Charm Learning Shard (Worm/Exalted) (COMPLETED)

At the dojo (don't call it that out loud) Hookwolf barely glances your way, just gesturing towards Cricket.

Cricket is... weird. Up close, her metal cage of a mask barely hides her face at all. She was maybe pretty once, it's hard to tell beneath all the scars. Her throat is damaged to the point that she's using an artificial larynx to speak. To reiterate: She's suffering from a crippling injury, with Othala sitting right there. She clearly has a thing about 'honorable battle scars'. Despite this, she hands you a real knife to spar with.

Not that her confidence is misplaced. Distracted as you are, you don't manage to tag her even once. Meanwhile she's putting plenty of holes in you. Compared to sparring with Hookwolf, it's a wash. Broken bones hurt more, but Cricket makes you keep fighting even after you're injured, cutting you over and over until you keel over from blood loss (you deliberately suppress your ability to stop bleeding so as to not give away your Brute rating, turns out that's a thing you can do).

Then Othala fixes you up, and the process starts over. Cricket is clearly punishing you - she didn't go this hard on any of her other students - but throughout it all her expression never changes. You sort of miss the way Hookwolf took obvious pleasure in hurting you. At least that way one of you was having a good time. To top it off, she doesn't even speak enough for you to get a read on her soul's price.

You toss your clothes straight in the trash afterwards. Add to your projected expenses: Two sets of gym clothes per week. Until you get assigned a new sparring partner, they will not be salvageable.

---

School starts to settle into a routine. Now that you know it's possible, the next time you spot Aegis you have Fenrir sniff him as well. With your wolf tracking both him and Gallant, stalking the one while avoiding the other becomes a lot easier. You keep going after school too, working together with your invisible wolf to inconspicuously tail him to his home.

You look at the apartment building in question, vague notions of climbing up to his window to stare at him while he's sleeping dancing in your head. You feel a teensy bit uncomfortable with being this much of a creep, but console yourself with the thought that he's a hero. He probably deserves it.

Before you can creep yourself out too much, it's time for your first aid class. Cricket is there again, you're happy to note, and you proceed to once again ignore the lecture in favor of staring at her. All of the power study, none of the stabbing!

---

The next morning you wake up alone, which is weird. There should be either wolf cuddles, or your dad telling you to get up. He must have checked in on you earlier and decided to let you sleep. You activate sorcerer's sight and look around for your wolf.

There he is, sitting in the corner and- you spin around to face the other way, your cheeks burning. Right, dogs do that. Because, as the saying goes, they can. It's just a lot more awkward to catch them doing it when they are also sapient. You'll- you'll just go have breakfast, he'll catch up with you when he's, er, done.

You're halfway up the stairs when the realization hits you.

He's been licking your face with that tongue.

At least the rest of the day brings no further surprises. School, stalking, stabbings, in chronological order. And inverse order of educational... ness. Educationalness. Yes, that's definitely a word.

Spoiler: Othala-o-vision

"You wanted to see me?"

I briefly wonder if Kaiser's perfectly clean metal desk is just for show, meant to give him an executive air. Between meetings, does he remove the gauntlets and take out the paperwork? Maybe he has a laptop hidden in a drawer? No, focus.

"It's about Low Key," I say. "Can you tell Hookwolf and Cricket not to be so hard on her?"

"I make it a policy not to micromanage the affairs of my subordinates. Hookwolf's training methods are his domain. If you have a complaint, take it up with him."

"He wouldn't listen to me. Please! I- I think she genuinely has a learning disability. ADD or something. But they just keep punishing her, and it isn't working."

He hesitates briefly before speaking. "I'll take that under consideration," he says. My shoulders slump. That means 'no', I can tell.

"Will that be all?" he continues. A clear dismissal. He knows that I'm in no position to bargain. Someone else could threaten to leave unless they got their way, perhaps. I can say without bragging that I am vitally important to the smooth functioning of the Empire. But I could never leave, not while Victor remains. And Victor would not leave, not for my sake, not over something like this.

I can't even go on strike. I've just demonstrated that I'm moved by the suffering of my fellow man. For all that Low Key suffers (without complaint - I shudder to think what her home life must be like that she would accept such treatment) the effect of withholding my services would result in far worse harm. All they would have to do is parade the wounded soldiers in front of me, and I would cave and resume my duties.

I turn away before Kaiser can see the tears forming in my eyes. God, I wish there was something I could do for that girl other than just patch her up again and again.

---

Friday, and Rune is fashionably late as always. The conversation in the bar is a loud argument about whether the Army or the Marine Corps produces the manliest men. Loud, but fundamentally good-natured: Whatever their differences, the soldiers and marines are united by their utter contempt for the Air Force (pronounced 'Chair Force').

Then one of the non-serving members points out that manliness is all well and good, but when was the last time the US was engaged in a just war, exactly? Is anyone here going to pretend that foreign policy isn't completely controlled by you-know-who? He'd rather not get his ass shot off in a desert fighting Israel's enemies, thank you very much - and the less said about WWII, the better. Boy did that torpedo the mood in hurry. What a party pooper.

The patrol itself is just as boring as last time. You take the opportunity to convince Rune to show off a bit: How small a rock can she control?

The answer, it turns out, is that it has to large enough that she can legibly trace her runes on it with a fingernail. Apparently her cape name isn't just a generic norse-sounding word, you hadn't realized that. Your theory of 'magic is real, deal with it' as an explanation for parahuman powers is looking better every day.

It's not just a great help towards understanding her power, you also make sure to pocket the pebbles afterwards. Sorcerer's sight shows that her inscribed objects don't lose their 'charge' just because she stops paying attention, and you just scored a potential power source for your tinkertech.

---

Villains and heroes may take the weekend off, but there's no rest for the rogues. Is that what you are? You've technically joined the Empire, but not for real, and you haven't actually done anything villainous. Taking down Mush was perfectly legal vigilantism! Getting paid for it probably involved some sort of tax code violation though, now that you think about it.

Oh right, Emma. Forgot about her for a moment. That's assault with a parahuman ability, and regular assault (and battery, mustn't forget the other half of the dynamic duo). She deserved it, though. You idly wonder what happened to her brain when you ghosted her and the Loyalty wore off. Probably didn't make her less crazy. There's Blackwell too, you guess (also super deserved). Was that even illegal? You helped her cover up a bunch of crimes, but all them were against you, so that's really just 'not pressing charges', right? Oh, and the business with the gun the other day was technically theft, possibly of government property.

Yep, definitely a rogue.

Aaanyway, the reason you know that heroes get the weekend off is that, surprise, you've been stalking Aegis again. He spent most of Saturday hanging out with friends at the mall, the actions of a perfectly normal teenager. Or so Hollywood tells you, you haven't had a chance to try out the teenager + friends combo yourself.

When your copy of his power actually sticks to your soul, you're so surprised you almost fall over. That was way faster than either of your previous attempts! Then you stumble and almost fall over again, as you feel your guts churn and every bone in your body tingle.

The feeling passes after a few seconds, and you feel... sturdier? Yes. Somewhat. Your flesh still yields when you poke yourself, and bending a finger backwards still hurts. But you also have a conviction, a deep feeling like you get from your other powers, saying 'I am harder to kill'. You'll have to wait for Hookwolf and Cricket to review the changes, but you feel comfortable calling yourself a Brute 1 now.

Although... you poke at the golden construct in your soul. There is no off-switch. No user-serviceable parts inside. Nor can you modify, break or otherwise remove it (you didn't try with your earlier powers, but this one was easy enough to get that you didn't mind experimenting). Okay. So. Turns out that you can acquire powers that permanently change your physical body, and there are no take-backs. That's good to know, and you're incredibly grateful that you learned this from Aegis and not, say, Gregor the Snail.

In fact, you wish everyone was more like Aegis. Flaunting their power wherever they go, never looking behind them, and easy to copy!

---

On Sunday you finally check the status of your latest cape identity, the Tinker. You wanted to get around to it earlier, but for all that Aegis was quick by power acquisition standards, by the time you got his power yesterday the library had already closed.

When you log in to your Tinker account, you find not one but two messages waiting for you. Your heart sinks as you read the first.

Spoiler: Message 1

From: Armsmaster (Verified cape)
Smith,
I regret to inform you that the Protectorate is not interested in your services at the current time. Rest assured that this is not due to any flaws in the material, as I have personally tested the sample and verified not just its durability but also several intriguing thermal and optical properties. I would personally love nothing more than to have access to a supply of this orichalcum of yours, but alas, it is not up to me.

Despite my recommendation, it was deemed too expensive for the benefits provided. The Protectorate simply does not have the budget to armor its people in gold. Do not let this discourage you, it is a far more common result than people think. Several of my own projects have met the same fate.

If you come up with a more economical method of synthesis, or any other interesting materials, please do not hesitate to contact me again. Either by PM, or by calling me at 555-276774663 (if at all possible, avoid physical letters that set off the metal detectors, delivered by someone who rushes out of the building immediately afterwards).

Regards,
Armsmaster

PS: I took the liberty of forwarding a copy of your letter and the results of my tests to my good friend Dragon of the Guild. Hopefully our Canadian compatriots will be more receptive to your offer.

You can't help but smile at the parenthetical. Looks like your HoboMail delivery service was enough to cause a stir on its own, even without a mention of tinker-bombs in the address field. At least they seem to have taken it in relatively good humor.

Not that you have any ideas for other metals anyway. It's orichalcum or nothing, your power insists. You can't really complain, it's a discount power that came free with sorcerer's sight and doesn't even show up in your soul. You've also got about 2 hours of Kid Win study already, just from him sketching tinkertech blueprints in class. Maybe that will lead to something.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you almost miss the postscript. Dragon, as in Greatest Tinker in the World Dragon? Your breath hitches when you see that yes, the second message is indeed from Dragon.

Spoiler: Message 2

From: Dragon (Verified cape)
I hope I'm not being too forward contacting you like this, but Armsmaster shared the details of your new material with me and I simply could not pass up the opportunity. I've been working on potential anti-Endbringer weaponry lately, and several designs would benefit greatly from improved armor. Please contact me if you are interested in collaboration.
-Dragon

Your heart starts beating faster as you read. Dragon, the greatest (and richest) Tinker in the world? Endbringers? You knew that your power would eventually take you into the big leagues - unlimited growth does that to a person - but you didn't expect it to happen less than two months in, with only three powers learned.

It then skips a few beats when a small notification appears in the corner of the screen.

Dragon (Verified Cape) has initiated a private conversation
Smith. Saw that you were online. Do you have time to talk?

Your body notices that something tremendously exciting just happened, and helpfully floods itself with adrenaline. You take take a few deep breaths and try to explain to it that it's not in the ancestral environment anymore, you have all sorts of exciting things that don't require an immediate fight-or-flight response nowadays.

It is only moderately successful, and your fingers tremble a little as you type a response.

Gold_Smith: I can spare a few moments.
Dragon: Excellent. Let me slip into something more comfortable, like this cryptographically secure private chatroom: https://drg.ca/9aw769os

You blink. Is... is Dragon flirting with you? You click on the link.

Welcome to private chatroom f3eb22, your handle is 8344ac
(8344ac) has entered the room, 0 slots remaining
Room is now sealed
(a7e659) has renamed (a7e659) to (Dragon)
(Dragon) has renamed (8344ac) to (Smith)
Dragon: Welcome to my lair.
Smith: Very cozy. Let's talk about orichalcum.
Dragon: I'm afraid I'm fresh out of volcanoes, but I can refit one of my factories to accommodate your more modest design in short order. You did not include any notes as to the synthesis process itself, however. Intuitive?
Smith: Very. I will have to be personally present for the full week to ensure everything goes smoothly.
Dragon: It takes a week to synthesize?
Smith: Roughly, yes. Perhaps slightly more. There may be some variation depending on the quality of the equipment. Is that a problem?
Dragon: Not as such, no. It just makes it unlikely that it will be ready before the next endbringer attack.
Smith: There will always be more attacks.
Dragon: That's what we're trying to change here!
Smith: As you say, dear lady. Can you have the factory ready by next weekend? I can take a week off then, but after that my schedule is full for the foreseeable future.
Dragon: That should be doable. Are we agreed, then?
Smith: We haven't discussed how to split the loot.
Dragon: Ah. I... had assumed that it would all go towards the project. I will be providing both the factory and the materials, after all.
Smith: I do have certain obligations myself, I cannot afford to work completely for free.

You proceed to haggle. You can't claim to know who came out on top. You'd like to say that orichalcum is invaluable, but who is to say that the time and effort of the World's Greatest Tinker is not? In the end you agree that you'll get two kilos of orichalcum to take home from the first batch, and that Dragon will join you during the tedious smelting process. Together you'll design the combat drone that is to be constructed from her share.

No, you're not deluded enough to think that you could possibly improve on any design Dragon comes up with. Your 'assistance' is part of her payment to you, and you both know it. It is, of course, an excuse for you to study her power, but it's not the least bit suspicious. There is not a Tinker on earth who is not gay for Dragon, and collaborating with her on a project is the equivalent of a writer getting co-authorship credit with Shakespeare.

You did previously go to some effort to keep the true age, gender, etc of Smith obscured, but such concerns went straight out the window as soon as you realized that was on the table. Dragon's power: Worth it, for any conceivable value of 'it'. Hell, if orichalcum was any quicker to make you'd pretend it took a week just to get more study time.

Dragon agrees to provide transport to the factory (it's in Canada, naturally) and you promise to get back to her with details of exactly when and where to pick you up.

As you sign off the computer, there is a part of you that wants to jump up and down and shout 'Jackpot!'. The librarians would not appreciate that, though, so you settle for leaning back in your chair with a quiet, self-satisfied smile. Okay, you panicked a bit at the start there, but you brought it home in the end. Goddamn Dragon is offering up her power to you, ripe for the picking. Are you awesome or what?

Speaking of smug, time to call Lisa. You are, unfortunately, going to need some help on this one.

===

Spoiler: A/N

Armsmaster, AKA 'a civil servant', wept bitter Tinker tears at the opportunity he'd never have. "My budget..."

Dragon, AKA 'the parahuman prison-industrial complex', was overjoyed. "A duranium substitute that only costs slightly more than its weight in gold!?"

Spoiler: Updated status

Charms:
Taylor: All-encompassing Sorcerer's Sight
Tattletale: Know the Soul's Price
Bitch: Spirit-Tied Pet
Aegis: Ox-Body Technique

 

"'sup Merlin," Lisa greets you. "Learn any cool spells lately?"

"They're not spells," you insist. You raise your hand to forestall her reply. "Spells need incantations and eye of newt and stuff. They're more like... cantrips? Charms."

Lisa is undeterred, and seamlessly switches tracks. "You realize your pedantry just gave me even more material, right? You've been working your charms across the Empire, have you?"

"Shut up." You pout at her.

"Aw, no results yet? No luck playing the field?" She waggles her eyebrows gratuitously. "Are you sure monogamy is not right for you after all? What we had was beautiful, and actually gave results after a week. ...There's a joke about making babies in there somewhere, with your powers being the offspring."

"You are the worst, you know that right?" You understand the point she's making, but you're not going to play along. Why did you agree to come here and be Lisa'd at, again? Oh wait, it was your own idea. Shit.

"I try. How's the dog?" Her eyes flicker to the side, demonstrating that she can figure out where Fenrir is from watching your body language. "Are you taking care of his needs?"

Your mind flashes back to what you saw the other day. While you were able to take her earlier teasing with grudging amusement, this sally has you blushing beet red and speechless. Did she seriously just imply-

Lisa stares at you for a second, then lets out a startled laugh. "Christ, Taylor. I meant whether you'd started feeding him. Not- sorry."

"I have," you mutter, trying to regain your composure. As you desperately cast about for some way to change the subject, a hero appears to save you.

"Wanna see something funny?" you ask. "Behind you, five o'clock."

Lisa twists around just in time to see Glory Girl come swooping down out of the sky, landing next to Panacea. She gives her sister a hug, then sweeps her up in a bridal carry and flies off with her. You observe Lisa's power making all the relevant connections.

"Huh," she says. "That sure is a thing. How'd you- soul's price, right?"

"Yeah. Thinker dibs, by the way."

"What?"

"I figured it out first, I call dibs on using it."

Lisa seems slightly taken aback. "Would you actually-"

"Eeh." You make a weighing motion with your hand. "Probably not. Blackmail material if nothing else. Dibs."

"Fair enough."

You stare after the receding dot that is the New Wave sisters, lost in thought. "I wonder about that girl, you know. Is she even second generation? Her power is nothing like her family, and she's certainly fucked up enough for a proper trigger event."

You catch a flash of power from the corner of your eye, but don't manage to turn back in time to catch what Lisa just figured out.

"Oh," she says. "You're half right."

"Second generation, but adopted?" you hazard, and Lisa nods. "Who are her real parents?"

"I don't think I should tell you. Thinker dibs, you know."

"Hey, I told you mine!"

"Technically you just pointed it out, I had to use my own power to figure it out. I guess if you ever meet someone whose soul price is the death of all New Wave except Panacea, you'll figure it out too."

"Wait, they fucking abducted her from her parents? What the fuck is wrong with heroes?" Seriously, it's like as soon as someone starts calling themselves a hero they lose all sense of right and wrong.

"Mhmm. No more clues for you, I think." Lisa gives no sign of being outraged, but then she's been in the game longer than you. You're clearly still green if you get worked up over little things like kidnapping a child for her potential future powers.

"Speaking of heroes," Lisa continues, "how's Arcadia?" She tries her trademark grin on for size, but you shut that down.

"Nope. Nuh-uh. You don't get to be smug about that one, I literally sent you a picture of the place."

"Fine, fine. So, gonna brag about the swag or what?" That she's asking about what you stole, and not whose locker it was or why you wanted in there, indicates that she's figured those out herself. Which incidentally means that she knows what Kid Win looks like under the mask, since his face was visible in the video you sent her. Neither of you mention the fact. Unwritten rules, paper thin but still present.

"Obtaining the swag wasn't really the point," you demur. "Um..." You hesitate, but you do need to get to the point sooner or later. "The reason I called was that I need your help." You desperately try not to grimace as you admit it.

Lisa leans forward. "Do tell."

"I need an alibi, sort of." Lisa elects not to use her power to jump ahead in the conversation, and simply gestures for you to go on. Probably wants to enjoy your discomfort for as long as possible. "I need to leave town over winter break. Dad would never let me go on my own, but if he could meet my friend Lisa, who invited me along on her skiing vacation..."

"I see," Lisa says, drawing out the 'see' into a sentence all of its own. She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. "Four hundred bucks."

"Excuse me?" You're not bothering to hide your shock. She's never asked you for money before.

"Oh? Are you telling me you've resolved your stupid fucking issues about accepting 'pity' from your friends? Are you maybe ready to come hang out with Rachel and me instead of..." her power goes off and her voice rises as she hears what it says "...letting Hookwolf abuse you? Instead of being used as a child soldier by a fucking nazi regime? I'm not even going to mention whatever hare-brained scheme you're leaving town for-" because she hasn't been able to figure out any details, you think smugly "-but let's not pretend that I'm not doing you a favor by not doing this as a favor."

You slap four hundred dollars on the table. Her power tells her that you're grateful.

---

Convincing your dad to go along with the plan is incredibly easy. Not surprising: Your happiness is his soul's price. Lisa makes an excellent impression too, being all 'mister Hebert' this, and 'I've been doing my best to keep Taylor out of trouble' that. Bitch. She has more trouble convincing him that he doesn't need to help pay for anything.

He does try to make you promise to call him every day. You haggle him down to every other day, Christ, you're not nine years old. You have been out of the house before. He and Lisa share a smarmy adult laugh at your irritation.

"I like her. She seems like a good influence," he says after she leaves.

"I'm so glad you approve of my friends." You roll your eyes, every inch the sullen teenager, and get your hair mussed up in return. Yes dad, you certainly put one over on your daughter there, and not the other way around.

---

Of course the very next day the universe decides it's time to take all your plans and throw them out the window. But for once, it does so in a nice way.

There's a new parahuman in school. You stop and stare, causing one of your classmates to bump into you from behind.

"Hey, what are-" She follows your gaze. "Pretty nice. But do watch where you're going, eh?" She gives you a sly grin and a nudge.

Hm? You suppose the view is nice, when you take the time to look beneath the glow. A football player's build, tall and well muscled. Nice face, strong jaw. Just the way you like them. Then you're distracted from his physical appearance when his glow starts pulsing. Actively using his power! Just the way you like them.

But who is he? The Wards are all accounted for. Unless that's Triumph? You've read that Wards are usually promoted to full Protectorate some months before or after their actual birthday, to obscure their identities. It's plausible that Triumph could still be in school. Except Triumph's power is weaponized shouting, and that's not what this guy is doing.

More importantly, how the hell did you miss him for an entire week? Maybe he's a transfer student? He does look a bit lost, unless that's just him concentrating on his power. No, when you think about it you definitely recall seeing him before, only he wasn't glowing then.

Oh. Fresh trigger. You wince in sympathy. No wonder he's looking lost. And experimenting with his power in public. Must be a subtle one, then. You re-focus on the glow, trying to make out- autobiokinesis! Change all the plans, you must have this man!

Ok, focus. You're approaching a handsome older boy with amorous intent. Last time didn't exactly go great, but you weren't really trying then. This time around, failure is not an option. You spend a minute making preparations on your phone, then move in for the kill. Class is going to start any minute.

"You look a bit lost," you tell him as an opener.

"Hm? Yeah, I suppose." He doesn't even turn to look at you.

"I know something that could help with that."

"Oh?" The monosyllable is barely even a question, but at least he shifts his attention in your general direction.

"What you need is a brainless action movie, with a pretty girl on your arm." You make a show of looking around. "Shit, looks like there aren't any around. You'll have to make do with me."

"Hey-"

He lifts a hand and starts to object, but you wave him off. "No, no. No need for empty flattery, I already agreed to go out with you. Five o'clock at the Bayside Cinema work for you?" You hold up your phone, showing two tickets to Hard Capes 3: Revengeance just waiting for a press of the 'confirm' button.

"Uh... Sure."

"Great!" You tap the button with a flourish. "I'm Taylor, by the way."

"Cliff." He takes your offered hand just as the bell rings.

"See you there!"

Soul's price? Yes, that counted as an interaction.

Cliff wants to understand why. Why anything? Why everything.

Wow, that guy sure is out of it. Not that you blame him, because see above re: trigger event. You're just happy that you're in a position to help him feel better and/or take advantage of his emotional vulnerability.

---

As soon as the first class ends, you start working on everything else that must change to accommodate this development.

"Trouble?" Lisa answers her phone. Of course she knows who's calling. Of course she knows it's not a social call.

"Meet me right after school. No wait, during lunchtime. I'll be outside." You hang up. She'll figure out that it isn't an emergency, just urgent.

Then you put away your phone, and take out your other phone. Your Empire phone.

"What's up, Low Key?" You don't recognize the voice, but you don't know everyone in ops yet.

"Two hundred and eighty-three."

"Fifty-three. You know you don't need to use recognition codes when calling from your own phone, right?"

"Oh, uh, sorry. I forgot. I just wanted to say, I won't be available for patrol this week or the next."

"Kaiser will not be happy to hear that, especially on such short notice."

"You tell Schlomo he can dock my pay however much he wants, there's nothing I can do about it. When mom declares a family vacation, I don't get a say in the matter. I'm not the head of the household, yeah?"

You can hear the guy on the other side turn his head and relay this information to the rest of the room. Someone shouts "fuck!", presumably the guy in charge of patrol schedules.

"Acknowledged." He hangs up. Yeah, you made the nazis a bit grumpy, but all else has to bend in service of this opportunity.

---

"I need to get in touch with Toybox," you greet Lisa. "Yesterday, preferably."

"Are you doing this deliberately because I- you're not. Another cape? I guess you're just a busy, busy bee."

You shrug. "You know how it is. No rest for the rogues."

"Is that what you are?" she asks, amusement clear in her voice as she echoes your thoughts from the other day.

You shrug again. "I don't dress up in spandex and rob banks, so I'm not a villain. And I don't hurt innocents, so I'm not a hero."

"Fair enough. But for the record, I don't rob banks either. Too high profile."

"About Toybox..."

"Sure, sure. I guess it's on the house, since it's part of your vacation package." A few taps on her phone, and you hear the beep of a message notification from your pocket. "There. You simply must tell me how it all went when you get back."

As soon as Lisa leaves, you're on the line negotiating a rush order with a collective of mercenary Tinkers. They're indifferent at first, but become eager to please when you mention that you might be willing to part with some experimental dimension-phasing tinkertech that fell off the back of a Protectorate truck.

You're feeling a bit frazzled, but you would be lying if you claimed you weren't enjoying every minute of it. It contains fewer soul prices than expected, but this is exactly the fast-paced, interlocking shenanigans you wanted from the morally-ambiguous-Santa-Claus lifestyle.

Oh shit, you almost forgot to call your dad.

"Dockworker's Union, Hebert speaking."

"Hi dad."

"Taylor! Is something wrong?"

"No, no. Just wanted to let you know not to wait up for me tonight."

"Another party? It's good that you're telling me, but-"

"Not a party, a date."

"Well then I'm definitely setting a curfew." His tone is light and teasing, but you can tell that he's 100% serious underneath. "Be home by ten o'clock, or else. And I had better approve of this young man!"

"Yyyeah no not going to do that." You're going to maximize access to Cliff's power regardless of all other considerations, he'll just have to deal.

"Taylor-"

"Dad! I'm not going to put out on the first date!"

Your exclamation draws a few amused glances from passersby, but it's worth it for the spluttering sounds coming through the phone.

"That is what a curfew is meant to prevent, isn't it?" you continue at a more subdued volume. "Please have a little faith in me."

"It's not- It's not just that. You know I don't like you running about late at night."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, you should see the muscles on Cliff. Such delicious muscles. That I'm definitely not going to sleep with tonight."

He sighs. "This is what I get for telling you that I approve of your friends, isn't it?"

"Yep. Real dumb move, that. See you tomorrow!"

With that, you hang up. He's either going to grin and bear it or come storming into school and cause a huge scene. 80/20, you'd say.

===

Spoiler: A/N

If Browbeat has a canon name I'm not aware of, please do tell me. If not, his name is Cliff.

Spoiler: Mechanics corner

Knowing the Soul's Price explicitly guarantees that everyone has a soul's price to take advantage of, and implicitly guarantees that it's something theoretically achievable. Which means that, for example, it will never be 'resurrect their dead lover' because in the Exalted cosmology true resurrection is impossible.

(Good thing too, or Danny's soul price would have been a lot more depressing)

So apparently in this cosmology, there must exist an answer to life, the universe and everything? Neat.

 

What you'd like to do after school is to rush home and shower and panic over the fact that you don't have the first idea about how makeup works. Not that anything short of cosmetic surgery could make you pretty. Well either that or, you know, autobiokinesis. A catch 22.

You don't have time for panic, though. Cliff will have to put up with you as you are. You have to get to the library.

You clearly need a better method of communicating with Dragon, but you're not going to contact the greatest Tinker in the world from your private phone. That's just asking for trouble. Which is why you stop to buy another phone on your way to the library. This won't get confusing in any way. After all, you're only carrying around a Low Key phone, a Smith phone, a Taylor phone, and a Santa Claus phone right now.

In addition to giving Dragon Smith's number, you arrange your rendezvous. You already set a time and a place to take delivery from Toybox, so you tell Dragon to pick you up a few minutes later and a few blocks away from that spot.

Of course there is a slight issue in that the time is on Friday and the place is in Boston. Turns out Toybox doesn't deliver to Brockton Bay. You don't mind as such, obfuscating your home town a bit to Dragon doesn't hurt at all, but you're sort of meant to be in school on Fridays. You have brand new squeaky clean academic record at Arcadia that could survive a dent or two, but the dad situation is a bit volatile right now.

You'll bring it up in a day or two, when he's calmed down a bit. Something something Lisa wants to leave early to avoid the holiday rush.

---

Turns out you didn't need to worry about your slovenly appearance, because Cliff shows up at the cinema still wearing his school clothes. He may or may not have sat around staring at the wall until it was time to go.

The movie is entirely forgettable. Probably. If, against all odds, it had some hidden spark of artistic merit in there, neither of you would be able to tell. You're both entirely focused on his power. Cliff stares at nothing, you stare at him. He occasionally glances your way, and you offer him a (hopefully non-creepy) smile each time. Don't worry buddy, the staring is from infatuation. Nobody has discovered that you're parahuman.

You're vaguely aware from musical cues that the hero of the movie just got the girl when you feel a pair of lips against yours. You jerk back in shock. You were so focused on recreating a particularly tricky bit of his power that you didn't even notice him move.

"Sorry," Cliff says. "I just thought... the way you were looking at me..."

Shit! Damage control time. "No, no! I don't mind! You just startled me, that's all. Um, please try again?"

He does. It's... nice? He's an adequate kisser, you guess? Not that you're any judge (having never been kissed before), but you don't feel any of the world-shaking, breath-taking sensations that romance novels claim should go along with the experience.

Actually, there is a certain warm, fluttery excitement developing in your chest and stomach. A certain urge to, well, kiss him back. So you do. You wrap your arms around him and pull yourself into his lap.

Oh god, you hope you're an adequate kisser.

He doesn't complain, at least. By the time you pull away you're flushed and breathing heavily. Okay, maybe you were a bit quick to judge. It definitely got better as it went on, and ended up a lot better than 'adequate'.

The movie goes back to less romantic imagery as the girl is kidnapped by the villain and the vengeful hero starts tearing his way through dozens of hapless mooks. You try to get your head back in the game and focus on power theft.

---

When the villain is defeated and the girl saved (you assume - at least, the credits roll) Cliff insists on buying you dinner, since you paid for the tickets. You let him. It's nothing fancy, a burger and fries that isn't fast food. In the language of restaurants, 'I like you, but I'm not planning on marrying you any time soon.'

Neither of you is much of a talker, but whenever the silence threatens to become awkward you just lean over and kiss him again. No reason not to combine business and pleasure. You don't do it too often, though, as that has a tendency to make him forget about his power and focus on you for a while.

Heh. Lucky bastard, isn't he? He found a date who actively wants him to not pay attention to her.

When he does speak, it mostly brief but thoughtful statements on the nature of, well, just about anything that catches his attention. How many people eat Worcestershire sauce without knowing where Worcestershire is, or even that it's a place rather than brand name. Pithy observations about how the Great Plains and cattle farming influenced the American diet. How many people were involved in the supply chain leading to creation of his chair, and how many chairs must be produced for that to make economic sense.

It's the sort of things you had never bothered to consider, but you suppose they serve as a foundation for someone trying to understand the meaning/purpose of life? Maybe?

At one point he does seem to get inspired, and goes on an extended philosophical inquiry/rhetorical question about why kissing evolved to be pleasurable. It's obvious why certain other activities did, but kissing is technically entirely optional as far as procreation is concerned.

"I could stop if you want," you say teasingly. "Since it's optional."

He completely misses the chance to flirt back with something like 'no, I must collect more data', of course, and just goes on speculating. It is sort of romantic in its own way, you suppose. At least until he starts contrasting it to how birds feed each other, ie by puking into each others' mouths.

"Have you considered the hypothesis that we were created by a benevolent God that wants us to be happy?" you ask.

"Yes," he says, dead serious. You laugh, and kiss him again.

It's amazing how long you can keep a boy's attention with nothing but inexpert small talk and sporadic makeouts. After the meal you go for a walk, then walk some more to find a place that serves coffee that's still open. By the time you finally get home, it's after midnight.

Cliff insists on driving you home rather than letting you walk on your own. You'd probably be safer walking even if you weren't parahuman, because Cliff doesn't stop focusing on his power just because he's behind the wheel. You make sure your seatbelt is secure and keep on studying him. By now his constant shapeshifting experiments have given him a Brute rating almost as good as your own. Flimsy as Brutes go, in other words, but easily enough to, say, walk away more or less unharmed from a car accident at city driving speeds.

He walks you to your door, and you kiss him goodnight even though your dad is watching through the window. He stayed up waiting for you despite you explicitly telling him not to do that, because of course he did.

"Still a virgin!" you announce after shutting the door behind you. "Now go to bed, you have work tomorrow."

Danny opens his mouth, then closes it again. Your sudden usurpation of the scolding high ground seems to have put him off his stride. He spends a few moments debating whether he ought to become angry before finally chuckling and shaking his head.

"Try not to hate your old man too much for worrying about you, okay?"

"'kay." You give him a quick hug before heading towards your room.

"I will want to meet him before too long, though," he calls behind you.

"Do the same thing tomorrow, but invite him in this time? Can do, dad!" You skip down the steps with a song in your heart.

---

The next morning in school you make a beeline for Cliff - you had Fenrir take a sniff of him yesterday so you would always be able to track him down. It's not creepy stalking if you're actually dating the guy!

You greet him with a hug and a kiss. "So, did it help?" you ask, and frown at his blank look. "Well, maybe we didn't get the dosage right. Wanna try again today?" you ask.

"I have practice today."

"Oh." You could always back off and make do with the Aegis method, ie regular old-fashioned stalking. But that's nowhere near as efficient, and your schedule is touch and go as it is. "Can I come watch?"

"Sure, if you want." The shrug is apparent in his voice, if not his body language.

---

Somewhat to your surprise, practice turns out to be baseball rather than football. But on further consideration, it suits him.

It's not that you hate baseball or anything (you'd have to emigrate in shame), but when you get right down to it it's a sport where the majority of players spend the majority of their time not actually doing anything. And no one is better at standing around lost in thought than Cliff.

Okay, that sounded sort of mean, even in your own head. You mentally apologize to boyfriend and baseball both. You wonder whether you'd have had a thought like 'the fundamental nature of baseball is standing around waiting for something to happen' before yesterday. Cliff must be rubbing off on you, if you've started analyzing things like that. You certainly rubbed yourself against him enough last night.

(In practice it's actually more 'jumping in place to keep warm' than 'standing around', because February is still a thing right now)

"Did you have fun?" he asks afterwards. You get the feeling that he's less interested in your mental state and more interested in modeling the entertainment value of chilly baseball practice.

"I could watch all day," you answer truthfully.

"You're a lucky guy, Cliff!" one of his teammates calls. "I wish my girlfriend was interested in baseball."

"Yeah, me too!" another one agrees.

"I wish I had a girlfriend at all," a third boy says.

"Maybe if you did something about the way you smell, you'd get one."

"Well, that and your stupid face."

"And your tiny dick!"

"Man, fuck you guys."

"With a dick that tiny, we wouldn't notice if you did!"

Ah, teenage boys.

"Do you want to come over to my place?" you ask Cliff, to general approving noises. "Not the way they think. My dad wants to meet you."

"Oh man, the bait and switch. She's heartless!"

"Run, Cliff! Run while you still can."

"Yeah, okay," Cliff says. To you, not the guy telling him to run away. Possibly because running away would take more effort.

---

"He seems nice, but a little... off?" is Danny's verdict, once Cliff has left and you're washing up after dinner.

"Yeah, he had a traumatic experience recently," you say.

"Oh. Is that why you- no, never mind. Forget I said anything."

"...yes. Yes, that's why I." What can you say? It's completely true. The reason you're together is that you both had trigger events.

"Sorry."

"Please don't bring it up in front of him. It's a touchy subject." Also Cliff doesn't know that you know.

---

To your dismay, Cliff isn't working on his biokinesis any more when you find him the next day. Instead he's subtly playing with... telekinesis? Nothing visible, just creating a layer of repelling force next to his skin. You can't be sure without closer study, but you suspect that his Brute rating just shot straight past yours and well into 'combat viable' territory.

So, he got a double ticket in the power lottery. Some people have all the luck. Not as much luck as you, of course, but the people with that kind of power luck can be counted on the fingers of one thumb (the thumb is named Eidolon).

Unfortunately, telekinesis is not what you want out of this relationship. But you can fix this.

You press yourself up against him and whisper in his ear, "I swear you get more handsome every day." You pretend not to notice as he panics, drops the shield and frantically sends his power roving through his body, looking for anything out of place, any forgotten alteration or visible sign of his internal remodeling.

Finding nothing, he starts reversing his Brute improvements anyway, just to be safe. Because when your girlfriend tells you that something is different, you don't stop looking just because you're 99% sure she's having you on. Though usually it's her own appearance she's commenting on.

---

You catch Glory Girl giving you the stink-eye during lunch, as you sit snuggled up against Cliff. You smirk at her in return. Your sudden and overly affectionate attachment to Cliff in no way invalidates the narrative playing out in her head. Her theory about your closet status has the benefit of being almost entirely unfalsifiable. You can almost see the little countdown timer to acrimonious relationship collapse ticking away behind her eyes. She'll feel so validated when it turns out she was right all along.

"So," you ask Cliff, "what do you want to do today?"

"You could come over to my place," he says, unexpectedly showing a modicum of initiative. Is he actually getting better?

"My turn to meet your parents, eh?"

"My parents won't be home."

Well then! When this guy finally does takes the initiative, he sure doesn't drop it halfway!

"Okay," you say.

---

So. Your boyfriend, who's a bit older than you, has invited you back to his place, where his parents are conspicuously absent. If this was an educational movie, this would be the part where he tries to pressure you into doing something that you're not ready for, and you break up with him and find a nice boy your own age who is willing to take things slow.

Cliff is a total gentleman, though. He lets you take the lead, and in no way tries to make you... well, okay, total personal honesty time? You're not sure there is anything you're not prepared to do in order to get your hands on autobiokinesis. But you're grateful to Cliff for not making you find out! He's perfectly happy just to take a leisurely stroll over to second base and settle down there for the evening.

Heh, baseball metaphors.

Due to certain distractions on both your parts, you don't get as much power study in as you'd like. You almost had it on that last attempt, though. Tomorrow for sure.

You've also clearly proven that powers vary in complexity. Aegis was easier than Rachel was easier than Lisa, but Cliff is definitely harder than Aegis (though still easier than Rachel). So it's not you getting better over time, there's some other factor at play. You'll need more powers to establish a pattern, though.

---

Just as expected, you get his power on your very next try on Thursday, before you even have a chance to say hello.

Spoiler: Cliff-o-vision

I see Taylor approaching, and remember to smile this time. Little things. Work on the little things, until they become automatic once more. Taylor never seems to mind when I forget, though. I like that about her.

However, she does not greet me with her usual enthusiasm today. Instead she stops at arm's length and looks me over critically. Perhaps she prefers that I don't smile?

"It's not helping, is it?" she asks. I don't understand what she means.

She sighs, then moves up to kiss me on the cheek. "Good luck," she says as she turns to leave.

She's breaking up with me, I suddenly realize. She did offer that first date as a means of helping me recover. Everything that followed as well, clearly.

I want to call out, to stop her. But she's right. It wasn't helping. She offered me a kindness, gave it her best shot, and it failed. I have no further claim to her time.

I reach up to touch my face where she kissed me. It wasn't helping, but it was nice. I wouldn't have minded- no, I would've liked for it to continue.

Alas.

===

Spoiler: A/N

In my original outline I had Taylor learn shapeshifting from Oliver, after she ran into him at a butcher shop (her buying meat for Fenrir, him for Noelle). Then I realized that the Travelers don't come to Brockton Bay until after Dinah gets kidnapped.

After having spent a fair few minutes swearing over having to throw the whole thing out and start over, I suddenly remembered Browbeat. It's not just a meme, I had honestly forgotten that Browbeat existed. It's not a perfect solution, but having his mental issues reach their tipping point in February instead of early March can safely be blamed on butterflies.

Spoiler: Updated status

Charms:
Taylor: All-encompassing Sorcerer's Sight
Tattletale: Know the Soul's Price
Bitch: Spirit-Tied Pet
Aegis: Ox-Body Technique
Browbeat: Shaping the Ideal Form

Spoiler: Mechanics corner

Shaping the Ideal Form is a 1e charm, even though I'm using 2e otherwise. That's because in 2e, not even lunars can shapeshift. Sure, they can eat people to steal their form, but freeform shapeshifting? No.

The closest thing is an abyssal charm that lets you walk through a field of corpses, absorbing and resculpting them and replacing an arbitrary amount of your own flesh with theirs. Side effects may include changing your creature type from 'human' to 'magical zombie' (but usually no one notices this, because abyssals are already magical zombies).

That doesn't mean that exalts are bad at disguising themselves. Whether it's making mundane disguises supernaturally convincing, or reaching into the Matrix to edit your own metadata headers directly, or wrapping yourself in the unspeakable shadow of the prince of all lies... Most exalted methods of making people think you're someone else are better than the humble Shaping the Ideal Form.

But that's not what Browbeat does, so I'm using StIF. It's not OP or anything - in function it's a more limited version of the solar charm Flawlessly Impenetrable Disguise: FID makes a disguise that's impossible to see through because a solar says so and reality will just have to deal, while StIF makes one that's impossible to see through because that's really what you look like now.

Spoiler: Cliff-o-vision

Someone snuck a note into my locker. The message is short and unambiguous, yet incredibly confusing.

Don't join the wards
- a friend

Someone knows. Who? A friend, ostensibly. Why does this friend not identify themselves?

Who does know? My parents. My psychiatrist. Any number of people at the hospital, who might have noticed my unnaturally speedy recovery. The PRT, if the hospital contacted them. I can rule out the PRT, they would not dissuade me from joining the Wards. Unless... the Wards are being treated badly, and this is a whistleblower of sorts? That would explain the subterfuge.

Assume it's not a friend. A villain would obviously be interested in preventing the rise of more heroes. But if a villain knows enough to find my locker, there are more direct ways to deal with me. Perhaps they fear my power, and do not feel confident in victory? Are they hoping to recruit me? Why not include a recruitment pitch, then?

Unless-