1
Biogenesis 1.1
March 16th, 2011
I tapped my pointer finger against my desk and watched the clock on the wall of Mr. Gladly's classroom as the minute hand slowly inched towards my freedom.
Tick, tick, tick.
I zoned out. On a good day, I could afford to spare Mr. Gladly at least part of my attention. As much as I disliked the man, his subject was one that had always interested me, and it held personal relevance to my life, now more than ever.
Living in Brockton Bay practically made the local Cape scene required knowledge – Capes were a dime a dozen here. I had personally gotten the chance to see Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Triumph (back when he was still a Ward), and a few of the new Wards during my time growing up in the Bay. The patrols the Protectorate performed were visible and predictable enough that it had generated an entire industry of Cape-related tourism in the Bay. New Wave's members were a common sight to see as well, as long as you went to the southern half of the city.
Cape lore couldn't hurt to know. Even if I hadn't had the misfortune to meet a villain in my life so far, it was pretty much inevitable.
Especially given the fact that I was a Cape now.
My left hand stayed above the desk, while my right hand cradled my first creation, hidden safely away within my hoodie's pocket. I made it in the hospital with an apple, some baby carrots, and a healthy dose of my saliva.
Not exactly glamorous, but it was difficult to get my hands on biomass and nutrients inside of a sterile hospital.
My power had strange restrictions. I found out early on that anything not alive was off-limits. I couldn't just buy a steak and turn it directly into biomass by touching it, sadly.
"... what do you think, Taylor?" Mr. Gladly asked, which almost interrupted my train of thought.
The first day awake in the hospital was pretty bad. I was too weak to move much, or really understand what was happening. My mind was overwhelmed with ideas every time I closed my eyes. It got worse when I was near a person or animal. I realized from the first day that something had fundamentally changed within myself.
The next few days were worse. Healing myself was the first thing I tried, and it went absolutely nowhere. According to my power, I wasn't 'alive', apparently. Maybe it was due to some Manton-limit bullshit.
Things got easier after the metaphorical birth of my new creation.
It was about the size and shape of a paper napkin. It had no limbs, eyes, ears, or anything approaching a typical physiology. It had a small lump near its bottom left corner, which housed most of its internal organs and its semblance of a brain. Not that it could think for itself, of course. While connected physically to me, it would act as an extension of my own body, responding to my thoughts nearly instantly. This lump was attached to a primitive skeleton. Underdeveloped muscles were able to tense, allowing my creation to fold itself up until it was about the size of a particularly thin wallet.
Growing bones within it had been tricky due to a lack of calcium, which left me at my wit's end for quite some time. Thankfully, a glass of milk that came alongside the hospital's slop and some creative working of my new creation's digestive system allowed the creature to convert the milk into wonderful, usable calcium. The proteins and other byproducts from the milk sped things along as well.
The only opening disrupting its bone-white skin was located right next to the lump housing its organs. A grasping 'tongue' was able to close the entrance off, but right now the 'tongue' was extended outwards, its sharp tip pierced into my radial artery. Another similar structure connected my nervous system with it.
A small amount of my blood was sucked up by my creation's 'tongue' (which was really more like a hypodermic needle), which was then processed and analyzed. It was tricky to design a constant vacuum force like that in a living creature, but I eventually figured things out by hooking everything up directly to its respiratory and circulatory systems. I wasn't able to analyze or affect my own health directly, but that was what my creature was for. I had it hooked up and analyzing my bloodstream since my third day in the hospital, and the sheer amount of nasty pathogens present in my system would have taken me weeks, if not months to recover from.
With the help of my creation, which was more of an external organ than an actual living being, it only took a few days to clear everything up. An artificial boost of white blood cells here, a dose of natural antibiotics there, and I was almost back to normal.
"Miss Hebert!" Mr. Gladly exclaimed.
"Yes, Mr. Gladly?" I asked plainly.
I should have felt ashamed that I had been ignoring Mr. Gladly, but he really was a waste of space.
"I was asking you, for the past minute, about your thoughts on the topic."
"What was the topic again?"
Mr. Gladly sighed, and quiet, malicious laughter echoed throughout the room. I might not be ashamed that I had ignored Mr. Gladly, but it was still easy for me to get pissed off by the Trio and their lackeys. The needling and insults wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the constant physical "pranks" and borderline stalking they engaged in when I didn't give them a good enough reaction.
"Rat King and Allfather. What rippling effect did the execution of Iron Rain have on the current gang conflicts in the Bay." Mr. Gladly ground out.
Whatever enjoyment he had taken in catching me off-guard seems to have been replaced with irritation as he ended up having to actually talk to me for more than a sentence or two.
Interesting, considering how often he derailed his lessons to cater to the whims of the Trio's little clique. He would regularly spend up to half the period chatting to students – mainly girls – in his classroom instead of teaching, just as long as those girls had a large chest or wore slutty outfits. I guess that was a silver lining about being a stick-thin, creepy looking loser. It mostly kept away men like Mr. Gladly.
And everyone else, I thought glumly.
"That question's dumb. Iron Rain is dead, Allfather is dead, and the Rat King is Birdcaged. You want my answer? It has zero effect on the situation, because none of the current gangs give a damn about decade-old grudges." I responded with more heat in my voice than I had intended.
Mr. Gladly frowned, but before he could respond, the bell rang. By the time I had processed that class was over, half of the students were already out of the door. I shrugged my backpack over my shoulders and prepared to leave before the Trio could set some kind of trap for me.
"Miss Hebert," I heard Mr. Gladly call.
Fuck.
"Yes?" I answered without turning to face him as I made my way to the exit.
"Wait behind a moment. Let's talk," Mr. Gladly's tone became almost kind. His tone wasn't aggressive, but it lacked any real warmth.
"Sorry, I've got class. Maybe later?" My denial only made him sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose.
"No, Miss Hebert. I'll write you a note before you leave. Your problems in my classroom are getting worse, and as an educator, I need to do something about it."
I turned and stared at him in incredulity. I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh, scream, or cry at him in response to that comment.
Something must have shown on my face, because he continued, "I know you might not like it, but we need to figure out the best way to help you."
"Expel Emma Barnes, Sophia Hess, and Madison Clements," I said immediately.
He grimaced, "I'm sorry, Miss Hebert, I can't do anything-"
I cut him off, "Then get me transferred to Arcadia."
"I can't do that either, I'm afraid," He said, and I saw the first note of real sympathy, or perhaps pity, in his tone.
"Then stay out of my way, Mr. G," I growled, and hurriedly left the classroom.
For once, he did me a favor and shut his mouth as I slammed the door shut behind me hard enough to make the clock on his wall shake. Venting my emotions like that brought my mood mostly back to normal, at least until I whirled around and came face to face with Emma Barnes, alongside some of her sycophants.
I tried to ignore the group's stale insults the best I could, but as I passed the group one girl reached out and cut one of my backpack's straps with a pair of scissors, which grazed my shoulder and tore a hole through one of my few good shirts.
My backpack fell before I could react, spilling my books and everything else in the bag onto the ground behind me.
It seems that I hadn't zipped my backpack up all the way. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
No wonder people picked on me. I'd expected things to go back to normal after what happened in January. I honestly thought it was a grand finale for the Trio, that there was no way they could top it. For a month or two, I was right. Emma seemed shocked by her own success – not to say that she suddenly developed a conscience, of course. It was more accurate to say she was surprised by the utter indifference of everyone besides my Dad about the situation. Once the Trio realized that there was no sword of Damocles hanging over their heads, they didn't just go back to their usual activities – they doubled down.
I couldn't afford to think too deeply about anything. The moment of hesitation caused by my darkening thoughts was enough to create an opportunity for another girl to step forward holding a large milkshake. Students weren't allowed to leave the campus during the day – this wasn't Arcadia, after all. Arcadia had the Wards attending, so they got all the funding and resources; meanwhile, Winslow got worse and worse.
She must have gotten it from someone coming in from outside school grounds, probably her parents bringing it to her for the lunch period. It didn't make much of a difference now.
The girl – Julia, if I remembered her name correctly, tossed the milkshake lid-first directly into my things.
The milkshake practically exploded on impact. The slushy solution coated everything in my bag, and even splashed onto my pants as well. Even if I could dry my things off, I would never be able to get rid of the smell that would inevitably permeate everything in my bag after a week or two.
This wasn't as bad as the locker, but maybe it was the straw that broke the camel's back.
To my left, I heard Emma begin to make another comment, probably to call me clumsy or stupid. I ignored her. Instead, I leaned forwards a bit and spit in Julia's face.
This wasn't part of some trick or ploy to use my powers on her and get away with it. No, I just wanted her to feel a tiny bit of the disgust that I felt every time I saw and experienced her senseless cruelty. For this one encounter, Julia managed to reach the top of my shit list, above even Emma and Sophia. Having my things destroyed was annoying but not something I cared about due to any particular attachment to them. No, the real issue was that every time they destroyed my things, I had to pay for it. I had no money, which meant my Dad ended up footing the bill.
If my Dad could afford to buy me a new set of books and clothes, a new backpack, new shoes, or whatever else the Trio managed to ruin every single month, I wouldn't be going to Winslow. I'd be going to Arcadia, or even somewhere like Immaculata. Hitler Youth and Jesus freaks… was that really a step up from Winslow?
Money couldn't buy you everything, it seemed.
I was just done with school as a whole at this point, not just Winslow. Or maybe, I was done listening to people try and make me play by their rules in general.
Nobody gave me the chance to win. Every interaction I've had with those in power for years now had been rigged, carefully crafted in order to string me along and keep me from becoming a 'real problem' for them. In a situation like that, the only way to win was not to play.
I couldn't allow myself more than a moment's satisfaction at Julia's comeuppance, because as soon as the Trio's group regained their wits, they would be out for blood.
I took off at a dead run for the school's entrance, weaving through the crowd of students the best I could.
I clutched my creation in my fist as I pushed my power to work as quickly as possible. I willed it to evolve, becoming thinner and wider. Its bones lost much of their structure, greatly increasing its flexibility. Its ends were quickly adapted to seep out an adhesive substance, ensuring it would stay connected to me. Then, I flushed out the current contents of its injection system and adjusted it to produce adrenaline. I considered using more potent chemicals, but the situation didn't really call for such extreme measures yet.
I pushed its adrenaline production into overdrive, fuelling the process with my own blood. My creation – I really needed to pick an actual name for it by now – wasn't designed for combat at all, and I was making plans up as I went at this point. Hopefully if I wound up overdosing myself with something, I would notice and be able to counteract it before it ended up killing me.
I didn't get far before I heard the sound of Sophia's thunderous footsteps from behind me, and I knew she was gaining on my position.
I turned a corner and injected myself with all of the adrenaline I had managed to produce. It wasn't as much as it could have been if I had just a bit more time, but things were going from bad to worse. If Sophia got her hands on me now, she would give me a beating so brutal that I would be forced to out myself as a Cape in order to stop it.
The adrenaline coursed through my veins. It circulated throughout my body and provided my thoughts with much-needed clarity.
I stopped in my tracks and held my right arm in front of my chest. A few students stopped to stare at me while I took a few precious seconds to center myself.
Sophia rounded the corner at a full sprint right as I stuck my arm out. Pain spiked through the limb as I felt the lower part of her face slam into my forearm.
I spared a glance at Sophia as soon as the pain in my arm returned to manageable amounts, and saw that she was the loser of that exchange.
Sophia had fallen to the ground and rolled once, then gotten up on unsteady feet. She went to hurl insults or threats at me, but she cut her own words off when she wiped a few fingers under her nose and stopped to examine them.
Her fingers were coated in crimson blood.