Ablation

Amy

And the kiss was amazing. But what felt even better was what followed after. They sat down on the bleachers and Amy did everything she wanted to Taylor. Of course she had to narrate everything she was doing, and sometimes English just wasn't enough to explain what she was doing. But taking her time to articulate every tiny change was also a different kind of exhilarating to Amy. It was her first time ever talking to someone about it. And that someone understood her and supported her. It was… liberating. Freeing. Like she had a set of wings her whole life and for the first time ever, she took flight. A far too late of a bloomer, but it was all worth it.

She primed Taylor’s cells to be hungry for rare metals, in preparation for the next stage of her upgrades. Poison glands? Venom? Acid? Please. That’s basic bitch stuff. Amy can do much better. Much more potent. Taylor won’t be the next Crawler, that’s weak sauce. Amy will make Taylor something… scarier. In a hot way. She’s been experimenting on Mini Mark with the radioactive isotopes from discarded fire alarm sensors. She can definitely do it on a much larger scale. What, you ask? Why, just a biological nuclear reactor. The kind that powers icebreakers, but on a much smaller scale. That would still raise Taylor to a whole other level of Brute. Amy starts giggling in the middle of the street, making several passersby give her weird looks. Who cares? Who cares when she can finally do what she wanted to do for such a long time?

Amy looks at her hands, the rock she just grabbed from the park nearby. She clenches her fist as it slowly crumbles to pieces. Taylor gave her upgrades of her own. She’s also a Brute now! She’s tougher, stronger, a fair bit heavier, fair. But her home was built with a Brute in mind. All their chairs were reinforced steel and titanium, and those that weren’t were the cheap kind. Same with any other furniture. It was a little bit like childproofing the house, but the other way around. Bruteproofing. She opens the doors to her home, the kind with a lever handle, not a sphere one. 

Mark’s home as usual. She sees the Do not Disturb sign on Carol’s office door. So she’s home too. Ugh. Vicky came to school today, along with Dean. Which was nice, sort of. Dean seemed way less insufferable now that he was a girl. Amy had pulled him aside to ask if he really didn’t want to turn back, and her answer only proved Amy’s suspicions that Dean was much happier this way. Huh. What do you know? Life is full of surprises and sometimes you need to lose to win. Like against Blasto. Amy couldn’t even say he was all that wrong. This time. Forcibly feminizing the far right politicians that were advocating against women’s rights? The cherry on top would have been making them pregnant when they were males just as they signed on the anti-abortion laws. But this way they’ll think twice about even signing them in the first place. So a win is a win. And the second plan would have backfired as they’d have found some kind of loophole to make themselves not count towards that law. Fucking politicians. Now they’re in Boston PRT’s M/S containment in case the feminizing gas somehow also Mastered them. But Brockton Bay’s resident empath and the best set of truth detectors known to Protectorate checked Dean a hundred times over and did not find any… uh, subliminal commands or anything similar. Just regular girl hormones. No killing John Lennon for Dean. 

Amy climbs up the stairs, throws her backpack in her room, puts on her comfier clothes and knocks on Vicky’s room. Vicky peeked out from the tiny gap and, upon seeing Amy, pulled her inside. “Hey Ames, how did it go? Did you guys kith? Did you make out?” And immediately went into the question barrage mode. Of course she knew about it. Amy very openly pulled Taylor away towards the bleachers, the one spot obviously known in school as the makeout zone. Amy has no chill, after all.

“Let me sit down, at least. Hey Dean, did you pick a new name yet?” Amy waves at the other blonde girl in the room, who's sitting on Vicky’s bed. Dean looks a bit more at peace about her new situation. But still uncomfortable, shoulders hunching forward, hiding her figure in a misplaced form of guilt. Amy had to admit, Blasto did a damn good job. She didn’t find any faults, hidden health issues or even imperfections like unintentional tissue growth. It was as if Dean was never a boy before. Which Dean can’t be happier about. When Amy said that she can’t do anything about her situation, the wave of relief that washed over her body was palpable even without Amy’s biosense.

Amy subtly motioned her chest forward with her hand and Dean sat up straighter. “Uh, hi Amy. No, I…” There’s that look of confusion towards her own voice. Not recognizing how you sound can be kinda fucky even at slightest changes. Like when someone’s sitting on loudspeaker mode in a call and you hear yourself with a slight delay. Even that can be fucky. “I haven’t come up with anything yet. Vicky’s made a list, but we’re torn between Denise and Denali.”

“Huh. I like both. Denise sounds a lot like Dennis though.” Amy notes as Vicky slaps her forehead, also having forgotten about Dennis. Actually, about Dennis. He’s been acting strange lately, Amy thinks. I’ll have to question him later.

“Ah fuck. You’re right! Denali it is then.” Denali says with a smile. “Wow, yeah. I like it.”

Vicky flies up to Denali and gives her a tight hug. “I’m happy for you.” She whispers, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Amy can’t even bring herself to hate that. No, that’s fair. If I can’t have her, better it be a woman that has her. I can be at peace that way.

“Well, I won’t be giving you a second shovel talk. You hurt Vicky, you know what I threatened you with the first time we met.” Denali shivers.

“Uh, yeah. You didn’t even have powers back then. I remember that shovel talk… vividly. Even Mr Dallon wasn’t as scary.” She chuckles.

“Huh? When was that? Why am I finding out about it now?” Vicky asks, confused.

“Eh, forget about it.” Amy and Denali both say, waving the issue off.

“So. Back to you.” Vicky says, laying on her belly, hands on her chin. “Spill.” Amy reddens, very aware of her own biology, but unable to control it. Ugh. So many issues would have been solved early on if she could just… do herself. Wait no, that sounded wrong.

“We talked. We kissed. Taylor now has a very compromising photo of me on her phone that I refuse to elaborate about.”

“What? No fair! We need details, woman! Details!” Vicky deanmands.

Amy huffs. “Well, her skin felt nice. Very smooth, very soft. She kinda turned off her Brute stuff for it. So yeah. I liked it.” Amy looks over to the pair and realizes that they were not aware that Taylor was a Brute.

“Amy. I need you to be real with me right now. For how long did you know Taylor had powers?” Denali asks. “And what are they?”

“Uh, for as long as I knew her? And it’s her business to tell.” Amy deflects with a hint of annoyance. Of course a government cape would go straight to business.

“Amy, this is important. What exactly is her power?” Denali presses.

“The rest of the wards know she’s a Brute. You don’t need to know more.” Amy says cagily.

“Amy. What other unknown Brutes are out there in town? Think about it. Three, whole ass three Brutes are in a new villain gang.” Denali presses again.

“Ugh, you think I’d date her if she was a villain? Fuck off! I checked her! The only cape she fought was Trainwreck. And she got her shit beat. Do you think that kinda cape would be any of those three psychos?”

“Oh… sorry. Yeah, that makes sense.” Denali deflates. Amy sighs, finally done with this sudden blowup of worry and nerves. Yeah, as if Taylor can ever be a villain.

“Okay, that aside, did you make ouuut?” Vicky asks.

“Well, no. Just a normal kiss. Don’t be a perv, Vicky. I’m not jumping her pants right after our first kiss. That’s like stage 15 and I’m on stage… 5. Give it a rest.”

“Awh, okay.” They then talk about nothing and everything at once, spending the rest of the evening introducing Denali to girly stuff. Admittedly, it’s Amy’s first time doing those as well, but Amy’s been around Vicky long enough to know at least how it’s usually done. Not how it’s done well.

The week passes without incidents. Amy and Taylor share a soft kiss after school, sometimes they hold hands as Taylor walks Amy to the bus stop. Amy doesn’t know when, but Taylor started prepping for a driving test, a booklet on traffic laws always in her hands at any point in time. Hm. Could Amy hound Carol for a car or even a bike? Never. Carol wouldn’t even give her ten bucks for lunch. But Taylor has said she’s pretty well set in the money department. Eh, I can pay in kisses and crimes against nature. Amy thinks, smirking to herself as she sets another chemical reaction in motion in Taylor’s body, Taylor somehow having already acquired all the rare earths and isotopes in abundance. So Amy's already finished with the tiny nuclear reactor, set up the whole process to be self-sustaining and to give Taylor a timely warning when her fuel was low, which would be... Oh, in just about five thousand years. She also set a ton of stuff to keep it stable and cool, technically revolutionizing the energy department. But too bad, only Taylor gets to produce a thousand and eight hundred kilowatt hours a day with no visible outside indicators. Maybe enough to power a residential building, but not quite enough for an entire city block. Still about nine times more than an average human body consumed in a day. She even lined her body with insulators so that regular and even some tinkertech sensors couldn't detect it. And juiced up electric eel glands along her hands? Purely aesthetic, you ask? Ha! Taylor is now a certified blaster! Taylor also did another upgrade on Amy, claiming that Amy is now as precious as diamonds. And didn’t That feel amazing to hear. And indeed, no knife could scratch her anymore once she tested it. Good thing she did her initial preparations for her own bioupgrades beforehand. 

The talk with Vicky and Denali on Monday gave Amy an interesting insight. That is. Amy could upgrade herself, albeit indirectly. To do that, she’s found a way to very much invasively upgrade her by creating a parasite that would infiltrate her body and spread across it. Then it would strengthen her body when needed and even repair wounds. Amy just has to keep that clear line between that organism being a parasite and just outright part of her body. The moment it becomes fully part of her, she can’t affect it. So she keeps it outside most of the time, in a capsule in her pocket. The more invasive parts she just incorporated into herself, making it semi-detachable when needed to connect to the parasite. The whole process was finicky and iffy. So Amy has started thinking of other ways to strengthen herself. And one idea that came to mind was an old aleph comic about a certain patriotic cape that carried an indestructible shield. Soon, Amy thought, I’ll be captain Amyerica.

That’s what she was thinking to herself on that fateful Friday evening, on her way home, when someone very familiar waved her over and greeted her with a nauseating level of enthusiasm.

“Heyyy Amyyyyyy. How you doiiing?” Says the fresh trigger Amy has extensively biomodded last Sunday. “Do you have a moment to grab a coffee with me?” She says, a vulpine grin spreading across her face. Oh no. “It’s about that fun thing you did to me.” Oh fuuuuuck.