Chapter Text
For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow
Forget about your sin
Give the audience a grin
Enjoy it, it's your last chance anyhow
- Monty Python’s Life of Brian
Taylor awoke with a start, the thunder of a gunshot still ringing in her ears and a phantom pain lancing through her skull. Her breaths came in gulps and gasps as her hands frantically checked her head for injuries, finding none.
And that was quite concerning. She was pretty sure she’d lost an arm, a large portion of her sanity, and a sizable chuck of grey matter. Not necessarily in that order.
Looking about, she had to conceded that the endless expanse of white nothingness was also a little weird. Not the strangest situation she’d ever found herself in, to be fair, but it at least deserved a mention.
The complete lack of feedback from her power told her less than she’d like about the situation. Maybe there weren’t any bugs in her immediate vicinity; or maybe there was a power nullifying trump nearby; or maybe her power was just gone for some other reason.
Or, and this one was a first, she might just be dead.
But, being uninjured and clothed (and not thinking about how she got into the snazzy white robes), she couldn’t really justify panicking. So she sat in silence, looking around at a whole lot of nothing, feeling not-so-oddly detached.
Moments later, she narrowed her eyes as a black cloaked skeleton loomed into existence in front of her, rudely obscuring her view of the endless expanse of white nothingness
“Sup,” She asked.
The robed figure simply stared down at her with burning eyes. Literally burning, there were tiny red flames in the skull’s eye sockets. She had to admit, it was a pretty neat effect.
“So, I’m dead, right?”
The cartoonishly on-the-nose personification of Death raised its hand and wobbled it back and forth in a ‘sort-of’ gesture. Before Taylor could voice a complaint, it reached into the air and, in an overly dramatic pyrotechnic display, flamed a long roll of parchment into existence.
She took the offered contract - because what else could it be? - and huffed in displeasure at small print.
“The departed, having served their destined purpose… offered a second chance at life… world disconnected from the multiverse of their previous incarnation… free from destined heroic obligations… will not retain the powers nor injuries lost in death… shall have the opportunity to gain power equal to or greater than those of their previous incarnation…” She mumbled as she read. Death waited with inhuman patience.
“Any room for negotiations?”
The skeleton tilted its scythe at her.
“Alright, alright! Got a pen?”
She was offered an inkwell, a quill, and a knife. Figures.
With a long suffering sigh she drew the knife across her palm and dribbled blood into the ink well. Then, with great alacrity, scribed her signature onto the bottom of the contract.
There was a blinding flash of light, then darkness.
---
In a matter of moments, Taylor’s senses faded into focus and she found herself with her back to a brick wall standing on a fairly busy street.
The smell of cigarette smoke hit her first, then her eyes were quickly drawn to the strangely anachronistic clothes. A car drove past that she might have consider vintage were it not for the several other cars of similar make that she saw parked along the street. The signs were all pointing towards a conclusion that she was reluctant to accept but even less inclined to ignore.
“That bastard dropped me way in the past, didn’t he?”
A door opened beside her and, turning, Taylor saw a harried looking woman stepped forth, looked about, and settled on her with a relieved sigh.
“There you are, dear! Apologies for the wait, Mrs. Wool is ready for you now. Up you get, and I’ll be off. No doubt you’ll make lots of friends! That’s a good girl, do treat Mrs. Wool kindly. I’ll be back to check that you’ve settled but I’m sure you’ll do fine.” The woman bustled down the stairs and gave Taylor a little nudge towards the door. Then, as suddenly as she’d appeared, she stepped past and continued down the street with a little wave.
Taylor blinked. Maybe Death wasn’t a complete bastard if he set her up with an established identity. That would make things a hell of a lot easier.
She strode forward through the open door without noticing the sign posted above the entrance - “Wool’s Orphanage”.
---
That boney fucker de-aged her! She was right the first time: Death was a bastard coated bastard with bastard filling and he would rue the day he decided to mess with Taylor Anne Hebert!
She should have noticed that she was too short immediately but she was still a little disoriented being dropped in PRE WORLD WAR TWO LONDON.
She took a few moments to calm herself, letting go of her clenched fists and wiping the scowl off her face. This was fine, she could deal with this. She’d been in worse situations.
She continued walking behind the matron of the orphanage, Mrs Wool, who was apparently taking her to see her roommate.
A roommate. Ugh, she held back a shudder.
No, she was trying to think of the positives. This was possibly of the safest situation she’d been in in years. No one was trying to kill her - she glanced around, eyeing a group of passing children - probably. She had food and shelter for the foreseeable future. And, if she could trust that bastard’s contract, there wasn’t even a looming apocalyptic threat to worry about.
“Here we are,” The matron gave a little knock on the door, “Emma, dear, are you in?”
Taylor felt her eye twitch as a timid redheaded girl poked her head out of the door. She didn’t really look anything like her childhood friend beyond the hair color, but this still had to be another cosmic joke at her expense. She mentally tallied another grievance against the only (remaining) cosmic entity on her shit list.
“Emma, this is Taylor. She’s going to be your new roommate!” Mrs Wool gave each girl a patronizing smile in turn.
Sighing, Taylor plastered a facsimile of a smile onto her own face and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Emma.”
The redhead responded with a shy little wave, still mostly hiding behind the door.
“Well, I’ll leave you two alone to get acquainted. Emma, please show Taylor around.”
Emma visibly gulped.
Taylor watched the matron walk around the corner then looked back to her new roommate, “So… are you gonna let me in?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, sorry,” Emma backed up and let Taylor step into their room, which was just barely large enough for a single bunk bed, a dresser, wardrobe, and a desk. It wasn’t a lot to share. In a way, it was good that Taylor didn’t have any worldly possessions to clutter up what little space remained.
She sat on the edge of the bottom bed and asked, “So… what’s this place like?”
“It’s, um… nice?” Emma replied, looking quickly up at Taylor, then back down at her feet.
Taylor rolled her eyes. Her initial reaction to the girl’s name and hair had already mostly abated. This girl was clearly nothing like the Emma of her last life and she wasn’t going to let some bullshit practical joke by spooky-scary-skeleton man poison her relationships in this new world.
“Do you mind showing me the ropes? Introducing me to people? Mrs. Wool walked me straight up so I don’t know anything about anything around here.”
Emma looked up again, this time meeting Taylor’s eyes with a slight smile. She gave a little nod, “Yeah, I can do tha’.”
Their embryonic bonding moment shattered as a scream echo into their room from down the hall.
---
Taylor had, naturally, run straight towards the noise. Emma trailed along behind her. They arrived a little late to the action but were still in time to see a slightly older boy being restrained as he was pulled off of a younger boy, around Taylor and Emma’s age.
The younger boy was squinting, as though he’d been punched in the eye, and his hair and clothes were quite discheved. Still, he was smiling darkly.
From the ceiling hung the bloody corpse of a rabbit.
“You have any idea what’s going on?” Taylor asked.
“Tha’s Tom. And the big’uns Billy. They got into a fight yesterday, I think.” Emma said, stepping slightly behind Taylor as Tom’s gaze shifted their way.
Taylor met his eyes then looked up at the dead rabbit. When she looked back, Tom was still staring at her curiously. Oh, right. She should probably be squicked out by the blood or something. Tom was finally forced to break eye contact when Mrs. Wool stormed into the room and pulled both the boys out of the room.
“So Tom killed his rabbit? That seems,” She paused, searching for the words, “Like a pretty extreme escalation,” She suddenly felt an odd shiver strike her out of nowhere.
Emma scuffed her foot on the ground, “He said ‘e killed his snake. Bu’ Billy said it was gonna eat ‘is rabbit. Bu’ then... Billy’s always pushin’ Tom ‘round an callin’ him a ‘freak’ so...” she shrugged and trailed off.
Taylor scowled. Well, at least Tom wasn’t letting himself be bullied. She watched, dispassionately, as one of the older children, standing on a table, tried to untie the rabbit from the rafters, causing more blood to splatter onto the floor. Something about this didn’t seem right.
“Wait. They let you guys keep pets here?”
“Nah. Billy found ‘is burrow out in the park an he’d been feedin’ ‘im carrots.”
Taylor nodded. Yeah, that made more sense, “Well, that seems like a mess. Any other drama around here?”
Emma, having finally gotten over her shyness, was all too happy to tell Taylor about the various cliques and circles that had sprung up in the orphanage as they walked back to their room. She noted with some sympathy that Emma never mentioned any of her own friends.