Adventures in the MirrorVerse

[Ack]

Adventures in the MirrorVerse

Part Eleven: Alice Through the Looking Glass, Part One


Saturday, April 16, 2011

Brockton Bay, Earth Bet

I paused, mid brush-stroke. Mom had always encouraged me to take care of my hair; a little darker than hers, it was just as curly. In her memory, I tried to brush it out at least once a day; truth be told, if I let it go longer than that, it did its best to become an impenetrable tangle of knots. If nothing else today, I was going to do that; the concussion I had suffered yesterday at Bakuda's hands didn't leave me much else to do. Fortunately, the pills were keeping the headache to a dull murmur.

But it wasn't my hair or the concussion that was the problem right now. I was more concerned with the fact that my image had just vanished from the mirror in front of me. One moment there, the next … not.

Squinting through my glasses, I moved my head from side to side. No, it wasn't a trick of the light. There really was no me in the mirror.

Oh shit. What if I'm hallucinating? That could only mean bad things. A brain bleed, or worse. Pressure on the … what was it called, video centre? Visual something or other? Whatever it was, maybe I had brain damage that the CT scan had missed. And now I was seeing … well, not seeing things. Literally not seeing something. That is, me.

I wondered momentarily if this was going to be permanent. A very specific hallucination causing me to block any image of myself out of my mind. This is gonna make putting on makeup very difficult. I paused. Maybe it's my glasses?

Reaching up, I pulled my glasses off. The mirror got a little blurry, but I didn't see a blurry me in there. Okay, there goes that idea. Putting them back on, I reached forward. Final test. See if the mirror's still there. Intellectually, I knew it was. It had to be. It was a part of my dresser, which was free-standing against the wall. I could see my room behind it, which would be impossible to fake, given that the dresser was against the outside wall of the house, and so the room would have to be projecting several yards out into empty air.

But concussion plus pain meds makes it easier to do things that you know are illogical. So I reached out to touch the mirror.

Only it wasn't there.

I paused, half-standing, my arm halfway up to the elbow inside my damn mirror. I waved my hand around, feeling no resistance. It was there. I could see it clearly. It was also sticking through a hole that shouldn't exist, into a mirror-imaged room that shouldn't exist.

I didn't freak out, mainly because my brain wasn't hitting on all cylinders. Slowly, I pulled my arm out of the impossible hole in the wall and moved around to look down the narrow gap behind the dresser and the mirror. If I squinted, I could see the back of the mirror and I could also see the wall. They both existed.

Without even asking myself what the fuck am I doing? I reached around, feeling my hand go through the mirror once more as if it had simply ceased to be. Standing next to the dresser, I could see that the back of the mirror and the wall were undisturbed, despite the fact that I had my arm elbow-deep in the damn mirror.

Pulling my arm out again, I went to the window and leaned out. The sunlight stung my eyes a little, but I was able to ascertain that no, nobody had bolted an extra bedroom to the outside of the house overnight. There was a wall there, with no holes at all. Nothing that I could stick my arm through. Nothing that made any sense at all.

I went back and sat on the bed. Okay. My mirror is now a window into a mirror-image of my room. That's kind of weird. But I'm pretty sure there's weirder shit out there.

With a thought, I called up a dozen bugs and sent them through the mirror. They passed through perfectly fine, so I spread them out to explore the mirror-house. While they were doing this, I lay back on the bed; I may have dozed for a few moments.

When I woke up, the mirror was still a window. The bugs were spread out through the mirror-house; I gathered from their sensory impressions that all the rooms in my house were the same in that house, only mirror-imaged. To go to the bathroom from my room, I'd have to turn left instead of right, that sort of thing. Outside the house was … well, outside. I guided a beetle to fly up to the mirror-house window and inside. Nothing flew in my window. But when I told it to go to the mirror, there it was.

And then I caught my breath. Because sitting on the sofa in the mirror-living room, reading what was probably a mirrored newspaper, was … Dad.

Not my Dad, but a mirror version of him.

Wow, holy fuck.

I reached out to the bugs in my living room, and … there was Dad. My real Dad. He was watching TV; I couldn't make out what was on. And at the same time, I was using my bugs to watch another Dad, in a different world, do something subtly different.

This is so damn weird.

At this point, I should have stopped. Taken stock. At the very least, told Dad what was going on. Shown him the mirror. Maybe I should even have called in Lisa and Brian and shown them the mirror. Shit, I should have called up the PRT and told them about it. After all, the huge song and dance about the Earth Aleph portal that Professor Haywire had created had never really gone away. And that one was tiny. This one, I could literally climb through.

I blame the meds and the concussion. Because there was literally no other excuse for the next thought that popped into my head.

Hey, why don't I go through and find out what it's like on the other side?

There were probably hundreds of good reasons.

I couldn't think of a one.

<><>​

Dad looked up when I got to the bottom of the stairs. "Taylor, are you all right?"

"Sure," I told him. "I was just going to get a snack, then have a shower and get some more sleep. Is that okay?" Translation: I don't want to be disturbed for the next few hours.

"Of course it is," he assured me, jumping up from the couch. "You know, you could use the bed down here and watch TV."

I made a face. "The sofa bed is kind of lumpy. I'm happy in my own bed."

"Whatever's fine with you." He led the way into the kitchen. "What would you like for a snack?"

"Um, a sandwich?"

He pointed at a chair. "Sit down, I'll make it for you."

Guilt started to jab at me as I obeyed. He was so anxious to please, so willing to do whatever I needed. Maybe I should tell him.

Opening my mouth, I almost did. The filter between my brain and my mouth was that thin. But then I found myself running through the conversation that would follow.

Uh, Dad, I found a portal to another world in my bedroom mirror. I'm gonna explore it.

Taylor, that's not a good idea. What if it's hostile?

Oh, I can defend myself, Dad. I've got bug powers.

You've got what now?

No matter how I tried to play it, the conversation went downhill fast after that. And if I didn't tell him about my powers, he'd stop me from going, even if it was my world. I'd discovered it, after all. It was my right to be the first to explore it.

And of course, if I told him about the powers, that opened another huge can of Endbringer-sized worms. He'd know about me being a supervillain and he'd probably figure out that Lisa and Brian were villains as well. I'd ruin everything for everyone.

So it was better to not say anything to anyone. Yeah. That was much safer.

<><>​

By the time I finished my shower – I hadn't been lying about that part – my headache was starting to come back, along with the first stirrings of common sense. Not very strong stirrings, given the fact that I was still concussed, but stirrings all the same. I squashed both headache and common sense ruthlessly with a painkiller pill, washed down with a glass of water that I'd brought upstairs with my sandwich.

Firmly closing my bedroom door, I changed into what I thought was sensible alternate-universe-exploring clothing. In the event, this was T-shirt, jeans and a hoodie. I stuffed a pepper spray tube into my pocket and made sure that the knife that I had used to de-toe Bakuda – carefully cleaned, thank you very much – was secure in its sheath in the small of my back, under my hoodie. I wasn't being totally clueless, after all. As an afterthought, I stuck my phone in my pocket as well. I didn't think I'd get coverage in the mirror-world, but if nothing else, I could get some photos.

After that, I had to decide how to climb into the alternate universe that I had discovered. Absently, I wondered if they'd call it Earth Taylor, or maybe Earth Rolyat, given that it seemed to be a mirror-world. Then I wondered why I was even wondering about that.

Climbing through was not the easiest thing in the world, even after I had cleared the stuff on my dresser to each side, and done the same with the stuff on mirror-Taylor's dresser as well. It felt really weird, reaching into a whole different world to move stuff around, but if I was going to be climbing through, I didn't want to break any of her stuff. Who knew, we might end up being besties. After all, who better to be my friend than someone who already knew me as well as I did?

The dresser didn't like it when I climbed up on to it; it rocked rather alarmingly and I thought it was going to fall. So I climbed off again.

But the rocking gave me an idea. The mirror was on a swivel; a little experimentation showed me that although the mirror-portal was fixed to mirror-Taylor's dresser mirror, I could move mine without affecting hers. So I lifted it off the swivel and put it face-up on the floor. Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I got down on to the floor and lowered myself through.

It felt really weird going through; as soon as any part of me passed over the threshold, it was dragged to one side – the 'down' side – and I ended up clambering down off of her dresser. Looking back through the mirror, I had a good view of my bedroom ceiling, and where the pain was peeling. Then I wondered why I was looking back at my own bedroom, when I had a whole new world to explore, right here and now.

I looked around at mirror-Taylor's bedroom; unmade bed, clothes on the floor, smell of cigarette smoke … ew. The other me smoked? Ew. I wasn't so sure if I was going to like her. I moved sideways, and my foot hit something that clinked. Glancing down, I saw what was obviously an alcohol bottle. It had hit another one. Oh great, mirror-me drinks too.

Fighting down a profound sense of disappointment – I had crossed into another universe to find out that this world's version of me had two habits that I had nothing but distaste for – I looked at the posters on the walls. At least she had those. But in place of the Protectorate poster that held pride of place opposite my bed – it was an older one, missing Triumph – there was one that I thought at first was lettered in Russian. The backwards N was what confused me. Then I saw a backwards G, and frowned. I didn't think the Russians had that in their alphabet.

And then, of course, I realised what was going on. I'm in a mirror-universe, duh. The writing's all going to be mirror-imaged. I concentrated on the lettering, reading it from right to left, mentally reversing them. N … O … N … A … G … O … N. Nonagon. Huh. A nine-sided figure. Cute name. Then I looked at the people actually portrayed in the poster and recoiled so hard that I sat down on the bed.

I knew those people. Everyone in America who hadn't been living under a rock for the last twenty years knew them. But there was no way in hell that they should be on a poster.

Standing up again, I stepped forward, peering at the poster. Wait a minute …

The Siberian was easily recognisable, despite the fact that she wore a one-piece costume. Beside her, Jack Slash was posing proudly, holding a knife aloft. Flanking them … that was Mannequin, although his armour was designed a little oddly. And that there was Bonesaw, minus the blood-caked apron. Crawler was missing, though Shatterbird was there. Some capes I didn't know were filling in the gaps, but it was definitely them. Definitely the Slaughterhouse Nine.

Here they're called … Nonagon? And people are putting posters out about them? Okay, that's really kind of weird.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to stay in this bedroom for much longer. A lot of the excitement of being in a whole new universe was starting to drain away. All the writing was reversed and I was having to concentrate to read any of it. Plus, the smell of stale cigarette smoke and, I was pretty sure, alcohol wasn't doing my headache any favours. I took a few photographs anyway, just because I could, then tucked the phone away again.

Carefully pulling the bedroom door open, I peered out into the corridor. My bugs still had mirror-Dad down in the living room, reading the paper. I wasn't really sure that I wanted to meet him, even if he thought I was his real daughter. Maybe I can sneak out past him. Duck down the front hall into the kitchen and out the back door.

Or maybe I should just brazen it out. Walk down the stairs like I belong here.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I had decided to try the second idea. My footsteps thudded on the steps as I trotted downstairs. At the bottom of the steps, all I had to do was turn right, not left, so that I would be heading along the front hall, toward the back door.

At the bottom of the steps, habit took over and I turned left. Into the living room. Right in front of mirror-Dad.

Crap.

If I stopped, then he'd notice me more. I kept going.

"Taylor." His voice was more grating than my Dad's. More raspy.

"Yeah?" I made my voice as non-committal as I could and kept on going.

"Thought you went out."

"Came back," I replied in a well, duh sort of voice, not looking around. "Got changed."

I was almost to the doorway into the kitchen. Behind me, he put the paper down; my bugs picked it up and I also heard the rustle. "Come here a moment."

Reluctantly, I stopped and turned. Mirror-Taylor smokes and drinks. She's rebellious. "Can it wait? Got places to be."

Rolling up the paper and tapping it on his knee, he pointed at the spot on the floor in front of him. When he spoke, I heard a tone that Dad had never used in front of me. "Here. Now."

I walked over and stood in front of him; he looked up at me. "You look kinda different. You feeling okay? You were pretty loopy after Shebang's laughter grenade got you yesterday."

Shebang? Laughter grenade? What the hell?

"I, uh, yeah, I'm fine," I told him. I knew what he was seeing; faces are not totally symmetrical, and to swap the features from side to side often produces strange effects. To him, it seemed as though I was unwell.

"Okay then," he grunted, then picked up the remote and turned on the TV, attention dropping away from me as though I had never walked into the room.

Greatly daring, I picked up the discarded paper and strolled into the kitchen. The door handle turned easily and I stepped out of the house.

<><>​

I wasn't quite sure where to go after I left the house. I needed to get out of there, in case mirror-Dad noticed anything else weird about me, such as being left-handed (to him) or not knowing something simple. But I didn't know where to go; at first, I thought it would be cool to go meet up with this world's version of the Undersiders. If mirror-me was there, we could hang out. Though if she started smoking and drinking in front of me, I didn't know how I was going to react.

Eventually, I headed for the Boardwalk. I made quite a few wrong turns, because I still wasn't totally used to being in the mirror-world. Left was right and right was left, duh. That meant that if north and south were the same as always, then east and west had been swapped, so I had to go that way instead of this way to get to the Boardwalk, instead of toward Captain's Hill.

In the end, I followed the street signs, though I thought that people might think I was slow, spending a few moments puzzling out what they meant instead of reading them at a glance. But I got there eventually and flopped down on to a bench seat.

I needed to think about what mirror-Dad had said. He'd mentioned someone called 'Shebang' and a laughter grenade. I recalled encountering Bakuda and her pain bomb. Could they be one and the same, on two different worlds? A laughter grenade didn't seem nearly as nasty as a pain bomb, but I supposed that if you laughed hard enough it would incapacitate you.

But … a laughter grenade sounded almost … friendly. It was something that a hero would use, unless it made you laugh so hard you hurt yourself. Though mirror-Dad hadn't seemed to be overly concerned. Then again, he hadn't seemed to be overly interested in connecting to me at all. Did he even care about mirror-me?

<><>​

With a mental effort, I put that aside for the moment and addressed another problem. I hadn't really noticed it up until now, given all the other things on my mind, but I couldn't feel any bugs around me. The dozen or so bugs I'd sent into the house before exploring myself had been left back there; between the house and the Boardwalk, I hadn't once felt the distinctive signal of a bug 'reporting in'.

This was kind of frightening and disorienting, like waking up one day and finding out that one of your arms was missing. It was perhaps more so than when I'd gotten my powers. After all, I was used to them now. Being able to control bugs was all kinds of amazing.

If I didn't have the power to control bugs here, exploring this world would be a whole lot less fun, and a lot more unsafe, than I had imagined. On the other hand, I told myself hopefully, maybe it's just a factor of being mirror-imaged. Maybe they're just on another frequency, or whatever it is. Maybe I can tap into it.

And maybe I couldn't. I had to face the fact that I was quite possibly without powers in this world. My sudden impulse to go exploring without backup and without telling anyone where I had gone was starting to look less and less sensible by the minute. A buzzing grew in my ears.

"Hey, are you all right?"

I looked up, startled. A man stood opposite me, peering at me carefully, with a woman at his side. They weren't anyone I knew, or thought I knew; just a couple, in their mid twenties or so. Panic closed my throat; could they tell that I was from another world?

"I wouldn't have asked but you look like you're in pain or something." His voice betrayed nothing but concern.

I realised that I'd been sitting hunched over, my hands clenched into fists at the sides of my head. I straightened up, relaxed my hands. "No, no, I'm good. I was just … thinking about something."

"Oh, that's good then." He smiled uncertainly. "Don't think too hard. You might hurt yourself." A chuckle told me that this was supposed to be a joke.

"Yeah." With an effort, I returned the chuckle. "Thanks."

They moved off then; a few yards on, the woman glanced back at me. I gave her a smile and a brief wave; reassured, she went on with the man. Leaning back against the bench, I found myself relaxing, a genuine smile starting to creep across my features. Well, at least random strangers here can be nice.

The buzzing was back. To distract myself from it, I opened the paper and tried to read it. It was, of course, printed in reverse, so after a few moments I turned to the front page, all the way to the right. Concentrating as well as I could, I began to read the headlines and then work my way through the articles. People came strolling past, but if they found anything weird about a teenager reading the paper at the Boardwalk, nobody said anything.

DRUG STASH DESTROYED BY TEEN HEROES, said one article header. Huh, so this world has the Wards as well. Cool. MAYOR'S NIECE MISSING, stated another. That one got my attention, so I started to puzzle my way through the article.

I found it easier and easier as I went along, despite the buzzing in my ears; toward the end, I was reading almost as fast as I could normally. But I had to go back and re-read it, because it came across as weird.

Apparently, this version of Brockton Bay also had a man called Roy Christner as Mayor. That much I could understand. Whether our Mayor Christner also had a niece called Dinah Alcott, I couldn't be sure. From the article, she had gone missing on the fourteenth; that was the day that I had robbed the Brockton Bay Central Bank with the Undersiders.

But what I couldn't get over was the tone of the article. Christner was quoted as being 'very angry' and 'offering a large reward' to retrieve his wayward niece. However, the reporter who wrote the article seemed to be not very worried about the twelve year old's well-being. It seems more likely that she's gone to stay at a friend's house, the article read. After all, who would abduct a child? Really?

I had to stop and think about that. Now that I was reminded, there had been an Amber Alert in the paper, pushing our bank job off the front page. In this world, there seemed to be about the same level of interest as in a lost dog.

Are people so callous here? I wondered. Do they care so little? After all, my experience with mirror-Dad hadn't given me a high level of confidence regarding his home life with mirror-me.

The buzzing ramped up in intensity, making my head begin to throb. I gasped, clenching my eyes shut as I clasped my hands over my temples. I forgot all the other problems I had as I tried to ride out the pain.

"Hey, are you all right? Is she all right?"

"I don't know. She looks like she's in pain."

"Hey, kid. You all right there?"

"Do you need a doctor?"

The babble of voices surrounded me, startling me with its suddenness. I unclenched my eyes and looked around at the circle of faces that had appeared out of seemingly nowhere. Men and women, young and old. One little girl solemnly offered her ice-cream. An older man held out a bottle of water.

Abruptly, as if turned off by a switch, the headache was gone, as was the buzzing in my ears. I struggled to sit upright once more. Carefully, I waved away the ice-cream, but I accepted the bottle. Slowly, I sipped, letting the water trickle down my throat.

"Thanks, I'm fine now," I told them. "Honestly, I'm all right. Thank you."

The man who had offered water frowned slightly. "You looked as though you were really in pain there, kid. Do you want me to drive you to a doctor? I know a good one."

Capping the bottle and handing it back, I shook my head. As sincere as he sounded, I didn't really think that I wanted to get into a car alone with a strange man. "No, I'll be fine, thanks. I'm feeling much better now." I looked around at the crowd. "Really, I'll be all right. Thanks."

Nodding to me, they began to move off. I paused, looking at my would-be benefactor. "Though … well, I hate to ask …"

"Yeah?" It was downright weird, the way he seemed to perk up at the chance to help me.

"Um, I don't have bus fare to get home, and …"

"Say no more," he declared, pulling his wallet out and withdrawing a banknote from it. "This should get you home, as well as a sandwich or something if you get hungry on the way." Looking at it, I finally realised that it was a twenty.

"I, uh, thanks, but -" I began to protest at the denomination of the note, but then I saw others around him, pulling their own wallets out. One by one, each of them produced banknotes and handed them to him; I saw ones and twos, mainly. By the time they finished, he must have been reimbursed half again as much for what he'd given me. " … uh, never mind. Thanks a lot. I mean it."

He nodded firmly to me as he tucked the ones and twos away. "Think nothing of it. Have a nice day, kid."

"You too," I responded. Turning away, I headed off down the Boardwalk, looking for a bus stop. Okay, that was weird. He was generous to me; they were generous to him. Nobody was out any large amount. But it was all … natural. Weird, weird world.

I had travelled a hundred yards before something else occurred to me; I could feel bugs in my vicinity. Slowly, yard by yard, my awareness of the local bug life was pushing its way outward once more. My power was back. That's what the buzzing must have been. My power finding the new frequency.

I wonder if I have to go through that again when I go back home. That'll be no fun at all.

Finally, I found a bus stop. Carefully, I began to read the schedule times. I needed to find the bus to the north ferry dock; if the local version of the Undersiders made their base in the same place as in my world, I could walk there in twenty minutes.

Boy, are they gonna be surprised to see me.


End of Part Eleven

 

[Prince Charon]

Poor Taylor. Still, she's probably going to get a hug out of this.

 

[Ack]

Edit: Posted this in the wrong thread earlier

Click to shrink...

This is the wrong thread.

 

[scullymulder123456]

This is the wrong thread.

Click to shrink...

dammit, sorry. was sleepy when I did my posting.

 

[Beyogi]

Well, this is interesting. And it probably must be quite horrifying for Taylor. A world where things actually get genuinely better. Where the Endbringers actually help humanity, prevent castastrophes and make things better.
Where Scion is so distraught about the loss of his mate on their quest to uplift the galaxy that he's randomly destroying things and people.

 

[Ack]

Well, this is interesting. And it probably must be quite horrifying for Taylor. A world where things actually get genuinely better. Where the Endbringers actually help humanity, prevent castastrophes and make things better.
Where Scion is so distraught about the loss of his mate on their quest to uplift the galaxy that he's randomly destroying things and people.

Click to shrink...

Well, actually, it's Eden, and she's well-intentioned, but she's encountered this bitter old hobo in London who's been telling her to fuck shit up, so she's fucking shit up ...

 

[Beyogi]

Oh damn, that would have been bitter if this would have kept mirroring. But now there's Taylor to throw a wrench into everyone's buisiness.

I can't wait to see the two Taylors interacting.

 

[Ack]

MirrorVerse

Part Twelve: Alice Through the Looking Glass, Part Two

[A/N 1: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

[A/N 2: This story was last posted to on December 29, 2015. So it's been just over ten years between chapters, whee.]



Saturday, April 16, 2011
Upsiders' Base, Brockton Bay, Earth Rolyat

K-9 (aka Rachel Lindt)

"Motherfucker."

Rachel looked over in concern as Taylor rubbed at her temples. The bug controller was abrasive and had a total potty mouth, but Rachel felt they were winning her over. She'd done amazingly well on the drug house bust, even when things went sideways with Pandemic and Teaser.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Maybe you should get Alec to give you a shoulder massage. He's really good. I know they help calm me down when I'm feeling out of sorts."

Taylor glowered at her. "I don't do shoulder massages. Tell Marionette to keep his damn hands to himself."

Alec looked over from where he was conferring with Insight in lowered tones. "That's a given, Hive Queen. Dad taught me about informed consent from the first time I found out I had powers."

"Though I will say you're missing out," Brian added cheerfully without looking up from his game. "I'll admit that I'm putty in his hands once he gets going."

Lisa snorted. "That's because you have all the willpower of a cooked noodle. Still, he's good at what he does."

Taylor growled deep in her throat. "No. Massages." Abruptly, she stood up. "I'm going for a walk." She headed for the door; Rachel thought about asking her to stay and talk it out, but decided it was better to let her go. The memory of how they'd clashed on their first meeting was still quite unpleasant. She'd totally thought Taylor was going to hit her.

Nobody spoke as they listened to Taylor descend the spiral staircase; it was only after the outer door opened and closed that Brian spoke. Even then, he kept his voice down. "That laughter grenade really did a number on her."

Lisa shook her head. "It was just a big mixup. Mistakes were made. Shebang was angry that we'd beaten up Lung to be captured by Sellsword."

"And I don't blame her," agreed Alec. "Though I still think Taylor was overreacting when she stabbed Shebang in the foot." His gaze met Brian's for a moment of mutual agreement.

Rachel shuddered just at the thought of being so violent. "She was probably worried about me," she said, trying for a reasonable tone. "I mean, I was fine, but she didn't know that."

"Hmm." Lisa frowned, which was kind of her default expression. Rachel really thought she should learn to lighten up and smile once in a while. "That may have been it, but I'm not so sure. You always assume the best of everyone, Rachel."

"Well, people are nice to me, so I like to be nice back. Is that so bad?" Rachel looked around at her teammates. "Am I wrong? Tell me I'm wrong."

Alec sighed and got up from where he'd been talking with Lisa. Going over to Rachel, he gave her a hug, which Rachel readily returned. "It's not bad, or wrong. People are nice, most of the time. It's just that when an unpleasant minority takes advantage of everyone else being nice, things can get very problematic, very quickly."

"Alec's right." Lisa leaned back in her seat. "His dad, Heart-Throb? He's always being harassed by the Guildsmen, up in Canada. They want to force him to work for them. And you know they don't do ethics."

Brian frowned, an uncharacteristic expression for him. "I'm still worried about Sophia. You know, Shadow Stalker. They're making her wear that skanky costume and use sharp arrows, and call herself Shadow Slayer. That's not her, you know? But the Syndicate knows her face and name, and if she goes against them, her family suffers."

"Well, we've got Taylor on board now," Rachel offered optimistically. "Maybe with her helping out, we can do something—" She broke off as a firm knocking sounded from below. Her dogs started barking, but she shushed them. "Who's that? Who even knows we're here?"

"Us, the boss, and Taylor," Lisa summed up rapidly. "And I think that's Taylor, right now."

"But she's got a key." Alec spread his hands. "I know, because I gave it to her myself. Why does she even need to knock?"

The knock sounded again. Lisa shrugged. "Lost it? I dunno. But I'm eighty-seven percent sure that's her."

Rachel jumped to her feet. "I'll go let her in. Maybe she's feeling better already."

Lisa's expression was dubious at best, but Rachel didn't care. Making new friends was the best part of being a superhero, and she was sure Taylor would come around eventually. With a song in her heart, she told her dogs to 'stay' and trotted down the spiral staircase.

<><>​

Taylor (Bet)

By the time I reached the site where the Undersiders had their lair (at least in my world), I was tired and a little footsore. This was partly because I hadn't been exercising a hell of a lot recently, and partly because I kept confusing my right and my left. But there was the factory, complete with the faded 'Redmond Welding' sign, painted mirror-image of course.

The headache returned while I was getting close. I wasn't sure what that was about; maybe the concussion, maybe the fact that I was in a whole other world, or maybe even the after-effects of figuring out how to control Earth Rolyat bugs. This time, I recalled the squashed box of painkillers in my pocket, and popped two of them dry. The headache faded after a little bit, so that was a win.

Stepping up to the metal door, I went to fish out the key I'd been given, but then I realised that it wouldn't work with their mirror-image lock. So instead, I knocked.

There were people inside, but due to my still-imperfect control I couldn't make out what they were saying. I could, however, determine that they were the physical matches for the Undersiders I knew. Brian, Alec, and Lisa, with Rachel coming down the spiral staircase. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself for my first real interaction with someone from this alternate world. (Second, really, but I wasn't counting my short talk with this world's version of Dad, for several reasons.)

The lock clicked and the door opened, and Rachel stood there. But not a Rachel that I was familiar with. Gone was the sullen expression, replaced with a bright smile (that did not belong) on her face. Her features looked a bit fuller; she actually had dimples. Aside from that, her auburn hair had been grown out, brushed, and secured with a hair clip featuring a cute puppy. Instead of the jacket, plaid shirt and cargo pants that I was used to, she was wearing a summer-print dress that looked weirdly good on her.

"Wow, that was fast," she said chirpily. "You looked so grumpy when you left that I thought you might be going home or something …" She paused, her eyes searching my face. "Are you alright?" There was real concern in her voice. "You look a bit unwell."

"I'm, uh, fine, thanks." I gave her a strained smile of my own, careful not to show my teeth. This was starting to feel like a really bad idea, but I wasn't at all sure how to extract myself from the situation. "Must be something I ate."

"Oh, yeah, I know all about that." She rolled her eyes extravagantly as she stepped back, all but pulling me into the building so she could close the door. "One time, when I was just a little kid, my parents took me to a diplomatic function where they had this big dish of caviar. I ate too much of it and had a bad reaction. According to Mom, I threw up my entire body weight over the course of twenty-four hours. Still can't stand the taste of fish."

That did not sound like Rachel's history, as Lisa had explained it to me. But who was I to judge? She seemed a lot happier than 'my' Rachel, which was good.

As I followed her up the spiral staircase—it curved to the left instead of the right, totally messing with my muscle memory—I tried to decide whether I was going to pretend to be the local version of Taylor or just come clean. I'd seen her room and met her father, which didn't fill me with a huge amount of confidence about doing the former, but the latter also felt like a one-way deal. Once I started down that path, there would be no walking it back. If they reacted badly (and I could think of any number of scenarios where they might) it could get very problematic, very fast.

This was why I was currently in the process of gathering the biggest swarm I could comfortably hide in and around the local area, while pretending that nothing of the sort was actually happening.

<><>​

Taylor (Rolyat)

The ferry terminal had been out of operation as long as I'd been alive, and that's how it was going to stay. One of Dad's little money-making scams involved receiving a regular amount of cash from the city council to get the ferry back in running order, and he had a million excuses as to why it wasn't operating yet. He also made sure that the bus stop was directly outside the ferry terminal, so nobody forgot it was there.

The trouble was, when I started back in that direction, the fucking headache started getting worse. And when I turned around and headed in the other direction, it eased off. So I walked away from it, because I'm not an idiot. Probably some kind of high-pressure weather system coming onshore.

The more I walked, the more it eased off, and when I lit up a cigarette, it dropped away even further. So I walked a bit and smoked a bit, feeling my nerves settle. If I was going to close the deal with Sellsword and get my in with the Syndicate—without putting my ass all the way under their thumb, because I'm really not an idiot—I needed to find out who their secret boss was.

Handing over the Upsiders would be worth a little bit, but their boss? That would be the big kahuna. Not even Sellsword would be able to skate that one out from under me.

I still couldn't figure Insight's angle, though. Unless she was having a total brain fart, she should've been aware that I had a few ulterior motives going on in the background. Was she maybe running a con against her boss? Or against me? I resolved to keep a closer eye—or a million closer eyes—on her, in future.

Thinking about the bugs, I gradually noticed something weird. There was a whole bunch of them starting to swarm up back at the lair, in a way that bugs normally didn't do … unless someone like me was telling them to. But here was the funny part: I wasn't doing that. Like, at all.

Which meant that someone else was doing it. And if I wasn't much mistaken, they were doing it right about where the lair was. I didn't know the chances of someone triggering with my exact powerset and finding the Upsiders by sheer happenstance, but they had to be somewhere between 'fuck all' and 'not gonna happen'.

In other words, unless I was seriously misreading the situation, some asshole was running a game on me. On me. Using a cheap knockoff of my powers.

I could only think of one candidate: Sellsword. He must've studied my powers and used his Tinker abilities to duplicate them, then stuck them on a lookalike so she could walk into the Upsiders' lair. All to get a jump on me and find out their secrets before I could gouge my price out of him for the exact same intel. Screw him; the way he'd fucked me out of the bounty for Lung still burned my ass. The trouble was, it looked like he was getting set to pull that shit all over again.

Well, not this fucking time.

Flicking my cigarette away, I clenched my fists and started back toward the lair. Syndicate member or no, Sellsword was going to have to learn that he couldn't just grab everything for free. His little patsy was about to go bye-bye in a big way. This was my fucking score.

<><>​

Marionette (aka Alec)

When Rachel came back into the room, she was all smiles and sunshine, and no wonder. Taylor had indeed returned; even better, she was showing no signs of the bad mood that she'd been wearing when she stomped out of there. Her shoulders were a little tenser, like she'd gotten some bad news, but overall her mood seemed a lot more hopeful.

This was good. Running a team like the Upsiders could be stressful at the best of times; when things were tense between the members, it was like pulling teeth to keep them all working toward the same goal. Someone being uncommunicative (or even outright uncooperative) could cause havoc in the ranks.

"Taylor!" Brian paused his game and gave her a big welcoming smile. "Good to see you back." A moment later, he frowned and stood up, putting his controller down. "Wait, are you okay?"

Lisa looked around from where she'd been working on her laptop, and blinked. Alec saw her head come up as she blinked twice in a row. Tension straightened Alec's spine; Lisa never double-blinked unless she'd just encountered something really bizarre or really dangerous. Which one was Taylor?

"So, how'd you manage to lose your key?" he asked faux-casually, playing for time. "Those things cost money to get cut, you know." Thanks to the drug house bust, they all had more cash than they knew what to do with, so that wasn't really an issue, but it was something that people said.

Taylor ignored his comment and looked over at Lisa. "You've figured it out, haven't you? I should've realised you would."

"I … think I have." To Alec's considerable surprise, Lisa sounded uncertain. "Give me a second." Taking out her phone, she fiddled with it, then half-turned away from Taylor and held the phone up. Alec could see that she'd activated selfie mode on the camera, but he didn't have a good view of the screen. After a second, she nodded. "Thought so. Alternate?"

Warily, Taylor nodded. "Yeah. Not like I can exactly deny it with someone like Tattletale in the room, I guess."

Alec saw Brian share a puzzled glance with Rachel. "Tattletale?" Rachel asked. "Who's that?"

"Yeah," Brian added. "What are you two even talking about?"

Taylor winced. "Shit, I shouldn't even be here. I should go. Sorry to have bothered you."

That got everyone's attention. Taylor just didn't apologise, not like that. It wasn't part of her emotional makeup.

Brian stared at her. "Who are you, and what've you done with Taylor?"

It was clearly intended to be a joke; from Taylor's flinch, she hadn't taken it as one. "Nothing. I haven't even seen her, I swear. This was just supposed to be … I was just … God, this was such a bad idea."

"Holy shit." Rachel's eyes were wide. "Holy shit. You're really not our Taylor? How … where did you come from?"

"Lisa?" Alec spoke calmly. If this person who looked like Taylor started on them with hostile intent, he could lock her down physically, but there was damn-all he could do against her bugs. If she even had the same powers as their Taylor, that is. God damn it! He had far too little information about the situation. "Talk to us."

"Right." Lisa had evidently come to the same conclusion, but she'd held off while she marshalled her facts. "I'm guessing a mirror alternate. Left and right are swapped. That's why you look unwell to us; nobody's got a perfectly symmetrical face, and if you flip it, you look a little bit off. How are you going with chirality?"

"Wait." Brian had just clicked. "You're from another Earth? A … a mirror universe?"

"That's so cool!" gushed Rachel. "What's it like? Is there a me there too?" She looked like she wanted to give Taylor a hug. "Are we friends? Please tell me we're friends!"

Taylor took a deep breath, then let it out again; with it went some of the tension in her shoulders. "Okay, um. Brian, yes. Rachel, that's really complicated to answer, but yes, there's a you there. We're teammates and kinda friends. Lisa, I don't know what that is."

Neither did Alec; he turned to look at Lisa, as did Rachel. Brian snapped his fingers. "Isn't that the protein thing? Not being symmetrical? One way, your body can use it, the other way you can't?"

Lisa nodded solemnly. "Correct. Any food you eat here might taste good—or not, I'm not sure about the chirality of esters—but there's a fair chance you won't get any nutritional value out of it. You could have a feast every day and still starve to death."

"Wow, way to be a downer there, Lisa." Brian shook his head and rolled his eyes. "So, the most important question of all. Is your universe's Tenebrae as awesome as I am?" He struck a pose, flexing, and generated a small cloud of darkness at the same time.

"Um … he's pretty impressive, yes." But Taylor didn't sound certain. "The people in my universe don't use the same cape names as you do. And there are some other differences. Pretty major ones." She paused, then forged onward. "You guys are heroes, aren't you? I think I read about you in the paper."

"Well, yeah." Brian struck a different pose. He had several of these, Alec knew. "The Upsiders, champions of goodness and light. Why, what are your guys like?"

"Oh, shit." Rachel had just gotten it, only a few seconds after Alec figured it out. From the sombre look on Lisa's face, she already knew. "They're villains? Other me is a bad guy?"

"… you're a bad guy?" ventured Brian cautiously, taking half a step back.

"Whoa, no. No, I'm not." Taylor had both her hands up now; she also moved back slightly. "I wanted to start out as a hero, but then I ran into a group called the Undersiders when they helped me stop a villain called Lung—" She paused as they all glanced at each other. "Wait, you stopped Lung, too? He uses that name? Is he a good guy or a bad guy?"

Alec cleared his throat. "Yes, he does. He's technically a good guy, but he's very …" He paused, trying to think of a diplomatic way to say it.

"Tight-assed," Brian offered, and Rachel giggled. "Could totally crush a lump of coal into a diamond with his butt cheeks. It's his way or the highway. We're a bit more fast and loose with legalities. Why, what'd your Lung want with the … what did you call them? Undersiders?"

Taylor shrugged uncomfortably. "This was before I joined them, but apparently they robbed an illegal casino that he owned. I overheard him telling his men to kill kids, so I attacked, but he nearly killed me before they jumped in and kicked his ass. Then they left and Armsmaster showed up and took him in. After that, Lisa got in contact with me and offered me a place on the team. I was a bit dubious, but—"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second. Time out." Brian was making the whole 'T' gesture with unnecessary flourishes. "Who's this Armsmaster character? Is he a hero? What's his dealio?"

"Um, he's a Tinker. Yeah, he's a bit of a dick but he's still a hero. Local leader of the Protectorate. Rides a souped-up bike. Carries a halberd with all the mod cons. Wears power armour in silver and blue." Taylor frowned. "Why?"

Lisa nodded at Alec's significant glance. "Sellsword," she agreed to his unspoken comment, then turned to Taylor. "Our version of that guy drives a Hummer. His colours are red and black, and he carries a juiced-up claymore and an assault rifle. He is not a good guy. Do not cross him. He doesn't do 'mercy'."

"And your Protectorate doesn't exist here," Alec added. "The villains have the Protection Syndicate. It's nationwide, and any heroes who push back too hard get disappeared. Rumour has it there's this place called the Dungeon, overseen by a villain called—"

"—Dragon," blurted Taylor. "Sorry. We've got a Dragon, too. She's a hero. Runs a supermax called the Birdcage."

Rachel shook her head. "This is so weird. Our heroes are your villains, and our villains are your heroes. What happened to the other me, to make her into a bad guy? I really can't see it."

"And what's a supermax, anyway?" added Brian.

But Taylor's eyes had widened in alarm. "Can we put all that on hold for the moment? I've just realised something. In my world, I was trying to be a hero, so I joined the Undersiders to find out who their boss was and hand that information over to the Protectorate. So, your Taylor …"

Dread spilled down Alec's spine. "… is trying to find out who our secret boss is, so she can rat us out to the Syndicate? Oh, shit. She's really a villain? She's a mole? Lisa, how the hell did you miss that?"

"I didn't." Lisa met his gaze squarely. "But she's not totally committed to it, so I figured with positive reinforcement, we could bring her good side out again. Rachel's been a huge help there. I'm pretty sure we've nearly got her turned around."

Alec wasn't so certain. A whole bunch of tiny clues were starting to make a lot more sense now. "You could've at least filled the rest of us in, so we knew to be careful."

Lisa almost smiled at that. "You have met us, right? Brian is the king of oversharing, and Rachel's like a big friendly puppy herself. Neither of them can keep a secret worth a damn."

About to argue with that assessment, Alec turned and looked at the named pair. There was a pregnant pause, then Brian shrugged. "Eh, she's not actually wrong."

"But what kind of puppy?" Rachel asked. "A noble, powerful one, like one of those mountain dogs that take on wolves and win?" She jutted out her jaw in an adorable attempt to look fierce.

"Totally," agreed Alec. Golden retriever, he thought privately.

From the look in her eye, Taylor had much the same thought crossing her mind. "So, what are we gonna do? Should I just leave? Pretend I was never here? Because the moment she finds out about me and figures out the mirror-world thing, she'll know her cover's blown. And if she's like me, but looking to prove herself to this Syndicate and willing to go all-out on hurting people with her bugs …" She shook her head as her voice trailed off, then finished her thought anyway. "It won't be good."

Alec nodded reluctantly. As much as he wanted to talk to this Taylor and learn about the more fascinating aspects of her world, she'd just outlined a real problem. "Yeah, you probably should." At least until later. She seemed like a nice person.

Lisa leaned forward, her expression intent. "Wait a second. How exactly did you get here, anyway? Is our Taylor likely to find her way back to your world?"

This time, Taylor paled. "Shit. I never thought about that. It's a portal. My bedroom mirror. Our bedroom mirror. I've gotta get back now!"

Downstairs, in the sudden silence, the door lock clicked open.

<><>​

Taylor (Bet)

"It's Taylor!" hissed Rachel. "Hide!" Grabbing me by the arm, she dragged me into the corridor leading to the kitchen area. She yanked one door open—decorated with a poster depicting dogs romping across a sunny field—and shoved me inside. The room within was decorated with pink frills and ruffles; I'd never been a truly 'girly' girl, but this went way past even what Emma used to have in her room.

Also, pictures of dogs. Lots and lots and lots of dogs.

I paused to catch my breath, wishing I could hear what was being said outside. The bugs out in the living area could see the other Taylor as she came up the stairs, though weirdly enough, I couldn't pick out any real details, not like I could with the others. Carefully, I pressed my ear against the door.

"Okay, where is she?" Was that what my voice sounded like to other people? I knew recordings sounded different, but not that different. Also, other-Taylor clearly didn't believe in 'inside voice'. "What the fuck's going on around here? You're not even surprised that I just walked back in the fucking door. Where's the bitch who's wearing my face? Because this is the real me. Me." My bugs reported that she'd just made a motion like she was jabbing herself in the chest. "Not some half-assed pretender. What's she been telling you?"

I couldn't quite make out what Alec said, but it was undoubtedly both empathic and convincing. If he ever came face to face with 'my' Alec, there would probably be aneurysms on both sides.

Unfortunately, other-Taylor didn't seem in the market for either of those qualities. "Oh, fucking bullshit! Someone came in here, pretending to be me, and now you're fucking covering for her! Did she con you into thinking I'm the fucking imposter? Don't think I can't see you sneaking looks at each other! What the fuck is this? Have you forgotten who it was that saved your asses from Pandemic in that fucking drug house? Me, that's who!"

Jesus Christ. This version of me had serious anger issues. And even worse, I couldn't help remembering the last time I'd heard someone talking like that. She sounds just like Sophia.

There was more talking, probably by Alec or Lisa, but other-Taylor cut them off sharply. "No, fuck this shit. Rachel, where is she?"

Well, shit. I sighed and braced myself. On Earth Bet, asking that question in that tone would've earned her a punch in the face. This Rachel was a lot more conflict-averse, and would probably give away my location without even meaning to.

Sure enough, I heard other-Taylor's footsteps stomping along the hallway to just outside Rachel's door. I considered flicking the lock over, but these doors weren't exactly the sturdiest, and she could absolutely outwait me. So I drew a deep breath and held it, and covered my eyes with my arm at the same time.

The door flew open. No doubt she was posed there triumphantly as she saw me. "There you are, you fucking little sk—"

I hated to interrupt her little moment of glory, but I had other places to be. Straight-arming the pepper spray, I let her have it, full in the face. She let out an ugly scream and staggered back, clawing at her glasses (or so my bugs informed me). Keeping my arm over my eyes, I barrelled out of the room and elbowed her aside, then bolted for the exit.

I only pulled my arm away and took a breath when I got to the exit doorway; other-Taylor was still screeching something incoherent, probably including dire threats against my person. The swarm was restless, no doubt feeding off her suddenly heightened emotions. I did my best to disperse it, because although I figured I could protect myself against it, I wasn't so sure about anyone else.

As I clattered down the spiral staircase, I heard another set of footsteps following; risking a glance, I saw it was Rachel. Two of her dogs were following behind. I wasn't sure what she wanted, but neither was I waiting around to find out.

I burst out through the door onto the street and started toward the bus depot at a dead sprint. While I wouldn't be able to maintain it for long, it would hopefully get me out of other-Taylor's range before she recovered long enough to focus on finding me. But my thoughts were locked onto the concept of getting back to her house, and into her room. That mirror had to go.

If she got there first and went through it, I didn't even want to think about the confrontation she was likely to have with Dad. At my very worst, I'd never acted out nearly as badly as what she seemed to do on a regular basis. And if she lit up a cigarette in the house … jeez, Mom would come back from the dead, literally claw her way back out of the grave, just to strangle her. Nobody smoked in the house, not even visitors. We didn't so much as own an ashtray.

"Taylor!" It was Rachel, struggling to keep up with me. "Taylor, wait!"

I didn't slow down. "If you want to tell me she's not so bad and we can talk it out, hell no!"

"No, I don't want to tell you that!" Now she was gaining on me. I glanced around as she swept up alongside, riding … it was a giant dog, but as far from 'my' Rachel's lizard-dinosaur-rhino hybrids as could possibly be expected. This was a beautiful, noble creature, with a smooth furry hide and a great floofy mane of golden hair. Another one came up on my other side. "Get on!" Rachel yelled.

I made a quick judgement call; reaching up, I grabbed a double handful of that mane, and did my best to jump on board. The dog assisted me, dipping its shoulder so that I found myself half-sprawled over its back as it galloped along. Hanging onto the mane, I pulled myself up to a seated position. "Thanks," I panted, trying to catch my breath. "I really appreciate this."

"You're nice," she said simply. "You're who she should be."

"I've robbed a bank. With black widows." I hadn't meant to say that, but it slipped out anyway. "And I smacked a hero on the head with my baton." Goddamn concussion.

Rachel frowned. "Taylor—our Taylor—the other Taylor, I mean—hit Pandemic with her baton during the drug house bust. Who did you hit?"

"Um, a healer called Panacea. That got messy. She also clocked me with a fire extinguisher, so yeah."

"Swap you," Rachel offered without hesitation.

I shook my head. Earth Rolyat could keep anyone who wanted to call themselves Pandemic. "Hard pass. Sorry." The idea that there was an evil version of New Wave out there was kind of terrifying. Correction: it was really terrifying. Glory Girl broke enough stuff when she didn't mean to. "I'm just saying, I'm not really a good person. I've done some messed-up shit."

"Listen, I've got an instinct for reading people," she confided over the sound of massive dog paws on asphalt. "And I can tell that you're a good person who wants to do the right thing. Nearly everyone is, to be honest. The other Taylor's got some good in her, but there's a lot of bad, too. I was willing to give her a chance because Lisa said we should, but I'm not sure if I would've wanted her in the team otherwise."

"Okay. Wow." That was something I'd have to think about. "So, do you know the quickest way to her house?" I knew how to get there, but not how to do it in the fastest way possible.

Grimacing, she shook her head. "Sorry. I've never been there."

I nodded, accepting the situation. "Okay, I think it's this way." I pointed, and the dogs swerved onto the new course.

<><>​

Danny Hebert (Bet)

The movie ended, and Danny got up to stretch. A few vertebrae in his back clicked and popped, reminding him that he'd been sitting still for too long. Now that he was on his feet, he also felt the need to use the bathroom.

He could've made use of the half-bath under the stairs, but the idea had been percolating in his head that they could order pizza in for a good old-fashioned Saturday movie night. Taylor had gone through enough crap over the last few days that reviving an old tradition like that would probably do her the world of good. So instead, he climbed the stairs and used the upstairs bathroom before continuing along the corridor to Taylor's room.

"Taylor?" he called gently, then rapped on the door with his knuckles. "Are you awake?"

There was no answer. He waited for a few moments, then paused, sniffing. Frowning, he leaned closer to the door jamb and sniffed again. He hadn't been mistaken the first time. Faint but distinct, he could smell stale cigarette smoke.

"Taylor?" he called out louder this time. "Taylor, open this door!" Beginning to lose patience, he thumped on it with his fist.

There was no noise from within, not even the furtive scrambling of a guilty teenager seeking to hide evidence. He hesitated, unwilling to intrude on her privacy, but the smell was impossible to ignore.

Finally, he took hold of the doorknob. "Taylor, I'm coming in." There was no answer, so he turned the knob. The door opened easily and he stepped inside.

His first realisation was that Taylor wasn't there; her bed was empty, though slightly rumpled. Also, oddly enough, she'd pulled the mirror off her dresser and laid it flat on the bed. But he was less concerned about that than about her absence and the smell of stale smoke.

While he'd been enjoying the movie, there was no way she could've snuck past him out the front door, and he was pretty sure he would've noticed her leaving by the back door, which left her bedroom window as an exit point. Except, as he discovered a few seconds later, it was firmly locked from the inside.

Maybe she left by the back door after all. It was technically possible for him to have been distracted enough, though he wouldn't have thought so. But all that was beyond the point. She'd said she was lying down for a nap. Not only was she not doing that, but he could still smell stale cigarette smoke inside the closed bedroom.

He didn't want to believe that she was lying to him, sneaking out of the house and smoking in her bedroom, but the evidence was indisputable. He sighed. Anne-Rose would've known what to do.

They'd gotten this far without Taylor acting out in any noticeable way, and now all this at once? It had to be connected to the bullying in some way. Maybe she was trying to attach herself to some bunch of older students for self-protection? He'd seen for himself how badly wrong that could go; his only hope was to talk some sense into her before anything went too far.

With a defeated sigh—he'd thought they really had a chance of connecting again—he picked up the detached mirror to put it back on the dresser, then paused. Even in his distracted state, he managed to take note of two very important facts. One, he wasn't reflected in it. And two, what was visible in the frame of the mirror wasn't even a reflection of what was behind him.

"What … the hell?" he muttered, sitting down on the bed and examining the mirror more closely. When he turned the frame, the view within shifted. Held straight ahead, he could see a bed very similar to the one he was sitting on, with some posters on the wall. Angling it one way showed the wardrobe and the window; the other way, the door.

And the other thing that he belatedly discovered was that the reek of stale smoke was stronger next to the mirror. As though it was coming out of the mirror.

On a hunch, he propped the mirror on his knees and tried to touch the reflective surface, only to find that there wasn't one. He could reach right into it as though it were a window. In fact, he could touch the surface of the dresser visible just inside the mirror.

When he angled the mirror (by now, he was perfectly aware that it wasn't one, but he was used to calling it that in his head) to one side, he could see a hairbrush, almost the twin to one Taylor kept on her dresser. Reaching in, he grabbed it and pulled it out of the mirror. It came through with no problems at all.

Getting up, he left the mirror on the bed and collected the one from Taylor's dresser, to compare them. As he'd noted, they were virtually identical, save for one important difference. Taylor's had 'MADE IN CHINA' stamped on hers; it was an old brush, predating the formation of the CUI. The one he'd gotten out of the mirror had the same wording in the same place, but reversed.

He stared at the brush, rubbing his thumb over the lettering as though it might come off and reveal the proper wording underneath. No such thing happened. Frowning, he recalled the posters on the wall. He looked into the mirror and nodded. While he couldn't read all the lettering from this distance, it certainly looked mirror-imaged. Worse, while he didn't recognise the capes, he felt that he could almost recognise them.

"Well, shit," he said out loud. It was clear what had happened; this portal, to a universe where everything was a mirror-copy of the real world, had somehow opened in Taylor's bedroom mirror. She'd seen it, and decided (because teenagers were so damn good at making smart, informed decisions) to explore the world beyond, all by herself … without telling him what she was doing.

What scared him most of all, even beyond the knowledge that she'd done this, was the fact that it had been at least an hour and she was still on the other side of the mirror. Something had happened to her. He was certain of it.

What do I do?

His first impulse, to dash downstairs and hand the situation over to the PRT, was just as swiftly quashed. The time taken to convince them he wasn't some crank, followed by their response time, and then the fact he would inevitably be pushed into the background while they carefully investigated … all that was intolerable. They'd be less interested in rescuing her than they would be in dealing with the fact of the portal itself. Taylor needed help now.

Picking up the mirror and tucking it under his arm, he strode out of her room, along the corridor, and into his room. There he took up the baseball bat that resided alongside his bed; it was the only weapon he kept in the house, and he wasn't inclined to waste time finding more. Then he went downstairs and picked up the landline.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?" The operator, a woman, had a strong, confident phone voice.

He drew a deep breath. "Hi, my name is Danny Hebert." He gave his address. "The PRT needs to know that there is a portal to another universe in my living room. My teenage daughter went into it at least an hour ago. I'm going in there to find her if I can. I'll leave the front door unlocked. Tell them to get here as quickly as possible. Thank you." He hung up the phone then, unwilling to be dragged into an argument.

Carefully, he laid the mirror face-up in the middle of the room, went and unlocked the door, then hesitated. He still felt woefully underprepared. I'm not an action hero, goddamn it!

As an afterthought, he grabbed the pair of walkie-talkies—spares from the Dockworkers' Association—from the charger in the corner, dropped one next to the mirror, and clipped the other to his pocket. Then he knelt down and started to lower himself into the mirror frame.

<><>​

Danny Hebert (Rolyat)

"I know, I know. You want her back. Got it." Danny let out an aggravated sigh. Christner could be such an irritating fuck at times. "I'll have the boys keep an eye out for her. She's probably gone on a sleepover with her little friends or something. Who'd hurt a kid, for fuck's sake?"

Well, he might, and a few others of his acquaintance, but normally if a kid was out wandering the streets, they'd get offered a lift home if they wanted it. The main reason he got away with so much of the shit he did was that people normally didn't hurt other people, or steal stuff. All the cops normally did when they caught someone doing something wrong was talk sternly to them for a few minutes until they figured out where they'd screwed up. Then they made restitution and everyone went on their way. Nobody ever reoffended.

Then there were the people like Danny. There were so few of them that society wasn't sure how to handle them. They had no problem with hurting people and stealing stuff, but because they were so rare, they just kept getting away with it. Supervillains were the most visible aspect of this phenomenon; most people thought that was the whole of it.

Far from it. But he wasn't going to tell them that.

"I have no fucking idea," Christner growled. He was another one like Danny; game recognised game. "But I need the little bitch back. She's important to my operations. Understood?"

He hung up then, and Danny sneered at the phone. Important to your operations, huh? That might be worth checking out, once his boys located her.

Going into his phone's message function, he'd just started typing out a mass text when there was a tremendous crash and clatter from upstairs. Annoyed, he glared at the ceiling. What the fuck is Taylor playing at?

Then a moment later, he came to his feet. Taylor wasn't even home. Who the fuck thinks they can break into my house?

Anger seething in his gut, he slipped the brass knuckles from his pocket and fitted them onto his right hand. There was a small automatic pistol in his bedside drawer, but he probably wouldn't need it. Heading up the stairs, he listened for further noises; nothing came to his ears.

Fist clenched in the knucks, he crept along the corridor to Taylor's room. He was just reaching for the door handle when it opened to reveal … himself. Tall, skinny, glasses, dishevelled, holding a baseball bat. Behind the other him, in the room, Taylor's dresser lay on its face.

"Where the fuck did you come from?" Danny demanded.

At the same time, the other guy raised the bat. "Where's my daughter?"

That was when things went to shit.



End of Part Twelve

 

[Neko Tamo]

Love to see it back after all this time : )

Not too much to say because while this is a necessary bit to get the plot going I mainly enjoy the "what's different" aspect of the other world of which there wasn't much by necessity this time around.

Plus this all pretty much happened during the time Danny prime watched a movie right? Seems a bit much that Taylor prime (Taylor1 for short) decided to go all across town to visit Undersiders2 on her first foray into the new world and manage to do so in about two hours.

But again the plot has to get going I suppose so guess we can let her flight of fancy go this one time.

All in all good return and your usual high quality.