Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Taylor could not feel a thing. 

Was that correct? She could not feel a thing but she was distantly aware of faint, numbed sensations. A weight on her legs and chest, confusing sounds all around. It took a long time for her to even realise that she was hearing anything, that the weight on her was not normal but implied that something was resting on top of her. She spent what felt like a century putting things together, and trying to work things out. 

The last sensation she remembered was laying on the ground, no, not the ground... on the twisted and ruined piece of metal that had formerly been the door to her locker, covered in filth and unable to even raise an arm, her strength depleted. 

She had freed herself, in that moment of desperation, as she reached her lowest point possible... something happened and her eyes had twitched. 

She had been laying there atop the ruined metal for a while, her eyes pulsing... had somebody found her?

Or was she dead? What was going on? Her mind was all confused, it was like trying to push through a wall of treacle or something like that. Or like when you wake up from a long sleep and struggle to get yourself to wake up, struggling against the warmth and easy comfort. She could just about open her eyes and peer with hazy, blurred vision around her. 

Her first thought was that the world was far too bright and hazy, details were very slowly fading in.

There was something beside her. 

It took her several minutes of staring blankly at it to realise that yes, it was there. The strange lines superimposed on her vision was indeed a curving tube reaching down from a large blob of liquid, and it reached all the way down to the bottom of her vision. It took far more effort than felt nature to look down to see that the tube terminated in her own arm. 

A... drip?

That's what those were called right?

A drip. 

You used them to... to...

"---lor!?" somebody was touching her, something warm had just wrapped around her hand.  

Taylor knew that smell, it was familiar. It was that pretty gross and strong cologne that her dad used, yeah, she could feel the callouses on the hand that surrounded hers.

She tried to say 'dad,' but It came out as one long sound without definition or even syllable.

Propping her up so that she was half sitting, half laying in the hospital bed. It took awhile for her to fully wake up and, blearily, talk with her father. He sat beside her; his hands wrapped around her own as if afraid she would disappear if he let go.

A doctor bustled in and was speaking, describing what had happened to her. She struggled to follow along. Severe Sepsis? Blood infection?

"---you have suffered some organ damage, especially your heart, so you will have to take it very carefully until it can recover, Miss Hebert," the doctor rattled off. "You need to avoid intensive exercise until you show signs of recovery, and you're likely to suffer a condition called Post Sepsis Syndrome. Whilst the symptoms vary, you'll likely be in quite a bit of pain for quite awhile I am afraid---"

A small pamphlet was handed to her father. 

She would need to read that, right?

The doctor kept listing things off at her, things she was struggling to keep up with, the heady sensation of the drugs were not helping. Her father was doing his best to take all this in, there were papers to be signed and she was barely cognisant of being asked her opinion on a number of topics. What sort of opinion could she give right now? She barely understood what was going on, she felt so very numb.

She should be feeling something , right?

"---We did a scan and whilst the PRT had been concerned that your daughter had gained Parahuman powers, we found no evidence of such---"

Would things be different if she had gained Parahuman powers? Would they be hurrying to heal her, wanting to put themselves in her good books. Wait, they scanned her? Wasn't that a lot of money?

"---so, we're going to put you on a list for Panacea, but to be honest, it will be quite a while. Whilst Post Sepsis Syndrome is unpleasant there are a lot of critically ill people ahead of you," it almost sounded as if she was being admonished for being locked in that steel coffin and contracting blood poisoning.

The world was not fair. 

Due to the damage done to her heart by the sepsis she could no longer go for jogs in the morning, could not move faster than a walk without her heart beginning to hurt and her vision beginning to darken. Just lifting her school bag for her first day back at school felt like a monumental effort that left her muscles struggling. 

"Have you taken your tablets Taylor?" her father asked, hovering over her.

"Yeah, I have," she patted a pocket of her bag, which contained the little cardboard packet with the blister pack pills within.

Drugs from the hospital. 

To numb the constant aches and pains, which were so great that they boarded on paralysing. The only downside was that they had the side effect that alongside the physical pain... she did not really feel much at all. Taylor hated the idea of drugs, but in the choice between constant, near overwhelming pain and feeling barely anything at all, what sort of choice did she really have?

She felt numb, both physically and emotionally. For the last few days that she had been home after being discharged from the hospital she had mostly floated around, comfortably numb. The world was very different when you barely had the strength and motivation to do anything. 

That, combined with the pills to deal with the fact that it was now so, so hard to get to sleep, left her in a zombie-like state in the morning. 

The drugs required to mitigate the after effects of severe sepsis were almost as debilitating as the condition itself.

If she could feel it, she would be miserable. 

As it was, she rested her head against the window of the family car. Her father would not be able to drop her off every day, but for her first few days back he had offered. It was nice of him... the news that she was much more likely to suffer heart attacks in the future had evidently gotten to him. For the last few days he had been hurrying to take care of her, to reduce the amount of difficult things she had to do. 

How sweet.

Winslow was the same as before.

She walked along, by all logic she should go to homeroom first, but now she had to go somewhere else she had to visit.

The nurse’s office.

"Excuse me, I need to drop off my tablets," she said, by means of explanation as she stepped in. 

The school nurses nodded. 

They had a small safe for students with medical conditions to store their various drugs. 

Handing over the packets, she should probably feel some manner of trepidation. Would the trio stoop so low as to try and sneak in to steal the tablets that she relied upon to make it through the day? The average person would say that doing that would be a step too far. But this was the same group who put her into the locker, who put her in this place to start with. 

"I'll put them away for you dear, when do you next need to take them?"

"Lunch, they have to go with food."

"Okay, thank you, I'll see you then," the nurse had smiled at her. 

She forced a similar expression before she departed. Unfortunately, because the world is not fair, there was somebody waiting outside, leaning against the wall opposite with arms crossed over her chest and eyebrow raised.

"Why were you in the nurses then, Hebert?"

"Tablets."

She should probably feel scared or intimidated, but it was hard to feel anything at all. So instead she stared down at Sophia… wow, when she was not hunching all the time the other girl was a few inches shorter than her. Strange to think. 

"What are the tablets for?"

"... Blood poisoning."

A grunt. 

Taylor watched her leave neutrally. 

What a twisted, horrible person. 

Not as bad as Emma, Sophia was just a brute. It was harder to begrudge the dog that bites a person than its owner that sic’s it upon you. 

Overall, her return to school had surprisingly little fanfare. 

People were curious about what, exactly, happened to her locker. The door had been found ripped apart as if it had been hit by some manner of vehicle, there was even some talk that she, of all people, might be a Cape. If nothing else, that rumour meant that suddenly people were keeping a bit of a distance, nobody wants to mess with somebody who might suddenly fire a laser out their eyes or turn you inside out. 

Even the trio were keeping a small distance. 

but she had seen that before. 

The calm before the storm, the flight of the stone through the air before it shatters a window. 

Oh, there were questions though. She did not put much energy into answering them, though, just monosyllabic answers, because the matter did not really deserve more. 

The school board had already drawn its own conclusions about the entire thing before she had even woken up from her coma, before she had even been asked about it all. So, what could she really contribute, apart from a narrative that would be rejected?

They did still ask, at least. 

Hooray for wanting to talk to the victim after the fact. 

"And how did you break the door to the locker, Miss Hebert?"

"If I had the strength to do it, then why did I not break myself out? No offence, but a metal door is less valuable than my life." 

It was the longest thing she had said all day. 

Amazing how quickly that one can kill a line of questioning. Even unreasonable people sometimes have to look facts in the face. 

Especially when the person you are talking to does not rise to any point or comment. 

It was the night after her third day back to normality that she discovered that she had a power.

Well... was it a power?

The hospital had said that she did not have the required gemma in her corona pollentia to have parahuman powers, so whatever it was she was doing was not a proper power. It wasn't even anything special. She had been staring into the bathroom sink at the water within, a mill pool like surface, idly wondering on whether it was even worth washing her face when she began imagining pulling the plug and the cycling of the water down the drain.

Water turned anti-clockwise in this hemisphere, right? Or was it anti-clockwise...

Suddenly, her left eye felt weird.

Twist.

The water formed a little vortex as she stared at it. 

Slowly at first, but within a moment or two the water was moving much quicker, sloshing over the side of the sink.  

Had she not been drugged to the gills, perhaps she would have had a more intense emotional reaction. As it was, she closed her left eye and after a few seconds the vortex had disappeared and the water had settled back into a flat surface, with just a number of bubbles moving in a gentle circle to indicate the movement of water under the surface.

...

She imagined the water going the other way, keeping the left eye closed. 

Her right eye twitched, the water moved. 

This was all just a little weird, the bathroom carpet under her feet was getting rather wet at this point but this strange power of hers was eliciting surprise and confusion. She had not felt such strong emotions in days, this was novel, it was... enjoyable, to feel again.

So... she could make water turn?

Wait, no. 

Focusing on a tree outside, she made a number of twigs snap and fold back on themselves, she could force the movement more and more, until, with a great snap a small branch splintered and fell. It took concentration and effort. Weren’t most powers like this not supposed to work on living matter?

She paused in her preparations for bed, ignoring what was left of the water in the sink to stand instead at the bathroom window. It was small and had only a limited view over the Hebert’s small back garden.

She focused on a point in the distance, a bamboo pole in the neighbour’s garden that was being used to grow some manner of creeping plant.

Twist.

She really needed to learn to control this strange power better, the bamboo pole less twisted than exploded, falling apart into dozens of pieces with ease. It was not even that hard...  She tried again on a distant tree, squinting with the other eye to focus on it. Just like the other tree, she could twist and move it from afar. Her left eye twisted things to the left, her right eye to the right. 

Oh, she felt a little lightheaded... had she been holding her breath whilst making use of this power of hers?

That was bad, her damaged heart and lungs could not handle stress and such things so well. 

Taylor closed her eyes, restraining her new curiosity to focus on the breathing exercises that her father had found online for her. The light-headedness and rapid beating of her heart gently slowed down. She would have to be careful in future and make sure not to tax herself so much.

But the locker, it had been found all twisted and warped right? Had she really done that? Forcing metal like that was far more than just making water and a few twigs snap.

She wanted to know more about what she could do.

At school, things were slowly sliding back to how they were before.

The trio were beginning to move back to their original tactics, like hunting dogs cornering a fox or small animal they were growing more and more open in their discussions, glancing over at her frequently. That habitual stress was returning whenever they did, the automatic response of her body whenever they looked her way in that speculative manner, as if weighing up the pros and cons of an action. 

... What would happen if she just... twisted them?

She had not tried using her new power on a living creature. Well, not on something that actually had flesh and blood. 

And yet...

She rather wanted to, if only to see if she could. It was such a dangerous thought, though. 

Then again, she had been forced down a slippery slope already, and been given no choice. She had always tried to be a moral person; she had once dreamed about being a Hero when she was older. Like Alexandria. But right now, she didn't feel a thing at all apart from a mild curiosity to see just what she could do with her power. 

So she tested it out. 

There was a rat in the garden. 

It turned out, her power did work on living creatures.

It was gruesome to watch, but also fascinating. It elicited a morbid curiosity, if that is what it looked like when her power was used on a rat, then what would it look like if used on a human being? She tried to tell herself that it was a line she could not cross, but at the same time she was only telling herself that because it was what she was supposed to believe. There was no thought of revulsion, of secret shame for entertaining the idea. 

She could perhaps go to the PRT to explain her power, see if perhaps they would be able to help her? 

Maybe, as somebody with a power of some sort, they would get her priority treatment from Panacea? But then again, the PRT had taken one look at her, realised that she did not have a gemma and left without any further regard for her life, they only cared about people who could be useful to them . How would her life have changed if she did have one? How much of a priority would she be compared to now?

The PRT was not the answer, they had not helped her before so there was no point in coming to them now. 

And then---

The metaphorical sword of Damocles finally dropped, the near invisible thread that had been holding the blade aloft finally snapped and the opening salvo occurred whilst she had been walking to her second to last class of the day. Just a few words and being shoved into the wall, the signal for things to begin anew as they had been before. In a way, it was a small relief that there could be no more ambiguity about the situation anymore, they had shown their hand. 

The only difference now was that the words did not hurt, even Sophia shoving her elicited nothing, she was so numb to it all that she had simply turned her head, idly watching as the insults came her way. 

The smug smile, and usual pointless aggression, the childish insults. All of them were just twisted people, and right now she wanted to make them twist just so very, very much. The thought made her smile, very faintly.

For that, she got called a freak and a half dozen other things.

They gave up eventually. 

She rather suspected that she had confused them, that their opening salvo was supposed to be far more effective. 

Still.

She did not want this all to start up again.

Over the next two days it only increased, and the temptation to take care of the problem only grew. When you deal with this sort of situation and nobody will help, you have to deal with it yourself. But of course, a normal person could not. She was weaker than Sophia, Emma was a queen bee and any sort of effort would see a disproportionate retaliation from the school and others, it was an utterly hopeless situation.

An utterly hopeless situation before she gained her power. 

After school that Friday she slowly made her way down a different route back home. She could just take the bus, but the air was nice today and even if her heart was weak, a relaxed walk was good for the mind as well as the body.

Emma's window faced out towards the street, and her desk looked out over it. 

When she had homework, Emma always sat at the desk to blitz through it, the girl was by no means stupid but her passion was hardly for anything academic. 

Taylor glanced towards the window.

Emma was there---

Twist.

She looked for barely a second and then continued her way. A solitary glance was all it took.

She really should have felt some manner of horror, but the drugs helped to numb anything, any sort of remaining love and empathy was washed away by the haze. But even in the split second that she glanced that direction, the way her former best friend contorted was delightful. It was like water moving down a drain, except that the drain was the centre of the face, barely even with time to make a sound before all sorts of material splattered on the window. 

Taylor continued her walk. 

It brought a strange elation to her.

Oh god... it was the first time she had really felt anything in days, weeks even. It made the cocktail of faint emotions from testing out her power on the tree seem like a dim glow against a blinding light. The strange, slightly perverse joy of what she did to Emma was like the satisfaction of a warm towel after stepping out of the shower into a cold room.

For just a few minutes it made her feel alive

... She had given Emma the dignity of dying in her home, completely unaware of what was going to happen.

Did she even feel pain? 

Her body felt the waves of relief... Emma's words would no longer be a problem, and she could feel something.

Chapter Text

'Teenage model killed in scene of horror"

It was certainly a gripping title, as was the image of the Barnes house, surrounded by a police cordon, that accompanied it. 

The Brockton Bay Gazette, her father’s paper of choice had run a front-page spread on the death of Emma Barnes, it was the metaphorical talk of the town... probably because Lung had not had a decent rampage and the Empire had not lynched anybody in awhile.

Must be a slow news day.

She had to hand it to the Gazette though, it was a rather artfully written piece.

Really tugged her frayed and weakened heartstrings.

Taylor read all about the 'bright and hopeful future' of her former best friend, about how this 'unexpected tragedy would scar the family forever' and calls for justice, for something to be done about whatever sort of maniac could inflict such a horrible end on somebody. Amazing isn't it, the daughter of a well-off middle class white professional dies horribly and suddenly there is so much noise about it.

Reading it had been little more than a momentary interlude for her though, one that, towards the end, was punctuated by the distant aches of her drugs wearing off.

She took the next set; the pain went away.

"... I'm so sorry Taylor. I know things were not good between you but I just cannot believe what happened," her father had said, reading the paper himself, pale and with a hand over his mouth. 

He mistook her drug induced apathy for shock, and called the school to let them know that she would not be attending today. Bless him, looking out for her... she did not bother to correct him, and had spent a somewhat nice afternoon sitting beside him on the sofa under a blanket, watching a film. The movie was not very good, but when you don't really feel much, the mere stimulation of the moving images and a half competent narrative does the real legwork.

He offered his shoulder to cry upon, wordlessly bringing her close.

She leant into it but couldn't find the tears.

So, she simply sat there, staring off into the distance whilst enjoying the sounds of the TV in the background, and let her father give her comfort. Strange, how it took her near death and the tragedy that had befallen the Barnes family to snap him out of his funk. It was quite nice to have him back, though.

His call to Alan Barnes and the depths of emotion that he expressed for the other man's pain went a long way to mend the friction that had been caused by the 'falling out' of Emma and Taylor.

She even got to attend Emma's funeral.

That was an odd experience. 

Standing over the grave of the person she killed so brutally, looking at the handsome walnut coffin, dressed all in black with her father standing beside her, one hand gripping the wrist of the other. She hoped that her expression conveyed the correct emotions, her father had explained that she was not 'all that there, what with the drugs and the shock,' and the Barnes had said they understood. Auntie Zoe gave her a big hug and thanks for coming, Anne managed to get some tears and snot on her shoulder, but she would not hold that against the elder (now only) Barnes daughter.

The food at the wake was nice as well. 

Some really fancy stuff.

She had chewed it slowly, watching as, mechanically, the three members of the Barnes family went around shaking hands, giving hugs... all those things that people at this sort of event had to do. Weird to think that the last event like this she had been to, it had been her thanking the Barnes for coming. She had clung onto Emma like a lifeline at that time... had barely not really wanted to speak with the extended family or anybody other than the Barnes. 

Now, it was Anne who clung onto her, who needed to have a good cry on her shoulder.

She patted Emma's older sister on the back and consoled her as best she could.

As she wandered the Boardwalk idly, she saw somebody being held up, some burly skinhead with a knife... and it was just so easy to twist , to nip that problem in the bud from a hundred feet away as you go about your business. That way that person will never be a problem again, and the one being threatened is safe. Really, people should not do that sort of thing in the first place.

But that made her a hypocrite as well, after all, wasn't she a killer now?

To be honest, being a murderer was little different to being a normal person. She had wondered whether there would be any change in herself, but to be honest... not really? TV shows made it seem as if the moment a person killed another, they became a completely different person, like some sort of sinister monster underneath the skin was unleashed upon the world, an alien in disguise that sought only to cause pain and suffering for others.

No, the main difference was that now it felt as if she had pushed past some manner of filter in her mind. 

It wasn't that her first thought upon encountering an annoying person was necessarily murder, it was that it was an easy solution to a lot of problems... and the problem with finding an easy solution to a problem is that you begin to rely on it more and more. 

You find a shortcut that shaves minutes from your journey, you begin to take it. You find an easier way to do a hard process and you naturally begin to do it that way because what is the point of doing things the hard way when you can do it more easily? The truth is that whilst the hard way may often yield the best rewards, human beings are creatures of convenience first and foremost.

Not just humans actually, but primates as well.

It's like pringles. 

Once you pop, you just cannot stop.

Before the numbness of the drugs and everything, she had just been floating through life, existing, and trying to get by with the bare minimum of notice. Not much had really changed, except that now instead of a constant misery and apprehension, the rising tension that something had to give... now she felt the malaise of apathy most of the time.

She got her escape from one situation and fell into the other. 

She was fine with it, so long as she had the drugs then she could continue to float through life barely feeling anything negative. The thoughts of Emma's death had mostly faded from her mind, certainly whatever guilt was there was counteracted by the small relief that now she did not have to constantly wait for the next shoe to drop. 

Although the strange, perverse joy she got from using her power on others... only then did she feel truly alive.

She continued along the boardwalk, barely hearing the screams much further along behind her. She was just about out of earshot, there would probably be sirens soon. Would the Gazette run another feature, linking that case to Emma's? It was an interesting question, actually, one that occupied her for a few minutes on the way home. A lot of people used the Boardwalk, especially on a nice day like this, one of the last sunny days of autumn. Perhaps there would be cameras and the police would take notice of her small glance over the shoulder at the disturbance?

Nah, probably not... they could not even catch the Boardwalks enforcers, and if they could not make a proper case out of her testimony against the trio, then what hope was there that they could link her to this?

And really, the guy had it coming. 

She was making a difference with a glance.

Leftwards, rightwards. 

Twelve on the left.

Thirteen on the right. 

She tried to keep it balanced, but not out of any particular reason. It just felt more right to use this strange power of hers in a balanced way. She kept a mental tally of how many uses she had made with each eye so that she did not overuse one versus the other. Was there even any risk in doing so? Probably not.

Oh, she did not always use it on people of course, in truth she had only killed Emma and that guy back there... but she had been practising by using her power to mix and make pancake batter the other day... the first few attempts had launched egg, flour and milk across the kitchen and required ten minutes of cleaning, but through practice she could now reliably whisk materials in a bowl using the strange powers contained within her eyes.

Perhaps she could end up with some sort of Wild West style title? 

"It's her, Taylor Hebert... they say she can whisk batter from thirty feet!"

Maybe that movie the other day did stick with her?

School was different without Emma. 

The news had shocked the school to the core, there was a rather nice framed picture of Emma out the front surrounded by flowers, in memory of a hopeful young spark snuffed out so very brutally. 

A grim mood hung over the homeroom, as if everyone was too scared to raise their voices above a certain level. 

Nobody came to bother her today; she was able to turn in her homework and sit at her desk at the back without issue. 

It was surprisingly normal, after so long.

Science class went swimmingly, they were learning all about muscles and how they worked, apparently the teacher would be bringing in a pig heart on Thursday for them to get a good look at. Taylor wasn't exactly excited, but it would be interesting to observe. Honestly, with how messed up her own heart was right now, it would be a bit bitter sweet to see a fully functioning one.

Madison was quiet and withdrawn, staring down at her desk with a thousand-yard stare for a lot of the day. 

Hadn't she gotten over Emma's death yet? Well, they were friends of some sort, even if Madison's tricks and pranks had always been the least consequential of the trios, and it always seemed as if she was more in it for the sense of belonging.

Sophia was not really any different from normal. 

She did not approach Taylor, but there was little visible difference compared to normal. Uncaring? Or just the image of such? A brave front in the face of your friend’s brutal murder? People were avoiding speaking to both her and Madison, giving them space to grieve. But Taylor could see it... everybody wanted to ask questions, wanted to know the details behind the death of their classmate, but were not brave enough to take the leap.

She supposed that it was sad that the only time in a year that she had a relatively normal lesson at school was after her former best friend died.

Really, it should say a lot about the state of her life.

They all traipsed out of the room and made their way to maths, which passed in much the same way. Lunch was calm enough, she ate in her usual place away from the rest of the school body, staring up at a sky dominated by grey clouds. Afterwards, she returned to the main portion of the school for the post-lunch class, World Issues. 

She took her normal seat beside the window as Mr. Gladly rambled on.

Sophia got to skip this class for track and field training, so long as she made it up at another point in the week. Madison was still near catatonic and struggling to even lift her pen... through the window, Taylor could see Sophia, running along the track.

What a dedicated little fitness bunny.

Making good times probably.

She was quite the star, an asset to the track team, honestly, for such a shitty school Winslow sure did pride itself on the oddest of things. Sure, its student element was broken up into factions that mirrored the state of the city, and sure the reports of bullying were numerous, but still.

Taylor had to admire somebody who put such effort into keeping their body healthy.

Especially after that person ruined the health of another person and got away with it scot free .

Without her drugs she would be in constant pain, because her heart had been damaged by the infection, she now had to be excused from gym class. Any exercise above a brisk walk was a real risk to her life... She used to really enjoy running in the morning, she had been getting quite fit... perhaps with time her heart would recover, the people at the hospital were trying to see if she could see Panacea. 

Of course, emergencies came first, a girl suffering from post-sepsis syndrome was not at risk of losing her life as much as a person who had stage four cancer.

She could not really begrudge that... but she felt the faintest hint of anger as she watched her tormentor enjoying the exact things she had stolen from her. Taylor looked back to her work, answered some questions, and then, face down and hair hiding most of her face, glanced to the side.

Twist.

... Huh, silly Sophia you cannot run properly with your legs folding forwards! Go on girl, pick yourself up, you’re not some sort of worthless weakling , are you? Better get going, your time is suffering there, you might not even reach qualifiers if you run like that next week.

She returned to her work, her muted emotions flaring, for just a few moments she felt normal again, felt like a normal person feeling happiness. Why did using her ability make her feel alive? Perhaps it was simple revenge, or perhaps it was that it was something that only she had control over after so long? Either way, it was rather tempting to finish the job, to glance back over at the pile and puddle that was Sophia Hess and just keep twisting.

A brief glance with her head still lowered towards her work.

Oh, people were gathering around Sophia now? And was that an ambulance she could hear? Honestly, she was surprised that the girl had not died from shock. A normal person would, but then again, perhaps she was just unconscious? Waking up in a pool of blood on the cold ground was never nice, she would know. 

A few other students were now focusing on what was going on outside, Mr. Gladly was trying to bring them around to ignore what was going on. Naturally he had no idea, unless all Winslow teachers shared some manner of hidden messaging system that she did not know about... nah, no chance of that at all. The school could barely afford to replace old and out of date books let alone something that fancy. 

Run along now Sophia, off to hospital with you.

Make sure not to catch sepsis, she'd heard it's nasty.

Sophia came back to school after a few days, looking somewhat drawn and haggard. 

Panacea had fixed her up, but it had taken quite a toll on her body.

No chance at the try-outs then, Sophia? Oh no, how tragic, your overall worth to the school just dropped a lot now that you cannot be the track star. Maybe your rivals on the team will overtake you now and reach the sort of acclaim you used to get for it? Better get training again, just as soon as you put on some more muscle, honestly how could you be so sloppy as to fall during your run and shatter your legs into over eighty pieces?

After the third time Sophia was crippled, the PRT wanted to speak with her. 

Honestly? She was almost a little surprised by it all, but then again... second times the charm and third time is the harm.

"So based on the fact that my daughter happens to go to the same school and has made accusations of the affected people bullying her, that is sufficient reason to think that she may have been responsible for their brutal deaths and injuries?" her father had repeated, a little slower, as if coming to grips with the idea himself. Or maybe he was being sarcastic and pointing out flaws for himself? Either way, the fact he was here was rather comforting.

"Yes. Your daughter has been within the vicinity of most of the recorded incidents and according to school records, has a well documented animosity towards a number of recent victims of the Parahuman provisionally named 'Torsion.'

Torsion? What a shit name. 

Then again, it was not as if she had given one to herself at that time anyway.

Well, they had no way to confirm that she had been there for Emma, she had just walked past after all and there were not any cameras on that street. 

Unless they were hoping that she would immediately jump to point out that no, she had not been there, to further incriminate herself?

Nice try if that was the plan.

"Taylor's complaints about her bullying have been raised multiple times, and culminated with her being put into a situation that caused her to develop severe sepsis and almost lose her life ."

"I believe that the investigation did not find any particular individual to be responsible for that incident with your daughter."

Of course it had not, because the PRT could care less about a perfectly mundane, if horrible prank on a person. It only cared when Parahumans were involved. The common man could suffer horribly and the PRT could care less so long as it did not involve a cape.

"... And this investigation into 'Torsion' has managed to find evidence, when it was utterly unsuccessful at finding anything for the event that almost killed my daughter?"

Her father sounded a combination of incredulous and angry at this.

"There is no reason to believe that a Parahuman was involved with what happened to your daughter, Mr. Hebert. But the recent events that have affected a number of people within her vicinity are clearly Parahuman in nature."

"... My daughter is suffering from Post Sepsis Syndrome, and cannot even jog, " her fathers voice had gone very low, very controlled. It was the final beep on the timer before the bomb went off, the utter control and effort that went into the Hebert anger struck. "Are you really trying to tell me that Taylor, who I have seen struggle to lift her own school bag and requires extensive medication just to get out of bed, has the strength to rip a person apart with her bare hands, then I have to question your intentions here, this entire meeting is utterly baseless."

"With all due respect Mr. Hebert, plenty of Parahuman powers do not rely on physical strength; 'Torsion' has appeared to perform some manner of spatial warping that has caused these injuries."

The interviewing Cape, whose name she had not even bothered to commit to memory, had glanced to her, as if looking for some manner of response that could incriminate her. She had been more interested in the rather large blackhead on the side of his nose.

Her father, by contrast, looked about to explode with anger on her behalf, to leap to her defence, but she placed a hand on his arm. 

No need for him to display the Hebert anger.

"It's okay dad. Let them ask their question, it's not like it'll go anywhere." Her numbed emotions helped with all this; she could answer any question in an utter dead pan without much emotional response.

"Plus, the hospital said that the scans were negative, so I am not a Parahuman anyway," she shrugged.

That might well be the saving grace in all this, after all... you cannot suspect a person who is not a Parahuman of using Parahuman powers, after all.

"The hospital could well be wrong, or you could have triggered after your hospitalisation."

"... Well, why don't we check, then?" she had asked, blandly. If they did not get confirmation that she was a parahuman, would she be jailed? That would not be pleasant, things were suddenly getting better... but so long as she had her drugs, it was not like she would feel much of the bad parts anyway. "This conversation isn't going anywhere, and me and dad were going to watch a movie tonight. Just confirm if I am a Cape or not... simple."

She did not feel any love for the PRT. They had only given a modicum of concern for her when she might have triggered before, by the time she woke from the coma, whatever investigations they had conducted had been concluded.  It was hard to feel much positive for an organisation that would have only cared for her had she gained powers, and did not care otherwise until there was some manner of problem. 

Honestly, all of their evidence was circumstantial anyway. Lots of people had been bullied by the trio over time, she was just their favourite punching bag... because she was the wider universe's punching bag. Only made sense, and the few times she had made complaints, they had been some of the worst. So yeah, naturally they would suspect her. 

The test came back negative. 

She was almost surprised, she had half-expected it to be positive seeing how... you know, she had powers.

But this was a welcome little boon, the paperwork clearly said that she lacked a gemma in her corona pollentia, which as far as the Parahuman scientists confirmed meant she was not a Parahuman. She could shoot lasers from her eyes or transform into a chick and so long as that small organ was missing, she was not a parahuman as far as they were concerned. 

She made no effort to correct them in their mistake, instead she simply sat there, hands in her lap, beside her father.

They were once more at the little metal table in the meeting room, the ticking of the clock seemed much louder now that the interviewer seemed on the backfoot, evidently they had been quite confident that it was her.

"... So can we go home now?"

There was something about speaking so bluntly to a hero that was rather thrilling, all things told. She was lying to their faces, she was responsible for all this and they could not pin it on her, their limited worldview and the oddity of her power would keep her safe. How often did you get to speak like this to somebody capable of superhuman acts? How often were you automatically correct and the good guy in a situation?

In the end, they left without issue. 

Her father was seething all the way home. She had never seen him so angry, not even after she told him about the locker. 

"It's okay dad," she had said, automatically. It was more to console him then anything else, even if she felt so muted, she still loved and cared for him.

He was all she really had, after all.

His knuckles had turned white on the wheel. When they got home, he gently suggested that she listen to some music in her room for a bit, and she obliged. It did little to disguise the violent outburst of shouting and fury on her father’s behalf.

She did not mind it, he needed to get it off his chest, clearly.

The more she used her eyes, the better she got with them. 

Slightly altering the course of a flying object, making a blanket roll itself up without ripping it apart... she was becoming quite the savant with her strange little rotation power. And of course, the very occasional test on human beings who would not be missed to make sure that she was applying it properly.

And then, one morning, she woke up able to see everything around her flawlessly .

Clairvoyance.

It was strange... having three-hundred-and-sixty-degree vision, to be able to see around objects like solid walls. She watched herself through her room as if she was merely a character in some manner of video game. All at once she could see around her as far as her natural eyes could see, but in perfect detail. 

It was amazing. 

Disorientating, though.

It took her a few minutes to get used to it. 

Still, her power... which according to Panacea had no Parahuman origin, was only growing more and more useful. 

It is amazing how much your grade's benefit when you see the answers to every test! Not to the point that people suspect you are checking, but you can bring your grades back up to what they once were and a little more. 

And it is amazing how much petty cash is squirrelled away in discrete places, forgotten, or set down for a later pick up. Sure, plenty of those things are covered by security cameras, but her clairvoyance allowed her to see the ones that were not. Housekeeping would be a lot easier in future with the amount of money she was finding. No need to find some convoluted way to launder money when it was on simple things like food. 

But when it comes down to it, small improvements to your own life can only go so far if you live in a shit hole.

It was an opportunity to make the world better, to indulge in her power a little.

She had been considering it for a week or two before she decided, on a Saturday afternoon, to put the idea into action.

Chapter Text

"Where you off to, miss?"

"I just wanna ride around," she shrugged to the bus driver, who nodded in understanding. Brockton Bay was hardly the biggest city in the US, but sometimes tourists visited and wanted to just drive around the city taking in the sights, and really, bus tickets for a day were pretty cheap. 

And thus, the journey began. She rested her head against the cool class of the window, watching as the first droplets of rain began sliding down the glass. Of course, she saw much more than that, she saw everything around her. The mother scolding her child for almost running into the road, the man texting his mistress whilst getting out of bed with his wife. 

A trio of drug dealers, filling bags with white powder on the second-floor room to the left?

Twist.

Twist.

Twist.

Further down, in the depths of an apartment complex, a man wearing a red demon mask was addressing a man in an ABB colour bandana? Ah, the famously evasive Oni Lee, lieutenant of the Azn Bad Boys? A man with an extensive criminal record who could never be pinned down due to his ability to rapidly teleport?

Twist.

... Buses are such wonderful means of transport.

A regular loop, slow enough that you can really take in the sights and sounds... and cheap as well. Thousands of people took them everyday, and sure you might get a few weirdos on them but there's a reason bus services persist. 

This one went on a big loop, near the front of the bay and then around the outskirts, through the docks and back along via Captains Hill and downtown. It was a longer route; she would be sitting on it for a while... but there was just so much to see.

More and more twisting, when she saw it was needed.

It was like pruning a topiary hedge or one of those small Japanese trees. You ignore most of the leaf's, it's just the ones that stick out a bit, that blatantly go against the common grain or might compromise others that you cut off. 

Huh, they were passing over a rather odd structure. 

... Well, this next one had to be the strangest of the lot.

A large group of armed men in some manner of underground bunker? Seemed that some villains really did live in over the top-secret bases, eh? The more you know, she was actually a little impressed and tempted to leave them before she noticed the little girl trapped in a room with a scary man looming over her. Honestly, what was that outfit? And he was speaking in such an oozing, slimy manner...

Well, that would not do. 

Twist twist twist twist twist twist twist twist twist twist twist twist twist twist---

Honestly, it was a good thing that they were at a red light or else she would have had to get off at this stop, she hated leaving things half-finished.

She left the little girl of course, her and the solitary man in the room who had not been armed. No point leaving a child girl trapped in a room, unable to let herself out. But he probably could. 

"N...N... Ninety-nine percent chance you live if you get me out a-and let me g-go home," the little girl said, trembling in place, eyes wide and staring in an utterly haunted manner at the man. 

He did. 

Good man, you can live. Reconsider your life choices sir.

By the time the pair disappeared from her perception, the little girl had been released and the two were walking in stunned silence through halls filled with the dead and dying. 

Presumably the slimy man was the one who trapped the small girl in his underground bunker, but it did not really matter. If he was not publicly known then he was probably bad news anyway.

Better that he was gone, really

Even if her emotions were muted, nobody should be trapping children.

Oh?

It looked like it was going to rain later, so she better make this ride a nice long one.

Maybe once this route terminated she would take a different one, she had the entire afternoon free, after all. She could really take in the sights, maximise her coverage. Everyone knew that the other main bus route that went along Lord Street was a bit slow with traffic, and ran through some Empire territory. It had mostly been ABB members thus far along the route, but it was only right that she kept it nice and balanced. It was probably morally fine to kill Nazi's anyway, everyone called them barely human. 

Ironic.

She might do this every week or so, it was quite nice to just be driven around the city watching people go about their everyday lives, in a slightly voyeuristic sort of way. Sure, the inside of the bus was a little loud and stuffy, in a soporific way, but if she had a quick nap part of the way along the route then when she woke up she might be able to see the proceeds of her hard work.

♦  Topic:  BB Week of Nightmares
In:  Boards ► News ► Events ►America
Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on May 28th, 2011:

UPDATE (21/04/2011): Official numbers place the number of dead at 627, with expectation of more in the near future. At current, Parahuman victims to 'Torsion' include:
• Oni Lee and Lung of the Azn Bad Boys.
• Hookwolf, Stormtiger, Cricket, Rune, Frenja and Menja of the Empire Eighty-Eight.
• Squealer of the Archers Bridge merchants.
• 4 unidentified Parahumans believed to have been from the Undersiders, a small-time group of villains.

Nice to see somebody keeping a tally, really, she lost track quickly in the heat of the moment.

The thread was currently one of the most visited, and commented upon, on PHO. There was a lot of attention falling on the city at the moment, and the fact that her work had even been given a name was somewhat humbling.

Was this how an artist felt when his hard work over months was finally revealed to the world at some fancy art gathering?

Probably not, that was a little twisted. 

In truth, as much as she told herself it was for the good of the city... using the power within her eyes was still as satisfying now as it was back when she killed Emma.

And such an over-the-top name for it all; the Week of Nightmares! It had been the title of a newspaper, not the Gazette but the Brockton Bay Chronicle, and had swiftly been adopted to refer to the dozens upon dozens of mangled bodies being discovered, or observed to twist and break themselves seemingly at random. Be it in private, behind locked doors or out in public during broad daylight, it was not like she cared for the setting.

There is no better form of plausible deniability than to be able to use your power behind six walls from a hundred metres away as part of your daily commute.

Nobody from the PRT had so much as batted an eye at her since it was proven that she was not a Cape and her father had spoken with them. It was quite nice, to just be able to float through life doing a bit of good work here and there.

She scrolled down a little. 

The thread was currently being viewed by thousands of people, and if even one percent of them commented, that was still quite a volume.

► XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied on June 22nd, 2011:
Im local and everyone is [censored] terrified and scared to leave home right now.

Oh, don't worry Greg.

You'll be fine. 

Actually, when he was not being too annoying, when he calmed down, he was quite fun to be around. Really should not keep checking PHO in class though, Taylor had been watching him nervously type and add updates to the thread several times a day, as one of the resident Brockton Bay natives to be posting on it. 

Hurting normal people did not really appeal, she had set herself the limit of focusing on people who did wrong, and even if her definition was perhaps a little morally flexible, she could justify the death of each man and woman she had killed.

► BrocktonBayPRT (Verified) (Pinned)
Replied on July 6th, 2011:
At present it appears that the Parahuman behind this, currently known as 'Torsion' near exclusively targets Villains and members of known gangs. The Brockton Bay PRT is recommending all such individuals to surrender themselves into protective custody. If you have any information that may lead to the identification of Torsion it should be reported to the PRT at once.

'We cannot do our job of policing the city and it fell to somebody we neglected.'

Perhaps that was unkind.

But she did not really care.

She was a killer now, a real killer that is. It did not feel very different, it was not like she killed anybody innocent. She had seen all of them performing some manner of crime. In plenty of cases it was simply justice or the prevention of future crimes anyway. 

The sentiment in the thread varied a lot. Plenty of people were nervous to comment, others were brazen in calling Torsion a deranged psychopath, or vaunting her as a hero who 'did what had to be done'. There were no less than eighteen staff messages and dozens upon dozens of warnings and censorings. It was like a microcosm of human behaviour, all nice and contained within pages upon pages of comments.

There were questions about Kill Orders, the sentiment was that there would be one established soon

At this point, she was wondering whether they would go as far as to put Brockton Bay under quarantine.

Honestly, she was genuinely curious what it would change. It would keep her trapped here, yes... but she never really planned to leave in the first place. This was her home after all, it would be much easier to clean the city up if there was nobody new coming in.

... What would the city actually look like with no Villain's at all?

She would just have to find out, she supposed.

"... More pasta, Taylor?"

Zoe Barnes already had the large spoon in the ceramic tray before she could respond, lifting a healthy amount of the steaming meal into the air. 

"Yes please, Auntie Zoe, although I might not be able to finish it all," she replied, holding up her plate.

"It's okay Taylor, you've been looking better recently Taylor so I need to keep feeding you up."

"Yeah... I've been going to that physiotherapy you guys organised... um, thanks for that by the way, and I am slowly getting better, they don't want to tax my heart too much, too soon," she explained with a smile. Auntie Zoe gave a small, encouraging smile at that. Due to the Hebert's worse off situation, the Barnes has generously offered to pay to help Taylor recover from her syndrome. "It's slow going, but I am hoping that I might be able to go on short jogs again soon."

"Don't tax yourself too hard, Taylor," was the immediate comment.

Auntie Zoe was thinner than she used to be, which was not to say that she was an unhealthy weight beforehand. But the loss of her youngest daughter had hit the woman hard. 

Taylor was invited around to the Barnes a lot now, and she rather suspected that Zoe was using her as a means to cope, showering affection on Emma's former best friend in lieu of her dear departed daughter. With Anne at college, the parents of the Barnes family suddenly had a much more quiet, much emptier house.

Well, people respond to loss in strange ways, she had experienced such when her mother died, she became much clingier when it came to Emma and Zoe, so it was only right that she allow the woman to use her to overcome the grief.

It was quite nice to be so spoiled by a maternal figure, though. 

Alan Barnes had been invigorated, in a grim way.

He was a much quieter man now, speaking in shorter sentences and looking a decade or two older. The only topic that made him speak at length was the topic of Torsion, which would have him burst into righteous anger at the killer of his daughter. To be sat in the same room as him when it happened was a bit surreal, and Auntie Zoe would always make an excuse to drag Taylor away to the kitchen to help her clean dishes or teach her a new recipe whilst her father spoke with Alan.

The two men were good friends again.

Even now, as Taylor began to enjoy her second helping of pasta, the man listened to Danny Hebert discuss a situation he had faced at work that day.

"We've been having a lot less trouble recently with the ABB, a lot less muscling in on work the boys could be doing."

"That's good to hear, Danny."

"Turns out that a lot of beneficial contracts were being discreetly given and funnelled through their channels."

"... Let's hope it only picks up from here," she could tell that the man genuinely meant it, that he was glad to hear the good news for her father. But the connection between the fall of the ABB and the improved situation for her father of course brought up Torsion, it was the implication that the person who killed Emma did something good. 

The ABB was dead, the terror bombing campaign that had been started by a mad Tinker had been ended within a day by Taylor taking another bus ride and finding the woman in a basement lab by chance. Sure, it took three hours or so, but that rather nipped the problem in the bud before the girl could really pick up steam.  

Alan was clearly restraining his anger. 

Taylor took another bite, focusing on her meal to prevent herself from smiling.

There were no more gangs in Brockton Bay.

Well, there were still gangs, but there were no more gangs with a Parahuman membership.

It was amazing how slippery some people could be. 

Honestly, Max Anders, CEO of Medhall was Kaiser? Talk about a plot twist!

Still, even with his big scary suit of armour, he twisted and bent the same way as everyone else... actually, people in armour tended to be more interesting to use her power on, you never knew how the material of their outfit would impact the power. In Kaiser's case, the metal had sheared and sliced deeply into the skin, becoming multiple blades of metal that killed him just as brutally as the rotation. 

To be honest, if he and his fellow Nazi's had simply left town she would not have minded. They could be somebody else's problem, but despite the loss of so many of their fellow Empire Capes they had persisted in infesting her city. 

So now the Empire 88 was down its leader and what few other Capes had been in the group and she had not found were either keeping low or had left. 

Suited her. 

The city was holding its breath now, as if waiting for something to happen.

They should have worked it out now that Taylor did not target innocent people, but everyday there was speculation in the news for when that would change. The lack of faith was disturbing, after all that she had done to improve the city. Sure, Cape related tourism did a lot for the place... but you know what also really benefits a city? No villainous gangs and the perception that there was some manner of omnipresent, unavoidable death if you fucked around and found out. 

Sure, there was the occasional Rogue, Independent or Villain in the news who visited the city or popped up and caused a crime, then disappeared.

But that was fine, she could leave that to the PRT to deal with now that she had drastically reduced their effective workload. 

So much taxpayer money went to keep that preposterous oil rig maintained, it might as well earn some its keep. 

There was an official Kill Order out for Torsion now, and it was a hell of a lot of money as well! Really, they should be thankful that she existed and had been so proactive in crushing a few cockroaches! They would never get to fulfil that order, though. She made sure to live as normal a life as possible, going to school, sleeping at the right time and not going out at the sort of ridiculous times that a Cape would need to for their clandestine bullshit.

After a few months and one or two failed attempts by out-of-town gangs to settle in the city that she crushed within days, Brockton Bay officially gained the acclaim of the city with the lowest Hero to Villain ratio in North America. 

A strange side effect of such was that now Brockton Bay had become an exporter of Heroes.

Triumph, Assault and Battery ended up being publicly 'loaned' to Boston to assist the PRT there because suddenly there just was not enough work to be done in Brockton Bay. A number of new Ward's had joined, and rumour had it that one of them had chosen to be a Hero rather than a Villain purely because, as he put it, "Villains die in this city."

Honestly, what a fantastic slogan!

They should put it on the sign into the city: "Brockton Bay, where Villains come to die. Twinned with Dusseldorf, Germany."

It was weird, being a celebrity but also not. 

Everybody knew about Torsion; they were a bogeyman that people were scared to even say the name of. 

The fear of the population was unwarranted, but it did a good job of keeping people in line. 

As for her, she was quite happy; she was able to reduce the amount of drugs she needed for the pain, and she went for her first jog since the locker incident earlier. Just around the block, with her father joining her in case anything happened.

It had left her wiped out for the rest of the day, but progress! 

Brockton Bay was doing a lot better.

Without criminal gangs, without giant flaming rage dragons and Nazi's around the city was beginning to expand. 

It is amazing what being considered a 'safe' city means to people. It means you have money flowing into the city because suddenly the average man worries a lot less about being brutally hurt or killed whilst going about their daily business, it attracts investment and big business and infrastructure. The unstable, unpredictable Parahuman element had been removed from the city and now people were keen to capitalise upon such.

The fact that Capes actively chose to move out of the city was a bonus as far as businesses were concerned. Nobody likes to take a risk with their investment, they want long term benefits in a world where for the most part, only short term could be relied upon. 

Putting on her running shoes, Taylor did a little stretch, listening to the sound of her father hard at work on the phone. 

With the city benefitting, so was her father. 

The docks were still kind of fucked, and maritime trade was still suffering world wide... but a large group of capable, handy men who could help the various construction companies, especially now that the money was not being funnelled into the gangs? Well, suffice it to say that her father had been very busy recently, and it was really helping his mental health as well! 

"I'm going for a jog, dad!"

He looked up and gave her a little wave, mouthing 'take it steady!' her way. 

It had been a few months since the Week of Nightmares, the physiotherapy uncle Alan and auntie Zoe were providing was really helping.

She was still taking the drugs... just at a reduced dosage, she was feeling more and more compared to before... to be honest, she still rather like the comfortable numbness. But... she did not suffer any guilt about what she had done. 

Actually, having proper feelings again just made the satisfaction and pleasure of using her power even stronger.

Torsion was now one of the most infamous Capes in the United States, a monster who had claimed an entire city for themselves, who struck without warning and without mercy to crush any new villain or gang within a short while of emerging. Between her daily runs and bus rides, Taylor could sweep the entire city on a rotation to clean out any unsavoury elements that had been looking to try and mar her city.

The PRT was near redundant now, even if there was constant pressure on them to find Torsion. 

It always bemused her whenever somebody got on their high horse about Torsion being a monster, an unrepentant monster who ruled the city with an iron fist... despite the city doing better then it had in years now. 

The PRT could put out as many press statements as it wanted, the news outlets could publish as many headlines as it wanted about the latest round of killings or the twisted and mangled bodies, but the good people of Brockton Bay had worked it out now; Torsion did not kill innocent people.

If Torsion killed you, you probably deserved it anyway.

As she gradually picked up her pace, the sun shining and feeling her heart beat stronger and stronger day by day... she found herself smiling.