Tanya finds herself reborn into Worm after dying in her second life and she is determined to get off the hellhole that is Earth Bet.
This Is Mine Redux (Youjo Senki/Worm)
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1.0 Death and Rebirth
((Finally fricking finished rewriting this. Enjoy!!))
The winter of the Empire was brutal; hail was hitting the retreating troops with piercing fury. We were using this vicious flurry to cover us as we fell back. The war was finally ending, I had heard, in the form of a ceasefire treaty. I could almost touch the dream of the cushy job retirement.
The gunfire on my shields told me the job wasn't done yet. I swerved and twisted in the air with the normal aerial maneuvers trying to avoid it, but it was eerily accurate as it followed my pattern much to my shock. Once my shields broke, I could feel the bullets tear me in half, the bullets punching holes into my abdomen. As I fell, I cursed Being X for this treachery. Blind winter conditions and the normal inaccuracy of whatever railgun had hit meant that he was behind this. No human could have hit an aerial mage in these conditions.
Yet as I fell, Being X was conspicuously silent. This was unusual for him to not take the chance to proselytize.
Suddenly, something caught me by the torso and I screamed through gritted teeth at the pain.
"Major!" Ah, Visha. Good, reliable Visha. I couldn't lift my head, but I could hear her tears as she flew. "Don't worry Captain, we'll get you to the medics and they'll help you!"
"Visha …" I rasped as blood flooded out my mouth. My eyes felt heavy.
"Major! Stay awake! Major!"
I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell her to take charge, that she could do it, that I wanted to live, that she was the closest thing to a friend I ever had.
I blacked out instead.
---
I was born in a dying world, of course.
Fucking Being X.
A world of horrific monsters, human and unnatural, naturally led the GDP to be unstable. Even during the war, I wasn't worried about the Empire collapsing behind me. I stared at the screen, no longer reading the words as I processed this news. The economics were undeniable; I could see the writing on the wall. All the organizations of the world could not stop the decay caused by the Endbringers.
And what could I do? This wasn't the war, where I could battle my way out even with my ability to still do magic. The world was going to fall apart, inevitably. The Endbringers were, from all available evidence, impossibly tough and powerful.
But all was not lost yet, I thought as I gripped my pajamas tightly. There were other worlds, where the devastation of the Endbringers did not touch. Earth Aleph.
I shut down the laptop and wandered around the house brooding about my options. My only lead to a way out was Professor Haywire but he was difficult to find as a villain hiding from the authorities. I had many skills but tracking people down was not one of them.
I wasn't about to give up yet, though. It was a thread of possibility that I could grab and pull if I tried. I just needed-
"Tanya, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in your room," my father said, scooping me up with a huff. "You're getting heavier everyday!"
My parents were low-level parahumans that lived in secret. My father, Jake Mason, could literally smell danger and my mother, Monika Mason, had a bunch of small powers that combined to make her a neurotic mess through random bursts of intuition. My parents were "eccentric" enough that my own strange behavior as a toddler was written off. My mother worked in an office for health insurance and my father worked as a programmer at home. These jobs, for the most part, were safe enough for their sanity.
I gave him an unamused look and he laughed, before his eyes flickered to the door just before it rang.
"Oh that'll be the babysitter," he said offhandedly. I blinked and glared at him in outrage. I didn't need a babysitter! Ignoring my incendiary glare, he opened the door to a curly haired girl with glasses and a tall woman with similar features.
"Hi! I'm Taylor Hebert!" the girl chirped. She held out a hand for my bemused father to shake, which he took.
"I'm her mother, Annette Hebert," the woman said. I just want to make sure you're okay with Taylor here babysitting Tanya," Annette said. Bah. I'd probably end up babysitting her instead!
"The other mothers recommended her to me, you're just down the street, and Tanya's the most mature child I've ever met," my father said with a bark of laughter. "Just don't talk down to her and you'll be fine."
Taylor nodded eagerly before looking up at her mom. "See mom? It'll be fine!"
I snorted and looked down my nose at her. I supposed she had enthusiasm, at least. It remained to be seen if she was subordinate material. The girl gave me a weird look before my father invited her inside the house.
Annette left while my father took Taylor on a tour of the house, showing her where the fire extinguisher and the landline were. My mother walked down from upstairs, wearing a fashionable red cocktail dress.
"Ready for dinner?" my father asked her. Mother eyed Taylor with some unease before shrugging on her purse. I wasn't surprised; Mother was paranoid. I wondered what kind of bribery father had to get up to in order to convince her to leave the house.
"Yeah. Just make sure she has our phone numbers and we'll be ready to go," she said.
"I knew I was forgetting something," he said, as he grabbed a piece of paper and wrote their numbers on it. "Here you go."
"Have fun guys!" Taylor exclaimed, waving as they left. As soon as the door clicked close, I started walking to the TV.
"Er, Tanya, I don't think you should watch cartoons…" she trailed off as I turned on the BBC news and pulled myself onto the couch to watch. They were showing the aftermath of a Simurgh attack, with the city being walled off as people screamed and begged soldiers. It was boring, but important to keep an eye on how the Endbringers affected the economy.
"Oh my god, no!" Taylor exclaimed, grabbing the remote and changing the channel.
I blinked, before I nearly smacked myself in the face. Taylor clearly didn't want to watch this, being a young girl. The poor girl was flustered from the shocking imagery.
"Oh, sorry I wasn't thinking," I apologized.
"It's okay, Tanya," she said, after a moment. "Do you have any homework that needs to be done?"
"No, I do all of that at school," I said, shrugging. There had been a few discussions of moving me up grades, but my small stature would make me an easy target for anyone feeling inclined and I had no intentions of showing my true abilities due to a middle school bully.
"Oh, well I brought some paper and pencils for drawing if you want, or we can go outside to play with some of your toys?" Taylor suggested. I grimaced. Toys were for children, though I wasn't opposed to playing sports. However, drawing intrigued me as an old memory of one of my soldiers showing me a sketch of his wife surfaced. I remember being impressed with the graphite whorls of her hair at the time.
"Drawing would be acceptable," I said, sliding down from the couch to the wooden table in front of the TV.
"Great," Taylor said, pulling out papers and pencils from her backpack. She handed me some of them and I got started. I wasn't great as I lacked the muscle memory for it, but I understood what things looked like at least. The resulting picture of Visha was amateurish but recognisable.
"She's pretty, who is she?" Taylor asked, looking over at it. I frowned, twisting my lips.
"Nobody," I lied. "I made her up."
"Well you have a lot of talent Tanya," Taylor insisted. "I can barely draw a tree."
Her flattery was appreciated, but unwarranted. For someone of my lifetime experience, this was a poor attempt to curry favor. Still, she was a child, so some degree of indulgence was required.
"That's very nice of you to say, Taylor," I said, smiling. "However, I still have a lot of room for improvement."
"No, it's great! Don't get so down on yourself, Tanya. I think it's awesome that you have a hobby you enjoy."
I eyed her sideways. This girl was far too energetic. "What do you enjoy, Taylor?" I asked. I didn't really care, but if you got someone talking about their interests you could just zone out for the rest of the conversation.
"Um, well, I like to read and follow cape gossip? Other than that, I hang out with my best friend Emma," she said smiling. "Who's your best friend Tanya?"
"I don't have a best friend," I said grimacing.
"Oh that sucks! I'll be your first best friend if you want, Tanya," Taylor exclaimed, startling me. I squinted at her in suspicion.
Best friend? What was her angle? I read her face and was met with a wall of cheer. Either she was the best liar I've met or horrifically naive … Well I did need a minion. An older person being my best friend would be helpful for my future endeavors on getting off this planet.
"Okay, Taylor, that'd be great," I said outwardly, giving a wide smile. "Could you help me with the computer? I want to browse the web and it's hard to get up there."
"Ah, okay!" She followed me to the computer in which she helped me get up on the ridiculous chair my father had. With a few books and Taylor's help, I was seated more comfortably. Finally, some time to myself without my parents dragging me off the pc to do ridiculous things like 'read' or 'play catch'.
Taylor was a problem, but …
"You should do your homework, I just want to look at some cat videos," I lied. Taylor accepted my explanation at face value and started working on some kind of essay. I did indeed leave a cat video on and went to check on an online banking account that I created my father's information as well as checking on my email, in which I was intermittently using to tutor and solve math/science homework for college students. It was easy money, but it was hard to get the time to myself.
I glanced at Taylor. If I convinced my parents to have her babysit me more often, that would mean more time for myself. I smiled widely as I looked at the funds coming in for the hunt of Professor Haywire. I could hire Thinkers with more of this money, Thinkers that could find the cape and have him take my family away from here. As soon as I finished my work, Taylor looked up from her mostly finished essay to smile at me.
"Well I think it's time to eat," Taylor said. I nodded and shut down the computer. "I ate already by the way."
"Father left ingredients for sandwiches in the fridge," I said. Sandwiches were simple, Taylor couldn't possibly hurt herself making one.
"Alright, I'll get started on that then," she said cheerfully. Much to my relief, she turned out to be competent and had a sandwich set out for me in minutes. I bit into it and nodded approvingly. She could keep her nose out of things and feed me. She was a good quality minion. Taylor smiled at me as she cleaned up the ingredients.
The door opened and my parents stepped inside, looking happy. I walked over to them as Taylor nervously followed behind. I went over my words carefully.
"So how was it, Tanya?" Father asked, ruffling my hair much to my displeasure. He knew I didn't like that!
"It was great!" I said, smiling widely. "I want Taylor everyday!"
They blinked, taken aback. Maybe I overdid it? I saw Taylor perk up out of the corner of my eye.
"Well that's good …" Mother said, hesitantly.
"Sounds like you made a new friend, Taylor," Father said, smiling as he took out bills from his wallet.
She took the money for her services and waved goodbye to us as she walked down the street. Hm, she really did live down the street.
The winter of the Empire was brutal; hail was hitting the retreating troops with piercing fury. We were using this vicious flurry to cover us as we fell back. The war was finally ending, I had heard, in the form of a ceasefire treaty. I could almost touch the dream of the cushy job retirement.
The gunfire on my shields told me the job wasn't done yet. I swerved and twisted in the air with the normal aerial maneuvers trying to avoid it, but it was eerily accurate as it followed my pattern much to my shock. Once my shields broke, I could feel the bullets tear me in half, the bullets punching holes into my abdomen. As I fell, I cursed Being X for this treachery. Blind winter conditions and the normal inaccuracy of whatever railgun had hit meant that he was behind this. No human could have hit an aerial mage in these conditions.
Yet as I fell, Being X was conspicuously silent. This was unusual for him to not take the chance to proselytize.
Suddenly, something caught me by the torso and I screamed through gritted teeth at the pain.
"Major!" Ah, Visha. Good, reliable Visha. I couldn't lift my head, but I could hear her tears as she flew. "Don't worry Captain, we'll get you to the medics and they'll help you!"
"Visha …" I rasped as blood flooded out my mouth. My eyes felt heavy.
"Major! Stay awake! Major!"
I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell her to take charge, that she could do it, that I wanted to live, that she was the closest thing to a friend I ever had.
I blacked out instead.
---
I was born in a dying world, of course.
Fucking Being X.
A world of horrific monsters, human and unnatural, naturally led the GDP to be unstable. Even during the war, I wasn't worried about the Empire collapsing behind me. I stared at the screen, no longer reading the words as I processed this news. The economics were undeniable; I could see the writing on the wall. All the organizations of the world could not stop the decay caused by the Endbringers.
And what could I do? This wasn't the war, where I could battle my way out even with my ability to still do magic. The world was going to fall apart, inevitably. The Endbringers were, from all available evidence, impossibly tough and powerful.
But all was not lost yet, I thought as I gripped my pajamas tightly. There were other worlds, where the devastation of the Endbringers did not touch. Earth Aleph.
I shut down the laptop and wandered around the house brooding about my options. My only lead to a way out was Professor Haywire but he was difficult to find as a villain hiding from the authorities. I had many skills but tracking people down was not one of them.
I wasn't about to give up yet, though. It was a thread of possibility that I could grab and pull if I tried. I just needed-
"Tanya, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in your room," my father said, scooping me up with a huff. "You're getting heavier everyday!"
My parents were low-level parahumans that lived in secret. My father, Jake Mason, could literally smell danger and my mother, Monika Mason, had a bunch of small powers that combined to make her a neurotic mess through random bursts of intuition. My parents were "eccentric" enough that my own strange behavior as a toddler was written off. My mother worked in an office for health insurance and my father worked as a programmer at home. These jobs, for the most part, were safe enough for their sanity.
I gave him an unamused look and he laughed, before his eyes flickered to the door just before it rang.
"Oh that'll be the babysitter," he said offhandedly. I blinked and glared at him in outrage. I didn't need a babysitter! Ignoring my incendiary glare, he opened the door to a curly haired girl with glasses and a tall woman with similar features.
"Hi! I'm Taylor Hebert!" the girl chirped. She held out a hand for my bemused father to shake, which he took.
"I'm her mother, Annette Hebert," the woman said. I just want to make sure you're okay with Taylor here babysitting Tanya," Annette said. Bah. I'd probably end up babysitting her instead!
"The other mothers recommended her to me, you're just down the street, and Tanya's the most mature child I've ever met," my father said with a bark of laughter. "Just don't talk down to her and you'll be fine."
Taylor nodded eagerly before looking up at her mom. "See mom? It'll be fine!"
I snorted and looked down my nose at her. I supposed she had enthusiasm, at least. It remained to be seen if she was subordinate material. The girl gave me a weird look before my father invited her inside the house.
Annette left while my father took Taylor on a tour of the house, showing her where the fire extinguisher and the landline were. My mother walked down from upstairs, wearing a fashionable red cocktail dress.
"Ready for dinner?" my father asked her. Mother eyed Taylor with some unease before shrugging on her purse. I wasn't surprised; Mother was paranoid. I wondered what kind of bribery father had to get up to in order to convince her to leave the house.
"Yeah. Just make sure she has our phone numbers and we'll be ready to go," she said.
"I knew I was forgetting something," he said, as he grabbed a piece of paper and wrote their numbers on it. "Here you go."
"Have fun guys!" Taylor exclaimed, waving as they left. As soon as the door clicked close, I started walking to the TV.
"Er, Tanya, I don't think you should watch cartoons…" she trailed off as I turned on the BBC news and pulled myself onto the couch to watch. They were showing the aftermath of a Simurgh attack, with the city being walled off as people screamed and begged soldiers. It was boring, but important to keep an eye on how the Endbringers affected the economy.
"Oh my god, no!" Taylor exclaimed, grabbing the remote and changing the channel.
I blinked, before I nearly smacked myself in the face. Taylor clearly didn't want to watch this, being a young girl. The poor girl was flustered from the shocking imagery.
"Oh, sorry I wasn't thinking," I apologized.
"It's okay, Tanya," she said, after a moment. "Do you have any homework that needs to be done?"
"No, I do all of that at school," I said, shrugging. There had been a few discussions of moving me up grades, but my small stature would make me an easy target for anyone feeling inclined and I had no intentions of showing my true abilities due to a middle school bully.
"Oh, well I brought some paper and pencils for drawing if you want, or we can go outside to play with some of your toys?" Taylor suggested. I grimaced. Toys were for children, though I wasn't opposed to playing sports. However, drawing intrigued me as an old memory of one of my soldiers showing me a sketch of his wife surfaced. I remember being impressed with the graphite whorls of her hair at the time.
"Drawing would be acceptable," I said, sliding down from the couch to the wooden table in front of the TV.
"Great," Taylor said, pulling out papers and pencils from her backpack. She handed me some of them and I got started. I wasn't great as I lacked the muscle memory for it, but I understood what things looked like at least. The resulting picture of Visha was amateurish but recognisable.
"She's pretty, who is she?" Taylor asked, looking over at it. I frowned, twisting my lips.
"Nobody," I lied. "I made her up."
"Well you have a lot of talent Tanya," Taylor insisted. "I can barely draw a tree."
Her flattery was appreciated, but unwarranted. For someone of my lifetime experience, this was a poor attempt to curry favor. Still, she was a child, so some degree of indulgence was required.
"That's very nice of you to say, Taylor," I said, smiling. "However, I still have a lot of room for improvement."
"No, it's great! Don't get so down on yourself, Tanya. I think it's awesome that you have a hobby you enjoy."
I eyed her sideways. This girl was far too energetic. "What do you enjoy, Taylor?" I asked. I didn't really care, but if you got someone talking about their interests you could just zone out for the rest of the conversation.
"Um, well, I like to read and follow cape gossip? Other than that, I hang out with my best friend Emma," she said smiling. "Who's your best friend Tanya?"
"I don't have a best friend," I said grimacing.
"Oh that sucks! I'll be your first best friend if you want, Tanya," Taylor exclaimed, startling me. I squinted at her in suspicion.
Best friend? What was her angle? I read her face and was met with a wall of cheer. Either she was the best liar I've met or horrifically naive … Well I did need a minion. An older person being my best friend would be helpful for my future endeavors on getting off this planet.
"Okay, Taylor, that'd be great," I said outwardly, giving a wide smile. "Could you help me with the computer? I want to browse the web and it's hard to get up there."
"Ah, okay!" She followed me to the computer in which she helped me get up on the ridiculous chair my father had. With a few books and Taylor's help, I was seated more comfortably. Finally, some time to myself without my parents dragging me off the pc to do ridiculous things like 'read' or 'play catch'.
Taylor was a problem, but …
"You should do your homework, I just want to look at some cat videos," I lied. Taylor accepted my explanation at face value and started working on some kind of essay. I did indeed leave a cat video on and went to check on an online banking account that I created my father's information as well as checking on my email, in which I was intermittently using to tutor and solve math/science homework for college students. It was easy money, but it was hard to get the time to myself.
I glanced at Taylor. If I convinced my parents to have her babysit me more often, that would mean more time for myself. I smiled widely as I looked at the funds coming in for the hunt of Professor Haywire. I could hire Thinkers with more of this money, Thinkers that could find the cape and have him take my family away from here. As soon as I finished my work, Taylor looked up from her mostly finished essay to smile at me.
"Well I think it's time to eat," Taylor said. I nodded and shut down the computer. "I ate already by the way."
"Father left ingredients for sandwiches in the fridge," I said. Sandwiches were simple, Taylor couldn't possibly hurt herself making one.
"Alright, I'll get started on that then," she said cheerfully. Much to my relief, she turned out to be competent and had a sandwich set out for me in minutes. I bit into it and nodded approvingly. She could keep her nose out of things and feed me. She was a good quality minion. Taylor smiled at me as she cleaned up the ingredients.
The door opened and my parents stepped inside, looking happy. I walked over to them as Taylor nervously followed behind. I went over my words carefully.
"So how was it, Tanya?" Father asked, ruffling my hair much to my displeasure. He knew I didn't like that!
"It was great!" I said, smiling widely. "I want Taylor everyday!"
They blinked, taken aback. Maybe I overdid it? I saw Taylor perk up out of the corner of my eye.
"Well that's good …" Mother said, hesitantly.
"Sounds like you made a new friend, Taylor," Father said, smiling as he took out bills from his wallet.
She took the money for her services and waved goodbye to us as she walked down the street. Hm, she really did live down the street.
Last edited:
1.1 Missy Biron
((New chapter bitches!! Enjoy!!!))
I met Missy Biron in English class for a group project. Over the year, some loud rumors emerged that her parents were crazy, which dissuaded most of my classmates from partnering up with her. Being indifferent to the rumor mill, I ended up as her partner for a diorama project based on a book we read.
"1984?" Mrs. Horner the English teacher asked, frowning. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you reading this book, Tanya." We were in front of the teacher's desk, approaching her with our proposal.
"I've already read it." I said dismissively.
"O-oh. Well, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with Missy reading this," she said, attempting to change tracks.
Missy's lips thinned. "I'm fine with it. In fact, I want to read this book."
Mrs. Horner sighed and handed over the project papers and shoebox. "Alright, but remember that you'll be graded for your comprehension."
"We'll be fine," I said, waving my hand. Middle school work was pathetically easy. We convened on two connected tables and went over the papers carefully.
"I don't think we'll be able to finish it in class so we'll go to your house after school-," Missy started.
"Absolutely not," I interrupted.
"Wh-What? Why not?" she asked hotly.
"My parents hate cleaning up the house for guests," I lied. It was a prepared statement my parents gave me.
"I don't mind a mess, my house isn't exactly clean either," she waved off my lie. Time for lie two.
"My parents are really religiously strict about who they allow in the house," that gave Missy pause.
" … Okay, I guess we're going over to my house," she said reluctantly. The bell rang, sending us to our next classes. Missy gave me her address so my father could drive us there as her parents were too busy to drive her. She sidled in next to me in the back.
"You're not going to sit up with me, Tanya?" Dad asked, sounding wounded.
I rolled my eyes. "I need to talk to Missy about our project."
"They grow up so fast …" He said dramatically. Missy gave a faint smile before frowning. I wonder why? She hardly had anything to worry about, I had this in the bag.
"So we should focus on Winston and Julia right?" Missy proposed, fingers tapping on the shoebox that the teacher had given us.
"Why them?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "The story is about how communist governments destroy the individual, right?"
"I … guess?" Missy said, confused. "We… could do it about the government destroying them?"
"Acceptable," I said. "But it should include an itemized list of atrocities performed by communist regimes."
Missy looked at me with wide eyes as we pulled up to the driveway of her house. She probably was surprised by the real life implications of 1984. Ah, she was still so young and naive.
"I'd love to do a serious presentation," Missy said, smiling shyly. "I didn't think anyone else would be up for something like that."
She was adorable! Due to the failings of her parents, it fell to me to educate this young girl on the horrors of communism. We waved goodbye to my father and I cleared my throat to get the lecture started.
"We link the diorama to Russian atrocities as the book is based on the government there--," as we entered through the door, there was a sound of broken ceramic and incoherent angry screaming from two people. Missy was pulling me to the stairs as I frowned at the first hand look at Missy's home life.
"Is everything…"
Missy tugged me more insistently up the stairs. "I'm not gonna say I told you so…"
I paused, squeezing Missy's hand to ask for a moment to think. It's clear that Missy needed to be protected from this volatile situation, which was even worse than I anticipated.
"We should head to the library," I proposed.
"Yeah, just let me get the paints and stuff," Missy said, hurrying to her bedroom. I stepped in as Missy rushed to grab everything she needed and observed it was rather full. There were many dolls, posters of girls on horseback, and toys. But most of it seemed brand new and shoved off in a corner. She must like them, I concluded, but didn't take care of them very well. Clearly, she hadn't been taught by her parents to be organized.
"Let's go," Missy said, throwing her heavy backpack on with a grunt. I could hear the screaming getting louder and I looked to the direction it was happening.
"Should we talk with your parents?" I asked as I paused at the door frame.
Missy shook her head furiously. "Hell no, once they get going, you don't want to be in between that."
My pity for Missy grew. Her parents have failed this little girl. "Let's go to the library and just focus on this project."
We swiftly headed out the door and headed to the library. Walking, while brisk and healthy, also provided an opportunity for conversation. But Missy kept quiet. I appreciated the silence, many children her age were far too talkative.
"I hate it," Missy muttered.
"What? What do you mean?" I asked, a little disappointed the silence didn't last.
"Thanks for giving me my space," Missy said, after a moment. "I just … I hate them. They're so self absorbed and stupid."
"Narcissists," I summed up for her.
"Yes! Exactly!" She turned partially towards me with elation in her eyes. "That's what they are! God, it feels good to have a word for this."
"You've expanded your world," I smiled indulgently at her. But then a thought bothered me suddenly. "Have you ever tried talking to CPS?"
"I …" Missy grimaced and looked away. "I guess I'm scared. Scared of landing in a foster home that's worse than my current situation. My dad told me stories about how people abuse foster kids. I mean, they don't hit me and they feed me. That's better than a lot of people."
"True," I allowed, inclining my head. "Basic needs are being met. But, are you happy Missy Biron?"
Her face twisted at the question and she stopped walking, causing me to stop as well.
"Does it matter? I can deal until I get out of high school." Missy spat. "Besides, we have way bigger problems than my stupid parents."
I decided to back off, feeling the emotions come off of her. Discretion was the better part of valor afterall.
"So we can get some newspapers for the diorama for the bodies," I said, changing the subject.
"Bodies?" Missy asked, looking relieved.
"People in a mass grave. Mass killings by communist regimes are very common," I explained. Missy grimaced at that, but nodded.
"We should have someone speaking in front of the bodies and write the key words from the book," Missy added.
"I'll draft the speaking portion," I said absentmindedly as I started making the speech in my head. "There's a newsstand near the library here, I have enough money for some newspapers."
"Right, sounds good," Missy said, nodding firmly. After a few more minutes, we ended up at the library. I shelled out a few dollars for a stack of newspapers and we headed inside. It was soothing work as Missy was focused and enthusiastic to make the bodies while I wrote our speech to educate the class on the horrors of a communist regime. It was simple things like forced disappearances, terror to control the populace, massacres, etc.
It took us until the library closing that we were done. I was quite proud of Missy's pile of bodies that were in various states of dismemberment and the red paint she liberally used. There was a little body that she had given blonde hair in front of the bodies standing on a podium. It must be a reference to nazi Germany, I concluded. Not necessarily communism, but considering certain gangs in the city, topical.
"I'll take the diorama home," I said as we waited for my dad in the dark. Missy nodded, visibly relieved.
"Yeah my parents would use it as a projectile if they had the chance. I've lost projects that way before," Missy said, mouth twisting as if she ate something disgusting.
"I'll keep it safe," I assured her. Fortunately, my father chose to drive up next to us and interrupted further conversation. Missy was dropped off to her house and before she got out of the car, she paused.
"Hey, Tanya, I had a really good time. Thanks for being cool," she said, smiling shyly.
She was so adorable. "It was no problem," I said, waving it off.
"Well I mean it," and with that she shut the car door.
Dad drove a while before speaking. "Looks like you made a friend Tanya."
I shrugged. We only knew each other for a day. Hardly enough time for friendship.
---
"In conclusion, communists are evil and inefficient! They will lead any country to ruin with their degenerate ways." I finished the speech, hands on hips.
There was a long silence as our classmates stared at us.
"Praise America!" I added for good measure.
" … Thank you, Tanya and Missy, for that presentation," Mrs. Horner said, sounding strained. We went back to our seats as the next group came up. As soon as the bell rang, Missy came over to me looking hesitant. I looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"Hey Tanya, I was wondering if you'd like to exchange phone numbers?" She asked looking down as she fiddled with the straps of her backpack.
I considered her request. She was a competent enough worker and I felt bad about her situation. As the adult, it befell to me to help her as much as I could.
"Okay," I said, nodding.
"Really?" Missy asked, surprised.
"Really. Now get ready to write this down, I don't like repeating myself," I said sternly. I rattled off my number before she called mine with hers so I could add her to my contacts.
"Don't text me, I have a limited plan," I explained, as I tapped her number in.
"Ah yeah, but we can call each other right?" Missy asked.
"Yes, I have unlimited time," I stretched as I stood up. "I'll see you Missy."
"Yeah, bye Tanya," She said, smiling. We went our separate ways as I headed to the car parking lot.
I found my father's car and entered the front seat as I usually did. Usually, we drove in silence as I mused over what my next step on tracking down Haywire. However, I was compelled to bring Missy up with my father.
"Dad, I was wondering if I could invite a friend over," I asked, aware of the delicate subject I was broaching.
He gave me a quick frown. "Tanya, we've talked about this. We can't risk discovery."
"We have Taylor over," I pointed out.
"That's different, she's your babysitter," he said, shaking his head.
"It's hardly different. She's only fourteen and you have left the house to her many times. We don't have anything in the house to even incriminate us," I said, exasperated.
"Your mom and I don't talk to her often, that's what's different. Your friend would be interacting with us for long hours because we'd have to keep an eye on you two," he said, shaking his head.
"It won't hurt our cover, Dad, it's not like you say that you're smelling mint every time and Mom holes up in your room most of the day when she's not at work," I said, rolling my eyes. For some reason, my father looked … upset?
"Tanya, I … You know we love you right?" He said suddenly.
"Uh, yes, but what does that have to do with what we're talking about?" I asked, confused.
"I just," he sighed. "Okay, you can have your friend over."
"More than once?" I asked, pushing my luck. Missy really did need a safe space.
"Yes," he turned into the driveway of our house and while unbuckling his seatbelt, turned to me to hug me. I stiffened up as my father knew that I didn't really appreciate hugs. It's not like I hated it, but it just didn't do anything for me emotionally.
"Tanya, don't let that good heart hurt you," he said, softly. I nearly snorted.
Good heart.
Right.
I met Missy Biron in English class for a group project. Over the year, some loud rumors emerged that her parents were crazy, which dissuaded most of my classmates from partnering up with her. Being indifferent to the rumor mill, I ended up as her partner for a diorama project based on a book we read.
"1984?" Mrs. Horner the English teacher asked, frowning. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you reading this book, Tanya." We were in front of the teacher's desk, approaching her with our proposal.
"I've already read it." I said dismissively.
"O-oh. Well, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with Missy reading this," she said, attempting to change tracks.
Missy's lips thinned. "I'm fine with it. In fact, I want to read this book."
Mrs. Horner sighed and handed over the project papers and shoebox. "Alright, but remember that you'll be graded for your comprehension."
"We'll be fine," I said, waving my hand. Middle school work was pathetically easy. We convened on two connected tables and went over the papers carefully.
"I don't think we'll be able to finish it in class so we'll go to your house after school-," Missy started.
"Absolutely not," I interrupted.
"Wh-What? Why not?" she asked hotly.
"My parents hate cleaning up the house for guests," I lied. It was a prepared statement my parents gave me.
"I don't mind a mess, my house isn't exactly clean either," she waved off my lie. Time for lie two.
"My parents are really religiously strict about who they allow in the house," that gave Missy pause.
" … Okay, I guess we're going over to my house," she said reluctantly. The bell rang, sending us to our next classes. Missy gave me her address so my father could drive us there as her parents were too busy to drive her. She sidled in next to me in the back.
"You're not going to sit up with me, Tanya?" Dad asked, sounding wounded.
I rolled my eyes. "I need to talk to Missy about our project."
"They grow up so fast …" He said dramatically. Missy gave a faint smile before frowning. I wonder why? She hardly had anything to worry about, I had this in the bag.
"So we should focus on Winston and Julia right?" Missy proposed, fingers tapping on the shoebox that the teacher had given us.
"Why them?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "The story is about how communist governments destroy the individual, right?"
"I … guess?" Missy said, confused. "We… could do it about the government destroying them?"
"Acceptable," I said. "But it should include an itemized list of atrocities performed by communist regimes."
Missy looked at me with wide eyes as we pulled up to the driveway of her house. She probably was surprised by the real life implications of 1984. Ah, she was still so young and naive.
"I'd love to do a serious presentation," Missy said, smiling shyly. "I didn't think anyone else would be up for something like that."
She was adorable! Due to the failings of her parents, it fell to me to educate this young girl on the horrors of communism. We waved goodbye to my father and I cleared my throat to get the lecture started.
"We link the diorama to Russian atrocities as the book is based on the government there--," as we entered through the door, there was a sound of broken ceramic and incoherent angry screaming from two people. Missy was pulling me to the stairs as I frowned at the first hand look at Missy's home life.
"Is everything…"
Missy tugged me more insistently up the stairs. "I'm not gonna say I told you so…"
I paused, squeezing Missy's hand to ask for a moment to think. It's clear that Missy needed to be protected from this volatile situation, which was even worse than I anticipated.
"We should head to the library," I proposed.
"Yeah, just let me get the paints and stuff," Missy said, hurrying to her bedroom. I stepped in as Missy rushed to grab everything she needed and observed it was rather full. There were many dolls, posters of girls on horseback, and toys. But most of it seemed brand new and shoved off in a corner. She must like them, I concluded, but didn't take care of them very well. Clearly, she hadn't been taught by her parents to be organized.
"Let's go," Missy said, throwing her heavy backpack on with a grunt. I could hear the screaming getting louder and I looked to the direction it was happening.
"Should we talk with your parents?" I asked as I paused at the door frame.
Missy shook her head furiously. "Hell no, once they get going, you don't want to be in between that."
My pity for Missy grew. Her parents have failed this little girl. "Let's go to the library and just focus on this project."
We swiftly headed out the door and headed to the library. Walking, while brisk and healthy, also provided an opportunity for conversation. But Missy kept quiet. I appreciated the silence, many children her age were far too talkative.
"I hate it," Missy muttered.
"What? What do you mean?" I asked, a little disappointed the silence didn't last.
"Thanks for giving me my space," Missy said, after a moment. "I just … I hate them. They're so self absorbed and stupid."
"Narcissists," I summed up for her.
"Yes! Exactly!" She turned partially towards me with elation in her eyes. "That's what they are! God, it feels good to have a word for this."
"You've expanded your world," I smiled indulgently at her. But then a thought bothered me suddenly. "Have you ever tried talking to CPS?"
"I …" Missy grimaced and looked away. "I guess I'm scared. Scared of landing in a foster home that's worse than my current situation. My dad told me stories about how people abuse foster kids. I mean, they don't hit me and they feed me. That's better than a lot of people."
"True," I allowed, inclining my head. "Basic needs are being met. But, are you happy Missy Biron?"
Her face twisted at the question and she stopped walking, causing me to stop as well.
"Does it matter? I can deal until I get out of high school." Missy spat. "Besides, we have way bigger problems than my stupid parents."
I decided to back off, feeling the emotions come off of her. Discretion was the better part of valor afterall.
"So we can get some newspapers for the diorama for the bodies," I said, changing the subject.
"Bodies?" Missy asked, looking relieved.
"People in a mass grave. Mass killings by communist regimes are very common," I explained. Missy grimaced at that, but nodded.
"We should have someone speaking in front of the bodies and write the key words from the book," Missy added.
"I'll draft the speaking portion," I said absentmindedly as I started making the speech in my head. "There's a newsstand near the library here, I have enough money for some newspapers."
"Right, sounds good," Missy said, nodding firmly. After a few more minutes, we ended up at the library. I shelled out a few dollars for a stack of newspapers and we headed inside. It was soothing work as Missy was focused and enthusiastic to make the bodies while I wrote our speech to educate the class on the horrors of a communist regime. It was simple things like forced disappearances, terror to control the populace, massacres, etc.
It took us until the library closing that we were done. I was quite proud of Missy's pile of bodies that were in various states of dismemberment and the red paint she liberally used. There was a little body that she had given blonde hair in front of the bodies standing on a podium. It must be a reference to nazi Germany, I concluded. Not necessarily communism, but considering certain gangs in the city, topical.
"I'll take the diorama home," I said as we waited for my dad in the dark. Missy nodded, visibly relieved.
"Yeah my parents would use it as a projectile if they had the chance. I've lost projects that way before," Missy said, mouth twisting as if she ate something disgusting.
"I'll keep it safe," I assured her. Fortunately, my father chose to drive up next to us and interrupted further conversation. Missy was dropped off to her house and before she got out of the car, she paused.
"Hey, Tanya, I had a really good time. Thanks for being cool," she said, smiling shyly.
She was so adorable. "It was no problem," I said, waving it off.
"Well I mean it," and with that she shut the car door.
Dad drove a while before speaking. "Looks like you made a friend Tanya."
I shrugged. We only knew each other for a day. Hardly enough time for friendship.
---
"In conclusion, communists are evil and inefficient! They will lead any country to ruin with their degenerate ways." I finished the speech, hands on hips.
There was a long silence as our classmates stared at us.
"Praise America!" I added for good measure.
" … Thank you, Tanya and Missy, for that presentation," Mrs. Horner said, sounding strained. We went back to our seats as the next group came up. As soon as the bell rang, Missy came over to me looking hesitant. I looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"Hey Tanya, I was wondering if you'd like to exchange phone numbers?" She asked looking down as she fiddled with the straps of her backpack.
I considered her request. She was a competent enough worker and I felt bad about her situation. As the adult, it befell to me to help her as much as I could.
"Okay," I said, nodding.
"Really?" Missy asked, surprised.
"Really. Now get ready to write this down, I don't like repeating myself," I said sternly. I rattled off my number before she called mine with hers so I could add her to my contacts.
"Don't text me, I have a limited plan," I explained, as I tapped her number in.
"Ah yeah, but we can call each other right?" Missy asked.
"Yes, I have unlimited time," I stretched as I stood up. "I'll see you Missy."
"Yeah, bye Tanya," She said, smiling. We went our separate ways as I headed to the car parking lot.
I found my father's car and entered the front seat as I usually did. Usually, we drove in silence as I mused over what my next step on tracking down Haywire. However, I was compelled to bring Missy up with my father.
"Dad, I was wondering if I could invite a friend over," I asked, aware of the delicate subject I was broaching.
He gave me a quick frown. "Tanya, we've talked about this. We can't risk discovery."
"We have Taylor over," I pointed out.
"That's different, she's your babysitter," he said, shaking his head.
"It's hardly different. She's only fourteen and you have left the house to her many times. We don't have anything in the house to even incriminate us," I said, exasperated.
"Your mom and I don't talk to her often, that's what's different. Your friend would be interacting with us for long hours because we'd have to keep an eye on you two," he said, shaking his head.
"It won't hurt our cover, Dad, it's not like you say that you're smelling mint every time and Mom holes up in your room most of the day when she's not at work," I said, rolling my eyes. For some reason, my father looked … upset?
"Tanya, I … You know we love you right?" He said suddenly.
"Uh, yes, but what does that have to do with what we're talking about?" I asked, confused.
"I just," he sighed. "Okay, you can have your friend over."
"More than once?" I asked, pushing my luck. Missy really did need a safe space.
"Yes," he turned into the driveway of our house and while unbuckling his seatbelt, turned to me to hug me. I stiffened up as my father knew that I didn't really appreciate hugs. It's not like I hated it, but it just didn't do anything for me emotionally.
"Tanya, don't let that good heart hurt you," he said, softly. I nearly snorted.
Good heart.
Right.
Tanya has magic. No shard.
On the one hand, no shard. On the other, between Missy and her parents whoa is Tanya being set up for Shard budding attention.
1.2 Cake, Art, and Dinah
(This is the coffee cake recipe in the story. Enjoy gaining ten pounds.
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HE1RqKSa1z8 )
Missy seemed ecstatic to join me at home after school. Her parents rarely inquired about her whereabouts, which was convenient, and we began to spend many afternoons together. One particular afternoon stood out in my mind though.
"This recipe seems kind of hard," Missy muttered, reading the printout I gave her. I shrugged as I measured the ingredients out under Taylor's attention. We were making a cake for … no reason really, except that we could and my parents allowed it.
"It isn't really. You just have to follow the instructions, Missy, and it will transform into a complex construction of proteins and sugars," I said, as Taylor handed me the two bowls to pour in the wet and dry ingredients.
"That's the weirdest way to describe a cake I've ever heard, Tanya," Missy shook her head and started mixing the wet ingredients bowl that I handed to her.
"It's just how Tanya talks about things," Taylor defended, unnecessarily.
"I am needlessly verbose sometimes," I said, shrugging. I started combining the ingredients
"Yeah," Missy said, giggling. Ah, adorable. "I want to churn the butter though, that sounds really great."
She grabbed the mixer and with Taylor's help, she started fluffing up the butter. Eventually everything was mixed and we had our coffee cake in the oven. After setting the timer, Taylor put her hands on her hip.
"While we wait for it to bake, we should do our homework," Taylor declared.
"I'm done," I said drolly. I usually did my homework during class time.
"Me too, I finished at school," Missy explained, glancing at me.
"Oh. Uh, well," Taylor's smile slipped and she sighed. I had noticed Taylor seemed off today. She had not babbled as much and had arrived moody.
"What's wrong Taylor?" Missy asked.
"I …" she looked at our expectant gazes. "My friend, Emma, is bullying me. Her new friend Sophia hates me."
"What happened?" I asked, intrigued.
"Nothing!" Taylor yelled, throwing her hands up. "And the teachers won't do anything about it."
"What? They really won't?" Missy asked, blinking in innocent disbelief.
"It's fucking Winslow, that's why," Taylor muttered. "They're more occupied with the gangs than with the actual students."
"Tell me more about Emma and Sophia," I ordered, steepling my fingers together.
"Well, Emma uses secrets and words against me … It really sucks. Sophia is physical, likes to hit me and trip me. Emma seems to follow her lead sometimes," Taylor explained, face sour.
"So Sophia is the leader, huh?" I paced, thinking upon my experience as a military leader and salaryman. Rumors and gossip were rampant in a company and in order to be the head of HR I had to be ahead of it. Still, if the leader was physical … "In order to destroy the hierarchy, you must cut off it's head."
"What?" Taylor said, confused.
"You have to fight Sophia in 1 to 1 combat and assert your dominance," I explained, nodding in satisfaction at my solution. "People like her respect nothing but strength."
Taylor gaped at me. "I'll get suspended!!"
I snorted. "A fight between two young schoolgirls? I doubt it'd be more than a week."
Taylor looked at Missy for help, but she was nodding in agreement with me.
"Some bullies only understand confrontation, Taylor," Missy told her. Taylor looked away to the ground, embarrassed.
"I don't know how to fight," she muttered. I sighed as I walked over to her and grabbed her wrist.
"That's fine, I'll teach you," I said, pulling her outside. Missy raised her eyebrows as she grabbed the kitchen timer on our way out.
"You know how to fight?" Missy asked, as we emerged into the yard.
"I watched a couple of videos," I said vaguely. Over the next two hours, in between getting the cake out, I taught Taylor a few tricks I learned over my lifetimes and had her practice until she learned it. Missy jumped into it as well and practiced alongside Taylor. Her determination was a tad strange, but it was cute how focused she was.
Taylor was huffing as she leaned on the fence. "Did you really learn from videos? You're really good, Tanya."
I shrugged, leaving it at that. "Don't fight fair and you'll do fine."
Then, my three cars showed up at the same time. I frowned as Missy's parents stepped out of their respective cars and like hate magnets, they rushed at each other with raised voices that increased in rage and hysteria. My parents were trying to calm them down. Particular emphasis on 'trying'.
"Oh my god, I told them your dad would drive me home," Missy whispered, frustrated. Her fists clenched and she hunched up, but I took her by the shoulder and pulled her inside. A young girl didn't need to see this. Neither did Taylor for that matter, as I grabbed her by the sleeve as well. After guiding them to the table, I pulled the cake out of the fridge and set it down on the table. With Taylor's help, we set plates and cut slices for each other.
Ignoring the shouting spectacle outside, we ate cake and waited.
I didn't normally eat desserts as they were never a real substitute for a good meal, but living in a war changes your perspective on luxuries. The coffee taste was simply sublime and the moist texture was excellent. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment. But when I opened my eyes, Missy was just staring at the cake with her fork held limply in her hand.
I wanted to say something suddenly, but what could I do? I was a minor with no rights or real ability to change the situation. Her parents were insane, I know very well, as they continued to live in the same house as the person they hated, forcing Missy to see the complete destruction of her family unit.
I could … get CPS involved despite Missy's distaste for the idea. Build a case with videos and photos and documentation. However, Missy would resent me, perhaps even hate me for it. It was easy to visualize the hatred distorting her face. I had seen it on many soldiers' faces.
I took another bite of my cake.
---
"Dinah, your painting is so pretty!"
I sighed with Mr. Walburton as the girl missed the point of critique just like the last five students. He shook his head and took off his glasses to wipe them, a tick to disguise his anxiety. Dinah Alcott was a rich girl surrounded by sycophants who loved constantly licking her boots.
Naturally, I was insanely jealous of her.
"Lilah, this is a critique session. Add something else, please,"
"I uh, … love how the colors look?" Lilah said weakly. He sighed and moved onto me.
"Tanya, please offer your insights," he said, expectations low. I cleared my throat before starting.
"It's shallow," and it was almost like someone had pressed the mute button. "The composition, colors, and linework are all designed for beauty. But there's no meaning, no understanding of what's happening in the piece. Like, look at the woman looking to the side. Her gaze is empty, bereft of challenge and intensity. She is to be gazed upon, not gaze back. The acrylics do lend themselves to pop art, but there's a reason it's called pop art. Bubbles pop and never return. They're ephemeral pieces that satisfy the gaze like candy, but never last in memory."
Mr. Walburton was wearing a hole in his glasses as he stared at me. As the whole class stared at me.
Then Dinah Alcott rushed out of the room.
It was as if someone had pressed the unmute button. Half of my fellow students were roaring at me and half went after Dinah.
"Oh my god, Tanya!" It was Sarah Lackley, the head of her fanclub. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"Yeah, that was way over the line, Mason!" someone yelled.
"I was critiquing her as Mr. Walburton told me to," I said, annoyed. "It wasn't even that harsh."
"Uh, yeah it was," Sarah snapped, putting her hands on the table and leaning forward. "You should leave."
I rolled my eyes. "We still have ten minutes left of class."
"No, I mean you should drop the damn class! Clearly, you're jealous of Dinah's talent and you want to be mean to her so you can feel better! I've seen your art, you're not even better than me," Sarah triumphantly declared. I was jealous of her, but not of her mediocre skills. Though that jab at my artistic skill was very unwarranted and I had the sudden urge to flick this little idiot through a wall.
"No," I said, as I stood up. I zipped up my backpack and slung it around my shoulder.
"No?" Sarah sputtered, as I walked to the door. "Hey, where do you think you're going?!"
"I'm going to check on Dinah instead of wasting breath on you," I said, as she wheeled on poor Mr. Walburton about how terrible I was. Unlike the other students, I grabbed the bathroom pass on the way out.
I headed to the library, fully intending to lose myself in some books. Yes, I had lied. But it wasn't like I could find Dinah by myself on a campus this big. Someone else would have to comfort her. I pushed the library doors and walked in to see Dinah Alcott sitting at one of the tables, dabbing her teary eyes with a handkerchief.
Ah, fuck.
We stared at each other for a moment before I sighed and headed over to her. Fucking social obligations …
"I didn't think it was unfair," Dinah spoke up.
I blinked. "What?"
"Your critique. It was, uh, insightful," she said, sheepishly. "It's just, I want to be a great artist one day, you know. The idea that I'd have no lasting impact on the world …"
I shrugged. "Making history is overrated."
Dinah stared at me. "But, don't you want to have a legacy? Have people remember your name and what you've done? Be in the history books?"
I made a face. "I'd rather have a nice peaceful life with a cushy retirement,"
Dinah was quiet. "Huh."
The bell rang suddenly, signalling the start of lunch. I stood up but then Dinah grabbed me by the shirt, almost startling me.
"Um …"
"What is it?" I snapped out, with no real venom.
"Can we exchange phone numbers?" Dinah asked shyly.
… Hm. A wealthy friend with connections and power? Of course, I accepted, I wasn't stupid. But I didn't want to be like Sarah Lackley. The thought of being anything like that desperate grasping parasite made me want to retch. I earned every damn inch I gained in my past lives and current. So with Dinah, I resolved to teach her a little thing called self respect.
Of course, I couldn't have predicted the consequences.
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HE1RqKSa1z8 )
Missy seemed ecstatic to join me at home after school. Her parents rarely inquired about her whereabouts, which was convenient, and we began to spend many afternoons together. One particular afternoon stood out in my mind though.
"This recipe seems kind of hard," Missy muttered, reading the printout I gave her. I shrugged as I measured the ingredients out under Taylor's attention. We were making a cake for … no reason really, except that we could and my parents allowed it.
"It isn't really. You just have to follow the instructions, Missy, and it will transform into a complex construction of proteins and sugars," I said, as Taylor handed me the two bowls to pour in the wet and dry ingredients.
"That's the weirdest way to describe a cake I've ever heard, Tanya," Missy shook her head and started mixing the wet ingredients bowl that I handed to her.
"It's just how Tanya talks about things," Taylor defended, unnecessarily.
"I am needlessly verbose sometimes," I said, shrugging. I started combining the ingredients
"Yeah," Missy said, giggling. Ah, adorable. "I want to churn the butter though, that sounds really great."
She grabbed the mixer and with Taylor's help, she started fluffing up the butter. Eventually everything was mixed and we had our coffee cake in the oven. After setting the timer, Taylor put her hands on her hip.
"While we wait for it to bake, we should do our homework," Taylor declared.
"I'm done," I said drolly. I usually did my homework during class time.
"Me too, I finished at school," Missy explained, glancing at me.
"Oh. Uh, well," Taylor's smile slipped and she sighed. I had noticed Taylor seemed off today. She had not babbled as much and had arrived moody.
"What's wrong Taylor?" Missy asked.
"I …" she looked at our expectant gazes. "My friend, Emma, is bullying me. Her new friend Sophia hates me."
"What happened?" I asked, intrigued.
"Nothing!" Taylor yelled, throwing her hands up. "And the teachers won't do anything about it."
"What? They really won't?" Missy asked, blinking in innocent disbelief.
"It's fucking Winslow, that's why," Taylor muttered. "They're more occupied with the gangs than with the actual students."
"Tell me more about Emma and Sophia," I ordered, steepling my fingers together.
"Well, Emma uses secrets and words against me … It really sucks. Sophia is physical, likes to hit me and trip me. Emma seems to follow her lead sometimes," Taylor explained, face sour.
"So Sophia is the leader, huh?" I paced, thinking upon my experience as a military leader and salaryman. Rumors and gossip were rampant in a company and in order to be the head of HR I had to be ahead of it. Still, if the leader was physical … "In order to destroy the hierarchy, you must cut off it's head."
"What?" Taylor said, confused.
"You have to fight Sophia in 1 to 1 combat and assert your dominance," I explained, nodding in satisfaction at my solution. "People like her respect nothing but strength."
Taylor gaped at me. "I'll get suspended!!"
I snorted. "A fight between two young schoolgirls? I doubt it'd be more than a week."
Taylor looked at Missy for help, but she was nodding in agreement with me.
"Some bullies only understand confrontation, Taylor," Missy told her. Taylor looked away to the ground, embarrassed.
"I don't know how to fight," she muttered. I sighed as I walked over to her and grabbed her wrist.
"That's fine, I'll teach you," I said, pulling her outside. Missy raised her eyebrows as she grabbed the kitchen timer on our way out.
"You know how to fight?" Missy asked, as we emerged into the yard.
"I watched a couple of videos," I said vaguely. Over the next two hours, in between getting the cake out, I taught Taylor a few tricks I learned over my lifetimes and had her practice until she learned it. Missy jumped into it as well and practiced alongside Taylor. Her determination was a tad strange, but it was cute how focused she was.
Taylor was huffing as she leaned on the fence. "Did you really learn from videos? You're really good, Tanya."
I shrugged, leaving it at that. "Don't fight fair and you'll do fine."
Then, my three cars showed up at the same time. I frowned as Missy's parents stepped out of their respective cars and like hate magnets, they rushed at each other with raised voices that increased in rage and hysteria. My parents were trying to calm them down. Particular emphasis on 'trying'.
"Oh my god, I told them your dad would drive me home," Missy whispered, frustrated. Her fists clenched and she hunched up, but I took her by the shoulder and pulled her inside. A young girl didn't need to see this. Neither did Taylor for that matter, as I grabbed her by the sleeve as well. After guiding them to the table, I pulled the cake out of the fridge and set it down on the table. With Taylor's help, we set plates and cut slices for each other.
Ignoring the shouting spectacle outside, we ate cake and waited.
I didn't normally eat desserts as they were never a real substitute for a good meal, but living in a war changes your perspective on luxuries. The coffee taste was simply sublime and the moist texture was excellent. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment. But when I opened my eyes, Missy was just staring at the cake with her fork held limply in her hand.
I wanted to say something suddenly, but what could I do? I was a minor with no rights or real ability to change the situation. Her parents were insane, I know very well, as they continued to live in the same house as the person they hated, forcing Missy to see the complete destruction of her family unit.
I could … get CPS involved despite Missy's distaste for the idea. Build a case with videos and photos and documentation. However, Missy would resent me, perhaps even hate me for it. It was easy to visualize the hatred distorting her face. I had seen it on many soldiers' faces.
I took another bite of my cake.
---
"Dinah, your painting is so pretty!"
I sighed with Mr. Walburton as the girl missed the point of critique just like the last five students. He shook his head and took off his glasses to wipe them, a tick to disguise his anxiety. Dinah Alcott was a rich girl surrounded by sycophants who loved constantly licking her boots.
Naturally, I was insanely jealous of her.
"Lilah, this is a critique session. Add something else, please,"
"I uh, … love how the colors look?" Lilah said weakly. He sighed and moved onto me.
"Tanya, please offer your insights," he said, expectations low. I cleared my throat before starting.
"It's shallow," and it was almost like someone had pressed the mute button. "The composition, colors, and linework are all designed for beauty. But there's no meaning, no understanding of what's happening in the piece. Like, look at the woman looking to the side. Her gaze is empty, bereft of challenge and intensity. She is to be gazed upon, not gaze back. The acrylics do lend themselves to pop art, but there's a reason it's called pop art. Bubbles pop and never return. They're ephemeral pieces that satisfy the gaze like candy, but never last in memory."
Mr. Walburton was wearing a hole in his glasses as he stared at me. As the whole class stared at me.
Then Dinah Alcott rushed out of the room.
It was as if someone had pressed the unmute button. Half of my fellow students were roaring at me and half went after Dinah.
"Oh my god, Tanya!" It was Sarah Lackley, the head of her fanclub. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"Yeah, that was way over the line, Mason!" someone yelled.
"I was critiquing her as Mr. Walburton told me to," I said, annoyed. "It wasn't even that harsh."
"Uh, yeah it was," Sarah snapped, putting her hands on the table and leaning forward. "You should leave."
I rolled my eyes. "We still have ten minutes left of class."
"No, I mean you should drop the damn class! Clearly, you're jealous of Dinah's talent and you want to be mean to her so you can feel better! I've seen your art, you're not even better than me," Sarah triumphantly declared. I was jealous of her, but not of her mediocre skills. Though that jab at my artistic skill was very unwarranted and I had the sudden urge to flick this little idiot through a wall.
"No," I said, as I stood up. I zipped up my backpack and slung it around my shoulder.
"No?" Sarah sputtered, as I walked to the door. "Hey, where do you think you're going?!"
"I'm going to check on Dinah instead of wasting breath on you," I said, as she wheeled on poor Mr. Walburton about how terrible I was. Unlike the other students, I grabbed the bathroom pass on the way out.
I headed to the library, fully intending to lose myself in some books. Yes, I had lied. But it wasn't like I could find Dinah by myself on a campus this big. Someone else would have to comfort her. I pushed the library doors and walked in to see Dinah Alcott sitting at one of the tables, dabbing her teary eyes with a handkerchief.
Ah, fuck.
We stared at each other for a moment before I sighed and headed over to her. Fucking social obligations …
"I didn't think it was unfair," Dinah spoke up.
I blinked. "What?"
"Your critique. It was, uh, insightful," she said, sheepishly. "It's just, I want to be a great artist one day, you know. The idea that I'd have no lasting impact on the world …"
I shrugged. "Making history is overrated."
Dinah stared at me. "But, don't you want to have a legacy? Have people remember your name and what you've done? Be in the history books?"
I made a face. "I'd rather have a nice peaceful life with a cushy retirement,"
Dinah was quiet. "Huh."
The bell rang suddenly, signalling the start of lunch. I stood up but then Dinah grabbed me by the shirt, almost startling me.
"Um …"
"What is it?" I snapped out, with no real venom.
"Can we exchange phone numbers?" Dinah asked shyly.
… Hm. A wealthy friend with connections and power? Of course, I accepted, I wasn't stupid. But I didn't want to be like Sarah Lackley. The thought of being anything like that desperate grasping parasite made me want to retch. I earned every damn inch I gained in my past lives and current. So with Dinah, I resolved to teach her a little thing called self respect.
Of course, I couldn't have predicted the consequences.
I'll bet Dinah did, though.
serra2
Himouto! Sylvanas-chan
I gained ten pounds just watching the video.
Lol, Taylor learning how to beat up the bully, time to derail that plot.
Missy's parents need to die in a tragic fire. That is just ridiculous.
Tanya murders Dinah with a fist made of words, then befriends her. How Shounen can you get?
Iori_Angel
Kitten lover
I really liked this, I hope there will be more chapters!
KongouBongo
Always got to make time for tea-time!
- Location
- 26°9'1"N 121°22'57"E
Horrible yes, but as was pointed out, a safe place to stay, three meals a day and the like is nothing to sneeze at. Missy isn't wrong, its just a terrible situation to be in.
Taylor beating Psycho Hess the Rabid Dog...... that's an occasion worth selling tickets and popcorn too 😇😇
But, knowing how these things usually go, Danny beating the snot out of Alan would work too
The really tragic thing is that I doubt Taylor fighting Sophia will get Emma to reconsider her insanity, just make Sophia think twice about whether it's worth the risk of continuing to pick on her. The whole 'strong weak' thing is just an excuse for Sophia, so there's not much chance she'll let Emma slip from her control or take advice from another friend whatever the 'logic' involved.
And yeah, Emma is a bit crazy and desperate for the 'safety' Sophia offers, so my guess is she'll keep lapping up Sophia's BS.
And yeah, Emma is a bit crazy and desperate for the 'safety' Sophia offers, so my guess is she'll keep lapping up Sophia's BS.
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- Location
- indonesia
Hope missy as proud as tanya on pile of bodies
Wait for it...
Patriotism, tanya answer to awkward silence.
I am curious her interaction with miss militia, will she do that to curry favor to her?
Tanya get 3 useful minion. With them as para human? Her security is guaranteed.
- Location
- romania
Please don't necro.
Sophia might see it as a challange or figure, huh new friend option unlocked through violence? Emma might snap if she sees her new found rock shatter and crumble under her old weakness, not a bad thing, Taylor being influenced by Sophia would be horrible.
So two blond girls making that kind of speech.............ouch, yeah might have looked like mini nazies
Does Tanya's mom actually exist? we haven't seen a single dialogue scene with her, most of the fic seems on speed right now.
Sophia might see it as a challange or figure, huh new friend option unlocked through violence? Emma might snap if she sees her new found rock shatter and crumble under her old weakness, not a bad thing, Taylor being influenced by Sophia would be horrible.
So two blond girls making that kind of speech.............ouch, yeah might have looked like mini nazies
Does Tanya's mom actually exist? we haven't seen a single dialogue scene with her, most of the fic seems on speed right now.
Kitsune_Obsessed
(Lover of all things Foxy)
- Location
- Your Imagination
- Pronouns
- Floof
I'm not going to lie here and tell you that I didn't have an issue with how out of character Taylor was. There is no way in hell that Taylor would have admitted the bullying out of nowhere like that to someone she doesn't really know at all. That's just ridiculous. I do, however, enjoy your take on Tanya. She's also kind of out of character, but in a believable way. You're also trying way too hard to make Tanya seem smart, and it's not giving the effect you really want at the same time. It looks really goofy though so I like it.
- Location
- Maldives
I think it's early enough that Sophia would back off if Taylor fights back. She won't be happy about it but she would begrudgingly respect her regardless of whether Tay wins or loses. Emma on the other hand...
In regards to Dinah, Tanya was overly critical of her, but considering her fanclub even the mildest criticism would have gotten her hated. She still over did it though. I think Tanya did let her jealousy get the better of her and is trying to justify it by calling it criticism.
In regards to Dinah, Tanya was overly critical of her, but considering her fanclub even the mildest criticism would have gotten her hated. She still over did it though. I think Tanya did let her jealousy get the better of her and is trying to justify it by calling it criticism.