Taylor Reads Worm -The Aftermath
*Taylor is sitting on a bar stool. On the counter in front of her is a pile of various glasses, tankards, vials, chalices, goblets, champagne flutes and what appears to be a metal canister with radioactive symbols on it. Said pile is about five meters tall at this point.*
*Carefully holding a small glass, Vortex places it in front of his already inebriated student.*
Vortex: Ok, this one is called a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. It has been described by some as the best drink in existence. Sort of like getting your brain smashed in by a brick of gold wrapped in lemon. Maybe it will help?
Taylor *slurring*: Will it stop me from killing my childhood Hero via suffocation when she seems to be killing my friends?
Vortex: No.
Taylor: Will it keep me from intentionally trying to Trigger a kid, at their own request, in order to make a weapon to point at Jack Slash?
Vortex: No.
Taylor: Will it keep new Endbringers from appearing that will make the battles world wide affairs over the course of days?
Vortex: No.
Taylor: Will it keep Cauldron from being wiped out due to a desire for justice just at the point we need their resources the most?
Vortex: No.
Taylor: Will it keep me from mercy killing a baby for no good reason?
Vortex: No.
Taylor: Will it keep me from having my brain scrambled as I enslave countless Parahumans against their will to fulfill a greater purpose that no one agreed with, just because I cannot think of a better way to save the world after all other plans seem to fail?
Vortex: No.
Taylor: Will it prevent jail time that includes leaving my dad behind and being forced back into High School as part of my punishment?
Vortex: No.
Taylor: Will it prevent years of isolation as the Protectorate and PRT leadership use me as a resource while treating me like dirt whenever they can get away with it? Turning me into a bigger bully than I could ever imagine?
Vortex: No.
Taylor: Then what good is it?
Vortex: If this doesn't make you feel better, I'll agree to break out the special Asgardian reserve. After we fix your liver of course.
Taylor: ...fuck it, bottoms up.