*000000*

Danny Hebert had tried to sleep. His daughter, Taylor, hadn't come home from school, and he had reported her missing. The police had interviewed him and filed the missing person's report. The sooner they found her, they'd noted, the better.

Brockton Bay was not kind to missing persons.

It was now 3:00 am, and he was still wide awake, with worry and fear, when there was a noise downstairs. He put on his glasses and made his way down to the living room. As he was reaching the bottom of the stair, whoever was in the house fell over, hitting the floor hard.

Turning the lights on, he could finally make out who it was on the floor. She was trying to get back up, struggling with the effort. Her clothes were covered with absolutely vile filth, and would probably have to be burned. Much of the flowing cascade of black hair would have to come off as well, for the same reason. Her glasses were broken, a spider web of cracks across one lens.

"Hi, Dad," Taylor said weakly, trying to be cheerful as she tried to get up off the floor, "Sorry I'm late..."

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

A quick call to 911, and a police squad and an ambulance were arriving at the Hebert's house. The police noted that Taylor was no longer a missing person, but, according to her initial statements, had been the victim of a vicious assault. Given her condition and initial statements, it was being escalated from aggravated assault to attempted homicide.

With a few more questions asked, Danny was locking up the house and on his way to the Hospital.

He managed to stay calm during his drive there. He couldn't believe what his daughter had said as the police took her initial statement, that she'd been thrown into her locker, which had been half-filled with used feminine hygiene products, and then locked in, and literally, left to rot.

More shocking, to him, was that she said she knew exactly who had done it. That knowledge comforted him little, though. Right now, all that mattered was his daughter being alright. She had slipped into unconsciousness before being loaded into the ambulance.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

Oblivious to what was going on around her, Taylor dreamed...

The forest she was walking through was quiet, eerily so, and shrouded in mist. There were no sounds save the dripping of water from the leaves. The trees and plants on one side of the path were twisted, bent, malformed. The plants on the other were healthy and grew straight and tall.

But still, there wasn't the sound of anything living.

'Am I dead?' she thought to herself, as she continued to walk down the mysterious path.

"No, child, you are not."

Taylor stopped at the sound of the voice. "Who are you," she called out. "And where are you?"

"I am here," said a voice on the dark and twisted side of the path. The voice was a woman's, old and weary.

"And I am here." said another voice from the opposite side. Older, Male, again weary, but somehow sounding wiser.

"Walk forward child," said the woman's voice. "My brother and I await you at the end of the path."

"You have come this far," said the man's voice, with good humor. "What are a few more steps?"

"It's not like I have anything else to do," muttered Taylor, some snark showing. She continued down the path towards the end.

The path came to an end at a cliff, with the mists parting to reveal mountains – huge, majestic, unearthly mountains – whose valleys were covered by clouds. Taylor could hear something moving down in the clouds that came up to the edge of the cliff. Something big.

That something broke through the fog.

Taylor had problems finding the right words to describe what she was seeing; She took a moment to chuckle at the absurdity of it – her late mother had been an English professor, and Taylor had a very extensive vocabulary and an extensive command of the language. Yet, at this moment, she could only come up with "Holy SHIT!"

Taylor simply didn't have enough adjectives to describe what she was seeing. Pale grayish-white, shimmering in the twilight of wherever she was. And big. Really, really big.

Then there was movement on the other side of chasm before her.

Again, there was a lack of words to describe what was coming through clouds in front of her. A rainbow of colors, a form that spoke of raw, monstrous power. And again, very, very big. Then, somewhere in Taylor's mind, the connection was made, and she figured she was about to find out if one could fall unconscious in a dream.

She was standing between two immense dragons in her dreamscape.

For several minutes, the dreamscape was quiet as the girl regarded the two dragons and vice versa.

The more monstrous one on her left spoke first. "No, you are not hallucinating," it said, in the woman's voice, though it was like listening to five older women speaking. "In fact, we're surprised that you're still standing here, most would have fled back down the path." The chorus of voices sounded amused.

"Kurya and Sonngrad chose well," noted the other, somewhat less monstrous dragon, who spoke with the male voice.

Both seemed amused, for some reason.

"Who are you, and why am I here?" Taylor asked politely – she did not want to upset two creatures who could use her for a lite snack, even in her dreams.

"Introductions are in order, then," noted the male. "I am called " and with that, he said something that no human throat could pronounce. "However, I have been known by many other names. Most humans have called me Bahamut, Lord of the North Wind."

"I'll forego my name in Draconic, unlike my brother," noted the chorus of female voices. "You may simply call me Tia... which is short for Tiamat."

"One of my few servants heard your cries from your imprisonment and torture," noted Bahamut," and aided in your return home. They could do little to help with your injuries, though. And, of course, I cannot act without my sister interfering in some fashion."

"Dear brother, at least I am not actively fighting against you anymore. We both agree that way would result in oblivion." Tiamat turned a head to look at Taylor." As it is, we are largely forgotten now, only having our native power, and our agents on the material plane are few. He has three of his servants left, mine are lost."

"So, Taylor Hebert, we are going to grant you a great gift, for good or ill," noted Tiamat. "I for my reasons, My brother for his. He knows as well as I that you cannot have order without chaos, everything must be balanced by its opposite. Are you willing to accept our gift?"

Taylor thought for a bit. Great power implies great responsibility. She had no idea who these two were. They weren't forcing this on her, they were giving her a choice.

"I have to ask," said Taylor respectfully, "what does this cost me? What happens to me if I refuse?"

"You show more wisdom than most, Taylor," noted Bahamut, chuckling. "It is a gift, freely given, to be used as you see fit, for good or ill. While I hope you'll try to do good, and my sister undoubtedly would be greatly amused by you attempting a rampage of destruction, we will both have to settle for something interesting instead, that lies in between the two. I only have my sister and my most loyal servants left to talk to. The rest of our kind has fallen silent over the millennia, and there are only so many times we can talk about the same things over and over again."

"And should you refuse, you will still be released from the locker, and taken to someone who can help you. Whatever happened before this, still happens."

Taylor found the answer somewhat comforting. "In other words," she chuckled, "You're bored, I'm entertainment, and if nothing else, someone for you to talk to. You know what, I'll accept your gifts. If nothing else it will make things interesting for everyone."

She could sense the two gargantuan creatures smiling. Two talons, each larger than Taylor's head, came to rest gently on her forehead. "I grant you the power to defend the weak, heal the sick, and provide refuge for those in need," intoned Bahamut, a spark of light forming at the end of the claw. It may not have had power crackling around it, but it was pure, comforting, and constant.

"I grant you the power to crush your enemies into dust, to rain destruction upon those who oppose you, and the strength to do whatever you need to do." Tiamat's point of energy was purplish in color. Both were crackling with power.

"And great wealth."

"Oh yes, Brother, we mustn't forget that."

"After all, what is a dragon without her hoard?"

Taylor's last thought was "Wait...what?"

With that, her dreamscape exploded in light and thunder.​

Last edited: May 3, 2020

Like

902

Funny

113

Hugs

64

Meow

8

Insightful

5

Informative

3

Sun

11

Winter

8

Red Envelope

3

Brainy

2

Bright Spark

2

Halloween

2

Valentines

1

pentagram

1

1st Anniversary

1

Kryslin

Aug 30, 2019

Reader mode

Threadmarks

Threadmarks Hatching 1.2 - Pieces Falling

Threadmarks

Kryslin

Kryslin

[Has Delusions of Authorship]

Aug 30, 2019

#3

0315 Tuesday 04 Jan 2011

Taylor was hearing voices. Various voices shouting, yelling, calling out orders.

"I've got a pulse!" a nurse announced. "Good sinus rhythm."

"She's regaining consciousness." There was a doctor in Taylor's view as her eyes cracked open. "You're going to be OK, Ms. Hebert," he stated. "Your heart and breathing stopped, and we had to resuscitate you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Taylor said, trying to focus. "I understand." Her voice was muffled to her ears, due to the respirator mask on her face. She grimaced a bit – she felt sore all over.

"Pulse is getting stronger, blood oxygen is good," reported a nurse, monitoring her vitals.

"We're going to tell your father that you're conscious, and we're going to admit you for observation and run a few tests. We are going to have Panacea check you over when she comes in later today. There are a couple more cases more serious than you on the list, but it shouldn't be a problem. Right now, though, the only thing I want you to worry about is resting, OK?"

Taylor nodded, closing her eyes. Resting sounded good, she thought. With that, she was asleep before leaving the ER.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

0615 Tuesday 04 Jan 2011

Madison Clements saw the police parked outside Winslow High School. What she thought was going to be a mean spirited prank had turned into a nightmare for her. She had joined in tormenting Taylor because it was something she found amusing. However, as things had escalated, she was getting less sure about how much fun this actually was.

Then, yesterday they – Sophia, Emma, and herself, had pushed her into her locker, closed it, put a second lock on it, and left her there in a pile for rotting tampons and sanitary napkins. When she hadn't been seen all day, Madison began to get nervous. She had thought they were going to let her out after an hour. Sophia and Emma had other ideas, it seems.

She had spent the night getting more and more nervous, especially after looking up things like the penalties for the various forms of murder and manslaughter, and the definition of "Accessory to a criminal act". As she lay awake, having a sudden attack of conscience, she decided to turn herself in come the morning, and deal with the consequences of her actions.

She had kept a journal of all the things they had done to Taylor, so as not to repeat things. She also had print outs of e-mails and text messages. She gathered everything up, to take with her to school the next morning.

Leaving early, she had arrived as the doors were opened. She had noted the police cars out front as well.

Raising her chin up a bit she walked up to the police officer outside. "Officer," she said, her voice quavering a bit, "May I speak to whoever is in charge? I... have some evidence they may want to see."

A quick call on the radio had a response, and she was escorted up to the 3rd-floor corridor.

​

- - - - - - - - - -

​

"And you are?" asked the man the police officer had escorted her to.

"Madison Clements." was her quiet response.

"Miss Clements," said the detective, "I'm Detective Ramin. I understand you claim to have some evidence for us?"

"I do, sir," she said, quietly. She reached into her handbag and pulled out the journal and print outs. "I also know who did what and when... because I helped."

"Officer Smith," said the detective, "Take this young lady's statement. Miss Clements, you do realize that by telling me this, I may have to arrest you?"

"Sir, what we did was wrong. I'm willing to face the consequences of my actions."

"Very well. Smith, be very sure to read her her rights. Miss Clements, if you are under 14, your parent or a legal representative must be present. Are you stating that you are over 14 years old?" At Madison's nod, Detective Ramin continued. "We would prefer that you have counsel present. Are you waiving that right?" Again, Madison nodded.

"Keep in mind that while you are not under arrest, you are, by your own admission, now a person of interest in this case. Go ahead, Officer Smith will take your statement. If you want, you can stay here afterward, or we can provide transportation back home."

"I'll take that ride home," Madison said quietly. She wondered how she was going to break the news to her parents when she arrived home in a police car.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

0715 Tuesday 04 Jan 2011

Janice Blackwell was not in a good mood. It could equally be said that she was never in a good mood, to begin with. The custodial staff had called early in the AM, stating that the police were there, and they had a search warrant.

Shit, she thought, what has happened this time?

Violence was not an uncommon occurrence at Winslow High School. It was one of the worst schools in the city, because of both corruption in the local government, and the gang situation here in the city. The police were routinely on site, investigating some matter.

When she pulled into the parking lot, she knew there would be trouble. She was expecting a police cruiser or two, perhaps a wagon, or a couple of detectives. This had all three of those, plus a CSI van.

"Officer Smith," she asked, "what is going on here?" she asked the officer at the door.

"Principal Blackwell? Detective Ramin is waiting for you upstairs on the 3rd floor." The police officer was professional if anything else. "I'm here to make sure you see him, as he has questions for you."

The pinch-faced blonde woman scowled. "Very well, then," she grumbled. "Let's get this over with."

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

The police had a good section of the main corridor cordoned off, as the forensics people went about their business of documenting everything. Several were in hazmat suits, gathering up the waste products that the perpetrators had filled the locker with. The stench was powerful, and stomach-turning.

The locker itself had been torn open from the outside; It looked like Hookwolf, one of the Empire 88's cape enforcers, had gotten upset with it and used his powers on it. The infamous Neo-Nazi cape wouldn't have set it carefully off to the side, though.

More worrying was the strange footprints in the offal that had run out onto the floor. Larger than human, clearly showing a set of 4 toes, with a claw of some kind at the heel. These footprints had gone from the locker to the stairs, eventually fading away as the gruesome material wore off the foot.

Principal Blackwell was about to be greeted by the detective, who was called to the locker by the forensics technician. "Sir," he said, "I need you to look at this." The technician had focused his flashlight onto a single object.

It was a bloody, rotting tampon, and it was stuck into the steel wall of the locker. Not punched through the steel panel, but stuck in it, as if it had been a part of the steel making up the locker.

Detective Anil Ramin swore under his breath.

"I'm sorry to be so rude, Principal Blackwell, but I need to make a call right now," he said offhandedly. "This matter has gone from bad to worse."

"Dispatch, this is Ramin, requesting PRT assistance in a possible parahuman related crime..."

Shortly afterward, the technician found a small hidden video camera, with it's SD card under the locker shelf. "Most peculiar," the forensics technician noted as he carefully removed it from where it was mounted, bagging it as evidence.

​

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

​

0745 Tuesday 04 Jan 2011

Sophia Hess showed no hesitation as she walked into school. She observed the presence of Brockton Bay's Police, arrogantly noting how ineffective they usually were in dealing with the rampant crime of the city.

Surprising her was the presence of one of the black PRT vans. A quick look around the parking lot showed no signs of any of the Protectorate, just the van. It made her a bit wary, but she continued on her path to her locker, and perhaps torment that worthless Hebert girl some more if she had gotten out of the locker.

Conspicuous by absence was her friend, Emma, and her hanger-on, Madison. Still, she grabbed her books from her locker and proceeded up to Hebert's locker. She could torment her prey by herself, though it would be more physical than Emma and Madison's mental and emotional torture.

The ancient PA system crackled to life. "Sophia Hess, please report to the principal's office IMMEDIATELY."

Grumbling, Sophia never got within sight of the crime scene that was most of the main corridor of the 3rd Floor.

The walk back down to the Principal's office was strangely quiet. Other students, who were beneath her notice, just watched as she made her way to the office.

"Please," said the secretary, "sit down. The principal will be with you shortly."

Emma was sitting there as well, sullen and silent.

Soon, both were called into the office, and their day was shot all to hell. There was a police detective there, along with two uniformed officers. What concerned Sophia more was the presence of 3 PRT officers. Principal Blackwell looked upset, more so than usual. After all, thought Sophia, the uptight, whiny bitch was never happy.

Things began to go downhill fast at that point, as the uniformed police officers moved over to Emma. "Emma Barnes, you are under arrest for attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent..." the police officer reading her Miranda rights as they handcuffed her.

Sophia flinched. She could easily escape since the PRT officers were normals, but she would out herself as a cape in doing so. She could probably take one or two of the officers out in hand-to-hand, but the other three would take her. She was good, but not that good. She was trapped, and she was in trouble.

Remain calm, she thought, and look for an opportunity.

That window closed with a slam as someone was admitted to the office, and principal Blackwell was led out. The PRT Lieutenant motioned to one of his two men, who leveled a wireless taser at her. "You've been recalled, Miss Hess," he said, looking down at her. "Give me your left hand."

As the girl simply stood there, he continued. "If you do not cooperate," he noted, "We will simply tase you, and carry you out the front door. Either way is fine with us, but the latter outs you as a parahuman, and I'd rather not have to fill that set of forms out. As it stands, you're in some deep trouble, and the Director wants to talk to you, and from the way she was going on, she wanted to talk to you yesterday."

The newcomer finally spoke. "I would advise you, Miss Hess, to be cooperative." The voice belonged to Deputy PRT Director Rennick, who normally worked out in the field. He was also cleared with the identities of the Wards ENE, so he knew who she was. "You aren't formally charged with anything -yet-, but what has come to light so far isn't helping your case."

Sullenly, Sophia held out her left arm, and a tinker tech bracelet was secured around her wrist. She damned well knew what it did, Armsmaster had made it specifically for her when she had been working as a rogue, hunting criminals like the wild animals they were.

"Now, if you'll hand over both of your phones," Mr. Rennick noted, "We'll be on our way."

"You can't do that," Sophia snarled. She had handed over her PRT phone, it was, after all, their property, but was loathe to hand over her personal phone.

"That was where you'd be wrong," the man noted. "Personal phone, NOW."

Both phones were placed into an evidence bag, sealed, and the time and date were written on it. "After you," he said, gesturing to the PRT officers to flank her as she was marched out of the building via the back entrance to the offices.

"Director Piggot will be wanting to talk to you as well, Principal Blackwell. I'd keep your calendar clear", noted Rennick before he exited the office.​