Fanfic #100 Trailblazer by 3ndless(WormXGundam)

This fanfic is a crossover between Gundam and Worm following Taylor with the ability to build Gundam technology. I really like this fanfic because it has amazing world building. It's basically an au where Scion is already dead, so the story really has to stand on its own feet, which it does really well. This fic is is just really great, check it out.

Synopsis: ???

Rated: M

words: 1.1m

https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/trailblazer-worm-gundam-au.680881/reader/

Here's the first chapter:

I avoided Garter Street. The name seemed ironic, given that the place was popular with hookers and dealers. That's Brockton Bay for you.

It sucks and it likes to hammer the point home.

Growing up in Brockton Bay, there are places you know not to go. Makes getting anywhere take longer than it otherwise would. Open and public streets were safe enough, but there could be a dangerous street just a block over. Sometimes less. They're not that hard to spot.

The gang tags stand out and there's usually some car idling somewhere. See an 88 or a cross, you stayed away unless you were white. A dragon or red and green colors meant not going alone if you were a girl. ABB grabbed girls off the street, or so the rumors said. A big 'A' or a lot of skeevy-looking guys? Just no go. Merchants were crazy.

I kept repeating the same words to myself all the way downtown.

Just follow the plan.

A plan I called it. Funny little word I managed to come up with there. Was it really a plan, or a decision? Calling it a plan made me feel better. Like I put more thought into it than I really had.

I always wanted to be a hero. The cape mania phase of my childhood ended around ten or so, but a dream like that never really dies. My fascination started with Alexandria, because who doesn't want to fly? As I grew up it shifted to more local heroes like Miss Militia and Armsmaster. They seemed more fitting for the kind of person I saw myself wanting to be.

Made my power rather appropriate.

There were excuses. Reasons to not do what I walked down the street to do.

Did I really need more teenage drama in my life? Fuck no I did not. Could I trust the authority figures at the PRT to be any better than the ones at Winslow? I should, but I didn't. The darkest parts of me asked the cruelest questions.

Who would ever look at gangly Taylor Hebert as a hero?

That's Emma talking. Emma didn't deserve to win. None of them did.

I crossed the street to the next block and came to a stop.

Any closer and I probably couldn't turn back.

The building looked like a museum almost. Marble front, with tall windows and a broad set of steps leading up from the street. Emblazoned across the front were the words; Parahuman Response Team East-North-East. Weird name, especially when many of the other PRT departments had numbers.

I hesitated. The road to becoming a cape comes with a lot of revelations. For me, one of them was a sudden understand of why people didn't tell family they were gay, or atheist, or trans. I used to think it was fear or shame. It's not. It's just too damn awkward sometimes, especially when you don't know how to say it.

How do you begin to tell your only remaining parent you survived the worst day of your life with a consolation prize?

It's not a consolation prize.

Mom's adage of turning a negative into a positive didn't cut it. Maybe it didn't matter one way or the other. I was just rationalizing to myself despite already making a choice and coming up with a plan.

Taylor Hebert was going to be a hero.

I spent hours preparing myself, mentally. Left for school only to return to the house an hour later. I gathered my notebooks, packed a balaclava into my bag to hide my face. Didn't really have a costume yet.

Eventually I couldn't put it off anymore, then or now.

I pulled my backpack off my shoulders and tried to calmly walk into a nearby alley. My mind raced, paranoia encouraging me to look around and check if I was being watched. I resisted. Bad idea.

Someone who acted afraid drew more attention than someone just going about their day.

One foot in front of the other.

Once out of sight, I pulled the balaclava out of my backpack. Both hands tucked my hair into as tight a bun as it fit and pulled the garment over my head. Kind of uncomfortable to breathe in, but I needed the safety net.

Even though I'd made the choice, my chest was still pounding.

I ran through my excuses again. The math didn't change.

Maybe with another power my options would be better. A brute like Alexandria, or a blaster like Miss Militia. They could get by solo, prove themselves or simply wait out the time 'till I turned eighteen and join the adults.

But I wasn't that kind of cape.

I was a tinker. I made things. Fantastical things. Feats of technology that bordered on magic.

Problem was, I needed materials, a workspace, and money. We were poor, so no money. No money, no materials. The house was a wreck, so no workspace even if I had the other two things.

Nevermind what happened to Squealer. The last tinker to appear in the city got kidnapped and drugged up. The story hit the news and dominated it for a week. Everyone heard about it. Now she was a villain.

I didn't want to end up like Squealer.

The Wards were the way to go.

With a deep breath, I steeled myself and left the alley. Ignoring the eyes that turned my way, I crossed the street to the PRT building and walked through the front doors.

The inside looked even more like a museum. Reception desk. Tour groups. Gift shop. An actual museum dedicated to the local Protectorate and Wards.

If I really thought anything through, I'd have considered walking into PRT headquarters in a mask was a bad idea. Couldn't see the faces behind the helmets, but I didn't need to. The armed and armored men in the four corners of the lobby all reacted to me, adopting defensive and weary stances.

Too late to turn back.

I forced myself forward more, wondering how to appear non-threatening without saying something stupid like 'I come in peace.' That actually might make me seem more threatening.

One of the receptionists rose from her seat and glared. "Ma'am, may I help you?" She slid a hand under the desk. Panic button?

"Um—I—" I cursed myself for being so pathetic I couldn't answer the most basic of questions. "I wanted to talk to someone about the Wards. Joining the Wards. I want to join the Wards."

Smooth, Taylor.

The receptionist's expression shifted instantly. The glare became less angry and more wary. Lips thinned into a line. Shoulders relaxed. I didn't know how to read any of that.

"I see. One moment."

She looked to the other receptionist, a young man. He picked up a phone and dialed four numbers. I tried not to listen. Didn't seem polite. My heart pounding in my ears didn't help.

The conversation didn't last long.

"The door behind the reception desk to your right," the young man instructed.

I looked at it. "That one?"

"Yes."

Okay.

Nervously, I stepped around the desk and ignored the stares from all across the lobby. How long had all those people been staring? Why couldn't I have just called ahead?

When I reached the door, I stopped. No one told me what to do once I arrived. Did I wait or step through? If I didn't do either one, would an alarm go off?

Some plan.

Taking the instruction pointing me to the door as permission, I grabbed the handle and pushed it down. The door gave way easily, and since no one objected, I forced myself on through.

Two armored men waited for me on the other side and I almost panicked.

"You want to join the Wards?" one of them asked.

I stammered again but managed to get out a 'yes' somewhere in my response.

The trooper to my right leaned in, arms crossed. "Relax, kid. No need to panic."

"Um. Okay."

He chuckled at me. That pathetic, huh?

"You have a power?" the soldier on the left asked.

"Y-Yes. Um. How do I—"

Huh. How could I prove I had a power? All I'd made so far were a few computer programs. I didn't have materials for anything else, not unless I wanted Dad to notice all the missing appliances.

My plan really was coming together.

"We get pranksters often enough," the man said. "A few bangers even; some kids who think they have a power when they don't."

Really? Were we already going down this path? Already?

"I'm not—"

"Forgive my associate," the man on the left said. He elbowed his partner and shook his head. "Rotten with kids."

"I'm not lying," I insisted. "I can prove it."

I started to take off my backpack but both men moved to stop.

"Slow it down kid." Left Guy stepped toward me with a sigh. "Sorry. This isn't the warmest welcome, but we have to look out for everyone in the building. Can't just trust everyone who walks in the door. Understand?"

I did, but it didn't make me feel better.

That sounded like the stuff Blackwell said.

"My name's Moo."

I tilted my head. Like the sound a cow makes?

"Yeah, Moo. M-U? My father was a dick"—Jenkins turned at his language—"but I'm not so bad. We're not here to get you in trouble. Just some basic stuff to keep the building and everyone in it safe, right?"

My stomach twisted. He sounded nice, but so did a lot of people. Gladly. Blackwell. Emma. Sounding nice wasn't the same as being nice.

"Okay."

"It's gonna be fine." Mu stepped to the side. "This way. Stand closer to me. Jenkins is a total stick in the mud."

I followed closely behind them down the hall. There was a metal detector at the end. They asked me to step through first and then Jenkins scanned me with one of those wand things. After that, they took me through another set of doors, down another hall, and into a room.

Inside, an older woman in a suit looked over some papers.

"Thank you lieutenant," she said. "Please wait outside."

"Ma'am."

Mu stepped back and closed the door. It happened so suddenly I jolted a bit. Which is when I noticed I was in an interrogation room. Literally. It even looked like the ones on TV. Plain walls. Big wide 'mirror.' Only one way in or out.

"They said I wasn't in trouble."

"You're not," the woman replied crisply. "Please, sit down, miss."

I didn't. My first instinct was demanding they let me out of the room. Why was I in an interrogation room? I didn't do anything!

Why does everyone treat me like I did something wrong?

The woman looked up from her papers then and something about me gave her a start.

"It's alright," she cooed. "You're not in trouble. Really." She looked around the room. "These rooms are just the only ones we have for things like this. I'm sorry. Our resources are tighter than you'd think."

I swallowed. "Okay."

"You can stand if that's more comfortable." She set the papers on the table. "My name is Amanda. I'm here to give you this."

She pushed one of the papers to me.

I eyed it suspiciously. "What is it?"

"A form informing you that the PRT will never ask you to reveal your face, name, or address. While you would have to do all those things as a Ward, until you've actually signed with the program anyone requesting this information is not associated with us and cannot be trusted. You understand?"

Not really. "Why—"

"The gangs watch this building, miss. You walked in with a mask. That was smart, but it also lets everyone know there's a fresh cape in the city. Sad to say, some of our local villains are happy to press new capes into their ranks."

Squealer. Right.

"Mu and Jenkins didn't seem to think I was a cape," I mumbled.

"Precautionary. We get quite a few mistaken cases, pranks, and frauds. A few outright criminals."

"They said that."

"I'm sure they did, but their job was to determine if you were carrying any weapons or explosives. Mine is to ask you what your power is and see if it can be demonstrated."

Cautiously, I stepped forward and took a seat.

That made sense, of a sort. Basic security. Of course they had that. Can't just let anyone waltz into the building on a few words. I could see some people pretending to be capes to see if that could get them anywhere.

I forced myself to calm down. Nothing to panic over. Just some people doing their jobs.

Blackwell liked to say she was doing her job.

"I'm like Armsmaster," I said. "I can make things."

"Can you show me?"

I set my backpack on the floor and pulled out a notebook. Opening it up, my thumb rolled over the page edges until I found something that seemed appropriate.

"Here. I thought this up last night."

I set the notebook down and turned it toward her.

Amanda looked at it, but I couldn't tell if it meant anything to her.

"What is it?" she asked.

I hoped she wouldn't ask that. "It's a robot. It has a gyroscope here, and little arms and legs here? The legs are just for standing. It's supposed to move by rolling over the ground and jumping."

Why did I pick that to show here? The thing looked like a basketball with little arms and legs.

"Is it intelligent?"

"Um, I don't know? I just designed the robot. I haven't done any programming or nothing."

"Hmm."

She didn't believe me. I retreated into myself, shoulders rising as I hunched forward. Some plan this turned out to be. I really hadn't thought it through at all, had I?

"One moment."

Amanda rose from her chair, and my heart sank.

What possessed me to think this would be any different than anything else in my life?

"I'm not lying!"

The woman stopped. "I didn't say you were. Please. Just a moment."

Was she going to have Mu and Jenkins arrest me? Could I get away if I ran—Stupid. Like that would work. Surely their security was better than a running teenager.

Amanda left the room and I rose up quickly. There were voices on the other side. Talking. I couldn't make out the words.

I'd started to step forward to try and listen when the door cracked.

A pair of smiling eyes met me from the other side.

My jaw slackened. "You're Miss Militia."

She really could smile with her eyes.

The gun on her hip caught my attention. It looked odd. Kind of dark green and a little misty. Her costume was military in style. Olive green, save for the red white and blue sash around her waist and the bandanna covering the lower half of her face.

Might have thought I was checking her out with the way my own eyes traveled.

Great first impression. Batting for a thousand so far. All according to plan.

She swept into the room and closed the door behind her.

"So, a tinker?"

I nodded.

"Well, Armsmaster is always eager to meet new tinkers. Amanda said you have a robot?"

"Yes. I mean—No. I can't make it without my d—" I stopped myself from speaking further.

Miss Militia didn't press. She looked to the table and walked around me. One finger spun the notebook back around.

"This is it?"

"Y-Yes."

"Are you safe at home?"

"What? Yes! Why wouldn't I be?"

She turned, looking at me over her shoulder. "You can say so if you want. You wouldn't be the first."

"There's nothing wrong at home!" Well, there was. "Not like that."

The woman watched me, her eyes questioning rather than smiling.

"Alright," she said. "I don't mean to offend. It's pretty common for new capes to come from bad environments. Sometimes, they're not safe at home. It's especially common with teens and adolescents who come to us without a parent."

"It's not like that."

Dad never touched me, temper be damned. Besides, he'd have to give a damn to hit or abuse me. My home problem didn't threaten my safety. It just didn't protect me.

Miss Militia took Amanda's seat and pointed at the notebook.

"I just wanted to be sure. Show me more of this."

I hesitated, but as she started flipping through the pages I became defensive. Sitting down, I pointed at things and tried my best to explain them. It wasn't easy. The things in my head made sense in my head. Words were different.

Especially since so many things were just math and code.

"And this?"

"It's for finding things, I think. On computers."

"Robots. Computer code. Not many weapons."

I grimaced. "I'm sorry."

"That's not something to be sorry for. Sometimes I wish I had a power with less dangerous applications."

It's not that I hadn't made any weapons. If anything, I'd thought of several. Enough to blow all of Winslow into oblivion three times over. I didn't want to do that, I hoped.

Not something I wanted to bring on my pitch to be a hero regardless.

Miss Militia tilted her head to the side. "Ah. Everyone is here. You're in luck."

I doubted it. "Here?"

"The Wards. Would you like to meet them?"

I sat up straighter. "I can?"

"If you want. I'm not sure why you're here alone. If you say you're safe at home I believe you, but I suppose there are other things that can be wrong at home that aren't unsafe."

I didn't want to answer that but the way I avoided her gaze probably said something.

"You'd have to tell us if you joined the program. We don't bring Wards on without their parents knowing, but for now you're not a Ward and we don't know who to tell even if we wanted to. That said, if you want to meet the Wards, you can."

I'd have to tell Dad was the part of that I remembered.

Stupid to think I could avoid it forever. He'd find out eventually, right? Even Dad couldn't be that oblivious. He'd notice something eventually.

But that was tomorrow's Taylor's problem.

"Okay."

We left the room and went to an elevator. I didn't see Mu, Jenkins, or Amanda as we went. I didn't see anyone.

"Where are we going?"

"The common room," she explained. "The Wards have their own base in the building. Tours go through some days, but not right now. It'll just be us capes."

Us capes.

God, how pathetic was my life that the thought of belonging to a group of strangers made me hopeful? I'd been alone for so long. No friends at school. No parent at home.

It hurt to hope.

When the elevator stopped, Miss Militia led me down a hallway to another door.

"Is this normal?" I asked.

"Meeting the Wards?"

I nodded.

"It's not abnormal, especially after all this. People have been watching you since you entered the building. You're not the kind of cape we worry about. Unless you're exceptionally clever."

I flinched at that and her eyes became apologetic. "Sorry. I mean to say that it isn't unheard of for someone to try and sneak into meetings with Wards. Masters. Strangers. We're convinced you're not one of those, so there's less concern."

Right. Guilty until proven innocent. Again.

Don't be bitter.

Don't be me.

What a wonderful thing to think about yourself.

At the end of the hall, Miss Militia pressed a button by the door and then pressed her hand to a panel. A red light flashed.

"A timer," Miss Militia revealed. "Lets the Wards get their masks on."

I nodded and we waited a whole minute.

Then the door opened and on the other side, the Wards.

The real Wards. Not all of them—Miss Militia did say everyone, didn't she?—but when we entered, Clockblocker, Vista, and Kid Win were there. Plus a black girl with a domino mask on her face.

Shadow Stalker? She was the only other girl on the Brockton Bay Wards. She must have arrived straight from school. A backpack sat on the floor by her feet, and it was about that time

"Clockblocker, Vista, Kid Win, Shadow Stalker." Miss Militia stood beside me as the door closed. "This is Mask." Mask? "She came in about an hour ago to ask about joining the Wards."

Had it been that long already?

Clockblocker sat on a chair in front of some monitors, a suit of white armor with animated light clocks moving over the surface covering him from head to toe.

"Hi. Clockblocker. Joke master. I'd come over and shake your hand but"—he pointed his thumb to the monitors—"desk duty."

"Be glad for it." Vista walked up to me with a smile. She wore what amounted to an armored dress and a visor that covered the top half of her face. "He tends to use his power when he shakes hands for the first time. He thinks it's funny."

"It is funny!"

"It's against the rules." Miss Militia warning was stern but warm. "Mask is new. Doesn't even have a name yet, so don't haze her until she at least joins the club?"

"What does she do?"

All heads turned to Shadow Stalker. She glared at me with…those eyes…

"She's a tinker," Miss Militia answered.

The heroine held out the notebook I'd given her and Kid Win quickly took it. He started flipping through pages as my heart raced.

Those eyes. That jaw. Those arms. Those legs.

"Huh. Cool robot," Kid Win said. "And is this a search algorithm?" Kid Win pinched his chin with two fingers. His costume was a simple suit with armored components. Red and gold in color, with a visor like Vista's over his face. He turned the page. "What's this?"

Miss Militia leaned over, while Vista stood on her toes.

"Looks like a chemical equation," Miss Militia said.

"Chemicals. Computer code. Robots." Kid Win looked at me. "Do you know what your specialization is?"

"Mask?"

My head snapped around, looking up at Miss Militia.

She gave me a concerned look. "Is everything alright?"

I glanced back to Shadow Stalker. Those eyes. Her build. Her voice. I knew her. I knew her. I knew her.

"Ca—Can I have my notebook back?" The words came out hoarse and gravely. I felt like I might choke on the air. "Please."

Clockblocker chortled. "Scaring them off already, Stalker?"

"Fuck you," Sophia snapped. "You lot called me in. I didn't ask to be here for this!"

Miss Militia sighed. "Stalker—"

"My notebook!" I hissed.

I couldn't leave it with them. Sophia stole my homework all the time. She'd recognize my handwriting and she'd know it was me.

Kid Win frowned. "I wasn't going to take it or anything."

He handed it to me, and I quickly pushed it into my backpack. "I'd like to leave please."

Miss Militia's eyes narrowed. She turned towards Shadow Stalker and glared. Before she could speak I backed up toward the door.

"You can't keep me here. I want to leave!"

I didn't wait. As soon as she let me out I went down the hall. As soon as the elevator opened I was inside. You'd think I'd get lost but I found my way to the lobby easily.

"Wait!"

Miss Militia grabbed my shoulder. I started to pull away, and her fingers slid back as she didn't try to stop me. The touch felt tender. Gentle. Enough that I stopped and looked back at her.

"Did Shadow Stalker do something? I know she's difficult—"

I started laughing. Couldn't help it.

Difficult, she said.

Understatement of the fucking year. Fucking hilarious really. Like everything in my life.

I pulled my shoulder free and I just kept going until I was across the street and down the block. I think she tried to stop me two more times, but I kept going until I couldn't keep going.

I fell down in an alley, unable to keep walking after the first few blocks.

Sophia Hess is Shadow Stalker.

The girl who shoved me into the locker was a hero.

How did that make sens—It made complete sense.

She never got punished. Everyone at Winslow protected her and the rest. Protect the Ward, the hero from getting into trouble. The PRT knew. They had to know. How could they not know what she was like? What she did to people!? People who didn't do anything to her, who weren't villains or criminals—just kids trying to live their lives in a shitty school in a shitty city on a shitty planet.

I punched a wall.

Hurt my hand. A lot. I didn't care.

I punched it again.

It closed in all the same. I smelled the smell. My heart raced and I wanted to scream and…they laughed. I glanced around, knowing I was standing in an open street, but was the street always so narrow? A wall with a gang tag on one side, a corner with a pusher across, the PRT building behind and rushing traffic on the other.

The locker.

Again.

Like I never left.

The story of my life in an instant.

Surrounded on all sides by things I couldn't escape.

I started to cry. I pulled the mask from my face and pulled my knees up to my chest. My entire body heaved, still feeling the walls close in.

"It's not real," I mumbled. "It's not real."

But it was real. That's the ugly truth.

My first "explosion" wasn't related to tinkering at all. It was an epiphany of a more mundane sort. A realization.

I stood up and stepped out into the "locker."

That's what Brockton Bay was in the end, wasn't it? A locker. The gangs. The capes. The drugs. The violence.

All walls trapping us together.

The villains took advantage of it, and so did the heroes. The so-called 'heroes.' The ones who put up the front, promised a world of safety but didn't really make it safe.

Take a negative and turn it into a positive, Mom always said.

The drugs. The gangs. The capes.

Picking my backpack up and throwing it over my shoulder, I waded through the locker.

Time for a new Plan.