37

MON FEB 28

Okay, Taylor. Deep breath, in- out-... it's just dad. It's like with spiders; unless there's a Tinker involved, they're probably more scared of you than you are of them. Usually the 'unless a Tinker is involved' goes without saying, but tinker spiders are a whole different level of nope worthy of elucidating.

Where was I? Right, Dad.

He was up waiting for me in the living room, with the TV on and dinner set out on the coffee table. It was just sandwiches and reheated soup, but that sounded fine. I slipped in the door, sat my bag by the wall, and sat down.

"Hey, Taylor. How was your day?" Dad sounded tired, and the small smile he gave me looked the part, too.

I grabbed a sandwich and shrugged. "Pretty good, I was hanging out with a friend from school. Went to her place, and we stopped by the Boardwalk." All technically true, without handing out someone else's secrets.

Dad chuckled. "I don't know whether to be glad you're socializing more, or suspect this new friend of being a cape." His eyes were closed while he shook his head, so he thankfully missed my nervous wince. "Well, tell me about Saturday. What happened?"

After a deeper breath, I started recapping the day for him starting after Dinah's. Heading for the mall, spotting something wrong, interceding in the altercation and proceeding to familiarize the bigots with the taste of concrete... I was kind of surprised it was none of that which he had a problem with.

"I don't like that you got in the car with them. If you hadn't been with Panacea, they might have tried something."

"But... the cop was latino?"

"Doesn't matter." He said sternly, shaking his head. "I know you're worried about the Empire, but there were slaves fighting Emancipation, and women fighting Suffrage. Your mother had to deal with women siding against Lustrum, even well before they got violent. So long as there's a system or a movement, there will be people fighting for and against it, even among the minorities they oppress, or that they're trying to help." He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "But that doesn't stop the fact that a bad cop can just be a bad cop, without being a Nazi."

I grimaced at his point. "So, no getting in cars with strangers, even if we're supposed to be on the same side, and I could totally take them."

"And how, might I ask, would you do that in a small enclosed space with seats or bars in the way?" Dad grumbled.

My immediate reaction was to reply that airbending was always an option, but then I thought about it for a second. Depending on the space or angles involved, it might not be very effective. "I guess there's always fire, but..."

He nodded. "And then they might slap you with a negligent manslaughter charge, for 'knowingly' putting yourself in a situation where lethal force was the best option, instead of just saying no when strange men offer you candy." Even through the joke, his voice never lost its hard edge.

Still, I couldn't help but groan. "Yeah, I know. 'You learned this when you were three, Taylor.' I feel duly stupid about it, can we move on?" I took a deep breath after I was done, to push down the heat that'd been creeping into my tone by the end. I didn't want this to turn into another shouting match.

Dad also took a moment to visibly collect himself, rather than explode. "I'm just worried about you."

"I know, dad." I muttered. "I'm... we're going to swap a bunch of numbers, try to get more of the New Wave numbers for emergencies, make sure everyone has the PRT emergency line, and... there's at least one cop I kinda' trust, and I have her number, too. One of my..." I paused, hesitantly realizing I was about to say 'my girls'. "One of our team doesn't want to be a fighter, and she offered to call emergency numbers for me, if I'd just call her."

"That's... good." He stated, his emotions an odd cocktail of sorrow and pride.

"I want to try and get ahold of some gear for the team, too. I can defend myself fine for the most part, but they can't. I was thinking maybe stun guns, tasers, pepper spray... whatever's easiest to get."

Dad thought for a moment. "Pepper spray and stun guns, I think. Pretty sure you need a license for tasers, since there's the projectile component."

"Really, you need a license for self-defense gear, but not for guns?" I asked incredulously.

"Technically, you need a license for those, too. There's just a higher demand, thus a higher supply." He rolled his head, popping his neck to give himself a moment to think. "Even if the percentage of vendors willing to look the other way stayed the same," and his tone showed exactly how small he thought the chances of that were. "That same percent is a larger number of vendors. Add in the black market and the gangs willing to sell and trade, I imagine a lot of gun shops don't bother just to stay in business." He shook his head sadly with a small sigh. "Anyway, electric weapons were flat-out illegal for civilian use until recently in most of New England, including here."

"Right..." I'd been understandably distracted by mom's death at the time, but I vaguely remember some 'self defense against Parahumans' acts popping up around then. It must've included some loosened restrictions for civilian arms laws.

"Anyway, yeah. Stun guns are probably easier. Pepper spray's just a matter of finding the right store and picking up a box of them. There's stronger versions that're more regulated, that I don't think we can get easily." Dad stopped to rub his chin, then shrugged. "Was there anything else?"

"Body armor would be nice, but I'm not sure what our options are. Everything I looked up is either bulky, or expensive tinker stuff. There was something about trauma plates, and I think Parian could work with that. She won't do armor, but I think she'd sew in the sleeves for them, if we sourced the plates. It's just, those are supposed to go in Kevlar vests that're already pretty tough."

Dad hummed thoughtfully. "The guys have a stockroom full of emergency gear, but I don't think it's what you want. Hard hats, Plexiglas shields, steel pipes... enough to scare off a druggie rave, or hopefully hold out against normal gangers long enough for backup with guns to show up." He sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "The gangs haven't bothered with us, because we're not worth it. Best docks in the city aren't the only docks in the city..." He murmured. Then he groaned and shook his head. "That's not what you were asking, though. Army surplus will have BDU's, but maybe not trauma plates. Honestly, your best bet there is probably making a deal with the PRT for a box of whatever their troopers use. Faster and maybe higher quality than finding the right place to order them from."

"I was... thinking about going the Affiliate route with the PRT anyway." I muttered in response. "Maybe they'd be willing to supply us, then? New Wave doesn't wear armor, though. Maybe they don't help with gear."

Dad shrugged. "Or New Wave just never asked. Most of them have shields or other super defenses, and they've got the best access to Panacea if they're hurt. Then again, it could be incentive to join up with the Protectorate. If they just hand out all the goodies, they have no carrots left."

I thought about it for a few moments, then let myself start thinking out loud. "Well, if I want the team to be able to do things like have insurance and mental health benefits to go with the medical…" At least I hoped Amy didn't mind handling the physical stuff. "It's going to need to exist as a legal entity. Gram suggested getting a lawyer to handle things, and New Wave's already done all this so I can just ask them how they did it…gonna' try to do that before next week. Maybe this weekend. The last option I can see is asking the PRT to help set it up as part of getting affiliated. That'd help to legitimize us as a proper hero team right off the bat, but I don't think they'd help for free. I don't know." I leaned back with a sigh. "But having the team set up, to have a fund to pull from, would help with the armor and gear." I groaned, rubbing at my face and slumping back to my original position. "Have you ever felt like you were rushing ahead way too recklessly, but also going way too slow at the same time?"

Dad chuckled. "A few times. Couple times in college, most of my relationships, especially with Annette… almost constantly for half a year or so, after I found out you were on the way, and it sank in we were really having a baby…" He trailed off wistfully, shaking himself out of the memories a few moments later. "The fact that you're this worried about it is a good thing. You want it to go right, and you're willing to put in the effort. As long as you don't let yourself worry to the point nothing gets done, everything will be fine."

That didn't seem… quite right, but I understood he was trying to be encouraging. "Thanks, I guess... It just feels like I'm responsible for everything. Like I'm in charge, even though I'm the newest cape in the group." And really shouldn't be in charge, when Amy, Vicky, even Cass had years of seniority on me, despite being younger.

"You know..." Dad muttered nervously, staring down at the table as he spoke. "I never wanted to be the Spokesman. I was just Head of Hiring, part of the HR team. I was happy enough as a little cog in the Union. I barely touched the Association side of things before the old Spokesman stepped down. Some stupid sex scandal that nearly got him lynched..." Dad chuckled darkly, a bit of loathing bubbling up into his emotions. "So the boss said, 'Hey, Danno! You're a happily married family man who'd never touch a girl your daughter's age. Why don't you temp in while we find a replacement?' And, well..." He trailed off, his emotions settling into something more somber. I shuddered a little, since I was pretty sure I'd been around eight at the time. "Some temp jobs wind up permanent. I'd had some experience with negotiations, but there's a big difference between looking someone in the eye and trying to find any reason not to hire them, and sitting on the other side, trying to get hired."

"Dad..."

He shook his head. "I know that's not the whole job. Barking at City Council meetings and public events, being primary point-of-contact for anyone talking to the Association, sitting in on negotiations while the lawyers do most of the talking... It never feels like enough. Like I'm always doing something wrong, even after all these years of getting better at it." He grit his teeth and grimaced. "I'm saying it wrong... You're the one who brought them together. It makes sense they're looking to you. You're driven and look like you know what you're doing. You're reliable, and people are desperate for someone they can rely on. Just remember it's okay to ask for help, and delegate to people who know what they're doing." His mouth worked soundlessly for a couple seconds as he tried to put the words back into a better order in his head.

"It's okay, I think I get it." I said with a soft, unsure smile, trying to ease his struggle. "It's okay to not know what I'm doing, as long as I figure it out before it matters."

He waggled his hand. "Sort of, but that's still..." He shook his head. I could feel his stress steadily ratcheting up. "I'm not sure how to say it right. Usually I'm fine flying by the seat of my pants... Tough talks are always finding any position of power you can manage, and trying to lose as little as possible. But... You're more important than some deal. More than getting negotiations right, so the boys can feed their kids. You're my kid. And I..." A rumble in his chest, a choked down hopeless laugh. He sucked in a breath to steady himself. "I'm just so scared I'm going to fuck this up again, I can't figure out how to help. I can't... put the words together. You can't... rely on me. Not just me. The Boss's greatest strengths aren't themselves. It's their network, their people. They can delegate, and if someone can't pull their weight..." He hung his head. "...you can drop them. Move forward with someone else, that can get the job done."

I hopped up, sidling around the table to pull his shoulder against my side. "I'm not dropping you, dad."

He shuddered, but kept his emotions from overflowing. "But, you do need more people. More options. You need to keep your eyes out for opportunities. You never know when the right favor might save someone's life." He paused in thought. "I'll... start work on the plan to talk to the City Council about work for you and your team. Might be a few construction companies we've worked with who might like to hire you directly... Once you're known to be looking to help, I can approach you as Spokesman about fixing up the docks. Maybe clearing out some of the Graveyard... God, if we had the foundry running, we might actually be able to put a dent in it, but that place hasn't run since the Trainyard was let go."

"Just another thing to fix up." We'd need to kick the Merchants out, then hold it against the other gangs while we brought it back online and the territory became valuable again... but it might be doable.

"Yeah," Dad chuckled, rubbing at his eyes. "now to figure if I'm forgetting something..."

I dropped the half-hug, and headed back to my seat. The notion had me wondering if I was forgetting anything else... "Uhh, actually... there is something I forgot."

Dad glanced up stoically, but I could feel the worry creeping through him. "What is it?"

"I've been recruiting, and one of them might... maybe, be... Empire?" My volume slipped lower as I hesitantly forced the words out. Dad's eyebrows slid upward while his face tightened, fluctuating somewhere between a horrified grimace and awed amazement.

"Really?" He said, once the grimazcement had faded into a tired resignation. "Really?" He chuckled helplessly, and I could feel the levity was helping him. "Which one? I've heard Purity is trying to go hero, and Rune's about your age... those are the only ones I can think it might be."

"Rune, yeah." I winced. "She's... a friend from school. She wants out from the Empire."

He sighed. "Poking the biggest bear you could..." He shook his head and looked back up at me. "You're sure? Really sure?"

I couldn't keep meeting his frustrated stare, glancing down. "Lie detector, remember?"

Dad took a deep breath to calm down a bit. "And what are you doing about it?"

"We're planning on hiding her soon, and she's agreed to run if they try to make her do anything really..." Okay, 'really criminal' isn't a very good descriptor... "Any violent crimes. I'm working on setting up a base where we might be able to keep her safe," Not that any of my ideas have panned out, so far... "but that's probably a couple weeks out at least. So I told her, if she needed to, she could… hide here?" I winced again.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, holding it for a moment before slowly releasing it. "This is going to be Sir Fluffernickel all over again, isn't it?"

My face reddened, even as it warped into a snarl. "I was six and I apologized!" I'd honestly forgotten what I'd named the dog I'd taken the collar off of, so I could keep him. Just that it was a stupid name and a stupid plan, but seemed wonderful at the time.

Dad took another fortifying breath. "Okay, walk me through your thought process, because this sounds insane to me."

I huffed, but complied. "We don't need to hide her forever. She was right, they'd know I know her, and check here eventually. It just needs to last until we set up a base, or take out the Empire. It might not even happen, if I can set something up fast enough."

"Take out the Empire? Taylor-" He muttered in part horror, but mostly resigned sorrow.

"It doesn't have to be all of them, I know how difficult that's going to be." I stood up, my voice full of determination. "But they're already down Rune, putting away another two or three of their capes would mean they'd be more hesitant to attack homes just to get her back. They can't risk everyone focusing on them when they're already weaker than usual."

"And if they call in capes from overseas?" Dad sounded so defeated. "Or other gangs, or hiring mercenaries… What happens if they get too desperate? What about when Lung-"

"Thirty capes, dad." I spat, cutting him off. He stared up at me, eyes startled wide. "If all my plans come together, we'll have almost thirty heroes to stomp the gangs with. Sure some people will be on support, I know the PRT doesn't want the Wards fighting if they can help it," Not to mention Dinah and Tracy. "but they can handle patrols and things while the rest of us are keeping the gangs off-balance. It'll be enough to make them flinch. Make them hesitate, turtle up and try to build back up to fight back. We can press that advantage."

Dad just stared for a few seconds. "You really think you can do it, don't you?" He sounded awed, and a little… betrayed?

"I have to try." I can't stay safe forever, dad.

He let out a shuddering sigh. "Alright. Alright, we'll do it, but we need to be smart and prepare."

I let myself slip back down into my seat. "I can dig a holdout bunker into the basement. I don't know about mechanisms for secret doors, but the room itself should be easy enough. It'd let people go through the house without finding her, or hurting us. Thugs prefer not fighting when they loot houses, right?" Dad nodded. "Maybe we can put sentimental things into a storage unit or bank bin, for a while, just in case?"

He deflated. "Annette's things…"

"Yeah." I muttered. "Anything valuable, or that we're not going to use." My voice hitched. "Maybe, not everything. Shouldn't just wait for moths or mold to get to it…"

A deep breath later, he nodded. "We should, go through her things." He led out a sad chuckle. "Some of her old things might fit you, now."

My eyes misted over. I was about the right height now, though skinnier. I didn't have the bust, and definitely didn't have her hips, but I liked my clothes a little baggy anyway. I didn't want to wear her clothes, I'd just mess them up, make them dirty, wear them out… but I didn't want to give them away or sell them, either. "I'll think about it."

He glanced to the side, and I could feel in his emotions, he was looking to change the subject. "I think Annette had some old blackout curtains from college she never got rid of, but I'm not sure if they'd fit any of our windows. It's not that hard to make a room look unoccupied though, especially if we don't bother trying and she sleeps in an occupied or windowless room." My room or the bunker, he meant. Lights would only be a problem at night, anyway.

Right. Cass. The risk of having the house burned down by an irate Empire was much more palatable than feeling like I was desecrating hallowed ground or trying to somehow replace mom by using her things. I shuddered. "We can ask around about hidden doors and things, maybe wire it up so she can stay in there? But then there's air…" I couldn't think of a way to make it a permanent perfectly hidden home. "No, she'd have to stay in the house…"

Dad shrugged. "As long as she doesn't leave, and isn't seen in any windows, it might be okay until you can move her somewhere more permanent."

I groaned. "Need to find somewhere permanent. I checked the ships in the Graveyard, none of them will work."

"We want to salvage them anyway, so not permanent."

"True." I acceded.

He smirked. "Not into the abandoned warehouse chic?"

I scoffed and swatted at him, sending a gust ruffling his clothes since he was out of cuffing range. "No squatting." We weren't going to be some pack of vagrants. "Though, if we bought the building…"

"Lot of cheap land in the Bay, most of that because the buildings aren't worth keeping."

"So get the land, but need to tear the building down and build a new one. That's months of work." We could do it, and very well might when we were better established, but that wouldn't solve the immediate problem. My mind drifted back to Valentine's. "There's a lot of unused buildings in the Industrial Park… in the middle of Empire territory. Can't do that, yet."

"I'll keep an eye out?" He didn't think he'd find anything, but was willing to try.

I sighed and nodded. "I can ask around." I snorted. "Maybe the cape squatters have found something good enough to bother buying?"

"Anything's possible." He chuckled.

I was feeling pretty worn out, so I took my food, said I was going to sleep on it, and went upstairs to think until I passed out.

---

TUE MAR 1

My morning started how they usually do these days, with the exception of grabbing a few extra supplies for after school. One of my masks, a hoodie I wouldn't mind getting dirty, the mostly-used roll of big black trash bags... Nothing else came to mind, so I grabbed the last leftover sandwich from yesterday out of the fridge and started heading for school, breaking into my usual jog when I was done eating.

I was excited for lunch, to the point where I was fidgeting in class all morning and couldn't keep the grin from my face as I headed down to the cafeteria. Tracy seemed to be in a better mood today, and nothing else felt off. Vicky was getting her chatting out of the way while I was in line, and Amy hadn't bothered trying to beat me here today, meandering over to her sister and getting roped into the conversation while I waited.

The biggest surprise was when I found Cass, and actually turned to check with my own eyes. She was at one of the little huddle of tables where most of the girls from Friday were sitting. It wasn't the same one Kara or most of the colorfully dyed girls were sitting at, but certainly close enough that they could talk if they wanted. On the one hand, I was proud of her for broadening her horizons. They didn't feel comfortable around each other, but I didn't sense any hostile feelings that felt close to bubbling over from anyone. On the other, I was worried for her. Several members of her usual crowds were eyeing her warily, others were muttering amongst themselves. It was the couple of them that felt proud and victorious that concerned me the most. They wouldn't feel that way if they thought she was betraying them, or if they thought her spot at the top might be opening up, and I liked to think I'd be able to spot secret LGBT Allies hiding among the Nazis, they didn't seem nearly wary enough of their friends for that. It made me wonder what she'd told them, and whether…

No, I had to trust her if we were going to be on the same team. I couldn't just demand answers every time she did something unexpected, that'd just drive her away.

…so instead of texting Cass, I texted Kara, asking if everything was okay. I sent the Dallons the room number for meeting me and Tracy, while I had my phone out.

That's how 'trust, but verify' worked, right? Right.

I grabbed a spare tray on a hunch, loading up both on my way through the line. I was hardly the only one doing so, lots of students had friends or lackeys who were happy to save them the time and effort of getting their own food. Even the weigh scale at the end seemed designed for it, raised slightly so that you could fit two trays by hanging each over the edge a bit. That brought to mind thoughts of paying for the food, or rather that dad was paying for it as part of my tuition, since I doubted I was still enrolled in the welfare free lunch program anymore. Most of the kids at Winslow were, and it was sometimes their biggest or only meal they could be sure they'd get each day. It was more than worth it for me to pack my own lunch anyway so I could dodge the bullying easier, but it was nice knowing that even if they ruined my food anyway, I at least had the option of getting free school gruel.

Arcadia was a far different beast. I knew some of the students had to be on welfare, but it was nearly impossible to spot them at a glance. All the ripped clothes were artistic choices. The stains and grime minimal or on something too sentimental to throw out. No one looked unwashed or tweaked out. It felt a little sick, that this sort of disparity existed in the same city.

I wondered if I should pay dad back for my lunches and schooling, with all that money I was supposed to have now. I shook my head and decided not to worry about it now, since I'd started holding up the line with my woolgathering.

Up the stairs I went, ignoring the buzzing of my phone getting a reply since my hands were full. Amy and Vicky were still speeding through the period's worth of socializing in a few minutes, everyone I knew was okay, and Tracy was alone now. I huffed at the shut door, cursing the school's sufficiently bloated budget that they could afford those door-shutter mechanisms for every room. I didn't want to set any of the food down on the floor, so I kicked lightly at the door instead. Tracy was confused, but came over after a few seconds to open the door.

"Thanks." I muttered, when she saw it was me.

She took one of the trays, and led the way back to where her lunch was set up. "It's no problem." She demurred.

"Just waiting on Amy and Vicky." I said as I sat down, setting my tray beside the other one on the desk next to hers. I knew it wouldn't take long, since Victoria had just begged off to leave, and Amy was watching bemusedly as her sister struggled to free herself from her coterie's grip.

...I'm pretty sure Vicky actually begged Amy for help, there. Amy's response something like 'Save thineself, oh great heroine' from her giddy mood and what I could read of her lips.

"Have to admit, I'm... feeling pretty nervous." Tracy said, drawing me back to myself.

"It'll be okay." I said, holding up my phone and waggling it. "And you won't have to wait much longer."

She nodded, digging into her sandwich to hide her nerves. Vicky lifted off with Amy in her arms, and I lost track of them. I started picking at my own food, and a couple minutes later I felt them again… climbing in one of the third-floor windows?

Not what I had in mind, but if that's how she wanted to dodge the crowds, I guess it worked. A minute later, I got up to meet them at the door, opening it before they could even knock. "Hey, you two."

"Hey, Tay." Vicky cheerily rhymed, peeking over my shoulder. Her face blanked for a moment, then she pushed past me, swiftly floating into the room. "Tracy, is that… you're a…?"

"Heh," Tracy chuckled nervously. "Hey, Victoria. I… I'm…" She stalled out, glancing down shamefully as Amy and I followed Vicky into the room. "I'm a… a Tinker."

Victoria was still for a moment. Then her lip started twitching upward, and she started letting out a sad, half-mad sort of giggle. "Wow, you do not do things by fucking halves, do you Tay?" She floated over, setting her hands softly on Tracy's shoulders. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay, Trace?"

"I'm…" She started, swallowing thickly and glancing my way. "I'll be okay, I think."

I nodded, and got a warm if conflicted look from Vicky. I led Amy over and took my seat again, Amy settling in next to me. She seemed oddly subdued, watching her sister interact with their old, distant friend. She felt wistful, full of affection her glum exterior refused to show, along with hints of concern, and a small tinge of jealousy.

"How did-" Vicky started again, shaking her head. "Never mind," She turned her head back to me. "do you know how much of a crazy force multiplier Tinkers are?"

Tracy answered before I could. "I'm… not a, good, Tinker…"

"Whaaat?" Vicky drew out incredulously, but Tracy just shrugged out of her hands to fold further in on herself.

"She's uh, having trouble figuring out her specialty." I cut in, trying to help. "She's built a couple things, but only one design's actually worked. Most things just refuse to function properly." I looked to Tracy for permission, and she nodded. "The thing that worked was a… makeup remover. Made from a TV remote, and it still worked as that, too."

"I… tried to make tools." Tracy said, once I'd broken into the topic. "I got scrap drills and sanders, other things… tried to rebuild them better, but all I could do was get them barely working again. I don't know if it was the lower quality of materials, but my regular tools were still much better. Other remote things didn't work, trying to control things. Tools I wasn't rebuilding, welding torch, AR welding goggles, auto-spanner… none of them worked." She curled down again, her energy sapped by melancholy.

"Huh, that's weird." Vicky said, floating up to ponder a bit, affecting a classic 'thinking' pose.

Amy shuffled a little closer beside me. "You sure she's a-" She whispered, cut off by my glare. It didn't seem like Vicky heard, but Tracy tensed on my other side. My lip started to twitch into a snarl, and she sat back with her hands up. "Never mind."

"Well, we can start eliminating things at least, right?" Vicky chirped, heedless of the new tension in the room. "Could be makeup or disguises, or hidden things or spy gadgets, might be disintegrator beams or teleporters or however it got rid of the makeup? I think you're right that it's not about the remote part. Maybe something similar with a different scope?" She turned her attention back to us, floating over to talk to Tracy again, rather than musing out loud. "If you made something that removes something other than makeup, that might work, right? If it's a fashion power then something like a stain remover might work, and if it's just 'remove stuff' you might be able to make a tool out of it, like removing rust from scrap, or cleaning dirt off your gear to save maintenance time?"

"That… Maybe?" Tracy was wide-eyed, sounding hopeful.

"And it'll help narrow things down, to boot!" Vicky added excitedly. "And if it's makeup stuff, maybe putting on and taking off disguises? Could help with cape stuff! Body-changer, makeup-applyer… Ooooh, oooh! Holograms! Hardlight! Instant costume!" She floated higher, curling up and slowly spinning up and around at a weird angle as she giggled. "Holograms were always so cool in the comics!" She added quietly to herself.

"Careful, your nerdy heritage is showing." Amy snarked up at her.

Vicky, now upside-down and slowly tilting away from us, scoffed at her sister. "Not my fault dad had good taste in comics when he was our age." She stiffened, swiftly righting herself and crashing to the floor a little harder than necessary. "Ooh! Idea!"

"Vicky, wait." I cut in, turning to Tracy with a soft smile. "How many things do you think you'll actually have time to try and make, in a week?"

"Well," She started hesitantly. "They're all smaller projects… I should have the materials for a couple of them, even if I might run low after. The stuff-remover I can probably base on my old model, removing a lot of the testing and design work. The changers, I… erm." She winced, glancing away with a far-off look in her eyes. "I, haven't been able to get body-changing to work. No ideas at all. A makeup applier I might need some special materials for, since I don't have any little tanks for adding liquids to use… Couple ideas. My power likes the holograms, though. I'm getting a lot more ideas for emitters and projectors."

"There, you see!" Vicky cheered.

Tracy shook her head. "No, I get ideas all the time. Everything I've tried to build, I had the design in my head, and it made sense. They all should have worked, but they didn't. I'd need to actually make the device, to see if it actually works. Assuming they don't work and I need to try a few things to be sure… maybe two or three things a week? Less if they're bigger projects." Her mood plummeted, and she groaned. "I need to figure out how to get more materials, too. I'm too obvious." She flicked a hand through her hair. "I can't go buy any more junk to fix, or parts to build with. Not without being noticed."

Since she was on the ground, I could feel Vicky turn pensive as she glanced down. "Here." She pulled her phone out of her pocket. Then she popped the back off of it, removing the battery and pulling a little chip out from under it, before reassembling the thing without it in a weirdly well-practiced series of motions. She held it out and Amy groaned, while Tracy and I stared in confusion. "It's been a couple months and I'm getting better, but I'm due for an 'accident'. Mom won't ask if I say I need a spare, we've got what, eight of these left?" She glanced at Amy, who didn't answer. "Anyway, I can see if we've got any more of my broken phones still, and I think there's some junk in the attic. We can get you the stuff you need." She held the phone out a little farther, and Tracy finally took it.

"Might be some stuff in my basement." I added. "And Dad's in charge of the DWA, he might know some warehouses full of stuff too old or broken for even salvage to bother buying it. Free up the buildings for something useful?" It was a long shot, but I wouldn't put it past Brockton. I'd need to remember to ask Sue later today, too. "Pretty sure we can set up a supply chain, even sticking to just people we know personally."

Tracy was starting to tear up. "Thank you."

I smiled, letting the warm mood wash over me. Amy felt exasperated but proud, Vicky seemed inordinately chuffed with herself, and I felt like I was doing something right. My downward gaze settled on my food, and I glanced at the spare tray. "Hey," I asked Vicky. "you forgot to grab a lunch, didn't you?"

She raised her hand to emphasize a rebuttal, which stalled out after half a syllable. Her eyes darted first worriedly at her sister, then to me, and down at my extra tray, before giving me the most pathetically sorrowful puppy-dog pout I'd ever seen. She was way too good at that. I think it was some deep distaste for pretty girls pouting their way to what they wanted that had me holding my spare tray out to a victoriously grinning Amy. After a brief spike of betrayal, it looked like Vicky was actually going to cry…

Tracy cleared her throat. "I... erm, packed extra sandwiches, if you'd like some?"

Vicky sped over, tearfully taking her hands. "You're still such a sweetheart, Trace!" She turned to stick her tongue out at me and Amy, which had both of us sharing an amused scoff. She floated over to pull a seat up to Tracy's desk and took a small stack of offered individually-baggied sandwiches.

We sat and ate for a while, maybe fifteen minutes, just chatting with half-full mouths. Mostly Vicky interrogating Tracy in the name of catching up. Then something in the cheery girl's mood shifted, turning her silent and sad, then shameful. "I'm sorry." We all asked what for in our own ways, and she blushed. "When you stopped talking to me…" She said to Tracy, who also flooded with shame. "I didn't, do enough. I didn't ask what was wrong, or try to maintain our friendship. I was… kind of caught up in a lot at the time," Triggering, new powers, instant outing and celebrity from that, just off the top of my head. "but I didn't try, and I'm sorry."

"No," Tracy mewled, swallowing and taking conscious control of her voice. "No. I, I didn't do anything, either. I'm the one that… I stopped talking to you. I didn't want attention, and you…"

Vicky chuckled. "And I was the new cape celebrity."

"I thought, if everyone was looking at you…" Tracy muttered, and Vicky's smile fell.

"But then your growth spurt didn't stop…" She forced herself to chuckle, trying to inject some levity she didn't feel. "And you shot up another foot…" She paused, features twisting into worry, emotions full of scared realization. "wait, we thought you just didn't like my aura?"

Tracy clenched her eyes, shaking her head. "I just didn't want the attention. By the time I had it anyway… I thought you'd already hate me, for abandoning you."

Vicky flew up out of her chair, circling the desk and hugging her. "No, never. We're still friends."

A couple seconds later, Amy chipped in through a half-chewed mouthful. "Are they going to start making out now? Because I'd be okay with that."

The pair blushed and separated, Tracy glancing down and Vicky glaring at her sister. I cuffed Amy for ruining the moment, and she turned a thorny glower my way. "You're both sorry." I summarized. "You're still friends, and you have time to make it up to each other, especially since we're teammates now." I shot a baleful look at Amy, who rolled her eyes but felt contrite enough, internally. "Which brings us to team stuff." Nailed that segue. I turned to Tracy. "You said you don't want to fight, and I don't want to make anyone fight. But that begs the question of what you want from the team? Once we have funds set up, we can pay you for anything you do build for us, or set you up to sell to the PRT, or go commercial. I think I'd like to set a precedent for not letting our Tinkers sell to villains, or sell weapons to anyone but us, the PRT, or maybe another hero group, though."

Tracy started feeling overwhelmed, and I backed off to let her think. "I... mostly just want to feel good about myself... for once." I don't think she meant to mutter that last part, but all of us caught it. "I don't think I'd like fighting. I would if I had to, but I don't want to. I want to help, though. Help people, help my friends... I want to help the team." Her voice grew more steady and determined, and by the end she was only a shift in volume from shouting.

"I want you to keep what I said in mind, though. As long as it's legal and doesn't involve deals with villains, I'm happy with whatever you want to do." I glanced to the Dallons, to see if they had anything to add.

"Sticky point..." Vicky muttered. "Aren't there laws against Tinkers selling their tech? That's part of why the Elite and Toybox are villains, they'll sell to anyone. I think Coil has some of their tech, and while I haven't heard of him fighting the PRT with them, other gangs have."

"Nah," Amy jumped in. "most of the laws are about direct competition and Parahuman leadership. Tinkers usually can't outcompete a manufacturing line since it's hard to mass-produce their tech. The Elite's big problem was using Thinkers and Thinker-like powers to make the rest of their businesses better, which wasn't fair. If actually buying the tinkertech was the problem, there would've been a lot more backlash from the Rig using one of Uppercrust's shields."

"That was for Leviathan, though. There's lots of coastal defenses like that." Vicky shot back.

Amy scoffed. "Like the Endbringers would ever hit Brockton. There's nothing here. No shipping, no economy, no world-changing geniuses, the only thing we've got are villains."

Vicky seemed cowed for a moment. "There's us." She muttered, torn between struggling to find something optimistic to say about the bay, and the terror threatening to lash out if she actually found something worthwhile.

Her sister deflated too, as she partly acceded the point. "We've got a lot of heroes too, sure. But none of us is a threat to them."

I sighed as the dour mood set in, and tried to change the subject. "But, as long as we're not trying to game the market, we should be fine?"

Amy shrugged. "Or arming anyone, or selling to villains. The PRT might try to squeeze some concessions out of us anyway, but after that? We might be fine."

"But we're heroes?" Vicky countered, not really believing her own point.

"If it becomes an issue, we can deal with it then." I stated solemnly. "I really don't want to believe the PRT would force neutral heroes to choose between using their powers how they want and turning villain… but if they got enough people to join up as their only alternative, I could see them not fighting against stupid laws as much as they should." Vicky and Tracy glanced away sadly, while Amy kept eating with a strange feeling of resigned vindication. "Just because they're the good guys, that doesn't mean they're always right. At the end of the day, they're still a mouthpiece for the government." It took a few seconds for what I'd said to sink in, then I pushed my tray far enough back to drop my head rather audibly onto the desk.

"Taylor?" Vicky and Tracy muttered worriedly.

"…the fuck?" My best friend flatly demanded.

"I'm becoming my mother." I groaned.

I could feel the trio sharing glances. "Don't you idolize her?" Amy asked, a hint of worry creeping into her voice.

I bonked my head against the desk another few times. "The parts besides the time she spent trying to bring down 'the man' while working for Lustrum, yes."

"Your mom was a hench?" A scandalized Victoria quietly shrieked. Amy's eyes widened, her emotions an odd mix of surprise, shock, disgust, and amusement.

"…that's actually pretty cool." Tracy muttered into the silence. The Dallons glared at her, and she shrunk away, pulling up her sandwich and quietly mumbling "…'m a feminist." into it.

I rose and shouted wordlessly to take the attention back from her, then primly drew my tray back to myself while I took a fortifying breath. "My mother was a feminist, not a terrorist. She left the movement when it started getting violent. I just hate that the little voice in the back of my head saying 'go on, take over the country, you can do better than them!' is getting louder and louder, the more I find out about how the PRT actually works."

Victoria pointedly raised a finger. "You don't actually-"

"The voice was a metaphor." I hissed.

Her face scrunched up. "Masters are a thing, I had to ask."

I took another deep breath and sighed it out. She was just being a good friend with training and experience I didn't have. That wasn't something I should be getting angry about, no matter how much it rankled. "Thank you for checking. To the best of my knowledge, I am both sane and un-mastered."

"Exactly as a master would make you say." Amy drawled accusingly.

No matter how much it amused her to say it, that still stung a little. I glared into her eyes, sparkling with mirth while trying to keep her scowl from twitching into a smirk. "Not funny."

"Little funny." She quietly disagreed before stuffing her face again.

I huffed out a frustrated groan, but I didn't want to fight her on this right now, so I just let her have it. "Okay, no going feudal lord, no fighting the PRT, no radicalist movements, no matter how much they're starting to make sense…" I grumbled that last part, then made sure to look at each of them in turn. "We're still heroes. We still need to work with the existing heroes to get the most done. We might even sign up as affiliates, like New Wave. The big question now is whether we want to ask them to help set things up for the team as part of that process, or do it ourselves. I want to know what our options are, before we make that choice." I glanced at Amy, then turned to Vicky. "To that end, I'd like to know how New Wave set everything up for themselves. I think we're going to start off with a similar, but not identical model. It'd help if I could ask Lady Photon about it."

From the way Amy's stomach dropped out from under her, I could tell she still hadn't bothered to ask about setting up that meeting. I was still outwardly focusing on her sister, however. "Sure, I can ask Aunt Sarah about it. Uncle Neil ran the Brigade, but I'm not sure how much of the transition was his work, over hers."

I nodded with a thankful smile. "I can always just hire a lawyer to act as an executive and set everything up, but I'd like to know it's the best option before committing to it. Or, at least not the worst option, you know?"

She chuckled. "Yeah, it's sort of like picking colleges, right? It doesn't have to be the best, it just has to work."

I had to force myself to keep smiling. Hadn't Amy said something about Vicky leaving town with her boyfriend? Was that what she was talking about? I liked her, and didn't want to lose a teammate, but I'm not sure I had any right to stand in the way of her life, if her choices took her away from Brockton. I felt a bit of helpless dread, my happier emotions shutting down a little, pulling away as if to protect themselves. I didn't want to lose another friend, and my gut reaction was to not have any friends to lose. That couldn't be healthy, though. I tried to force myself to be happy for her. I wouldn't let myself push her away on the off chance some parting in the future might hurt. She didn't deserve that.

"Yeah. Uh, hey Vicky?" She hummed curiously in reply. "I've... got some personal things I've been wanting to work on. Trying to be less..." I waved my hands over myself, the baggy boys' shirt and bargain bin jeans I was wearing. The lack of proper womanly features to my figure. "...mannish? You're one of the girliest girls I know, and I was wondering...?"

She shifted from confusion to contemplation, before settling on giddy realization. "Really?"

"Yeah, I'm... trying to open up a bit more. I don't need to worry about my clothes being ruined every week, or the gangs singling out the loner girl, or..." I shook my head. "This isn't Winslow. I don't want to keep acting like it. I want... to remember the happy girl I used to be."

Vicky was tearing up, fisted hands pressing together under her chin. She felt sad, and happy, and excited. There was a warm affection pouring out, the sort of emotion usually reserved for family, cute animals, and lovers. "Taylor... of course I'll help!" She wetly insisted. "You two are coming, right?" She asked the others.

Amy was still feeling conflicted about me asking Vicky for something I'd already tasked her with, but she was feeling the same sort of affection Vicky was, along with her usual blend of frustration and disdain. "Pass. We go shopping often enough, and we've got that spa thing tomorrow." Vicky whined about her ruining 'the surprise'. "Just do it Thursday or something, while I'm busy."

Tracy chuckled, still not over her nerves. "I might be busy, I need to get started on those projects, and Kara will probably want to spend time together, to make sure I'm okay. I can't keep skipping meets, either. Coach is worried too, I think."

Vicky pouted, but nodded. "I guess it's just you and me... Thursday?" I didn't have any particular plans yet, so I nodded. "Thursday." She kept talking about our options for shopping and hanging out, deciding for us that the mall was probably better than the Boardwalk. Lunch was finished off, and I made sure we all swapped numbers before heading back to class, also giving everyone dad and Sally's numbers, and suggesting local emergency numbers for their contacts lists. Vicky said she'd ask about handing out some of New Wave's private numbers while she was asking Lady Photon about meeting me. Then we parted ways for now.