Approaching the PRT building was… mildly intimidating. Alec, of course, strolled right beside her without a care in the world projected outwardly. Taylor wish she had his calm.
They had taken precautions. He was wearing the purple wig, a face mask covering his mouth, and some make-up she’d unearthed from back when she wore it. He’d contoured his face subtly to be more feminine, in some dark witchcraft kind of way that was beyond her.
Their discussion about the PRT figuring out their identities had led her to dress completely different from how she normally did, and add a face mask to her ensemble. Buying it had eaten the last of her money, but Alec had made it ‘worth it’ by finding a cheap pack of black dominos that were apparently sold for capes and cape groupies.
Now Taylor’s mouth, cheeks, and the area around her eyes was completely covered, obscuring the lines of her face from any cameras– only showing her eyes and a sliver of forehead.
If she could have afforded contacts, she’d have bought them. Instead she was going in blind, glasses forgone to conceal another facet of her identity.
She was also wearing the pink wig. With a black t-shirt and artfully torn jean shorts, she hardly recognized herself. The bit of thigh showing above her high socks was enough to make her reconsider the entire ‘hero’ thing this morning, but Alec and the fairies had given her enough assurance that she could go outside. Barely.
She mimicked Alec’s body language as best she could—confidence, even fake confidence, would distance ‘Isis’ from Taylor Hebert.
Giving him one final look—he nodded encouragingly—Isis began the steps up to the main building. It was a square, multi-storied affair with big wide doors up front. Tourists walked in and out, groups with cameras, business people in suits, and PRT officers in various states of gear.
Walking in, they made for the receptionist at a big, central desk.
He looked up and smiled blandly, making no move of “eek! Cape!” Nor did he reach for any obvious big red buttons. She wondered what PRT countermeasures they had in place against villains walking in, because she was sure they had them.
“Hello,” Alec said, charm on full. He was leaning into the girl hero persona.
He’d even, to her mild horror and strong embarrassment, commandeered a bra to fill—somehow—and give the suggestion of a chest at least as big as Taylor’s was, which admittedly ‘wasn’t very’.
“We’d like to fill out paperwork to, like, make us an independent hero team.” If he had gum, he’d be popping it. She resisted the urge to elbow him.
He could be a girl without being an airhead, goddamnit!
“Of course.” The receptionist smiled at us. “Let me print off a copy.”
It surprised her that they didn’t have them available already, but then she thought about how often that particular piece of paperwork was needed—not often in Brockton Bay, she’d wager.
The only other independent team of heroes was New Wave and they’d formed years and years ago.
They filled out the paperwork to the best of their ability, listing the generic aspects of their powers—her with shields and healing, Alec with a sensory power and a taser as his equipment.
They gave their burner phone numbers as contact points because why not? It wasn’t like they were using them in their civilian identities—Alec didn’t even have one.
Ultimately the process was far simpler than she could have imagined, even after reading about it the day before.
As they were walking out they were surprised to see two costumed people come out of the elevators, prompting a flash of cameras from some of the people in the lobby—though most were PRT operatives in some fashion who didn’t even look up at the Wards’ entrance.
While Isis had a vague sort of background knowledge that the Wards existed, she hadn’t known their names and costumes by sight until the research binge from yesterday.
Because of that research, she was able to recognize the futuristic, sleek blue and grey armor as Gallant, and the other in a full-coverage, black, white and yellow bodysuit, as Eclipse.
The bodysuit was mostly black, with white taking up the ‘inner’ portions—inner thighs, inner stomach area, and so forth. Gold accents here and there really played up the theme.
“Oooh, like, let’s go talk to them.” Alec said, already waving. It took her a moment to wonder why he was going out of his way to interact with heroes, and then she remembered his original goal to be well-regarded by them, and ‘definitely not’ villainous.
Being friendly and cheerful was a great way to be seen as heroic by the local capes.
Eclipse and Gallant came over, at first seeing two girls with bright hair—possibly fans—and then clocking the masks.
“Hello, ladies.” Gallant said, voice strong, steady and friendly. “New in town, or new to the stage?”
Alec giggled.
“New heroes.” He said, extending his hand. Gallant, like his namesake, ‘kissed’ the knuckles instead of shaking it, leaving Alec wide-eyed and a little flustered.
“We’re a new independent hero team.” Isis said, trying to sound just as confident, although she was sure nerves made it through anyway. “I’m Isis, this is Eos.”
“It’s good to have new heroes in the city.” Gallant said easily. At first glance he seemed fairly handy with PR-appropriate answers.
Eclipse spoke then, “Greek names?”
“Oh, yes. Greek mythology. Minor mythological figures.” She said, surprised to be recognized right away.
“Goddesses, though.” Eclipse said. “A bit of a brag, isn’t it?”
“It’s just a theme,” Alec said, rocking on his heels. “Maybe we’ll get a chance to work together in the future.”
Was he batting his eye-lashes? She felt like he was doing something weird and—and flirty with his face.
“Well, we just finished submitting registration paperwork.” She said, briskly and hopefully ‘no-nonsense’—a perfect counter to Alec’s ‘devil-may-care’ persona. “So we won’t keep you.”
“A pleasure to meet you, ladies.” Gallant said. Beside him, as they turned, Eclipse muttered something else.
She didn’t catch it but Alec snorted.
They got out to the street in front of the PRT before she asked.
“He said ‘oh, god, we’re going to have to tell Clockblocker.’” Alec said gleefully.
Isis paused.
“Why’s that funny?”
Alec chose to be cryptic instead. “You’ll see.”
Irritated, and nerves more than a little shot from the professional environment—and once again very aware of the little scrap of fabric hiding her face—she finally gave into the urge to elbow him a bit.
He dodged it neatly.
Since they were already in costume, they set out for their first ‘patrol’.
It was a Sunday and they were at the PRT building, which naturally had its own ‘territory’ of relatively crime free activity. Thus there wasn’t much to see at first, with the area gradually growing more ramshackle as they wandered away from downtown.
My phone didn’t have anything like an internet browser, of course, and she daydreamed of having a cool Iron Man style visor for a few minutes before sighing.
“Local wards—Gallant and Eclipse, obviously. Then Clockblocker, which has to indicate a sense of humor.”
“My kinda guy.” Alec said idly.
“Right. Then Triumph, Vista, Aegis and… is that all of them?”
“So far.” Alec agreed, brightly. “Triumph, Gallant—they’ve got a Dauntless on the main team. If I’d joined I’d have probably been ‘Heroic’ or ‘Valiant.’ Unless those are already taken across the country.”
“Huh. They do tend to just use descriptive words synonymous with heroic, don’t they?”
“Speculation says the press release later today might be introducing a new Ward. Poor fucker will probably be ‘Victory’ or ‘Nobless’ if they’re a girl.”
“What, really? Is that why so many people were in the lobby?”
Alec shrugged.
“I don’t know, but the speculation and gossip is surprisingly valuable. A computer with PHO access is going to be a necessary upgrade for the Secret Base.”
“Your lair is a long way away from internet access.”
Alec’s glare did not phase her.
–
With a possible Ward introduction on the horizon, the clearer streets made more sense. The Protectorate had probably been working overtime to clean things up for a day or two, and the gangs getting wind of something the PRT considered worthwhile going down would signal a holding pattern until they could figure it out and resume normal nefarious operations.
She dropped Alec off at the lair—still funny—and divested herself of the bright pink wig and clothes that she’d been half-blushing to wear for most of the day.
The complete divorce from Taylor Hebert was a necessary step, however. Watching Alec lazily lounge in his wig and skirt-blouse combo was almost more normal by comparison.
Then she went home, and seeing they had a few more hours until it was suitable to cook dinner, booted up the home computer.
The PRT website was a treasure trove of links; though most of its helpfulness seemed to be limited to internal systems and account access, it did point her to an email address for inquiries.
Good evening,
I hope this email finds you well. To whom it may concern, I am Isis, a registered Independent hero, affiliate identification number 1XXX91, of affiliated team Pantheia, identification number 1XXX05. One of my power aspects has manifested in a healing effect and I’m inquiring into possible testing, qualification, and information on contracting agreements the PRT has with independent healers if such a thing exists.
Pending contractual agreement, I am tentatively willing to heal Protectorate heroes outside of incidental team-ups, and PRT personnel in general. Thank you for your time and consideration on this matter.
Respectfully,
Isis – Pantheia
Independent Hero
Contact: XXX-XXX-XXXX
Reading it over, it all looked incredibly formal, even when she tried to edit it to be more friendly. Oh, well, it was meant to be formal.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she hit send.
She texted Alec, just to be a good teammate.
Isis: Offered to heal for the PRT for $ (email sent)
Eos: lmao my girl
Isis: ???
Eos: $$$$ 👍 😍
Snorting, she pocketed the phone, not wanting to get into the habit of texting for fun instead of work. For that matter, she turned it to silent and set it inside her bedside table.
She killed an hour by finishing her homework, trying not to dread the return to school on the next day. That done, she got started on dinner a little early, timing it pretty well to when her dad’s car pulled up.
The dinner bread was coming out of the oven right as the pasta finished.
“Oh, Taylor.” Dad came in through the door like a zombie, then sniffed curiously. “Spaghetti?”
“Spaghetti.” She confirmed. She hadn’t had powers long but part of the hard reset it’d done to her life had been convincing her to make homecooked meals—not just riceroni or tv dinners—for her dad. And to talk to him more, at Hinagiku and Shun’o’s shameless wheedling.
Even Ayame was in on it.
Serving it up—on real plates, not the paper ones they’d got into the habit of using for easy disposal—was the last step to get the table finished while dad changed out of his work clothes and into home loungewear.
“Oh. This is good, Taylor.”
She preened.
“How was the library today?”
“Not bad. We did a little homework and watched some cool hero interviews on PHO.”
Silence for a beat. She looked up and saw dad’s fork was on his plate, him looking at her strangely.
Her head tilted of its own accord.
“Who were you with?” He tried to ask casually, missing it by about half a mile. He cleared his throat and purposefully began eating again.
Oh. ‘We.’
“Just a friend.” She said casually. She wondered—offer more information? Less?
“Anyone I know?” Dad was also trying to keep it casual, speaking around the glaring elephant in the room—she hadn’t mentioned a friend since Emma.
“Probably not.” She demurred. “Uh, it’s a new friend.”
Stupidity reared up in her, and she cleverly said, “Alex.”
A girl’s name. For sure.
“Oh? How’d you two meet?” More genuine curiosity now, warm.
Not Winslow, that’s for sure. Was it weird to say she met him at the boardwalk? she hadn’t asked for permission to go there in a while. A new neighbor? No, he’d want to see their house or their parents.
Keep it simple, stupid.
“At the library.” Playing it so safe. “Alex’s homeschooled, actually.”
Too casual, maybe.
“Oh? I remember you said you didn’t want to try that. Rethinking it?”
She did remember talking to him about that once, when the trio first started escalating so hard. To the point that she’d even looked into the details of it.
At the time, every feverish bout of research had ended with a stubborn rock in her stomach, determined not to let them win.
Having a teammate—possibly a friend—outside of school seemed to rock that certainty. What if she could just… not go back? Dive fully into heroics and dedicate all her time to her impossible new team?
“Maybe.” She said slowly, chewing on it. “Alex is… really happy with it. I know New Jersey has really easy requirements. We wouldn’t even need to spend any money.”
“I thought you had to have a special school send you materials in the mail or on the computer? And pay for it?” Dad looked surprised.
“Uh, no, not in New Jersey. You don’t even have to take placement exams or end of the year tests. A parent just says they don’t want to have their kid in the public school system and that they’ll handle the education at home—that education can be anything, even just teaching the Bible as a religious nut. State law says they have to be educated, but doesn’t set standards. And you don’t even have to get a GED at the end.”
“You would be doing that, though, of course.”
“Of course.” She pushed a meatball around on her plate. “Are we really considering this? I mean, as long as I did self-study into each of the categories the GED tests for, I’d be good.”
“There’s really no oversight?”
“Technically they could look into it and slap you on the wrist if someone reported I wasn’t actually home schooling. That never happens, though—that’s like, if I were to just jump straight into working instead of school, and not meeting the legal work hours for a student.”
Dad frowned hard. As a union man, he was a firm proponent of those labor laws.
“Which you would not be doing.”
“Of course not.” She agreed easily. “I think I could—maybe even take the GED early, as soon as I’m eligible at sixteen?”
“Taylor.” Dad frowned. “You need to be in school.”
“I know!” She said sharply. “Um, I mean—I know. I was thinking. I could graduate early and do some college classes. Get out of Winslow and… make some real friends. Start my real life.”
“Taylor.” Dad’s voice was pained. “This is your real life. You deserve a normal high school experience. Friends, trips… prom.”
“I…” Her voice warbled. One by one, her fairies manifested next to her, reassuring in words and presence. Even Tsubaki, a silent support on her shoulder.
It cost so much to admit it, like reaching out for help after being kicked a thousand times.
“I hate it.” Taylor managed, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Dad, I hate it so much. There’s no fixing it. I… haven’t thought about killing myself, but…”
Dad’s chair abruptly hit the ground as he stood, coming around the table to her.
“I haven’t.” She insisted, voice hitching, as he wrapped her in the first hug she could remember getting in over a year. “But I can’t find a way out. I don’t want to go there anymore. I—I—”
Admitting it took everything out of her. Sobs shook her. Years of strength, finally crumbling as she let it out. A previously steady pile of hurts destabilized by trying to let a single one free, and then it was an avalanche.
“Fuck it.” Dad said, voice warped and scratchy. “Fuck it—Taylor, it’s not worth this. I’m not going to tell you to push through and go anyway. If we had the money to switch schools I would, but until then—you won’t go. You don’t have to go. We’ll get it figured out. You can be…” His voice cracked hard. “You can be happy right now, Taylor. You don’t have to get through it alone and find happiness when you’re ‘done’.”
Just get through high school, she’d been thinking. Push through. College will be better. And then just get through the year. The semester. The month. The week.
Until it became ‘just get through the day.’ And ‘just get through the hour.’
Just get through one more minute. One more second. Survive, survive, survive.
That wasn’t living.
Happiness couldn’t breathe, there. It couldn’t bud or take root, let alone thrive. It strangled to death in the cradle, with no air, no future, no chance.
She gasped, sobs shaking her entire frame. A nervous breakdown hadn’t been on her plans tonight. She’d even done her homework, bracing herself for getting to the school, getting through first hour, barely even being able to think past that.
And now she couldn’t breathe from sobbing, but it felt like… she might be able to, when she was done. Like a great and terrible weight had been lifted off her, as unexpected as an earthquake, and just as devastating, rending her emotional landscape and putting great cracks in her foundation.
Like a lanced wound, letting the putrid infection out, so she could finally begin to heal.
–
Taylor woke up Monday morning with a familiar dread. A cold numbness in her body, rib cage tight with cortisol, hands shaking as she mechanically forced herself through the morning routine without thought.
If she thought about it, she’d go crazy. Distance. Distance, disassociation—whatever you want to call it. She went to that place in her head where everything was foggy and unreal, putting one foot in front of the other.
Clothes on. Teeth cleaned. Hair brushed. Backpack—backpack? Why did her backpack have a bunch of clothes stuffed into it instead of textbooks?
The fog was penetrated. She stared blankly at the floor. Then around the room.
Then Lily appeared in a rush of gold light, whooping for joy.
“Fuck yeah, princess! You don’t have to go back there!”
The other fairies burst into existence with their light, flying around. Even Baigon did a little flip, all of them celebrating.
She’d like to say she smiled, then, and took on a ‘conquer the world’ attitude, launching into a plan for the day that involved their plans as heroes. That she made breakfast, made a list, and got cracking.
Instead, it didn’t feel real.
She took several deep breaths and made it to her bed, curling up in the soft sheets and blankets, still warm from her sleep. For the first time she could remember, she went back to bed on a Monday morning. No Winslow today.
No Winslow ever.
No Emma, Madison, Sophia or their army of sycophants. No Mr. Gladly. No teachers with their eyes sliding over her like she didn’t exist, pretending they didn’t see anything. No Blackwell. No Greg Vader.
Not just today, but forever. If she happened to avoid seeing them around town, she could live her life without ever seeing them again.
The reality of it was staggering. Still impossible to believe. She curled up and let the feelings wash over her, the fairies vanishing and appearing throughout the morning.
Shun’o sat on her pillow, playing with a lock of her hair, soothing and being there for her without tacky reassurances, but without silence either. Ayame made idle chatter about the birds outside the window, looking for seed in the brisk January air.
Hinagiku was the one to try to cheer her up, a little—though she wasn’t ‘sad’, just drained– curious and excited as he brainstormed different foods they could make, different things they could do.
Lily kicked her feet, dangling off her bedside table, and talked a mile a minute about how much time Taylor should spend studying, what kind of materials she could find, what subjects she should focus on and when.
Baigon looked through her textbooks, quietly determining which would be of use to her in the future.
Finally, a little past noon, Tsubaki bullied the bedside drawer open, dislodging his sister, and hefted the phone out to Taylor.
“Call your teammate. Let’s go kick some ass tonight.” He said, no-nonsense.
“I can’t call, we don’t have the minutes for that.” She said, voice groggy. She checked that dad’s car wasn’t out front and then went downstairs with the phone. Then went back upstairs and changed back into loungewear, out of her school clothes.
She did text Alec, as she was preparing simple fair of sandwich and chips—having nowhere near the bandwidth to prepare something more complex than bread, ingredients, bread.
Isis: I’m dropping out of school.
Eos: uwo drop out buddies??
Isis: My dad thinks I’m homeschooling along with a girl named Alex I met at the library
Eos: I will be the prettiest girl and so so schooled at home
Isis: What if he asks to meet you???
Eos: then I’ll wear the blonde wig lmao. Purple one’s already taken by “””hero””” me.
Isis: … fuck it, wanna come by?
Isis: wait no what if he wants to ask your parents
Eos: this is a many layered scheme young padawan dw
Eos: we will Plot through it together
Isis: stop wasting minutes. I’ll meet you tomorrow for patrol
Eos: ^_^ 😀 😘 11am? We can convince the street mooks we’re over 18 by being out when normal kiddos are at school
Isis: sure
Feeling overwhelmed at even that interaction, she closed the phone and set it aside. Then, feeling like it was mocking her, she dropped it off upstairs again and came back down.
Part of her wanted to marshal the fairies and talk battle strategy, patrol strategy—plan, plan, plan.
Instead she still felt drained, as though the horrible mess of suffering inside her had left a great empty space when it flooded out last night, and nothing had yet filled the void.
So she shakily told them that they’d be taking today as a rest day, and Ayame beamed at her, large oversized sleeves under her hands as she put them under her chin in happiness.
“Yes! Princess! Exactly this! You’ve got to take care of yourself before you can take care of others!”
“Mm!” Shun’o agreed, bursting with pride and joy.
It was a little much, sometimes, how invested they were in her success, her triumphs and mental health. Then again, they were her power—of course they wanted to help her, wanted to see her succeed.
They loved her and that love had helped draw her out of a very dark place.
A quick shower turned into a long, self-indulgent stay under the hot water, until it started to run out. Not wanting anything to mar the experience, she got out before it was even lukewarm, ending on a good note.
She used her fluffiest towel, with another for her hair, ignoring that cotton was bad for it for just today, and sat in bed like that, completely lazy, wrapped up in white.
Then Lily and Ayame suggested they do her toes, which she hadn’t painted in years, though Emma and she used to do that at sleepovers sometimes.
She couldn’t help but think of doing it with Alec, sometime, of whether his willingness to dress feminine extended to nail polish. Considering he wore a bra, she was betting ‘yes.’
They found a bright gold to match the sprites and Taylor’s power, though they didn’t do the fingers for fear of it being identifiable in her hero persona. The gloves she’d found were some of dads old ones, working gloves, but she hoped to upgrade to fingerless in the future for her costume—and nail polish lasted a while.
A quick check once the polish cured showed the PRT had yet to email her back. Understandable, as it hadn’t even been 24 hours, but frustrating.
Studying was out of the question, as her brain still felt buzzy and strange, unable to focus. Instead, she spent a few minutes looking at maps, drawing one out, trying to figure out which gangs were most often seen where.
Even that couldn’t hold her attention long.
Her backpack was already full of clothes for Alec, and her, as part of operation: backup wardrobe.
“Can you think of anything I can do to be more ready for tomorrow?” She queried the room at large.
“Learn to fight!” Tsubaki said at once, predictably.
Hmm. And how could she do that with just the fairies?
Despite her so far useless patrols—at first in her pulled-up hood and plainclothes, and then with Alec as Pantheia—and the walking that went along with that, she wasn’t really… in shape.
“Do you think running will help?”
Instead of scoffing at it being a useless contribution, her most violent fairy seemed thoughtful.
“It can’t hurt. You need to be stronger, faster, more resolved. To win.”
“Oh, no, Princess, that’s a fantastic idea! Imagine how much better you’ll feel with a dedicated workout regimen.” Shun’o said cheerfully.
“You could practice with the shield.” Hinagiku piped up, to Lily’s nodding agreement—so hard she almost fell over.
“The more you use it, the stronger and faster it’ll be!” She agreed.
“Okay, we can do that.” Taylor said, surprised. “Let’s see how many shields I can send out in thirty minutes.”
“You could also practice endurance.” Baigon said quietly. “Time and the duration of the casting, princess.”
“That’s also a great idea, Baigon.” She agreed, pleased with his contribution—that he was comfortable enough to offer his opinion.
It was a little more work than she’d wanted to do, on the ‘lazy’ Monday, but it helped settle her in a way that just lounging around didn’t—each chant on her lips felt like progress, measurable in the light of gold.
–
“Alright this is some shit.” Alec said Tuesday afternoon after yet another patrol ended with no interaction. “I get things calmed down yesterday during Kid Win’s debut, but this is boring.”
“Maybe we’re doing it wrong?” Taylor drawled, just to watch him scowl.
“Brockton Bay is such a shithole you should be able to kick over a rock and find a nazi.” He complained.
“Hey, it’s my shithole.” She said with offended pride of a local. “…But it does seem that way sometimes.”
It was past noon by then so they meandered over to the boardwalk. Not that they expected any assholes there. In fact, it was the most common spot for Wards patrols, and usually bereft of assholes as a result.
“We barely look like heroes.” Alec grumbled. “More like we’re going to a rave.” He held his scepter, the only thing that really stood out as a weapon.
No armor for either of them yet.
“What do people wear to raves?” Taylor asked, with morbid curiosity.
Alec grinned.
“Less than this and most of it see-through.”
She quickly changed tracks.
“Maybe overt power displays will make it obvious we’re parahumans?”
“Yeah but my power is invisible.” Alec sighed. “Well, there’s one or two ways to make it visible, I guess. All objectively horrible ideas.”
She carefully kept her questions to herself, despite the curiosity. Alec was very tight-lipped about his power and she wasn’t going to push.
A bout of nerves hit her.
“So, just me huh?”
“Yeah, flower girl, just you.” Alec huffed a little, faintly amused. “Bring on the light show and we can probably attract some attention.”
“I guess it’s good practice.” She conceded.
The creation of her shield was getting more familiar all the time, helped by the thirty minutes she’d spent practicing yesterday—and again this morning.
“I’m supposed to practice endurance so that’ll be what I’m doing.” She said, for his benefit and her fairies.
Alright. Most of her shields only lasted for a few seconds at a time unless she was really, really concentrating.
“Hinagiku, Lily, Baigon,” She said with slow emphasis. “Santen Kesshun. I reject.”
Three bright points of light erupted into existence, a blaze of gold connecting them. The shield washed over her vision in a vivid triangle.
The few people on the streets stopped to stare.
A few brought out camera phones.
She thought about saying something but even that half-second of inattention caused the gold to waiver.
“Can you even move when you’ve got a shield in front of you?” Alec asked, a touch of curiosity in his tone, muted as always.
“Let’s find out.” She said through gritted teeth, shield rippling as she multitasked to talk.
Slowly, she took a step forward, and the shield stayed right where it was in relation to her—about two feet in front of her in front of her hands, held up palms out.
She got four steps before something across the street caught her eye, and her concentration slipped. The shield shattered.
Panting, she stopped for a moment.
“Woah, you good?” Alec asked.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” She managed breathlessly. The fairies that formed the shield were fine, too, not even tired. It was her that was the weak point.
She repeated the spell, and again gold rippled over the world.
Don’t let it shatter, don’t let it shatter, don’t let it—
“Ah, fuck.” She only made it a half dozen steps.
“Looks like you ran into your hard limit there, flowers.”
“No… that’s not it…” she muttered to herself. “Guys, what am I doing wrong?”
Lily chimed in at once.
“The shield is based on your resolve! Your willpower, your desire. If you believe it won’t break, it’ll stand strong!” She fist-pumped.
“Yeah, princess!” Hinagiku vibrated with excitement. “The sky’s the limit for us, for real!”
“Baigon?” she asked.
The little fairy hummed behind his facemask.
“Don’t think of the shield.” He advised. “Think of what you’re trying to stop, as you reject it. Think of what you must keep safe on the other side.”
Thoughtfully, she nodded.
“It is weird that your power talks to you.” Alec observed, before shrugging. “Eh, all powers are weird though. You certainly got us some attention.”
“My shield is based on will power.” She told him. “So you’d think willing it not to break would be the answer…”
“Well, maybe it’s like trying not to think of a purple elephant.” He said.
“What?”
“If you try not to think about it, it’s all you can think of. Whereas when you’re not trying not to think about it, you never think of purple elephants. Probably.”
“So by thinking of the shield not shattering…”
“Yeah, you’re thinking about it breaking, still. Don’t break yet, implying it’s on a time limit, that it’ll break soon. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“No, it’s a good idea.” She admitted as they turned onto the boardwalk proper. “One of my spirits said I need to focus not on the shield itself but on what I’m trying to protect—why I’m rejecting the attack on the other side of it.”
The sea came into view as they trod onto a path parallel to it, the first of shops appearing.
“I guess.” Alec shrugged. “I’m telling you right now I’m not going to be the brains of this operation. Hope you figure it out, though. Most of the time having a shield last for ten seconds is a hardd limit of the power, though, not the mindset. Powers can be pretty fixed.”
“Well, mine’s not.” She said curtly.
He shrugged again.
They wandered the boardwalk, drawing a little bit of a crowd, though not as much as when she’d had a four foot shield up.
“Want to try again?” Alec asked as they reached the most popular part with the biggest crowd of shoppers, most of them giving us a wide berth because they looked so weird in colored hair.
“Sure. Hinagiku, Lily, Baigon,” She said, cheerfully and conversationally this time. It wasn’t a life or death situation, after all. “Santen Kesshun! I reject!”
Holding her hands up, she smiled as the shield appeared, more overhead this time.
What was she rejecting? Vulnerability, maybe. She didn’t want them to get hurt, so the shield formed overhead, keeping them safe.
They walked all the way down the street, to more talking and phone videos, before she let the shield fall, more because her arms were tired than anything.
“More than ten seconds,” She told Alec smugly.
“Yeah, I guess. Who’s counting?”
Ugh.
A low whistle drew them out of it.
Turning a corner, they’d finally found a Wards patrol.
Three figures greeted them, all in costume. The one who’d whistled was wearing a skin-tight grey bodysuit, barely visible for the number of white armored panels covering it. His face was completely hidden by a mask.
The clocks all over the outfit gave away his identity at once.
“Pretty flashy!” Clockblocker said appreciatively.
“Clock.” Triumph sighed, the Wards leader identifiable by his lion motif, noticeably taller than the younger Wards with him.
“What? Using their powers in broad daylight, it’s bold. I like it.” He gave a thumbs up.
Next to them was the newest ward, Kid Win, in a gold and red bodysuit. His visor was red and the only thing covering his face—hair, forehead, mouth and nose all visible.
The mouth was a bit open, as if surprised to meet other capes on what was meant to be his first day out.
“We didn’t mean to interrupt your first patrol.” She said a bit stiffly, not having considered it. If he was just introduced yesterday, surely he’d need some time to get used to his powers and such?
Kid Win looked to Triumph and then back at them, smiling. It was only a bit wobbly.
“Don’t worry about it. We’re hardly the only heroes in the Bay, after all.”
“Yep, gotta share. Speaking of—”
“Clockblocker.” Triumph said again.
“Hey! You didn’t even let me finish.”
“Do I want to?” Triumph said, smiling despite his tone for the crowds, too far away to get audio in their recordings.
“Wow rude. I was just going to ask these two—new heroes, right?—if they wanted to join us for a leg of our patrol.”
“Is that usual?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Eh.” Clockblocker waved his hand in a so-so motion as Triumph sighed. “Gallant patrols with Glory Girl a lot, so there’s precedence for teaming up with Independent hero teams.”
He looked to Triumph for corroboration, who nodded.
“Yes, especially when they’re registered. I recognize you now, there was an email about the new team in the area. Pantheia, right?”
“That’s right.” She said, trying to keep her voice stable. “We registered yesterday.”
“That was fast.” Alec drawled, speaking for the first time. “Y’all move quick around here, huh?”
“New capes on the scene are identified pretty fast.” Triumph said good-naturedly. “If any of the Wards or Protectorate sees you, they need to know you’re an ally. It helps prevents misunderstandings.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t know we had a new team of heroes. And trust me, I’d have noticed. And remembered.” Clockblocker said, a quick lilting cadence to his voice.
Taylor got the feeling he could talk and talk, filling up silence easily.
“Well, it was Kid Win’s debut yesterday.” She said magnanimously. “Sorry again for interrupting your first day out.”
“I don’t mind.” Kid Win said at once, smiling more genuinely now. “Let’s keep walking, we’re drawing a crowd. Right?”
He looked to Triumph again, getting praise for the decision in return.
“Call Console and let them know,” Triumph said to him.
Kid Win nodded, falling back and giving a halting brief to someone on his radio.
For a moment she was jealous of their funds.
“So. Ladies.” Clockblocker fell into easy step with them. Alec got a funny look on his face; it went blank for a solid few seconds before a twitch of smile betrayed him.
He immediately fluttered his lashes a little.
Oh, no.
“So. Lady’s man.” Alec practically purred back—for Alec. Only a hint of flirt in his voice. It would probably be more if he wasn’t—well, Alec.
“Oh-ho-ho! I see my reputation proceeds me.” Clockblocker said, grin in his voice. It was strange not being able to see his face at all.
“I’ve heard on PHO that you’re a bit of a character.” Alec continued, swishing his hair as he walked. He’d gone with pig-tails today, which was utterly ridiculous.
“Well, I try.” Clockblocker said. “What about you, what are your powers?”
“Sensor-type.” Alec said easily. “I can tell how many people are around me, with a pretty good idea of their location if I need to.”
“Nice.” The Ward said easily. “Handy in plenty of situations, but not really suited for combat. Is that why you joined a team?”
Instead of being offended, Alec laughed.
“Yeah, basically. I know my limits.” He winked and Clockblocker almost, but not quite, stumbled.
“Heheh, yeah. And you?” He asked her, turning his helmet to clearly show who he was talking to. “I saw the forcefield earlier.”
“Forcefields,” She confirmed. “I’m also a healer, but it’s a newer aspect of my powers I haven’t explored much.”
Clockblocker whistled again.
“Wow.”
“Is that rare?” Kid Win asked, on Clock’s other side.
“Very.” Triumph said, looking her up and down in a new light. “Have you considered liaising with the protectorate to become a licensed parahuman healer?”
“I sent an email in yesterday after we registered but I haven’t heard back yet.” She confirmed and he nodded.
“I’ll see if I can’t expedite that. We need all the healers we can get. Panacea flat-out changed the game when she came into the field, but she’s still only one person.”
“How rare?” Kid Win wondered, while Clockblocker made a thoughtful noise.
“I’d have to check.” Triumph said. “I think maybe only a dozen in the entire U.S. Protectorate. Of course, none as powerful as Panacea. She’s frankly in a league of her own on that front.”
“Striker 12 will do that for you, yeah.” Clockblocker said.
This time Triumph lightly reached out and flicked the back of his helmet.
“It’s not polite to use threat ratings for heroes.” He said sternly. Then, to her, “The PRT only uses threat ratings on heroes in case they’re being controlled or compromised. It’s not a representative of how powerful they are, strictly speaking, just an assessment of how many resources would be needed to subdue them if worst came to worst.”
Beside her, Alec was slightly tense.
On complete impulse, she reached out and took his hand.
Clockblocker made a sound that wasn’t quite a choke, swallowing harshly.
She smiled.
“Isn’t that a little weird? If there’s no power classification other than the threat ratings, it’s hard to talk about what people can do it a measurable way.”
“That’s true.” Triumph said, the slightly tense moment passing.
Alec began to swing their hands slightly, squeezing her palm once in wordless thanks.
“The threat ratings do get bandied about unofficially as a way to talk about power levels.” Clockblocker said sheepishly. “I wish there was a different system so we could use it. Like, Vista is an insanely powerful shaker, but I can’t say the number without being rude?”
“I see the struggle.” Alec said dryly.
“It’d be nice to know where my healing rated, for example.” She continued thoughtfully. “Like on a scale of 1 to Panacea, I mean.”
Clockblocker snorted hard.
Kid Win laughed. He had a good laugh, deep and masculine despite his age.
“Maybe the new scale could use nicer terms.” Kid Win said. “Striker for enemies, a bunch of side terms for friendlies. Instead of Striker 12 she could be Healer 10.”
“Naw, dude, you gotta let her keep the 12. It’s badass.” Clockblocker insister.
She looked at Triumph again. While Kid Win was mostly paying attention to the conversation, Clockblocker had at least been looking around, eyes roving the streets. Triumph was much less focused on the talking and more on his surroundings—as expected of an experienced hero.
Keeping that in mind, she made sure to keep an eye on the boardwalk around them.
“You could be like—Shielder 5, or something.” Kid Win said.
“Only a five? Wow, rude. How strong is your shield?” Clockblocker asked her conversationally.
“As strong as I need it to be.” She said truthfully. Triumph flicked his eyes over to her as She said it, but she couldn’t see from his expression if he was interested, skeptical, or what.
“Wow, badass.” Clockblocker sighed. “Oh da—dang. I just realized I didn’t catch your name. Pantheia as the team name, huh?”
Something about his voice had her frowning.
“Yeah, Pantheia, like Pantheon. We went with a Greek mythology theme.” Alec said. “I’m Eos, this is Isis.”
“I have literally never heard of those gods before. Goddesses?” Kid Win said to himself. “Granted, I’ve never taken any classes that covered Greek mythology.”
“Wow, goddesses. Best team ever.” Clockblocker threw up two thumbs up. “I too have never heard of your most esteemed namesakes.”
“Eos is the goddess of the dawn.” Alec said absently. “Dawn as another name; Aurora for the Romans. Hang on, there’s a group of people ahead, unmoving.”
“Call it in.” Triumph said at once.
They all paused as Kid Win shakily touched his radio, reporting in.
They were at the tail end of the ‘boardwalk’, well away from the popular shops and restaurants.
“This is close to our turnaround point.” Clockblocker told her quietly, taking several pieces of paper from—somewhere. “If we were likely to see any issues, it’d be here.”
“Any sign of a cape?” Triumph asked Alec.
“No, not that I can tell.” He flicked a purple pony-tail over one shoulder impatiently, fiddling with his taser scepter.
“We’re cleared to check it out and engage if there’s no hostile capes.” Kid Win reported.
“If it’s just unpowered gang members or teenagers up to no good, five parahumans is a little bit overkill.” Triumph said with amusement. “Still, better too many of us than too few.”
“Eos, how many are we looking at?” Taylor asked.
It took Alec a moment to respond to the name and he got a faraway look in his eyes, head tilting.
“Eight. Three on one side of the alley, five on the other. Two of those are closer to the middle, across from each other.”
“Sounds like a potential drug deal.” Triumph said. “If they’re unpowered we need to be very careful in terms of force, but wary for weapons. If someone pulls a gun specifically we’re to disengage and find cover. Clockblocker, freeze your costume immediately if needed.”
The five capes walked to the mouth of the alley.
Instead of a drug deal, it was immediately apparent that it was punk kids who were graffitiing the walls with cans of spray paint, with two on ‘lookout’ at the mouth of each alley.
“Shit, heroes!” One of them yelled, and suddenly paint cans were being kicked as the kids scrambled away from the capes, bolting for the other end of the alley.
“Lily, Baigon, Hinagiku! Santen Kesshun, I reject!”
The three fairies flew in a blindingly fast eruption of light, hitting the middle of the alley entrance together and then splitting into four points of light, carrying the edges of the shield into a square. It blocked their escape almost instantly.
One of the kids smacked hard into it, dropping to the ground with a scream; the others scrambled back and fell in their haste to avoid touching it.
Taylor stood with a hand raised, thrown out as she chanted and left there.
Triumph did something that resulted in a low sound permeating the alley and a few of the vandals tripping at once.
Clockblocker slipped in and started tapping shoes, freezing them where they were and zip-tying hands behind backs with a smooth, fluid ease.
“Aw, I don’t think I should tase the punks.” Alec said with a pout audible yet invisible behind his face mask of the evening.
“Probably an inappropriate show of force, yes.” Triumph put a hand on Kid Win’s shoulder, nudging him. “You can go help Clockblocker detain the rest, except for the one with the broken nose.”
“Oops.” Taylor said faintly. “If it helps, I can heal that.”
“In most situations as a healer you’d be required to get tested first, such as if you went to the hospital or the PRT with the intention to heal. Combat situations you’re a part of are an exception to that, provided you get consent from the victim to heal or an arrested individual is injured to a certain extent. You’ll have to look up the specifics.”
“Noted.” Taylor said, walking over to the guy who was still clutching his face and cursing, blood running between his hands.
“Hello, you and your friends are still in trouble, but I’m a healer and can fix your nose up for you.”
“Really?” The voice was somewhere between skeptical and hopeful. A defeated slump to the kid’s shoulders had her mentally dropping his age a point or two. “Okay.”
“Shun’o, Ayame. Sōten Kisshun, I reject.” The lights flung out, arrows of power, and coalesced into an elongated dome covering part of his face—not unlike a rebreather.
He didn’t remove his hands so the blood vanished from them as well, only taking about a minute before the entire thing was healed. Taylor stepped back, task accomplished. The barrier at the end of the alley had faded at some point, all her fairies back with her.
“Ch.” Tsubaki said with disgust. “Not even worth my time.”
Was it her imagination, or did the little fairy seem disappointed?
He was the only one who wasn’t part of a shield, and the only one who she hadn’t got to see in action.
Actually, that was something to rectify, surely?
Then again, she’d only manifested the healing shroud once she needed it. His time would come. Taylor simply hadn’t been in a fight that was worth testing out her sixth fairy’s threats.
“Now,” Triumph said, for her and Alec’s benefit as much as Kid Win’s. “We’ve already called this in, so the police will be here soon. A PRT representative—not a squad– will also be here because of parahuman involvement—ours. Mostly to liaise between us and the BBPD to make sure all the paperwork is completed properly.”
“Ah, paperwork.” Clockblocker said wistfully. “The bane of heroes everywhere. Excellent form by the way, ladies.”
He once more gave a thumbs up to their team.
“Technically,” Triumph continued, “We don’t have the authority to arrest and Mirandize non-parahumans. We’re therefore making a citizen’s arrest and waiting for the appropriate authorities.”
“Technically,” Clockblocker echoed cheerfully, “Wards don’t have the authority to arrest parahumans, either; that’s also a citizen’s arrest until a member of the Protectorate or the PRT can take over.”
“Fascinating.” Alec deadpanned, causing Clock’s shoulders to droop just a little, and the conversation turned towards how to collect evidence—even for ‘minor’ crimes such as vandalism.
Soon enough a few squad cars arrived, which confused Taylor until she realized it wasn’t for the severity of the crime but rather a logistics concern; eight bodies, three cars.
Additionally, as promised, a PRT liaison arrived and got their statements, rather than the police. She was a short, no-nonsense woman with cropped blonde hair, and a black suit. Not the usual get-up Taylor had expected from the PRT, who often wore riot gear on TV.
“—may yet have gang affiliation; that’s for the BBPD to figure out.” Triumph was saying, when Taylor wandered back over.
Taylor and Alec’s portion of the after-action report, collected on-scene, was honestly just the woman asking what had happened. They explained casually, and yet the PRT liaison transmuted that information neatly.
“Want to see?” She asked, seeing them looking at her clipboard with interest. Taylor nodded.
“Affiliated independent hero Eos of Pantheia detected suspicious grouping of people in an alley. Investigation revealed vandalism in progress.” She read aloud. “Affiliated independent hero Isis of Pantheia stopped fleeing perpetrators using a barrier forcefield. One perpetrator was injured after running directly into the barrier, suffering a broken nose. Isis secured consent and provided healing to the perpetrator, minor Kevin Golgeist.”
“That’s it?” Alec asked, surprised at the minimality of paperwork.
“You’d have more as a Ward.” Clockblocker said with an overdramatic shudder.
“Extra glad I didn’t join up then.”
“In a bigger incident or one that involved criminal parahumans, you’d be asked to deliver a verbal or written report.” The liaison explained easily enough. “Rarely, independents are asked to come to the PRT building itself to de-brief.”
“Eh, about half the time, for New Wave.” Clockblocker again made a so-so gesture. “Brockton Bay has an unusually high level of cape conflict for a city this size, due to all the gangs.”
Some of that explanation was for Kid Win’s benefit, who nodded attentively.
“Pantheia. Thank you for your cooperation.” The liaison, Lieutenant Fields, said professionally. “I’d like to give you these. Please use them when appropriate.”
She handed them a series of printed brochures, most of which contained information they’d picked up from the paperwork filled out previously, but some of it was new. A list of helpful phone numbers, for one, as well as when to call which.
“In your solo operations, please call the BBPD or PRT as needed to report engagements, secure prisoners, and feed into our overall intelligence picture.”
“We will, thank you.” Taylor said, tucking them away awkwardly in a pocket.
That was another note—they needed a backpack or something for being handed things.
“Isis, as you healed someone today, we will be in contact if there are any unforeseen side effects.” She paused. “Officially, the PRT recommends coming in for testing of that ability and potential licensing as a parahuman healer.”
“I’ve already reached out to the PRT regarding that.” Taylor said for the second time that night. For also the second time, she got the assurance that someone would be enquiring to potentially push that response timeline forward.
Clockblocker volunteered to give both Taylor and Alec his Wards phone number in a mostly professional way, with only a hint of flirting. Meta-flirting, almost, as he did mention it was for hero-related reasons but with a bit of an amused air at the situation being similar to getting ‘two pretty girls’ phone number’, which he even went to far as to acknowledge.
“Don’t be a stranger.” Clockblocker told Alec in particular, causing Taylor’s teammate to blink quickly as the only tell that he was actually surprised.
After the last of the scene was cleaned up and all prisoners transported, they parted ways. Taylor and Alec went back to the gas-station-turned-base-of-operations and got dressed in their civilian clothes again, before Taylor went home for the day.
–
Taylor’s week was abnormal.
Instead of going to school, Monday was spent decompressing and coming to terms with her future.
Tuesday was spent on patrol with Alec and then a surprising number of Wards, while Wednesday…
Wednesday, Taylor starts making a plan to study. She pulls what publicly available information she can find about the GED test, prints it off, and heads to the gas station.
Still no sign of anyone else accessing the back door between the two adjacent dumpsters, and she pushes it open with familiarity. She eyes the dusty and empty front room—the ‘store’ part when it had been functional—and grimaces.
If you came in from the front, the doors which are boarded up like the windows, you’d see the front room. Behind a counter which used to house a cash register, there’s a doorway leading to the backdoor that now serves as their entrance.
Along the hallway, the bathroom door, and the door to the break room now repurposed into a bedroom—without the bed. It doesn’t have a sink, but there’s a divot in the counter where one might have lived, now just a hole.
No microwave or anything else. No refrigerator.
The other door in the hallway leads to a ‘cargo room’ of sorts that’s empty aside from card board boxes and various debris. Likely where supplies were stored to refill the shelves. She hadn’t been in there, only looked into the room out of curiosity.
She walked to the doorway of Alec’s makeshift bedroom and knocked on the wall. He was completely curled up in the sleeping bag, only the sliver of one forearm visible.
“Hey.” Taylor said loudly. He only groaned, the entire sleeping bag rolling over.
“Come on, I brought breakfast.”
Grudgingly, a head of dark curls emerged, the sleeping bag retreating to just over his nose—baleful blue eyes narrowed over the hem of it.
“Cahurrnnaf” He said, which she generously translated to ‘What did you make me for breakfast?’
Alec’s true love in life was food, a fact which Taylor leveraged with strategic might.
“Bacon. Mmm.” She waved a brown bag to-and-fro, hoping the scent would waft towards him.
“Alright, fine.” Alec grumbled in a voice rendered deep and scratchy with sleep. His eyes still weren’t open all the way. He shuffled around, apparently finding the sleeping bag’s zip, because suddenly the cocoon started unravelling—and Taylor whipped around quickly at the first sign of pale skin emerging.
A small squeak may or may not have escaped her throat as she squinted her eyes shut.
Alec’s little laugh followed her, barely loud enough to shake the air, clearly under his breath and not meant to travel. Of course he found her reaction funny, the jerk.
A yawn followed, along with the sounds of someone sluggishly moving across the floor, kicking things here and there.
“So, I was thinking,” Taylor said, when he was dressed—grudgingly in both a shirt and pajama pants, instead of bare-chested as he preferred—and they sat across from each other, eating breakfast.
“Mmmhm?” Alec’s bedhead was a riot of curls, unbrushed. The shirt he wore was too large for him, collar wide and exposing some shoulder.
“My healing power, right? It fixed that woman’s clothes.”
“Huh.” Alec swallowed his mouthful, looked mournfully at the rest of his bacon sandwich, and manfully spoke before taking another bite. “You think it might repair stuff?”
“That’s my thought. I came up with a list of ideas to try.”
“Can’t you just ask your power? It talks to you, yeah?” Restraint expended, Alec tore back into his sandwich, devouring the rest of it in a few bites.
Crumbs stuck to his mouth. Taylor grimaced and looked away. Ugh.
“I guess I could.” She hadn’t really thought of it that way. “Usually they wait until I’ve actually discovered a new part of the power to tell me things, though. Huh.”
“Well, try out your ideas and if it doesn’t work, ask them then.” Alec shrugged. “The worst they can say is ‘no.’”
“… I guess.” Taylor repeated. She played with the edges of her notebook before flipping it over to the page.
“Alright, test one. Can I heal myself?” She marked it down. “I wear glasses so that’s what I’ll test. Instead of something crazy like giving myself a cut or burn.”
Alec watched as she went through the chant, a small golden bubble encasing the top part of her head. When it faded, Taylor squinted around.
“Okay, I can see without my glasses. So, that worked. Are you hurt anywhere? I can try to heal it.”
He shrugged.
“No, not really. I mean, want to try removing a scar?” He held up a hand, twisting to show a thin white line going down the heel of his palm and around.
“Not on my list but good idea. What happened, and how old is it?”
“Surprise game of Knife Catch.”
“What?”
Alec snorted.
“One of my psycho little siblings was being a shithead.” He held out the hand and Taylor took a more careful look at the scar. “I caught the knife, though.”
His hand was soft in hers. Surprisingly delicate, no other blemish aside from the thin white line. She traced it carefully, then flipped his hand over and traced down the side of his forearm.
“It was about four years ago.” Alec said, voice unconcerned. He wasn’t impatient or uncomfortable, seeming to let his hand rest with her as long as she needed.
Finally, Taylor repeated the chant again.
The scar disappeared, leaving unblemished skin behind.
Alec whistled.
“So what I’m hearing is, you could probably do some crazy plastic surgery work for people who like, got half their faces melted off.”
“Seems that way.” Taylor was frowning in thought. Plastic surgery, sure, but healing someone who was that dramatically injured? There surely had to be some limit.
“Alright, next, torn clothes.” She cleared her throat. “Any test subjects?”
“I ripped my shirt for bandages in the alley that night.” Alec got up with only minor grumbling and went to his little pile of clean clothes.
“J’en ai marre!” He snapped as he didn’t find what he was looking for, something in French, only to grumble hotly under his breath: “Je vais poutain de coucher avec ta femme…”
It did not sound polite.
Then he walked to the bathroom, emerging a moment later.
“I forgot I didn’t want to go through the effort to wash this one, since it was fucked up. Still with the dirty laundry.” He held up the garment, a black, long sleeved sweater with part of the stomach piece missing from the hem up.
Taylor remembered pressing the fabric into a bullet wound, screaming and crying. She shivered.
“Alright. Ayame, Shun’o– Sōten Kisshun, I reject.” Her resolve strengthened, focused on making the shirt whole again. The twin pinpricks of light shot out, forming a shroud.
The material was made whole before their eyes.
“Okay, bullshit.” Alec said, after feeling the fabric with long, pale fingers. “Your power made mass out of nowhere. It’s still soft, look.”
Taylor felt it, surprised at the quality. It felt expensive.
“… It’s clean.” She said, looking over the entire sweater. An understatement: it looked brand new. “I thought you said it was dirty?”
“Maybe your power is like a dry-cleaning service.” Alec perked up. “Actually, maybe it’s repairing them like new. Like, to the condition it was when I got it. Or shit maybe the condition it was when it was made.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch.” Taylor frowned, pondering the implications.
“Do the rest of my clothes. I can’t stand having to wash them, anyway. If I had money I’d buy new every time instead of doing laundry.” He shuddered theatrically.
Taylor rolled her eyes at the exaggeration. She gamely walked over and repeated the spellchant at first his clothes, then his sleeping bag, and at seemingly every single one of his possessions.
“The only reason I’m not protesting is because this is good practice.” She warned him.
He didn’t care.
“Do the backpack next. It’s raggedy. I haven’t put anything in it since that hole wore into the bottom.”
“Let’s see if I can just repair the hole and not make the entire thing new.” She decided, wondering at the limitations.
She did the backpack, focusing on not repairing it to new, but to… hmm, restoring it to how it was right before Alec stopped using it. Light flared out, enveloping the bag.
Alec paused immediately, a strange stillness coming over him.
“Taylor… the backpack just got heavier.”
“What? Why? Is the hole fixed?”
They both looked at it. The hole was fixed, but the empty backpack wasn’t empty anymore. Alec unzipped it, demonstrating the contents.
Inside was a strange plethora of things—snacks, jewelry, more clothes and a little handheld gaming device.
“What the fuck? Did my power somehow make things?” She reached out and it was all solid.
Alec was wide-eyed.
“This was all stuff that was in the backpack before it got a hole in it.” He said. “I pawned some of this stuff back in—it doesn’t matter. This is my old Gameboy.”
He picked it up, powered it on, and stared.
“My save file is still here.”
Taylor giggled a bit nervously. “UM.” She said, louder than intended.
She and Alec exchanged a look. Alec abruptly dumped the entire bag out at their feet. Taylor cursed and stepped back, things rattling against her shoes.
Alec’s eyes were wide.
“Taylor. ‘Repair’ the backpack to how it was thirty seconds ago.”
She stared at him.
“No. Come on. That’s not going to…”
Taylor called her fairies. Performed the spell.
Alec opened the backpack.
Inside was jewelry, clothing, snacks and a game boy.
They looked at their feet, where the same clothing was spilled out. The same snacks. The same jewelry.
Alec sat down with a thud.
“So anyway I don’t think we’ll have money problems anymore.” He managed shrilly.
“There’s got to be a limit.” Taylor’s own voice was faint. “Come on, I mean… what if we put diamonds in a bag and ‘repaired’ it over and over again.”
A hysterical giggle wormed its way out of Alec’s throat.
“Is it too late to be villains? Because I’d be a villain for that, honestly. Just to see.”
Taylor stared at the contents of the bag—identical—and then at the ceiling for a little bit. A part of her brain was screaming.
“Oh, fuck!” Alec abruptly scrambled to his feet. “Come on, come on.”
Startled, Taylor allowed herself to be pulled up, his hand warm in hers. He tugged her around the pile of stuff and to the doorway, and then into the empty front room of the gas station.
“What…?” She asked, as he looked around.
“Taylor. How big can you make your shroud?”
“As… big as it needs to… no. Come on, that’s crazy.”
“Is it? Is it crazy? Powers are bullshit and yours are apparently nonsense. Why wouldn’t it work?”
He shook their hands lightly.
“Actually, let’s go to the doorway. Don’t include the windows or the doors, we need them boarded up. If this works, anyway…”
“I should ask my fairies.”
“Nah, what if they say no? Just go with it. The whole room, minus the doors and windows.”
His eyes were uncharacteristically bright. She found herself swept up in the excitement, even though it was… just bullshit. Just so much bullshit.
Taylor performed the spell. The room changed, becoming less dusty. Some boxes moved around. Two more shelving units appeared.
Alec breathed out a disappointed sigh as the shroud faded.
“I guess that wouldn’t have been too crazy…” He laughed without humor.
“Alec.” Taylor said, a bit numbly. “When was the gas station boarded up?”
“Um… a few years ago. But you’re not really turning back time, right? The thing you do—‘I reject.’ It’s like rejecting how it is now, wanting it how it was.”
“Okay.” Taylor took a breath. “I was thinking just now about turning it back to before you got here. But that’s not it, right? Because before you got here, it was still abandoned. I want it how it was at the height of its… glory, whatever.”
“Right. So you’re ‘rejecting’… the emptiness? The abandoned-ness?” Alec played with her fingers absently. “Conceptual powers are weird. Does it really matter how you think of it?”
“I think… it really does.” She took a deeper breath, planting her feet. “I have to be specific about what I’m rejecting.”
“Ayame, Shun’o. Sōten Kisshun, I reject.” Taylor said sternly, summoning the spell a second time. The shroud covered the room. In an explosion of color, things appeared on the empty shelves—wrappers, snacks, candy, chips. Machines materialized, microwaves, freezers, drink dispensers. Refrigerators lined the walls, stocked with soft drinks and beer.
The shimmer washed over the room in a wave, starting at the bottom and rising up, leaving bounty in its wake. The shield broke, leaving a fully functioning convenience store behind.
Taylor jerked hard, doubling over. She was abruptly exhausted, panting for breath.
Alec walked over to a large display, a refrigerated open-air shelving unit with gas station plastic containers—fruit, cake, sushi, sandwiches and more.
He picked up a container of mixed fruit, popped it open, and tried a strawberry. It gushed on his tongue, real and full of flavor. He looked around the room at the rest of it. There was a microwave. A sink. A hot dog machine rotating cheerfully, stocked with hot dogs.
Carefully, Alec set the fruit container down again and walked over with a trembling frame. He picked up both of Taylor’s hands in his and looked at her with an oddly intent look.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but if you were into it I could kiss you right now. What the fuck.” He said the last part wonderingly.
Taylor blushed hard, mind going blank.
“Um! Um.” She said, intelligently.
Alec sighed, letting one hand go to pat her shoulder.
“We are set.” He said, grinning. “Oh, my god. We need to pawn some jewelry. And diamonds. We need to find so many diamonds.”
He stepped past her down the hall, cackling to himself: “Diamonds!”
Taylor briefly reconsidered telling her dad she was a cape.
–
Wednesday afternoon, they had shifted back to a focus on homeschooling, so she could truthfully tell her dad she’d worked on it if he asked. Alec wasn’t really interested in learning in general. He picked up a few of her textbooks with idle curiosity, and she successfully argued he should at least be aware of the subjects they were allegedly studying.
Taylor had set up ‘shop’ at the break room table, newly rematerialized by her power. Alec’s sleeping bag was now on the far side of the room, since there was now a table and three chairs where it had previously been.
It was now next to a full-sized refrigerator. The cabinets lining the walls had been likewise reconstituted, so he was using them to store his clothes and belongings.
The fridge—and its freezer– were now full of perishable food from the gas station front room, since there was no way he could eat it all in a day and her power didn’t keep it frozen in time.
Thursday sees her walking to that same table, still littered with textbooks, and thinking of how to get internet. It’s early and she’s exhausted, having come up with the frankly horrible idea to jog to get in shape.
She’d only managed about a quarter of a mile on the way to the gas station and promptly walked to a bus stop for the rest of the trip.
Alec is asleep and for once she chooses not to wake him.
Taylor sets up at the same chair from studying yesterday, going with math this morning. It’s a bit remedial as she hasn’t exactly paid attention to any of her classes at Winslow in weeks.
There’s light enough to read by despite the lack of natural light; she’d turned on the hall light and left the ‘bedroom’ door open, so a cut of it slants through into the room, illuminating the textbook.
It’s oddly quiet with the room lights off and Alec’s breathing barely audible. Taylor briefly feels like an intruder, an interloper—is it weird to be here while he sleeps?
Then again, he likes to sleep in, and she’s always waking him. Letting him wake up on his own seems like the polite thing to do. Even if it has her feeling like a creeper.
It was almost noon before he stirred.
Her heart stuttered for a moment—literally. She froze, wondering if it was weird that she hadn’t woken him up. Then it smoothed out and Alec groaned from inside the sleeping bag.
“Ugh, Taylor?”
Right, sensor. He’d probably known she was here as soon as he regained consciousness. She was lucky coming into his range hadn’t woke him.
“Wanted to let you sleep in for once.” Taylor said, stifling the urge to apologize. She shook out her arm, feeling weirdly numb like it had pins and needles.
Alec hummed in aknowledgement, and she knew she was forgiven. He then went about making a plethora of other sleep-heavy groans and movements, waking up over the course of several minutes.
When he climbed out of the sleeping bag, Taylor kept her gaze focused casually on the page in front of her, though she wasn’t reading it.
“Did you have any plans for today?” She asked.
Alec yawned.
“I want to go shopping.” He said readily, words slow with lethargy. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a shimmying motion, likely him pulling on—
Nope, clearly she was seeing too much.
She closed her eyes.
“Good news, by the way. The cash register had cash in it. We’ll probably get fucked up by the PRT, Protectorate and the literal Secret Service if we repeat that trick, but the bills should be safe to use this one time as long as we mix them up with others.” Another yawn. The refrigerator opened and then closed.
“Wait, really?” Taylor said, looking over out of habit. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt and she sighed.
“Mm. I pawned some of the jewelry already so we’ve at least got an influx of other bills to mix them up with. Also, it’s not much cash, so hopefully the PRT gets back to you soon about healing, or we get other shit on the horizon.”
“I did get an email.” Taylor said. “It was basically a formality offering me two choices. Non-local capes are apparently brought to Panacea—after a short but thorough round of PRT power testing, to weed out liars or time-wasters, I presume—”
“Naturally.” Alec drawled. “I’m not going anywhere near PRT power testing, though.”
His voice took on a hard glint.
“Of course.” She didn’t want to, either. “The easier option for a local is to reach out to a local hospital and one of her medical liason’s—Panacea’s, I mean. I’m a registered local independent, so I can sign up with an appointment. Panacea will be there, but I don’t know what all we’ll be doing. If you come, you might just be moral support.”
“That’s fine then. I’ll stay here and keep my phone on me.” Alec leaned both forearms on the back of the chair across from her, tilting it back with his weight. And his bare chest.
Taylor looked up at the ceiling and Alec laughed softly, almost under his breath.
“Do you mind?” She finally said.
He rose an eyebrow—she was looking again. Damn.
“Do you? This is technically my bedroom, but I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Ass.” Taylor said, face pink. “Put on some clothes.”
“Does my fair countenance disturb the lady?” A grin in his voice now.
“Fair—ugh. Oh my god.” Taylor laughed despite herself. “If the lord would clothe himself, all virtue can be maintained.”
A snort of laughter.
“I did not threaten your virtue.” He said, landing the chair back onto all fours and rolling his eyes. “I haven’t gotten dressed because I’m not sure if I’m going to be Alec or Alex for our shopping trip. What do you think?”
Taylor choked.
“Um!” She said loudly. “I guess… that’s up to you? Are you planning to buy girl clothes or boy clothes?”
“A little of both, but I guess the ‘boy’ clothes I get are feminine enough that ‘Alex’ could wear them. We’re the same size, after all.” As he spoke, he wandered over to where he kept his clothes.
“Obviously.”
“But if I just wear jeans, is that ‘girly’ enough? Don’t I just look like a boy in a wig?”
Taylor shuffled a little uncomfortably in her chair.
Finally, she took a breath and forced her gaze over, to where a shirtless and pantsless Alec was looking at an array of options—skirt, blouse, jeans, and a t-shirt.
All jokes about ‘fair countenance’ aside, he was beautiful in a way Taylor would never be.
“What all do you do for Eos?” She asked, trying to push aside inappropriate thoughts. “I know about the makeup, and you wear a skirt, which almost always reads ‘feminine.’ And— and the other thing.”
“Taylor, I literally wear your bra, talking about it can’t be more embarrassing than the act itself.” Wry amusement again, he grinned over his shoulder at her. But a pronounced lack of shame.
“Easy for you to say! You don’t get embarrassed.”
“I do.” Alec claimed, before growing more serious. “A little bit, anyway. I… I don’t feel things normally. Emotions are… muted.”
“Oh.” Taylor said. “That must be… hard.”
“Yeah.” He reached into the cabinet and pulled out a smaller piece of fabric. “It can be easy to… chase them. Fall into abject hedonism and look for greater and greater ‘hits’ of emotion. Some things give stronger feelings than others.”
Alec sat down in a chair and dropped the bra in his lap. He exhaled, a quirk of a smile.
“Then again I don’t think I can feel shame for something like this. A little embarrassed, maybe.” He licked his lips. “If I try.”
A touch of pink stole into his cheeks, barely, as he made direct eye contact.
Taylor couldn’t believe the audacity. Her face burned.
Alec maintained eye contact like a dare as he slipped the band behind his chest and fastened it, raising the straps over his arms.
“It’s novel to be so concerned over something so small.” He said, finally looking away and giving Taylor a second to breathe. With nonchalance he slid the bra into place and glanced over his shoulder at the shiny steel fridge, catching a muddied reflection.
“Do… you pack it with toilet paper or what?” Taylor finally asked.
It was a black bra so it stood out with perfect contrast against his milk-pale skin. It matched his boxers which were also black, like a set.
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Alec complained, face twisting up, and the tension of the room dropped almost all at once. “I need some fake tits somewhere. They sell those, surely. Why don’t you have push-up bras?”
“Honestly? I don’t like the hit to my self-esteem.” Taylor let herself laugh a little. “Also, buy your own bras instead of complaining.”
“Maybe I will.” Alec fluttered his eye lashes at her. “Wanna help me pick out something sexy?”
Taylor looked around for ammunition and, finding a handy pencil, lobbed it at him.
“You don’t need sexy. You need functional. And something to go with your costume.”
“Oh, speaking of.” Alec tugged a blouse over his head with a distinctly masculine flair, more jerks and shrugs than delicate. “We should probably find something more Greek-like than your short shorts and my skirt.”
“The costume budget is not robust.” Taylor reminded him. “When we get set up, we can get something permanent. You were looking on PHO, right?”
“Yeah, there’s a surprising amount of freelance capes who make costumes. Downside is I’m not sure who’s legit or not, yet. Maybe the Protectorate will have some advice.”
Taylor looked over and saw Alec had put on a pair of jeans after all. With the unstuffed bra on under his shirt he looked like a girl who was just a little ‘flat’—like her.
The short hair was incongruous, still giving off androgyne rather than proper femininity.
“So the blonde wig for ‘Alex’?” She asked, clearing her throat.
Alec grinned and looked downright pretty.
“Yeah. I’m kind of excited. Is that weird? I get a kick out of this.”
“No yeah I can tell.” Taylor considered it. “I don’t think it’s too weird. It’s not something people do but… it doesn’t bother me, at least.”
“Good enough for me.” Alec shrugged fluidly. “I’m not really concerned with anyone else’s opinion, as long as I ‘pass.’”
Taylor was turning that over in her head as he left the room, headed for the bathroom. Pass as in a grade? Like a good score on dressing in girl’s clothing?
When Alec emerged, ‘she’ was ‘Alex’. The wig was styled impressively, as Taylor had come to expect from her teammate, this time in a low ponytail. The chest looked natural, a subtle roundness that managed to make his hips and waist slant towards ‘definitely feminine’.
Which brought up a good point.
“Should I call you a girl when you’re dressed like this?”
Alec shrugged.
“I’m not particularly attached to any pronouns.” He said nonsensically. “Probably better for the cover if you use she/her when I’m dressed like this, though. If you’re asking if I get dysphoria over it—no. It’s actually—nevermind.”
“So… call you a girl? Just like when you’re Eos?” Taylor had understood maybe one word out of five in that, and tried not to be defensive about it.
“Yes, Taylor.” He said, rolling his eyes. “Call me a girl—out loud, anyway. Your friend Alex.”
He looked good with blonde hair. You’d think the color would clash, since he was so pale, but it didn’t. Alec sauntered over, perfectly confident. He was also wearing makeup, again the witchcraft that made Alec’s jaw into something softer and his nose smaller.
It made Taylor abruptly aware that she wasn’t wearing makeup.
“Should I wear—that?” She asked, gesturing at her own face.
“Hmm? Why, do you want to?” Alec asked without judgement.
“I know I’m not exactly…” Taylor trailed off and Alec just waited, staring blankly.
“You’re not… what?”
Taylor huffed. “Are you going to make me say it?”
“Say what?” A hint of frustration in his tone.
“I’m all—this.” Taylor gestured to her face again. “Not, you know, pretty.”
“Are you… asking me for a complement?” Alec finally said, amused. “You can just ask outright. I don’t mind giving praise.”
“What? No, I’m saying I—I know how I look, alright?”
“Unbelievable.” Alec came over, stopping a few feet away. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach out.
“You’re fine.” He said. “I don’t think anyone should wear makeup unless they like it. I’m only doing it for the—y’know, gender of it all.”
Eyes rolled, one hand waving to emphasize his point. Alec caught a glance at his own nails and frowned.
“I think nail polish while we’re out, definitely.”
“You’ll have to keep it simple.” Taylor said, glad to have something solid to stand on after so much nonsense. “Maybe French tips, believable enough that Eos could have it too without you being the same person.”
“Ha, French tips.” Amusement flickered over his face. Taylor remembered the cursing of yesterday, and that he spoke French. “Eos wears gloves, but I agree. Are you ready to go?”
“Sure.”