Switching Shards
* January 4, 2011. 0857 hours. *
Taylor twitched in the locker and suddenly knew.
The bugs touching her, trying to eat her? Dissolved to a chemical slurry between one heartbeat and the next.
The pads, the other biologically based crap? Some was too dead for her power to affect it. Some was not. More Legos to play with.
It was the work of a few moments to produce something that exactly mimicked blood from the still-active slurry and then cause it to begin dripping out of the locker.
"What the hell?!"
The voice was not one of her usual tormentors.
"Shit, what did they do besides shove her in her locker."
That one was one of Emma's hangers-on. Christie? Something like that.
"Someone get some paper towels and wipe it up."
Another one of Emma's bootlicking sycophants, this one she didn't know the name of.
It was so so tempting. There was enough bio-mass still viable to make an airborne plague. Her mother wouldn't approve, but more immediately concerning - it wouldn't get her out of the locker.
"Yeah, No. Shoving someone into their locker is one thing. Cleaning up when it might be a murder scene? I won't look good in prison orange." That was a male voice, not one of the tormentors, but one of those who just stood around and didn't do anything.
"Nobody looks good in prison orange. That's kind of the point." That was one of the sycophants again, but sounding worried. Good.
Taylor frowned and switched from blood-generation to trying to make something else. This would have been so much easier if she could make alterations in herself, but that was apparently not the way her parahuman power worked.
Why could she could affect others but not herself? That seemed pretty arbitrary.
Naturally, trapped within the locker, she started trying to figure out a way around that.
It wasn't like she had much else to do.
* 0930 hours *
Antonio Gong Francisco Villalobos III, or just plain "Tony", was overworked and underpaid and just didn't give a crap about a whole lot of things. He'd been the head janitor (which just meant he was the only full-time one) at Winslow for six years and watched his budget shrink in relation to keeping the damn place running all that time.
Hearing that there was blood coming out of a locker, well, he'd seen some serious kimchi going down around here.
His Korean grandmother used that phrase, and he was respecting her by using it. She'd been a tough old bird.
The outer lock was non-standard and against school rules, but not exactly unknown around here. He wasn't as young as he used to be, but he could still use boltcutters to cut that off and...
"What's going on here?!"
Tony looked over at Principal Blackwell. He pointed to the drying blood. "Blood." He pointed to the lock. "Non-regulation lock." He hefted the boltcutters. "Removing non-regulation lock."
"I see, if you think that's-"
Tony ignored the woman, useless administrator in his opinion, and grunted a bit as his tool sheared through the metal.
Then it was just a matter of using the master key to-
"Is that really necessary? Surely you can leave-" began Useless Administrator.
Tony opened the locker up and an unconscious blood-spattered teenage girl fell out.
"Uhm, the school nurse," began Useless Administrator.
Tony already had his phone out. "Ambulance."
"Surely that's not really needed," tried Useless Administrator.
"You think I get paid enough to be hit with the lawsuit?" asked Tony. "Seriously?"
Principal Blackwell blinked a couple of times. "'Lawsuit'?"
Tony merely started speaking to the 911 operator, unconcerned with Administration. The omanhan babo could take it up with his Union if she wanted to. Grandmother had her opinion about such people, and he'd come to the same conclusions over the years.
He noticed the girl had groggily put a hand out to touch where he'd been kneeling next to her but his attention was mainly on the conversation with the 911 operator. Weird though how he suddenly felt a lot better, like that bursitis had decided to take the day off or something.
* 1130 hours *
"You hear the latest from New Wave?" asked Corporal Higgs.
"No. Weaver do something?" asked Trooper Menendez.
"Yeah, she covered a couple of gangers in spiders. Only thing different was one of them was phobic about spiders. Paramedics had to restart the gal's heart, apparently you really can get so scared it ends up with a heart attack."
"Damn, one sister's a beacon of light and accidental damage. The other sister's Wednesday Addams."
"You and those old TV shows."
There was silence from the two for a few minutes before Menendez looked into the hospital room. "Think she's..."
"Still waiting for the father. If he okays the MRI we'll know for sure. The pictures sure look like the sort of thing that leads to a Trigger, but we've seen horrible scenes that don't involve a new parahuman."
Menendez nodded. "I'm hoping the ones responsible get a really nice stay in the vertical bars hotel."
Corporal Higgs said nothing, merely nodded. Menendez had a daughter after all, and seeing the pictures of the crime scene the paramedics took? Yeah.
One of the nurses went by the two, but she was recognized and had been cleared ahead of time.
A radio beeped. "Higgs."
Higgs answered it. "Higgs here, Console."
There was a quick static burst before the voice spoke again. "Complications. Miss Militia is en route. Any signs so far?"
"Negative, Console," said Corporal Higgs. "She's been asleep or in a half-awake state before dropping off again. My understanding is that the meds given have that side effect."
"Acknowledged," the radio voice responded.
* 1350 hours *
She was faking it for the most part, and while she thought she'd blown it a couple of times, apparently she was good enough to fool people who were expecting her to be out of it.
Taylor knew a little bit about Nilbog and the whole thing about "wet Tinkers" and the fears involved around them. Not much, but there had been some discussion about S-Class threats in the continental United States in the World Affairs class. Nilbog had come up.
She did not want to be linked to such things, so she considered everything and decided to just go with Healing. Eventually she'd say she worked out more of her power and could do Enhancement. She could use the data from scanning healthy organisms, particularly at things like a zoo.
Certainly she had more knowledge about biology just from the three people she'd brushed up against so far. Minor tweaks to their biology, just to explore what she could do. The school janitor had some liver damage, bursitis, and the beginnings of colon cancer - fixed. One of the paramedics had touched her wrist while checking her pulse and she'd helpfully cleared some gut problems coming from an overindulgence of Taco Bell. The nurse assigned her had also touched her in the course of her duties and that momentary contact had seen a full scan but she hadn't changed anything because she figured a nurse might be more likely to notice little details.
So, plans. The PRT outside her door indicated that they suspected she had powers, or that there was a parahuman involved. Most likely the former, as the slurry she'd made of the bugs that had been eating her would have told them something like that - though she thought she'd cleaned that up by turning all the remainder into blood. Which had been suitably dramatic that it had gotten her out of the locker at least.
Her father was still not here, but Miss Militia was at the nurse's station for this ward - so they'd probably try to get her to join. She didn't want to deal with teenage drama, but she didn't really see a way around it either. She certainly didn't want the Nazis coming along to recruit her, and there were horror stories about the ABB and the Merchants and their own recruitment methods.
Information was what she needed and if she just admitted that she could manipulate biology as easily as changing channels on a television? She wouldn't have any choices of her own.
So, as soon as her father had arrived and began a barrage of questions and complaints about not talking to him - she swallowed and screwed up her courage to do something she hadn't done for a couple of years. Something difficult.
She talked to her father.
"Dad? I'm a cape. I have healing powers."
"Wha? What?" Yup, her father was definitely Head of Hiring at the Dockworkers. Just look at how fast he adapted.
"May I heal you?" tried Taylor. "I just need physical contact."
"I guess..." His voice trailed off as he extended a hand.
Taylor took it. Huh. Wow. Okay, best to describe everything that way the "totally not listening in" guards at the door and whatever surveillance equipment they would have put in here would have a record of what SHE wanted overheard. "Some liver damage, fixed. Looks like some artery problem on the left side. And... cleared. Oh, looks like your back is giving you problems. Straighten that section there, reduce the swelling. That nerve there looks like a problem... got it. Left knee - looks like an old injury. Blunt force trauma, maybe? And there's that. Pancreas needs a tune up. And... there we go."
"Whoa." Her father straightened out, then stretched a few times. His eyes were wide. "That was hurting for so long I didn't even notice anymore."
Taylor noticed the two at the door were now down to one at the door. Yeah, she had called THAT. Now she just had to make herself so valuable they couldn't force her into some little corner of their offices to only heal the people they wanted her to heal. Ah, here came the nurse. "Excuse me, nurse?"
* 1630 hours, Brockton Bay General *
She hadn't expected so much efficiency. Upon finding out "healing touch parahuman power" was on tap, she had a half-dozen doctors following her around (and for the record she hated having to still be wearing an open-at-the-back gown even if she was now wearing one from the front and another to cover that back) as she cured: two dog bites, one cat clawing, four "accidently fell down in the shower", four burns (one kid who had 70% skin coverage), two gunshot wounds, seven stabbings, an upper respiratory infection, two urinary tract infections, three different types of cancer (and cancer was apparently just a blanket diagnosis for things that looked different on a cellular level), a yeast infection... down there, and a severe case of Taco Bell.
She really hoped someone would send a health inspector to that particular Taco Bell.
She'd seen Miss Militia, and seen her talking to her father, but was a little surprised that none of the Parahuman Response Team people had talked to her.
Maybe because at least one nurse and one doctor had intercepted them the first time?
Were they evaluating her or was there something more sinister at work?
Well, the various doctors were going to check and monitor those patients so there was going to be documentation that she'd done some stuff here. And it was interesting that they had thrown a variety of injuries and diseases at her, with the biological histories written with a number of things potentially useful.
Ah, what was this? This one didn't have anything physically wrong with them?
Taylor looked around and didn't say anything immediately on seeing everyone apparently waiting. "I can't find anything particularly wrong."
"You can't?" asked the patient.
"No," said Taylor, sounding puzzled. "I mean, there's a little extra fat at the belly, and there's some wearing in the... what's the name for the blood vessel coming out of the top left?"
"Can you sketch it?" asked one of the doctors, finding a blank page and handing that over with a pen.
Taylor quickly sketched the heart out and then tapped one section.
"Superior vena cava," said the one doctor after he took the paper back.
"It's a little thin just before you get to that first split, but it doesn't look problematic." Taylor thought she knew what was going on now.
They'd put a nurse or someone without any health issues in to see what she would do? Sneaky.
Ah, NOW Miss Militia was speaking with her father and making an occasional gesture for emphasis.
If she was going to stop the PRT from forcing her to join, because she did NOT trust them to let her be, she was going to have to do something she dreaded.
Talk.
* Thursday, January 6, 2011. 0950 hours. *
Danny Hebert glanced aside at his daughter as they left the hospital parking lot. "Why did you object to the Wards? They could have kept you safe."
"You've worked with government agencies," replied Taylor. "How much do you trust them?"
"Well..." responded Danny, not really wanting to concede the safety consideration.
"I can heal anyone, nearly instantly," pointed out Taylor. "How long before someone in Washington wants me available 24/7?"
Danny Hebert was silent for a few moments, wanting to argue but his own experiences with government agencies and bureaucrats was giving him some misgivings about it now that it had been brought up.
"My plan is to visit zoos, pet adoption agencies, hospitals - once they've gone over the results and monitoring thing," said Taylor. "Heal people for free. Make cosmetic changes or things like that for cash. We can use the money."
"'cosmetic changes'?" asked Danny.
"I was listening while I was doing the rounds," said Taylor. "Do you have any idea how much people are willing to pay for their butts lifted or lips plumped?"
"A lot?" asked her father.
"Serious money," said Taylor. "Some of the doctors were talking. I think one or two might be willing to work with me. I help them, they help me, and people with the money to have their nose narrowed or something get what they want a lot faster and safer. Cheaper too, even splitting with the docs it would take me five minutes per patient."
"We'll... talk about that," admitted Danny. Something about the idea bothered him.
"In the meantime, take me to work sometime," said Taylor, settling back into her seat. "I'm pretty sure a number of the guys you work with could use a tune-up."
Danny made a noncommital noise and the rest of the trip was mainly silent.
* Friday, January 7, 2011. 1015 hours. *
Her identity was known. For all the talk from the PRT about NDAs and covering her identity, everyone knew she'd triggered and what her powers were.
"Figures that even if Hebert got powers they'd be lame."
"Oooh. I stubbed my toe this morning, Tay-tay. Can you kiss it and make it better?"
There was such a temptation. Just reach out. One touch and there'd be a nice shade tree for the front of the school.
"Pay attention, Hebert!" said Sophia, stepping forward and getting ready to shove.
(GRAB!) (SLAP!)
Taylor blinked as one of the members of the football team, instead of just passing her and the trio by, grabbed Sophia, hefted her bodily up, and smacked her across the face.
This was not the usual script.
That football player half-turned to her. "I hear you can heal people. I hear you plan on visiting hospitals."
Taylor half-shrugged. "That's the plan."
The football player nodded, still keeping a wary eye on the Terrible Trio. Who were currently facing a number of people who were all... being confrontational towards them?
This was also not the usual script. She was kind of liking it though.
"What I heard was you weren't charging. Hospital is still charging for patients being seen like an ER visit and such, but you aren't charging." This was the most any of the big muscly guys had ever spoken to her for, but at least he apparently had an obvious motive and wasn't being evasive about it at all.
"That's right," answered Taylor. "Also some of the free clinics, and my Dad's arranging with pet hospitals."
"Ooooh," went several people in the crowd.
The football player nodded. "That's what I heard." He turned his full attention to the trio.
"Wait till my father, the lawyer, hears about this!" declared Emma, stepping forward to glare at the footballer.
"Your divorce lawyer father?" said one of the other guys in the crowd. "I'll see what my father, a litigation attorney, will say about yours."
"We'll see about THAT! Don't think you're safe Tay-tay!" declared Emma, turning and marching off as if she had won.
"All of you. Hebert here can benefit the entire city," said the kid whose dad was a lawyer specializing in suing people apparently. "They try to put her in the hospital again..."
A guy in ABB colors grinned. "You ain't gonna care about gang affiliations? Race?"
Taylor thought, then shook her head. "No. A patient is a patient."
There were some dark mutterings from some of the Asians and some of the more Empire-looking types, specifically looking at each other, but it looked like an accord was being set up. Not the villain from Boston of that name either.
* New Wave *
"Someone who can heal?" said Glory Girl, hovering above where Weaver was walking. "Damn, that would be SO handy to have on our team."
"Because they're talking about having a Glory Intensive Care Unit for when you've misjudged your strength?" asked Weaver, not even looking up at her sister.
"I admit the thought HAD crossed my mind," admitted Glory Girl/Victoria Dallon. "What about that guy you introduced to all the bees?"
"He had it coming," grumbled Weaver.
* Saturday January 8, 2011 *
Taylor, in her handmade costume, reached out to touch the plant. Her power didn't give her the proper names of anything but she saw the details mapped out and what did what.
"Why is she dressed like the Dread Pirate Roberts?"
Danny sighed. "It's what I could throw together."
At her direction, her power cross-referenced [Biology: Human] and [Biology: Peach Sapling]. The first thing to do was repair the damage and bring the sapling to full health, at least as much as it could without proper nutrition.
"Needs a different soil mix," said Miss Medica. No, she didn't come up with that name because of meeting Miss Militia. That was just a coincidence. "More magnesium and the pH needs to be a bit higher."
"So, magic peaches?" asked Lacey.
"Healing peaches," corrected Miss Medica. "Hang on. This bit is tricky."
"I would imagine so," agreed Kurt.
"Okay," said Miss Medica after a few minutes. "This just accelerates natural healing in humans, basically doubling the healing rate. I might be able to do better with more experience, but this is the best I can do now. It'll fruit in the spring if you give it more room to grow, and then you'll have healing peaches."
"Don't need blood sacrifices or something?" asked Lacey.
"Compost on a regular basis would be better," said Miss Medica, frowning at Lacey.
"Would another tree be better?" asked Kurt. "It's just the only one I've got and I've never gotten it to grow well."
"Despite Lacey's sense of humor," said Danny. "It's not magic. It's a parahuman power and she can only manipulate something so far."