Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Where to begin...

My story, as I understand it, has many beginnings. The quest of the shards. The death of another universe. The madness of former friends and foes. The rebirth of a forgotten humanity. The desperation of a hidden cabal... and also, the desperation of a separate, entirely different hidden cabal.

But if I were to put a beginning to it all, to the retelling of everything, I'd say we should start with the locker. The place of my rebirth. Or my death, depending on how you look at it. I've had a number of existential crises about the whole thing.

The final hours of Taylor Hebert, teenage human whipping board, were spent in desperate isolation, bound in iron and filth by mocking peers and left to rot. I begged for somebody to find me. I raged against the metal with my weak arms. I screamed my pain and sorrow to the silent halls of Winslow. And... nothing. Nobody reached out, nobody cared even enough to tell me to shut up. Ignored by everyone, except the bugs--because hey, here was a convenient source of fresh meat that couldn't even run away.

That was the first time I knew--really knew, understood--that I was going to die.

I don't know how long it took me to internalize that, exactly. A few minutes? An hour? It's hard to tell time when you're in a tight, dark space. Once I did realize it, though, once I accepted it, I... it just became another dollop on the shit sundae. My mom died, my dad's depressed, my best friend is a monster, the school hates me, I'm going to die, today is monday. Just a fact of life. Like water being wet. Or gravity pulling things down. Endbringers destroying society. You know, fundamental laws of nature.

After a few minutes, I decided that the laws of nature could go fuck themselves with the biggest and most rusty skyscraper in Kyushu.

And that's when it happened. I was so pissed at the world being so completely, totally unfair, that my brain reached out beyond itself. And something reached back, automatically, something ancient and dangerous and empowering... and if that was all that had happened, I would probably have forgotten it in moments and become just another parahuman. Maybe I'd have the power to fly, or become a telepathic god, or... I don't know, control bugs or something. And my story would become just another tragedy of a desperately spiraling girl caught up in a scenario far too precarious for any mortal to handle.

But, fortunately for me, somebody else had done something remarkably desperate and stupid a couple decades ago, and they were in just the right position to hijack what was supposed to be the final key to my descent.

From my perspective, it was a very jarring change. One moment, I was trapped in the locker, surrounded by rotting tampons and skittering roaches. Then there was a vision of a great, crystalline thing, reaching out... and then, briefly, darkness, before suddenly I was standing in a featureless room.

And I do mean featureless. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, all were simple white squares with no texture whatsoever. It took me a few seconds to realize that, and a few more to step forward and confirm the wall was as smooth as it looked, impossibly so. My eyes drifted from my hand to the white sleeve around my wrist, nothing like the dark clothes I remembered wearing; looking down revealed I was dressed in a featureless white jumpsuit, and running my fingers over the sleeves produced the same feeling of unnatural smoothness that I'd gotten from the walls. Absolutely nothing gave away how this place had been made, and there was an... unreality to it all, as though it only existed in my head. Which had a lot of unsettling implications, the more I thought about it. Was it real, or some sort of illusion? How did I get here? Why was I even here, anyway?

"...Hello?"

I didn't exactly expect a response to my nervous questioning of the open air, but I also didn't expect no response. I expected nothing, it was just an automatic reaction given the situation. Still, I was surprised when a synthetic voice replied.

"Greetings. We have some questions for you, if you would not mind answering them."

I looked around the featureless room for... something, anything really. "...Like... what, exactly?"

"What is the current date?"

"...January third. 2011, if that's... important."

"Thank you. I assume you are sixteen years of age?"

"Fifteen." I crossed my arms, trying to hide my fear and confusion behind annoyance. "Look, what's going on here?"

"That is precisely what we are attempting to determine."

"By kidnapping me and asking me random questions?"

"...My apologies," the voice replied after a moment. "Perhaps an explanation is in order. You are not physically present here, this is a simulated environment. We have set up a transmitter that interfaces directly with your brain."

I couldn't help gaping in horror. "You did what?! When the hell did you--?"

"Roughly three minutes ago, at this point. Though the entire process took something around eight minutes total."

"How did you do that?!" I demanded.

"Nanomachines," the voice responded calmly.

"What?! You injected me with nanomachines?!"

"No, we sent them through the wormhole."

"WHAT WORMHOLE?!"

"The one that opened up in your brain."

"THERE'S A WORMHOLE IN MY BRAIN?!"

"Don't worry, the aperture is far too small for an ordinary blood cell to pass through."

"YOU OPENED A WORMHOLE IN MY FUCKING BRAIN!"

"No, actually. That was something else. We just happened to be nearby, and--"

"Okay, stop." Another voice, far less synthetic, cut the first off. "You are terrifying the poor girl. Excuse me, miss, can you hear me?"

"I--..." I took a deep breath, not that it meant anything. "Yes. I can hear you."

"I'd like to apologize for... well, all of this. We're in... a complicated situation over here, and the wormhole being opened gave us hope we could get out of it. So we sent the nanomachines through, just to explore what was on the other side, and... we were not expecting your brain. Honestly, we're kind of scrambling to figure out what's going on ourselves."

I crossed my arms and huffed. "You know, it'd be a lot easier to trust you if I wasn't in some void of a room."

"A--oh, I see. Well, I'm going to be talking to somebody later... Okay, I'm going to upload a new simulation, it should let us talk... somewhat face to face."

In the space between one moment and the next, the white room was replaced by a futuristic lobby of some sort. Natural light--well, as natural as a simulation could have--flowed in through high windows to highlight the mosaic of a sphinx in the tiles. The room was bordered by comfortable-looking couches and potted plants, with six round kiosks arrayed in a hexagon and displaying holographic screens. I'm not ashamed to admit I stared at the image of a red planet, surrounded by a glowing ring, that floated translucently above me.

"Is this better?" the voice asked from beside me.

"I guess it's a little--holy crap!"

The speaker grinned a bit, putting a hand on his... her...? their hip. "What's the matter? Something on my face?"

The face in question was undeniably not human. Not bad-looking, if you were into the whole fox/bat thing--okay, probably bat, from the webbed wings extending from their hands--but definitely not what I expected. The fur pattern was like nothing in nature, especially with the long mane of magenta hair, and the mischievous blue eyes spoke volumes to how amused they found my reaction. The futuristic clothes the stranger wore was almost an afterthought to the utterly strange situation.

"Relax, honey," they said--and it was kind of strange to see an extended snout speak english so easily. "We don't mean you any harm. My name's Nikopol Shaw."

"Uh... Taylor Hebert," I managed awkwardly. "Um. Are you... an alien?"

Nikopol shrugged. "Depends on how you look at it, I guess. It's a long and complicated story. I'm assuming you're a bonafide human," they added, gesturing at me.

"Well, yeah, what else would I be?"

"Oh honey, if I answered that honestly we'd be here all day! But," Nikopol said before I could process that, "I think we should talk about what our relationship going forward's going to be."

"....our... relationship?"

"Purely professionally, of course," the bat-person replied. "The fact is we're kind of in a jam over here, and you're the only one on the outside we can talk to, so if we ever want to solve our problems, you're going to have to be our eyes and ears, maybe hands. Gives you a lot of leverage, I'll admit."

"...Nikopol Shaw," I said, very carefully, "I am a fifteen-year-old high school student."

"With a wormhole in your brain," they replied, smirking. "That lets you talk to aliens."

I shook my head in disbelief. "I don't have rich parents, or some sort of famous friend--I don't have any friends at all! I'm the least popular student at Winslow and that's already a shithole of a school. Hell, I was just stuffed into a locker filled with rotting tampons!" I exploded. "And I mean filled with it! I couldn't even move my--oh god," I realized, "I'm still in the locker, aren't I? This--this is all a simulation, I'm still trapped in that--"

"Hey, hey, take a breath--"

"I felt bugs crawling on me!" I exploded, smacking their hand away. "I'm going to die in there! A-a-and you want me to just, what, solve problems I don't even know about?! Because of a random wormhole in my brain?!"

Nikopol gave me a long look, silent, not judging exactly, but... considering. Then they sighed, pinching their muzzle. "Sentri! Get your ass out here!"

The abstract representation of a winged lioness flickered into existence in the middle of the room, looking at me with solid glowing white eyes for a moment before turning to the androgynous bat. "Hello, Nikopol," the lioness greeted--in that same synthetic voice that had first responded to me. "What is it you wish to discuss?"

Nikopol crossed their arms, giving the newcomer a deadpan look. "How can we help Taylor?"

"MarsCo and its associates can provide our new friend with numerous files on technological devices that--"

"Don't play coy, Sentri, I know you were listening in. The locker. With the tampons. Can we get her out of there?"

"Our connection currently only allows the transmission of data and insertion of nanomachines into Taylor's bloodstream."

Nikopol rolled their eyes. "We could use the nanomachines to bulk her up enough that she could shove her way out of the locker."

"Wait wait wait." I held up my hand in disbelief. "You can do that?"

"Augmenting biology is pretty par for the course," Nikopol replied.

"Augmenting Vector biology," Sentri countered, shaking their head. "The vast majority of such augmentations rely on physiological and genetic components a baseline human does not have."

"Damn. I was so sure that would work, too..."

"It may be possible to give Taylor the boost you suggest, if she were to allow herself some prerequisite surgery."

"Prerequisite?" I asked nervously.

Nikopol's ears flicked back. "Sentri's talking about turning you into a Vector," they said flatly.

"A--is that what you are?" I looked them up and down. "I mean, you look... nice, but I'm not, uh, sure I'm ready for wings. Especially in a locker."

"We don't all have wings. Just the lucky ones." Nikopol's expression regained some of its mischievousnesses. "We're mostly human, really. Just had junk DNA removed and a few tweaks to give us... well, animal appearances and some enhanced abilities."

They gestured, and a holographic screen appeared with images of anthropomorphic people. Some of them seemed basically human in shape, others looked like animals in clothes, some were built like centaurs... There was a dinosaur in a dress. And a mermaid with a dolphin head--or a dolphin with arms? All sorts of colorful people, in all sorts of poses, casual, provocative, dramatic.

"...So, let me see if I understand this. You turn me into some sort of animal-person, and then boost my body to a point where I can just break out?"

"That's the general idea, honey."

I chewed my lip thoughtfully. This whole situation was so far out of left field, I wasn't sure I could just... accept it at face value. And yet... well... I didn't have any other choice, did I? Even if they left, I'd just be back in the locker.

"...Do I... do I get any say in... how I'll look?" I asked. "Or is it just a random transformation, no control?"

"We can spend as long as you want figuring everything out," Nikopol assured me. "Anything you want to keep, get rid of, improve, all up to you."

"We will have to start with a basic template, of course," Sentri clarified. "But we should be able to accommodate most reasonable requests."

I looked down at my hands. If I did this, this could be the last moment I ever saw them.

"...Can I have a mirror?"

With a nod, Sentri produced a full-length mirror.

My reflection wasn't wearing glasses. A little odd, but... well, given the white unitard, it wasn't the strangest thing. Hell, I was in a room with two aliens. Or sort of aliens. Sort of in a room.

But...

I reached out, putting a hand against the mirror, and looking at my own face. My human, ordinary face. Plain, unattractive... lips too wide. But for all of that, it was my face. Me. What I thought of myself as.

"...The hair." I sighed. "It... my mom had the same hair as I do. I... I want to keep the hair."

"I think we can do that," Nikopol agreed gently. "Let's work on designing your new body."

Fifteen minutes later, after some serious discussion, the nanomachines in my blood turned on, and I died.

For the first time.

Chapter Text

Designing your own body from the ground up is a trippy experience. Especially with the constraints that we were working under.

The first minute or so was just me flipping through a playbook of various kinds of animal people, picking what looked cool and dismissing it out of hand when I realized it would cause issues. Deer, for instance, looked graceful, but apparently even the women grew antlers--something I didn't think would work out well in the confined space of the locker. Becoming a snake was appealing since I could, maybe, just slither out, but the lack of hands made me decide it wasn't viable long-term. I did briefly consider becoming a bear to burst out of the locker, I just... well, I didn't feel that becoming a hulking mass of muscle was exactly feminine enough for my self-image.

"Hm... you know, my mom used to call me little owl, because I'd stay up all night reading. Maybe I could--"

"No," Nikopol interjected, a little too quickly. "The owl template was... corrupted. Badly. Very badly."

"Corrupted? How?"

"You don't want to know. But you can choose from other avialae species, if you want to fly. Heck, we could hybridize you with a touch of felidae--we can do that, right?" they asked Sentri.

"Hybridization is a known morphism, if a significant minority. Roughly .0015 percent of vectors are hybrids."

"Morphism...?"

"It's a biological term," Nikopol explained. "You noticed how some of the images have different body shapes?" He pointed at a few. "Those are different morphisms."

I nodded my understanding, flipping back to the bird section. "It says here tauric avians are 'upright'?"

"Yeah, angels. Most taurs are four-legged, two armed, but avian taurs... they have six limbs, it's just that two of them are wings instead of legs, for some reason."

"Interesting..."

I was seriously considering choosing between a hawk and a crow, when I realized that the wings pictured would be big--too big for my locker. With a sigh, I turned away from that section, moving on to other species. Maybe I was thinking about this the wrong way--if the problem was having limited space, I could probably compact myself down somehow; be a rabbit, maybe, there looked to be small rabbits in the list...

"...Is being tiny another morphism?"

"Yeah, micros." Nikopol looked over my shoulder. "They have to get everything custom fit, mind you. Smaller clothes, smaller tools..."

"...Yeah, I... don't think I'll be picking that option." No way was I going to reenact Watership Down.

I got hung up on maybe being a honey badger for a few minutes; something about being tough enough to shrug off massive swarms of insects appealed to me. But it also felt a little too... brazen. I was used to keeping my head down, avoiding attention. And that would probably be more important than ever--an animal person would attract all sorts of attention I didn't necessarily want. The real question was how to avoid attention...

"...Hey, Nikopol?" I pointed at a few pictures. "That's a dolphin girl, right?"

"Yep."

"Can dolphin vectors... you know, breathe underwater?"

"Delphindae vectors can hold their breath for forty-five minutes," Sentri reported. "Selachii vectors have functioning gills."

Dolphins and sharks... either of them would let me hide out in the bay, if I really needed to. I waffled between the two options as I went down the list, but eventually an image of an orca hybrid cropped up. Something about her... something resonated with me.

"...I think," I said, "I'm going to be an orca/honey badger hybrid." I nodded firmly. "Yeah, that's what..."

Then the actual meaning of that statement hit me like the wrath of Alexandria's fist.

"...I'm actually doing this."

Nikopol flicked their eyes toward me. "So you are."

"I'm really, actually just... changing my body," I repeated, slowly. "I'm just... doing this. No questions asked."

"Nobody said you couldn't ask questions, honey."

"I'm throwing away my own body just because it's not good enough," I insisted.

"Plenty of people do that."

I gaped, horrified.

"How do you think we know how to do this?" Nikopol asked. "We wouldn't be offering a total body replacement if it was some sort of untested technology."

It took me a moment to remember that I was talking to an actual alien. A personable one, sure, and one who seemed to at least agree my situation was horrible, but... still an alien, who probably didn't understand certain aspects of humanity.

"It's a lot, is all," I offered awkwardly. "I mean... I grew up like this." I gestured at myself. "And this is kind of... big."

Nikopol took a deep breath. "You're still going to be you," they pointed out gently.

The sheer confidence with which they said that made me shake my head. "Will I be? I mean... I'm changing who I am on a fundamental level."

"No, you're not," Nikopol corrected, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You're just modifying your body. Granted, this is a big modification, it's not like getting a haircut or your ears pierced, but the soul that's going to be in that body is still going to be yours."

"Right," I deadpanned, "because this is exactly like plastic surgery. I suppose I can get a free boob job while I'm under too?"

"Sure," Nikopol said casually.

"...I was joking."

"I wasn't. As long as you have our nanites in your system, you can change yourself however you want."

"With some restrictions and caveats," Sentri clarified quickly. "Due to your young age, some of the options available are unwise. And it does take energy and processing power to do these surgeries remotely."

"My point," Nikopol stressed with a pointed look at the winged lion, "is that you have the most say in your final appearance. If a pair of honkers gives you the confidence you need, go for it. If you'd prefer to be streamlined, that's an option too. You wanted your hair to survive the transition, so we're making sure it does. You want to be purple and green instead of black and white? That's totally cool! Heck, if you're tired of being female, we can swap out--"

I shrugged their hand off my shoulder. "Okay, I get it. I have options. It's just... most people don't have these options. How can I be sure that... that the person who comes out of this will be the same as the person that went in? How do I know that Taylor Hebert will survive this transition? I know you do this all the time, but it's a new thing for me, and it's... disturbing to contemplate."

Nikopol hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "...What if I told you that we have scientific evidence for souls?"

"...you... what?"

"Yep. There was this... whole megacorp researching it. Well, that and... other things. Point is, they proved that the soul can survive a transition between bodies pretty conclusively."

Something about their expression gave me pause. "...that... sounds like a disturbing branch of science."

"Oh it is, it absolutely is. I'm pretty sure we'll be restricting... basically everything we learned from those studies for your own safety." Nikopol shook their head. "My point is, you, Taylor Hebert, will come out the other side of this, and you'll still be you. You'll still know everything you know right now, you'll still have the same tastes and preferences, you'll still have all the same wants and fears."

"...not all the same fears," I muttered. "I'm going to be the only orca girl in a city full of humans. I don't know how I'm going to explain it... I don't even know what I'm going to tell my dad."

Oh, fuck, what was I going to tell dad? I wouldn't be able to hide this...

"Gaining new fears--gaining new experiences--is just a part of life," Nikopol reassured me gently. "Granted, some of them are horrible experiences, like getting stared at by a crowd or stuffed into a locker. But sometimes?"

They waved a hand, bringing forth an image of various dolphin people swimming and playing in what looked to be an underwater playground.

"Sometimes they're incredible."

Chapter Text

I took a deep breath.

Sure, it wasn't a real breath, but it still helped me... steady myself, at least. Virtual reality is kind of like that, more suited to the vibes of a concept than the actual concept itself. Trying to make fire 'realistic' is certainly something that can be accomplished, but it's much easier for a simulation to make it 'warm' or 'bright' or 'painful' than to accurately calculate just how much it would burn you.

Not that I knew anything about that, at the time, but taking that breath still... helped.

"Alright. So I'm still going to be me," I allowed. "Even if I look like... this." I gestured toward the ebony figure with white markings and a short snout, wearing my hair like a wig. "But there's still the question of how, exactly, I'm going to explain the sudden transformation. I mean, I guess I could say I became a cape somehow..."

"A cape?"

"A--a parahuman," I explained. "Some people, they get superpowers... somehow, I don't exactly know how. And I know sometimes they transform."

"Mmm." Nikopol shared a look with Sentri. "That sounds like something worth looking into, at some point."

"...do you... know something about capes?"

"I know how fabulous people can look in them, honey," Nikopol replied without missing a beat.

I had to roll my eyes, the joke was so blatant it wasn't even funny. "Yeah, sure. Anyway, I guess I could pretend I became a cape, but... I wouldn't actually have any powers beyond deep sea diving."

"And an enhanced immune system," Sentri added. "As well as the ability to adjust to different states of gravity easily."

"Yeah, sure, like that's going to help with the space program dead."

"These powers..." Nikopol gave me a considering look. "Nobody knows how they work, where they come from?"

"I mean, I'm pretty sure the PRT--the Parahuman Response Team--has labs for power testing, but... I think that's more about learning what parahumans can do with their powers. Not about the underlying mechanics."

"I see, I see. And... what constitutes a power, exactly?"

"Well... some capes fly, some are super strong and durable, some shoot lasers... Armsmaster, the local Protectorate leader, he built himself a suit of powered armor."

Nikopol quirked a brow. "Technology is a super power?"

"Technology nobody else can replicate," I clarified. "I don't exactly know why, but for some reason some capes are less about having powers and more about making things that have powers. They're called tinkers..."

I trailed off, looking around the simulated environment I was in. At the virtual representation of my new body, staring at me expressionlessly.

"...You know," I mused, "if I'm going to be your 'agent' in the world, I'll probably need a lot of support. And equipment."

Nikopol barked a small laugh. "Not even halfway through negotiating your employment, and you're already negotiating for perks."

"MarsCo and its associates have numerous blueprints for sundry technologies filed and accessible," Sentri offered idly.

"Which isn't the same as having the actual item," Nikopol added. "You'd need to get your hands on the materials yourself. And the tools. I... think we can cheat a little with some surgeries and apps, since we're going to be flooding your body with nanomachines to rebuild it anyway, but actual devices are going to take time and effort to build. Especially without a good materials printer."

"Gotta make the tools to build the tools, huh?" It sounded about right, the way my life had gone up to this point.

"Yep. And if you're going to fake being a tinker, I'd suggest keeping out of sight until you're ready to make your debut."

"Why?"

"Look, honey, I'm guessing there's some cape groups out there that are... less than nice, right?" Nikopol smiled grimly at my hesitant nod. "So what do you think they'd do if they hear about a new cape who could outfit them with fancy tech eventually, but doesn't have much right now? Hell, what if they just want to deny you the chance to help their enemies."

I thought about it for a bit, considering the gangs I knew about, and drew some dark conclusions. "Right. Yeah, I shouldn't just jump into this unprepared."

Pretending to be a cape would be dangerous, for the same reasons actually being a cape was dangerous, and with fewer protections. I'd likely be risking my life on a regular basis. And trying to keep a secret identity... well, that was right out of the question. I'd look so different that not even Dad would recognize me.

Dad...

"...I'm going to have to explain this to Dad," I muttered. "I mean, I can't just come home like this and not say anything! I put my head in my hands. "I can't even warn him on the phone! Not without exposing myself to somebody, and everyone in school hates me--"

"You don't have a toggle?" Nikopol asked. "A personal communication device," they added at my confused look.

"...Mom died in a car crash, answering her cell phone. Ever since then, Dad... he's not been in favor of the things." I sighed. "I mean, I understand, I do. It's not something I'd like to remember, either. But now--god damn it. A cell phone would at least make this whole, whole thing more managable!"

"We could outfit you with a wireless hub."

Sentri's words hung in the virtual air for a long moment, as I turned to stare at them. They made sense, individually, but I don't think I can be blamed for not quite understanding what the virtual sphinx was offering.

"...a what?" I managed finally.

"Surgical augmentation is common among Vectors, and grafting a wireless communication hub to one's brain is among the cheapest and easiest operations available. As we are already planning to entirely rebuild your body, adding cybernetic abilities is not a difficult prospect." Sentri tilted their head, taking in my shock coolly. "In some ways it will make the entire process much easier and safer."

"You're going to install a cell phone in my head," I repeated, feeling out the words with distant disbelief.

"Only if you want us to, honey," Nikopol assured me. "But like you said--it'd make things more managable. And it's not the only option either."

"Not the only option...?"

"For instance, I'd suggest going for a full NCS--neuro connectivity suite. Makes your skull a computer, which makes it easier to download apps and install devices like the wireless hub. I think we can install the hub at the same time?" they asked Sentri.

"Installing an NCS is an involved procedure," Sentri replied. "If we expend time and resources doing so now, we may be unable to install anything else at this juncture."

"...good point. Maybe later. What about a Utilit-ii?

"That much more accomplishable. And there is a list of associated minor augmentations I feel would also be beneficial."

Once again I gaped at the aliens for a while, before managing to turn back to the representation of... what I could look like, standing in front of me. "So... in addition to changing me into this, and giving me blueprints for alien tech... you're going to give me physical augmentations that could actually make me a hero in my own right?"

"Only if you're up for it," Nikopol assured me gently. "It's your body, after all. Speaking of which..." They gestured at the still image standing in the center of the room. "Now that we've got a template, let's talk details. Augmentations, appearance, I know you want to keep your hair but if you want to do anything else now's your chance to speak up."

I glanced at the virtual mirror, reflecting my current appearance, and then at the humanoid honey badger orca hybrid that looked... sort of like me.

"...Can we get rid of the glasses?"

"Easy. Vision correction. Anything else?"

Everything Emma and her friends had ever said began to echo treacherously in my thoughts. I swallowed nervously and rubbed the back of my neck, trying to shove the insults back as much as I could.

"I... might, maybe, have one or two, uh, suggestions, if that's okay?"

Nikopol grinned. "That's just fine, honey."

Chapter Text

The next few minutes, after some final tweaks to my image, went by surprisingly quickly.

Sure, I was being handed alien supertech, but unlike trying to figure out how I'd look when I emerged from the locker, my decisions were fueled by practicality. A wireless hub would be implanted in my skull so I could connect to cellular and radio networks without a hand. And my left eye would be replaced by a mechanical wonder called the Utilit-ii, giving me a miniature screen on which I could project all sorts of images. Combined, the two put a fairly decent recreation of a phone in my head--sure, I couldn't hack with it, but Sentri assured me they'd be adapting the data structure of my cybernetic implants so I could download whatever apps I wanted.

They even offered to preinstall a virtual reality home, free of charge. Apparently it would have been more effective in the holography-riddled towns that Vectors called home, but even if I couldn't project my virtual dollhouse into reality, I could at least set it up and invite guests from their side. Or at least, that's what I understood, I still wasn't sure on the details...

The biggest thing I got, though, was something called a nanoassembler. A collection of wires under the skin of my right arm hooked hidden ports in my palm to a series of computerized storage units within my bones. If I pressed my hand against something, probably no bigger than what I could fit in my backpack, and triggered the port, it'd be broken down into molecules and stored in around a minute, complete with reassembly pattern. It really only worked on one thing at a time, and I couldn't change anything about the object while it was disassembled--not without losing its functionality, anyway. But I could opt to sacrifice the stuff I was holding for, well, materials; I could even turn it into some very basic forms, like a club or a prybar. For a tinker on the down low, like I'd be pretending to be, it was a perfect way to transport tools and supplies out of everyone's sight.

Sure, using my skeleton as a backpack was a little weird, but... what about this situation wasn't, right? Aliens, or sort of aliens, rebuilding my body because a wormhole opened in my brain after I got stuffed in a locker... At this point, I might as well roll with it. So when Nikopol suggested I wrap up by asking Sentri to download a few blueprints to my brain, I shrugged. Why not, right?

"You should definitely know how to make a toggle and matching case," Nikopol declared. "It's practically a cell phone, anyway, only a few centuries more advanced."

"But... won't I already have a cell phone in my head?" I pointed out.

"Sure, but your dad won't," Nikopol replied. "Having a way to call for help from anywhere is vital, I think. And besides, having something technical to make is good practice for your engineering skills."

I had to concede that point. Knowing how something was made wasn't the same as knowing how to make something, after all, and the things that they would be offering me would probably get even more complicated.

"We should probably give you a backpack blueprint," they added, "since yours was most likely ruined by the horrific circumstances you've been forced to suffer."

"A backpack."

"Yep."

"You're a hyper-advanced civilization that is basically rebuilding my body from the ground up," I deadpanned, "and you're offering me the instructions to make a backpack."

"Backpacks are useful, honey," Nikopol replied with smirk. "Easy way to lug around our supertech and death weapons."

I rolled my eyes. "You might as well throw on sewing patterns for a new wardrobe while you're at it."

"Actually, that sounds like a great idea."

"Wait, what?"

"Taylor, you've been in that locker for almost a quarter of an hour. Whatever you're wearing now is probably going to have to be burnt. And you were going to need to adjust your clothes for your tail anyway."

"So you're just going to... what, download a tailor's skills and knowledge into my brain?"

"It is in your name," Sentri replied. "If you want it, I see no reason why we can't accommodate you."

I rubbed my temples tiredly. "...you know what, sure. Why not. Do you have any blueprints for scuba gear too?"

Nikopol looked momentarily confused. "Scuba...?"

"An acronym," Sentri explained. "Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus."

"Oh, like a gillsuit?" Nikopol nodded. "Yeah, we could download that into your brain too. Although... you're already going to be able to hold your breath for nearly an hour."

"Which is great for visiting the sea, but I want to maintain a low profile for at least a little bit, which means I'm going to be living in it. Probably. I still don't have that planed out." I shrugged. "Besides, I might want to invite trusted allies to my underwater base... you know, assuming I can actually make an underwater base."

Nikopol nodded thoughtfully. "Thinking ahead. I can appreciate that. Alright, honey, we'll throw the gillsuit blueprint in too. What do you think, Sentri, have we covered everything?"

"Everything we feasibly can," Sentri confirmed. "We can begin the transition whenever miss Hebert is ready."

I took one last look at the projected form that would be my new body. The white-on-black markings, the stripe of silver fur, the dolphin-like tail, the badgerlike face. It was still shaped like a human, roughly, though I had to admit I'd given into my vanity at least a little; the gangly limbs and small paunch was gone, replaced by some good curves and perhaps slightly more than decently sized assets.

I was a teenager with image issues given the chance to rebuild her body from the ground up. I'd like to think, given the situation, I had practiced phenomenal amounts of restraint.

And it wasn't like I was totally unrecognizable. My hair was still recognizably dark and wavy, my eyebrows... well, they were the same fluffy black I used to be embarrassed about. And despite the tweaking to better my vision, and the fact one of my eyes had been replaced with a small spherical supercomputer, my right eye still looked... like my eye.

I took a deep breath.

"...Do it."

Then I plunged into darkness.

Intellectually I know it was only a few minutes. But the gap of time between my new body design being finalized and my new eyes opening felt interminable. I mean, logically, I shouldn't have been able to even notice it. I was unconscious for the whole thing. But... well, the brain tells itself stories to make sense of a world it wasn't evolved to understand, or at least that's how I understand what happened. When I did open my eyes, though, it was... slightly less dark. But a lot tighter. I was still in the locker--one that had been uncomfortably confining even before my transformation. Now?

Now, the confined space pressed into me even more, making me acutely aware of every new sensation my new body was sending to my brain.

That hadn't been something I'd realized, back in the simulated world. I'd gotten so caught up in designing a new body that, even after my existential crisis, I hadn't realized what it would feel like to have a new body. My skin felt supple and clammy in equal amounts, shifting my sense of touch off-kilter. My tail was hiked up uncomfortably over my pants, flukes curled painfully into the edged of the locker.I could feel the strip of fur down my spine rubbing against my strained clothes. My mouth, my nose, was shaped wrong--my tongue was slightly too long, my teeth were definitely too sharp, there was a muscle in my nostrils that let me lock my breath to avoid smelling the stench surrounding me, there was something hard in my eye socket oh god I had replaced my eye--

"Taylor, honey?"

The voice that came from practically nowhere barely pulled me out of my spiral, just enough for me to jolt and remember everything that had happened.

"Iieah heeah..."

My stupid tongue and lips weren't working right, and I had to take a moment to adjust.

"Iaem, Iem... I'm... heeeeeeaaaaaaaere. Ii'mm heere. Here. I'm here."

"You want to have this conversation through text?" Nikopol offered.

"I'm fihe... fii... fiinnah. Fiiine. F,ine. Fine. I'm fine."

"Whatever you say, honey," Nikopol agreed. "Now then... let's see about getting you out of that locker, shall we?"

Chapter Text

Right. Focus on the current problem. I could freak out about my body later. Right now, I had to get out of the locker, preferably without attracting attention.

Taking a deep breath, I ran my hand down the side of the locker door. If I was right, the latch would be... here, and if I twisted it this way...

The door clicked and swung open. I practically fell out of the rotten prison I'd been forced into, my cramped muscles screaming as they finally had a chance to stretch out.

"You're doing great, honey," Nikopol's voice assured me. "Take a moment to breathe, then let's get you out of there."

I was momentarily nonplussed by their urgency, before an unconscious flick of my tail reminded me that I no longer blended into a crowd. Getting out of the school was probably a good idea in any case. Luckily enough, I'd managed to get out of the locker during the middle of class period, which just meant I had to avoid the various truants and stay out of sight of the class windows...

Simple enough in theory.

I stood up, brushing off the... gunk that was still clinging to my clothes, before making my way toward the rear entrance of the school. I moved in a half crouch to avoid being spotted from a classroom door, and I had to juke through some halls once or twice when I overheard some voices ahead of me, but surprisingly enough I was able to escape the school without being seen.

Winslow apathy for the win, I guess. The same powers that made everyone ignore a girl suffocating in a locker of rotting tampons also let me move undisturbed through the school as a... as a...

Now that I had made it out of the school, now that I had a moment to think, the full sensations of my body hit me again. I expected it to be different, but I hadn't really internalized what 'different' would mean. I'd thought that my tail, maybe, would be the strangest thing--and having an extended spine was weird, don't get me wrong, I somehow felt taller while still being the same height--it just... it was a weirdness I was expecting.

What was really getting to me now were the things that shouldn't have felt any different, but somehow did. My legs were still, mostly, the same shape, human feet and legs, and yet there was something almost strange about the muscles in them. I didn't feel stronger, exactly, I just... it was like the tension I should have felt, just standing, wasn't there. There was an effort to just standing up that had, somehow, vanished. And my skin... I could the stripe of fur running down my spine, but more importantly I could feel the sheer density of my skin itself. It was slightly thicker--not enough that I felt clumsier, or even enough to lessen my sense of touch, but... It felt like I should feel like I was wearing rubber, except I didn't lose any of my tactile sensation. And my skin stretched oddly around some very specific locations.

And there were the cybernetics. The metal orb rolling around in my eye socket was the most obvious, both externally and in the way it felt. It was like, I should be able to pop it out, but... also, it was connected to all the parts that my original mark one eyeball had been connected to. My other eye felt the same, even though I knew I wasn't wearing glasses--I didn't need them anymore, my vision was pretty good. And the wireless hub in my head was... it felt like another valve, like the one in my nose now, that I could open or close to let in radio waves. And... if I focused, I could feel the tiny ports of my nanoassembler in my palm, a grid of invisible pinpricks just waiting to open.

Just one of the many, many weird new parts of my new body...

I slumped against the wall of Winslow, everything about my situation sinking in. I had a body that was leagues different from the one I was born in that I'd have to get used to. My face looked so different that nobody would believe me if I showed them my identification. Hell, Dad wouldn't even recognize me. I couldn't so much as walk down a street without people pointing me out of the crowd. I could maybe, maybe, make alien technology, but I'd need somewhere to hide and something to make it out of, or I'd get snapped up by the gangs.

"Taylor, honey? How are you holding up?"

Oh, and I had aliens talking to me through the radio in my brain.

Yes, the situation really was starting to sink in. Actually, I was the one sinking in the situation. Drowning, even. Suffocating with the realization that my life was basically over, that whoever Taylor Hebert used to be, I couldn't be her anymore--

"Taylor," Nikopol repeated, "I think we need to talk."

A sardonic laugh escaped me before I could even stop it. "What's there to talk about? My complete alienation from the entirety of the human race?"

"We can talk about that if you like," Nikopol replied gently.

"Oh, sure, we can talk about it," I grumbled. "I just... yes, I'm out of the damned locker, but I'm just now realizing I jumped into this without even hesitating! I barely thought this through, and now, I just... I'm just..."

"Mmm. Change can be scary. And this is a pretty big change, to be fair. Little overwhelming."

"A little," I agreed sarcastically. "I just... when we were talking about it, it was all theoretical, but now... now it's real."

I slid down the wall, hugging my knees.

"This is real," I murmured. "It's real and I can't take it back. I'm... I have to live like this, now."

"...Believe it or not, I know how you feel, honey."

"Really."

"Oh yeah. Back in our home reality, I used to be able to go pretty much anywhere in our solar system. My life was... risky, but at least it was mine. But then... well, what happened, happened, and I got stuck in this simu-ark. And sure, it's a fancy program, but... I kinda miss being able to feel the sun on my fur, you know?"

Nikopol's words were comforting and disturbing in equal measure. I had to take a few minutes to process them.

"...Okay. That's... we're going to talk about that later." When I wasn't so completely disturbed by the implications. "For now, though, we... should probably talk about what I'm going to do now."

"Yes, yes we should. The way I see it, you've got a few choices to make." Nikopol's tone grew more businesslike. "You could call your dad to pick you up. You could try to head home undetected. You could call up whatever authorities can deal with your situation. Or, you could strike out on your own and find some place to bunker up in."

Laid out like that, I had to admit that I had more options then I'd initially thought. "...Which one do you think I should choose?"

"Well, they all have advantages and disadvantages..."

Chapter Text

"First of all, calling your dad means getting some actual support. Same with calling the authorities, probably, and they'll be able to give you resources to handle your situation, but they might want to put restrictions on you, and you'll also be broadcasting your existence to them and whoever has access to their files."

"Yeah, I... I don't think I'm ready to call the PRT," I agreed. "Not until I know... not until I've really established myself."

"I'd say that's a good call, honey. Which means you probably want to set up shop somewhere they don't regularly look."

"I have a few ideas on that front. What about... getting home?"

Nikopol's voice hummed thoughtfully in my head. "That probably ties in with calling your dad, if I'm honest. Unless you want him to freak out when he sees a vector in his daughter's bedroom."

"No no, I don't--I think... I'm going to call him, and see if I can keep him from freaking out. At the very least, we can probably sneak home in his truck."

"Your call, honey."

I took a deep breath, focusing on the various screens that didn't exist being projected onto the inner surface of my new mechanical eye. It was surprisingly easy to find the system that connected to the various wireless communications, and it was almost natural to find the link to the phone lines. It took all of four seconds for me to ring up my dad's number. Apparently alien supertech is user friendly. Who knew?

"Dockworker's association. Danny Hebert speaking."

"Dad, I--"

"Taylor? What's going on? Why are you calling me?"

I swallowed, trying to get my thoughts in order. I needed to make absolutely sure that I could get my situation across, and I had to try my best to keep my dad from flipping his lid.

"...Dad I'm a killer whale now."

"...What."

"I, I mean I'm not completely a killer whale I'm part honey badger and I've got a robot eye and--"

"Taylor, what on Earth are you talking about?"

"You know, explaining things to him over comms might not be the best idea," Nikopol noted helpfully.

"I, uh, I... kinda need you to come pick me up," I mumbled awkwardly. "Things have happened, and I... I don't think I can get home without, you know, causing issues."

"...Taylor, has somebody given you drugs?"

"What--? No! I'm not--" I sighed, dragging my hand down my face. "Can you please just... come pick me up? I... I don't feel safe here."

"...What happened?"

"I... somebody filled my locker with... medical garbage," I admitted hesitantly. "I'm not feeling..."

I swallowed nervously.

"I'm not feeling like myself."

"...Alright. I'll come down."

"Thanks. I'm, uh... I'm behind the school, just so you know."

Dad sighed. "Of course you are. Hang tight, I'll be there in a few."

"Yeah. Uh. See you soon," I muttered, before awkwardly cutting off the call.

"...well," Nikopol mused, "at least you were honest."

I groaned into my knees.

The time I spent waiting in that alleyway was one of the tensest and most nerve-wracking moments of my life. I was worried somebody would find me, or that Dad wouldn't even be able to recognize me when he came, or that I... wasn't even me anymore, technically. I'd just let aliens rebuild me, and now I barely fit into my own clothes. So when Dad's car rolled up outside the alley, it was, in an odd way, a relief. Instead of the constant, slow existential dread of my new situation, I had the clear and obvious worry of what would happen in the next few minutes.

I approached the car as the window rolled down, trying to keep calm. It'd be fine. I'd be fine. Dad would take me home, and... and we'd work through this.

I didn't believe it and, as I opened the car door and saw my dad's shocked expression, I could see he didn't either.

"...Hi Dad." I gave him an awkward little wave, trying to keep my robotic eye out of his sight.

He gaped. "Taylor? You..."

I spread my arms helplessly. "I told you, I'm a killer whale/badger girl now."

"...with a robotic eye, you said."

With a sigh, I turned to face him. "Yeah."

"...Taylor, what the hell happened?!" Dad demanded, reaching for his seatbelt buckle. "I mean, this has got to--"

"Dad, I'll explain everything, I just--... I just want to go home, okay?" I got into the car, wincing as my tail pressed into the back of the seat. "I don't want to be seen like… like this."

I tried not to look at him. Not to look at the way he was staring at me, at the expression of shock on his face. I didn't... I didn't want to face that. Not until I had time to adjust to this situation.

"...fine. But we're talking about this when we get home."

The ride was quiet. Tense. Uncomfortable. Dad didn't say anything, just keeping his eyes on the road. I didn't say anything, just trying to keep my face out of sight of anybody looking through the window. And when we pulled into the driveway, I was quick to rush into the house, trying to figure out what I was going to say.

"...you look the same from the back," Dad commented, shutting the door behind us.

"Sorry?"

"I mean, aside from the tail. And the black and white hands. You've still got the same," he gestured at me, "silhouette. From the back."

"...oh." I shrugged. "That's... comforting, I guess."

Sure, comforting. I'd never see myself from the back, but hey, at least I'd always get to see people freaking out about my face instead of them hiding it behind me.

Dad took a deep breath. "I think," he said, "we need to talk about... this. Because this... this doesn't just happen, Taylor. Things like this don't just... happen."

I sighed, falling onto the couch. There was no way, no way I'd be telling him the truth--it was too crazy for even me to fully believe, and I was living it. But there was an easier explanation, one I jumped on.

"...So there are these three bitches," I said dryly. "Do a lot of shit. You know, spread rumors about me, dump juice in my hair, that sort of thing." I didn't want to bring up the flute, this would be hard enough as it was. "And... today, they stuffed my locker full of... let's just call it garbage. I don't, I don't want to think about it. Anyway, they jammed me in there, I was stuck for a few hours, I... kinda blacked out, and when I came to, I had a tail and a robot eye."

"...That's it?"

"What do you want me to say, Dad?" I snapped with all the power of a limp noodle. "'Gee, there has to be a logical explanation for this?' Let's face it, the only logical explanation is I..."

I trailed off.

"...is that you're a parahuman now," Dad finished.
"...yeah."

"...We should probably call the PRT about this," Dad said--

"Can we--... can I... have a day? Just to get acclimatized to this? I don't... I need time to process."

"...Okay." Dad nodded, slowly. "A day. But... we really should call them. Sooner rather than later."

I swallowed. "...yeah, Dad. You're not... wrong.

Chapter Text

Waking up the next morning was... a process.

My consciousness fought to hold on to the last scraps of the dream it had been passing through, but my body was already alerting me to something being different. Pressures I didn't have before. Slight twinges here and there. Every sensation was a slow, unyielding reminder of the change I had undergone not twenty-four hours ago. By the time I awoke, I knew... knew that it was no dream.

I was no longer human. I wasn't even technically a parahuman. I was... something else.

I curled up there on my bed, wrapping my hands around my knees as my situation sunk in. It was the final catalyst in what I'd been holding back for almost two years, now; the wall I'd built up to keep the impact of my school suffering away crumbled, and like the muddy waters of a putrid dam all my emotions started to leak out. At least, I thought in a half daze, at least I could still cry. Even if the tears coming out of one of my eyes felt a little strange.

"...You want to stay in bed today?"

The voice in my head was... less startling then it should have been. Of course Nikopol and the others would still be watching me. It wasn't like they went anywhere...

"Nobody would blame you," they continued softly. "After everything that happened yesterday--"

"No," I declared quietly.

"...no?"

"No, I..." I swallowed. "I'm not going to break down like that. I've... I've seen where giving up leads a person."

"Hmm. Alright then, let's get this day started."

With a deep breath, I rose out of my bed. There were a couple things I needed to accomplish... no, there was actually a lot of things I needed to accomplish. But right now, the priority was... figuring out exactly what I needed to do going forward. And that meant...

...that meant talking with Dad about it.

God, that would be painful...

I walked down the stairs with some trepidation, trying to focus on the prospects of breakfast instead of the doubts whirling in my mind. When I reached the kitchen, I saw that my dad had arrived before me.

"...oh, uh, hey Dad." I waved awkwardly as he looked up. "Good, um... good morning?"

"Mmm." Dad looked up, stared at me a bit longer then I was comfortable with, and sighed. "I think there's a lot we're going to have to handle today. Starting with calling the PRT."

I balked. "Dad, I don't--is that really necessary? I mean, I just..." I gestured at myself. "I'm still getting used to this..."

"And that's exactly why we need to call them," Dad replied firmly. "This... this is not something either of us can handle."

"But Dad, I..." I swallowed. "If they find out about me, they'll make me join the Wards, and--"

"Maybe you should join the Wards."

"I can't, Dad, I..."

The aliens who saved my life have other plans, I didn't say. Because how was I supposed to explain that? I didn't even know what those plans were!

"...I don't... want to deal with more teenage drama," I finished lamely.

Dad sighed. "I understand that, I do. And we'll look over the Wards contract before we agree to anything. But... Taylor, this needs to happen." He stood up, shaking his head. "You've got a robotic eye, for crying out loud! Even without everything else that happened to you, that's not something we're equipped to handle alone!"

It was clear that I wouldn't be able to deter him, and... honestly, I didn't know if I should. Sure, I wanted to stay away from the Protectorate as a whole and become an independent hero, but... that was for personal reasons. Practically speaking, it wouldn't be a bad thing to at least have a look at what was going on... would it?

"...Fine," I grumbled. "You have a point. I'm, uh... I'm going to do some research on how capes that don't... look human... are handled."

"That's probably a good idea," Dad agreed. "Don't spend too long on the computer--"

"Actually, uh..." I tapped the side of my head awkwardly. "This thing has an internet connection."

Dad sighed. "Of course it does. And a phone line, too, I'm guessing?"

"...yeah."

"Well... don't spend too long on the, uh, eyeball computer," Dad said. "It might ruin your vision or something."

I tried to smile, but with my new muzzle it came out as a grimace. "Right, yeah, I'll... keep that in mind."

"Don't worry," Nikopol assured me with some amusement, "if your eye does break down enough to effect your vision we can replace it with a new one."

I shuddered involuntarily at the casual reminder of the nanobots still flowing through my blood. My body was probably twenty percent alien tinkertech now, in addition to being radically different in appearance. I wasn't sure I would ever get used to that idea...

Pushing that troubling thought aside, I sat down at the table, gratefully taking in the plate of bacon and eggs as I activated my Ultilit-ii and started looking through the internet. It didn't take me long to find information on the so-called monster capes. The first and most important thing I learned was that calling them 'monster capes' was probably something of a slur. The actual legal name was 'case 53', and they... well, they were universally amnesiac, and had an omega tattoo on their body somewhere. That was demonstrably not the case with me, and if I wanted to fake it, I'd have to go to a tattoo parlor or something...

...actually, did I have to? I was still very disturbed by the nanites flowing through my body, but it seemed pretty possible for that to just... happen. I'd ask Nikopol, but... I wasn't sure how to ask without talking and giving Dad more things to worry about.

Anyway, the PRT apparently gave Case 53s civilian IDs and other assistance, but only when they came in and joined the Protectorate. Case 53s that didn't sign up were usually labeled independent at best, and villains at worst. Some of the online speculation was that case 53 villains only 'broke' laws they were unfamiliar with and only for their survival, but it was still a high number of villains to heroes. Which... actually, now that I thought about it, that seemed weirdly normal. There were always more villains than heroes, no matter whether they were human or not. So it would make a lot of sense for the PRT to put some rewards and pressures on parahumans toward becoming heroes...

...which didn't exactly paint them in the best light.

But my dad had... well, he'd made up his mind. The PRT was going to learn about me, and there wasn't any avoiding it. And they weren't the bad guys, necessarily, it was just...

After having my body taken from me by the whims of fate, I didn't feel comfortable having my future taken from me so easily.

I finished my bacon, my thoughts roiling as Dad went for the phone.

Chapter Text

Dad had produced a pair of trenchcoats for us to wear. I didn't even know he had trenchcoats. I didn't want to ask where or when he'd gotten them, either, but I was grateful that I had something to hide my tail under. Granted, it wouldn't stand up to close scrutiny since my solid muscular tail made a visible bump, and even with the hood up my snout stuck out. But on the ride over to the PRT building, at least, it kept people from noticing the odd badger whale girl in the car next to the nondescript man.

Not that I was really focused on that. I was more focused on trying to figure out how to keep the PRT from taking too much of an interest in me. I didn't... I didn't want to be paraded about, like their newest prize, just because I... because I'd changed. Not after the reason for it. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find any angle which would convince them not to take an interest in me. I mean, I was... clearly not human anymore. I was practically their mandate manifest. So in the end, as we rolled into the PRT parking lot, I resigned myself to the inevitable.

"...Listen. Taylor." Dad put a hand on my shoulder. "I get that you don't feel comfortable talking about... whatever happened to you. But you do... need to be honest. Because people can only help you as much as you let them help you. That's... something I learned the hard way."

I winced, the blatant reminder of my own behavior cutting deep. If I'd been more open sooner... maybe nothing would have changed. Or maybe everything would have. God, I was an awful daughter...

"So we're going to go in there, and... we're going to see what we can get. Alright? And I'm... I'm not going to let them push us around. We'll get a fair deal out of all of this, I promise."

"...okay."

The PRT building wasn't exactly anything special. There were no statues of heroes, or artistic columns or archways. From the outside, the only hint that it was something worth any attention was the winged shield emblazoned on the door. Entering the lobby revealed some more obvious parahuman paraphernalia, with large posters of the local Protectorate lining the back wall and a gift shop stuffed with merchandise. Still, for a place so grand and important, I felt... surprisingly underwhelmed by it all. There should have been a sense of grandeur, or importance, but it felt like... like just another part of the complicated machine of government and bureaucracy.

Or maybe I was just too cynical and morose to feel the impact of epic artwork. That was a distinct possibility.

Dad approached the receptionist desk. "Ah, we're here to talk to... specialist Glownose about a..." He frowned for a moment. "...sighting of a drunken Hookwolf?"

He sounded as baffled as I felt, but the receptionist didn't seem confused at all. "Ah, here you are. An agent will come pick you up and take you to your office momentarily."

"Dad, what--?"

"That's just the codephrase I was given," Dad explained to me quietly. "I think it was deliberately randomized."

That... that was one way to handle security. A very weird way, but... maybe the PRT had its reasoning? Actually, given how many people came in and out of the PRT for various reasons, disguising what might be a legitimate cape as just another person coming in for more normal reasons might be a way to prevent unwanted interest. It... was kind of dumb, but if it worked, I guess it worked...

It wasn't long before a man came up to us. "Mister and miss Hebert?"

"Yeah, that's us..."

"If you'll come this way, please, we have a meeting room set up for you."

Dad and I were led into what, at first glance, seemed like an ordinary elevator. That was until the man placed his ID card next to the buttons and tapped a few of them in a rapid order. Then the elevator jolted sideways, almost knocking the two of us off our feet, before beginning its normal ascent.

"Tinkertech elevator," the man explained. "Helps prevent infiltration."

"I... see." Dad tried to keep track of the elevator's motion as we traversed a hidden lift pattern, moving left and right and up and down, but it was apparent that he was left baffled at the end of it all. On the other hand, I found it remarkably easy to keep track of our relative path. Maybe it was because I was part dolphin or something, but the sudden shifts in direction barely confused me at all. Maybe I'd have to talk to Nikopol about that later...

Eventually, the elevator stopped somewhere on the third floor, and we were led down a hall to a meeting room. As we entered, I almost doubletaked--Miss Militia, of all people, was already sitting at the table. Her eyes crinkled in a hidden smile as we entered, though I couldn't help noticing how they lingered on me. More specifically, on my no longer human face. God, even among capes I was a weirdo...

"Hello, mister Hebert, and... miss Hebert, I assume."

"Ah, hello, Miss Militia. We're here because... well, I think you can see why we're here," Dad said, glancing at me as I curled up a little.

"Well, I don't want to make any assumptions," Miss Militia replied politely. "And I'm also legally required to ask you to be specific. Paperwork reasons, you understand."

I took a deep breath, bracing myself. "...Yesterday morning, when I got to school--Winslow, if you're wondering--there was... there've been these three girls," I started again. "They... they've made my life basically a living hell ever since I started two years ago. And yesterday, they decided to..."

The memories of the locker swelled up, almost threatening to overwhelm me. It took a bit of effort to push past it.

"...to fill my locker with... used feminine products and other garbage." I swallowed. "Then they stuffed me into it. And locked me in there."

Miss Militia looked stunned and appalled. As though what I had told her was somehow worse then the thousands of crimes she personally stopped. "And nobody stopped them?"

"Nobody ever stops them. I've gone to the principal and been told to stop making things up. The teachers see them literally destroy my homework and... do nothing. So getting stuck in there for hours without anybody letting me out..." I swallowed. "That... that's normal. It's the worst thing they've done, but they knew they could get away with it. And... then..."

I gestured to my face. "Well, this happened. I became this thing, and... I managed to get myself out of the locker between classes, snuck out, and called my dad to pick me up."

"...I see." Miss Militia took a deep breath. "Well, I can tell you something with absolute certainty, miss Hebert, and that is the PRT will be investigating this... complete lapse of justice personally. That said," she took out her clipboard, "I do have a few followup questions I need to ask."

I took a breath, bracing myself. "Alright. Ask away."

Chapter Text

"Aside from the... visual changes," Miss Militia began, "have you experienced anything different?"

"Well..." I fidgeted a bit awkwardly. "Yes. Um. Well, obviously I'm... aquatic," I gestured awkwardly to the flukes on the end of my tail, "and I think I can hold my breath for... a long while? Less then an hour, but definitely more than normal. And..."

I tried to recall what I had and hadn't told Dad, trying to make sure whatever I said didn't reveal so much I'd get locked away but still remained consistent with what I'd told him.

"...when I said I called my dad, I... didn't have a cell phone. I mean, we don't have cell phones. But I do now. In my head."

"You have a cell phone in your head," Miss Militia repeated.

"I know how it sounds--"

"Oh it's far from the strangest power I've heard of," Miss Militia reassured me. "It's just... oddly distinct. Most powers have an internal theme, a singular trait. You are... aquatic-presenting, so enhanced swimming and holding your breath are within the same category, but I'm not certain how having a mental phone fits into the paradigm." She took a moment to peer at my face. "Then again, you do have a cybernetic eye, for some reason..."

I shrugged, not sure how to explain the technological aspects of my new form without giving away the whole 'alien advisors' thing. "Maybe I'm like Armsmaster...?"

"A Tinker?" Miss Militia frowned. "That... no, while that is possible, I don't think you'd be able to build something so advanced while trapped in the locker. Although..." She tapped her pen against the table, her eyes darting from me to something hanging from the ceiling. "...have you come into contact with anybody since, ah... the incident in question?"

"Contact?"

"Physical contact, I mean."

"I don't... I don't think so." That was a confusing question to ask. Why would she be worried about that? It seemed completely unconnected to anything. "I mean, at most I guess Dad might have patted me on the back or something..."

"I see. And do you know who it is who... gathered the material in question?"

"Not entirely, but I do know the ringleaders are Emma Barnes, Sophia Hess, and Madison Clements."

I noticed Miss Militia twitch a bit at one of those names; apparently she recognized Sophia from somewhere. Maybe an incident report or something? It wouldn't have surprised me to learn Sophia had gotten jumped by nazis once or twice and left them with broken noses; hell, maybe she punched out one of their weaker capes. There was that one Empire cape that was basically a teenager who levitated things. Rune, or something. I could see Sophia beating her up.

And now I was sympathizing with a monster in human form, and I wasn't sure which of the two girls it was. Great.

"Well, I can assure you they'll be brought to justice," Miss Militia said firmly. "We'll have to round them up and give them a medical examination, in any case. Frankly, we'll have to lockdown Winslow entirely while we process the staff and student body, just to make sure that this," she gestured at my body, "isn't the result of some unknown tinkertech. On a related note, I believe that it might be necessary to ask you to undergo a medical examination."

"Oh, she's good," Nikopol murmured. "That's an almost reasonable argument. Now she's going to convince you to join their group."

"Uh... what sort of medical examination?"

"I'll leave that to the experts, but I suspect it'll mostly be blood samples and non-invasive scans. Although Armsmaster will probably want to give you a once-over as well."

"Can he do that if I'm not a Ward?"

"Well, if you give him permission, yes. Speaking of which... do you want to become a Ward?"

"I... don't know," I admitted. On the one hand, the Wards were the group for young capes, and I'd get a lot of support and resources. But on the other hand, I... well, I'd been transformed into some weird orca/honey badger/human hybrid, complete with cybernetic enhancements. And in my experience, teenagers would latch onto anything to ostricize a person. The Wards were probably the same, but with the addition of powers and ego. "I don't feel comfortable around other teenagers."

"And government oversight is likely to restrict your ability to act on your own," Nikopol added dryly.

"Given what happened to you, I don't blame you for hesitating."

"I thought you'd be more insistent on her joining," Dad said curiously.

Miss Militia sighed. "Mister Hebert, do you know what a trigger event is?"

"The event in which a cape gains their powers. I'm... led to believe that it is universally bad."

"Then you're better informed than most people," the heroine stated. "But yes, parahumans who just gained their power have also just gone through the most horrendous trauma of their lives. Usually this is the result of events outside their control, which means that they wish to take back control of their lives--generally by leveraging their newfound power. As such, fresh triggers are not usually expected to be... rational. Or willing to accept the constraints of our organization immediately."

"So, what," I asked, "you wait until we calm down to offer us a position?"

"That's part of it, yes. The PRT also monitors local villain activity to try to prevent... forced recruitment." Miss Militia sighed. "I'll be honest, miss Hebert, I do want you in the Wards. On my end it would prevent you from being snatched up by the gangs and it would provide the local PRT branch another resource in our already strained efforts to bring order to our streets. And I think it would be good for you, not only would you receive training and resources to figure out your new powers and status, you'd also get the social support you were so clearly denied at your old school. But... if I were to force you into the Wards, you would probably view it as me making a decision for you, and resent your new position. That's gone bad too many times to count--hell, it's part of the reason the Youth Guard formed."

"The what now?"

"A lobbying group consisting of concerned individuals who want to prevent the Wards program from essentially being a child soldier machine." Miss Militia shrugged awkwardly. "To be frank, I agree with their mission statement, and they have helped out in cases of corruption, but they do cause a number of... bureaucratic issues that annoy Wards and PRT alike."

"So... I don't have to join the Wards," I said slowly.

"No," Miss Militia agreed. "Well, unless you do something unforgivably criminal, such as manslaughter or murder. Then you'd probably be made a probationary member as a sort of community service slash remedial training. It's happened before--Shadow Stalker, for instance, was a little too brutal as a vigilante so we had to bring her in."

"Ah. How's that working out?"

Miss Militia paused for a moment. "...We gave her a second chance. It was up to her to take it. Unfortunately, saying anything else to somebody who isn't a member of the Protectorate would be a security violation."

I nodded slowly, not quite sure what she meant. Still, the Protectorate had secrets for a reason.

"So... is it okay if I ask questions?"

"Of course."

"Right. Um. If I wanted to remain independent... what would I be missing out on?"

Miss Militia's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Interesting way to phrase the question. Aside from power training, the Wards program offers PR support and education regarding cape law. You'd have a basic working wage plus a trust fund--"

"A basic working wage?" Dad interrupted. "For a high-risk job?"

"...The contract is negotiable," Miss Militia replied. "And you'd also be pretty much under our protection, with Protectorate members directly mentoring you."

"You'll definitely want to look the contract over," Nikopol advised me. "If you decided to join, that is."

"And... if I didn't want to join... how would I go about that?"

"Registering as an independent hero or rogue is about as easy as signing up as a Ward," Miss Militia admitted. "Though a bit riskier, since we can't guarantee we'll be able to come to your defense in case of... anything, really."

"Oh."

"...How about I go get those contracts, and you and your father can read them over while we do your medical checkup?" Miss Militia offered. "I am, unfortunately, going to have to insist on that."

I sighed. "That sounds fair."

Chapter Text

"Well this is quaint," Nikopol noted, his tone faintly amused. "Pre-genetweaking medicine. Never thought I'd see it outside of history films. You know we could get you blueprints for our medical tech, patent it and set it up for sale. Even without the gene tweaking you'd be hailed as a genius."

I opted to ignore the alien bat man, mostly because talking to people in my head while in the middle of a PRT medical examination struck me as an incredibly stupid idea. They were already worried that I'd been affected by some sort of tinker plague, which wasn't actually too far off from what had happened. Revealing that I had alien advisors whispering in my ear? I'd be locked up in a quarantine cell at best. Maybe dropped into a volcano...

"So, uh... what are you doing, exactly?"

"We're running a series of blood tests to determine how much you've mutated and to what extent we can blame outside factors. Your metamorphosis is unlike anything we've seen in a parahuman so far, which implies that whatever did this was fully mapped out despite you being the first known victim..."

The doctor continued to babble on about various biological terms I didn't fully understand, and I nodded along as though anything they were saying made sense. Dad, at least, seemed equally confused, so there was that.

"And when are these tests going to be finished?" I finally asked. "I mean, I'd like to head home sometime today, if that's possible."

"Oh, we'll probably have them done within the hour," the doctor assured me. "The preliminary tests, anyway. Anything further is probably going to have to involve Panacea..."

"What does alchemy have to do with anything?"

The doctor gave me an odd look. "No, I was referring to the cape Panacea. She's known for her ability to diagnose and heal people with a touch. And she's one of the most prominent members of New Wave, a local independent hero team. She's actually somewhat famous in cape-watching circles, if I'm honest."

"I'm not... exactly a cape fanatic," I admitted. "Mostly I just try to survive the day to day without really concerning myself with all that. I mean, sure, when I was younger I liked to pretend to be Alexandria, what girl doesn't, but that was pretty much it. This," I gestured at my newly changed body, "is the closest I've gotten to being a cape watcher."

"A power like that might be vital to our long-term plans," Nikopol mused. "Or at least knowing how it functions, so we can avoid any problems... How expensive is it to hire this woman?"

"Er, if Panacea is brought in on this, am I going to have to pay anything?" I translated carefully.

"Oh no, no no no. Panacea doesn't work within the US Healthcare legal framework. She's strictly volunteer, a pro-bono worker. It's a little legal loophole, since she's still a teenager."

Dad frowned a familiar frown, the kind he usually had whenever he talked about his men getting stiffed in some job. "A legal loophole?"

"Parahumans need to use their powers, mister Hebert," the doctor explained. "It's a compulsion, something that cannot be trained away; not doing so regularly is deleterious to their mental health. Panacea needs to heal to keep herself sane, and if we applied the law as it should be applied she'd be losing her mental stability within a matter of weeks."

Something about that statement made me suspicious. Not that the doctor was lying, what he was saying fit with what I knew about parahumans, but the way he seemed to have an answer on hand just as Dad had started to grow wary of the discussion. Who would be okay with a teenager working her days away at a hospital? That had to violate dozens of labor laws, and probably medical practice laws as well. And from the way Dad was gritting his jaw, he'd probably picked up on it too.

"Well, that's certainly an interesting tidbit," Nikopol mused. "Now we've got multiple reasons to meet with this girl."

"How soon exactly would I be meeting Panacea?" I asked.

"Probably tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest. Or the day after. We are going to have Armsmaster look through the blood tests, after all, just in case there actually is tinkertech in there."

"Miss Militia said something to that effect," Dad noted. "Is that also 'free of charge'?"

The doctor sighed. "Mister Hebert, I'm not one of those mad scientists you see cackling in Saturday morning cartoons. I'm a medical professional. Most of the time, I just have to treat basic injuries like broken bones or tell capes that their powers might have this or that effect on their body. This?" I cringed as he gestured at me. "This is so far outside my wheelhouse that I'm honestly astonished I can determine anything at all, let alone anything useful. I have to bring in experts in the unusual, and Armsmaster is very much that. All that said, I am still a doctor, and I still believe in that guiding principle: First, Do No Harm. This checkup is not going to cost you a thing."

Dad crossed his arms. "Really."

"Well, nothing more than your taxpayer dollars," the doctor corrected himself with a wry smile. "I'm well aware of the problems with the healthcare system but, right now, I'm acting on my merit as an agent of the PRT. Another legal loophole."

Was it strange that the doctor knew so much about legal loopholes? Actually, it was kind of worrying. What kind of doctor would need to know so much about how to sidestep the law? Was this just... normal for doctors? Or PRT agents?

"I think I'd like to go home now," I said quickly. "If that's alright."

"Mmm. Well, nothing bad's happened in the day since this transformation happened, but I am going to suggest you stay out of physical contact with anybody until we finish these tests."

"Yeah, of course, not going to bite or touch anybody. Promise."

"And I think I'll need some time to look over this paperwork," Dad added, frowning at the papers in his hand. "I've seen a lot of contracts, and... well, I know better than to just take what seems obvious at face value."

"I completely understand, mister Hebert. Have a good day!"

Soon enough, we were out in the car. Dad put his keys in, but he didn't start the engine. Not yet. "Taylor?"

"Yeah Dad?"

"...Do you want to join the Wards?"

"Not... not really, no."

"Why?"

I hesitated. I... couldn't just tell my dad about the aliens in my head. He was already under a lot of stress from... all this. He'd probably push for the Wards joining even more, if I did.

"Dad... look at me." I gestured at my face. "Really look at me. Look at what... what's happened. I'm a freak--"

"You're not a--"

"Dad, I'm not human anymore. I've got a cyborg eye. I'm a freak. Maybe I'm a pretty freak, but let's be real, I stand out. And when you stand out... you get judged. No matter what you do. If I stay independent, I'm just another cape on the scene, but if I join the Wards... I become the Weird One, by default." I sighed. "I'm tired of being the weird one. I don't... I don't want to get sucked into that sort of teenage drama. Not again."

Dad was silent for a moment or two.

"...I wish you didn't have to suffer that," he finally said. "I wish you had friends. And the Wards, at least... they'd understand being different, and being hurt."

"Maybe, but... I don't think I could stand it."

"Alright." Dad took a breath. "Alright. No Wards, for now. I'll look over the contract, and I'm sure I can find something that would make it worthy of rejection. But Taylor... even if you want to lock yourself away, you need some sort of friends. Hell, I'd take you having internet friends right now."

"I think something could be arranged," Nikopol offered gently. "At least on my end."

I sighed. "I'll... keep you updated, I guess."