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In Nuclear Fire by BatRou-Dawg
Misc » Book X-overs Rated: M, English, Supernatural & Fantasy, Words: 606k+, Favs: 54, Follows: 65, Published: Apr 10, 2023 Updated: Apr 18, 2023
21Chapter 20
With Taylor's entrance exam no longer something to be worried about, my mind can now panic over new issues.
Specifically that fucker named Coil.
Aisha's arrival at Clarendon reminded me of how many pies the guy has his fingers into, and that it's only a matter of time until he finds out our civilian identities.
We need to deal with him before that happens.
I have been thinking about infiltrating his construction company, but I doubt I'll find anything useful. He's too careful with that, and any failed attack risks giving him far more information than what we get. That's unacceptable and potentially fatal. A powerful AI could help me find any irregularities, but I don't have the resources to build one. Oh, poor Helios, he won't see the light of day here.
Better to stop thinking about that before I get depressed.
No, if I want to take Coil out, I'll have to do that with a direct assault. Something that isn't guaranteed to succeed either, not even with me knowing his civilian identity, because he's rarely in the same place in both timelines. That's why I need Drone coverage of the Bay. With enough Drones, I can track him down wherever he goes, and make sure to strike at the same time in both timelines.
Well, not much I can do about that right now besides waiting for my forces to build up, so better to focus on the task at hand.
"Why do all hospitals smell the same?" Taylor, in her Ladybug costume, complains as we teleport into the empty waiting room.
"It's the disinfectants, Ladybug."
Seeking to start our healing careers, we searched for animal hospitals in Brockton Bay. This was the top result: the Companion Care Hospital. And it is indeedtop. The walls are white, the floors are clean, and the kennels are bigger than Taylor's room. Heck, most human hospitals don't have this quality of equipment and I have to fight my urges to not start dismantling it for parts.
"Where should we begin?" Taylor asks, checking the evacuation plan that hangs from one of the walls.
"I'd say the ICU."
"This place has an ICU?"
It does indeed have an Intensive Care Unit, and a well equipped one at that, with enough room for some twelve patients. I need to remember that despite the rampant problem of poverty across the Bay, the rich people that live here are hella rich. A pity that a good chunk of them are with the Empire.
This time the abundance of technology plays to our favor, as the resident vets stay comfortably in their control room paying attention solely to the health monitors. Monitors that I have no troubles hacking so the vets won't notice when we start working.
We walk into the ICU, and it's painfully obvious that Taylor has never been in a place like this. "Jesus. Is it the same for humans?" She whispers under her breath.
"Mostly the same, yes."
The first thing that comes to attention are the tubes connecting to the animals' many orifices. Some are for oxygen, others are for different kinds of drainages.
Most of these animals are asleep, and those that aren't don't seem that bothered with our presence. I guess that the entire situation is stressful enough for them.
I must admit that I didn't know that traction beds for dogs existed. Now I do. It's a daunting image to see a sedated dog with his legs tied by a harness to the frame of the bed. According to his chart, he arrived a couple of days ago with all four legs broken, and was immediately sent to intensive care. One leg had to be operated on and received no less than three nails.
It also says here that he'll need weeks to recover, but the vets didn't take me into account.
I set Atlas IV on the bed and ordered him to start healing. He runs into some problems while fixing the bones, at one point he has to break one again because it was mending at a wrong angle, but that's what trial and error is for! After a couple of minutes, he is done. This dog should be healthy enough to return to his owner tomorrow.
The next one is another dog. This one- shit, this one's bad. A blood infection has rendered his kidneys almost useless and, to make matters worse, a clot has taken one of his lungs. The vets are fighting to save the other one but they give him a very low chance of surviving.
Well, nothing that my drone can do about the infection -he's not equipped to deal with bacterias or viruses besides some light blood filtering- but after a couple of minutes, Atlas has repaired the blood vessels, saved the remaining lung, and a kidney. Sadly the other kidney is irretrievable, but Atlas does the vets a favor and extirpates it.
"How much money is in here?" The surprises don't stop for Taylor, who's now looking at the Chemotherapy section. A pity there are no patients there because I'd like to see how Atlas handles tumors.
"I can't give you a number for how much all this costs but, from what I'm reading, last month they released a cat back to their owner after a thirty thousand dollar in treatment." That information comes from the hospital's computer network which is a breeze to hack.
"Thirty thousand?! That's insane! Who spends that much money on an animal?"
Old people with money and no children. "For many, pets are family members. Many others like them more than humans, and I honestly can't blame them."
"No, I guess not. A dog will never betray you." Taylor hugs herself, going quiet. "But even then it just feels wrong when there are so many people in need."
"Well, that's why we're doing this. To help all those needy people."
Mmmm, but that much money- we'd definitely be able to help a lot more of those needy people with a good injection of cash.
"We arenotrobbing a hospital. Human, animal, or otherwise."
Taylor is worthy of admiration. She's slowly getting just as good as Tattletale at reading people. Or at least, at reading me.
Oh well, the last patient in the ICU is a cat recovering from an intensive surgery. It's a bit disturbing to see my drone, bigger than the cat itself, encasing the animal as if it was a protective cocoon. But after just a moment we add another healthy animal to our list.
And with that, we leave the animal hospital behind. Some other pets remain, but most of them are suffering from illnesses that my drone can't cure or wounds that are too light for us to bother with.
We march towards the coast. We stop at several smaller clinics on our way, healing a variety of animals as we go.
And then we reach an animal shelter close to the docks.
"What's wrong with this place?!" It says a lot about the animals in here that they don't start howling with Taylor's yell, most of them looktoo done with life to care.
This shelter isn't one of the pretty ones. Cats are kept in cages so small that they can't even stand, and the walls of the kennels are stained with the blood of dogs hitting their tails against them. 'Happy tail' I remember that being called. A colorful name for a grim condition.
Atlas learns a lot about how to heal atrophied muscles and ruptured blood vessels in here.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!"
"Ladybug, what- oh,that." Taylor's standing outside a freezer. Well, a morgue to be precise. The room is filled with the bodies of cats -dozens of them- and large black bags that my visor tells me contain dogs. "Are you alright?"
"No! What is this?" She takes a step back with an arm covering her mouth, and closes the door shut.
"People abandon their pets faster than they adopt them." I shrug. "Animal shelters eventually get overpopulated, and then they have to euthanize all the new animals they receive because they can't care for them. These bodies here must be waiting to be taken to a landfill."
Could my drones recycle the bodies? Sadly no. The biological matter is beyond what they can process right now.
"And to think I wanted to be a vet when I was younger." Taylor a vet? Now that's a funny image.
"Don't blame the vets, they are doing the best they can with what they are given. Blame imbecile owners who cause this problem in the first place, and give thanks that abandoning a child isn't as easy as abandoning a pet. At least in this country."
Taylor's body shivers at my comment. "I so didn't need that image in my head."
Our last target of the night is another shelter, this one closer to the trainyard. Thankfully for Taylor, this one looks far nicer than the previous one. The kennels are bigger, it has a big backyard, and if the bowls in said backyard are any indication, the animals enjoy plenty of exercise under the sun.
It's also a far livelier place, and the moment we step in dozens of dogs start barking at us.
"Won't someone hear us?" Taylor has to outright yell so I can hear her.
"I wouldn't worry about it. The neighbors are probably accustomed to this."
These dogs are also far more violent, with several trying to tear Atlas to pieces, but the drone resists. Teeth and claws don't do more than scratch the paint, and the moment Atlas gets in range he administers the sedatives, knocking the animals unconscious so he can work.
While I supervise Atlas' work, Taylor browses through the kennels, checking the other dogs. Most of them are big and mean, barking and growling at us, but some others are small and timid. She stops at a corgi that's missing one of his frontal legs. He cowers under Taylor's touch.
"It's okay, boy. I'm not going to hurt you." She pulls a glove off and lets the dog sniff her naked fingers. After a moment he's licking her palm, and I smile under my mask.
A smile that quickly vanishes as I read Atlas' report.
All these animals have been grossly mistreated. There are rope and chain burns, multiple bruisings, old scars, and more. Shit, is that a knife wound?
What the hell happened to these animals? And considering that the dog Taylor's playing with is missing a leg- is this one of those shelters for abused pets?
I find the answer in the form of an ugly burn mark in the flank of one of the bigger dogs. No, not a mark but a brand. One in the shape of a wolf head.
Shit, these are Hookwolf's dogs.
But this doesn't look like an Empire-owned shelter. These dogs look too well-treated to be one. There's only one person in the Bay who'd look after Hookwolf's dogs, after having liberated them that's it.
"Someone's coming!" Taylor warms me tapping my shoulder. "It's- what's that?!"
I aim my visor to where she's pointing at and I see three massive beasts of bones and muscles. Monstrous creatures in the shape of dogs but bigger than horses, and with a rider mounting the leading beast. They are a couple blocks away, but moving fast.
Such is my luck. We had to come and visit the one animal shelter owned by Bitch, and now she's charging in following what must be all the barking.
Where's Atlas? It's having trouble with one last dog. The animal's trashing, whimpering in pain as the drone fights to fix whatever's wrong with it.
"Why is it taking so long!?" Taylor yells. Any second now Bitch will burst in, and I doubt she'll be happy to see us here.
"I don't know!" I yell back, checking my visor. "It has parasites! The drone's having trouble removing them!"
"Parasites? Ok, let me try something." Taylor concentrates and Atlas's job suddenly becomes far easier. Parasite-control? Ha! Taylor could still make a good vet.
With a happy 'blip' of a job well done, Atlas detaches from the now perfectly healthy dog.
"Ok, let's go!"
I grab Atlas, Taylor, and teleport out.
We land on a nearby roof just in time to see Bitch bursting into the room we were in just a second ago.
Bullet dodged! I'm not eager to test ourselves against her dogs, and I kind of like her. She's by far my favorite Undersider.
I turn to Taylor and-
Taylor-
With a dog in her arms.
The same corgi she was playing with.
"I-" She stutters, looks down at the dog, and then back at me. "I can explain this?"
I grab her by the arm and teleport away. Then again. And again.
The great thing about teleporters is that they don't leave behind a trail of smell for dogs to track, but these are power-enhanced dogs we're talking about! I'm so much not leaving anything to chance.
I keep teleporting us away from Bitch's lair and don't stop until I see a sign that reads 'Welcome to Captain's Hill'. Only now, with an entire city between us and a surely hysterical Bitch (in every sense of the word), I allow myself to rest.
"I'm sorry!" Taylor says again, sounding truly mortified.
Okay. Crisis averted. For now. I should stop panicking. Heart, I command you to stop beating so fast!
The dog whimpers in Taylor's arm.
Happy thoughts, Peter. Happy thoughts.
I raise an index which I point first at her, and then at the dog. "I'm not cleaning up after him." Underneath her balaclava, I can see her mouth hanging open in surprise. I think that wasn't what she was expecting to hear. "And I hope you understand the responsibilities that a dog entails. Especially one stolen from a supervillain." She nods, still not saying a word, and I can't take it anymore. I start laughing. "You crazy bitch! I can't believe you did that!"
Her mouth flaps open and close, Taylor still unsure of if I'm angry or not at her. I am. A tiny bit. But I still find the situation funny as all hell.
"It was an accident!"
"Yeah, tell that to the judge!" Oh, God, I'm still laughing. Better to get myself under control. "What are you naming him?"
Now that she knows I'm not making her give it back -not like we could, not without risking losing an arm- her shoulders relax. "I- how does Long John sound?"
Oh, goddammit. I'm rolling my eyes so hard right now. "That's painful. That's so, so painful." Not that I can judge her considering I'd have named him Leman Russ.
"And fitting, isn't it?"
The name of the pirate who codified the parrots and the peg legs? "Oh, it most definitely is."
She hums to herself. "Think you can help him?"
Help him?
HELP HIM?!
Taylor, who do you even think you're talking to?!
"Ladybug, you offend me! I can give him traction wheels, internet connection, and missile launchers!"
"Hey, you are not cramming all that inside Long John! Steal your own dog for that!"
I start laughing again. This time Taylor joins me, and we don't stop until we're on the floor, without breath, and with our chests hurting.
Taylor pushes herself into a seated position and takes a deep breath. "So, that was Hellhound. She's with the Undersiders, isn't she?"
Oh, yes, Hellhound. The PG name that the PRT gave her. With so many awful names out there, why did they find the need to censor something as vanilla as Bitch?
"You know about them?"
She nods. "Between studying for Arcadia, I looked up information on all the factions of the Bay."
"You passed your exams, so I won't object."
"I needed a break alright?" She complains in good humor. "Of the Undersiders, she's the only member I found any information on. There's very little on Grue, and next to nothing on the other two members. I couldn't even find names."
I silently nod. Bitch is the only one the PRT has any information on, being a fugitive from outside the city with a kill to her name. A kill she had no control over as it happened during her trigger event, but the PRT doesn't know -and might not even care- about that.
"And she works at an animal shelter?" Taylor continues. "Why would she do that?"
"I'd say she firmly falls into the 'love animals more than humans' category. It also makes sense. I read a bit on her too and apparently she has been attacking the Empire, freeing dogs from their fight rings."
As if understanding what we're talking about, the dog -Long John- whimpers again, snuggling against Taylor's chest.
"I read on that too when I was looking up Hookwolf." Taylor scratches behind Long's ears, and the dog downright melts under her touch. "I didn't know what a bait dog was. I wish I could forget." Me too, Taylor. I don't want to think about how Long lost that leg. "Should we tell the PRT about the shelter?"
I don't want to. As I said, I like Bitch, and getting the PRT on her ass won't hurt Coil the same way getting to Tattletale would. I also want to say that the heroes have more pressing problems than dealing with a small timer like Bitch, but knowing the state the Bay is in? They'd want to parade any victory, no matter how insignificant it is.
"Have the Undersiders been doing anything major?" I ask, trying to be diplomatic.
"Not really." She shrugs. "I found an article about them robbing an ATM, and then a grocery store, but that was mostly it."
"Then my suggestion would be to let them be. As long as they don't start murdering people en-masse," Like the Empire, the ABB, and so many others, "They are more useful keeping the pressure on the other gangs."
"It still doesn't feel right."
"I leave the decision to you, but I'd say that the Empire is a bigger problem than the Undersiders. I think that the petty thieves can wait for after we have dealt with the Nazis."
She straightens up and looks at me with what I assume is surprise behind her mask. "Do you think we can take them? The Empire has been around since before I was born. Shit, they fought against the Teeth, Marquis, and the Slaughterhouse, and still won." Eh. The Slaughterhouse killed the Teeth and then left without really fighting the Empire, and then New Wave took Marquis down in some seriously fucked-up circumstances. "Do you believe that you and I can fight them?"
I put a hand on her shoulder. "Ladybug, I not only think we can fight, but I know we can utterly crush them." I want to see them trying to stop a mecha-zerg rush. "We just need time and preparation."
She goes quiet for a moment. "If they close Hellhound's shelter, what will happen to all the animals?"
"You already know the answer to that. You saw it in the fridge."
"Then I think that the Undersiders can wait."
An agreement reached, we headed back home
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In Nuclear Fire by BatRou-Dawg
Misc » Book X-overs Rated: M, English, Supernatural & Fantasy, Words: 606k+, Favs: 54, Follows: 65, Published: Apr 10, 2023 Updated: Apr 18, 2023
21Chapter 21
Last day of Deus Ex, and I find myself furiously typing in the HUD of my visor. The information I collected last night proved invaluable and helped me fix several kinks with the drones' program. Particularly those involving bones and foreign objects.
I also check and double-check their protocols to ensure they never damage the brain or the information stored there.
That's very important as I don't want to accidentally turn people into vegetables. Because sure, vegetables are technically alive, just not really. The Drone needs to 'write-in' so it can properly link with the nervous system, but I don't want to give people amnesia or anything like that. Deleting any kind of information is an absolute no-go.
Talking about that, I have been checking the news but so far there's nothing about our incursion into the animal clinics and shelters.
The vets must have already noticed the unnatural healing of their patients, so the PRT should have already been informed.
Maybe they are keeping the information under wraps to keep people from panicking? Powers that can mess with biology always put the masses into a 'let's riot' mood.
My work gets interrupted by the sound of barking announcing Taylor's arrival. As I lift my eyes from my workstation I see her carrying Long John in her arms, with a bag over a shoulder.
"Hey, Peter, about the new leg for Long John-" Oh, yes, the dog's leg. That's another thing I should be working on. "I have some questions."
Ok, this sounds serious. I put my visor down and turn on my seat to look at her. "Ask away."
"Will it look like his original leg?"
I tap a finger against my chin, picturing in my head how the prosthetic leg would look on the corgi. "Of course not." Is my reply.
"My power can't build implants that look like the original limbs." The central premise of Deus Ex was about how noticeable the implants were, and how small-minded people were scared of the new, superior version of themselves.
Honestly, I don't think I'd give my implants the option to go unnoticed even if I could. I want to carry them in a proud display.
Taylor suddenly finds the floor deeply interesting as she looks down. I can't tell if she's relieved or disappointed by my answer, and that confuses me. "Does that mean I won't be able to take him out for walks?"
I blink in confusion. "What a strange question. That's the entire point of the implant, of course you-" But then I start thinking. If Taylor's seen with a cyborg dog, people will start asking questions. Questions that I don't want us to answer just yet. "I guess you could if you take him out dressed as Ladybug? He could be our team's mascot!"
"That's too dangerous." She clenches a fist against her chest. "What if a villain attacks us? Or what if dad or a neighbor sees him? I don't want to keep him locked in a closet when I'm not Ladybug."
Those are some valid points. I try to think about a solution but I can feel my power short-circuiting. "Maybe I could put something together? Some synthetic skin that mimics real skin." The more I think about it the more my head hurts. "My power's fighting against me," I say while rubbing my temples. "Maybe if I-"
"I-it's okay!" She interrupts waving her hands in front of my face. "I already thought about something!" Over the floor the deposits the content of the bag.
"What are you planning on doing with all this?" It's a strange contraption of straps, leather, and what might be the training wheel of a child's bike.
"Something I saw online." She sets Long John on the floor, "If I put this here, and this other part over there-" She ties the contraption to the dog's body, with the training wheel replacing the leg he's missing.
The corgi struggles against the bindings of his harness at first but then realizes that now he can stand on all fours. Well, three and a wheel. He barks happily before testing his new mobility. He does that by repeatedly smashing his body against one of the cardboard boxes scattered around the attic.
With Taylor, we laugh at his antics at first, but then panic when he comes too close to the stairs. Taylor thankfully manages to catch him before any accident can happen.
I could heal him if he fell down the stairs, but prevention is better than cure.
"See?" Taylor asks, Long licking her face. "What do you think?"
I struggle with my reply. On the one hand, I feel nothing but disdain towards the primitive solution to the problem. On the other, I feel warm pride blooming in my chest at Taylor's initiative. "May I suggest adding some spikes to that wheel?"
Taylor's reply consists of her sticking her tongue out at me.
"But seriously," I continue, "I commend your handiwork. But any reason you wanted to do it this way?" She had the harness ready, so it looks fairly obvious that asking for my opinion in the matter was nothing more than a cordiality.
Taylor shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "You always come with these great inventions to fix everything. I just wanted to do something on my own, you know? And this is something I can do! I have been reading on how to help wounded dogs and, well, this was the result."
In another life, in another world without powers, Taylor would have been well on her way to being a vet. That and adopting every stray animal she finds on the side of the street.
I feel like blushing. Despite everything, Taylor was still feeling a bit jealous of my power. At least she's focusing that jealousy into productive endeavors.
"Tell me if you need help with anything. And, hey! Now you can present Long to Danny!" I say with a smile already suspecting the answer to that.
"Oh, no! I don't want to freak him out." Yep, there it is. "We're already struggling with money enough without having to worry about dog food." Let's add yet another item to my 'to fix' list. "For now I'll keep Long hidden. It's not like dad spends much time at home as it is, right?"
I release a sigh. "Right."
Oh, Taylor, why do you still try to solve all your problems by hiding them under the rug? I thought you had already learned from my example! You solve your problems by burning them down.
But, well, I don't think that burning Danny is an option.
Not for now at least, but who knows what the future might bring?
With the information from the animal testing fully analyzed and integrated, our objective for the rest of the day is to heal some people. And so, to celebrate my upcoming new tree, we're going on a tour across several hospitals.
We're starting here, at a public hospital located a block away from the southern ferry station. The same ferry station that Danny has been trying -and failing- to revive for years.
It's 3 o'clock in the afternoon. That's well within the visiting hour for the Intermediate Care Unit, so we'll have to be careful when visiting there, but Intensive Care should be free for us to roam.
"How are we doing this?" Taylor asks, seated next to me under the shade of an air conditioner.
A human hospital will be far more difficult to infiltrate than an animal one, mostly because humans can communicate and remember our presence better than animals can.
Also, people tend to get pissier if one tries new medical procedures in humans than in animals. No matter how well they work.
Oh, well, it's not like I care about the uneducated masses' opinion.
"We move only by teleportation," With a wave of my hand I gesture at the different wings of the hospital. "Avoid corridors at all cost, and only teleport into rooms that have sleeping people in them, alright?"
Her reply is a sharp nod.
Turns out that finding sleeping people isn't that hard. Most of these rooms don't even have a TV, and those few that exist are out of service. Because of this, and with little else to do, patients that don't receive frequent visits end up sleeping a lot.
Our first destination is a room occupied by a woman.
Jesus Christ! How is it that her own snores don't wake her up? Seriously, it sounds like she swallowed a chainsaw instead of- well, instead of whatever the hell happened to her. She has both legs in casts, and Atlas' quick diagnosis tells me both ankles are broken.
Come on, another one? First the dog last night and now this. Is someone going around the Bay breaking people's and animals' legs?
"She has a daughter." Taylor points out looking at the night table. There's a children's drawing wishing 'mom' a quick recovery. I see a tall sticks figurine with long hair holding a shorter sticks figurine in her arms.
"Let's help with their reunion, shall we?" And as I say that, I set Atlas on the woman's chest, an action that makes Taylor jump.
"Won't that wake her up?"
"Don't worry, Atlas' keeping her sedated." Indeed, one of his legs has turned into a needle that's now connected to the woman's arm as if it was an IV drip.
She remains peacefully asleep while Atlas works, first cutting the case open and then fusing with her legs to mend the bones. This time there are no wrongly-angled bones, no sir. We both learned from that mistake.
Atlas detaches once his job is done and I pick him up in my arms.
We kind of look like Taylor and Long John, don't we?
"Is it done?" Taylor whispers, hovering over the woman.
"It is. Our first human healed." The pulse is stable, the brain activity is normal, and once the anesthesia loses its effect she'll wake up in perfect health. Or at least in better health than she was ten minutes ago.
"That's nice. Next one?"
"Absolutely."
Our next destination is the Intensive Care Unit. We sadly can't do much here as most patients are in a common room supervised by a team of medics, but there are a couple of private rooms for what must be the more delicate -and paying- patients.
The first is a younger man who's being drained after surviving a sepsis. It's kind of uncomfortable to see the hose coming out of his ribcage and into a drainage.
All the nasty fluid is pumped out, some light vein reconstruction is applied, and that's two people healed.
Next comes a woman connected to a respirator. According to her chart, she suffered some complications due to pneumonia and now needs treatment for the inflammation of her lungs.
It takes Atlas less than a minute to heal her, and with that, we have three.
Okay, I'm all pumped up! I'm in 'the zone'. Who else? Give me another one!
We reach the room of a young man, heavily sedated and with multiple cardiac monitors around the room. This looks more serious than the previous cases. Did he suffer a heart attack? I don't think so, he looks far too young for that.
Oh, well, I set Atlas on his chest and wait for the drone to do his magic.
And wait.
And wait.
And then wait a bit more.
This can't be good.
"What's the problem?" Taylor may not know much about tinkertech but even she realizes that this isn't normal.
"I'm not sure. Atlas has never taken this long to finish a diagnosis." I wait some more time and then a message flares over my visor. "Error?" I can barely contain my surprise. There's a problem with the man's heart, that Atlas has established, but for some reason he can't heal it. I check the man's chart.
Oh-
Ohhhh, yes, that makes sense.
"So?" I feel Taylor's stare over my shoulder.
"According to this, the guy here suffers from a congenital genetic disease. His heart's failing and Atlas can't fix that because he can't modify the DNA." At least not yet, not just with Deus Ex technology. I'll need more. "The medics are waiting for a donor. That or a gravedigger, whatever happens first."
"Shit." Taylor curses, throwing nervous glances at the man. "Anything we can do?"
I release a sigh, looking at his face. He looks so fragile, yet isn't older than twenty-five.
There is, indeed, something we can do. But it's an option I'm not sure about pursuing. If we do this, the Protectorate will ramp up our threat assessment by several levels. "I could order Atlas to replace the heart."
I can almost picture Taylor's expression of surprise under her mask. "He can do that?"
I nod. "As I said, the heart's problems run too deep. Atlas can't 'fix' it, so the option is to just replace it."
"O-okay," She stutters. "What's the problem then? Can't he just detach once they get a donor and a new heart for the guy?"
I run the calculations through my head. This isn't like turning into an armor. When a drone does that it's just enhancing what's already there. Not this time.
"He can't. Such a transformation would be too extensive with far too many parts repurposed beyond the turning point. It'll lose its ability to revert into a drone once it's done."
Taylor scratches the back of her neck as she walks back and forth, maybe running through her head the same scenarios I already ran through mine.
This is big.
This is very, very big. I'll be losing a drone, leaving behind a big piece of my tech for potential enemies to analyze, and people will soon start screaming 'Nilbog this' and 'Bonesaw that'.
I wouldn't mind waking up and finding a jet engine in place of my heart, but I sadly know that most people won't see it that way. I really don't want to deal with their bitching and moaning.
This could be such a big headache.
But we'd be saving a life.
"Maybe they found a donor." Taylor offers.
I shrug. "I don't know. And do you know how hard it is to find a heart donor?" I mean, if he was mega rich he could get one in the black market, but if he was mega rich I doubt he'd be in this hospital.
"Maybe they got Panacea to come and help?"
"Again, I don't know. I don't know her schedule or if she even knows this place exists." She should, shouldn't she? Doesn't she visit all the hospitals? And this should be something she could easily fix, right?
But I remember reading that modifying organs to be accepted by patients was extremely hard for her. That was the reason why she couldn't just 'fix' Armsmaster after Leviathan and then Mannequin. That and her own spite, of course. But that suggests that even with Panacea around, people still need transplants.
Maybe she can't just heal genetic diseases? Or maybe she doesn't want to try. She doesn't want to play with brains and DNA might even be more delicate than that.
"Don't all tinkers need to maintain their equipment? That's why they can't just mass-produce it, right? What happens when the new heart needs maintenance?"
Taylor's grasping for any straw trying to find an excuse not to do this.
I understand her. I kind of want her to find one? We're about to step into a massive minefield here, one I'll be dragging her into.
"I'm not most tinkers," I say with a bitter chuckle. "I created the Drones with the capacity to piggyback on the human healing system. The patient will get more hungry, but by all accounts the implant will last all his life."
"What if it malfunctions?"
"You mean like his biological heart is already doing?" I spit bitterly, and her shoulders drop. "I know my tech. I trust my tech. I know it won't just malfunction." Right now I don't like my power being this broken.
How long have we been here? Any moment now the first woman we healed will be waking up, and people will notice that something parahuman-related has happened.
We need to reach a decision fast.
"Okay, okay." Taylor takes a deep breath. "What are the worst-case scenarios?"
There are manybadscenarios here. But the worst one? "If we replace his heart with tinkertech, we risk the Protectorate hunting us down for performing illegal experimentation on humans."
We won't be killing anyone, quite the contrary, but we -or better said, I- will be announcing that we can do what Nilbog and Bonesaw already did.
That will make a lot of people nervous. This isn't kill-order worthy, but one will get pre-approved.
"And if we don't?"
"If we don't," I don't want to say it. "And neither Panacea nor a new heart arrives on time," I really, really don't want to say it. "Then he dies." There. I said it.
Taylor looks at me and then at the man.
She might be thinking about the family that's hoping against hope that he recovers. About the parents, grandparents, and siblings that he'll be leaving behind. A girlfriend perhaps? A son is not out of the question.
None of them deserve this.
At least I don't think any of them do, otherwise this dilemma is utterly pointless.
"How much time do we have to decide?"
Far too little. "The medics can't tell. With a disease like his, he could have weeks or just hours."
She clenches her fists. Then slowly unclenches them, shaking her head. "I'd sleep better with the Protectorate after our heads than knowing that we could have saved a life but didn't."
And there it is! The ugly truth that makes me very uncomfortable. "I too would sleep better that way. And if it makes you feel better, they'll be going after me, not you."
"No. If we do this, I'm taking the blame too." She shrugs. "I don't know, I'll just tell them I forced you into it or something like that. I'll say it was my stupid idea."
I smile. "There's a saying: if your idea saves a life, then it's the best damn idea you ever had in your life."
There's nothing else to say after that. Quoting a famous movie: the decision had already been made, it was just a matter of accepting it.
I give Atlas IV his final orders. He digs into the man's chest, 'eating' the faulty heart away and reconfiguring his metallic body into a replacement. It's a nasty, bloody affair. The alarms start sounding as the monitors can no longer detect the pulse of his new heart.
We're long gone when the medical team breaks into the room, surprised by the fully awake and conscious person instead of the corpse they were probably expecting to find.
"Do you think we did the right thing?" Taylor asks, pulling her mask up to take a bite off her sandwich.
We're standing on top of a water tower, our legs hanging from the edge as we stare into the sea. The smell of salty water is penetrating, and the sound of distant seagulls comes followed by that of crashing waves.
"I don't even doubt it." I pull a second sandwich from our backpack, which I promptly start eating as well.
"I hope people can appreciate it then."
They won't. "If they do or don't, I can't bring myself to care. We did the right thing and that's what matters." I also got a lot of juicy information that I'll later upload to the rest of the colony. Atlas IV's sacrifice won't be in vain!
"So, should we go back home and pick another drone to continue?"
I honestly don't know. The plan was to visit at least three hospitals and heal dozens of people, that's why we started so early, but we ended up sacrificing the drone after healing only three.
"I say yes to picking another Drone, but no to continuing our excursion." Knowing our bleeding hearts, we'll probably end up sacrificing that one too at the first sign of a troublesome case.
Why can't humans be like animals? If a dog had arrived with a genetic disease, he'd been simply put down. "We might want to wait a couple of days and see how people react to this before we continue healing." I also want to build up the colony. I need numbers.
"That sounds like a good idea. So, patrol?"
I could spend my last hours in Deus Ex programming some extra stuff, but I already have all I could get. Even with the Hatchery I simply lack the time to build anything meaningful.
"Patrol it is."
I doubt we could find another of Coil's hideouts, and neither the ABB nor the Empire are gangs I want us to antagonize yet.
Merchants, then. Yeah, let's go hunt down some Merchants. Maybe beating up some people that deserve it will improve my mood.
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In Nuclear Fire by BatRou-Dawg
Misc » Book X-overs Rated: M, English, Supernatural & Fantasy, Words: 606k+, Favs: 54, Follows: 65, Published: Apr 10, 2023 Updated: Apr 18, 2023
21Chapter 22
"Yes, dad, but- I understand, don't worry, we're all girls here. Well, except for Peter but he doesn't count."
I raise an eyebrow at that, not sure if I should feel offended or not.
"Ugh, dad! That was terrible. Yes, I'll tell him that. I love you too. Bye." Taylor hangs her phone. Well, not exactly 'hangs' but cuts the connection that her visor had established. She then turns to look at me. "Dad wanted me to tell you: 'Hail Mary'."
"Excuse me?"
"Blessed are thou among women."
I feel the need to slam my palm against my forehead. "Let's just move on with our patrol."
Danny was home when we returned from the hospital, but we didn't let him see us so as not to provoke unwanted questions. We just loaded up and exited through teleportation.
After that we called him using our visors and told him a small lie: we had stumbled upon a friend of mine from Clarendon and her older sister, who invited us to the movies. Things moved on from there.
As we walk through the roofs I notice Taylor stumbling every other step. "How does the armor feel?"
"Weird. But I'm getting accustomed to it."
Underneath her clothes, Taylor is wearing a mesh of interlinked larvas, with a Drone at her chest protecting her vital organs. For my part, I'm wearing two drones, one on my chest for protection, and another around my arm for utility.
Four drones remain working back home, their number having raised to a total of seven since yesterday.
And it could have been eight if we just hadn't—
No, no. Happy thoughts. What's done is done and there's no reason to keep dwelling on it.
The breeze over the roofs make the tranquilizer rifle clink against Taylor's shoulder, and she has to stop to tie it properly.
Only a couple darts remain and in the near future, I'll need to turn one of the drones into a dispenser to replenish them. "I'm kind of surprised that Dad's okay with us staying after dark."
"He must just be happy that you're spending more time outside the house." A sliver of trust that we're spitting on by not telling him about our secret double-lives.
The life of a masked vigilante is a cruel one like that, but it has its appeals. There's no 'wrong' way to pummel a gang member into a bloody pulp, just the quiet satisfaction of a job well done. You just do it and move on.
Well, some would say that there is a wrong way to do it and that we shouldn't be cruel and unusual, but I don't care about those people's opinions.
Now, technically the Merchants don't have a territory of their own. Yes, they hang around the Archer Bridge area, but you can find their dealers all over the city.
They are cockroaches. They slip through the cracks, taking residence in the darker corners of the lawless areas, popping up whenever you stop looking at them.
But it's generally accepted that if you want to find them, you go to the fringe zone between the docks and Downtown, all the way up North to the Trainyard.
This is the no-man's land where most gang battles take place between the ABB and the Empire. This is the place that the Blacks, the Latinos, the Arabs, and all those that can't seek help from the white or Asian gangs, call home.
That's at least what the internet tells me.
I also find some old news about some token attempts to push them out, but to what end exactly? Skidmark and Squealer have survived by virtue of rarely fighting back.
They flee at the first sign of a coordinated attack and then return once whoever attacked them realizes that they simply can't hold their territories.
Not without some serious investment in manpower to keep under control a population that doesn't trust the bigger organizations of the bay. Gangs and law enforcement alike.
It's simply not worth the investment.
But if there's a silver lining in all this mess, is that patrolling around the poorest part of the city ensures that finding trouble is easy.
As we land on an apartment block, Taylor raises an open palm. "An argument. A very ugly one."
It might just be nothing, or might be the prelude of someone attacking another person. Better to make sure that nothing ugly happens.
As we approach, my visor manages to filter the argument through the ambient sound and I get a clear idea of what's going on. Not like I really need my Visor to do that because the argument can be heard from across the street.
"And now you come to shit on me? Just go crawling back to your father, you ungrateful bitch!" Oh, that doesn't sound good.
"I'm surprised you even remember I have a father with how high you are!" Wait, I know that voice.
I rush to the edge of the roof. I hear Taylor asking me something, but I'm not paying her any attention.
"You're lucky that Donny isn't here."
"Oh, so it's Donny now? What happened to Lissy, Bridge, and Hector? If you want to slap me, you should grow a pair and do it yourself!"
Everything's happening in an apartment on the third floor. Two people are in it, one an older woman who seems to be in her 30s, and a girl of just 13.
"Maybe I will!" The woman, seated on a couch, tries but fails to push herself up.
My visor detects several syringe marks all over her arm, and some homemade cigarettes scattered all over the place.
"Oh, please. You can't even stand up!"
The woman shows her daughter the middle finger, and the girl turns around to leave. She slams the door in her way out with enough force that the blow resonates all across the building.
That's when I notice that Taylor has been shaking my shoulder.
"Tech-Priest, are you alright?"
I- how do I explain this?
"That's Aisha, one of my classmates."
"I'm surprised that you actually know her name."
Well, she was a fan favorite around the community. An utter bitch but an endearing one, unlike Sophia.
"I knew her family situation was bad, but- shit."
"And was that her mother?"
I nod.
Aisha exits the apartment complex and heads south. On her way, she's stopped by a bunch of teenagers seated in an alley. They look close to their 20s, and one of them wears a shirt with a bright 'M' painted on it.
I don't know if they are actual merchants or just stupid teenagers trying to look tough, but I don't want to take risks and label them in my visor as potential targets.
One of them approaches Aisha and Taylor readies her sword, but then the wannabe gangster is taken aback by the younger girl threatening to do some colorful things to his privates with a rusty shaving razor.
The boy with the Merchant shirt -the leader, apparently- breaks down in laughter and orders the other to back down. He says that he found Aisha's threat 'endearing' and will allow her to continue unimpeded for now.
Emphasis on 'for now' but at least Aisha is left alone.
"I'm starting to see why you two get along," Taylor comments as we follow her to the bus stop, and remain there until she has taken one back to her father's home. At least I hope that's where she's going. Whatever the case, it seems that my worries were unwarranted. Aisha can take care of herself.
"So, when are you going to invite her home?"
I ignore Taylor's teasing, dismissing her comment with a wave of my hand.
"I'm not interested in her in that way. Now let's move on. We have things to do."
Taylor does nothing but hum in amusement at my concern, and we continue with the patrol.
Ironically, a problem with patrolling around the ugly part of the city means that we don't really know what's worthy of our attention. We hear the sound of broken glass and it's just some children throwing stones at an abandoned building.
Then we see what might be a gang fight but it's just a couple kids punching each other while their peers cheer. Apparently because of a girl. Both are very much illegal things, but far from what one would consider cape-worthy. If I start tazing every teenager who does something stupid to impress his friends, I'm never going to stop.
We think we found something when we hear the sound of sirens, but when we reach the location of the commotion -a liquor store- we're too late. Listening in with our visors we hear that the robbery happened half an hour ago, and of the assailants, there are no traces left.
Once again I'm wishing for Drone coverage. Without good scouting of the area, we're stumbling in blind trying to find anything to stop.
Come on, I just want some valid release for my pent-up violence! Is that so much to ask for?
It's way past ten in the evening when Taylor stops me once again. "Okay, I think I have something."
I'm seriously envious of Taylor's power. As useful as my visor is, Taylor's awareness of the area is unmatched, and she can detect chemicals in a way that my visor might never be able to replicate.
"It's this smell- the one you find in nail polishers. In a massive amount," She rubs her chin. "I have the name on the tip of my tongue. It's one of the few things I actually learned in Winslow."
"Acetone?"
"Yes! That one."
I frown. Acetone could mean many things. We might have stumbled upon a warehouse full of nail polishers, but it also serves as a base ingredient for many kinds of drugs.
"Anything else?"
"Many smells, but I don't know what most of them are. It reminds me of Winslow's lab-" She suddenly goes still. "Shit. One of my bugs died when it got too close to the source of one of those smells."
This definitely is worth investigating. "Lead the way."
Our destination is an abandoned bus depot with a yard big enough to accommodate some 20 buses. The cannibalized chassis of busses dot the place and the offices are devoid of human life, with rats, and other vermin being their only occupants.
The mechanical workshop is next to the yard and is big enough to accommodate some 10 buses at the same time. At first glance, it also looks abandoned, with the doors barred and the windows covered with cardboard and black paint. My visor, though, tells another story.
"Bingo. Good job, Ladybug."
Against a wall, there are rows and rows of jerricans, propane tanks, and other containers for a variety of liquids and gases. In the middle of the garage, there are multiple tables, each one full of chemical equipment, with dozens of people working on them.
Some of them are armed, and some of them aren't. Most are wearing bandanas or face masks in an attempt to filter the fumes.
Yeah, this is most definitely a Merchant Meth lab. And a big one on top of that.
In a back room, there's a man seated at a desk, with two armed guards at each side of his chair. He has a scale -a traditional one with weights, not electronic- that he's using to fractionate their production into small plastic bags. He doesn't look like Skidmark. Too old for once, and isn't wearing a mask.
Outside his office, there's a line of four people waiting for him, all carrying backpacks. One is allowed in, and from her backpack, she pulls out what looks like a pencil case.
The man at the desk opens it to reveal the content: lots and lots of money. He counts it, puts it inside a safe, and then gives the dealer several packages of drugs for her to sell.
We see all that while Taylor amasses her swarm. "What are we doing with that money?"
"We're keeping it, of course."
She hums to herself in deep thought. "Okay. I have red ants, spiders, and wasps." A nice collection of things to deliver a nasty sting.
If we had a laser rifle we could just aim for the gas tanks and see the entire place go up in flames. Sadly we don't so the hands-on approach will have to do.
"Let's do this then."
The Merchants are most definitely not Coil. The thugs are armed with conventional firearms and don't look like professional soldiers, so there isn't much to plan here. It's just a matter of going in and hitting them as hard as we can.
We teleport into the back office, where the boss and the last dealer are arguing about payment. The argument is cut short by the Darkcoil that incapacitates all the enemies in the room. I move to help Taylor zip-tie them while screams resonate all around the lab, courtesy of Taylor's bugs.
Now comes the time to test how good my drone is. With a mental command, I transform my hand into a plasma saw that I push into the safe. It opens as if it was made of wet cardboard.
Now that's what I'm talking about!
And there's money. There's so much money. Even Taylor looks impressed as I start shoveling it into our backpack, but that's when the first sign that something's wrong comes around.
"Oh, Shit," Taylor curses and teleports away.
Confused and worried, I search for her, trying to find the source of the problem. It's easy to find once I see the steadily growing form of what I can best describe as a golem made of trash.
That's Mush, now taller than a person and a half, using his power to latch to all the scattered debris that surrounds him to form protective armor.
Shit. He must have been one of the guards supervising the work here.
Taylor teleports behind him and unleashes the power of the Darkcoil, but the tendrils of energy travel harmlessly over the armor only to discharge over the floor. Mush's armor has grown too thick for the Darkcoil to affect the person inside, and it's only getting bigger.
Mush swings an arm, forcing Taylor to jump back. A claw-like piece of broken glass shatters against her protected torso, but another bites into her thigh, just where the armor doesn't reach.
"Ladybug!" I scream, and in a flash of light, Taylor teleports to my side, bleeding profusely from the wound.
"Healing." She groans.
My arm transforms into a dozen of tiny pincers and needles that latch to Taylor's side, closing the wound. Thankfully for us, Mush hasn't noticed that we're in here and has broken through one of the walls to search for Taylor outside.
The other guards, too, have scattered, abandoning their weapons in a mad dash away from the bugs and the increasingly dangerous parahuman fight.
That means we can escape and no one will be the wiser.
"Ok, done," I tell Taylor, my drone having finished with her wound. "We should—"
She doesn't let me finish as she teleports away, ready to resume her battle against Mush.
That blasted woman! What is she doing?
"Ladybug!" I call her through my visor. "We need to get out of here!" We disrupted Merchant operations, hurt several gang members, and even stole a lot of their money.
We don't need to fight a Parahuman who has more experience than both of us combined! Especially not one that's already close to four meters tall!
Just listen to me!
"I can do this!" She pants as she dodges another swing. "I can take Mush down!"
Shit, shit, shit! I need to help her, but what can I do? Mush has grown too big for a bullet to pierce his armor. My buzzsaw! It can cut right through him! But how the fuck do I get close enough?
The blink band recharged, Taylor teleports behind Mush and stabs him in the back of the leg. The Merchant cape falls to a knee, screaming in pain with the Psy Blade having cleanly cut through his armor.
Maybe- maybe shecando this.
Good one Tay-
That's when a warning flares through my visor, an incoming projectile having been detected. Except it's not a projectile but a flying woman surrounded by a corona of bright light that offers a sharp contrast against the night sky.
"Ladybug, get out of there! Purity's here!"
The ex-Empire 88 aims a hand at Mush and shoots a blast of energy that scorches the side of his armor. Taylor gets out of the way just as Mush hurls himself back into the meth lab, seeking refuge from Purity's barrage.
He just happens to land on top of the propane tanks.
Fuck me.
I grab the bag of money and jump through the back window just as Purity resumes her attack.
And then there's a loud explosion, and I find myself flying for a second before landing hard against the ground.
My ears ring, and everything below my neck feels numb as my visor shows a list with all the injuries that my drones are currently fixing.
"Tech-priest! Tech-priest!"
Taylor's at my side, desperately calling for my name. Her costume has been trashed, some edges sporting burn marks, and I realize that we're no longer in the street but on top of a nearby building.
Sensations slowly return to me and I stand up, realizing that my costume, too, has been reduced to ribbons.
"Ladybug?" I call for Taylor, who locks me in a strong hug.
"Oh, God. I was so worried! I saw you flying like that and was scared that something had happened to you."
We're no longer on the street, we're on a nearby roof and there's a piercing sound that makes me think of a jet engine with laryngitis.
What in the name of all fuck isthat?
Purity is fighting a mechanical monstrosity that looks like something taken out of Twisted Metal. It's the unholy Mad-Maxian fusion of an ice-cream truck and a Bradley Fighting Vehicle. Just even more unnecessarily bloated with stuff, if that was even possible.
Mush is clinging to the back of the vehicle, hurling debris at Purity.
A blast of energy gets deflected by a shimmering barrier, and the vehicle counter-attacks with the turret mounted on top of her contraption.
"That's Squealer," Taylor explains. "She arrived after Purity."
A column of smoke is rising from the remains of the met lab and Purity is zig-zagging all over the place like a mutated firefly. One that can shoot building-busting energy beams.
Squealer might be a professional driver thanks to her power, but that doesn't make her a good shooter and her attacks keep missing, allowing Purity to continue with her barrage. Not like they can do much against Squealer's shields.
"Do you have any bugs inside that tank?"
Taylor shakes her head. "Some mosquitos, but that's all. And there's not enough room inside that thing for me to teleport in."
Maybe she doesn't need to teleport in? I identify what looks like a fuel line. If Taylor stabs it- the entire thing would detonate with Taylor next to it. Bad idea.
Purity seems to have given up on trying to destroy the tank directly and is aiming now at the street, maybe hoping to lock it in place.
Yeah, there's nothing we can do here. We don't have anything that can realistically take any of the combatants down, so we better leave while we can.
We contributed with the destruction of a Merchant meth lab and got a lot of money in the process, so I'm going to count this as a victory for us.
On our way out we hear the sound of sirens in the distance.
"So that's what a true cape fight looks like in person," Taylor says as we make our way back home. We have stopped teleporting and are just walking over the roofs, trying to enjoy the night and not wanting to arrive there just yet.
"Scary, wasn't it?"
"Yeah."
Our costumes were practically destroyed but our equipment remains intact. Mostly thanks to the work of the Drones.
That was a fierce reminder of what the true heavy hitters of the Bay can do.
And shit, Squealer's considered one of the weakest tinkers around and Purity couldn't punch through her shields! And considering that she was leaving craters in the street with each attack- not even a Mecha Hydralisk could match Purity in sheer firepower. Maybe an Ultralisk could?
I wonder how many Merchants survived. The four that we knocked in the office most probably didn't.
"How many times have I messed up already?" Taylor mumbles, looking away. "And this time I almost got you killed."
Yeah, she very much did.
I had forgotten about that fact. One that I haven't fully internalized yet.
I release a sigh. "None of us could have expected Purity's arrival." I thought her main focus was the ABB. Her moving in to attack the Merchants was a nasty surprise. "Or her shooting into a building without knowing what's inside said building." And she wonders why people don't accept her as a hero.
Yet all that doesn't change the fact that she ended up saving us because if she hadn't been there then Squealer would have focussed on us. "But yes, next time I tell you we have to retreat, please listen. I'm your spotter here."
"Sorry."
"That's my job, you know? What you don't see, I might, and so I can warn you. But I need you to trust me for that." She mumbles something under her breath that I can't understand. "But it's not just your fault." I shrug. "I need mobility. I shouldn't depend on you to move around, and be left stranded whenever you aren't there for me."
For the first time since Coil's warehouse I wonder what we're even doing here. She's a teenage girl and I'm an adult inside the body of a child. None of us got any formal training, and we try to fight against criminal gangs? Why would we do such a thing?
Well, because that's the only thing that gives a semblance of meaning and emotion to our sad, lonely lives. Our own survival be damned.
At the end of the day, we enjoy doing this.
Oh, I can't really remain angry at her. She's the only person I interact with here and it's not like I hold my own life in such a high regard. If anything, her not listening to me, not trusting me, was the part that hurt the most.
"Maybe your next tree will give you something that can fix that." Taylor finally says after a moment of silence.
"I'll have to wait and see."
"Want me to buy stuff for you with the money we got? I could do that while you're in Clarendon."
When I'm in-
I blink at her in confusion. "Taylor, from Monday you'll be going to Arcadia."
And now she looks sadder than before. "I had forgotten about that."
"You forgot the reason why you spent this last week studying?"
"A lot has been going on."
I pat her on the back. "Oh, Ladybug, you and-" And alarm flashes over my visor, announcing that midnight is upon us. "Wait."
"Is it time?"
I nod. "Give me a sec." It still feels as if my brain's spinning inside my head but this time I'm better prepared for it.
It hurts. It truly hurts to lose all I had on Deus Ex, but I knew it'd eventually happen.
In its place I receive- modules. Cards. Powers in the shape of cards, each one a module that can be installed into different human bodies to give them different effects.
There's the power of flight, of controlling classical greek elements, shadows and light. Also flowers?
Fucking bubbles?
And most of them are represented by human forms.
Magic wands! My power allows me to create magic wands and staves that would allow me to control the different 'cards'.
I think I know what this tree is. The only things missing are- there they are! Dresses. Dozens upon dozens of dresses, each one more frilly than the last.
"So, what did you get this time?" Taylor asks me quietly, maybe still unsure if I'm angry at her or not.
I don't want her to remain like that. How do I show her that I'm not angry? Okay, idea. Do I have Tomoyo's knowledge of dressmaking in here? Yes, I do!
"How many pastel colors do you own?" I ask.
"Eh?"
"In fact, when was the last time you wore anything that wasn't grey or brown?"
With that, I make Taylor crack a smile.
"Great. Last time you insulted my eyes and now you insult my wardrobe. You'll never get a girlfriend that way."
"Those relationships have far too high a maintenance cost for my taste."
"Let's wait and see if you keep thinking that when you're 15."
Oh, boy, I already went through that and I'm not looking forward to it. But let's focus on surviving the year first.
A bit less cranky we head back home. Now I need to think about what to do with Cardcaptor Sakura.
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