5
I was sweating bullets as I watched the labcoated technician turning my first vial in slow circles, watching the translucent, pale grey fluid slosh around inside it. Just standing here in PRT HQ was nerve wracking. This was, technically, my first time out in costume, which had come as something of a surprise when I phoned ahead to tell them what I intended to do.
"Well, we'll need to keep our "Patients" under observation for a while to make sure there are no long term side effects, but I have to tell you this is pretty impressive for your first invention. Kid Win still has issues making some of his stuff work." He said after a moment, smiling over the little cage of mice who'd been administered a dose a few minutes prior, when they'd been sickly, injured or elderly. Now they were sitting up, bright eyed and naked tailed. Group three still looked a little long in the whiskers, but were just as alert and eager as the rest; chowing down on pellets and crowding their water bottle. Group four looked just as sad and pathetic as ever; having just been injected with plain saline for a control group. "Do you mind if I hang onto this? I've got a few more tests in mind and I'd like to have something to show the other offices. Does it have a concrete shelf life?"
"It should work for at least a year if you keep it cold. I mean, cryogenic temps. Leave it out on a shelf, maybe a week or so. I wouldn't chance it, so long as I get enough materials I can produce more."
"What timeframe?" he asked, taking out a white sticker to place onto the vial and carefully marking it with a complex number, and then a couple of dates.
"That much took me three days, but that's only because it's a prototype. I had to make it capable of broad spectrum, multi species regeneration since I figured you'd want to do animal testing before you let it near a human."
"That's surprisingly sensible of you. A lot of Tinkers don't even think about that sort of thing when they get into their moods."
I shrugged. It hardly seemed that big a deal to me. "The final product will be a lot easier to make if it only has to work on humans."
"How much can you make?"
"Well theoretically as much as I want. I just need to be there to monitor the process and tweak the manufacturing from time to time. Of course, this is just a temporary booster. I can do a lot more if someone doesn't mind going under the knife." I said; wondering if the smile tugging up my cheeks was visible over the mask.
"...Naturally. Well, if that's all, you can call us back in-" he paused suddenly, looking over my shoulder. Naturally I followed his gaze and nearly jumped at the sight presenting itself. It was Armsmaster- he wasn't decked out in the full panoply, but the mask was distinctive, and I'd seen the costume he wore out of armor a few times in magazines; if I had to guess, he stepped out of it for the moment so as not to ruin the flooring.
"Good evening." he said, extending a hand.
I reached out and took it from the wrong direction, spaghetti pouring from my pockets, holding the back of his knuckles. Luckily he didn't say anything, and if he was staring his helmet concealed it. "Uhh... hi." I managed to croak out.
"You're not in trouble." He said. Wait, was that ever in question? "I'd just like to speak with you for a moment if you have the time."
The hairs on the back of my neck went up a bit. No doubt they'd phoned the Protectorate when some strange cape had called and announced their attention to come in and show off one of their toys. So, was this the hard sell moment? "Sure, that's fine."
"I'll use one of your spare offices if you don't mind." He said to the labcoated man behind me; I'd already forgotten his name.
"That's fine, they should be mostly empty at the moment." He answered; stepping away, no doubt to write out some incredibly boring reports on the effects of my serum.
Armsmaster stepped away and I followed after him; hands thrust into my pockets. This wasn't going quite how I imagined it; I wanted to approach them with an offer, something tantalizing to show off how valuable I could be and then step back and wait for them to get anxious about it. But, best laid plans.
"Firstly, I'd like to congratulate you on your discretion and good judgment." He said immediately as the door shut. Okay, not exactly what I was expecting.
"Oh, the other guy said something about that too."
He nodded. "It's quite unusual for us to discover a newly triggered Parahuman in this manner. Normally we only find out about a new Cape when they start getting in fights or stealing supplies. I'm quite interested in how you managed to create your drug without having to resort to theft. If I'm not mistaken you aren't of age."
"I didn't steal anything." I said, a little bit of edge creeping into my voice. Well... not anything that someone else wasn't just already going to throw away.
"I'm not accusing you of doing so. As I said, you aren't in trouble. This is just an informal meeting, that's all." He said placatingly. "I understand if you don't want to reveal your source. However, I must impress on you that while you've been subtle so far, that's no guarantee that no one will find out about you. Take it from me, I've seen it happen before. New triggers, and Tinkers in particular are extremely vulnerable to exploitation, press ganging, and worse."
"I'm fully aware of that. I'm guessing that means you'd rather have me join up with the Protectorate instead."
"With the Wards. At your age, I'm afraid a full Protectorate membership is out of the question."
"Ah. Well there's our sticking point. I'm not going to join some after school club for kids. I take my powers very seriously, and I'm not going to waste my time posing for photo shoots and anti-bullying PSA's nobody's going to pay any attention to anyway."
It was impossible to see his eyes; but I could still make out the frown on his face. "I assure you there's more to being a Ward than just that. I was a member of the program myself, and I value the time I spent there."
"Would you want to go back?"
He looked confused for a moment, but at least had the decency to answer in the definitive. "No."
"Well, there you have it."
"I must strongly advise you to consider it nonetheless. If you join the Wards, we can provide you with resources, protection-"
"Yes, I got that much. But you still haven't said what's in it for me."
"...I beg your pardon?"
"Yeah, you keep me out of the gangs, I get that part. But that benefits you more than it does me. You can ask the lab guys outside about the serum I produced as a proof of concept. One shot, and anybody can be an instant temporary cape. I dunno how you guys figure out the ratings, but it'd probably net you a Brute 1. Regeneration, a burst of strength, blunted pain response, it even works on chronic weakness and fatigue. And that's just with a few days of work and limited supplies; I'm a huge force multiplier for whoever gets me to work for them. Keeping my stuff out of the gang's hands is a benefit to you, not me. Now I'm no racist, I'm not Asian, and I don't see the appeal of any drug I don't get to make for myself, so I'm inclined to be friendly to you guys at the Protectorate, but come on. What kind of pitch was that?" I said, in one long breath. Whew. Okay note to self, expanded lung capacity or an implanted electronic voice box...
He crossed his arms in front of his muscular chest and glared down at me. At least I'm pretty sure he was glaring. "...I suppose I see your point."
Wait what? Where was the unreasonable authority figure? I was expecting a stern talking to followed by weeks of tense negotiations!
"I'm occasionally frustrated by the bureaucracy standing in the way of my own work. However, I still stand by the Protectorate and the PRT's policies. If you believe your own views are incompatible with that system, then as a hero of the Protectorate I can only wish you good luck." he said, pausing for a moment and reaching up to rub at his chin. "However, as a fellow Tinker, I'd find it tragic if your potential was squandered. Your serum sounds extremely interesting, especially as a first project. Am I right that you've determined your specialization?"
"It's actually Surgery." I said, taking a moment to figure out where my tongue should go in my mouth again.
"...Hm. How intriguing. Yes that might have presented certain problems..." He said, pacing for a moment. "...Would it be alright if I phrased it as "Medical Technology" in my report?"
"Uhh... I guess. But why?"
"Certain prejudices may be somewhat assuaged. Personally, I have no issue with it. Then the serum was...?"
"It was something that was intended to aid in post surgical recovery. Immediately after surgery is the most dangerous time, and if I could shorten recovery time and reinforce the body's vitality with a combination of- Uh, sorry. I'd rather not..."
"It's fine." he said; with a slight quirk of a smile on his lips. "I'd enjoy talking shop another time when you're feeling more comfortable. If it's a proper incentive that you're looking for however..." He said, looking for a pen and paper for a moment and then quickly writing out a rapid series of digits and what looked like an address. "I want to stress to you that while this is not illegal, I would much rather you not mention it to anyone else if you can avoid it." he said; tearing the memo free and passing it over to me.
"...What's this?" I asked, looking over the numbers; a phone number, an address, and a number that could have been anything.
"That number will connect you to one of the independent suppliers I use. They don't deal in Tinkertech, but they are discrete, and can supply you with most mundane tools or materials you might require. I'm afraid it may be somewhat pricey, but that's unavoidable."
"What about this address, and the other number?"
"The address is a storage unit I converted for my personal use. It's well fortified and should function as a safe house, should you need one. The code will let you in, and let me know that you've used it."
"Worried I'll steal something?" I said with furrowed brows.
"No, actually, not particularly. Given your specialization I doubt you'd find much of interest. And if there is something there that you need, better you get it from me than provoking suspicion among the gangs. I know for a fact that the Empire Eighty Eight keeps tabs on local vendors, both to extract protection money and to look for unusual purchases that might indicate a newly triggered Tinker."
"You're just going to give me stuff from your own stash?"
He shrugged. "That unit is mostly full of spare parts and whatever I can safely store away from the Rig. If you can make use of it, then I can spare it. Consider it a gesture of good will. I would rather leave you with a positive impression of me. If the time comes that you decide you'd like to join the Wards, or if you manage to make it to the age of majority and join the Protectorate, I'd like to see you reach your potential. Oh, and take this." he said, offering me a shiny embossed business card. "This is a direct line to Protectorate headquarters, so you don't have to go through the usual string of operators. Please use it only in emergencies. Do you have a name that they can expect?"
"Oh. Yeah it's..."
-----------------
Well that was a mixed bag. Things hadn't gone exactly the way I'd planned, but in some ways it had turned out better... I could still go ahead with my original idea, offer the PRT some more breadcrumbs to keep them interested and see if they'd make me a better offer. But now, I needed to think about hedging my bets. I had a starting point, and I had a phone number. Now, I needed money...
"The trouble is, she's completely right." The deputy director said, taking another mug of Armsmaster's infamous coffee; judiciously diluted with water so as to render it drinkable, rather than chewable. "Based on preliminary findings, her claims are genuine. She's selling Brute 1 in a can. It will take some time, and likely a good deal more samples, but all indications so far are quite positive. Increased clotting factor, rapid regeneration, temporarily increased immune response, a short burst of inhuman strength, all for the low price of increased thirst and appetite, and a killer crash after a few hours."
"How can we be certain that it works on humans? I mean, someone triggering as a super-veterinarian would hardly be the weirdest power in the world." Assault asked, popping half a cruller into one cheek.
"Good question. How DO we know that, Armsmaster?" Emily Piggot said, looking as though she were trying to bore holes through the armored hero's face with her eyes.
"After it was determined that the compound was safe for human consumption by preliminary lab results, I undertook to test it myself. I took a microdose after sustaining a minor injury during routine maintenance to my Halberd." He reported, as if it were simply to an audio recorder to take notes for himself. "The effect was nearly immediate. The laceration scabbed over, and within a few minutes had closed completely. Thereafter I noticed a small increase in alertness and energy, not more severe than a cup of coffee... a typical cup of coffee." he amended, after several people around the table were unable to restrain the look of horror or abject amusement that came over them. "I consumed 190 more calories and 300 milliliters more water than average in the following hour."
"Wait how do you- Oh, nevermind, of course you keep track." Battery said with a sigh. "In any case, that was reckless, but probably not much moreso than some of the stuff you've tried on yourself before."
"I must strongly disagree. You had nothing but this girl's word and our limited range of tests that that wouldn't kill you, or turn you into her servile, addicted slave." Piggot put in acidly.
"I took certain precautions. My lab has ample medical supplies to sustain my life should an emergency occur, and just to be certain I asked Panacea for a check this morning. She didn't even notice that there was anything unusual in my blood; only that I'd recovered better than expected from some minor injuries she'd hadn't prioritized during the last Behemoth fight."
Piggot clucked at him but seemed somewhat mollified. "Nonetheless, perhaps next time you'll inform me before you attempt something of that nature."
"I exercised my own judgement, as is my prerogative as head of Protectorate East North East." He said flatly. "If you're unsatisfied with my decision making ability, you're free to file complaints with the head office."
"And lose my most effective hero for weeks of evaluations?" She rolled her eyes. "Just don't be a pain in my ass without good cause Armsmaster."
"I'll take that under advisement." He said. "Back to the matter at hand-"
"As promising as it is, the most likely scenario is that it will take months to get approval to license her formula for deployment with PRT officers. But the gangs have no such restrictions, nor any such compunctions. If Kaiser thought he could turn all of his non-parahuman soldiers into Brutes even temporarily, he'd stop at nothing for the opportunity, and he'd have no shortage of volunteers, even if he didn't just order them all to take it. And considering that this is the girl's first creation as a Tinker, it's no exaggeration to say that she's making a show of force. "Imagine what else I can do." said Rennick, his fingers putting quotes around the message.
"Allowing her to fall in with the criminal element is obviously out of the question. But I don't believe that applying pressure will make her more inclined to join the Wards." Armsmaster said, crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat. "I'm working with limited data, but from what I can see, she has a fundamental lack of trust in the system. Most likely she's used to being taken advantage of or ignored by people in power; she's not used to having the advantage of leverage over people and she's eager to assert herself. A fairly classic pattern in fresh triggers of a certain type. Ordinarily, we'd simply disabuse her of that notion of superior position and make it clear that she needs us for resources and security. But I believe that would be a mistake. She may lash out instead, or collapse under the pressure, severely impacting her growth and utility." He said, a frown creasing his face. "I sometimes wonder if we've already made that mistake with Kid Win."
"You can't expect us to start kowtowing to every petulant teenager who triggers in this city. Even if it would help us keep them away from the gangs, our resources aren't limitless, and we have to maintain at least the appearance of authority over Parahuman affairs." Piggot grumbled.
"Correct. Luckily for now at least, she's been fairly subtle about her activities. I'm not certain where exactly she managed to set up shop, but she clearly has access to a certain amount of material without having to scrounge for it in public places. And if she's able to keep a handle on her Tinkering well enough to hide it from us, she probably won't be found out until she wants to be. She indicated that helping us was her first preference, so even if she's not positively disposed toward the authorities, she at least dislikes us less than she does the gangs. Even if she won't join, a working relationship with the Protectorate still affords her some protection. If all else fails, it may be worth it to assign her a permanent guard detail. Assuming that she can't defend herself." He answered back.
"She makes medical equipment right? How dangerous could she be?" Dauntless put in.
------------------
It was funny, I thought, how strangely reluctant my power seemed to be to give me a design for a device that could scan people's insides that you couldn't easily tweak to make their bones explode. It probably said something profound about the nature of powers themselves that the least dangerous thing I could come up with required me to try out my new air filter mask while I evacuated the mercury vapor out of a bunch of CFL bulbs so I could harvest the coating on the inside, treat it with a reagent of my own design, and then painstakingly reapply it to the inside of a new bulb with a new element made of an alloy I was pretty sure had never before been created by a human. It was enough to make me consider seeing if Uber and Leet had some kind of Tricorder device they'd trade me for making it so they could go six weeks without using the bathroom or something, but when I thought about it I realized there weren't any good Star Trek games I could remember. What a wash.
Not a wash at all, but a windfall, was Armsmaster's storage unit. However he thought my powers worked, he was apparently wrong, because the second I took a peek inside it, I felt like a kid in a candy store. He had Niobium in there! Niobium! A few grams of it would be enough for a dozen different designs I came up with, so naturally I took his whole stash, along with cases of spare tools and basic materials. I'm sure he wouldn't miss them; what's a few graphite crucibles between friends?
I'd destroyed most of my first "Lab". It was improvised and slipshod, and in hindsight, actually a little bit embarassing, like looking back at a childhood macaroni collage. I needed something more professional! With my borrowed tools and materials, and the practical lessons of my first clumsy attempts, I could make something much better. But why stop at better? I needed something flexible. So I was building lab 2.0; a fully sterile, enclosed, portable- no- MOBILE! Setup that I could use to perform my work almost anywhere. I was building it into an old mini-fridge, so that it had a plausibly deniable appearance that no one would suspect. And also because that was what I had. The only thing that I couldn't keep inside it was the foundry, which naturally called for some degree of separation between it and my delicate drug-manufacturing devices.
You wouldn't think that a surgical tinker would even know how to work a foundry, but one of my earliest idea-spirals had led me to figure out a number of different methods for producing a range of wonderfully useful alloys. Metallic glass for cutting edges, elastic metallo-polymers, bio mimetic alloys, and other more mundane formulations for less high performance applications. Sometimes you just needed your forceps be strong enough to hold things and not rust in human blood. I had a few stacks of ingots from each that I had come up with, set aside for me to experiment with later. Right now I needed a reflector for my body scanner, and a few of the more finnicky parts for what's going to be the biggest step in my early career; a high fidelity electron microscope.
"Should I buy another bottle of propane? I'm fairly certain there are still some hardware stores in Worcester I haven't hit yet." Dad said from over my shoulder. I sniggered and shook my head.
"I think I've got enough for now. It's all starting to take shape now. I just need some more tooling for taking care of the basics. Do you think you could get me a belt sander?" I said, half joking.
"Well... maybe. I have to say I never thought of you being this hands on before. I guess some of those Hebert genes managed to creep through huh?"
"C'mon dad, no names while I'm in costume." I said, poking a finger toward him as I put the final seal on my latest part.
"You know that doesn't really help if I'm standing here with my face uncovered."
"Mmm. True. We need to get you a costume too. You can be my Nurse Ratchet."
"Let's... put a pin in that. It's about time you hit the hay kiddo. You've been here all day, and you spent most of last night awake writing out plans for what you did today."
I pouted a little. He was right of course; and my power didn't let me forget it; I was fatigued, and I needed sleep or I'd lose performance rapidly. Unless I managed to get device number forty nine done and implanted- no, no Power, stop that, I'm not doing brain surgery on myself. Tonight anyway. "Okay. Today. But you know that there might be times in the future where I need to pull all nighters to get something done. There's just no avoiding it."
"I imagine so. This isn't quite what I was picturing for your first job, but-"
The door latch opened itself, and all at once a familiar voice filled the cold, echo-y space of the warehouse. "Danny? What the hell are you doing here? Is that Taylor?"
------------------
Thomas Calvert sat quietly at home, enjoying a solitary evening meal on a day with no particularly exciting events to recommend it. He paused, putting his fork down to pick up a pen, scratching notes out calmly, in no real hurry. In another world, Coil had his Tattletale examining a small vial of an unknown substance, obtained via a daring heist that substituted it for a similar vial of nothing but saline. Too daring in fact, the risk that his theft would be discovered had no doubt crossed Tattletale's mind, and there was a sort of fatalism to the way she droned out her observations, in a world that was soon not to exist any longer.
It was not, thankfully, apparently related to the vials with which he was far more familiar. Nonetheless it was an impressive effort, especially by a newly triggered Tinker.
Thomas chewed and swallowed mechanically. She could be quite an asset, if properly controlled.
-------------------
Kurt was one of dad's oldest friends at the union; the big man and his wife, Lacey, were a constant presence at backyard barbecues and weekend day trips; at least back when Mom was alive and we still had them. As short as the list of people I'd trust with my identity was, he was at least pretty near the top of it. Didn't mean I was happy about it, but it could have been much worse. He'd only discovered me due to a fluke; there'd been a case of mistaken address on delivery and he'd come to use my lair as storage space for it until the owner turned up, and he was one of the few people with a key to get in. We'd sworn him to secrecy, but I had no doubt his wife would know before the end of the night, and there was going to be a big to do about where to go from there soon enough. At the moment I had more immediate worries to deal with... but I had to face the music, and return to school again eventually.
But this time it was going to be different. After all, I was a cape now; I was going to be a hero! I'd talked to Armsmaster face to face and even told him off when he tried to get me to join up! I was my own woman, nobody was going to get under my skin now. Things were going to be different.
----------------
It hadn't been different at all.
It was only the middle of the day when I stormed out of Winslow, unable to stand even a single second more of it. I slammed the front door, grateful that dad wasn't around to hear it, and one ugly cry in the shower later, despair was starting to give way to fury. A hundred horrible revenge fantasies played out in rapid succession, all of the worst things that could happen to a human body. All of which would lead straight back to me and probably get me declared the next Nilbog. I punched the wall, hard enough that I heard a loud crack, and looked down impassively at the unpleasant angle to which one of my fingers had been forced. I reached down and by pure instinct snapped it back into the right alignment, then nearly threw up when the pain hit me. Stupid.
Luckily I wouldn't have to explain it. One little sip of brute juice and it'd be right as rain in an hour. After I took it, I collapsed down onto my bed, staring at the ceiling and idly watching the bruising on my hand slowly retreat, feeling the funny foot-fallen-asleep tingle of the cracked bone growing over. I flexed it and turned it over. It was funny that other than the PRT's quick animal tests, this was the first time I was really seeing my stuff work. It felt good somehow; like it made it more real. I sat up again, rubbing my face hard, and pulled my glasses back on. Fuck this. Fuck school and fuck waiting around for things to change. If I wanted things to be different I was going to have to make them different. And if you wanted things to change, you needed power. Power, I had.
I got up and pulled on my costume from where it was tucked away in the back of my closet, hurriedly brushing my hair back and pulling it into a ponytail behind my head to keep it out of the way. I went to the basement, pulled open my portable lab, and I went to work.
My timeframe was limited; so I only managed to make a few little things, but I was confident that this would be more than enough to get me started. I didn't need to do anything big. I just needed to do anything. Finding the right place was easy. A chemical sniffer made to detect the presence of drugs in a bloodstream would easily operate over distance. Everyone knew which neighborhoods to stay out of because Merchants operated there. Finding one of their store houses was as easy as searching out the place where all the drugs were sitting around in big piles instead of inside of people's blood. The very same scanner I'd built to help with surgery worked just fine for showing me the insides of the place; it wasn't quite the middle of the day, but the sun hadn't gone down yet, and everyone inside was fast asleep, including the guy by the door cradling a shotgun who was supposed to be guarding the door. For a moment, I reconsidered this plan... but I'd gone too far already. I pulled my latest invention out of my coat and felt the reassuring weight in my palm, before casting about for alternative entrances...
It was too much to hope that they'd left the back door open, but I managed to find a window toward one side that had been broken at some point and crudely patched with tape. A short flick of a scalpel let me slip my hand through and find the latch, opening it up and carefully forcing the window up. It wouldn't stay up on it's own, so I'd have to be careful about getting out this way, but now I was in. As expected, it wasn't much nicer looking on the inside than it was on the outside. I was suddenly grateful for the slightly upgraded hardware store face mask I'd bought to help with my more industrial tasks; it kept the dust and other, less innocent substances out of my nose. I crept from the cramped room I'd let myself in through; the Merchants had apparently just been shoving ruined furniture in here for lack of any better options, and the door had no knob in it. I pushed it open carefully, looking around and stepped out into the ramshackle, decaying house.
An acrid smell crept past the mask and I resisted the urge to cough. How people lived like this, I had no idea, though I suspected being high probably helped. Now... I had to figure out exactly what it was I planned to do now that I was here. Great foresight Taylor...
Okay; new plan. Gotta get these guys off the streets. Be a lot safer if that guy by the door didn't have a gun too. Yeah; I'd just take care of making sure it was safe, call the cops, and that would be... something.
When I emerged into the living room I did a short double take. My scanner hadn't quite picked up that the two slumped over the kitchen table snoring away whatever they were coming down off had apparently been counting out a frankly obscene amount of money in a big plastic clamshell suitcase. I couldn't even begin to calculate how much it was at first glance, but I was dead certain it was the single largest accumulation of money I'd seen in my life. Okay, focus Taylor. Quick little shot to the neck to make sure they stayed out for a few more hours, and a call to the cops about a suspected drug den. I could just pull open the blinds and you'd be able to see stacks of plastic bags piled halfway to the ceiling in here; no issue with probable cause there. I popped a short shot into one, then the other, my heart making jumps each time when they twitched, but didn't wake up from the short stab of the needle. I heard a short creak, and out of sheer jumpiness I turned- it was the only thing that saved me; as I suddenly heard a loud report and felt like someone had punched me hard in the shoulder.
I dropped to the floor; my ears ringing from the sound, and saw the guard by the door; holding the gun in shaky hands. I jerked my own hand up, and squeezed the trigger; no loud bang from mine, just a sudden snappy click, and he smacked a hand into his neck as if he'd been stung by a bee; then collapsed like a puppet with cut strings; through the ringing in my ears I heard a loud pop as he fell awkwardly and broke his own arm. My hand was trembling, and I stuffed my anaesthetic pistol back into my coat firmly, standing up slowly and trying to still my breathing. Something warm was dripping down my arm, falling in soft wet droplets onto the floor. I glanced down, and immediately a rush of information hit me about my injury- and then, of course, a lightning bolt of pain.
I bit down on my sleeve to stop myself from screaming, hissing my breath through my teeth before I pulled out a vial of my regeneration compound and poured it over the wound. There was still some shot left in there, but fuck it, I'd get it out later if I felt like it. Trying to dig it out now would probably kill me; and I had to hurry up and get the hell out of here. Stupid, stupid stupid. Lucky, lucky, lucky. I have no idea how the hell he missed that shot. Must not have been trying to hit me very hard, or else his hands were so shaky from fear or drugs that he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. I looked over his compatriots just to verify that none of the pellets had hit them, and then saw the pile of cash sitting on the table again... I shouldn't. That money was wrung out of the people of Brockton Bay, sucked out of them via parasitic addiction.
...But if I left it there it'd just sit in an evidence locker for months. I had no idea where it went after that but I kinda doubted they'd hand it back out to the poor people of Brockton Bay. Fuck it, I need cash, and I'm not likely to get it anywhere else. I shoved the loose bills back into the case and then snapped it shut, hefting it up with my good arm and marching for the back door to get out before people came to investigate the report from the gun. I gave gun junkie a good kick just to make sure that he understood his mistakes, and then I ran for it. Out in an alley I stuffed my costume into a bag I'd stashed behind a dumpster to conceal it; didn't want to go home wearing it after all, and then I started making the long trek back. I'd just barely made it home when the crash from my juice hit me, and I left my costume laying on the floor as I fell back into bed and let the void take me.
----------------
"Taylor-TAYLOR!" I heard as I suddenly jerked awake, snorting loudly and sitting upright.
"Dad-what's wrong?" I said, stupidly, as my awareness slowly swam back into place.
"What's- Taylor look at yourself!" He half shouted, picking up- Oh, my costume. It was... bad. It was a lot worse than I thought it was when I was running home. There was a big gash in one of the sleeves, and everything below it was solid red. I looked over at my bare arm; brown and sticky, and rubbed over the surface; some minor scars, nothing that bad. Sheer luck had preserved the bone from shattering when pellets skated past it rather than smashing it into splinters. Lucky. Stupid.
"Dad, I'm fine, see? I'm not hurt, I just-"
"But you WERE hurt. Taylor what if your stuff didn't work? What if you got hurt in a way that meant you couldn't take it?" He said, his face ashen white and his fingers trembling.
"I know. It was stupid, I just... today was hard. I had to do something, or I felt like I was going to go crazy."
His face darkened; though only figuratively. "It's still happening."
"Dad... I don't-. I can't go back there anymore."
He sighed, deflated, all of his anger rushing out of him as he sat heavily on the bed beside me and suddenly yanked me into a tight hug. "You're never doing that again." He told me firmly.
"Dad, I can't just-"
He let me go, and held me out at arm's length. "No. You listen to me and you listen well. I'm not going to lose you, you hear me? I swear when I came in to check on you, if you hadn't snored I'd have thought you were-" He choked audibly and swallowed. "You don't ever go out like that again. Not alone."