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A Hard Knock Life: Who We Want To Be (ch. 10)
🕑 Added 2021-04-01 12:43:02 +0000 UTC"You can use the private booths," Mama Welles spoke up as Tattletale practically radiated smugness out of every pore. It was nice to know that my initial impression of her had been dead on -- Tattletale struck me as an uppity bitch. The kind that had to be the prettiest, smartest, funniest person in the room at all times. Maybe not the center of attention, though given her entrance, I would make an argument for it, but she always had to be on top.
I spared a look at Jackie, who looked at Tattletale with a deadly expression. "Being a Merc doesn't mean accepting every job that comes your way from whoever offers," Jackie pointed that out as he drained a shot of tequila. "Hope you understand that. The VIP booth is upstairs," he informed, deciding for us that we were going to have this talk.
Swallowing a sigh, I grabbed my orange juice in my free hand and kept the ice pack against my eye with my prosthetic. Mama Welles cast us a lingering look, her expression set, but she said nothing as Jackie led the way upstairs. I didn't know what kind of parent she was, but she seemed content to let Jackie make his own choices.
When Tattletale followed Jackie, the person with the dog mask pushed off the wall by the door. She sent a look at me as we both headed to the stairs. She lingered, determined to not to let me box her in. Except that Tattletale and her group had tried to kidnap me, so I wasn't exactly willing to meet them in the middle. I didn't move, gesturing for her to go by jerking my head to the stairs.
I saw her eyes dip to the glass of OJ I was holding, "You can't have any." I didn't think she would ask, but I wanted to make that clear. Fruit was rare on the streets because climate change killed most of the farmland in America. At best, you would find synth variations. It was something that the rich had or entire families would chip in for a special occasion. It was my first time tasting what could be the real good synth stuff rather than a powdered variation. I wasn't going to share with someone I didn't know. Much less someone that was friends with the group that tried to kidnap me. "It's mine."
Dog Mask seemed to get the hint because she didn't ask. After a look from Tattletale, or more likely a message, she grunted before heading up the stairs. I followed behind, each step was a flash of pain, but the booster I took muted the worst of it. At the upper floor, Jackie headed to an isolated corner -- hardly soundproof, but no one was around it.
Tattletale slid into the booth. Jackie leaned on the railing that overlooked the rest of the bar with his arms crossed. Dog Mask picked a wall next to Tattletale. I chose to sit across from Tattletale. Her eyes followed me and I saw lights in them now that we were so close -- both her eyes were optics. Like mine were.
"How's your orange juice?" Tattletale settled on as an icebreaker.
"Tangy and delicious. You can't have any either," I replied instantly. "How mad was your boss when you failed to kidnap me?" Jackie seemed content with me taking the lead on this. I guess because they were here for me. "Is Regent here? Because I'mma be honest, if I so much as think I'm twitching, I'm starting shooting."
Dog Mask bristled at that, but I ignored her in favor of focusing on Tattletale. The blonde set her hands on the table, letting me clearly see them. A gesture of good faith. Didn't mean a lot when she could have mantis blades or rockets in her forearms.
"That was then and this is now. Before, you were a fresh trigger that was trying to take on the entirety of the ABB. Against all odds, you didn't just survive in that ring, but you took out two major capes that should have been way out of your weight class. Now, my boss would like to present an offer." Tattletale responded, waiting for me to take a sip of my OJ before continuing.
I took that moment to use Ping on her. My systems pinged off of hers, something she was unaware of based on the fact she didn’t react. Screens started to fill in on my vision -- her eyes were an unknown model, but I could get details on her mask and costume. Trauma resistant polymers, carbon nano thread weave -- top of the line stuff. Analyzing revealed that her face was protected by heavy encryption, so she just looked like a blur in my optic.
Still, I got some basic info. Her hair was naturally blonde, got her estimated weight and height. I could get more, but Breach wasn’t enough to breach that ICE without tipping her off. Not yet, at least. Ping managed to pick up on dual systems -- so, she was rockin double layers of ICE. Given the situation, I was willing to bet my other arm that one of them was tinker-grade ICE.
Setting the glass down, I decided I could see that. "And who is this mysterious boss of yours?" I poked before she could continue. That was something that bugged me because her boss could be literally anyone in the city. The most obvious pick was a corp because who else could have a secret team of at least three capes?
I didn't expect an answer. I got one anyway.
"A major league fixer. You don’t need to know his name," Tattletale answered, the name catching Jackie's attention.
"A fixer?" He questioned, sounding like the answer had come completely out of left field. I felt the same. There were more than a few in the city, some better known than others -- there was Wakano, who was with the Tyger Claws in every way that mattered. There was also Padre, a Valentino fixer. And others. More than I probably knew.
Then there were fixers like Rogue and Coil -- both completely independent, yet they survived because of the connections they had. And the firepower they could bring to the table. Rogue ran the Afterlife, a popular merc bar. She probably knew everyone worth knowing in the city and they owed her at least one favor. Coil, on the other hand, was bit of a mystery but a well known one.
No one knew how to get in touch with him or where to find him. However, rumor was, one day he’d give you a ring with a job when you became someone worth knowing.
Though, just because they were the two most famous independent fixers didn’t mean that it was one of them. In a city like this? Circles within circles. It could be absolutely anyone.
Tattletale nodded, "It's not something that they advertise. Capes are a valued commodity in this day and age. Announcing you have a whole team of them is just asking for someone to kick your door in, chip the capes and steal them from you."
"So why are you announcing it like this?" I questioned, seeing an obvious disconnect between what she was saying and what she was doing.
"Because you, Vincent-"
"V," I cut her off flatly. "Only people who really know me get to use my real name. You don't make that list." The mask she wore made it difficult to tell how she took that rebuke. She went silent for a moment, and that was enough to let me think. She knew my name. Probably my full name. Meaning that she would have my address too.
I did not like the thought of a team of capes that had already tried to kidnap me once knowing where I lived.
"V," Tattletale amended, "You wouldn't be hearing me out right now if we hadn't shown up like this. You'd figure it was a trap and start blasting," she pointed out.
"Okay, that's fair," I accepted. She was probably right. "So, why meet at all? If this fixer of yours -- if they’re real -- doesn't want to kidnap me or want me to even know who they are... then what do they want?" I questioned, deciding to cut to the heart of the issue.
"What happened to the tinker?" Tattletale questioned instead of giving me an answer. My eyes narrowed into slits, but Tattletale didn't care. "Did you kill her? Yes? No…?" She was fishing for an answer. Kinda like she had back at the No-Tell Hotel. I had no clue how she had got those answers, but it had to be related to her powers if it wasn’t some stupidly high tech optics. The only issue was, I had no clue what it was.
"Did you know I gave Glory Girl my number?" I returned the question for a question with a question. Trying to throw off whatever her power was. "It's only been two days, so I think she's going with the three-day no-text back rule." Hopefully. Glory Girl was hot. And a badass, which made her way hotter.
"You wouldn't be deflecting like this if she was dead," Tattletale ventured and it was so damn annoying how she was doing that.
"Or maybe I find your lack of straight answers annoying as hell," I responded. "You came to me, to meet me. You can try this talking in circles shit when I come to you." To my surprise, Dog Mask let out a noise of amusement at that. I glanced at her for a moment, wondering where she stood with all of this. Hell, did she even want to be here? Did this fixer guy kidnap her too?
However, my outburst had little effect on Tattletale. "She's alive? You were so dead set on killing her too. Lacked the bite to back up your bark?" She questioned, her tone needling. I got the impression that she liked me about as much as I liked her. There was just something about her that was rubbing me wrong, like sandpaper.
"Maybe. How about you ask Oni Lee and Lung?" I shot back, hoping that would shut her up. I was sadly wrong.
"Are you still in contact with her?" Tattletale questioned, trying to stay on point, but I wanted the exact opposite. I turned to Dog Mask, who watched the entire exchange with a hidden expression.
"You got a name?" I asked, blatantly ignoring Tattletale. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jackie swallow a grin. I'm guessing that he saw through my play. Not that it really mattered. Even if Tattletale saw through it, if she wanted a straight answer then she was going to have to work for it. More than that, Tattletale wasn't just pulling the answer out of her ass either.
However her power worked… I played some kind of role in it. She wasn't reading my mind, she wasn't getting visions of my past, or whatever… the first time we spoke, she cast a net wide then honed in on my real answers and the stuff that I didn't say. And the moment I started to screen my reactions, she had more trouble to guess. I still wasn't sure what her power was, but I was nearly certain that my reactions played a part in it.
"Bitch," Bitch answered. And that was a name that needed some context.
“Well, Bitch, did this mystery fixer abduct you and for you to join this team of his? It almost happened to me, so I'm a little curious if that's just how they do things or if I'm just special."
Tattletale let out a breath of annoyance, "Could you be any more annoying?" She snapped at me, and I'm guessing that touched a nerve. Curious.
In response to that, I slurped my orange juice.
Loudly.
Tattletale made a noise of disgust and frustration, "I know you're still in contact with her. My boss would like to reach out and make her an offer." Maybe I was wrong about my thoughts on her power because she seemed able to sniff that out. "I'm just curious why you didn't kill the tinker that murdered your choomba." She was needling me right back, "I'll give you that you have the bite to back up your bark. So, what was it… did you… oh my. You fell in love with her?" Tattletale gasped, sounding absolutely delighted at the prospect.
The statement startled a laugh out of me before I could stop it. "That's one hell of a conclusion. Your power give it to you?"
My reaction took the edge off of her air of superiority. "So it wasn't true love at first sight? That's a shame. I guess true love really is dead." Her power had been wrong. The question was why? It had been on point pretty much the entire time until just now? Why?
My reactions did play a part in it. And, just now, her power misunderstood my reaction, which led her to the wrong conclusion. It fit the pieces together wrong. Cold Reading. That was a part of her power. I was nearly certain of it. It was possible to trick her power. It was just a matter of how.
"Wouldn't say that. Maybe that's what this is? Was the whole ‘kidnap me’ bit a cover for you to carry me off to your bed? And you wanted to skip all of this delightful flirting?" I tried -- hiding my reactions didn't work, so how about disguising them?
No such luck, because Tattletale scoffed. "Cute, but no dice. If you wanted to figure out my power, all you had to do was ask," Tattletale stated, her tone mocking.
"Seriously?" Seriously? All I had to do was ask-
"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," Tattletale sprung the trap and I could only curse myself for walking into it.
"Nah, I'm good," I dismissed, deciding to step out of the trap. That would be a reaction that she could use against me, but I didn't have much of a choice. Tattletale made a thoughtful noise at that, so I followed it up with, "I don't need some superpower to figure it out, unlike some."
That, I reflected when her eyes narrowed into slits, touched a nerve. So, naturally, I kept poking it.
"I mean, shit -- you need a power to keep up with me in a conversation," I added, leaning forward. Her hands were clenched together, still in the same position. I put my elbows on the table, looking directly into her eyes.
Reaching out, I tapped the center of the table with my prosthetic pointer finger. “So, how about we end this little song and dance already? Why are you here?” I pressed while I had the upper hand in the conversation. For a long moment, Tattletale glared hard at me. Her body language screamed it. I just continued to stare hard at her, waiting for her to finally get to the point. In the end, she had gotten the information she had wanted. I hadn’t been able to stop that. I just made it about as pleasant as pulling teeth.
Tattletale took in slow breath as if she was gathering herself before she finally answered. “My boss wants you to join this team-”
“Pass,” I dismissed, leaning back into the booth, not even thinking about it for a second. “Not a joiner.”
If looks could kill… “Then how about being put on retainer? Ten thousand eddies a month for being on call for jobs. In addition, to whatever you make on a job and the pay the clients give you with the average cut for the fixer. Any job that you’re hit up for takes priority and is non-negotiable that you partake,” Tattletale recovered instantly, having expected my refusal.
I shifted in my seat, my prosthetic finger tapping at the surface of the table. I cast a look at Jackie, setting aside the icepack. Jackie had a hungry look on his face. The kind I hadn’t seen before. Ten thousand eddies as a retainer fee? If she wasn’t blowing smoke and her boss really was a major league fixer...
The gigs that would get passed to us would net us major league pay. Even split up between several people, that was a nice pile of scratch.
But, looking past the money, what was there? Working for a guy who when he first found out I had triggered was kidnap me? That rubbed me the wrong way. Especially with that caveat that I couldn’t refuse a gig.
“Nah,” I refused, “I’m good.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jackie wince at my refuse. Bitch, if I had to guess, seemed like she couldn’t care less. Tattletale was an interesting reaction, though. She leaned forward ever so slightly and cocked her head.
“V… this isn’t the kind of offer you can walk away from.” There was a warning in her voice.
Even still. “Of course I won’t walk away. That’ll be you two. This place is Jackie and his mom’s. Be pretty weird to make him leave,” I remarked, being flippant. I heard Tattletale take in a patient breath. I sent her a smirk, trying to display easy confidence. “So, unless you have something worth talking about, then get walkin’.”
Tattletale was silent, and I wondered if she knew what I was doing. If her power was telling her. “Fifteen thousand eddies as a retainer with the first installment being upfront,” Tattletale haggled.
“I have the right to refuse any job,” I added. She shifted at that, a telling reaction that probably wasn’t in the cards.
“Doable,” Tattletale decided. “What’s your power?”
“My quick wit and incredible charm,” I replied. I received a Look in response to that, but I doubled down. “I’d be happy to tell you when you earn my trust. ‘Till then, I guess that you’ll have to live with the suspense.”
To that, Tattletale cast a look at my arm that was propped up on the table, likely trying to see if it was a clue. Which it was because the light changed in her pupil. “You’re a tinker… Huh. That wouldn’t have been my first guess.”
“Twenty thousand eddies to keep us on retinue. Each,” I decided, giving her a thin smile. That was annoying. I was more annoyed with myself than anything. If they had that kind of money laying around, then of course they could afford top of the line implants. And if you were going to give them to anyone, then it would be your team of capes to up their punching power. “The right to refuse any job… and if we want implants, your boss foots the bill. I’m talkin’ the whole nine yards-- guns, wheels, style, anything that we think we need, we get it.”
To drive the point home, I looked to Jackie, “Anything you want, choom?” I questioned, and Jackie was grinning ear to ear.
“I can think of a few things,” Jackie decided with a nod. Tattletale looked between us like she couldn’t believe we thought we were worth all of that. Not sure why she was surprised. “Some new iron, top of the line body armor… oh, and a reservation at a real high-class restaurant for two. The kind of place that a pendejo like me would never get to see the inside of normally. Want to take Misty out for a night on the town.”
At least he had his priorities straight.
“Is that all?” Tattletale questioned drily, sounding thoroughly unimpressed with the two of us.
Was there anything else that I wanted…? I leaned forward, grabbing my orange juice and draining the last of it in a large gulp. Yeah, there was. “Skill shards,” I decided, setting the empty glass down. Tattletale recoiled, leaning away from me as I continued. “I want skill shards for mechanical skills.”
That was how I would beat my limitation with my power. Skill shards were exactly what the name implied -- a shard that you put in your head, and through your neural implant, it would download the skill into your head. The science behind it was a bit beyond me, but the gist of it was that they copied the information from a person with the skill, put it on a shard, and when you jacked it in, the data flowed into your mind. Practically teaching you high-level skills overnight.
I couldn’t build an engine from scratch. My power didn’t give me that info. With the right skill shard? I could learn how to build the engine, and my power could meet me halfway, allowing me to optimize it to perfection.
Tattletale’s gaze lingered on me for a long moment, likely having questions about that. “So, forty thousand eddies, skill shards, guns, armor, wheels, and a night on the town. Did I miss anything?”
“I dunno… give me a few days to give it a think. After that, I’ll hit you up with the asking price.” We were asking for a lot. For a whole fucking lot.
And how Tattletale’s boss responded meant everything. They just ate those terms? Then it was a trap and we would delta the fuck out of that situation, a team of capes or not. They pushed back a little? Then we could do a few gigs. Provided that everything was on the up and up, then we were in business.
“The third member… a cape?” Tattletale questioned, and… fuck. I was trying to hide that, but she still nodded. “I’m going to need a power, V. You’re asking a lot and all I know is that you’re a tinker. One or the other -- I need you to tell me a power.” She haggled, fishing for a victory so she could tell herself that she had won the encounter. And, to be fair, it wasn’t an unreasonable demand. Just one I’d prefer not to answer. The fact that I was a tinker wasn’t something I could hide, but my specialization? That, I could. Much easier than bug control.
In the end, I didn’t have that right to give away Bug’s power. They hadn’t been informed of this meeting as far as I was aware, and I didn’t have the right to give out someone else’s info.
“I’m a tinker,” I confirmed, earning a very unimpressed look in response that I could just feel behind her mask. “That’s my power. I’m a tinker.” If I had to reveal one of the two, then there was no choice. Tattletale nodded as if she had guessed as much. I doubt that was the case, but I also didn’t know how much she knew. “Good enough?”
For a long moment, Tattletale stared at me as if she could see right through me. For all I know, she could. Would explain how she kept getting those answers. “Good enough,” Tattletale decided all of a sudden, sliding out of the booth, apparently satisfied with my answer. “We’ll be in touch, V. Jackie,” she said, walking away. Bitch gave us both a lingering look before she followed. We watched them go, down the stairs, across the bar, and then out the door.
I let out a sigh as I leaned on the railing next to Jackie. He glanced at me, and I could feel his questions. But, instead of saying them, he clapped me on the back. “Pack up your stuff from the No-Tell Motel. After seeing that? No way you should be out there on your own, mano. They’ll bag and chip you before you can do a thing about it.”
Looking at him, I pressed the icepack back to my eye. “That’s it?” I expected to get grilled.
“That’s it. Had my suspicions you were a cape with how you were back at Vik’s. There’s netrunning, then there’s that. And after wrangling a deal like that… you know it won’t be that easy, right?” Jackie seemed to dismiss the fact that I was a cape altogether, almost uncaring about the fact. No questions why I didn’t walk to Arasaka and reveal what I could do and make a bazillion eddies and hour. He just…
Jackie got it. He had said as much. I wasn’t the only one that wanted to be a Legend in this city.
“Of course it won’t. But, at the very least, we can get something out of them before they try something. And, if the deal goes through? Then we’re set.”
“Big Leagues, here we come.”
…
“You want to what?” Taylor questioned, reeling from what she just heard. She didn’t know where to start -- the apparent team of capes that were scouting him, to…
“Yeah, I know it’s pretty sudden. If I could have left you out of it, then I would have. Tattletale… I don’t know what her power is, but she figured out that I was in contact with another cape somehow,” V voiced. “Sorry about that. But, to make the best of a bad situation…”
He looked rough. The cuts on his face were scabbing over, revealing a split lip and a cut near his eye. There was some bruising at his chin and his eye…
“Is that what that was at school?” Taylor questioned, her lips thin. She had told V about the ABB, she told him with the thought that he would run away. Not… throw himself at the ABB.
V scratched at one of his cuts, “No,” V decided to be honest. “That was just… I don’t like backing down. From anything. Anyone.” He admitted, sitting inside his apartment. He had cleaned it out, going to stay with Jackie for the time being. Which was a problem in itself. She still lived in the megabuilding, not Heywood. How was she supposed to make sure that V didn’t get himself killed?
However, she was distracted from that problem by what he said. Backing down… it felt like that’s all that she did. Ducking her head to the trio, eating her lunch in the bathroom, forced to take every insult and sneer and rumor… and… the locker. Stuffed inside that small place with putrid garbage and… there had been so many bugs crawling over her, biting her.
The hallways were almost always full. Countless people had seen her get shoved in the locker. None tried to help her. They just walked by and ignored her. Because… that what you did in Night City. That’s the first lesson everyone was taught -- to not lend a helping hand. Taylor didn’t even remember how she had gotten out. Just that she had been let out, treated for toxic shock, then sent home. Taylor didn’t leave her bed for a week and in that time, she learned to hear and see through her insects.
“I mean, I know I should have just booked it out of there. And I know it was stupid. Not gonna try to argue differently. But… I don’t regret it. If someone wants to square up with me, then I’ll square up. Honestly, I’d rather get my ass beat than back down,” V continued, not exactly offering up any good reasons for his behavior. But he didn’t need to. The times she thought about doing the exact same to Emma, Madison, and Sophia…
“If I say no?” Taylor questioned, wanting to know what her options were. Her eyes drifted to the suit that was laying on her bed. Padding was being added on the knees and elbows from dozens of spiders she had gathered up. She watched V closely through the eyes of the flies in her swarm.
He shrugged, “Then you say no. All they know is that you exist. Don’t know your power or anything like that. So, if you want to cut ties, then there’s nothing leading them back to you. I won’t say shit,” he swore. Taylor believed him. Everything that he did since that elevator ride -- you’d think he had a deathwish, but with that elevator ride, it almost made sense.
V had accepted death. Because of that, he was living.
What she should do is take him up on that and cut ties. It was safer that way. Smarter. If only she hadn’t gone to that diner. If only she hadn’t gotten the taste of being… a hero. Being someone. Being more than just Taylor Hebert, the biggest loser of Winslow high school that looked like an ugly, gangly, tall upright frog.
“I want a degree of separation,” Taylor decided. She couldn’t just hand out her secret identity. Not with V and Jackie, and especially not a bunch of capes. “I’ll work with you, but never in person.”
“I can work with that,” V agreed, relaxing a fraction. “Is there a way I can get in touch with you when we have a gig?”
“I’ll drop off a phone behind the vending machines at the entrance of the building,” Taylor decided. It would be a burner phone. And with a VPN, she could make sure that… well, to make it harder for her to be traced. “There will be a number on it. Call it, and I’ll answer.” It felt like this was a too normal of a conversation for the subject they were discussing. She was at home, in bed, in her pajamas, and talking about her role in what seemed like a team of capes for…
“But,” Taylor quickly added, “my focus is on being a hero. I’ll work with you so long as you don’t drift away from that focus.” Meaning if he started acting like a common criminal drunk on power and money, she would take him down.
V’s head bobbed, “No problem with that either. I snagged the right to refuse gigs, so if you have a problem with what’s being done, say the word, and we’re out.” Anyone else, she might not have believed that. With V, she did. How could she not when he gave away thirty thousand eddies? “With you being a fly on the wall, we might not need to patrol at all. We can just hit the crimes that we find out about. Might step on some toes, but whatever.”
Taylor fell silent, trying to picture how all of this would work. She would trail behind them on a job, acting as support. With her bugs, she could zero in on criminals, take them down. Maybe take a few down herself without the help of V and Jackie. Night City operated by the law of finders keepers, so they could amass some serious money.
"There was something I wanted to talk to you about, though," V spoke up again, gaining her attention. "If you're going to stay a secret, then you need some heavy ICE. Do you have any?" That was a loaded question from a netrunner, especially considering he admitted to being a tinker. Admitting that she just had civilian grade might as well be admitting that she left the door unlocked at night. "If you don't, I can write some up for you."
Tinker-grade ICE? "How do I know you won't install a backdoor into it?" Taylor questioned, instantly suspicious.
"My word is all I can give you. Look, you don't have to accept now. This whole situation is pretty new, and I know I'm asking for a whole lot of trust without much to reassure you that it's not a risk. So… just keep the offer in mind. It's always on the table -- whether you stick with us or not." V answered, not really giving her a solid reason to trust him at all.
"Why?" Taylor pressed, not satisfied with the answer.
"Because you saved my life? A couple of times now?" V offered as a reason. "I would have bled out in an alley after shooting my arm off if you hadn't led me to Vik's. And at school, when one of them pulled a gun, you made sure it couldn't shoot. Probably didn't just save my life, but someone else's in the crowd too. Point is, I owe you a lot. And I don't have a lot of ways to pay you back."
She had saved his life, hadn't she? V didn't strike her the type to forget about something like that. After everything she had seen of him, that probably was the best thing he could have said to convince her, Taylor reflected.
"I'll keep it in mind," Taylor hedged, deciding to put off the decision. She could do a few gigs with them. She could go out in disguise, acting from a distance. Maybe, with enough time, she could even start being there in person.
“Great. Before we seal the deal -- me and Jackie were wondering. You got a name picked out?” V questioned, catching Taylor off guard.
She did. “Skitter,” Taylor decided. Like skittering bugs. After thirty-something years of superheroes, most of the good names were taken already. And in Night City, you wanted something a little… intimidating.
“Skitter it is. I’ll be back tomorrow to pick up the phone. ‘Till then,” V said, standing up as he slung a backpack over his shoulder. In response, Taylor dispersed the fly swarm, pretending that she had left even though she would be able to follow V for some time.
Taylor leaned back against the wall that served as her bed head frame, looking off into nothing for a moment. She was really doing this, wasn't she? She was actually going to become a superhero. It all sounded way too good to be true, which raised her suspicions sky high, but V had told her that he had his own suspicions.
Twenty thousand eddies a month… "I need to write up a list…," Taylor muttered, looking around for her notebook. A hard copy synth-paper one. At first, she bought it to replace the digital journal she had kept. The one that recorded all of the harassment that she received by Emma, Madison, and Sophia. It had been deleted. Not by her, but by one of the trio. Deleted and replaced with insulting messages and statements that she should kill herself in each day that she recorded an incident.
That… had been a blow to her. The evidence she had gathered over a year… just gone because she didn't think to encrypt it because she didn't know how. It was bad enough that she didn't even bother recording anything after that, which left her with a pristine notebook.
Grabbing a pen, Taylor started writing up a wish list. V said he kept her power a secret, but if they were going to work together, then that secret would get blown eventually. Would it be better to keep it a secret as long as possible, or come clean and get her hands on exotic bugs?
Gene therapy had been a thing for a very long time. Biotech had long since been perfecting the art. One of the services that they offered was growing previously extinct animals by taking a gecko egg of some kind, tweaking the DNA, and having it grow into the shape of what the client requested. It would be a gecko that looked like a komodo dragon, but when it was a komodo dragon in every way that mattered, could it still be called a gecko? The same principle applied to bugs.
She could get spiders that spat poison or flies that blew up like ants to better clog a gun. Or flies with human-like senses so it was less of a pain to see through them. Or, if she was feeling really mean, give cockroaches a murder hornet stinger. The possibilities were limitless. All she needed was a few then she could breed the traits into a dedicated swarm.
Speaking of a dedicated swarm, she could probably use some kind of vehicle to transport them all in. Large, filled with tanks so she could make sure the swarm didn't kill each other when she was out of range. Actually, would it be possible to breed out any instincts at all? So they would be motionless unless she was in command of them? No, it would probably be easier if they had instincts, but instead, she could make their instincts be to eat… kibble? Trash? Something easily available so they wouldn't have to consume each other.
Her handwriting was awful, mostly because it was a dying out skill, but it was a rough draft. She'd copy the final list onto a new page. Leaving her to think up a list as well as doodle away in the corners -- bugs of various designs that if she could get, then she wanted.
Maybe she could get something unrelated to her power? Maybe some mods? Taylor had no interest in becoming a transhumanist, but it would be nice to get something other than a neuro link. There were also drugs out there that could shape her organic body how she wanted. She could get boobs. And a butt that didn't look like she had stuffed cardboard down her pants. She could have an entirely new face if she wanted.
Taylor entertained the idea for a moment. The idea of actually being… attractive. All it would take was to add it to the list and everything she hated by herself. But, Taylor shook her head, dismissing the idea. That would be a dead give away. Right now, Skitter was completely anonymous. She could be anywhere in the city of twenty million. Giving away her gender would cut the haystack she could hide in by half.
Or… they would think that she was a guy transitioning into a girl. It would mislead them…
No. No, she couldn't do it. Those drugs needed exact weight, height, and a strict diet to work as intended. It wouldn't just be cutting the haystack in half, but giving them a hint on the general area of the haystack. She would be giving them what they needed to look for her.
Taylor was so lost in fighting off the temptations to be attractive that she nearly missed the fact that someone was approaching the door. She froze, looking over just in time to see the door slide open as her mom stepped inside.
Annette Rose Hebert was the prettier version of herself, Taylor thought, and not for the first time. They looked alike, but her dad had imparted a few traits that didn't blend well together. Her Mom didn't have a mouth that was too wide for her face, her chin didn't jut out from her jawline, her skin was pimple free… her mom wasn't freakishly tall either at a five-eight, so she had actual curves. Her mom looked better than Taylor could ever hope to without serious touching up. The only trait they shared in full was the wavy brown hair.
"Taylor," her mom greeted, offering a wane smile that came out with a grimace. "Decided to sleep in?" She questioned, and Taylor realized that her mom had no clue what day it was.
"Uh, yeah," Taylor agreed, feeling a bit bad for lying. "Are you off?" She returned, watching her mom walk inside, a suitcase in one hand. She opened it up and dumped it on her bed before she went to her drawer.
"No, I just ran out of clean clothes," Her mom answered, missing Taylor's look of disappointment. "Could you wash those for me? I might need them -- my boss likes the purple dress," her mom remarked, also missing the look of abject horror that flashed over Taylor's face because she was loading up the suitcase.
"... Sure," Taylor agreed. "Do you know when you'll be off?" Taylor questioned, her eyes dipping down. I haven't seen you in a week, Taylor silently added in the confines of her own mind.
Her mom let out a small sigh, "I'll let you know as soon as I know, honey," she answered. "I'm booked for the next week between private tutoring lessons and actual classes." She answered, killing any hope that Taylor would see her for another week.
It was her dad's fault, Taylor thought darkly to herself. And not for the first time. Because he did what he did, Mom had to hire a lawyer to convince a jury that she wasn't a terrorist too. She had almost gone to jail for it because she had known about the strike that Dad had planned. She would have gone to jail for the rest of her life… but she cut a deal. Using a Brain Dance, where the jury could see her memories and feel her emotions, Mom had revealed that she hadn't been a part of the plan to strike. That she had been against it from the start.
That… that she had resented her Dad for even thinking of it. That their marriage had fallen apart. That she had been thinking of getting a divorce and had gone as far as to contact a lawyer to make sure she got custody of Taylor.
Regardless, the lawyer had demanded a substantial fee, which her mom was still paying off more than a year later.
"Okay," Taylor accepted the answer, but it must have sounded as pathetic as Taylor felt. Her mom closed the suitcase before walking over to her.
"It's not going to be like this forever, Little Owl. Just… just for a little bit," her mom tried to comfort her by setting the suitcase down and wrapping her arms around Taylor, burying her face into her mom's chest. Taylor hugged her back, fighting off the tears that burned in her eyes. She almost cried because not even her mom seemed to believe that. "Once I pay off that bloodsucker, things will go back to normal. I promise."
If only that was so easy to believe.
They stood there for a moment before her mom was the one to pull back. "I have to go back to work, but I love you, Taylor." Taylor let go and breathed sharply through her nose to make sure she didn't snot all over herself.
"I love you too, Mom," Taylor responded, her voice thick. "I'll see you later."
Her mom offered a smile before she leaned down, kissing her temple, "I'll see you later, Little Owl. Be good. Oh, and I transferred some money into the account. Taco Takeout is having a sale, so get that to get an extra couple of meals. Love you," her mom said, grabbing the suitcase and heading back to the door. Taylor offered a pathetic wave goodbye before the door closed and her mom was gone for another week at least.
The moment the door closed, Taylor rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. That had probably been the longest conversation she had with her mom in a month. Even when she was off, her mom would just crawl in bed and sleep all day. She was too exhausted to do anything else.
Taylor's eyes drifted to her notebook, at her list of demands.
She added one more.
Comments
Wayne
Hmm, so an Annette that isn't perfect? I dig that, and Taylor blaming her dad for trying to make a difference... Sadly how hypocritical and utterly Taylor.
Leaf Bug
I doubt Taylor would go for it, but it's a lovely dream
Caelleh
I wonder if V enjoys oyakodon?
