Chapter Text
Crossroad 1.1 - Taylor Hebert
03 January 2011
Some people desire to change the world. For the better, I mean. For the past twenty-odd years, we’ve called them heroes. Mostly, I’d have to agree with the label. Others, they just live for themselves. All greed, no compassion. Villains, usually, but obviously not limited to them. Politicians and corporate suits come to mind; Not exactly supervillains, but, also usually, selfish people nonetheless. The rest? They just live. They just exist the best they can in a world of heroes and villains, and try not to get caught up in it. Except they typically were tangled in the middle. Everyday normal people, going about their everyday normal lives.
And me? I considered myself firmly placed in the first group: Heroes. I didn’t have superpowers. I wasn’t a superhero—not like Mouse Protector, my favorite one. No, I was just boring old Taylor Hebert, daughter to a Dockworkers spokesman and a deceased esteemed nuclear physicist and engineer. God, I missed her. Mom and her impromptu science lessons. Dad was still here, but the distance between us was staggering.
I raised my head to meet the gaze of my own amber eyes through the mirror. An inheritance from my mom. My black rectangle-rimmed glasses normally framed them perfectly, but were laid beside the sink. My second inheritance came in the form of dark, curly hair extending to the small of my back. She also left me a wide and expressive mouth. Thin lipped and all. From my dad, I got a tall, willowy physique. Like that of a ballerina, only with no muscle and much, much frailer.
Yup, boring old Taylor Hebert. I let my eyes fall back to the sink basin. I still hadn’t been sleeping well, not since mom. I figured some cool water would wake me up, and stave off the nerves. For the past year—well, year and some change—I had to dodge, weave, and endure endless harassment and bullying from the Trio. Sophia Hess, Madison Clements, and Emma Barnes.
Emma.
She was my best friend, Emma. She was my rock, my anchor in the storm. Was. She decided I wasn’t good enough, or something, after I got back from summer camp a couple years ago. And it still stung. I had thought I was getting better; Getting over my mom. Emma had helped immensely, and I loved her for it. But I guess she didn’t feel the same. Like rebuilding a LEGO tower, showing it off, and having it knocked down again.
And now she made it her life’s purpose to make mine Hell. Her and her cronies. Madison was easy enough to deal with, especially on her own. Sophia, though, was downright awful. The meanest “pranks”, the nastiest insults, the first to get physical. I really think I hated her.
My mom’s preachings rang out in my head. “Everyone has something going on beneath the surface.”
“You don’t have to move mountains to make a difference, little bug.”
“Heberts don’t walk away from anything—especially from those in need. Understand?”
“With great power, Tay-bug, comes great, great responsibility.”
I was trying to live by those teachings; Trying so astronomically hard. But the Trio made it that much harder. I wanted so badly to retaliate or speak up, not that it’d do much. Positively futile. I knew I didn’t hate Sophia, or Madison. Hell, I didn’t even hate Emma. I was just hurt and confused and on edge constantly.
Lately, however, it had been radio silence from the Trio. Never a good sign. The worst of their schemes usually followed extended periods of peace. Preparation, and trying to give me a false sense of security. That they had finally backed off. They never backed off; They just got worse.
Here I was in the girl’s restroom, hiding and dreading. Something was going to happen today, it was bound to. The silence was deafening, and it had reached its climax. The shoe, metaphorical or otherwise, was going to drop, and today. Anxiety practically radiated from my body, like some sort of twisted aura.
“Fuck it,” I croaked, slipping my glasses back onto my gawky face. I picked my backpack off the floor, shouldered it, and made for the exit. For a moment—a single, agonizing moment—I stood frozen. Then, with a sigh, I pushed through into the hallway.
I had left last period a little early for my bathroom escapade, but now travel between classrooms was in full swing. Oh hell, I didn’t even hear the bell. I still needed to swing by my locker to actually get my textbooks. I hadn’t needed them for first period at all, since it was just Computers. Mom would have my head, metaphorically of course, if I forgot anything for Chemistry. I hadn’t even missed a class yet.
Ignoring the anxiety boiling within, I pushed through the crowded halls, making way for my locker. I knew I should’ve taken my textbooks home for winter break. Would’ve saved me loads of time and effort, especially with keeping them from the Trio.
Right, the Trio. And the shoe. The shoe that was going to drop. And it would drop today.
Turning the corner down the hall that contained my locker, I immediately noticed trouble. All three of them—Emma, Madison, and Sophia—were standing at the other end, and they one hundred percent noticed me. Oh, hell.
I swallowed hard and instinctually ducked low, eyes to the ground. I was trying, and probably failing, to hide how nervous I was. They could smell it; Like sharks with blood in the water, they could smell it.
A couple seconds of slow, methodical walking took me to my locker. I stood before it, feeling microscopic, as if the metal container towered over me. I sighed once more and reached out for the latch. The Trio were no longer in my peripheral vision, which worried me, but whatever.
I opened the locker.
Oh there it was, the shoe. And it was dropping.
I was greeted by a wall of filth. It was hard to tell exactly what it consisted of visually, but the wretched odor was an easy identifier. Waste. From the many crusted, crimson white tampons, I wagered this was from the girl’s bathroom. Probably all of them, honestly. A second look revealed something worse: life. Bugs were crawling all up and around the mess. Cockroaches, crickets, and… spiders.
God I hated spiders. Too many legs, too many eyes. I hated this, too. The sight of used bloody tampons and creepy crawlies, the disgusting, putrid stench radiating from it. This was too much.
Too fucking much.
I hurled. I threw up all over the trash piled into my locker. And then I did it again. And again. And again.
A quick burst of pain from my back broke me from my puke loop. I wasn’t sure what was happening, until I found myself intimate with the vile pile of waste. I had been pushed in; Into absolute Hell. This was Hell. This was Hell. This was Hell.
I heard laughing followed by the creaking of metal. The door had been shut, leaving me trapped in total darkness with the bugs and the trash. Oh God.
I threw up on myself again. Oh God.
I felt the hundreds of prickly little legs, crawling around my body. I was trapped, I had nowhere to run. On and on they explored. Oh God.
I felt myself beginning to pass out, and then the pain began. Different points on my body—my arms, my legs, my neck even—I felt it. Numerous flaring pricks of raw, sharp pain. Bites. I was being bitten by unknown and unseen assailants. Oh God.
The spiders. The spiders. The spiders. The spiders. The spiders. The fucking spiders.
It hurt. I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted it all to stop. I couldn’t do this anymore, not this.
I screamed, slamming my contorted body into the metal walls of the locker. Hysterical, I let go. I just hollered and flailed.
Then the vision.
DESTINATION.
AGREEMENT.
Two unidentifiable things traveled through the empty void of space. Eldritch was the best descriptor. They rotated, folded, and stretched into themselves. The two monolithic beings moved at speeds beyond possible, trailing a shining, twinkling pile of dust.
HIVE.
AGREEMENT.
DANGER.
CONFIDENT.
Danger? What danger? How did I understand these things? What the hell was going on? Am I dying? I’m dying. I’m dying. I’m dying. I’m dying.
Suddenly, without warning, a piece—a shard—broke from the mass trailing behind the creatures, and embedded itself within me.
I passed out, finally.
* * *
“...almost fucking died! You’re going to figure out who did this, you fuck…,” a masculine voice faded into reality, and back out again. It was hard to concentrate.
Numb. I felt numb. Numb and tingly. I couldn’t feel my body at all, and my senses seemed to be completely out of whack. It was hard to concentrate.
The shouting from the voice continued, but I couldn’t tell what was being said. Or yelled. What can I say? It was hard to concentrate.
I let the darkness take me once more. Visions of comedic, gross, balding spiders shouting at another spider on their web came to mind.
I think I giggled.
* * *
When I woke again, it was for real this time. My head felt cloudy, but clear enough. The numbness from before had left, thankfully. My senses were normal, too. No, they weren’t. I felt more… alert. Aware.
Overall I felt fine. Probably better than I should after what I had gone through. Oh, right…
Memories of the locker came flooding back instantly, turning my stomach into an expert acrobat. The darkness, the stench, the… crawling. All of it.
The Trio. They did it, and there’s no doubt about it. It had been quiet for weeks, and I even had a peaceful winter break. The shoe dropped, and fuck did it ever. No one else would even think about doing anything like this. It had to be them, it just had to be.
But, why? I don’t understand. I just don’t fucking get it. Why do they do this? What did I do to deserve this? I just don’t get it. I just fucking don't.
Tears began to fall down my face with my rising emotion. My hands wrapped around my head as I shook and wailed. I didn’t care where I was, I just needed it out.
A pair of arms pulled me into their warmth. Dad. I sank into him as sobs wracked my body.
“I’ve got you, little bug,” Dad cooed, resting his head atop mine and slowly rocking to and fro. “I’m here, it’s all okay.”
I wanted it to be, I really did. I cried and cried into his chest, probably soaking his shirt. I didn’t care. He didn’t, either.
* * *
“Miss Hebert,” a feminine voice called before knocking on the hospital door. “Can I come in?”
I glanced over at Dad, who was just waking up. He looked awful, and I definitely did, too. He stood up and started for the door. He opened it and revealed two sharply dressed figures. A darker-skinned woman in front, a pale-skinned man behind her.
“You are…?,” Dad asked, letting the question hang. The back of his head was all I could see, but I was positive he was mean mugging them by the look on the woman’s face.
“Agents Hernandez and Brookes,” the woman, Hernandez, pointed a thumb at the owner of each name as she said it. She placed her hands in her suit pants pockets, which amazed me. Women’s pants usually didn’t have pockets. “We’re with the PRT. We’re here to take a look at your daughter, and ask her a few questions.”
Dad looked back at me, concern creasing his already aged face. “Taylor…?”
“It’s fine,” I tried to smile, but managed a grimace. “You’re fine. Come in, I guess.”
“Thank you, Miss Hebert,” Agent Hernandez nodded, and followed Dad inside. Brookes trailed behind and shut the door. Dad sat back down in his chair while the two PRT agents stood beside my hospital bed.
For a moment nothing was said, the silence only being broken up by the beeps and boops of the hospital equipment hooked up to me. Then Agent Brookes spoke.
“Miss Hebert, I’m gonna be straight to the point with this,” the man said, leaning on the rails at the foot of the bed. “Have you noticed anything different with you, or your body?”
“Are- are you asking me about puberty?,” I flushed, eyes wide. I stared incredulously at Brookes as Dad started to speak.
“What my dipshit partner is trying to say,” Hernandez cut in, throwing a nasty look at Brookes. “Do you think you’ve developed superpowers?”
“Superpowers?,” Dad said first. Words, well word, right out of my mouth.
I mean, my senses feel better, heightened. I already felt good as new, aside from the mental scarring. Physically I felt fantastic, which was odd because I was flailing in a locker and bitten head to toe by creepy crawlies. I shouldn’t have recovered this fast. Maybe there was something, honestly, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.
“I’m gonna go ahead and say no,” I finally said. I genuinely didn’t believe I had developed superpowers in the past twenty-four hours. The idea was laughable. “Why?”
“They call ‘em ‘Trigger Events’,” Brookes answered, earning another glare from his partner. “Bad, traumatic event results in superpowers.”
“I’ve never heard of this,” Dad raised his eyebrow.
“That’s because it’s not supposed to be common knowledge, Brookes,” Hernandez replied, sighing.
“My bad, whatever,” Brookes didn’t look remotely guilty. “We’ve got places to be, and kids suck. Just be upfront, no sugarcoating. Y’know?”
“You’re an asshole,” Hernandez scowled, before turning to Dad. “I’m sorry about this, Mr. Hebert. My partner and I will get out of your hair. Please, if, ah, something develops, call me.”
She handed him a yellow business card. I could make out small red lettering on the card. “AGENT PENNY HERNANDEZ - PRT”. Wait, I could read it. I didn’t have my glasses on. I doubted I could read lettering that small with my glasses on. What the hell?
Dad pocketed the card while I had a mini freak out. I heard him escort the two agents out of the hospital room. I noticed Dad return to his seat and give me a small smile.
“No superpowers, I think,” I smiled back. I was starting to not believe that myself.
* * *
It only took a couple days of monitoring before the hospital decided I was free to go. I was ecstatic to escape that ivory prison, and it was obvious Dad was, too. He wanted to change his focus to raising hell at Winslow. I understood it, I guess. His daughter was nearly killed under the supervision of the school.
I was told later that I was in the locker for nearly the entire day, rotting, and the sheer amount of venom and biohazardous material should have killed me. I was catatonic for some time, apparently. I guess I had recovered faster than they had anticipated, which was good. To me, at least.
I woke up on a seemingly normal Wednesday morning, sun shining and birds chirping. The whole nine yards, and all. I crawled out of bed, stretched, and started downstairs. Breakfast. Yeah, that sounded good, especially after hospital food.
Stepping into the kitchen, I was greeted by a plastic wrapped plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage. On top of the balanced breakfast was a sticky note. On inspection it read: “GONE TO WINSLOW ALL DAY, HELP YOURSELF. SEE YOU FOR DINNER. LOVE YOU, TAY-BUG.”
Alright, guess I was alone for the day. I shrugged to myself and set about reheating the food Dad had left me.
* * *
Roughly twenty minutes later, I had cleaned my plate and started back up the stairs. Might as well get a shower in. I had used the shower at the hospital, but I still felt dirty. I probably still would forty years from now. The filth, the stench…
“No, bad,” I lightly slapped myself on the cheek. I shuddered. “And now I’m talking to myself. Cool.”
I made my way back into my room and stripped. I strode out into the hallway, grabbed a towel from the linen closet, and locked myself in the bathroom. Shower time, baby.
One look at the mirror shook me to my very core.
Staring back at me was, indeed, Taylor Anne Hebert. She had the same gawky face, the same brown eyes, the same dark, curly hair that was styled long. The height was the same, too, but there it ended. This Taylor was different. She was toned, filled out. More a gymnast or a dancer than a bean pole, now.
I looked down at myself and screamed. It was real. I was toned. I was filled out. I had the physique of an athlete. And I was terrified.
I hadn’t done a single day’s worth of hard work in my life, not really. I hadn’t worked out before, or anything of the sort. So why, on God’s green Earth, did I have the physique of an Olympian? Sort of an exaggeration, but still. I was built, and definitely not out of shape in the slightest.
“Okay, Tay, calm down, girl,” I breathed, trying to coax myself into serenity. I stumbled to the shower, grabbing the curtain. I pulled the curtain back and let go. Except I didn’t. The curtain was stuck to my hand.
“Calm down, calm down,” I shook my hand, trying to get the fabric separated. I stepped back, and tripped. Instead of my naked form crashing onto the cold tile of the bathroom floor, I rolled to a crouch. The movement tore the shower curtain and yanked the rod down. I looked down at my hand, surprised to see cloth stuck firmly onto my hand.
“The fuck…?,” I whispered, gradually standing up. I stared back into the mirror and had yet another freak out.
I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I had gone my entire morning normally without my glasses. How? Wouldn’t it be muscle memory to grab my glasses as I woke up? Maybe I figured I fell asleep with them on after having clear vision.
Heightened senses, sticky hands, sculpted physique, perfect vision. I… I think I had superpowers. “Trigger Event” is what that PRT agent had called it. I think I triggered, and now I have superpowers.
“Cool,” I grinned, my heart rate slowing slightly.
I had superpowers! This was the freakiest, weirdest, and greatest day of my life. No one could take this from me, not even the Trio.
Right, the Trio. I had gotten these superpowers from their homicide attempt.
I looked into my own eyes. My own, perfectly calibrated eyes. I had superpowers, and the Trio had tried to kill me…
“With great power…”
“Right,” I swallowed and frowned. “Great responsibility, and all.”
I couldn’t use these powers on them, no matter how much I wanted to. No matter how angry I got, I just couldn’t. That wasn’t me; that couldn’t be me. I wouldn’t let it. I knew I was better than that, and I would prove it.
Besides, I didn’t even know what my powers were, even. I needed to figure that out for myself before I even thought about using them against others. Against villains.
My expression morphed into another grin. Villains! I could be a superhero, and fight supervillains! Like Mouse Protector, hero of the Protectorate and champion of all things goofy. I could, and would, make a true difference.
I would—will—change the world for the better, absolutely I would. I’d do it for Dad, for Gram, for Mom.
[center]* * *[/center]
Weeks passed and I still hadn’t returned to school. Dad, however, went to Winslow every day. He wanted justice against the school and my attackers, and they wanted to sweep the incident under the rug.
I had told him I was being bullied, but not by whom. I couldn’t tell him about Emma, it would make things much, much worse. So I kept the situation—kinda—controlled.
My time, however, was not spent sitting around. No, oh no. I was determined to figure out my powers as much as I could, among other things. I ran controlled tests, something that would have made my scientist mother proud.
So far I had determined that I had super strength, speed, reflexes, stamina, and durability. The things I did in that basement, oh boy. I had to learn very, very quickly how to hide my many mistakes. There were at least three fist size holes in the concrete walls hidden behind posters I had frantically bought.
The sticky hands? Yeah, I figured out that’s anywhere on my body, and I learned pretty damn fast how to control it. I really did learn how to reach peak serenity on the fly, which was key to sticking and unsticking. Crawling around the ceiling and walls was kinda fun in its own, very weird way.
I also began running, which helped me discover my speed and stamina, and an extra sense that I hadn’t given a real name yet. I seemed to sense danger, or at least directly incoming danger. Discovering this power was probably the second scariest day in my life. I wasn’t paying attention, and had jogged right into Azn Bad Boys territory. My danger sense went off immediately and I managed to avoid getting surrounded by racist gangsters.
As much as I hated to admit it—and I really hated it—my powers resembled the attributes of a spider more than anything. I was stupidly strong, I could stick and crawl on walls, I was quick and agile, and I could even jump like a spider. It made my skin crawl, especially with the reminder of the locker, but everyone’s gotta conquer their fears, right?
Well if I was going to conquer this arachnophobia and own it, I would definitely lean into it. So I did. Roughly a week into my experimentation, I began work on a special project. I had the powers of a spider, minus the webs. So I would make the webs.
I cracked open the lab notes of the experiments Mom had concocted during her career, both failure and success, and began work off of one specifically. Artificial thread, made to be on the level of Kevlar. The project hadn’t got off the ground, mostly due to cost, but Mom had left a handful of spools around. Two ideas hatched within my noggin: how to make my costume, and how I could make my own webs.
So I set about both tasks, splitting my time healthily between studying my powers, designing and sewing a superhero costume, and developing my own synthetic webbing.
And so, nearly three weeks after nearly being murdered by my high school bullies, I, Taylor Anne Hebert, finished a superhero costume complete with synthetic web shooters. I had a decent enough handle on my powers, too.
I felt I was ready, at least, for an actual escapade into the city. For in-costume training. Y’know, like riding a bike. Yeah, like riding a bike.
I slipped into my suit and slapped on my web shooters. Posing for the mirror, I surprised myself with how, well, heroic I looked. Hands on hips, I gave a last once-over on the outfit design and nodded.
The suit was skin-tight, mostly black, and hooded. Crimson colored the hood and mask, down to the chest, ending in points. The arms, too, were red with white web-patterned accents in the crook. The same white web-pattern was sewn in the underside of the hood. Stamped directly in the middle of the chest was a stylized white symbol of a spider. Its legs extended around my midsection, up my shoulders, and down my stomach. Finally, the suit ended at its crimson-colored boots.
Yeah, I looked awesome.
“I am Spider-Woman,” I boasted to myself, posted up. I may have looked cool, but I felt silly posing in front of a mirror in my basement.
“Soon,” I told myself, beaming under my mask. “Tomorrow night, at least.”
I needed to practice using my web shooters more, and I had an idea on how to do it. A very, very dangerous idea. One that involved tall buildings and free-falling.
My grin only grew under my mask, and my heartbeat accelerated at the fear and anticipation.
“Yeah, soon.”