Master: The Very Best 3/?
Master: The Very Best
Worm/Pokémon Crossover
Previous Chapter, First Chapter
A/N - I'm going to make a goal of updating this fic once a month. Fingers crossed. Also, there was going to be an additional scene in this chapter but I couldn't figure out how to make it not give me mood whiplash.
~V*V*V*V~
Part Three: The Breakfast Club
I dreamed of electric sheep.
They pranced about, soft white cottony bodies with sparks of laughter flying from their tails. Metal whirled in the dark sky above them. The configurations constantly changed, no two inorganic-yet-living creatures the same, and I felt my breath swell in my chest as the possibilities danced before me. All the while the sheep bayed in song -meep, meep, meep- crushing bedewed grass beneath their hooves.
I awoke to the uncomfortable feeling of being too hot, as though I was trapped in the throws of a light fever. Sweat had begun misting on my skin at some point and as I worked my overly dry mouth the salty tang of it touched my tongue. Somewhere to the right of me a soft alarm was going off, but opening my eyes hurt.
I flailed, whimpering blindly, until it stopped.
Waking up after taking a face full of sleeping powder was akin to waking after a full night of drinking. At least, that is what I assumed. The closest thing I’ve ever had to alcohol was the sparkling grape juice Mr. Barnes had given me at his company Christmas party. The memory of warm juice swishing and Emma's pinched face at the sourness of the sip her father let her filch from his own glass left me feeling empty as my brain pulsed in familiar pain. The only other time I’d been hit by Ivy’s crowd-control spores was when she was half her current size and trying to come up with a way to keep the newborns from swarming her. It had been an act of desperation and I’d been caught in the panicked blast radius.
Luckily, that incident had occurred on a weekend, even if Dad did ground me for coming home so late.
It wasn't like I'd had anyone to hang out with.
Some man rasped in monotone about the weather, and his low voice was oddly soothing to my headache, and yet cast a niggling of doubt into my consciousness. We had an 86% chance of rain. Mindful of the throbbing that threatened to turn my frontal lobe to so much mulch, I rolled over and peeked with one eye. I promptly flinched and shut it again as an off-color replica of my mother’s portrait rippled and resolved into a mobile mass of lavender putty that happily launched itself at my face.
“Diiiii!”
Like a DVD suddenly switching from scene by scene rewind to play, the world Lurched.
I was not in my bed, and despite knowing just who’s bed I had been tucked into, still fully dressed with sweat stains and singes, my heart began migrating to my throat. Puddles was not supposed to be out of the basement. He, she -my power ever loved to confuse me- lived in the basement hatchery and had a duty to keep an eye on the incubating eggs. I hadn’t figured out what Puddle’s abilities were, aside from launching itself out of dark corners and giving me minor heart attacks, but I didn’t want to risk him/her in the outside world until I had. There were too many chances of accidents otherwise.
Yesterday -today?- proved that.
I peeled Puddles off my face and frowned at the unapologetic grin taking form. Fleshy putty folded into a curving wound from which a long tongue snaked out and licked my cheek. It felt wet, but as usual did not leave any moisture. I frowned at Puddles, putting all my pain from the headache into my gaze, and sent down through the implant a complicated bundle of emotion and intent: [Cessation]. Puddles immediately slumped and spilled out of my hands like a particularly watery slinky only to hide under Dad’s bed.
I heard the distinct sound of the squeaky third board from the hallway, and began squirming to freedom as a twitching black nose poked itself out from under the bed. The faint scent of smoke wafted up. Firewalker, I thought dazedly, he didn't like sharing space. I twisted, my jeans somehow so caught up in the coverings they began to slip off of my narrow, boyish hips, and it took precious seconds for me to keep from falling to the floor in my underwear. I got a stripe of drool across my forehead for my efforts, and the door began to open.
Charming entered riding upon Dad’s shoulders, once again the size of a toddler and a look of intense satisfaction on his reptilian face. Dad was carrying a tray bearing pancakes and a glass of orange juice. My father’s expression was anything but satisfaction. I looked away, to mom, to her picture on the nightstand where she was smiling on a picnic blanket and I was a dumpy three year old covered in pie. For a few moments all was quiet but for the man on the radio whispering about thunderstorms helping snuff the fires in Brockton. Dad set the tray of food on the top of a dresser with the solid thunk of hardwood. The fork rattled against the plate.
I wanted to hide under the bed with Puddles.
Charming climbed off Dad, and my traitorous son stuffed an entire pancake in his mouth before waltzing back out the door with his tail tip alternating colors. Firewalker pressed my drool covered glasses into my shoulder, which I accepted mechanically. I opened my mouth, but only dry meaningless syllables reached the air as a vice held my vocal cords hostage. “Ih- ah-“
Dad sighed. The mattress sunk under his weight. “Taylor.” Dad’s voice was soft, but there was a railroad spike of pain underneath it all. He hugged me. Scooped me up in his arms like I was five and rested his cheek against the top of my head. I had inherited my beanpole status from him, but I was nothing compared to the original. The original was all tense, whip-thin muscle. “Do you have any idea what it did to me, seeing a giant flaming lizard descend from the sky with you thrown over its shoulder like… like some prize? Like a corpse?”
The truth was, I did know. Beads of moisture gathered in the corners of my eyes as I recalled all my little ‘sprouts that didn’t make it home. They had been my first experiment at creating outside of an egg environment. The result was both more and less than I could have hoped. My ‘sprouts had been weaker overall than my other children, but what they had lacked in individual strength they more than made up for in number and coordination. And bravery. So brave; fighting even as their roots caught and metal chewed through their temptingly over-large heads.
I nodded, my head scraping against my father’s stubble, and he clutched me tighter.
“I love you. You know that, right? I’ll say that every day if that is what it takes…”
The drops fell free. I raised my hands to wipe at them and noticed the blood caked into the tiny folds of skin on my knuckles.
I buried my face into dad’s neck instead.
“I’m sorry, Taylor. I know I haven't been the most... if you didn’t think I would… “ He trailed off with a soft ‘dammit’ before picking up again, lips quirking in an attempt at a smile. “I know you are a parahuman. I’ve known for a while. Science Fair experiments don’t typically take up an entire basement, or last more than a month or two. I didn’t say anything thing because, because I wanted you to feel comfortable with telling me yourself. I worried, but I wasn’t… concerned. It wasn’t like you were going out getting into fights. The Union has been doing better, and with the bullies, I thought maybe if I had to spend a little more on groceries and pretend not to notice …? I didn't think... I didn't think.
“Oh, god. I’m a horrible father. ”
I shook my head, cheek brushing against the warm skin of his neck. I clutched at his shirt and thought about the dead. Dad had been worried about me, and I had been worried about him. I’d been too terrified about what Danny Hebert would think of me. Did he know the kind of reputation wet-tinkers had? There was the infamous Nilbog, of course, who lived in walled-off isolation because some of his creations multiplied with fire and no one wanted to test what a nuke would do to them. Most recent was the case of R’lyeh; a girl even younger than me who had gone on a boat trip with her family and gotten lost. The Coast Guard found the tinker and what remained of her family two weeks later, and R’lyeh had been permanently remanded to the Parahuman Insane Asylum after insisting at her trial that she was a ‘good girl’.
It was a point of pride with the Boston villain Blasto that he had a pre-signed kill order in the event he allowed his own hybrids to self-propagate. Such was the main reason I had tried to keep from repeat performances in my children.
Even the ‘sprouts had all been male.
Firewalker pawed at the floor, his black nails clicking against the wood, and I sniffled as a pad and pen were presented to me with only the very minimum amount of puppy drool. My fingers were stiff, and my legs had started to fall asleep, but I leaned against dad’s chest and put pen to paper. I stared at the white emptiness, lost.
Aren't I late for school?
The arms around were like steel, and I could hear the soft grinding of enamel. I winced, and the net relented. “I called the office. Told them you were sick. Your work, too. Shouldn't be handling food with a cold.”
What about the
I felt the smile more than heard it. “Mine, too. “
I felt like a kite that had been failing for a while and finally touched earth. What was I supposed to tell him? That I was a shit excuse for a daughter that was sneaking around like a criminal, breeding monsters? He already knew that. That it was my fault he didn't see his best friend anymore, because I had a falling out with the man's daughter? Should I start from the beginning? I didn't even know where the beginning was! I felt the rough edges of my fingernails press against my palm as I gripped the pen tight in frustration.
A warm, calloused hand enveloped mine. Thumb rubbing softly over white knuckles. Slowly, I relaxed. Mom's picture on the bedside table smiled at me. The echo of her professors voice rang in my head.
Start with what I know.
Dear Danny,
Dad shifted beneath me, no doubt my bony butt was uncomfortable, but it was his own fault for initiating this cuddle fest.
I'm sorry. I love you. I didn't want you to worry.
Dad’s breath tickled my ear. “I always worry, little owl. That’s my job.” A fresh wave of sadness pulsed through me and ruined the ink. I wanted to run, to simply exit the situation and put everything off like I'd been doing for years, but Dad was holding me. I smelled gross and felt worse but he held me and let me cry. The bed springs squeaked out a steady rhytm.
“I want to help you. Let me. Please.”
I swallowed my sadness. It was a great lump in my throat that I had to push down into the void of my chest. For Firewalker, Puddles, Eve, and Ivy and everyone else I had to be strong. I hadn’t let Emma get to me for months. She’d done the worst she could with Mom’s flute and the Locker was nothing but a twisted desperation to remain relevant. Why was something like this effecting me so much?
But even Mom had Dad, and she was the strongest person I have ever known.
Gasps turned to sniffles, to steady, even breathing as I wiped my nose on the bottom of my ruined shirt. I tapped the pen against my mouth; contemplations narrowing to a decision point.
Puddles. Firewalker.
I gestured with the writing implement as though it were a scepter, pointing to each child in turn. Dad grunted appreciatively.
My stomach growled.
“Pancakes.” Dad insisted, lifting me under the armpits and setting me carefully to one side. The mattress sighed in relief as he stood. I remembered this was the man that was sometimes called on to punch larger, disgruntled dockworkers in the face. “Shower. Then, we talk. Taylor?”
I looked at my father's face for the first time since he walked in the room. There were new, hard lines present and his receding hairline was thinner than I remembered, but dad was looking at me. Something brittle and sharp glinted in the depths of his eyes. Flinty. Something that could pierce flesh or start a fire and the more it was beaten and chipped away at the more dangerous it became.
And it saw me.
Me.
He knew, I thought in small wonder. He knew all along.
I nodded, too wide mouth stretching wider into a watery smile.
Firewalker:
By Faeriesoda
Worm/Pokémon Crossover
Previous Chapter, First Chapter
A/N - I'm going to make a goal of updating this fic once a month. Fingers crossed. Also, there was going to be an additional scene in this chapter but I couldn't figure out how to make it not give me mood whiplash.
~V*V*V*V~
Part Three: The Breakfast Club
I dreamed of electric sheep.
They pranced about, soft white cottony bodies with sparks of laughter flying from their tails. Metal whirled in the dark sky above them. The configurations constantly changed, no two inorganic-yet-living creatures the same, and I felt my breath swell in my chest as the possibilities danced before me. All the while the sheep bayed in song -meep, meep, meep- crushing bedewed grass beneath their hooves.
I awoke to the uncomfortable feeling of being too hot, as though I was trapped in the throws of a light fever. Sweat had begun misting on my skin at some point and as I worked my overly dry mouth the salty tang of it touched my tongue. Somewhere to the right of me a soft alarm was going off, but opening my eyes hurt.
I flailed, whimpering blindly, until it stopped.
Waking up after taking a face full of sleeping powder was akin to waking after a full night of drinking. At least, that is what I assumed. The closest thing I’ve ever had to alcohol was the sparkling grape juice Mr. Barnes had given me at his company Christmas party. The memory of warm juice swishing and Emma's pinched face at the sourness of the sip her father let her filch from his own glass left me feeling empty as my brain pulsed in familiar pain. The only other time I’d been hit by Ivy’s crowd-control spores was when she was half her current size and trying to come up with a way to keep the newborns from swarming her. It had been an act of desperation and I’d been caught in the panicked blast radius.
Luckily, that incident had occurred on a weekend, even if Dad did ground me for coming home so late.
It wasn't like I'd had anyone to hang out with.
Some man rasped in monotone about the weather, and his low voice was oddly soothing to my headache, and yet cast a niggling of doubt into my consciousness. We had an 86% chance of rain. Mindful of the throbbing that threatened to turn my frontal lobe to so much mulch, I rolled over and peeked with one eye. I promptly flinched and shut it again as an off-color replica of my mother’s portrait rippled and resolved into a mobile mass of lavender putty that happily launched itself at my face.
“Diiiii!”
Like a DVD suddenly switching from scene by scene rewind to play, the world Lurched.
I was not in my bed, and despite knowing just who’s bed I had been tucked into, still fully dressed with sweat stains and singes, my heart began migrating to my throat. Puddles was not supposed to be out of the basement. He, she -my power ever loved to confuse me- lived in the basement hatchery and had a duty to keep an eye on the incubating eggs. I hadn’t figured out what Puddle’s abilities were, aside from launching itself out of dark corners and giving me minor heart attacks, but I didn’t want to risk him/her in the outside world until I had. There were too many chances of accidents otherwise.
Yesterday -today?- proved that.
I peeled Puddles off my face and frowned at the unapologetic grin taking form. Fleshy putty folded into a curving wound from which a long tongue snaked out and licked my cheek. It felt wet, but as usual did not leave any moisture. I frowned at Puddles, putting all my pain from the headache into my gaze, and sent down through the implant a complicated bundle of emotion and intent: [Cessation]. Puddles immediately slumped and spilled out of my hands like a particularly watery slinky only to hide under Dad’s bed.
I heard the distinct sound of the squeaky third board from the hallway, and began squirming to freedom as a twitching black nose poked itself out from under the bed. The faint scent of smoke wafted up. Firewalker, I thought dazedly, he didn't like sharing space. I twisted, my jeans somehow so caught up in the coverings they began to slip off of my narrow, boyish hips, and it took precious seconds for me to keep from falling to the floor in my underwear. I got a stripe of drool across my forehead for my efforts, and the door began to open.
Charming entered riding upon Dad’s shoulders, once again the size of a toddler and a look of intense satisfaction on his reptilian face. Dad was carrying a tray bearing pancakes and a glass of orange juice. My father’s expression was anything but satisfaction. I looked away, to mom, to her picture on the nightstand where she was smiling on a picnic blanket and I was a dumpy three year old covered in pie. For a few moments all was quiet but for the man on the radio whispering about thunderstorms helping snuff the fires in Brockton. Dad set the tray of food on the top of a dresser with the solid thunk of hardwood. The fork rattled against the plate.
I wanted to hide under the bed with Puddles.
Charming climbed off Dad, and my traitorous son stuffed an entire pancake in his mouth before waltzing back out the door with his tail tip alternating colors. Firewalker pressed my drool covered glasses into my shoulder, which I accepted mechanically. I opened my mouth, but only dry meaningless syllables reached the air as a vice held my vocal cords hostage. “Ih- ah-“
Dad sighed. The mattress sunk under his weight. “Taylor.” Dad’s voice was soft, but there was a railroad spike of pain underneath it all. He hugged me. Scooped me up in his arms like I was five and rested his cheek against the top of my head. I had inherited my beanpole status from him, but I was nothing compared to the original. The original was all tense, whip-thin muscle. “Do you have any idea what it did to me, seeing a giant flaming lizard descend from the sky with you thrown over its shoulder like… like some prize? Like a corpse?”
The truth was, I did know. Beads of moisture gathered in the corners of my eyes as I recalled all my little ‘sprouts that didn’t make it home. They had been my first experiment at creating outside of an egg environment. The result was both more and less than I could have hoped. My ‘sprouts had been weaker overall than my other children, but what they had lacked in individual strength they more than made up for in number and coordination. And bravery. So brave; fighting even as their roots caught and metal chewed through their temptingly over-large heads.
I nodded, my head scraping against my father’s stubble, and he clutched me tighter.
“I love you. You know that, right? I’ll say that every day if that is what it takes…”
The drops fell free. I raised my hands to wipe at them and noticed the blood caked into the tiny folds of skin on my knuckles.
I buried my face into dad’s neck instead.
“I’m sorry, Taylor. I know I haven't been the most... if you didn’t think I would… “ He trailed off with a soft ‘dammit’ before picking up again, lips quirking in an attempt at a smile. “I know you are a parahuman. I’ve known for a while. Science Fair experiments don’t typically take up an entire basement, or last more than a month or two. I didn’t say anything thing because, because I wanted you to feel comfortable with telling me yourself. I worried, but I wasn’t… concerned. It wasn’t like you were going out getting into fights. The Union has been doing better, and with the bullies, I thought maybe if I had to spend a little more on groceries and pretend not to notice …? I didn't think... I didn't think.
“Oh, god. I’m a horrible father. ”
I shook my head, cheek brushing against the warm skin of his neck. I clutched at his shirt and thought about the dead. Dad had been worried about me, and I had been worried about him. I’d been too terrified about what Danny Hebert would think of me. Did he know the kind of reputation wet-tinkers had? There was the infamous Nilbog, of course, who lived in walled-off isolation because some of his creations multiplied with fire and no one wanted to test what a nuke would do to them. Most recent was the case of R’lyeh; a girl even younger than me who had gone on a boat trip with her family and gotten lost. The Coast Guard found the tinker and what remained of her family two weeks later, and R’lyeh had been permanently remanded to the Parahuman Insane Asylum after insisting at her trial that she was a ‘good girl’.
It was a point of pride with the Boston villain Blasto that he had a pre-signed kill order in the event he allowed his own hybrids to self-propagate. Such was the main reason I had tried to keep from repeat performances in my children.
Even the ‘sprouts had all been male.
Firewalker pawed at the floor, his black nails clicking against the wood, and I sniffled as a pad and pen were presented to me with only the very minimum amount of puppy drool. My fingers were stiff, and my legs had started to fall asleep, but I leaned against dad’s chest and put pen to paper. I stared at the white emptiness, lost.
Aren't I late for school?
The arms around were like steel, and I could hear the soft grinding of enamel. I winced, and the net relented. “I called the office. Told them you were sick. Your work, too. Shouldn't be handling food with a cold.”
What about the
I felt the smile more than heard it. “Mine, too. “
I felt like a kite that had been failing for a while and finally touched earth. What was I supposed to tell him? That I was a shit excuse for a daughter that was sneaking around like a criminal, breeding monsters? He already knew that. That it was my fault he didn't see his best friend anymore, because I had a falling out with the man's daughter? Should I start from the beginning? I didn't even know where the beginning was! I felt the rough edges of my fingernails press against my palm as I gripped the pen tight in frustration.
A warm, calloused hand enveloped mine. Thumb rubbing softly over white knuckles. Slowly, I relaxed. Mom's picture on the bedside table smiled at me. The echo of her professors voice rang in my head.
Start with what I know.
Dear Danny,
Dad shifted beneath me, no doubt my bony butt was uncomfortable, but it was his own fault for initiating this cuddle fest.
I'm sorry. I love you. I didn't want you to worry.
Dad’s breath tickled my ear. “I always worry, little owl. That’s my job.” A fresh wave of sadness pulsed through me and ruined the ink. I wanted to run, to simply exit the situation and put everything off like I'd been doing for years, but Dad was holding me. I smelled gross and felt worse but he held me and let me cry. The bed springs squeaked out a steady rhytm.
“I want to help you. Let me. Please.”
I swallowed my sadness. It was a great lump in my throat that I had to push down into the void of my chest. For Firewalker, Puddles, Eve, and Ivy and everyone else I had to be strong. I hadn’t let Emma get to me for months. She’d done the worst she could with Mom’s flute and the Locker was nothing but a twisted desperation to remain relevant. Why was something like this effecting me so much?
But even Mom had Dad, and she was the strongest person I have ever known.
Gasps turned to sniffles, to steady, even breathing as I wiped my nose on the bottom of my ruined shirt. I tapped the pen against my mouth; contemplations narrowing to a decision point.
Puddles. Firewalker.
I gestured with the writing implement as though it were a scepter, pointing to each child in turn. Dad grunted appreciatively.
My stomach growled.
“Pancakes.” Dad insisted, lifting me under the armpits and setting me carefully to one side. The mattress sighed in relief as he stood. I remembered this was the man that was sometimes called on to punch larger, disgruntled dockworkers in the face. “Shower. Then, we talk. Taylor?”
I looked at my father's face for the first time since he walked in the room. There were new, hard lines present and his receding hairline was thinner than I remembered, but dad was looking at me. Something brittle and sharp glinted in the depths of his eyes. Flinty. Something that could pierce flesh or start a fire and the more it was beaten and chipped away at the more dangerous it became.
And it saw me.
Me.
He knew, I thought in small wonder. He knew all along.
I nodded, too wide mouth stretching wider into a watery smile.
Firewalker:
By Faeriesoda