed.
Adrian sat down again. "That's why I haven't acted on it," he said. "I know secrets that could shut down the Protectorate, the PRT and the Wards like I shut down that Merchant Rave, just by blabbing them on the internet or on the nightly news--- and I wouldn't survive it. We can make them pay for what happened to Taylor, but we have to do it the right way."
Danny sagged in his chair. "None of that matters now," he said. He looked at his daughter; he saw her shift in her sleep as the bones in her neck and face slowly distorted. "None of that matters if Taylor isn't okay. But what can we do? Panacea couldn't help. Could your healing powers--?"
Adrian shook his lupine head. He got a brooding look on his face. He sat up and tucked his legs underneath himself in a lotus position-- much easier when you had canine legs, Danny thought. "What are you doing?"
"I'm gonna consult an expert," Adrian said. He rested his hands on his knees, palms up, and closed his eyes. He opened one eye briefly. "Hold my calls while I'm out," he said, and closed it.
"What--" Danny choked on the question. The teenaged wolf-man had slowly gone still as stone, and translucent as glass.
Adrian's paws hit the grass of his Emerald Dream with a thump. "Agent!" he shouted. "Agent, where are you?"
Back so soon? Adrian spun around; Agent was standing behind him, leaning against a tree. I probably shouldn't tease. I've been expecting you to pop back in any minute.
"Taylor," he said breathing heavily as if he'd run a race. "Do you know what's wrong with her?"
I'm afraid I do, Agent said. It is something that came out of left field, I fear, but I do know what it is.
"What is it then?" Adrian asked.
You do have the basic summation of how Shards work, are formed, choose and connect to their host, Agent said. Among other complexities, when a Shard finds a new host, it "consults" – or perhaps cribs notes from-- all the active shards in the immediate vicinity, to decide the powers of the subject. Take note, in alternate universes, even when Taylor is picked by the Queen Administrator shard, the capes in the immediate vicinity cause her powers to be wildly different from the Canon you know. The Queen Administrator shard might give her control over bugs-- or it might give her "administrative" power over local small-scale kinetic forces, effectively giving her incredibly powerful telekinesis.
"So what shard picked her this time?" Adrian said.
Hard to say, seeing as it was almost completely destroyed.
"What?"
Remember, it consults all the Shards in the immediate vicinity. Including Shadow Stalker's, but also including yours.
"But I don't have a real-- oh shiznit."
I see you figured it out. You don't have a real Shard, just a decoy. One meant to fool the Entities, Endbringers, et cetera. When the Shard connecting to Taylor tried to connect to you, it was like sticking a fork in an electric socket. Blew the thing to kingdom come. The little sputtery bits that are left are causing her painful metamorphoses.
"Can we, I dunno, disconnect it from her somehow?"
Agent shook his head. Not with this world's current scientific level, I'm afraid. Even brain surgery to remove the Gemma and the Corona Pollenta just results in the power going haywire, running riot. And again, the rules of the Game prevent me from simply stepping in and plucking it out.
Adrian clutched his head in frustration."What can we do??"
There is nothing WE can do. Something odd in Agent's voice made Adrian look up at him. But there is something I can do, and I'm doing it now.
"What are you doing, Agent?" Adrian said, warning in his voice.
I'm offering her a deal.
"Wait, what?" Adrian said. He got up in Agent's nonexistent face. "You mean like you offered me?"
Only in the most approximate sense, Agent said with a sort of psychic apologetic grimace. Since the accident with your decoy Shard--- they immediately fixed it so THAT won't happen again by the way -- was the recommendation of The Rules Lawyers, they have ruled a default in my favor and allowed me to Sponsor a second operative like you.
But they are eliminating many of the advantages I had with you. They are insisting that I may offer no influence, offer no suggestions, advice or "insider knowledge." Even the meta source of her powers must be uninfluenced. And she must make her choice in her CURRENT state of consciousness.
Adrian grasped the implications immediately. She could end up trying to save the world... in Brockton Bay... with the powers of Powdered Toast Man."You mean Taylor's going to have to live with whatever choices are made by her unconscious, drugged mind while in a dream state?" he asked in disbelief. 'How is that even possibly fair?"
It isn't. Agent said sourly. Why do you think I max out the point buy system? I am so sorry, Adrian. But it was the best I could possibly do for her.
Adrian swallowed. "Then I'd better not distract you."
…If you wish, you will be allowed to observe.
Adrian thought it over, torn. He was reminded of a foreign game show where the parents had to watch in silence while their six year old child was offered a choice between a glamorous vacation prize… or a stuffed unicorn. Between a real car, or a plastic pedal car. It would be torment watching Taylor make all her choices without even being able to help. But… "It'd be hell to sit there in the hospital and not know," he said. "Yes. I'll watch. Put me in the audience."
Excellent.
The self-satisfied tone in Agent's voice woke up Adrian's suspicions. "Agent, what--"
Hush. Off we go.
The emerald dream swirled away. The Featureless Plane of Twilight that Adrian remembered assumed its place. Once again he was a formless dollop of faint white light. Taylor was there-- or what he assumed Taylor was, another white shapeless light like himself. Floating next to her was another, brighter light that could only be Agent. And in front of and above them floated a trio of white lights of varying shade. Adrian could only assume these were the Rules Lawyers. Adrian grimaced mentally and could only hope that the unfortunate choice of three lights didn't make her think of the Trio, and send her off the rails in the middle.
Why is this one here? He could almost feel a finger point down at him. Terrific. A haughty, condescending, female voice, echoing in triplicate. The deck was already stacked, he could see.
He is a concerned party, Agent said. He is permitted to witness.
He may not intervene.
He will not, Agent assured them.
Very well. Taylor Hebert, choose. All around them, thousands of images appeared. Some were obvious images of places and things, others were abstract, some were incomprehensible. Adrian was confused. What was she choosing? Or was this like one of those online personality tests where what colors and numbers you picked described your personality?
Taylor's light drifted away from Agent's side. She circled for a moment, undecided. Then she flew in a straight line…. To where Adrian hovered. She floated before him, laughing like a little child.
The choice is made , Agent said in an almost bored tone.
Wait-- that is not-- But the choices had all vanished. They were replaced by others, these all seemed to be geometric shapes.
Argh, even if she were fully conscience these tests don't make any sense! Adrian wanted to shout. This is unfair, a choice should be a CHOICE, not a lucky guess! But whatever allowed him to be here also kept him silent.
Choose. Once again, Taylor circled, as if looking through the options. Once again, she flew to him. " Him," she said, in a voice that made him wish he could blush.
The choice is made, Agent said. He could have given Ben Stein a run for his money.
I object-!--- whatever force decided these things did not care. Still more shapes, these three dimensional polygons, floated around them now.
HALT. Remove the illicit influence before we proceed. The demand was as haughty as a Queen.
The rules state as a passive observer he may be present and visible, Agent said. He was humanoid now, as were the Rules Lawyers and Taylor. You could see Agent was holding a book the size of a Chinese phone directory with the air of someone not afraid to start reading it.
Very well then-- but under OUR terms. Suddenly Adrian was a three-dimensional polygon, floating amongst the others. It was a most peculiar experience.
"Where did he go?" Taylor said suddenly. Her voice was high and upset, like a distraught child. "Where is Adrian? Where did you take him?"
He is present. He is not to be part of these proceedings.
"I want him back!"
It is against the rules…! The voice bluffed.
"I don't care about your rules. This is MY dream, and I want ADRIAN!" Taylor stamped her foot.
And once again, the choice is made, Agent said, his voice as dry as a martini.
Why-- you-- you card-sharping-- little--! The three lights became so agitated that one dissolved into a cloud, the second began vibrating like an agitated electron and the third became a cube.
Agent whisked over to where Adrian floated, comforting Taylor. I'm afraid I've pressed our luck as far as I can, he whispered. But this gets us past the hardest parts. You've been a great help Adrian, but I think you'd better go.
And with that, Adrian woke up. He smacked his lips and realized his legs were both numb and hurting like heck. "But I don't even know what I did," he mumbled.
Back on the Twilight Plane, the Rules Lawyers had finally calmed themselves. That takes care of that. There'll be No more tricks, Agent, they said smugly.
None are needed, he said blithely.
A handful of pictures including a picture of Danny appeared before Taylor. Taylor reached out and touched it.
Why that one? The three lights asked.
"He's my father. I love him," Taylor explained.
What do you wish?
"To make him proud. To make him happy again." She felt a rush of sadness. Danny smiled a lot more often than he did not long ago… but there were times when she caught him alone, and she could see the sorrow on his face, or the creases on his brow from his worries.
T he pictures were replaced by others: buildings, cities, city streets. She picked several.
Why those?
"Because they remind me of home," she said. "all of my home."
And your wish?
"to make it better."
The pictures changed one last time. It held dozens: friends, family, classmates, politicians, celebrities, heroes, villains. But two pictures riveted her attention. Shadow Stalker-- and Sophia Hess. She didn't press them as jab at them hatefully.
Why these two?
"They're the same person," she spat. "She tormented me, abused me, nearly killed me… for nothing! She's everything I hate!"
And your wish?
Taylor turned her back on the images, fists trembling. She struggled to regain control of herself. Slowly her trembles subsided and her breath calmed… but her resolve firmed. "To not let her win. To outdo her, but also not let her break me.. or make me a monster. To be BETTER than her."
The final choice is made, Agent said. His voice was filled with relief, happiness, satisfaction. I look forward to working with you…. Hemlokk.
"What in the hell was that?" Danny said.
"What?" Adrian said, rubbing his head. "Augh, gimme a hand up. Argh, my legs are numb. My feet are numb. My BUTT is numb!" Danny reached down and gave the worgen a hand up. It was a bit of a struggle to get him on his feet.
"You sat down, started doing yoga and turned into a ghost made of green glass! What the heck?"
Adrian staggered out from the curtain surrounding Taylor's bed and found a water cooler in the room. He started pouring cups of water and knocking them back. "It's called the Emerald Dream," he said. "That hibernation state I told you about? Also puts me partway into a little pocket dimension. I recuperate faster there. It also lets me get in contact with that "expert" I told you about. Ugh, why is my throat so dry?"
"Probably because you snore like a warthog sucking mud through a hose," Danny said, a hint of humor shadin his voice. "But this guy. Did you reach him? Can he help Taylor?"
"He can and already is," Adrian said. "Even showed me some of what he's doing." He shook his head. "but, the guy… he's sort of an extradimensional being. 'does not think like us' sort of thing, despite all appearances. I don't think I could explain what he was doing without a metaphysics book in one hand and an advance particle physics book in the other." He shook his head again. "He needed my help for a bit, but-- what the results will be, I don't know…."
"Daddy?"
The two men whirled around. Standing behind them was a smoke grey worgen female with a mane of lustrous, curly black hair tumbling down her shoulders. She was wearing a hospital gown, and had just finished pulling the needle of the morphine drip out of her arm.
"Daddy? What's going on?" she said, hugging her arm and looking nervous and shy. "And… why is Skinwalker standing in my hospital room?"
Danny and Adrian gawked at Taylor. Then they gawked at each other.
Adrian was the first to speak.
"Memwhamaha?"
Chapter Text
"The time is 10:30 AM, January 3rd...The time is 10:30 AM, January 3rd..."
Adrian woke. Sunlight was streaming down through the skylight onto his bed. Dang it. He rolled over, yawned, stretched, scratched his fur. Wow. He blinked in surprise. He felt... good? No, he felt great. He felt better than he had since the first day of his metamorphosis. He stood up and stretched again, twisting and flexing. Nothing ached, nothing was sore, he felt like he was literally brand new. "Holy cow, I should market this," he muttered in amazement. "Emerald Dream day spa. Sleep your aches and pains away. I could make a mint."
Then he bolted to the bathroom. There were consequences for sleeping for a week…
When he came back out he was purged, freshly hosed down and ready to go. (His "shower" was actually a circular cabinet lined with high pressure sprayers and a high power hot air blower. It was like cycling yourself through a car wash, but it took less than sixty seconds and hey, when you're covered with hair….)
It had been a strange time in his pocket dimension. It felt like he had spent nearly all of his time there sleeping. Dream within a dream indeed. But quite a bit of it had been spent talking with Agent, getting advice on his powers, suggestions for his next course of actions, lessons in how to expand his abilities and skills. He was startled to learn that some of the things he had done were actual breakthroughs.
But now he needed to get cleaned up and dressed. Taylor was probably going spare wondering where he'd gotten to. But so long as he showed up in time for--
"The time is 10:30 AM, January 3rd...The time is 10:30 AM, January 3rd..."
He whipped around and looked at the clock. He grabbed it off the nightstand. "Oh no, no no no," he said. "ARGH! I missed New Years. I missed New Years!! I promised her and I..." He banged his head against a nearby roof beam. "I should have sent an email, I-- I should have told her about-- No, but-- Ah. Crap..." He was going to have to crawl to make it up to her. He only hoped…
Ice shot down his spine.
"The time is 10:30 AM, January 3rd...The time is 10:30 AM, January 3rd..."
January 3rd. And it was nearly noon. No. Oh no no no no. NO!
Pigeons flew for their lives as a desperate worgen exploded through the skylight below them. He was dressed in all he had, a tee, some sweats and a hoodie. There was no time to try and clean his costume or assemble the last of his gear. There was no time for anything. Taylor was on a collision course with the single worst day of her life, one that could possibly destroy it.
And even running at top speed, he was still miles away from Winslow.
He transformed into his owl form and shot into the sky.
Taylor barely noticed the cutting remarks from the other girls as she made her way to her locker. For once, not because she was trying to ignore them; for once it was because she simply couldn't care.
Adrian hadn't come back.
At first, when he hadn't shown up on New Year's like he'd promised she'd been hurt. Then she'd thought about how he had been so distant, how he'd stopped calling, how he hadn't answered his phone for a whole week, and she'd gotten angry. But then he'd not answered his phone on the first. Or the second. Or today. And he hadn't been in class… and she'd gone from angry to worried. She'd spent the whole day thus far just bouncing from one of those three emotions to another without any rhyme or reason. Good night, was this what being in a relationship was like? How did anyone think like this?
"Hey Taylor… you feeling... not so fresh?" Madison taunted.
That snapped out of her funk. What had brought that particular barb on? Suddenly she noticed that all the other girls were giving the back corner where her locker was a wide berth. She got closer… and that was when she noticed the smell.
The smell coming from her locker. Like… rotting… she gagged. Something was oozing from the bottom--
Almost as if mesmerized, she reached out and flipped the catch. The door sprang open and she nearly vomited at what spilled out. Used tampons and… things… spilled out on the floor. Roaches ran out, scurrying everywhere. Female cries of revulsion and disgust filled the air followed by falsetto shrieks as most of the girls fled the wave of scuttling cockroaches as fast as they could go.
Taylor clutched her hands to her mouth in horror. No, this couldn't be real, nobody would be this vile--
Three pairs of hands seized her and spun her around. She found herself facing Emma, Madison and Sophia. The expressions on their faces were uglier than she could have ever imagined. "Time for a little remedial solitary, sweety-poo," Sophia said. She screamed and fought, but she was no physical match for Sophia, much less all three of them. As one the three of them shoved her backwards into the filth filled locker and slammed the door shut. She heard the click of a lock snapping shut in the latch.
The filth oozed up around her legs; she felt roaches and bugs crawling on them. "Oh God, please, don't do this!" she screamed. All she heard was their taunting laughter as they started to walk away. They were leaving-- everyone was leaving!! "NO!"
No, wait, they saw the mess someone would go get a teacher or custodian-- except she realized: the only ones who had been there were the Trio's hangers on. They had to have seen her stuff this filth IN here too… the horror grew on her as she realized the entire class was going to leave her in here, and tell noone.
She started to hyperventilate. Something in the pocket of her hoodie clacked against the wall of her prison. Hope dawned like an angel taking wing. Her phone. Her new phone, oh God bless you Dad's-friend-at-work whoever you are… desperately, carefully, she eased the slick black rectangle out of her pocket. If she dropped it--
She didn't drop it. She could have sobbed with relief as she brought it up to her face and used the thumbprint to activate it. Just as she started to dial she heard three sets running sneakers back in on the tile floor. Sophia's voice rang out. "Dammit you idiots she's still got the phone!" They ran up and banged on the door.
Don't you dare you bitch!" Emma snarled.
Taylor kept dialing. 911, no time for anything else. The dialtone purred once, twice, someone picked up-- "Hello, 911, what is the nature of--" And then a spectral hand made of shadow and smoke passed through the locker door and grabbed for the phone.
Taylor shrieked and grappled with the hand for her lifeline. The hand was joined by a shadowy female face that snarled as they struggled. Suddenly the phone in her hand turned to smoke and slipped through her fingers. It vanished through the door. The smoky girl's face went from a hateful snarl to a hateful smirk. "Nice try, bitch," it said in Sophia's voice, and disappeared.
Taylor felt her heart stop, her brain freeze. It was like the whole world lurched to one side as blood drained from her face. Sophia Hess was a cape. Sophia Hess was a cape. And there was only one cape in Brockton Bay that had shadow powers like that. She'd been all over the news for months after she'd signed on board with the Protectorate.
Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker. A Brockton Bay Ward.
The girl who had made Taylor Hebert's life a living hell was a hero.
Taylor blacked out.
Adrian hit the front steps of the school and transformed, not even breaking stride. He slammed the doors open and charged down the hall, in full-blown Worgen form. The halls were clear; it must be between classes. He saw the school security guard back around a corner, yelping into his walkie talkie. He didn't care. He didn't care if he was seen in this form or if anyone put two and two together or anything else. And nobody better try to stop him. God help them if they tried.
He heard someone in business shoes trying to pursue, shouting about security and halt and all that other good stuff. Well good luck Barney Fife. He skidded around the corner to Taylor's cul-de-sac… the little dead end hall where her locker stood. Noone was there. He strode over to the locked door as patent leather shoes clackity-clacked up behind him and ripped the door open.
It was empty… save for Obie. He was lounging in the upper compartment looking bored as a mini-bot with only headlights for a face could look. Adrian felt a momentary wave of confusion. What? "Where is she?" he asked Obie. Obie shrugged.
"Sir! Step away from the locker and assume the position," someone with a high reedy voice said. He turned around: standing behind him was a potbellied old man with a white mustache and wearing the uniform of a security officer. He had what looked like a can of mace and a taser leveled at him. To his credit he wasn't shaking in the least, despite being old enough that a light breeze should have sent him tottering.
"Knock it off, Willoughby, it's me," Adrian said. Normally he pitied the old man for having such a shinola job as Winslow High security. But he did not have the patience to deal with the eighty-year-old senility victim, not right now.
Willoughby squinted at him, confused. "Me who?" He blinked his rheumy eyes. "...Adrian?" he said in surprise.
Crud, Adrian thought. Talk about a paper thin disguise.
Up behind him came two more security guards-- crap, if they spent as much on teachers as they did on rent-a-cops-- and Principal Blackwell. "Stop right there!" she shouted. "I don't know who you are, mister, but you cannot go tearing through the school like this-- there are laws--"
"Oh, it's all right Miss Blackwell," Willoughby said, turning with a smile on his face. "It's just--" A massive furry hand slapped, gently but firmly, over his mouth. He paused, then nodded his understanding of the unspoken request. "He's, ah, someone I can vouch for," he said. And gave Adrian a knowing wink. Good grief.
Adrian growled and clenched his fists. "This is urgent. I need to know where Taylor Hebert is, right now!"
Perhaps having the Protectorate and the PRT trooping in and out of her office had made Blackwell and her staff blase' about capes. Perhaps they were just stupid from lead in the drinking water. But Blackwell of course decided this was the time to get officious with a seven foot tall werewolf. "I'm not going to tell some random cape off the streets where one of our students-- YALK!" she cut off with a strangled noise as Adrian grabbed her by her jacket and lifted her off the ground.
"I'm not asking, I'm telling," the suddenly MUCH more frightening cape said, his eyes burning. "tell me where Taylor is N---"
Locker.
Every student has a locker.
No, you fool, every student has two.
One for their classes, and one--
"The gym," Adrian said. "Oh I'm an idiot--" he dropped to all fours and raced down the corridor, disappearing around a corner before Blackwell and her security guards could move two steps.
Adrian hit the gym doors and flew across the floor, eliciting shouts and screams from the students idling their lunch hour there. He was halfway across the gym floor when something that felt like a steel pile driver fell out of the sky and slammed him to the floor. He slid across the waxed floor, stunned insensate…
A form, vast, polydimensional, incomprehensible.
A lesser part, descending--
Voices speaking one word in a thousand voices and ten thousand shades of meaning--
the offer made--
collaboration--
confusion--
ERROR--
DAMAGE--
Something at cross purposes, shorting out like a thousand circuits struck by a thousand bolts of lightning--
Adrian woke up, lying on the gym floor, tongue hanging out of his muzzle. "What--?" Brief memories of a vision of something giant, fractal… Taylor had triggered.
But something told him that something had gone very, very wrong…
"Taylor!" he bellowed, leaping to his feet. He crashed into the locker room door, dove inside, where was she, dear lord that smell? Sounds, moaning, crying, screaming, someone thrashing in a confined metal space… He followed his senses to the back of the locker room-- Oh Taylor, why do you always pick places so hidden from sight? He needed no clues to figure out which locker was hers; the reek alone was enough, even if there hadn't been filth scattered on the floor. The door was shaking and rattling with her frantic efforts to be free.
He drew back and rammed his claws through the door. He flexed his fingers to get a grip and then ripped it completely out like he was tearing tinfoil. The locker spilled its contents onto the floor. There was an impression of flailing limbs, a tangled mane of luxurious black hair with a broken glass butterfly in it--
He caught her in the crook of his arm. "It's okay, Taylor, I'm here Taylor, oh I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry..." He looked down at her and his voice choked off with horror. She was writhing in agony as the bones under her flesh twisted and distorted, her fingers twisting into claws, the bones in her face and jaw pushing outward and sinking back, teeth warping into fangs…
Moments later a worgen running on three limbs burst out of the gym fire exits and began racing down the snowy street, tearing through intersections and leaping over cars as if they were standing still. On his neck perched an Alarm-O-Bot with its siren and strobe light going full blast; in the crook of his arm was a girl writhing in pain. "Obie, Telephone!" he barked. Obie muted his alarm and pulled Adrian's cellphone out of his backpack. The robot held the phone to Adrian's ear. "MyPhone: Dial Danny Hebert." The voice-activated dialer began ringing.
"Mr Taylor! I mean Mr Hebert! This is Adrian--- No time to explain--" he leaped over a stalled minivan and kept running. "It's Taylor. There was a nasty incident at the school--- she's Triggered. She's been hurt, I'm taking her to the hospital. First General, close to the high school. Because I'm FASTER, dammit. I don't know how bad it is, sir-- PLEASE, just listen! Get there as soon as you can-- I'll call back when we arrive and the instant I know anything specific---" a sense of foreshadowing struck him and the last came out a little louder. "And for God's sake DRIVE CAREFULLY, Dammit. She doesn't need to wake up to TWO dead parents! End call!" The phone hung itself up; Obie stowed it in the backpack and revved up his siren again.
Less than a minute later the ER staff of First General nearly had the life scared out of them when a gigantic werewolf with a siren and police light on its head came charging through the emergency room doors. "Get me a Cape doctor," he roared, "get me a cape doctor NOW!"
"...And for God's sake DRIVE CAREFULLY, Dammit. She doesn't need to wake up to TWO dead parents! End Call!"(click)
Those words echoed in Danny's head as he navigated the Brockton Bay traffic. Every time his heart started pounding, every time he was tempted to slam his gas pedal to the floor and get to his little girl, damn the consequences, those words repeated themselves to him, all but rang in his ears. A more foolish man would have been wasting time being steamed at a teenage boy for speaking to him in that manner, but Danny wasn't a more foolish man. And that echoing remonstration probably saved his life a half dozen times on his way to the hospital.
Every hospital in America had a Cape wing. Trigger events were still, statistically, rarer than lightning strikes. But every state had at least one team of Cape heroes, and at least a handful of rogues and yes, villains. All of them needed specialty care, both because of and to account for their unique needs and often impossible biologies, so any hospital of any reputability had at least one Cape medical expert on staff, and one or two rooms set aside in case of an unexpected arrival in the ER.
First General had a pretty good setup in that line… an actual full wing, a dedicated staff, and the added benefit of regular visits by Panacea. So they weren't skimping on his daughter. The knowledge that she was in good hands, possibly the best of hands, was a small compensation indeed for the knowledge that his little girl had Triggered.
The moment that he had arrived, they had swept him up to Taylor's floor and room. (How had they known? Was there a Thinker on staff?) He was confused when they fit him out with what looked like a full surgical outfit, including a surgeon's cap and mask. Even gloves. The staff explained it was standard procedure with Cape patients and their family members, in order to preserve their secret identities. It was also a lot less obvious than having them walking around in a lone ranger mask and cape.
Secret identities…
Panacea had been waiting for him at the door to the Cape wing. She was wringing her hands and looking less than copacetic. "Mister H.T.?" she asked. He nodded; that was the code name that they'd agreed on for him down in the lobby. "I've already looked over H.T. Junior--" Taylor's code name-- "And… I won't lie, it's not good."
His heart chilled. "What's wrong with my baby girl?" he asked, his voice threatening to break.
"That's… the problem. We don't know," she lamented. "I don't know. I used my powers to examine her, and they're just giving me-- gibberish." She looked frustrated, depressed, outraged, sorrowful, betrayed. "Her body is-- it's in a continual state of flux, morphing, the bones and organs constantly changing shape. Not in any way that interferes with their functioning, but the process is terribly painful. We've put her on a morphine drip, kept her unconscious to spare her the discomfort…." she clenched her fists in anger at her own impotence. "The closest I or anyone can figure out is that she triggered, and the trigger-- failed halfway somehow. It's a meaningless diagnosis I know--"
"You did what you could," he said. The words tasted wooden on his tongue. "I'm glad you were here."
"I.. came in as favor to a friend," she said.
"Hello?"
The voice on the line was urgent, desperate with need. "Panacea, this is-- well it doesn't matter who I am-- You're the only one who could help--"
"I'm sorry sir, I don't do requests..."
"Listen, we have a mutual friend--"
"I'm sure that's possible sir, but..."
"He said to say 'the seedling sleeps till spring.'"
Amy froze. "I'm listening."
"I wish he was here," she said quietly. She shook herself. "Your daughter is this way. I should tell you, she has--- a friend with her-- He brought her here and refuses to leave."
"I know about him," Danny said. "He's…" he stepped through the door. There was his baby girl, lying on a hospital bed, morphine drip in her arm.
There sitting slouched on the floor next to her bed was a giant black werewolf.
"...A family friend," Danny said. He was rather proud of himself; his voice only shifted octave once.
"Oh. Uh. Good." Panacea backed out of the room. "I'll just leave you alone. If you...need … buzzer. Thingy. Yeah." She pulled the curtain and closed the door.
The wolfman looked up. His eyes were a startling yellow. "Hello, Mr. Hebert," he said hollowly. "I'm sorry we had to meet like this." Danny had expected a rough, growly voice. Instead it was deep, warm and mellow, like James Earl Jones or Barry White. Women would melt at that voice.
Danny sat down in the visitor's chair. Something toddled out from under the bed. It looked like the toy robot he'd seen her playing with once or twice. The wolfman… Adrian… looked down at it and half-smiled. "Don't worry about him," he said softly. "I warned him that if he made a peep I'd turn him into a can koozy."
Danny felt like a jigsaw puzzle of revelations was coming together in his head. Or maybe tumbling together like tiles on a scrabble board. "You're… you're Skinwalker. Or whatever you're calling yourself this week." The tone was a little bitter.
"I did end up with a few nom de plumes along the way, didn't I," Adrian said.
"You...built him?" Danny asked, pointing at the little tinkerbot.
Adrian nodded. "He was supposed to protect her," he said. "He did a pretty good job-- till today." The tiny robot drooped as if in shame. "It's not your fault Obie. Those… three… did an end run around us." Adrian closed his eyes, his ears laid back. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I wasn't there for her when I was supposed to be--"
News stories over the past week flashed through Danny's memory. "The Merchants," he said. "The Protectorate was out there blowing their trumpet about how they did a mop up on the last of the group. But the eyewitness accounts, the info on PHO… they're all talking about this one cape who hit them in the middle of a big, big recruiting party..."
"Sex, Drugs, Rape, Murder, Prostitution, Death Matches, and Rock and Roll," Adrian said, flashing a peace sign.
"They said you tore them apart like a wet cardboard box." Danny said. He could believe it. The wolfman in front of him had arms that would take three of his dockworkers to make.
"Messed 'em up, yah." Adrian said. He didn't sound particularly triumphant. "But got messed up pretty good in return. I had to go and hide, lick my wounds. That's where I was all week. I was hiding in my lair in a sort of hibernation, recuperating from that last fight. That and the month long campaign right before it," he confessed. He scratched his head. "If I hadn't been so stupid..."
Danny looked him over, as if trying to read him. "How did you get involved with my daughter?"
Adrian looked at him. Suddenly he began to shrink, his fur thinning, his claws shortening, his muzzle pressing into his face until a young man of about sixteen sat in front of him. "I was like this when we met," he said. "She doesn't know yet about.." he waved his hand, indicating himself. Danny nodded. "First day at Winslow, some epic bimbettes were making her life miserable. I stepped in and tried to help out. Hanging out with her, giving some of the nastier ones the brushoff, and… just being her friend. We just sorta clicked." More than I ever suspected I would, Adrian thought to himself. "But I couldn't always be there. I knew they were going to try something the first day back from vacation, I just KNEW it, but I---" he clenched his fist and his jaw. He looked at Danny. In his human form his eyes were grey, Danny noticed. But flecks of gold seemed to appear the more intense he got.
He described what the Trio had done, how he had found her. Danny's knuckles went white as he clenched his fists around the arms of his chair.
"I kept my mouth shut about it, out of respect for her wishes, sir," Adrian said. "But it's gone too far. Those three? Their names are Madison Clements, Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess. They're the bitch queens of Winslow and they think they can get away with ANYTHING because they're popular, and wealthy, and because Emma's Daddy is a lawyer…. And apparently the school believes it too."
Danny's mind reeled. Emma? Alan Barnes' little girl? Taylor's best friend? "No," Danny whispered.
"Yes." Adrian's face went stony. "And… this part is bad, sir. Really bad. As in just telling you could get me arrested and thrown in prison till I'm old and gray if anyone found out. Or hunted down by capes and killed. But you have to know.
"Sophia Hess is a cape. Not just any cape, but Shadow Stalker-- the new team member of the Brockton Bay Wards. That's why the school doesn't do anything, why Blackwell ignores any of Taylor's complaints and turns them around on her. They don't want to lose the cash bonuses they get for having a Ward--- Mr. Hebert, no--"
Danny started to rise from his chair. He was going to… he didn't know what he was going to do but he never got the chance. The wolfman was back and he'd grabbed Danny by the shoulders and forced him back down in the chair. "Mr. Hebert you absolutely cannot act on this information," he said. "Revealing the identity of a Protectorate Ward is a Federal Offense. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. And that's not counting what capes-- heroes, rogues AND villains-- would do to you if they caught you unmasking a cape. Do you get what I'm saying?" Danny struggled with himself, but finally gained control. He sat back in his chair and nodded, infuriated and ashamed.
Adrian sat down again. "That's why I haven't acted on it," he said. "I know secrets that could shut down the Protectorate, the PRT and the Wards like I shut down that Merchant Rave, just by blabbing them on the internet or on the nightly news--- and I wouldn't survive it. We can make them pay for what happened to Taylor, but we have to do it the right way."
Danny sagged in his chair. "None of that matters now," he said. He looked at his daughter; he saw her shift in her sleep as the bones in her neck and face slowly distorted. "None of that matters if Taylor isn't okay. But what can we do? Panacea couldn't help. Could your healing powers--?"
Adrian shook his lupine head. He got a brooding look on his face. He sat up and tucked his legs underneath himself in a lotus position-- much easier when you had canine legs, Danny thought. "What are you doing?"
"I'm gonna consult an expert," Adrian said. He rested his hands on his knees, palms up, and closed his eyes. He opened one eye briefly. "Hold my calls while I'm out," he said, and closed it.
"What--" Danny choked on the question. The teenaged wolf-man had slowly gone still as stone, and translucent as glass.
Adrian's paws hit the grass of his Emerald Dream with a thump. "Agent!" he shouted. "Agent, where are you?"
Back so soon? Adrian spun around; Agent was standing behind him, leaning against a tree. I probably shouldn't tease. I've been expecting you to pop back in any minute.
"Taylor," he said breathing heavily as if he'd run a race. "Do you know what's wrong with her?"
I'm afraid I do, Agent said. It is something that came out of left field, I fear, but I do know what it is.
"What is it then?" Adrian asked.
You do have the basic summation of how Shards work, are formed, choose and connect to their host, Agent said. Among other complexities, when a Shard finds a new host, it "consults" – or perhaps cribs notes from-- all the active shards in the immediate vicinity, to decide the powers of the subject. Take note, in alternate universes, even when Taylor is picked by the Queen Administrator shard, the capes in the immediate vicinity cause her powers to be wildly different from the Canon you know. The Queen Administrator shard might give her control over bugs-- or it might give her "administrative" power over local small-scale kinetic forces, effectively giving her incredibly powerful telekinesis.
"So what shard picked her this time?" Adrian said.
Hard to say, seeing as it was almost completely destroyed.
"What?"
Remember, it consults all the Shards in the immediate vicinity. Including Shadow Stalker's, but also including yours.
"But I don't have a real-- oh shiznit."
I see you figured it out. You don't have a real Shard, just a decoy. One meant to fool the Entities, Endbringers, et cetera. When the Shard connecting to Taylor tried to connect to you, it was like sticking a fork in an electric socket. Blew the thing to kingdom come. The little sputtery bits that are left are causing her painful metamorphoses.
"Can we, I dunno, disconnect it from her somehow?"
Agent shook his head. Not with this world's current scientific level, I'm afraid. Even brain surgery to remove the Gemma and the Corona Pollenta just results in the power going haywire, running riot. And again, the rules of the Game prevent me from simply stepping in and plucking it out.
Adrian clutched his head in frustration."What can we do??"
There is nothing WE can do. Something odd in Agent's voice made Adrian look up at him. But there is something I can do, and I'm doing it now.
"What are you doing, Agent?" Adrian said, warning in his voice.
I'm offering her a deal.
"Wait, what?" Adrian said. He got up in Agent's nonexistent face. "You mean like you offered me?"
Only in the most approximate sense, Agent said with a sort of psychic apologetic grimace. Since the accident with your decoy Shard--- they immediately fixed it so THAT won't happen again by the way -- was the recommendation of The Rules Lawyers, they have ruled a default in my favor and allowed me to Sponsor a second operative like you.
But they are eliminating many of the advantages I had with you. They are insisting that I may offer no influence, offer no suggestions, advice or "insider knowledge." Even the meta source of her powers must be uninfluenced. And she must make her choice in her CURRENT state of consciousness.
Adrian grasped the implications immediately. She could end up trying to save the world... in Brockton Bay... with the powers of Powdered Toast Man."You mean Taylor's going to have to live with whatever choices are made by her unconscious, drugged mind while in a dream state?" he asked in disbelief. 'How is that even possibly fair?"
It isn't. Agent said sourly. Why do you think I max out the point buy system? I am so sorry, Adrian. But it was the best I could possibly do for her.
Adrian swallowed. "Then I'd better not distract you."
…If you wish, you will be allowed to observe.
Adrian thought it over, torn. He was reminded of a foreign game show where the parents had to watch in silence while their six year old child was offered a choice between a glamorous vacation prize… or a stuffed unicorn. Between a real car, or a plastic pedal car. It would be torment watching Taylor make all her choices without even being able to help. But… "It'd be hell to sit there in the hospital and not know," he said. "Yes. I'll watch. Put me in the audience."
Excellent.
The self-satisfied tone in Agent's voice woke up Adrian's suspicions. "Agent, what--"
Hush. Off we go.
The emerald dream swirled away. The Featureless Plane of Twilight that Adrian remembered assumed its place. Once again he was a formless dollop of faint white light. Taylor was there-- or what he assumed Taylor was, another white shapeless light like himself. Floating next to her was another, brighter light that could only be Agent. And in front of and above them floated a trio of white lights of varying shade. Adrian could only assume these were the Rules Lawyers. Adrian grimaced mentally and could only hope that the unfortunate choice of three lights didn't make her think of the Trio, and send her off the rails in the middle.
Why is this one here? He could almost feel a finger point down at him. Terrific. A haughty, condescending, female voice, echoing in triplicate. The deck was already stacked, he could see.
He is a concerned party, Agent said. He is permitted to witness.
He may not intervene.
He will not, Agent assured them.
Very well. Taylor Hebert, choose. All around them, thousands of images appeared. Some were obvious images of places and things, others were abstract, some were incomprehensible. Adrian was confused. What was she choosing? Or was this like one of those online personality tests where what colors and numbers you picked described your personality?
Taylor's light drifted away from Agent's side. She circled for a moment, undecided. Then she flew in a straight line…. To where Adrian hovered. She floated before him, laughing like a little child.
The choice is made , Agent said in an almost bored tone.
Wait-- that is not-- But the choices had all vanished. They were replaced by others, these all seemed to be geometric shapes.
Argh, even if she were fully conscience these tests don't make any sense! Adrian wanted to shout. This is unfair, a choice should be a CHOICE, not a lucky guess! But whatever allowed him to be here also kept him silent.
Choose. Once again, Taylor circled, as if looking through the options. Once again, she flew to him. " Him," she said, in a voice that made him wish he could blush.
The choice is made, Agent said. He could have given Ben Stein a run for his money.
I object-!--- whatever force decided these things did not care. Still more shapes, these three dimensional polygons, floated around them now.
HALT. Remove the illicit influence before we proceed. The demand was as haughty as a Queen.
The rules state as a passive observer he may be present and visible, Agent said. He was humanoid now, as were the Rules Lawyers and Taylor. You could see Agent was holding a book the size of a Chinese phone directory with the air of someone not afraid to start reading it.
Very well then-- but under OUR terms. Suddenly Adrian was a three-dimensional polygon, floating amongst the others. It was a most peculiar experience.
"Where did he go?" Taylor said suddenly. Her voice was high and upset, like a distraught child. "Where is Adrian? Where did you take him?"
He is present. He is not to be part of these proceedings.
"I want him back!"
It is against the rules…! The voice bluffed.
"I don't care about your rules. This is MY dream, and I want ADRIAN!" Taylor stamped her foot.
And once again, the choice is made, Agent said, his voice as dry as a martini.
Why-- you-- you card-sharping-- little--! The three lights became so agitated that one dissolved into a cloud, the second began vibrating like an agitated electron and the third became a cube.
Agent whisked over to where Adrian floated, comforting Taylor. I'm afraid I've pressed our luck as far as I can, he whispered. But this gets us past the hardest parts. You've been a great help Adrian, but I think you'd better go.
And with that, Adrian woke up. He smacked his lips and realized his legs were both numb and hurting like heck. "But I don't even know what I did," he mumbled.
Back on the Twilight Plane, the Rules Lawyers had finally calmed themselves. That takes care of that. There'll be No more tricks, Agent, they said smugly.
None are needed, he said blithely.
A handful of pictures including a picture of Danny appeared before Taylor. Taylor reached out and touched it.
Why that one? The three lights asked.
"He's my father. I love him," Taylor explained.
What do you wish?
"To make him proud. To make him happy again." She felt a rush of sadness. Danny smiled a lot more often than he did not long ago… but there were times when she caught him alone, and she could see the sorrow on his face, or the creases on his brow from his worries.
T he pictures were replaced by others: buildings, cities, city streets. She picked several.
Why those?
"Because they remind me of home," she said. "all of my home."
And your wish?
"to make it better."
The pictures changed one last time. It held dozens: friends, family, classmates, politicians, celebrities, heroes, villains. But two pictures riveted her attention. Shadow Stalker-- and Sophia Hess. She didn't press them as jab at them hatefully.
Why these two?
"They're the same person," she spat. "She tormented me, abused me, nearly killed me… for nothing! She's everything I hate!"
And your wish?
Taylor turned her back on the images, fists trembling. She struggled to regain control of herself. Slowly her trembles subsided and her breath calmed… but her resolve firmed. "To not let her win. To outdo her, but also not let her break me.. or make me a monster. To be BETTER than her."
The final choice is made, Agent said. His voice was filled with relief, happiness, satisfaction. I look forward to working with you…. Hemlokk.
"What in the hell was that?" Danny said.
"What?" Adrian said, rubbing his head. "Augh, gimme a hand up. Argh, my legs are numb. My feet are numb. My BUTT is numb!" Danny reached down and gave the worgen a hand up. It was a bit of a struggle to get him on his feet.
"You sat down, started doing yoga and turned into a ghost made of green glass! What the heck?"
Adrian staggered out from the curtain surrounding Taylor's bed and found a water cooler in the room. He started pouring cups of water and knocking them back. "It's called the Emerald Dream," he said. "That hibernation state I told you about? Also puts me partway into a little pocket dimension. I recuperate faster there. It also lets me get in contact with that "expert" I told you about. Ugh, why is my throat so dry?"
"Probably because you snore like a warthog sucking mud through a hose," Danny said, a hint of humor shadin his voice. "But this guy. Did you reach him? Can he help Taylor?"
"He can and already is," Adrian said. "Even showed me some of what he's doing." He shook his head. "but, the guy… he's sort of an extradimensional being. 'does not think like us' sort of thing, despite all appearances. I don't think I could explain what he was doing without a metaphysics book in one hand and an advance particle physics book in the other." He shook his head again. "He needed my help for a bit, but-- what the results will be, I don't know…."
"Daddy?"
The two men whirled around. Standing behind them was a smoke grey worgen female with a mane of lustrous, curly black hair tumbling down her shoulders. She was wearing a hospital gown, and had just finished pulling the needle of the morphine drip out of her arm.
"Daddy? What's going on?" she said, hugging her arm and looking nervous and shy. "And… why is Skinwalker standing in my hospital room?"
Danny and Adrian gawked at Taylor. Then they gawked at each other.
Adrian was the first to speak.
"Memwhamaha?"
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