Chapter 4: Friends, Or Something Like It

Guardian

a Worm/Destiny Crossover

Chapter Four: Friends, Or Something Like It

Taylor discovered, as she was sitting with Parian, that the entire ordeal had occurred over a span of less than five minutes. The source of her discovery was a curiously distant memory of a wall clock on her way out of the shop, and the prompt for it was a curious look around which caused her to spot it once more. Lengths of cloth lay everywhere. Some were torn and frayed, casualties of the muscleman's rage, and others were laying in loose piles from where they'd been dropped their exhausted animator.

"Hey." The woman herself gathered Taylor's attention with a quiet word. She turned to see Parian giving her a look of tired amusement. "You know, most capes would be freaking out right now."

"Oh?" Taylor held Parian's gaze as long as she could before going back to looking out at the world through the destroyed door. "Because of the mask thing?"

"Yep." For all her talk of panic, she didn't look too panicked to Taylor. More like...resigned? Accepting? Something about the way Parian's eyes were warm, dark and tired made it very to read her. "But, you know, if you can't trust someone you beat up a Nazi with, who can you trust?"

That was a pretty good question, if lamentably rhetorical. Taylor found herself nodding. The slow dawn of understanding had her finally putting together what the other girl was probing around and held out her left hand. "Hey. I'm Taylor. Nice to meet you."

Parian let out a breathy laugh and clasped Taylor's hand with hers. It wasn't precisely a handshake, but it worked. "Sabah. It's nice to meet you, too."

The two held their joined hands up for a moment before letting it drop to the floor. It was with a curious surprise that Taylor noted that Parian – no, best call her Sabah when she wasn't wearing a mask – didn't seem intent on letting go. It was mostly surprise to find out that Taylor didn't really want to let go either.

Time for a confession. "I have no idea what we're supposed to do now."

Sabah smiled, teeth flashing in contrast to her skin. "Me neither, really. No way the PRT or the cops aren't hauling ass over here. Guess we just wait for them."

So they did.

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The authorities had arrived. A combined force of three Brockton Bay PD squad cars and Armsmaster had arrived, ready for a fight that they had utterly missed. The strange rev-whine of his motorcycle grated on Taylor's ears, making her grateful when it started to wind down. She could hear the heavy impact of his boots on the concrete and the clicking whir of something mechanical operating. "They're here." It was probably unnecessary of her to say it, but...she did anyway.

Sabah – no, wait, Parian, her mask was back on – nodded. She sighed gustily through her nose and heaved herself up, bracing her back against the wall and tugging on Taylor's hand to haul her to her feet. "Yeah. This is gonna be fun." With something that looked like reluctance, Parian let her go. "We should probably find something to cover your face with."

"I like that idea." Armsmaster was getting closer. Taylor didn't want her introduction to someone she'd idolized as a child to be a mad scramble for a mask."More so with every second." A four foot length of silk rose from an undamaged table near the window and wiggled through the air. She reached out, only to have it dart out of reach. Twice. She glared at Parian, a gesture that was weakened by the smile trying to break free. "You done?"

A few seconds passed. Dark eyes glimmered with amusement. Then, a nod. "Yep. Here you go."

The silk wound itself around the lower half of Taylor's face, tucking itself into her collar and letting the remainder hang freely down her back. The process took less than a second, and was very unsettling. "Please," her voice was slightly muffled by the fabric. "Don't do that again without warning me."

A shadow darkened the door. "No promises." Parian's response was almost a whisper, her amusement still clear. There was no time to reply, retort, or even get Ghost to retaliate, because Armsmaster's shadow darkened the entrance to the shop and was followed by the man himself.

Taylor's first impression? Big. He was tall and broad and packed with muscle. On top of that, he wore a suit of metallic blue power armor that bulked him to the point she was surprised he could get through the door. The top of his face was obscured by a smoothly rounded helm that left his mouth and jaw uncovered. In his left hand he carried a halberd of the same blue metal that comprised his armor. A neatly trimmed beard of golden brown hair completed the image.

"Parian." His voice was deep, serious, and stern. The kind made for giving orders and being heard. "What happened here? Who's that with you?"

She was willing to bet he didn't hear Parian take a bracing breath. "Well. It's...like this."

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Watching Armsmaster's mouth move in reaction to Parian's explanation was curiously fascinating. Seeing him do a double take at walking past the still form of the muscleman was funny enough, and Taylor was tired enough, for her to have to suppress a giggle fit. It became like a mantra, don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh, and it mostly worked. Luckily, she was able to disguise the escapee as a cough. Both Parian and Armsmaster looked at her, the former showing more concern despite her whole face being hidden. She waved a reassuring hand. "Sorry. Something got stuck in my throat. You were saying?"

"We were..." Armsmaster paused, going silent as if checking with someone or something she couldn't see. "done, actually. That's a sufficient explanation of the events here. Before we proceed any further, I'd like express my appreciation of how you two handled this. Nobody died, the property damage was kept to a minimum, and you're both unhurt. I'll be sure to make a note of this in my report."

She felt her cheeks heat and added to her mantra, making it don't laugh, don't blush, don't laugh, don't blush. Part of her was thankful that she didn't have any other bad habits otherwise she'd spend more time thinking of things not to do than things to do. Parian dipped her head at the compliment, Taylor following suit when she couldn't think of anything to say.

"Is there anything else you needed from us?" Parian's question startled her, having expected Armsmaster to order them to come to PRT headquarters to give a statement or something. Sure, he would have been polite about it, but it wouldn't have been a request. That was how these things were supposed to go, right? Taylor wasn't too sure.

Armsmaster shook his head. "No. I've got your statements, and you've both indicated you don't need medical attention. Once we collect Strongman here," He gestured with his free hand to the downed villain. "we'll be on our way." There was a brief pause. "Have you decided on a name for yourself?"

This question was for Taylor, who'd been furiously debating with herself since last night on the very subject. "No exactly. I'm torn between Hunter and Guardian." Then, because she couldn't help herself. "Do you have any advice on which to pick?"

The older hero shook his head. "I'm afraid choosing names aren't my strong suit. Mine was chosen quite literally from a hat. That being said...I think Guardian sounds more heroic. People will probably be more inclined to trust you if you choose that name. I would, anyway."

There was no stopping Taylor's blush that time. He'd complimented her! Indirectly, and without knowing it, but still! Armsmaster, one of her idols, had liked the name she'd chosen for herself. It was more than liking the name people would know her as. It was as if he approved of what she was at her core. She cleared her throat. "I'll...I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Armsmaster. Thanks."

He dipped his head in a nod. "You're quite welcome." He then turned on his heel and left the shop, already issuing orders to the radio that had to be integrated into that helmet of his. Parian turned to her with incredulity written on her face. Probably. It was Taylor's best guess, being unable to see it, but something in Parian's body language said she couldn't believe what she'd just seen.

"What was that all about?"

Taylor shrugged. "I used to wear pajamas with his face on it."

Parian blinked.

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"That was the most human I've ever seen Armsmaster act. Ever." It had been thirty minutes since they left, and Sabah seemed unable to move past this. Even the delicious distractions offered by the Boardwalk cafe Taylor's stomach had demanded they visit hadn't been able to take her mind off Armsmaster's appallingly sociable behavior. For her part, Taylor had found him to be easy to talk to, and put the matter behind her to put the entirety of her focus on the massive cheeseburger she was determined to eat.

Sabah had gone for the less gut-busting option of fish tacos, the pansy. She'd dug into the first with gusto, her incredulity taking a backseat to the sudden, ravening hunger that had driven the pair of them to this. Once her appetite had been whetted, she'd been able to put her thoughts back to clearly more important manners.

"You make him sound like he's some kind of cyborg." Taylor's opinion was offered between thick-cut french fries. She'd been leery, to put it lightly, to talk of capely matters when unmasked, when a very obvious solution had been presented. Present the whole thing as if you were a mere bystander, and you could talk about whatever the hell you wanted. "I mean... I'm pretty sure he isn't. Somebody would have noticed by now."

Having remembered there was a taco hanging gamely in her hand, Sabah set about removing this last vestige of her lunch before reaching for the tall, sweating glass of iced tea that had come with the meal. "You say that," This was followed by a long sip. "but would they? Would they really? You saw him, he only changed direction at ninety degree angles!"

Taylor wrinkled her brow. "Why did you notice that? And wasn't that so he could fit through the door?"

"Don't weigh my fun down with semantics." Parian's order was delivered with an airy, regal wave of her hand as she settled back and changed the subject, neatly and blatantly avoiding answering either question. "So what did you think about Parian and that other cape? Did you think they made a good team?"

There was a still a lingering sort of weirdness about discussing actions they'd taken not two hours ago as if someone else had performed them. But hey, Taylor dismissed them with a mental shrug, if it works, it works. So she took a gulp from her strawberry shake, capped by a generous helping of whipped cream and a cherry, before answering. "Well, Parian kicked ass, no doubt about it. That thing she was doing with the cloth, tying that lunatic up? Very cool. The other cape...she looked like she was just in the right place at the right time, you know?" She shrugged. "They'd have made a better team if that second cape had any idea what she was doing."

Sabah frowned, then nodded. "Maybe. But if she hadn't been there, I'm pretty sure Parian would be dead. Or worse, working for the Empire. She did a good thing, that other cape. No doubt about it. I know I'd be grateful, if I were in her shoes."

A heavy warmth settled in Taylor's chest. She smiled at Sabah, who grinned toothily back before settling into something that looked like pride. Or maybe respect? It was definitely a good smile. She wasn't as good at reading people as she'd like to be, that was certain. "Do you...do you think those two, Parian and um...Guardian, I think...do you think those two were friends?"

There was a shrug from Sabah, and her smile turned impish. "Something like that."

Now it was Taylor's turn to grin. A many-toothed thing, it spread across and lit up her face, turning her eyes bright and her whole face sunny. It was all the answer she needed to give. Silence stretched between the two of them for a moment, before she could stop the sheer amount of what was definitely joy racing through her from fogging her brain. Then, "You know, if Parian really wanted to thank her new friend, she could make her a costume."

Sabah waved her hands in front of herself. "Let's not get crazy, here."

Taylor laughed, and retaliated via accurately thrown french fry. Things devolved from there. All in all, it was one of the best lunches she remembered having in a long time. Even if she had to fight a Nazi to get it. Or maybe especially. Whatever.

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It was closing in on sunset by the time Taylor made it back to her house. A little close to the curfew she and her dad had agreed on – the city wasn't safe and got worse at night – but close enough that she'd get, at worst, a frown and a reminder to get home earlier. So, with the lingering remnants of her lunch with Sabah buoying her mood, a phone number in her pocket, and the extorted promise to use it Taylor entered her house. "I'm home!"

Her dad's reply was faint. "I'm in the kitchen!" She ditched her shoes, enjoying the relative freedom of her sock clad feet as she slipped and slid through the living room. She rebounded off the door between rooms and sadly came to a stop when the floor changed from smooth wood to less slippery linoleum. Huh. That's...different. It wasn't that anything in the kitchen had changed since the last time she did it. Instead it was that someone besides her was doing the cooking.

That hadn't happened in a while. To further ping her strangeness sensors the smile he gave her didn't reach his eyes. Well, it did, but not fully. It was the kind of smile he'd worn in the past, where he had something on his mind that he didn't like, but not distracted enough by it to skip welcoming his daughter home. His one-armed hug, on the other hand, was entirely genuine. She basked in the warm solidity of her dad's skinny frame for a moment. "I didn't know you could cook."

He thumped her shoulder in a mildly reprimanding sort of way. "You're a real comedian, Taylor. Don't quit your day job. And yes, I can cook." The pot on the stove burbled in an agreeable manner. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious, especially to her heightened senses. She didn't get to enjoy it for long, though, because soon alarm was thundering through her. All because of a question. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about why I couldn't find one of our knives earlier? Or why our poor kitchen table has suffered a new injury?"

"Um. No?"

Her dad sighed, putting the pot to simmer down on the unlit range of the stove top. The wooden spoon went into the sink and he turned to lean on it with arms folded and frown in place. "I'm not blind, you know." He snorted, a sound devoid of humor. "Well, not entirely. It took me a lot longer than I'd like to notice something was happening to you. Every day you'd...shrink. Turn in on yourself and get quieter and quieter. I thought for sure that you'd disappear into those massive sweaters you wore. I didn't know why it was happening until yesterday. Yesterday you talked to me, actually talked to me, for the first time in months. You laughed, you smiled, you even gave me a hug before you went to bed. It was like I had my daughter back." He paused, smile flitting across his face for a moment, brightening his moment of self-recrimination. "Even if a lot of things have changed, you're still a terrible liar. So something's going on. Something dealing with you."

Taylor licked dry lips. She had a dilemma that wasn't. The question of whether or not to tell her dad what was happening to her hadn't ever really been a question in the first place. She'd always planned to tell him, from the very beginning. However, she'd never thought he'd figure it out – or at leas figure something out – the day after she got her powers. She ducked her head. "Yeah, something." Her head jerked back up. "Not a boyfriend, or anything! Just...remember I was going to tell you."

Her dad's eyes narrowed. "Tell me what?"

"Ghost." Her Ghost flickered into appearance over her left shoulder, cracked frame and all. Despite it having neither face or body, it conveyed its nervousness remarkably well. It trembled slightly and drooped a little, fully prepared to hide behind her at the drop of a hat. She watched surprise flash across her dad's face, followed by confusion and understanding in short order. Still, she had to say it. "Dad. This is Ghost. Well, actually he's my Ghost. I have powers."

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