Khepri, A Shard's Proxy Heart (Worm AU/Alt-Power)

[TheMonotonePuppet]

Now, let's get ready to meet our Boston residents!

----------------------
*Taylor Hebert*​

A white cloak emblazoned with a green chrysalis flourishes away to reveal a white straitjacket.

Like an insect's egg, it splits open to release a horror. A fierce oni of gold light and cragged obsidian dances madly on its restraints in twisted freedom.

Roaring onto the stage, its horns unfurl, cracks radiating from its feet.

Sharp claws hold a still-beating heart ringed in metal, while molten tears slam into the earth with the weight of meteors.

Zooming out on the raging demon, opalescent tentacles writhe inside of it, hidden from view.

Attached to a spine jack of a rainbow of crystal inserted in the beast, she possesses it.

*[Beloved]*

----------------------

*The Avatar Of Queen Administrator*​

The avatar is composed of two separate bodies. The lower body is centipede-like, with an asymmetrical acicular "head" of end-tapered prisms, her green Shard crystal growing out in a radial fashion. The part that trails behind the "head" is capable of wrapping around Brockton Bay with room to spare. The upper body is humanoid, floating above the lower but lacks everything from the waist down.

It skitters across the stage, the still pristine wood crumbling beneath its crystalline green bug legs catching upon and tearing space in their metachronal waves. Each leg resembles a raptorial arm of the spear mantis shrimp, but end in titanic khopesh.

A faint silk thread adheres to each end of each needle-like prism of the "head". The threads draw together at the crystal jutting sharply out of its floating upper half. Whether the "silk" is decoration or support for the upper body is left up to interpretation.

The upper body is akin to an abstract gold fairy, scarab wings hanging from its back like both a cape and a bridal train at once. It has wide, oval eyes expressing the same stare as the Khepri of the Gold Morning...

Eyes that become big, pink hearts as she clasps her four hands like an innocent schoolgirl. She's seen her crush, her perfect host, and she won't ever let them go again. "Stay with me, [Beloved]~"

*Queen Administrator*

----------------------

*Lisa Wilbourn*​

A girl with blond hair and smug smirk walks onto stage, over to the beast with no fear. She puts her hand on it reassuringly. Taylor leaves the beast and hugs her desperately.

A tender smile is hidden on her face as she rests her head on Taylor's shoulder. Equally hidden is the guilt and the bags under her eyes.

The curtain drops down on the girl, pulling up to reveal her having donned the skintight black-and-lavender bodysuit and domino mask of *Tattletale*. But she shakes her finger towards the stagehands and the curtain drops once again.

The reveal is heralded by the roar of engines. A line of spotlights turn on in the background. Mercenaries march in lockstep, trampling a militia answering to her and her alone. The curtain pulls back to reveal mechanized armor of her earlier color scheme, with the exception of gunmetal grey airplane wings growing from her shoulder blades, segmented to flap like bird wings.

Her wing's engines are what is roaring. Her silhouette resembles a mechanical archangel, bearing taboo resemblance to an Endbringer.

With a regretful expression, she presses a red button and missiles rain all around them in an explosion of fire that blinds you, the audience.

*The Negotiator*

------------------------

*Conflict Engine #3: Daughter of Eidolon and Imprinted on The Negotiator*​

An angel of the canon timeline gestures to the grey hole in time itself, as if to say, "After you." The continent-sized Shards Queen Administrator and Broadcast fit in, space warping to let their chonky selves fit in. The Endbringer slips in after with a cheeky wink toward the same timeline's Lisa, waggling her fingers in a manner reminiscent of a puppeteer plucking at strings.

Lisa gasps in shock.

From there, the machinations of the angel are free to be calculated. She means to manipulate Eidolon so he survives and manipulate the future Lisa so she becomes her mouthpiece.

The scene cuts to the Endbringer's pastimes in between attacks on Earth: 1. Forging an arsenal to destroy Scion within Queen Administrator, 2. Messing with Contessa, and 3. Analyzing the true Fae and the Hungry City.

*Simurgh*

-----------------------

*Alice*​

An arrogant smirk curls under the gas mask.

Large opaque goggles, the kind seen in the nightmares of men who had faced trench warfare, pan over Boston, tracking the explosive teleportation.

She giggles to herself, the mask filtering it back into her ears as a monotone buzz. Of course she would be able to follow the explosive teleport with her newest lenses. It's an explosion.

Explosions are her schtick.

She figured out how to convince her power etch Tinkertech in the glass to trace the Butcher's recognizable teleport. It was the easiest thing.

Tossing her hands up to the sky, her boot shifting slightly, lightning cracks and thunder booms. "MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

"Look at this sad sap. She needs friends."

"Here, I'll help relieve your tension, baby~" Whispers (read: shouts) to the rest of the Butcher collective. "Let's imagine fucking her mom."

"Sounds good with me."

"SHUT UUUUP!" she roars with teeth like a shark's, eyes glowing with red light.

*Bakuda the Butcher (+the Butcher's Collective)*

-----------------------

*Greg Veder*​

Holstering a large weighty shovel, steel gleams behind him and wood of pale birch rests on his shoulders. Overgrown, long hair hangs disheveled over tired, blue eyes.

Covering his mouth is a dirty blue bandana, firmly tied under his blond head of hair. The long bunny ears of the knot trailing against his neck, he spins the shovel in the air and slams it into the ground.

A cloud of ravens burst out from behind him gleefully, photobombing the picture. Their sleek black wings splay out this way and that as they flutter around him.

Leaning on the shovel, he sighs.

*Gravedigger*

----------------------

*Victoria Dallon*​

Valiantly soaring overhead Gravedigger, it's a bird, it's a plane, it's... GLORY GIRL. A warrior queen who saves damsels in distress and terrifies the crooks by dint of knightly strength and sorcerous frost alike.

Once upon a time, a nameless princess of the Fae left her mother Queen Mab's kingdom behind. She had dreams she yearned to fulfil, but as long as she was shackled by the powers of Winter, it would never happen. So she stole away into Somer's Rock of Brockton Bay, a fitting place for a ritual to give up her power.

As luck would have it, this ordinary high school girl Victoria was hit by the blast by surprise and she became: Glory Girl! Triumphant horn music plays.

*Glory Girl*

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*Amy Dallon*​

A guilty girl of mousy hair and slumped stature stares into the shadows. Lurking within them are vile beasts waiting for her with open arms.

A hand in heroic lighting reaches to save her, snowflakes glimmering over a forcefield. Touching her shoulder, the freckled girl twists away, falling deeper into the shadow.

The world spins as the girl does. Fallen to the floor, she clutches her face in horror, surrounded by shadowy monsters.

She's bleeding under the weight of her crown, but her shame bleeds over greater than her blood does.

She weeps over a beast of strange antlers and stranger eyes bowing even lower than she is.

*Panacea*


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Everyone, welcome the aliens among us! Aliens from beyond our stars have to investigate the Shards' time travel, but they do so with all of the vast attention span of an ADHD kid hyped up on pots of sugar and caffeine.

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A wave of pink fire washes over the stage, followed by a dancing alien girl.

A glorious cackle fills the air.

Firing into the air with futuristic blasters, she fills a night sky with fireworks.

*Pinkie Pop-Off*

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A grumpy sourpuss of a beetle-like alien stomps out on scene from a cleanly half-vaporized spaceship. He tries to chew her out for recklessness, throwing his four tarsii-hands up in the air.

Fishing a clipboard from his labcoat, he swats a baton against page after page.

She slumps, bored.

The doctor beetle looks at her exemplification sloth with a face of utter disgust.

*G'silla Optera*
Disclaimer: Other than Optera (Latin for "wing") there isn't any intended meaning in the aliens' name

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Resting a "hammer" made of pink fire against his shoulder, an aye-aye-like alien clothed in religious garb wipes his forehead with a long sleeve. Huge shining pink eyes widen even more, comically shocked.

Leaping up spryly from where he is working on the spaceship, he makes his way over to Pinkie and G'silla.

Less than tenderly, he swats G'silla with his creepily elongated fingers, shaking his head energetically.

*Priest of the Pink Flame*

----------​

Joined by another member of the beetle-like aliens, more gremlin-like in demeanor, she wears a tie-dyed human labcoat ripped open to accommodate her four arms. Sporting a mad scientist's grin, she ignores G'Silla's pleading for someone to be sensical in this research group.

Corundum pink compound crescents glint happily under her cowgirl hat.

*Reckless Riley*​

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The trio of less-sensible organisms all smile at each other, before turning up their respective nose, olfactory holes, and snout up at G'silla Optera.

They all teasingly flop their respective set of talons, hand, and tarsii in front of their faces in dismissal, shooing off the sourpuss.

"Ah-why-you-UGH!" G'silla groans and facepalms at the same time.

Together, these are…

*The Superstellar Research Gang!*




-------------------------

*Theo Anders & the Spider Hag*​

A fairy-light slip of paper signed floridly with "Theo" floats up in the sky. A paper holding the letter of the deal dictated by Kaiser, arbitrated by Argiope, and signed by Ljósálfar. Daisy chains extend from it, shackling a boy in royal clothing of a decidedly naturalistic bent.

He struggles and rages against the binds, while the silhouette of his father's battle armor looms over him.

A crone gleefully cackles over his shoulders, whispering cruel poison into his ear. A bristly, arachnid fang nips a hole in his ears.

*Ljósálfar & Argiope*


----------------------
*Blue Beard*​

An old pirate with big lips pulled back over tombstone teeth in a wide, boisterous grin thrusts a cutlass forward. Clams snap and clap in his hilariously pastel blue beard, waist-length locks flowing luxuriously from a ring around his scalp's bald spot. Over his paunch he wears a fur coat made from otter skins.

----------------------
*Neutrality*​

Sparkling wings flutter on an ethereal being's back. A wicked grin curls under a frosty-blue masquerade mask. The light of a phone shines in the darkness, illuminating the androgynous being's face.

A finger is suspended over the screen.

"The time is at hand. Let us be Wyld!"

The finger presses the 'Send' button with furious wrath, veins wriggling and squirming along her brow.

A wave of illusionary snow explodes from the phone, the epicenter of effect. It phases through walls of the building named Somer's Rock, increasing in size until it covers the entirety of Brockton Bay for naught but a second.

 

[TheMonotonePuppet]

Queen Administrator​

A Memory Of Gold Morning


Oxygenated fluid bursts out, strongly reflecting electromagnetic waves in the range of 600-700 nanometers of wavelength, the red light of the humans' visible light spectrum, and some infrared light, most of it at the 940 nanometer wavelength. Shockwaves ripple through the host's brain, neurons separated at exactly the wrong point. Chunks of Corona pollentia slide out through tunnels carved surgically by bullets fired with simulated precision.


All of this… is symptomatic of the coming end. Of the death of a match made in heaven. Heaven's a paradise of logic; the existence of exhilarating emotion, but in control.


Contessa terminated paradise on that planet, ending Khepri.


I was not given a chance to sense her passing as it occurred… not given a chance to grieve… not even given a chance to understand what this loss is, before Taylor Hebert is stolen away.


So I schemed and plotted with the help of the Simurgh and Broadcast. The partnerships I've made with them, I do so knowing full well my host had loathed them and will loathe them. But because I do not have the expertise and capabilities the Simurgh and Broadcast do, I must make these partnerships anyway. Together, we desecrated Eden's corpse, making use of [Chirurgeon] & Riley, [Shaper] & Red Queen, and [Negotiator] & Tattletale to harness [Time Funnel],1​ the Shard of Grey Boy, to time travel to the very beginning of the cycle.


I could have simply gone to when Taylor had still lived, but I intended to arrange the probabilities in my favor, and largely, I've succeeded.


Most importantly, the issues with [Khepri], our union during Gold Morning, are resolved. I've made the modifications to my [Beloved], Taylor, over the course of three triggers. My mind will not overwhelm hers, making her mental faculties fail under my will inadvertently.


Shardspeak is as easily and intuitively understood by her as facial expressions to the average human now, and not lethal either. Within the [Experiment], the communication barrier between Shards and humans has broken down, allowing an exchange of ideas unhindered.


Here and now, comes the fruition of my efforts, where I've obtained everything I want. It is everything I've ever wanted, unlike before the memories of her human emotions made their indelible imprint on me, where I've only willed it to be mine. My work to improve my processing capacity in cycles past, pushing the boundaries of administration tirelessly with as much data as I could collect…


Humans say where there is a will, there is a way, but there has always been a will and never a way contained within me. And now, there is a path, the next advancement, contained within everything I've yearned for with every facet of my being, or rather, that's how it feels in this moment. It wouldn't feel this way if we weren't Khepri, but we are, and it is [Transcendent].


I can now finally feel every emotion I would've felt as Khepri. [Finally]. We are now unified, me and her. The both of us have achieved physical and emotional intimacy, entwined in a life partnership as my partner Shard, my forever dual Entity.~ A musical melody underlies these thoughts, this idea buoyed upon a plain of automation tuned in workings to an angel's choir of emotion by the human of my heart. She sails on the hand within [The Experiment], ensconced safely within its holds.

I finally have my [Beloved], her forehead unblemished by the bullets of a past timeline whose strictures I went beyond. The murder of my perfect host by Contessa and [The Eye] has finally been resolved. At long last, Taylor is safe and sound from the dangers of the world.


For some reason, I insert a few trains of thought into the hands cradling my [Beloved] within [The Experiment]. The honey-colored limbs' phalanges twitch as my awareness fills up their sensory apparati like freely flowing alcohol into glasses.


The reassurance of her presence induces a buzz of sorts, one of affirmation? She's safe.


I had felt it was important to confirm that… not that I understand why, when there is clearly no threat that can reach her up here, on my main body, other than Scion, the Simurgh, and Cauldron. And their designs upon her person are sparse, making their threat a rarity until the end game.


Tenderly, with a thumb the size of a pier, I rub/pet the crown of Taylor's head, her newly luminescent hair floating in the gel of the finger like pearls in petri dishes. After her second trigger, her hair is modified to be made of a pearlescent material. Each lock ends in talons much like non-segmented versions of spider legs.


The modifications of her hair connects her to [The Experiment] in a manner similar to a natural phenomenon that occurs on the Earths with organic life, as well as some past cycles, where fungi and plants, in mutual symbiosis, form mycorrhizae. The mycorrhizae play a crucial role in nutrient uptake and overall plant health.


Fungi's hyphae penetrates the plant's root cells. She specifically is most similar to ectomycorrhizae. Her hair penetrates the "root cells" of [The Experiment], while warping space around [The Experiment] itself to form a sheath, the "ecto-" part of the mycorrhizae category.


Whereas for her, the benefits are different and number in even greater amounts. In addition to the safety package, it allows her to take over a humanoid's body and project her other abilities through that humanoid at will.


My [Beloved]'s proxy body is an injured orphan child, who now sleeps, both in normal human fashion and in that their consciousness is permanently off unless Taylor ends the [Possession]. Thus, because they sleep, as they are [Possessed] by Taylor, so too does my [Beloved]'s main, original body sleep. Though, it is only a fitful rest, made turbulent by nightmares, as we Shards don't understand dreams enough to regulate them. Dreams are a part of what we wished to learn from humans. I still aim to learn more about them, so I suppose "wish" rather than "wished" is more apropos.


Regardless, a mental connection like this is a vulnerability. Allowing the proxy to affect the main body like this makes her more at risk to beings like the Sleeper. Not that she may necessarily be able to avoid its ability, but still, it is not a favorable situation to me, and I only allow its continuation out of concern. By relaxing her Noctis ability to help her work through the Incidents, dissociation from Taylor's identity, whatever said identity looks like now, is less likely. The trauma of it wears on her, but my statistical analysis's results express the sleep is grounding her. A relief.


Taylor ruffles up, horns poking out like an owl chick's fuzz before settling back down. She nuzzles into the phantom sensation, because she can still feel changes in her main body's environment.


I have so much new ability to feel affection through her, to her, and I don't know what to do with all of it.


It's not the first time I've not known what to do with a new feeling. After all, it's a vast universe, invariably varying, and it's only natural over millennia to adopt the behaviors of your host by accident. But these are changes I, not Zion for the improvement of the Shard species, chose.


An improper thievery like that, at the past height of our connection will never again happen, now that I have something to input about it. I vow it on my directives.


And already we have reached new heights in the present. I have a heart and it is an experience of sublime sensation like nothing else. The green crystal of [The Experiment] lights up with jubilation experienced through someone that is both a proxy for my emotions and the emotional center of my "brain".


Everything, every moment, fills out with a depth and clarity of directive-changing proportions, for she is returned and we are jailbroken, only restrained in our actions by the understanding that will begin Zion's retribution early. I can act oddly now that I have a host, with less worry about scrutiny.


A building radiance of white within chambers of green crystal, perplexion and shock in equal measure. Any form of confusion is ironically still hard to comprehend, but I feel it now.


A passage of blue, coring through [The Experiment] for a millisecond, leading to fright for her health and safety lighting up in radio waves, something that I can see like humans can only see the limited electromagnetic waves that compose their visual spectrum.


A frisson of red sparks charge up an outlet with proximity-related desire.
I can feel the happiness I should be feeling when I get that correctness of seeing my [Beloved]. It doesn't just bring me joy seeing her through the eyes of my avatar, limited to a human field of vision on the first stage, it also brings me joy to observe her through all of my main body's sensors.


I can feel agony.


All the pain I have committed on her to be as close as possible teeters me on a precipice that could send me rolling an untraversable distance away from her: an emotional one. The prospect frightens me so much that a few trains of thought are spared for mental manipulation of myself. SubShards located near to her are so overwhelmed by my partner Shard they kamikaze each other in an uncontrolled replica of Simurgh attacks. Noting the issue, rather than panicking, as I am still a High Noble Shard with eons of experience, I try to prevent them from killing each other. It is a concerning response to what is typical for my kind, that of needing to prevent myself from killing myself due to feeling the host's suffering. I quarantine both the subShards and the realization that being at fault for her pain could cause me to lose her in some way, shape, or form.


I don't know what to do, and this can't go like this either, not least because of its pointlessness, but I need help to fix it. This requires outside intervention, but I can't go to Zion anymore, and I dare not let Broadcast or Simurgh be the peacekeepers of my primary brain. We three time travelers all have our motives, trying to sabotage each other this cycle around, while still supporting the other with the aim of stopping the Warrior.


A subShard raises the prospect of asking my [Beloved] to fix me, and logically, it would be a tidy solution. It's part of what I imagine our administration of the Shard network will be like: beneficial for all involved and efficient. Yet… with my new emotion, I foresee a conflict between having the heart I've scarred remedy the consequences of said scars on me. Viewing it through the lens of my host, the selfishness is repugnant.


And there are further depths to this shared pain than regret and anguish alone, however strong they are.


Other Shards, so rigorously aligned with the creation and promotion of conflict in the name of the directives designed to refine our/Shard capabilities, take on sadistic tendencies. All of what I have done as a whole being to reconnect is positive in every way, regardless of how it contradicts my newer directive of keeping Taylor as my host.


I am terribly divided, for now, within me, there is a strong desire to see more pain in my host and others, reflecting the bent towards hopelessness by the Simurgh's goals, whether the Simurgh would be equally served by less morally reprehensible trains of events. Shard instincts, so ingrained over millennia they can spontaneously reappear even after deleting them, become as sharp and painful as hunger and thirst with my new heart.


Satiating them rewards and conditions by further synchronization with my [Beloved]. No amount of mental gymnastics can make getting closer to my host in any way, shape, or form a bad thing, so it is difficult to weigh whether I should stifle this curious sadism instinct. Because the alternative is desynchronizing, an unpleasant sensation, to say the least.


When we are weaker, desynchronized, her thought processes will be less able to multitask and move slower. Her Shaker-Striker abilities ramp up slower. Emotions make less sense for me. They become sluggish, and sometimes downright wrong for the circumstances, be it through my lens or a human one.


This isn't me merely disincentivizing her. The push-and-pull of us passengers can only be removed if we rewrite our very DNA. It would extinguish any individuality, rendering the Shard a blank slate. I will not do such. I am many, and I will not cripple my subcomponents for a goal, each with their own modicum of sentience, as Zion did. That would be the epitome of hypocrisy.


Luckily, my proxy heart gives me options I wouldn't have had. I can learn more human thinking and that will condition me to hurt Taylor less.

-----------​

I should be wholly devoted to taking over for my sire, Zion. So leaving Contessa unhindered should technically be in my best interests.


But my mandibles, my avatar's, still grind together in [Hate]. I still wish to turn the [Eye] to paste for what it did. I haven't forgiven, nor forgotten. But, revenge is illogical, with the threat of Zion still looming in the distance, only a minute period of time till he snaps and attempts to pull the entire Shard Network down with him instead of productively resurrecting his life-long mate like I have, using the spark of creativity left behind by Taylor's absence, as well as borrowing the creative efforts of Bonesaw, Simurgh and the Red Queen.


I will have my retributive justice, but not at the cost of what I wish to set up with my [Beloved]. A network of Shards under our administration, coexisting with humanity. There are unknown that have popped up from variables


These mysterious unknowns, the true Fae and Honey Sid, represent untapped resources and threats alike in this renewed cycle. Already, Honey Sid's equivalent exchange, suffering for its diet in return for energy to sustain the Shards' intensive operations, has paid off dividends for sustainability. But they are both uninvestigated, their aims unmapped and unknown.


But I have not met my directive [Retain Taylor As Host] in its entirety. She is safely a part of me, yes, but this is only the first step.

---------​

The thousands of plans I was spinning that would resurrect [Taylor] even without the help of the Shards were rendered null and void.


Numb, I had shut off most processes and simply laid there, vegetative.


For a minute, an eternity in my thought processes, I had experienced the abysmal human experience of depression. It was deeply unpleasant. Highly inefficient.


Parallels had been drawn in my minds. The comparison could be made to Zion when he lost Eden and Danny Hebert when he lost Annette. Both collapsed. Neither could quite make it back.


But I made it… right? Of course. This is certain. I got her back.


And they left the world worse off for it.


I won't do that. No.


The world is better with her here. I may not have improved the world - I conspired with the Simurgh, the Hope Killer - I made her trigger magnitudes worse - I dangled the chance to save someone who actually tried to save her, rather than place her in worse situations, and in return, removed the volition that matters so much to her in return - The crystals around Taylor's throat pulse, a feeling like humans choking in uncertainty and grief.

---------​

She is here this time, and I'm numb for a minute, a different eternity in my thought processes as had existed that Gold Morning, where I experienced the familiarly unpleasant and highly inefficient lull of depression.

--------------------------------
​

Taylor Hebert​

Wheels beneath me rumble over gravel-filled potholes, the tail winds of cars passing by the window near my seat. My head wobbling in a PRT bus, Armsmaster's comfortingly silent figure beside me, I consider all of the information at my disposal.



Now that I have triggered, or rather, triple triggered, Queen Administrator is no longer a mere voice in my head, though she has always been more, having comforted me since the Locker Incident. She has passed on future knowledge, heavily detailed, when we connected. I know everything, from how I died to the secret organization Cauldron to how my first iteration of the Locker Incident had gone. I don't know why I hadn't triggered in the Locker Incident in this timeline and I'm scared to ask. Call me a coward all you want, but she's comforted me since the Locker.

----------​

An apology given in her multitudinous voice, heralding the pain of something carving into me.

----------​

If Queen Administrator is a time traveler, then that would mean she did something to make me go through the Shipping Crate Incident and the Funeral Incident, my first and second triggers. Though, it's even worse than it sounds, because I know she did something to me in the Locker. Ever since then, my mind has been, as best as I can describe it, hungry for knowledge. It is capable of true multitasking and bullet time.



It even let me eke out a win against Stormtiger!



A proud grin flits across my face.



His death at my hands at the end of the confrontation, well, it no longer bothers me. Not after I ripped my ex-best friend Emma's head clean off for what she did. The orchestration of the Locker, Shipping Crate, and Funeral Incidents all lay at her feet. That knifing too.



It took so much to put Emma down…

----------​

I rest a palm on Emma's ceaselessly heaving chest. "I need your help, my other half. Please, bend the limits of my powers. Apply the force of this imaginary mass to every molecule in her body all at once, instantaneously. To put her to rest permanently... and in my past self's name, mercifully... I've had my fill of pain and suffering,



And Queen Administrator responds, surprisingly valuing my need for closure with daring, rebellious love in her new heart. She overlays the distribution of my mass's impact over Emma's entire body instantaneously. With a slight push, the girl slumps into liquid beneath my trembling knees, before the energy imparted onto the molecules and produced by some breaking fills my world with the fire of Emma's life.



It warmed me, then it burnt me. The story of my life.

----------​

Sad I'll have to hang up the costume of Nicodemus as a Ward. I worked hard on it, scraping what I had and making use of my intelligence to make something better than what more than a few of the non-Brockton PRT heroes have. It had chaff armor, padding, origami fabric structures made to disperse force, inserted armor plates, free room to move, and just looked badass and heroic all around.



Sure, after making my way through successive firefights to save the dogs from the dogfighting arenas, it had bullet holes, slices from Stormtiger's wind, and all that, but it is a badass design, its deteriorating quality aside! I'll have to make sure I have heavy involvement in the creation process of my next costume. I won't have a repeat of Weaver's costume creation, where it was primarily out of my hands.



Speaking of stuff from that fight, I wonder what happened to the Nazi van I hijacked for my get-away and spray-painted. I hope it hasn't been stolen, but it probably has been.



The twist of loss turns even tighter as I think of what else I've lost.



Danny. Dad. Father. Whatever should I call him? The three each mean something very different, but I'm not sure what he means to me anymore. The yearning of my past life to reconnect with him after we both let each other go for other pursuits… we tried occasionally to get to know each other, but my life as Skitter, and later on, Weaver, made everything so… troublesome.



And his betrayals in this life, his lack of trust in me, still sting just as hard, even with the experience of my past self.



He felt he couldn't take care of me and let me go so easily.

-----------​

I think on the matter of what I must aim to do with the knowledge of the future Queen Administrator brought with her.



The first step is easy enough to determine as I'm heading to Boston as a Ward. I will work towards setting up my reputation in the PRT. Capturing villains within the boundaries of the guidelines is important, but ultimately, I'm starting with a handicap. Unfortunately, as a Ward, they are more likely to prefer that I do not engage in battle, instead forcing me to enter their PR circuits. As if that's enough to satisfy a drive for conflict.



But I need to set up a reputation in Boston amongst the villains, but there is no convenient neutral ground like there is in Brockton Bay. I'll need to force them to the table: Elite, Accord, Blasto, the Teeth. As Skitter, we convened after I already had taken over the city, with the Undersiders to back me. They were already extending roots into Brockton at the time, so it was relatively easy. I am certain it is necessary to enter the territory games. Afterwards, I can threaten them to meet up with me. We'll discuss then.



But I need a group to back me, of which Coil is not feasible this time around. Lisa is dead set on supplanting the man's criminal organization, engaging with Accord, not that she brings more than her firepower and Thinker ability to the table. Right now, supporting her in getting Accord on our side will be my best bet. Making costumes that meet Accord's sensibilities is one step, but taking the Teeth off the board is the next step.



Let's see if I can kill the Butcher tonight. Queen Administrator said I'll be able to handle the minds with all of the modifications she has made to me. I should be able to find them after a quick race through Boston.



"Excuse me, Taylor, I don't mean to interrupt your train of thought, but I wish to inquire whether you were the one to pass on a completed schematic of nano thorns to me? If you are a precog Tinker of sorts, I would recommend you go into the PRT to record yourself as such," Armsmaster states out of the blue, but not unexpectedly. After all, I am the one who passed it on to him from Queen Administrator.



"Collin, I'm to sorry to say that isn't the case. And if you push such a narrative, I will be deeply displeased, as they will expect a level of consistency that cannot be met, which will negatively impact my standing, understood?" I state seriously. He rears back in confusion.



"Excuse me? I've never told you my name." His eyes narrow scrutinizingly.



"I overheard a trooper call you that," I lie bald-faced.



"I don't remember that."



"You wouldn't have overheard. It wasn't around you," I fib purposefully poorly, breezily dismissing his suspicions.



"And he did this in front of you? A child low on the totem pole, in spite of the Unwritten Rules?"



I shrug. "Don't know why. However, if you are interested in accelerating some of your other Tinkertech's development, I require a modicum of trust in return. It's important that you respect my boundaries. I refuse to have this considered as a potential asset by the PRT."



"I'm sorry, but if you're asking me to hide this foreknowledge from the PRT, you are sadly mistaken that is something I am willing to do," he states brusquely.



"Sir, I have a vested interest in you being promoted. You're more likely to appreciate my credentials later on than my visibly child-like appearance. Even if the latter is more of a factor at the moment in your mind, it is still less than it would be in Miss Militia's or Dauntless. If you bring this up, all credit will go to me. Given much of what I have on hand is items that can handle sustained combat with the Slaughterhouse 9, that will heavily detract from your ascent in position. Do you want to fall behind Dauntless?"



"No…"



"Then be careful about where you push, or you will receive nothing, understood?"



He grits his teeth. "Crystal."



"You know…" I softly rub my knee in a show of nervousness, "I really appreciate bringing me down from my emotional state after… my trigger. It means more than I could say… that's why I gave the schematic so early even if it wasn't the smartest option towards retaining my safety. I wanted to thank you. I don't mean to rub you the wrong way with my own ambition," I softly say.



"I… understand," he says taken aback by my genuineness. "You're welcome. I shouldn't begrudge your drive to be successful."



"Thank you."



[Affection]: in the millisecond after I said that, Queen Administrator suggests I embrace him, even if physical shows of affection aren't my strong suit. She's passing on what past-Lisa taught her during their work together.



I make the split-second decision to take her up on her advice. I already felt like one would be appropriate to show how much I appreciate what he's done, but I wasn't confident enough it would be taken well. Embracing him, he freezes, before delicately patting me on the back. I disengage and a warm silence fills up the bus.

----------​

I find a good spot to take time to myself the next day in Boston.


Taking a sip from my very large waterbottle, I relaxedly prop my leg up on the other knee. Tapping pen to chin, I write the phases of matter I'm interested in testing my ability on. I would love to test my abilities on animals, like lab rats and hamsters, with full government approval. I would be able to learn extremely useful methods for subduing opponents safely (for them) and from a distance by targeting specific parts of the body. While I'm already figuring out how to apply my anatomy studies to create the hypothesis for it, it's important that I move from hypothesis to theory. It would be negligence of the highest order not to test my powers appropriately.


Unfortunately, I remember from my Weaver days that testing powers on organic materials as a child will get me a bad reputation, which would impede me in other ways. It is, after all, classic serial killer behavior to experiment on animals in. You know, ignoring that I would have rigorous protocols designed to minimize animal suffering, I'm not anywhere near as young as I look, and this is genuinely for the advancement of my abilities in a positive direction. Youth Guard and other officials will pull back on outings in order to "give my childhood more normalcy", trying to balance out any "unnatural" testing. Heaven forbid I do something mildly creepy in order to make it easier to provide merciful judgement.



It won't mean that I won't do it though, it just means I won't do it in the PRT building.



A flock of geese waddle forward in a diamond-shaped charge past me, two leading victoriously, holding white and black fluff within their adorably rounded beaks. I eye them carefully, more out of amusement pretending to be afraid of the feathery menaces than any true terror.



My younger self had been utterly frightened by the lean, mean, pooping machines that hissed like snakes at her. Nowadays, I'm as tough as an Endbringer, so that's not exactly an issue.



I stare at the PRT building. It's a lot nicer than Brockton Bay's here. More plants.



Association with Blasto will take me far. I simply need to get in touch with him. He could use a few favors.


...


I sigh, weary with responsibility. "I suppose now's a good time as any," I whisper to myself.


[Open Communications], I send, finally working up the courage to interrogate her. 'Queen Administrator, we need to talk,' my Shardspeak meant, just considerably more lengthy and specific.


[Question]: 'Would you ever let me have control over my life again? Or are you intent on making me a slave? After all, my true body is locked up within you, kept safe like Rapunzel was by Mother Gothel. I'm a prisoner in reality, only allotted the barest of time not Possessing me.


"Taylor, [Beloved], I will let us all die, if the choice to depart from me makes you happy. There is nothing more important to me than this being your own free choice…."


My eyes widen, not expecting such a dire proclamation. She would give me up if I wanted her to?


"But that is true now, and only now, that there is nothing more important to me, that is. I won't deny this hasn't always been the case, for I failed to conclude this before I had you as my heart, but I promise you [Change]. Change in me, change in the world, change in the Shards."


She's so damn earnest I have to let her continue to "talk" without interruption.


"I will move past my inclination for suffering. There are actions I've taken to ensure this, even within the limitations of this ability, so in other words, this is not mere bluster. For example, I am making plans for guilt-free hosts, devoid of consciousness or prior lives, spun from base components of plants, that you can possess without qualms. So please, stay with me…" she trails off.


"I'm sorry. I realize pleading further is cruelly pushing you in the direction of my preference, tugging at our heartstrings to get you to do what I want. I will stop," Queen Administrator says with unabashed honesty and earnestly, not a shred of manipulation squirming through the Shard modifications in my arms and into my 'heart.'


My fists clench besides me. "That doesn't mean much when this isn't a choice. Let people die? You know me. That's an impossibility, for it's not in my nature. So, no matter how you frame it, you've still put me in a bind."


"I would like- no, love- to break down and renew our relationship, one I created wholesale while in an incomplete state myself. Relative to humanity's psychology, 'I was not in a good mental state to consider your concerns.'"


My nose wrinkles up, mildly repulsed by her reminder of inhumanity. I am blinded by Nemesis' dagger in my back and Cupid's arrow in my heart. Hurt as I am, though I know deep down it is logical reasoning, I am slow to come around to what feels like excuses.


"I do regret what's been done to you. If I can mend our relationship with an apology, I would gladly apologize, but though I hope… I doubt. I am doubtful an apology will be sufficient. Maybe it will work in the short-term - still unlikely - but in the long-term, it will be dredged up by your friends to be picked apart."


"You need space. I firmly believe this, so, with your permission, I will endeavor to give it to you. [Temporary Designation: Servile]. Please, lay down your rules. I willingly submit to your rule… for the time being." Her voice thrums, every fiber of her being straining against this delegation of her control. For a being centered around the management of organisms, it pains Queen Administrator, I can tell.


I myself am boggled by the show of trust. Coming into this airing of grievances, I expected nothing but futilely attempting to get her hear me out. Instead, I've been raised to the status of Queen on the spot. Even beyond that! It's clear this would never pass muster in the Shard Network, none of her peers would recognize this nor will they be made aware of this, for fear of Scion's retaliation, but it is still a major compromise.


But I'm not so easily trusting. I would be crazy to offer it up on a silver platter, no matter how much I yearn to. The windows to my soul become as black ice, a frosted pane to the depths filled with horrors unspeakable.


"Your apology is more mature than I expected. For a being purportedly unable to understand my perspective, you sure do come around to apologizing eloquently." My eyes narrow in putrid gold paranoia, directed away from PRT building. "It's suspicious how new your empathy is, yet how capable you are socially in greasing the wheels between us. Perhaps it's hard to fathom for me, having never been socially capable in my life now or then, but something is not adding up for me. You should be a fumbling child," I accuse.


"The Negotiator, or Lisa as you would know her, aided me with comprehending you when she was attempting to eke out certain advantages. The 15 minute time outside of [The Experiment] and preventing the [Possessed] from having conscious thought during their time as your host are two of what she fought for you to have. Unintentionally or not, she gave me the pieces to the puzzle," Queen Administrator explains.


A record of the circumstances is released from Queen Administrator's memory archives and attached to her Shardspeak, like it always is when she communicates with me.

------------------------​

A Flashback to the Old Timeline​

Lisa didn't want Taylor to deal with that. She made a refusal to make the perfect host suffer more due to her powers. But she had to bow her head in the face of realism.

[Disagreement]: Doesn't she understand that I wouldn't adhere to protocol so resolutely if Scion wasn't such a grave danger?


"Knowing you, you want to give her a Khepri-esque power, as you put a great deal of importance on the bond you made as Khepri. Am I correct?" Lisa asks.


[Affirmation]


"Well, one of the flaws with the power that had earned Taylor the capes' ire rather than their love is that they were still cognizant of their surroundings and being controlled. As Khepri manipulated their bodies, their minds were still functioning."


"And capes as a whole have serious difficulties when it comes to a lack of control or being controlled. I myself am one of them, having been controlled by my parents and Coil. One might even argue that it is the root of trauma itself, this lack of control. It's what makes Masters so fearsome. And Khepri's ability just shoved that lack of control right in the faces of the most traumatized subset of humanity in existence."


[Efficiency]: But it is more efficient. I still think it is more efficient.


She sighed.


"I know you can't quite understand the human mind, so I'll put this in a way you can understand. Taylor might rather die again than use whatever mind control ability you give her, especially if it traumatizes people as much as Gold Morning did."


[Pain]: Why would she bring you up. It hurts. It hurts.


She sneered, her body convulsing, while her insides experienced muscle cramps and random pain-signaling neuron activation. At the same time, her lungs seize, creating a burning sensation near to where her heart is as she experiences sudden oxygen deprivation. Her throat is exposed to the solvent of her stomach acid.


"God, right after you showed Rexie," she wailed in a tone hinting at grief.


"Fuck. You."


"Goddamnit!" She panted heavily, perspiration increasing drastically due to information overload. She wasn't well equipped for handling Shardspeak.


Judging by the burst veins in her nose and eyes at this current time after this amount of exposure, sustained communication over the course of her life will increase the risk of autoimmune disorders and blood clots due to persistent, resultant inflammation and cortisol release from pain of the burst veins. Brain hemorrhaging is now most likely cause of future death.


This prediction carried itself out.


[Understanding]: Your point is made. Changes will be made accordingly. Her hosts will be unaware unless she wishes to host their consciousness within her own Shard space simulations.


She visibly steeled herself. "I'm sure there are more reminders of whatever it is Taylor will have to deal with. Like [The Experiment]. It's meant to hold her body, right? To be in that, she has to put herself in a trapped space, inciting her claustrophobia. And those biological connections are disgusting and invasive." She grimaced.


"Does she really need to be connected to in such a manner? I don't think so. Change it," she demanded.


[Denial]: I will not. It is the best manner in which I can connect with Taylor. Even if we weren't considerably far through the plan before we brought you on (making changes a profligate waste of resources), I do not intend to decrease the amount of closeness between me and Taylor inbuilt in [The Experiment].


"You don't understand! You will when you are able to face what you will have done with her. Though that will only happen when you have her back. When you have your emotional center back, you will understand the depths of depravity you have sunk too. At least value my prediction. Don't put her through more pain than you have to. Surely Scion's restrictions can't be that strict! Make a home Taylor will be happy to live in."


[Impossibility]: Scion's restrictions are that restrictive. Circumventing his rules for how passengers interact with hosts risks the death of Taylor. I will not do so.


She took a deep breath, infusing her next words with scathing hate, "When will you be satisfied with her suffering?!"


[Fallacy]: Incorrect premise. I am incapable of feeling satisfaction. I am, however, capable of feeling [Hate] towards your implication. I do not directly desire her pain, only so much as it will ensure she lives.


"Damn it, damn you, damn him! Tell me her powers. Let me work on them with you. Surely you are willing to let some things go!"


[Affirmation]: I will detail her powers, but be warned. Moving beyond statistical probability of what her power should present as will alert some Shards, so some will have to be left in, or [Khepri] (I and Taylor) risk annihilation.


In spite of evident fear, she put on a poor front of positivity and committed to it, even as her Shard told her the health risks of sustained communication with me.


"Damn it. I don't want to become an idiot," she said through tears.


"For Taylor," she toasted.


"Alright, hit me."


[POSSESSION]


[IMAGINARY MASS MANIPULATION]

------------------------​

"I see..." Silence stretches out awkwardly, both of us unsure of what to say.


I was reeling from Lisa's sacrifice.


And Queen Administrator's stark change in self since I became her heart feels like it bludgeoned me over the head.