Taylor, Tinker.

[Krak-Quinn]

Tomorrow.

Winter break ended tomorrow, some parents would be relieved while their kids would be dismayed.

Taylor Hebert was one of those kids, but it wasn't because she hated learning, in fact she rather enjoyed it. What she was dismayed about wasn't school work, but rather her classmates, more specifically her bullies. She didn't remember all the faces and names of those who occasionally bullied her, but she did remember the big three.

The Trio, if you prefer they had a catchy name, was made up of her ex-best friend Emma Barnes, of a track jock Sophia Hess, and the 'cute one' Madison Clements. All put together they had beauty, brawns and brains. A triple threat that had zeroed in on her. Those three were at the center of a campaign to make her life difficult at every corner, and she couldn't do anything without some 'proof'.

She was grateful for winter break, she was able to relax for a while, until she realized just how much her life has changed. When the last night of break came, tonight, she couldn't bring herself to even think she'll go to school tomorrow. She just knew that if she went to school, she would hate herself for it, for willingly going back and letting herself get tormented.

She had spent most of the night since getting into bed just thinking of what they would do to her, she had imagined scenario after scenario about the ways her bullies would welcome her back.

Would Emma use something Taylor had confided in her friend to humiliate her? Again. Would Sophia finally go too far and cripple her?

She just didn't know what to do anymore. her best friend was now her worst enemy, and no one who went or worked at the school cared about what was happening to her. It felt like it was just a short while ago when Emma was her BFFs and Taylor's mother was alive, but it also felt like it was forever ago.

She wanted to know what happened.

What she could do to fix their friendship, but Emma wouldn't tell her.

She was all alone.

No friends, no loving mom, and her dad was just a husk of his old self.

The whole world was conspiring to take away her happiness.

And they succeeded.

When she woke up she didn't remember going to sleep, but the sunlight leaking through the curtains and blinds on her window confirmed that time had definitely passed without her noticing.

She turned over in her bed and looked at her clock, she was surprised to find the time was 8:23 am. She would be late for school. She jumped out of bed and tripped over her blankets in the process, she counted herself lucky her fall hadn't been excessively violent.

Laying there on the floor, she reasoned with herself that this was for the best, and that she deserved an extra day off.

She almost dozed off, trapped tightly in her covers, but then her eyes snapped open when she felt something tickling her brain. Taylor sat up and thought about what she felt, it wasn't something physical, no it was like something had brushed against her thoughts themselves.

As she pondered, it happened again, this time it lasted a little longer, and she saw things. Light, movement, reactions, waves, shapes and other things she quickly forgot about, she could only recall her reactions to seeing them, and that she knew what she was seeing. Glimpses of technology were swimming on her brain.

She brought a hand up to hold her dizzy aching head and slumped against her bed, she saw technology more clearly. The headache faded and she took a moment to wonder what the fuck just happened, her first thought was that she had an aneurysm or stroke, but then the hopeful thoughts came, like did she have a superpower?

She knew Tinkers existed, they had the superpower to make advanced technology, she never really wondered what that meant, but now she did. She knew they didn't create things from nothing, so that meant they built it, so their superpower had to be the tech they make. So one could conclude that having vague imprints of technology brush against your consciousness meant you had powers.

Taylor needed to test it, she needed to see if she could actually make something, so she got off the floor and changed her clothes before going downstairs, she cut through the living room and made her way into the basement. A flick of a switch illuminated the basement, the dust in the air was visible.

Her father's toolbox was stored down here, she has only seen him use it a few times, mainly just the hammer and screwdriver. It didn't take a lot of searching to locate it, she could tell it was old, the faded red and rusty corners painted a clear picture. She opened it up to find a few wrenches, a handsaw, some pliers, a hammer, plenty of screwdrivers, a power drill, a measuring tape and a lot of loose screws and nails.

These tools were great for fixing things, but she wasn't going to repair, she was going to create. She needed different tools, or better tools.

An idea appeared in her head, there was a weird sensation that flowed through her mind. It was like a cartoon light bulb lit up above her head, and her brain was channeling the electric current that powered the bulb. Her attention wavered, she could feel her body move, it knew what she had to do.

When she was done, the tools hardly looked different, aside from a few dents and grooves, but they felt better in her hands. She had hit parts of the metal bits with a hammer, tightened some parts with the wrench and fiddled with the screws and bolts. She was just doing what came instinctively, so either she was delusional or she had powers.

Taylor wanted to actually use her new powers, if she wasn't delusional that is, so she needed to make something but she would require materials. She turned her head to look around the basement, and she realized she was sitting on the floor. She pushed herself up with her palms and inspected the junk that had gathered down here.

She didn't bother looking through the boxes, she knew those contained old clothes and paperwork, so she just moved those aside. After about ten minutes of searching, she hadn't found a lot, which made sense, but she did find an old microwave, a toaster, and a car battery.

Taylor also found an old bicycle, it was small and she remembered riding around the park with Emma, they laughed and played for hours, it was memories like those which made her insults sting harder. She had also found a box with christmas decorations, she didn't think her family had used them since before her mom passed away, her dad and her didn't really celebrate much of anything anymore.

She was struggling to lift the microwave before she realized she had no reason to, the best place to tinker would have to be down here. It was away from prying eyes, her dad didn't come down here often, and there was a workbench down here, it was perfect, but not in this state. She had to clean, she opened the small window to let the air in and went upstairs to get some things. She found the broom, and after a little bit of checking cabinets, a duster.

She also got a new lightbulb from the hallway closet, she took two extra so she would have more materials to tinker with. Then she went on a hunt, she scoured every nook and cranny looking for materials. In the end she found a few disposable cameras, never used, a few batteries, ranging in sizes and volts, and a lot of electric toys that she never played with anymore, and a box cutter, she dumped everything into a cardboard box before going back to clean the basement.

When she finished her descent into the basement, her first thought was to replace the bulb, but then she realized she had left it on and it had heated up considerably. She had to go back up and find oven mitts or wait until it cooled, she chose the mitts.

It was probably an hour later when she stopped and considered herself done, satisfied with her area, she moved on to her tools. She took the toolbox out back and washed the tools down with a hose and a rag. When she was done drying them and while taking them back downstairs, she saw the time. It was 1:00 pm, she had about eight hours until dad got home, eight hours to prove to herself that she had powers.

Her station was complete, she set up on a workbench with big materials to the side, a box of materials underneath and the tool box sitting on top.

It sure looked nice, but it was nowhere near her image of a true Tinker's workshop, but that didn't mean anything she told herself that she had to start somewhere, but then she asked herself where she could go from here if she had powers, eventually he dad would catch her and make her join the Wards.

Taylor didn't want that, she could see the benefits of joining the Wards, she wasn't blind, she could have an actual workshop and materials, if only she signed up to another place filled with teenage drama and adult oversight. She was already struggling to just stay in school, and she wanted freedom, so she was okay with her basement, but she didn't want to be caught by her dad.

If she wasn't crazy, then she needed to keep her tech small, stuff she could easily hide when she was not here, and when she did get some momentum in building things she would have to find someplace to build bigger and better things.

Now that she was done, cleaning and thinking, and maybe stalling, she could try to build something that was actually Tinker tech.

She stood in front of her workbench, cleared her head and waited until an idea came to her mind, nothing happened.

She stood under the light and tried to focus, to call upon the feeling she felt earlier, still nothing happened. Worry grew in her heart, she had no idea what to build, maybe she should have read up on Tinkers, she only knew what she remembered from cartoons, gossip and mentions in class, that Tinkers built things that couldn't be built through normal means.

She tried thinking about Tinkers, there was obviously Hero, Haywire and Dragon. Then she remembered the discussions she had overheard, Kid Win was a Tinker, and Squealer was also a Tinker, and she guessed Armsmaster was a Tinker too.

Tinkers built power suits, portals, hoverboards, bikes, lasers and halberds with plasma cutters. Tinkers made weapons and vehicles, so she guessed she could make a weapon. She decided to start small with something she could build fast and use to take down a villain non lethally.

She felt the current run through her brain, she had an idea and hope. She took apart toys and a camera and cut open the christmas lights, she took small bits that handled power from the toys and camera, and some wire from the lights.

Time passed by unnoticed, she only stopped because her stomach growled at her. Snapping back to the real world, she felt incredibly hungry and her hands hurt, which wasn't surprising, she recalled the small shocks from wires and the knicks from metal, luckily she hadn't drawn blood.

Looking down on her unfinished project, it appeared as if a child had made it, though that was mainly because she was reusing a casing from a toy. If you ignored the childish plastic container, it just looked messy, with too much wiring and connected bits exposed, but she didn't care about its appearance too much. She only cared that she was one step closer to proving she had superpowers, if what she built could do things that conventional science said it shouldn't be able to, that would confirm her hopes.

Her stomach growled again, reminding Taylor that she hadn't eaten since dinner last night, too engrossed in testing her potential power to notice throughout the day. She stretched and let out a yawn before climbing the stairs. The clock revealed the time to be 5:00 pm. Four hours had passed since she started working, absently she heated up some leftovers from dinner and ate her food quickly.

She didn't bother washing her dishes, just left them in the sink, and went back down. She had shocked herself a lot, so she considered wearing some gloves but threw that idea away, since she needed her nails to hook on to the loose wires.

As she closed the casing, she felt the mental current fade, she was done. It wasn't pretty, but it was finished, and about the shape of a thick tv remote, but with the top and bottom opened. It was pastel pinks and dark blue with silver screws running down its length. She picked up the second piece, it was wires, junk and a battery all exposed, she slotted it into the bottom of the first piece.

It emitted a rising high pitched whine, and she could feel the energy thrumming inside it, her thumb was hovering above a button, if she pressed it, it would connect the circuits. This was it, either she mashed bits and pieces together at random and would seriously harm herself, or Taylor was a Tinker and this was her first piece of Tech.

She pointed the thing, which would crush or make her dreams, at a wall and pressed the button. It buzzed, crackled, and then shot out a current of electricity. A smile grew on her face as she watched the electricity stop after two feet and loosely sustain itself mid air.

She did it, she did it. She had superpowers.

The Tinkertech in her hand started feeling hot, and she noticed the electric arc starting to lash outside its designated zone, so she relaxed her finger on the button. The electricity shrunk and disappeared.

She looked at her Tinkertech stun gun and felt pride, even though she didn't completely understand how it worked she was glad. She doubted regular stun guns could shoot and sustain electricity from a distance. She will have to watch out for strong magnets when she uses it though.

Taylor imagined a mugger and pointed her weapon at him, she pretended to press the button, the imaginary mugger spasmed and fell to the ground. For the next minute she aimed at imaginary villains and pretended to fire.

Her heroic fantasies abruptly ended when she heard the front door open, her dad was home. She was torn, she wanted to show him her technology, she wanted him to be proud and congratulate her with a smile and a hug. But she knew he wouldn't care, that he would only be concerned about her safety, and her heart raced with panic at the thought of being caught.

Disappointed and panicked, she froze. She faintly heard the creaking of the stairs, of him walking up to the second floor, she had time. She quickly and quietly packed away the tools into the toolbox and scooped the toy scraps into her materials box, then she closed and moved both boxes away from each other and snuck up the stairs.

Her stun gun was tucked into her waist and covered by her shirt, she turned off the light before slowly opening the basement door, then she sneaked her way around the kitchen. She had a choice to make, stay in the kitchen and find a reason as to why she was down here, or sneak into her room and not have to lie.

Maybe she was still riding the high, but she decided to sneak into her room.

As the seconds seem to drag and her heartbeat grew louder by decibels, she walked along the edges of each step as she ascended, she could see the bathroom light on, and knew this was the final stretch. She took a gamble, held her breath and walked, she tried to straddle along the tightrope of quiet and slow or loud but fast.

One minute later, she was panting and exhausted, but she made it to her room without being detected. She hid her Tinkertech in a drawer and flopped on her bed, then she dozed off and was woken up by her father at dinnertime.

They ate and said good night, then she went to bed for real.

 

[Krak-Quinn]

This morning, her alarm had woken her up on time, she pressed the button to silence it and rolled her legs off her bed. She sat on the edge and rubbed the sleep out her eyes, a yawn escaped her mouth. She knew today would be the same as always, and then she remembered.

Taylor was a Tinker now.

She was completely awake now, and she rushed over to the drawer which should contain proof, she slowly opened it. It was there, her Tinkertech was there. It was real and not just a dream.

She knew being a Tinker wouldn't change much at school, but now she had something she could escape to, and when the time came, she could even be a hero. She went through her morning routine with a little pep in her step, not enough for her dad to notice, or maybe that just said something about how little he paid attention to her.

She reluctantly left her Tinkertech behind, hidden in her sock drawer, and caught a bus to school.

She knew something was off as soon as she walked through the doors of Winslow High, whispers and snickers followed her everywhere, she grew uneasy and tried to distract herself with Tinker ideas, but that ended when she got to her locker.

It was open and empty, the stench of bleach was prominent in the air, it didn't make sense that a student would use bleach, so she guessed the janitor had been here. And if the janitor had to clean her locker, that meant it had been dirty, which she doubted she left it like that so that meant someone else had done something.

Now she was suddenly very glad that she skipped school yesterday, until she realized how it looked. Every time she tried reporting an incident without any proof, she was written off as an attention seeker, and since she couldn't prove anyone had access to her locker, she was no doubt blamed for this too. She quietly fumed, and walked away, she hoped, she knew it wouldn't, but she hoped if she failed to acknowledge it then it would go away.

Instead of a peaceful walk to class, she crossed paths with a pissed off Sophia Hess, Taylor did her best to ignore her, tried to block out what she said to her, but she couldn't control her body's reactions, so she winced and flinched with every verbal jab. She was shaking, Sophia probably thought she was shaking in fear, but in reality she was bursting at the seams with barely restrained anger.

She didn't really understand Sophia, the girl who had met Emma while Taylor was at summer camp and became her best friend. And then the girl turned Emma against her, and while she used to wish and hope Emma would come to her senses and be her friend again. She didn't really care about Sophia.

She knew the girl would beat her in a fight ten out of ten times, however it would be so very cathartic to just punch her once, but Taylor didn't. She was going to be a hero, and heroes didn't harm civilians.

Sophia eventually got bored and left, and Taylor didn't go to class until she finished calming herself down. Her first class was computer science, a class she was doing fairly well in, and when she finished her computer assignment, she took a quick trip to Parahumans Online, and looked up Tinkers.

What she read could be summed up as: Tinkers had a power that allowed them to create and alter devices beyond what could be accomplished through normal means, sometimes ignoring physics. They also had a specialty, which meant they were very efficient in certain fields of technology.

The most common thing Tinkers made appeared to be Power Armors, they seemed to shove all their tech inside it, she didn't think that was going to be possible for her, she doubted she could assemble, and sneak around, a hulking suit of metal in her current workshop.

A little more reading revealed just how moronic she was acting by not joining the Wards, apparently it's notorious for Tinkers to cannibalize their home appliances just to scratch the itch to build, and for them to run low on resources and energy. They eventually joined someone, heroes or villains, just to get materials.

She also did a little bit of research into the current Cape scene in her area, the major players for the hero side were the Protectorate ENE, the Wards and New Wave, the major villains gangs were the E88, the ABB, and the Merchants.

There were also lesser known capes, for the heroes they're Sere and Dovetail, and for the villains there's Coil, Circus, Stain, Über and Leet, Trainwreck and the Undersiders. There was also Parian, a rogue, and Faultline's Crew, who were mercenaries.

The rest of the school day continued like normal, harassment and neglect, she was able to deal with most of it by focusing on her new powers. During lunch she was able to make a projectile launcher out of a few school supplies she had in her backpack, which wasn't that impressive but she was able to focus on it and ignore reality for a bit

She dismantled it shortly after, because she didn't want to get in trouble by being caught with 'weapon' but she kept the pieces in her bag.

And during gym class, the insults she got made her think that maybe they were right to an extent. She was pretty weak and had almost no stamina, if she wanted to be a hero, she would have to change that. At the end of the day, she rushed out and she made sure to take a new route, she didn't want to deal with the Trio anymore today.

She took a bus home, but she was in and out a moment later, she traded her bag for her wallet, she had formed the outline of a plan. The mall was busy, teenagers just released from their schools were crowding the floor, so she had to worm her way through them and into a shop.

From her research one of the main problems for Tinkers were resources, that was materials to tinker with. And since her dad would notice if all of their home appliances were gone, she had to buy some things but since she didn't know what she needed, she decided to buy things that could be taken apart for parts. There was one thing she was certain she needed, a game station. From what her classmate, Greg Veder, has said the parts were top of the line.

She bought all the money she had saved up, most of it came from her grandma, today with her just so she could buy parts.

The sun had started to set as she walked through the doors of her home, her hands full of bags. She knew most of the space was being taken up by packaging, so she dropped them in the living room and went to get some scissors.

Getting home had been nerve wracking, she probably looked like such an easy target, but luckily she was able to navigate her way home without any complications.

She walked back into the living room and got to work unpacking everything.

Her haul was okay, she didn't buy too much and still had some money left over, she had bought a game station, a few cheap disposable phones, a phone charger, a watch, two flashlights, a few laser pointers, some batteries, a hot glue gun, glue sticks, some electric tape, a few pens, paperclips, a small rotating fan, an rc car, and two handheld radios.

She threw away all of the instructions and packaging, then took multiple trips downstairs to organize her workshop. She finished at about 7:00 pm, and she wasn't in a rush to build anything. Fortunately the weekend was tomorrow, so she could spend the entire day tinkering away then.

She wasn't sure why winter break had ended on a Thursday, but she wasn't complaining.

She ate dinner before showering, then she went down to the basement, she put on the watch and looked at the time, she had about an hour and ten minutes before her dad got home. It could be enough time to start something simple, she had already built something, now she had to see if she could alter something.

She looked around and chose the flashlight, she could feel the current again and she lost herself as she unscrewed the screws.

…

…

The current rescinded and she examined her work, it was hard to tell the difference at first glance, but if one was to open the shell, they would find it hard to see the thing as a flashlight.

A glance at her watch informed her she had a few minutes before Dad got home, she pointed the altered flashlight at the far side of the wall and clicked one button, the entire area in front of the light was lit up, the reflection was nearly blinding. She clicked a different button, the cone shrunk to the size of a dot, an incredibly bright dot. She clicked the third button, and the intensity of the light dropped.

She built a very bright flashlight/laser-pointer, she could probably blind someone for a while if she aimed for their eyes. As she started packing away her things, she thought about the thing she would have to worry about, similar to her stun gun, it was battery powered and overheated if left on for more than a few seconds.

She used batteries as a power source and until she made a new power source, if she could, then that wouldn't change soon. But for now she would just have to make sure she didn't overwork anything. And her tech mostly overheated because she was shoving too many things into small casings, but she only did that so it could work effectively, if she had better materials then she would fix this.

The rest of her night went smoothly.

And when her alarm went off the next morning, she didn't waste any time getting up. Today was Saturday, she could spend the entire day working on something, she ate her breakfast faster than normal and impatiently waited until her dad left for work.

As she set up her workshop, she decided to make a big project, she had the materials and time. She wasn't going to do anything too wild, just something that would help her build more things. She took apart the microwave and the toaster, and she grabbed some bits from the material box and went to work.

After hours of nonstop work she was done. It took up the entire space on the table and looked like trash. If she had to guess what it appeared to be, she would probably say a miniature football field made of scraps. She grabbed the loose cables dangling off the edge and connected them to the car battery and she heard it start up with a low pitched hum and sparking.

She started small, and placed a screw on the center, a few seconds later it was glowing red, them after a minute it was just a blob of heated metal. It worked.

Great, it was great, now she could work with metal. She dropped a piece of plastic off to the left and waited, it didn't change. Good, it only affected metal. She unplugged the machine and waited until the red metal turned gray, then she scraped it off with the hammer.

She checked her watch, the time was 7:37 pm, she had spent the entire day working on this. She packed up her things and went through the motions until bedtime.

The next day, Sunday, she decided to try her hand at a power generator, the result had cost her a large chunk of her materials, big and small, but it worked. While building it she was reminded of her stun gun, but more stable. Like her other works, the pieces were exposed, and looked like something you would find in a junkyard, it had cables running off and let out sparks that crawled along the metal. It was too big to carry and she had to build it on the floor.

In front of her were the bicycle pedals, she couldn't say how it worked entirely, but she knew it would change kinetic energy into electrical energy and store some of it. If she held a light bulb near the generator it would light up, which was neat.

Taylor was a Tinker now, and she needed to think of her future. She was obviously going to be a hero, but what did that mean? She had to stop crime and save people, that was what a hero did, but how would she do that?

Her stun gun could stop a normal criminal, but against a Cape she was screwed. She needed to build better weapons, but that meant she needed a better workshop. This was why Tinkers joined up or became thieves.

She needed resources, but she didn't want to join the Wards or become a criminal. It wasn't stealing if she took from villains, right? Who would they report her to? They might develop a grudge against her, but she was going to be a hero, why would she care what villains thought of her?

On Monday, after she finished her computer work, she researched the villains a little more. The villainous Tinkers in Brockton Bay were: Leet, Squealer and Trainwreck.

Leet and his other half, Über, were two video game themed idiots that live-streamed their crimes, his Tinkertech was all over the place with what he could build, but they also had a tendency to go explosively wrong.

Squealer was a Merchant and a crackhead, her specialty was vehicles.

Trainwreck was a Monster Cape that made crude suits, there wasn't much else about him.

Taylor decided to go after Squealer. Leet probably had security measures such as cameras and Trainwreck offered her as much help as going to an actual train wreck would be, but Squealer made vehicles, so she definitely had resources which probably weren't that guarded.

She read some more about the Merchants, Skidmark and Mush, and she mentally prepared herself. She had to hype herself up, she knew she was essentially attacking the them on their home ground with just a stun gun and a flashlight.

 

[Krak-Quinn]

Taylor was hardly paying attention throughout her classes, her mind occupied with trying and failing to imagine ways she could deal with the Merchants.

For Skidmark, she could probably blind and then stun him, but she didn't know how well that tactic would work against Mush, who could form a body around himself out of loose material. If her electricity was blocked, she would be in major trouble.

After she had sat down in the cafeteria for lunch, a blonde girl sat down across from her. Around November last year, the 'Trio' had scaled down their harassment a bit, probably because Sophia had some kind of track event in another state and was gone for a bit.

She hadn't really paid much mind to the reason beyond that, all she knew was that she could eat lunch without being physically disturbed for a bit, it seems that ends today though.

"Sorry about not being here on Friday. I, uh, ran into a door." The girl spoke in a friendly manner, layers of concealer were caking her left eye, and from the rims a pink bruise was barely visible.

Taylor didn't say anything, as she was mostly confused at first, but then she assumed this girl was just here to mock her for something.

"But what about you? Why weren't you here Thursday? I missed you, Tay." An almost imperceptible twitch of her lips and eyes gave away her irritation.

This seemed like mockery of some sort for her absence, but it also seemed to be about something else. "Did you need something?" Taylor snapped, she didn't have time for whatever this was, she had to keep thinking of possible scenarios until she could beat Mush.

"No, no, I was just worried about you. Why weren't you there?" The sudden sharp return to the question after the refusal was pretty stiff.

After looking a bit closer, past the make up and faux concern, Taylor finally recognized this girl. "Julia, I don't have time for your games. What do you want? What can I tell you so you'll leave and I can eat in peace? And does it matter what I say? No matter my answer, it'll be twisted in the worst ways until it's unrecognizable."

This girl, Julia Barbara, was a classmate and occasionally she participated with the bullying when her friends started it. She wasn't the direct cause of anything harmful or even an eager player, but she knew the game. She and her friends seemed to amuse themselves by verbally insulting Taylor until she fled from them.

"Tay, c'mon, we're friends aren't we? Just tell me why you were absent. Did someone say something to you or anything?" Her teeth were clenched, her knuckles white as her hands squeezing against the rim of the table, a facsimile of a smile plastered on her face in a feeble attempt to conceal her boiling emotions.

Taylor could feel her heart pumping, an itch clawed along her nerves as it reached her brain, she could tell this girl was volatile, that she was about to burst. The want to understand this situation had tapped against her brain, flashing lights of red, white and pink made her dizzy.

"Just leave me alo—" The buzzing in her brain was irritating, so she had attempted to tell this girl to leave her alone, and then a fist smashed into her face.

It wasn't too good of a punch, as the flat of Julia's fingers in a fist had met Taylor's cheek, it was more like a slow forceful slap than it was a proper strike with knuckles. Still, the sudden strike did have enough force to push the inner walls of her cheek against her teeth and send her falling out of her chair.

"It's your fault, you bitch! You just had to come to school on one day, on one day, and yet you weren't there! Screw you, I've always hated you and your gloomy attitude! I was never your friend and I'll never be your friend!" Julia seemed to be screaming more at the silent crowd watching them than at Taylor.

Emma, Sophia and Madison were among the crowd, but unlike usual they didn't appear to be satisfied. Irritated, pissed, and annoyed glares were burning a hole in Taylor and Julia.

The coach for a different year had eventually come up and escorted both of the girls to the office. Taylor, for her part, was still mostly confused about the girl shouting the obvious and seemingly looking for approval from the crowd.

Julia was given a month of suspension, and Taylor was given a warning to not start fights on school grounds. Her cheek had swelled a bit, but no blood was drawn and she was given an ice pack, then told to head back to class.

When she exited the office, since lunch was over and she hadn't eaten anything yet, she headed to a vending machine. Most of the snacks were gone, but there were some rather unorthodox snacks remaining. She bought a dried vegetable bar and then ate it on the way to class. She did have to be careful to not let any sharp bit graze against her inner cheek.

"Miss Hebert, you're late." The teacher stopped reading from a book and spoke to her as she entered the classroom.

"I was at the main office, they only released me after the bell had already rang." She answered as she switched which hand was holding an ice pack against her cheek, her fingers having gone cold.

"Do you have a slip?"

Taylor blinked. "No, but you can che—"

"Because you don't have a slip, I'll still be marking you as tardy today. Don't do this again, it takes up yours and everyone else's valuable learning time. And if you're going to be late in the future, get a slip."

"…Understood."

"Good, now take your seat. You remember what page we covered last Friday, right? We're picking up where we left off."

She didn't remember, even though it had only been three days, she couldn't remember what they had learned those three days ago, she wasn't surprised since she did have some stuff a bit more important to be thinking about. "Yes." Admitting she forgot would just paint her in an unfavorable light, so she lied. She could just peek in on her desk neighbor to know the page number.

Hungry eyes watched her as she took her seat, the social sharks, hyenas and vultures, had all smelled the fresh blood of newborn drama, and were waiting for everything to unfold with anticipation.

Taylor wouldn't snap, she wouldn't.

There had been enough drug-fuelled students who had bad trips and caused trouble that most people were used to it by now. It had also caused a wave of students, who had seen the lax punishments, to gain a semblance of confidence that they could go off on people and not be in too much trouble if they didn't physically harm someone.

To her classmates, she was just a girl teetering on the edge of breaking, of being entertainment to distract themselves from class with.

Even as rage boiled beneath her skin, she remained calm and sat down. She jumped up with a yelp immediately, a flat thumbtack had been left for her as a surprise.

Giggles and snickers, barely contained, echoed within the class, and the teacher told her to not cause a scene.

She wouldn't snap.

…

…

After school ended, everything had been a blur as she left and then arrived back home. She didn't care anymore, she didn't need a plan, the Merchants were just junkies with slightly more power than a human, she could handle them.

When her mind became clear again, a pile of clothes were strewn out before her. The boxes containing old clothes had been ripped opened and were scattered around her.

Blood dripped from her fingers from small pinpricks, a needle and a box of other sewing equipment were dumped next to her knees on the ground. Her mother had kept a sewing kit, but it had been stored away and she hadn't felt like disturbing the boxes of her mother's things to search for it.

As Taylor stood up to wash away the blood running down her fingers, she stopped as found a patchwork uniform in her lap.

Made from mixing, matching, and stacking, various materials, it could hardly be called clothes, it seemed like a fashion statement, that stated its designer was blind. It was mostly dark colors and patterns, with the occasional colorful patch.

Even though she had no memory of her thoughts as she made this, she knew it was meant to be her uniform. She cleaned up her mess after washing her hands, and then she got dressed. It was a padded full body suit of fabric, with boots, gloves, and ski goggles stitched on, it had long and deep pockets along her sides.

In between some layers of fabrics, there were some thin metal plates at strategic parts of her body. Her bike frame had been melted with some other spare metal bits, taken out the melting field and smashed with a hammer while it was cooling and then ducked in a water filled pan before being inserted.

She didn't look very heroic, but she wasn't too bent out of shape about that as this was literally thrown together from normal material and once she got a better workshop then she would also upgrade her costume too.

And when she changed costumes, who was going to stop from changing her persona too? It wasn't like she needed to inform anyone of her change, and it meant any grudges she caused in her this persona wouldn't apply to her new one.

Of course, that meant she'd also have to ditch her first weapons when she changed, but she was planning on doing that anyway.

After stashing away her costume, she restlessly awaited her father to arrive home and then go to sleep. He stayed up until midnight watching some old documentaries about insect.

…

…

Brockton Bay seemed like an entirely different place when the sun was gone and lights lit up the streets. Taylor wasn't in the habit of going out after dark, so even the shadows of passing cats seemed scary to her.

As she crept down the sidewalk in a dark hoodie pulled up over her head, her costume in a backpack that she was clutching the straps to, her heart pounded in her ears. The rushing of blood pumping through the veins near her ears almost made her deaf.

That was an exaggeration, but it honestly felt like reality to her. She traveled through small pockets of light surrounded by a sea of darkness, the unknown existed all around her. Her only protection was the stun gun tucked in her waist. She was scared.

When she was a child, the city seemed as scary as anything else to her, but the reassurance of her parents had helped with that, but they hadn't prepared her for the truly terrifying. As she became a teenager, her personal problem seemed to drown out everything else.

Parahumans had seemed like a foreign concept to her life. Even though they were plastered everywhere, her focus had been on just making it through the day.

As a child, she was frightened by the existence of villains but the existence of heroes had overpowered that fear. To a kid, heroes were paragons of Justice, unfaltering in their heroism, and the embodiment of strength.

As she grew up, and learned of the history behind parahumans, her views naturally changed as well. In 1989, a hero named Vikare died of a brain embolism after being clubbed while trying to stop a riot over a basketball game. They weren't invincible, they had powers but were still humans, most of them anyway.

Their humanity was also showcased by their actions, or more aptly, their sins.

Heroes who went mad, took advantage of their abilities and positions, but without becoming villains, heroes could commit crimes like any other human. The case of a hero in a 'relationship' with someone underage had made its rounds a while ago.

The line between being a hero or a villain was simply having powers and then working: with or against, the law.

Cops weren't heroes and Criminals weren't villains, simply because they didn't have superpowers, because they were human.

Being a parahuman, people were forced to choose a side to fight on. Or so it was the case in the early years of chaos before order was implemented, now Rogues could exist, Parahumans who didn't fight against or to uphold the law.

Taylor didn't have to fight against injustice, she didn't have to become a hero, she could just find some company to take her in. Tinkers were always highly sought, even if their tech couldn't be recreated, some information might still be gleaned from it to help further research.

She didn't have to stalk the streets into the bad parts of town late at night. The surrounding buildings had begun to show signs of disarray, shattered windows and graffiti across every surface. She dipped into a dark alley, after ensuring no one was watching or inside, and then she hid behind a dumpster as she changed.

She didn't know exactly where Squealer's workshop was, but she didn't want to be spotted around here with her face exposed. So from here on out, she was going to be in costume. Her clothes were stuffed inside her bag as she hid it beneath a dry dumpster.

In her left pocket was her stun gun, and in her right pocket was her flashlight. She had yet to build replacement power sources, so instead she brought some spare batteries in a small pouch next to her deep pockets.

The snug feeling of protection encasing her skin had made her feel safe, even though it wasn't anything too special, there now existed a separation from the dangerous outside world and herself. With her face covered, it also erased the recognition of her as Taylor. And with a mask over her face, she became a new person.

The reason, her reason for not becoming a Rogue was simple, stupid even, she just didn't want to still be Taylor.

If she was still just herself after gaining power, she'd just be bringing her baggage along with her everywhere. Taylor the Tinker, her normal identity would be first. Taylor, the girl who lost her mom, the girl who lost her friend, the gloomy girl whom no one liked, oh and she's also a Tinker.

Without a name, without her past, she could be someone new.

 

[Krak-Quinn]

Taylor's costume definitely didn't look pretty, more like a mismatched patchwork quilt than anything, but it was otherwise excellent. She was well insulated from the cold, and still her body could breathe pretty easily, so she didn't overheat either.

She wouldn't particularly believe she had made this within a few hours, mostly because the measurements were perfect and didn't restrict any sort of movement. But also because the idea that she had made this outfit didn't really make too much sense.

Her understanding of Tinkers was mostly focused on their technology, but she did know that other fields of science qualified. The distinction between a Tinker and a Thinker, was effects that were external or internal, as in if the superpower lent itself towards making something, it was probably a Tinker.

Thinkers were mostly just 'smart' in different ways. They focused on using information and knowledge without actually creating anything. Of course, she hadn't taken a class for parahuman distinctions or scrawled the internet for clarification, so most of her knowledge was second hand information she haphazardly complied.

Whatever the case, the idea of a Tinker tinkering with clothes didn't make too much sense to her, she probably would have understood it better if there had been some sort of electronic gadgets involved. But there wasn't, the material of her outfit didn't do anything special, and it had no built in features.

Her boots didn't make too much sound as she stalked over crowded rooftops, and gazed at her surroundings in search of something that gave away the location of a junkie's Workshop.

She didn't really have a clue otherwise, the capes of the Merchants didn't really belong anywhere, they just sorta blended in with the homeless and destitute. All she really knew was that as long as no one else laid claim, they had probably settled down there.

Beggars and hookers sparsely lined the streets and alleyways, sleeping in cardboard boxes and hollering at passing cars.

When her fear of being out in an unfamiliar area at night faded, she found herself feeling out of place. Just wandering around and hoping to stumble upon a bright neon sign indicating Squealer's Workshop, hadn't produced any results, and just watching the less fortunate was souring her mood.

"If you want more, then pay more, it's that simple."

"But I'm paying the same as last time, why am I getting less than last time?"

Two voices barely rose above the low city sounds a short ways off. As they argued loudly, during their heated exchange, Taylor quietly snuck over in their direction.

"I got other customers, if you don't have the cash to buy more, then don't waste my time." A man, dirty and disheveled, pushed away an even dirtier man into a pile of trash bags.

The building she was on top of was only a single story high, so the men weren't that far away. If they jumped they could probably reach the edge.

Reaching in her right pocket, she withdrew her flashlight and shone a blinding cone over the two men. Their reactions were a bit different than she anticipated, they panicked instead of freezing.

One man leapt away deeper into the alley, smashing into trash cans, and the dealer threw his hands up desperately and shouted. "I'm white! Don't fire!"

A moment of confusion passed, but Taylor decided not to dwell on it, this dealer had seemingly completely surrendered, she could focus on that. "Where is Squealer's Workshop?" She hoped her voice didn't crack or waver, her heart was beating a bit too loudly for her to fully hear herself speak.

"Two blocks left and three blocks up from here! The green warehouse!" The dealer shouted as he kept his gaze down to the ground.

The other man was trying to crawl away without being noticed.

Taylor withdrew her stun gun from her left pocket and took aim. She did appreciate the prompt answer, but she hated drug dealers a whole lot more. Drugs in general were just below bullying on her personal scale of things she hated.

Lives and families could be, were, ruined by them, and yet that didn't stop the dealers from selling them. People's minds and bodies fell apart, withered by drug abuse and addiction, all for a short high and a quick buck.

Unfortunately, it wasn't like doing anything to the Merchants would stop the sale of drugs, the ABB and E88 also sold them.

With a crack and buzz, an arc of electricity swam for the dealer. His body spasmed slightly as he fell over unconscious. While the arc was still present, she whipped it over to the crawling man. Stray strands of electricity did branch out when it came near the metal of trash cans and dumpsters, but the majority of it shocked the man until he too went limp.

She carefully climbed down the rooftop, checked to see if the men were still breathing, then she took out their drugs and spilled them over the ground. As she left, she was also richer by $820, having decided to recuperate her expenses. She wasn't broke, but she couldn't make any big purchases anytime soon.

She had already decided that her next project, barring any urgent or necessary tools, she wanted to see what she could do with a laptop and a desktop. Though, if she did find Squealer's place, and snagged some tools or materials, she would probably have to shift her priorities and see what she could manage.

With a clear destination, her mind was freed up from just observing her surroundings, and she began wondering just what else she could be making. Her power didn't provide any sort of instructions or anything similar, and so far she had just been winging it, hopping from project to project.

She knew why, but she really hadn't stopped herself. If she wasn't troubled by anything, then she probably wouldn't have built anything beyond her stun gun. She just needed to confirm she had powers, and then if nothing had pushed her for more, she would've spent an untold amount of time writing down her ideas, an outline for her future.

And yet she didn't, she rushed through everything, now she was almost out of materials and she needed more if she wanted to keep rushing. Each time she built something, gave herself over to the current running through her brain, she felt better afterwards. A little less troubled, refreshed as if her issues weren't really hers.

Reality was less pleasant by comparison, her school bullies were seemingly testing the waters, having apparently given up her grace period and were ramping back up to regular levels. The incident during lunch was still the big thing, but it was the flathead thumbtack that stood out the most in her mind.

Taylor could handle a girl being rude, hitting her, and acting weird, but leaving something on her seat anonymously was truly troubling. It was just the start, the spark of something bigger. Although she hated her bullies, mainly the Trio, just a step behind them she hated the shifting faceless crowd of onlookers who laughed at, or ignored, her suffering.

She could deal with the bullies who spoke and acted in her face, at least she could write down those incidents and blame someone, but when the crowd of students blurred together and mocked her behind her back, she didn't know what to do.

Who would she blame when she didn't know who was responsible? When not even she could serve as a witness? She already faced the issue of having no evidence or people to support her claims, but at least she could pinpoint the people behind her harassment.

It was so easy to picture anyone of the Trio as a queen bee, but she knew they didn't actually have any real influence out of their circles, their cliques. It wasn't like a TV show or a movie, there was no such thing as the most popular girls in school, the best real life could mimic was a vague outline of social hierarchy.

And even then, Winslow High had substantial issues with gangs that came with religious and racial issues, additionally they also had to deal with rampant drug abuse. Everything further blurred the lines and boundaries that teenagers were supposed to unconsciously agree upon.

The most common piece of advice from older students was simple: just keep your head down. Don't involve yourself with any trouble and focus on yourself.

Emma seemingly circumvented any issue with standing out because she had a lawyer for a father, and she was friends with Sophia.

As a black girl at a school with fledgling white supremacists, she did have to deal with some issues, but those didn't make themselves known after the second month in their first year. Sophia had been cornered in a hallway and attacked, but she dodged all their hits and had kicked them in their balls in retaliation.

Since no one was severely hurt, and because she had been ganged up on, she was only given a week of suspension. No one picked on her anymore, besides a few whispered remarks when she wasn't around.

Madison mostly went unbothered because she played up a cute harmless image of innocence, and anyone looking to take advantage of her would have to deal with Emma's dad and Sophia.

It still didn't fit, or answer any of her concerns, in fact it hardly mattered to Taylor. All she knew was that her bullies could make a scene harassing her, and the bystanders would only see the outcome, her as an acceptable punching bag.

You wanna be friends with the Trio? Call Taylor a slut too ugly to be fucked. Call her a bug eyed frog stretched upright. Stick your foot out in front of her path. Dump your trash on her desk. Shove her if she's in your way, and even if she's not. Ridicule and mock her within earshot. Make her life miserable at every junction.

A tension was straining her muscles, a current was buzzing in her brain, she needed immediate relief, but she couldn't build anything right now, so that left one other option.

Her simmering anger, her boiling rage, the pent up emotions she kept suppressed as she was bullied. She was certain one day she would break, though unfortunately she was also certain that she would most likely harm herself before she took out her rage on others.

A green warehouse with black tinted windows was just a street across from her.

Her heightened emotional state was almost on the verge of being a panic attack. Her mind was trapped within her memories of being harrassed and made to experience a living hell, the threat of her bullies wasn't present yet she could never feel safe.

A paranoia, the sort that made her eyes dart across faces as she walked down the hallways of her school never left her. The sort that made her worry about every corner she turned and every action she took, that sort of paranoia had ruled over her mind.

Her lungs felt heavy, like she was breathing in heavy gas, and her blood felt like boiling molten lead. Her mind ached, her vision wavered, she was in danger. Pushed to her limits, even when she was left alone, her own mind could never accept the possibility she was safe.

The current was zapping her thoughts now, building up in pressure and squeezing against her brain.

Panic attacks were caused by perceived threats that weren't really present, the mind confusing the body with conflicting information. So she simply needed to change gears, her bullies: the Trio and faceless crowds weren't here, but the Merchants were.

Parahumans, villains, superpowered criminals. A man, a man, a mask, it was covering his nose and eyes, he was turned away and pissing on a wall.

Flight or fight, it wasn't a choice. If Taylor didn't want to be consumed by the current rampaging in her mind, she needed to release it, she had to silence her worries, expel the emotions she kept locked away. With wavering steps, she stumbled forth, her mind a haze as she held her stun gun.

A man in a blue suit jolted, a cry cut short and piss splashing everywhere as he spasmed and collapsed. Skidmark was down, just two more to go.

Adrenaline had sped up her already rushed mind, but it simultaneously slowed down her thoughts. She needed to walk, to move, to fight, she needed to consider her every step, because now she wasn't dealing with schoolyard bullies, she was dealing with real scum.

Careful steps, each made with precision, led her over to the open door of the warehouse. Loud screeching could be heard, the sound of metal screaming and more metal scrapped against it, shooting off a shower of bright orange sparks.

Taylor could barely see a sliver through the door at the work going on inside. A woman, with dirty blond hair bunched up in a loose ponytail, wearing a welder's mask, a white tank top that squeezed her large bust, and cargo pants cut short with a satchel filled with tools hanging on her waist, was inside.

Black marks of oil and grease littered her exposed skin and clothes, and in gloved hands she was holding a blowtorch with her left and a large power drill with her right as she worked on a vehicle. A nearby set of speakers was blasting a rap song that was barely audible beneath the sounds of her work.

 

[Krak-Quinn]

It was Squealer inside, Taylor was certain of that. It wasn't just the fact that a dealer gave her this location, that Skidmark had been outside, or even the fact that the woman was dressed up, no, she was certain this was the Tinker villain entirely because of the vehicle they were working on.

In a rundown area like this, the door hinges would probably creak if she tried to slowly open it, so she decided to observe everything she could see before she barged in. Even if the sounds of a rap song on full volume was almost fully masked by Squealer's work, she didn't want to risk losing the element of surprise.

The warehouse was lit up by a few large metal pendant lights hanging from the ceiling, the gleaming underside of the curved metal plates were shining bright cones that illuminated nearly every corner.

Junk, was probably the best word to describe it, was lining every inch of the walls and floors. It was only the immediate area around the vehicle and a pathway through the large doors that was clear-ish. Puddles of grease and oil littering the ground were shining vibrant bright hues as they reflected light.

The warehouse was pretty large, so the fact that it could be this cluttered was actually impressive. Though, once she examined the junk a bit closer, Taylor was able to see that there were actually machinery and industrial tools mixed in.

Everything was a mess, but the more she looked over everything the more she could see that technically it was an organized mess. The piles of materials were sorted, granted it was in an arbitrary manner but still. A thick grid of girders was spanning the interior, and hanging from it were chains and more junk.

And the centerpiece of everything, the vehicle that seemed to embody the warehouse itself. Taylor couldn't pinpoint if the ride had been a car or truck, the frame was a bulky bulging uniformed mess. The windows were mostly metal with small patches of glass covered in metal shades, and the tires followed a similar pattern to the windows, as dark rubber was barely visible between the gaps of the metal casing.

Of course, she could only see the rear end and one side of the vehicle, so she couldn't be certain that the front was better or worse off. Nevertheless, what she could see was something that probably wouldn't drive if it had been assembled by a normal person. If a normal person got behind the wheel and did manage to start it without it stalling, they probably wouldn't be able to steer it.

An amalgamated melted and mashed together mess, a chaotic mockery of engineering.

Taylor didn't know much about cars, she didn't really even have the inkling to be driving anytime soon. When she envisioned herself behind the steering wheel, her palms started to sweat and she wanted to vomit. The details behind the car accident that took her mother's life wasn't clear.

Not because the facts were ambiguous or hidden, but simply because the mention of how exactly her mother died wasn't shared with her young self. There was no court case or anything like that, so it obviously wasn't a legal issue, no drunk driver or any other party involved. Annette simply died because she was on her phone while driving.

She had seen car crashes in action shows or movies, but those people always survived, her mother had died. She had nightmares after, of her mom screaming and shouting as metal crunched around her. She knew her mother had probably died quickly, her father had said she didn't suffer for all that meant.

Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweating, this was a bit more intense than imagining herself behind a wheel, she was dealing with a villain. She had examined all that she could see, there was no reason to hesitate. A simple wooden door, which just by existing caused her to stop, to stall.

Skidmark had been exposed, out in the open with no cover, he probably could have noticed her approach and attacked her back, but he didn't. Still, she had walked right up to a villain and took him down, and now because of a flimsy obstacle, she had to rework up her nerve.

She gently opened the door. Any sort of noise was completely drowned out by the deafening sound of metal screeching and of fridge sized speakers blaring a rap song. The floor was vibrating slightly in sync with the music, small loose scraps were bouncing along as if they were dancing.

Each step inwards, closer to the villain, required twice as much resolve as the previous one. Disorientating, seemed to be the most suitable word for the atmosphere inside, the sounds were drowning out her thoughts and the air was itching her nose and throat.

The air, the thin smoke in the air, more of it was clinging to her mask with each breath. The urge to cough was building up, which only made her act faster.

The metal junk everywhere would probably attract most of the electricity from her stun gun if she wasn't close enough.

Taylor gulped, swallowing her saliva and smothering her desire to cough, her gaze was on the ground ensuring her footing didn't disturb anything. Her path brought her slightly around the back of the woman, and she could see exactly what she was doing.

The bright orange sparks were blinding, leaving behind dark blue specks in her sight, as Squealer was seemingly focusing the nozzle of the blowtorch against the hole she was drilling. The power drill wasn't merely a handheld, no it was as bulky as a toaster, and it was connected by a thick cable to a large canister.

She could see what the woman was doing, intended to do, as along the body of the vehicle were warped circles seemingly welding the plates of metal in place. Heating the metal and then drilling into it would probably only damage the metal if a Non-Tinker was doing it. But for some inexplicable reason, physics seemed to gloss over whatever Tinkers built.

Taking in a deep breath to calm her nerves would probably make her cough, so instead she held her breath as she raised her left arm and aimed at the Tinker villain. She clicked the button, the new sounds couldn't overpower the old sounds to make themselves heard, but she could feel the vibration in her grip.

Buzzing, cracking, sizzling, popping. Electricity sparked as smoke poured off the small weapon, the plastic casing melted and clung to her gloves. She didn't feel much pain, from the electricity or melted plastic, her costume had protected her.

It had also probably protected her from the heat, as in the overheated weapon in her grip, the warning signal that her stun gun couldn't handle any more stress had been ignored.

Earlier, she had fired it down from a rooftop to the two people below her. The most optimal range of her stun gun was just two feet, but she had overcharged it to reach the men. It had probably cooled down enough for another shot at Skidmark, but she couldn't remember if that was also an overcharged shot.

Regardless, her stun gun broke. The sounds hadn't been too loud, barely even audible, but Squealer stopped working and lifted her head up.

Another rush of adrenaline, fight or flight, but this time her ranged weapon wouldn't work and a hurdle of junk would block any attempt to rush up close. She didn't have another weapon to take down a person, she didn't know know to fight barehanded.

She couldn't fight, she was powerless. Flight had won, she had no choice, she had to run. A single blind step backwards, retreating, had caused her boot to dislodge something as a pile of junk collapsed.

Squealer swerved around instantly to face her.

Almost reflexively, Taylor withdrew her flashlight and attempted to blind the villain, instead she saw a blur as it swam through the cone of light. The heavy gas tank end of a blowtorch smashed into her forehead. Her brain jolted and her thoughts skipped around as the world spun.

"Who the fuck do you think you are!?" Squealer screamed, her voice squeaky and a bit muffled by the welder's mask she wore so bright sparks didn't blind her.

After the hit to the head, she stumbled a bit but she didn't collapse, although she did trip over junk while trying to stay upright. Taylor fell down hard on sharp edges, fortunately her costume absorbed most of the force and it didn't give way to the pointy ends. Still, she was positioned awkwardly and a bit dazed as she tried to get up.

Any attempt to grip something for leverage, or step on something, only made the junk give way. She was flailing about as if she was drowning, unable to pick herself up in her panic. The sound of heavy steps out of sync with the music caught her attention.

Squealer was rushing over, having apparently leapt over a pile of junk and was stomping as she lugged a thick sledgehammer behind her.

The world seemed to slow down to Taylor, she couldn't escape, not in time to avoid being hit. And if she was hit, she would probably be stunned with pain and then she wouldn't escape the next hit and so on, she would probably die if she tried to escape. Flight had lost, fleeing was impossible. She couldn't fight, but struggling was her only choice.

Her left glove was stuck in place by the melted plastic clinging to it, and she had dropped her flashlight after being hit, it was still shining brightly nearby. She felt around desperately, for something small enough to fit in her hand and heavy enough to do some damage, she found a metal elbow pipe.

She didn't have any leverage, no wiggle room to use her entire body, so she could only throw with the strength of her right arm. It wasn't the best throw, but it was good enough. It smashed into Squealer's face, it didn't do any damage but it did dislodge the mask.

"Bitch!" The villain stumbled and stopped, the visor portion of the mask wasn't over her eyes and she probably stopped because running blindly in here was dangerous. She didn't give it a second thought as she ripped the mask away.

Taylor had rolled while her opponent had paused, allowing her body to fall along the path of least resistance and she landed on the ground closer to Squealer. After her world stopped spinning she was kneeling down a few feet away from the villain.

Squealer was almost pretty, her facial structure and features weren't too bad but poor hygiene and drug abuse had a way of changing a person. It probably wasn't the best time to be criticizing her enemy's face, not when they were running again and raising a sledgehammer into the air.

The path behind and to her sides was blocked, and she probably couldn't leap over them to safety, not far enough to out pace the woman who would chase her. Her only option was a frontal charge, stopping the woman before she swung down the sledgehammer.

Taylor didn't know what she would do next, she barely knew what she was doing as she kicked off the ground in a sprint and dove towards the woman.

The weight behind her head, of the raised weapon, and the force of a teenage girl slamming into her, had caused Squealer to fall backwards. Fortunately for her, she didn't land on her sharp junk, but instead on the flat ground behind her. Small pieces of junk didn't make the landing comfortable, but it wasn't deadly.

Taylor tried to find her footing, in an attempt to kick off the ground again and run off, but an arm reached up and her neck was caught in the crook of an elbow.

Squealer rolled over, dragging the teenager and then pinning her to the ground. "You messed with the wrong bitch, dumbass!" She screamed, her voice still squeaky but not muffled any longer. And she retrieved a hammer from her toolbelt.

There wasn't enough time between Taylor recognizing the weapon and her being hit on the side of her temple with it. Her eyes did swim a bit as her head jerked, but her costume had redirected most of the blow so it didn't do as much damage as it should've.

Before she could be hit again, Taylor's knees tried throwing the woman off balance as her right arm tried wrestling herself free. Unfortunately, she was an unathletic teenage girl, and the fully grown woman on top of her was probably familiar with lifting heavy materials, so her struggle was fruitless.

"Hahahaha! Dumb fucking bastard! What kind of moron are you!? Attacking me in my warehouse is just asking for trouble." Her laugh was grating, and her mockery wasn't any better. "Skidmark! Skidmark! Skidmark, I've caught a rat scurrying about! Get inside!"

When silence was her only response, the woman used both hands to grip Taylor's head and smash the back of it against the ground multiple times. Again, it didn't do as much damage as it would have if she wasn't wearing her costume, but it still disoriented her something fierce.

"What the fuck did you do to him!?" Squealer screamed, mostly with anger and a hint of worry. Then she stood up and kicked the dizzy girl between the legs. Without wasting a second after the hit, she dragged a hanging chain off a girder and looped it around the struggling girl's neck before she hooked it into a pulley and yanked it harshly.

Taylor almost screamed, yelped really, as she was strung up by her neck with a metal chain. Her costume did have some metal bits inserted along her neck, mostly to guard her arteries but now they were pushing against them. Her legs kicked out desperately, the toe end of her boots just barely finding ground as her struggling caused her to sway.

Her left hand still had unusable fingers, but her right hand clawed at the chain to relieve the pressure around her neck. With both hands full, she couldn't even attempt to free herself. She hadn't seen how the chain was wrapped around, and she couldn't feel around it without risking passing out and then probably dying.

As she calmed down, no longer in a dizzy panic and blind struggle, Taylor noticed she was all alone in the warehouse. One foot at a time reached out trying to find something she could use for leverage, if the chain had a bit of slack she could probably escape, but there was nothing in reach. Dread was rising in her mind as her adrenaline was fading.

The music had stopped, so the sounds of an angry man approaching rapidly from outside as he swore and cussed was very audible.