February 27 - March 5
"Harrison, Juilienne."
"Here."
"Hebert, Taylor."
"Here."
"Higgins, Rowley."
"Present."
This was the fourth roll call today, and now I was sure of it: I was dying. I laid my head down on my desk and sighed. Here lies Taylor Anne Hebert, slain by high school. Odd that my end would come from Arcadia and its respect for due protocol instead of Winslow and its... everything.
It was my first day of classes at Arcadia, alongside a handful of other girls and boys who had been transferred in at the same time. The boys were a pretty motley group, but every girl was tall, slender, and with at least shoulder-length hair, which is as good a way to inform the school that a new Ward had arrived as any, I supposed. As much as I loved my hair, I was grateful that my costume tended to change it's color, style, and even length, because it meant that after the initial flurry of 'So are you the new Ward?' questions I'd been dismissed as 'too obvious' a candidate. I'm not entirely sure how to feel about that.
I wasn't entirely sure how I should be feeling about anything, actually. Sitting here at this shiny clean desk, surrounded by shiny clean teenagers, flipping pages through a shiny new textbook... it was, in a word, suffocating. Thank the Crystals that Wards had half days for a work-study program. Sadly it meant no elective classes, which was a bummer because Arcadia offered four different foreign language courses, but it did mean I'd be out of here after this class.
When the bell finally rang I shoved my school supplies into my battered backpack and practically ran from the building. When I got far enough on the grounds (and this school had grounds, what the hell) I sought out a bench situated beneath a willow tree and flung myself down onto it. There were a lot of benches, artful boulders, and strategically-placed flowerbeds around Arcadia, all dedicated to different high-rolling donators, but this one afforded the most privacy on the East side of the building. I lay on the bench with my eyes closed, and waited for my skin to stop crawling. Before it settled completely, I heard footsteps approaching, and I sat up.
Dean had marched out to the willow tree, and from the somber expression on his face and lack of Dallon on his arm, I guessed he was there because of me. I scooted over, and he sat down beside me.
"Hey, Taylor. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fi-- empath, right. No, I'm... I'm not sure what I am, right now."
"I, uh, kinda figured. You're a little all over the place. Do you want to talk...?"
I shrugged. "I'm just confused, I think. Maybe." Dean made an agreeing noise, and after a moment of silence I figured he wasn't going to drop it, so I continued.
"Three days ago... I was up to my elbows in someone's intestines." Dean drew in a sharp breath beside me. "He'd gotten flung into a broken lamp post by the Simurgh. I put his spine back together alright, and his tubes all reconnected, but I still don't know if he got sepsis and died, or if he's okay, or anything. And today I'm just doing... what? Taking notes on geometry? Like nothing happened."
I leaned back against the bench, sagged even, and turned my head to face Dean. "How am I supposed to go back to normal, after that? What even is normal, anymore?"
"I've been asked that before, Taylor. The best answer I can give is that 'normal' is whatever you make it. And that's not helpful, I know." He didn't look at me, and instead picked at his fingernails. "There's counselors available, if you need, or I'm always available to listen, though I'm not as good on the advice part. In the meantime, just... well, I think sometimes all we can do is find happiness where we can." Normality is whatever you make it, whatever you work for. And happiness isn't always found in grand purpose or great deeds, but in the people and places around you. Deep stuff. I smiled.
"I think you're just fine for advice, Dean."
Spending time with Dean fortifies your Spirit.
Hope has increased.
* * *
Everyone's always busy after an Endbringer attack, so when I tried to schedule some time with the Power Docs to test out the new lights in my soul, I received an appointment a full week out and an admonishment not to use my new Jobs unsupervised. That chafed, a bit, but I could understand the need for it. I can't say I was entirely unhappy about it, either, considering what the new Jobs I'd inherited seemed to be about. Berseker I didn't want to touch without knowing what it did, White Mage I had special permission to use with Panacea's direction, and Summoner...
As much as I'd resolved to be open with the PRT, Summoner seemed kind of private. Maybe it was because of where I'd received [Anima], but I felt some trepidation about calling her to me. I had a few days to think about what I wanted to do about it, though, so I put the matter aside for now. More immediate was my first day at Brockton General, where Panacea had agreed to meet with me and go over my new work as a parahuman healer. I'd already had a crash course in what my healing limits were in Canberra, but this promised to be more thorough and much less hectic.
I arrived at the hospital already in White Mage, stomach full of butterflies, which really didn't help matters when Panacea herself came out to the front lobby to greet me. She stopped a couple of feet away and gave me a very obvious once-over, eyeing my costume. I was wearing a somewhat puffy white outfit, with a white mask over the lower half of my face, and a hooded cape with a border of red triangles. Standing next to Panacea, the similarities between our costumes seemed magnified. I saw her arch a brow.
"I didn't choose the costume." True enough-- my power did. But her mouth quirked into a wry smile, so I suspect she must have been passing familiar with the PRT's ever-looming PR machine.
"That makes a bit more sense. Well, come on. We've got some patients who've signed the Experimental Treatment waiver for you." She turned and started walking, and I hurried to catch up. "You still have a time limit?"
"Kinda. I, uh, get better with practice. I think I can manage two hours, instead of one, now."
"Fine. And you still can't regrow limbs?" I shook my head. "Alright. We know you're good for basic trauma, so we'll do a few of those while I watch how your power works, then we'll move on to infectious and genetic diseases."
As I'd proven already, I could handle injuries easily, mending broken bones and lacerated skin with quick efficiency and lots of sparkly lights. I couldn't touch genetic diseases or congenital deformities at all, it seemed, and it took a few frustrated tries with infectious agents before I tried switching to Red Mage for the use of Esuna. That, at least, meant I could purge diseases, toxins (including drugs and alcohol), and correct acquired deformations. I was useless at cosmetic work and removing scars, and I had nothing for the cancer patient we saw. Still, I felt like I had a well-rounded ability, and I was eager to get some more experience for White Mage. My stamina was less eager, and I ran out of Mana after an hour and a half. Panacea got us some cheap coffees, and we found a place to sit down.
"Well, your power is pretty promising. You're not adding anything new, from what I can tell. It's more like you're resetting the patient back to a state of ideal health-- at least, whatever the patient has had as an ideal." Obesity was one condition I could not cure. "And from the looks of that concussion patient, you're safe for work on brains, within the limits you've shown." Panacea seemed pleased at that. She'd been very cool and professional the whole time we'd been working, so I was glad to see her feeling happier. Or expressing much emotion at all, really.
"It's a good thing you've got a hard limit for how long you can work. You'll have people on waiting lists as it is."
"Once I rest and get a nap in or something I'll be good as new." I countered. "Even for a city like the Bay, are there really that many people sick and injured that need parahuman intervention?"
"Easily. Of course, most of them are only here for the weekend." She sipped at her coffee. "Since I don't do a lot of travel, Brockton has become a fairly busy hub for medical tourism. Which reminds me, get yourself a bodyguard and prepare to turn down some really outrageous bribes."
"Wow."
"Mhm."
We finished our coffee in reasonably comfortable silence, and then I followed Panacea up to the roof so she could have a smoke. After she took a few drags (and gave me a Look that promised retribution if I talked about her habit), she said, "If you recharge with a nap, do you want me to give you a boost and see if that helps? We might be able to clear the surgery ward today if it does." I nodded, and she pressed two fingers against my wrist. Tension that I didn't know I was carrying left me, and my mana trickled back to perhaps a third of my reserves. Not ideal, but certainly appreciated. I was about to thank Panacea when she twisted her hand and gripped my wrist, hard.
"W-what?"
She was glaring at me, lit cigarette forgotten between her lips. "What the fuck, 'Fantasia'."
"What? Panacea, you're hurting me, what are you--"
"Every parahuman's got a node or two in their brain. They're black boxes to me so I know they're there. But you don't. You don't have a gemma! So what the fuck?"
I goggled at Panacea. "Wait, what? But I have powers! How could I not be a parahuman?"
I think my honest surprise must have been plain on my face, because Panacea started to look uncertain, and her grip on my wrist slackened to merely Firm. "The PRT never said I wasn't a parahuman. Isn't the only test for that an MRI? I never had one, I guess controlling time was obvious enough not to need one. I didn't know you could tell who was a parahuman by touch, though!" Panacea's cigarette dropped from her lips.
"I, uh--"
"Oh man. Oh man. Panacea! Do you know what this means?!"
I grabbed her other hand with my own and pulled her a bit closer to me. She leaned back, her face growing pale. "Th-that's not-- I can't--"
"I really am a magical girl! Vista is going to be so excited!"
* * *
In the end, Panacea asked me not to tell anyone about our little conversation on the roof. Apparently it's not exactly advertised that she can examine brains, even if she can't affect them, and I can kind of see her point. That she potentially could identify the civilian or parahuman identity of anyone she healed was a bit intimidating, and as much as she had some measure of parahuman diplomatic immunity, there were sure to be a number of capes who would be willing to risk removing her if they thought their mask was at stake. Or at least thought that they could get away with it.
This did mean that I couldn't tell Vista that I was a certifiable magical girl, so that was a bummer, but on the other hand it gave me one free I Told You So to everyone who insists that magic capes aren't real, if my lack of beneficial brain tumor was ever uncovered again. Honestly, that makes me think I should send a letter to Myrddin sometime. I'd have to look into getting past all his mail filters, though. Oh well, something for later.
I spent most of the week adapting to my new routine, now that school was back in session for me. Class until lunch, boredom aside, was a pretty good deal. I also had three patrols a week, and a shift at healing every day, rotating hospitals in the area. I'd had to argue the extra time, since I had a hard limit on how much I could do before resting, and Director Piggot had capitulated pretty quickly. I suspect there's not a whole lot of arguments against 'I want to go save lives for an hour.' I wonder if there are any rules against doing more, though... I could easily pop into doctor's offices and clinics and toss a few Cures around, if I knew where they were.
On Tuesday, the weather was particularly nice, and since I had Brockton General on my schedule later on I decided to gather my courage and seek out Panacea after class let out. She was never particularly hard to find, since she tended to gravitate to her sister Victoria whenever possible. I hefted my backpack and slipped into the orbit of their friends and classmates, waiting for the crowd to disperse a bit before I snagged Amy's sleeve. She turned, saw me, and her eyes widened a bit. Out of costume, she looked a lot... meeker, I suppose. Her hair was frizzy and not pulled back under her hood, and she didn't carry herself the same. I gave her a shy smile.
"Uh, hey."
"Hey."
How riveting.
"You've got work later, right? Me too. You wanna grab a coffee or something, beforehand?"
She looked honestly surprised. "Uh-- why?"
"What do you mean, why? Coffee. Delicious coffee. Maybe even donuts."
"Well, I..." She looked around, and caught Victoria peering curiously over in our direction. She gave us a thumb's up and a grin. I blinked.
"Sure. Let's-- yeah, okay. Let's get coffee."
* * *
Amy had a driver's license, or a permit at least (I wasn't entirely sure) and she drove us to Brockton General directly, storing her vehicle in the car park before we walked to the nearest cafe; on this side of town, coffee was fairly plentiful, if not the highbrow art-in-the-foam type you could find on the Boardwalk. Once we had our fortifying caffeine in hand, we found a relatively dry park bench to sit on.
"So, should I ask what that was about with your sister?"
She nearly choked. "What?"
"She was grinning at us and everything."
"Oh. I mentioned you to her, she was curious about the new healer. She thinks we're going to hang out like friends or something."
"...isn't that what we're doing?"
She just drank her coffee. "Since you've got time you're not healing, you should be hanging out with your friends."
"Outside the Wards, I don't have any," I shot back. "And I could say the same of you. You didn't exactly look like you were paying attention to anyone at school." She glowered at me.
"I didn't start out with a healing power, you know."
"...what?"
I fixed her with a look. "I set out to develop one with the hope that I could be like you-- that I could be a hero like you. Doing good means a lot more than fistypunches." Although, I didn't add, doing fistypunch was super fun. Note to self: suplex more criminals.
Amy wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, taking shelter in the warmth it provided. "I doubt your optimism will last."
"Yeah? Well, I doubt your cynicism will endure. Think of a good bet, we'll shake on it." That got a smile out of her, albeit a wry one.
"Maybe I will. C'mon, it's almost time to get to work."
Spending time with Amy fortifies your Spirit.
...
...?
I felt a fluttering in my chest, and touched a hand to my heart. I thought, for a moment, that I would feel a pulse from the Crystals like I sometimes did, feel their light grow stronger with the support of my friends. Strange...
"Something the matter?"
"Ah, no, I'm fine." I put down my hand, gave Amy a quick smile.
"Just some heartburn."
Sidequest Accepted: Panacea
* * *
Later in the week, I took some time to follow my feet's wanderlust. I got on a bus and switched lines until I found myself wandering down into the Boat Graveyard. It was truly an apt name. This is where the hope of Brockton Bay died.
Sure, the city was still standing. Sure, there were still people living in it, some even thriving. But the Bay had been built on shipping, and when that collapsed, it dragged the whole of the city down with it. I never voiced such thoughts to Dad, but sometimes, I understood why the city council never cleared out the Bay. If the Dockworkers hadn't scuttled the ships during their strike... I didn't think petty vengeance was a good reason, not at all, but I could kind of understand why it happened.
But an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, and the Boat Graveyard was making a city sink. Dad worked ceaselessly to get the Ferry back up and running, saying that it would provide jobs and access to jobs, and that this would help lift the whole of the Docks out of poverty and need. I think he had the right idea, but he wasn't going far enough with it.
I dug in the sand for a rock, then tossed it into the ocean.
Parahumans could accomplish so much. I was sure that there was a way to clear the Graveyard, without spending the city's money on it. Then there'd be no excuse not to revitalize the area, in some way. I'd promised Mom I'd make her proud of me; maybe this was something I could do for Dad.
Sidequest Accepted: City by the Bay
Subquest Accepted: The Boat Graveyard
* * *
I came to on the floor of the PRT power testing arena, containment foamed to the floor and wondering if this was what a hangover felt like. "Ughhh..."
"Fantasia? Are you back with us?" I heard a voice over the intercom and tried to nod. When that failed, I groaned. "Yeah...?"
"Stay calm. We'll deploy the anti-containment spray." A sickly yellowish liquid started to rain down from the nozzles I knew were set into the ceiling, and the containment foam slowly melted off of me. I sat up as soon as I could.
"Please switch powers, Fantasia."
"Sure... what's going on? Why do I feel like I was run over by a truck?" I pushed back my tiger-head hat with one paw, then paused as details started to catch up with me. "...I think I'm getting an idea."
I ended up switching to Red Mage so I could cast Cure on myself, and managed some tense negotiations to get a towel for my now-dripping white hair. I got back to the testing area to find Armsmaster waiting, Aegis missing, and most of the power docs giving me furtive glances. "Sooo... what happened, exactly?"
"Your new power went out of control," Armsmaster said. "I had to taze you."
"...seriously?"
"Looks like some short-term memory loss, at the least. You were fine until Aegis started the bout, then you stopped responding and tore him a new one." Well, at least one of the docs sounded cheerful. Then again, Dr. Frankson was a bit of an oddball. "He's fine, by the way. We did have to call in Gallant and then Armsmaster to bring you down, though. Gallant's emotion blasts didn't do jack, we'll want to test that further."
I gulped. I could remember bits of that, now that Berseker was put away, and I was starting to understand why everyone was giving me nervous glances. The white and black stripes of my costume had some unfortunate connotations, after all. And... I did a double take, looking at Armsmaster, who was still standing stiffly with his halberd in a tight grip. I pointed at it.
"Are those... teeth marks?"
"Yes."
"...I am so sorry. Is this supposed to be amazing, or horrifying?"
"Yes."
I was never going to be allowed in his lab. "Well, uh, what's next? We still doing Summoner?"
Armsmaster spoke through gritted teeth. "Yes, provided there will be no further incidents."
There was no way I could promise that. "Probably not. But just to be safe... is there somewhere else we can do this? Summoner is, um, ranged Master projections, I think. And one of them is kinda... large."
I heard Dr. Frankson over the intercom again. "Well, there's a munitions testing site a good twenty miles out of town. That could work."
* * *
Getting that cleared took the rest of the day, so it was the weekend before I, the power docs, and a PRT escort with Armsmaster and Miss Militia accompanying got loaded up into humvees and took a drive out into the countryside. I think Armsmaster was still a bit salty about his halberd, but Miss Militia was pleased enough to chat with me, asking how I was adjusting to classes at Arcadia, and how my work at the hospitals was going. It helped to pass the time, until we all got set up at the munitions testing site. That happened to be a big open field, with a number of targets and broken walls scattered about. There were fences, followed by electrified fences to keep out animals and trespassers, and the few overgrown craters I spied made me wonder how many Tinkertech explosives had been tossed around out here.
"Just let us get some distance here, then you can go ahead, Fantasia."
"Okay." I called on my power and switched into Summoner, and was suddenly very glad that I hadn't done this at Canberra. I could feel Narwhal judging me from here. Summoner was nearly pastel in color, with soft greens and browns and cream, and a thin leather mask that covered the top half of my face instead of the bottom, to better hold up the horn. I heard Miss Militia cough suspiciously, and scowled at her.
"Fantasia... when, exactly, did you say you developed this power?"
"Um. Last week of February...?"
There was a brief silence. Miss Militia was starting to look concerned. "And you went to Canberra." I nodded. I felt the tension around me increase threefold. I did not want to discuss their theory on how I gained my powers right now. I focused on Summoner, grabbed hold of the energy it offered, and pulled.
And pulled.
And pulled.
Light gathered around me, forming circles full of glyphs and geometric shapes. I felt something like numbness spread through me, locking me into place as I pulled something from out there and forced it to come here.
And she did.
The sky boiled, frothed with red, and opened up to drop down an anchor that sank into the earth like it was made of putty. It hooked on something, then pulled back, and brought forth Anima. It--she--was enormous, rising from the molten earth with a scream that sounded like animals being slaughtered. She was chained, her ruined flesh swathed in yellowed bandages, and around her neck were arms: a woman's arms, holding onto her chains with a stranglehold, and the token of a saint in prayer was dangling from them. Her nails... I knew that color of gloss. The woman in the painting was tall, and dark of hair, and heartrendingly familiar.
Everyone was shouting, talking over each other, but I couldn't hear any of it. I saw Armsmaster intercepting a few of the PRT troopers we'd brought along, stopping them from approaching me, and I saw the mute horror in Miss Militia's eyes. It all kind of washed over me. I just stared at that portrait, dangling from Anima's neck, from my mom's pale dead hands.
From all appearances, I had turned my mother into an Endbringer.
