Work Text:
The Girl Who Could Be God Queen
By Kylia
"-that nigger boy deserved it!" The Empire 88 thug shouted, waving his gun at her. "Don't get any closer, or I'll fucking shoot you, New Wave bitch,"
"Right, Because that'll work any better than your buddy back there trying the same thing," Victoria crossed her arms in front of her chest. She gestured to the unconscious form of the other thug she'd taken out with a swift blow to the head - a lot less powerful than it could have been, but enough to take him out like a light.
Victoria's aura wasn't going on full blast, but for any normal person, it would have been enough to have them shaking in their boots, at least. For someone that had to know how much Glory Girl didn't like them... it should have had him pissing himself (she had had plenty of criminals do that, and it was about as much fun to have happen as it sounded), but some people reacted to fear with just more anger, and this shithead was one of them.
"I fucking mean it, cunt!" He said. "You're a cape, but capes aren't unkillable! You wanna end up like your Aunt?"
Oh you didn't just-
The sound of a gunshot in the air rang out at the same time as Victoria swooped towards him and got behind him, wrenching his right hand behind him, snapping the wrist - the gun clattering uselessly to the ground, still smoking - and then bending his arm back, almost enough to break his arm. Almost.
Her other arm was around his neck, pinning him against her as she floated up in the air a few inches, just enough to leave him kicking uselessly at the air beneath him.
"I could break this arm, and then both your legs without even trying. And that's not counting just flying up and dropping you from fifty feet," Victoria growled. Ignoring the Nazi's whimpers of pain, Victoria went on. "If you want me to put you down and not break all your limbs and maybe your spine, then let's start with an apology!"
The Nazi opened his mouth, "Fu-fuck you bitch! Who do you - you can't fucking do this!"
"Really?" Vicky let go of the man, pushing him forward - he landed, stumbling, falling flat on his face, the crunch of his nose against the pavement pretty satisfying to hear. "Says who? You?" Victoria landed next to him, reaching down to roll him over and see just how badly she'd hurt him, make sure his nose was broken.
She held up short, freezing, hand halfway to him when she heard something - the sound of someone landing, and then footsteps. Out of the shadows at the far end of the alleyway came a cape she'd never seen or heard of before.
It had to be a cape. It wasn't so much the long, absolutely gorgeous curly blue hair, though that helped too, but the red, carapace-like armor that covered her body, too-form fitting to be anything but some kind of power creation? External growth? Projection? Tinkertech?
It looked a little like a bug's exoskeleton, but only vaguely. It went up her body, most of her face, leaving her nose and mouth free, and with holes for her eyes, but not much else.
Fuck. Victoria looked up - that sound. It was someone dropping down from a building, and this - this cape had probably been up there and seen this and dropped down and -
"It appears you are doing serious violence," the other cape said. From the voice, her build, Victoria guessed the other cape was a teenager, maybe around her age, tall, thin, didn't seem like she had obvious muscles, but that didn't mean much.
I'm gonna guess the armor gives her at least some sort of Brute rating, but how much?
But teenager or not, she had an imperious, judgey tone to her. It set her teeth on edge, and made her feel small, just for a moment. Like the other cape was looking down on her. Probably for- for getting so angry at this bastard and doing that... He'd killed that kid - she'd seen the body, she'd chased the guy and his buddy, and then he'd - he'd mentioned Aunt Fleur and she'd seen red and - sh did it again.
Her sister was going to be so disappointed in her. And if the PRT found out... or worse, her Mom...
Victoria braced herself, straightening up. She had to deal with this, convince the other girl not to tell anyone. As long as she wasn't a racist, that shouldn't be too hard.
Nobody liked Empire 88, except Empire 88.
"I - I can explain. He killed a-"
"It looks like fun," she added, continuing to come closer. "I wish to join you."
"What?" Victoria stared at her, floating a few inches off the air so she was just a little 'taller' than the other cape.
"The so-called Empire 88 are little more than pathetic worms barely worthy of being stepped on, let alone as superior as they claim to be," the cape said, reaching the prone, groaning body of the thug. As soon as she was close enough for it to be an issue, Victoria 'turned off' her aura. She didn't know what the other girl was capable of, or how she'd react to it - or to fear, or awe... or some of the other reactions her aura had sometimes elicited.
'Pathetic worms? Who calls people pathetic worms?' That was - Victoria stared at the girl. Up close, she could see that there was a blueish tinge to what little of her skin Victoria could see, so it wasn't just the hair. Case 53, or Changer then, probably.
"They suck, a lot," Victoria agreed, grinning a little, feeling relief. The other cape was probably not going to make an issue of what she had done, at least. "This bastard killed a kid. Him and his buddy over there," she gestured to his unconscious partner. "And then he decided to mouth off."
"I heard. It was foolish of him to not offer someone so much greater than him proper reverence," the cape said, the weird patterns of speech continuing. Affectation? Playing a character, maybe? The way Mouse Protector did, just less comedy and more... what, your lady and mistress? The thug was slowly moving, and managed to get his working hand under him, the other one hanging uselessly off the end of his arm. Before he could do more than try to push up, the cape pressed her foot to his back, pressing down on him, hard enough to make him cry out in pain.
"It would not be difficult to break your spine," she told him. "You will remain still," she phrased it like an order, one she expected to be obeyed, "or you will ensure such pain as you have never felt."
Okay, that's-
On the one hand, this son of a bitch deserved it, and she liked that the cape had no qualms about hurting Nazis, but - that was a bit far. Especially if she misjudged and killed the guy.
"Hey, let's - maybe don't break his spine, okay?" Victoria said slowly. Is this how Amy felt when she berated me the last couple times? It was surreal watching someone actively propose in apparently cold blood what she'd done in anger to people before...
"Why not? It would be little more than he deserves, Glory Girl." The cape said slowly.
"Yeah, but you might accidentally kill him-"
"I would use exactly as much force is needed to achieve my intended goal. You will mind your tongue if you seek to accuse me of sloppiness." Victoria balled one hand into a first. There was something distinctly compelling about the other girl, and the way she talked - and the way she moved, total economy of action - and her red armor was really cool, in an eerie sort of way, but the other cape obviously had a high opinion of herself - and a low opinion of everyone, including her.
The arrogant, imperious demeanor did remind her about what she'd heard of this one cape up near Boston, Damsel of Distress. The older generation of New Wave had fought her in the Boston Games, Victoria had seen video footage of her...
Shit. She's a villain, isn't she? Victoria knew nothing about this girl's powers, so fighting her was a bad idea, but if she was a villain -
Well, she hasn't attacked yet. I just have to make sure she doesn't kill this bastard or snap his spine or something.
"I haven't heard of you before. Are you new?" Victoria let herself go up a few more inches... if it came to a fight, the high ground or being out of reach was the best option all else being equal.
"It is my first night on patrol through this city, yes." She looked Victoria up and down. "You are concerned. Worried I am a villain. Do not be. This city is mine." She paused, "My home," she elaborated, and Victoria relaxed, a little. "Scum like this one," she took her foot off his back and kicked at his leg, hard enough to make him scream out in pain, though she didn't hear his leg actually break, "have turned this city into their playground. I will see that change."
She doesn't think small. I like it. The other cape said all that with the same arrogant but oddly calm inflection, but there was a steely anger underneath it all, Victoria was pretty sure. An anger Victoria recognized. Rage at the state of the city, and a need to do something.
"I like the sound of that. What should I call you?" The other cape started at her blankly for a long moment, stiffly. Oh. "Have you not-"
"You may know me as Illyria," she said finally.
"As in the Roman Province?" Victoria wasn't a into history - non-cape history anyway - but she aced all her history classes, of course.
"No." The cape - Illyria - said flatly, folding her arms in front of her chest. "It is the name I will be known as by the villains of this city when I bring them low." She crouched and rolled the Nazi over onto his back roughly, ignoring another whimper of pain from him. "Perhaps this one can put himself to use and tell us something about where to find his masters."
The Nazi's nose was absolutely wrecked, bloody and smashed up against his face. She'd seen that kind of injury - he was probably having trouble breathing. Fuck! She scrambled for her phone.
"Where are those you bow to, worm?" Illyria demanded. "I doubt one as low as you would know where to find Kaisar, but perhaps another: Hookwolf? Stormtiger?"
The Nazi didn't say anything, sucking air in through his nose, wheezing on the exhale.
"Illyria, I'm going to call my sister, Panacea. Make sure he heals this guy up before we turn him into the police." She dialed. "Sis?" she answered the second Amy picked up the phone.
"Yeah?"
"You're still at Brockton General, right? Even though you told me you'd be going home an hour ago?" Her sister had the idea that she was a good liar, because Victoria didn't constantly call her out for lying to her face about not sneaking out or that she'd be going home soon or -
But what was she supposed to do? Force herself to go home? Chain her up to the bed so she didn't sneak out at night? Amy was never happier after working at the hospital, but she wasn't happy knowing that there were people that were hurt she wasn't helping when she could either.
"Yeah... I am," She could all but see the disapproving glare on her sister's face as she went on. "And you're not calling to check on me."
"No. I - I'm in an alley between," she named the streets, "I need your help. Please."
"Vicky!"
"This is the last time, I promise I - it's not even that bad!"
"I'll be the judge of that, Vicky," Her sister let out a long, exasperated breath. "I'll be there in fifteen. Don't hurt him worse before I get there."
"I won't." Victoria promised, then hung up, looking back to Illyria, who was looking at the Nazi the way someone might a particularly gross bug before stepping on it.
"You want Panacea to heal this one." Illyria grabbed his broken wrist and pressed down on it, making him let out a gurgling scream. "Tell me something of use. Stash houses, safe houses, plans. Give me a reason to not do more to you."
"Hey! Look, I get that he's a Nazi and I'm not going to report you for that, but you can't just torture the guy!"
"But we can heal him, apparently?" Illyria dropped his hand, ignoring a cry as the broken wrist hit the ground and stood up, looking up to meet her eyes, unfazed Victoria looming a foot and a half over her now.
"Because we can't - if he tells the cops or the PRT what happened, they're going to have problems! We're heroes! We're not supposed to do this. Panacea heals him, and his word against ours, but as long as he's hurt, he's got proof!" Saying it out loud like this to someone else made Victoria feel even worse for letting her anger get the better of her.
She went out every night, trying to put an end to the bastards ruining this city - E88, ABB, drug dealers and Coil's mercenaries and everyone else - and she didn't feel like it was getting anywhere. Every time she met someone they hurt, it felt like it was her failure, for not stopping whoever did it first.
It wasn't, she knew, there were too many people, too many capes, for her to take on, but -
That didn't change how she felt. How much she hated these fuckers. Especially E88.
And here Illyria was, facing the same problem, apparently.
"The weakness of those who rule this city is as much a cause of its problems as the ones this one serves," Illyria said, kicking him again lightly. Victoria grimaced a moment at the way he cried out.
"Can you stop hurting him? My sister doesn't need more work." Victoria promised Amy the guy wouldn't be hurt any more, and he was helpless and he wasn't even mouthing off right now.
"I can. I do not wish to." Illyria remarked. "But..." she set her jaw, "I suppose for the moment, I will entertain your request."
"I appreciate it, your Majesty," Victoria said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "So, what's your power? Did you make that armor? Are you a Tinker?"
"Is it customary to ask another parahuman their powers? One should keep their abilities closer to their chest." Illyria observed. "PHO is driven by often baseless speculation.."
"I mean, people keep things hidden in case they fight someone, but you're a hero, I'm a hero - I know how the Wards powers work because I patrol with them a lot, so it's good to know how best to work together." Victoria wasn't going to share the details on how her forcefield could be broken, "You don't have to tell me everything, I'm just - I'm curious, okay? Your armor is part of your power, obviously. Did you grow it? Make it? How does it come off, because it doesn't look like it has any pieces or seams or anything."
Illyria tilted her head to the side, standing and staring at her for a moment. Her mouth twitched a few times, jaw clenched and unclenched and the hands balled into fists and then uncurled more than once, as if she was having some sort of internal confusion...
"The armor grows across this form as I will it," Illyria finally said. She held up one arm, and demonstrated, the red-carapace over her hand and upper arm flowed away, like a liquid. Less like water, and more like blood, with a thick, sluggishness, revealing a perfectly normal normal human hand and upper arm, apart from the blue tinge to her skin - it wasn't completely blue, bit it was was if the edges of her had been painted blue, sort of setting a cast to her skin.
"That's pretty cool. So the armor makes you a Brute, then?"
"I do not need the armor for strength," Illyria said. "I was not lying when I said I could have snapped this one's spine."
"I mean, a lot of brutes could snap a guy's spine," Victoria said. "Still, your power comes with a built in costume! That's pretty cool!" And it was. She wanted to ask more - what was the armor made of, did she know, did she determine the color or did it just come that way? Why the blue hair and red armor? But there was no way to know how she'd take being hit with endless questions.
"It has its uses," Illyria agreed, the armor returning to cover her hand and arm. She waved her hand, and then suddenly the cape was behind her, having moved with a blur that Victoria couldn't track - she was there, a red-blue blur, and then Victoria was looking, turning, finding him there.
"You're a Mover too?" So... the armor and probably the blue tinge her her skin could be Changer, or it could be a single-state Breaker. Brute. Mover. What else did she have?
"You say you know the powers of the Wards because you patrol with them. Did you inquire about mine because you wished to do the same?" She tilted her head to the side again, and Victoria looked over at the Nazi. There was no way he'd get anywhere without them hearing him, so she flew over to Illyria to float next to her.
"I mean, that would be pretty cool. I'm always looking to make friends with more heroes." This girl was definitely her type - of hero, her type of hero. "Trade phone numbers? Cape phones, I mean."
"I do not have a cell phone," Illyria said, sounding... disdainful. Technophobe? One of those people who hated cell phones? But her age? That was for old people. Even Victoria's mother didn't actually bemoan the popularity of cell phones... unless Vicky or Amy were using them those rare times the entire family sat down together for dinner.
"Oh. Well, you can always reach out to me through New Wave's public line. Leave a message for a place to meet up some evening or something. If you say we met out on patrol and leave your cape name, it'll get to me." Victoria offered. Maybe there's no place to have a phone in that thing? Could the armor have pockets? Or no? It looked pretty tight up against her, form-fitting. Literally, since it grew.
Wait, does that mean she's not wearing anything under -
Victoria felt her cheeks get hot a moment, and she pushed down on that thought, very hard.
"I will consider it. You seem to be a capable parahuman. Knowledgeable of powers."
"Taking college classes at BBU on Parahuman Studies," Victoria confirmed, "Most capes are weirdly incurious about powers, but like - how they work, the limits of them, how to push those limits, how they happen. Powers changed the world, and we barely understand them, but we rely on them so much now!"
"Humans often do much with what they do not understand. It is a flaw endemic to the species." Illyria murmured.
"I suppose, but still." Victoria was speaking quickly, getting more animated as she went on. "Don't you wonder why we have powers? Where they came from? Why some people just started growing Coronas and triggering? Why some people don't? There's no clear genetic component, and yet, they can run in families." New Wave was the obvious case, but it wasn't like people didn't know that Kaisar was Allfather's son, that Iron Rain had been the racist bastard's daughter. Their names may have been secret, but everyone knew their relationship.
Illyria said nothing for a moment, then nodded, slowly. "I have questions that seek answers, yes," she shook her head, "But matters of a more immediate type raise themselves." She gestured to the still groaning Nazi, who was trying to flop himself away, but getting nowhere. "He had little to say, and for the moment, I am willing to refrain from proper inducement to make him speak."
"Good." Okay. So she wants to he a hero, but she's definitely going to have to work on the whole not wanting to torture people thing... Victoria had roughly questioned a Nazi once, worked up about it in the moment, and it seemed pretty obvious to her that Illyria was pushing down a lot of anger underneath that cold, formal, weird front she was putting up, but... she was a lot more deliberate in her desire to hurt people, it seemed like.
Even if those people deserved it
"But I still must know more about this 'Empire' if I am to drive it from my city," Illyria added. "You know of their leaders? Their powers?"
"I know pretty much everything the PRT knows, yeah. They loop New Wave in on the reports about local threats, and Brandish and Lady Photon pass it all on to us." Along with admonishments not to fight any E88 cape alone, even one like Rune. Who would be easy - she was harmless as long as you could avoid her thrown stuff, and Victoria knew she could do that easily.
"Tell me. I must know my enemy."
"Then let's start from the top. The guy in charge of Empire 88 is Kaisar. He doesn't come out to fight much these days, but he's got the ability to make metal blades..."
She started running through the list, about E88's capes, breaking them down a bit into factions, or what was suspected to be their factions - Hookwolf and his buddies were one, for instance - and outlining powers. She was halfway through talking about Hookwolf when she heard her sister's voice out at the end of the alley.
"You can't keep doing this, Vicky," Amy raised her voice, sounding like she was breathing a little heavily - not like she'd run, but definitely walked fast to get here. Her robes swallowed her up entirely, just the way her sister wanted them to - every attempt to get her sister to actually wear anything flattering was a fight and a half out of costume, and no matter how much she'd pleaded, wheedled or argued, Amy has absolutely refused to wear something that flattered her as her costume.
The robes make it easier to hide in the background during photoshoots.
"I'm in costume, Panacea! And I'm not alone!" Victoria gestured to Illyria. "This is Illyria."
Amy gave Illyria a small, bored wave, and then turned back to Victoria, rolling her eyes. "Fine. You can't keep doing this Glory Girl." She made a face, "It's not like everyone doesn't know your name,"
"It's-"
"The principle of the thing, I know." Amy crouched by the Nazi. "Do I have permission to heal you, you piece of shit?"
"Panacea!" It wasn't that her sister didn't have a grumpy streak a mile wide, but she usually didn't just -
"It's past midnight, I've been healing for three hours, and this is the fifth time you've done this!" She looked at the Nazi. "Do I have your permission to heal you?" She repeated. The Nazi nodded after a moment, and she touched his broken hand.
"Panacea!" She repeated, gesturing to Illyria, "Ixnay on the ivefay imestay!"
"You have treated five of these scum as they deserve?" Illyria asked, coming up behind them as Panacea fixed the guy's nose, attaching bones together and mending skin. It was back to normal quickly enough. "Impressive... as a start."
Victoria did a double take at that, and then wondered why she was surprised.
Amy looked up at Illyria, then Victoria, then Illyria again. "...Fuck there's two of you." She muttered, and looked back down at the Nazi. "I'm not healing your messes," She said to Illyria. "I shouldn't even be healing my sister's, but..." she took a breath. "This is the last time, Glory Girl."
"Fine. Fine. Last time. Promise." Victoria held out her hand, pinkie extended. "Pinkie promise."
Amy pulled her hand away from the Nazi, wrapping her own pinkie around it. Victoria held for a few minutes, grinning at the grumpy look on her sister's face softening a bit. Amy really was just a teddy bear underneath. Really far underneath, for most people, but not for her.
Victoria pulled her hand back and let her arm fall by her side. She looked down at the Nazi. "You're fine. Unharmed. Try telling anyone what happened, and it's your word against ours. And if you try to keep insisting anyway, you'll have to deal with Brandish. Slander can be expensive." Victoria turned over to Illyria. "I'm serious about the offer to patrol together sometime. Reach out."
"I will." Illyria nodded. She waved her hand in the air again and suddenly sped off in a blur.
Twice she waved her hand before moving fast. Affectation, or weird power thing? Every power worked differently. Maybe her Mover rating was down to her somehow affecting the air around her? Reducing air resistance or something?
The Nazi had finished struggling to his feet, but Victoria grabbed him and pushed down on his shoulder, enough to hold him in place.
"You're still not going anywhere." She held him in place with one hand, and dialed with her other, reaching the line for capes to report crimes to the BBPD. "This is Glory Girl, in the alley between," she gave the streets, and a bit more, "I have a gang member here who killed a thirteen year old kid. Can you send someone to collect him?"
She got an affirmative answer, and Victoria hung up. "After they come get this jackass, we can head home," she told Amy.
"Sounds good."
"I can tell you all about Illyria on the way. She's interesting, and I have so many questions about how her power works."
You should not have left that slime to live.
Taylor grimaced at Illyria's voice as she returned time to its normal flow around her a block away from Glory Girl and Panacea. She had to take breaks.
You do not.
I wasn't talking to you, Taylor couldn't exactly 'glare' at the demon, but she tried to send that impression to her, it, regardless.
Taylor had thought her life had changed forever, when she got her powers. That she could use them to matter, to mean something, to help people. She hadn't spent years and years dreaming of the day she'd become a cape or anything, but she had imagined it, from time to time.
Bug control. She'd thought it was a useless power at first but at least something. Figured out ways she could make it work. She'd had a whole notebook half-full of them. Had spiders set to work on making her a costume that would be knife proof, and maybe even bullet proof.
And then, visiting Dad at the Docks on a weekend afternoon, she'd noticed that open crate, in an abandoned warehouse. And she'd checked it out, curiosity getting the better of her. Her bugs had picked up some big stone thing inside it.
She wasn't even sure why it had seemed like such a good idea, but Illyria had had her guesses, and they made sense to Taylor. Her power, the interdimensional parasite in her brain, had been curious about what it had detected and wanted her to examine it. So it had nudged her.
Which apparently, powers can do.
So she'd approached the warehouse, the crate, and then... it had opened. She'd breathed in weird dust.
And that night, she'd gotten very, very sick. Fever. Chills. Weakness.
She was afraid she was going to die.
Instead... she'd experienced something like she never could have imagined.
Taylor waved her hand in front of her again, and sped off again.
Your parasite would have led you astray. Echoes of its original intentions remain within it, passed onto me when I took control of it.
Yeah, you've said as much. But you want to use me too.
But you know my intentions. This... parasite, this piece of some larger whole, would not have let you know it's aims.
Waking up to someone else's voice in your head was not Taylor's idea of a good time, but she had. She'd lost her ability to control insects as well,but she could still at least sense through them and do so without being overwhelmed by them. It was actually easier now, to focus only on bugs she wanted, and ignore say, the cockroaches crawling all over a dumpster a block over.
A resilient form of life. Pathetic, but little more so than your own kind, Taylor .
Taylor had been devastated at losing her power - her costume wasn't eve half done. She'd had powers for less than a month and lost them.
Until Illyria had started telling her more.
Taylor wasn't sure how much she actually believed the... thing that had possessed the parasite behind her power. For all she knew, this was just... a scam, a scheme, by the same being? A different one, of the same time.
Never again imply that I am kin with this being! Illyria's voice always sounded like Taylor's own, in her head, but cold, emotionless - usually. Anger though. Anger, Illyria had, in spades. I am Illyria, God-King of the Primordium, Shaper of Things!When the world met me, it shook at my feet! I was ancient when your kind were barely the muck at our feet!
Illyria had said that many times. Taylor wasn't sure she believed it. Believed that ancient beings - ancient demons - had apparently ruled the Earth in the ancient past. Taylor had found an occult bookshop, a creepy place just off the Lord's Street Market, accessible only from an alley, stairs down, the basement under another business. In there, she'd found a book that included a list of the so-called Old Ones of the Primordium Age, and 'Illyria the Merciless' was on it.
Illyria had been offended that she was listed among some of the others on that list. Beings that were 'barely more than human themselves', with 'territories of no consequence'. Though a few she'd approved of, considered them 'worthy rivals', though she'd claimed to have killed and feasted on all of them.
Taylor sped off again, another block, another pause. Then another block.
Why did you not do more to that pathetic one, the one who claims superiority based solely on the pigment of his flesh? You have made it clear you will not kill, but he deserved maiming, at the very least.
Taylor grimaced, Yes. He does. And I really really wanted to. She hated how true it was. When she took this form, it became... harder, to hold back anger. And she wanted to hurt people in a way she never did, normally. She'd always hated Empire 88. Always considered them monsters ruining the city.
But maim them? Kill them? Break their limbs. Destroy them piece by piece? She only imagined that, planned it, wanted it so much when she was like this.
She knew this wasn't her - wasn't all her, at least.
But she couldn't stop the desire. Could barely hold back from not following through and snapping that bastard's spine.
Because it would have been wrong. And it would have had Glory Girl coming after me. And then the PRT and the Protectorate and everyone else.
Morality is a word. It holds no meaning, no power, except that which you give it. A true ruler should be -
As moral as a hurricane. I know. You're starting to repeat yourself, Illyria.Besides. I don't want to take over anything.
She had the distinct impression Illyria was sulking, because the demon said nothing more, and Taylor sped off into the night, enjoying the moment's peace.
It had been weird, meeting Glory Girl in person. And then Panacea. There weren't that many more famous capes in the bay - Armsmaster, Miss Militia, maybe. But the two sisters were the most well known of all of New Wave, even if the team had faded out of the spotlight since one of them had been killed by E88.
Glory Girl had been... a bit of a whirlwind. Charging ahead, especially when she got into talking about powers. About her questions about them. And Taylor had answers. Some, anyway.
But how could she share them? Tell Victoria Dallon that she knew that powers came from interdimensional brain parasites (whose true forms were apparently massive crystals, like, miles long) that were part of some larger whole? That they were, according to the demon that had killed and possessed her power, probably doing some sort of experiment with humans?
That was Illyria's theory, anyway.
Panacea had always had a more muted presence in New Wave photo-ops, and now Taylor could guess why. Probably kept from making too much trouble with her grumpiness.
As Taylor sped down the last block to reach her house, and then into her room, slowing the world around her this time as she moved through to make sure she didn't wake her dad up. Only once she was in her room did she still one last time, taking a breath. She closed her eyes and focused, abandoning the power. Not so much release her hold onto it, as... grabbing onto normality. Herself. She felt the armor retract across her skin, felt the strength leave her. Her shoulders sagged a little, she let out the breath.
The first time she'd done this, donned the form, she'd destroyed her clothes in the process. She'd figured how how to not do that now, and under the armor she'd had tight bike shorts - not that she owned a bike, hadn't in years, since she was a kid - and a T-shirt.
You should take that blonde one up on her offer.
I was planning on it. Why do you think so?
I approve of her violence. Taylor wasn't even sure what else she'd expected. She will make a suitable general of your armies, when the time comes.
I'm not going to have armies! I won't need generals! Taylor sat down on her bed, looking at her glasses resting there on the bedside table. Even in her 'human' form, Taylor didn't need glasses anymore. Wearing them didn't cause her any issues though, and it was easier to make her dad not ask questions if she wore them around him, but she didn't need them. Not in the field, not anywhere. She turned on the lamp on her bedside table, and lifted up the book there. It had belonged to her mother, a collection of the Conan stories by Robert E Howard.
Something Illyria had said had reminded her of a line from an Earth Aleph movie based on the stories that she'd seen a bit of, in passing. The line from the movie was Conan saying that the 'best in life' was 'To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women.' So she'd gotten curious about the original stories. They were an interesting read - she could see why her mother owned a copy. They were clearly influential on fantasy fiction, and well written. Also very dated. Very.
That line wasn't in any of the stories Taylor had read yet, and it probably wouldn't be in any of them, but Conan certainly did fit the vibe.
This Conan would have been far better entertainment than most of your kind. Illyria had approved of Conan's answer, but in her view, the best answer was 'to never die, and conquer all'.
Taylor hadn't been surprised.
I don't need a general, but... it would be nice to have someone I can trust in a fight. She didn't... trust Victoria Dallon, but she did trust Glory Girl to be a hero. If she wanted to take on Empire 88, and the ABB and the drug dealers who lived out on the edges of the trainyards and elsewhere, and everyone else... she'd have to work with other heroes in the city.
New Wave at least wouldn't be trying to convince her to join the Wards and put up with even more teenage drama.
You would not have to deal with 'teenage drama' if you would just -
I'm not ripping Emma's spine out!
The ability to sense through bugs, even if she couldn't directly control them, had done a lot to help Taylor avoid the worst of the Trio's antics. Illyria's abilities let her talk to them even, give them verbal orders that they usually obeyed, to a point, even.
But avoiding the Trio was hardly enough. It had been two weeks with Illyria in her head, and every second she saw them, the urge to do something was getting harder to resist. Especially with Illyria suggesting how to do it.
Then make her submit. Prove to her that you can force her, and she will be cowed. Most prefer life to death, lack of injury to suffering.
And if I do that I get the PRT coming after me for attacking someone with my powers. It was one-way ticket to being labeled a villain, and them probably to the Birdcage, if she wasn't careful.
The one you call Sophia could easily be cowed. Prove to her you are the greater, if you will not punish her as she deserves.
Stop it. I can start singing songs you hate in my head again. Illyria couldn't escape her anymore than Taylor could escape Illyria. Repeating annoying songs over and over in her head was probably the only way she could actually hurt the demon.
Do it and I will make sure you have no rest when you try to sleep. Illyria countered, and Taylor sighed. You are my host - that makes you better than all other humans. I will not allow my host to be treated as these have done to you.
You don't have a choice!
When she'd first realized what she could do with her power, her original power, the idea of sicking swarms of bugs on the Trio had been... enticing. She'd held back, but - she didn't want to. Every day, every time they kept at it...
Illyria was every violent impulse she'd had to the Trio, but worse. So. Much. Worse.
I fight back, they just turn the school administration against me even more. I don't fight back, and they just get worse. She couldn't even try for Arcadia next year because there was no way she'd ever be able to get her grades high enough. Not when they were always sabotaging her homework, her tests, ruining her books...
She didn't want to understand why, not anymore. She didn't even want them to get expelled or punished or -
She just wanted it to stop.
It can
Taylor forced herself to concentrate on the book, trying to ignore Illyria repeating her detailed plans for how to kill and/or maim the Trio. But she couldn't focus on the words.
When in doubt, distract the demon.
Which Empire 88 cape would you want to fight first? That was something they could agree on. E88 were a bunch of pathetic, evil bastards. Illyria liked the idea of fighting them.
None of them could be dangerous to you. Defeating Hookwolf would show the Empire that you are not to be trifled with.
Hookwolf?
It is unlikely his blades would be harmful, when set against the resilience my power grants you, the more you draw on it. The passage of time is your plaything as well.
...Which meant that few of his attacks would actually hit her. If she was careful, and smart.
But how much would she have to draw on Illyria's power to be able to resist all those blades? How sharp were they, exactly? And then there was the question of how she could actually hurt him back...
Bend his blades inward. Render them all blunt. Or snap them. Illyria said, with what Taylor could swear was almost a hint of laughter in her voice. Qual'aygoros was a being of spikes across a massive bulk. Without them, it could do me no harm. I feasted on it's flesh, and built a monument from it's bones.
...I'm not eating Hookwolf.
Of course not. Human would taste disgusting. Your kind are still barely above slime and muck, the ooze that ate itself is your forbear.
And Illyria was back to calling humans muck.
We managed to take over the world just fine. What happened to your people?
Illyria didn't 'say' anything, but she got the impression of a frustrated growl and a huff, as if the demon was like, crossing its arms in front of itself. Illyria hadn't had much of an answer, because it had been betrayed and 'killed but not destroyed' before the final end of the rule of the 'Old Ones' over the earth. The text she'd found in that occult bookshop had really only said that the 'Old Ones lost their purchase on this reality', which meant very little. Though with the existence of Earth-Aleph, and possibly even more alternate Earths, maybe it meant they'd... moved? To another Earth?
Impossible to say. Taylor did want to understand Illyria better, for all that getting rid of her wasn't the goal - Taylor wasn't going to lose her chance to be a hero - but short of desperately digging through occult books of dubious accuracy... she didn't see a lot of options. She'd keep trying but only when she could, when she had time.
And money. Rare occult books were expensive, and she didn't have any of that. And legally speaking, stealing money from E88 or ABB stash houses was still theft. The kind of thing that could get the Protectorate labeling her a villain if she did.
Taylor put down the book after the third attempt to read the same sentence in a row failed, and laid back on the bed, not taking her glasses off yet, not turning off the light on the side table.
She hadn't stopped any crime, but she had... she had made contact with Glory Girl. Working with her would be safer, without dealing with all of the Wards and all that teenage drama and bullshit. And... Glory Girl seemed to get it. Sure, she recoiled from the violence once had a minute, but she got it - she got how bad Empire 88 was, how much they were ruining this city.
Common ground. Taylor could work with that.
She was going to make this work. She was going to be a hero. Demon, or no demon.