Guardian
a Worm/Destiny Crossover
Chapter 13: Complications
"Is that a good 'huh' or a bad one?"
Panacea made a noise, low in her throat, and didn't answer. Her gaze was distant, unfocused, and Taylor began to feel a rising sense of panic. What exactly was Panacea seeing, or... or feeling, or whatever? She stamped it down as hard as she could and cleared her throat. She felt the other girl's startle through their joined hands and wondered what about her was so fascinating.
"Sorry!" Beneath the veil, brown eyes widened, then focused back into reality. For a moment. She started to drift away again, still holding Taylor's hand, before jolting back to herself. "It's...this is weird." She let go and took a step back. "This is really, really weird."
Her hand hung in space for a moment before she brought it to curl in her lap. The panic curled around the block she'd put it under and started to creep up through her gut. That she didn't know what was going on didn't help at all, and probably contributed to the edge in her voice when she asked, "In a good way, or a bad way? I would really appreciate an answer."
"Oh! Sorry! Yeah, you're totally fine, it's just – " Panacea paused, visibly struggling to find the words she needed. Taylor could sympathize. "You're kind of...I don't know...bright?"
She blinked. "I'm what?"
"I don't know. You have this kind of glow to you. Like your entire body is like, infused with some sort of – of light. You're perfectly healthy, don't worry! In fact, um, you're in fantastic shape – like, Olympic athlete shape – but I've never seen anything like it."
Relief flooded through her. It wanted to manifest through a massive sigh and sagging shoulders, but she managed to contain it to a small breath out through her nose. On the heels of relief came curiosity, poking and peering around like a cat. Had Panacea just seen her Light? If so, should she try to hide it? Or should she come clean with the whole not-actually-a-cape thing? Whichever she decided, she really didn't want it to come from a mind as tired and desperate for something to eat as hers. She elected to raise her eyebrows, hum, and say something noncommittal. "That's interesting. I mean, I didn't know or anything, but it's kind of cool, I guess."
Panacea didn't seem to share her willingness to let it slide. Even though her face was largely hidden, it was easy to see that. Body language and posture communicated quite a bit. It was a few moments of an oddly tense silence before she spoke. "That's one way to put it. You uh, you don't seem too upset about it."
Taylor shrugged. "You said it wasn't hurting me, and I feel fine, so...I'm not real sure why I should be." How to make this less tense and awkward? Maybe... "You think we ought to tell somebody?"
The healer was still as she turned the idea over, eventually saying, "Maybe. In the scale of things, I guess its not too weird. I mean, I did meet a guy made entirely of metal a few days ago."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Weld. Nice guy."
"Huh. Neat."
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It was Taylor's sneaking suspicion that she hadn't quite seen the last of that particular conversation. This time, it was only the intercession of another member of New Wave – Shielder – who came to collect Panacea. Apparently, the independent team was returning to whatever passed for home base, and she was the one they were waiting for. "Not," he'd felt the need to point out, "that seeing you make a friend isn't nice, but you know how Aunt Ca – uh... Brandish... gets. Busy, busy, busy."
"Yeah." Panacea had sighed, looking over to the visibly impatient Brandish and back to Taylor. "I'm familiar with that. Anyway, uh, it was...nice meeting you, and I'm glad you weren't too badly hurt."
To Taylor's recollection, by the time healing via superpower had made it to her, her own regeneration had all but finished its job. Still, she'd nodded and smiled, sure to show it in her eyes since her mouth was hidden. "You too. See you around, I guess."
"Yeah. See you." There was something in Panacea's eyes. Intrigue? Curiosity? Annoyance? She couldn't tell. With a final wave, Shielder led his teammate over to the others, and they flew away, those who could fly carrying those who couldn't. The whole thing had been carried out with ease and speed that came only from repetition. With a quirk of her lips she supposed that family barbecues must be interesting. Speaking of family, hers was probably about to flip his lid. But, with something of a mental startle, she realized there was one independent party that had yet to give a report. Namely, her. Which meant she had to go find Dauntless. That shouldn't be too difficult. Right? With a beleaguered grumble, she heaved herself to her feet.
It was an action her body protested, though not nearly as much as she expected. Seemed like her Light, after dealing with actual injuries, then went after things like muscle soreness. That...that could be useful. She shelved the idea for later and went looking for a man with an oddly disappointing electric lance. He, and the other Protectorate heroes, were gathered by a transport that had probably started life as a Hummer, judging by the size and overall boxy shape. The passenger door was open, and Miss Militia was sitting in the seat, legs hanging out. Talking to her, while she nodded along, was Armsmaster. By the trunk, also swung wide open, Velocity had rolled up the bottom half of his mask and was snacking on some kind of energy bar. Dauntless was leaning on the front of the transport, lance cradled in his arm, while he held his other hand to his ear.
Of all the heroes, it was Miss Militia who saw her coming first. She nudged Armsmaster with her foot, and he turned. "Guardian?" His deep voice was tinged with the slightest edge of confusion. "What are you still doing here?"
"I..." she waved a hand, suddenly feeling foolish. Maybe it was due to the five veteran superheroes all staring at her. Nerves tugged at her tongue, trying to loosen it and send her into a frenzy of incoherent babble. When that failed, anxiety tried to lock her jaw shut and keep her from talking at all. Being the growing heroine that she was, Taylor elected to find a middle ground and stammered. "I realized that – that I hadn't made my report yet."
"Do you have anything to add that the other indies didn't cover?" The question came from Velocity, who had an energy bar hanging from his mouth like a cigar. He didn't sound hostile or condescending, merely inquisitive. She shrugged, not really knowing what the others had told. He shook his head a moment later. "Never mind that. Let's hear it."
"If I could go five minutes without being interrupted," Armsmaster sounded only slightly annoyed, which could mean he was anywhere between that and apocalyptic rage. "I would really appreciate it. Go ahead, Guardian."
So she did. She covered everything she could remember, made sure to point out the part she couldn't, and generally summed up everything she'd done. It took a lot less time than she'd thought. It seemed like quite the ordeal when she'd gone through it, yet now it just sounded like...part of the whole. That her contribution, however important, had only been part of a wider, bigger something. Not the worst feeling. Once she was done, she got the go ahead to leave from Dauntless, after affirming that she could be contacted through Parian and that no, she hadn't set up an email address yet. She waved her goodbyes and started home, sure that she would be going over everything again when she got there. That, and a shower, was what she had to look forward to.
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A weary groan escaped her as she trudged up the front stoop, stopping at the newly replaced first step to give it a good stomp. She did it as a sort of celebration/ceremony, and also because the noise it made – that solid, wooden thunk – was so very satisfying. Impact rang up her leg, twinging tired muscles. Ritual done, the next steps she took were lighter. That wasn't to say her feet were falling with the quiet they usually were, no – she clumped and clomped up those stairs and practically fell into the front door. Later, after she was clean and fed, she'd cringe in utter horror at the stupidity of walking through the front door of her home in costume, but right then she was too mentally diminished to think much beyond 'food' and 'shower'.
Once inside she let the door swing shut behind her, tugging her spit and sweat soaked scarf off her mouth and breathed in exactly one free, deep breath before her dad found her. From the living room he came, the muted sounds of the TV following, with an expression that showed expectation and a weary, tired sort of worry. The kind of worry that you might get used to carrying throughout the day, and forget its weight until it is finally, surprisingly lifted. In her dad's case, it was seeing her in person, unharmed, for the first time since...oh, about 10 that morning. "You're home." It was all he said before dragging her into a hug that she did not in any way try to fight. Her eyes closed and she reveled in the sensation of being held by her dad. It was a nice moment, and then it was ruined. From above her head she heard him sniff once, then twice. It was followed by, "What's that smell?"
She groaned and pushed him away. Embarrassment burned in her cheeks and face, flushing down her neck. "It's me." It didn't take too much effort to admit. She wouldn't have done so if it had. Fatigue was catching up in a big way, dragging her shoulders down and softening the edges of her words. "I've had kind of a smelly day."
"No kidding." He waved a hand under his nose. A smile glittered in his eyes. She may have to kill him. "Did the bad guys have a lair in the sewer, or something? Did you have to swim there?"
"No." She was close to growling at this point. Her own father was teasing her after a long day of superheroics. It was outrageous! It was – it was a scandal! It was... kind of nice, actually. Not that she was going to tell him that. "Armsmaster has a raft in his halberd, and we rowed there. I smell, I'm hungry, and I am this close to falling asleep standing up."
He smiled. "I can help with...one of those. The rest, you're on your own."
"Dad..."
"Kidding. Scoot on upstairs and get a shower. By the time you get back down, I'll have some food ready. You can tell me all about your thrilling heroics then. Deal?" He very pointedly did not offer a hand for her to shake.
That time she actually did growl. "Deal."
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She'd been on the news.
That bore repeating: she, Taylor Hebert, had been on the news. Yeah, she was in costume and yeah, she was far from the only hero given screen time, but still...none of them were in her living room, in her pajamas, watching a rerun of the day's events. Which was weird. She wasn't entirely sure why, only that watching herself do the same thing from a different angle was very much outside her realm of experience. With the minor exception of home videos, though she didn't count them because of the overwhelming sense of embarrassment that came with those particular tapes. Her ninth birthday party in particular. Anyway, she managed to climb from the depths of her memory in time for the footage to cut from Glory Girl shoulder-checking the tank to the very same news anchor who'd reported Mush's breakout those few months ago.
His delivery hadn't changed much either. Last time, when reporting that particular piece of news, he'd had the same calm, measured tones he did now as he talked about how the deconstruction of the Archer's Bridge Merchants would affect the criminal element of Brockton Bay. She glossed over most of it, picking up the worry that the absence of the gang would give the other two the freedom they would need to really duke it out, and also that it was generally believed that with the Merchants gone, the Docks area could start to be rebuilt to its former glory. That put a smile on her face, a small one with a good amount of self-satisfaction. Justly present, she thought, given that she'd help make this opportunity possible.
"Sweetie?"
"Yeah, dad?"
"Did I tell you how proud of you I was?"
Her smile widened into one of joy and that fierce, pulsing warmth in her chest she felt could be called love. In the dim light of the living room, with the soft electronic glow of the television casting its light on the wall across from it, she lounged on the couch with the best dad anyone could ever ask for, and all was well. Mostly. She lifted her legs up and dropped her feet on his lap. He raised his eyebrows at her. She looked innocently back. "My feet hurt."
He grumbled, but he smiled. Then he gave her a foot rub. Then, all was well.
=+= Chapter 13: Complications =+=
Now that everything was all said and done, Taylor had something to ask herself. Not the most important question of her life, but one that was fairly important all the same: now what? The Merchants were done for as an organized gang. The members who hadn't been at that final showdown were in the wind and would either disappear into the vast criminal ether or be conscripted into another gang. If one of the capes had escaped arrest, it might be a different story, but they hadn't. None of them had done anything worth being dropped in the 'Cage, but they were definitely enough of a nuisance to be more securely locked up than they would otherwise be. Not to mention that nobody cared enough to bother breaking them out. She snickered at the thought. Too dangerous to leave alone, not dangerous enough to break out. What a situation to be in.
She could have gone to get her costume from Sabah, had the girl herself not delivered it, along with a half-dozen donuts and rented movie, the day after the battle. It now lay neatly folded in her dresser, Taylor's own way of just sort of dropping clothes into the drawers not being good enough for a superhero costume. After that, Sabah had...attacked...the haphazardly stored clothing around the room, using her powers to create a minor chaos of flying clothes before giving Taylor a smug look and and a "See how easy that was?"
"You cheated." Her words had been muffled by delicious glazed pastry, but delivered clearly enough to earn a scowl, some grumbling, and a few thrown pillows before the point was acknowledged. The movie hadn't been anything in the action genre, thankfully, she'd had her fill for a little while, and forgettable enough that she could no longer remember its title or what it was about.
Trip down memory lane aside, she still needed to answer her own question. Well...find a answer that wasn't 'I have no idea'. Taylor sighed and folded her arms behind her head, crossing her hands between it and her pillow. She tried not to think how nice it would have been to have Ghost here to help her. Not because she didn't think it would help, but because it just served to remind her that he was gone. Another breath came and went, taking the bitter sting of loss with it. She lay on her bed as the sun streamed bright yellows and oranges in through her window. Lately she'd been keeping the lights off until night and the window open. It helped keep the itchy tension that drove her to go and seek and climb under control.
Oh, the hell with it . She climbed out of bed and went to find her shoes. Maybe something cool would be happening down at the Boardwalk. And if nothing cool was happening, maybe something interesting. Maybe she could pick a fight with one of the Enforcers, see how good they were beneath that monolithic suit.
Maybe not.
Definitely not.
=+= Chapter 13: Complications =+=
This was much better. Granted, the pervading lack of direction hadn't gone anywhere, but there was something about sunshine and bright blue skies and the vaguely stagnant smell of seawater that made it seem...smaller, somehow. Easier to deal with, at the very least. Maybe seeing everyone walking around and going about their various businesses gave her perspective. Or maybe it was just that on the walk down to the bus stop and the ride over she'd realized that she didn't have to decide right away. It sounded stupid, even to her, but that simple fact brought a lot of relief. Whatever the reason, she was a lot less tense in general as she sat on her bench, let the breeze tug gently at her hair, and had herself a nice iced tea while she engaged in some people-watching. There weren't an incredible amount of them, but the decent scattering of tourists wandering around with their hats and their cameras was heartening to see. Standing tall in their black suits and sunglasses, the Enforcers funneled people around them through their very presence like stones in a river.
So lost was she in the crush of humanity that, were her ears not enhanced, she would have missed her phone ringing. As it was the tone was faint enough to be chalked up to her imagination, and there was a part of her – that contradictory part that wanted nothing more than to sleep all day and eat everything – that told her she was correct, her phone wasn't ringing, go back to people watching. She set her iced tea to the side, wiped the condensation on her pants, and dug out her phone. "Hello?"
"Are you near a computer?"
"Hey, Sabah, how are you? Me? I'm great, just got a huge project done and I'm really feeling the relief. Anyway, what's up?"
There was a pause. "Okay, fine. Let me start again: are you near a computer?"
Taylor rolled her eyes. "I'm at the Boardwalk. So no."
"You should fix that as fast as you can." There was an urgency to Sabah's words that Taylor had just now picked up on. It roused something in her, something that had her sitting straighter and looking around to see how fast she could get out of there. She kept her voice calm, though.
"Should I be worried?"
The response she got wasn't exactly encouraging. "Honestly, I'm not sure. Uh...how to put this...you're aware of Parahumans Online?"
Her brow wrinkled. "The cape forum?"
"That's the one. You've got a thread."
"...I have a what?"
"A thread. Where people talk about you. Well, about Guardian. Anyway, that's not the important part." It's not, Taylor wanted to ask? "What is important is that someone has messaged you on this board. Someone calling themselves uh, what was it? Oh, yeah. Panoptica. They want to meet you."
There was really only one thing to say. "I need to get to a computer." There were some things that had to be seen in person, after all, and Taylor had the sneaking suspicion that this would be one of them. Also, that she would dearly wish she hadn't, but...that remained to be seen. With a forlorn look at her iced tea, destined to remain unfinished, she stood and made her way home.
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