Ablation

Taylor

It’s sunday night and I’m finally being released from the hospital. It has only been two days but my hands were itching to use my powers. Dad picks me up at the parking lot, where I pick up a handful of random trash from the sidewalk. Small pebbles, shards of glass, twigs. I spend the entire car ride home picking at them, absorbing a rock’s toughness, applying it to a stick, trying to break said stick. I’m not sure if my powers aren’t working right or if I’m too strong to test myself on just rocks now. 

I can tell that there are two distinct qualities I can absorb and apply: toughness, or how hard it is to deal damage to an object; and durability, or how much damage an object could take. They seem like one and the same but there is a difference. For one, I can only swap toughnesses for objects, they are unstackable. While durability can be piled on, but cannot recover naturally past what the object had before, only manually refueled by me. Toughness seems to make the object more cohesive, harder to damage. Get the object to enough toughness and weaker attacks just won’t register. While durability lets the object weather more damage… I am not calling them armor and hp in the same city as Uber and Leet! I have standards!

Now that everything in my hands is dust, I roll down the window and let it scatter in the wind. I switch my attention to dad who has been trying to say something for the past couple minutes. He opens his mouth again and closes it back. “What’s up? Any news about Winslow?”

“Uh, actually, about that. I have good news,” he says.

“And bad news?” Why else would he look so worried?

“Oh, no. Just good and neutral.. or bad-ish? The bad-ish news is that homeschooling isn’t possible, but they’re fast tracking your transfer to Arcadia!” Oh! Okay. So all I had to do was get lynched to get my needs fulfilled. Noted. “Apparently, Blackwell is in hot water over this incident and the board is willing to do a lot to keep it hush-hush. The.. boys who did this to you are facing juvenile detention till they’re adults.” I nod severely at that.

“They better be! They made me miss a game night!” Dad laughs at my attempt at humor. But I’m being dead serious. You don’t mess with game nights. Everyone knows that. “So what’s the matter?” I backtrack. Right, I need to know. “What’s got you worried?”

That causes dad to tense up again. He grips the wheel tightly and drives in silence until we reach a traffic light. “Uh, Taylor. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“I’m not gay.” I bite out, sounding a bit more defensive than I intended. Deflect. Deflect! “The Empire kids just thought I’m jewish because of my surname and curly hair.” Exactly. There was absolutely nothing else.

“Taylor, that’s not-” he takes a deep breath, “Nevermind, kiddo. I’m sure you’ll tell me when you’re ready. Arcadia is where the Wards go. I’m sure they can keep you safe.” Success. Conversation - diverted, confrontation - avoided, my parahuman status - undiscovered. Dad is better kept in the dark, for his own safety. And I can keep myself safe just fine. I’m like.. a super brute. Just an absolute UNIT! Or soon, I will be.

I get a week to rest before I have to go to Arcadia. Convincing dad to leave me alone at home doesn’t take a lot of persuading. For all his worrying, he knows that I’ll probably stay glued to my PC the whole day, so he can keep thousands of people employed at peace. Wrong! Incorrect buzzer noises! I will be loitering and truanting and probably committing more than such minor crimes. After I get a full day of gaming done, of course. I’ve missed so much action. Crimes can wait till tuesday.

This is why I find myself in the scrapyard at the town outskirts, dressed in the clothes I wouldn’t miss, face wrapped in a scarf. People are on the lookout for capes, but any tinker would probably pick the middle of the night to do their scrap prowling. Nobody expects a cape at noon. My goal today is to stock up on some resources for my power and make myself a decent costume. I walk around, touching rusted bits of metal, kicking up the dust that’s left after my power use. I find some decent steel deeper into the scrapyard, and even tougher metals. But I am aware that nothing here is top shelf quality. To get something better, I’ll need to buy it or get a tinker to make it. Maybe ordering 40 pounds of tungsten online isn’t as suspicious as I think it is. Kids buy dumb stuff all the time, right?

What I’m looking for right now, though, are the oldest possible cars. Those had the most metal in them and that’s exactly what I need. After looking through the scrapyard for a couple hours, leaving a trail of dust behind me, I finally find my mark. A beat up, windowless, doorless sedan buried under a pile of faulty construction beams. Waste not, want not. I clear up the area around it and get to work. The entire sedan appears in my mind’s eye as I touch its hood. What I need now is to absorb only portions of it, basically carving my future costume.

My end goal is something between an iron maiden and a knight. I want thorough protection of my identity through a full body metal sleeve, but I also want to look intimidating. An armor covered in spikes with an imagery of a torture device sounds scary enough. I don’t even need the armor parts to be made of metal, but it is the only material I can make anything I want out of accurately.

I fished out my notebook, where I documented all my ideas, including schematics for proper, functional armor. I wouldn’t want to make a glove and have it be just a stiff piece of steel. I needed mobility more than protection out of it, after all. I decided to make only the face mask out of metal, the rest of the helmet being made of cloth and straps, for ease of donning and doffing it. The cloth part I already made and brought with me. I made sure to toughen the thin strips of metal between the mask and the plum so that it won’t fall off mid-fight. That would be embarrassing. The breastplate I made was as thin and form fitting as possible, so that I could fit the costume over it. So what if I padded the chest area a little bit? Hiding my true body shape is a valid concern! It makes me harder to identify! The greaves and gauntlets were made of thicker stuff and packed with durability. What I noticed about durability is that it adds weight to objects, making them sag deeper into the soft soil. But when I lift them, they seem to weigh the same. That gave me the idea that whatever punch or kick I throw with this armor on would carry extra oomph, only partially due to my super strength.

Done with linking the parts of the gauntlets and greaves together, I don them and try a couple swings. There were no whooshes or cracks, because I clearly couldn’t break the sound barrier. But when I punch one of the trashed cars, it caves in substantially more than when I punch things barehanded. So I don’t exactly have crazy super-strength. More like I could carry more momentum in my movements, but couldn’t lift tons of stuff like real super-strength havers did. No lifting and throwing cars for me. Only punching like a freight train. Maybe even literally, if I could get my hands on more metal. My musings are interrupted by an engine block crashing into the rubble inches away from me.

“How many times do I have to tell you fuckers to leave me alone?!” bellows a twelve foot tall pile of metal, Trainwreck. Shit, is this his turf? I thought I’d made sure to avoid the trainyard. Trainwreck, trainyard. Isn’t that the place where he hangs out?

“Don’t you hold the Trainyards though? I thought this place was fair game,” I say, surreptitiously donning my mask over the scarf. Which was a mistake, as the first thing that I see past the metal of my mask is the metal of Trainwreck’s fist. How did he close the distance so quickly and silently despite his large frame, I wouldn’t know. But now, at least, there is once more distance between us, as I fly in an ark and into a pile of jagged, rusted metal. God bless my powers. I’d be so embarrassed if Amy found out I somehow got rabies right after she healed me.

“Well, it’s not! It’s my turf now! So get the fuck out!” he yells at me, grabbing some more piles of scrap to throw at me.

“Okay wait, okay! I’m-” a fridge lands just so that I momentarily get boxed inside it. I open its door and get out, removing the shelves stuck in my plume. “I said I’m gonna-” a sheet of metal is hugging me, bent from the impact. Alright, enough is enough. I dust the sheet. “Listen! Let me just get my stuff and I’ll leave!” I shout into the wrecking ball flying at my face.

“You took my shit! You messed around my yard! I ain’t hearing nothing out!” And once again, I am flying through the air. This time though, I felt it. Thank fuck I did all the durability gathering. I’d be a pancake at this point if I didn’t. My body is still hurting from the impact and I totally will at least bruise. When I land, Trainwreck is winding the wrecking ball up again, the chain whooshing from the speeds he’s inflicting upon the ball. Do I catch it or do I dodge? Can I even catch it? Nope, not in a thousand years. I book it as I hear a crash behind me. How is he so heavy and yet so fast? I’m literally slightly above humanly possible fast and he’s keeping up while carrying a four ton ball around. Who hurt you, tin man? And why are you taking your anger out on me? I can take it with the best of them, but I sure as hell can’t dish out! Please leave me alone!

I get a brilliant idea as I duck under the world’s heaviest flail. I pivot around a piece of rebar sticking out of the ground. I’m close to closing the huge loop I ran around the scrapyard. Circling back to the remains of the sedan, I gather the armor up and wrap it in a gray tarp. I give it the toughness of a rock I dusted on my way here. So now it is basically a rock to anyone else touching it. That would raise some questions from dad but I’m sure I’ll come up with a decent reason for having a large jagged rock in our shed or basement. Or why he can’t throw it away. Putting everything in my backpack, I keep running away. This is the second time in a week of me running from some thug who wishes me bodily harm. I will remember this.

Once I’m clear of danger, I move onto the next objective in my to-do list: getting money for the rest of the costume. Going back to the scrapyard seems like a bad idea. So I’ll just cover the unarmored parts in something else. Like leather. After all, I don’t NEED to have all my costume parts metal. The kiosk next to the mall had exactly what I needed. A tray of scratch off lottery tickets. I walk past it, and my fingers brush the stack of tickets, giving me the full image of each ticket, inside and out. I picked two winning tickets and five duds, just to throw the kiosk owner off. Despite wasting money on duds, the total winnings net me half a thousand dollars. I move on to a kiosk on the other side of the mall and do the same with a couple more kiosks, netting me two grand. I should avoid doing this trick too much, or I might get noticed by some unsavory elements.

Armsmaster

Two notification chimes disturb Colin’s tinkering. He has set the chime to have varying volume depending on its importance, and the two chimes were on the lower end of loudness. He grumbled something under his nose about unprofessional agents jumping the chain of command, and redirected the messages from WEDGDG and his thinker detection software to one of the consultants. He has better things to do than go chasing after a “maybe”. Like increasing the efficiency of his grappling hook reel by 1.314%. That would save precious seconds in a battle. He hummed happily, thinking of telling Dragon about his newest upgrades to his halberd.

Thomas Calvert

Today is his birthday. It’s not, really. But it feels like a birthday. A suspected Thinker report fell into his lap because Armsmaster couldn’t be bothered to check it himself. He was feeling positively giddy as he quickly filed off a negative, dismissing the Thinker report and contacted his least favorite employee. Her annoying voice chirped from his phone in only a couple rings.

“Hiya bossman, whatchu need?” she says sweetly, most likely plotting his demise this very moment.

“Hello, Miss Livesy. I have an assignment for you to complete. The details will be forwarded to your email.”

“Will do, boss” she says, ending the call before he can get another word in. He decides to come up with a couple more near death missions for the Undersiders as payback. That would teach her to respect her betters.

Taylor

With my ill-gotten gains in my pocket, I start looking around the shops for what I need. Ordering it online is too much of a risk getting discovered. So I do the next best thing. Shopping. The mall has all kinds of clothes, but I have a certain image in my mind and I need to at least try going for that look before I just grab whatever looks good.

Shopping is not associated with good times for me. Or, it is. But those good times are forever stained by what Emma turned into. She was the one more fashion savvy between us two, and I never bothered to make more friends before the summer camp. That probably was my biggest mistake. Never keep all your eggs in one basket.

I stop at a motorbike gear store. My eyes fall on a red and black leather jacket hanging on a mannequin. It was perfect… except it was Empire colors. God damnit! Nazis are at it again, ruining my drip! That settles it. Any Empire cape I meet is getting their ass beat! And when my city is finally free of their DISGUSTING influence, I’m getting this jacket. But what would I wear before that?

“You know you can bleach and dye leather yourself, right?” GAH! I whirl around to see a blonde girl grinning at me, like she knows something I don’t. Which is evidently true as I haven’t even thought about just bleaching the red out. Huh. “Hi, I’m Lisa. Wanna shop together? I always found it more fun when you do it with someone else.” Okaaay, an objectively (purely objectively) pretty girl just approached me of her own volition and is asking to hang out with me. On one hand, this could be one of Emma’s friends, she certainly fits a mean girl vibe to a t. On the other hand, buh. Pretty girl asking to hang out with me. And her advice is genuinely helping me, no matter what she wants out of this situation in the end! That settles it. Just follow the lead of the pretty and wise girl and you won’t regret it, Taylor. Even if this ends up as some elaborate prank, I can take it. Sticks and stones literally can’t break my bones but words will always make me cry.

Lisa’s smile widens as I mumble out a “Sure, let’s,” as she drags me into the store to try out some more clothes. I pick out some more mundane clothes to mix in with my cape-related picks, like gloves and boots, a shirt to wear under the jacket. Something someone with no body armor would buy. I can’t be seen buying just the things a villain is seen wearing later. Lisa picks out black motorbike pants for me that would totally enhance my villainous vibes. I try them on with the biker jacket and give it a twirl at Lisa’s urging. Not going to lie, I do feel good doing it. That is the moment when I get startled by yet another blonde. 

“Oh my god, is that you, Taylor? I almost didn’t recognize you!” says someone I don’t recognize. What’s up with pretty girls approaching me out of the blue today? Realization dawns on me when my gaze finally pulls away from the captivating Goddess and falls upon a brown haired freckled raccoon trailing behind Glory Girl.

“Probably because the last time you saw her, she was in a hospital gown. That tends to stick in people’s minds,” grumbles Panacea. Huh, Glory Girl was there with her, when she healed me? I could have sworn it was only Panacea in the room. Panacea looks at me intently and slightly shakes her head. Right, better keep it secret that I’ll be getting healed on the regular by the best healer in the world. I give her a slight nod.

“Ooh right. Sorry, Taylor. Didn’t want to remind you of the hospital,” which is why you are bringing it up again. I don’t flinch. The hospital itself wasn’t that bad. At least she didn’t mention the dumpster. “How are you doing?”

“It’s fine, I’m fine… uhh, I was just shopping around for new clothes since.. You know” Yep, and you bring up the dumpster yourself, Taylor. Great job. But anyways, what is going on? Why are you paying attention to me? Leave me alone, popular girl! I turn to the other, probably popular girl at my side in hopes of assistance or answers or something! Help me out there, do something!

“Hi there, I’m Lisa, Taylor’s new friend,” whoa there! Hold your horses! That’s news for me! “You must be Glory Girl and Panacea,” she looks at them expectantly.

“Just Vicky and Amy when we’re not in costume, that goes for you too, Taylor. I’m sure we can be great friends!” Vicky says, smoothly. “So let’s hang out together! We were also about to start shopping. And that’s a nice looking jacket!” She pipes up, looking me over. Oh no. Glory Girl saw me wearing this jacket. I cannot be seen wearing it as a villain now. “Do you own a motorcycle?

“Ugh, no… I just like… leather.” I explain lamely, which seems to be enough for the two as they nod in understanding. “I guess I don’t mind hanging out with you two if Lisa doesn’t mind?” I turn to her, uncertain of what her answer would be. Would she say no and make the two heroes leave or will she jump at the opportunity to hang out with capes?

Lisa, for some reason, looks as annoyed as I am feeling right now. “Sure! More people, more fun! I think I saw a boutique that is having a sale.”

Lisa

She couldn’t just brush them off to hog Taylor’s time herself. That would raise too much suspicion. Like “why wouldn’t you want to hang out with two heroes? That’s kinda villainous to do.” 

And it was going so well too! The girl, Taylor, was already planning to become a villain, going by her preference in style for her cape persona. That was not bad, not bad at all. All she needed to do was to be the friendly face that helps her out in her time of need. The girl clearly lacked a close support structure, going by her body language. At least, a support structure that is in the same city as her. Lisa could take that role and get a new teammate at the same time. But her plans just had to be ruined by Glory Hole barging into her delicate plan of getting Taylor out of her shell and bulldozing her way into befriending the girl. But Lisa is not a quitter. She learned to benefit from unfavorable situations long ago. And she would never skip out on juicy secrets. Like the one shared between Taylor and Amy.

Does not want Victoria to know about her arrangement with Taylor. Wants to be left alone with Taylor. Eyes drifting to Taylor’s hand. Wants to hold Taylor’s hand. Taylor looking at Empire colors with hatred. Not just because they clash with her costume preferences. Was hospitalized by Empire. Was lynched by Empire. Had visible reaction to Lisa Wilbourn and Victoria. Both are gay.

Lisa did not need her Power to know That . She shared a knowing look with Victoria, or at least tried to, seeing how Vicky doesn’t seem to have any clue about her own sister’s situation. Of course, why else would she drag Amy out on double dates with boys. That’s like word on the streets, common Brocktonite knowledge. Panacea gets no bitches. Thought Lisa, leading the group to the register and paying for Taylor’s purchases. That got a stuttering protest from Taylor, but Lisa will be damned if she loses this social game to an inferior blonde.

That does not elicit a look of defeat that she expected from Glory Hole though. The only emotion she can gleam, even through her Power, is suspicion. Deflect. Deflect! “I just got a large bonus at my job, and I already have everything I want,” lies, “so why not treat a new friend to something nice?”

“Wait, how old are you?” Asks Vicky, suspicion rising. Oh no.

“Just passed my GED last year, so I don’t have to go to school and all,” elaborates Lisa. That earns her a sparkling look of admiration from Taylor. Hook, line and sinker. Now Lisa just has to make sure Taylor has a way to reach out to her and she’s golden.

“That’s so cool! I was also looking to prep for GED testing! Though I would need to raise my grades first,” Taylor deflates at the end. Good, this also distracted them from questioning why she’s spending so much money on someone she just met. Biker stuff ain’t cheap.

“I could help you!” Pipes up Glory Hole , before Lisa can get a word in. How annoying of her. Lisa would never do the same to someone else. “I’m part of a study group that gathers on thursdays. You’re totally welcome to join us. But why go for the GED though?” Yeah, Vicky. Why are you asking that after offering to help her in the first place? Her Power supplied Lisa that Victoria was concerned about Lisa “leading Taylor astray”. Ha! Not this time, fun police! Taylor wants to do it all on her own! I’m just being a good friend by enabling her vices!

“Uhh.. my career choices don’t really need me to complete my education,” hedges Taylor. Exactly! Lisa totally agrees with that notion. School is stupid and crime is cool. She nods sagely.

“Really? What kinda job are you looking for?” Vicky presses on, with a rather judgemental tone. She must be from the kind of upper middle class family that gets it into their heads that getting a degree in a university is the only viable career path. Her parents must have beaten that idea into her, never telling her about alternatives. Lisa scoffs at that silently.

“Uhh, I was looking into game dev and heavy construction vehicles operation. My dad’s friend operates a crane at the docks.” Taylor responds. Going for half truths and half lies even in the absence of lie detectors is a nice strategy, Lisa notes, her Power telling her that Taylor actually did consider those jobs. The villainy is a later addition in her plans for life.

“That sounds cool,” Lisa pipes in, placing a hand on Taylor’s shoulder as a sign of support. Her tensing shoulders relax slightly. Being questioned by a flying brick of a hero must be nerve wracking for someone who has just decided that they want to commit crimes as their 9 to 5. Especially about something tangential to said crimes.

Victoria

Vicky couldn’t let that temptress ensnare Taylor. For the first time in years Amy has shown interest in someone and she’ll be damned if another of her crushes gets snatched away by a blonde girl. Granted, the first blonde girl was her, and she still felt some guilt for Amy’s unrequited crush on Dean. Dean himself, the PRT certified empath, warned Vicky about it. The warning, of course, sparked more than one argument between them, and the content look Amy had each time she and Dean were on shaky terms proved Dean’s observation.

Now she only has to figure out a way to convince Taylor to keep going to school. And figure out what school Taylor goes to, she hasn’t seen her anywhere in Arcadia.

“Sooo, Taylor. Where do you go to school? Is it Clarendon? Or Immaculata?” Vicky couldn’t imagine Taylor going to a catholic school. But then again, it’s always the quiet ones with the wildest hobbies. Vicky imagines Taylor as a nun, wearing her leather jacket and making a bike’s engines roar. Yeah, no. How would that even work.

“Nowhere for now,” Huh? “I’m in the middle of getting a transfer, actually. I’ll start Arcadia next monday.” That made Vicky do a stealthy fist pump after turning away slightly. YES! Success! And looking over at Amy’s widening smile, she’s not the only one happy to hear those news. Then it hits her. Her sister is actually smiling. She needs to make sure this works out.

“Oh, that’s awesome! You’re a sophomore?” that gets a nod from Taylor, “Great! Amy is too! You might even share some classes together!” What a great day to go out shopping! The day was going well for Vicky.

Taylor

The day was going well for me. Really well, even. Apparently, I made a friend. Lisa wrote down her phone number and her PHO handle on a piece of paper and excused herself after about an hour of shopping. Vicky kept flying off from shop to shop, leaving Amy and me trailing after her. She must have so much energy to spend after sitting still during classes.

Amy didn’t talk much, content in watching her sister try on different outfits in silence, only sometimes speaking up to deny Vicky’s attempts at getting Amy new clothes. She kept glancing my way with a… constipated look, like she wanted to either do something or for me to leave. I of course interpreted that in the most destructive and self-conscious way I could, which is that she wanted me to leave. I was unwelcome! I needed to GO! So I did. I said some excuse about dad expecting me home soon and rushed to the bus stop.

The ride home was uneventful. I stashed my armor in the basement, behind the boxes where we keep mom’s stuff. Even if dad comes down to the basement, he would never approach the boxes. My armor is safe there. But the jacket is a lost cause. I could never wear it out without Vicky immediately recognizing it. I could redye it to make it less recognizable but then Vicky would ask where my jacket went. I needed a different one. Which means I’ll have to go out once more tomorrow.

At least I won’t have to do another lottery scam. I still have the two grand. I’ll need to pay Lisa back for that. It’s totally not an excuse to hang out with her again. I am finishing my detailed plans for our next hangout when I hear dad’s car stopping in the driveway.

“Hey, kiddo. How did your day go?” I hear him say from the kitchen. When I come down the stairs, he’s already sitting on a sofa in the living room, sipping OJ.

“It went fine. I played on the PC a bit and decided to go out shopping. You know, after my decent pair of jeans and… everything else got ruined by the fire” He grimaces at that and glances at the bags of clothes on the floor, which I forgot to bring up to my room.

“Are those.. are those Empire colors, Taylor?” He asks accusingly, looking at my new jacket. Fuck!

“Uh. Yeah. My friend told me I can just remove the colors by acetone and apply my own dye. And this was the only jacket my size in the mall.” That doesn’t seem to convince him though. He takes in the sheer volume of clothes I got and god damn it! How am I gonna explain where I got the money for it all? Oh right! “And my friend bought everything here for me.”

“Taylor. Please, be honest with me. Did you join a gang?” He asks me, after half a minute of deliberation.

“What?! No!!! I would never join a gang! Especially Empire!” Yeah! Fuck that noise! I’m starting my own gang!

That seems to mollify him as he says, “That’s great. I’m glad to hear that, Taylor. You’ll have to introduce your friend to me someday, though. It’s worrying me. You know how criminals can shower you with gifts to make you feel indebted to them, so they can later make you do stuff for them?”

“Ugh, I know, dad! It’s not like that, I swear! And I’m keeping vigilance!” I say as I grab the bags and start climbing up the stairs. I move quickly to avoid more interrogation from dad. I’ll need to find a way to convince him that I got a part time job or something, some way I can legitimately earn money.

On my way, I stop over at the bathroom to grab some bleach. I’ll apply it to the jacket. That needs to be done ASAP. I won’t be caught dead with Empire colors in my closet. There is something else in it already.