Chapter 4
When Taylor woke up Friday morning, she was greeted with another screen.
Daily Quest!
Train to Become a Formidable Opponent
She almost dismissed it, focusing instead on her full bladder and gross-feeling teeth, but the quest title itself was clickable for more information, and she was curious.
She’d never received a quest before.
Quest Info
Daily Quest: Train to Become a Formidable Opponent
Goals:
Push-Ups [0/100]
Sit-Ups [0/100]
Squats [0/100]
Run [0/5 Miles]
Warning: If the Daily Quest remains incomplete, penalties will be given accordingly.
Taylor had started running in the mornings already, but not to the tune of five miles.
She usually felt the burn a quarter mile in, and by the full mile was gasping.
Then again, it had been easier the first time she leveled up, and she’d surprised herself in power testing by being able to run much further and faster than she ever had.
Rolling out of bed, she set up on the floor and knocked out fifteen push-ups before her arms started protesting. Aside from running, she hadn’t picked up any other form of exercise yet, and it showed.
It was somewhat fascinating watching each repetition change her screen, the number ticking up.
By then, her body’s needs would not be ignored, and she handled them by rote. Brushing her teeth gave her enough time for the haze of sleep to fade.
By the time she brushed her hair, lightly misted to prevent a frizzy mess, she was wide awake.
Though it was Wednesday, she didn’t have school. Ever since putting the first piece of paperwork forward indicating she was interested, she’d been given a temporary recess from Winslow pending a standard investigation into her home, social, and school life.
Joining the Wards was, frankly, worth it for that alone.
So for the first time that she could remember, instead of waking up to cold dread for going to school, she was in no rush, well-rested, and focused on something interesting: her power.
Taylor reached under her pillow and emerged with the dagger.
Squinting at it popped up a screen, a first.
Simple Dagger
A low-level weapon. ATK +1
This weapon can be equipped or stored in your Inventory.
The screen dismissed.
Her Inventory appeared.
Taylor stared at it. It was empty, black boxes indicating storage options.
She glanced down at the knife in her hand. It vanished in a rush of blue motes of mana.
It didn’t reappear in her Inventory.
What!!!
A bit of fiddling pulled up her actual Avatar.
[Avatar]
Equipped:
Weapon [1/2]: Simple Dagger
Armor: None
Accessories: None
She was able to unequip the dagger, whereupon it reappeared into the inventory. She equipped it again.
“How do I–”
Thinking about it was enough. The dagger appeared in her hand with the same blue motes.
“Huh.”
She vanished and resummoned it over and over, fascinated. It appeared in her hand with a thought. It didn’t touch her mana gauge at all, which Taylor was thankful for, since it certainly seemed like magic.
She wished she had a second weapon in order to test hot-swapping two different weapons.
Her pepper spray didn’t go into the inventory, nor did the System recognize it as an item. She didn’t get a description for it, no matter how hard she stared and squinted.
Slipping downstairs, she tried a kitchen knife, to equally as little avail.
She ate breakfast, preparing it with distracted hands as she mentally operated all her System windows.
So. Her dad was at work. She wasn’t expected at the PRT building today, though a check with her phone– having to manually use the screen felt clunky and slow after the speed-of-thought interface– revealed there were a few classes she could sign up for, and even more she could ‘test out’ of with online modules.
She opened up PRT-WARD-001, Ward Program Overview, and whacked at the 70-odd slides. It was at least well-organized.
PRT structure and mission, into Ward program history, Ward responsibilities, Chain of Command, conduct expectations, and reporting requirements– though they definitely meant reporting for duty. What was mandatory to submit a report for and how to report those things was its own module.
WARD-002 was Parahuman Safety and Risk Management, and WARD-003 was Operational Communications.
That one linked to WARD-003.1 Ward Console Basics, WARD-003.2.1 Ward Console II, and 3.2.3 Intermediate Ward Console, 3.2.4 for Ward Leader Console Basics, and 3.2.5 and 3.2.6 for Advanced Ward Console I and II.
That felt a tad bit excessive to Taylor.
Unfortunately, she was neither able to store her not-costume in her Inventory, nor able to equip it as ‘armor.’
Without the domino mask and beanie, the sweats just looked like a designer tracksuit with white accents.
She signed up for the PRT Facility Orientation class for 1000 and got dressed in the not-costume.
The Ward Initial Qualification Program required her to handle ten computer-based-trainings and ten in-person classes or orientation sessions.
She’d already done INT-QUL-W-001, Ward Program Orientation, as part of her briefings once she was sure she wanted to sign on. PRT-WARD-001 was the longer, more in-depth, CBT version of that training, as near as she could tell.
PRT Facility Orientation, her 1000 class, was INT-QUL-W-002.
Interestingly, they were not strictly in order.
Taylor had already completed INT-QUL-W-005, Parahuman Ability Evaluation, for all that they still had little idea about her abilities in her unimpressed opinion.
The in-person classes were apparently more about practical things, like power testing and costume design, while the CBTs focused on death-by-powerpoint.
There was some overlap.
She had taken INT-QUL-W-003, Equipment Issue and Familiarization, but it had been about the process of costume issue, storage, and maintenance; where to get equipment, procedures for checking it out, the importance of equipment accountability; and an overview on common PRT/Protectorate equipment, like restraints, protective equipment of troopers, and containment foam.
She’d have INT-QUL-W-003.1 for issuing her uniform and equipment, as soon as the former was designed and produced.
The numbers made her head swim a bit.
Some were requirements for others, like not being able to do 3.1 without 3.0. She wouldn’t get her costume without the basic course on equipment issue.
She couldn’t sign up for any new classes until she’d taken the one she signed up for at 1000, for example. Apparently knowing the facility rules and emergency procedures was a strict prerequisite to taking classes in the building, which she could admit was good sense.
Taylor dressed in her not-costume, minus the domino, but left the beanie on her hair because it was cold, the December air wet and biting.
Before leaving the house, she used her Ward phone to schedule a pickup at the community library.
She jogged a half-mile, waited as a rest, and paid attention to her Daily Quest as she picked back up again.
[.5/5 Miles] and [15/100 Push Ups] still greeted her, and she hid a grin. Good, it didn’t have to be a cumulative 5 miles or 100 push ups, which she definitely wouldn’t be able to manage as she was.
She got to the library in five half-mile segments, giving herself adequate rest in between. She had a fatigue meter that slowly filled, but it seemed to go back down over time and rest. Every morning so far, it had been completely refilled after a “night’s” rest, along with her HP and Mana.
[2.5/5 Miles] her System displayed.
Taylor climbed into the sedan and put on her domino mask. Everyone who did Ward pick ups was cleared to know about Ward identities, a small pool of 5-10 troopers that traded off being on-call for the duty.
That said, the trooper did not know her identity even if he was cleared to, and Taylor preferred to keep that pool of unnecessary disclosures small for now. Technically, and she’d requested notification of any changes, the only ones who definitely knew her identity were the Director, the Assistant Director, her personal case-worker, and two officers investigating the circumstances of her trigger and situation at Winslow.
The power testing personnel did not need to know her identity. The people designing her costume did not need to know her name.
Accidentally learning her identity required a form filled out. A Ward disclosing their identity to someone required them to fill out a form. Taylor was encouraged to fill out a form when someone realized her identity, through her telling them or on accident.
Forms, forms, forms.
Taylor did the required security handshake with her phone and his before she got in the car.
Arriving at the PRT– once again in the secure underground parking garage– saw them up and Taylor in her Wards room resting with 45 minutes to spare before class.
She checked her phone.
Yep, there was a track at the indoor gym.
The PRT building itself had two small gyms, but it connected to a civilian/commercial gym next door. It was actually a PRT front.
She scanned her phone and was let into a private locker room, where she decided Unnamed Cape 05 was better to work out than Taylor Hebert. She was nominally allowed to switch into civilian clothes and train at the gym, as well as to exit less conspicuously from the PRT building.
PRT interns were given complimentary gym passes, though they had to use the front entrance and did not know it was a front and had secret entrances. Likewise with PRT personnel families, who were encouraged to come. Who’s to say Taylor Hebert wasn’t the niece of a PRT trooper?
Either way, she actually wanted to try something, so she quickly searched for and found a form. Costumed Ward requesting to use already-documented non-destructive power expression during physical conditioning at PRT-affiliate gym.
Taylor waited, refilling her re-usable water bottle at a convenient fountain near the track.
Finally, she got ‘Approved’ back, but the additional ‘standby for supervision’ irked her. Perhaps because she was so new a Ward.
A plainclothes PRT officer slipped into the room a few minutes later, nodded at her, and started doing sit-ups in the corner of the room. The track was large, about a sixth of a mile, and wrapped around the building on the second floor.
Taylor started at a light jog, and then spent x mana to speed up. It was a curious sensation. Almost tingly, in her legs. They didn’t do anything so gauche as glow with those small particles of light her dagger had upon summoning, but Taylor could feel something happening.
She put on a burst of speed, not unlike a sprint.
Then, on the second lap, she did sprint. She pushed herself all the way to her limit, feet pounding against the track, and only then did she spend the mana to activate the skill.
The downside of such a small enclosed track; the turns came up quick.
Taylor slammed into a wall.
She’d accelerated much faster than predicted, almost feeling a rush of wind in her face.
“You good, kid?” Her adult supervision asked.
“I’m okay.” She said, muffled by wall, offering a thumbs up behind her to amused chuckling.
The trooper walked over to investigate the cape-shaped outline looney-tunes’d into the thankfully padded wall.
“Using speed technique to enhance normal running, huh?” He asked, quoting the form she’d submitted.
“Uh-huh.”
“First try?”
“ck off.” She pulled away from her exaggerated hug of the padding, spitting hair out of her face.
She took her hair down and tied it back up with quick, determined movements.
“Excuse me.” She said huffily to the trooper, stepping passed him.
She worked herself up to a sprint again, this time aiming it as she came out of a curve to will mana into her legs.
She was expecting the dramatic acceleration this time and, actually, consciously just paid the application cost of mana and not the extra cost.
Taylor still felt like she was going far too fast, but after a breath the mana left her legs and she went back to normal speed, coming out of it just in time for the curve.
She took it easily, then as it straightened out used the skill again.
She did this for an entire lap, putting on bursts of mana-enhanced speed to quicken the ‘straights’. Taking the curves at her normal speed helped her not run into any more walls.
It was more costly this way, taking the initial price of mana to activate the skill over and over instead of the paltry 1MP/minute to maintain it, but she needed the control.
At 5MP activation cost and 1 MP for 1 minute of running, it was pricey. She was wasting 5 mana each time she activated the skill.
She didn’t, actually, have enough Mana to finish the second lap, sputtering out halfway with a sigh.
Despite cheating with her power, she was sweating a little.
The counter showed she still had a couple more miles to go for the daily quest.
She eyed her empty mana gauge and sipped her water, before dropping down to the iron bars drilled into the floor and slipping her toes under them.
Sit-ups would be a pain in the ass to do anywhere else, unless she could find a piece of furniture in the house with a conveniently 3-ish inch clearance underneath to hook her feet under as a counterweight.
Sure, she could ask her dad to hold her feet, but… no.
Taylor braced her feet against the bar and started doing sit-ups at a measured pace.
She got horribly winded after just ten, face ruddy and breath straining. Her stomach muscles complained.
A two minute rest.
Then she knocked out another ten.
The PRT trooper took one of the nearby bars and started copying her.
After two minutes, he said, “Come on, kid. Next set.”
“Right.”
Taylor was thankful despite herself. Some embarrassment was knocked out of the way by muscle exertion, and the rest bowed to pragmatism.
It was easier with someone doing it with her, a silent sort of solidarity.
They counted out loud together for the next ten.
Taylor strained to complete the last rep, gritting her teeth as her body fought her every inch, shoulder blades shaking.
When she made it up, gasping, she rested her arms on her bent knees, heaving.
“Good job. Way to push through.” The trooper offered, with a detached sort of pride. A distant but professional courtesy of gym-goers and coworkers.
[30/100 Sit-ups]
Taylor fought not to be drowned by dismay.
She stood up on colt-like legs and took another draught of water. A faint sheen of sweat covered her and made the cool air sting against her skin, which was feverish with exertion.
Getting started on squats would be ideal, but a glance at her watch showed she only had ten minutes before her class, and she grimaced. Pushing it closer than she’d like, and she didn’t have time to go shower.
She hadn’t anticipated getting so gross in just half an hour.
Taylor wiped her face with the hem of her shirt.
The sweat clung to the domino in irritating ways.
A thought occurred to her. She waffled for long moments, aware of the clock ticking down.
He had helped her out already. It wouldn’t be weird.
Still, her tongue felt like lead in her mouth, guts clenching with anxiety.
Was it the ‘asking for help’ part, or the ‘trust an adult’ part? Taylor was bitterly aware both would be hard stumbling blocks for her career.
Even for something as small as this.
For a functional, necessary bit of communication.
She consciously relaxed her jaw. Couldn’t do anything about the kick-up of her heartbeat, the way her ribs ached. Her body didn’t know the difference between this and getting chased by a bear.
She was a cape now. She could take the bear in a fight.
“Do you. Could you. Point me to room 530?” Taylor forced out.
“Haven’t taken the facility introduction class yet?”
“It’s in 530.” Taylor said, tamping down on rising indignance. “In seven minutes.”
“Ah. Go down the hall thattaway, take the elevator up. Fifth floor. Go straight until you see the potted plant trees and turn left. You’ll be able to follow the numbering system from there.”
“Thank you.” Taylor said.
Now if only she could convince herself it was true directions and not a clever goose chase to fuck with her.
Still.
He wasn’t directing Taylor Hebert, he was directing a cape. Adults weren’t supposed to be outright malicious like that to coworkers. It caused work tension.
Taylor stepped off the elevator at the fifth floor and was relieved to see the first door to the left labeled 501. It went up as she walked.
She relaxed, just a little.
Chapter 5
The class was educational, if dry. They did a practice emergency drill where Taylor and a few PRT agents and guests were expected to calmly head to the nearest emergency exit and evacuate the building.
There was a small quiz at the end to test comprehension of the covered material.
They stamped off the class for her and checking her Wards phone showed it as completed ten minutes later, with a fresh list of new classes suddenly available.
Taylor walked back down to the gym and did three sets of ten squats. It wasn’t as hard as the sit-ups, though her calves burned. She thought about continuing to push through until she couldn’t do anymore.
Instead, she dropped down and did ten push ups. Rested a little, and did ten more.
The third set of ten eluded her.
Her arms wiggled like noodles when she tried, her whole body screaming.
She managed another fifteen sit ups.
Then stood up and did 20 more squats.
She was, according to the System window, halfway there.
Taylor could cry.
The frustration passed eventually, laying exhausted on the mats and glaring accusatively at the system screen and then, when it was dismissed, at the gym ceiling.
When she was finished feeling sorry for herself and her lack of progress, she made her way up to the nearest cafeteria. The food was ‘healthier’ than she was used to, but the quality more than made up for it; Winslow’s idea of ‘healthy’ cuisine would likely be inedible.
Scanning her Wards phone at the end of the line paid for her tray and she sat down self-consciously, aware she was the only masked individual in the canteen.
Nobody came to talk to her, or bother her, and she ate her lunch with an uncharacteristic slowness. Usually she had to horf it.
Her stomach certainly appreciated the restraint.
There were a few classes in the afternoon, but not too many. Apparently they were scheduling more than normal on her behalf, but when she’d asked, they confirmed that the classes were taught by regular PRT agents, so it was as simple as asking them to host a class if their schedule was clear, and if nobody signed up for it, they could go about their work as normal.
She put her name down for INT-QUL-W-004, Communications Qualification, at right after lunch. It was in the same room as earlier on the 5th floor.
The class walked her through radio procedures, call signs, dispatch communications– when to call the PRT line, when to call Armsmaster, the Ward supervisor, directly, and when to report in to Wards or even the Protectorate console. They handled a very brief ‘how to’ on tactical reporting, using a couple acronyms to hopefully make it stick.
The final quiz wasn’t a paper test, but an exercise where they watched three different scenarios and practiced reporting in.
They used the STATUS report, modeled after the military’s SALUTE report.
Situation: Cape attack/villain attacking the boardwalk, possible conflict with E88.
Threat: Unknown blaster. Ranged attacks confirmed. Massive property damage, road torn up, cars overturned, buildings damaged.
Area: Boardwalk, near Beauty Bath Salts.
Third Parties: Civilians in danger, a number trapped inside a burning building. Ongoing evacuations incomplete.
Urgency: Escalating, civilians not evacuated.
Support: Request Protectorate intervention immediately and PRT containment teams/EMS for injured.
It wasn’t how Taylor was used to looking at things and she was certain she’d mess it up the first time she had to do it in real life.
Still, having a format was better than nothing. What was happening, who the cape was, where, who else was involved, how urgent, and what was needed.
She imagined the first three could be easily accomplished by “Lung spotted downtown!” People already knew his blaster rating, for example.
But a better STATUS report would be, “Lung is flinging fire around fighting some E88 capes. Downtown, on Wentworth and Albatross. E88 capes appear to be Hookwolf and Krieg. Civilians caught in the crossfire, at least three down. Evacuations stalled, people hiding in buildings. Situation escalating, Lung is getting ramped up, the heat is increasing and more of the street is getting involved. The battle is trending west. Protectorate requested.”
Of course, that was a super emergency situation. Protectorate response wouldn’t always be requested. Sometimes it was a minor situation where PRT pick up was advised instead, though Taylor was skeptical.
It was the Bay, after all.
After her reporting class, she went back to the gym.
Her mana was recovered. She’d done ten squats waiting since she was the only one in the classroom, though she’d felt embarrassed while doing so.
While she acknowledged she needed practice handling the curves, for now Taylor really wanted to knock out the last of her required run.
The easiest way would be to push her Running skill to the max and not recast it over and over.
Which would require going in a straight line.
She debated calling and asking to be driven out to the middle of nowhere to sprint down a rural street.
The idea was galling.
So, Taylor reluctantly decided to conquer her current weakness: curves.
The irony was not lost on her.
Hopefully, some of the working out and general fitness would reflect in her build and frame being more attractive, but she knew it was silly to expect.
More probably, she’d get stronger legs and arms, and just look even more oddly proportioned than she already did. She was already skinny, except around the belly, and thinking about it made her morose.
Taylor started a jog, doing a warm-up lap before putting her mana into it. She didn’t do it from her fastest speed, because she didn’t enjoy the taste of wall.
Putting more or less mana in wasn’t an option. If she started from a jog, she could handle the curves. If she started from her fastest sprint, the curves came on way too fast.
The only way she’d figured to fix the latter was by cutting off all mana before the straight ended, meaning she had to pay 5 whole mana extra to resume.
So now Taylor tried something else.
She tried running faster while the mana was being spent. It felt absurd, she was already running at 30% again her jogging speed, and yet– it seemed to work.
After the second curve, when the track lengthened out, she– put on speed. Just like she’d do if she were trying to sprint faster.
The next curve came up way too fast, but instead of cutting mana, she slowed back down to her ‘jogging’ speed. It was awkward. It felt weirdly specific, jerky.
But it worked.
She had to consciously decide how fast to jog the entire time, but she was eventually able to choose between the two mana-assisted speeds.
It wasn’t like she blurred to human vision, or anything. She was achieving, being generous, something more like peak athlete speed, not anything directly superhuman.
Olympic speeds at most, though she couldn’t be sure.
She wished she could see the stats of other people, or other capes, to see how she compared.
12 Strength. What did that mean? She had her lifting results from the other day. It was more than she suspected she could do previously, but Taylor had never spent any time in a weight-lifting gym and had no basis for comparison.
The internet browser on her phone said she was lifting in the range for competitive lifters at her age range, not superhuman.
When she’d started, she had 10 for stats across the board. Was that the un-trained Strength of a girl her age? A baseline?
Taylor had ten unspent stat points. As she understood it, they’d make any individual stat go up by one point.
If two points took her from untrained to a competitive weightlifter, what would two more do?
Objectively, this was the type of question she should be able to ask the PRT. However, that would require telling the PRT that she had five stats visible only to her, that she could modify at will.
Would they insist she wait? Put it all in Strength, or maybe Intelligence?
The idea of having other people tell her how to use her own power was nightmarish. What, make her a high-level Brute at the expense of what kind of hero she wanted to be?
Her hands curled up into fists.
No.
She finished out the run requirements, satisfied to see 5/5 miles on her window.
As the unspent stat points taunted her, Taylor split her remaining time between squats, sit-ups and push-ups. If she only did ten at a time of each, in rounds rotating each exercise, she found herself getting worn out slower.
The count steadily climbed until she had all her requirements met.
Ding.
Taylor collapsed back onto the mat after her last sit up, hair sticking uncomfortably to the back of her neck with sweat.
The Daily Quest has been completed.
Rewards have been issued.
+1 Status Recovery | +3 Stat Points | +1 Lucky Box
Taylor very, very carefully did not dismiss the screen. She kept it up, annoyingly blocking her vision though it was slightly transparent, until she was in the elevator. Where she figured out that she could move it, slightly, to the side of her vision.
She got to her room and eagerly took off her sweaty mask and the beanie hiding her hair color and length. She pulled out her scrunchy with relief, doffing her track suit already looking forward to a hot shower.
Thank god she had her own bathroom.
Only once she was in her Wards room, with the door safely shut, did she dismiss the notification. As before with her dagger, the Lucky Box dropped cheerfully from two feet in front of her into her hands with a little sparkling of blue magic.
Instead of opening it traditionally, clenching her hand on it with the barest thought sent it dissolving. A bit of gold light heralded the use, and when it faded, she was left with an item in her palm.
The light show was not subtle.
Taylor brought her hand up to inspect her gift. It was a domino, identical to the one on her face. Her breath caught. This one had a description.
A Simple Mask
Rank: D
While wearing this mask, anyone who does not already know Player’s identity will not be able to learn it.
This item can be stored in the Inventory.
Taylor willed it into her inventory and it disappeared in a swirl of blue mana.
She summoned it back out.
Then, in a flash of insight, she equipped it.
A quick check confirmed her Avatar was wearing the mask.
Taylor scrambled up and went to her bathroom, eager to check the mirror. Once there, she froze.
She was not wearing the mask.
Poking through her menus impatiently, she did find it listed under Active Effects: Identity undiscoverable to those who do not already know it.
Yet the mask wasn’t visible. How could it work without being visible?
More importantly, could she test it?
She turned the shower on, stripping out of her underthings and making sure there was a soft towel available. Obviously, Wards and heroes couldn’t shower in the gym locker rooms without risking their identities.
Secondary concern: Taylor stilled in the act of wetting her hair.
Why would she ever take it off?
It was a magical invisible mask that supposedly made it to where her secret identity was inviolable.
If it was legitimate, she could wander around in civilian clothes, and no one would be able to tie Taylor Hebert and her yet-unnamed cape persona together.
No, she couldn’t possibly flaunt it like that. Someone, somewhere, would have questions– maybe the Director herself, who already knew her secret identity, might wonder why she wasn’t bothering to hide it.
Could she incorporate this into her costume design somehow? Or should she keep it close to the chest, as a back up option in case she was ever unmasked?
How powerful was the magic? Did it work through cameras and computers?
This was what power testing should cover, and yet– as Taylor would have told them if they asked– she was going to be picking up new skills like this, hopefully until she was a truly strong hero.
Interestingly, the mask took up one of her accessory spots, not the spot for her ‘head’ or helmet.
The distraction of the mask and its magic was such that Taylor didn’t even realize the implications of the rest of her quest rewards until she was already finished washing her hair, and had moved on to scrubbing the sweat off her skin.
This time, she consciously chose not to pause or freeze up as realization struck her. It had, belatedly, occurred that she should be less obvious about any realizations– or about her reaction to new screens popping up.
It wasn’t perfect, of course, as she was receiving information no one else had access to, but for the sake of not drawing too many questions, she should at least act like she wasn’t constantly learning new things about her power or getting notifications.
+3 Status Points.
A way to increase her stats! Previously, a stat point increase was an incredibly limited commodity only achievable through the rare leveling up, impossible to get more until she hit that far-off milestone, and even then, it was only +1 to each stat. She couldn’t pick and choose where she wanted those boosts to go, it was automatic.
Now she had three ‘free’ to spend however she wished, and they weren’t evenly split between her stats like with a level up!
It was incredibly tempting to use them! She could see for herself if the effect of adding to her stats was cumulative, or if there was some ceiling that stopped her from reaching superhuman abilities.
If there were any restrictions for breaking through those ceilings.
Another thought stilled her hand from choosing to spend them, however. Once more she breathed through it, convincing herself to continue through the motions of showering as though nothing special had occurred to her.
Practice, practice, practice.
At this rate, Taylor would have a top-notch poker face.
Was this reward significant, because it was her first time finishing the Daily Quest? Would she get more rewards tomorrow?
She just didn’t know, and reluctantly left her shiny stat points alone for now.
For all she knew, giving out +3 Stat Points was a one-time, ultra rare reward, and she’d never get its like again. Then again, it could be the opposite; these could be the very bottom of the barrel with regard to ‘quest’ rewards, and her next reward might be something completely ridiculous– 100 stat points, or a magic sword.
She reached into her desk drawer and withdrew a new domino, still in its thin plastic wrapping. She had a desk drawer full of them, as they were single use.
The adhesive was mildly irritating, though one got used to it after a while.
Taylor paused.
Could she make her equipped domino visible?
At the thought, she felt– something on her face. It wasn’t heavy or sticky like the disposable one, but when she touched her face, there was fabric there.
She could barely feel it otherwise, and it didn’t impede her field of vision.
She rendered it invisible with a thought. Then visible again. Looking in the mirror confirmed it was happening.
Mask on. Mask off.
Oh, that was far too much fun.
Did it have some combat utility? It was still equipped, so nobody could discern her identity, but surely suddenly not wearing a mask anymore was a distraction if nothing else?
Well, that supposed entirely on whether she would have a domino mask with her costume.
Taylor checked her wards phone as she got dressed and combed her hair.
She’d been waiting all day on the email confirmation of her costume design appointment.
At the top, along with rote system emails informing her about her completed classes– with attached certificates– was the email she’d been waiting for.
Tomorrow, if she didn’t mind coming in on a Saturday, she could have an appointment to sit down with imaging and costume design.
And name.
A buzz sounded, minor like a doorbell. The light shifted to a mild but notable red-tone.
It was a complex system that was implemented when people who didn’t know each other’s identities came into the wards common room. It gave Taylor time to put on a mask, if she wasn’t wearing one.
Since she was, she stood up, finished up with her still-damp hair, and walked out.
Time to meet the coworkers.
Chapter 6
Taylor waffled between walking to the door to meet them, or walking into the living room.
She could rush forward to appear sitting and ‘chill’ when they walked in, but the timing was tight for it.
Her moment of indecision cost her.
She elected to walk down the hallway to the living room as they entered, rather than risk freaking herself out trying to get the courage to leave her room once they started talking.
Worse, they likely knew she was here, seeing as the buzzer went off.
While identity disclosure was never required, the last addition to the team was Kid Win almost a year ago. They definitely already knew each other.
It was a school day. In hindsight, of course some of the Wards would come by in the afternoon, though it was a little early for it.
To her somewhat dismay, it was most of the team. Only Vista and Aegis were absent.
Clockblocker– yes, really– Kid Win, and Gallant came into the room talking, a bit of curiosity about them from the buzzer.
Taylor waved as she came into the room, and they looked up with surprise– and no hostility.
In fact, most of them smiled.
“Good afternoon,” Gallant said smoothly. “You must be the new Ward we’ve been hearing about.”
“No costume yet, huh?” Clockblocker cut in, throwing himself across a couch with long habit. “They told us to get changed in the lockers for now.”
They were all wearing their costumes.
“Should I apologize?” Taylor asked.
They were already waving her off.
“Nah,” Clockblocker said, as easy and casual as his name choices implied. “Don’t worry about it. Always happens when we pick up a new teammate.”
“We could wear the disposable masks.” Kid Win said, offering her a smile. He was the only one who could, the others not having their lower faces visible due to their helmets.
He wrinkled his nose and the others groaned.
Clockblocker tipped his helmet to Taylor and gave an exaggerated shudder.
“Hopefully you get out of those quick. They were irritating.”
“You act like we don’t ever wear them.” Kid Win reposed, nudging his arm.
“Yeah, sometimes, but not all the time. I personally think it’s better to wander around in full civilian attire or full cape, instead of slapping a mask on your civilian self.” Clockblocker continued. “Then I look like me but with a little mask. If I’m just ‘civilian’ me, there’s no association with Ward-me.”
“I’m sure that made sense in your head.” Gallant observed somewhat dryly.
“Hey.” Clockblocker whined.
Taylor wondered how much they were putting on airs for her. There were a lot of exaggerated motions with the shoulders, head tilts and body language from those in full, face-covering gear.
Was that a PR lesson she’d receive, or something you picked up by doing? Appearing non-threatening, even personable when completely covered, had to be a practiced act.
“I’ve got my interview at 3.” Taylor confided, filling the short yet tentatively amicable silence. “I’ve got… roughly no idea what I want my name to be.”
She lifted her shoulder in a little shrug.
“Wish Clock had that problem.” Kid Win said, again with a smile and earned himself a half-hearted whack from his fellow, who couldn’t quite reach. Kid sat on the arm of the couch Clock was so artfully draped along.
Gallant sat down in an armchair.
It didn’t flinch at his power armor. Interesting.
“I’m hilarioius and I’m not apologizing.” Clockblocker tipped his helmet up.
“How did you get away with that name?” Taylor asked, once she determined it probably wouldn’t be rude.
They laughed.
“He didn’t. Or well–”
“I hijacked my reveal and announced my own name.” Clockblocker admitted. “They wanted to call me Time Lad. Time Lad! Obviously, I couldn’t let that happen.”
Taylor frowned.
“Yikes.” She murmured.
“Uh, but don’t worry.” Gallant said, sensing her shift in mood. “I’m sure they’ll pick out something good for you. You will get a certain amount of input.”
“I don’t really have any ideas.” Taylor said. She tentatively sat on the arm of the un-used couch. There was no shortage of seating in the room.
“Well, what’s your power?” Kid Win bounced a little.
“I– hmm. According to the power testers, or according to me?” Taylor’s lip twitched a bit.
Clockblocker played along.
“Shouldn’t that be the same thing?” He tilted his helmet a bit, something conspiratorial entering his voice.
“You’d think so! But they wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise, so I don’t think the PRT knows my power properly.”
“They can almost always discern someone’s actual power better by observation than going based on what the parahuman thinks their power is.” Gallant said, playing devil’s advocate.
“Take Clock for example.” Kid Win piped up. “He knows he can freeze people, but not how, and they’re not really frozen, per se.”
“Or tinkers.” Clockblocker said easily. “Most of them don’t immediately know their specialization. They have to work to figure it out, and once they do, they unlock more potential out of their powers.”
Kid Win pulled a face.
“Well, my power comes with instructions, so I do wish they’d let me talk.” Taylor said. “I’m pretty much resigned to taking notes all year and just shoving it in their faces for my annual eval.”
“You might not have to wait.” Gallant said. “I think if you discover heretofore unknown uses of your power, you can request additional testing even in the middle of the year. I don’t know the details, though. You should talk to Aegis about it.”
“He’s Ward leader.” Clock said, in a tone of slight mockery. “And not me, thank god.”
“Yeah no, Director Piggot would explode.” Kid Win snickered.
Clock gave a ‘what can you do’ level of insouciant shrugging from his laying down position, that made even Taylor laugh.
“I should go. Helps to get there early, right? I don’t know, I feel like I should have a name ready, in case they try to railroad me into something awful.”
“Good idea.” Kid Win said.
“Do you have strong preferences?” Gallant asked, a polite challenge. “If you don’t care too much one way or another, you might be happy with whatever they pick. I didn’t have anything in mind, and just picked Gallant from their short list.”
“That’s because they default to vaguely heroic adjectives if you’re boring.” Clockblocker said, voice a bit nasally to indicate a tease.
Gallant chuckled.
“Hey, you never said what your power did.” Kid Win realized. “Sneaky.”
Admiration colored his tone.
“She should be the super sneaky hero: Sneakette!” Then, turning to Taylor. “Well, not really, but coming up with joke names often helps loosen some of the stress about it.”
“And sometimes the joke name sticks.” Kid Win teased.
“Hey! I put a lot of thought and effort into my name!”
“He schemed.” Gallant confided to Taylor. “Plotted for days.”
“My power lets me pick up skills more quickly than normal.” Taylor said. “I guess that’s the cliffnotes version.”
“Skill-related, skill-related… Well, joke names first?”
“My English teacher says sometimes when writing the opening paragraph of a report, you can shake off the pressure by first writing the wrong paragraph.” Gallant said. “Intentionally getting it wrong, I mean.”
“Skilette: the skilled hero!” Clockblocker volunteered.
“Only if you hit people in the face with a cast iron.” Kid Win laughed. “You can’t just append -ette to the name because she’s a girl, dude.”
“Sure I can. If you transition, we’re calling you Kid Winnette.”
A spasm went across the other boy’s face.
“We are not.” He eventually laughed. “And bold words coming from Clock Blockette.”
“First of all, Clockblocker is nicely gender neutral already, you philistine. Clocks can be blocked by any number of time-controlling individuals regardless of pronouns.”
“Sure, dude.”
“Secondly: Time Snatch.”
Clockblocker leaned back with visual satisfaction, steepling his hands over his chest.
“No.” Kid Win and Gallant said at once, in tones of impressed horror.
“That’s awful.” Kid Win protested, mouth twitching despite himself.
“The world is lucky I’m a boy.” Clock spread his hands palm up, as if to say ‘what can you do.’
Wait.
Snatch, as in…?
“That’s vile.” Taylor shook her head. “I don’t know that I should be taking name advice from you.”
“More than fair.” Gallant stressed, still shaking his head in disbelief.
“No, come on, that’s just for me. Your style is totally different, ask PR. I use a joking personality to reassure civilians and entertain the public.” Clockblocker wheedled. “Throw out some bad ideas to get the wheels turning.”
“It’s hard to get worse than Skillette.” Gallant observed.
“Right, right. Skillette: permabanned. Don’t even try it, Imaging Department.” Clock ran a knife finger over his throat with a laugh.
“Skill… ability… talent…” Kid Win looked up from his phone where apparently he’d opened some sort of thesaurus.
Clockblocker sat up, eager.
“Good thought, Win Lad.”
“I’ll end you.”
Clockblocker laughed, maneuvering to peer over his shoulder.
“These are nouns. We need some adjectives. Don’t you agree, Heroic?”
“It’s Gallant.” Gallant sounded tired but resigned to amusement. Presumably it was a common reaction to Clockblocker.
“Talent-ed.” Clock insisted. “Skilled, abili… tied? Abilitied?”
“Man, this is why you’re failing English.”
“One test!” Clock squawked, betrayed. “I have a B in that class, dude.”
He shoved Kid Win.
“Proficient… Pro hero?” Clock adopted a classic ‘thinking’ pose.
“No.” Gallant said, sighing explosively before pulling out his own phone, shooting Taylor a small smile to show the exasperation was performative.
“‘Gifted’. Nah, they’ll think you’re retarded.”
“Clock!” Kid Win protested, although he was laughing.
“Adept… No, there’s that group of evil wizards in New York–”
“Why are you like this.”
Clock hooked his chin over Kid Win’s shoulder with easy affection. Taylor eyed the proximity with faint surprise. Close, then.
“Qualified. Bah. Experienced, not yet.” Clock hummed.
“Novice is appropriately adjective-y but it has a connotation I’d avoid.” Gallant said. “You’ll have trouble getting people to take you seriously, even if it’s just subconscious.”
“Cool idea, though.” Kid Win murmured. “Novice at every skill is better than most of us. Oh, what about Savant?”
“Naturally gifted. That’s a good one.” Clock agreed. He ruined it by throwing finger guns. “Virtuoso!”
“Not my vibe.” Taylor admitted, feeling a bit like she was watching a vaudville show.
“Artisan? Maestro?” Kid Win threw out.
“Did you look up Savant synonyms?”
“Basically. Specalist is too generic. Operator, nah… Journeyman? Oof, definitely not Master.” Kid Win continued.
“Definitely not.” Clockblocker agreed.
“Ooh, here we go. Ace, Paragon, Vanguard, Champion.”
“Some of these have to be taken.” Clock said. “G-man, pull up the database, would you?”
“Sure.” Gallant’s thumbs moved on his smart phone. “Hit me.”
“We don’t have to figure it out right away.” Taylor protested. “And I should be going.”
“Wait, wait, grab a little stationary pad from the desk. Have at least a few ideas, it’ll impress Imaging. Have at least one you like.”
After a few more minutes, Taylor did have at least a few options, which was better than she had before, and she thanked them for the help.
They each wished her luck, smiling, which was just the single weirdest encounter with… with peers… that Taylor had had in years.
She was still shaking her head as she hustled down the hallway, power walking to the elevator. She’d put it off til the last minute and now barely had enough time to get to her appointment.
The small paper of ideas crumpled in her hand as she paused outside the door, heart beating. It shouldn’t have mattered too much, and yet… she was unaccountably nervous.
What if they decided for her and it did suck? Adults had the tendancy to make deicisons that fucked her, either through lack of care or outright maliciousness, and Taylor was understandably wary.
She raised her hand and knocked.
–
Unexpectedly, Taylor left PR/Imagining without a name set in stone. They apparently wanted her to take the weekend to think on such a decision.
She couldn’t tell if it was a genuine policy or part of a layered plan to teach new Wards patience and to work through consequences.
They asked her to devote time to considering her image, what kind of hero she wanted to present. Sure, they had an agenda, and might veto her considerations, but they also gave her a handful of non-taken, appropriate names and had challenged her in the meeting to come up with a persona and image for each of them.
What kind of hero did each name invoke? How could she make a statement with it? What would her costume look like, and how would she embody that ideal or persona?
What effect did she mean to impress on people who saw her?
It definitely got Taylor thinking, and she spent the rest of the afternoon ruminating on it.
Part of Taylor wanted to return to the Wards common room to bounce ideas off her new colleagues. Yet, some of her shied away. Not only would they be gearing up for some sort of patrol, probably, but it felt somewhat personal.
She had thoughts she wanted to work through, herself, before bringing it up to others.
When she got home, Taylor spent some time with a blank composition book, filling several pages before having to backtrack each time.
She decided to break it down further. To brainstorm before coming up with a final version that was rife with flaws.
Step 1: Write out what kind of hero you want to be.
Step 1 didn’t work.
She went back further.
What attributes do I admire in other heroes? What traits do I dislike?
That got her further.
She capitalized on the momentum, circling the aspects she felt she could embody. Or, well, try to embody. Things she wanted to imply.
Did she want to be mysterious? Scary? More personable, or a visage of doom?
Legend had an amicable persona, for all of his power. Eidolon was mysterious, quiet, terse. Alexandria was… Alexandria.
The tower. Unyielding.
Of the three, the latter had always appealed to her most. Now that she was a hero, she imagined Legend would be the best to actually work with.
Taylor didn’t want heroes to intimidated to work with her, though the idea as a Ward was laughable.
The PR team had suggested going with a Ward identity that could change going into the Protectorate, if she planned to join. Something like Apprentice moving into Paragon. Implying someone new to her skills (but competent) and then being an expert. She’d have the reputation as a Ward to build on, and graduate to a full-fledged hero with all that experience and reputation forged into someone reliable and trustworthy.
She’d have “proved” herself at that point.
Something about that sat wrong with Taylor. Like with the power testing team, she felt oddly like… they were underestimating her.
It felt… not enough.
Insufficient.
“Flair.” She considered. It wasn’t her choice, she already knew that, but the team had liked it. She used it as an experiment.
Flair would be like flare, bright and… explosion-y. A big flash into the world, bringing pizazz and a little arrogance. The natural persona was one of in-your-face displays, more of a Blaster nuance than anything else. Flair should make fireworks, not punch people or, potentially, use a daggar. A force for change.
It felt too gaudy for Taylor, to say nothing of the… inherent extraversion of such a character.
If she was designing a costume for Flair, though, she’d go with a fire theme. A bit of misdirection. Flair for the surprise, for doing things with flair, for skill with any number of things. Bright, distracting, loud.
Maven had been another suggestion, one Taylor considered. It had a more mysterious vibe, a word not usually associated with heroics. A rarer word, and more esoteric for it. It provoked questions.
There was also the inherent ‘trust’ aspect, a reliable font of knowledge about some aspect. Tech maven, fashion maven. Somewhat feminine and melodic, being used as a girl name though it was traditionally gender-neutral.
With such a name, Taylor could have far more control over the costume and persona.
It spoke to her of capes and darkness, shadows and hooded cloaks. She kind of liked it, though the air of mystery felt… like not the way she wanted to approach heroics.
It also somewhat clashed with how her power was presenting. Maybe if she had a more mystical or visible power. Again, something a Blaster would suit better, someone who could make light shows.
That musing led Taylor in the right direction. She didn’t want to be the mysterious sort of savant– which, of course, was also a name she’d considered– who had secret powers, unknowable, mystic, esoteric.
Ironic, since… well, she did have secret powers.
There was a distance there from the public perception that appealed to her, but felt…
It didn’t quite sit with her.
Somewhere between the loud brightness of Flair, and the quiet mysticicism of Maven.
Taylor wrote out a few more pages, sketching out costume design after costume design. She didn’t draw out the actual pieces, knowing that was beyond her, and stuck to vibes and what each costume element showed about her persona.
Reluctantly, she decided a cape would be too much.
She also thought, especially considering her equipped mask and it’s ability, a full-face covering like Clockblocker and Gallant was too much.
A visor was more her style.
She toyed with her face entirely unhidden. Would they allow it?
They’d sent Taylor home with a laminated book of pictures of current heroes around the world, each page containing nine ‘cards’ of a shot.
Her homework was to circle costumes she liked in one color of wet erase marker, and use another color to circle individual features she appreciated. They’d flip through the book together and identify any commonalities, such as “Oh, Taylor clearly appreciates this style of mask, or this cut of collar.”
She tried not to think about it too hard as she flipped through the book, annotating which things she thought looked cool or putting an X on things that didn’t appeal to her at all.
Of the top of her head, Taylor could tell that she didn’t seem to like skirts on a costume, though she appreciated subtle feminine elements.
She was still scribbling when her father came home, and found her surrounded by books and papers at the kitchen table.
She was so absorbed she hardly noticed his approach until he draped a blanket over her shoulders.
“Did you get around to eating dinner?” He asked, amused.
Taylor blinked.
“…. It wasn’t this late a minute ago.” She said.
He laughed at her.
It was a little stilted, his motions slightly awkward. Still, it was easier interaction than they’d had in ages.
“Let’s do a quick spaghetti, I think.” Danny decided. “You finish up there, I’ll let you know when it’s done. What’s got you so focused?”
The question was more hesitant at the end. He didn’t let it show, pushing through. Taylor determined to emulate him, wrestling through a year of distance as though it wasn’t there.
“The PRT gave me homework. For figuring out my hero name and costume.”
“Big stuff.”
Taylor relaxed a little when he didn’t pry, or worse, try to lay down rules. It was, shamefully, easier when he wasn’t looking at her, his back to the table as he worked at the stove.
They whiled the time away until dinner was ready with Taylor sharing some of her observations and finishing up the section she was working on.
The blanket helped and she tucked it around better. The temperature of the room had dropped with sunset, and she’d been too busy to notice.
In fairness, her father was home quite late, but she had the grace not to mention, and risk disrupting the domestic levity.
Spaghetti only took twenty minutes, with another ten added to the time when he realized he forgot the garlic bread.
Taylor hastily piled up all her notes to get them out of the way of any sauce.
“Any conclusions, yet?” Danny asked as he brought their plates over.
She considered.
“Yes. One.” Taylor decided, thoughtful. “I want my costume to be white.”
–