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Chapter 3: Drop 1-3

"Damn you Sophia!" – Speech

'Why Emma?' - Thought

Drop 1.3

+++Taylor+++

The last two days before I would have gone back to school, I spent mostly at home resting, with a bit of walking and jogging thrown in as my leg allowed. I was also having a private celebration.

No more Winslow. No more bullies. No more having to scuttle between classes like a frightened mouse.

Heaven by comparison.

I didn't spend all my time celebrating; I did research on what materials I could legally obtain from the state to further my home-schooling, which was a bit more than I had expected. Combined with the public library, the resources provided would be a big help.

The payout that the school had given us was more than enough to buy a second-hand computer with a dial-up modem. It was slower than hell, but this way I didn't always have to go to the library in order to use the computers there, which would make taking the online tests I needed so much easier.

One of the librarians, Shirley, when I went there on Sunday, helped me look through several books on the various subjects I had to take to in order to obtain my high school diploma while being home schooled. I felt that none of what I had learned at Winslow could be counted upon, thanks to the Bitch Trio's sabotage, so I decided to start from the beginning. It wouldn't be as quick, perhaps, but I'd be more certain of my foundation. I could also be certain I'd do better do better on my qualification tests for college.

Now that I was basically going to have the house to myself all day once Dad left for work, I also bought a sketchpad so I could finally put my Tinkertech ideas down on paper. I'd hide it in my wardrobe as well, at least until I could find somewhere secure to call my base.

…urgh, even saying it that way sounded far too much like a villain talking.

I was cooking breakfast, scrambled eggs and sausages, when dad came down the stairs on Monday morning looking like he was about to tear someone to pieces. When he told me what he was planning on doing at the school that day, I definitely approved. Ignore me would they?

Take that, Blackwell!

"After listening to what you put up with, every parent who has a child at Winslow was horrified," Dad said as he ate. "Especially that damn locker."

I shuddered, remembering the locker, the stink of the rotting pads and tampons, the bugs crawling over me, the desire, the need, to wash it all away, then…

Destination.

Agreement.

Trajectory.

Agreement.

Wrath.

Denied. Flow.

Melancholy.

Denied. Cleansing.

…Agreement.

Destination.

Intersection!

"Taylor? Taylor!" Dad called out to me worriedly. I realized I had been locked inside my mind, reliving that hellish time. I forced my thoughts down a different path before smiling wanly at Dad.

"I'm fine…it was just a flashback," I told him. "It's the first I've had since getting out of hospital. The doctor told me it might happen every now and again. I'll just keep myself busy. You go and stick it to the man, Dad, or woman in this case."

"That sounds so wrong," Dad said, cringing slightly. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry about reminding you of the locker."

I had been rethinking what I'd said and was cringing a bit myself. "It's okay, Dad. I'm sorry, too."

When Dad left, I got out my sketchpad and let my mind wander to the vague ideas I had about my costume, which was now developing to be more like a suit of power-assisted amour. Not full-on power armor, just armor with minor help from servos to help carry it around. Power-assisted armor.

The armor would be multi-layered: one layer of titanium, another of Kevlar, then a layer of roughly half an inch of impact resistant plastic, or possibly titanium, boxes containing water, then another layer of Kevlar, another half inch of water and a final layer of Kevlar. I'd shell the whole thing in metal. Again, preferably titanium, or, failing that, iron or steel would do.

The servos, unlike the rest of the armor, would be fairly easy to make once I had the right equipment. It would have to be an endoskeleton rather than an exoskeleton due to the need to protect it as much as was possible. Hard, but doable.

The water cells between the layers would act as both armor and allow me fly, using my hydrokinesis, which was a bonus. Three layers of Kevlar, a metal shell and an inch of very dense water should stop most conventional weaponry short of high explosives, an anti-material rifle, or rocket launcher.

The tank on the back would be a container for water, one that would be linked up to the cells in the suit and, ultimately, my wrist-mounted water cannons. Those would have an adjustable flow and aperture so I could select between a needle-thin stream of water and a large blast of water similar to a fire hose.

The only problem would be refilling the damn tank. If I used the full blast mode, the entire suit would be empty in less than thirty seconds. Then I'd have to use external sources of water, which I might not have access to.

Then it hit me. I could build a dehumidifier into the tank, drawing water from the air and into the tank, as well as the rest of the suit. Why bother using my powers to draw water from the air when a device existed in current technology that did it for me, albeit slowly and on a smaller scale? Thankfully, the innate advantage of Tinkertech allowed me to build something that told conventional wisdom and the laws of physics to take a hike. Of course, if I was anywhere near water, my hydrokinesis would allow me to refill my tank easily.

Moving on, my head still wasn't covered, which was a necessity, not only from a combat point of view, but from a secret identity point of view as well. I didn't want anyone to know who I was, neither the city's villains, rogues, vigilantes, heroes, or random passers-by, so that was a must.

The helmet I sketched was made of a kind of mirrored, reinforced glass. I scrubbed that. One punch from Glory Girl, or any of the Bay's other Brutes, and it would shatter like a goldfish bowl dropped on the floor. I tried to come up with something else.

Oh! I remembered a film from Earth Aleph that had a man using a helmet that was collapsible and covered him from the top of his head to the nape of his throat. Lost in Space, I think it was called. Matt LeBlanc's character had worn it against the alien bug things. The lenses could also work like my glasses. Still, that wasn't enough.

A helmet over another helmet? That might work. It could have a HUD, be linked in to my suit so I could monitor its status and the amount of the water I had left. To confuse people, it would be locked onto the suit and be slightly larger for what my head needed…as well as for adding cushioning in case of impacts. I sketched it out and then stopped.

There it was... my suit. It looked awesome. Like a real hero's equipment. The only problem was getting my hands on the materials and tools to build the damn thing. Kevlar wasn't cheap, not in the amount I needed. Neither was titanium. Steel and iron was in plentiful supply, if not in the Boat Graveyard, then in various scrap yards around Brockton Bay.

Of course, running around scrap yards looking for useful items was one of the main ways that Tinkers got outed. If not by the authorities, then by the various gangs.

Looking at my sketchpad, I had to frown. This was an ambitious suit of armor, one that fulfilled every possible scenario I might encounter. Who was I planning on fighting in it? Leviathan?

Shuddering at that mental image, I folded the pad up and put it in my room for the moment. I could start on that later. For now, shopping time.

To obtain their diploma, a student had to show proficiency in reading and writing, social studies, mathematics and science. All of which had been covered, more or less, by the classes at Winslow. Sadly, all my books had been in my locker when the Bitch Trio had filled it with that foul, disgusting stuff. I did have money from Winslow to buy replacements, but I had to wonder if they'd try to claim it back because I was being withdrawn. Would they be able to make a case?

Maybe.

As much as the administration at Winslow had failed me, I was willing to at least hope that they would let me keep the money for my books. I got ready to leave, wearing loose jeans, a t-shirt, and my hoodie. Making sure I had my wallet and the can of pepper spray Dad had bought me on Saturday, I headed out and caught a bus that would take me Downtown.

Catching the bus in Brockton Bay was actually not as dangerous as you might think. Years ago, Marquis, a major player in the criminal underworld around here, had made and enforced rules for criminals to follow. He considered himself a genteel criminal, which was why there were no attacking hospitals or fighting on public transportation, that sort of thing.

Kaiser's predecessor as leader of Empire 88, Allfather, had apparently agreed with those rules and enforced them as well. When Lung arrived and made this place the home of the ABB, he didn't violate the rules either, tacitly supporting them. The only gang that had never paid attention to them were the Merchants. It was just one of the points of contention between them and the other two gangs. Empire 88 and the ABB, regardless of their mutual hatred of each other, often stepped in to stomp any of the Merchant's members who tried to violate them, although I was sure it was just an excuse most of the time.

It was the main reason I didn't feel worried when a group of young men with shaved heads, likely with Empire 88 affiliations, got on the bus. Kaiser, being smart enough to see how seeming to be a voice of reason within the city, had quietly announced when he took over after Allfather's death that he would be supporting the 'Marquis Rules,' as they had come to be known, and threatened dire punishments on anyone who broke them.

I didn't want to give any further consideration to the idea of a Nazi thug being the 'voice of reason' within my city, so I just ignored the boys and continued looking out the window.

Getting off in Downtown, I first checked the big name bookstores to see if they had the textbooks I was looking for and compared their prices, which led to me darting into the bargain bookstores, second-hand bookstores, and thrift stores. I eventually managed to buy all my textbooks at a third of their retail price, almost brand new, from a thrift store.

I also scored a book on various metals, including titanium. Hopefully, this would give me ideas where I could find titanium. Go me.

Moving on, I used several months of allowance to buy the jacket that I wanted for my temporary outfit. Reading the price on the tag made me wince. Ouch. Still, it was a good quality jacket and would last a while. Weighed down by a couple of bagfuls of books and the jacket, I decided to head home.

Unfortunately for me, a pair of Merchants were lurking around the bus stop.

"Hey girly, want some candy?" one leered at me.

Alarm bells were ringing inside my head. Merchants had been known to grab kids and forcibly injected them with whatever cocktail of drugs they were pushing that week, usually something almost instantly addictive, and forcing them to join their gang. I looked around for a cop, or at least other pedestrians, but didn't see anyone. I was just about to do something rash, when I heard her.

"How about you get lost?" a brazen voice called out from... above me?

Looking up, I saw a floating blond-haired girl wearing a white outfit that showed her stunning figure really well. It was Victoria Dallon, or if you prefer, Glory Girl of New Wave.

"Fuck you!" the druggie snarled and drew a gun. Not a good move.

Faster than I could blink, she swooped down. A moment later, the barrel of the gun was crushed in Glory Girl's hand, while the wielder was bent over, clutching his midsection as he vomited in the street. All of that from a minor tap from the super heroine. The druggie's companion had beaten feet and fled.

"You okay?" Glory Girl asked me.

"Umm… yeah," I said, feeling awkward. "Thanks for that." Up close, she was even prettier than she'd looked up in the air, not a hair out of place. It made me all the more conscious of how plain I was in comparison.

"It's cool. All in a day's work." The blonde cape shrugged, then asked, "Shouldn't you be in school?"

I frowned a bit, as I was aware that she attended Arcadia. If she wasn't in school, why would she think I needed to be?

"I'm home schooled, or I will be by the end of today," I told her. "Anyway, there's my bus. Thanks again."

After getting on the bus, a young man with his head nearly shaved stopped me as I was looking for a seat. "What was with that back there?"

Shrugging, I said, "Merchant's plying their trade. Or at least I think so." I was wary because even though he wasn't sporting any obvious gang colors or signs, it was possible he was affiliated with Empire 88.

"Stupid niggers," the boy stated matter-of-factly. "Have to put them in their place." He looked all too eager to do exactly that as I kept on walking, before settling into a seat a couple of rows further down.

Based upon his words, I moved him firmly into the Nazi gang's camp. Pulling up my hoodie to hide my face, I kept to myself for the rest of the ride and thankfully got off without any further ado close to my home. I dropped off my stuff and then headed out to do some shopping at the local grocery store.

Thankfully, Dad had topped up the prepaid card we used for grocery shopping. Even better, he hadn't taken it with him, which let me use it. I picked some bread, milk and other staples, getting home in time to make myself lunch, a grilled cheese and ham sandwich.

After finishing my lunch, I rested a bit, my bum leg still bothering me. After an hour or so, I put away my new textbooks in my room and my jacket in my closet before writing out a list of the Protectorate capes living in Brockton Bay.

The Protectorate East-Northeast had seven Parahumans in their ranks. They were led by Armsmaster, a Tinker who specialized in miniaturization and efficiency. He wore blue and silver power armor and carried a halberd with dozens of different devices contained within. He even had an awesome Tinkertech motorcycle that was supposedly incredibly fast, although no one could claim to have seen it even break the speed limit.

Miss Militia was his second in command. Her Parahuman power allowed her to create various firearms from some kind of green energy. It was rumoured on PHO that she did not need to sleep.

Assault was a Striker, able to manipulate kinetic energy somehow. Not a lot was known about his past, as he had pretty much come out of nowhere a few years ago. He supposedly had some kind of 'thing' going with one of his teammates, Battery, or at least their names suggested it. Neither of them ever answered questions about their relationship, if it even existed.

Battery was rumoured to be a Mover and a Breaker. Certainly she could run incredibly fast when the occasion called for it. She also hit a lot harder than a normal person. Her costume was grey with blue circuitry that glowed, especially when she was using her power.

Velocity was a Mover. He was supposedly able to move hundreds of miles an hour, which was a pretty cool power to have.

Triumph had some kind of sonic power, his shouts able to take down even minor Brutes. The raters over on PHO classified him as a Blaster.

Dauntless was the only member of the local Protectorate who was actually from Brockton Bay. He as some kind of Trump, able to imbue objects with power, including his spear and shield. He probably did the same thing did the same thing with the rest of his gear, although no one knew what any of it did. He did look cool, though, almost like a medieval knight.

The Wards were the Protectorate's junior team and included Kid Win, Clockblocker, Vista, Aegis, Shadow Stalker, Gallant and the latest addition, Browbeat. Once they turned eighteen, they could become full-fledged members of the Protectorate. In the meantime, they earned money that was put in a fund to pay for their college.

The only other hero team in Brockton Bay was New Wave, consisting of two different families of Parahumans who were related to one another. Once known as the Brockton Bay Brigade, they had all unmasked back in the nineties as part of the 'superheroes with accountability' movement. Unfortunately, that had unravelled when one of their members, Fleur, had been murdered in her civilian identity.

Sarah Pelham, also known as Lady Photon, was the leader of New Wave. She was able to fly, fire solid lasers, and use forcefields. Her nickname, which was all over the PHO forums, was 'Photon Mom', because she supposedly gave off that vibe when directing her group.

Her husband, Neil, or Manpower, was a powerful brute that stood over seven feet tall. Supposedly, he had some other power as well. Their daughter, Crystal, or Laserdream, had a powerset to her mom's, although supposedly with stronger lasers and weaker shields. Their son, Eric, or Shielder, had roughly the same powerset as his sister and mother, except his specialty was shielding, while his lasers and flight were supposed to be weak.

The other family, the Dallons, consisted of Sarah's sister, Carol Dallon, or Brandish, who could make weapons out of light. She could also turn herself into a ball of light. Carol's husband, Mark, or Flashbang, was a bit of a mystery. He was rarely in public these days. He was rumoured to be able to create light grenades of some sort. Their daughter and my saviour, Victoria Dallon, or Glory Girl, was an Alexandria package, flight, strength, and invulnerability.

Finally, there was Victoria's sister, Amy, or Panacea, the world's strongest healer. She could heal any wound or disease, although supposedly she couldn't work on brains.

I sat back and whistled. That was a huge number of Parahumans for a place no bigger than Brockton Bay. Between the heroes, villains, and rogues, there were more Parahumans per capita than any city except for New York.

Worse, villains outnumbered heroes slightly here in Brockton Bay. But the way the Protectorate worked together gave it the edge even against as powerful a gang as Empire 88.

Dismissing the problem for now, I focused on the book on metals, looking up titanium almost immediately. Titanium was perfect for me, as it was resistant to corrosion, as well as being light and strong. So no rusting easily when I'm around water for so long.

The most common type of titanium alloy was one known as Grade 5, used in everything from military ship hulls to biomedical implants. The so-called 'workhorse' alloy of titanium. This meant I could scout the ships in the Boat Graveyard for it, although I wasn't hopeful. Maybe one of the abandoned waterfront factories would be a better target? Then again, I couldn't see how they wouldn't have already been picked over. It had been years after all.

Shrugging, I sat down and opened my geometry book. I might as well study for a couple of hours. I could worry about everything else later. For now, I had to catch up on what I missed in class thanks to the bullies.

I worked on geometry problems until Dad came home and realized I hadn't packed away my book on metals or cooked dinner. I started to slip it under my geometry book so he wouldn't see the title, and then stopped. Why hide it? If Dad asked, I'd just tell him I was thinking about studying engineering in college. That would also hide a lot of other potential slip-ups as well.

I was pleasantly surprised when Dad suggested pizza for dinner, to celebrate my removal from Winslow. While I wanted a Hawaiian pizza, Dad ordered a meat lover's, as he tended to do whenever we could afford it. Mom had always been contrary and had ordered a veggie pizza when she was alive, leading to some good-natured arguments between them. I missed hearing them do that.

I was in stitches after Dad told me about Blackwell's reaction to what he had done to her school. The Board of Education was probably going to come down on her like a ton of bricks. Schools nowadays might have a lot of students but if seventy kids from all grades withdraw from the same school at roughly the same time, it was going to raise red flags all over the place.

Couldn't happen to a group of nicer people, I thought darkly.

"So, aside from kicking ass and taking names at my old watering hole, how was your day?" I asked.

Dad shrugged. "Okay. Nothing special happened. Oh, I am pretty close to getting the Union a contract to help with the urban renewal project in the dockside factories."

My interest peaked, I asked, "Oh? Are they safe to work on?"

He made one of those twisty motions with his hand, indicating that a little of each. "They aren't too bad, plus we'll be taking safety precautions, so we can do it," Dad said.

This was interesting I thought. Diffidently, I asked, "How do the workers deal with the stuff that they find in those places? I've heard that there's a lot of different materials lying around in those places. Some of it's just stacked up."

Dad nodded approvingly. "You're right, especially in the old ship repair dry-docks in E88 territory. We have a look at the blueprints we have access to, and then send in a team to survey the place before any decisions are made. Then, regardless of what the job is, rebuilding the place or knocking it down, we empty the place out and store the materials in the Union's storehouses or the client's own storehouses. Then we get to work."

I nodded my understanding. The Union's main offices and storehouses were behind a two-meter high wall with spikes on top of it. With the gates closed at night, only a Cape stood a chance of getting in without bashing the gates in. None of the villain Capes bothered with the Dockworker's Union aside from poaching its members.

"I hope you get the contract, Dad," I said sincerely.

"Thanks, Taylor," he said with a smile.

I went to be that night with several goals in my mind. First, I had to get my hands on some new tools so I could have something to build my Tinkertech gadgets with. Second, I had to find a location to use as a base, away from my home and preferably close to water so I could defend it. Third, I had to raid a factory to hopefully obtain titanium.

+++Waterworks+++

"Dad!" I called out to him as I came into the living room the next day. "We need to talk."

"Yes, Taylor?" He looked up from his paper. He was relaxing before heading out to work.

"We need to get some new tools for working around the house," I told him frankly. "The drill looks like it's about to fall apart, the saw's rusted to pieces, and the hammer isn't much better."

Dad sighed. "Darn. I was hoping it wasn't that bad. I'll ask around at the Union if anyone has some second-hand tools we can use. I keep forgetting to fix that rotten step as well."

He was muttering to himself as he left, presumably about the rotten step that had been a bane of our lives since before Mom died. He had been meaning to fix it for over two years by this point.

I knuckled down to my studies again, this time tackling World Affairs, glad I didn't have to deal with that creep, Mr Gladly, anymore. He was the kind of teacher who tried to get you to call him 'Mr G' and was probably a hip and cool kid when he was in school himself and had never had to deal with bullying himself.

Breaking for lunch, I settled for a sandwich. Afterwards, I jogged again, this time going slightly further. I was close to my old level of fitness; that is to say, not fit at all. Time to change that. Once my leg was fully healed, I'd try to go jogging twice a day. For now, I'd settle for just being able to walk or jog a mile without it burning and aching.

Once I got back in and had something to drink, I got my sketchpad and pencil out again and drew what looked like a funky looking thing out of science fiction in the seventies. Seriously, it looked like something the villain in a bad hero comic would steal and then gloat over how it would help them take over the world, or some such garbage.

What the hell was this thing, I wonder? Then, as if the answer just appeared in my head, I knew. A water repulsion generator unit. What an odd thing for my power to have me draw out.

Why would my Tinker power create the design for something that rendered my Hydrokinetic power useless? I let my mind wander and my pencil followed a path dictated by my power. When I looked down at my pad again, I saw small devices that looked as if they could be fixed around a door attached via wires and cable to the main generator unit.

"A way to keep water out so you can live underwater," I breathed. Then I frowned. Was my intuition trying to tell me to have my base underwater? Seriously? I wasn't sure that was such a good idea.

The Protectorate Base in Brockton Bay was inside of The Rig, an old oilrig moved to the centre of the Bay and repurposed to house their Parahuman members, such as Armsmaster. I honestly didn't know what else was there; just that it was a No-Fly Zone for non-Protectorate or PRT aircraft. Still, with Armsmaster there, I didn't doubt that he had a way of keeping an eye on the coastline of the Bay, so I couldn't dare have it anywhere near that area of the bay.

The Boat Graveyard, on the other side of the bay, might be a possibility.

Looking back down at my pad, I saw that I'd sketched what looked like a cross-section engineering drawing of a ship from the graveyard, half submerged in water. The inner decks had been divided into a series of rooms, with the submerged lower decks of the ship now clear of water, thanks to about half a dozen of my new water repulsion generators.

I understood them a bit better now. If left without direction, they did remove water from an area and render a hydrokinetic the next best thing to powerless. If I tied them to a focusing array like the one I had just designed, the energy acted as a skin-thin membrane that was absolutely impenetrable to water or any water-based thing, aside from living creatures. A human walking through it would have all the water on the surface of their clothes and skin removed, but not any within the cells of their body, or even the dead cells of their hair.

The best part was that a generator could be made from what you could buy in an electrician specialty store, although units made this way using lots of commercially available parts replacing custom designed and built parts were a lot bigger. It was a brute force method that pushed the size of my water repulsion generator from around twice as big as a hardback novel to just under that of a small electric generator, probably about twenty times the size.

I settled back in my seat. Well, that was that. It looked like once I was at least somewhat fit, I needed to head for the Boat Graveyard, now for more than one reason.