1.6
Taylor woke up.
I killed Shadow Stalker. The thought ran through her head like a mantra, affirming what had happened, what she'd done. Taylor was a little sad, because she'd never be able to see Sophia's face on the floor again. She made such a great expression, shifting from anger, to panic, to utter terror.
No bitch deserved it more.
Taylor was in her wonderfully comfortable bed, more comfortable now that she realized that the events of yesterday
weren't a dream, that she'd managed to prep, create a plan, and
destroy Shadow Stalker.
The crossbow was in the basement alcove, squirreled away. She'd move it elsewhere later. Twelve tranq bolts, four broadheads.
There was a spring in her step, and Taylor whistled as she diverged timelines. In one, she went to go steal the neighbor's newspaper. In the other, she got dressed before heading out for her jog.
Whew, today was going to be
cold!
Mayor announces new partnership,
next, Merchants spreading drugs could your chi—
next, ah, there we go. Shadow Stalker transferred. They were covering it up. Oh well. Couldn't exactly expect them to say '
Shadow Stalker killed with illegal crossbow from her own illegal ammunition, more news at 11.'
In the other timeline, she jogged down the street.
Whatever!
No more Sophia. Wonder how Emma was going to react to that? Her bestie textie bosom buddy, now with more bolts through the sternum.
Taylor hadn't gotten to
see the aftermath of the splits. She usually closed them, and hadn't especially tried to stay for a couple of days.
How would little Miss I've got trauma so I'm going to
fuck my best friend's life over
Emma feel about her little savior dying?
School was going to be
fun.
Taylor finished her jog, crumpling up the newspaper before closing the timeline. She went and took a shower before opening the timeline again. In one, she started entertaining herself with making breakfast for herself and Dad.
In the other, she went to go see Aisha.
--
Really, she'd been there five times, now. Aisha was being watched. A couple of the times, the Protectorate had come in when Taylor tried to talk to her. It wasn't a great reunion, either. She let the timelines play out for about an hour before trying again.
She wanted to find out what they knew, and what Aisha knew.
Breakfast was a simple affair, they had made cornbread and slow-cooked chili yesterday. The remaining cornbread was getting heated up, smeared with butter and honey, and
mm that smell. Pure love, that's what that was. Eggs, sausage, cornbread, cook some bell peppers, and
wow that was
breakfast.
Aisha knew about her brother. Kind of. Sullen and recalcitrant, she refused to give many good answers. Taylor was frustrated, but she left it be. It would be in pretty bad taste if she did
things to his sister a week or so after his death to get answers. She sampled the cornbread thoughtfully in the other timeline, which she dubbed as
breakfast timeline. Dad came downstairs,
sensing the moment she set up the coffee. Mm. Look at that baby
drip. Drip for me, you clean Colombian beans. Yeah,
just like that. She poured out a cup, handing it to Dad, who mumbled appreciatively before sitting down at the table.
Really, what was she supposed to do? Aisha didn't move like a fighter, either. Her movements weren't Brian's easy confidence, which segued into his lithe agility. They were cocky where Brian was confident, and
slutty to Brian's natural good looks. It was such a
waste. Emma would have
tsked about that little tidbit, seeing the fashion disaster that girl was. How old
was she? Like, thirteen?
And she had bigger tits. Life wasn't
fair. Taylor frowned, looking down at herself for a moment before sliding the breakfast onto a plate, then serving it up to Dad.
They were almost done with the food by the time 'Aisha timeline' found her target.
Ugh. She was ditching out on her classes again today, and was generally making herself a gigantic waste of space.
Now she was just— bitchy? Moping and bitchy.
Armsmaster hosed Taylor down in containment foam as she introduced herself to Aisha. Taylor closed the timeline, washing the dishes. She hadn't even said she was a
friend or anything. They must have like, a facial recognition thing or something. Just getting near Aisha, the dead guy's brother, then Sophia being Shadow Stalker and all. Wasn't too hard of a connection to make to Winslow.
Ah, well. She rinsed off the pans before heading out to Winslow. She opened up the timelines, speaking in one, heading off silently in the other. "See you Dad, go slay those dragons, be the best you can be, so on and so forth!"
He laughed. She closed the silent one and reopened things.
Emma wasn't at
school.
She closed the book inside the library, leaving her other self to attend classes while she went off to go
talk with Emma. Not attending school was bad.
Honestly, she just wanted to pick her brain about the whole deal. Taylor didn't really have a real concrete
goal in mind. Her last goal had kind of, well. Died.
Alan Barnes didn't want to let her in, after he had gone up to check with Emma. Hm. She disabled him, and went up the stairs. It wasn't like he hadn't
deserved it for not keeping a better eye on Emma's behavior. She hadn't even killed him. His ruddy face pissed her off, for its similarities to Emma, but she hadn't even killed him. Taylor was oddly proud of that.
She pounded on the door, a smirk on her face. "Hey, Emma. Let's
chat"
There was a whimper. Then there were pounding feet on the steps, and the PRT shot her with shock rounds or whatever. Not just tasers, shock slug-things from shotguns. It hurt. That timeline got closed fast. Of
course they were watching Emma.
Taylor started thinking about what she
could do, as one of her walked out of class, Knott not taking real notice. Probably assumed she was going to the bathroom or something. She never really
did anything anyway.
What
could she do in her free time? She didn't
feel like calling Lisa, for the same reasons she didn't particularly
feel like self-flagellation today.
It took her the remainder of that period, and part of the next to get where she wanted to go.
She went to the graveyard, and stared at the gravestone. Eeeverybody died at some point or another. So it goes, and so on. Mom would have been proud of that one.
That book wasn't that popular after the whole 'Slaughterhouse 9' thing, but it had been an in-joke between them for about a week. Open a non-fizzy soda.
So it goes.
Lose a game of chess.
So it goes.
Class. Over. So it
fucking goes. You fucking
died and left Dad a fucking
wreck and so it
fucking goes
fuck. Shit. She brushed off the gravestone, cleaning the area around it, even though it'd be dirty again. Everything felt stupid and useless but she was doing it anyway because that was
life and then people died.
"I miss you, Mom." She closed the timeline, reopening it as she grabbed her stuff, leaving the classroom. Taylor went to go call Lisa in one. Who woulda thunk. She
was in the mood for it.