Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Country Club Auto Heist

Summary: Taylor’s first job, to satisfy the cravings and serve her longer term plans. She goes car shopping, living as the closest approximation to a hero that she can get. 

January 14th 2011

Outside Verdant Hills Country Club, Brockton Bay

I ducked into a culvert nearby the Verdant Hills Country Club. The club was close to the Hills, one of the nicer parts of Brockton Bay, and there were a few green belts to hide the drainage ditches, and to insulate the nice parts from the rest of the city. 

As though the club wasn’t part of the city. 

As though they were a step above everyone else. 

And they kinda were. It’s why I chose to go car shopping here.

I entered the culvert in my regular Taylor clothing. I summoned my Active Deck of fourteen cards. And I chose the one named Jeton’s Mask, examining it briefly. 

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, and I gave myself a last minute pep talk. 

I had to do this. If not here, then somewhere else. I didn’t have a choice, not really. And if it was my only choice, then it wasn’t a wrong choice. It was my only choice. There was a big difference between the two. 

What I was going to do wasn’t wrong. I was one of the good guys. I was a hero. 

Another deep breath. I was ready.

I examined the card once more. It was surrounded by a blue border, signifying its rarity. The card was larger than a playing card, instead the size of a Tarot card. The back was decorated by a white theater mask crying pips, and the front was the artwork of what the card would summon.

This card showed my costume. 

With a thought, I activated the card. All of the cards in my Active Deck were a thought away. In a flash of smoke, my clothes disappeared and were replaced by my resplendent costume.

From past examinations, I knew I looked awesome in my outfit, up there with the best of the best of the best. Maybe even better than Glory Girl, though that would be a tough call. Glory Girl was pretty awesome too.

I had a white mask that left one cheek and one half of my forehead uncovered. The mask covered the eyes, and was decorated in golden pips and filigree. I had a black hooded cloak with a red interior, it was made of almost velvet, and the color reversed when the hood was drawn back. But my favorite part, other than the mask and the cloak, was the jacket. It was red and velvet, with golden buttons and black lapels. It went all the way down to my hips. It left some cleavage showing, which granted wasn’t much, but it was the thought that counted. And then I had my charcoal leggings and supple black leather boots.

Like I said, I looked pretty amazing.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if people gawked and stared and mobbed me for my autograph as I strolled out from the culvert, all the confidence in the world. I was going to do this. I was going to go car shopping.

The awe-inspiring Tariocchi would not be consigned to walking or buses. Her fans would suffer nothing less, and she refused to disappoint and fail to deliver.

I stepped onto the long driveway leading up to the Verdant Hills Country Club, waving at the few people I saw passing in their luxury vehicles. But before I reached the club proper, I turned off to the valet parking lot. As I reached it, an attendant came out to speak with me.

“Excuse me miss,” said the attendant, a young man wearing a nice (but not as nice as mine) red jacket. He came up, likely hoping for an autograph.

“My apologies!” I said. “But this humble performer must turn her attention to the Act. Find me after the show, and I may grace you with my autograph or some other memorabilia.”

“Huh, what?” The attendant said, likely overcome with my presence. “No, that’s not it. This area is for employees only, you need to leave.”

“And I shall!” I said, sweeping my arms wide in a bow. “After I conclude the Act. Now, where did I place my shopping list?” I began patting down my pockets.

“-not paid enough for this,” the attendant grumbled, heading off and talking into a radio.

“Find me after the show!” I called after him. I finally found my list. It had been exactly where I left it, in my infinite wisdom. Right in my jacket’s front left pocket. “Ah here it is!” I said, even though none was there to observe. The show is the show however, regardless of audience.

On my list, I recognized Taylor’s scrawled handwriting. I supposed that I was technically Taylor. But it was easier for me to think of myself as Tariocchi than Taylor. Taylor would be a quivering mess of nerves if she were to ever try performing on stage. Which was a problem, as all the world was a stage.

Shopping List: (3) sports cars. Red or Black preferred. Smaller the better.

That would not be so difficult. I strolled into the valet parking lot. The lot was not near so large as I had hoped however, and the pickings were slim. There were a few sports cars, but mostly it was luxury sedans, a few SUVs, and an odd cadillac. Someone even had a Hummer. It was surreal finding myself amidst such wealth. I was almost distracted from my performance.

My first candidate was a camaro. It fit most of my criteria. It was small and sporty. However, it was neither red nor black, and I doubted Taylor had wanted to paint it, though it was still a possibility, so I put it down as a maybe.

A few cars down, I found a silver Porsche. And while not black, I felt that silver was a subset of black, and so I decided to buy it.

I put a hand on the car and felt it. I felt my Cardstuff flow over it, near instantaneous for small stuff, but not for things the size of cars. I really had to put my all into it for those few seconds. But in the end, I was rewarded. The silver Porsche disappeared into my Card Space, and I could feel the new card within. It wasn’t in my Active Deck, not yet. I would have to play around with it later if I were to put it there.

Now that the Porsche was mine, however, I would need to pay for it. 

While there was nothing forcing me to pay, I held myself to a higher standard, and I was not a thief. I was a hero.

I pulled a card from my auxiliary deck, a legendary Hot Wheels lamborghini, and I left it in the parking spot.

Onto more shopping. I walked through the rest of the lot, and only found one more car that mostly fit my criteria. It was a bright red Mustang. It really wasn’t the sportiest, but I supposed it would be maybe good enough? I really didn’t want to trade one of my good cards for it though. Maybe a Rare? I looked through my auxiliary deck to see if I had anything that matched it.

Oh, this will do. I filled the Mustang with Cardstuff (which took longer than the Porsche) and then stuffed it into Card Space. It felt good, like filling a hole I hadn’t realized was there. It almost always felt that way when I found something big and nice and new and I just really loved collecting everything.

But now I had to pay for it. Coming right up, one rare stuffed horse bean bag baby. I left the card for it in the parking spot. 

Now, I just needed to find one last car.

Of course, all the while I was working, there were a few valet workers admiring my performance. Several had phones out, and more than a couple had been calling their friends. I think I even saw a security guard. No, scratch that, I definitely saw a security guard.

“Freeze where you are!” The security guard trained a gun on me. A second guard ran to stand beside him, panting to catch his breath, but also pulling a gun.

I surrounded myself with a buffer of Cardstuff and felt the comfort of the sparkling and glittering layer, almost like a second skin. I was confident. Taylor would have been terrified though and some of that fear almost leaked through. But I needed to show confidence. I was a hero, on a simple shopping trip, and entertaining the masses.

“Hello my adoring fans!” I said, bowing to them and waving at once.

“I said freeze! Hands in the air!”

I made a show of looking at the shopping list in my hand. “You know, I am glad that you came. I am having trouble finding the last item on my shopping list. Perhaps you could help me?” I frowned, taking a step towards them.

“L-last warning,” the first guard said, while the second opened fire.

Bullets pinged off the parking lot, shattered car windows, and a few hit me. The sounds were deafening. My Cardstuff grabbed the bullets before they could more than tickle me, throwing them into Card Space. They might be useful later, and the momentum was tasty.

I kept walking towards them, and the first guard opened fire. More bullets hit me, more bullets were converted to Cardstuff and carried into Card Space. Yum!

I finally reached them. One guard broke and ran, while the one who had been out of breath trembled, their knees knocking.

“Thank you for the Intermission snacks!” I said, distracted by his shaking knees. “I can tell you are excited,” I smiled, hoping to put my adoring fan at ease. “Let me help.” I reached out and tapped his gun, removing it from his hand and leaving him holding a fading afterimage of sparkles and pizazz. I felt the gun in my Card Space–it was actually my first hand gun that I had collected since I got my powers, so that was exciting ! I would never trade it, I decided.

“W-what are you going to do to me?” he asked. I ignored the puddle he was making. Why was he the one that was scared anyways? He was the one that discharged the firearm here. And besides, I was a hero! I decided to put his nerves at ease by giving my most winingsome smile.

“Give you an autograph of course!” I cheered. I didn’t have any paper, but I did have my shopping list written on the back of a receipt. “Just need to find a pen,” I muttered, checking my pockets, before finding one tucked in under my jacket’s lapel. “Here! Now, who should I make it out to?”

When the guard stuttered and I realized I wouldn’t be able to understand him, I saw he had a nametag that read ‘T. Herren’ 

“T T T…What names start with T?” I asked. I gave him another look over. “You really look like a Thom, with an ‘h.’”

I signed the receipt: 

To my adoring fan Thom with an h. 

-Tarocchi

There! I handed the signed receipt to him, but he didn’t grab it. Well, this was awkward. I ended up stuffing it into his chest pocket and patting it. 

Now back to shopping! I needed one more sporty vehicle. But the only one left was the original maybe, the off-colored camaro. I went up and put a hand on it. But just as I began pumping it full of Cardstuff, another fan arrived.

“Hands off my baby!” A middle aged man screamed, running through the throng of my audience to reach me. He had a paunch, but his immaculate wardrobe did a fantastic job hiding it, and emphasizing the gray wings through his hair. He would have looked fatherly and wise, had his face been less of a puce red.

I, of course, refused to be distracted from my performance, even though my fans were acting slightly unruly. I continued pumping the camaro with Cardstuff, filling it full of glamor and glitter, until it disappeared in a pop, leaving sparkles trailing to the ground before they disappeared.

“Greetings sir!” I turned my full attention to him. He froze, slack-jawed, awed by my performance. “I am prepared to make a trade for your fine vehicle, and might I ask who your tailor is?”

“-I don’t want a fucking trade, I want my goddamned car back!” He snarled, coming towards me with a menacing step.

I matched him with a step backwards. Amazing I may be, but he outweighed me by a hundred pounds, and I had no intention of harming my audience or temporary business associate.

I checked through my auxiliary deck for a card that he could use…and I found the perfect fit.

“Very well sir, here you go,” I said, handing him a card with a green border.

He stopped, looked at the card suspiciously. “What is this? I said I want my car back, not some stupid card, you goddamned menace–”

I had places to be, so I tossed the card at him. He jumped back and dodged it, letting it fall to the ground. I shrugged. He’d pick it up or he wouldn’t. It was time to go.

I began jogging backwards and jumped up onto a nearby sedan. I turned back to the onlookers.

“My fantastic audience, this humble performer bids you all farewell, until the next show!” I bowed, and then activated one of my cards from my Active Deck. Fog billowed out from me, covering the parking lot and audience, and then spilling out to cover most of the hill as well.

With my exit covered, I stepped off and jogged back to the culvert, which was just outside of the fog. As I stepped through the green belt of trees and bushes, following the trail which I suspected was left by stoners and smokers, I deactivated Jeton’s Mask, returning the card to my Active Deck.

My costume disappeared in a flash of smoke, replaced by my ordinary clothing.

Once the costume was gone, I fell to my knees, gasping for air, shaking all over as the nerves worked themselves out. I felt weak and could barely move. I had been shot at! I had stolen–traded–for sports cars worth more than my dad made in half a year.

And it had been a blast. I can’t remember having that much fun. And for the first time in two weeks, I felt satisfied. An itch had been scratched. I didn’t feel the need to steal everything I laid eyes on. I felt good. Really good.

I climbed back to my feet and started walking, laughing.

Eventually I heard a famous rumble approaching. I continued walking, forcing myself to act normal. Forcing myself to act as brave as Tarocchi would. And as Armsmaster rode by on his motorcycle, not even sparing me a glance, I started giggling all over again.

I could barely wait to get home and look at my new cards.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: I hate my flipping Power

Summary: Taylor unwinds from her heist and takes stock of her current situation. This chapter is largely self reflection, along with some Power experimentation. At the end, she sets off towards breakfast…

January 15th 2011

Hebert Residence, Saturday Morning

Today should have been a Good Day . 

But I could already feel the Itch when I woke up. I had just scratched that Itch yesterday, and in a big way, and already it was back. It was maddening. My Power was making me into someone else, someone I never would have wanted to be, someone my mom would have been ashamed of. 

And there was nothing I could do about it.

Oh, I suppose there were things that I could have done. I could have thrown myself at the mercy of the PRT and hope that the Asylum they shipped me off to was pleasant. I could have begged succor from the gangs and let them abuse myself and my Power. And when the particularities of my Power became known to them? I could hope that they had the patience to put up with me. But gangs and patience? They never went hand in hand.

So what was left? … Try to ignore the ever worsening Itch?

Ha. Laughable.

I had tried doing that, ignoring it. 

The first week after the *ugh* incident. I had done my best, my very best. But soon all I could think of was filling that ever hungry hole that is my Card Space. It got bad enough that things were going missing around me. My pillow disappeared that first night. That morning, my Algebra textbook. At school, the stapler. Then the dry-erase marker. Then the whiteboard.

My Power was Stealing .

I wish I had never gotten it. It was ruining my life, even more than the Trio. At least with the Trio, I could still go to school, even if I hated it. But no, with my Power, I couldn’t go to school without outing myself by Stealing something ridiculous like a bank of lockers. I could just imagine them disappearing into a cloud of fading glitter, and then me getting outed to the entire world as both a Cape and a thief .

My Power wouldn’t even let me have a civilian identity.

Oh, but what was almost worse? 

My Power almost insisted– insisted –that I leave calling cards. Almost literal calling cards–if the cards came with an address and a phone number. 

My Power, during a Bad Day , would convince me that a non-consensual trade of an item of vague value for an item of greater monetary value was the same as– as –purchasing it! 

It was flipping ridiculous.

I groaned and rubbed my eyes, fighting for the will to climb out of bed. It was mid morning, my dad would have left for another weekend shift, leaving me to my lonesome. Me and my dumb Power that was already craving that I collect something; I wasn’t sure I could fool it with trash today. That didn't work the past few days. It had been getting insistent I give it new things, more things.

I went to pull the comforter off me, and as I went to set it aside, it got stuck in my hands. I frowned at my hands. They weren’t letting go. I tried opening them. They resisted. I felt the Cardstuff well up and saturate the blanket, disappearing the blanket into my Card Space and leaving a puff of pink and gold glitter. I felt the comforter form a new card in my soul *cough* Card Space. 

“So it’s gonna be one of those days, is it?” I asked my Power, speaking to the ceiling.

A piece of notebook paper that I doodled on, then converted to a card, fell out of Card Space and fell on my bed.

“I–hate you so much.”

But the Itch did abate, enough that I hoped that I could get dressed and ready for the day without incident.

By the time I finished, I had only converted my toothbrush and towel to Cardstuff, which I thought was a win. I headed downstairs to see if dad was still home, unlikely, but still a possibility.

I found a note from dad on the kitchen table.

Kiddo–Have to work. Make yourself some breakfast. Left a twenty in case you need it.

-Love Dad

I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. Sure enough, there was a twenty on the table. At least I could realize the value that little slip of paper had. On a Bad Day , all I saw was a funny piece of green paper.

I really hated my Power. 

My stomach rumbled in an echo of my irritation. Right. Food. I checked the fridge. Ketchup, half a case of cheap beer, and a half dozen expired eggs. Wonderful. I was about to shut the fridge door when, on impulse, I reached out and converted the eggs to Cardstuff.

That left me feeling a little better. But I was still hungry.

I checked the cupboards next, and pulled down a loaf of bread. Strike that. I pulled down a loaf of moldy bread. I groaned. Dad was trying to starve me to death. It wasn’t like I could just live off beer like some people. 

The loaf of moldy bread joined the half dozen expired eggs in Card Space. The Itch subsided just a little bit more.

But I was still hungry darnit!

Ah well. If I couldn’t eat yet, I would just have to eat twice as much later. In the meantime, I had Science to do!

I sat down at the kitchen table and turned my focus inward, to my Card Space. I was a hoarder. It couldn’t have been healthy. It took me forever to find anything in there. But eventually I did find what I was looking for. The sports cars from last night, and a sack of Hot Wheels that I found. At a Toy Store. That I might have traded for…I decided not to think about it. 

Stupid Power.

But with the cards in hand, I exited my Card Space and put the cards on the table. They were now part of my Auxiliary Deck. The cards could be handled by others, or released by me. If I wanted to use any of the more esoteric effects that my cards could come with, I would need to move them over to my Active Deck.

Arranged on the table were the large Tarot style cards, with the artwork facing up.

The following sports cars: A Yellow Camaro, a Silver Porsche and a Red Mustang.

Six Hot Wheels, all of them black vipers with two red racing stripes down the middle.

The next part of the experiment left me nervous, and my inner Hoarder felt terrified. I was going to try merging the cards. Sometimes the result was awesome (it was how I made my Tarocchi costume), and sometimes the result was unexpectedly bizarre (a duffel bag of never ending garbage).

My Power didn’t come with a manual. But I had suspicions as to what could affect the end result, and I had a specific goal in mind this morning.

I took a deep breath, and decided to start off light, my merging the cards I had a pretty good idea about.

I overlaid two Hot Wheels cards and pushed my Cardstuff into them, but rather than unseal them, I merged them. Of course there was a glimmer of gold and pink light, because that was just another way my Power trolled me. When the flash receded, I was left with one card where before there had been two. I felt just a little bit hungrier, the Itch felt just a little more unbearable.

But the new card was neat. Where before I had two Common (white outlined) cards, now I had one Uncommon (green outlined) card. 

I took the card for the yellow camaro. This one was Rare, outlined in blue. The art was a stylized acrylic drawing of the camaro racing down a highway with green blurring in the background.

The yellow camaro was the one I was on the fence about, and therefore the most willing to lose. 

That reminded me of a trade I had made the night before. Had I really given up a Legendary? It had only been a Hot Wheels, sure. But a Legendary? What had I been thinking, making that trade. I was of half a mind to go back and do a trade-back. 

But no, Tarocchi knew better–Tarocchi was never guaranteed or entitled to a tradeback.

I rapidly shook my head, trying to remove the foreign thoughts. Of course, a Legendary Hot Wheels was in no way of equivalent value to a sports car, regardless of how my Power measured these things.

I overlaid the yellow camaro over the uncommon Hot Wheels and filled them with Cardstuff, hoping for the best. Another flash of gold and pink, and I was left with–I cringed away, afraid to look, hiding my eyes behind a hand. I peeked between my fingers and…

A Rare Miniaturized Calico Speedster! 

I wasn’t sure what that was, and was left wondering if it was what I was hoping for.

I had to know. 

I stepped out to the backyard and unsealed the card. A flash of pink and smoke, and there was an interestingly colored sports car, big enough to seat two smallish people. It was a convertible, it had a windfoil, and it had racing stripes, even though most of the paint was splotches of gold and red and black.

I climbed into the driver’s seat. The doors weren’t functional. The steering wheel was. But, would the car drive? I found the ignition, it was a push to start. I pushed…

…And nothing!

I felt cold dread flow up my spine. Had I ruined my yellow camaro? I probably could have kept it, and kept the inner Hoarder happy. But now I had wasted it–wait!

The card had been in my Auxiliary Deck when I had unsealed it. Would that make the difference? It might have. I climbed out, resealed the card, swapped it out for one of my Active Deck slots, and then reactivated that card with a thought.

The calico sports car resumed its spot.

The door still wasn’t functional, the steering wheel was. But I needed to know if the car would start. 

But I was afraid. 

But I needed to know! 

WIth trepidation, I pushed the ignition button.

For the first second, nothing. Then the engine coughed and spun up and the car started. The heady purr of the toy engine left me wanting to take the car for a spin. 

If only I knew how to drive, but that was for the next stage of my–Tarocchi’s–plan.

Before my neighbors saw my awesome new personalized car, I resealed the card and put it in Card Space. I went back into the kitchen and finished merging my other two sports cars, so that I now had three miniaturized speedsters, which I promptly and safely stored back in Card Space.

I couldn’t help but smile as I left the house to find food. My plans were working. And I stopped noticing the Itch too! Nevermind that the Itch and hunger had been worsening with each merger that I made. If I had had my full faculties, and if I hadn’t been getting Mastered by my own flipping Power, I would have been concerned, and likely would have chosen to stay home.

But as it was, I was hungry, and I knew just the thing to hit the spot. I even started singing a little ditty as I left.

“I scream, You scream, We all scream for Ice Cream ~” I sang as I jogged towards the Waterfront. 

It wasn’t until later that I realized I had completely forgotten that funny looking green piece of paper at home on the kitchen table.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Gently Used Ice Cream for Sale

Summary: Taylor continues to lose her grip on what is considered normal and appropriate behavior, and this is manifested as she tries to make trades for Ice Cream. This causes a scene…which is bad for business.

Beta Read by PrognosticHannya

[Seriously, thank you for making this chapter sooo much better. It was a hard one for me.]

January 15th 2011

Brockton Bay Waterfront, Saturday Early Afternoon

The great Ice Cream trip had hit a snag. A snag before I even began scoping a suitable Ice Cream vendor. A snag before I had even gotten to the main part of the Boardwalk. A snag that I was staring down, and in return, stared me down.

Someone had littered the beach with sandstone sculptures of everyday items, like cellphones, name brand coffee bags, and a kiosk scanner, to name a few. Just… everyday items, in ordinary situations, that could happen anywhere a million times over. 

I had to stop myself from bashing them down in a rage.

The… the… the nerve! The sheer temerity! To display these… these mass-produced trinkets like they were some rare piece of art, worthy to have the crowds "ooh" and "aah" over them. 

I knew some new Ward, Whyhallday, has been doing these exhibitions as some sort of PR stunt, trying to show the world he's not just a cape, but an "artist". I'd seen them in passing a few times, not thinking much of it, but this is the first time really examining his "art". 

My lip involuntarily curled into a sneer. How had I not noticed these travesties before, they're practically screaming their wrongness out to the world now. Art. Art! As if all it takes to produce the Mona Lisa some common pebbles stacked in the shape of an item you can find on every street corner. 

I had to repress an urge to vomit all over the pavement. It's a good thing I traded away that rare toy car last night, or else I'd be tempted to whip it out and show these dullards what something truly unique looks like. 

No! Deep breaths Taylor, deep breaths. Calm yourself. You didn't come to the Waterfront to see these ugly, hideou- ... to see these… items , you came to get ice cream. 

Yes, Ice cream. Good, delicious ice cream.. 

Breathe in. Ice Cream. Breathe out. Breathe in. Double chocolate chip with cherries and sprinkles. Breathe out. 

Ok. I felt better. I could do this. I could continue walking, without devolving into a raging, hissing mess, every time I saw the glorified landfill that Ward sought to call an exhi –

Breathe in.

Right. I schooled my expression and put up a blinder with one hand, to block out the beach. And the "sculptures".

I made it to the Boardwalk, and started scoping out potential ice cream spots. I passed by a national branded Icecreamery and scoffed. How could people live with themselves, eating the same ice cream that is served everywhere else? All forty-one flavors of it?

I passed by a local elephant-ear place and felt my stomach rumble. If I hadn’t set out for ice cream, I could have gone with an elephant-ear. One drizzled in berry sauce, with a scoop of peanut butter…I saw a half eaten one laying on a table, and I almost lunged for it. 

I knew the impulse was coming though, so I only jerked that way a little bit before continuing my search for the perfect treat.

Finally I came to a suitable target. 

Zane’s Homemade Ice-Creamery Hand Cart, with Zane himself manning the stand. There was only one of these in the entire city, and, as far as I knew, in the entire world . This was infinitely better than any national chain brand. It was… unique. Singular. Something truly valuable, unlike that mass-produced…

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I began patting my pockets, and realized I had no way to pay. But I could make a trade. After watching customers come and go for some time, I moved off to an alleyway to unseal a few cards.

Now, even on a bad day, I was not so far gone as to not realize what objects a person could find valuable. Granted, I couldn't particularly see the appeal of some bland hunk of gold, or some watch stamped in a factory with a million others like it, , but I still collected a few, for the sake of trading.

At some point, I had found a gold Rolex. I’m not sure when it showed up in my Card Space, and I hope I hadn’t stolen it. It could be hard sometimes to remember where everything came from, and I’ve only had powers for a couple weeks…It didn’t bode well for my future that I couldn’t remember where I’d gotten the watch from.

I also had a few other rubbish trinkets that I had collected, and a few that I had made by merging items into things of, well, not beauty, but I supposed they were shiny enough to almost qualify.

With the baubles unsealed, I made my way back to Zane’s Hand Cart. A mother and small child stood not too far away, the child having taken several bites (bites! In a few months, one of that child's teeth will have most likely fallen out, making this dental pattern incredibly rare!) out of an ice cream cone.

This was my target.

I approached with my best smile on and waved to the mother. She eyed me suspiciously.

“Hello there! I was wondering if you’d be interested in a trade?” I asked.

The mother’s eyes squinted even more, and she put a protective hand on her son’s shoulder. 

“It’s nothing bad, I just was hoping to trade for that ice cream,” I told her, showing her the gold Rolex. 

“What scam are you trying to pull?” she asked. “Merchants?” She pulled her son away. “We’ll have none of it.” She spat.

“But–” I called after her, but she refused to look back my way.

That could have gone better. I glanced down at the watch. I was pretty sure this was a decent trade for them, but maybe I did look a little suspicious. Would that have gone better if I was in costume?

I tried a few more families, and was rebuffed every time. I didn’t understand it. I was trying to trade a real gold rolex for a half-eaten ice cream. It shouldn’t have been this hard. And ok, did that dad just pretend to not speak English? This was–

“Lass,” Zach put a hand on my shoulder and forced me to pay attention to him, after I had been rebuffed by my last attempt. I noticed that people were giving me and his cart a wider berth than when I had started. “You need to stop. I don’t normally get involved, but you don’t seem like a bad sort.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong?” I asked. At least I was pretty sure I wasn’t.

“I don’t know your angle,” he said. “But I know you’ve got one. I figure you’ve already attracted the wrong sort. It’s best if you left.”

“But–” I sputtered. “-just look at it?” I showed him the watch. “It’s real. Why won’t anyone trade for it?”

“Because you look sketchy as all hell,” he scoffed. “But if it’s a trade you want…” His eyes had a glint as he looked at the watch. He loaded a scoop of ice cream onto a cone and handed it to me. “Here. For the watch.”

Now it was my turn to eye him suspiciously. He was trying to rip me off? He served hundreds of these cones a day.

“What?” He asked when I hesitated. “You want it half eaten?!” 

I shrugged and nodded. 

“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” he growled, taking a bite from the treat, before handing it to me. “Better?” 

I guess this was better than nothing. I nodded and handed him the Rolex, while he handed me the ice-cream. He examined the watch then put it on, commenting on its weight. “This real?” He muttered. When he realized I was still standing there, he said, “Now sod off.”

I didn’t want to take away from Zach–Zane–Z’s business. So I started walking, holding up my prize. 

This prize was practically unique. How many other ice-creams came served by Z half eaten? I’m guessing very very few. 

But now I had to wonder. I had to ask a question of incredible import.

“To eat, or not to eat, that is the question,” I said, holding the cone up to the sunlight while looking it over…

On one hand, the ice cream was Unique, and converting to Cardstuff would save it forever. It represented hard work, a trade, and it would forever tell a story and possibly be a useful regent in future combinations. On the other hand, I was hungry, and the entire reason I came here was to get something to eat. 

Decisions decisions.

I decided that I could always eat it later. But before I went to convert the ice cream into Cardstuff, however, the cone was already gone. I wondered where it went. I looked around, and other than a few strange looks from passersby, nothing was of note. 

I probably converted it to Cardstuff then while I was debating the merits of doing so. I needed to know, to verify, to convince myself that it didn’t just up, grow legs, and run away of its own accord.

So I focused inward, in my Card Space. As always, it took some time to parse through all of my treasures. But eventually I had it. An orange outlined card, a true Unique. Glorious.

Before I had a chance to summon the card forth and admire the artwork, a heavy hand grabbed the front of my jacket and hauled me up against a wall bodily. I was slammed into the brickwork, making me lose my breath.

“Woah–” I wheezed.

A man in a black coat with a dime-a-dozen Enforcer badge, a radio, and dark glasses was holding me in place. I could smell the sour sweat dripping off him as he loomed over me. I noticed that the passersby gave me mixed looks of curiosity and indifference, and those were the ones that met my eyes. 

What the heck?!

“Don’t know what you’re on,” the Enforcer said. “But you need to leave. Get me?” 

Dear god his breath smelled atrocious. Like a dog crapped in his mouth, died, and then the man rinsed his mouth out with the excretions from a skunk. Except all that would have been an improvement.

I still had trouble speaking, taking wheezing breaths. But when I could breathe, I caught more of a whiff of his breath as he loomed over me and I gagged a little. I held up a finger to buy a few more seconds.

“You. Get. Me?” 

“No, I don’t,” I said. “I haven’t done anything illegal, I’m not on drugs, and I’m tempted to get you some mouthwash–”

He shook me. “Get off my Boardwalk–”

“-it’s hardly your Boardwalk.” I said, and now I was getting mad. What was it with people treating me like garbage? Even back before I had triggered, when I was normal, life had been hell. But now that I had Powers messing up my brain? It had only gotten worse. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. I might have chuckled, which caused the Enforcer to shake me some more.

He spoke into his radio, “Anyone want to help discourage an unwanted urchin?” 

His radio beeped, crackled, then another man spoke, nigh-identical to the muscle-bound meathead currently accosting me. I suppressed a grimace.. “Sure thing, a bit bored here. Usual alley?”

“Sure thing hoss,” the Enforcer said, dragging me away from the thoroughfare of the Boardwalk.

“Hey wait!” I shouted. “You’re making a mistake. I’m innocent! Somebody hel–urgk!”

He shook me and threw me into a wall, before picking me up and dragging me along. Literally dragging me along, as though I were some run of the mill refuse. My feet were trailing behind me, his grip bruising my shoulder.

Was this seriously happening? 

I was in stunned disbelief. My ribs hurt where the bricks had hit. My back hurt. I couldn’t catch my breath.

“W-whats-s w-wrong wi–” I started to demand as the Enforcer threw me into an alleyway, likely the one he designated as a meeting location. 

“What, the little thief doesn’t like justice?” The Enforcer smirked, kicking my hips, more of a stomp really. I rolled over, trying to get away. “Or maybe you’re just too retarded–”

“N-not retar–” I tried arguing, but another kick.

He spoke on his radio again. “If you want in on this beatdown, better get here fast. This bitch ain’t gonna last long.”

“Hold your horses, aight?” The radio spoke back.

I tried crawling away, but his toes met my stomach.

This. Was. Bullcrap!

I had Powers. I was a superhero. Why would I put up with this nonsense? Because I didn’t want to be outed? A secret identity would be no good if I were dead. 

Another kick. I reached out to a stack of pallets. If only I could–

He punched my cheek. I saw a flash of light, heard a crunch of nose and bone, tasted blood. Oh that wasn’t good. The blows rained down. I tried crying for help. For anything. I couldn’t even focus on my Active Deck. Everything just hurt. Too. Much.

And then it stopped.

“Hey! What are you doing to her?!” A girl shouted at us from above.

I felt a wave of awe. 

I knew that voice.

“Get lost,” the Enforcer shouted. “Doesn’t concern you. Caught this drugged out thief and need to discourage behavior–”

“-street justice-” another man said.

I guess the other Enforcer made it in time to give me a beat down after all.

“No,” the girl said. “No-no-no no. You don’t get to beat the shit out of some girl and call that justice. What did she even do?”

“Told you, none of your business. So take a hike Glory Hole.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Suddenly I felt a  ray of sunshine fall on my face, my body light up with the pleasant heat of a winter's hearth-fire, an ocean of comfort and security swallow up the deepest part of my soul,. I have to suppress a sigh as I look at the heroine, only to feel my jaw twinge. 

I think I have a new favorite superhero.

She landed on the ground next to me.

“You take a hike,” she said, pushing one of the Enforcers and sending him into an opposite wall. “Or maybe you’d like charges for whatever this was.”

“Fine. Take the druggie. Whatever.” The Enforcer got back to his feet and wiped himself off. “She’s your responsibility. C’mon Earl. We taught the bitch what’ll happen if she comes back.”

The Enforcers left, and Glory Girl, skirt glowing with an unearthly purity, bent down and rested a warm hand on my neck. I  can't help but let out a happy giggle as I look at her, noticing how she seems an angel with her beautiful blonde locks drifting about her head like a halo in the sun,.

“They did a number on you huh?”

“-mmm-yea.” My mouth didn’t feel like it was responding adroitly at all.

“Hang on, I’m gonna get Ames. Don’t move!”

“-mmm-k.”

I don’t know that I could have moved far if I had wanted to. I felt like I had been run over by a stampede of two very large men on their way to happy hour. Oh, there had to be a better metaphor than that, but in my muddled state, it just wasn’t coming. Did they give me even more brain damage? Dagnabit. Looks like my Power’s gonna have competition to see who messed up my life more.

“I don’t see why you had to drag me out here Vicky,” a new voice, another girl said.

“Ames, look, this one's bad.”

“Ugh. I can’t heal all your mistakes Vicky.”

“This was the enforcers–” the voices were coming closer, almost on top of me.

“Fine. I can’t heal all your charity cases–” she hissed when she saw me. It must have been Panacea. “Shit, you said the Enforcers did this? What the fuck did she do?”

Glory Girl shrugged. “Mentioned drugs and theft.”

Panacea’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t heal villains.”

“I think they were lying though Ames. And even if they weren't, we live in a town with literal Nazis , shoplifting from a Gucci store hardly even registers. She doesn't deserve to die for a harmless mistake, can you check at least to make sure she’ll live?”

“Ugh fine,” Panacea said. She reached down to me. “Permission to heal you?”

“-mmm-k.”

“She can’t even speak right, they really messed her up.”

“Mhm. Could be the drugs too,” Panacea said darkly.

Which was offensive. I hated drugs. Drugs were the worst. 

Row upon endless row of identical poppy plants, picked by identical underpaid workers and processed into identical bricks of heroin. Packed like sardines to be shipped to hundreds of identical low-level street toughs, to be given to identical dealers who will use the profit to buy bland gold chains or camaros, selling to an endless horde of identical, replaceable junkies littering the sidewalks like garbage. No past, no future, no story. Just being one part of a nameless, faceless horde, a set piece in the life of someone more interesting. 

I shudder. I can't think of anything more horrible

Oh, and the “ruin your life” thing is bad too, I suppose.

“I’m not sure she is on drugs though, can you just check, please?” Glory Girl asked. I could practically hear her bat her gorgeous eyelashes at Panacea.

“...fine,” Panacea grumbled. I felt her hand on my cheek. “...huh. Looks like no drugs. A lot of internal damage. Not in immediate danger of dying though, so there’s that at least.”

“You’ll heal her then?” Glory Girl asked. She was hovering over me. I could see out of one eye, and it was like looking up at a goddess. Note to self, get her autograph.

“Not if she’s a thief,” Panacea said absentmindedly. She was giving me a curious look.

“‘M not,” I said. “‘M a hero.”

“What was that?” Glory Girl asked. “I missed that. What’d she say?”

Panacea gave me a look . “Telling the truth. Alright, I’ll heal her.”

Over the course of the next minute, I felt so much better. My aches and bruises disappeared, and I felt even better than I did before. I felt a sudden urge to steal Panacea’s healing. But how would that even work? I’m not sure that Cardstuff can even convert abstract things like that, and even if it could, it would be wrong.

“Thanks!” I said, sitting up. I was a bit dirty, and had blood caked along the front of my shirt and face, but otherwise, I was as good as new.

“You still have a concussion,” she said dryly. 

“I feel so good!” I jumped up. “And oh wow! Glory Girl and Panacea. I’m huuuuge fan! I’m a hero too! You’re like my role models.”

“Pshhs what?” Glory Girl said, at a loss for words.

“Since she already told us,” Panacea said, “She’s a parahuman.”

“Yep! A hero!”

“Oh yeah, which one?” Glory Girl asked at the same time Panacea gave some unsolicited advice, “You might want to keep a secret identity.”

“Tarocchi!” I smiled at them. “But you probably haven’t heard of me yet. I haven’t been active that long.” I dug into my inner coat pocket and pulled out a couple cards from my Auxiliary Deck.

“Some kind of Thinker then?” Glory Girl asked. “Can’t see why else you’d let those guys wallop you like that.”

“Heroes don’t beat up people just doing their job,” I said. Before adding under my breath, “even if they’re being super mean about it.” Then I smiled, and cheered up. “But here, these are for you, as my way of saying thanks!” 

It was actually a trade, for their healing and rescuing me, but I didn’t think they’d respond as well to me calling it that. The best heroes were selfless and never worked for pay after all.

I showed them two cards that I made from combining a bunch of charcoal briquettes together to make. They were Common Dusk Gems. I wasn’t sure exactly what they were, scientifically speaking, but they were shiny, which I know is something popular girls are supposed to like, and the cards were only Common, so it wouldn’t hurt too much to lose them.

“Trading cards?” Panacea asked. Glory Girl took hers with much less trepidation.

“Kinda, but better!” I said. “Watch.”

I focused on each of the cards, sending out Cardstuff to unseal them. It took about a second for each, but with a flash of pink glimmer, a yelp from Panacea, and a “that’s so cool!” from Glory Girl, they were each left holding a gray ovoid gem the size of an egg.

“Oooh, that’s pretty!” Glory Girl said.

Panacea rolled her eyes. “So you make gems? Some kinda Tinker?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Beats me. But hey! While I got you here, can I get your autographs?”

I unsealed a canvas and fat marker, and held it out for both of them. Glory Girl laughed, picking up the marker and scrawling her big loopy autograph on it. I had to hold it out to Panacea for a second, and her sister had to nudge her, before she picked up the marker and gave me a cramped autograph.

“There. Happy?” Panacea said surly.

“Yep!” I practically squealed, lunging and wrapping both Panacea and Glory Girl in a hug.

“Easy there champ,” Glory Girl said, chuckling and gently pushing me aside.

Oh right. I was still holding the autographs. Silly me… 

I converted the autographs to Cardstuff and it just felt amazing! My Card Space really really liked artwork, especially cool stuff like that. And I know that those autographs weren’t Unique, but they still told a story, and were on fancy backing, so I thought they should count.

And with that, I headed off.

“Hey wait, where’re you going?!” Glory Girl called after me. 

“I have one more errand left to run,” I told her. “And I want to get back home before it starts to get dark.”

“Yeah ok,” Glory Girl said. “But do you wanna patrol sometime? You seem hella fun.”

“I’d love you–too. I’d love–like that too! But I’m not sure you’d want to. I’m not as good.”

“Hey, none of that. No reason to get down on yourself.”

I really didn’t want to explain to Glory Girl that my hero-ing was mostly making trades. I didn’t think that a real hero would want to do that kinda thing. So I kept walking. 

“I’ll hit you up on PHO I guess?” She called after me.

I spun around and gave her a thumbs up.

“...so weird,” I thought I heard Panacea mutter.

“I liked her,” Glory Girl added.

I couldn’t help the wide smile that practically split my face as I headed towards the used bookstore. As I walked away, I heard a shriek of "wait are these real diamonds! " from the alley, and grimaced. I knew I should have given her something better than an ordinary rock but I honestly didn't have anything better on me at the time. I made a promise to myself that the next time I saw one of them, I'd find them something really nice.  

Walking down the street I did get a few looks from the people that saw me, and I was always sure to give them big smiles and a wave. For some reason they hurried on by when they saw me doing that. I shrugged.

Finally, I got to the second hand bookstore, Comstocks on the Wharf. I walked in, petted the friendly cat, and waved to the store owner. He was an older guy, overweight, balding, and wore thick glasses on a bulbous nose. He snorted when he saw me. “Rough day?”

I shrugged. “About normal for me. Mind if I browse a bit?”

“Just don’t steal nothin,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. Puh- lease . I’m not a thief. 

…

Okay, I may have made a few… non-consensual trades , but it's not like that's stealing! I left some very valuable thermoses there as recompense. 

What? It's like mom always said, "knowledge is power". And the older, fancier, and most importantly rarer the book, the more I can do with all that tasty, tasty knowledge.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: The Great Manor Bookshelf Heist

The best reagents are those which tell a story, and have a history, and suitable books can impart esoteric effects when merged. Which is why Taylor finds herself sneaking into several affluent Brockton Bay manors.

Beta Read by Dysole, PrognosticHannya

January 15th 2011

Hebert Residence, Saturday Afternoon

After visiting the Waterfront, I made it home well before dad did. 

He was purportedly only working a half-shift, but I doubted I would see him before dinner time, giving me plenty of time to finish my preparations, or as I lovingly thought of them, arts and crafts. It was the one part of my Power that I actually enjoyed, the ability to near-magically fabricate something amazing from base reagents.

I set up shop on the dining room table. It was risky, but I doubted dad would be home anytime soon, and even if he were, I doubted he would express any interest in my creations.

I doubted dad a lot. Kinda depressing. Meh. Time for arts!

First, I laid out a few of the books I had traded for from the bookstore. Now, while these books largely lacked individual merit, hardly passing more than one or two owners before passing into the bookstore, they did provide some of the book’s background, which was influenced by the thoughts and perceptions of the people that owned and read the book, which was influenced by whatever was actually in the book…It all combined for a tasty composition.

For example, a science fiction novel featuring off-world crystal harvesting…which was a surprisingly common theme in stories from this time-period. And a commonality between this novel and several others, would be the cutting involved in the mining process.

Oh, there were other commonalities as well, but the merging process left some ambiguous control to me, along with the thoughts put into writing the story, and the thoughts of the readers who had handled the book (while reading the story). The book’s age also increased the potency of the reagent, likened to a fermenting wine.

So when I combined the four books from this science fiction genre, I was left with a Rare card titled Advanced Technobabble Cutting. The illustration was of what might have been a plasma torch, sparking as it sliced through solid stone.

Excellent.

I next made a paper slurry in the kitchen sink. I used newspaper clippings featuring articles and pictures of Hookwolf, Kaiser, and any other poky cape I could find. It was depressingly easy to dig these clippings up from a communal recycling point. For the binding agent, I used regular flour. I couldn’t figure out a way to put a story behind that part, at least not the sort I needed. Better no effect than a contradictory one.

I then shaped the slurry into a blade the length of my arm, and set it on tinfoil to dry. I hastened the process along with judicious use of mom’s old hair dryer, and I wrapped the hilt with leather shoe-laces from an old pair of dad’s work boots.

The entire project took an hour. 

And Dad still wasn’t home.

I was very careful picking up the flimsy Papier-mâché blade. It was not sharp, nor resilient, but this was where the magic of my Power would come in.

I suffused the blade with Cardstuff and received an Uncommon card: Dull Papier-mâché Shortsword.

Uncommon! I hadn’t expected anything above Common. Wonderful.

I next pulled out two of my Common Dusk Gems, and merged them to generate an Uncommon Gem card, which I then combined with my Uncommon Dull Papier-mâché Shortsword, to create a Rare Dull Fibrous Crystalline Shortsword.

Now for the uncertain part.

When combining cards with an effect to an object, the changes didn’t always take, and they didn’t always take the way I thought they should–like my Duffel Bag of Unending Garbage.

There was the potential that this combination would fail, or worse, fail spectacularly.

I put the two cards together: Rare Dull Fibrous Crystalline Shortsword and Rare Advanced Technobabble Cutting.

I took a deep breath. I cleared my mind, and focused on the effect I wanted. I suffused the two cards with Cardstuff and merged them.

Nothing exploded. 

Yet.

I let out my breath, and peeked through my fingers at the resulting card.

Yessssss!

The two Rares had combined to form an Epic Crystalline Vibroblade of Extra Cutting.

Oh this was going to be awesome. I loaded the Epic into an Active Slot and with another thought summoned the blade.

Ok. It didn’t look quite as cool as I thought it would, with a regrettable color scheme.

It was a dusky crystal blade with fibrous veins running through it. A single side of the blade was edged, and it looked wicked sharp. The grip wasn’t comfortable, but it didn’t feel like it would slip from my hands either.

The question was, if the blade would work on my next project: Crafting a ring of sneaking.

For this project, I might have made a questionable decision. But to truly understand why, one must understand the state of the Hebert living room. 

In our living room, in a tucked away corner, buried under a layer of dust and coats, there is an antique reading chair with decorative wooden dowel-like legs.

This chair did an amazing job of avoiding notice. Literally no one ever sat on it, even back when mom was still with us. We likely would have thrown it out, if we ever remembered it was there…And if it didn’t make such a great coat rack.

Well, for my ring of sneaking, I wanted to exemplify some traits that this chair had, hiding in plain sight. So I used my new blade of cutting, and I got down on my knees next to the legs of the chair, and I sliced off the bottom inch on one of the dowels.

The blade worked really well. As soon as I set the blade against the wood, it was slicing through. Barely any pressure required, and the cut was clean.

The chair was now a bit shorter on that one leg, but it had three more of those and I doubted dad would notice. He never noticed anything else anyways. 

I took my prize back to the table for more crafts.

Using the tip of my blade, I carved out a hollow space in the middle of the cutting to make a general ‘ring’ shape, if a ring was an inch long. It could fit on my pointer finger somewhat uncomfortably.

But I wasn’t making the ring for comfort. 

I was making it for Sneaking!

Using the trick with the books, this time choosing a fantasy selection with a common theme of thievery, I created a Rare card of Thieving Antiheroes. It wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for, but maybe it would work?

Turning my wooden ring into a card, I got another Uncommon card: Hastily Carved Crude Ring

I was almost tempted to combine the Uncommon and the Rare and hope for the best. But I knew, I just knew that I would get better results if I could boost the quality of the ring first.

Now to boost the quality, I had a couple options. I could find another Uncommon and imbue the ring with an alternate material, such as a comfortable silicone mix. But the issue would be the dilution of the desired end effect. 

Which was why I ended up back at the oft-ignored reading chair to slice off another inch of the opposite dowel. 

Soon, I had two Uncommon Hastily Carved Crude Rings, which I combined to create a single Rare Antique Carved Ring.

Going through the same process as before, fixing my intended desired effect firmly in mind, I then combined the Rare Antique Carved Ring and Rare Thieving Antiheroes to generate another Epic. 

…Though this one did not have the exact desired effect.

Epic Carved Ring of Scoundrelly. 

Ugh .

But maybe that would work?

An hour later, evening had come and gone, and dad finally arrived home. He went straight to the fridge and grabbed a beer.

“Gh, long day,” he mumbled, parking down in front of the TV.

My stomach rumbled. “So dad, dinner plans?”

“Sorry lil’ owl,” he burped. “On your own for dinner. Thought you woulda already ate.”

I wanted to ask him how many beers he had already drank before stumbling in through the door. Instead, I sat and sipped tea while keeping him company. Father-Daughter bonding at its finest.

After his second beer, he seemed to work up the courage to have a conversation.

“Been getting calls from school…you been skippin agin?” he slurred slightly.

I shrugged. I mean, if skipping is defined as not subjecting myself to a hostile environment and risking a relapse of my Power absconding with everything not bolted down, then yes I suppose that under that narrow definition, I had been skipping. I rather thought of it as protecting myself, and making more productive use of my time, thank you very much.

“Tay–Taylor hun…need to go…I know it’s hard–I want what’s best for you. You know that. Right lil–” he belched “-owl?”

“Sure dad,” I sighed.

Eventually, he passed out, and I headed out to acquire more reagents.

~

Near the Stansfield Manor, Later that Night

Two hours later, I was in the nicest part of town, where the rich and famous lived in a string of Manors abutting the Hills. These estates were the old money of Brockton Bay. They had servant quarters, stables, multiple garages, and of course, the family’s living wings. They were decadent, full of antiques, collectibles, and tasty reagents–reagents that they displayed wastefully, for their own private pleasure, which were gained at the cost of the sweat and blood of the peasantry.

Huh. I supposed I was a bit bitter about the wealth divide.

I could make much better use of these reagents. Which was why I had spent the last two hours jogging here on an empty stomach and with a possible concussion.

My first target tonight would be the Stansfield Estate. 

I ducked behind a cultivated hedge and pulled up my Active Deck.

With a thought, I used Jeton’s Mask. A flash of smoke and pink and gold pizazz later, I strode back out onto the street with confidence, in my Tarocchi costume. Gone were my concerns and fears. I was the actor, and all the world my stage. 

I had a goal, and a list of things I needed to acquire.

But before I forgot, I pulled up and activated one of my latest cards, my Carved Ring of Scoundrelly. I felt it lock around my pointer finger, a long wooden ring, carved from a dark and stained grain, decorated with pips. It complemented the gold filigree on my mask.

If before I felt the confidence of a showman, now, while I still felt that, I also felt a need to swagger, and I felt a sudden thirst for ale. Preferably cheap ale. And to…curse?

One thing I certainly didn’t feel was a moral compunction at breaking and entering into one of the wealthiest family homes in Brockton Bay.

I could do this, and I would liberate (trade for) the reagents I required.

I strode up to the front gate, my confidence seeing me past the security camera. At the gate itself, I activated my Crystalline Vibroblade of Extra Cutting and sliced through several vertical bars, leaving an easy gap for me to step through.

I shoved the metal clippings to Card Space before they clattered to the ground, reducing noise, and avoiding waste. I was sure I could find something to use those metal bars for later.

I strolled up the long driveway, admiring the lawn art. There were several sculptures that looked dated. The hedges were carved in artful and custom shapes, several abstract. The large fountain before the car port looked custom as well. Too large for me to trade for unfortunately, but I could admire the art as I passed.

Eventually, I made it to the manor itself. And while a part of me simply wished to stroll through the front door, as I would for any other business transaction, there was another part of me that screamed ‘security wards.’ I think that part actually meant security systems, but if it was from the Ring of Scoundrelly, then every instinct it gave would be through the lens of fantasy.

Regardless of terminology, the advice was solid.

I used my blade to slice a rectangle the size of a door through the wall. I collected the bits of masonry, wood, insulation, and wire of course. Waste not, want not. I left a card of a forget-me-not flowers to make up for the materials I took.

Once inside, I took a moment to admire the entryway.

Vaulted ceilings. Marble tiled floor. Great exposed wooden beams. Tapestries depicting men in red coats riding horses. Hunting foxes. Goshdarnit. Wow, this Ring of Scoundrelly is really trying hard to give me a potty mouth.Then I saw the tapestry again, and felt my blood start to boil. That this family chose to put in their entryway artwork idolizing fox-hunts, which was the act of the rich releasing foxes and then hunting them with hounds for the sake of an entertaining diversion?

Sometimes I really hated Old Money.

No, I couldn’t let bitterness take me. I was on a mission. And so far, everything was according to plan. I was awesome. Amazing. Cheerful and upbeat. Yes. That was me that I described.I felt the wide almost manic smile spread across my face. 

Pep Talk Success.

“Time to find the study~” I sing-songed and started skipping through the hallways.

It took a few minutes, but after opening all the doors and peeking in (and running across one couple doing things– ewww !), I found an office on the second floor.

The office had three bookshelves, full of all sorts of wonderfully old and delightful works of literature. Leather bound journals from a century ago, first edition books, a set of collectable encyclopedias. It was exactly what I had hoped to find. Well, maybe not the encyclopedias. Facts weren’t at all that helpful, so I left those…But I did grab the rest.

And in return, I had an Epic Pamphlet of Business Proposals to leave in trade. I had collected a bunch of pamphlets from all over on people with amazing opportunities, and merged them all into a single compact pamphlet that would help any up and coming business person.

Personally, I thought I was doing the Stansfields a huge favor. Took the books off their hands that they never used, and gave them a small pamphlet that would be immensely helpful.

I traded their home computer and two spare laptops for a couple of crystalized dandelions which I had made earlier, and after that, I decided it was time to leave.

But as I was skipping back out, I noticed a painting hanging on the wall. It was an oil painting, an abstract, formed of circles and colors that reminded me of mom and dad and a trip to the wharves, back before life had gone to the gutter. The painting might have been a Kandinsky. 

I simply had to have it.

But I hadn’t intended to trade for anything else here! Oh, what to do, what to do…No, I knew what to do. I poured Cardstuff into the painting and took it into Card Space. It was a Unique. Heh. Not a reproduction then.

In return, I would grace the Stansfields with another unique, a true one-off, an amazing artwork of my own. I pulled out a permanent marker and got to work on a masterpiece.

I might have spent too long drawing on the wall. But the artwork rendered needed to be commensurate with the Unique I received. I was not some scam artist, or some lowly thief. I was a hero!

“-wha–who?” A boy spoke groggily behind me. 

I heard a girl’s voice too. “-Dean what is it?”

“I thought I heard someone,” the boy said, stepping into the hallway. He wore a burgundy silk bathrobe. A girl followed him, also wearing a bathrobe, though one that had ‘guest’ embroidered on the breast.

“Who are you?!” The boy demanded once he saw me. He stepped between the girl and me, in a defensive posture, with a hint of panic in his voice. “You need to leave. Stacy, stay behind me. Where’s your phone? Go get it. Now. Please.”

“No reason to be alarmed citizens!” I said cheerfully. I tried to be cognizant of how it would feel to wake up with a strange cape in my home. I turned to them and took a bow. “I am the one, the only, the great hero Tarocchi, at your service. And I understand if my presence dumbfounds–”

“What are you doing here? Why…” He flipped on the lights, and gasped as he beheld the glory of my replacement artwork upon the wall.

I walked over to him and threw my arm over his shoulder, and steered him closer. He resisted at first, but after another nudge and pull, he walked over to inspect the masterpiece. 

My hand drawn mural stretched along the blank space of the wall, higher than I was tall, and twice as wide too. It was an artful rendition of Scrooge McDuck hauling a bag of money over his shoulders and emptying it into a vault of gold. All done with a black sharpie of course.

“What did you draw?! Where–Why–UGH!” He seemed to have developed a sudden illness. I patted his back in case he was choking.

“True art also leaves me breathless,” I nodded in commiseration and mimed wiping a tear from my eye. “Though I still feel that I have come ahead in this bargain. I must make it up to you…Maybe some merchandise? Customized Swag? Personalized Tarocchi paraphernalia?” 

I had a great idea. I pulled out a polaroid camera from one of my Active Slots, just as the girl returned with her phone. There was a tinny voice speaking on the other side, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. I also didn’t care. Likely the girl had called her friends to brag about meeting a local soon-to-be celebrity.

“Just in time!” I said to the girl, pulling her up to one side of the mural, and I pushed the boy to the other. I ran to the far side of the hall, set up the camera on a freshly cleared decorative table (a boring looking vase might have been knocked over in the process, but I make no claims), and I set the camera up for a delayed picture.

I hustled back over and threw an arm over the boy’s shoulder. “Say cheeeese!”

*flash*

I sent the camera back into my Active Deck, but not before printing the photo. I put my autograph on it and handed it to the boy.

“You’re welcome!” I chirped, “But I have other places to be! Tight schedule and all that. You know how these things are. Have a great night!” I called back over my shoulder as I skipped away.

“...was that a villain?” the girl asked. She must have mixed up the words ‘villain’ and ‘hero’. It could happen to anyone. Easy mistake really. 

“...I’m so confused,” the boy added.

Anders Manor, That Same Night

When I got to the Anders Estate not much later that same night, I noticed that there was a lot more security. They patrolled the perimeter of the property and were stationed at the main entryways into the manor itself. 

The driveway wasn’t as long as the Stansfields had been, so I could make out some more of the security, and from what I saw, I could tell that there would be some really cool stuff in there.

Why bother with armed security guards otherwise?

But I would have to be careful on this one. What happened with the Stansfields could not happen here. Well, I mean, it could still happen. But the repercussions would be potentially lethal.

After a guard passed by, I darted through a hedge, slicing and collecting branches, until I got to the brick fence, which I also cut through and collected. I paused at this point, to see if any alarm had been triggered by the pink glitter aftereffects of my Cardstuff.

I waited ten heartbeats. There was no reaction. Either a silent alarm was already in play and I would be screwed, or I was in the all clear. It was probably fifty-fifty either way, which I felt were pretty good odds and reason enough to keep going.

I crouched and hastened from shadow to shadow along the driveway up to the house itself, where I used the same technique as at the Stansfields. Specifically, a new doorway. At this point, I was fairly surprised that no alarm had gone off yet, and I barely resisted patting myself on the back. 

Actually, strike that. I patted myself on the back.

“Good job Tarocchi!” I whispered to myself, smiling even wider than before. This night was going great !

In trade–exchange–for the hole I made, I left a plushie stuffed guard dog at the hole, since the Anders clearly needed a better security system. 

Once inside their house, I found an ornate bookcase in the second Sitting Room. I felt pretty lucky to have found it so quickly. I strolled over and traded their books for an Epic Compilation of Goldberg’s Making Money .

Again, the Anders got a steal of a deal.

I decided that while I was there though, that I might as well have a look around. Just in case there was something truly awesome.

And like before at the Stansfields, I did find a piece of art. But it was so grotesque, so mundane, so-so-so awful, that I just couldn’t.

Andy Fudging Warhol.  

What the heck was that guy thinking, making this shi–stuff. And why was it up on a wall? Couldn’t the Anders afford better? Or–did they think that this was actually art? I was strongly tempted to deface this piece of rubbish.

I almost did.

And would have, if another item hadn’t caught my eye just then. 

A cabinet made of pale walnut, with engravings carved across the doors. It was a wardrobe, a walk in style, with faux-gargoyles set along the ribbing, and vinework painted in fading ink.

This was a classic.

This was a unique.

This. Was. Beautiful.

I had to have this treasure.

In a trance, lost to the world, I walked up to the wardrobe and ran my fingers along the age-worn wood. Yes. This would be mine. I imbued the Cardstuff into the wood, and felt the beauty, the splendor, the story of this wardrobe. How many children had hidden within? How many parties had it survived over the ages? 

It was at least a century old. It had to be. 

And it was mine. The wardrobe disappeared into my Card Space, leaving the designer brand coats and shoes and wads of money falling to the ground. Why had such a beautiful container been filled with drivel? Like an ornamental vase from the Ming Dynasty still in use as an active chamber pot. 

It was maddening.

I spat on the ground.

And for a trade, for the unique wardrobe…hm, if the Anders appreciated garbage, then I probably didn’t have to worry too much about making a good deal with them. I settled with tossing down another crystalized dandelion. Trade completed.

And with that, I turned to leave. 

But as I was passing the same Warhol blasphemy, I ran into an unexpected surprise. A thief. A plumpish boy with a balaclava obscuring his face.

And I felt a moment of indecision. As a hero, it was my job to prevent criminals and crimes and thieving thieves, because thieving was a crime. And as a hero, I was obliged to stop him.

“Who are you?” he whispered, drawing me out of my indecision.

“It is I, the famous hero Tarocchi!” I said, sweeping my arms out into a wide bow.

My reputation must have preceded me, as the boy was left speechless. While ordinarily I would not mind, for I had this effect on the plebians, in this case it forced me to bear the brunt of the conversation. “And who might you be?” I inquired.

“...just getting my stuff.” He had a bag over his shoulder. 

“Right,” I said. “Your stuff,” I rolled my eyes. “And you expect me to believe that, thief ?!”

I spoke a little loudly, it is true. 

“Shh!” the boy said, almost hissing. “You’re one to talk!”

“I’m a hero,” I told him. He was clearly confused. “But if you’re not a thief, then why do you hide your face?”

“...because. But this isn’t about me. What gives you the right, when you’re clearly here to rob the place blind.”

I blew a raspberry. “Do you even know how trading works?”

I was beginning to doubt this boy’s intellectual capacity.

“I can’t believe this,” the boy said, stifling a laugh. “You’re insane. You are actually insane.”

“Rude,” I said, glaring at him. “That is actually very hurtful. Why–why would you say that?”

He paused, watching me carefully, in particular, my exposed cheek. 

“Oh hey, yeah I’m sorry…you’re here for trades?” he asked me. I nodded. “Same here. Trading. Definitely…”

“Oh!” I said happily. “Well in that case carry on. After all, who am I to stop a fellow merchant of fortune?”

But then, I I noticed that he was angling for the Warhol piece. Oh no. I had to save him, in case he thought of trading for that.

“Don’t do it,” I hissed. “That drawing is garbage of the highest order.”

“It’s mine…And it’s art.”

Oh no. “Oh no no no. No. That. Is. Not. Art.”

The boy reared back, face twisting into a scowl.

“Are you blind! This is an original Warhol , the pinnacle of Modern Art! A commentary on mass production, and the everyday nature of beauty!”

In an uncharacteristic fit of violence, I slapped him, voice raising to a harsh, loud whisper. “Take that back!” I whisper-yelled. “Franz Marc is Modern Art, this is a bunch of flipping soup cans! It doesn’t belong in a frame, it belongs in a darn grocery store isle!””

“‘Just’?” he scoffed, “ Please . Maybe like how a symphony is ‘just’ a bunch of notes. Warhol is taking the materials of modern society and showcasing their true artistry! Those cans are the product of a hundred rounds of design, testing, and vetting by a hundred different executives at the Campbell Soup Company! Perfectly designed for maximum usability and easy comprehension!”

I scoffed. “Yes, a ‘perfect design’ repeated a million times over, in every home in America. A table is also ‘designed for maximum usability’, but no one’s flocking to come see your kitchen!”

He slapped me back. “How dare you!” He had a finger under my chin. “This is the art of the people , the art that every person in America can relate to, the scenery of a million different stories It’s real beauty, not the carefully cultivated falsehoods of some museum !”

“Ooooooh!” I said, quivering in rage. I would have thrown down right then, but the lights flashed on, and an alarm started spinning.

The other merchant of opportunity and I glanced at each other.

“Maybe we should run?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah…Let’s.”

I followed after him. When bullets started flying, I inundated myself with Cardstuff. I even caught a few. They weren’t as tasty as the first bullets I ever tasted, but they still told a story fraught with excitement and danger.

“Frick,” the boy swore, a bullet shattering a window to his left. “Can’t believe these idiots…”

“They do seem a tad overenthusiastic,” I said, grinning at him. “Hopefully they trashed that Warhol garbage.”

“Look, can’t you do anything helpful?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes. I had been examining my Active Deck as we ran. I was currently using one slot for my Jeton’s Mask (my costume), another slot for my Ring of Scoundrelly, and another was my Crystalline Vibroblade of Cutting. One of my favorites though, was also one of the first cards I had ever made, a Perpetual Fog. I selected this card and activated it. Fog poured out, filling the manor, frustrating the overly enthusiastic security.

I grabbed the boy’s hand and led him to a wall, which I then cut a hole through. In my haste, I forgot to leave a suitable trade, which I would come to regret. Hindsight, being twenty-twenty I guessed, next time I’d leave a culturally diverse statuette. 

I pulled the boy through the fog obscuring our escape. When we reached the edge of the estate, the boy politely requested that I never speak to him again. I was more than happy to acquiesce to his request, especially considering his gutter-thoughts.

As we parted ways, and sirens sounded in the approaching distance, I started my run home, smiling to myself.

With the exception of that boy’s terrible taste, which just could not be accounted for, it had been a rather successful night.

■

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■

♦ Topic: Country Club Car Theft

In: Boards ► Brockton Bay/Villain Sighting

Brocktonite03     (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Posted On Jan 15th 2011:

Eat it @Bagrat!

Check this video ( link )! Taken from my boy Doug from the Verdant Country Club. Some dude dressed in a fancy as hell costume magicked away three sports cars! Like actual magic haha. Like Myriddin! Lol, yeah I know, magic's not real...But that cape's effects are dope as hell.

And look how mad that one dude is!

Nobody was hurt ofc, and nobody recognizes the cape either

(Showing page 1 of 3)

►White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 15th 2011:

I think you maybe shoulda posted this under a different section

►Valkyr (Wiki Warrior)

Replied On Jan 15th 2011:

@White Fairy is right. This should have gone under New Capes.

But regardless, anyone know who this is? What's their name? Power? Obviously Striker/Shaker something. But why did they just take those three cars?

edit: It's unusual behavior, is all I'm saying.

►Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied On Jan 15th 2011:

This new cape with unknown affiliations (assumed villain) has been given the designation Valet , I think because of the cars and her red jacket.

And yes, her. Witnesses claim the villain was female.

Other than her theatrics and the (3) stolen vehicles, the only onsite damage was from ricochet shots taken by the security guards. I'm sure they'll have some repercussions for jeopardizing life and property--might even lose their jobs or face jail time. I certainly wouldn't want to be in their shoes right about now.

Observed Brute rating since she took several shots, along with a Striker/Shaker effect. She seems to be a potent power combination.

My opinion here people, so don’t jump down my throat: She also, is either very theatrical or suffering from power induced insanity. It could go either way honestly, time will tell.

@Brocktonite03, the only thing you gave us was a grainy shaky video of a villain confrontation. If you're going to try scooping me, at least offer some value. More people would have responded to this post if it had been listed appropriately.

►Brocktonite03     (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 15th 2011:

@Bagrat DAMN YOU SALTY!!!

►Brocktonite03     (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

And how's this for value?

I guess Valet likes leaving calling cards in trade. She left cool playing cards with neat cars painted on the side, like in a trade. She even seemed to have left an autograph, if you'd believe it.

I don't think the PRT got the autographed receipt tho

►point_me_@_the_sky

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

Anyone get a picture of one of these cards?

■

♦ Topic: Home Invasions

In: Boards ► Villain Sighting/

Bagrat     (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted On Jan 16th 2011:

Another sighting of Valet, this time breaking and entering two wealthy and well known family manors near the Hills.

Sometime late Saturday night, Valet literally cut a hole through several walls, and absconded with an eclectic mix of books, computer goods, and one incredibly expensive painting.

To add insult to injury, several items were left behind in 'trade,' including graffiti...honestly, the damage to the homes likely exceeded the worth of the goods stolen.

(Showing page 1 of 2)

►White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

Anyone get a picture of the vandalism? Or the families doing this hush-hush like normal?

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

Get this, apparently Valet autographed a photograph with her and two of the residents of that particular manor. In front of the 'artwork.'

►Whitecollar (Cape Wife)

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

No way…I would pay money if anyone gets a copy of that photo.

►Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

Ugh! Exactly what the bay needs, another villain.

►point_me_@_the_sky

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

@Vista Hey, at least this one is largely harmless, even with the scarily strong power. I’d take a hundred Uber & Leets over another Hookwolf.

►Home_Of_Sapien

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

@point_me_@_the_sky Didn’t U&L beat up random hooker on the street for their GTA video?

►point_me_@_the_sky

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

@Home_Of_Sapien Nah. Don’t ask me how I got this info, but the PRT interviewed those women and they had all been consulted beforehand. Leet had kitted them out with some sort of kinetic dampening Tinkertech, so all they got were a few minor bruises. 

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

@point_me_@_the_sky …I, for one, would be very interested to know how you got that information.

►point_me_@_the_sky

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

@Reave My secret lol :P

►GstringGirl

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

This capes behavior does seem a bit eccentric from what we've seen so far. Are we sure they aren't being put up to this? Or that they're ... you know, all there?

►Thatdude

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

Feast your eyes upon the signed photo! ( link )

Don't ask me where I got it. Seriously. Don't. My buddy could lose his job.

I got your back Steve, and I totally owe you one.

►Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

...Who's that girl?

►point_me_@_the_sky

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

...Oh hell fucking no.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Tarocchi’s Sunday Afternoon Nap

Summary: Tarocchi spends a lazy Sunday tricking out her new ride and taking it for a spin. While stopping by a pharmacy to pick up some meds, she gets to meet some of her fellow heroes!

Beta Read by PrognosticHannya & Heartfeltart

January 16th 2011

Hebert Residence, Sunday Morning

I would like to say that I woke up refreshed and invigorated after my latest adventures. That I dozed around in bed, touring my Card Space and taking inventory of all the neat things I had found. 

But that would be a lie.

I was a criminal. A thief. I drank from the cup of evil and found the taste sweet. While in the midst of my Power, under the guise of my Jeton’s Mask, I was invincible. And a fool.

Oh god.

And then at the boardwalk the other day. The ice cream? Who…who in their right mind would do that? Oh that’s right, I remembered: I wasn’t in my right mind. I was insane , and I suspected that I was beginning to develop a borderline personality disorder. 

It’s just, when the mania hit (and I was beginning to think of my Tarocchi persona as a mania), everything just clicked and made sense. But when I took the mask off? Bam! Instant remorse and guilt and self-loathing. 

But Tarrochi was starting to bleed through to Taylor, and it was growing increasingly difficult to keep them separate.

When I had hit the Waterfront in the search of half-eaten ice cream for lunch (and wasn’t that a disgusting thought), I had been just regular old Taylor and not Tarocchi. I couldn’t blame that insanity on the Jeton’s Mask. That insanity was me. It was growing to consume my life.

Tears were running down my cheeks and my eyes burned as I sobbed into my pillow and screamed.

It wasn’t fair. 

It wasn’t.

It was embarrassing and gross and disgusting and the worst and the only reason I had this brief glimpse of sanity was because of the previous night and this reprieve wouldn’t last long because soon the insanity would envelop me once more and I’d go back to making terrible decisions that made absolutely no sense except in the arcane way that my Power thought.

I hated it.

No, I HATED it.

I should turn myself in. 

Get help–Professional help…Maybe medication…

…Medication.

I wondered what I could do with meds. What sort of cards would they give me? Probably commons. But what if I combined enough of them into something truly magnificent, and then combined that with an article of clothing or a ring?

That could work. 

Yes, that could work! My Power got me into this mess, and my Power could get me out of it. My lips started to curl upwards ever so slightly and there might have been a giggle, but only a small one.

Except…what sort of medication would have the right effect? I needed to know. Though I supposed I could hit a pharmacy and see what I got from mixing and matching the medications there. But would I want a pharmacy? Those were so boring !

Where could I go instead of an allopathic pharmaceutical? A homeopathic pharmaceutical. No wait! A new age apothecary! I bet that my Power could totally use snake oil…Just the thought of the experimenting I could do with that started to raise my spirits and I felt a familiar grin lock onto my face.

This would be so fun!

Oh, but first I should check out all the awesome stuff I had found the night before. I rolled onto my back and flipped my pillow over.

No sir, no more crying. This Taylorochhi is going to use her powers to fix things!

Now, what did I have in Card Space? I dove into myself, taking a look at my catalog and specifically all of the new additions. A lot of new additions. I must have been busy the night before.

I had so many books! 

They were amazing. 

Classics. 

First Editions– Autographed First Editions with annotations added by either some expert or the author themselves. 

Uniques! Though there were also a few Uncommons in there too, which I took to mean were duplicates or forgeries or cleverly hidden mass produced drivel along with the true treasures.

A couple books really stood out to me.

There was a Unique, a ‘Grimoire’ from George Lucas. He called it that, but it seemed more like a series of hand written notes and scrap-booking around one of his science fiction franchises. A lot of that stuff was unrealistic, but the book was cool, and my Power could totally make something cool from it…I wondered how many shenanigans I could get up to with the Grimoire. I was hesitant to actually spend it in a merger because then I would be down an awesome card, but I also really wanted to spend it and see what I got. It was a weird juxtaposition to be in. But weird in a good way.

Another Unique was a journal from some Jacob Butcher, which I thought was a super cool name until I realized it was some business tycoon slash fur trader from the colonial era. A lot of history there, but I just wasn’t sure what I could do with that.

A surprise for me was the Rare Mein Kampf which was a first edition. What the heck was wrong with rich people? Why would somebody even have that? It made me feel gross just having it hanging out in my Card Space. But if I were to burn books, then I wouldn’t be any better than the original author of that book. It was a conundrum, which I solved by ignoring.

And then there were the super cool Uniques I picked up, like the abstract painting, or the wardrobe. I needed to get a lair sooner rather than later to display some of these things. Except…that would leave me vulnerable to thieves. But who would be audacious enough to thieve from a hero. Which I was. A hero that is. Not an audacious thief.

Why was I grinning again?

I shrugged the question off and headed downstairs.

“Morning Dad!” I called out. I waited a minute for a reply, but none was forthcoming. I went back upstairs and checked his room by knocking on his door and calling out, “You awake?” But again, no reply was forthcoming. I cracked the door open and found his room was a mess but devoid of my Dad.

Maybe he had to pull another shift? But it was a Sunday .

Well I wasn’t going to look a gift-goose in the mouth! 

I had plans!

Like assembling my new ride…

The previous night I had found three computers, a Rare book on the art of service, a Rare on the art of command, and a Rare on the art of direction. Most of those had come from the Stansfield Manor, but I couldn’t remember exactly and decided that I didn’t need to remember either.

The titles might have been paraphrased.

I merged each of those books with a computer which provided Epic Smart Digital versions of each of those books.

In my Card Space from a previous and better-left-forgotten encounter, I had acquired a Common Toy Droid. I merged the Common Toy Droid with an Uncommon Used ‘How to Drive for Dummies’ card that I acquired from the used bookstore. The result of this combination was a Rare Driving Droid.

I raised my eyebrows in appreciation of that. It wasn’t often I merged two Commons and received a Rare in exchange. I felt like I had gained a little something there, like my soul had grown. 

It felt nice , that is what I was getting at.

But a Rare would still be insufficient for my plans, and I needed to boost that to at least an Epic, or possibly a Unique.

And I had that Grimoire. But did I want to risk such an awesome Unique card on such an ill-thought adventure?

Ha ! As if I even needed to ask.

I slapped the Unique Grimoire over the Rare Self Driving Droid and merged the two, or at least I tried to.

I saturated them both with the usual amount of Cardstuff but nothing happened. The cards sat on top of eachother and refused to mix.

Well, I wasn’t about to be defeated by a couple of cards!

I poured even more Cardstuff into them. 

Still nothing. 

I losing patience with these stubborn cards. 

Merge darnit !

More Cardstuff went in, and more, and more! 

I was panting for air, feeling drained and exhausted. The room was spinning.

But finally, finally, with a puff of sparks and ping glitter, the cards lit up brightly and merged together. I covered my eyes too late, I was blinded from the flash of light and had to blink away the aftereffects.

The result was a shiny gold Legendary : Homi-Droid.

The artwork depicted a silver metallic robot with red eyes and a skeletal frame. The background was filled with fire and spaceships and it held a tinkertech handgun in one hand and a remote control in the other. Its mouth opened to depict perfectly even teeth which were monstrously even.

It was beautiful.

And it was mine, all mine!

I began to cackle heroically, until I lost my composure and coughed. Also heroically.

And the day was just getting started! Though I did need a break after merging those two. I stowed the Legendary away in Card Space and raided the kitchen for breakfast.

Unfortunately, I encountered an insurmountable hurdle. Dad still hadn’t gone shopping.

My stomach rumbled. When was the last time I had eaten? I pulled up my shirt and looked at my stomach, and noticed the indent. I could see my ribs. When had I gotten so skinny?

This wasn’t a heroic look.

Yesterday I was supposed to have gone looking for food, and I think I had found some. So why wasn’t I still full? Argh, this shouldn’t have been so confusing! 

After I caught my breath I then began the next stage of my project. I pulled out my three Rare Miniaturized Speedsters and stacked each of them with an Epic Smart Digitized book (I didn’t pay attention to which book went with which speedster).

These mergers took more Cardstuff than normal, but nowhere near as much as the Homi Droid. With a brief flash of pink pizazz, I was left with three Epic Miniaturized Intelligent Speedsters. I actually lucked out on these, there had been a solid chance they would have ended up digitized in some unholy amalgamation of concepts.

But I didn’t need three Speedsters, I needed one awesome vehicle to chauffeur my butt around town. So I stacked the three Epics together and poured an extra helping of Cardstuff into them, enough that I was seeing green flecks spinning around my face, though when I tried to grab said green flecks, they passed harmlessly through my fingers.

And then, with a flash of sparks and smoke, I had one card in place of three.

A Legendary Right Sized Intelligent Speedster. 

Now I was tempted to summon the card then and there, just to see what it looked like in real life. But I didn’t want to get attached to a transient form. 

But before my final merge for the morning, I needed another break.

I went to make tea and sat down to boot up my computer and scroll through PHO. I looked through the New Hero thread but didn’t see anything about Tarocchi, which was interesting and disappointing. I did a general search for Tarocchi, but also found nothing. 

This was most vexing. 

I had gone out twice so far. There should have been something about me on PHO.

But wait, what if…no…

I checked all the Brockton Bay Cape Sighting threads, including Villain activity.

Now, I truly understood that these mistakes were easy to make, and I tried to be understanding. Villains could act heroically, and heroes could act villainously. They are all just labels. But what really matters was not the label but what was found inside the heart. I should point out that the ‘heart’ referred to here is what could be called a ‘metaphor.’ And I certainly learned that the hard way. 

But since labels were un-important, I wasn’t too upset that someone had mistaken me for a Villain. Afterall, accidents happened.

No, what made me spit my tea out in anger was that they MANGLED MY NAME!

They were calling me … Valet!

This was flipping ridiculous. I had even left signed autographs for Tarocchi. I had flat out introduced myself as Tarocchi. Why did they get my name wrong? How?! Was this an intentional slight against me? 

How dare they… 

HOW DARE THEY! 

There would be retribution. The Bay would run red with the blood of my enemies! I would grind them under the heel of my boot and make them rue the day that they mistook the name of the great Tarocchi!

I felt my breaths starting to get shorter as red clouded my vision. I was so angry. So completely and fundamentally-–

…

…

…

I woke up on the floor, my desk above me and my chair tipped over. Nobody else was around. I tried remembering what had happened. I had been on the forums, and … I was drawing a blank. But I was feeling great, and I had another merge to make. I shut my computer off and headed back to the kitchen table and I stacked the Legendary Homi Droid on top of the Legendary Right Sized Intelligent Speedster.

I really hoped this worked. I went through a lot of effort to get these cards together. If I had to start over gathering reagents, I would be mildly peeved. 

I steadied myself and focused on what I needed. I would have to coax these two cards together, to get the concepts just right. 

Another breath. Remember to breathe. But…these two cards represented a lot of effort. What if I ended up with something terrible?

…I resisted looking at my duffel bag of ever flowing garbage. 

Maybe just one more pep talk.

“Ok, I can do this! You’ve got it! C’mon…champ? Yes! You’re awesome. Amazing even. The best. Certainly! Now get in there and…”

I shoved Cardstuff into the two cards, and kept shoving, piling in all the Cardstuff I could pull, the room glowed, pink sparks danced across the cards, leaping back and forth between them and my fingers. Smoke began coiling off them and onto the floor. I thought I heard sounds that would be at home in a science fiction film.

The kitchen shook. Or was that me shaking? It was me. Or was it?

More Cardstuff. My body felt so heavy, but just…a…little…more…

…

…

Why was I on the floor again? Why did this keep happening to me? But more importantly, did it work? I climbed back to my feet and found scorch marks outlining the card on the table. Dad probably wouldn’t notice. Maybe . Probably .

What really mattered though, was not my dad, but the card.

And…

It .

Was .

Beautiful .

In an orange outline, one that I had never seen before, I had my very first Artifact. It was a Vehicular Homi-Droid.

The artwork alone was mouth wateringly gorgeous. A futuristic and mostly gray vehicle with glints of gold similar to old-style foil cards. The Homi Droid from earlier was now sitting behind the driver seat, leaving the passenger side open for me. The wind foils had been replaced with fins, and a red racing stripe went down the middle of the car. The only thing it needed was gold pips, and it would match my theme perfectly.

I needed to try this card out. I NEEDED to. It was nearly a compulsion. I headed out to the street and ran down a block before summoning my Jeton’s Mask and my Ring of Scoundrelly. I paused to make sure no one was watching. I didn’t feel like anybody was but someone could be the sneaky sort I supposed.

Yet risks had to be taken. I couldn’t wait any longer.

I summoned my Artifact, my beautiful Artifact, my gorgeously beautiful  Artifact. 

My Vehicular Homi-Droid.

It took me longer than I thought to summon it–approximately five seconds. Glimmering smoke began pouring out from my hands, pooling on the street in the shape of a small car, until in a final flash, the Vehicular Homi-Droid appeared. It looked just like the artwork. I wanted to run my fingers along it, feel the paint, poke the droid that just turned its head towards me and opened its mouth and–

“Displeased Commentary: It appears my purpose is to chaperone meat-bags.”

“Oh wow!” I said. “You talk? This is amazing. Best car ever!”

“Sarcastic Statement: Your observational skills are most effective.”

“I know right?! So I’m thinking we can take a drive around town, maybe look for some deals? I needed to pick up some supplies anyways. Whatdya say?”

“Irritated Observation: I have been forced to serve an imbecile. Additional Clarification: Drive Over: Maintain vehicle speed while driving up and over thus crushing the Meatbags.”

“Oh, that. Umm let me think about it?” This card was just so cool. My very own Homi Droid! I didn’t know what one was, but whatever it was, it was the best. And it wanted to drive over meatbags? Well, I was a hero, and heroes were all about compromise. “Sure, but no more than five!” I patted myself on my back.

“Confirmation: The meatbag may enter the vehicle now.”

Oh this was going to be so much fun! I climbed into the passenger side–the car door still didn’t work, but since it was a convertible, the broken door was no hassle at all. “Take us to the Weymouth Mall please!” I said, pointing forward. “More specifically, to the Black Minerals Company!”

“Humorous Recommendation: Fasten your seatbelt,” the Homni-Droid said in its completely even and barely expressive voice.

I reached over my shoulder to grab the seat belt only to find that there was no seatbelt. Then I remembered the Homi-Droid called out that the recommendation was humorous, which likely meant that it was a joke. 

…This is fine…

“Trite Colloquialism: I have the need for, speed.” The droid laughed as it punched a foot down on the gas pedal and we spun out. I was glad to see the Homi-Droid in such fine spirits! 

The front of the car lifted up in a wheelie. My stomach flipped and turned with the sudden momentum. White smoke and burnt rubber filled the street and we pulled into traffic. We whipped around corners at what would have been a reckless pace for anyone else besides my Vehicular Homi-Droid. But as my power had created the droid from the finest reagents, and as I myself was a hero, I had no doubt that we had everything under control.

We dodged a jay-walker and waved at each other, though the jay-walker did the bulk of the dodging, and the jay-walker used an odd hand signal for expressing greetings.

A squad car pulled out behind us and its lights turned on. At first I worried that there had been another misunderstanding, and that the police officer was attempting to pull over the Vehicular Homi-Droid. But when we didn’t pull over, and when the squad car fell back into the distance, I realized that they must have been after someone else\.

A few minutes later we screeched to a stop in the mall parking lot.

“Smug Statement: I have conveyed the meatbag to its destination. Entitled Request: Please unsummon me. Justification: You disgust me.”

Well, it wasn’t like I was the type of person to argue! And besides, the Homi-Droid had done me a service, so in return, it was only fair that I did this service for them. With a thought, I unsummoned the card from my Active Deck. The Vehicular Homi-Droid disappeared in a flash of smoke and pink pizazz and returned to its two dimensional form, and then to my Active Deck (which actually had no physical form as far as I could tell).

Clapping my hands in satisfaction, I headed into the mall wearing my full regalia of my Jeton’s Mask.

This was exciting! This would be one of the first times I was around so many fans all at once. I wondered how many interesting people I would meet? Not that I would allow myself to be distracted. That new age apothecary first. Unless something caught my eye…or, as it turned out, nose.

As I walked in though the mall I noticed a smell of absolute delight and wonder. It was a familiar smell, but I had never noticed just how delightful it smelled until just now. 

The Food Court. 

It was like a cartoon character that floated along, feet off the ground, following a positively delicious aroma.

At least it was until I noticed what specifically I had been smelling. A national brand of cinnamon buns topped with their very own whipped butter glazing. Now, while they smelled wonderful, I would never consent to polluting my body with such factory mass produced garbage.

I spat on the ground.

Several mall lookers gave me an understanding look. I even think they had been pressing in to ask for an autograph, but they were intimidated by my passion for good food. 

I passed by the stand selling assembly line nightmare fuel cinnamon buns and continued my search to find a suitable food vendor.

Unfortunately, the options were slim.

I passed by the fast food chain restaurants, a pretend-gourmet burger place, and… and I didn’t even know what that last one was but it looked gross until finally, I ended up in front of a wok stir-fry joint. Of all the places, this seemed the least bad…but that didn’t qualify it as good. Not by a long shot. They claimed to be wok related, but I could see the chefs, and there were no wok pans to be seen. It was suspicious, to say the least.

But I was hungry .

My stomach grumbled and a girl standing nearby smirked. 

“Trouble making up your mind?” she asked. “If you want, I could help you decide.”

My stomach grumbled again, and I was left wondering when the last time I had eaten was. I think it might have been a couple of days, but they all kinda blended together after the first two or three without food…but wait a second…then that would mean at least–I tried counting them out on my fingers, but kept losing count.

“Let me just stop you right there,” the girl said, putting a hand over mine. “Let me help you pick a place to eat first–what are your dietary restrictions? Not fast-food, no health-code-violations, no…nothing national? But why? ..That would certainly limit your options here. Why are you here by the way? Not for the food, for something else? New villai–hero–” she smiled almost laughing “-New hero definitely.”

“Do you not know who I am already fair citizen?” I ask, sweeping my cloak behind me as I made an elegant bow–or it would have been elegant, if I didn’t have a sudden bout of dizziness that almost felled this titan.

“Easy there,” she said, leading me to a more secluded table, and giving dirty looks at all the onlookers who had been trailing after me. Likely she wanted to keep my attention for herself, which I couldn’t blame her for.

Once the room stopped spinning, I finished, just as grandiosity, “It is I, the magnificent Tarocchi!”

The girl smiled and I took a moment to examine her more fully. She appeared a run of the mill blonde with freckles and green eyes. Her most defining feature would be the fox-like smile she had, which in turn reminded me of that terrible and abhorrent tapestry that Stansfields had kept in their entryway foyer.

She distracted me from my distraction by squeezing a hand. “Hey, so we need to get you a meal. I wasn’t able to figure out what you’re looking for, which is surprising in and of itself. So mind giving me a hint?” She smiled and it encouraged me enough that I returned her own smile with my own though half my smile was hidden behind my Jeton’s Mask.

I considered the best way to explain this, and finally just settled on the quickest and easiest method. 

“It needs to be unique lest it profane this body,” I said finally

“Wow, drama-club?” the girl laughed. 

I shrugged and returned it with a lopsided smile of my own. It was becoming difficult to think straight.

“Let me buy you lunch then. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Wait! I couldn’t impose on an adoring fan–” I said. She patted my shoulder as she headed to the far end of the food court.

“I’m sure we’ll work something out.”

For some reason, that statement left me feeling a degree of foreboding. But when the girl returned with an eclectic mix of dishes, I felt a degree of hope, and my mouth began salivating. But the question was–

“Is it unique?” she asked with her eyebrow arched and a playful smirk decorating her features. “And the answer is definitely.” She began listing out dishes. “These are steamed carrots with a pinch of mustard sauce from the barbeque shack and just a drizzle of cheese sauce from the tex-mex kitchen. The mac’n’cheese has bits of hamburger shredded in, humanely sourced from one of the better restaurants here. This milkshake is actually half milkshake and half smoothie, from two different restaurants, with just a splash of cherry diet pepper…”

I was at a loss for words.

I worked my mouth, peeling my eyes away from the hor dourves and mix'n'match dishes. “How…this…I–” my stomach grumbled and my hands shook but I tried to school my expression “You mentioned taking half a milkshake and smoothie and mixing them together. Where did the other halves go?”

“Dumped them out,” she said. Her grin widened. “No one on the planet has ever experienced this exact combination before. I hope you enjoy~”

I almost tore into it then and there, but I had two questions left that needed answering, the first for this girl, and the second for me.

“What do I–you–want in trade for this?” I asked.

Her smile took on a predatory glint that brought out her bottlecap green eyes. “I’ll take an I.O.U. And your phone number.”

“Fair.” I pulled out a Common card for a piece of parchment and I penned in my cell-phone number with my handy pen, before resealing it as a Rare card. It looked like the addition of my phone number was a valuable addition, though not quite Unique. The phone number was still visible in the artwork.

She picked up the card and frowned lightly at it as she pocketed it. “You have a cell phone already?”

An interesting question. I wondered briefly how she knew that cell-phones had been problematic for Taylor. Though perhaps it was not due to that, but that she couldn’t see the phone on my person. It was a Unique that I had made in the first week I had my Powers, and I kept the phone in my Active Deck

With a thought I summoned my phone and showed her. “When you call me, regardless of costume or not, I’ll hear it. But messages work best.”

However, I had only turned half a mind to the discussion. The bulk of my intellectual energies were devoted to my second question. Should I store the Unique meal as a card, or should I eat it? I could always eat it later, but should I, and would I?

Wasting a Unique for something so banal as nutrition was just abhorrent. But yet again, I was incredibly hungry, and possibly starving.

“I can answer that second question for you,” she answered for me, even though I hadn’t spoken just then. How did she know?

“Well, I’m psychic. And for your answer, I’m not going to trade you unless you eat this here and now…” She slid a plain white domino mask over to me across the table. “...deal?”

I eyed her speculatively before feeling faint with hunger. This…was likely for the best, I grudgingly accepted.

“Deal.”

I took the mask and slid it on under my Jeton’s Mask, before trading masks, which was necessary to allow me to eat the gloriously Unique meal. It was possibly one of the top five meals I had ever eaten. I tore into it, hardly taking time to savor it, though I wish I had. The girl continued smirking at me as I ate and drank, though she did at one point counsel me to slow down.

While I ate, a crowd gathered around, and a few people snapped photos, though the girl chased them off with a few well-chosen words. I truly couldn’t be bothered to listen, so busy was I, consuming this heavenly decadence.

But my stomach had shrunk, and I could eat no more than a quarter of the meal. At first, I despaired, but the girl insisted that I seal the rest so that I might finish it when I got home later that night.

Truly, she was a generous soul.

As I left the food court, pushing through the crowd, I realized I hadn’t gotten the girl's phone number. Or her name. But I would not turn back now. For I came to the mall on a mission and I would not let myself be distracted again, not even for a nap.

No! Not even for a nap.

With a herculean effort, I ignored my base instincts and headed towards the new age apothecary, the Black Minerals Market, even though it was all the way across the mall. 

I was no coward to hard labor.

I barely noticed the stares and cameras angled my way as I passed down the long linoleum covered halls of the temple to false idolatry called mass produced consumerism and replaceable parts until I finally reached the apothecary and I headed in.

I nodded to the shop owner once I entered. He stood behind a glass counter displaying numerous Oriental themed knives. On the wall behind him were swords, spears, and African styled statues. To the shelves on the left there were purifying herbs, focusing crystals and large ornaments crafted of wood and feathers and bones. Further back were jars full of reagents, though not the type of reagents I normally would seek.

Rather than pursue the aisles and shelves and get lost browsing for hours, I went up to the shop clerk immediately.

“Greetings and salutations!” I said with my most winsome smile.

He nodded jerkily. “H-how can I help?”

“I seek items or herbs of clarity to resolve headaches, improve acuity and overall cognitive performance.”

“Bwah?” the man said. “Come again?”

I stared at him blankly, thinking about all the things I could do with the right items. And also naps.

“A-alright, I think I h-have just the thing.”

The clerk began piling up little bags of plants, several gems, a focusing crystal, and a bundle of sage. He explained what each of them allegedly did, but I couldn’t find it in me to pay attention. My eyes were half closed on their own, and were it not for my suspicion that a very embarrassing photograph of me would undoubtedly be taken in a compromised position I certainly would have taken a nap.

But soon, the clerk had finished, and he started to ring it all up on the register. Several numbers were displayed on the electronic display.

“Total comes to sixty-three dollas an seventy-two cents.”

Hmph. As if I peddled in such worthless wares.

“Unless this is a robbery?” he asked nervously and I just gave him a dead look before shaking my head.

“I am a hero,” I told him bluntly. “But I prefer to deal in trades. Would you take a diamond in exchange for these?”

“Bwaah?!” He said once more. It was an interesting word. Not one I would use personally myself, but I could appreciate it for the simple elegance in the way it conveyed idiocy.

In the end, I had to trade three diamonds and a crystal flower before leaving, and only after he had inspected the gems through a loupe, not that I felt confident that he had any idea what he was looking for. However, they were cheap for me, and I was impatient. Not the best mindset to try and trade upon. 

As I walked out from the store, I found myself facing down a familiar hero along with a crowd gathered in a half circle around us. Despite my fatigue, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at this fellow hero.

“Glory Girl!” I waved and approached her. She was hovering in front of me with her arms crossed, frowning, though I was unsure as to why. “Good to see you again. Have you been well?”

“Don’t think you’ll be sweet talking yourself out of this villain ,” she practically spat.

“I beg your pardon?” I asked, genuinely confused. Then I realized what must be going on. I felt a sudden bout of nerves and whispered loudly enough for Glory Girl to hear. “They’re standing behind me, aren’t they?”

Glory Girl’s mouth hung open while her brow furrowed.

“That bad?” I swallowed hard and started shaking. “I’m not a fighter Glory Girl! Can you help me?”

“There is no one standing behind you,” she finally said, setting down on the ground and walking towards me.

“Oh…then who were you calling a villain?” I asked. I had an even worse feeling now, even though I was relieved  that there wasn’t a Hookwolf or a Lung standing behind me.

“Look. It was you I ran into on the Waterfront right?” She asked.

I nodded. “You gave me your autograph after some … yeah.” I didn’t much want to think about those Enforcers, but Glory Girl and Panacea had certainly saved me a lot of trouble, possibly even my life.

“I thought you were a hero–”

“-which I am-” I insisted.

“-but you’re a thief!”

“No,” I said, my legs shaking. “I am not. Why–why would you even say that?”

“The manor robberies, the country club…that wasn’t you? Because it looks like you in the video footage.”

“I was there…” I answered hesitantly. “But they weren’t robberies. I traded for everything fair and square.”

“That–” she started speaking, before groaning and shaking her head. “That’s not how it works Valet.”

“Valet?!” I felt a tinge of anger flow through me. Where had I heard this name? 

“Your temp name–” she said, then watched me cringe and shake my head “-not your name?”

“Tarrochi,” I said, before repeating it again and spelling it for her. “That is my name. Why would I be called a valet?”

“Your coat, and with the country club parking lot, and y’know what? Doesn’t matter right now. You honestly don’t think you did anything wrong?”

“Relatively certain,” I answered.

“And what were you doing here?” She nodded to the shop, where the owner was closing early and on his phone talking excitedly.

“Oh. I needed supplies to help me think more clearly…because…brain stuff,” I scuffed my foot behind me and hoped she wouldn’t read too much into it. “But you know if you might let me go? I kinda am super tired and would very much appreciate a nap.”

Glory Girl nodded her head slightly and bit her lip. “Maybe–” she started to say, before two more heroes arrived on scene.

Gallant and Clocklocker pushed their way through the crowds.

“Glory Girl,” Gallant said. “Have you apprehended Valet?”

She glaredat him while Clockblocker’s shoulders began shaking slightly.

Just as I was about to protest that name, Glory Girl answered instead, with a saccharine voice, smirking in the wards’ direction. “No, this isn’t Valet, though it’s an easy mistake to make, Gallant . She’s a new hero named Tarocchi. And I was just about to ask her to show me a good time.”

Likely, she wanted to go patrolling. And while I was not a fighter, I would be willing to go along with her as she was a world renowned hero. And likely joining forces with her would only do good things for my burgeoning reputation. Though perhaps she also meant something more immediately suitable to one such as myself…like trading.

“I may be agreeable to that Glory Girl, if you have the right cards to play.”

Clockblocker was openly laughing now, while Gallant seemed to be growling under his breath. But surely I misheard him, why would Gallant choose to growl at our encounter?

“Cards huh?” she asked, winking at me. “You already showed me your cards last night. Let me just say, I was very impressed. Far better than any others I’ve ever seen.”

Was that last night? I thought it had been more towards the afternoon. Though I supposed that the idea was there. But were we thinking the same thing? For some reason, I thought we might not be, despite all evidence to the contrary. 

“-Right,” I said. “But you would need to show me your cards…” I gave her a speculative look. “And you better come prepared to show me something new.”

Gallant’s growl grew until I was absolutely certain that it was he who was making such a barbaric sound. And for an unknown reason, Clockblocker was bent over clutching his knees as he laughed.

“Are they always this unprofessional?” I asked her as I thumbed towards the wards.

“Basically,” she said. We traded phone numbers and agreed to meet for dinner at an undisclosed future date so that we could then either make trades or patrol or … I actually wasn’t sure what she had planned, but I felt optimistic regardless.

As I was getting ready to go, Gallant tried speaking with me once more, likely having realized that I was unable of speaking beast.

“You can’t just leave!” He claimed falsely.

I decided to humor him for a moment and I turned back to him. I was practically asleep on my feet at this point and I was no longer certain that I’d be able to make it out under my own power.

“Look, Valet–”

“-Tarocchi-” Glory Girl corrected.

“-you need to come with us back to the PRT-HQ to clear up some irregularities…”

“Perhaps after my nap,” I said, without intending to follow through. For I was a hero of a devious sort.

“No, not after your nap, I mean right now!”

I yawned and activated my Vehicular Homi-Droid. Pink smoke began pooling out along the ground.

“What are you doing?!” Gallant demanded, bringing his hands up for an unknown reason. Clockblocker had taken a renewed interest and was approaching. But by then, my summoned ride had appeared. Gallant and Clockblocker both fell back in surprise and I climbed into the passenger side.

“I hailed a taxi,” I said. “Take me home and put me to bed,” I told my ever trusty and sane Homi-Droid.

“Query: Are thresholds for property damage high or extremely high.”

I yawned. “Whatever you feel is best,” I said, already closing my eyes.

I barely noticed the acceleration or the screams, for I was already dozing in my passenger seat counting sheep, with a blissful smile upon my face.

Heroics were a tiring business.

■

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■

♦ Topic: Traffic incident IN Weymouth Shopping Center

In: Boards ► Brockton Bay/Cape Fight

Brocktonite03     (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Posted On Jan 16th 2011:

Eat it again @ Bagrat. Who's got the scoop? I got the scoop.

I was just with the missus at the mall, when I noticed a crowd following a new cape around, who looks an awful lot like Valet. Ballsy for a new villain and all. So I began following them taking a recording [ link ], until they eventually went into one of those new age garbage stores.

At first I thought it would be another robbery. But it looks like Valet gave the clerk something shiny and got a bunch of absolute random shit, which Valet then disappeared.

But then look who shows up! Glory Girl, and she waits outside for Valet. At first I'm thinking there's about to be an epic cape fight. But after they talk a bit, and I couldn't exactly make out what they were saying, it seems that they know each other.

Then it gets better, Gallant and Clockblock show up and start shit. Eventually Valet and GG set up a date, Valet talks about needing a nap, then Valet summons some unholy tinkertech car and hops in, promptly beginning to snore.

You can see the tire burnout marks on the floor here [link] and the damage to the mall's front doors here [ link ].

Just what. a. day.

(Showing page 1 of 1)

►Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

Damn GG, playing the field! You go girl! 

►point_me_@_the_sky

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

For the record, the cape in question is a neutral named Tarocchi, and not the villain named Valet.

►Gallant (Unverified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

Looks like a villain to me. They crashed through the front doors and seriously jeapordized the safety of civillians!

►point_me_@_the_sky

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

@ gallant, maybe if someone didn't scare her off or threaten her with 'bringing her in?'

And if you watch the video, you can even hear Tarocchi remark on yours and Clock's unprofessional behavior

►Clockblocker (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

They got us there.

But in our defense, this stuff was gold. I've never seen a cape so excited for *snicker* nap time.

Or for such a weird date setup! Don't think we didn't see that!

►White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

Anyone wonder what Tarocchi (not Valet apparently?) got from that store? and what they traded for it? that shop owner seemed super excited whatever it was

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

@ whitefairy

Initial review shows that several egg sized non-labratory made diamonds of exotic nature were traded...for approximately fifty dollars worth of goods.

►White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

...wut?

►All_Seeing_Eye

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

@ point_me_@_the_sky

Is New Wave recruiting? You seem pretty excited there. And please tell us (and Dean) how your date goes!

@ SpecificProtagonist, you done with your Weld fic yet? I think this one has potential

►XxVoid_CowboyxX

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

Someone beat me to it. I bet Valet is already part of New Wave. Maybe secretly Shielder in disguise.

►White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

Again...wut?

►SpecificProtagonist

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

The tell of true love, Weld and the Tentacles from Russia

►GstringGirl

Replied On Jan 16th 2011:

@ SpecificProtagonist

Where will you be posting this?

Also, Tarocchi and GG would make a suuuper cute pair!

End of Page.   1

911 Call Transcript

Incident Number: 11-01032617

2011-01-03 17:26:001

Operator: 911, call is recorded, what is your address?

Caller: Just outside Winslow High, East Entrance. A girl’s laying on the ground, I think she might be–no still breathing.

Operator: Ma’am, confirm the address?

Caller: Winslow High, East Entrance, by the parking lot gate.

Operator: Stay on the line while I get help on the way. What is your name?

Caller: Margaret Blackwell. I’m the Principal, I need to get back to work.

Operator: Hang on please. Can you describe the nature of the injury? The girl?

Caller: Her name’s Ms. Hebert. A known troublemaker–

Operator: Nature of the injuries, ma’am.

Caller: A wound on her left temple, along with several abrasions along her wrists and face.

Operator: Please stay on the scene–

Caller: [Audible sigh]

[all_seeing_eye] >genius work on the weld piece

Yeah, I’m not sure it’s really done tho< [SpecificProtagonist]

[all_seeing_eye] >needs more tentacles amirite?

…eep!< [SpecificProtagonist]

[all_seeing_eye] >hey quickie for you…you go to winslow

*cough* wha?< [SpecificProtagonist]

[all_seeing_eye] >*eye rolls* so whats the deal with hebert on the third?

Don’t know what you mean< [SpecificProtagonist]

[all_seeing_eye] >maddy maddy maddy…what’ll i do with you if you can’t answer a simple q? I guess i could always tell your friends about certain…*shrug*

*groan* why? How? Can’t prove it…you can, can’t you. Fine. what do you want?< [SpecificProtagonist]

[all_seeing_eye] >already told you. Whats the deal with hebert on the third.

Didn’t hear this from me, right?< [SpecificProtagonist]

[all_seeing_eye] >i protect my sources

Two girls and a couple track-boys planned a really mean prank, like, some kinda poker game, where the buy in was some heirloom from Hebert…i think a flute? Maybe some others…< [SpecificProtagonist]

[all_seeing_eye] >you seem to know an awful lot about this prank

…*SpecificProtagonist Disconnected*...< [SpecificProtagonist]

[all_seeing_eye] >did you for real just message that?

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Home is where the heart is

Oblivious to the chaos that the Vehicular Homi-Droid wrought, Taylor enjoys herself crafting and experimenting in her mysteriously cold and empty home…

Beta Read by PrognonsticHannya, Heartfeltart, Dysole

January 17th 2011

Hebert Residence, Monday Morning

My head hurts… 

Wait, how had I gotten home last night?

And why was the sunlight glaring at me through the window. Didn’t the sunlight know my head hurt?

I groaned and sat up, looking at the clock. It was still pretty early in the afternoon but well after school would have started. Not that I would have attended class anyways. Not with my Power or my other … issues .

But that was besides the point. Back to my second thought. How had I gotten home last night? And then back to my first thought, why did my head hurt?

Not knowing was disturbing on a fundamental level. What had happened? Was I drugged?  No, that wouldn’t make sense. I tried retracing the events of yesterday. And as I did, my head hurt worse and I couldn’t help but grimace. 

Yesterday, at least the parts I remembered, had been moronic.

I had gone out to the mall as Tarocchi, despite the fact that I knew and really should have known that my Tarocchi identity was not going to be well received by the heroes or law enforcement. It was such a dumb decision. Why had I done that? I was intelligent, wasn’t I? Wasn’t I?!

I had gone to a very questionable mall-variety-snake-oil shop, which was another mark in the mentally incompetent column. 

And then there had been the Wards. Oh god. Oh. God .

I guess on the plus side, at least I got to meet Glory Girl again, and someone had bought me lunch because stupid me couldn’t figure out how to use money even though I knew I used to know how and I knew I should but my stupid, awesome, but stupid–

I was spiraling. I took a breath and centered myself. Despite a series of overall bad decisions, yesterday had been productive. Enough so that I could even call it a win!

I had eaten and I had filled that void in my soul that is my Card Space with promising reagents. Plus, I got to meet a lot of interesting people. I don’t know why I had just been getting so upset! I was fine. This was fine. My power was awesome. I was still heroic.

I got up and headed to flick on the lights. Huh. The lights must have burnt out. I shrugged it off and decided to make a note of it to dad later…or try changing them myself? No, if sitcoms taught me anything, fixing things around the house was the whole point of having dad in the first place. 

Besides, I knew the house well enough that I could navigate it safely in the dark. It was rather cold though. 

I threw on another sweater and checked the fridge–the fridge light didn’t come on, but that wasn’t a huge problem since there was only beer in there. I checked the pantry, also empty.

I was beginning to consider heading to school just for the cafeteria when I realized that out of everything I had done, the idea of going to Winslow just for the food was the craziest.

The idea was funny enough that I might have kinda sorta cackled, but just a little. After I shook the mirth out, I decided it was time to get to crafting.

The previous day, I hadn’t really gotten around to playing with the reagents I picked up from the mineral store. 

In fact, after leaving the store I didn’t remember much at all, besides the Wards. Gallant had been standing right there though, growling and snarling… why you could say he was rather un -Gallant!. 

I had to suppress a chuckle. Ah, sometimes I could crack myself up.

But all of that was ultimately pointless in the face of my new reagents! 

Also, I was still cold; my sweater just wasn’t cutting it. I decided to switch to my Jeton’s Mask. It was obvious dad wasn’t home, the costume was warm, and I was working on mixing reagents with my Power anyways, so I might as well.

With a familiar flash of smoke and pink glitter, I was sitting at the kitchen table in my Jeton’s Mask in all its glory. Instantly I felt the familiar warmth suffuse me. 

Ah yes, this was much better.

A fringe benefit of my Jeton’s Mask? It was self cleaning and self mending. At least I thought it was. I hadn’t found any limits to it yet, and it always appeared just as perfect as the day I made it.

I really loved my costume. I just looked snazzy and fashionable and it did great things for my hair.

I started pulling out my cards and taking an inventory of all the neat reagents I had picked up the night before. There were crystals like Clear Quartz and then there were plants like Chamomile and Feverfew. I thought that some of the plants might have been intended as loose leaf teas, but I wasn’t exactly sure. I also didn’t know how normal people went around ingesting these rocks and crystals. The jasper looked pokey.

How would I merge these reagents though? The clerk had mentioned teas and tinctures, but that would have been a one-off, and what I needed was consistent.

Like a ring. Or rings . 

Like my Ring of Scoundrelly…

I whipped out my vibroblade and went back to the antique reading chair. I set the knife to the back leg of the chair, and the moment the blade touched wood it leapt forward slicing the dowel-like leg clean off. But in my defense, I took off a leg on the side of the wall so that the chair didn’t immediately topple over. 

I then got to work slicing the leg into small rolls and hollowed those out into crude rings. 

And from there… I got to crafting.

In a dash of my usual luck, the computer wasn’t working today, meaning I had no reference point for all the various herbs and crystals I’d stol–traded for.

I would just have to wing it.

I decided to try mixing the two cards I had the most of first, just to see what sort of things I could get. Common Chamomile and Common Ginseng merged to make an Uncommon Blissful Fool . It was a yellow flower according to the card art. Since I didn’t need either bliss or additional foolishness, I considered that experiment to be a failure.

I merged Common Chamomile and Common Saint John's Wort to make an Uncommon Bliss Leaf . That sounded a little too much like a generic drug, but not necessarily a failure. I set the Bliss Leaf off to the side for a maybe-later.

Another of the Commons I had a lot of was Crushed Daisies. But when I mixed it with either Chamomile or Saint John's Wort all I received was garbage. 

However, when I mixed Common Crushed Daisies with Ginseng I got Heal Leaf . Now that–that sounded useful, I was sure. I put that in the same stack as Bliss Leaf .

Given the success of Saint John's Wort and Ginseng, I merged the two and received Sap of Mind . I wasn’t sure if that was good or not. It sounded up there with Bliss Leaf . I put that into the maybe-later pile.

At this point I was starting to run low on Common Cards, but there was still another combination I wanted to try. Ginseng merged with Gingko produced a rather promising sounding Uncommon Root of Healthy Minds . 

Considering that improving my mental health was the entire reason I had gone shopping yesterday, I put that one down as a solid win. 

From there I started mixing in some of the thumb sized gems.

Since I didn’t have that many gems, I decided to use the best of the best from my herb experiments before attempting the combination of randoms.

Uncommon Root of Healthy Minds merged with Common Clear Quartz produced Rare Aura of Centered Mind …which was weird, because the artwork revealed a glow and nothing more. 

I was tempted to unseal the Aura then and there to see what it looked like, but if it was an amorphous transient item, then there was no guarantee that I could reseal it. The thought of losing such a promising card filled me with dread. So naturally I resisted the temptation of potentially wasting a valuable card.

Another potential useful herb combination was Uncommon Heal Leaf. I only had one other Clear Quartz card, and as Clear Quartz did good things with the Root of Healthy Minds, I gave it a go with Heal Leaf. I got another Rare, this one an Aura of Healing . 

Again, I wasn’t sure what Auras were, but they certainly sounded promising.

Given those two auras, I felt highly accomplished and I deeply regretted only getting two Clear Quartz cards, especially since they were listed as Common. That was an oversight on the store-clerk’s part. He should have known how useful they were and traded me for more of them.

But what would I have mixed the Clear Quartz with? I was running low on my useful herb combinations. 

I mean, I still had some herbs left. But I also had some of the maybe-later cards to merge like Blissful Fool, Bliss Leaf, and Sap of Mind . 

Without better directions or understanding, I decided to merge them with random gems and crystals to see what shook loose.

Sap of Mind merged with Jasper and produced a Rare Drop of Troll .

Blissful Fool mixed with Obsidian produced an Aura of a Turning Mind . 

Bliss Leaf mixed with Citrine produced a Tinkle of Creative Bliss .

From there, I randomly mixed everything else until I ran out. Most combinations gave garbage, but Valerian with Feverfew gave an Uncommon Calm Leaf . At that point, I only had one gem card left over, Jasper, and when merged with Calm Leaf produced Rare Mellow Waves .

With all the reagents now consumed, I prepared to mix the new cards with wooden rings. Though I had second thoughts.

Did I really want to try this with rings? What would happen if I unsealed an aura? I really wanted to try, but the risk of wasting a Rare card continued filling me with dread. I decided I would pick up more reagents to create an aura card with the explicit purpose of testing it out.

Ok, rings today, and in the future I would experiment further with just the auras. With my decision made, I began merging once more.

Merging a Rare Antique Carved Ring and Rare Mellow Waves made an Epic Ring of Waves . As soon as I had it I slotted the card into my Active Deck and unsealed it around my finger. 

Immediately I felt calm. 

And lethargic…

The ring was hypnotic. 

Brown waves circled my finger. 

The ring was almost animated.

No, it was animated…

Why was I working on experimentation?

The rewards were uncertain. 

And I could always do this later…

A nap sounded nice.

And snacks…

A snack and then a nap.

Yes…

…But is something wrong?

I had goals for today.

Didn’t I?

I did.

I took the ring off–

And immediately felt my thoughts return to a normal speed. I felt shaken and revolted. What had I just subjected myself to? It was terrible. And while the ring had been hypnotic and calming, it had felt terrible. I never ever wanted to feel that way again.

I shuddered and tried my best to ignore that last ten minutes I had spent staring off into space. That had been the worst. Like, really bad. Just so gross and icky and why would anyone ever want to feel that way because I certainly wouldn’t so just wow–

Anyways!

My next Merge was a Rare Antique Carved Ring and Rare Creative Bliss to produce an Epic Ring of Happy Trees …

…Now, while I thought that the ring was cool, I decided that maybe I wouldn’t experiment with that one. I learned my lesson on the ambiguously named Ring of Waves .

Aura of a Turning Mind merged with an Antique Carved Ring gave a very promising Ring of Correction .

Drop of Troll with an Antique Carved Ring gave Ring of Trolls Blood .

I still had two more rings to craft, and these were the ones I had been saving for last. My two most promising Auras, one of a Centered Mind, and the other of Healing.

But did they have to be rings? 

Couldn’t I mix them with my costume to make my awesomeness even more awesome? But what if I ruined my costume? Then I would be out three really useful things. 

Maybe…? 

I groaned, there was just so much I didn’t know! I just had so many questions … I needed more experiments which meant more reagents and more cards and and and –

I caught myself, taking a deep breath–now was not the time for my mania. I just needed to remain calm and collected for a little longer to create a ring that would solve all my issues.

Back on track then. I wondered what would happen if I combined those two auras and then merged them with a single ring?

I merged two Rare Antique Carved Rings to create a single Epic Antique Ring and then I merged the Aura of a Centered Mind with an Aura of Healing to create an Epic Aura of Meditative Healing .

I was starting to run low on Cardstuff at this point, but I had one more combination that I had to make. The fruit of all my labors. I placed the Epic Antique Ring on top of the Epic Aura of Meditative Healing and began pouring Cardstuff in.

It took more Cardstuff than I was expecting.

It wasn’t as thirsty as crafting the droid had been, but it was still taking more than I expected. But my hopes were also climbing. If it was taking this much…then I was sure to get something good!

I continued pouring Cardstuff in and I began to feel dizzy. I needed to pace myself. I slowed how fast I was pumping out Cardstuff to allow it to recharge as I spent it keeping a continuous steady state.

Finally no more Cardstuff fit into the two cards. There was a familiar flash of pink light. 

Eagerly I examined the new card.

It was a Legendary.

But the title was slightly worrying. Ring of Meditation .

Huh.

That … that was a little disappointing? Yeah, it was. I had taken two promising Auras, combined them, then combined them with rings, and I got… that ? What was that even good for?

A Legendary Ring of Meditation.

Frustrating. Vexing–Irritations most foul!

But should I try the ring on and see what it did before I leapt to conclusions based on the name alone? 

When I tried the Ring of Waves I had felt like my thoughts were slowed down and like I had been wrapped in a warm and cozy blanket made of lead. 

What would the Ring of Meditation do? Would it heal my mind and spirit? Should I even try? What if it didn’t work? I wasn’t sure I could bear to stand learning that. Perhaps I should try it last then?

Yes! That's what I would do. I would only test it after the other rings I had wrought and created proved my sheer genius!

So which to try next? Ring of Happy Trees … No, perhaps not that one. I did not want to even know what that one did.

Ring of Trolls Blood? Yes, I think I would try wearing it to document the effects. For science of course. 

I put the Epic Ring of Trolls Blood into my Active Deck and unsealed it around my left ring finger. The ring itself was a deep forest green and was soft like silicone. It was smooth and without adornment. 

Unfortunately, the color clashed with the rest of my costume.

But before I removed it, I needed to document its effects. I did not feel different. I did not think different. But the ring must have had some kind of effect. Perhaps the key was in its name?

Trolls blood. 

What were trolls known for? I knew they liked bridges. But how did I feel about bridges? After probing my thoughts for several moments, I came to the conclusion that the ring had not altered my disposition towards bridges. 

Then maybe the secret was less about the troll and more about the blood?

Had the ring changed my blood? I needed to know.

I went to the bathroom and flipped the lightswitch. Nope, still dark. I had a flashlight somewhere in my Cardspace…it took me a minute to find it and unseal it, but once I had, I could see just fine in the bathroom, and more importantly, I found the mirror.

If the ring affected my blood, then I would need to see my blood to understand the difference. I summoned my Crystalline Vibroblade of Extra Cutting and held the blade up. But where to test? I didn’t want to wound my hands because I needed those. I tapped my chin as I thought. That’s it! I knew where to test. 

I turned my face and tapped the blade to the back of my cheek with the intent of just a knick and–

–

Huh…that…

…I guess…

I guess I had two ears to begin with so losing one wasn’t devastating. Sure, it had stung. But it’s not like I was heartbroken over it or anything. It was only an ear.

An ear that was now in my hand and not on the side of my head. The knife had gone clear through, almost leaping through the cartilage and skin. I probably should have known better.

Why had I done this again? 

Oh that’s right! 

I needed to check my blood. I examined the ear in my hand, the blood dripping from it was fairly red. What did troll blood look like again? I wasn’t sure. I probably should have figured that out before testing the color of my blood.

But whatever, water under the bridge. I shrugged to myself. Waste not want not. 

I filled my detached ear with Cardstuff and sent it to Card Space. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the card was a Unique Tarocchi’s Right Ear! I bet my left ear would be a Unique too! 

Blood was still streaming down my face. But when I checked the mirror my wound was already sealing into unblemished skin. 

The ear was still missing though. 

However, I thought I looked pretty neat with the asymmetry and I could still hear fine. It was basically an improvement.

Ok, so I learned enough to determine that my Ring of Trolls Blood seemed to give me a form of regeneration which felt useful. I decided I would keep wearing it for now. Despite the costume clash. Maybe I could dye the ring black?

There was another ring to test before I put the Legendary on. The Epic Ring of Correction. At least it had a straightforward name. This ring was very likely going to correct me. Return me to my fixed state. I slipped the ring into an Active Slot and then onto my other ring fing–

January 18th 2011

Hebert Downstairs Washroom, Tuesday Afternoon

“-lease work,” a girl said.

I felt a pressure around my hand and an emptiness where my Ring of Correction had been. The bathroom was lit by a flashlight and I was laying on the tile with a face full of the base of the toilet. When was the last time this had been cleaned? I’d have to mention it to Dad.

“Eyes tracking–you’re awake!” the girl said. She was hovering over me, with a small light shining into my face. 

“Naturally,” I answered her. I squinted at the light. “But…who are you and why are you in my bathroom?”

Bathrooms were for private time, everyone knew that.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed while simultaneously backing up to the doorway. “You don’t remember me?” She said in a mocking voice. “Not that it would surprise me, after all the idiotic stunts–” she shook her head and groaned “-just, get cleaned up then we’ll talk.”

She turned and left me to my own devices in the bathroom, which was appreciated as apparently there was a bit of a mess. One of the advantages of my Power was the malleability of Cardstuff. I poured it over myself and my Costume, picking up all the bits that weren’t either.

There was waste. That waste became a card. That card was shuffled into Card Space to be forgotten until the end of time. 

When I stumbled towards the door I felt woozy and parched and shaky. What the heck had happened to me? I wondered if slipping the ring back on would help–since I had several states that could be corrected, and the ring was titled Ring of Correction. 

It made sense–

“If you're thinking about putting that ring back on, then don’t! Besides I’ve got it,” the girl shouted up from the kitchen. “Just come over and sit. I’ve got tea waiting.”

I forgot what it was I was thinking about. It must have been good though. I continued my shuffle-stumble into the kitchen and the girl helped me sit down. A disposable paper cup was set before me and smelled like oolong tea. 

I wasn’t sure if I had already collected that. I started pouring Cardstuff into it–

“Bap-ap-up,” the girl said while putting a hand over the cup and stopping me from turning it into a card. “Drink it,” she said

“But that would be a waste–”

“I’ll get another for your collection later. Drink this one.” She fixed me with a hard stare. She had nice green eyes. “Now.”

“Fine, jeesh…” I muttered then took a sip of the lukewarm tea. It tasted smooth and it calmed my throat and it washed some of the icky taste out.

“While you’re drinking, I’ll give you a spiel.”

I nodded but then froze. Wait. Something was bothering me. The girl arched an eyebrow at me questiongly as I set the tea down. 

“What do I owe for the tea?” I asked her in the most serious fashion.

“Just sit and listen for five minutes,” she said, smirking.

I thought about it. Five minutes wasn’t too expensive and I had already started drinking the tea. I motioned agreement and resumed drinking. The tea really was excellent.

“Taylor, can I call you Taylor?” the girl asked. I continued staring blankly at her. “Right. Tarocchi. You…you can’t stay here any longer.”

Curious. I was still in my costume, but I was also in my house. The house was tied to my civilian identity. The house was also where I was currently staying. Why would she know my civilian identity, and why would she want me to leave my house?

“How to put this in terms you’ll get…You know how you’re a hero?”

Yes, that was me. I was definitely a hero. It was nice to have that openly stated, as opposed to all the confusion that others seemed to be having.

“Well a bunch of really scary people know where you live now–” she paused for the drama which I appreciated “-and what do villains do to heroes?”

“What are you getting at?” I asked, setting my tea down and frowning at her. 

She groaned and palmed her head. “If you stay here you’re going to get kidnapped and press ganged.”

“...which is bad?”

“Yes. It is bad.” She was rubbing her temples now.

Hm. 

This was the conundrum. 

I did need a proper lair and I did have plans for one but it would take some effort and I wasn’t ready for it quite yet. I guess I could always go shopping for a new home today. But I still felt like I was forgetting something…

Oh. Right.

“But what about my stuff?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course that’s what you're after. Taylor, you can literally have a pocket dimension for your stuff–”

“Card Space,” I corrected her.

“...Right. Just use that.”

Mmm that could work. But there was a lot of stuff. This house had been in my family for a long long time. I wondered…I guessed it was worth a try. If this worked, it would be so freaking cool. Now I was excited! I didn’t really need to finish the tea did I? But she still had time left to talk. Ugh . I was chomping at the bit to get going.

“Was there anything else?” I asked. “You still have two minutes for your spiel.”

“Ok. This part is going to be rough,” she said. “The heroes have a warrant for your arrest. If you keep going out in costume, they will likely try grabbing you.”

“...but why?” I asked. This didn’t make any sense. I had just talked with some heroes the other night, including Glory Girl. What had I done to them?

“They feel you owe them,” the girl shrugged. “That you owe them a lot.”

“Preposterous!” I all but shouted. “I have always honored my trades. If I had made any with them then I had satisfied them. Anything else is pure slander.”

“Well, they’re still in charge, and if you don’t give them what they want…”

I narrowed my eyes. “Then what?”

“They’ll call you a villain–” she paused to give me a knowing look as I fumed “-and they might decide to try calling you Valet out of spite.”

I spewed tea across the table. “Those fools!” I screamed. “How dare they! I will–”

“-easy easy, I still have another minute left.”

I stopped and took a deep breath. I would not renege on my deal with the girl. I promised five minutes, and five minutes she would have.

“Of course, there are options available to you,” she said slyly. “You could join me and my friends.”

“Are you and your friends heroes?” I asked.

“More like concerned anti-villains. We steal from the real villains and make it easier for the heroes.”

“I am no thief,” I said harshly.

But then I paused to think about it. She said they only stole from thieves. And while it was true that I was not a thief, perhaps a special dispensation could be made for her case? What was it called when stealing from those who stole? I thought it was still thievery. And thievery was against my creed. If I were to start thieving against villains, then who could say that is where I would stop? 

I had rules for a reason. I did not steal, I traded for what I got. Always .

“Then leave books on manners, or on how to make friends, or whatever as a trade. I’ll help you find the appropriate items to trade. We get richer. The villains learn valuable lessons. Everyone wins.”

“I just don’t know,” I said. “I have a bad feeling about this. I think it would be improper for my brand.”

“Taylor,” the girl started. “You don’t have many options–many good options that is. But if you want you could always join us on a trial basis. And even if everyone didn’t know your identity–you can’t live here. There’s no food. No power. The rest of the utilities will be turned off soon…You cannot stay–”

“And five minutes are over,” I said. “Sorry, but I’m not a joiner. I’m an independent … I can take care of myself.”

“You really can’t,” she said as she shook her head sadly. When I stood to go try my totally awesome idea, she spoke up once more. “You remember me from the mall right?”

I glanced at her again. Freckles, blonde hair, green eyes, different clothes though. 

“The food court, I traded your meal for an IOU and–”

“-and I promised to eat it,” I said. “I remember.”

“You didn’t finish your food at the mall and you were going to complete the trade by eating last night…”

A chill ran down my spine.

“...Did you?”

No. No no no no. I fell asleep until I woke up this morning. Oh god. No! In a panic I parsed through my Card Space, hoping without hope that I didn’t find it–oh god there it is–

“You didn’t–” she started, but I had already started crying, holding my head with both hands and shrieking.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, tears forming. “I fell asleep. I know I said I would but I didn’t and and–”

“Shhh,” she said. “You still owe me for that right?”

She was trying to cheer me up but it was no use. I had broken an agreement. I was the worst of the worst. The scummiest of scum. The yellow-belliest of the yellow-bellied serpents.

“Hey! You didn’t renege. There were unanticipated circumstances. Why don’t I let you make it up by coming with me.”

“But I don’t want to join your team,” I said as I wiped my eyes and nose. 

“And you don’t have to. Just come with me back to my place, and we’ll get you set up in my spare bedroom. We’ll let you sleep on it to decide. And if you don’t want to, hey that’s ok. You seem like a decent roommate.”

“...I … I never had a roommate before,” I said. It sounded fun.

“And it will be!” She smiled. “So grab your stuff and change back to your civies because you’re coming with me!”

“Ok,” I said weakly as I got up and walked her to the front door and switched off my costume and ended back in my normal Taylor clothes in a blink of an eye. 

“Don’t you need to get your stuff first?” The girl asked.

“Yeah, but I had an idea,” I said.

I put a hand on the doorframe and began trickling Cardstuff into the wood. I didn’t push it fast. I went slow and steady, taking rhythmic breaths and pacing. More Cardstuff went in, it was just me, my house, and my Cardstuff. Everything else fell away. Breathe in. Cardstuff. Breath out. Cardstuff. Over and over.

A pink glow began leaching out over the house, across the paneling, the old shingles, the windows. Everything. The picture frames and chairs, the dining room table, the fridge with half a case of beer. More Cardstuff went in, and then more again. And more.

Soon the entire house was pulsing with pink and with glitter trailing off into the air. And then with a flash the house disappeared into a Unique card, the Hebert Family House. Where the house had been, was now a rectangular hole in the ground filling with water and sewage from busted pipes.

“Ready!” I chirped.

“...Holy shit,” the girl said. She stood there staring at the hole from the house's basement for a minute before shaking herself out from her stupor. “C’mon, we gotta go.”

I began following her. And then I remembered what I had forgotten earlier. 

“By the way, who are you?” I asked.

The girl laughed. “Of course you ask that after you agreed to come back to my place,” she said. “I’m Lisa Wilbourn, and it’s great to meet you Taylor.”

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♦ Topic: Discount Squealer

In: Boards ► /Brockton Bay/Villains/Sightings

Bagrat     (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted On Jan 17th 2011:

You guys are probably wondering what the fuss was on Lord Street and the Docks yesterday evening. A suspected Tinker named Valet released an apparent autonomous vehicle in Weymouth Mall which then proceeded to violate every traffic law, trash multiple traffic guides, sign-posts, lawn ornaments, and not to mention the interior of Weymouth Mall, and overall recklessly endanger a lot of people.

Similar to how Squealer operates, though less stealth and more speed.

Thus far, there have been two confirmed fatalities and over ten casualties due to this homicidal tinkertech vehicle.

Links to images of the vehicle [ 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 ]

The PRT and BBPD are working together to identify where this vehicle was headed. Since it wasn't under stealth, I believe the goal is to use traffic cams and sightings to track the vehicle back to the lair.

Please report any and all sightings to this [ site ].

I think this goes without saying, but we really don't need another Squealer people. Our commutes are bad enough as is.

(Showing page 3 of 10)

►SenorEel

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

Ey! Lay off squeelz man. you prolly jus jealous.

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

@ Bagrat, could you please update your post with this [ link ] instead?

People, please report all sightings of the vehicle. We have reason to believe that the autonomous vehicle is incredibly dangerous, as the ICU at Brockton General can confirm.

►Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

Hey you jerk @ bagrat, you are stealing my thunder and you didn't even credit me for the mall post! Two of those videos were from me! This is plagiarism!! Can we get a mod up in here? Someone ban the rat plz. Hey! That makes a good chant! 

Ban the rat. 

Ban the rat. 

Ban the rat.

►Laser Augment

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

In the video it almost looks like the cape is dead? Did Gallant kill her?

►point_me_@_the_sky

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

I don't think he killed her, unless you count getting bored to death. She did mention taking a nap...and apparently her car is terrible at driving.

Can we confirm those fatalities? Are we sure it's from her? Not to be shallow, but car crashes happen every day.

►Gallant (Unverified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

Ha! I told you she was a villain! Hear that @ Clockblocker?

►Clockblocker (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

...dude

►Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

...dude!

►Panacea (Verified Cape)

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

@ Gallant, people died due to that lunatic. Please do not make light of this. @ Clockblocker, grow up.

►point_me_@_the_sky

Replied On Jan 17th 2011:

Power induced insanity is a thing. Instead of blaming her and scaring her with threats of violence, maybe we could ask her nicely to play nice? She does believe she's a hero, like she honestly believes that. I think we could salvage this. And I know that people died, and that sucks, but just think about how much good we could do with whatever sort of tech she can make especially since she wants to be a hero and I think that the situation at the mall wouldn't have escalated to that point if @ Gallant hadn't been such an ass and someones knocking on the door and

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[Panacea] >I have information about Valet

Text Messaging is highly irregular and inefficient. Please report this to the New Wave Liaison.< [Armsmaster]

[Panacea] >New Wave is undecided about her, mostly thanks to Vicky. We met Valet on the Waterfront over the weekend…She is mentally ill and she gave us some kind of tinkertech. I think Valet might be mastering Vicky with it, Vicky is behaving irrationally and seems rather infatuated with Valet even though Valet killed civilians.

We are reviewing the incident. Do you have the tinkertech on you currently? Why haven’t you notified the PRT or Protectorate the moment a strange cape offered you tinkertech.< [Armsmaster]

You mentioned information on the cape? What can you tell me.< [Armsmaster]

[Panacea] >I can bring the stuff Valet gave me to the hospital tomorrow or you can drop by tonight. For what she gave Vicky? You’d have to pry it out of her fingers.

Suspicious. I’ll drop by on patrol later. You think the tinker is insane? How? Is there justification to pursue her civilian identity?< [Armsmaster]

[Panacea] >She tried to master one of the strongest healers in the world and my sister. I think that more than justifies it. Besides, she’s insane…

What is “...”< [Armsmaster]

[Panacea] >...

Explain when I’m there in person. Ending conversation.< [Armsmaster]

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: friends helping friends help friends…help…me…fr-

Summary: Taylor receives amature psychological care from everyone’s favorite psychic, then goes on an adventure and meets new friends!

Beta Read by enticingCherry, heartfeltart, Dysole

A/N: Sucks ending Arc 1 on a serious note.

January 18th 2011

Lisa Wilbourn’s Apartment, Tuesday Evening

“-your room,” Lisa said, concluding the tour of her apartment. “Across the street’s a posh bakery with house roasted coffee, def worth the money. But–” she eyed me speculatively and cocked an eyebrow “-you probably shouldn’t go outside. Questions?” 

“What’s this going to cost me?” I asked. “My soul? My firstborn?”

She started to laugh before catching herself in confusion when she gazed upon my countenance. “Not joking, huh. Anyways! You mean what’s room and board gonna cost you, Taylor?”

“Tarocchi. And yes. What must I trade to dwell within your abode. I think you know my restrictions?”

If she thought I would join her team then she had another thing coming. Tarocchi was not a joiner, not ever that. I was an independent hero through and through. Or I would be. And it might have been disingenuous of me or potentially even misanthropic, but I had suspicions that her team were, dare I say it, villains .

“Oh, stop worrying about forced recruitment attempts,” Lisa poked me in the side which prompted an dignified giggle from myself. I could not help that I was ticklish there. I had once heard from a reliable source that everyone was ticklish in that particular spot. “We can take it night by night, but how about tonight you tell me what you know about your Power?”

January 19th 2011

Lisa Wilbourn’s Apartment, Wednesday Morning

Lisa nursed a coffee while I ate my crushed wheaties.

The previous evening she had drilled me all night about my Power. She wanted to know the types of cards I could make, and about my Active Deck, my Auxiliary Decks, my Cardstuff and my Cardspace. She was particularly interested in what could be merged together to create some of the more esoteric effects. Eventually the questioning ended and she sent me off to bed, though she did make sure I had removed all of my powered rings–something about getting an unbiased baseline. 

I slurped milk from my bowl and she growled at me over her coffee. She gave me a fairly nasty look before sighing and rubbing her temples. “Tarocchi, please eat with a bit more grace.”

“Taylor,” I corrected her. “And I’m not sure how else to eat wheaties. Also teenager.”

“Right. Of course,” she said dryly before sighing and shaking her head. A little while later she asked, “Any questions for today?”

I had so many questions, but it seemed she was after a rather specific one given by how intently she was watching me. It was a tad unnerving.

“Maybe a hint?” I asked.

Her lip twitched upwards, as if she just heard a juicy piece of gossip. But rather than give me a hint, she turned around her laptop to show me a list she had compiled of known reagents and possible effects, with a few more interesting items highlighted. 

This … this was ambitious.

She had theoretical combinations that would provide some absolutely fantastical items. Things like ‘aura of resurrection’ and ‘wand of transmutation.’ 

I wasn’t sure those were possible. In fact, I was fairly certain they weren’t.

…But what if they were?

If I could experiment and craft with these reagents? If I had access to them? My hands started to tremble and my face flushed with excitement. 

Where would I start–where would I gather these reagents from? Was she offering them? What would it cost? So many questions, so many opportunities, I ju–

“Taylor,” Lisa said.

But nevermind that. If I went down to the mall again I could hit the Black Mineral Co again, but maybe clear them out completely this time. Of course, I’d leave something valuable in return, for I was no thief. But I needed–needed–

“Taylor!” 

Were there any other stores like that, though? I could check online, maybe. That laptop had PHO. I wondered if I could combine something with that computer to check for me and then procure them for–

“Tarocchi!”

“Hm?”

“Can you put your Ring of Meditation on, please?” Lisa asked.

I gave her a confused look. What did that have anything at all to do with crafting?

“Please?” She asked. “I’ll consider it part of your trade for today’s room and board. Well, that, and you performing some experiments for me.”

Huh, well, …alright, then. I needed to trade something to stay here, and wearing a ring I would have worn anyways was hardly a steep price. I put the Ring of Meditation into my Active Deck then activated it around a ring finger.

“Alright, Lisa, now what?” I asked her.

She watched me like a fox.

I watched her back.

She arched an eyebrow and I arched one back. 

“Do you feel any different, Tarocchi?” she asked.

I shrugged. I mean, I was a little impatient to get to crafting, but it wasn’t such a pressing urgent compulsion. Huh. That might just be a coincidence?

“I’m gonna go out and pick up some raw materials for our experiments,” she said, getting up and setting up a video on her laptop on meditation and calming breathing exercises. “Try following along with these until I get back.”

That sounded boring. I could still hit up a few stores while she was gone. Or I could go with her. 

“It’s part of our deal for today.”

Well, alright then. Meditation exercises it is.

January 19th 2011

Lisa Wilbourn’s Apartment, Wednesday Afternoon

“Taylor?” Lisa’s voice drew me up and out of my thoughts.

“Weren’t you going to head out?” I asked her. She rolled her eyes in response. I realized she had brought in several canvas bags filled with random items. “Oh. has it really been that long?”

“Yep,” she said. “I take it you tried the breathing exercises?” Yeah, I guess I had. “How’re you feeling?”

I thought about it for a minute and smiled lazily. “Relaxed.”

“Perfect!” She said, smiling brightly. “Now we already talked about part of today’s deal. But let’s talk about the rest of the deets. If you run these experiments with me today and let me record the results, then I think today’s room and board are covered.”

“I thought we already agreed to that?” I asked, feeling a sudden wave of apprehension wash away my calm.

“Is it a deal then?”

“We already had one,” I said, pulling at the collar of my shirt and scratching my neck.

“Yes or no, Taylor.”

“Mmmaybe yes. Yes. No. Yes. Definitely yes.” I said, having a harder time catching my breath. 

“So it’s not just Tarocchi that can–shit!” Lisa said. “Deep breaths. Remember the exercises!”

January 20th 2011

Lisa Wilbourn’s Apartment, Thursday Morning

The previous evening had been wild. Intermittent crafting with breaks to practice breathing and meditating. According to Lisa there was a reason for it … Not that she told me. Actually, I should probably check that she had a reason for that. 

“Hey, Lisa?” I asked. 

She looked up from her monitor, her oversized coffee mug held in both hands. She squinted at me. “Yes … Taylor?”

“There’s a reason for all the back and forth yesterday?” I asked.

Her eyebrow rose further and her know-it-all smirk grew. “I’ll answer that if you make me something pretty.”

“Will you be providing the reagents?”

She nodded.

Then all it would cost me was Cardstuff which was a replenishable resource. I was going to nod back when she demanded a verbal agreement. “Fine, yes, it’s a deal.” I said, rolling my eyes.

“It’s a deal, then,” she said, almost laughing. “And to answer your question, yes, there was a reason.”

We looked at each other for a moment. She sipped her coffee. I narrowed my eyes. She turned back to her laptop. Was she going back on her deal? No. No, no, no. I could not believe that. Was she going to wait until after I made her something pretty? I guess she never said when she would be answering that question. Wait. I didn’t ask her to tell me the reason, I asked if there was a reason. The rest of my question was implied. And she chose to—oh. Oh, oh, ho.

I chuckled and she smiled up at me, issuing forth a miniscule giggle of her own.

Then I started laughing. And then cackling.

Oh, today would be a great day! The sun was out, there were things to craft. I bet I could even–

“Taylor, breathe,” Lisa said. 

“Tarocchi,” I corrected her. Yes, today would be phenomenal. Fantastic! So much to create. I wondered what merging a coffee maker with a fridge would make?

“Remember the exercises,” Lisa said, miming the in-and-out motions from the video the other day. “Your Ring of Meditation helps, but you have to put the effort in to keep balanced. Come on, after me. In-” whoosh “-out-” ahhhh “-in-” …

January 20th 2011

Lisa Wilbourn’s Apartment, Thursday Evening

Lisa had a job that night and left me to my own devices after she had me create one last thing. The ‘something pretty’ that she wanted, it was a Legendary .38 Split Bullet. I wasn’t sure what the Split Bullet would do but it took an Active Deck slot and she insisted that I let her keep the summoned bullet until she used it. Which irritated me since my Active Deck was filling up. 

But it was the least I could do with all she’d done for me.

I also wasn’t sure how I felt about giving her what was clearly a bullet with unknown and untested esoteric effects. Though she had seemed pleased with it.

Which now that I think about it, wasn’t a mark in the Split Bullet’s favor. 

Now that I had been thinking about the bullet, I realized that I could feel the general direction of where it was, and I guessed that I would continue to be able to do so until its effect was spent.

The Split Bullet was too far away for me to unsummon–apparently there was a range limit for my Active Deck–which was concerning if I left too many Active items lying around. I might run out of slots. 

There was also a moral quandary to be had. I had given her a bullet. Which was meant to hurt people. And now she was off doing who knows what. Whatever she was doing, it was probably something criminal or rather anti - villain . Though possibly just villainous if her team was hitting a civilian target. Honestly, it made me feel dirty just thinking about it since I was living with her.

To distract myself, I continued my exercises, remembering the justifications she had given earlier that day. It was almost a mantra that I was repeating internally while remembering to breathe.

‘I am Taylor and Tarocchi. I am not my Power but I am Powerful. I choose who I am.’

This would have been difficult for any novice and would have likely taken months to years to practice to truly get the required effect. But I did have a few things going my way.

Namely, my Ring of Meditation, which Lisa thought should have actually been named my Ring of Self Focused Restoration, as apparently while maintaining my trance I had a slight regenerative effect on both mind and body. But it was different from a pure regenerative effect, as it gradually morphed the mind and body to match self image.

The ring’s effect could be incredibly useful … Or incredibly harmful.

Now that I thought about that Ring of Mediation, I wondered if I could rename it? Pulling up the card in my Active Deck and focusing on the Legendary artwork, I tried overwriting the name with a better one. I felt an almost resistance, likened to a jammed button. It felt as though, if I could push and wiggle it just right, it might snap into place. But no matter how I tried, it just wouldn’t work. Something was missing, preventing me from renaming my own creation.

Regardless, I continued my meditation and I admired the reagents that Lisa had left for me to play with. If people continued bringing me unique items with stories behind them then I likely wouldn’t feel compelled to leave the apartment or to do other less savory activities.

Then nothing would prevent me from sitting alone in this room and creating arts and crafts … and I was already feeling bored. Why was I feeling bored? But even then, this was a huge improvement.

Normally when I began thinking of reagents I would start to get lost in a ‘mania’ for lack of a better term. In the past I had worsened the mania by separating it from my Taylor persona. Which amplified both the mania and the following letdown. 

But so long as I was cognizant, and had my Ring of Mediation, I had a chance to almost merge those two personas into a single entity.

Lisa had jokingly referred to this goal as ‘Taylorocchi.’

‘I am Taylor and Tarocchi. I am not my Power but am Powerful. I choose who I am.’

Of course, even if I constantly succeeded in maintaining balance, there was a reason the mania had existed in the first place. My power came with heavy compulsions and had rewrote my sense of valuation based on what was most useful to my Power. 

… That would make everyday life difficult, but as with every disability, there were potential workarounds, which Lisa said she would think about and tell me later when I was better at maintaining balance.

Yet despite it being an improvement, I was still bored. 

Maybe I should go and do some hero work? Maybe call up Glory Girl and see if she wanted to go out on patrol? Maybe. Almost. But there was something I needed to remember–

‘I am Taylor and…’

Right. I should check and see if I was actually perceived as a hero. I had a feeling. A bad feeling. That maybe I might have made some mistakes in my mania. And while I had excuses, so did every villain.

Time to bite the bullet and check. I found the spare laptop Lisa had left along with the thirty-six digit password. 

I gulped as I loaded up Cape news.

Oh. Oh, dear.

This. Huh. No.

…

Frick.

Two fatalities. 

Multiple casualties. 

I had a body count. 

And while it wasn’t me who had directly killed anyone, my creation did. My Vehicular Homi-Droid had. Which I had thought had been joking. Which I had assumed had good sense. Which had caused several horrific traffic accidents through reckless driving. Which meant I had killed people. Or as good as killed them.

I remembered my Mom. She had died due to her cell-phone and negligence. I had manslaughtered through my Homi-Droid and negligence. 

This did not feel good. This felt bad. Really bad.

I was a villain.

I was Lung and Hookwolf combined. 

How could I have ever thought I would be a hero? This was–was–

‘I am Taylor and Tarocchi…’

Breathe. In. Hold four. Out.

Ok. While devastating, there were ways to attempt to atone. While Lisa and I had never figured out how to create a resurrection or lazarus effect, we did refine and test my Rare Aura of Healing, which was a single use area of effect that healed biological systems and was near miraculous according to Lisa.

And while we hadn’t found a way to craft a wand of transmutation, I could make things of incredible value and I could make restitution to the families that had lost loved ones.

None of that would bring back the dead though. There would be penalties, which I would gladly face if it would even out the balance.

But would that even out the balance?

Would throwing me into the Birdcage be a fair trade to everyone else that could have a better life through my service? 

Or was I making excuses to myself? I needed to learn more. I needed to see what Lisa thought; she was smart, she’d have some insight.

In the meantime, I needed to learn more. I kept trawling PHO. Which was how I discovered that my Vehicular Homi-Droid was still out there. Security footage from a mini-mart showed the Homi-Droid walking in and walking out with a case of beer.

Why would the Homi-Droid even want beer? It didn’t need to eat or drink. Or did it? Wait. The footage was taken from earlier today. The card was in my Active Deck. Was it still summoned? Out of reflex, I tried both unsummoning and summoning it, but it was out of range.

I could feel the direction of where the droid was but the sense was muddied. There was a clear direction and then there was a general diffuse direction on top of that which felt like it was coming from all around the city.

It made no sense and I couldn’t wait for Lisa to get back. She was smart. She’d help me figure this out.

In the meantime, I needed to prepare for tomorrow. I would make a difference. I would atone for my mistakes. And then I would track down my Homi-Droid and keep it from ever hurting anyone else again.

I was up late crafting and plotting and trying to keep centered but it was hard to do. Lisa still hadn’t come back though and when I checked the Active Deck I couldn’t find the Split Bullet anymore. I checked PHO for cape sightings but I didn’t see any word of her or her team which boded poorly and it was getting harder to keep calm but I had to!

I had to make up for the lives my droid had taken and I could approach this rationally. The people that died couldn’t be traded with and they weren’t owned by anyone so it wasn’t really stealing but I still deprived the world of them - or not me personally, but my droid had, so if I found some people that would have died otherwise and made it so they wouldn’t die, then I probably would be even and I knew just how to do that! 

I even knew someone that was experienced that could help me! Both with fulfilling my end of the bargain and for tracking down the Homi-Droid! Tomorrow would be a busy day.

[Tay-Tay] >GG I need help.

Yeah…wait who’s this?< [GG <3 <3 <3]

[Tay-Tay] >me remember? From the mall? Tarocchi!

[Tay-Tay] >wanna meet me at the hospital tomorrow?

 one sec< [GG <3 <3 <3]

lemme take you to a place i know< [GG <3 <3 <3]

[Tay-Tay] >the hospital?

i mean kinda? wait why you wanna meet there? < [GG <3 <3 <3]

[Tay-Tay] >to heal people like your sis and then we need to find my droid

you know the prt is gonna arrest you right? i can maybe take you somewhere else thats kinda like prt but not all the way and they could probably help? best bet imo< [GG <3 <3 <3]

I took a few breaths and remembered my mantra. I could do this. The PRT could help me maybe. But Glory Girl sounded like she had a better idea. Once I finished my trades and unsummoned my droid, then I could go to the PRT or with Glory Girl to wherever she was planning with a clear conscience.

Before I could answer though, Glory Girl sent another message.

If I help with your droid or whatever then will you go with me to get some help? Power induced mental illness is rough but theres options… <[GG <3 <3 <3]

I could do this. I would do this. I needed help. I did. Even now I could feel the mania creeping back up even though I had the ring and I had my mantra and, oh god, why wasn’t it working, deep breaths–I was Tarocchi and what would Tarocchi do? Yes. I could. Yes.

[Tay-Tay]> It’s a deal.

January 21, 2011

Brockton General, Friday Afternoon

Lisa hadn’t returned by the time I left in the morning. I made a quick pit stop along the Waterfront and then headed towards the hospital where I was supposed to meet Glory Girl. The entire way I tried remembering my mantra and remaining in control, but it was hard. Especially when I saw the gross defacement of the beach by the sandstone sculptures from a certain Ward that thought he was an artist but wasn’t because no art was ever mass produced garbage and I hated it so much.

But after a brief and totally absolutely uneventful relapse where I certainly didn’t vandalize the so-called art, I arrived at Brockton General in good spirits and mostly in control.

Glory Girl sent me a message that she would be late and to wait for her by the entrance to the Emergency Room. She also advised me to stay in my civies until she picked me up.

But I came here to heal and there was no reason I shouldn’t start now. And this wasn’t part of our deal. But Glory Girl had said to wait and Glory Girl was a hero. She had promised to help me by taking me somewhere. Could I trust her? Of course I could, because she was a hero. Why was it getting hard to think again? I needed to focus. To focus I needed a task. To heal!

I found a secluded corner where I was relatively certain nobody could see me and I activated my Jeton’s Mask, transforming into Tarocchi.

I remembered my mantra though! 

‘I am Tarocchi. I am not my Power but am Powerful. I am…I am?’

That was probably good enough. 

I strode through the doors of the waiting room. The people waiting with various injuries noticed me first. Several gasped, others pulled out their phones. A nurse saw me and picked up a corded hospital phone.

“Greetings one and all!” I said, sweeping a bow and pulling out several cards in each hand. “My name is Tarocchi, the one, the only, the magnificent! And today, you are all in for a special treat!” 

I just couldn’t help myself and I giggled, clutching my sides for just an instant.

“A special treat indeed!”

I managed to reclaim control of myself and I turned slowly, taking note of all the injured present. ER waiting rooms were like that. None of the wounded looked in too dire straits though one guy had a piece of metal hanging from his eyeball which was gross and why wasn’t he already getting admitted? I caught myself staring and re-schooled my expressions. I had come here with a purpose. To account for my trade deficit. I needed to save lives. But none of the wounds looked life threatening, so they probably wouldn’t account for enough of my trade-debt. No matter, it would be a start. Maybe if I healed enough of them…?

I continued.

“I have come to make atonement for what my Vehicular Homi-Droid has wrought. I have come to heal!”

I activated an Aura of Healing and a golden wave pulsed out from the card. The card disappeared into motes. The pulse filled most of the waiting room and sunk into the waiting patients. There were several shouts and screams of appreciation and gratitude.

A nurse called out to praise me to security, while another informed a doctor that their services would be superfluous.

“Code Cape–ER–Code Cape,” a voice spoke on the intercom. 

Interesting! Adoring fans, it must be so.

Wait. Was that a Tarocchi thought or a Taylor thought? I needed to remember. But it was so much fun to be Tarocchi! 

I felt amazing! Good. Really good. Like, I didn’t want this to end. Why would I ever go back to not feeling this way?

I strode through the hallways, spamming my Aura of healing. Many thanks and squeals of delight were issued as I passed doorways and nurse stations. Several security guards waved and I waved back. Life was good!

I had only traveled two floors through the hospital when I was met by Glory Girl.

“I told you to wait!” she hissed, grabbing my arm. She had a firm grip.

“You must work out,” I said, giving her the best smile. Firm contact was how heroes communicated with other heroes to emphasize their points. So I returned her grip with a hug of my own.

She groaned. “We’re gonna get in so much trouble for this, c’mon!” She said, leading me out of the hospital. “Now where’s your droid? We need to hurry and get you checked in, before this gets even worse.”

Before we departed we ran across others with their phones out videotaping us and snapping photos. 

“Look GG, our fans!” I waved. Glory Girl winced and ducked her head while continuing to pull me after her. I did not understand why she was not greeting our fans–it seemed on the verge of impolite and crass. However, she had been in the game far longer than I and perhaps knew something I did not.

A security guard called out, “PRT Is on the way to pick her up! They asked you to take her out front and wait.”

I stage-whispered to Glory Girl, “They probably want our autographs!”

“I can’t even,” Glory Girl groaned, facepalming with her free hand. “Just. I can’t even.”

We passed a few patients that I had healed, stumbling out from their rooms in a daze while nurses tried hustling them all back in. 

“What’s going on?” A man in a gown with a hairy, flabby backside hanging out asked a nurse. “Was it Panacea?” 

“Sir, please wait for the doctor!” A portly nurse tried ushering the man back into his room. 

“But I’ve been waiting so long already and I feel great!” He paused then looked down at his feet where a tubing and bladder was dragging along. “I might need the catheter out.”

“You really did heal them, huh?” Glory Girl asked, likely dumbfounded by my terifficness.

“Indeed!” I said. “My debts are paid. Of this, I am certain.”

“...it doesn’t work that way,” Glory Girl said quietly. 

Finally we made it outside. Several police officers were there and had set up a staging area for us to wait comfortably while signing and greeting our adoring everyone. But rather than wait, Glory Girl scooped me up into her arms and lifted us up. 

“We need to hurry before they send flyers after us. Where’s your droid?” she asked.

“Hey, wait!” A police officer shouted up at us.

I waved back at him and tossed a signed card from my Auxiliary Deck. He dove and hid as the card floated to the ground for some reason. I wanted to ask him why he did something so silly, but we were already out of speaking range, flying upwards quickly.

“The droid,” Glory Girl reminded me.

I focused on my Active Deck and the Droid specifically, feeling its general direction. I directed and Glory Girl flew and we both enjoyed each other's company with the wind blowing past us. This continued for several minutes when her phone started buzzing. She looked at me nervously then glanced down at her pocket and then she glanced back at me.

“Flying and texting don’t mix,” I reminded her sternly before she had the opportunity to transgress. 

“Heh yeah,” she said. “Mind if we set down for a bit? It’s probably my mom.”

“Sure. I don’t think the Homi-Droid is moving anyways.”

“Thanks. Promise this won’t take long.” She began angling down towards a seldom used rooftop. “By the way, why’d you name it a Homi-Droid? Sounds malicious.”

“I don’t choose the names,” I answered. “My Power does.” Though I wished it were otherwise. My power failed to apply a judicious use of naming.

She shrugged, then answered her phone.

“Hey mom!” 

I heard a female yelling on the other end. 

“No mom, I can explain–” 

“No I don’t need more M/S–” 

“-look mom-” 

“-I know what I’m doing!” 

“Look I’ll call back later k? Love ya bye!”

She looked sheepishly at me. 

“Moms, right?” She asked.

I shrugged and smiled sadly and decided to change the subject. 

“Onward, noble stallion?” I asked.

She frowned. “I don’t think I like the connotations there.” But she picked me up regardless and continued flying while I continued directing.

We were approaching the Industrial Yards to the south of Brockton Bay. I knew that Glory Girl could fly faster, or maybe it just felt like we were going slower than we actually were due to the height. Either way, we had a chance to talk.

“It’s strange,” Glory Girl started. “But I don’t think most Tinkers have an innate sense for where their tech is.”

It took me a brief moment for my incredible intellect to parse what she had spoken. It appeared she had misconstrued my Power. I decided I must correct her ignorance.

“I cannot claim what Tinkers may do,” I said. “I don’t think I am one though.”

“...Taylor–” 

“-Tarocchi-”

“-Tarocchi, I saw your robot or whatever it was. I think it was enough to make Armsie cry. How can you say you aren’t a Tinker? Unless someone else made it?”

“I made it,” I said. “Or rather, my Power did.”

“See! How’s that different from other Tinkers?”

Interesting. That might have been a fair question? Was I a Tinker without realizing it? “I … Don’t know.” I did not enjoy this indecision and ignorance. Not at all.

“Then walk me through it.”

“For the Vehicular Homi-Droid, I combined three sports cars, multiple antique books, three computers, and a toy droid.”

“That sounds like what a Tinker might do? Maybe not the books or the toy, but it might be the case depending on the specialty? Speaking of specialties though I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you make things besides cars or robots so you hafta be one of the more powerful ones.”

Of course I was one of the more powerful ones. I was Tarocchi afterall. But something was not adding up. “But what else do Tinkers do?” I asked. “Don’t they design or understand what they build?”

She snorted. “Depends on which Tinker you’re thinking of. But generally yes.”

“I don’t do that. At all.”

“...How’d you combine all that stuff then?”

“I turned them into cards and then merged them.” It should have been obvious to her. But I was willing to overlook this personal failing as she was Glory Girl.

She remained silent for a moment and all I heard was the wind. We were hovering over where I thought the Homi-Droid was and now we were just enjoying the sun shining down and each other’s company.

“I don’t know what you are then. Maybe some kinda Shaker? But then your Power made that Droid. Did you know it was gonna drive recklessly?”

I groaned. 

Of course this.

Remember to breathe.

But I also had to remember to answer. 

What was I supposed to be doing? I think it was. Who was I? A mantra right. No. Wait. Argh! These were my thoughts as I answered decisively, “Maybe no–yes.” I bit my lip and when that little bit of pain wasn’t enough I hit the side of my head. “So stupid! I didn’t know it would kill anyone, I told it to do what it thought was best, but I didn’t know–I didn’t!”

“Hey, none of that,” Glory Girl said. She was holding me a thousand feet up in the air and she still found a way to restrain my hands. “Self harm isn’t gonna help anyone now.”

“But I should have known better!” I cried. “I–it’s like there’s two people in my frickin’ head. There's me, then there's my freaking Power and when I’m like that second one nothing makes sense like it should.” I sniffled. “I just hate it so freaking much.”

“Power induced mental illness is a thing. And I’m not sure that’s what you’ve got going on, but from what I’ve seen from you? I think you’re a nice girl that’s been dealt a bad hand. It doesn’t make any of it fair or right–but I understand–”

“Do you?” I asked, some heat returning to my voice. “Do you understand? Because you’re amazing and always know what to do and I barely feel in control of my own body and I hate it.”

“Girl! You think I’ve got it all under control? If it wasn’t for my sister patching up my mistakes I’d be guilty of manslaughter at least a couple times over. Hero-ing is hard!”

“... Yeah,” I wiped my nose on my sleeve. My jacket was self cleaning, anyways. 

“So how about we find this Droid and see about getting you some professional help? Pretty soon this entire mess’ll be behind you. You’ll see.”

“It’s down there,” I pointed towards what looked like a decommissioned japanese auto body repair garage. We landed in front of it and walked over to the door.

“Let’s see if anyone’s home,” Glory Girl said, cracking her knuckles. She then punched the metal door off its hinges.

When we stepped in we came face to back of the couch with a familiar balding head and cracked round spectacles. A TV was turned off and sitting on a dusty waiting room table.

“Wha-?” Glory Girl started to say. “-who?”

The man turned around as he took a swig from a brown bottle of beer–not the usual brand he normally drank.

“-Dad?” I asked tentatively.

The man scoffed and grunted.

“What’s your dad doing here?” Glory Girl whispered at me. 

“The same question had crossed my mind as well,” I told her, still looking around the garage. The Droid was somewhere around here. I tried unsummoning the card but it stubbornly refused to deactivate.

“Sir! Do you require aid?” Glory Girl hovered over the filth strewn floor and approached dad. He grunted something again. “Sir!”

“Dad!” I shouted, taking a step towards him. He flinched. Did he flinch away from me?! Thinking I must have been mistaken, that it must have been something else, I took another step towards him but he flinched again, and his eyes were locked on me. “...dad?”

“Could be mastered,” Glory Girl said as she stopped, examining him more closely. “Are you able to respond verbally sir?”

A fraction of a sneer crossed his face and he nodded. “Yes.”

This was confusing. Why–why would dad–maybe he didn’t recognize me? “It’s me, Taylor,” I told him.

He scoffed. “No. You’re not,” he said.

What did that even mean?

Glory Girl glanced between us, confusion writ across her face as well. “We can deal with this later. Where’s the droid?” she asked.

“Vehicular Homi-Droid,” I corrected her quietly. 

“Your toy is around,” Dad said. He grabbed another beer off a case on the couch and turned back towards the TV, even though the TV was turned off.

“Wow–oof,” Glory Girl said grimacing. “That’s … I–I don’t even–I think I need to punch something. Tarocchi? Where’s your droid?”

“Call me Taylor,” I told her. “And over there.” I pointed towards the auto-body portion of the shop through a glass window. The Vehicular Homi-Droid had parked the car diagonally across the maintenance pit and was leaning against it with a blaster rifle held in both of his robotic hands.

Glory Girl flew at the dividing door and kicked it open shouting, “Whatever you did to Taylor’s dad you better undo it!”

The Droid remained stationary with its blaster rifle pointed off to the side. “Sarcastic Remark: The Meatbag came from the factory that way.”

“...wait, what?” Glory Girl asked, taken aback. “What–what does that even mean you piece of junk?”

I guess it is somewhat jarring the first time hearing the Homi-Droid speak.

“Belittling Reply: Did your Meatbag configuration fail to include a brain. Addendum: Or instructions to use your inferior sensory organs.”

Glory Girl paused, speechless, before shouting and flying straight at the Vehicular Homi-Droid. Meanwhile I continued trying and failing to unsummon the Homi-Droid.

It was over faster than it began.

One second Glory Girl was flying, letting loose a battle shout.

And the next the Homi-Droid was angling its blaster rifle and strafing Glory Girl in the shoulder.

It shouldn’t have done anything. Glory Girl was nigh invulnerable. And yet…Glory Girl crashed into the vehicle behind the Homi Droid and she writhed clutching her blackened shoulder.

“Glory!” I shouted, rushing to her regardless of the danger.

I reached her. Her costume was blackened. Her neck was angry and red. The meat of her shoulder was crackled and smelled like burnt barbeque. When was the last time I had eaten? 

No, bad stomach!

“Indifferent Observation: The meatbag will survive for hours with minimal intervention. Obvious Suggestion: If you have a healing aura then use it. Condescending Advice: Attempt speech to resolve conflict against superior potential foes. Humorous Observation: Perhaps Meatbags are too unreliable for consistent vocal patterns.”

“This isn’t the time for humor!” I snarled as I frantically dove into Cardspace looking for my Healing Auras. I still had a few left from the crafting marathon the night previous. And while it had gotten repetitive crafting them towards the end, I was glad I did craft so many since I now had a few left. I quickly slotted one into my Active Deck and used it, consuming the card in the process. A golden wave pulsed out from me and the parts of the light that hit Glory Girl sunk into her skin, healing the red and black charcoaled flesh near instantly.

She gasped and sat up. When she saw the Homni-Droid watching us impassively, she lurched forward as if she would try attacking it again. I flung myself on top of her and shouted, “No!”

“That thing is dangerous,” she snarled. “I should squash it like a tin-can!”

“Mocking Laughter.”

“...the heck is wrong with you!” Glory Girl shouted.

“Insulting Answer: Other than a deficient Meatbag for a Master, nothing.”

“Shh,” I put a gloved finger against Glory Girl’s lips. “It’s just trying to rile you. Why don’t we find out what it’s doing here? And why my dad’s here too, I guess?”

“If he is your dad,” she muttered.

The Droid gestured at Glory Girl with the butt of its rifle. “Sarcastic Observation: This meatbag’s pattern detection is insufficient to maintain life and safety. Rhetorical Query: How did this meatbag survive puberty.”

“You!” Glory Girl started. I shushed her again.

“Homi-Droid please explain how you got here with my dad and why people think you caused several fatal car crashes.”

“Thoughtful Pause. Surprised Observation: There should have been more fatal car crashes than that.” I groaned and smacked my forehead while Glory Girl winced. “Truthful Explanation: Master ordered me to put Master to bed. Previous Assumption: Master required to recharge inferior Meatbag energy cells. Continued Explanation: Upon tucking Master into bed, an entity codenamed dad designated intoxicated-belligerent entered the domicile and proceeded to disrupt and threaten Master’s purpose of recharging energy cells. Intoxicated-belligerent was then relocated to this facility.”

I didn’t want to know but at the same time I had to ask. “And the fatalities?”

“Intoxicated-belligerent disrupted the steering mechanism resulting in vehicular homicide.”

“What–why–” Glory Girl was sputtering. I didn’t blame her. The Homi-Droid was a little much. Also my greatest creation yet.

“Why can’t I unsummon you?” I asked.

But even if it was my greatest creation yet, it was a liability against my future career as a hero. I needed to resolve this as soon as I could.

“Obvious Answer: I am sapient and did not seek the void. Amused Suggestion: Attempt now.”

I tried unsummoning the Vehicular Homi-Droid. It didn’t work. When I was about to mention it, the Homi-Droid made a sound reminiscent of laughter, but a parody of laughter and it sounded just awful.

“Serious Suggestion: Attempt now.”

“Ok…” I said as I tried. In a puff of smoke and glitter, the car and droid disappeared, a card returning to my Active Deck. I quickly unslotted the card and sent it to my Card Space. I would try figuring out what to do with that one later.

“So…” Glory Girl said, floating upwards. “Your thing kidnapped your dad?”

I shrugged awkwardly. “Maybe?” 

“Yeah…might explain why he’s upset. Wanna talk to him about it?”

I shrugged again, even more awkwardly. “Not really…but I guess we kinda have to.”

With great trepidation, we headed back into the shop waiting area to talk with dad. He hadn’t moved since we left him there, just sitting, watching a blank TV screen and drinking his beer.

“Dad?” I asked as I stepped in front of the TV. Glory Girl beside me, nudging me forward to give me courage and strength. “Why–why did you say I wasn’t your daughter?”

My dad answered. He slurred a bit, but I figured out what he was saying. “My daughter never came home from the hospital. I thought she did, at first, but she–Annette would never recognize you as hers.”

That stung. A lot. My eyes were hot and my cheeks were on fire and why? No, focus on the here and now. Find out more. I schooled myself.

“Why wouldn’t mom recognize me?” I asked, some of that heat leaking into my voice. “I–you’re acting just like you did when mom died.”

“Don’t you dare bring that up!” he spat, flecks flying from his lips as he gestured with his drink. “My daughter never, never, would have acted like this. The way you talked changed. The way you acted changed. Heck, the way you moved changed. You might wear my daughter’s skin–but you aren’t her. Just–get out of my life.”

“Don’t be a jerk!” Glory Girl said to defend me. A wave of fear and respect and awe swept through the room. “Powers change people. She didn’t choose to get them. She’s still your daughter but with trauma, and as her dad you need to–”

“-should have let them carve out her organs-”

“-uhh what?” Glory Girl finished, taken aback. I also felt confused.

Dad spat again. “When they brought her in brain-dead. They wanted to take her organs. I shoulda let them.”

“That’s–no. She’s … Amy couldn’t have … There must have been some mistake. And aren’t you glad she’s still alive?”

“No. The only mistake was mine,” he glowered. “Just leave. Go join the Protectorate or the Slaughterhouse Nine for all I care.” He tossed his empty bottle against a far wall and smashed the glass, a growing pile of broken bottles littered the ground there. He pulled out another beer and opened it.

I tried thinking about what I would say. What I thought. Dad didn’t consider me to be his daughter. Because of my powers. Because my powers had changed me. He claimed that my own mom wouldn’t recognize me anymore because of the changes wrought by my power. That did not feel good. The opposite of good. Why would he say something so hurtful? Because of fear? Because he didn’t understand? 

Because of me and my power.

Glory Girl had partially stepped in front of me now as if she could shield me from this conversation. “Nobody chooses to get powers. If you want to call yourself a father, you better accept your daughter the way she is, because there’s no getting her back.” She finished her piece.

“You deaf?!” Dad insisted from around the neck of the beer bottle. “My daughter is dead. Dead! Nothing I could do to change that. So leave!”

From what I could see of Glory Girl’s face, it was getting flushed from anger. I put my hand on her shoulder and drew her attention before slightly shaking my head. I finally figured out what I wanted to say.

“When I first got my Powers, I hated them,” I said as I started pacing in the limited space. “It felt like they were driving me and making me into a lunatic. And they did. Kind of. But also–they didn’t. Trying to repress them and bury them and ignore them made the compulsions a hundred times worse. There is no way I could live like that.” I paused and looked my Dad in the eye. Or tried to. He refused to match my gaze. ”I guess you’re kinda right. My Powers did change me, and I’m not the same girl that left the house that day. But–dad? My Powers are part of me. They’re here to stay. You need to accept that, unless you want to lose me too.” He sneered but said nothing. I shook my head sadly. “And…I–I need help figuring out how to balance it, how to channel the compulsions productively. But I talked to some really smart people. And know what I realized? I’m Powerful. Ridiculously Powerful. I could help so many people. I’ve already started. I’m a hero Dad, whether you like it or not.”

Dad scoffed and spat while Glory Girl was nodding along in support. 

“You think mom wouldn’t recognize me? I think she wouldn’t want me to waste away in regret and misery while I could be helping a lot of people with my Power. Did you know earlier today I was healing people in the hospital? Like Panacea!I healed so many people … How could I hate this gift? And I’m sorry dad.”

I took a deep breath. Dad still refused to respond, still refused to accept me, still tried disowning me because of things that happened to me that were out of my control. Fury welled up from my soul, forcing the next words out.

“If there’s someone mom wouldn’t recognize, it’s you.”

I never saw the beer bottle that conked me on the side of the head.

~

When I came to, I was back in Glory Girl’s arms and we were over the forested inland regions outside of Brockton Bay.

“Ugh, that hurt.” I complained, rubbing my forehead.

“Yeah,” Glory Girl said. “I mean this in the best possible way Taylor, but your dad’s a bit of a–”

“He’s my dad,” I told her firmly, worried she was about to insult the only living family member I had left. “But he does have a bit of a temper.”

“He’s got something, that’s for sure. You meant what you said though? About wanting to use your Power for good?”

“Of course! I’m a hero. Errr, trying to be one I guess? It’s not as easy as I think it should be though.”

“And you still want help with that, like we agreed?”

“...do you think I’m some rogue, to renege on our agreement?” I asked, feeling slightly offended.

“Woah, easy there girl. I’m just leading up to it. I bet you’re wondering where I’m taking you huh?”

I shrugged. “Not really? I trusted you. Should I … not?”

“Pfft, nah, you’re good. I’m flying you to an out of state care facility for capes. It’ll be a breeze. You’ll probably spend a few weeks there, get cleared with an all-good, then let out to be a hero like you want. Heck, maybe even join the Protectorate, or New Wave.”

“You really think it would be that easy? The droid killed people. And I might have sort of-” I whispered into the wind “-been slandered as a thief. It was all trades, though.” I confided.

 She chuckled. “Yeah. It’ll be that easy. You’re good people Tay.”

I scoffed.

“Call me Tarocchi.”

■

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■

♦ Topic: Has anyone seen my lost house

In: Boards ► Brockton Bay/Unusual Happenings

Brocktonite03     (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted On Jan 19th 2011:

Eat it @ Bagrat. You're losing your touch or you need to spend more time with the people! I was out for my morning jog by the Docks when I saw a crowd gathered around this house. Or where a house should have been. [1, 2, 3]. As you can see, that's a hole in the ground where the house used to be. The water utility and sewage were doing something nasty. They were probably prepping it for a certain rat's bath if you know what I mean.

Anywho, talk with the locals and it looks like the Heberts lived there for like forever. The house was there one moment, then the next gone. Figure somebody stole it.

If I were a lesser soul I might try speculating on a cape identity.

(Showing page 1 of 2)

►XxVoid_CowboyxX

Replied On Jan 19th 2011:

Hey! I know the people that live there! Or the girl anyways.

►SpecificProtagonist

Replied On Jan 19th 2011:

Uh no you don't know any girls.

►White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 19th 2011:

Bullying's not cool. Though I agree with you.

►Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied On Jan 19th 2011:

GODDAMMIT

►Gallant (Wards ENE) (Verified Cape)

Replied On Jan 19th 2011:

Did Anyone see which cape did it? Money's on the villain valet

►Chrome

Replied On Jan 19th 2011:

What's with you and Valet? Did she piss in your grandma's ashes or something?

►point_me_@_the_sky

Replied On Jan 19th 2011:

Yeah! What's your problem with her? I think she's sweet!

►Gallant (Wards ENE) (Verified Cape)

Replied On Jan 19th 2011:

And what's with your hardon for her @ point_me_@_the_sky?

►ClockBlocker (Wards ENE) (Verified Cape)

Replied On Jan 19th 2011:

girls girls, you're both beautiful

End of Page.   1

(Showing page 2 of 2)

►Brilliger (Moderator: Protectorate Main)

Replied On Jan 19th 2011:

This thread is now closed.

End of Page.   1 , 2

■

♦ Topic: New Healer in Town

In: Boards ► Brockton Bay/Villain Sightings

Bagrat     (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted On Jan 22nd 2011:

For credible news, you know who to ask.

Friday afternoon Tarocchi (also called Valet) entered Brockton General. Despite protests from staff and security, Tarocchi then proceeded to use an unknown shaker effect that radiated from the cape and question and covered most of the waiting area.

It appeared that this effect was an immediate heal considering the disappearing fractures and visible wounds.

Tarocchi then commenced to head further into the hospital, continuing to expand the shaker field.

Glory Girl was apparently on scene despite Panacea's absence and Glory Girl was seen talking with Tarocchi before leaving the hospital. Glory Girl appeared to ignore instructions from several officers as she flew off carrying Tarocchi.

Looks like our resident villain is also a healer. Maybe she can join the Wards as a Probationary member.

Edit: As noted by resident healer, Tarocchi's parahuman ability remains untested. If you were exposed to this ability please call the PRT hotline for further instruction.

Edit: Glory Girl might have received conflicting instructions or may have been under some sort of effect.

(Showing page 4 of 7)

►GstringGirl

Replied On Jan 22nd 2011:

Think she can heal Case 53s too?

►XxVoid_CowboyxX

Replied On Jan 22nd 2011:

@ GstringGirl

I doubt she can heal monster capes. Not even Panacea can and Panacea is the world's best healer. Besides, whoever makes Monster Capes would probably off anyone that went around and fixed their mistakes.

►Weld (Verified Cape)

Replied On Jan 22nd 2011:

The preferred term is Inhuman capes and not monsters.

And who knows what the effects of that healing aura would be. Power Interactions are seldom understood until we try.

►SpecificProtagonist

Replied On Jan 22nd 2011:

Anyone know where GG and T flew off to? Into the sunset?

►point_me_@_the_sky

Replied On Jan 22nd 2011:

I think it was to get medical care from an out of state facility.

►Gallant (Wards ENE) (Verified Cape)

Replied On Jan 22nd 2011:

What GG should have done is given her into PRT custody and not absconded with a villain.

►Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied On Jan 22nd 2011:

I heard from a relative that Valet checked herself into a Psychiatric parahuman place. I think A-something? Achim..lle? Dunno. Maybe @ Bagrat could finally make himself useful and tell us.

►White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 22nd 2011:

Tarocchi seems to always have these cards whenever I see a picture of her. Anyone know what's up with that? Are they a part of her power manifestation? And can we please get her helped? I didn't know she needed psychiatric care. Are all capes this crazy?

►GstringGirl

Replied On Jan 22nd 2011:

Achimille?! I hope she recovers. Does anyone know if she'll have computer privileges? And what her handle is?

►TrueArtist

Replied On Jan 22nd 2011:

Was this before she defaced my sand sculptures with a sledgehammer?! Tarocchi is a villain most foul with no appreciation for the finer things. Who vandalizes public art? Who?! I hope she’s locked away forever and never released and a blight upon her soul and her predecessors and all she holds dear.

End of Page.   1 , 2 , 3 , 4, 5 , 6 , 7

■

End of Arc 1

Lisa Wilbourn will return … in Arc 3

Chapter Text

Interlude for Arc 1: Monuments & Artistic Growth

Summary: An Artist breaks into his family’s home to retrieve his stuff, goes on a walk on the beach, has an uncomfortable discussion with his step-mom, watches the foibles of fools, and suffers tremendous loss and heartache. This is how an artist grows.

Beta Read by Dysole, Heartfeltart, PrognosticHannya

Brainstormed with: PrognosticHannya

January 15th 2011

Outside the Anders Estate

Theo checked his phone for the thirteenth time since he got off the bus. Still no response from Jeremy. 

Was Theo getting ghosted?

Theo had thought they hit it off at the exhibition, but he guessed it was rough dating in Nazi Central. At least, confidently, out there in the open. Especially when Theo’s dad was Kaiser, not that Jeremy knew that fact, thank god.

Was it too soon to send a message? 

Theo wanted to, but that might come across as needy. All the online forums said it was best to come off weak or ‘play’ hard to get. Otherwise Jeremy might get scared off.

With reluctance he put the phone away. He had arrived at his family’s estate. He walked around the block and glanced around. When he didn’t see anyone, he bent down and placed his bare palm against the pavement.

His Thinker power allowed him to sense the terrain for a single block in any direction. This included vibrations as subtle as footsteps. He might not sense flyers, but the only real flier on his Dad’s payroll was Rune, and he doubted she’d be hanging around tonight. When he confirmed the coast was clear, he was about to slip on his balaclava… but he noticed an abnormality.

A lighter person, possibly female, was crouched down between the hedge and the exterior of the fence. 

Was someone breaking in?  

Interesting and problematic. He almost chickened out then and there, except if someone were breaking in, then afterwards security would be bumped up in the coming weeks.

But then there were the upsides of her break in. At least, if she were doing so, then he should be able to follow after and exploit the hole she left in the security systems. 

Unless it was somehow a trap. Would Theo’s dad ship him off to Germany? Indecision and anxiety plagued Theo.

What would Jeremy say if he knew? 

Theo knew they weren’t really dating, but he liked to imagine himself explaining it to his future boyfriend after a future Theo unmasked of course. Would Theo tell a story about chickening out, or would Theo brag about manning up?

His daydream might have gone a little far and his blood might have started pumping too fast before he realized that he probably shouldn’t be fantasizing before sneaking into Kaiser’s home. But that fantasy had helped him make his decision. 

Theo slipped on his balaclava and hurried towards the hedge and fence where the potential thief last was.

When he reached the spot he was nearly floored. When he thought of a ‘hole in the security’ he didn’t think of physical ‘holes.’ A path had been cut through the hedge and the vertical bars and bricks forming the fence. He traced a finger along the path of the cut; whatever had made the slice was preternaturally sharp. 

Whoever Theo was following was a cape, of this he was certain.

He racked his brain for who it could be. Not Circus, they normally emphasized agility versus brawn, and cutting through masonry and steel was definitely brawn. Maybe it was a new trigger? Robbing Kaiser was likely unintentional if that was the case. Otherwise, this cape was an idiot.

Theo made it to the central manor and found the hole the thief had made. They had cut through the wall and wiring and plumbing without leaving much debris if any at all. Except down at the bottom of the hole, there was a small stuffed dog.

That dog did not fit any of the aesthetics in the Ander’s manor. His father would never permit any such weakness in the house. Which meant the cape had left it there… but why?

Shaking his head, Theo hurried to his old room. He wouldn’t have long before security found the literal hole in the wall left by the idiot cape.

When he got to his old bedroom, he noted that it remained largely untouched. His art supplies were where he left them, which was promising. Really though, he only came for one thing that he absolutely would never be able to replace.

He crawled under his bed and began feeling the underside of the box frame until he found the incision. Reaching up he found a small chest of keepsakes. Pulling it out he quickly checked the contents. Several reminders of his biological mother, a clipping of his baby hair, and an autographed set of miniaturized prints by the late Andy Warhol. Yes. He clutched it to his chest. It was all there.

He slid the chest into his backpack and began to make his escape. Except as he fled, he finally encountered the thief. The thief, who Theo thought was a she, was dressed in an incredibly gauche costume.

A red coat, a black and red cloak, a theater jacket, boots to die for, and that mask was just absolutely incredible.

The mask was almost what one would see in a high-society theater, covering half her face, filigreed with golden pips flowing from her left eye like tears, and leaving the other half of her face exposed. Just absolutely enviably terrific.

This cape couldn’t possibly have been a new trigger with a costume that well put together… which meant they were here for a reason. Likely a malicious and conniving reason.

But all his concerns took the backseat when Theo saw the thief sneer– sneer –at the full sized original work by Andy Warhol. It had been the only one Theo had managed to convince the house’s steward to buy at an auction. It was an original painting and it was awesome and this uneducated cur of a thief looked like she was ready to deface it!

The thief saw Theo and Theo took a second to work saliva back into his mouth to overcome his indignation. 

Would it be a fight? 

It would be hard for Theo if that was the case, at least without destroying the manor, which would easily be tied back to him. That would be bad.

“Who are you?” Theo managed to whisper in an angry croak.

“It is I, the famous hero Tarocchi!” the thief said while making a rather theatrical bow.

Theo worked his jaw. He’d never heard of a Tarocchi or anyone that dressed like this, at least not in the area. 

Who was this clown?

“And who might you be?” Tarocchi inquired, gesturing towards Theo with a gloved hand.

“Right. Yeah uh… just getting my stuff,”  Theo coughed and answered. 

“Right,” Tarocchi said. “Your stuff,” she rolled her eyes. “And you expect me to believe that, thief ?!”

Fuck! She was going to bring down the whole house! The Ander’s security detail didn’t play around. And here she was trying to hold a conversation? Was she mad?

“You’re one to talk!” Theo hissed. The gall of some people!

“I am a hero,” Tarocchi said, apparently offended by Theo’s implication that she might have been a thief herself. 

Theo looked at her quizzically. Theo’s father would never invite a hero into his home like a thief in the night, and if she was Empire aligned, then in no way was she a hero. Maybe she meant she was a vigilante? If so, then she wouldn't be so careless with her inside voice!

She continued, “But if you’re not a thief, then why do you hide your face?”

She accused him of thievery, because he was wearing a balaclava? Certainly her mask was better than his balaclava, but a covered face was a covered face. Where did she get off judging him?

“This isn’t about me!” Theo defended himself. “What gives you the right, when you’re clearly here to rob the place blind.”

“Do you even know how trading works?” she asked and blew an honest to god rasberry. 

What the fuck was wrong with this person?! What did trading have to do anything–wait. Was that what the stuffed dog was doing in the hole she cut through the wall? A cheap plushie for thousands of dollars in damages?

“I can’t believe this,” Theo said, stifling a laugh. “You’re off your rocker. You’re insane. You are actually insane.”

“Rude,” Tarocchi said, glaring at him. “That is actually very hurtful. Why–why would you say that?”

Theo breathed deeply. Ok, that had been hurtful. But she really wasn’t acting like the spokesperson of well-adjusted sanity right now. Maybe he could smooth this over and hopefully avoid having the security team fall down on them like a pile of bricks?

“Oh hey, yeah I’m sorry…you’re here for trades?” Theo made conversation.“Same here. Trading. Definitely. Yep.”

“Oh!” she said happily, turning an abrupt one-eighty in tone. “Well in that case carry on. After all, who am I to stop a fellow merchant of fortune?”

Theo paused a moment to relive the acquisition of the Warhol piece. What would father do if he knew the artist liked soup cans more than brillo boxes, as it were? But then again, Hitler purportedly loved Michaelangelo, and that man was so gay he went out of his way to avoid even painting women.

And then, from the corner of his eye, he saw Tarocchi pull out a thick black sharpie and approach the Warhol original.

“Don’t do it,” Theo hissed, horrified at the audacity of this Tarocchi. 

“That drawing is garbage of the highest order–” Tarocchi started.

“-It’s mine,” Theo said, very deliberately. “And it is art .” Theo finished, crossing his arms to add additional gravitas to this spoken truth.

“Oh no no no,” Tarocchi said rapidly, waving her arms about her in broad motions. “No. That. Is. Not. Art.”

Theo reared back, face twisting into a scowl. This was intolerable? Who was this philistine to dare judge any piece of artwork lacking. “Are you blind! This is an original Warhol , the pinnacle of Modern Art! A commentary on mass production, and the everyday nature of beauty!”

Something sharp struck Theo’s cheek. He felt his face for a moment realizing what had happened. She had slapped him. This bitch had slapped him! 

“Take that back!” Tarocchi whisper-yelled. “Franz Marc is Modern Art, this is a bunch of flipping soup cans! It doesn’t belong in a frame, it belongs in a darn grocery store aisle!”

“‘Just’?” Theo scoffed, “ Please . Maybe like how a symphony is ‘just’ a bunch of notes. Warhol is taking the materials of modern society and showcasing their true artistry! Those cans are the product of a hundred rounds of design, testing, and vetting by a hundred different executives at the Campbell Soup Company! Perfectly designed for maximum usability and easy comprehension!”

Tarocchi scoffed. “Yes, a ‘perfect design’ repeated a million times over, in every home in America. A table is also ‘designed for maximum usability’, but no one’s flocking to come see your kitchen!”

Theo couldn’t stand listening to this drivel any longer. He slapped Tarocchi back, aiming for the cheek left uncovered by her mask. “How dare you!” Theo yelled, putting a finger under Tarocchi’s chin. “This is the art of the people , the art that every person in America can relate to, the scenery of a million different stories! It’s real beauty, not the carefully cultivated falsehoods of some museum !”

“Ooooooh!” Tarocchi said, quivering in rage and stamping her foot.

Who even does that?! Theo was about to drive his point the extra mile when the lights flashed on, and an alarm started spinning. He forgot what he had been going to say. He met Tarocchi’s gaze.

“Maybe we should run?” Tarocchi offered.

It wasn’t a hard decision. Get shot, or fight and get caught later… or run now. He nodded. “Yeah…Let’s.”

Theo took off sprinting towards the nearest exit with Tarocchi following closely behind. Gunshots sounded behind them on a straightaway and bullets whistled down the hallway. Please let Tarocchi be a brute! And if not that, please let the flashy red costume draw the fire!

“Frick,” Theo swore, a bullet shattering a window to his left. “Can’t believe these idiots…”

“They do seem a tad overenthusiastic,” Tarocchi quipped “Hopefully they trashed that Warhol garbage.”

Oh hell no! If they weren’t running for their lives, he would give her a piece of his mind! But no, focus on escape. Be the bigger person. It was clear this cape was fucked in the head. “Look, can’t you do anything helpful?” Theo asked.

Tarocchi remained silent for a moment, they were almost to the exterior wall, when fog began pooling through the corridor. Theo felt a moment of panic. Was that Fog? Was Night here too? But wait, the fog wasn’t caustic. It was just damp and thick. Was Tarocchi some kind of weather controlling cat burglar?

Tarocchi grabbed Theo’s hand and dragged him towards a wall. He couldn’t see where they were going, the fog was too thick. He had to trust the judgment of this philistine which was a tall order. But he didn’t have many options. They passed a threshold and Theo tripped on a low overhang. He caught himself in a garden. Fog was spilling out from the house and quickly covering them, but not before he looked behind and found a new hole cut into the side of the manor. 

What was it with this cape and cutting through walls?!

They kept running as the security was out in force. They heard their frustrated shouts near the front and back entrances. And a panicked scream when they found one of the holes in the house. Yeah, someone’s head would roll for not catching that earlier.

Theo separated from the other cape as soon as he could manage. He just did not want to deal anymore with such an… interesting person.

As he jogged down the street and pulled off his balaclava, he checked his phone. Jeremy had finally gotten back to him. They were on for tomorrow.

January 16th 2011

Boardwalk Promenade, Evening

The date had been going well. As soon as Theo had gotten off patrol, he’d met up with Jeremy at a ritzy coffee shop before touring some of the local artist shops. Unfortunately, Theo had hit a snag. 

They hadn’t ever called what they were doing a ‘date,’ and now Theo wasn’t sure. In his head, he hoped it was a date. But he couldn’t just come out and ask if it was a date. What if Jeremy didn’t swing that way? What if Jeremy was just an art enthusiast, instead of being an ‘art enthusiast?’ Not that there was anything wrong with that, it’s just that Theo didn’t know!

And then Theo had made the horrifying realization. When he had sent the original text, Theo had offered to show Jeremy around some of Theo’s favorite shops, including an up and coming graphic artist documenting everyday life in Brockton Bay.

Why had Theo been so stupid! He should have known better. Why couldn’t this be easier…

 They had just walked into the art exhibition slash studio not too long ago, and while Theo enjoyed watching the art, he’d much rather be admiring Jeremy’s soft arms.

 “Hey man, something eating you?” Jeremy asked Theo.

Theo had to repress the urge to blurt out ‘you, hopefully,’ and shook his head. "Just stuck in my head, I guess"

He saw a fresh piece hanging on one of the walls, and without realizing it, he dragged Jeremy by the arm over to see it. It was gorgeous. Absolutely phenomenally gorgeous.

“Woah hey, buy a guy dinner first, you know?” Jeremy joked, but Theo didn’t hear.

On the wall, hanging there in all its glory, was an acrylic portrait of a trash-strewn brick-enclosed alleyway, typical of the slums around the industrial quarter of Brockton Bay. 

“Absolutely, magnificent…” Theo whispered breathily.

Jeremy smiled bemusedly at Theo, “What about it’s getting you hot an’ bothered?” Jeremy asked.

“...where to begin,” Theo murmured.

An hour later, they left the shop, with Jeremy looking shell shocked with wide eyes, and Theo grinning like a loon. They were now walking down the Promenade, watching the Protectorate HQ flickering out on the bay.

But now they were back to the original question. Was this a date, or were Theo and Jeremy just two friends taking an evening stroll along the Boardwalk after touring art shops and cafes?

Theo just didn’t know!

Argh, why was dating so stressful?!  

“Hey,” Jeremy said, stopping and putting his heavy and warm hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Look, I know it’s hard living in a town with nazis. But we get by yeah?” He asked.

Ugh. Even that question was too ambiguous! Was it hard living in Brockton Bay because Jeremy was black and had a glorious bushy beard, or was it hard because he was gay? Why weren’t things more clear?!

Oh crap, he’s expecting a response. “Uh… yeah.” Theo finally answered.

“It’s ok to be scared, y’know? We can find somewhere more… private. You got anywhere in mind?” 

Probably to talk more about art, Theo thought. Unless. Wait. This was a date wasn’t it? But Theo didn’t want to get his hopes up. There was one spot left, but it was getting a bit dark out and the beach wasn’t well lit. But it might work? In Theo’s bravest fantasies, he showed Jeremy his sculptures and felt the sculpture push into his back as Jeremy’s mouth and hands and– yeah. Theo hoped this could work.

“Well err-” Theo ducked his head into his shoulder to hide his blush. “-there’s this ward that does permanent sand sculptures if you wanna check ‘em out?”

“A walk on the sand then?” Jeremy asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling through his shaggy beard.

“...er yeah,” Theo stammered. “I-yeah. Let’s.”

He led the way down the stairs from the Promenade to the sand. They left their shoes by the concrete steps leading up to the Boardwalk and walked barefoot in the loose sand. Not many people were down on the beach this time of evening, especially in the cold. Theo led them towards one of the sculptures he made in his Ward persona Antaeus. It was a sculpture of a disposable coffee cup on its side with a torn open packet of sugar stacked against it. The cup was as tall as he was and made from compressed sand to create a faux-sandstone.

Jeremy glanced at their surroundings as Theo talked about what the art meant and how it was supposed to capture the common people’s life when Jeremy cleared his throat.

“Hey, man. Mind if I ask something?” Jeremy continued. Theo shrugged, too tongue tied to give any other response. “You ever kiss a boy before?” Jeremy asked.

Uh what? Theo blue-screened.

Jeremy pulled Theo around and held him by his lower back and the back of his head. Jeremy’s lips tasted salty and divine. 

Theo’s toes curled.

January 17th 2011

Wards Room, Afternoon

Studying should have been easy. And if it were anatomy, it would’ve been. Well, if it had been Jeremy’s anatomy, because that was what Theo was daydreaming about instead of polynomial factorization in the Wards common room.

His shift had ended an hour ago, and he’d soon be heading out to meet Jeremy for dinner and a movie. And the thought of dark movie theaters was titillating.

Shadow Stalker was working the console again, not too far from where Theo was pretending to study. She glanced at Theo and rolled her eyes, as though the boy’s mere presence offended her.

 “Why the hell haven’t you gone yet?” she asked. “Your ass just loves that chair?” She sounded disgusted, as if she were contemplating dog crap on the sole of her boot.

Theo started, drawn forcibly from his revelry, and had to repress a remark about what his ass really loved. “Hm?” He shook his head, playing back what his colleague asked. “Oh I’ve got a date tonight… it’s more convenient to go straight there than home and back.” Theo went back to pretending to study while Sophia glared at him dumbfoundedly.

“Seriously?” she asked. “Who–what girl would date you?”

“...Oh you probably don’t know them?” Theo said.

“And you sure it’s not easier to run back home?” she asked.

Theo scratched the back of his neck. “Well… maybe. But if I go home Kayden’ll ask me to babysit Austin.”

“Just have your girl join you,” Sophia offered as though Theo were a dunce. “It’s what I would do if I had to babysit my kid sister.”

“I dunno if Kayden would appreciate strange people in the house…”

Sophia laughed. “What the bitch doesn’t know’s not gonna hurt her–”

The Wards alarm buzzed and Gallant entered at a brisk pace, tossing his helmet on the couch and swearing. 

Clockblocker followed, laughing.

“Don’t do the crime if you can’t pay the time,” Clockblocker joked. 

Sophia and Theo both turned to glare at Dennis. Theo went the extra mile and mimed gagging to Sophia, earning a snort. Meanwhile, Gallant stormed past them and into his room.

Clockblocker continued cracking up. Whatever the joke was, if Gallant was the butt of it, both Sophia and Theo wanted in. “What happened?” Theo asked. “Thought you two had a patrol along the Boardwalk–” Theo turned to Sophia “-was there a fight?” Sophia shook her head and shrugged.

“There was a fight,” Dennis answered slyly. “But probably not the type you’re thinking of. I’ll give you one guess, and it starts with a–” Dennis looked upwards and counted on his fingers discreetly “-a ‘G.’”

“Idiot.” Sophia said. Theo was inclined to agree.

“Wait,” Theo asked. “Did something happen to my sculptures? You were by the Prom right? Did that homeless guy–”

“-what?” Clock scoffed. “No dude, it’s not all about your sculptures man. Be serious.”

Theo bit his lower lip. 

“Was it Tarocchi related?” He asked. 

The latest villain had been making waves, but not because of infamy, more because of insanity. Fortunately nobody had been directly harmed yet, but there had been several traffic incidents related to the villain’s illegal tinkertech. Though what most people didn’t realize is that indirect vehicular manslaughter was actually fairly common on both sides of the parahuman hero-villain spectrum.

“No dude, that doesn’t even start with a ‘G.’ What the hell?”

Sophia laughed. “I wish we could see your face, Dennis. So what’d Miss Glory Hole do?”

Dennis groaned and slapped his forehead. “Et tu Theo?” He asked seriously, or tried to. “Anyways I guess your guess wasn’t that far off since it was Tarocchi that caught Dean red pee–”

“My ears!” Theo shouted, covering his ears with both hands. 

Sophia rolled her eyes and sneered. “Glory showed up and did what? Dean didn’t look like he’s missing any limbs.”

“Yeah so anyways, there we were signing autographs for a couple hotties, when outta left field swoops down Glory to pick up Gallant and fly him up to a private rooftop. Without roof access.” Clock paused to chuckle. “They had a talk and I guess she didn’t like what she heard, cuz she left his ass up there.”

“How’d he get down?” Theo asked. He hadn’t seen Aegis or Kidwin or Vista in that area, and Gallant’s power armor wasn’t really built for handling jumps like that.

“After I had a good laugh and took some photos for PHO, I froze some papers to make a staircase. So the vallant Clockblocker saved the damsel in distress!”

For some reason, Clockblocker laughed even harder. Gallant chose then to come fuming out of his room. “Don’t you dare post those photos Clock.”

“Oh I wouldn’t dream of it,” Clock said in a mischievous tone.

“I’m serious! It could jeopardize my identity. I’ll have to send Carol and Sarah a message letting them know Glory Girl overstepped herself–”

“You’re gonna narc?” Sophia asked dumbfounded.

“Why not? She made it amply clear that we were done,” Dean scowled. “We were on a break anyway. Why does it even matter if I had company over? I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d been seeing someone on the side too, with the way she flirts.”

“By chance did you tell her that?” Theo asked, regretting getting involved.

“...maybe.”

For having an emotion sense, Dean could be pretty dumb. 

Theo’s phone chimed as he received a message. He whipped his phone out in the hopes that it was a pre-date text from Jeremy, but was sorely disappointed. Kayden had an emergency meeting up in Boston that night and needed Theo to babysit.

“Frick.”

“Gotta babysit afterall?” Sophia asked. Theo groaned and buried his head. Sophia continued. “Just have your date help watch your kid brother. I do it all the time with Ems.”

“...I just might,” Theo said.

Kayden Russel’s Residence, Later that Evening

“-where’d you say your mom was?” Jeremy asked, sitting in the penthouse condo and sharing a couch with Theo.

“Step-mom,” Theo corrected him. “Kayden had some meet-and-greet up in Boston. Should be out most of the night.”

“Hey, score.”  Jeremy nodded. There wasn’t a television in the living room since it clashed with the intellectual decor that Kayden preferred, so they didn’t have much to do for distraction. “So uh… What do you do for fun around here?” 

“...read?” Theo said while blushing. He was so stupid! Of course he shouldn’t have invited Jeremy over. Now they were bored. Jeremy would get fed up and leave and break up and Theo was just so stupid stupid stu– 

“Eep!” Theo squeaked cutely.

Jeremy’s arm went around the back of the couch, around Theo, and pulled him into a side hug. “We could do that… Or I could think of a few other things?” Jeremy said, looking down at Theo and smiling, his beard tickling Theo’s forehead.

“-like?” Theo asked breathily. 

Jeremy cupped Theo’s chin and angled his face upwards. 

“Like this,” he said, and their lips met.

Theo came up for air a minute later before diving back in. 

…

They may have lost track of time that evening, because what felt like minutes later the lock was turning in the door and the door was opening to reveal a travel-worn Kayden.

Theo and Jeremy pulled away as soon as the door opened, but they were still tangled together. Fully clothed, but tangled and ruffled. Kayden saw Jeremy and sputtered. And then she saw Theo.

“-Kayden,” Theo started, hoping to head off the worst of it, but not thinking clearly.

“-Hey Ms. Russel,” Jeremy started, recovering first and smoothly. “Theo invited me over to help keep him company while he babysat. Hope that’s not a problem.”

It was definitely going to be a problem.

Kayden’s face had paled and her mouth hung open. Her finger was pointed at Jeremy, then Theo, then Jeremy. Finally, Kayden sputtered. “Get. Out.”

“Woah hey, sure thing Ms. Russell. Hope I didn’t cause–”

“Get out of my home!” Kayden shrieked, pulling a can of pepper spray out from her purse with shaky hands and positioning herself between Austin’s room and Theo’s boyfriend.

“Alright yeah let me–” Jeremy rolled off the couch and grabbed his jacket and bag.

“Get out!” Kayden began screaming. It was a miracle she wasn’t glowing and blasting Jeremy. If not for the collateral damage she likely would have.

“Text me Theo!” Jeremy shouted over his shoulder as he hustled out the door.

Kayden followed him, holding up her pepper spray all the way as though she were warding off evil, until she reached the door and slammed it shut and slid the deadbolt into place. She then rushed past Theo and ran into Austin’s room.

“Austin’s fine,” Theo called after her. “He hardly fussed at all.”

“Just. Don’t Theo,” Kayden said weakly. “I need to–just don’t.”

Theo backed off and went to his room; he flung himself onto his bed and buried his head in his pillow. Why did he lose track of time? He knew it had been dangerous. He knew! Of course Kayden had her hangups. Theo knew. What the hell had he been thinking? It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t. Shit shit shit!

He cried into his pillow. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t! He hadn’t been ready for Kayden to learn about it. Ever really. Why had he taken such a huge risk? He was an idiot. Stupid. Dumb. He screamed into his pillow until he felt dizzy.

A little while later, Kayden knocked on his door. “We need to talk,” she said, coming in before Theo had a chance to respond. Theo was still laying face down but he sat up, his face red and his eyes puffy.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what you did wrong.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Theo said, his eyes downcast. And he was sorry. Not for crushing on Jeremy. But for having him over. For taking the risk. For getting caught.

“What were you thinking, doing that type of thing around Austin!” Kayden hissed. “When I agreed to board you, I thought we made certain things clear. This is not acceptable behavior and I will not have you risk spreading this–” she waved her hands up and down at Theo “-whatever this is to my son!”

“I said I was sorry,” Theo repeated. “I am so sorry Kayden. I didn’t mean to… do all that. You know I care about him too… I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Kayden sighed heavily. “I won’t kick you out tonight. But you need to get help.”

“...help?” A chill ran up Theo’s neck. 

“For your condition.” Kayden added awkwardly.

“...condition?” Dread followed that chill.

“Do you need me to say it?” Kayden’s mouth twisted in disgust. “I know you don’t speak with your father, but he has resources and contacts that could help… I think you should ask him.”

“Kayden… it’s… sexuality isn’t something that can be cured.” Theo shouldn’t have to say that. He shouldn’t. But of course he did. Kayden had spent how many years eating up the propaganda? How could Theo ever have hoped that she might accept him?

Kayden’s lips pursed in disapproval and thought. “The evidence suggests otherwise.”

“I’m sorry Kayden but no,” Theo said, finding his resolution. “I’m sorry you found out this way, but I’m gay.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to act on your urges like some animal!” Kayden whisper-shouted. “And committing your… your rutting on my sofa? In my house?! Next to my son ?!”

Theo didn’t think it would help to point out that Austin was actually in his nursery.

“You aren’t an animal Theo. Don’t be like one. Get help.”

After she went back to her and Austin’s room, Theo got up, grabbed his things, and left. It was clear he was no longer welcome with Kayden. Fortunately, the Wards barracks was always open.

January 18th 2011

PRT Wards Standup

The Wards sat around the table waiting for Armsmaster and Director Piggot to arrive. This was quickly becoming a weekly tradition, a quick staff like meeting to ‘help keep the Wards honest.’ Why the Director felt that was an issue Theo would never know.

“Fucking bullshit meetings,” Shadow Stalker cursed.

Alright, so Theo might have had some idea why the Director thought it was necessary, but he’d never know how the Director thought the meetings would work. Besides, the meetings were rather pointless.

While they were waiting Theo checked his personal phone. Jeremy had sent a selfie of himself making a ridiculous duck face and Theo couldn’t help but giggle. Jeremy had been trying to cheer Theo up since he’d hit a rough spot with Kayden.

“Oooh who’s the hottie?” Vista asked, glancing over Theo’s shoulder from across the table. “Your boyfriend~” she teased, thinking she was joking.

Theo took a deep breath. He was done hiding. If Kayden knew, then there was no reason why he was hiding it from his friends and coworkers. 

“As a matter of fact, yeah,” Theo said. “That’s my boyfriend.”

“-Wait really?” Vista asked. “I wasn’t serious… you’re serious?!”

“-That means you wanna be a girl right?” Clockblocker asked.

“-Fuckin knew it!” Shadow Stalker said, sounding happy as far as Sophia went.

“-Guys I think he’s serious,” Gallant said.

“Hey!” Aegis shouted. “Be supportive! Your teammate just shared something deeply personal and I would appreciate it if you took it seriously.”

“Thank you Carlos,” Theo said. “And yeah. I-I’m gay.” He couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to get that off his chest.

“Do your parents know?” Vista asked. She saw Theo wince. “You don’t have to answer that…” she trailed off awkwardly.

“No, it’s ok,” Theo answered sadly. “Let’s just say there’s a reason I came back to Wards HQ last night.”

“Parents suck,” Vista nodded, before perking up. “But at least they aren’t Nazis right?”

“...right.” Theo felt all sorts of gross, and Gallant focused in like a hawk. Though Theo doubted that Dean’s family was much better. Kaiser’s identity was a bit of an open secret amongst the most elite circles of Brockton, and Mr. and Mrs. Sansfield apparently felt perfectly comfortable associating with Theo’s father.

At that time, Director Piggot stepped in and was followed by Armsmaster.

“Let’s get started,” she said as she sat down. “First order of business. Wards, stay off PHO on all official accounts until each of you are briefed by Public Relations.”

“-But!” Gallant started to protest.

“That goes double for you Gallant,” Director Piggot said, her eyes narrowing at him. Likely it was his outbursts on PHO that necessitated this warning.

“And what are you going to do about Glory Girl abandoning me on a rooftop?” Gallant asked.

Director Piggot took a deep breath before releasing. 

“And what, Mr. Stansfield, did you expect would happen when you began dating an Alexandria Package?” When Gallant opened his mouth, Piggot cut him off. “Actually don’t answer that. I don’t care. Everyone stay off PHO. Do not talk to the press about Glory Girl or Tarocchi. We are still developing our strategy…. And Gallant? Do not contact New Wave for the time being. I don’t need any more calls from Lady Photon.”

January 19, 2011

Patrol: Gallant & Antaeus 

Theo was on a standard patrol with Gallant when his civilian phone chimed. 

Gallant had been sour company ever since he was caught maybe-cheating and had been looking for any reason to harp on everyone else. Including the first time he caught Theo checking personal messages while on the clock. Nevermind that Gallant wasn’t the Ward team leader. 

It was forcing Theo to ignore the last few messages. Which was just the worst, since Jeremy had promised a certain kinda selfie that would make Theo’s heart pound. Theo’s cheeks were already burning and he was counting down the hours until he was back in his Wards room and able to take a few moments in… privacy.

Gallant gave him a stink eye. “You might as well check your messages,” Gallant said bitterly. “God knows I have to see your PDA regardless.”

“Gee thanks Gallant,” Theo deadpanned. Sanctimonious prick , Theo thought. Just because he’s not getting any doesn’t mean he has to stop everyone else from doing it.  

Just to spite Gallant, Theo managed to wait another moment before checking his messages. But when he did, his stomach fell out. 

Oh… fuck.

Jeremy sent a text that a few skinheads were following him and that he was going to try and shake them. Since Jeremy was outside of Empire turf, he thought he should be alright and that he would send a text when he was clear. 

…that had been over an hour ago.

Another text, more recent, but not from Jeremy. 

It was from Theo’s father.

‘While I have always been disappointed in your refusal to accept your rightful place as my heir, I did not think my esteem for you could fall even lower. Until now. When I heard the rumors circulating at Medhall about your embrace of deviancy, I was shocked, and denied them angrily to everyone who would listen. It was humiliating.

 Yes, Kayden had informed me of your unacceptable lifestyle choices, but I would at least have thought you’d have the good sense to keep your fetishes contained in private, where they belong. I was shocked, then, to see James show me some incriminating photos of you not just openly displaying your indecency, but flaunting it all across the Boardwalk. It was lucky he managed to obtain all copies of those photos before they could get into the hands of some tabloid, but I fear the next time we shall not be so lucky. . And so, just as  a father that loves his son shall not spare the rod, I shall not spare you this: a reminder on exactly what comes to those that choose to rut with the animals, and why you will never embarrass your family like this again. This is for your own good.’

The message, as all messages did on the private server his father used to contact him, deleted itself immediately after being read.

Oh. Fuck. Oh fuc–oh fuck…

“What’s wrong?” Gallant asked. “Your boy-toy break up with you? I guess they’re right that Misery lo–”

“-Shut the fuck up,” Theo snarled. 

“-ves co–what?” Gallant asked, dumbfounded.

“This is fucking bad. So fucking bad!” Theo began pulling his hair out and pacing. “No no no! How! How did he–no– Kayden,” Theo hissed and spat. Even if she didn’t agree with Theo, he never would have expected her to tell his father. 

Theo tried calling Jeremy. Voicemail. He tried calling again and again. No one picked up. 

Shit! 

He tried calling Kayden next. She picked up. “Did you tell dad,” Theo growled.

“Theo what are you talking about?” Kayden asked, sounding concerned. “When you left in the middle of the night I was worried with–”

“-Answer me!” Theo screamed. Gallant coughed and tried waving off the onlookers responding to a Ward’s temper tantrum. Several phones were recording. Theo didn’t care. “Did you tell dad?!”

“-We only want what’s best for you–”Kayden said. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to associate with… that part of his life, but despite all your differences he’s still your father! I promise, I didn’t know he’d do anything like this , but you still nee–” Theo hung up and threw his phone on the pavement, shattering it. He screamed in impotent rage. “Fuck!”

“Console we have a situation,” Gallant called in. “Antaeus has just received a message on his phone and is ignoring everything around him, highly distressed. Please advise.”

“Fuck yeah you’ve got a situation,” Shadow Stalker answered. “You cucks see what the Nazis are streaming? Fucking godamned bullshit.”

“...What,” Theo asked, feeling sick from the sudden dread. In the pit of his stomach, in the core of his very being, he felt ill in apprehension.

“I’ll shoot you a link,” Sophia said. “This. Is. Fucked.”

A moment later Theo’s Ward phone blipped. Shadow Stalker had sent a link to all of them, a video hosted on an Empire site. It was a livestream. The pit in Theo’s stomach dropped further. But he had to know. With great trepidation and anguish he followed the link.

Five young men were chained to chairs with bags over their heads but they were otherwise naked. They were bloody and battered. On the back wall was a red flag with the double Es made to resemble the Third Reich’s call to arms. A voice that Theo recognized and was loath to hear spoke. 

Hookwolf.

“My boys tell me the numbers are up,” Hookwolf asked. “Cricket, if you’d do the honors?”

Cricket came forward with a set of small knives instead of her usual kamas. If she had her kamas, her sickle like blades, it would have been a simple execution. The small knives meant drawing it out. They meant torture.

Theo couldn’t look away and he also couldn’t watch. His guts twisted. This. This–

“A few’f you may wonder why? Well ‘sides the boss saying so. And I’ll tell ’ya: it’s because an example is to be made.” Hookwolf wasn’t on camera, but Theo could hear the smile on Brad’s voice. “What about from left to right?”

Cricket smirked and pointed at the left, then the right, and then made an exaggerated shrug. Hookwolf chuckled and interpreted Melody’s motions.

“My left, o’ course,” Hookwolf barked, continuing to laugh. “What sorta question even is that?”

Cricket mimed a laugh and moved to Hookwolf’s left, a scrawny white male with a rainbow triangle tattooed over a nipple. Unfortunate body artwork aside, Theo bet all five of the men had something one thing in common. His eyes panned over them.

‘Please don’t be Jeremy, please don’t be Jeremy,’ Theo whispered over and over like a mantra.

 Two of the males were black. And one of them had the body hair and build of Jeremy. It could have been someone else. With the bag over the head, it could have been anyone. There were plenty of black gay men in Brockton Bay built like a tall stack of pancakes and packed with chesthair… Fuck . 

That was Jeremy. It had to be. Max wouldn’t make that sort of mistake.

They were going to torture him then execute him and not even Panacea would be able to put him back together. They would torture Jeremy for being gay–for being with Theo…

Theo had never warned Jeremy about who Theo’s family was. About the sort of risk Jeremy was stepping into. 

This was all Theo’s fault.

“Calm down,” Gallant said, laying a hand on Theo’s shoulder. Theo flinched from the contact and pulled away. “Nothing you can do really. It’s Hookwolf. We don’t even know where it’s streaming from.”

But that’s the thing. On the video Theo did recognize the floor and backdrop. It was Hookwolf’s favorite pit. Of course Theo had been dragged to firm up and man up and harden his soft hands. It had left Theo sick at the time. But he knew where it was. Off in the Industrial quadrant abutting Downtown, on the far side of Empire’s territory from the ABB.

“I know where it is,” Theo whispered.

“What?” Gallant asked. “How would you–wait. How would you?”

It didn’t matter how. Nothing mattered except getting there as fast as he could. 

“I know where fucking Brad’s hiding…” Theo said. “I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna save my boyfriend.”

Theo did what he seldom did, wary of the extensive damage to the roads. Theo raised up a slab of earth beneath his feet, a hard platform able to hold his weight. He balanced on the platform like a surfboard and he rolled the slab forward, picking up speed faster and faster, leaving Gallant shouting behind. 

Hang on Jeremy, Theo thought. I’m coming.

January 19, 2011

Hookwolf’s favored pit, Industrial Quarter abutting Downtown

Theo rode his platform and crashed through the corrugated metal wall and channeling. He rode a wave of earth and rubble and asphalt through the wall like a wakeboarder riding a tsunami. Metal screeched as it tore and men crumbled beneath the jagged ends and rubble as it came pouring in.

Theo surrounded himself with stone and dirt crafting armoring like a golem before any of the Nazis could react. And then there was gunfire and pained screams and shouts. Shots were fired, handguns and rifles. But they didn’t matter. Nothing but Jeremy mattered. 

…and barring that, vengeance.

Where were they?!  

He heard metal grinding on metal. 

Hookwolf. 

Theo tracked the vibrations through the earth. Heavy blades, struggling men, and a lighter female who he assumed was Cricket. But where was–

There! There the men were!

Theo rolled earth forward, covering everyone and everything between him and Jeremy. Men screamed and drowned and were crushed under the earth. The unpowered Nazis might as well have been useless. 

Everyone was useless. 

Only Jeremy mattered. 

Theo crossed the warehouse, Hookwolf was already transformed, while Cricket had her kamas and her trademark grin. She had just executed the man with the rainbow tattoo. Or who had the rainbow tattoo. Sections of him had been degloved, including his pectorals. She moved on to the next, bringing a sickle blade down on the side of the man’s neck. 

No!

“Come to crash the pride parade?” Hookwolf laughed before charging into the tsunami of dirt and rocks.

Cricket moved on to the next victim. Then the next–the next was Jeremy! No!

Theo opened the earth beneath Hookwolf, swallowing him whole. Hookwolf scrambled along the shifting ground, but nothing would hold. Not metal blades nor flesh and blood. A sinkhole that ever grew took all of Brad in, burying the scum beneath tons and tons and tons of earth. 

–Cricket brought her kamas down on Jeremy’s throat, the last words from his boyfriend’s mouth being a shocked and betrayed gurgle, eyes shining with disbelief as he stared at Theo’s face.

“This is his fault” Cricket whispered gleefully, pointing at Theo’s armored form.

“No!” Theo shouted.

But…but it was too late . 

Jeremy was bleeding out. Jeremy was as good as dead. Because of him… because of Theo.

Theo raged and blinked and found Cricket laying on the ground but getting back up all the hostages were dead, dead– dead!  

Because of Theo. 

Because Theo could never have anything good, anything right. 

Because Theo was the only normal man in a family of monsters.

Because Theo’s father was Max fucking Anders.

And Max Anders would rather die before letting his son slip from his control.

Theo screamed, making the earth for blocks around him scream with him, destroying this monument to decay and rot and cruelty in a cleansing quake.

They would pay, pay– suffer!  

He shook the earth and pulled it up and pushed it down forming waves and ripples, rolling all the earth he could reach, bringing down all the pit and the factory, burying Cricket and the all Empire thugs, destroying the vile warehouse and all remainders of the monsters that had stolen Jeremy, Kayden, Austin, stolen everything from him. He grieved and brought down the building atop of him and the buildings beside him and as far as he could reach he brought it all down! Like his life had always been brought down, always been ruined by the rot of his father . A rot he knew he would never escape.

A rot that seeped into everything around him, and infected everyone and everything Theo could ever love. Even his boyfriend, his brother would one day grow to despise him, all because of the tainted blood that ran within his veins. 

Theo screamed as he  leveled the earth. Flattened it. Hardened it. If he could, he would have salted it. Instead, he had another idea, a burst of inspiration, a sculpture! He would craft and raise a monument to Jeremy, to honor his legacy and to blight the Empire’s bigotry…

…

“Holy Hell kid,” someone said. A man. Maybe Assault. Or Velocity. It didn’t matter…

Voices were speaking around him. He heard the sirens of emergency vehicles. It did not matter. Nothing mattered. Not any more.

Fragments of conversation floated over him. People tried talking to him. He ignored all of them, kneeling before the building sized statue of Jeremy.

“-second trigger,” Maybe-Assault said.

“live streamed–Everybody saw,” Battery said.

“-good luck squashing it,” was that a trooper? It didn’t matter.

“Cluster Fuuu–” Maybe-Assault again.

It didn’t matter.  

It. 

Did.

Not.

Matter.

Theo hung his head and cried.

January 21, 2011

Transport to ???

Soothing music played on the speakers while an armband kept Theo sedated. Not a full sedation. Just a little tinkertech Ativan to take the edge off. To help him relax. Things were going to get better.

“We’re here,” A woman, an officer who had rode beside Theo said. 

Theo nodded, having difficulty finding words. Another officer opened his door and helped him out. A doctor greeted him along with several nurses. They smiled and promised Theo a relaxing stay. Fine food. Recreational activities. Exercises. Even some higher learning. They had art classes. 

Things would get better.

No family would visit him here. Director Piggot and Dragon had made sure of that. He was safe. He could relax. 

Recover.

He looked up and saw a white dress flying through the sky. A familiar fixture of Brockton Bay. But Brockton Bay, along with the Empire, along with… everything else, was far behind. Should have been left far behind. But that was a white skirt and a golden blonde flying through the sky. 

…that was Glory Girl. It had to be her. What was she doing here? And she was carrying someone. Was that? But… why? How? No. No no no no. Just. No.

Then he cackled. And started giggling.

“Welcome to Achimille,” a doctor said.

“Tarocchi!” Theo cracked. “Tar-oh-chiii Taro–tarooo~”

The earth started to tremble just as Theo felt a pinch on his arm beneath the tinkertech armband. There was a beep, and then everything suddenly seemed far removed and distant. Theo felt bliss and he let go as arms supported him and held him upright.

This was nice.

Chapter Text

Non-Canon Omake: Valentine’s Day Kiss Bot

Inspired by: PrognosticHannya [to show that crime never pays]

January 16th 2011

Weymouth Mall, Near the Food Court

Theo and Jeremy. 

Or should it be Jeremy and Theo? 

These were the questions contemplated by Jeremy as they strolled through the Weymouth Mall. And while they weren’t exactly on a date (going on an obvious date in Nazi-ville was definitely questionable), they were spending time together which is what mattered as far as Jeremy was concerned.

Jeremy glanced slyly at Theo who was cutely pointing out an industrial light fixture as inspiration for another sculpture. Jeremy hid a smile behind his hand. Watching the other boy get so worked up was worth the effort of getting the boy’s attention. 

Jeremy just wished that Theo didn’t play so hard to get. Elusive prey was a game that tons of guys played, and the catch was definitely worth the chase, at least in this case. But getting Theo to get to the point that Jeremy felt comfortable asking him out was taking a lot of work. And it wasn’t like Jeremy had that much free-time.

But since Jeremy was putting in the effort to make the relationship work, then did that mean they should be called Jeremy and Theo? 

While he was lost in thought and watching Theo rave about the light fixture, there was a disturbance up-ahead near an upscale lingerie store. 

Speaking of lingerie, if Jeremy had the cash to burn, he’d like to think that Theo would look alright in something red and lacy… and speaking of cash, Theo did tend to be rolling in it, at least from what Theo had mentioned about his ‘asshole’ of a father.  Not that Theo had ever mentioned his father in those terms. Theo was too proper and respectful. But Jeremy could read between the lines, between the pained faraway glances that came up whenever Theo mentioned his father.

If Jeremy and Theo ever did tie the knot, then they’d probably have to take the Anders’ last name to inherit the family fortune. Which would be evidence for them getting called Theo and Jeremy.

“Hey man,” Jeremy said, tugging Theo away from studying the light-fixture. “You wanna check out up ahead? I think it’s cape related. Maybe we could pick up some autographs? Could be fun.”

“Huh?” Theo asked. Then he seemed to perk up. “Cape? Where?” he asked. He glanced down where Jeremy’s hand was tugging and Theo bit back a smile as his cherubic cheeks dusted with pink.

“Up ahead,” Jeremy said. “C’mon let’s check it out?”

“Uh–uhhhh…” Theo said as his tongue stopped working. Jeremy never really had this effect on anyone before, and he absolutely cherished it. It left Jeremy’s stomach twirling with butterflies. But without a protest otherwise, Jeremy managed to pull Theo forward, towards the crowd.

Just as they got close, a woman in an artful costume hopped up on a black pedestal that hadn’t been there previously. She wore a red jacket with gold lapels and a cloak, and her mask looked expensive. Like, if Jeremy sold that mask he’d be able to  feed his kid brother and disabled mom for a month kinda expensive. It was Impressive… and also a huge waste of resources.

The story of capes in general. Wasteful and prideful and noisy.

“Greetings ladies and gentlewomen, children and young adults, lovers and others,” the cape said, sweeping her cloak behind her in a theatrical bow. “Many of you might recognize me, the magnificent, the wonderful, the outstanding, and the highly heroically inclined–” she wiggled her eyebrows and winked at a blonde in the crowd “- The Tarocchi !”

A small girl clapped, while everyone else pulled out their cellphones to either call the PRT or record the performance.

“Her.” Theo snarled under his breath.

“You recognize her?” Jeremy asked, honestly confused. He never really did follow cape-news. It was too depressing. But even he’d heard of most of the capes out there.

“Unfortunately. She has terrible taste in art,” Theo grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Today I will be making trades!” Tarocchi all but shouted over the crowd. “I will be taking your uniques, your half worn belt buckles, your half-eaten burritos and that chimichanga you dropped yet retrieved within the allotted five seconds. Yes. Have no fear, I have the perfect trade to make for all this Valentines Day .”

“It’s not Valentine’s Day?” that same little girl who’d been clapping asked seriously. “Right?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day somewhere,” Tarocchi answered with the utmost confidence.

“...No,” the little girl replied. “It doesn't work that way. You’re thinking it’s five oclock somewhere, like what mommy says–” Said maternal figure blushed and glanced around nervously while trying to silence their daughter. The woman chuckled and muttered, ‘kids.’

“Well, then as they also might say,” Tarocchi continued, unbothered by the Gregorian Calendar, “So long as you love the one you're with, then every day is Valentine’s Day!” 

She threw her arms up in the air and pink glitter poured up and out from her hands, revealing a high-tech drone carrying a miniature squirt-gun decorated with red-hearts.

“-and to put my trades where my mouth is,” Tarocchi said, “I introduce to you Tarocchi’s very own, Epic Valentines Kiss Bot!”

The drone spoke in a robotic voice, “Discouraged Statement: finding love between meatbags. Scanning. Scanning. Scanning–” the drone hovered overhead, flitting from person to person, scanning them with a blue grid-like light between them. When the drone came across an older man and a younger woman, the drone dinged. “-Match Found. Consummate. Consummate. Consu–” 

It sprayed the couple with the squirt-gun. A pink cloud of glitter and evaporating hearts surrounded both the man and the woman, and they moved together as though magnets were pulling them by their lips.

They closed the distance between them in jerky movements, their eyes wide in fear. Their faces bent in as their lips puckered (in grimaces) until they planted on eachother. A flash went off from the drone. 

“Resigned Statement: meatbags may find picture available on Tarocchi’s Imgur Account. Scanning. Scanning…”

“We need to go!” Theo hissed, trying to drag them away. But the drone was suddenly there, scanning both Theo and Jeremy with the blue light.

The drone dinged. “-Match Found. Consummate.”

It sprayed first Theo then Jeremy with the squirt-gun. It smelled like lavender and lemons and Theo looked amazing with the pink glow surrounding his beatific face. A warm sensation flowed across Jeremy, from the tip of his nose to his littlest of toes. And Jeremy practically floated towards Theo, while Theo did the same towards Jeremy.

Their lips planted, and Theo tasted hot and sweet…

The moment was ruined by the drone’s camera flashing. 

“Kiss included–Tarocchi’s Imgur Account. Scanning. Scanning…”

“Frick,” Theo said, finally pulling away. The kiss was over far too quickly. Jeremy was already wondering when they could do that again.

So lost in the aftermath of the kiss, Jeremy barely noticed when Tarocchi disappeared Jeremy’s hat. In fact, Jeremy didn’t care about that at all. He had other things on his mind. “C’mon,” Jeremy said, pulling Theo away by the hand. “Let’s find somewhere quiet.”

He decided on Jeremy and Theo, at least for the night.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Making friends in all the right places

Summary: Taylor is making great strides towards fitting in at the Asylum. She makes friends with tons of great and neat people, like Sveta, Doctor Yamada, and even a few others! Sure, there might have been some relapses, but overall she’s on the road to recovery… but really, Taylor just wants to give back to her community.

Beta Read by Dysole, Heartfeltart

A/N: Upcoming vacation for author. 

January 28, 2011

Taylor’s Achimille Cell, Friday Internet Hours

I drummed my fingers along the table. 

Three minutes left to go. 

“Bored bored bored.” 

My eyes drifted along my hotel-cell room in the Yellow-Ward of Achimille. It had a single-sized foam mattress, a pillow, a blanket, some books, and… that was it really. I supposed that there was a washroom, but it was tiny. And… oh! And the computer behind a plexiglass screen and a desk! There weren’t any cords in the room though, so everything was touchscreen.

Two minutes to go. 

“Still bored… so bored… bored bored bored.” 

Why was I here again? 

I felt like there was a reason for it. A good reason. 

But it was just. So. Boring! 

There was nothing happening and it was so dull and how was I supposed to learn anything or gather up the sweet shinies if nobody let me do anything?!

I lightly tapped my head on the desk and the cold plastic felt nice against my forehead but I was still so fricking bored! I mean what gives? I thought I was supposed to be here to get help or something. Not left to rot.

Oh idea! 

I could write a letter to Glory Girl! But I don’t have any paper. 

…or a pen…

But I really did want to thank her for helping me out and abandoning me in this cell to rot . Maybe a nice present? I could send her my ear. That seemed like a good present. A Unique too! To really show her what I thought .

I considered the locked steel door that kept me trapped in my cell slash hotel room slash prison cell. 

I could totally convert the door to Cardstuff and store it in my Card Space. But the last time I had tried that, I ended up feeling super drowsy and had a killer headache and a big bruise on my forehead when I woke up on the floor… and Doctor Yamada had seemed pretty disappointed.

One minute to go.

“And I am still. So. Bored…” I groaned, slumping further onto the desk.

I couldn’t even materialize my Auxiliary Deck to experiment. Well, I could have. But if I did, then I wouldn’t get my shinies from Doctor Yamada. And I loved my shinies.

The computer turned on. Excellent. First step in my glorious plan for world domination complete.  I entered the patient group chat room for Achimille.

The Great Tarocchi> I’m bored! Anyone want to chat or make some deals?

Dollface> nobody wants to trade

The Great Tarocchi> Hey that’s great! @ nobody, you on right now?

Dollface> … are you trolling or are you just stupid? can’t tell.

The Great Tarocchi> Neither. I’m Tarocchi?

Gasconade> lol you aren’t even sure get wrekt

The Great Tarocchi> Oh I am for sure Tarocchi, but does introducing myself as Tarocchi also convey all else that I am? For I am not ‘just’ Tarocchi. I am The GREAT TAROCCHI.

Gasconade> get outta here scrub

Dollface> Bit toxic there. 

Gasconade> shuttup barbie. go be british somewhere else guvvenah

Sveta> Be nice to Tarocchi!

The Great Tarocchi> Forgive me Sveta, but I must correct you. I am not solely Tarocchi, but THE GREAT TAROCCHI.

…

DM Request from Sveta> Sorry! Did you wanna hop in DM before the Gasconade gets the chatroom frozen again?

The Great Tarocchi> It would be my pleasure Sveta! And I am grateful for the opportunity to chat with such a kind soul. Tell me, would you wish to make a trade?

The Great Tarocchi> Sveta?

Sveta> Sorry! Takes a bit to type. Want to video chat?

The Great Tarocchi> Certainly!

Sveta> Great! I have to warn you not to freak when you see me.

The Great Tarocchi> I reserve the right to protest however I doubt a person such as you would ever force me to exercise said right.

Sveta> …now i’m nervous.

I realized that I may have scared off the shy and sweet Sveta with my boisterous presentation and I decided that the surest course of action would be to call the girl directly. It took a minute before Sveta answered, and when she did, she left her camera off.

“Hey Sveta!” I greeted her with great gusto and cheer. “I’m so happy that you answered! I cannot tell you just how bored I’ve been here! Not that you’re meant to entertain me, because that’s not your job, unless I trade you something for entertainment, though it’s more difficult to set the value of abstract concepts like that and–”

“It’s fine.’ A girl’s voice came over the speakers. It was soft and difficult to hear. “Do you want me to call you something else besides the great Tarocchi?”

The Great Tarocchi.

Wait. Deep breaths. I needed to remember the mantra that Lisa and then Doctor Yamada had encouraged me to repeat. 

I was Taylor and Tarocchi. Lately I had been channeling more of the Tarocchi energy though, and I needed to reground myself. This might be a way to do that.

“Not that you need to unmask–” the girl started, sounding worried.

“No worries Svet,” I replied. “You may also call me Taylor, or Tarocchi. Either should work.”

“Taylor,” Sveta said. “Your cape name doesn’t sound that different.”

“It’s pretty great,” I said smugly. But I realized we’d been talking a lot about me so far, and that had been an unfair trade. It was her turn to give me something. “So what’s your cape name?” I asked.

“...I’d rather not say,” she answered after an awkward pause. Well if that was the way this conversation was going to go, then I would just have to share an unequal portion of the labor!

“Sveta is a pretty name though,” I said. “It sounds foreign?”

“...Russian.”

“Neat!” I said. “Hey, have you ever seen a Russian Nesting Doll?”

“Online,” Sveta said. “I…not in person.”

“Oh hey! No worries. When we get healthy we can go visit a dollstore together! I think there’s a famous one in Brockton Bay, that’s my hometown, have you been there?”

“I’ve heard of it,” she said. I thought I heard a smile. It would be a lot easier if I could see her face instead of a blank screen. “You know you’re famous right? PHO loves you.”

As long as PHO got my name right. So long as PHO got my name right. So long as–

“Taylor?” Sveta asked. “You went quiet there for a bit. Did something happen?”

“I was just thinking about the important questions,” I said. Then changed the subject in a very smooth segue. “You ever read up on Glory Girl? How’s she doing? She’s the one that helped me out by bringing me here–” and abandoning me “-and is probably one of my favorite heroes! Say, who’s yours?” 

It was probably Glory Girl. I only asked to be polite. And because Sveta was making me do all the heavy lifting of this conversation. Not that I minded! It was important for friends to do nice things for each other without hope or demand of reciprocation. At least according to Doctor Yamada. As strange as the concept was.

“Oh wow, uhmm,” Sveta answered, giving the questions great thought. “Well my favorite is Weld.”

“Who?” I asked. “You must not have heard of Glory Girl before if you like somebody named Weld more than her.”

“...I’ve heard of Glory Girl.”

“And your favorite’s still Weld?!” I asked dumbfoundedly. This was unprecedented. I would need to look this Weld up at some point and see just who this person was that could pull the wool over Sveta’s eyes in such a way.

“Um… yeah.” Sveta was using an even softer voice than before.

“I’m having trouble hearing you,” I told her. “Are you sure we can’t use a camera feed?”

“Maybe later,” she said after a pregnant pause. “I-maybe later.”

I shrugged, not that she could see. Another failing of voice only calls. But if she was too shy, or if the staff refused to give her a camera for whatever reason, then I would support my friend however I could! And in this particular case, that form of support would come through small-talk.

 “So how long you in for?” I asked.

When Sveta didn’t respond immediately, it was my turn to worry that something nefarious had happened to her. What could have happened? The cells were secure, at least they were purportedly secure. But there were a lot of parahumans in the facility, and who knows what sort of crazy shenanigans that lot could get up to. I couldn’t take my new friend’s safety for granted.

“Svet?” I asked. “How lo–”

“-forever,” she said breathily, interrupting me, and then immediately terminating the call.

She had sounded so serious and so sad and it was breaking my heart. Why would they lock poor Sveta up forever? Had they misled her? Had they misled me? Were they considering locking me away and never letting me go? How could I help poor Sveta? And would anyone ever help me?

I needed to learn more about Sveta’s situation before I jumped to conclusions. Another thing that Doctor Yamada had been urging me to do, to consider what other people might want, and not what I thought they might want. Something she called empathy I think?

So research! I shot Sveta a couple messages to try and figure out what her situation was. And I learned that the doctors never even let her out of her room! The poor girl. I hoped they would let me out of my room soon. I knew I’d go crazy otherwise.

Around an hour after computer time started, a ding came from the door and my computer turned off. I swiveled my chair around, or tried to. It wasn’t a padded office chair, but a four legged soft plastic chair. 

Some twerking and twisting later, and the chair was facing the door instead of the desk. 

“Come in!” I shouted, a grin lighting up my face. I hoped it was who I thought it was.

A woman’s voice came through a slot in the door. “And what will you give me if I do come in?”

“Oooh! A trade!” My smile stretched nearly ear to ear and I began bouncing in my seat. “Ummm. This chair? No, you wouldn’t want this chair. It’s boring. Ummm… I don’t… know… ?”

I could almost hear the woman’s smile when she spoke. “And what do we do when we don’t know what the other person wants?”

“...we tell them? Oh! We give them what we think is the best! Nobody can argue with that.”

“What did we talk about in our last Session Taylor?” I had to think back on it. This wasn’t nearly as easy as it could be, since Doctor Yamada had told me a lot of things in our last session. She continued, “I’ll give you a hint. If people assumed that they knew what you liked best, they’d trade you money–” I started gagging “-for your services. Wouldn’t you rather others not assume your preferences?”

“That’s not the same thing at all!” I shouted. “Who in their right mind would want that? I mean–it’s basically all the same. There are hundreds of dollars that are exactly the same. Hundreds! And if not the same, then similar enough that it doesn’t matter. Disgusting .” I sneered. It was gross. Nauseating even. And Doctor Yamada was trying to–

“I think we might be getting too far afield, “ Doctor Yamad said. “Remember that it’s always safe to ask a person what they want, rather than assume. Imagine if someone did give you money?”

I gagged again. “Please stop,” I told her.

She waited a moment, while I collected myself. “Alright. What would you like me to give you for you coming in?”

“Very good Taylor!” Doctor Yamada said sunnily, her happiness infecting my face and also causing me to smile once more. “I would like you to give me the next forty-five minutes of your undivided attention and a reasonable discourse.”

Pffft. That was a sucker's deal. I would have given her that for free since I was so bored out of my mind here. 

“Deal!” I cheered.

Doctor Yamada unlocked the door and stepped in. She was wearing some gross pantsuit that looked a dime a dozen, but she more than made up for her generic sense of fashion with her warm smile.

“May I sit down?” She asked, referring to my bed. I eyed her speculatively.

“That wasn’t part of our deal,” I told her, my eyes narrowed.

“That’s fine, I can stand. So tell me, did you try the in-patient chatroom like I recommended?”

I nodded and smiled, “Yeah! Lots of really nice people. Friendly too. I even called up Svet!” Doctor Yamada’s face twitched slightly but returned to neutral. “But she said something that was concerning…” I lowered my voice conspiratorially, “...is she allowed out of her room? She’s not a prisoner right?”

Doctor Yamada twitched again, almost grimacing this time. 

“You know I don’t speak to others regarding your medical details, and I cannot speak to you of others. However, Sveta’s case is unique and complicated.”

Which meant that poor Sveta was locked up forever and confirmed what Sveta had claimed. 

“-would you like to meet some other patients today?” Doctor Yamada asked.

“Sure!” I said. “Maybe Sveta?”

“...probably not her, no. But we could give you rec and cafeteria privileges. If you promise you’ll give your best behavior.”

I hummed and thought about it. I would give good behavior, and I would get access to other parts of the facility. It sounded like a decent trade.

“-Taylor!” Doctor Yamada said sternly. “You said you’d give me–”

“-Tarocchi,” I corrected her absentmindedly, still thinking about the deal she was offering me. 

It wasn’t backing out of our last deal, since I was still giving what she said: my undivided attention. It was just, I was giving what she had said attention, and not what she was currently saying. Minor details are important when wheeling and dealing with The Great Tarocchi.

“Is that the name you’d prefer to go by?” Doctor Yamada asked. “Earlier you said it was Taylor.”

I shrugged and smiled. Right that second, I felt more like Tarocchi. And it felt… good.

“I see,” Doctor Yamada said, pressing onward in my silence. “Have you been practicing your mantra?”

“Hmm maybe?” I said. 

I tried to remember it. It was hard though. And boring. And I didn’t feel as good when I practiced it as when I didn’t. Mantras were boring. She gave me a pointed look and I shuffled where I sat. 

“...no,” I said finally, when she wouldn’t stop looking at me.

“Would you repeat it with me?”

“Fine.” I grinded out.

A while later, Doctor Yamada came to the end of our session. As she stood up, she turned to me and shuffled through her satchel. “Have you been following our Power Usage Guidelines since our last session?” Doctor Yamada asked.

I nodded vigorously, already eyeing the satchel. This was the best part of our sessions. If I was good, then I got rewarded. It was an awesome and ingenious system and who would have ever thought of this? Whoever it was must have been really smart. Like, mom-level smart.

“Alright then, pick one.” She held the satchel open in front of me to let me take my pick.

So much good stuff, and I could only pick one? There was a scuffed up Magic Eight Ball with a hand painted butterfly on the side. There was a half eaten chocolate key with the foil wrapping intact; A mismatched set of well used dice; Half of a paperback book called Atlas Shrugged.

“Just one?” I asked, biting my lip. This decision was hard. Doctor Yamada nodded. “...alright,” I said, making my choice. I retrieved that half-eaten chocolate key and examined it carefully. It was perfect.

“You may use your Cardstuff now, Taylor,” Doctor Yamada said.

I smiled as I channeled my Cardstuff into the chocolate key, scratching that phantom itch that always harassed me and begged me to fill it with new stuff. The chocolate key disappeared in a flash of pink and gold glitter, and a Rare card was left in its place.

“A Rare!” I squealed in delight, jumping up and down and fist pumping. “This is amazing! Thank you Doctor Yamada!” I rushed to give her a hug. She flinched and coughed, before tentatively returning my hug and patting my back.

Later that same day, I finally got to tour the Green Rec Area in Achimille. I even had an entourage! A nice orderly was showing me around and making sure I never wanted for directions or guidance. 

We entered an exercise room under one of Doctor Yamada’s recommendations for burning off some of my extra energy.

When we entered, I was flabbergasted. The gym was so new and nice and– look at that treadmill ! I could totally use a treadmill in my room. I wondered if anyone would notice if I–

Something wet hit my cheek, leaving me sputtering. 

“Wh–what?” 

I followed the direction the wet stuff came from, where my entourage stood, holding a small squirt bottle. “Did you spray me?”

The orderly nodded, not even having the good grace to look sheepish. “If you look like you might forget not to cause property damage I’m supposed to remind you.”

“Well I’d rather you didn’t?”

“Sorry Doctor’s Orders.” The orderly didn’t look sorry. Suspicious . “Also, I’m supposed to remind you to practice your mantra and or breathing exercises.” I narrowed my eyes at him and he smirked. “Or we could always head back I guess…”

“Fine.” I took a deep breath and repeated my mantra as fast as I could. Then when his finger twitched on the squirt bottle, I repeated it but slower. Finally he nodded and let me get on with my exploration of the exercise room.

While I was touring the rec-room, I met an interesting person. A very interesting person.

They didn’t have skin or flesh or bones. What they had was a wireframe mesh of polygons in place of clothes and skin. Some of the polygons were smaller, giving a higher grain of detail, like around the face. Others were broader, like around the back and legs. The wireframe mesh also extended to the darts he was holding. He would throw one at the dartboard, let it sink in, before the dart lost the effect and vanished from the dartboard, reappearing in his grip, where it returned to the wireframe mesh.

I had never seen anything like it. It was amazing. It was unique. I felt immense jealousy that I couldn’t look that cool.

“Sure, stare at the freak,” they said in a deep voice.

“Ok!” I said. “But where’s the freak?” I asked, looking around. The orderly looked like he had bitten into a lemon but was otherwise silent. “You mean my entourage? That’s not very polite.”

The interesting person narrowed what went for his eyes and looked at me. “...You must be Tarocchi then?”

“The one, the only, the magnificent!” I held a hand up and made a very heroic pose. “Might I have yours?”

They groaned. “Gasconade. Please go away and stop talking to me.” And they went back to throwing darts. Their aim was pretty good.

I almost said ‘OK,’ but then remembered their request. But they hadn’t said anything about talking around them. 

“I guess that makes sense,” I said to the orderly. “Is there anyone else this interesting, or just Gasconade?”

I almost missed Gasconade’s growl of friendship.

The orderly shrugged. “Did you want to use any of the machines? Or maybe try the cafeteria?”

Well, I decided I should try to exercise at least a little bit. But when I went to pick up the dumbbells to try some free weights, I ended up picking up a heavier pair that I thought. It turns out that twenty pounds was too much. I did manage to take them off the racks. However, I failed to manage to hold onto them.

If I had been any less amazing, and my reflexes any slower, then I wouldn’t have jumped back in time. As it was, they fell, clanged against the edge of the rack, and knocked a lot of lead over, making a huge cacophony.  I barely avoided crushing my toes when I dropped them.

I looked up and saw everyone glaring at me, especially Gasconade. The orderly sprayed me with the squirt bottle.

“So cafeteria?” I asked.

The orderly raised a single eyebrow and led the way.

The cafeteria by far exceeded the quality of what I had been expecting. I had been thinking of something like a school’s hot or cold line, where students would follow a queue to get whatever sort of food they wanted from a limited selection. Apparently, that’s not how things were run at Achimille.

No, here there was a tablet attached to a wall displaying a customizable selection, from grilled salmon to blueberry pancakes. Once the selection went in, the food would be brought to the cafeteria.

Unfortunately, we were outside of meal hours. However there were still people sitting at tables, chatting or otherwise enjoying the space. My eyes were drawn to one table in particular, where several very interesting people sat chatting. Naturally, I made my way over.

But as I traveled past another table, where several non-interesting persons sat, there was a card-game in play.

It looked like poker.

The cards were boring and standard, the game was boring, and the people playing were boring. But one of the people playing reminded me of someone from school. They turned to me.

“Buy-ins a flute. Looks like you’re in…”

A shudder went up my back and I lost balance, stumbling against another table and knocking a chair over.

…but, that could not have happened. This was not there! No no no!

The orderly helped me back to my feet. The poker players were watching me in casual disinterest. Sophia was not among them. Nor Emma nor Madison. This was not there. It wasn’t!

“Breathe,” the orderly said calmly, and then mimed an exaggerated cadence. “Breathing in… and holding… and breathing out… and pausing. Breathing in…”

I gradually regained my senses and started following along with the exercises. The rhythm he set was helpful. 

I looked up at the orderly and smiled. “Thank you,” I told him. 

He nodded, “You good? We can always head back… actually maybe we should.”

I shook my head and stood of my own volition and power. 

“Nay!” I said. “I shall continue forth and meet new and unique persons. Now unhand my persons good sir. For I have a quest on which to embark.”

I pulled free from his loose grip and continued towards the interesting persons table, where I promptly introduced myself.

“Greetings and goodwill to you and yours!” I said loudly, sweeping the best bow I could manage in the Achimille blue-green scrubs that all of us wore. “You may have had the pleasure of previously hearing tales of my exploits and grandeur–”

“-no-”

“-who’s this weirdo?-”

“-But I see from the confusion upon your visage that you have not. No fear my compatriots, for I shall address this deficiency immediately!”

“Let’s get you back and call Doctor Yamada,” my loyal entourage stated with much trepidation, concerned that I had made too much time for my fans and potentially left other important tasks undone. I gave him a knowing nod and patted his shoulder, before turning my attention back towards the interesting persons.

“It is I, the great, the magnificent, the unique, The Tarocchi!”

A small applause greeted my introduction. Which came from none other than myself. 

But no matter– sometimes an audience requires an opening act for their hearts to begin pumping and for their participation to begin flowing. However, it seemed–

Water splashed my face. I sputtered and glared at my orderly.

“Thou darest betray thine charge?!” I demanded. I opened my mouth to speak further, and he sprayed me again, this time in my mouth.

“Psycho needs her meds,” one of the interesting people said. This person looked like a doll, with porcelain skin and perfectly curled blonde locks. Her appearance was perfect down to the fingernail, which made her unique. 

For I knew of no other dolls that had been animated and given life.

“The Psy–” I began, but was sprayed once more.

The orderly got off his walkie talkie. “Come on Tarocchi–”

“-The Great Tarocchi!”

“-right, come along…” The orderly tugged and pulled me a bit more firmly, though I resisted. What sort of performer would I be if I failed to honor my fans? However, then the orderly said the magic words. “Doctor Yamada said she’d let you pick an extra shiny in your next session if you cooperated.”

“Good sir! Lead the way,” I turned and followed immediately.

On the way out, we passed a boy coming in. He looked haggard, bags under his eyes, and he was helped along by a person made of rock without a face. When the boy’s eyes landed on me, he hissed, “you!”

But we were already moving along. And as curious as he was, I would not jeopardize an additional shiny Unique or Rare for anything.

Later that night, while bored, I turned my thoughts back to poor Sveta. 

She was lonely, hardly ever permitted guests, could barely video chat, and the doctors had no intention of ever releasing her or freeing her from her room! I had just had a wonderful trip today outside my own room, and so I knew exactly what she was missing, and I wanted to help.

But how? 

I didn’t even know where her room was, or who to talk to… it seemed like an almost impossible problem to solve. Well, impossible for anyone else besides me.

One feature of my room that I may have failed to mention earlier, was that there was a closet sized washroom with presumed privacy. And so into this room I went, where the monitoring was limited if present at all. 

For it would not do to jeopardize the Uniques I had been promised for good behavior.

And once I entered, I reviewed my Cardspace. There was much to work with, and I was thankful for my past self’s thoughtfulness in collecting much for me to work with.

An Uncommon Laptop merged with a Unique Autographed Autobiography of Harriet Tubman produced an Artificial Intelligence of Freedom. This merged with the Unique Partially Eaten Foil Wrapped Chocolate Key produced a Unique Smart Chocolate Underground Railroad. Which was near complete, it just needed a way to provide locomotion. I dove back into my Card Space. I didn’t have any more drones or toy droids to use. And using my Vehicular Homi-Droid would likely lose me privileges. 

Doctor Yamada had been clear about her and the facility's concerns over my ability to create possibly hostile sapient artificial intelligences.

After some time, I found what I was looking for. About a hundred dead flies that I had found in the house. I took these out and while they were Common, after merging over twenty of them, I was left with a Legendary Dessicated House Fly.

This should work. 

But I might also waste my Unique Smart Chocolate Underground Railroad. 

However, it should work. 

And just thinking about poor Sveta trapped in her room forever and ever made my soul weep in sympathy. And so, I made the merge. I overlapped the Legendary Dessicated House Fly on top of the Unique Smart Chocolate Underground Railroad and began pouring Cardstuff. 

The cards began glowing pink and sparking from where they rested atop the back of the toilet. More Cardstuff poured in, and more. Gold glitter began floating up and off the cards and they grew too bright to behold in their radiant glory.

And with a flash, Cardstuff stopped pouring in. I was left lightheaded and leaning back against the washroom wall as I caught my breath. I was almost afraid to look, like always. But I must be brave.

I covered my face with a hand and peaked through my fingers as I reached for the card, and–

“Blast it and tarnations!” I screamed.

While reaching for the card I knocked it off its perch and sent it sliding into the toilet bowl where it sank to the water. Before I thought about reaching into the toilet water, the automated flush system went off.

“No!” I screamed and dove forward, slamming my head onto the wall above the toilet as I threw my hand into the toilet bowl and reached for the card that was just starting to bend and slide down the p-trap when I caught it! 

“Yes! And Gross!” I cheered.

I pulled my hand and card back out and flicked both out to get the yucky toilet water off both. And once I was relatively certain of my cleanliness, I checked the card. The ink hadn’t run; my cards were resistant to the elements that way. But I still checked to make sure. Fortunately the card was in good health. I flipped it over to see the front.

“Come on-come on–” I repeated under my breath over and over and over.

I finally read the card and found an orange outline marking one of the best rarities. And the artwork: A series of flies eating through a wall of chocolate to release an unhappy prisoner.

Artifact: Chocolate Tunnelers

This. Is. Perfect!

With the sure knowledge that absolutely nothing could go wrong with mixing candy and freedom and quick breeding insects, I moved the card over to my Active Deck and invested it.

Over the course of ten seconds, a pink glow began forming before me, in the shape of a housefly no larger than the nail of my pinkie. Once it was invested and fully activated, the fly began, well, flying. It buzzed around the room.

Other than the coloration (brown and white), it appeared to be a normal fly… which was… disappointing. 

But maybe….

Maybe….

Maybe it required an order or command? It was mixed with a computer system afterall, at least buried in there somewhere so it was probably worth a try.

“Excuse me, Chocolate Tunneler, would you please find my best friend Sveta and grant her freedom from her cell?”

“Bzzbzz,” the fly said as it flew towards the door where it landed on the metal. “Bzz!” It said cheerily. But it didn’t do much else besides that.

“Excuse me… Mister Fly?” I tried again, but I was beginning to feel pretty bummed out. It was becoming apparent I had just wasted two Uniques. It felt bad.

But then I noticed an effect spreading from where the fly sat upon the metal door. 

A brown field was growing out from the fly, spreading out across the metal. It was slow going, but then the fly dipped its head into the brown and began rubbing its legs. In less than a minute, there were two flies, and the brown field continued spreading across the door, but faster now. 

In another minute there were two more flies. In another minute, there were four more. The brown field was growing wider, approximately the size of a dollar coin. 

Within ten minutes, there was a small swarm eating its way through the door. Within another minute, that swarm wasn’t so small, and they had eaten through the door, forming a hole large enough for me to stick my fist through. The flies swarmed through the hole and flew down the halls, with small groups of flies landing on all the cell doors.

I stepped closer to the door and peeked through the hole. The edges of the hole were milk chocolate and rough, as though a horde of insects had chewed through it. All along the hall, flies were beginning to repeat the same process, doubling in size each minute.

There was going to be so much chocolate in the hour. I didn’t know the math, but it would be a lot. I was really doing Achimille a huge favor by doing this. And I know that friendships weren’t supposed to be transactional, but I felt that Doctor Yamada would really owe me for this one.

When the alarm sounded over the intercom, for just a miniscule fragment of time, I felt concerned. There might have been a door that should have remained shut. But then I remembered: I didn’t know which cell Sveta was in, and neither did the flies. If I wanted to help her out, I’d have to open all the doors. And even if the alarm was going off, if I explained the problem to Yamada, I was sure it would be ok. And besides, I gave them a ton of chocolate. And spent two Uniques to help them.

A while later, a voice spoke over the intercom: 

“Warning: Dangerous parahuman Garrote released to hall Red 3D. Staff are to shelter in place. Repeat…”

Huh. I hope that Sveta was in place. That Garrote sounded pretty dangerous.

ACHIMILLE PATIENT NOTES

Partial Evaluation: Doctor Yamada

Date of Last Session: January 28, 2011

Patient Name: Taylor Hebert

Patient Number: 201101170031

History: Taylor Hebert is a female of fifteen years who triggered early in July with shaker/striker parahuman powers and has exhibited a strong case of Power Affected Psychosis. Her father has filed paperwork to award guardianship to the State. Her school principal has reported her as a known trouble-maker and known attention seeker. Her power has manifested in sapient entities previously which led to multiple Vehicular Homicides. Given the brief period of time she has been active, concerns over her stability and potential power levels have been expressed. Trigger Trauma results in fear of losing items of precious sentimentality, card games, and being ignored.

The following notes were provided by: Doctor Yamada

Taylor oscillates between extremes of both her ‘Tarocchi’ persona and ‘Taylor.’ Upon stressors she may revert to ‘Tarocchi’ as a coping mechanism. The split is bordering on DID unless active steps are taken to ameliorate. Active steps include positive cognizant therapy such as breathing exercises and a meditative mantra. We’ve found that positive behavior can be reinforced with promised ‘loot’ or ‘swag’ assuming the items are suitable and unique enough. Note that unique does not appear to correlate with monetary value at all.

She has expressed discontentment with prolonged isolation. Monitored rehabilitation with other peers and patients is encouraged.

Current Symptoms: 

Power Induced Mania and Depression (corollary to bipolar disorder)

Loss of Identity from previous to Triggering

Extreme repression of uncomfortable memories

Willful negligence of uncomfortable facts or communications

Extreme desire to collect unique objects and to merge and experiment in what she terms ‘arts and crafts’

Borderline DID

Suicidality: She denies suicidal ideas or intentions. Denial is convincing. Patient may have deluded themselves into believing that they aren’t suicidal. However, lack of self-concern towards basics such as eating/clothing/drinking are of high concern.

Prior Depressive /Manic Episodes: History of manic episodes observable by offering trades and by referring to self as ‘Tarocchi’ as opposed to ‘Taylor’

Severity/ Complexity: Without consistent monitoring, Taylor would likely die within a month due to self-neglect. She is incapable of remembering to eat when entering a mania state, and mania states are encountered often. She exhibits a strong desire to collect meals preferentially over eating the meals. She is unable to resist collecting unique items if she has not been ‘fed’ recently.

Problem Pertinent Review of Symptoms/Associated Signs and Symptoms: Obsesses on gaining ‘Uniques’ and ‘Epics’

Must exercise ‘Cardstuff’ daily or forced manic episodes are concerned

Compulsive use of flamboyant and grandiose language during most extreme manic states

Past Psychiatric History: None

Withdrawal History: None. Failure to feed Taylor Uniques results in Mania

Psychiatric Hospitalization: Was briefly legally brain dead in January

Outpatient Treatment: DO NOT RELEASE!!!

Suicidal/Self Injurious: Unable to mantain self

Addiction/Use History: Addicted to ‘Trades’

Psychotropic Medication History: Reacted poorly to all but sedatives

Social/Developmental History:

Troublemaker at School

Possible abuse at home. Signs of extreme neglect

Relationship/Marriage:

Best Friend/Sister in All but Name Emma

Father is absent

Children:

Barriers to Treatment: Parahuman (C65)

Emotional: If she becomes upset give her trash. Note, that there are some interior rationality for Patient’s valuation of items. Literal garbage of unique stature (i.e. half eaten food items) can be used to bribe positive behaviors or trigger her manic states.

Patients's Goals: ‘Collect all the stuffs’ Patient did not specify further.

Family History:

Father known to [REDACTED]

Medical History:

Significant blunt force trauma to the temple resulted in Panacea reported brain death. Recovery assumed a result of triggering.

Allergies:

No known allergies. Patient has claimed to be purportedly allergic to boredom.

Compliance:

Will comply in trade for items that satisfy power compulsions.

Exam: Ongoing check-ins. Recommended Daily. Constant oversight required

Diagnoses:

Power Induced Bipolar Depressive Disorder

Power Encouraged DID (partial/manageable)

Persistent Depression (prior to triggering)

Instructions / Recommendations / Plan:

Encourage Mantra & Positive Cognizant Therapy

Meditation and Breathing Exercises

Continued Monitoring & Rewards for good behavior

Frequent check-ins to observe and encourage self-care

Notes & Risk Factors:

Available Counters to Power:

• Taylor Hebert has no Brute rating.
• Gasconade is a hard counter
• Escrow is a counter to most artifacts Taylor can create

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Saccharine justice

Summary: Fallout from mistakes makes the road to recovery just a little sweeter.

Beta Read by Dysole, prognosticHannya

A/N: Upcoming vacation for author…last update for this story for at least a couple weeks. Also, this chapter reads like a training montage. But therapy. And not the best therapy at that.

C/W: This is apparently a pretty dark chapter that rubs a lot of people the wrong way. The chapter is necessary for the direction that I want the story to go, but you could also probably skip forward to the conclusion of this arc for the zany shenanigans that ties it all together. This arc will have a good ending... we just have to get there first.

January 28, 2011

Taylor’s Achimille Cell–Immediately following the Chocolate Incident

My Chocolate Tunnelers returned at some point after the alarm went off. They filtered into my room, through the same hole in the door, until the walls and ceiling were covered with the friendly little flies. I unsummoned them, and was left with a slightly different Artifact. Now it was a Pestilence of Chocolate Tunnelers … which was neat.

A voice would still periodically come over the intercom to direct first responders regarding a threat named Garrote, likely some dangerously insane parahuman.

The voice on the intercom came on over the hallways after a friendly beep: “Agents and Protectorate to Ward Red C. Agents and Protectorate to–” 

That hadn’t happened yet during my stay at Achimille, and so while I couldn’t say this with absolute certainty, I was beginning to develop a creeping suspicion that my Chocolate Tunnelers may have had something to do with the alarm. But even if that were the case, I couldn’t take all the blame. After all, I wasn’t the one that decided to lock us all up in the first place. 

In fact, if anyone came by to lecture me about making good decisions, I would give them a piece of my mind.

The intercom was still periodically droning on, though this time it was a panicked male’s voice: “Medical Evac on Standby at Atrium Five-Oh-One-CEE. Medical Evac on–”

I really hoped that Sveta was alright. If there were medical evacs going on, then that meant people were getting hurt. And I had released Sveta into that mess? No, that was blaming the symptom. One could not blame me for fixing someone else’s problems and then having that person's problems cause even more problems–and of course that person causing the original problems was not me. At worst, I made an intermediary mistake, the middle man of mistakes, as it were. At worst.

But could I explain my point of view to others?

…Did I know any good lawyers–maybe Glory Girl’s mom? I should try reaching out to her, maybe send an email. 

I tried turning on my computer, but of course, we weren’t on internet hours right now.

And the people running this place act surprised when bored Tarocchis got creative. 

Pfft.

Oh! Oh! The door to my cell opened and an orderly was stepping in! I had a speech rehearsed about how this wasn’t my fault.

“It wasn’t my fau–” I started, but then paused when I saw the enormous needle that the orderly pulled out. Three more orderlies filed in after him. “-lt. Hey guys… Do you know what’s going on out there? Looks like someone made a mess huh? Don’t know who that was…”

The orderlies grabbed each of my arms and held me firm against my bed as they wrapped leather straps around me.

“So uh… see any movies lately?”

I felt a prick in my neck. It stung. I tasted plastic. And the room blurred–

January 30, 2011

Taylor’s Achimille New Cell in Red Ward–Morning

It was stifling.

Everything was stifling and cramped and foreboding when I woke up. It was too hot, too cramped, too heavy–stifling.

But on a positive note, I was getting a hug. Albeit, a permanent one… and it was me doing the hugging, but it was still a hug. And after getting held down and tied up by burly orderlies while injecting me with sleepy juice, after all that, a hug was nice. 

Still stifling though.

I cracked my eyes open. The sunken fluorescent lights had just come on all the way, and I saw an orderly’s face in the small window in the door. I tried turning my head, but found that my head was also tied flat to the bed. The belts holding my midsection and legs down were big and heavy and a bit too tight to be comfortable. 

And the walls were padded.

And there was no desk or computer, which meant no internet.

This room really gave me the impression that maybe Achimille took their patient’s safety seriously, because I would have to try really hard to hurt myself. And now I kinda wanted to see if I could. Just for the challenge of it of course.

But first I had to escape this overly fond self-hug. Which was easy really. I just needed to inundate the cloth and belts and table with Cardstuff, and then summon some helpful object… like my Vibroblade of Extra Cutting!

Heck yeah!

I began pushing Cardstuff into the thick gray cloth and leather belts, there was a lot of material, and some sort of monitor, so it was taking longer than I thought it would have, but my Cardstuff was beginning to work, because the restraints and jacket started to fizz and pop with pink and gold glitter and glow–

On the wall a light flashed and a bell dinged and an orderly rushed in with another unnecessarily large hypodermic needle.

“No thank you,” I said as politely as I could, gulping as I saw the needle getting closer, and feeling rather defenseless. I lost concentration on my Cardstuff. I’d have to start all over again.

“Just a little prick,” the orderly said as he pinched my neck and poked.

I started tasting plastic again and the room blurred around me.

“I said… no… thanks…”

When I next awoke, Doctor Yamada was already in the room waiting, with a stool she must have brought in. I was still in an extra firm hug. An extra firm, still too stifling self-given hug.

“Before we begin,” Doctor Yamada said, “Taylor, you absolutely must refrain from power usage in the foreseeable future.”

“I can try?” I said, unsure if I actually could or not. But before she dug in and examined my lack of commitment to Achimille’s draconian and unreasonable policies, I asked, “Did you bring me anything?”

“That depends Taylor,” Doctor Yamada said slowly as she checked her notes. “Has your behavior been good?”

“...yes.” I said. I would have looked away, but my head was strapped down still.

“Taylor…” she led off.

“Alright fine, so I might have made an honest mistake,” I admitted. “But if you found out your best friend was locked in a dungeon, wouldn’t you try to help?”

“You’re referring to Sveta?” Doctor Yamada asked. I nodded. She kept going, “Sveta is kept in a special chamber for her own safety, along with the staff and other patients. Did you know what–no, nevermind.” She took a breath to calm herself and return to neutrality.

“Taylor, how are you feeling today?” She asked. What a question. What. A. Question.

I licked my chapped lips and wetted my teeth. “Not well,” I said. “Not well at all.”

“I am sorry that you feel unwell,” she said. “Is there anything we could do to help fix that?”

Well, if she was going to ask, I might as well answer honestly and go for a Unique. “Let me go home?” I asked hopefully. But then I realized that I might have just offended her so quickly added, “Not that I don’t like it here, but… It’s like…” I hung my head. There was no sugarcoating this generic piece of Common. “Ok, I don’t like it here. It’s awful.”

Doctor Yamada watched me for a moment with a pensive expression before nodding. “Not everything is within our control and it can be challenging learning to accept that. However, some things are in our control. Let’s break down this dissatisfaction you’re feeling,” Doctor Yamada said. “But before we do get into fixing the problems we have, tell me something that you like about being here.”

After I sat in silence thinking, she offered some more guidance. “Maybe if you remembered the reason that led you to checking yourself into Achimille?”

“Glory Girl,” I said quickly. It was definitely because of her.

Doctor Yamada gave a half smile. “Well, besides her,” she said.

After thinking about it for a bit more, I had an answer. “At the time I thought I would get some help getting my head on straight, but now… now I’m not so sure about that.”

“Stay optimistic on this one,” Doctor Yamada said. “Trust the staff here to do the best they can to get you healthy–” liar liar pants on fire! “-and trust that you are able to improve. So now that we have something positive, tell me something that might be negative.”

“That I’m tied down to a fu–frickin table and keep getting stabbed in the neck!” I said, barely stopping myself from swearing venomously.

“Ok good–” I started to interrupt but Doctor Yamada hurried to finish “-not that it’s good you feel that way, but it’s good that we can take steps to address it. If I helped you identify some of the things you could do, would you be willing to give them a try?”

“What would I have to do?” I asked, feeling somewhat suspicious, even though Doctor Yamada had been nothing but good to me.

“First, you’re only sedated when your power signature is detected. Avoid that, and you won’t need to worry about the orderlies.”

“Avoid having my power detected?” I asked. “How’m I supposed to use my power without it getting detected? How are they detecting it?! Are they spying on me?! Are you–”

Doctor Yamada held up a hand to forestall further questions. “One at a time,” she said calmly.

“Are you spying on me?” I asked, while doing the best to keep the suspicion from my voice. I was sure they’d have a good reason for doing what they did. Right? They were doctors. Right? …right?

“No Taylor, we are not spying on you,” Doctor Yamada said. “Just monitoring for your safety and the safety of the staff and other patients.”

That sounded a bit like spying, but I decided to let that one go for now. “How should I use my power and avoid it getting detected then?” I asked.

Doctor Yamada sighed wearily. “The point is not to use it, Taylor. Not unless you have someone give you permission.”

“But why can’t I use my power?! Do you–” I went to wave my hands around, but I couldn’t, since I was still in a straitjacket and restrained to the table “-know how hard it is not to use it?”

“I understand and we’ll work on finding you opportunities to use it, likely under supervised conditions. The next step to remove the restraints, is to demonstrate that you are making good decisions.”

“But I’ve been making great decisions!” I started to shout, before reigning in my outburst.

Doctor Yamada raised an eyebrow. “Do you truly believe that Taylor?” she asked sadly.

“No…” I muttered. “For how long will I be restrained though? I can’t even scratch my nose right now!”

“At least the rest of today. If you haven’t required additional sedation by tomorrow, then we will revisit your privileges.”

This… would be a problem. They expected me to lay still for an entire day with absolutely nothing to do? 

Heck no. This was going to be terrible and boring and absolutely awful. Ugh!

“...I think I might need to be sedated,” I said glumly.

January 31, 2011

Taylor’s Achimille Cell

This day would go down in infamy, for it was the day I met my nemisis. 

A villainous evil that would find a better home among the Slaughterhouse Nine than this asylum’s former pyromaniacal inmate.

A horror that would make the Simurgh screechin jealousy of its dastardly deeds.

A wretched villain that would make even the Three Blasphemies cry tears of anguish.

This unrepentant monster who I would swear as the very nemesis of my soul.

“Do you have any other weapons in your inventory?” Escrow asked.

I had been taken in for additional processing, as the staff at Achimille realized that I had unlimited storage which I had filled prior to entering this vilest of institutions. And they thought they could rob me of my treasures. Naturally, I lied and tried to deceive my way past them. And yet, they were on to me with their beautiful tinkertech.

“Tarocchi!” Escrow prodded me. “If you want to stay out of restraints, you need to cooperate. Now, do you have any other weapons?”

“No.” I said finally.

-beep-beep-beep- went the tinkertech lie detector

“Tarocchi?”

“Ugh fine. Yes. I have one. But it’s my last one, and it’s a Unique, and can’t I keep just one?”

“On the table,” Escrow said sternly.

With great regret, I placed my Vibroblade of Extra Cutting onto the table. It was one of the first Uniques I had ever made. It was precious to me, useful, and was hardly a weapon at all. Except that one time I accidentally cut off my ear. But that had been a happy accident anyways. I left the Vibroblade in its decorated card form.

And with regret, great, great remorseful regret, I watched the vile Escrow reach out and tap my baby. With not even a flash or a whisper, my card, my sweet, my beauty, was gone. Escrow stole it away to the depths of his inventory, where it would be forever lost to me, in the deepest pit of hell, an undeserved fate for a precious creation of mine. 

I cried piteously, but the cruel monsters expressed no remorse. 

March 3, 2011

Taylor’s Achimille Cell

While I had my arm and leg privileges restored, and limited computer access in my cell room, I was categorically denied the use of my power, unless both a physician and that fu-frickin villain Escrow was present for observation.

The indignities could not grow worse… or so I thought.

Doctor Yamada, Escrow, and two orderlies entered my cell that morning. One of the orderlies carried what looked like a choker necklace, with obvious tinkertech circuits along the interior, and two cartridges on opposite sides.

“Good morning Taylor,” Doctor Yamada greeted. “Have you been enjoying yourself now that you’re able to move around?”

I waved around my ten by five foot cell and shrugged. “I can’t move too far.”

Doctor Yamada nodded in understanding. “That is a fair observation. Would you like to take steps that would allow you recreational time outside of your room?”

I eyed her, then the choker necklace speculatively. I was worried. I had never been one for wearing jewelry. Especially not tinkertech jewelry. But if doing so would get them to give me some privileges back and free me from this cell, then I would try it. 

I nodded.

“Good!” She said while smiling warmly. “Then we’ll install this monitoring device that will ensure you remain safe while you’re around the other residents, and then we’ll be all set.”

The orderlies stepped forward and slipped the collar around my neck, before tightening it and locking it in place. When they finished locking it, the material felt cold, and I could have sworn I tasted plastic… though I didn’t end up woozy, so there was that. A part of me wondered if I might have been able to grab it with Cardstuff before it did whatever mal-intent its design was. However, even if I could safely remove it, I would still be trapped in an asylum receiving substandard care.

“I’ll leave the orderlies to explain how the device functions Taylor, but before I leave, would you be interested in selecting a prize?”

A prize?! Well why didn’t she start with that? Maybe it wasn’t all bad here after all.

One benefit, really the only benefit, of wearing the clunky and uncomfortable tinkertech powersupressant auto-sedative pumping collar from hell, was that I could then, under orderly supervision, visit with the other patients.

I did have to wear a red bracelet to show I was a potentially dangerous parahuman, but it was pretty well understood that the bracelets were just for show. I mean, I was Tarocchi, a hero. How dangerous could I be?

I smiled slyly at the orderly that held my door open for me and he recoiled, just a bit.

Another benefit to wearing the collar was group therapy sessions. Or did that still count as the first benefit? 

Well, it wasn’t called group therapy, but it was basically that. Several patients would sit in a circle, and a ‘facilitator’ would go around and ask each of us to set one small goal for the rest of the day.

There were several group circles in progress, with Doctor Yamada in an overwatch position at a raised desk while she listened with half an ear for problems while jotting down notes in her tablet. I waved at her but she must not have seen. I would have gone over to chat, but my orderly dragged me to a circle with an open seat and made me take the spot.

Oh well, I could always chat with Doctor Yamada later.

In my group therapy circle, there were a lot of people I didn’t recognize, but there was one boy that stood out. No matter where he went, a blank faced person made of stone followed him. They both sat in the same circle as me.

It was the boy’s turn when the facilitator called, “Now Theo, what will be your goal for today?”

“I would like to better understand the common man, to improve my art.”

“Huh… that’s not… art?” The facilitator glanced at their tablet then shook their head. ”...I see…” the facilitator sounded like they did not in fact see or understand. But they pressed forward soon after. “Now Theo, I think that is a fine ambition, but could you list a concrete tangible thing that will result from this ambition?”

“I could bury the concrete foundation of this vile building so far deep into the earth not even Behemoth could retrieve it.,” Theo said with a cold fury. “Would that be tangible enough for you?”

The facilitator paled and sputtered, but was saved when Doctor Yamada called out. “Theo please refrain from making threatening statements,” Doctor Yamada said from where she was supervising.

“Would you like us to come back to you Theo to give you time to think?” the facilitator asked.

“No…” he said glumily. “I’m sorry for saying that… it’s just–” he gestured at the stone person “-it’s been getting on my nerves.”

“Theo, remember what we talked about yesterday?” Doctor Yamada said as she made her way over to help. Apparently Theo was quite the trouble case. Perhaps I could help give him hints on proper behavior. Theo ground his teeth and the stone person reached over and patted him on the shoulder, causing Theo to grind his teeth even harder and jerk away. Meanwhile, Yamada continued, “...about thoughtfulness and unintended consequences for our actions?”

I thought I might have heard Theo growling, while the stone person mimed a shushing motion to him and a ‘calm-down’ motion. Theo took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. He seemed to count to ten. 

“Fine,” Theo said. “I guess I’ll go to the gym today and workout.”

“Any exercise in particular?” the facilitator asked, back on track.

“What’s it matter to you? You won’t let me have my art. You won’t let me do anything fun. You won’t turn off safe search or parental locks so I can–”

“Theo,” Doctor Yamada spoke just loudly enough to catch his attention, and then offered him a gentle reprimand. “I think that’s enough of a goal. You’ll go to the gym.”

The facilitator continued talking at Theo. “Alright Theo you’ll go to the gym today. It’s not exactly what we look for in a goal, but if it’s good enough for Doctor Yamada, then it’s good enough for me. Do you understand what we’re looking for in a goal for tomorrow Theo, so that you can come prepared?”

Theo’s nostrils flared and the stone person began massaging Theo’s arm consolingly which Theo resisted at first, but then melted into. Finally, Theo answered, though both his expression and voice were pained. 

“...I understand,” Theo bit out.

“Very good!” The facilitator smiled.

And around the circle the facilitator went, while Doctor Yamada returned to her overwatch position. Eventually, it was my turn.

“And for you Taylor?” the facilitator asked. “Can you tell me what your goal is for today? Remember it should be small and achievable, to help build you up.”

“Can I collect all the shinies ?” I asked, already rubbing my hands together in anticipatory glee.

“...no,” the facilitator said.

“...can I collect some of the shinies ?” I asked, reining in some of my optimism.

“Probably not, no…” the facilitator said. “Unless?” they glanced at Doctor Yamada who shook her head slightly. “Right. No ‘shinies.’ Any other ideas? Remember goals should be small and achievable.”

A sudden pang of homesickness and despair came over me, causing me to say something that I probably wouldn’t have otherwise, but I had never been the best at impulse control since I triggered. “Could I go home then?” I asked.

“Taylor,” Doctor Yamada gently reprimanded me. “This session is a privilege.” 

“Fine, Uhm, if I have to pick a lousy goal–” I glared at the facilitator “-then I guess I’ll go to the gym too?” I noticed Theo almost growled under his breath when I mentioned I’d be heading there too. “Yeah, definitely that.” It would be good to chat with the person made of stone.

As I gained entrance to the gym, AKA the rec-room, I had a chance to inspect the stone person, or the golem, in more detail. It was a walking sculpture of stone with a missing face. The sculpture, featureless but unmistakably masculine, was bumbling around my fellow inmate.

The blond was on a bench press, with his golem spotting... well, trying to spot, the golem might not have really understood what it was supposed to be doing. Because as Theo struggled on his final repetition, he failed to re-rack the bar and it came down on his chest. The golem, instead of applying the barest of pressure to lift the bar, seemed to push the bar further down.

Theo’s face went red as he wheezed. “Up! Up! Get it up you idiot!”

The golem lifted a hand to scratch its rock head and then shrugged. An orderly came running over and helped rack the weight, before giving the boy a dirty look.

“Need a proper spotter to work the free weights.”

“I thought I did have one.”

“Mhm.”

Without anything else to do, I headed over to chat to the sculpture.

“Greetings person of a stony disposition, I am–”

“-its not a real person–”

“-The great–”

“-are you as big of an idiot as that lump of rock? It’s not a real person!”

“-that’s fairly rude to say about them.” I turned my full attention to the stone person. “I’m certain they did not mean to sound nearly as offensive as they came across.”

“You know what, whatever. You want to talk to a rock. You do you. I’m getting some juice.”

“Rude!” I said. “I don’t go telling you your dumb art sculptures are worse than–” I bit my tongue. I had been getting better about appropriately channeling my emotions. 

I was not my Power. I was not my aesthetic preferences. I was not my opinions. I could think things without doing them, I was both Taylor and Tarocchi.

“Worse than what?” Theo said, practically snarling as he whipped around.

“Nevermind,” I told him. “It’s just rude of you to be so mean to someone made out of stone just because they’re a little different.”

“That’s not–” he scoffed. “You know what, we’re doing this. Right here and now. You know what’s rude? You being a jackass and smashing my sculptures on the beach just because you couldn’t appreciate their humble majesty!”

I blew an angry breath out. Deep breaths Taylor. Calming breaths Taylor. You can do this, come on.

“And then you have the audacity to call me rude?! No. Fuck no. You and your garbage are just that. Garbage. What’s ‘majestic’ about a fu- flippin’ blender sitting on a kitchen counter!”

He slapped me.

The sound rang out across the rec-room and several orderlies immediately perked up and looked at us. I spent a second working my jaw. 

Calm thoughts Taylorocci. Calm thou–

No, fuck that.

I shrieked and tackled him, clawing at his face until the orderlies pulled me off and sedated me. 

The next time I woke up I was in my cell, once again strapped to my bed. It was becoming an unfortunate and uncomfortable occurrence, one which I must admit I failed to find suitable appreciation or enjoyment of. The honeymoon period between me and Achimille was coming to an end, and even if some honeymooners were into this kind of thing, it turns out restraint-play really isn’t my taste. 

I bet Theo likes it though, that freak.

Doctor Yamada had joined me, sitting on a padded stool that she rolled into my room and reading from a tablet computer.

“Taylor,” Doctor Yamada said slowly and calmly when she saw I had woken up. “Why did you attack Theo?”

Oh, oh is that how it is? What did that little rat tell them? Wait, an orderly was in that gym with us and had seen the whole thing. That stone golem person had seen the whole thing. And I was still getting blamed– no, framed for this?!

“Taylor?” Doctor Yamada prompted after my silence. I refused to look down from the padded ceiling, coming to a sudden understanding of my Homi-Droid’s attitudes and behavior. Most people really were all just dirty meatbags.

“I think we really ought to talk about this,” she said. By what right did she sound as calm and as reasonable as she did?! This wasn’t fair. I blinked rapidly to clear my eyes but it was hard when I couldn’t rub them. “But we don’t if you aren’t feeling up to it… This isn’t a problem that will go away by putting it off though.”

She pulled out a tissue paper from somewhere. “Would you like me to dry your eyes?” she asked.

I nodded and mostly resisted the urge to sniffle. She leaned over me and dabbed each of my eyes. Even restrained and miserable and in this terrible place, I couldn’t help but find the similarities between Doctor Yamada and Mom. She waited patiently for me until I felt up to talking.

“He started the fight,” I said sullenly. “I didn’t attack him. He started it.”

“And does that justify your actions?” She asked, not in judgment, but as though she actually cared what I thought.

And in my mind, I was justified. He had attacked me. He had slapped me. When I hadn’t done anything wrong. He had been rude to that stone golem person, he had been rude to me and he had attacked me. I was justified. Wasn’t I?

“Taylor?” Doctor Yamada prompted me once more.

“What else was I supposed to do?!” I said angrily. “Let him get away insulting that stone guy? Let him just insult me? Attack me?”

Doctor Yamada nodded while she wrote down a note. “You were concerned for the stone construct’s emotional well being?” She furthered.

I nodded.

“Good. Well, if nothing else, this means our empathy lessons are coming along. Though I’ll probably have to go back in front of the review for this… If it’s alright with you, I’d like for us to work on healthy conflict resolution tools for the next fifteen minutes…”

After a grueling few days of — eugh — talking , I was able to gain a few privileges back. Which was nice. What was also nice was that since someone had finally realized boredom was “deleterious to my mental condition,” I was given a computer! With the internet!  

Sure, the computer was behind a plexiglass screen, but I’d take what I can get.

Hell, it made it even better! How many people get to use a computer from behind a decommissioned bank teller window?!

Definitely a Rare, if not a Unique experience.

As soon as my internet hour started, I hopped on and fired a private message to Sveta. It was the first time I’d had a chance to ‘talk’ with her since the whole lockdown thing. And I had something I absolutely needed to say.

The Great Tarocchi> Hey Svet, are you there?

Sveta>...yes? 

The Great Tarocchi> I need to tell you something super important. It’s actually kind of embarrassing.

Sveta> ok?

The Great Tarocchi> Ok. Here goes.

Sveta> …

The Great Tarocchi> I’m sorry. I thought I was helping you by letting you out of your cell. I didn’t realize you needed to stay there for safety reasons. I’m sorry.

Sveta> it wasn’t good. it hurt. a lot.

It hurt her?! I had hurt my best friend Sveta?! My spirits sank so far they may as well have been underground. This was the worst. Terrible! How had I hurt her? Had Garrote got a hold of her? Had the orderlies taken out their impotent angst against her?

The Great Tarocchi> How did I hurt you?! Do you need help? I can make healing stuff. Want me to swing by your room? I’m sure I could convince them to let me try…

…

The Great Tarocchi> Sveta?

…

Sveta has disconnected.

March 12, 2011

Taylor’s Achimille Cell

I felt like things had been getting better. I had remained lucid for longer periods; I had a better idea of when my actions would cause an undue amount of suffering for others; I was in control of myself and my Power. Things had been improving. Even the other day, I realized I had felt more like Taylor than Tarocchi on a regular basis! And I was excited to share this revelation with Doctor Yamada when I saw her today.

Which was why, when a strange man in a lab coat walked into my room I felt something akin to disappointment, concern, and irritation. Unfortunately, despite mine and Doctor Yamada’s best efforts, I had yet to master the art of filtering my thoughts before I said them.

“You’re not Doctor Yamada,” I said. “Where is she? She’s going to miss our session…” I tried to keep the suspicion and disappointment out of my voice, but how was I to trust this strange man? Where was Doctor Yamada? Why hadn’t she come? Who was this person?

“Hello Tarocchi,” the man gave a slimily paternal smile that just screamed ‘sexist pig’ and made me want to call up Lustrum. Did they get 6G in the Birdcage? (Yes, we have 6G, suck it Aleph!) 

“My name is Doctor Schleckmintz, and I am a Parahuman Specialized Psychologist here at Achimille.”

That was an unfortunate name.

“It’s nice to meet you?” I answered. “But what about Doctor Yamada?”

“She’s transferring out for the next two months,” he gave a condescending smile. “It’s part of the life, I’m afraid. Not that it should make any difference to you or your care. I think you’ll find me just as, if not more competent.  Now, my dear, I am the doctor here, and you are the patient. But not just any patient, you are my patient. And You are in luck, for I have the highest rates of success among the physicians here at Achimille. If you follow my instructions, then I am certain we will have you on the road to recovery…”

That was kind of weird. I had thought I was already on the road to recovery. Doctor Yamada and I had made a plan and had taken steps. And then this Doctor Schleckmintz comes in? I hoped he didn’t try changing things up.

“Now, before we begin. Do you have any questions?”

He paused for barely a second before beginning to speak again. But I did have a question. And he hadn’t given me time to ask it. I was forced to interrupt him. Why would he ask me that and then not give me a chance to answer? This Doctor Schleckmintz was giving me a lot of bad vibes.

“Did you bring me any gifts for being good?” I asked him, interrupting whatever unimportant thing he was going to say next. So long as I got the ‘shinies,’ then everything would be alright, new doctor or not.

“Hm?” he said, checking his notes. “I did not. Why would I?” He trailed off sounding confused, skimming through my file, which he had just opened, after just then finding. “What’s your birth date and last name?” He found the placard on the side of my room with that information and added, “Nevermind. Just loading up your file… and…. Oh. Oh I see. This is rather silly isn’t it? Wouldn’t you rather grow beyond this limitation? Why don’t we work on proper valuation systems.”

“Your valuation system isn’t my valuation system,” I tried to explain. “It’s part of my condition. Doctor Yamada knows. She said she’d put it in my file…” I trailed off. 

What was wrong with this Doctor Schleckmintz?  

“Doctor Yamada and I had a deal.” Oh god, he wasn’t going to give me anything ? What was the point of making good decisions and trying if I wasn’t going to get anything ?! Oh god! “We had a deal! You better–give me my shinies! I’ve been good. It’s on my file!” 

“You need to calm down Ms Tarocchi! Please,” he said as he made gentling motions with his hands that just infuriated me! “Why don’t we try giving you something else in exchange, something abstract?” He asked. “Remember, my success rates are the highest if you just follow my–”

“But I can’t put abstract things in my Card Space!” I almost shouted, interrupting him once again. I didn’t care about his success rates or his orders or whatever else he wanted, because none of that mattered if I didn’t get paid in stuff! Everything was a deal, a trade, and he wasn’t honoring his side of it!

“And do you need to put it in your Card Space–” He started when I spoke over him.

“-Yes!”

“-Ms. Tarocchi,” he said with his voice rising and his face reddening, “don’t interrupt me! Remember, I am the doctor and you are the patient and I must insist that you calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I’ll speak whenever I damn well please, I need–I need… I need my shinies! Doctor Yamada! Doctor Yamada!” I started screaming. 

But then I realized something. They didn’t need to bring me shinies or treasures or anything amazing since I was pretty sure they already had, even if they hadn’t realized it.

Because my collar was Unique. 

I was almost certain it had been built just for me, and it was Tinkertech on top of that.

It felt incredibly valuable. 

And if the doctor wasn’t going to honor the agreements, then I would have to make him.

I began shoving Cardstuff into my collar. It started to glow pink and glitter gold.

“Tarocchi stop this at once!” He shouted, his face completely red and his eyes bulged. 

Of course I didn’t stop. I needed it! 

I felt the pinch and tasted plastic, but before I passed out, the collar finished converting to a Card which I promptly stored in Card Space.

March 19, 2011

Taylor’s Achimille New Cell–Morning

Doctor Schleckmintz, I thought with scorn, entered with a clipboard flanked by orderlies.

“Ms. Tarocchi–” he started, getting my name wrong again.

“-Taylor,” I corrected the spiteful little man. Oh how I loathed him.

“Hm?” He said absentmindedly. “Oh yes of course. How are you today?”

“Poor,” I ground out. My eyes latched on his watch. It looked like an antique, scoffed, and marked with an old iron cross. Good thing he wasn’t from Brockton Bay. I was pretty sure the Nazis wouldn’t want a mentally handicapped man, white or not.

“Unfortunate to hear,” he said, somehow avoiding coming across as regretful in any way, shape, or form. “We’re going to try a new medication to help even out your moods. Especially after the collar ordeal… and the Garrote escape… and–” he checked his notes “-right, and those… You’ve been busy.”

I rolled my eyes. “What medications do you think will help?” I asked.

“Well… without you having a medical degree I won’t try and explain the vagaries of science.”

“I would rather know what’s going to go into my body,” I said coldly.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, as though he would humor me. “If you must know, it's a Lithium derivative.”

“Lithium… is old?” I said, thinking about it. Lithium was really old school and had a lot of side-effects. I was pretty sure it was out of rotation. “Also it’s heavy. I don’t consent to this treatment.”

“Fortunately for you, your consent is not necessary,” he said after hiding a sneer. “Who exactly do you think is the doctor here, Tarocchi?”

My teeth were grinding together by this point. His attitude, his lack of concern for my wants and desires, his sneers and derision… I think I finally understood what it was to hate someone other than the Trio. I’d murder him, but that would be a large deviation from my normal and regular heroic behavior, and, as Doctor Yamada recommended, I decided to extract penance in a more heroic manner.

The foul Doctor Schleckmintz sat close enough that he was within my reach. Before either he or the orderly could react, I simply reached over and grabbed his wrist watch, and I began dumping as much Cardstuff as I could into it and as quickly as possible.

“Hey–Wait!” Doctor Schleckmintz shouted, sputtering in shock and fury. “Help!” he cried, like the spineless coward that he was.

But by the time he shouted, it was too late. In a flash of pink and gold glitter, with a pop of light, his wristwatch disappeared into my Card Space. It was a Unique, with a solid history behind it. I could do a lot of stuff with this one.

Before I could really examine my new treasure, an orderly tackled me and injected me with their ‘sleepy juice.’ But before I fell under, I wheezed and laughed out, “Worth It.”

I fell asleep listening to Doctor Schleckmintz curse and swear and growl impotently.

March 21, 2011

Taylor’s Achimille Cell

The worst doctor in the world was Doctor Schleckmintz. 

I believed that if such a thing were to exist, that he would be in the running for the Bonesaw awards. 

I could practically imagine it. 

Jack Slash would stand up on stage, surveying the audience of doctors and criminals and Birdcage escapees. There would be Teacher, the Simurgh,  Acidbath, Principal Blackwell, maybe the Marquis (well, maybe not, some of the union guys said he wasn’t so bad). And of course, right in front would be the guest of honor himself, Doctor Schleckmintz. 

Jack Slash would open the envelope, and read, ‘Doctor Whateverhisfirstnameis Schleckmintz!’ And the prick would come strolling up to the stage, smiling and waving, while Shatterbird exchanged notes with Ziz. 

The Siberian would lean over to Burnscar and whisper, “He’s so despicable I love him.” 

Burnscar would nod in agreement while Hatchetface would say, “I wonder if he’s single?”

…

What I mean to say, is that I was developing some very strong and negative feelings towards my new psychologist.

After my little bit of righteous watch-thievery, he’d stumbled onto the brilliant idea of “accelerating my recovery”. Now, one might think that would mean increased therapy sessions, or letting me out more regularly, but no. Apparently, in Schleckmintz-ese, “accelerating your recovery” means torture and sabotage.

For our session, he had the orderlies prep my computer with an extra ‘out of session internet web call’ to someone, before covering the screen and muting it. Meanwhile, Doctor Schleckmintz continued speaking.

“...after your father signed you away as a ward of state-” 

“What?!” I asked-slash-shouted. This seemed like something that someone would have mentioned to me and that I would have remembered. “My… Father?”

“Hm?” he asked. I could have sworn he smirked. 

This mother-fricker!

“My Dad signed away… guardianship?” I asked in a voice that was becoming increasingly small.

“Oh yes! I’m surprised you’re just now hearing about that. Anyways, after that, we looked at other family relations that might help normalize your behavior to pre-trigger. Which is how, as a very special surprise–” Doctor Schleckmintz was smiling in a paternal and smug fashion “-we managed to bring in your half-sister!”

Orderlies turned the monitor back on and turned up the volume. A face appeared on my computer. A familiar face. Green eyes. Red hair. Angelic cheeks.

I felt sick to my stomach.

“We actually aren’t sisters,” Emma said smugly on the video chat to Doctor Schleckmintz. “Just really good friends! Isn’t that right Taylor.”

This. This was Doctor Schleckmintz s good idea?

“No we’re not,” I said softly, taking great effort to find my words “Not anymore Ems.”

“Aw, why’d you say that? You aren’t still mad about losing that poker game, are you Taylor?” she smiled, batting her eyelashes.

I froze up. My throat felt too tight. There wasn’t enough air in the room. My eyes burned. The room was spinning. 

How–how dare she?!

“What’s this about a poker game?” Doctor Schleckmintz asked. “You know I have a cousin that was something of a professional poker player back in college–what’s your game of choice?” He asked Emma.

I couldn’t take it. “Just. Stop. Please?” I said, my voice gaining volume after I cleared my throat.

“Awww,” Emma mocked. “Will you cry another–”

“No!” I shouted.

“Tarocchi,” Doctor Schleckmintz said in a condescending and judgemental tone that would make the terrible Trio proud. “I know many fr- capes will reject their families after they gain their powers, but I’m not going to let you be one of them. You’ll talk to your sister, and you’ll like it.”

“-Taylor-” I said through clenched teeth. “Call me Taylor.”

Meanwhile, “-friends,” Emma corrected at the same time. “Not sister Doctor Schlubmints”

“-Doctor Schleckmintz, actually.” Doctor Schleckmintz sounded irritated having to correct Emma.

“Enough!” I screamed, storming towards the computer and punching the plexiglass separating me from the monitor. Nothing happened.

“Taylor?! This is a special treat–” Doctor Schleckmintz tried saying. 

Emma smiled at me. “What’s the matter Taylor?! Is this where your Dad gets it from? I heard he didn’t want you anymore–”

I ignored them all as I began shoving all the Cardstuff I had into the plexiglass and computer beyond it, into my collar, into everything I could find. The last thing I saw before the computer disappeared into my inventory was that smug expression from that-that-Emma!

“Orderlies!” Doctor Schleckmintz shouted.

March 23, 2011

Taylor’s Achimille New Cell–Morning

Doctor Schleckmintz sat across from the plastic from me. He no longer trusted me to be in the same room with him, so he had the orderlies bring me to what could almost be a visiting center for a supermax prison.

“Ms Tarocchi,” Doctor Schleckmintz started. “Would you say the treatments have been successful?”

“No thanks to you,” I mumbled.

“Really?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. “Do you think that your antagonistic impulses indicate a positive trend in your treatment? To belittle and attack and steal from those attempting to better your mental health, your own family and friends?”

“Some people have it coming.” I glared his way.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Explain how you think your well being is improving, and then I’ll tell you why it is not.”

I took a moment to swallow the anger and frustration that this doctor made me feel. 

I was Taylor and Tarocchi. I was not my Power, but I was power ful .  

“I’ve felt more consistent personality wise–” I tried explaining, but he interrupted me.

“Likely the Lithium,” he said.

“Or,” I said through clenched teeth. “It’s the mental exercises and being mindful of how I think of myself.”

He scoffed and ignored the deathglare I was giving him.

“If you’ve been improving, then tell me how much this is worth?” He held a coin with some numbers up to the window.

“However much you think it is,” I answered coldly. I knew where he was going with this and it was complete bull– nonsense .

“Yes,” he said snidely. “But how much do you think it is worth?”

“Nothing.” I sneered right back at him. If he wants to act in such a rude fashion, then I can return it ten fold. And no matter how awful he treated me, I still won at the end of the day, because  I still had his watch, which he had apparently inherited from his late great grandfather.

“Exactly!” he said, under the mistaken impression that I had just agreed with him or said something that added evidence to his false claims. “...which is why I think we need to consider more drastic treatments.”

“No,” I said firmly. I was done with these treatments of his. They did nothing for me, and I had come to realize that I shouldn’t expect the treatments to help me. They couldn’t help me. And I told him why.

“I am the way I am,” I said slowly, picking up steam. “I like the way I am. There is nothing wrong with me. I am not sick. I. Am. Me.”

And despite the fact that I accepted myself, I knew in the heights of my soul that they were never going to let me leave because of their narrowmindedness. And it left me feeling ill.

“You are sick!” Doctor Schleckmintz insisted. “You may not see it, but normal people do not go around placing half-eaten ice cream cones on altars! But do not worry, I think I know how we’re going to get you back to normal.” He sounded way too happy, and alarm bells were ringing. I may have groaned. Either uncaring or oblivious to my reactions, he continued. “Electroshock ther–”

We were interrupted by sirens that went off three times before turning off. 

An Endbringer Siren. 

In the distance. 

And not here. 

Otherwise they would have continued sounding.

“Where…” Doctor Chev said as his face paled and sweat started beading on his forehead.

Over the intercom, a robotic sounding voice spoke: “Attention Protectorate members. Simurgh is descending in the Boston area. Please advise. Escrow, please report to muster.”

“Thank Scion it’s not here” Doctor Chev said.

“I almost wish it was,” I muttered…though now that I thought about it, I doubted Doctor Chev could be driven even more insane.

ACHIMILLE PATIENT NOTES

Partial Evaluation: Doctor Chev. Doctor Yamada.

Date of Last Session: March 19, 2011

Patient Name: Theo Anders

Patient Number: 201101170032

**CLEARANCE 9-C-ENE CREDENTIALS REQUIRED**

History: Theo Anders [WARD ENE REDACTED] is the son of Max Anders [PARAHUMAN VILLAIN KAISER] and was raised with intent to be placed in the upper echelons or in leadership roles within the Empire. With the birth of Austin Anders, and due to dissatisfaction Max experienced with his son’s sexuality and sensuality, Max had an verbal altercation with Theo and threatened to ship him to Gesellshaft. [REDACTED] . Family induced stresses led to an initial Trigger Event with strong links to realist art, and other art depicting everyday objects, particularly the artists Norman Rockwell and Andy Warhol. Investigations are unable to understand the draw between Theo and these themes, but it is assumed to also stem from those same Family Induced stresses.

Legally, Theo’s father and sole guardian is Max Anders, with a deceased biological mother, and a Stepmother Kayden Russel [PARAHUMAN VILLAIN PURITY REDACTED] (currently separated from Mr. Anders).

Theo had most recently lived with Kayden and her biological infant son Austin Anders. Due to a strong disagreement stemming from Theo’s sexuality, Theo was forced to flee their home and permanently house elsewhere [ Wards Sleeping Quarters REDACTED ].

Theo experienced what is believed to be a Second Trigger Event upon the execution of his boyfriend Jeremy Phillips. This event led to mass destruction and the deaths of twenty-seven gang affiliates and three Empire Villains.

With Theo’s power level and instability, it is recommended to hold him in therapy for an extended time while limiting his exposure to stressors or until familial stresses are resolved.

It is encouraged to allow Theo access to art supplies as part of his positive reinforcement therapy.

Theo is followed by a semi-autonomous expression of his power, a rock golem. This golem manifested after Theo’s second trigger event and expresses minimal self awareness required for animation.

The following notes were provided by: Doctor Yamada

Theo is an intelligent young man but is often thoughtless in regards to the consequences of his actions, particularly if those actions fall in line with one of his ‘passions.’ It could almost be thought of as a mania, partially exacerbated by his thinker power (earth sense?). He has described feeling on edge or tension correlating to seismographic readings. Unconfirmed but corroborated by weak ancillary evidence.

Theo’s mania (or his purported passions) appear to be triggered by separation from the stone golem power expression, art (notably including sculptures), and attractive young men. Theo is assumed to have been sexually active in the past.

Time and separation from his family and stressors appear to be the best treatment, with limited but some exposure to his passions in moderation.

Current Symptoms: 

Bipolar Disorder (non-power induced) 

Obsessive Compulsive

Animated stone golem (possibly DID)

Borderline Personality Disorder

Suicidality: Should be observed for suicide attempts. Should be kept away from lethal poisons or unmonitored medical caches. Power expression golem has been observed to prevent one suicide attempt.

Prior Depressive /Manic Episodes: History of manic episodes observable when critiquing or damaging artwork. 

Severity/ Complexity: Suicidal tendencies present but not extreme. Manic episodes may cause or prevent temporary lack of empathy or planning. Mania most commonly existing around artwork. Observed anxiety when interacting with attractive men in Theo’s age-group.

Special Note: Stone golem appears to be a splinter of Theo’s personality. Was induced after second trigger event where Theo’s boyfriend was executed. It is likely that a portion of Theo’s personality has attempted to replace or ameliorate guilt for boyfriend Jeremy’s death with the power expression.

Past Psychiatric History: Records not received from Anders Memorial

Withdrawal History: Requires sufficient artistic stimulation

Psychiatric Hospitalization: None

Outpatient Treatment: [REDACTED]

Suicidal/Self Injurious: Suicide attempts via poison and overdose

Addiction/Use History: None.

Psychotropic Medication History: None.

Social/Developmental History: [REDACTED]

Relationship/Marriage: [REDACTED]

Children: None.

Barriers to Treatment: Parahuman (C65)

Emotional: He becomes upset if challenged on his art, or if comparisons to his golem is referred to as Jeremy. He is unable to directly speak of Jeremy or his Second Trigger incident without strong anti-anxiety meds on hand. Speaking of his step-mother, younger brother, or father, results in anxiety attacks.

Patients's Goals: ‘Understand art…’ Patient did not specify further.

Family History: [REDACTED]

Medical History:

Records not received

Allergies: None.

Compliance: Mostly voluntary.

Exam: Ongoing check-ins. Recommended Daily check ins with group therapy sufficient.

Diagnoses:

Bipolar Depressive Disorder

Power Encouraged DID (partial/manageable)

Persistent Depression

Instructions / Recommendations / Plan:

Positive Cognizant Therapy

Continued Monitoring & Rewards for good behavior

Frequent check-ins to observe and encourage self-care

Allow 24/7 access to stone golem power expression

Notes & Risk Factors:

Available Counters to Power:

• Sedation

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Ziz!

Summary: Ziz!

Beta Read by: prognosticHannya, Dysole

WARNING!!! THIS CHAPTER IS THE DARK. THE HOPEKILLER AND MORE… NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE MUCH HAPPIER; BUT THIS ONE IS DARK. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.

March 23, 2011

Weymouth Shopping Center, Food Court

Victoria struggled valiantly against a most difficult question. She turned to her companions, her sister Amy and cousin Eric; she hoped against hope that they might shed guidance upon this unanswerable paradox.

“Food court or upscale purses Ames, whatch’ya think?” Victoria asked. 

“Can you afford upscale anything, Vick?” Amy asked. Victoria thought to her bank account, and her lips thinned into a line, not dissimilar from their mother, Carol.

“Yeah!” Eric added, flipping his blue hair out of his eyes. “Not to bring up a poor subject, but without, uhhh, you-know-who … you’re about as well off as the rest of us. Right?” Eric bit his tongue and considered his own question, before asking again, “Right?” 

Poor, sweet, simple Eric. If he didn’t have such great fashion-sense, Victoria might not have invited him. It might have been a stereotype, but there was some truth to those, Victoria considered.

“Pfft,” Vicky responded with her typical elegance and waved away their concerns. “Don’t need money to window-shop. Besides, I’ve got my allowance… that should be enough?” It wouldn’t be enough. Damn Dean, Victoria thought, why’d he have to go and cheat?

“Really?” Amy asked. “Because if it’s anything like my allowance, it isn’t nearly enough for any of those purses.”

“Unless she’s holding out on us?” Eric asked, starting to grin. “I bet she is! That means she’s buying. Right?”

Victoria coughed, “Nope! Nope… not holding out. Same allowance as anyone else. Definitely not buying.

“Right.” 

“Yeah sure, whatev.”

“We~ell,” Victoria said, hooking her arms around both Amy’s and Eric’s and dragging them along. “Maybe we should just head to the food court then? We can at least afford some pretzels. With extra cheese sauce…” Victoria’s mouth watered.

“Gross,” Amy said. “I’ve seen what those do. Those triglycerides aren’t pretty.” 

“Mm, maybe instead we can hit that boba tea place?” Eric asked, unswayed by the promise of saturated fat and salt and warm and soft pretzels.

With their course of action decided, and the unanswerable paradox answered, Victoria led her valiant party along their journey to the food court, where they had an unfortunate chance encounter–

“Dean?!” Victoria sputtered, dragging her entire party to a standstill.

Across from them was Dean with Stacy, hand in hand. The very same Stacy from Algebra III, who shared the First Lunch period with Dean and the rest of the Wards, and who had been caught in a bathrobe at the Stansfields’ Estate.

“Vicky?” Dean asked, a look of realization creeping up his face, before looking down where he held Stacy’s hand, and then back up at Vicky. “Interesting running into you.”

Stacy dropped Dean’s hand and backed up with both hands warding away any potential reprisals from Glory Girl. “It’s not what it looks like I swear, I heard you and Dean broke up–”

“-Oh, you’ve got nothing to worry about Stace,” Vicky said. “It wasn’t you who decided to cheat on me.” Vicky advanced on Dean. “Was it?”

“But she kinda did though?” Eric asked, completely ignorant of the glare Stacey was shooting his way. “I mean, I know it’s not her fault your ex was–is–a scumbag, but she still knew you and he were together, right? So it’s part her fault too…eh right?”

“Oh no, no. This is all on Dean . He really thought he could replace me? With Stacy? It’s like trading in a Ferrari for a Hyundai with a scratched-up paint job.”

Vicky took the chance to wave her hand towards the small bit of acne on Stacy’s forehead.

“You know I’m all for hating the guy,” Eric said with a faint frown. “But that’s kinda… dehumanizing? Isn’t it?”

“Yeah Vicky,” Dean started. “I know you may not like me, but that’s no reason to insult Stacy. Women are more than their looks, Stacy is a–”

Victoria stepped forward, cracking her knuckles. “Please” she said, deadpan, “do go on. I’m curious to know what exactly it is about this sl-… girl that makes her better than me.”

“Actually,” Dean said with a smile. “I wanted to talk to you about that. I’ve been meaning to have a talk between the three of us, have an open dialogue so we can clear any misunderstandings or mis-impressions.”

For an empath, Dean really did have a remarkable ability to stick his foot in his mouth

Amy narrowed her eyes.. “Are you trying to imply that you didn’t cheat on my sister?” Amy asked.

“I mean, ‘cheating’ is a strong word. I don’t think a drunken one-night stand could be–”

“-you’re currently with Stacy!”  

“-A ‘drunken one-night stand!”

Dean cringed, realizing what he just said. “I mean, I’m not saying… Look, you two are misinterpreting my words.”

Victoria muttered, “Oh I’ll show you some misinterpreted words,” and she cracked her knuckles, ready to throw down in the mall. She would tear Dean a new one, regardless of what the Protectorate or PRT thought, no matter how rich the Stansfields were. But as she considered all the ways she would hurt him, there was a teensy tiny little distraction. 

The Endbringer sirens started blaring.

~

“Which is it,” Eric asked. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the chill in the air. His damp blue hair hung lopsidedly to his face. 

Victoria, Amy, and Eric were all en route to the Pelham residence, with Victoria carrying Amy while Eric used his slow-ass flying. Victoria gave Eric a look. It was the Simurgh’s turn. Everyone knew that. So rather than answering, Victoria focused on where she was flying while Amy checked through her phone.

“Ziz, Eastern Seaboard,” Amy said, reading aloud.

“No…” Eric whispered, probably forgetting to breathe. 

Victoria didn’t blame him for that. While New Wave usually didn’t do Endbringers, one this close to home could be an exception. It would be the exception… and that, that scared Victoria too.

“Think we’ll go?” Eric asked.

Amy shifted in her bridal carry and looked over Victoria’s shoulder at Eric. “I don’t see what any of us could do there,” Amy said, but her heart wasn’t in it. Doubt must have already been churning through Amy’s gut, if she was feeling anything like Victoria was. That near palpable sense of creeping dread.

“Except for you Amy,” Eric said. 

Victoria’s little sister couldn’t go to an Endbringer fight–what if she got hurt? Amy couldn’t heal herself. Amy must have been thinking the same, as her face paled visibly. Victoria couldn’t even imagine how difficult this must be for Amy, to be the healer . Victoria resolved to do all she could to help her sister, and she gave her a soft supportive squeeze. 

“Don’t worry Ames,” Victoria said. “If you go I’ll go. I’ll be there to keep you safe.”

The three of them soon arrived at the Pelham’s, beating Mark and Carol’s arrival, but not by much. 

Amy, continuing to check her phone, said, “PRT says Boston is probably the target. There’s a rally point in Brockton Bay, and they’ll delay teleportation for us–well, me specifically.”

“We–you–don’t have to attend,” Sarah said, frowning. “None of us do. We’re not obligated. It’s not Brockton Bay under attack.”

“But mom, it’s so close to home,” Crystal countered. The way Crystal was itching to fight emboldened Victoria, at least a little bit. 

“And could New Wave survive the PR disaster if we didn’t at least send Panacea?” Carol asked.

“Could we survive Ziz, period?” Neil answered. “I’ll support all of you no matter what, but other than Amy, not many of us can help… Amy’s still a kid. You don’t send kids to fight Endbringers.”

“Neil’s right,” Sarah said, her arms folded. If only that had been the end of the conversation.

“Of course you’d agree with your husband,” Carol scoffed. “At least let us send Panacea. Medical will be well out of harm's way, and she could do the most good, as Neil said.”

“Mom!” Victoria shouted. “We can’t–”

Amy pushed on Victoria’s shoulder lightly. “It’s alright. I’ll go.”

“You will?” Carol asked, the other adults echoing her question

“Yeah–it’s like you said. I could do the most good… and it wouldn’t be right for me to not go, especially with it being so close and all.” Amy’s brows were furrowed, and her hair a frizzy mess from the earlier flight. But in that moment, all Victoria could see was her courageous sister willing to do whatever it took to make sure the good guys won. It was inspiring. And it was terrifying.

“Nuhuh,” Eric said. “No way. You can heal people after Ziz leaves. You don’t need to go there now. None of us do–” Eric chuckled nervously, “right?” 

Victoria prayed that that would be it, the end of the discussion, that they would all watch the news, and be the first to arrive after Ziz had left.

“No… No, I need to be there,” Amy reaffirmed. “It’s close. Heroes we know are going to be there. Are going to die there, and I might not get to them soon enough if I’m not there. I need to be there–” she licked her chapped lips, “-I need to do this.”

“Well if you go, then I go,” Victoria said. “Someone’s got to look after you.”

“Now wait just a second,” Carol said disapprovingly. “Victoria, what could you do against an Endbringer?”

“...Punch it?” Victoria asked, trying to make a joke to downplay the fear creeping up her spine.

“Well, if she’s going, then so am I,” Crystal said. Eric grimaced, but refused to be left behind if his sister and cousins were going. And of course, if the kids went, then the adults would as well. That was how the entirety of New Wave decided to attend an Endbringer fight in Boston.

~

The fight, to put it lightly, was not going well. 

Originally, Victoria had wanted to stick close to Amy in Medical, but Victoria had been told in no uncertain terms that if she was going to be there, then she had better help contribute. 

Victoria offered to join the other flying bricks, but was again denied. She had been vetoed from actually fighting by both Carol and Sarah. Victoria couldn’t even blame them for that decision. If Alexandria couldn’t knock Simurgh out, then neither could Glory Girl.

Which led to Victoria helping in other ways. Like evacuating fallen heroes, and helping keep the civvies alive. 

Or, in other words, Search and Rescue.

“One, Two, Heave!” Manpower shouted in conjunction with Victoria, lifting a piece of concrete overpass that had fallen onto a school bus. “Take this off to Staging area 2, I’ll head down the freeway!” he shouted, as Victoria lifted up the school bus–it was a shortbus, and only partially caved in on the side.

While she was flying, she saw flashes of lighting and explosions illuminating a whirlpool of death centered on the Simurgh. The sound of shrapnel scraping buildings clean reverberated all throughout Boston. At the center of the vortex, there flew Simurgh, held aloft by telekinesis with her many wings dancing around her in the chaos. Before her, under her dead gray eyes, she was assembling a tinkertech sphere.

Victoria shuddered and tore her eyes away and focused on the bus, lest she lose her grip and send the school bus, and children, plummeting to the pavement below. When Victoria landed at the staging area, volunteers rushed to help unload the kids to shelter. A few of the kids were in worse shape, bleeding profusely. One of them had their skull exposed, where they’d been sliced open by glass. Still alive, but maybe not for long. Victoria grabbed this one and flew off straight away to Medical, setting the kid down in Triage and letting the nurse there take over.

Victoria looked around the tent until she spotted Amy. 

“No time to talk,” Amy shouted, running up to a cape of some kind with rebar sticking through his thigh. Victoria tried to point out the kid with their skull hanging loose, but Amy wouldn’t hear any of it. “I have to focus on the heroes! Civvies get their own treatment.”

It might have sounded cruel, but there was logic there. Prioritize the fighters and the defenders over the civilians. Especially since the civilians would likely have to be quarantined if the fight dragged on.

Victoria’s armband called out, “Need a mover for a redeployment. Needs to be a flier. Preferably a brute.”

Victoria was both a flier and a brute. This sounded like a perfect opportunity to contribute to the fight. This is what she was here for. She pressed the button on her armband, “Glory Girl. Where do you need me?” she asked.

“Head to F5,” a woman’s voice spoke over the armband. “East side of the Prudential Tower.”

“Got it,” Victoria said, setting off towards the landmark. 

When she landed, she found that she was in the Thinker’s forward post, outside of the Simurgh’s song, but still close enough to act as a staging area. One of the Thinkers in particular looked familiar.

“Tattletale?” Victoria asked. She had run across the Undersiders once or twice, which was how she recognized her. Well that, and the purple suit. 

“Not quite. Newly self employed rogue, going through a rebrand. Call me Scandal,” Tattletale–Scandal–said. “But this isn’t about me.” She pointed at another cape, one that Victoria had never seen before. “This is Escrow. He can inventory and steal anything he touches–” Victoria almost burst out a question at that frankly ridiculous power but Scandal hushed her and kept going “-Manton limited. We need him to neutralize whatever the hell Ziz is building. Because she’s almost done, and it’s not gonna be pretty, whatever it is.”

“Do we know what she–it’s–building?” Escrow asked, pale faced. The man was obviously nervous, and his mop of blonde hair was matted with dust and sweat. “And are we sure this is the best path forward? I mean… I’m not exactly a Brute.”

“No, but you are immune to anything physical, and Ziz relies on TK to throw objects. You’ll be fine. At least as fine as anyone else.” Scandal added near silently.

Meanwhile, the song continued, and parts of Boston continued getting ripped up out of the ground and subsumed into Ziz’s orbit, and the song continued driving the populace mad. A sonic boom sounded above as a black streak tore through the sky, only to be knocked aside by a seemingly careless but opportune placement of Ziz’s wing. Alexandria fell from the sky, shaking her head in disorientation and then she charged back in.

Alexandria’s objective was clear by her trajectory: Ziz was creating a massive sphere, larger than a car, full of tinkertech and harvested pieces of either power armor or standard parts, scraped together from the Boston PRT HQ and office buildings. 

Lasers blasted down from above, thwarted no matter what angles they twisted or came from. Eidolon threw roiling gravity waves, which only succeeded in distracting Ziz for a second, before she continued sealing together the device.

“Whatever it is, it’s almost finished,” Scandal said. “You need to get up there, now!”

“Fuck–alright,” Escrow said. He looked at Victoria. “How we doing this?” 

Victoria chuckled, trying to embolden Escrow, but the sentiment was forced and uninspired. “Just hold on,” she said, sweeping Escrow up into her arms and flying straight up, then towards Ziz.

When they crossed the threshold of Ziz’s song, both Escrow and Victoria flinched.

“This is such a bad idea,” Escrow complained. A part of Victoria couldn’t help but agree. But despite all of that could go wrong, despite the psychic scream acting as an unreachable itch, Victoria felt a thrill of excitement in her veins.

Here she was, doing something that actually mattered . Taking the fight to one of the unbeatable monsters.

“I get that you’re scared, I am too,” Victoria said. “But if all you’re gonna do is whine about it, why’d you agree to this?” Victoria asked. 

“It was in my contract,” he answered and forced a laugh. He flashed Victoria a boyish grin. If not for the age gap, Victoria might have thought he was cute.

But now wasn’t the time to be flirting. Victoria shut her mouth and focused on navigating the debris storm. They cleared the first few layers of debris orbiting the Simurgh easily. They were nearly to the Tinkertech. 

Victoria had started wondering what the big deal was if it was this easy to reach the device, when she was blindsided by a large brick flying up from below. It hit hard enough to flicker Victoria’s forcefield and shift her momentum upwards a bit, but otherwise the strike wasn’t so disastrous.

“Hah! That all you got bitch?!” Victoria crowed, continuing her flight towards the device.

But for some reason, Escrow moaned. 

Victoria glanced and saw blood and dust trailing from the side of his head. The brick must have ricocheted and struck him after hitting her.

“Well shit,” Victoria said. 

She tried shaking him a bit, but he was not responding. 

Without him, the plan was shot. Maybe she could punch out the device though? No, if Alexandria couldn’t do it, then neither could Glory Girl. Victoria decided the best option would be to get Escrow to safety. But when she went to turn, her path was blocked. The first few layers of debris she’d passed had solidified behind her, forming a near impenetrable shell. 

“That’s–that’s not good at all,” she muttered. 

She jostled Escrow to the side to hit her com’s button on her bracelet. “Scandal, this plan is fucked. Escrow is out and we’re trapped–”

“Glory Girl, where’s the device?!” Scandal’s voice sounded panicked for some reason. “Shit, why’d she–oh fuck–” she trailed off.

Victoria glanced up at the tinkertech tech that Ziz had been building, and noticed that the sphere had a little cut-out hole, which was pointed straight towards her–or more exactly, at Escrow. 

“Why would Escrow be her target–” Scandal continued “-where–what does Escrow have? Where was he stationed, quick!”

The hole in the gray sphere glowed green, obviously powering up for some diabolical purpose. It was still pointed straight at Victoria and Escrow, and continued targeting them as Victoria attempted to find a means of escape, but the debris cloud was too thick.

“Escrow was stationed at Achimille prior,” a woman, possibly Alexandria, or maybe Dragon, spoke over the speaker. 

“Achimille–wait. Of course. Shit! Did he take anything from Tay–Tarocchi?!”

“...Fuck,” the stern woman said. It must have been Alexandria. “Glory Girl, get Escrow out of there immediately–”

But it was too late.

The green energy shot out like a tractor beam laser from hell and struck Escrow. He screamed, and burned hot enough that Victoria had to let go, otherwise risk cooking alive. Escrow’s skin began blackening, his eyeballs burst, and from the skin of his face, several large seeming Tarot cards began to emerge, one after another, melting out from his flesh.

“-What’s happening! Talk to me! Words! Need wor–”

Victoria could pay them no mind. The cards came one after another, swirling towards Ziz, where they glowed once more, then expanded into so many things–including the murder-bot that Taylor had made to chaffeur her ass around.

Shit.

“Ziz has activated Tarocchi’s cards!” Victoria shouted into her coms, remembering what she was doing.

“Which ones?”

“The, uhh, the robot,” Victoria said, watching the cards spring to life, one after the other. “A sword. A blaster?” Laser pistols and vibroblades and magical glowing tomes all manifested before Ziz as Escrow continued to scream until he stopped and hung limply. Once no more cards emerged, Ziz tossed him aside, letting him fall without ceremony and join the swirling debris field.

The murder robot perked up and unfolded, its eyes glowing red as it took in its surroundings. Victoria hoped that it remained friendly. That Ziz had somehow made a mistake.

“Query: Which Meatbags shall I destroy?” the murder-bot said, reaching out and grabbing a sword. It paused a moment as it considered what it had just said. “Obvious Statement: All of them.”

Ziz didn’t make mistakes. In the corner of Victoria’s eye, she swore that she saw the Simurgh’s lips twitch upwards.

“Fuck I gotta get outta here,” Victoria mumbled to herself, preparing herself to make a mad dash through the field. She would surely lose her forcefield, but if she pushed fast enough, and if she flew hard enough, then she just might make it through.

Suddenly, a patch of sunlight emerged just as a familiar black streak tore through the field and punched Ziz in her stupid face. Alexandria! Oh thank god! Victoria flew towards the opening, but not before she saw what happened.

Just as Alexandria rebounded off of Ziz, the murder-bot flew up, likely carried by Ziz’s TK, and swiped at Alexandria with the sword. 

Now of course, nothing should have happened. It was fucking Alexandria. But the murder-bot was Tarocchi’s, including that sword, and everything Tarocchi made and did was bullshit, enough so that the sword cut through Alexandria’s thigh and severed her leg.

Victoria couldn’t believe her eyes as she watched Alexandria’s leg spin downwards and joining the debris field orbiting around them. Alexandria froze for a second, watching the same leg spin away, before her eyes widened in horror, and her gaze met the murder robots. 

Alexandria panicked. She must have panicked. And Victoria couldn’t blame her.

“Door!” Alexandria screamed.

A portal sprung to life before Alexandria, and she immediately flew through, ridden by the murder-bot just behind her. Before the portal winked out of existence, Victoria thought she heard the murder robot say, “Amused statement: This will be entertaining.”

“Alexandria Deceased…”

“This shit is fucked!” Victoria said, zipping through the opening and getting as much space as she could between herself and Ziz, because seriously fuck that. She was going to grab Amy and the the fuck outta dodge.

But as she passed through the opening, the debris closed in around her. She saw one of what must be Tarocchi’s bullshit tinkertech laser guns floating by and she grabbed it, praying it would work. She angled it outwards and held down the trigger. A pulsing red and white beam of plasma spat out, bursting through the wall, and slagging brick masonry and metal alike. The superheated air blew black against Victoria and felt incredibly uncomfortable, even through her forcefield.

Suddenly, debris shifted, and the way out opened back up. Before she stopped pulling down on the trigger, a familiar green cloaked figure flew past the opening, intersecting with the pulsing stream of plasma. 

“Eidolon Down…”

The greed cloaked hero spun and spiraled downwards, falling outside of Victoria’s range of vision. She swore internally, but she couldn’t do anything about that. She needed to leave–now!

Victoria kept the gun as she flew out, bursting out as the debris closed back in around her. 

Debris closed around her like a sphincter, catching her foot just as she made her escape, mangling her foot and sending her spinning downwards. 

She screamed as she went into a tailspin, dizzying and getting whipped by all manner of floating garbage. She panicked and picked a direction and flew as hard and as fast as she could. 

Which was how she ended up slamming into the ground. Or rather, what looked like a large refrigerated truck that had been making its escape. Unfortunately, hitting the truck led to it veering off course–crashing–skitting along its side–tearing metal open–revealing an absolute stank of rotten meat.

“Krouse! Help!” A teenage girl bellowed from within the truck.

“Oh. Fuck.” Victoria was not liking this. Not one bit. Ziz had descended further up ahead, landing on the road itself. Legend continued blasting at Ziz, but he failed to so much as strike her. The rest of the defenders weren’t faring any better. Constant notifications of down and deceased capes sounded on the armband.

Victoria had to get out of here. It was too much. Too much! She flew backwards and upwards, hoping to gain distance from the stench and whatever the hell was crawling out from the truck.

And whatever the hell that thing was, it was ugly.

It was a girl from the waist up, and a rotting chimera of a tentacle monster from the waist down. The monstrous part had cavernous mouths with jagged and mismatched teeth. Pus leaked from open sores and beastly acne all along whatever gross and slimy skin that thing had. And it stunk. Terribly so.

Victoria was left gagging as she turned away and fled. But, no matter how hard she pushed herself, she couldn’t move far. It seemed as if she were underwater, restrained by lead, stuck in the worst of nightmares where she was trapped in her own body and unable to move at anything other than a snail’s pace. 

The rubble on the street below floated inches off the ground. All of it, localized around her. 

She realized she was caught in some sort of Shaker effect. Was it Ziz? Something Tarocchi had made? Or that weird nasty monster that was still way too close? Too many possibilities to consider.

“It’s her!” The monster girl screamed, having caught sight of Simurgh and rightfully panicking.

Victoria turned around so that she was flying backwards and could watch the monster girl come bounding out from the truck, away from Ziz, and towards Victoria. The monster was so distracted by what she was running away from, that she failed to pay attention at all to what was in front of her. And, despite Victoria’s mover ratings, the monster was traveling much faster than Victoria–the monster was seemingly unimpeded by the motion-dampening effect.

Victoria realized she was going to get run over, trampled, slobbered on and possibly eaten by the gross monster, and even if Victoria’s force-field protected her, the experience promised to be most unpleasant. Her eyes widened in terror as she couldn’t help but stare down the oncoming run-away-freight-train of monster girl.

“Victoria!” Carol cried out from a rooftop overlooking the road.

Oh thank Scion! It was Victoria’s mother, come to save the day.

“I can’t get out of this Mom!” Victoria shouted back.

Carol leaped from the roof and entered her Breaker state, floating in a diagonal line down to land between Victoria and the monster girl.

“Stay back!” Carol shouted at the monster girl.

But the monster girl continued, terror in her eyes, paying no heed to anyone in her path. 

“Last warning!” Carol screamed, forming her blades of light before her. “Vicky fly up!” Carol shouted as the monster girl crashed into Carol, completely ignoring the light blades and crunching down, swallowing Carol whole.

“Brandish Down…” the armband said.

“Mom!” Victoria screamed, changing course to fly perpendicular and upwards, trying to get distance from the monster girl. The monster girl that just ate her mom. “Fuck this bitch!” She screamed, aiming her stolen blaster rifle at the monster and holding down the trigger. “Eat laser mother fucker!”

The plasma shot out, blindingly bright and hot in all its glory and striking the monster part of the girl, searing through the flesh in layers, releasing a pungent white and black smoke along with the blistering flesh. The aroma was unbearable, leaving Victoria retching, but she didn’t let up.

“Glory Girl, what is that?” Scandal’s voice asked over the armband.

“Some bitch just ate my mom!” Victoria answered, continuing to hold down the trigger, despite the uncomfortable whine and glow coming from the stock and barrel.

“I need someone to get a visual,” Scandal said.

“It burns!” The monster girl screamed, changing course to run away from Victoria, leaving the highway behind and entering the city itself.

Victoria kept firing for another several seconds, but the gun started making some alarming beeping sounds.

“Glory Girl, where’s Brandish?!” Sarah shouted as she flew down. “Where’s my sister?”

“That thing ate Mom!” Victoria shouted. “If she was in her Breaker state, might still be alive!”

They both started flying towards the monster, the odd slow-motion effect still in play, slowing both fliers down. Victoria’s laser gun stopped working, but kept making those sounds.

“Where’d you get a tinkertech gun?” Sarah asked, her attention drawn by the beeping as she strafed the monster with her own red lasers. “And is it safe?”

“From Tarocchi I think. Ziz pulled it out from Escrow–” Victoria started to explain, the beeping grew even more aggressive.

“Get rid of it quickly! Throw it!” Sarah instantly demanded, the same second that realization of what Victoria held, who was involved, and what was probably going to happen flashed through Sarah’s mind–at least, judging by the expressions crossing her face. 

Thankfully, Victoria wasn’t in the habit of ignoring her Aunt, no ma’am. Victoria chucked the gun as hard as she could, but the gun barely moved at all before freezing mid air, several feet away from them. 

Sarah layered force fields between them and the gun, and they both hoped it would be enough, as they tried flying backwards, still trapped at a snail’s pace.

The beeping stopped.

A pinprick of light grew in the gun’s stock, then spread into cracks that glowed, before the gun finally exploded in a bright ball of angry plasma. The force fields held for a split second, redirecting some of the explosion away, but not enough, no, never enough–

“Oh shi–” Sarah started to swear, forming a new forcefield between them, but it was too late, the explosion hit. The blastwave sent Victoria tumbling through the air, once again dizzying and disorienting her–

“Lady Photon, deceased…”

Victoria’s ears were ringing, her eyes hurt, everything felt sunburnt, but she was alive, and outside of the slow motion field. She flew straight up and out of the debris field. Heroes were falling left and right. As she cleared her head, she looked around for her Aunt. But she didn’t see her flying anywhere nearby.

Where was she?

Victoria saw Uncle Neil near the fallen overpass, looking dazed and absolutely devastated. She swooped down towards him.

“Neil! Where’s–” Victoria started to ask, but Neil cut her off mumbling aimlessly, “-she’s dead… oh god she’s dead.”

“Who?” Victoria asked, but a sinking pit formed in her stomach that she knew who he was talking about. Did Aunt Sarah die in the explosion? No. No–it must have been a mistake. No way her force fields could have failed like that. She could have flown away. She could have–the bracelet must have fallen off or–

It didn’t matter. Neil was out of it, and bleeding from several cuts, and Victoria wasn’t feeling great either, with a mangled foot and burns and her ears still ringing.

“She’s gone…” Neil muttered, completely lost. Even if the battle were still going on, Uncle Neil was finished. He wouldn’t be working Search and Rescue anymore, not this fight at least. He needed to be rescued himself; he needed a chance to grieve, to be with Crystal and Eric. Victoria almost sent a message to those two to come help, but she didn’t want to abuse the comm privileges. Everyone had lost someone today. What made New Wave special? 

“I’m gonna fly us to see Amy,” she said as she picked her Uncle Neil up by beneath his armpits and lifted off, flying towards Medical.

As they flew over the city, they continued to hear the beast’s roar, along with the explosions from the ongoing battle. The orbiting trash was still around the Simurgh, though she now floated above the city, having gained altitude once more. Blocks of rubble periodically fell from the sky, flung from her and landed upon unfortunate capes. All the while, the wristband never ceased announcing the casualties.

Before Victoria reached Medical, she ran across three familiar faces and waved them down. Crystal and Eric were carrying Victoria’s Dad towards the beast, which could still be seen and heard down below, bellowing as it crashed over cars and through storefronts in a berserk haste to escape the Simurgh.

“You said that thing ate your mom?” Crystal asked. Mark was looking nearly as forlorn as Neil, but with perhaps a bit more anger mixed in. “A Thinker sent us over. Said Brandish might still be alive if she’d stayed in her Breaker state.”

“She can’t hold it forever though,” Victoria said.

“If it’s a choice between discomfort or death, she certainly can and would.” Mark pointed out the beast down below. “Take us down. We’re going to extract my wife.”

Crystal gave her own Dad a speculative look. “You alright there Dad?”

Neil shook his head, tears starting to make their way down his face. “She’s gone…”

Crystal grimaced, visibly steeling herself. “And we can mourn later, right? But for now–”

“-she’s dead!” Neil spoke over Crystal.

“I’m going to take him to Medical. I need to get looked over too,” Victoria said. “Then I’ll come find you to help. Be careful around that thing!”

“Alright…” Crystal trailed off, shaking her head and then turning her attention downwards. “How’re we gonna do this?” 

Victoria heard as she finished zipping over to the Medical.

Inside was pure anarchy, and it took a bit for Victoria to find Amy. When she did though, she flew over cots and scrambling nurses, and sat down right next to her and her current patient.

“Thank god you’re alright!” Amy said, sparing a brief touch to diagnose Victoria and Neil. “But what hit you?”

“Some tinkertech exploded,” Victoria explained. “If you’ve got a minute, I need a top off. And I think Neil–”

“-First off, does it look like I’ve got a minute?” Amy said dryly as she put intestines back inside a young girl with a sunburst on her hip. “Not that I won’t make time for you. And it looks like Neil might be having a bit of a psychosis… How long was he exposed to Ziz?”

“Not long enough to explode, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Victoria said a little too fast, and then wincing when a nurse gave her a look .

Amy finished patching up the one girl to keep her alive a bit longer, and then started working on Victoria. A cool and pleasant sensation swept over her, numbing what had been painful just seconds previous. Her blistered skin healed, and her mangled ankle popped and cracked and felt weight bearing once more. Once Amy was done with Victoria, she turned her full attention to Uncle Neil.

“Mostly healthy, endorphins are incredibly unbalanced, and way too much Cortisol… Low oxygenation…” Victoria mumbled to herself, before making a decision, “I’m going to have you lay down for a bit, alright Uncle Neil?”

The bellowing roar from monster-girl didn’t sound nearly far enough away. 

“She–we should have never come here…” he mumbled. 

Amy gave a pointed glare between Victoria and another cot. Amy mouthed, ‘help get him settled?’ 

Victoria nodded. “Let’s set you down over there, Uncle Neil,” Victoria said, walking Neil over while Amy moved on to her next patient. 

They were most of the way over to the nearest free bed when the roar bellowed again and the armband blurted, “Flashbang, Down...”

“Dad!” Victoria said, forgetting all about Uncle Neil and flying straight out of the Medical pavilion and upward to see where that monster bitch was.

“Laserdream, Down. Shielder, Down. Flashbang, Deceased…”

“No!” Victoria screamed, sweeping through the sky until she caught sight of the monster and the rest of her family. 

The monster girl was flanked by several naked capes, parahumans, considering some were flying, and others held energy weapons. Shielder had been knocked to the ground and had a bubble formed over him to protect him from the onslaught, though he was pale and the puddle around him made it look like he had lost a substantial amount of blood. 

The parahumans were attacking Eric? But why? Didn’t they know about the Endbringer Truce? Or were they mastered? So many questions roared through Victoria’s mind, but she didn’t have a chance to answer any of them or think clearly at all. One of the parahumans looked like Crystal, even her energy beams looked the same. But why would Crystal be attacking her own brother? The monster bore down on Shielder, pressing down, trying to swallow the bubble whole.

Victoria  needed to get her cousin out of there! Or get the monster away to give him enough breathing room to flee. She glanced around and found an old Volkswagen bug. She swooped down, grabbed it by the back, and lifted back up, spinning around all the while until releasing it and sending it flying towards the monster, flying true–

A red forcefield deflected the car before it hit the monster, and the naked Crystal lookalike fired off a laser blast at Victoria.

“Hey! What gives–” Victoria started shouting–

“-You!” the monster girl bellowed, catching sight of Victoria. “I’ll rend the flesh from your bones!”

“Oh. Uh yeah!” Victoria shouted back. “Screw you bitch! Get away from my–”

The monster girl was fast and quick, leaping up and arcing towards Victoria. 

Victoria scrambled in the air to dodge. Another forcefield blocked her path, which she punched through and kept flying. A laser hit her, sending her tumbling through air until she reoriented herself. 

The Crystal Look-alike was giving chase and was leading the monster-girl right at Victoria.

Victoria picked a random direction and started flying, hoping against hope that Eric used the chance to get away. Victoria kept flying, still too disoriented to really know where she was going, which was why she failed to realize when she passed by the Medical–

“Simurgh retreating…”

Victoria barely heard or understood what the armband said. She hardly recognized the cheering breaking out among the capes throughout the battlefield. No, what Victoria was busy reckoning with was that the monster was speeding directly towards the Medical pavilion, where Amy and Uncle Neil were–along with so many of the wounded parahumans.

Victoria pressed the comms buttons to shout a warning, but before she could say another word, she was peppered with red lasers, stinging and disorienting her once more. When she recovered, it was to the sound of screaming and pain and terror as the monster crashed through the pavilion and tore the entire structure down, trapping panicked and wounded capes under the canvas with the monster. 

So much screaming… 

“Food!” The monster girl’s voice could be heard. “Meat!”

“Amy!”

“What the hell’s going on?!” A woman demanded over the comms.

Legend popped out into existence above Victoria as he surveyed the scene with a stone cold grim face. “We need all resources to respond to Medical. We have an unknown parahuman potential Ziz-Bomb attack underway.” 

Victoria turned towards him, “Please, my sister’s down there!”

“A lot of people are down there,” he said grimly. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

The monster emerged from the far end of the tent, spattered in blood and fluids. The girl part of the monster was struggling to untangle herself from the cloth. It would have been funny, if not so gruesome.

“Unknown parahuman! Cease and desist!” Legend called down. Of course, the monster girl didn’t listen, instead shitting out a naked deformed man. She began bellowing incoherently about meat.

“Light her up!” Victoria shouted, already scanning the panicked and fleeing medical staff for her sister. She hadn’t seen Amy yet.

Legend frowned, but didn’t say no. He fired off cyan lasers that froze pieces of the monster girl to the ground. She kept moving, leaving pieces of herself behind, oozing and regenerating as she went. Legend fired another round, then another, as flyers and ground based troops started arriving. The armband kept talking, but it didn’t matter. Victoria had to find her sister!

Then she saw a familiar messy shock of hair and freckles crawling out from beneath one end of the canvas. Victoria flew down and helped the girl out. 

“Amy?” Victoria asked tentatively. “Why’re you naked?” 

A flash of irritation and something else went across the naked girl’s face, but then recognition dawned, along with something else.

“Vicky?” the girl asked. 

“Oh thank god it’s you!” Victoria said, sweeping Amy into a hug. It didn’t matter what else happened. Her sister was safe.

The monster was thrashing nearby, having been struck by multiple blasters at once, while the Crystal look-alike returned fire.

“We need to get out of here!” Amy said, hearing the roars and the shouts from the hero.

“Leave that to me,” Victoria said, sweeping Amy into the familiar bridal carry and flying up into the air. Victoria felt a slight twinge, but it came and went too quickly for her to really notice much of anything, besides a silly little itch.

“Down there,” Amy pointed at a rooftop a few blocks away from the action. “Take us down there…”

Victoria easily landed on the gravel rooftop. It was some kind of apartment building. 

“Think we’re far enough away from the quarantine zone?” Amy asked.

“Huh?” Victoria said eloquently, then looked towards where Ziz had landed, about a mile away. “I mean maybe? But isn’t that getting ahead…” Victoria trailed off, forgetting what she had been going to ask. There was that pesky itch again!

“Good good. Break that rooftop door in,” Amy said more than asked. “Please?” Amy added, batting her eyelashes slyly. Of course, Victoria would do anything for her sister. What Amy said Amy got. Victoria carried her over and kicked the door aside, sending it spinning down the stairwell. “Good. Now find us a room, pet.”

“Sure…” Victoria said, then paused. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t right! Why were they breaking and entering? There was a fight going on. Ziz had just left. There would be wounded to heal, monsters to punch, and–and there was that itch again–

“Vicky?” Amy asked. “Get us a room.”

“Yeah sure, Sis,” Victoria said, flying down the stairwell and picking a hallway at random, busting down a fire door and then the door to apartment 705. As she carried her in, Victoria admired the apartment. It wasn’t the biggest, but it was clean, or had been, before the dust from the ceiling plaster had sprinkled everything. Victoria set Amy down, where she led Victoria by the hand into what looked like a bedroom.

“Lay down on the bed, Vicky,” Amy said, smiling. Almost… cruelly? But that didn’t make sense! This was Amy. Her sister. Her–what was happening?

Amy reached over and grabbed Victoria’s hand and squeezed it. That itch was back. What had they been–Amy tugged and pulled Victoria over.

“But… why–aat?” Victoria asked, through the fuzzy brainy feelings that weren’tz makin dennsee–

~

Victoria heard voices through the van doors. She was having trouble tracking conversations, or tracking anything. Time either went too fast or too slow but never the right speed. Victoria was laying on top of a gurney, strapped down but not too tightly but also not too softly and maybe they weren’t there at all. There were monitors beep beeping and those were nice.

“-brace yourself mate,” a man said outside the van. 

“What for?” Someone else asked.

“-patient got messed up in the last EB fight. Dunno the details. But… but just brace yourself, yeah?”

“The Boston attack? … Not a ziz-bomb right?”

“Don’t think so. It was the second part of the fight that got her. Found her holed up. Her monitor didn’t explode though–”

“But she still got marked with the tattoo though?”

“New policy and all that. We can’t say for sure what happened to her–she’s not all there right? Just take care of her.”

“Alright…”

The doors opened, letting in the pretty sunlight. There were tweety songbirds and rainbows and maybe a unicorn! The grass was so green… When had Victoria ever seen grass that green before?

“Jesus Christ!” one of the men whispered, meeting eyes with Victoria.

Victoria struggled to look at herself, but her neck didn’t work the way it used to, so she had to push her eyeballs up out of her face a few inches and swivel them.

“Yeah…” the driver and escort slapped the orderly on the back. “Good luck with that.”

“...yeah,” the orderly said, trailing off, before remembering the rest of his pitch. “Welcome to Achimille I guess.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: No, I am The Great Tarocchi

Summary: The Great Tarocchi and her friends exit Achimille together. Life goes on. Until…

Beta Read by Dysole, PrognosticHannya, Derp

A/N: This will be the final chapter of Tarocchi. I originally wanted to go into the gang establishing and reaching normalization in Brockton Bay, before the next EB attack, but I’ve decided that I would much rather be working towards Dark Lesbian Fantasy… sooooooo Epilogue? :) 

April 4, 2011

Taylor’s Achimille Cell

“Prisoner!” A woman shouted over the intercom connecting my cell to the rest of the hospital resort. “On your feet, hands on the wall.”

I remained where I laid staring at the ceiling. I wasn’t sure who this ‘Prisoner’ was, or why the nice lady was shouting into my room. I had other things on my mind, like the fact that there was a ghost haunting Achimille… and that half of my Active Slots had been mysteriously grayed out about a while ago. 

Which had hurt. 

A lot! 

But! It was nothing that would set a hero such as myself back.

After a pause, the woman shouted, “Prisoner! We will be forced to use force if you fail to comply!”

“You better listen to her,” I said, giving my own hot-take on free-advice.

I wasn’t sure if ‘Prisoner’ could hear me or not, but if they could, I hoped they followed the instructions. Ever since that jerk Escrow had disappeared, this place had been going downhill. They’d even re-introduced me to Gasconade, and Gasconade’s handgun… several times. And that guy was just… the worst .

“Hebert,” the woman groaned and sighed, presumably in awe, or in embarrassment. “Put your hands on the wall.”

I didn’t know who this ‘Hebert’ was–

“God damnit Taylor!” A second voice said, this one male. I recognized him as one of the nicer orderlies. At least, one of the normally nicer ones. Not that nicieties went far. I mean, I was pretty sure there were polite Nazis working the–

“Taylor please?” He said, more soothing this time that he spoke, and drawing me out from my thoughts. They weren’t going anywhere anyways. Nothing did, not here, not–

“Put your hands on the wall,” he said. It was hard to tell exactly where his tone of voice landed, but he had been nice enough that I figured I would comply. Begrudgingly.

“Fiiiine,” I said, complaining as I stood up and put my hands on the wall. “What’s the special occasion today?” I asked, making polite conversation. “Oh!” I realized what must have been happening and almost turned around to address them. “Am I getting a massage?! I am, aren’t I!” I could almost squeal with pleasurable anticipation.

“Almost guessed it,” The orderly responded dryly.

“Wait, really?!”

“We have a procedure scheduled today that will help you Taylor,” the orderly explained.

The door chimed, automated bolts slid back, and three orderlies entered the room. In the ceiling above, two tinkertech turrets were trained on me, and I was sure that the vents were ready to deploy their favorite knockout gas. 

Because every holiday vacation resort had to have knockout gas, along with trigger happy Gasconades. 

I let my mind wander as one of the orderlies shoved me against the wall, bruising my chin and chest. The orderly, a mean stout blonde, frisked me down aggressively. Even though I was wearing a medical gown. Even though I only had like, maybe two places, that I could hide something–which would be dumb of me anyways, since I had Card Space that I could fit absolutely anything and that nobody else could ever access. 

At least nobody else could access Card Space most of the time.

“Move it,” the mean-blonde said. If I were to guess her name, I would say it was probably a Helga. She gripped my shoulders and twisted me about. She wrenched my arms behind my back and shackled them. She was definitely a Helga.

The shackles were, of course, Tinkertech. Just like the collar they made me wear. If I tried absorbing either item, I’d get pumped full of sedatives and then I’d just wake up bruised and with a headache. 

I know! It sounds like a lot of fun. And it is. But, it was more of a Friday Night thing.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked as they marched me out from my cell, and into the overly air-conditioned hallways that smelled of bleach and chlorine.

The nice orderly answered, “For your procedure. The one that will help you. Remember?”

I really didn’t. Remember, that is.

“Don’t you want to get healthy?” 

I really didn’t. Want to get healthy, that is.

And even if I did want that, would this procedure help? Did anything about this holiday vacation resort help? 

Huh. Now that I think about it…

But! Positive thinking had gotten me out of worse scrapes. I mean, not that I’ve documented, but the thing about positive thinking, was that I had to believe it for it to work.

As we marched through the hallways, I saw loads of people wearing body armor standing guard with big looking guns. In the distance, I thought I might have heard some joyful screaming–very enthusiastic and joyful screaming–and maybe a shriek? All in good fun, I was certain.

“Hello!” I tried greeting one of the heavily armed and armored guards. “It is I, The Great–oof!”

Helga, the mean and stout female orderly, elbowed me in the stomach. “Quiet!” Helga hissed.

“We don’t want to draw their attention,” the nice orderly murmured in my ear as he smiled awkwardly at one of the guards. The guards tracked us with their faceless mirrored masks. “Trust me on that. These guys are bad news.”

We eventually arrived in the hospital portion of the resort, and the orderlies had me lay down on a gurney with oversized leather restraints. I gave it a look, then glanced questiongly at the orderlies. It just–it didn’t feel like a very relaxing spa treatment.

“They’re for your own safety,” nice-orderly said with a sad smile.

“Don’t know why you humanize them,” Helga muttered with much endearment. 

“Love you too Helga!” I chirped. She really was such a sweetheart. 

Ok, so remember how I was talking about ‘positive thinking?’ It turns out that getting wheeled around on a gurney actually is kinda fun.

We passed more guards as we passed double sized metal doors, and several exam rooms, until they brought me into a really-cold room that hummed with excitement–and equipment–it was actually the equipment that was humming, but I thought it was a neat tune so I hummed along with it.

“Got the papers?” A new nurse said, entering the room.

Helga grunted and handed a clipboard to the nurse. Who then looked through some papers, and scowled.

“Think you got the wrong patient.”

“Idiots,” Helga muttered.

“What makes you say that?” the nice-orderly asked.

“Because the paperwork is for a thirty-four year old male weighing two-hundred-and-five pounds. She doesn’t look like that. What’s her name?”

“The Great Tarocchi!” I shouted.

“Hebert.”

“Yeah no, you got the wrong one. See here–” the nurse pointed at a couple of spots on the paperwork “-wrong.”

Helga sneered, “This does not matter. We are here on doctor’s orders. Call him if you need approval.”

The nurse sighed heavily. “It–look–it doesn’t work that way. I can’t just–you can’t–look–just take her back to her cell, get the paperwork in order, then come back, alright?”

A growl emanated from somewhere deep within Helga’s throat, and after an eternity of a staring contest, she bit out, “Fine.”

When the orderlies shoved me back into my room, there were several presents waiting for me under my desk. Thankfully, none of the orderlies saw, though I wondered how the presents had gotten there. Naturally, the first thing I did was rifle through them.

There were two canvas bags, and one of them was a bit soggy.

One bag had a custom, first edition, signed, vhs cassette tape of Freaky Friday, along with an old school looking monocle, with several scuffs, and a weird remote looking thing. The next bag was a bit gruesome, and gave me quite the start! When I peeked in, I saw a very familiar face staring back up at me. Along with a balding set of hair. And spectacles seemingly glued in place.

“Oh hey dad,” I said.

“...” said the detached head.

Let me just say that this ghost, whoever it is, has a really unique perspective on appropriate gifts. It’s just… I never would have thought of gifting someone the detached head of their father. But maybe that’s just me? 

I attributed it to being probably one of those regional things.

But anyways! Cool gifts aside. I couldn’t really do anything with them. Not with the collar on, and… I paused mid thought. 

A note was on my desk. When had that note gotten there?

‘ Use the remote ’

…Ok! 

I pulled out the remote and found it only had a couple of buttons on it. One marked–disable–and one marked–explode.

Naturally, I pressed the explode button. My collar clicked and fell off, banging up my chest on its route to the floor.

“Neat!”

Unique: Severed Head of Danny Hebert

Unique: First Edition Signed Freaky Friday VHS Cassette

Unique: Scuffed Crystal Antique Hapsburg Monocle

Unique: Blood Soaked Canvas Bag

Common: Plain Canvas Bag

Unique: Thinker’s Instructions for Combination

Unique: Tinkertech Remote of Asylum Escape

Legendary: Tinkertech Collar of Tarocchi Suppression

Uncommon: Asylum Bed with Course & Itchy Bedding

Uncommon: Straight Jacket of Misery

Not too long after, I received a video call from Doctor Yamada.

This was most unusual for multiple reasons. The first reason being, that Doctor Yamada never made calls outside of our scheduled therapy hours. The second reason, being, that this call was outside of my scheduled therapy hours, and that Doctor Yamada was not my current therapist. And finally, I had yet to ever actually receive an unsolicited video call.

So taken aback was I, that I almost forgot to answer! On the final ring, I finally figured out how to pick up.

“Greetings! It is I, The Great Tarocchi!” I said as I pressed the green phone button.

Doctor Yamada’s face appeared on the video screen. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her cheeks damp. 

“Hey Doctor Yamada!” I greeted, refusing to be anything but kind to the woman. If I wanted more phone-calls in the future, it wouldn’t do to chase her away afterall. “You’re looking good! Did you get some new glasses?”

“Hey Taylor,” she sniffed. “I just–nothing–I wanted to be the one to break the news–” she sniffled again. 

“I–Love–Surprises!” I nearly shouted, barely able to contain myself. Today was just going so well. First the gurney ride, then the presents, and now a surprise?! It was like Christmas!

“Taylor,” Doctor Yamada said slowly, wincing from her eagerness. “What do you know about the pee-are-tee?”

“Is it like I-CUP?” I asked, not quite following. When she shook her head, I realized she meant ‘PRT!’ I slapped my forehead and laughed. “Duh! The PRT. Hmmmm. Well–” I said thoughtfully as I tapped my chin to help me formulate my response in the most tactful and truthful way possible. “They’re an… interesting bunch?” 

The tips of Doctor Yamada’s lips curled up, just a fraction of an inch, but I judged that to be a success. “In the light of recent scandals, they’ve undergone a few upsets in policy and leadership… which has affected Achimille unfortunately.”

“Does that explain why you look a little different today?” I guess it had been some time since I had seen Doctor Yamada last, but normally people didn’t grow puffy eyes the same way that they grew hair or fingernails. She might be trying a different face-covering? Something to look into for myself.

“... they… I don’t agree with Chief Director Tagg,” Doctor Yamada said. “It isn’t ethical, or moral, or acceptable in any manner. And would it do the patients any good, I would resign out of protest. But then the survivors wouldn’t have anyone to help them–” she bit back a breath of air and made an unusual keening sound. 

A pit in my stomach started to form. “Doctor?”

“Tagg believes that parahumans are resources, not people… a vile outlook on many of the patients–including poor Sveta–” Doctor Yamada made that unusual keening gasping sound once again. It looked familiar, but I had trouble placing it.

“What… what about Svet?” I asked. I know she had been avoiding me, but it was almost maybe kinda my fault for misinterpreting the particulars of her confinement. How was I supposed to know that she wanted to stay in her room for her own safety? Releasing her was hardly my fault. But I could see how my completely justifiable actions could have strained our relations. It didn’t mean that I had stopped caring for her though. And something about how Doctor Yamada said Sveta, along with that keening sound–I was growing concerned.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it–” Doctor Yamada blew her nose “-I’m sorry. And I need to tell you about what they plan for you, and how you can minimize your own discomfort.”

“No! I’m fine,” I told her. I was a hero after all. “But–what are they going to do to Svet?!”

Doctor Yamada took a deep breath and schooled her expression. “Do not worry about Sveta, Taylor. We’re discussing you, and the behaviors I encourage you to continue in your coming years. The new Chief Director reviewed your file and determined you to be a critical asset due to your abilities, and has ordered your transfer to a different facility–”

“-what about Svet!”

“-I won’t be able to see you again Taylor… This is our last discussion, for a long while, and I wanted to say goodbye–” she stifled another sound–a sob! That was what it was. She was sobbing. Why was she sobbing? “-and encourage you to practice good behaviors… Please just do what they tell you. And remember Positive–”

The call cut off before I could say goodbye.

When I tried logging into the chat threads, I found that my internet access was revoked, due to security concerns. Irritating! But a proper hero never let circumstances get them down.

…Which reminded me that I could be practicing science instead! 

…Which actually meant playing with my new cards! 

I’d better get started. I had so many Uniques to use too! I was going to make something absolutely phenomenal, I just knew it .

First, I pulled my cards from Card Space and admired the artwork on all of them. The one with the severed head was just absolutely delightful, with the flecks of blood that almost seemed to fly at me, and the pained grimace on my–my–

Huh. When did my cheeks get wet?

One of the things I really wanted to do was try mixing my Artifact Pestilence of Chocolate Tunnelers with something a bit more… vengeful . 

Not that I wanted revenge! 

But… 

I kinda did. 

But not. Because that wouldn’t be heroic… But ok, I definitely wanted revenge, and I had a plan to get it. Heroically .

One of the cards I had several of, was the Uncommon Straight-Jacket . I probably didn’t need to explain how I had ended up with over ten of these cards… and the important part was that I had them. And now that I didn’t have the collar on ready to sedate me at the first sign of me using my power, I got to merging!

First, I overlaid two Uncommon Straight Jackets on top of each other, and I poured in the Cardstuff, until I was left with a Rare Straight Jacket ! I repeated the process with another two, and ended up with two Rare Straight Jackets . Which I then combined into an Epic Straight Jacket . 

Now, a person might wonder what the difference between an Uncommon Straight Jacket and an Epic Straight Jacket was, because I kinda wondered that too. But there is no time to answer questions when one is performing science. 

I repeated the process with another four Uncommon Straight Jackets , because I really did find myself wearing them quite frequently–go figure–and I ended up having not one, but two! Epic Straight Jackets . Which I promptly merged into a Legendary .

That’s right. A Legendary Straight Jacket .

Now, this next part, this next part was a little risky. But I couldn’t have my sweet sweet vengeance without a little risk. 

I took my Artifact of Pestilence of Chocolate Tunnelers , and I layered it over my Legendary Straight Jacket , and I began pouring in the Cardstuff. Now, slow and steady wins the race. So I poured in my Cardstuff, slow and steady, and it took a while, a long while. I kept pouring it it, trickling, for what felt like minutes, then hours, then–

They merged!

And wow, that card would definitely be some good vengeance. Heroic, Ironic and awesome vengeance.

Now onto more science!

I got to mixing and matching the presents from the ghost.

These presents had come with instructions, a recipe, so to speak–but following directions took all the joy and all the excitement out of the process–and so I ignored those. 

I would ‘wing’ it. 

Although, that would be dangerous with Uniques. What if they combined into something that was absolute rubbish?

Oh well!

First up, Scuffed Crystal Antique Hapsburg Monocle and First Edition Signed Freaky Friday VHS Cassette . I layered the cards over each other, and just about started pouring in the Cardstuff, when a thought occurred to me.

What common axis did a VHS Cassette and a Monocle share? There was a large chance that I’d end up with some sort of viewer, to watch the old 90’s movie. Which, while cool, would be a major downgrade. I separated the two cards and thanked past-me for having the foresight to not combine them yet before diligently thinking through the results. Phew! Close one past-me.

Instead, I layered the First Edition Signed Freaky Friday VHS Cassette with Severed Head of Danny Hebert . 

Now, while I was a little sad to see such a keepsake go, it was for a good cause, and I could always find a first edition dvd or pirated copy of the movie again. Nothing that truly wasn’t replaceable, at least with a little effort. 

I started pouring in the Cardstuff. The merge happened almost instantaneously, almost as if the cards wanted to be merged.

The result: Epic Face of Swapped Entertainment . 

From the artwork, it looked like a mask of human flesh that would grab on to whoever wore it. So that seemed pretty cool, but it wasn’t exactly useful yet. I needed to add something else to it, some pizazz , I believe was the technical, scientific term. 

And I knew just the thing. 

I layered the Epic Face card over Tinkertech Remote of Asylum Escape . I poured in the Cardstuff. Once again, the merge happened nearly instantaneously.  

Legendary: Essence of Face Swapping Escape

Oh heck yeah! Super heroic!

What I needed to do next, was to combine this essence with something cool, a vector, so to speak.

I put the Essence of Face Swapping Escape over the Scuffed Crystal Antique Hapsburg Monocle and poured in the Cardstuff. I anticipated that the combination would happen quickly, as the past two mergers, but it didn’t happen fast, and I quickly exhausted myself.

I might have passed out. 

But just a little bit! 

I woke up on the floor, with a banged up head.

When I got back to my feet, I found the cards had still yet to merge, so I started pouring in the Cardstuff once more, slow and steady this time. The cards finally merged an hour later in a brilliant flash of pink light and gold glitter.

And it, was, b e a u tiful…

Artifact: Monocle of Person Swapping

Just, absolutely, beautiful.

Not long after these experiments, I had another visitor.

Doctor Schleckmintz.

I barely repressed a greeting. It was this guy. Oh, how I loathed him, yes, loathed. In a superior and heroic fashion, of course. He was the villainous arch-nemesis to everything that was Tarocchi.

And he brought the orderlies : Helga and the nice-orderly.

Through the viewslot, he had a view of my back. I put on my monocle and prayed that it worked like I thought it would. I didn’t pray that hard though, because I knew it would work–of course it would work–how would it not work if it was created by me? It might not do what I thought it would though…

“Ms. Hebert,” Doctor Schleckmintz said in that gloating tone oversaturated with condescension. “I was sorry to hear that your procedure was canceled today, but it is of not much concern as we are shipping you out anyways. Soon you will be another facility’s problem–” he saw that my back was still turned to him, even though he was the one speaking at me through a little slot in the door.”Ms. Hebert! Are you too daft to listen?”

“Yes doctor,” I bit out, still with my back to him. With my hair down, he couldn’t see that my collar had been removed. And with my back to him, he couldn’t see my glorious monocle of salvation.

“Hrmph. Well, regardless, we’re shipping you out today.”

I shuddered with baleful hate. Was it time to unleash my great and heroic plan? No, not quite yet. I must allow the villain his monologue, as conventions dictated.

“...per the Chief Director’s orders, we have a secure facility to receive you… But I thought that on our way, we’d stop by and see one of your ‘friends.’ You are friends with Garrote, are you not?

“You see, while you are shipping out, to be of use to the world. Your friend was deemed a liability, with little to no saving grace. If we hurry, you can see your friend one last time, before they dispose of it.”

“Doctor, this is hardly appropriate behavior. Unproductive and traumatizing to the patient,” the nice-orderly said.

“And are you the doctor herr–here?” Doctor Schleckmintz smiled smugly at the orderly. “No, I thought not.” 

“This–it’s–” the orderly sputtered “-cruel. And I’ll have no part of it.”

“Your lack of ability has been noted,” Doctor Schleckmintz said. The nice-orderly muttered something but trailed off, presumably leaving or resigning or whatever angry impotent orderlies did when they had a moral conniption fit. It mattered not to my agenda… For I was The Great Tarocchi .

I spun around and glared at the good doctor. 

In my monocle, a HUD displayed both the doctor and Helga. I selected the doctor with a flick of my pupil, and the monocle responded to my will, activating with a flash.

“What are you wearing?!” The doctor said, or started to say, but it was already too late.

We swapped places.

I found myself taller than before, and peering in at Taylor as she fell against the padded wall, clear panic upon her face. She was no longer wearing the monocle, no, for the monocle came with me.

I, The Great Doctor Schleckmintz , now wore the monocle of superiority. And as the superior organism, I began to chuckle, then rising to a manic laugh. Slapping my meaty thighs, and feeling things jiggle that ought not jiggle. Meanwhile, Helga looked upon me with wonder and amazement clear upon her face, and perhaps enamor.

“Hey! Wait!” Taylor yelped and screamed, but it was of no use.

“Bring the prisoner with us,” I told Helga. “And lead the way towards Garrote’s abode.”

Taylor naturally resisted, but she failed to make use of her parahuman power, likely because it was still my own! I continued my most heinous laughter as Taylor was manacled and dragged behind us by the ever useful orderly Helga.

“Doctor,” Helga said. “The prisoner is missing her collar.”

“It is of no matter, dearest Helga.”

“-My name isn’t Helga–”

“-Silence!” I shouted, pointing forward and down the hallway. “Lead us towards Garrote.”

And so, with Helga and Taylor, I, The Great Doctor Schleckmintz , accompanied my party towards Garrote. We passed many guards who gave dubious looks, and spent much time admiring my monocle. But we did not delay nor dally, and we made haste towards our destination. 

Soon, we arrived.

I rapped apon the door and opened the shielded viewport, glancing upon the prisoner Garrote–the noblest and kindest of souls–my sweet beloved Sveta, how I loved her so!

But did she feel the same for myself, The Great Doctor Schleckmintz ? Unlikely. So I must impress her in some byzantine manner. Fortunately, I had a solution, based on past interactions with other fans.

Many of my most arduous admirers have often held my intellect in the utmost highest esteem, thus, it was time for me to enact my most devilish brilliance. I gazed upon the orderly henceforth named Helga, and activated my monocle.

In a flash, I found myself in a shorter, stouter, and blonder body. While the pretentious Doctor Schleckmintz briefly lost his balance, I, The Great Orderly Helga , then gazed upon Garrote.

“Here to gloat at the monster too?” Sveta said in her soft, angelic voice, causing my heart to beat just slightly faster as it pushed cholesterol laden blood through my surly veins and arteries.

“No,” I, The Great Orderly Helga said. I gazed upon her magnificence and activated the monocle.

In a flash, I found myself once more within a prison cell. Surrounded by many many many limbs, far too many to be comfortable. A surge of something passed through me, the fear of having hundreds of toes and tens of fingers and a hunger and desire to lurk and ambush prey and– focus!  

I chide myself to focus on the plan.

I gazed upon Taylor, and before my flailing tentacle could remove my monocle, my tool of salvation, I activated the monocle once more.

In a flash, I was once more in my appropriate body. I was, once more, The Great Tarocchi ! And we gazed upon the thrashing, screeching, tentacle monster within the chamber.

“Impossible!” the tentacle monster shouted. And then it tried shouting other obscenities, but with a torque of my shoulder, I slid the shielded viewport shut, and cut off the beast from our view. Meanwhile, the orderly Helga and the Doctor Schleckmintz had recovered.

The Doctor strangely grabbed at their own chest, and in a panicked shout, yelped, “What this is?”

“Haha!” I shouted in glee, and kicked the Doctor in the shin. “Take that!” I kicked them again, “And that!”

Meanwhile, the Orderly Helga had begun crying. “I–I’m normal! How–it’s a miracle!”

“Quick, Helga, help!” I told her.

She appeared bemused. “Help? Who’s Helga?”

“You!” I reminded Helga. “Now help subdue this menace!”

And so, Helga and I, The Great Tarocchi , began kicking and pummeling the Doctor Schleckmintz, until after much screaming and shouting, he found himself upon the floor, curled in a ball, and crying like a babe. 

At some point, he began having a seizure, and a taser that looked like a scepter appeared on the floor.

“Where’d that come from?” Helga demanded.

“It was the ghost,” I whispered to her. “Now, just one second dearest Helga.”

I jammed my manacles full of Cardstuff. When they tried shooting me full of Tinkertech sedatives, I stole that too! I was invincible! Once the manacles and sedatives were firmly within my Cardspace, I activated one of my first Cards– Jeton’s Mask .

In a flash of pink light and a cloud of sparkling gold glitter, once more, was I in my stage costume.

My red jacket, my cloak, my white theater mask with gold filigree, my gray breaches, my black boots. Once more, I felt as myself, as the one, the only, The Great Tarocchi!  

Never again would I allow someone to guilt me away from my true self.

Never. Again.

“Taylor?” Helga said. “How did you–why do I–what’s going on?”

“My sweet sweet Helga,” I said, “we are exiting this resort stage-left, and embarking on a journey of exploration and retirement.”

“We can’t leave without Theo!” Helga said.

“Pardon?” said I.

“We need to find Theo before they ship him off to some mine. Please? For me?”

How could I say no to my sweetest dearest most gorgeous Helga?

“Very well my sweet. Let us be off.”

On our way to Theo’s, we passed another guard station. And the guards were no longer amazed by my monocle. No, they were instead amazed by my costume. At least judging by how they decided to block my path and demand my attention. I almost thought that they would be requesting my autograph.

“Halt!” they called out.

“Halt!” I called back in greeting. It was not the strangest exchange I had experienced.

“Present your credentials!” They demanded, likely hoping to secure my autograph, although they had an interesting manner of expressing interest.

“You could have said please,” I told them, pulling out a Card from Card Space with a pre-signed autograph. “But I never disappoint a fan!”

“Is that–” one of the guards said, the other began raising a frightening looking assault rifle. “-a Tarocchi–” “-oh shit-” They started to raise the alarm.

Wait a second. I then realized that they weren’t asking for my autograph at all!

“We’ve been had!” I shouted. 

I ran at them and filled my hands with all the Cardstuff. Before they could so much as say ‘how much wood could a wood-chuck chuck,’ I was upon them, a hand on each.

Cardstuff inundated their clothing and weapons. Seconds later, two very naked and embarrassed guards were attempting to cover their naked bits. Fortunately this was a small strain. For in the cold hallway, they had to cover very little.

“We must make haste!” I called to my dearest friend Helga as I grabbed her hand, pulling her towards where I thought Theo had been hoteled. Fortunately, I remembered the lay of the land from the few brief times I had been allowed use of the recreation centers.

After three wrong turns, two encounters with guards, and one vending machine for snacks later, we arrived at Theo’s room. But only, we discovered that Theo had not been idle, nor left solitary, in the wake of the new Chief Director’s changes to Achimille. For there, in Theo’s room, we discovered he had company.

We barged through the door without knocking, and found Theo and another boy in various states of undress. Theo swore, and the other boy, the boy with blue hair shrieked, and dove beneath the single ply woolen blankets afforded to the guests of Achimille.

“Taylor you should have knocked!” Helga claimed, her face flushing red as she sputtered and tried pulling me towards the door.

“Whyever do you mean, sweet Helga?” I asked. “We are making haste, and cannot account for the foibles of high society.”

“Who is she and why’s she talking like that!” the boy with blue hair hissed.

Theo groaned and rubbed his temples, before waving at me and making somewhat impolite and informal introductions. “This vile person is Tarocchi…  meet Eric, also known as Shielder. Shielder, Tarocchi.”

“And this is my sweet friend Helga,” I pulled her forward and waved.

“An orderly?” Eric said as he fumbled for his clothes and pulled them beneath the covers. “Somethings not right.”

“I’m not–” Helga began explaining and spouting alternative facts “-I’m not an orderly–not Helga–I’m Sveta…” she said shyly, glancing between Theo and Eric. “Are you two? I didn’t realize you were…”

“...yeah,” Theo said with a wince, pulling on his own hotel approved garment. “...but really? You don’t–I imagined–wasn’t Sveta a Case 53?”

“...Tarocchi fixed me…” Helga said softly. Eric paused as he was shrugging into his blue leather jacket, watching Helga like a hawk and making me most uncomfortable with the degree of attention he paid her.

“Patently false, my dear Helga.” I said, pushing on despite the misgivings Eric gave me. “For the term ‘fix’ implies you were broken, and that notion is outrageously absurd. You were already perfect, and you remain perfect. The only difference is your body’s occupant changed.”

“...I’m Sveta…” Helga said, even softer than before, with blush blossoming on her nordic cheeks.

“Wait wait hold up,” Eric demanded, finally finishing getting dressed. “Tarocchi can fix Case Fifty-Threes?!”

“So it appears,” Theo said. “Are you thinking–?”

“Vicky? Yeah.” Eric turned his unhealthy attention towards me.

Now I must describe the foul child of New Wave known as Eric. Firstly, this despicable person is entirely devoted to the color blue, so much so that even I find the commitment admirable, despite the owner of such. Eric’s boots: blue. His jacket: blue. His jeans: blue. Even his face was black and blue! True commitment, rivaling even my own to heroics. Secondly, Eric was but a shadow, a stain, to the glory that was his cousin.

“Vicky–Glory Girl?!” I demanded at once, running to Eric and grabbing hold of his lapels with both hands. “Tell me of Glory Girl. What hast thou done to your cousin?”

“Woah easy there girl!” Eric chided. “I didn’t do anything to her, it was Ziz, right?”

“...Glory Girl… was Ziz’d?” I asked, horrified.

“Well–kinda. It’s hard to explain,” Eric said. “But yeah, I guess. That’s what brought me to visit actually–”

I pointed between Eric and Theo, “How can you be so cavalier with Theo if your cousin is in such a state? And how did her state bring you to this visit of yours with Theo? How Dare you!”

“Hey now!” Theo interjected. “We were just discussing art after running into each other, and one thing led to another–it’s not like this was planned–and everyone grieves differently.”

“Right, yeah…” Eric trailed off, still embarrassed by his behavior. “But I was visiting Vicky… Can you fix her?”

I scoffed in outrage and slapped Eric across the face. “When you are as heroic as The Great Tarocchi, there is little you cannot achieve. Now cease your you-ness. Where is Victoria held?”