Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Capital G
Guardian
a Worm/Destiny Crossover
Chapter 5: Capital G
"I can't believe he grounded me."
"Well, you did tell him everything."
"That's not true! I didn't tell him...um...I didn't tell him about Parian's real name!"
"It's a good thing you didn't, Guardian. I don't think she'd have liked that."
"Well, I'm grounded. I don't like that."
If Taylor was entirely, one hundred percent honest with herself, she was kind of glad her dad had grounded her. She'd had enough of distant, distracted parental figures to last a lifetime. Being grounded for, among other things, getting into a fight with a Nazi, was an interesting way to return to being her dad, but she was very glad he did. Well. Okay. She was happy to have her dad back. Not so much the other thing.
A week ago, having to spend the weekend in the house would have been more reward than punishment. That was before Ghost, before becoming a Guardian, and before she met Sabah. It rankled. Which was the point, or so she gathered. This idea was reinforced not a moment later by her Ghost. "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to." It chirped and bobbed in the air, panels rotating in a motion resembling a Rubik's cube. "It wouldn't be a punishment if you enjoyed it."
"I know." She was grousing, and she knew it. The Hunter in her was getting itchy again. Becoming more familiar with that part of her made it easier to see the signs. Tapping fingers, drumming feet. Feeling stifled and hot in a room that didn't have fresh air was new, but she was able to alleviate it with an open window. The air blowing in was cool and tinged faintly with the scent of ocean.
Her keen ears picked up the sounds of her dad moving around downstairs. The muffled shuffle of papers told her he was reading something. He'd been angry, after she'd told him. Angry, and scared. Scared for her, of the things happening to her, of what could happen to her in the future. Idly, she wondered if being grounded was more about keeping her where he knew she'd be safe than about punishment or some object lesson.
The sound of papers hitting table brought her from her musings, and she could hear her dad walk towards the stairs. He stopped at the bottom. "Taylor? Can we talk for a minute?"
"Sure thing, Dad!" She had to shout to be heard, having forgotten to open her door before responding. As she left, her Ghost played a funeral march. She stopped in the door to glare. "That is not funny."
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It turned out that the papers she'd heard were a printout of the official PRT website, Wards section. It detailed the benefits and duties a member of the junior superhero team might expect were they to join up with the local chapter. It was made to sound a lot like a scout troop, if Taylor were honest with herself. The positives were played up, the negatives glossed over, and parents were reassured that their children would not be sent into battle with villainous capes in any way whatsoever.
Both she and her dad had a good snicker at that. It turned into a giggle fit for her when the TV in the living room reported that the Wards team had heroically fended off an armored car robbery led by Circus. Once she got herself under control, she saw her dad giving her an expectant look. "Well?"
One last laugh escaped her before she finally sobered and noticed he was looking very serious indeed. She gave the papers another look, flipping through them quickly before setting them down. "I don't know, Dad. I...it looks good."
"I hear a 'but' coming."
Prompted, she did just that. "But I'm not sure."
"What's not to be sure about?" He wasn't cajoling her, trying to prod her towards making a decision. He was asking. She frowned, and looked down at the papers, tapping a thoughtful index finger.
"Not sure about that, either." Her eyes were drawn to a picture of the Wards. The full team in uniform, posing on a helipad in the bright, noonday sunshine. They were all smiles and open, friendly body language. Mostly. Clockblocker, for all of his jokes and stupid name, looked tired, and even though her face was covered Shadow Stalker was looking at the camera with obvious wariness.
Her dad made a frustrated noise. "You gotta give me something to go on, Taylor. Is it the team? Is it the hours? Is it the costumes? What's bugging you?"
Taylor growled, a quiet and frustrated sound. "I don't know. I'm not telling you because I don't want to, you know! It's like some kind of...instinct. Oh."
Across the table, her dad perked up. "Oh? Are we coming to some kind of understanding over there?"
She nodded. "I think so. I gotta ask Ghost something, first." She turned around in her chair. "Hey, Ghost!"
A blur of movement from the living room, and her Ghost came to a stop over the kitchen table. "You rang, Guardian?"
"About Hunters." She would have appreciated the reference on a day she wasn't feeling so...itchy. "They're a pretty independent bunch, yeah?"
Clicks followed her question, and a sound that she took to mean that her Ghost was thinking, or searching the data it had on Guardians like her. "I'd say they're known for it, yes."
"Well, then." She sat back and waved a hand between her dad and her Ghost. "There you have it."
Her dad worked the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. "That...isn't actually an answer, Taylor."
Hadn't she explained? She could have sworn she'd... "Did I not tell you about being a Hunter?"
"No. Well, maybe. There was a lot to process. Tell your old man again?"
She took a breath, and let it out. "Well, it's like this."
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Against all odds, the explanation helped. Once she'd laid things out again, explained the new instincts being a Guardian and Hunter had woken in her, her dad had become more sympathetic to her plight. This didn't mean she wasn't grounded anymore, sadly, but it did mean he was willing to let her sit on the idea of joining the Wards for now. At least until she could make up her mind, or had her mind made up for her by circumstance. Not long after they'd reached this accord the house phone had rung, bearing news of some Union related disaster that required her dad's supervision.
This left her to her own devices once again. For a few seconds she sat at the kitchen table, listening to her dad's voice retreating into his office muttering instructions all the while. It seemed that Lou was not to be allowed within ten feet of any heavy machinery, he was still on medical leave and medication. She left her dad to the people wrangling and headed out back. The sun was well on its way to its noontime zenith, casting warm light to offset the cool breeze coming in off the Bay.
She breathed in, deeply, holding it. She let it out, feeling it take the edge off some of her anxiety. Her house didn't have much of a backyard, a twenty by twenty foot square fenced in with wooden planks going green with mold and age. A swing set, far too small for her now, sat in the center. By contrast to the fence, it still seemed sturdy and solid. The little plastic seat had cracked and faded over the years, and the links had rusted together. If she were to try and move it, the shriek that would follow might be considered cruelty to all dogs in hearing range. She wouldn't appreciate it, that was for certain.
What had brought her out here was something she remembered doing the day before. During the fight with Strongman she'd used her knife with some amount of ability. That she'd used it with any ability at all was what had surprised her, when her thoughts had settled long enough for her to think about it. She hadn't been in any fights before. Never pulled a knife on anyone. Yesterday was the first time she'd done both of those things. She sat in the grass, feeling their dew dampen her jeans. A few threads of grass were sacrificed to her fidgeting fingers.
Was she a bad person for not feeling worse? She'd hurt Strongman. Hurt him badly, and was more than prepared to carry out the threat she'd delivered to his henchmen. That was a level of violence she hadn't been capable of before becoming a Guardian. It was a level of violence that she knew – knew – she could reach again. It was the same certainty that she had towards wreathing her knife in lightning. The same certainty she had about the Light coursing through her.
That...she didn't know how to feel about that. Luckily, she had somewhere to turn, and ask. "Hey, Ghost? Can I ask you something?"
A series of mechanical clicks came from the air in front of her nose. It was followed by her Ghost becoming visible in a ripple of visible light. "Anything, Guardian."
Taylor took a deep breath, and asked.
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She'd made a mug of tea and had sat down with it, steam curling elegant fingers over the lip of the ceramic mug, when there came a knock at the door. During her conversation with her Ghost, it seemed that the Lou Situation had escalated quite badly and needed her dad's personal interference. This left her without human company at present, and she was not in the right frame of mind to enjoy the quiet rumblings of her gradually settling house. The knock came again, more insistent this time. Taylor took a last, regretful look at her tea and set it aside to become tepid and unpleasant upon her return to it.
The door swung inwards to reveal Sabah. She had her long, dark hair in a braid and a serious, disturbed expression on her face. Her outfit was impeccably chosen, yet somehow gave the impression of a person who'd dressed in a hurry. In her hands she was holding an enormous bouquet of flowers. Attached to them was a card about the size of an index card, with neatly printed writing covering it back and front. "We need to talk." With that, she brushed past Taylor into the house, setting the bouquet down on the kitchen table with undue force.
"Let yourself in, why don't you." She may have been grumbling, but she was actually glad to see Sabah. Being alone with nothing but her thoughts and her Ghost hadn't been bad, per se, but...she'd found herself thinking up a frenzy of worry and anxiety, and that was something she tried to avoid doing, as a rule. She gestured at the bouquet on the table. "What's that?"
"That" Sabah eyed the bouquet with open revulsion, leaning on the stove with her arms folded defensively, as if the arrangement of flowers were about to leap at her and attack at any moment. "is an apology bouquet. I found it in the shop this morning when I went to get some paperwork."
Taylor nodded. "That's...kind of weird. And creepy. Who sent it?"
"The Empire."
A double take wasn't sufficient. There weren't enough takes in existence to reach a state of mind where that made sense. She blinked, took the card offered to her and read it by rote. It was apparently from Kaiser himself, apologizing for the 'unauthorized actions of one of his less sane subordinates' and that she mustn't 'take one man's actions as the actions of an organization'. It ended with him expressing his wishes she wasn't seriously harmed, and what was certainly a stamped signature. Which was weird.
Taylor found herself with only one thing to say. "What the fuck?"
Beside her, Sabah nodded sagely, and with commiseration. "Yep."
"I mean, what the fuck?"
"Yyyep."
Taylor immediately resolved to set the thing on fire. Sabah vetoed it, so they threw it away after shredding it into tiny pieces. It didn't make the weird go away, but it did make it easier to handle.
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There was a strangeness, Taylor decided, around having a friend in her room. After all, it had been a long time indeed since anyone had come over, so being a bit out of practice wasn't out of the question. Luckily, they had something to talk about. Rather, for Sabah to vent about the experience of finding it by herself and for Taylor to nod understandingly at the appropriate time. She'd had her own moment downstairs and had been exposed to the bouquet for far less time than Sabah.
It was a short-lived firestorm of complaints. Tearing the thing to shreds had been enough close, catharsis, and plain fun to make both of them feel at ease. At least it had for her. Judging from the way Sabah had thrown herself spread eagle onto her bed, face planting loudly into Taylor's pillows, she was pretty over it as well. Still face down in the pillows, she mumbled something. Taylor's hearing, keen as it was now, couldn't pick it out. "What'd you just say?"
Sabah, choosing not to move, instead shouted loud enough to be understood. "I wanna make you a costume!"
"But..." Taylor found herself frowning. "you said you didn't do that. And can you at least sit up? You're very hard to understand."
With some grumbling, her friend did just that, bouncing around afterward to find the best way to sit. Once she'd fixed her shirt, which had somehow gotten twisted about during her gymnastics, Sabah addressed the question. "Weeell... I don't. Normally. But I kinda starting thinking about it after I got home last night. Did some sketches. It wouldn't be armored or anything, but you're fast enough that you could probably get away with leathers, or something."
Eyebrows going the opposite direction of where they'd previously resided, Taylor found herself wondering something. She knew the levels of speed she was capable of. She and her Ghost had been over her new capabilities, as well as the levels she could reach given enough training. That, at least, was something she understood. But..."You'd do that? Make me a costume, I mean."
Sabah blinked a few times, a sure indicator of her puzzlement. "Well, yeah. We're friends, right? Plus, we beat up Crazy Mustache Nazi together. That alone would put you in my good books."
Taylor...was feeling a number of things, all at once. Top of the list was recrimination, directed at herself. Hadn't she just yesterday confirmed that she and Sabah were friends? Hadn't she, Taylor, once been the best of friends with someone else, and had done things for that person for the joy of seeing them smile or laugh? Surely, this was the same thing. It was a rule: friends did nice things for each other. Then there was pleasure. She was, frankly, pleased as punch with the offer. And with the way things had gone over the last few days, more or less.
Following on the heels of that was doubt. It was small and minor and prickly, but it was present. Did she deserve, or even want the costume, and all that came with it? Maybe. Maybe not. But she was itching for a cloak, and here was someone offering her one. She'd figure out the rest later. Speaking of which. "These...um...these sketches of yours. Did any of them have cloaks?"
Sabah frowned in thought, then nodded. "Some of them. One or two, I think. Why? Is that important?"
The speed at which Taylor's head moved up and down was too fast to call it a nod. It, and the happy sounds coming from her could be taken as a sign of agreement. They were certainly meant as such. With some effort, she got herself under control, face burning, and cleared her throat. "Yes. Very."
"All right, then." Sabah found herself trying to contain her own amusement. Glittering eyes and a widening smile meant she was failing. "I left my bag downstairs. Let me go get it and we can get cracking!"
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Introducing her dad to Sabah had gone much better after pizza was brought into it. Something about the round, cheesy deliciousness eased the curious tension in the room and that, coupled with Sabah's usual gregariousness, soon brought the kitchen table to a relaxed, amiable place. Of course, it hadn't taken her dad long to figure out that Sabah occasionally answered to a different name, and it hadn't taken her long to figure out that he'd figured it out. That, more than anything, was probably the source of the earlier tension. It was gone now, and all were gladder for it, in Taylor's opinion. Because of this, the conversation moved towards her new-found extracurricular activities after the first round of pizza had been devoured.
Most of the conversation was between Sabah and her dad. She was more than happy to let them steer. There was still that part of her that was wary of talking to people. Quieter now than it once was, it still made itself heard. So she was content, at least for now, to let her dad quiz Sabah on whatever concerns he could dredge up from the depths of his parental worries. The first was perhaps the most obvious, though he hadn't started there. "How badly can you or Taylor get hurt out there?"
"Not very badly," Sabah reached for her drink, taking a sip and musing for a moment. "Me because I stay out of the fighting as a rule, and Taylor because she's a badass." Taylor didn't have to look to know her dad was frowning. At the language or the implications, she wasn't sure. "No, really, Mr. Hebert. I'd bet money that she ends her first fight without a scratch on her."
She glowed inside, happy at the compliment and the confidence her friend so brazenly displayed. Rare was the person who could be called a badass and be unhappy about it, and Taylor was not one of these few. Her dad wanted to know, "What makes you say that?"
"Because she's fast." The reply came, flatly delivered and emphatic. Taylor perked up from drowsily letting the food settle. She'd heard Sabah say this before, and it caught her attention each time. "During that fight she went from zero to kicking ass in no time." That wasn't...exactly...how Taylor remembered it going down, but let it slide. Things had happened rather quickly, after all. "That guy was pretty strong and very crazy and we took him down. Power of teamwork, and all that."
She watched her dad digest this information about his daughter. His eyes would flicker from her to Sabah and back as his eyebrows slowly traveled lower. A silence fell on the three of them, contemplative and tinged with anticipation. For what, she couldn't say. It felt like she was waiting for her dad to approve of her going out to be a hero. It felt like waiting. She didn't like waiting, not as a rule. A moment longer, and he nodded decisively. "Okay."
Taylor found herself blinking. "What?"
He shrugged. "Okay. I understand. My daughter has a new hobby, met a friend through it, and they hang out when they're not doing that. At least, that's what I'll tell people who ask." He leaned forward, bracing elbows on table and looking very serious all of a sudden. "I don't, really. I'm not sure what to do, here. Are you going to ask me for my approval to go out and risk your health and safety for people who might end up hating you? I don't think I can do that. I don't think any parent could." he sat back, folded his arms, and sighed. "that being said, I can tell you want to do this, Taylor. So I want a promise from you, from each of you. Look out for each other, don't hit outside your weight class, and don't...don't do anything stupid. Got it?"
Taylor and Sabah shared a look, a nod, and two words said in unison. "Got it."
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