Director Piggot's office was filled with the rapid tak-tak-tak of her keyboard. With the last of the Empire's capes captured and the Brockton Bay Police Department under extreme pressure by the mayor to round up the gang's unpowered members or else, Director Piggot was faced with the most important and time-sensitive matter that was going to shape how the city progressed from here:
Keeping her capes busy.
It wasn't a matter of hyperbole. Brockton Bay now had the highest ratio of heroes to villains of any major city in the United States, and what villains were left weren't the types to start major trouble. That meant two things were about to occur: one, that gangs and villains from outside the city would make a violent push to claim little fiefdoms for themselves; and two, that requests would be coming in for her city's roster of Protectorate heroes to be transferred to other cities in need of backup. That doing so would only accelerate and worsen the damages of the first part didn't matter to the other Directors. They had their own cities to run and would do whatever they could to make that a more manageable task.
Piggot didn't blame them, but neither did she have any intention of helping them. Her requests for more capes had been ignored for years, like hell was she giving up any advantages now. That meant she needed reasonable cause to keep all her current capes stationed within Brockton Bay. And that meant keeping them busy. She was going to have to turn to some rather unorthodox measures.
A knock at her office door brought her attention back away from her computer, just in time for the men and women of the local Protectorate to file in for the meeting she'd requested. Director Piggot wasted no time. "Ladies and gentlemen, I've called you in today because there are going to be some sweeping changes to your schedules made. First of all, I will be working with Armsmaster to revise the patrol routes and schedules: from now on, you'll be patrolling alone or with a Ward, as our areas of operations have necessarily expanded to encompass the entire city for once. Reporting in cape sightings or unusual events takes high priority, if someone like the Teeth is hoping to show up I want to know about it."
She slid a couple of papers over her desk towards Armsmaster, who took them without a word. "This will include ABB territory and Shrine territory, provided that Lung doesn't get uppity and that Brushstroke does not lever any complaints-- if either occurs we will re-evaluate at that time. Any questions?"
Miss Militia raised one hand slightly. "One, ma'am. Who's on Shrine duty this week?"
"Assault, and you can choose two Wards to go with you if they've volunteered. There's initial reports that that bathhouse Brushstroke and Good Dog have been building is nearing completion, and I want you to check on it. If we're about to get an influx of powered tourists, I want to know about that too."
Piggot heard Assault mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'hot springs episode!' A grim smile started across her face. "In addition, there's going to be a change to the disciplinary systems around here. So as to provide a better impression to the public, particularly in light of recent events, all minor infractions and demerits you have earned will be paid for by using your powers for public works projects and community service instead of administrative probation and extra Console duties. Also, the buying and selling of punishment detail will no longer be permitted, but any banked punishment time you already have will need to be paid, Assault."
That got a reaction, not just an indignant squawk from the Breaker. This policy would eat into the heroes' free time by an order of magnitude more than the previous light punishments. Piggot let the complaints continue for a few moments before raising her hand and interrupting. "I've already worked it out with the Mayor, so get used to it. One last thing: I'm adjusting your and the Wards' mandatory sessions with a therapist from once every three months to every other week."
"This is absurd!"
"We're not gonna have time for all--"
"This is greatly overstepping your bounds, Director."
"I can't believe this...!"
"Too bad. I'm already in negotiations for PRT therapists to be rotated into the local branch. The new policies take effect starting Monday. Armsmaster I want the revised patrol routes and times on my desk by tomorrow evening. Dismissed." The Tinker's expression was stiff in unmistakable anger, but he nodded once and led the procession of capes back out of her office. She was sure a heated discussion among them was going to explode as soon as they were out of earshot, but that wasn't her problem. What was going to be her problem, was--
The phone rang, on a priority line. Speak of the devil, she supposed. She answered it, with a quick, "How can I help you, Chief Director?"
"Director Piggot. I got your report on the state of Brockton Bay. Some congratulations are in order."
"Thank you. It's been an uphill slog for many years."
"Indeed. Which is why the suddenness of these improvements is so remarkable."
Piggot knew a leading statement when she heard it. "Sudden, but not unwelcome. Once we got a bit of a buffer in the stalemate between local gang forces, providing some security from massive collateral damage, it was much easier to act. The local protectorate capes have been preparing for just such an opening for years."
"I see that. And... what is this request for therapists about, if I may ask?"
Stay calm. She needed to sound confident if she was going to pull this off. "Now that we have a little breathing room, I decided it was a good time to work on improving the local Protectorate capes' state of mind and quality of life. Hopefully in time, they'll be happier and more emotionally stable."
"Happier?"
"Yes. As being healthier and happier will improve their work performance, I'm of the opinion that taking care of the capes I have under my responsibility should be a priority."
"I see." There was a slight pause. "Director Piggot, would you mind holding for a little bit? I have another call."
"Of course," she answered. The line switched over to some tuneless elevator music.
Two minutes later a Master/Stranger containment team burst through her office door and hosed the entire room down with containment foam.
* * *
Roughly 48 hours later, after Director Piggot had been released from Master/Stranger questioning, Armsmaster found himself in front of her office door once more. One hand held a manila folder full of the proposed changes to the patrol routes; a flash drive with the accompanying digital versions of the maps and plans was pinned to the folder as well. His other hand kept clenching and unclenching into a fist and back as Armsmaster hesitated. He'd very nearly not requested the meeting, but Dragon had a way of talking him into doing things that he'd rather avoid. Armsmaster took a deep breath, released it slowly, then knocked.
"Enter."
He did so, closing the door quietly behind him. The Director looked even more snappish than usual, not that he could blame her. He'd become quite familiar with the M/S cells lately and they weren't exactly a good time. She barely glanced up at him before returning her permanent scowl to her computer. "Armsmaster. What is it?"
"A couple things, Director. First, I have the proposed revisions to the patrol routes." He set the folder onto the desk in front of her, and she flipped it open for a look. "I thought it prudent to include two versions, one with the Shrine territory and one without. I've just sent Chessman over there to ask for Brushstroke's permission to patrol the area."
The admission galled, to think that the Protectorate needed the approval of a 15-year old girl. From the frown that twisted on Piggot's face, she felt the same way. It was still a better situation than they had been in just last year, which really spoke to how deadlocked the city had been. "Very well. What else?"
Alright, stay steady. Remember what Dragon said about maintenance and downtime. "I've submitted a request to use a few of my vacation days."
Director Piggot blinked at him, uncomprehending. "Paid out?"
"No. As time off."
She leaned back in her chair, now giving him her full attention. Armsmaster was thankful his visor hid his eyes, so she couldn't see him glancing towards where her hand was relative to the Master/Stranger team call button. "You want time off. And what brought this on?"
"This is the first time I've felt I could step away for five minutes and not come back to find the entire city literally on fire."
She frowned at him for another moment, then sighed, the suspicion leaving her expression. "I suppose I can't argue with that reasoning. I would rather you wait for a better time, though."
"I don't think there will be a better time," he replied, belatedly realizing that was probably her intention. If he waited, it was likely that the local scene would heat up again, and then he wouldn't be able to take time off at all-- either by her authority, or his own sense of commitment.
"I suppose I'll have to put Dauntless in charge while you're away," she said. Even knowing it was probably at attempt to bait him, it still sent a spark of anger through Armsmaster. Dauntless, in charge of his city? Punch-clock hero Dauntless? Inexperienced, naive, totally unprepared Dauntless?
…
Inexperienced, naive, and totally unprepared Dauntless. In charge of Brockton Bay. Director Piggot's hand twitched towards the Master/Stranger call button as a smile spread across Armsmaster's face. "I think that's an excellent idea."
"What."
"I fully support this course of action. It will be good for him."
"Wait..."
"I'll be sure to organize a few things so he'll have an easier time taking care of the schedules and paperwork. Thank you for your approval of my request, Director."
Armsmaster smiled all the way back to his office.
* * *
Chessman pulled up to the Pawprint Shrine's sidewalk, not bothering to really park the vehicle he was in. There wasn't much point to carefully trying to parallel park when the ATV was just going to be shrunk down into his pocket in a minute. He had more important things to worry about, like the covered glass container in the passenger seat. It belonged to Mrs Henrick, as did the potholders he used to pick it up, and the wrapped bundle of silverware sitting on top of the dish's plastic cover. Chessman waited for the ATV to finish returning to its normal, inert plastic state, then carefully set the dish on the sidewalk long enough for him to pick up the vehicle and slip it securely into one of his costume's belt pouches.
Knocking on the Shrine's office door was a bit of a hassle, but Taylor opened it up quickly. Her face lit up with a smile at the sight of him. "Hey Dad! What brings you here? Oh, sorry, come in!"
"I needed to stop by for business anyway, so I thought I'd bring lunch. Have you eaten?"
"No, not yet. What's the business? Here, I'll make tea."
Over in the other half of the office, in a nest of blankets and pillows, was his daughter's power. Sunny looked up when he entered, one canine eyebrow quirked. Her tail started wagging steadily as Taylor got him settled. She had a kettle heating for tea faster than he could blink. "Ah... have you got any plates? I'm afraid I forgot."
"Yeah, just a sec."
Chessman busied himself with removing his mask and setting it aside, as Taylor set the office's desk like a table. She made sure to grab an extra plate for Sunny, who had padded over to sit nearby. "As for work, Armsmaster asked me to stop by and see if you'd be amenable to having Protectorate patrols in the area."
"That's... a bit tricky. I'd rather not condone confrontations between the ABB-- sorry, Local 433—and the Protectorate. I suppose it depends on how much you're planning to police the area, as opposed to just making appearances. I'll ask Oni Lee to check in with Lung about it, the next time he picks up Dinah."
That was still such a surreal sentence to hear her say. "That's fair. I'll ask Armsmaster about it, and see if we can come to an informal agreement."
"Sounds good. On a more important note: lunch!" Taylor opened up the container he'd brought, and smiled. "You made meatloaf?"
"Mhm. Mrs Henrick gave me sass about the green peppers, but I stuck to the recipe."
They chatted together about things as they ate, whatever came to mind. Decorations for the hot spring, news from the old Dockworkers, funny anecdotes about Danny's co-workers and Taylor's partner. Sure, it may have taken a year or so, and upending the city, making national news, and blowing up their home, but... they were talking. Together. Having dinner as a family.
They'd have to do this again sometime. They fact that it was a given that they could made Danny feel like years of stress had fallen from his shoulders, like the sun was finally peeking through the clouds.
"Alright, sweetheart, I have to get back to work."
"Mhm, me too," Taylor said. Unbidden, she walked around the desk and gave him a hug. "Thanks for coming by, Dad."
"Anytime, Taylor... oh, hold on. I had something to give you." Danny checked his belt pouches until he found the one not occupied by figurines for his power to use. "I may have done a bit of asking around, and a few neighbors may have mentioned you were collecting something."
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sunny nod her head, the shape and angle of the canine's face making it seem like the wolf was giving him a gentle smile. Danny wasn't sure why, but he returned it. He took Taylor's hand and placed the gift in her palm: a set of dice, from a d4 to a d20, with small holes bored carefully into each so they they could be threaded onto a string. He'd picked the swirled blue and green set from his lab for the gift. "Maybe not the most practical, but..."
"No, I love it. They're really pretty, thank you."
"You're welcome, kiddo."
* * *
Taylor wasn't even surprised when Sunny led her to the box, once her father had left. The wolf didn't look at all guilty about it, either, but Taylor got the distinct impression she was pleased. Taylor rolled the dice carefully into the section reserved for the Sheep, then tousled Sunny's ears.
"I hope he comes by on a Thursday, sometime. I'll play Mom's flute for him."53
(The Hot Springs Episode)
"Okay, so the schedules have to be filed on Monday. Do not forget."
"Alright."
"And make sure you ask the Wards for changes on Friday, they're teenagers and they make sudden plans. If you can work any in that would be for the best."
"Got it."
"The Tinker review things you can ignore and I'll vet them when I get back, but if any power interaction reports crop up you need to address them ASAP."
"Yeah, yeah..."
"And there's weekly reports made to print off in my lab regarding the HQ's Tinkertech functions, I'll be transferring them to the general servers, so don't--"
Dauntless started laughing. He and Armsmaster were walking towards the time clock scanner and Armsmaster had an armful of files he was handing over, each with a warning or message as to its purpose. "Oh my God, seriously. I get it. I never knew you were such a mother hen."
Armsmaster stopped next to the time-out clock and glowered at Dauntless. Or at least, he assumed it was a glower-- the Tinker's visor kept his eyes shielded and it was hard to distinguish one frown from the next. After a moment, Armsmaster's frown shifted a few degrees and he tapped at the side of his helmet. Dauntless raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"
"My wi-fi just went out. And I can't connect to either the internal network or the internet..."
"It's probably just an outage," Dauntless waved it off. "Really, I mean it. Things will be fine. You enjoy your vacation, everything will still be intact when you get back."
"But the internet--"
"Is just an ISP issue. Really. Just accept that things will be okay if you're gone for five minutes." Dauntless made an exaggerated shrug, compensating for the stack of files under one arm. "Really, what's the worst that can happen?
While neither could confirm it, it was assumed that the sky outside the Rig grew dark, as storm clouds clustered together and faded the sky from an easy blue to an ominous gray. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The sound was interrupted by multiple sets of quickened footsteps.
"Armsmaster!" Miss Militia called out as she jogged towards the pair, at least three different routers and a tangle of cords in her arms. "Disconnect your internet! Now! Don't open any text messages or emails! It's an emergency!"
Dauntless goggled at her. "What are you talking abou--"
"So hey, Bossman," Assault mentioned as he strode up to the now trifecta of heroes. In his arms was a young girl, maybe aged 5 or 6, with a pair of furry ears atop her head and a brown fox tail wagging from under her dress, "I kinda need an M/S alert, and a babysitter, because I'm pretty sure I adopted this girl?"
A red blur interrupted any response as Velocity joined the fray, out of breath. "Hey, Boss, I know you said not to bother you and I'm sorry, but my printer is doing that thing again, and--"
Bleep
Armsmaster swiped his badge through the time clock machine. "I'm out."
Hours Earlier...
Lung eyed the missive with a scowl. The Miko had sent a message along with Oni Lee, that she was cordially inviting the city's capes and the general public for the pre-opening of the hot spring; apparently, this meant a one-time only opening without needing a pass like the one Lung already possessed. It was still difficult not to think of the Shrine and its surroundings as his territory, and it made the fact that he would have to accept whatever capes showed up and leave them in peace all the more galling.
Not that there were many that he expected to show up. The Empire had had its parahuman resources torn out root and branch, and the city's mundane law enforcement were on a warpath against the unpowered rank and file. The Merchants, lowly as they were, had more or less dissolved completely-- though he thought there was still a stray cape or two that was involved in the drug trade, most of the Merchant's brand of nihilism was upheld by the desperate and the spiteful. The rest of the city's cape scene was keeping a low profile in fear of Good Dog.
It chafed. He had no love for the other parahumans that had settled in Brockton Bay—in fact he despised most of them—but the idea that he must now pay some modicum of respect to the Protectorate was a sour taste upon his tongue. Respect...
Lung paused, turning the card containing the message between his figures. He didn't actually have to respect the heroes. He just needed to stay within the letter of the kami's law, and not too far outside the spirit of it. Nothing about the unfortunate arrangement he'd found himself bound to suggested he needed to respect the heroes, only that he not attack them. Aggravating and insulting them was fair game. A slow smile spread across Lung's face.
He called for Lee and searched for a scrap of paper, quickly writing a few details down upon it while the assassin answered. "Lee. Take this to the dollmaker cape near the Boardwalk. Pay her whatever you need to get it made."
Oni Lee took the scrap of paper and glanced over it. Instead of the expected bow, he saw his friend's eyes move behind his mask to settle a glare on him, somewhere between disappointment and incredulity if Lung made his guess. He scoffed. "Just do it, Lee."
"As you desire," Oni Lee responded, and a moment later his clone dissolved into ash.
* * *
"No. Absolutely not."
"But mom, it's a hot spring. And Brushstroke is a good person! And the Pawprint Shrine is neutral ground! I'll bet even some of the Protectorate will be there," Vicky pleaded. In her hand was a written flyer inviting New Wave to Pawprint Shrine's public 'onsen.' It had been hand-delivered to the Dallon residence and stuffed in the mailbox.
"We're not the Protectorate, Victoria, and New Wave is not going to endorse a business that would happily welcome Kaiser if he was still here." Carol Dallon shook her head. As far as she was concerned a simple 'no' should have been the end of it. But Victoria was stubborn.
"But he's not here, is he? And you and I both know that Brushstroke and Good Dog helped with taking the Empire apart."
"The answer is no, Victoria."
"Mom. Please." Her daughter set the flyer flat on the kitchen counter and looked Carol in the eyes. Her voice was uncharacteristically low and serious. "I want to take Ames there so she can have a hot soak and relax for once. It'd do her good."
"Trying to play a pity card isn't going to change my mind."
"Pity--!" Victoria's eyes widened, then her face flushed with anger. "Well, sorry for thinking you might be concerned!"
"Victoria!"
"I dunno why I thought so. You never do anything to help Amy when she's feeling down." Before Carol could say another word, Victoria spun in the air and zoomed up the stairs. There was a resounding crack as her door was slammed shut hard enough to break it. Again. She'd told her about being careful with her strength so many times...
Carol sighed and shook her head. She'd have another talk with Victoria after the teenager had called down. Honestly, neither of the girls were children anymore, they should know better than to trust random capes. And they should be able to take care of themselves, at least enough that they didn't expect Carol to hover around and tend to their every whim. Amy was fine. She didn't need Carol going out of her way to entertain her. Victoria did enough of that already, for everyone. Always doing little things or saying something cheerful. That sort of soft heart was going to get her hurt, someday.
A purr started up a familiar rumble near her legs, and Carol bent down to pick up Chekov. Even the cat had a tendency to wait on Amy when she was being moody, doing little things like pouncing on her robes or batting at the girl's face with his paws.
Little things...
A shadow of a nightmare passed behind Carol's eyes, and she hugged Chekov a little closer to her chest. Little things built up and up. Cheerful words, bright smiles, hugs.
Admonishments to be careful. Days too busy to interact. Old sentiments. Disappointed frowns. All just little things, that built up and up... until they formed a wall. Brick. By. Brick.
Chekov meowed at her, shaking Carol out of her dark thoughts. She scratched the cat's chin and found her eyes wandering towards the stairs, following the path Victoria had taken. You never do anything.
"No," she murmured into the silence. "I suppose I don't."
* * *
The atmosphere around the Pawprint Shrine wasn't quite up to festive standards, most likely owing to the cold, but there were plenty of people about. The bakery next door seemed to be doing good business, and a few food carts had set up alongside the opposite curb of the street. Assault took a closer look even as he pushed both Aegis and Clockblocker forward to distract the adoring fans who had noticed the Protectorate's arrival. Assault spotted a few other capes who had decided to attend Brushstroke's little gathering. Circus was loitering around the bakery, two of the Undersiders were near one of the food carts, and he was pretty sure he caught sight of Glory Girl carrying her sister Panacea in a princess carry into the new building that housed the baths. That was pretty much the only threat assessment... oh, no, there was Oni Lee inside the Shrine's grounds proper. The assassin was standing faithfully nearby a small girl that had to be Dinah Alcott, who was busy building a snow man.
The Undersiders he mostly trusted not to start anything, but Assault resolved to keep an eye on Oni Lee and Circus.
Assault wove into the crowd, cracking jokes and signing autographs, and regularly doing a quick visual scan of the area to keep tabs on the locations of the Wards and other capes in attendance. He'd been so excited about the prospect of Brushstroke's project being completed, but now that he was here he had to be the adult in the situation. It sucked.
Before he could mope too much a section of the crowd parted, and let Lung walk by. He'd come out from the baths-- his bare skin was steaming in the cold December air. Assault kept an eye on him, because even if he'd gotten wrapped around Brushstroke's little finger he was still the most dangerous cape in the Bay, but all the gang leader did was nod at Oni Lee as he passed. A car inched through the thin crowd to pull up for him, and Lung got in. The car slowly reversed, turned, and left.
Dang. Lung had been here? He hadn't heard any screams or explosions so he had to assume the Dallon sisters were still okay. Physically, at least. They might be traumatized. He'd have to ask them later if anything had happened.
"Oh, you look like a curious one."
A voice just to his right made him turn and look. A Japanese woman in a formal kimono was standing way closer than he'd thought anyone had gotten. Once she saw she had his attention the woman smiled, and placed her hands on his bicep.
"We do love curious people," another voice said, this time to his left. Assault's head whipped around to find the same Japanese woman-- no, not the same, just very similar. This one was wearing a different colored kimono, but all the same she smiled and placed her hands on his arm as well.
"Ah, excuse me ladies, but--"
"Curious enough he might be willing to make a little bargain?"
"We bought a little something from the sisters in the onsen. Maybe you'd be interested in seeing it as well?"
"A picture of that man."
"It's quite striking."
Assault was getting dizzy trying to follow the twins' dialogue. He stepped back and they released their flirtatious hold on him, but the smiles remained. One of the twins held up a cell phone.
"Just a little teensy favor, and it can be yours."
"An easy favor."
"Ladies, I can't--"
The woman with the cell phone turned it on and showed him the photo. As promised, it was a picture of Lung, reclining in the hot spring.
He was wearing the top half of his mask, a blue speedo with Armsmaster's insignia, and a smile.
Assault felt his brain blow a fuse. The twins smiled a bit wider. "What do you want?"
They grinned, and leaned in, each standing on the tips of their toes to whisper near his ear: "Fried~ to~ fu~."
"...'kay."
Within five minutes they'd sent the picture to his phone, and in return he forked over several bills to the cook who was running a fried tofu skewer truck. The women took their bounty of fried plant protein and vegetables with matching looks of gleeful expectation, then vanished somewhere in the crowd. That was fine. Assault had something critical to attend to. He fumbled his phone with shaking fingers and opened the chat messaging app.
Assault: MM!
Miss Militia: what?
Assault: You are nevr going to believe this
Assault: Look
Assault: Look and weep
>sent attached image
Miss Militia: WHAT
Miss Militia: WHAT THW SHIT IS THIS
Assault: its beautiful
Assault: boss is going to explode
Miss Militia: he's going to DIE you idiot!
Miss Militia: He's going to get so angry he will literally DROP DEAD
Assault: the capefic on PHO is going to go nuclear
Miss Militia: NO
Miss Militia: he can't see this, ever!!! don't upload that!
Assault: I think someone already did, I'm not the only person with this pic
Miss Militia: oh god
Miss Militia: I have to stop this somehow
Miss Militia: after I destroy the internet I am coming for your ass
Something attempted to tug at the pant leg of his costume, and Assault looked away from his phone, then down to find a young girl in a shapeless dress, with brown hair and some truly crazy cowlicks. She had to be less than seven years old, and once she saw him looking at her she spoke in a high voice, "Can I have some?"
"Uh-- sure. Hey, one more," Assault motioned to the seller, who obligingly handed over another tofu skewer in exchange for more money. Assault handed the fried snack to the girl, who made a happy sound and dug in immediately. Where were the girl's parents? Or, did she even have any? Well, once she was done eating he could ask and maybe get her taken to a shelter, or... or. Or maybe she didn't have cowlicks in her hair. Maybe she had ears. Fluffy, triangular ears covered in a soft brown pelt the same color as her hair. Motion caught Assault's eye and pulled his attention to the tawny brown tail wagging behind the girl.
"Ish sho good!" The girl spoke around a mouthful of food. "Thanks mister! You're nice!"
"You're welcome," Assault returned. In his head he was tallying up the possibilities. Was she a runaway who'd Triggered? An unusually photogenic Case 53? Did she just have parents who were way too casual about letting her walk around unmasked? "What's your name, sweetie? Do you have parents around here?"
"I dun' have one," she said, her voice turning sad. "An' no. I sure do wish I had a human family, though. It looks like fun."
Assault let out a breath. That was an... odd response, but maybe a Case 53? Case 53 honestly made the situation a bit easier. "Okay. Well, I can't leave you out here alone. Why don't you come with me to the PR--"
The girl perked up, ears going skyward. "Really?! You want me to go with you? Yay!"
Before he could protest, the girl latched onto his leg like a barnacle, hugging him. "Please take good care of me, papa! I promise I'll be the best daughter ever!"
"Wait--"
"Are you married, papa? Do I get a new mama too?!"
...Battery was going to murder him, assuming Miss Militia didn't do so first.MachineBitch: @MightyMouse
MachineBitch: 1)I wish to express my continuing distaste for your naming privileges
MachineBitch: 2)I have a proposal
MightyMouse: is it a marriage proposal
MachineBitch: No.
MightyMouse: then why should I care
MightyMouse: *i
MightyMouse: stupid autocorrect
MachineBitch: You should care because I understand the concept of bribery.
MightyMouse: oho?
MachineBitch: I'm taking vacation time.
MightyMouse: sounds fake but go on
MachineBitch: And I'm offering $2500 mischief budget plus dinner at that steakhouse you like. Invite whomever else you like, too.
MachineBitch: 3 drink minimum.
MightyMouse: o.o
MightyMouse: you want something bad if you're willing to trust me with your drunk ass
MachineBitch: Oh I want something very badly.
MightyMouse: color me intrigued, what's happening?
MachineBitch: I mentioned I'm taking a vacation?
MightyMouse: yas?
MachineBitch: Dauntless is in charge while I'm gone.
MachineBitch: And I want this to be an Educational Experience(tm) for him
MightyMouse: oh no
MachineBitch: Oh yes.
* * *
"Well, Sunny, I gotta admit..." Taylor sighed happily, as she reclined in the mineral-scented waters. "For as much trouble as it took to get here? Totally worth it."
Lounging next to her, though how canine anatomy managed sitting on the underwater shelf so well eluded Taylor, Sunny wuffed and lifted a paw from the water. Taylor gently knocked her own closed fist against the paw. Today was not a day for contemplating the irregularities of life. Today was for decadence. The bathhouse was functionally complete, just lacking a few decorations here and there, but with winter setting in a lack of paintings or gilded arches was less than an afterthought in comparison to being able to soak in natural hot waters. Taylor sighed happily and sunk a little lower into the water, glad that she'd had the foresight to grab her bathing suit from her house after The Chessman Incident. The onsen was more or less complete and she had plenty of time to paint membership tokens for the upcoming new year, Yuuta was comfortably making bank selling protective talismans (he'd initially been selling only to the Local 433, but a silent Look from Taylor to both him and Oni Lee had expanded the allowed customer base), her other fiends and loved ones were occupied with their own pursuits away from Sunny's chaotic influence, and the Baachan Collective hadn't found any fault with her in several days. Life was good. Life was simple. In fact the only improvement Taylor could think of would be if she'd thought to bring a cold drink with her to--
"Here is your cocktail, My Lady, and I've bought some juice for you as well, Young Miss."
Taylor's startle reflex splashed mineral water in an arc but didn't phase the young woman who had appeared at the side of the bath. She was ambiguously young, and short, the sort of build where it'd be hard at first glance to say if the person was 16 or 20. Her brown hair was pulled back in a bun and she was wearing a kimono, the fabric's hems embroidered with the image of feathers. She had placed a wide-rimmed bowl full of a colorful alcohol near where Sunny was lounging, and a tall frosted glass of what was probably apple juice near where Taylor was staring wide-eyed at the interloper.
Sunny made a pleased noise and lifted herself out of the baths enough to start lapping at her drink. Taylor used the moment to reboot her unprepared psyche. "Uh... I'm sorry, who are you?"
"Oh! I'm Chiyo, Young Miss," the girl twittered. "I work here at the bath house."
"...I didn't hire anyone to work here."
"Oh no, we know you didn't. We're, ah..." Chiyo glanced at Sunny, who utterly failed to provide any sort of reassurance. To the girl's credit, she rallied herself, and said, "Our clan has run the bath houses for generations. We are, ah... I believe the term is renting? We're being allowed to use the entryway here in exchange for upkeeping the mortal areas."
Oh no. Oh no there was so much to unpack in those few sentences. Taylor took a sip of the apple juice. It was great. Not great enough to fully distract her from the tangled snarl that filing her taxes was going to be, but pretty great. When she looked up, Chiyo was gone, and Sunny was still focused on drinking. The wolf didn't acknowledge her beyond a glance when Taylor climbed out of the baths and wrapped a towel around her steaming swimsuit, then headed off towards the only anomalous door in the onsen she'd designed.
From above, the frosted glass ceilings and cement dividers of the bathhouse formed a peace symbol: a room each for women, men, and capes, each with a smaller selection of basins filled with different temperatures of mineral water. How the hell Sunny had managed that, Taylor had no idea, and she wasn't keen to investigate. The fact that the symbolism seemed to be working was more than enough for her. Showers and locker rooms formed the circle and inner barriers of the symbol, and it was the central hallway that Taylor now padded down towards the end. Sure enough, the long hallway stretched through the steamy air, seeming longer to traverse than common sense would dictate. It led at last to a solitary door, plain and sturdy, with a latched handle instead of a knob. Taylor took a breath, grasped the latch, and pulled the door open.
Light flooded the hallway.
The room beyond was massive, paved in warm wooden floors and every inch touched by sunlight. Paper lanterns hung just out of reach, the cheerful tok of bamboo fountains played against the sound of babbling brooks. Humanoid sparrows dressed in kimonos carried stacks of towels or platters of gourmet dishes to and fro. It was almost the very essence of festive, of hospitality, of welcomed guests and--
Taylor closed the door.
She took a breath, and then a few more, settling her heartbeat. She eyed the door handle that her hand still rested upon. Sunny was all the way back in the baths proper. There was no one to guide her here but herself. So, Taylor fell back on what she knew:
"You know what?" She asked, to empty air, "I am gonna just... make myself a pot of tea. And hope that whatever this is works itself out."
Unsurprisingly, Sunny had vanished by the time Taylor trekked back through the steamy halls towards the entrance of the bathhouse, and she didn't turn up during the hurried, towel-wrapped trek across snowy lawn to the Shrine's office, where Taylor could get dressed and properly dry her hair. And make that tea. And, safe and ensconced in blankets, with her hands wrapped around a warm mug, Taylor thought.
What was beyond the door was beautiful, and wonderful.
But it was not Brockton Bay.
It was not her city. It was not the trashed beaches, the broken-down neighborhoods, the tired brickwork and asphalt.
It was not the hopeful faces of the community she'd come to know and love. It was not the strain and hesitance of her peers, teenagers trying to find how they fit among themselves and society. It was not the will of the heroes like her father, resolute and weary. It was not hers.
(True, at times she wasn't sure that the world she knew was hers, either. There was a distance, almost a brightness, that seemed to come from behind her, showing light upon anything with soft edges and colorful faces. Taylor was hopeful, but never stupid: she knew that the city she claimed as hers was, to many, far more vicious than she'd ever known.
She could only do her best to reflect that gentleness onto others, like the moon did the sun.)
When the tea had been drunk and the memory of the doorway faded to a more easily accepted warmth, Taylor put on her coat and boots and trekked outside, then headed into the Shrine proper, while promising herself that she'd mop later to make up for her intrusion, as she passed through the haidan and into the honden. Sunny would usually gently shoo her out of here, but the wolf was off on her own business for the evening, leaving Taylor alone with the Shrine's inner sanctum and its treasures: a large bronze mirror, its surface clouded with age, and the much newer jewelry box, its lid painted in the lines and careful characters Taylor had drawn upon it months ago.
Taylor didn't open the lid, but she did kneel down in front of the box and eyed the characters she'd painted, regarding the treasure trove in silence.
13 animals. 13 sections. 13, she assumed, collections of beads. Several had been filled already: Rooster, Boar, Rat, Ox, Sheep, Monkey, Tiger... and Horse. 8 of 13 boxes had been filled. Whatever purpose Sunny had for collecting these particular gifts... it certainly didn't feel like only half had been collected. It had been such a busy year, after all.
Not for the first time, Taylor felt her thoughts wandering, wondering what reason Sunny had for doing this. But that always led to wondering what reason Sunny had for doing any of this, not just the fun hijinks or mysterious coincidences, but... any of it. Why spend so much time in Brockton Bay when her paws could have taken her anywhere? Why strain herself digging up hot springs and carrying ladders and--
And playing Frisbee, and painting walls, and trying out new recipes, and spending time with her and staying close when she cried, and-- and--
The moon didn't choose who to orbit. But Sunny had every chance to choose whom to let stay near. So why Taylor?
The jewelry box, under the clouded and silent gaze of the mirror, revealed no answer. Maybe it was something only Sunshine knew. Maybe there was no answer. Maybe it was something she'd only see when the time was right. Every option was possible, with Sunny. And while it should have been disheartening, should have been lonely, Taylor knew that Sunny had chosen to stay. Sunny had her back. She was something special, after all.
And just maybe, even when only reflecting everyone else's light, Taylor was becoming something special, too.