Archive of Our Own ^beta

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War. When I dreamed all I saw was war. Countless battles in the vast emptiness of space and on the harsh, rugged land. I saw  gigantic dagger shaped ships go up against other, much smaller, ships in large-scale battles. I saw dogfights with weird X looking fighters versus fighters similar to H shaped ships. Stuff that only a sci-fi fan dreams about. Soldiers in pristine white armor battling on harsh and unforgiving worlds against a variety of different aliens some seemed near-human, and others not even remotely similar. I smelled their burnt flesh as lasers blasted their way through armor and clothes. I saw diseases that could wipe out the entire human race within a matter of days. Diseases that could turn anyone into a disgusting monster. I also saw the abuse of the non-humans. I saw thousands if not millions of aliens enslaved just for not being human. The lucky ones were treated as some second class citizen. I saw them work on a battle station the size of Earth's moon. A planet killer. 

Then, I was standing on the bridge of a gun-metal ship. I stared out at a massive fleet as they bombarded a colorful planet. What were they shooting? ‘Bombarding a major rebel base on an uninhabited planet’ my mind answered me. Then, I heard someone call out a familiar name, and I turned around and the bridge had suddenly turned to what seems to be some sort of personal quarters. It was decorated with a variety of statues and paintings that looked to be of alien origin.  At the back were what seemed to be a pair of large alien lizards. I wouldn't have liked to see them alive, but somehow I had? I felt myself walk to what I think is the bathroom. Then, I found myself staring into a pair of burning red eyes. I felt myself scream, but no sound emerged. 

I woke up soon after

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Dreams such as these had been plaguing me for the past two months ever since the locker.  Whenever my eyes closed, I saw bloodshed. War was war, it never changed. You could change where war occurred and how you waged it, but it never went away. War was a natural part of life. Life revolved around warfare. Peace? Peace was a lie and a temporary truce until you could develop better weapons and tactics to overcome your enemies. 

I was in a war. I warred against my mind as I tried pushing down these dreams- no not dreams. These were memories. I had come to this conclusion after a few weeks of sleepless nights and nightmares. My head was filled with the memories of the greatest admiral from a galaxy far far away, Grand Admiral Thrawn. I rubbed my forehead as I felt another headache start to form. This happened whenever I tried suppressing his memories. 

Why were his memories in my head? Was this simply a figment of my imagination? Am I crazy? Of course I had more questions than I had answers with no one to ask. Dad wasn't exactly all there anymore. I had no one to rely on except myself, especially at school. 

A quick step to the right managed to save me a bruise from one of Sophia's goons from some random sports team. They were rather unimaginative when it came to bullying me. Trying to bump into me so I can be slammed against a random locker? Now you get a bruise for your trouble. The hallways were full of students ready to go home. Winslow was ass, with a lowkey gang war going on between the ABB, Empire and Merchant wannabes. There was a stabbing yesterday in one of the restrooms judging by the screams down the hall from Mr. Gladly's class. Class had ended early that day after another teacher got stabbed after he tried breaking up the fight. 

Hopefully it happened today again. I had one more class to go to, and I didnt want to be here any longer than I had to be. Wait a minute. I eyed a disheveled Merchant wannabe that was stumbling past me. His eyes are bloodshot and his hands are shaking slightly. He's high and not thinking straight. Most likely on his way to meet up with his friends. 

I formed a smirk on my face as I eyed a few skinheads. A strategy that was often used throughout the world would be very useful here. 

Manipulate your enemies into destroying each other. A suggestion here, a false accusation there. Yes this could work. Plus it would be good practice for the future. 

Emma...Sophia...and what was her name again? Maddie? Whatever her name was, she wasn't important, not in the long run. I would make them suffer for what they did to me. Changing directions, I slowly started to follow the drug addict. 

School was about to be very busy, and even if class wasn't canceled, I could always escape in the ensuing chaos. Teenagers were drawn to conflict. Whenever fights broke out, phones came out to record said fight. 

Friday's were always fun. 

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The walk back home was very short since I decided to take the bus today. The Merchants based in Winslow weren't happy to hear that the football team's star player, who happened to be a skinhead, was talking shit about their drugs. They were like that for some reason. Insult them personally, they didn't care what you said. Insult their ability to get high and their product's lack of quality, now you've pissed them off. Come Monday, I doubt that the school will keep plastic knives in stock anymore. 

One of my legs soon started shaking and I took a deep breath. I did what needed to be done. I-I couldn't go to that class. They were in there, and no amount of planning would have allowed me to come back out unscathed. Squeezing my leg, I hardened my gaze. At least no one innocent was caught in the crossfire. That would have made me feel even worse. I did what I had to do to survive. I could only depend on myself and Thrawn I guess. Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes. My headache was gone now. Looking back trying to supress Thrawn's memories was a bad decision on my part. All that did was cause me more pain. 

I could do great things with Thrawn's help. I orchestrated that fight at Winslow, so what would happen if I tried it on a bigger scale? What if the Empire, ABB, and the Merchants destroyed each other in their fight for power? A fool's dream. Lung and Kaiser weren't the idiots that the PRT made them out to be. 

No, a different plan would be needed to purge Brockton Bay of their filth. Thankfully, I had a genius in my head now. All I had to do was let loose and let the memories flow through me. 

I felt the bus come to a stop. Hopefully the school didn't decide to call Dad to tell him about the fight. I wasn't in the mood to see anyone at the moment. Grabbing my backpack, I walked off the bus without giving the driver another glance. 

If only I had a single Star Destroyer with me. 

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Dad's truck wasn't in the driveway which meant he wasn't home. Well duh! What else could that have meant? Skipping over the broken step that I should probably fix sometime in the future, I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching me, and I quickly walked inside. 

Hopefully Dad wouldn't be here for a few hours if I was lucky. A quick stop by my room resulted in me throwing my backpack on my bed. I could always do my homework later. Dragging myself to the restroom, I splashed some water from the sink onto my face. 

Sensing someone staring at me, I slowly raised my head to look at the mirror. 

"Hello Taylor." 

Glowing red eyes stared back at me, and I screamed. 

A/N

FINALLY THE REWRITE IS OUT! I have found memories of Chimera. It was my first Worm story as well as my first writing project in years at the time. 

Sadly, it hasn't aged well so I decided to go ahead and rewrite the story. I hope everyone finds it more enjoyable. 

Yes, Taylor was written a bit more crazy on purpose. Wouldn't you be crazy if you woke up with an alien's memories in your head? 

Chapter Text

I must have been going insane. Why? Sane people didn't see blue aliens with red eyes staring at them through their people and the memories of said alien in their head. Yeah, I must've hit my head or something. Maybe I got a contact high from being around those druggies. I'm not high. It would take more drugs to be able to hallucinate. Staring at the vision of Thrawn that was staring back, I slowly started backing away from the mirror. 

"You are not going insane if that's what you are wondering." The Thrawn in the mirror said with a smirk that I had seen countless times in my dreams. He placed a finger on his chin. "Well, maybe a little. The line between genius and insanity are quite blurry, or so I have been told." 

I look around the bathroom slowly. Was this a prank? Is the mirror some type of Tinker device that was made to prey upon the dreams of its victims? Was there a hidden camera somewhere in here? Shit, what if I was under the influence of some Master? I'm too coherent to be under the influence of a Master. Tinker devices are possible, but no known parahuman in Brockton Bay has such a specialty. Hm, what if Squealer made a mind-control truck? A possibility. The lack of a PRT presence in the area means no known parahuman presence. Parahumans could be anywhere. 

"May I have your attention now that you are not plotting your escape?" The vision of Thrawn said with amusement clearly written on his face. I gave him a glance in response. "Wonderful." 

"Who are you?" I took a step forward. Thrawn gave me a cold smile and pointed at me. 

"I'm you. Well, I'm a figment of your imagination if you would like to be more precise." Thrawn said casually. "I'm the result of you trying to suppress our memories." Thrawn's memories, not mine. 

"So you're saying that I'm hallucinating?" I frowned. What was happening to me! "Why are you in my head?!" I grabbed my head and closed my eyes shut. 

"I'm saying that if Mr. Hebert walked in at this very moment, he will see you talking to a rather dirty mirror." Thrawn said calmly. I opened my eyes slowly to glare at him. "And I'm just a mental manifestation of the good Admiral's memories. Now that you are no longer attempting to push the memories out, your brain is working overtime to compensate for lost time."

"So I'm crazy…" I muttered as I sat on top of the toilet seat. 

"I suppose so." Thrawn kept his ever faithful smirk etched onto his face. So now I had the memories of a genius admiral in my head along with a mental image of him. This was just...great. Triggering with the memories of a blue, male alien was always fun, said no one ever. I had read up on triggers soon after I got home from the hospital. Why couldn't I have triggered with something more obviously useful? Like Armsmaster or Alexandria. Thrawn's memories are just as useful as they result in me becoming a Thinker with all of his intellect and skill. 

"W-What do you want from me?" 

Thrawn shook his head, his glowing red eyes meeting mine. "Nothing in particular. As I said before, I am just a manifestation created from the memories of Grand Admiral Thrawn that are sitting in your head. In simpler terms, I am you." 

A dry laugh escaped my mouth. "I'm not Thrawn." 

"I never said that you were, though I am curious about one thing." Thrawn paused for a second. "What do you plan on doing?" 

What did I want to do? If you had asked me a year or two ago, I could have easily answered that question. I wanted to be a hero like Alexandria. It was every kid's dream to become a hero, have your face plastered everywhere and to save the day. Now? Not anymore. 

What did I have? I didn't have super strength or the ability to fly like Glory Girl. All I had was my mind. 

"If you say that you plan on becoming a hero, I must say that I would be very disappointed in you." Thrawn cut me off as I opened my mouth to answer. "This world doesn't need anymore heroes does it? It's plain to see that the Protectorate and their affiliated teams have been rather inadequate. Horrors like the Slaughterhouse Nine roam around slaughtering towns, and even here in Brockton Bay. When was the last time Armsmaster caught a so-called 'villain' that successfully served their punishment? How many times has Hookwolf broken out of PRT custody? How many lives have been lost because of these heroes?" 

That was all true. The news often showed reports of some criminals breaking out of their transport heading to the Birdcage. 

"The world doesn't need anymore heroes." I said slowly. Sure I could dress up in some silly costume and beat the shit out of some random criminal, but what would be the end result? They would most likely head back to their old ways as soon as they could. One person couldn't make a difference. How many vigilantes died trying to make a difference by stopping crimes? 

I have the memories of the greatest admiral  from another galaxy. With a handful of ships, Thrawn brought the New Republic to its heels, only failing when he was assassinated at the Battle of Bilbringi. At the Battle of Atollon, Thrawn was on the verge of crushing the Rebellion when he received orders from Grand Moff Tarkin to capture the rebel leaders. I could reenacte his miracles and finally bring peace to Brockton Bay, to the world. Mom, would you be proud of the path I'm taking? 

"What it needs is a conqueror." 

The gangs, I will pull them apart, piece by piece. 

A/N

This chapter is a bit shorter than I would have liked, but I wanted it out in time for May the 4th. I'm currently watching the Bad Batch and I'm really into it so far. 

Lowkey thought Omega was a guy from the trailers, but her being a girl was a nice surprise. What do you think of the rewrite so far? 

Chapter Text

Thrawn raised his arms slowly and started to clap sarcastically. Glaring at him only made me more annoyed.

"A conqueror to bring about a unified world? It sounds like quite the undertaking." Thrawn stopped clapping. "Many have tried to do the same before you, and failed due to unforeseen circumstances. Alexander the Great died while still in his prime. Caesar was assassinated soon after becoming dictator, and Napoleon had his Waterloo." Thrawn's eyes never softened. "And you have the Battle of Lothal." Thrawn and the Battle of Bilbringi went unsaid obviously. I still felt a pang of pain in my chest whenever I remembered that occasion. The meaning behind his statement was clear. There was no guarantee that I would be successful, or if I would even survive to see my work completed. Many 'geniuses' were cut down in their prime, and were now a single page in history.

"Well someone has to do it." I responded with my own eyes hardening. A better world at the cost of my own life? A better world for the other Taylor's that were out there who were just barely scraping by just like me? W-Would I be willing to do such a sacrifice? I didn't want to die, but this was the only path that I had. This needed to be done.

Thrawn nodded slowly in response. "You are aware that the path you are taking is the one filled with blood correct?"

How many people are going to die? How many children will lose their father or their mother? How many people will lose their friends and family? There was no going back once I took the first step. This needed to be done. The world didn't need anymore Kaiser's or Lung's to cause death and destruction just because they felt like it. Licking my dry lips, I met Thrawn's gaze with my own.

"Yes."

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Dad arrived home soon after. Dinner was a simple affair, he decided that he wanted to cook today since I forgot to do it thanks to my conversation with the Thrawn in my head. Dad seemed a bit happier than usual, but I shook it off. He probably managed to get a few more jobs for the DWA. After setting up the table, I turned on the TV to see if there was anything interesting while he cooked.

Eventually, I landed on a nature documentary about the ocean. Aww, that's a cute fish. I formed a small smile on my face. He looked like he came out of an Earth Aleph movie. Suddenly, a disgusting creature with tentacles started creeping into view. I didn't notice that I had started breathing heavily. Biting my bottom lip so I wouldn't scream, I quickly changed the channel. I hated octopi and squids. There was nothing that you could do that could change my mind.

"Dinners ready!" Dad shouted from the kitchen. I hope it wasn't lasagna. I ate frozen lasagna that we got on sale for a week when the DWA was finally able to get a contract. Sitting down at the table, Dad placed a plate full of some weird looking chicken in front of me. "I used Grandpa's old recipe."

Grandpa must've been in the army judging by how disgusting it looked. Oh well, food was food I guess. Hopefully I won't get salmonella or something. There was a reason why Mom never let Dad in the kitchen after all.

"Thank you." I grabbed my fork and impaled a piece of chicken. We start eating with a familiar silence in between us. I was used to it by now. The chicken was alright, but it was a bit dry.

"So how was school?" Dad asked right on schedule. He always asked the same questions, so I always gave him the same answer.

"It was alright." I took another bite of chicken as I gave him a glance. Dad seems a bit happier than usual. It has been a long time since I have seen him this way. Did he meet someone new? Did he have a possible crush? I needed more information. "How was work?"

Dad paused in the middle of chewing. He wasn't expecting me to ask a question in response due to my previous behavior in the past. His cheeks started to redden a bit. He's blushing, has been talking to someone. Swallowing the food in his mouth, Dad lightly coughed into his fist. "Work was good today. I managed to get another job for the DWA. The PRT needed some extra muscle to repair some damages caused by their last fight with Lung. Apparently their previous contract was starting to charge them more." Dad has his shirt ironed. When was the last time he did that? Not since Mom died. He dressed to impress.

"Cool." I said absentmindedly. Did Dad dress up for his meeting with the PRT representative? That could be one of the outcomes.

Dad nodded along slowly and silence fell over us again. Dad opens his mouth to speak, but closes it seconds later. Doesn't know what to say.

"I heard that there was a fight at school today." Dad said casually. The school most likely called his office since that's the number he has listed in their paperwork. Doesn't know that I'm the one that instigated the fight which means that Winslow just chalked it up to the Merchants being Merchants and skinheads being skinheads. Well that was good.

"That's everyday Dad."

"Oh ok." Dad isn't paying attention to the conversation anymore. He's thinking about someone. Yeah, great talk Dad.

Man this chicken was dry.

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I went to my room once we were done with dinner. Dad said he wanted to do the dishes today. This was really weird and not like him at all. Was he under the control of a Master? Squealer mind control truck was still a possibility. Maybe Armsmaster created a halberd that could master people. Tinkers are bullshit.

Staring at my notebook that was sitting on my desk, I opened it slowly. If my campaign was going to succeed, I needed to start planning. I'm a Thinker not a fighter. I didn't have the strength to fight off the entire Protectorate by myself just like Lung. I didn't have a private army of mercenaries armed with tinkertech like Coil. All I had was my mind.

I needed ways to dispose of enemy capes as well as their normal grunts. Nobody was invincible, it was just a matter of finding out their weaknesses and exploiting them. Pulling out my pen, I started to write in Cheunh, the official language of the Chiss Ascendancy. I didn't want anyone finding out my future notes.

'How to take over the world 101'

A/N
I said this a few times in an edit since I keep forgetting, but while the amount of readers of this rewrite on SB/SV are about what I expected, support for Chimaera on FF has been insane! Within One day it passed up Lore Khepri in terms of favorites and follows despite having less than a tenth of the views!
I wasn't expecting this much support at all so thank you for reading!
Likes, comments, follows, and favorites help inspire me to continue to write.
The next story I'll work on will be Smoker the White Hunter and then I'll come back to this one.

Chapter Text

Despite finally allowing Thrawn's memories to run wild through my head, I still wasn't able to get as much rest as I wanted. My dreams were filled with destroyed worlds, the feeling of death wrapping around me. I woke up two times in a cold sweat, so Dad gave me a weird look when I appeared with bags under my eyes. Thankfully I had the excuse of having too much homework to keep any questions or concerns he had at bay. Good thing he got called to go into work so I didn't have to come up with another excuse on why I was going to the library this early. 

Sure I had an old computer in my room, but that relic was slow and could barely pull up PHO. A visit to the library would be an excellent distraction from my lack of social life, as well as allow me to gather information about the various gangs, PRT and Protectorate. At a glance, Lung and Kaiser would be difficult to deal with, but Lung was still only one person, albeit a very one. Kaiser would rarely show himself in public, usually only showing up to fight Lung himself with assistance from Menja and Fenja. The Empire also had another heavy hitter in Purity, but she hasn't been seen in a few months, only making the rare appearance here and there to fight the ABB and Merchants. Rumors had it that she had left the Empire, but I seriously doubt that. 

Glancing outside of the bus' window, I sighed. I would need to do a lot of planning. Manipulating the gangs into mutual destruction wouldn't be as simple as the wannabes at Winslow. I would need to establish my own presence here in Brockton Bay, but that would take a little while. I needed to raise funds and support. Plus, I doubt that most full grown men would be willing to follow a fifteen year old girl without a power that could easily force them to respect me. I needed to gather my own thugs that would be loyal only to me. Recruiting parahumans would also need to be high on the list. Normal humans could only do so much against capes, even with my strategies and tactics. 

Still, first things first. Before any operation could start, information needed to be gathered and plans needed to be perfected. And I still needed to gather funds. People wouldn't fight for free, and I still needed to get equipment even if they did. Maybe I could offer my services as a private investigator on PHO? Yes that could work. I would get practice in using my power, earn a bit of money, and start to build my own powerbase. I'm sure most people would be willing to pay a decent amount to see if their significant other was cheating on them. 

My bus soon arrived at my stop, and I got off without a hassle. Thankfully the library was a ten minute walk from my stop so I didn't have to walk far. Eyeing several people that walked by me, I felt Thrawn's memories surge through me. A nerdy boy wearing suspenders that didn't look much older than me rushed past me with a binder in his hands. Despite his outward appearance, his arm muscles indicate that he does plenty of exercise. Was he a part of the school's football team? A possibility. He also could have learned self defense to protect himself from would-be aggressors. 

Speaking of self defense, it seemed that I was going to need to up my exercise regime. Jogging wasn't going to cut it anymore. While Thrawn's greatest asset was his mind, he also trained his body to the same degree and was skilled in various martial arts from the Imperial Academy as well as various Chiss forms. At least I wasn't going to need to pay for some classes, I just needed to practice what was already in my head. Even if I wasn't going out on patrol like other capes, I still needed to be able to defend myself. 

Eventually, I arrived at the Library. Not even a few minutes later I was already seated at a computer in the back after showing the Librarian my library card. Glancing around the area next to me in case anyone just happened to be watching, I signed in. Normally I would have used my personal email that I used back at home, but I didn't trust public computers one bit so I created a new burner email to sign into PHO. Tinkers and Thinkers were everywhere, and I didn't need any of them being able to find out where I live or who I was. 

Thankfully various PHO users had made a wiki of the gangs and Protectorate of Brockton Bay. Why would they create such a thing? I don't know, maybe they wanted a target painted on their back. Any information that I couldn't find here could always be found with a search or news report. Let's see. 

The Empire Eighty-Eight first came into prominence during the rule of Allfather. Rumors had it that Iron Rain and Kaiser were his children since they were often spotted together and Kaiser's rise to power after Allfather's death. Other rumors say that they have a connection to Medhall. Now that was interesting. Cross-checking Richard Anders and Olivia Anders profile, my theory was proven correct.  Max Anders' sister died around the same time as Iron Rain with Allfather's death being reported a week after Richard Anders own. 

Really? You didn't even need to have a Thinker power to know that Richard Anders was Allfather and Olivia Anders was Iron Rain. I clicked on a picture of Hookwolf. His costume was literally an iron mask with jeans with two tattoos. You seriously can't tell me that the PRT and Protectorate don't know his civilian identity. The government was always watching. Last week the IRS put a warrant out for Circus for not paying their taxes and they skipped town. 

Pulling up a picture of the Empire's infamous logo, I suppressed my anger at our local law enforcement. Their logo was modeled after the Nazi flag with two stylized eights that looked like swastikas. Red, white, and black were the dominant colors. The original flag that the Empire based their symbol on was originally created by the Nazi's. The colors were taken from the German flag from Bismarck's era. White stood for nationalism, red for socialism, and the black swastika represented the 'Aryan race'. Nationalism? Really? They did remember that the United States fought the Nazi's during World War Two? This would sound more believable if they were Neo-Confederates. Neo-Confederates are mostly found in the South, with the Sons of the Republic being the equivalent of the Empire in Houston. Anyways, the Empire was flawed in every possible way and was fueled by hatred. They could easily be taken apart by dismantling their mandate. Their capes are keeping the gang together. Kill the capes, kill the gang. Kaiser's death would cause a rift in the Empire and cause it to fall apart. 

Hm, an assasination could work, but I didn't want him turning into a martyr. I needed to come up with a better plan. I could come up with plans on how to get rid of their capes slowly. Now onto the Azn Bad Boys. 

The ABB, while not as large as the Empire were just as dangerous. Yellow, green, red, and white are visible throughout their territory. White was often associated with death, so those that had earned Lung's rage had their shops painted white. ABB thugs are usually dressed in red and green. Greens stands for eternity, vitality and energy in the Japanese culture. Red means strength, passion and blood. The ABB respects strength and Lung is one of the strongest capes on this side of the country. Get rid of Lung, and the ABB will dissolve into smaller gangs. Oni Lee doesn't have what it takes to be a leader. Very interesting. 

Let's see what the internet said about the Merchant's. I immediately closed the tab and rubbed my forehead.

Who fucking used piss as paint?

A/N

I know I said Smoker was next but I couldn't help myself. 

Are you guys enjoying the rewrite? I like that it feels slower than the original. Plus it doesnt have Thaylor making stupid mistakes. 

Chapter Text

The rest of my stay in the library went by quickly. My notebook was filled with the names of various capes, along with their powers, or rumors of what their powers are if they weren't as well known like the Undersiders. It seemed that Tattletale was going to be quite annoying to deal with, her claiming to be a psychic and all that. That was a lie of course, capes with psychic powers didn't exist in the way her victims describe her as. She most likely had a Thinker power like myself, albeit one that worked much more quickly. Still, the human brain could only handle so much information at once, so defeating her would require a sensory overlord. Revealing a lot of information at once that had nothing to do with each other should lead her into a dead end, makes her power overwork itself and a migraine should set in. Well, that was my theory anyways. Thinkers were bullshit and I needed more information. The rest of the Undersiders could easily be disposed of. Hellhound was still a normal human despite her ability to enhance her dogs, and Grue was also a baseline human that could produce a smoke-like darkness. I needed more information to be able to form a plan against Regent. There wasn't much out there with only their cape names and powers being known. 

Anyways, I still had to deal with this city's so-called 'heroes'. The Protectorate was the main threat of course. Armsmaster was one of the greatest Tinkers alive, with those under his command being just as competent as he was. Give me command of a Protectorate department, and I would have already conquered half of the country by now. New Wave was another problem, as inactive as they are. Glory Girl was often spotted going out on patrol, while her cousins went out every once in a while. Panacea spent most of her time at the various hospitals throughout Brockton Bay, and the elder generation basically retired in all but name. They only appeared in public during emergencies, and even then it was quite rare for Flashbang to show up. An entire family, blessed with powers and they just let them go to waste. Manpower and Brandish both held jobs, while their respective spouses stayed home. 

Being in a hero team must've been expensive with someone as destructive as Glory Girl with them. Hero insurance wasn't cheap, and they didn't exactly cover everything. Funding must be a reason why hero teams were exactly as popular as they were before. Well, that and the death of Fleur. The Golden age of Heroes was over, long live the Age of Taylor! Too much? Probably. I still needed to figure out what I was going to call myself. 

Shaking my head as I analyzed the computer screen, I bit my bottom lip. Money was still the big issue here. Should I go ahead and offer my services on PHO? No, not yet. I was going to need a burner phone if I was going to do that. Plus I still had to deal with school and Dad. Hm, several household products could be used to create a homemade bomb-

No, what was I thinking? If I did that innocent people could be killed. I grabbed my forehead. As much as I hated Winslow, my grievances were with the Trio and Blackwell. The Trio deserved to suffer after everything that they did to me. They were useless and could not be used like Thrawn's classmates who assaulted him. Emma, Sophia, and what's her name shall be disposed of in time. I felt a smirk form on my face. Bombing Winslow could make them feel fear. This could work. With Winslow out of the picture, I could be transferred to one of the other schools or even apply to get a GED without Blackwell getting in the way. 

I just needed to make sure no one was there when I did it. Innocent blood would be shed eventually, but not today. 

Grabbing my notebooks and placing them in my backpack, I signed off of the computer. I would need to delete the burner email I used later. I had a dozen more that I haven't used yet. Making my way towards the exit, I accidently bumped into a mousey looking girl with short brown hair. 

"Sorry!" I said over my shoulder as I kept walking. I didn't bother to hear her response as I was already out the door. I had an ugly ass school to blow up. Heh, it would have been funny if that was Panacea. Nah, coincidences like that didn't exist in real life. 

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There were several rules in life that you should always follow. First, you always returned a favor, and last, never trust anyone who was pretty or handsome. Nothing good could ever come from them. So when I saw a pretty blonde girl near the Boardwalk start grinning at me, I started walking faster. Naturally I took several detours in case she followed me. She was probably one of Emma's cronies, but I had never seen her before. Eventually I found myself back at my safe stronghold, home. I used Thrawn's gifts to make sure no one followed me of course. 

Dad wasn't home yet so I was going to be alone again for most of the afternoon. That was fine with me, I enjoyed the silence. Plus I'm able to get the chance to talk to myself. I'm sure that Thrawn was a fascinating person to talk if you stopped to consider everything. Nah, who am I kidding. 

I'm just...lonely…

A/N

Another short one but it was needed. You thought Thaylor was going to meet Panpan or Vulpine Grin Lisa right? 

Ha, I decided not to. Why not? Because I'm eviiiiilll. 

Well, that and I can't decide on Thaylor's cape name. 

I'm honestly torn between Thrawn and Chimaera. I really like both of them, so what do you guys think? 

I'll link the fanart for this story at a later date. If you're reading this on FF, it's the cover picture. 

Chapter Text

There was a major difference between myself and Thrawn. While he had the political support of Grand Moff Tarkin in the Empire and Admiral Ar'alani in the Chiss Ascendancy, I had none of that here. Thrawn also had the support of his trusted subordinates. Gilad Paelleon was a competent officer who served under Thrawn during the Battle of Lothal, and would later serve as his trusted second in command during Thrawn's campaign against the New Republic. Eli Vanto was considered a close friend throughout his service as Thrawn's aide. Even Commander Faro was a trusted subordinate who Thrawn helped tutored until her transfer to the Eleventh fleet under his guidance. 

I had none of that here. No Star Destroyer, no base of power, no one to trust on. All I had was myself and my brilliant mind. Blowing up Winslow was going to be a piece of cake. Sadly it seemed that the homemade bomb made of household products that definitely shouldn't be combined wouldn't be able to blow up Winslow on it's own. I had all day to come up with a solution. The plan had to be in motion Sunday night so I didn't have to go to school on Monday. It should take the school a few days to get everything organized for transfers to other schools, but Winslow's staff was so incompetent that it might even take weeks for the transfers to be complete. The American education system really needed to revamp itself. 

I gave my computer a glance. If only that stupid thing was able to load pages faster. I didn't need Dad walking in on me taking in my notes and why it was full of alien letters. Good thing he was downstairs watching TV with a beer most likely in his hands which meant I had some time to create my plan. After all, a great tactician creates plans. A good tactician recognizes the soundness of a plan presented on him. A fair tactician must see the plan succeed before offering approval. 

Thrawn was a great tactician, and I needed to live up to his legacy. Blowing up a school was necessary. If I go to school, that means I have to see Them, but if I blow up the school, that means I have some time off without having to see Them. That could distract me from advancing my goals. Too bad I couldn't arrange an accident for a certain Trio. That would have to be on my todo list. I turned my attention back to the decoy notebook I held in my lap. 

Winslow's kitchen has numerous stoves powered by gas. A simple flame could cause a chain, and amplify the homemade bomb. The gas needs to spread around the school for maximum effect. 

I felt a smirk form on my face. This was perfect! I just needed to make sure that no innocent bystanders would be caught in the explosion. Domestic terrorism was a great way to start my career. 

Now I just needed Dad to fall asleep. It was time to cause a potential war crime. 

CR CR CR CR

Winslow didn't have much when it came to security. During the school day all they had was an off duty cop that seemed a bit too close to the skinheads for my liking. What was with adults trying to get the approval of teenagers? We're stupid! Well, most of us were. Me on the other hand? 

Well, I'm a genius. That's why I was wearing a ski-mask with a backpack full of chemicals that shouldn't be mixed together while I broke the lock and chain that held the back door shut. Winslow didn't have many security cameras, and the few that they did have were mostly for show. Only the main office had a working one, and I wasn't planning on heading in that direction. 

The lock broke after a few minutes of struggling. I really needed to work on my physical strength. Maybe I could find something to work out with at the thrift store? Jogging wasn't clearly doing enough. 

Winslow looked like trash, but it looked even worse at night. Half drawn graffiti was everywhere, and it seemed that the janitors didn't do their job right last night. Poor custodians who didn't get paid enough for this. One of them was hospitalized by a gang of ABB thugs last month. 

Even if I could close the school for a few weeks, I could make that work in my favor. I just needed to disable the fire alarm and the sprinklers. 

Good thing Blackwell embezzled the money that was supposed to go into security or this would be much more difficult to complete. Ah, good old corruption. Who am I to deny such kindness? 

Walking past a hallway of dented lockers, I made my way to the maintenance room. Hopefully this shouldn't take long. Grabbing a wrench I found by a used car dealership with a gloved hand, I felt a smile form on my face. Time to beat the crap out of some old equipment. Then I had to spray paint some Empire logos and swastikas. 

CR CR CR CR

Beating the shit out of the system that controlled the fire alarm and sprinklers took a bit longer than I hoped it would. Now I had to speed up my time table before the first members of the faculty start to arrive. I gave my watch a glance. Hm, I had about two hours left before I had to get out of here. Good thing I already had the homemade bomb ready to go. I had placed it in the main hallway, while I formed a pathway with gasoline that led to it. Afterwards I grabbed a blue spray paint bottle and went to work. It should be easy enough right? It's not like that the skinheads were the next Picasso. I just needed them to get blamed for this. After drawing a few rough E88s and swastikas which caused me to cringe, I threw the bottles back in my backpack. 

Walking into the cafeteria, I made my way towards the kitchen. The lone flashlight I held in my hands only served to make the experience even creepier. Once the stoves were turned on, I only had a few minutes to get out before I could light it. Pouring more gasoline on the floor, I threw the container to the side. 

I had found that at the dump halfway across the city so no one could trace it back to me. It had a bloodstain on it for some reason, but that should work in my favor. Someone else would have to take the fall for this. 

Thrawn would be so proud. I giggled as I slid into the kitchen and started turning on several stoves. Naturally, I didn't actually light them. The gas should spread around the school, and combined with the homemade bomb and gasoline, do quite a bit of damage. Hopefully enough to cause Winslow to close for a while.

The smell of the gas caused my smile to turn into a grin.  

It was time to start the fireworks. 

Well, once I got out of here first. 

A/N

WOW, this took much longer than expected. 

A writer's block hit me so I spent my time playing Rimworld and total war games. 

This past Sunday I attended my city's comic con and I had a blast. The local 501st chapter was there decked out in Mandalorian, Stormtrooper, clone trooper, and Rebel cosplays. This one Boba Fett had a working flamethrower built in too. 

Sadly, I saw no Thrawn's :(

Chapter Text

Leaving Winslow ablaze was interesting. Setting the most miserable place in the world alight was strangely satisfying, yet I felt empty inside. Sure most of the people Winslow were horrible to me, but what about those who were just like me? My fellow outcast who were just as beaten down as me? What would they do? I shook the thoughts out of my head and threw the clothes I was wearing into a donation box. Naturally I wore a hairnet and disinfected other identifying pieces of clothing before throwing them away at various locations unrelated to each other. I walked back home through some back alleys, with the sounds of firetrucks racing through the streets. 

The closest fire station wouldn't be able to react in time of course. Every variable was taken into account, so Winslow should be out of commision even if they manage to put the fire out. The damage to the school's structure should be enough. 

No one paid me any heed as I finally entered my neighborhood. I would have to sneak in before he could notice I was gone. The school should be calling any minute that classes were cancelled. I eyed the tree by the window with a smirk. 

Large enough to support my weight. 

This was perfect. 

Note to self, start working out more. My jogging clearly wasn't going to be enough. I would need to implement the Chiss martial arts and standard Imperial combat forms into my workouts. If Dad asked I could simply say I learned from a video from the internet. Self-defense for school was the perfect excuse of course. I wasn't a fighter, I wasn't one of the Dallons or had any abilities that could allow me to beat anyone in a straight fight. I had to be smarter than that. 

Fair fights did not win you wars. You had to play dirty, take advantage of your enemies' mistakes. Pull them apart, assassinate them, turn them against each other. If killing a handful of opponents at a dinner could save lives would I be able to do it? A couple dozen lives for hundreds? That sounded like a fair trade to me. I had been home for an hour, yet I couldn't fall asleep. 

Pulling the covers over my head, I felt the wheels inside of my head turning. Rushing out in the middle of the night to fight the gangs was a stupid idea. I would need to find others to fight for me. With my guidance, victory was only a matter of time. 

I heard a knock at the door, right on schedule. 

"Taylor? Are you awake?" Dad asked as he opened the door slowly. It was like 3 am, what type of question was that? Of course I was asleep. Couldn't he have waited till it was time to wake up. 

Of course, I already knew the answer to that. 

Groaning, I slowly sat up and rubbed my eyes, using my long hair to hide how bloodshot they are. 

"I am now." I said groggily. Complete lies, I have been awake all night. Dad seemed to believe me and nodded his head. He wants to make sure that I'm ok. Dad received a call from the school district a few minutes ago. Classes are most likely cancelled. 

"The district just called, classes have been cancelled for the week. There was a fire at the school." 

"Oh ok." I nodded slowly. "Wait, a fire?" 

"Yup. Get some sleep. I'll see you after work tomorrow." Dad gave me a smile and patted me on the head. He left soon after. 

That was weird. Was Dad acting like a dad? Who was he seeing without telling me? Whoever he is dating makes him happy. I narrowed my eyes and held my knees to my chest. I missed Mom. A red glow caught my eyes. 

I turned my head toward the mirror off to the side of my head. Thrawn was simply staring at me with a smirk on his face. 

I can't bring personal issues into this, it would be detrimental to my mission. Acting emotionally would only end with me hurt. I glared at Thrawn, and threw my pillow at him. 

I really needed sleep. 

What was there for a Thinker to do without any plans? Come up with plans would be an obvious answer. No, you needed information to make plans. I only had a basic outline on the three gangs in town, but there was a fourth power that no one spoke of. Coil and his mercenaries were the most dangerous power in the Bay. He was obviously rich, judging by the amount of tinkertech his minions had. If only I had a powerbase like that, Brockton Bay would probably be run by me by now. 

Walking down the street of the Boardwalk, I avoided the Enforcers and walked up to an ice cream stand. Ice cream in the morning was always fun. 

The ice cream man gave me a weird look, but I walked away with a cone of vanilla in my hand. I should enjoy a day like this, hone my skills of observation. I wouldn't have time for myself once my plan started snowballing. Sitting on a bench with my ice cream, I eyed an enforcer that was standing on the corner. 

He's keeping an eye out for troublemakers. His legs are tense, the man's stance indicates he has some form of training in hand to hand combat. I eyed his holster. He's carrying a taser not a gun. Really wants to take out his frustration on somebody. Why? Denied a raise? Rejected? Maybe he was just a plain bully-

Someone sat next to me. I gave the intruder a sideway glance. She's pretty with blonde hair, almost a platinum blonde. She seemed about my height and-

"Hi! Nice ice cream you got there!" The blonde girl said with a large smile. "I wish I could get one too, but my sister would start complaining about dieting." She rambled. I have seen her before, never in person, only on the news or online. 

"Oh! I'm Victoria by the way! What's your name?" Victoria Dallon said as she extended her name, her foxy smile still on her face. 

I just licked my ice cream cone one last time. I wasn't going to have another chance to enjoy it. 

She wants to be my friend. 

A/N

Super late since I got stuck writing it. 

How many of you thought Lisa was going to pop up instead? Yeah, I'm going a different route here. Morally grey Thaylor is so fun to write. 

Chapter Text

"I'm Taylor." I took another lick of my ice cream. I paid money for this, and I wasn't about to waste, even if I could potentially get close to one of Brockton Bay's most famous, or infamous depending on who you asked, capes. Victoria Dallon keeps her smile on. Is she naturally friendly? Or is it an outward act to make herself look better in the public eye? I took the hand she extended with the one that wasn't holding my ice cream, our skin making direct contact. 

There were rumors that her brute strength came from a forcefield. Are those rumors wrong, or can she turn it off at will? More information will be needed to form a kill plan should Glory Girl stand in my way. 

I shook the thoughts from my mind internally and continued eating my ice cream. 

"It's nice to meet you. Now I'm sure you're probably wondering, why is this stranger talking to me so early in the morning?" Victoria started letting go of hand after a small squeeze. Something about me caught her interest. She's supposed to be in school, but decided to skip by coming to the Boardwalk. I gave my ice cream a side glance and quickly glanced around. 

I'm the only one eating ice cream this early. 

"You seem fun! I have never seen anyone eat ice cream for breakfast." Victoria started rambling. She thinks I'm being 'quirky' and finds me interesting. Well thank you for telling me that brain, it wasn't totally obvious at all. 

"I didn't have anything else to do since my school blew up." I replied dryly, almost done with my delicious breakfast as I took a bite of the cone. 

"Ah shit. You go to Winslow? That's like the worst school in the entire state. I heard that if hell was made physically it would be-" Victoria paused in the middle of her sentence realizing who she was talking to after I took a loud bite from my cone, finishing it. 

"You're not wrong though." I muttered. Victoria seemed to have heard it, and nodded her head slowly. 

"Hey, want to hangout? Since you aren't doing anything." Why is she at the Boardwalk during school hours? Is she investigating me? Did the PRT flag me as a person of interest and send her to investigate me? No, they would have sent one of the Wards or even a member of the Protectorate. Victoria Dallon isn't a subtle person. 

"Uh sure, but shouldn't you be at school?" I rubbed the wrist of my hand that was holding the ice cream cone. If I remember right, Alan Barnes worked at the same firm that Carol Dallon does.  Is Victoria one of Emma's friends? Emma rarely brings the topic up at school, only showing off a photo or two taken at the law firm's holiday parties. 

"Perhaps, but my grades are good enough that I can miss one day of school." Victoria responded immediately, as if anticipating the question. She stood up slowly and stretched, her jeans doing nothing to hide the form of her muscles. 

She's in great shape from training. The way she stands show's she has knowledge of multiple forms of martial arts. In a straight up fight, I stand no chance of winning without any form of support. Befriending Glory Girl could help advance my plans with her connections to the Wards and New Wave. 

I stood up and nodded. I couldn't be too obvious. 

"Sure. What do you want to do?" I asked hesitantly. Victoria simply flashed me a wide grin, showing off her pearly white teeth. I wished I looked like that-

Uh oh. This wasn't going to be fun, for me that is. 

Victoria Dallon is much smarter than she appears to be. 

Grabbing me by my hand, Victoria practically dragged me towards the arcade. A few people gave us weird looks. What's wrong? Surprised to see Glory Girl dragging an ugly girl to play games at an arcade? 

I would have reacted the same way if I was in their shoes. She let go of me at the entrance. Drying my sweaty hand with the sleeves of my hoodie, I sighed. 

"Oh shoot, I didn't bring any change with me." I patted my pockets. I barely had a twenty dollar bill back home. 

"Eh, don't worry about that my new friend, for I have come prepared!" Victoria reached into her leather jacket's pocket and pulled out a bag full of quarters and other coins. Some of the coins are covered in water, the light reflecting from the moisture. 

"You picked those out of the wishing well didn't you." My eyes widened slightly. My hands weren't sweating earlier. She didn't try her hands after grabbing the coins. "Isn't that illegal?" 

"Uhhh, not in the state of New York it isn't." Victoria defended herself as we started walking in, only a few occupants playing at various machines inside. 

"We're not in New York." I smirked, which caused her to laugh. That wasn't funny. 

"I like you Taylor. I can tell that we're going to be the best of friends." She placed a wet hand on my shoulder, my hoodie absorbing the moisture. 

She really needs to wash her hands. 

"Now let's go play some foosball. I can't wait to kick your ass!" Victoria formed a lazy grin and floated deeper into the arcade. I looked at the wet spot in the shape of a hand on my shoulder. 

I really need a new hoodie. 

A/N

I LIVE. Well, if you follow my other stories you would know that I'm always alive. It's been a while since I've updated Chimaera. I ran out of inspiration, so I went ahead and ordered the Thrawn Ascendancy trilogy. 

That should help give me some ideas. How did I handle Vicky's character? Hopefully she's an improvement over her version in the original Chimera. 

Likes, watches, favorites, follows, kudos and comments help inspire me to write more often! (Im crossposting on multiple sites)

Chapter Text

Life was such a funny thing. It was like a rollercoaster, having highs and lows. The highs usually come right after you hit your lowest lows. Well, that's how life was supposed to be like. My rollercoaster was still going downwards, ready to deposit me into the deepest depths of hell. I started to grind my teeth slowly in frustration. 

"Are you ready?" Victoria asked with a smirk on her face. 

"Let me move my hands real quick." 

"I think you're grabbing it too hard." 

"I've never done this before, so I wouldn't know." 

"Relax a little and loosen your grip." 

"Like this?" 

"Yup. How does it feel?" 

"Much better." 

"Good. I hope you're ready to lose because I am the master of foosball." Victoria's lazy smirk only grew from her side of the foosball table. I had never played foosball, you needed friends for games such as these, and I'm pretty sure that I'm in the negatives when it came to friendships. 

"I'm sure you'll find that I'm a quick learner." I replied dryly with a sardonic smile on my face.  Victoria's hands hovering over the rubber handles of the bars that allow them to spin their 'soccer players'. Bouncing on her feet, Victoria looks confident in her skills. She took off her leather jacket and placed it on a chair near us. 

Based on her current actions and information I have previously gleaned during my research, Victoria's playstyle was obvious. 

I narrowed my eyes as she grabbed a coin, ready to flip it. 

Victoria's playstyle will be aggressive. Her fights that were circulating PHO and the local news would simply confirm my theory. She will attempt to land the first strike and take advantage of my confusion. 

"Heads or tails?" 

"Tails." I replied automatically, my eyes staring at the coin as it started flying upwards. Was I overthinking this? Perhaps, but I wasn't about to let Victoria win after all of that smack she talked up. 

How would I come on top in this battle? If I played defensively I would fall into her trap, allowing her to win. My only path to victory? 

Let's just say that the best defense is a strong offense. 

The game began as I anticipated, with Victoria playing aggressively as soon as the small ball came into play. Expecting me to shrink back from her assault, I did the opposite of what Victoria expected me to do. I met her aggressive play with my own, catching her off guard. I managed to score a point. 

"Have you played before?" Victoria raised an eyebrow. The ball came back into play as she struck, spinning her little foosball men. 

"Nope, I don't have any friends to come here with." The words came out of my mouth without thinking. Victoria's mouth formed an O, so I scored another point in her confusion after a small skirmish between our foossoldiers in the center. 

"Hey! That's cheating!" Cheating? Perhaps, but she never said that we were pausing in the middle of the game. 

"It's not my fault you were distracted." I smirked as the ball returned to the court, ready to be fought over in bloody combat. 

The game continued for a bit after that, with Victoria managing to score several times in a row, but they would have cost her greatly if this was a real battle. Sadly, my lack of actual experience with the game narrowly cost me the victory. 

I lost by one point. 

"I told you I was going to win." Victoria said as she happily ate an overpriced chocolate bar she bought from the concession stand. She gave me a sharp glare. "Are you a natural or something? I had to use five percent of my skill instead of the one I always use when playing against mortals." She started giggling. 

"I'm obviously a Thinker that can read your mind." I replied sardonically. Victoria started full out laughing with that. 

She wiped a tear from her eye. "I wish you were a Thinker, then you could tell me what my boyfriend is up to." She said it jokingly, but I didn't believe her tone. I had to pinch myself to stop me from smirking. 

We sat there in silence for a second, the sound of other kids skipping school as they played retro games filling the air. 

"You know, when I walked up to you, I was pretty sure that I was going to scare you away. Well, either that or ask me for my autograph." Victoria sighed as she finished her chocolate. "Don't get me wrong, being famous and all is pretty great, but sometimes I wish people saw me as more than just a hero, you know? 

Why was she talking to me about this? We just met a few hours ago. I gave her a glance out of the corner of my eye. She's holding onto the wrapper of the chocolate bar tightly. Is it stress from being a hero? Possibly burnout or something similar. Or was she just lonely despite the sea of people that most likely surrounded her? People trying to use her to get close to Panacea? 

"I can see why you want people to see you as more than just a hero." I said slowly, picking my words carefully. "You must have your own dreams under the costume." 

Victoria shrugged in return. "It is what it is." Her phone buzzed softly. Glancing at the notification, her eyes widened. "Ah shit, I forgot I needed to pick my sister up for lunch." 

She stood up and flashed me a large grin. "I had fun today, Taylor." She's giving me a real smile, not one of those 'public' smiles. 

"I did too." I stood up slowly as I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. 

"Can I have your phone number? We should do this again soon, Amy's pretty good at Pac-Man." She pointed over her shoulder towards the arcade machine with Pac-Man written on top. 

"I uh, don't have a cellphone, house rules and all that. I can only use the house phone." I scratched the back of my head. This was foreign territory for me. Even before Emma, I wasn't the most social of people. Even Thrawn had more friends than I had, Ar'alani, Eli, and Thalias immediately popped into mind. If Thrawn was a real person in some other world, did they miss him? Ziara, now known to the galaxy as Admiral Ar'alani, always had Thrawn's back no matter how insane his plans were. Poor girl must've had a crush on the former Grand Admiral since she never tried smashing his head against the wall with all of the trouble he caused. 

"Oh, one of those parents. Don't worry about it." Looking around for a piece of paper, Victoria ripped an old advertisement for some pizza place from the wall and pulled out a marker from her leather jacket's pocket. She wrote down her number on the back and handed it to me. "Don't sell the number to the paparazzi, it's annoying having to change phone numbers." 

"I won't." I pocketed the piece of paper. Victoria beamed and bowed dramatically as we started walking out. 

"Don't be a stranger my friend. I shall await your summons." Victoria gave me a mock salute and moved to leave, pausing at the last second. 

"You should really get some sleep. The corners of your eyes are red." 

I hate life. 

A/N

I finished my copy of Chaos Rising. I liked Ziara/Ar'alani's interactions with Thrawn. The insight into Chiss culture was refreshing, and I enjoyed the difference with the Unknown Regions. Time to start on Greater Good.

Chapter Text

I am a warrior. A warrior may retreat. He does not flee, he may be laying in wait for an ambush. A warrior does not hide. Well, that's what I told myself after I rushed back home after saying farewell to Victoria. Her comment about my eyes worried me, and I didn't want to observe myself in public with so many eyes lurking. For I knew there was some creep that likes to kidnap Thinkers out there. 

Thankfully there weren't many people outside on my street, you could never be too careful. That's why I took several detours on my way back home in case someone saw me hanging out with the infamous Glory Girl. Speaking of Glory Girl, making contact with a relatively powerful cape in their civilian life could prove to be useful. Not as useful as the Chief of Police, but a necessary resource when more firepower was needed. I should maintain this 'friendship' to slowly guide the platinum-blonde girl onto my side should the time come. 

Was that cruel? Perhaps, but there was no room for friendship in the path that I was taking. Every person that I gathered in my crusade would be nothing more than a resource, another weapon to wield against my enemies. I grabbed my forehead as I reached the front porch of my house. W-What was I thinking? Thrawn's memories are combining with mine. Memories and ability first, a change in personality could come once combining has been completed. Suppressing the memories might cause the change to be painful.  

I almost tripped on the broken step when I unlocked the front door with my key. Stumbling through the living room after making sure the door was locked, I made my way towards the TV. 

Dad was long gone, still at work most likely so the TV was off, which allowed me to view my reflection in the dark glass. Victoria was right, the corners of my eyes were red, but they weren't from a lack of sleep. Chiss eyes are red. There's a chance that I'll slowly start gaining features that are commonly seen in Chiss. If red eyes are possible, does that mean my skin would be turning blue in the future? Would my facial features start changing as well? More time and information needed before I can come to a conclusion. 

Damn it! I pinched my left arm. Blue skin and red eyes don't exactly scream subtle. Sunglasses could solve the eye problem, but the blue skin would be harder to deal with. Makeup was expensive and I didn't want to add that to my already small budget. I glared at my reflection as it slowly started to morph. 

Thrawn could only smirk in amusement, the visible parts of his chest covered in the uniform of the Expansionary Defence Fleet. 

"Did you know about this?" I sighed as I sat on my knees. There was nothing I could do to stop this transformation. If I tried suppressing the memories, that may help me a bit in the short term, but it would only cause me more pain in the future. 

"Of course not. I'm simply a figment of your imagination." Thrawn said sardonically. "I believe we already had this conversation before. I only know what you know." 

I definitely couldn't go back to school like this, not Winslow or whatever school I'm transferred to. 

"Whatever." I grumbled as I slowly stood up. This left me with only one option. I was going to need a GED since I doubt Dad would just let me drop out of school, parahuman or not. Turning to walk away, Thrawn spoke up. 

"You do know that you will have to tell your Father eventually." That was a statement, not a question. I turned my head slightly. 

"Why? So he can shut himself out even more? We don't need anymore beer taking money out of our budget." I mumbled that last part under my breath. I passed by the kitchen table on my way to the stairs when something caught my eye. 

A green piece of paper that society liked to call money, Andrew Jackson's cold dead eyes meeting my own. I grabbed the sticky note that was next to it. 

"Have lunch with this, whatever you want, love Dad." I read it out loud. A forced laugh escaped my lips when I noticed my hand shaking. Leaning against the table, I gently placed the sticky note next to the twenty dollar bill. 

"You stupid idiot." A few tears escaped my eyes as they bombarded the old wood table.  

I hope Thrawn wasn't watching me from the TV. 

I wasn't in the mood to order lunch, so I just made a sandwich from whatever we had in the fridge. I needed the money to buy supplies for my uniform. I couldn't afford the best of materials, so I was going to have to deal with something that could hide my identity. I was going to have to make it myself of course. Having it made by others could have it lead straight back to me, especially with the design I was going for. Plus I was broke so that option wasn't really viable. 

Mom was the one who used to sew the clothes that Dad accidently ripped at work, and she even made a dress or two in her spare time. I didn't have any of her skills sadly, but Thrawn did. 

Chiss officers were taught to always keep their uniforms presentable, and how to fix their damaged clothing should supply lines fail or if you were sent on a secret mission that included being exiled from your people. 

Handmade stitching was more convincing than premade clothing, so Thrawn had some skill when it came to making clothing. They were burned afterwards so no one could analyze the patterns he used against him. Art came in many different forms after all. 

Sure the machine and techniques used here were completely different from his, but some stuff should overlap right? 

Prepared to leave the house for the second time today, I took a deep breath as I messed with the sunglasses hiding my eyes. 

What was the worst that could happen?

A/N

I have finished two of the Thrawn Ascendancy books. Chaos Rising is a must read for any fan of Thrawn. Thrawn and his art museum date with Ziara was pretty wholesome. She was basically the only friend Thrawn had. 

I hope she appears in the Ahsoka show. 

Anyways, I hope everyone has enjoyed the story so far. How much of an improvement is it over the original?

Kudos and comments help me write more!

Chapter Text

Thaylor Fanart 1

Thaylor Fanart 2

Thaylor Art 3

Thaylor 4

A collection of fanart drawn for this story.

Chapter Text

War is primarily a game of skill. It is a contest of mind matched against mind, tactics matched against tactics. But there is also an element of chance. As a result of that chance, I didn't buy all of my materials at a single store. I took detours, took longer routes and retraced my steps in case someone decided to follow me. At one store I bought fabric, at another I bought fabric of a different color, and at another I bought other supplies that I may need, storing them in my backpack. People gave me weird looks of course, only assholes wear sunglasses inside buildings. 

Still, I managed to make it home, after taking several detours and several stops to throw off any wouldbe pursuers. Better safe than sorry, especially in a city like Brockton Bay. Once I was done working on my costume, I would have to start practicing Ascendancy martial arts since they were superior to the ones taught at the Imperial Royal Academy. Dad still wasn't home by the time I arrived which I anticipated. Since he's also been seeing somebody, I'm sure he's going to be coming home much later than usual. 

Thrawn was already waiting for me, his glowing red eyes staring at me from the TV screen as I walked by the living room. He simply raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as I went around the house, securing the area and making sure no one snuck in while I was doing my errands. 

Afterwards, I went downstairs where Mom kept her old sewing machine. I didn't need a masterpiece, just something that I could use to create my image. All according to plan of course. Once my 'costume' was ready, I could use my Thinker power to make money off of PHO as a private investigator. As I did that, I would slowly undermine the gangs, gaining information and making connections with the police. 

Today the costume, tomorrow Brockton Bay, the future the world! Sadly, there was a mirror facing the table with the sewing machine, so I had to deal with Thrawn staring at me, this time dressed in the cadet uniform of the Chiss with a much younger face. 

"You do know that creating the uniform yourself could prove detrimental in the future, correct?" Thrawn spoke softly as I took out my fabrics and materials. "Each pattern, each stitching could be used against you, against us." The creation of clothing is a form of art. 

"Of course, but I doubt there's anyone with a mind like ours in this world. Even the greatest minds of your galaxy couldn't understand art as well as you do." I fired back emotionlessly. Ziara understood Thrawn's logic and believed in his theory, but even then she couldn't fully comprehend the true extent of studying art. She did come the closest out of Thrawn's social circle. The Chiss made a fine choice promoting her to admiral. 

"Perhaps, but we didn't have Thinkers and other parahumans in my galaxy." Thrawn smirked. "The Jedi don't count since their abilities aren't as diverse." 

"True, but it's not like I can afford having it professionally made." I shrugged. Grabbing a piece of fabric, I felt a shiver down my spine. 

The chances that I'll stab myself with a needle is extremely high. 

Sadly, it seemed that my prediction was correct. A half dozen stabs later, my bandaged fingers were finally done with a shirt reminiscent of the Chiss Ascendancy uniform. Good thing I bought extra material just in case since I messed up the sleeves on my first two tries. Once I had more funding I could add more protection to my vital areas. Using the leftover fabric, I made a simple black mask with a chimaera stitched in red. Thrawn's personal emblem should serve me well. I would have to give Uingali foar Marocsaa of the Paccosh from Rapacc system my thanks the next time I saw him. 

I shook that last thought out of my head and glared at Thrawn, who had grown silent as I worked. 

"Stop messing with my head." I muttered as I took off my hoodie and pulled my new costume over my head. Making sure that it fit me perfectly, I placed the mask on my face, the cloth covering the lower half of my face. Walking towards the mirror, Thrawn disappeared, allowing me to finally see myself. 

There are a few mistakes here and there. Not bad for my first time working on something like this, but definitely not the worst. 

Suddenly, red eyes started staring back at me, my features slowly turning sharper, my skin a familiar shade of blue. What the hell?! I took a step back and stared at my hands. Still a pale white, I looked at the mirror again. My skin was back to normal, the corners of my eyes were still red, and my face remained unchanged. 

What was that? A vision? Or is it my brain trying to figure out how my transformation is going to take place? That sounds about right. My brain must be trying to figure out how I'm going to look in the future. 

Red eyes stared back at me from the mirror. 

"Mitth'raw'nuruodo." I said the Cheunh name, the syllables leaving my lips easily. Was my throat changing as well? Maybe I could try to imitate Thrawn's accent to use in my cape persona. 

"Yes?" 

"Why did I look like a younger version of Ar'alani?" 

Thrawn blinked slowly, his smirk leaving his face. Rubbing his forehead, he sighed. 

"Don't be a speciesist." 

A/N

This chapter is shorter than I had hoped it would be. 

I'm planning on eventually writing a crossover between all of my stories. That's right. 

Tavy Jones from DYFD?, Khepri from Lore Khepri, Marine Weaver from Smoker the White Hunter, Anna reincarnated as Taylor from The Snow Queen's Worm and Thaylor from Chimaera all in one story! 

When would it be released? I don't know if I'll get bored writing any of my other stories.

Chapter Text

There was a problem with being a parahuman, aside from having to keep my new powers a secret with my eyes slowly turning red and the hypothesis that my skin was going to eventually turn blue. While most Brutes and Blasters, just an example, were able to choose when and how to use their powers, mine always happened to be on. 

"This is annoying." I grumbled under my breath as I made my way up the library's stairs once again. I had to concentrate to keep myself from scanning random people, analyzing their walk pattern and their fashion sense. That usually led to a bit too much information being deciphered by my brain, way too much personal information. Speaking of information, the library was the perfect place to continue the next phase of my plan, gathering funds. 

I'm a Thinker, not a fighter. I had to be smarter than those idiots with Brute ratings and other combat related abilities who went out on patrol the first night to figure out how to use their powers. Sure, maybe I could take down one or two thugs on my own with the limited amount of hand-to-hand I've been practicing, but what difference would it make? What difference would it make to throw a cape or two in jail, just for them to break out again and restart the cycle of pain and destruction? Nothing would change. 

I slid past the doors just as someone was exiting, ignoring the weird glance they shot me. His left eyebrow raised a few centimeters, confused why I didn't take any of the other doors. That was easy, I didn't want to leave any fingerprints, just in case someone was following me. Nobody in the Bay could be trusted, heroes, villains, or civilians. Except Glory Girl, maybe. She did seem pretty honest when we hung out at the Docks, aside from needing to wash her hands with soap instead of just water. 

After flashing the Librarian my card, and ignoring a strange sense of deja vu, I made my way to the computer that was hidden away in some back row out of view from others. After painfully working on my temporary costume, I decided to offer my services on PHO, just enough to make some money to fund my future endeavors. Conquest did cost a lot of money, weapons were expensive, and people had to be paid. Nobody worked for free, unless they were idiots. 

The world had a lot of idiots, like those trolls on PHO who argued that I wasn't a Thinker, until I showed them my fury. I couldn't stop my smirk from forming on my face as I took my seat and signed in. 

"Trying to make up for lost time? Those two months or so that you spent doing nothing?" Thrawn stared at me from the neighboring computer screen, just barely visible. 

"Don't talk to me while I'm in public. I don't want people thinking I'm insane." I muttered under my breath as I checked on my post, scrolling through the comments. Hm, just more skeptics and one of the trolls, some AllSeeingEye. 

The possibility of other Thinkers floating around online was the reason I stuck to using my account in the library, with my dozens of burner emails and deciding to show up at random times. That should be enough to protect myself until I acquired a weapon deadlier than pepper spray. 

"You are talking to yourself, of course you're insane." Thrawn smirked. Over the past few days, I had noticed that his usual calm, and mostly polite self had been acting more like a teenager. A side effect of Thrawn's memories fully merging with mine. I'll likely start gaining more than just his physical attributes once the merge has been completed. 

"I hate you." 

I better not get another existential crisis from this. 

I left the library a few hours later, after changing clothes in the restroom of course. I needed to gain a reputation if I was going to get anyone to willingly follow me, and not just as a private investigator. Ensuring that my backpack was strapped properly and stuffing my hands into my jacket's pockets, I actually enjoyed Brockton Bay's night breeze against my skin. 

The dangerous parts of the Docks weren't a place for a young girl like me, I wasn't a crackhead despite what my reddening eyes may imply to the strangers I walked past. One standing by a trashcan fire stared at me intensely. 

Her eyes were sunken in, and the cold air made her breath visible. She's trying to warm herself by the fire. Her finger nails are chipped and her knuckles are bruised, and have possibly gotten into fights. Whether they were started by her or was in self defense remains to be determined. 

I turned at the corner of the street, following the map I had memorized before leaving the library. There wasn't a job for me today, but that didn't mean I was going to sit at home and waste anymore time.  

"Watch it girl." A homeless man leaning against an old building growled at me. His eyes are scanning my body for valuables. I look defenseless thanks to my hoodie obscuring my body shape, but that also makes it just as risky. Since I'm currently in Merchant territory, he thinks I'm here to buy drugs. 

The Merchants weren't a true gang, more like a coalition of independent drug dealers and smaller gangs that answer to a higher authority, literally, in Skidmark.That explained why they weren't able to hold territory for long, aside from a few streets that the Empire, the ABB, and Coil's Mercenaries didn't care about. The perfect target to begin building my own Ascendancy, with their only threats being Skidmark himself, Squealer and Mush. 

Pretty big talk for someone without any strong powers, but that didn't matter. I paused in front of the nondescript building I was looking for, using my dark colored clothing to blend against the darkness. 

"There are things in the universe that are simply and purely evil. A warrior does not seek to understand them, or to compromise them." I said softly, pulling my phone out of my pocket, another burner one. I typed in a number for the first time and held it up to my ear. "She only seeks to obliterate them." The other person answered within two rings, as predicted. 

" How did you get this number?" 

A/N

I can't believe it's been over a year since I last updated! Writer's block was brutal, but I hope I'll be able to do better this time around. 

Chapter Text

"I'm hungry." Victoria whined as she laid on top of Amy's legs with her face aimed towards the roof of her sister's room. Amy had her face covered with the book she was reading, it was some trashy romance novel since her mousy sister had taken off the cover. "Should we go out to eat or order in?" 

Amy finally lowered her book, and gave Vicky a glare with a raised eyebrow. "I'll give you an answer once you get off my legs, they're starting to go numb." 

Vicky wiggled in place, refusing to move. "But you're so comfortable!" Messing with Amy was always fun, especially when she obviously wanted to be alone. 

Amy's grimace was met with a grin. She closed her book and twisted her body as best as she could to leave it on the nightstand. "I don't think Mom would be happy with either of those options." 

"Mom'll live." Vicky shrugged, finally sitting up to relieve Amy's legs. The brown haired girl winced and poke her thigh a few times. "So, pizza? Burgers? Chinese?" 

"It feels like I have ants walking all over me." Amy grumbled, lifting one of her legs in the air. "And you can make something in the kitchen, it's too late to eat any of those and I'm not going to fix your clogged arteries if you keep eating the way you do." 

"I'm sorry I like food that tastes good." Victoria winked and pulled out her phone. Pizza sounded good, she'd just have to tell them to warn the driver to not knock on the door. Amy grumbled something under her breath. "Could you say that again? I have super strength, not super hearing." 

"I said, get me a pepperoni." Amy grumbled again, this time a bit louder. She tried kicking Victoria off the bed, but the blonde was faster, floating up to the roof. 

"Yeah yeah, I got it." Victoria stuck her tongue out teasingly and started to type in the phone number for their local pizza place. She was about to hit the last number, when her phone started ringing. "Damn it." 

It wasn't a number that she'd saved before, and Victoria always saved the numbers that were important. Well, not always, she always forgot to add the pizza place and Amy's favorite Chinese restaurant. 

"Who is it?" Amy asked, she was in the middle of stretching her legs. Her short bangs covered one of her eyes, it looked cute. 

Victoria shook her head slowly. "I don't know." Hopefully she wouldn't have to change her number again; transfering all of her contacts was always a pain in the ass. She hit the answer button and held the phone to her ear. 

"How did you get this number?" Vicky narrowed her eyes. It was rude of her, but then again, having her phone number leaked online was always annoying to deal with. 

"Would you believe me if I said I got it from the yellow book?" The voice on the other end answered. It sounded like a girl around Victoria's age, with some weird, foreign accent that she couldn't place. 

Victoria rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. She could already tell that this wasn't going to be good. "Listen, I don't know how you got this number and I'm tired of dealing with trolls-" 

"I'm a Thinker." The Voice interrupted Vicky, cutting her off in the middle of her sentence. Ah shit, that wasn't good. That is, if the mysterious voice was telling the truth. Tons of people pretended to be capes online. 

"Yeah right, and I'm Alexandria." Vicky retorted. The only Thinker she knew about in Brockton Bay was Tattletale, a member of the Undersiders. Amy tilted her head, giving Vicky a weird look. 

"I'm not Tattletale, if that's what you're wondering." The Voice continued speaking. "I'm not a criminal, like she is." 

"Sure you are, and being able to guess that doesn't make you a Thinker!" Victoria used her free hand to point at the phone. She twirled her fingers around to make the crazy sign. 

The voice was silent for a few seconds before they decided to continue speaking. "You're not alone, and are trying to tell the other person in the room with you that you're on the phone with a potential parahuman. Your sister perhaps? Since Brandish hasn't taken the phone from you yet." 

Victoria's eyes widened ever so slightly. "T-That's just a lucky guess!" This was really starting to get on her nerves. "What's your name?" 

"You may call me Chimaera." Chimaera said. Her accented voice remained even throughout the entire conversation, not revealing any emotion aside from amusement. "Before you end the call, I would like to ask you a question, since you asked me one." 

Vicky didn't like the sound of that, but she needed to know more if she was going to figure out who this 'Chimaera' was to beat her ass. "What is it?" 

"Would you like to know the location of Squealer's lab?" Chimaera asked. Now that got Victoria's attention. It was most likely a trap since it came from a mystery caller, and that never ended well in the movies. 

"Why me and not the PRT?" Victoria floated away from Amy, who had finally moved from the bed and had drawn closer to hear. 

"Do you believe that the PRT will believe me? An unknown Thinker calls them to report a Tinker's lab, they'll think it's a trap." Chimaera sounded a tad sarcastic. Even with her accent, she was easy to understand. 

"So why should I believe you?" There was Vicky's checkmate. 

"Victoria Dallon doesn't run away from fights, she runs towards them." Chimaera answered simply. "You call yourself Glory Girl don't you? You're the only one in your family that regularly goes out to fight crime. Why? Because you love the attention, and you love this city? Or is it the thrill of the fight?" 

"You're the Thinker, you tell me." Victoria winced. As much as she hated to admit it, Chimaera was kinda right. It was all of those things. 

"I already told you, it's all of them." Chimaera sounded so smug. "I'm not asking you to come alone, tell the PRT if you want." 

It sounded like a really bad idea. Vicky chewed on her thumb as she stared at Amy. Her sister was staring at her with a confused look. Thankfully, Vicky was really good at turning bad ideas into good ones. 

"Send me the address, I'll be there." Vicky was going to have to call in reinforcements. Hopefully Crystal and Eric weren't asleep yet. "And you better be there." 

Victoria was going to be really pissed off if she had to change numbers before her new friend called her. 

A/N

This was updated in honor of the upcoming live action debut of Grand Admiral Thrawn in Ahsoka. 

Chapter Text

It was always a warehouse.

Vicky hovered above the rust-streaked rooftop of what had to be the tenth warehouse she’d scoped out this month, give or take a few. Abandoned churches and factories were runner-ups, but warehouses? Warehouses were like a drug to the criminally inclined. This one looked like it had been condemned sometime in the mid-90s and forgotten about by everyone except the rats and whatever lunatic had left tire marks carving through the cracked pavement out front.

“Are we sure this is the place?” Crystal asked, arms folded over her chest as she gave Vicky a soft glare. She didn’t sound thrilled about being there, and Victoria didn’t blame her. It was past midnight, and the city smelled like car exhaust and brackish water. And technically, they both had school the next morning.

“It’s the address I was given.” Victoria answered, eyes still scanning the streets below.

Crystal raised an eyebrow. “From your anonymous friend?”

There it was, that look and tone. The one that said Vicky was being reckless again. The look she usually got when she skipped PRT protocol to go off instinct or impulse. Vicky could practically hear Carol’s voice in the back of her head too, just waiting for the report to hit her inbox.

“I didn’t ask you to come.” Victoria said, soft but even. She had only told them just in case she needed backup. 

“No, you didn’t.” Crystal didn’t sound mad, more resigned than anything. “But I know you.”

Victoria didn’t respond, instead she silently dropped onto the gravel-covered rooftop, scanning the ventilation units and skylights for signs of tampering. Crystal remained above, as she drifted around the building perimeter.

“Anything?”

“It’s shielded most likely.” Crystal replied. “I can’t see anything.” 

Victoria crouched by a raised air vent. One of the screws was halfway unscrewed. Fresh, it stood out like a single white tooth in a mouth full of rot. Someone did a half-assed job here. “This vent’s been messed with, it could be exhaust.”

“Could be a trap,” Crystal added.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Victoria checked her phone, confirming the coordinates one last time. Chimaera hadn’t sent a follow-up, just the location.

They moved quickly and quietly. Down through a broken skylight into the main structure, past the rusted beams and scaffolding that held the skeleton of the warehouse in place. The ground floor was littered with machine parts, grease stains, and tinker scrap. Unlabeled barrels sat stacked near the far wall. A few of them were glowing faintly, not exactly ideal.

“It stinks in here,” Crystal muttered, floating a few feet above the ground. “Burnt ozone, solvents, weed, definitely Squealer’s stink.”

Victoria nodded silently. Her footsteps echoed too loudly as she walked across the concrete, but she didn’t slow down. Confidence was its own kind of armor.

She found the first workbench near the center of the room. It was cluttered with parts, half-welded tinkertech, circuitry, and a few shards of what might’ve been a busted containment cell. And beneath a tarp, a long, ugly shape.

Victoria peeled it back.

“A railgun.” she said, almost to herself. Crude, boxy, but clearly dangerous if it worked. Not Squealer’s usual style. She favored the ridiculous, the loud, and the excessive. This was precise, almost military.

There were blueprints beneath the tarp. Crude sketches, engine layouts, unintelligible notes scrawled in grease pencil. None of them were labeled with a tinker’s mark, but it wasn’t hard to tell this was Squealer’s domain. The only question was who else had been here.

“Vic-” Crystal said in her ear, “There’s a rigged door in the back. Bombs, maybe tripwires, definitely not civilian-grade.” Tinker Grade? Most likely. 

Victoria’s jaw clenched. “Someone wanted it found, but not by everyone.”

“You think your Thinker friend set us up?”

“No, if it was a trap, they would’ve been here waiting to monologue. Thinkers like to hear themselves talk.”

She looked around again. There was a distinct feeling crawling up her spine. The warehouse was empty, but not untouched. Something had happened here recently.

There were dusty footsteps everywhere, erratic as if people were scrambling to leave. 

“We’re pulling out.” Victoria said. “We’ve seen enough to call in the PRT. 

Crystal didn’t argue.

They reconvened on the roof, the cold wind biting a little harder now. Crystal was already dialing the PRT’s field dispatch.

“You’re reporting this?” Victoria asked. She had assumed Crystal would make her do the call. 

“Of course I am. You saw what’s in there. If we don’t get someone to clean that up, the Merchants will be back here tomorrow with a forklift and a dream.” Crystal sighed as she was placed on hold by bureaucracy. 

Vicky raised a lone, blonde eyebrow.“And what are you going to tell them?”

Crystal looked over from her spot on the roof. “That I got an anonymous tip.”

“And when they ask from who?”

Crystal shrugged. “I don’t know, but I know someone who might.”

Victoria met her gaze.

“You don’t think I noticed?” Crystal said. “You trusted that intel too easily, way too fast.”

Silence stretched between them.

“I’m not judging you.” She continued speaking. “I just want to know if you’re in trouble.”

“I’m not.” Victoria said defensively. Maybe she had been a bit foolish, trusting this intel too fast, but if there was a chance to make this sect of the Merchants hurt then it was worth it. 

“Should I be worried?”

Vicky didn’t answer.

Crystal frowned. “You’ve got that look again.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I’m making a decision and I’m not telling anyone until it’s too late’ look.”

Victoria sighed. “It wasn’t a trap, that’s all that matters.”

“For now.” Crystal floated into the air, the glow around her body illuminating the rooftop. “Don’t do anything stupid and wait for the PRT.”

“Define stupid.” Vicky teased with a grin. 

“That.” And then she was gone.

They came, as I had anticipated.

I crouched low on the rooftop of the old print shop across the street, nestled behind a vent pipe with just enough elevation to watch the warehouse from above. It was the perfect cover, though the air tasted like rust and dust, and I hadn’t moved in almost an hour.

Victoria Dallon’s silhouette was unmistakable even in the dark. Even from here I could see her posture. Controlled, assertive, and confident to the point of arrogance, but never quite tipping over. She’s wondering if Chimaera was in the area. 

Crystal Pelham hovered beside her, more cautious, a touch too cautious, but that was fine. The glow of her body was practically a neon sign against the cloudy night. An asset and a liability, like so many in her family. She has better offensive capabilities, but her family members are better on the defense. 

I took a sip from the juice box in my hand and kept my reddening eyes on them.

Crystal likely joined Glory Girl to prevent her from getting in trouble. They suspect this is an ambush, which was to be expected, the intel came to them from an unknown Thinker. 

They moved as I expected. Victoria went to the vent, and Crystal orbited the structure. They were scanning, cautious, as they should be. A leader didn’t move without recon. The site had been scrubbed, but not too cleanly, and that was the point. 

The railgun had been left uncovered just enough to entice them and prove my information as correct. The footprints I had left were too precise for Squealer's usual chaos, but they served their purpose. And the bomb-rigged door in the back? Real, but old and now faulty. Still, it was enough to reinforce the image of Squealers lab. 

They entered slowly.

The light from Crystal's body gave me everything I needed. The way they hovered. The way Victoria led the way without hesitation.

She believed me. It was rather foolish on her end, this could’ve been a trap, but it worked out for me. 

I leaned back, breathing in the night air as best as I could with my mask. The cold helped slow the racing thoughts that ran a track around my mind. 

"Phase One complete," I murmured as the duo soon left the warehouse, returning to their previous vantage point.

In the end, Squealers lab really didn’t matter. The Merchant’s were a hodgepodge of small gangs that worked together when necessary. I would need them in the future, once my plans accelerated. 

What was important though? 

Victoria Dallon had picked up the phone. 

And she played her part wonderfully. 

A/N

Released in honor of Star Wars Celebration! I hope to be able to update again on May 4th.

Chapter Text

The first message arrived shortly after I got home and flopped onto my bed. Dad was deep asleep, so he didn’t notice me sneaking back in, even if it took me about ten minutes to open and close the door silently. I didn’t need him waking up to me just barely walking back in. 

‘You weren’t there like you promised .’ Was Victoria’s first message. Surprisingly, she didn’t use any emojis, slang, or chopped up words. I stared at my burner phone blankly. 

She’s angry I didn’t reveal myself as originally agreed upon. Technically, she wished for me to be there, which I completed without revealing myself. She still doesn’t trust me, but believes I am a Thinker now. 

‘I was there, you just didn’t see me .’ Was my response. I formed a small grin in the darkness of my room as she instantly read the message, despite how late it was by now. 

Victoria answered within a few seconds, acceptable margins. ‘ Prove it.’ 

I narrowed my eyes slightly. I couldn’t give away too much information, but just enough to prove that I was indeed present. 

‘I was across the street observing. You arrived with Laserdream with a bad case of bedhead. That means you called her as soon as our conversation was over. The entire neighborhood was lit up, I’m surprised the Merchants didn’t catch on sooner.’ The message was instantly read. ‘ And most surprising of all, you didn’t destroy the place like many would assume you to do. Is Collateral Damage Barbie learning?’ 

‘ STFU!!!! ’ Was her next answer. Ah, her temper is starting to get the better of her. Dial the sarcasm back a notch. 

‘ I kept my promise, as we agreed upon .’ My eyes strained as they stared at the burner phone’s small screen in the dark. It took another minute before the next message arrived. 

She’s struggling to pick a question to ask, and how to word it. Victoria’s likely alone, though her sister or cousin could be present to give her advice. If Brandish was present, she would likely demand a phone call. 

‘What do you want from me?’ 

That’s what I was looking for. I felt the corners of my thin lips curve upwards as my thumbs started to move, forming the next message. 

‘ I wish to form a partnership.’ Simple and straight to the point. I needed to build up my reputation online before I could get unpowered manpower, pun intended. Getting Glory Girl to do my bidding, with some operations, would be able to speed up my timetable, especially if she mentions that she has a source. 

‘Y’

Victoria is at her wits end in writing complete sentences this late at night, or she wishes to communicate faster. 

I sighed as I started to type once more. ‘ I wish to see the gangs eliminated from Brockton Bay.’ 

‘ R u sure ur not TT.’ Victoria started bastardizing sentences. There aren’t many Thinkers in Brockton Bay. Tattletale is the most famous of them in this area. 

‘ You have my word .’ I typed after a few seconds. 

‘ U lied to me abt being there! ’ But I just explained how that wasn’t a lie! I shot her letters a glare, and was about to type another response when another message came through. 

‘ Let’s meet in person.’ 

She wishes to see who I am. Tattletale is known for her annoying grin and blonde hair, though that could be a wig with how thin it is. Is meeting Victoria Dallon a risk? 

Yes, she could easily restrain me or set a trap, revealing my identity. I could be conscripted into the Wards if she informs the PRT. 

Hmmm, would such a risk be worth it? 

Yes . 

Victoria’s eyes were glued to her phone as she laid on her side in her room. Should she have done some late night exercise to work off all of the pizza she ate after coming back home? Maybe, but sometimes texting was more important than exercise, despite what Mom said. 

The PRT and Protectorate had arrived quicker than Vicky had expected, with Velocity being the first on the scene in case one of the Merchant capes had indeed been present. He promptly took her statement, mostly her lying about how she randomly stumbled upon Squealer’s lab, and sent her Mom, which was fine in Vicky’s books! She didn’t need to get chewed out by Mom this late at night. 

Especially if she found out Vicky was texting with a random Thinker. 

‘ Very well.’ 

“Yes!” Vicky sat straight up. She clutched the phone like it was some ancient artifact she’d just unlocked, half-expecting it to burst into confetti or fireworks. Her heart thudded with something she refused to call excitement, it was probably just the caffeine from the soda she drank earlier, or the adrenaline from finding a Tinkerlab. Definitely not excitement over some shady midnight text chain with a mystery Thinker girl.

Her thumbs hovered over the screen. What should she say now? Where should they meet? And when? She wanted to ask everything at once and nothing at all. Another part of her wanted to send back a flurry of emojis, just to see how Chimaera would react. The other part, her smarter, slightly more paranoid side, reminded her this was still dangerous. This wasn’t a game.

She tapped out a message. ‘ U got a time n place in mind or am I planning this 2? ’

The message was instantly read by Chimaera, who responded a minute later. 

‘ Tomorrow, by the southern ferry station. I will send you the time at daybreak.’

The Thinker sent a second message. 

‘ Come alone.’

Vicky bit her bottom lip as she quickly started typing. ‘ Hoe do I kno ur not srtting a trap?’ 

The typos were so annoying, especially when she typed fast. 

‘I am but a humble Thinker. How do I know you won’t manhandle me?’ 

Vicky grinned. ‘ Touche .’ 

‘We are in agreement then?’ Chimaera answered, her black and white text looking as if they would pop out of Vicky’s phone. 

‘ Dwal ’ 

Stupid typos. 

A/N

I’m not used to writing first-person POVs anymore.

Chapter Text

Victoria

The first time she checked her phone, it was 7:02, and the second time, 7:05. By the ninth check in half an hour, Victoria was tempted to hurl the device into the wall. She wasn’t obsessed.She was just invested. That was different!

Chimaera’s message had come in just as the sun crept over the rooftops.

16:35. Southern ferry station.

There were no abbreviations, no emojis, and no wasted words. The exactness grated at her, as well as the use of military time.  Who even picked a meeting time that wasn’t on the hour or half hour? People who planned things down to the minute, that’s who. People who thought in neat, clockwork movements, like Thinkers.

Victoria lay sprawled on her bed, staring up at the ceiling fan. She should have been in the air, knocking out a patrol or burning off the restless energy twisting in her stomach. Instead, she was stuck here, replaying the conversation in her head and trying to guess what a ‘partnership’ with someone like Chimaera would actually look like.

On paper, they supposedly wanted the same thing, the gangs gone from Brockton Bay. That should have been easy, but Chimaera sounded like a pulp novel villain, and Victoria couldn’t decide if that made her more wary or more curious. Thinkers were always dangerous, playing mind games. 

Telling her Mom was out of the question. Amy would just give her the look, the one that meant, you’re about to do something stupid, and I’m going to have to clean up after you. Crystal? She’d either insist on tagging along or turn it into an ongoing joke until the end of time.

No, this was something Victoria had to handle herself. She tried to distract herself with training. Push-ups, a quick loop around the block, and a few solid hits on the heavy bag in the basement. Nothing stuck. Every time she paused to breathe, her mind slid right back to the meeting, what Chimaera might look like, sound like, act like. Whether she’d even show up. 

By late morning, Victoria had given up on pretending not to care. She sat on the edge of her bed, scrolling through their entire chat. Picking apart Chimaera’s phrasing, the little barbed comments buried between flat statements, Collateral Damage Barbie, humble Thinker. The confidence was obvious, the arrogance too, and, annoyingly, Victoria couldn’t pretend she didn’t find it intriguing.

Around noon, she pulled up the ferry station on her phone and memorized the layout from the street view, the benches, the ticket booths, the open plaza. Her mind automatically traced approach vectors, escape routes, blind spots. If Chimaera wanted her to come alone, fine, but Victoria had no intention of walking in blind. She had to be smart if she was going to deal with a Thinker. 

By one o’clock, she was dressed in an old ratty hoodie with her hair tied back, and sunglasses in her pocket. Not a real disguise, but enough to keep her from standing out if she wanted to scout the place ahead of time. Going as Victoria Dallon or Glory Girl would attract too much attention. 

If Chimaera was already watching her, if she really was as good as she claimed, then maybe Victoria could catch her in the act. 

And if that happened she’d know exactly what kind of Thinker she was dealing with.

The southern ferry station always smelled faintly of diesel fuel and river muck, no matter the season. Even in the middle of the day, with the sun glinting off the sluggish water, it still had that undercurrent of damp decay that clung to the back of the throat.

Victoria stood just outside the main entrance, her hood drawn low, and watching the flow of foot traffic. Commuters shuffled past, office workers on lunch breaks, a couple of tourists with cheap cameras, and the occasional dockhand hauling crates toward the service pier. She let her gaze wander, slow and lazy, the way it did when she was killing time, except she was counting.

Every face, every movement, every possible angle someone could be watching from.

The benches out front were half full, most people hunched over phones. A man in a ballcap sat with his head down with his earbuds in. A woman in a puffy coat fed breadcrumbs to the pigeons. There was a vendor cart by the street selling pretzels, the guy running it leaning on the counter with the kind of casual boredom that was almost suspicious.

Almost. Any of these people could be Chimaera, though Vicky was personally placing bets on Pigeon Lady. 

Victoria crossed the plaza in a slow arc, pretending to check her own phone as she moved. The wind off the river tugged at the edge of her hood. Every few steps she glanced toward the upper windows of the station, a good vantage points if you wanted to watch without being seen. None of them were obviously occupied, but that didn’t mean much.

She stopped near the ticket booth, leaning one shoulder against the wall. From here, she could see both the front entrance and most of the plaza.

Still nothing and she’d been here ten minutes. Still no sign of anyone matching whatever vague image she’d built in her head of Chimaera. No blonde grin like Tattletale, and no obvious supervillain cape. Just ordinary people doing ordinary things, which made it worse. If Chimaera was already here, she was blending in perfectly.

Victoria hated that thought. A ferry horn blared from somewhere upriver. The crowd shifted, a fresh wave of people heading toward the dock. Victoria scanned them automatically, her instincts tugging at her like a warning bell.

Someone was watching her. She could feel it, like the prickling awareness you get when a camera lens is trained on your back. It wasn’t just paranoia, she was used to that feeling whenever she went about town. 

Her hand twitched toward her hood, ready to pull it back and take off skyward, just to get a better look from above, but she stopped herself. Not yet, Vicky still had plenty of time. If this was a trap, she wanted to see it play out first, and if it wasn’t, well, she’d know soon enough.

The plan was to wait until 4:35, Vicky refuses to use military time, but as she stood there, eyes sweeping the plaza for the hundredth time, she realized something important, Chimaera didn’t need to wait for the agreed time. She could be testing her right now.

And that thought made Victoria’s pulse quicken, just enough to make her clench her fists inside her hoodie pocket.

Waiting sucks ass. 

A seagull screeched somewhere overhead, the sound cutting across the low murmur of the plaza. The smell of river water and street food hung heavy in the air. Victoria shifted her weight, pretending to check her phone again, but her eyes never stopped moving.

The feeling of being watched hadn’t gone away. If anything, it was sharper now, like a pressure on the back of her neck.

A man in a long gray coat walked past, glancing her way just long enough to register before looking elsewhere. He was harmless. A teenage girl with earbuds zipped by on a scooter. Also harmless unless she rode over someones foot.

Then, from the corner of her vision, Victoria caught movement, something subtle, deliberate. A woman in plain jeans and a dark sweater had appeared from the side street by the pretzel cart. She didn’t look at Victoria, nor did she break her  stride. The lady moved like she knew exactly where she was going.

Vicky kept her hood low, tracking her with the faintest tilt of her head. The woman didn’t stop at the pretzel cart. Instead, she walked past it and, without turning around, let something small and folded slip from her hand onto the bench near the pigeons.

Victoria’s brows knit. Was she just littering? The woman kept going, and vanished into the trickle of pedestrians heading toward the ferry dock.

Vicky pushed off from the wall, crossing the plaza with a measured pace. The pretzel vendor barely looked up and the woman feeding the pigeons tossed another handful of crumbs.

The folded paper sat on the bench like it had been there all along. Victoria picked it up, unfolding it with her back turned to the main crowd.

Four words, handwritten in neat, even strokes:

Walk west. Pier Three .

No signature and no symbol, just the bare instruction.

Victoria’s pulse kicked. She crumpled the note loosely in her fist and shoved it into her pocket, scanning the plaza one more time. Still no sign of the Thinker..

She started walking west, toward the older side of the waterfront. The pavement here was cracked and salt-stained. Plus the smell of oil and fish grew stronger and stronger. 

Pier Three jutted out from the shore like a skeletal finger, half its boards warped from years of weather. Few people came this way unless they had a reason. Which meant whatever happened next was going to happen out of sight.

The thought made her jaw tighten, but Vicky kept going anyway. What was Chimaera going to do? 

She was freaking goddamn Glory Girl. 

A/N

Debating whether I should officialy make this a Taylor/Vicky fic.

Chapter Text

Victoria

The wooden planks groaned under her boots as Victoria stepped onto Pier Three. The water below slapped lazily against the supports, green-black and smelling faintly of diesel. She kept her pace steady, her eyes on the horizon like she was just another person here to clear her head.

No one else was on the pier, no at first glance at least. Halfway down, she noticed a shape leaning casually against the railing, tall, still, the dark outline broken only by the faint white gleam of a mask. Victoria got a better look the closer zbe got. 

The mask’s smooth, two-tone design caught the light in a way that made it look sharper than it was, like it might cut her if she stared too long. It depicted a strange creature with two long dragon-like heads. 

Chimaera .

Victoria slowed, letting her arms hang loose at her sides. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck prickling, the part of her brain that lived for fights coiled tight and ready.

“You’re earlier than I expected.” The masked woman said, her voice low but carrying easily in the still air. She had a weird accent, one that Vicky could make out what kind. 

“You already knew I was here.” Victoria replied, stopping a few feet away. Chimaera seemed to be about her height, with a cheap pink wig poking out from beneath her hoodie and dark sunglasses hiding her eyes, though Vicky could see a bit of a red glow. 

“I did.” Chimaera confirmed. “You were probably waiting for my message all morning, and decided to scout ahead of time for any possible traps.” 

Vicky’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink for only the briefest of seconds. They stood there for a moment, just watching each other.

Up close, Chimaera was hard to read. Her clothes were plain, nondescript, jeans, black hoodie with the hood up, and black gloves. No obvious weapons, and no obvious tells. The mask covered the entirety of her lower face, its expression fixed somewhere between calm and unreadable.

“You wanted a partnership.” Victoria said finally, crossing her arms over her chest “This is where you explain why I shouldn’t just grab you, fly you to the PRT building, and be done with this.”

Chimaera tilted her head slightly, studying her like an interesting insect. “Because you’ve already decided you won’t.”

Victoria’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know me that well.”

“I know you well enough.” Chimaera said, her voice cool and measured. “You’re here alone. That wasn’t because you trusted me, it’s because you wanted to see if I’m worth trusting before you try to convince your family you are not insane.” 

Victoria didn’t answer right away, she hated that the words landed and pierced her defenses. She balled her hands into fist. 

Chimaera stepped closer, not too close of course, but enough that Victoria caught the faintest whiff of something metallic, like the tang of old coins that sat in a water fountain. 

“My offer is simple.” The Thinker continued. “We work together, we target the gangs systematically, and we make them bleed until they can’t crawl back.”

“‘Systematically.’” Victoria repeated, it reminded her of history class. “You make it sound like a business plan.”

“It is.” Chimaera said. “The difference is, our profit is a city worth living in.”

For a beat, neither moved. The only sound was the slow lap of the water against the pier supports.

Victoria’s instinct screamed at her to push, to test, to see what would happen if she went on the offensive, but another part of her, quieter and sharper, told her to listen.

“…Okay.” She said finally, her tone cautious but not dismissive. “Talk, but if you try anything-”

“I won’t,” Chimaera said, and though the mask didn’t change, Victoria could almost feel the faintest hint of a smile behind it. She motioned for Vicky to walk beside her. 

They began walking, slow and unhurried, as if they were two strangers killing time. The boards creaked with each step, their sound swallowed by the open water.

“The first target is the Merchants.” Chimaera said without preamble. “They’re the easiest to break, least likely to rally once their core is gone. They’re more a coalition of smaller gangs and drug deals than a unified force. Once Squealer and Skidmark have been neutralized, the rest should fall in line, provided we ensure another cape doesn't take their place “ 

Victoria kept her eyes on the horizon, the air smelling faintly of salt and diesel. The seagulls had gone quiet, which felt wrong. The city’s edge was never this still. Every instinct told her she should be in the air, moving, not walking next to someone who probably had five contingency plans for killing her before they’d even shaken hands.

“And you know all this because…?” Bucky asked finally, keeping her tone flat.

“I make it my business to know, humble Thinker remember." Chimaera said, her voice steady and low. “The Merchants have been bleeding out for months, territory squabbles, product shortages, and more than one of their lieutenants quietly flipping to other gangs. Skidmark’s got them running in circles, Squealer’s been grounded. They’re stagnant and brittle.”

Victoria slowed her pace half a step. “And your idea of ‘finishing them’ is?”

Chimaera’s sunglasses turned toward her just enough for the faint glow beneath to flare. “Two prongs. First, we cripple their supply. Second, we dismantle their transport chain. That’s the spine of their operation. Break it, and they collapse into nothing but strung-out addicts with no leadership.”

“You talk like you’ve already got the blueprints drawn up.” Vicky scoffed. 

“I do.” Chimaera said simply. “Their main stash is in a rowhouse on Kinnerton, second floor, hidden behind a false wall. I know the guard rotations, the hours they get sloppy, the runners who’ve been skimming off the top.”

“But you want me as the front.” Victoria cut in.

“As the deterrent should a Cape arrive.” Chimaera corrected, though her tone stayed even. “You’re the obvious cape to use. The one they’ll focus on while I work where they can’t see. You do what you do best, make noise and keep the spotlight on yourself. I’ll make sure they’re blind to what matters.”

Victoria crossed her arms, her shoulders tensing under the weight of the ask. “And what if you vanish after I’m left holding the bag?”

“If I wanted to vanish, we wouldn’t be speaking,” Chimaera said, almost idly. “I’d have sent you the stash location from a burner phone, watched you run in blind, and collected the fallout from a safe distance.”

She wasn’t wrong. Victoria hated that she wasn’t wrong.

They walked on, their footsteps hollow on the boards, the bay water sucking gently at the supports below. The city skyline behind them looked jagged and uneven in the dusk haze, like teeth.

“And after the Merchants?” Victoria asked.

“We keep going.” Chimaera said. “Empire, ABB, the rest of the parasites in this city. You’ll have the muscle and the reach. I’ll have the intel and the planning. We don’t stop until Brockton Bay is… tolerable.”

“That’s a hell of a fantasy.” Victoria sighed wishfully. Brockton Bay has been a hellhole long before she was even born. 

“It’s only a fantasy if no one tries.” Chimaera said, turning her head just enough for the dragon-heads on her mask to glint in the fading light.

Victoria’s instincts were still screaming at her to push, to provoke, to test her, but there was another pull there, quieter, more dangerous. This woman was offering her something Mom and the PRT never did, a plan without red tape, without media spin, without half-measures. It was dangerous and reckless, but it was also tempting.

“You’ll have to convince me.” Victoria smirked. 

“That’s why I chose the Merchants,” Chimaera said. “One job. Minimal risk for you, big payoff for both of us. If it works, we talk about the next. If it fails, you walk away, and I’m gone.” Likely to recruit someone else. 

Victoria studied her in silence, trying to read the woman behind the mask and coming up empty. That was maybe the most unsettling part, she couldn’t get a solid feel on her. She didn’t sense any fear nor overconfidence, just control. Vicky didn’t even have to use her Aura. 

“One job.” Victoria said at last. Hopefully she wouldn’t regret this. 

The masked head tilted in a small nod. “One job.”

They reached the end of the pier. The water stretched out in a dark sheet, the waves catching what little light was left. Chimaera leaned her forearms on the railing, looking down into it like she could read the currents. Victoria stayed standing, arms still crossed, a physical reminder to herself that this wasn’t trust, yet.

“We’ll move at night.” Chimaera said without looking at her. “Two days from now. I’ll send the final coordinates through the same channel. Bring someone you trust, but no more than one. The less attention, the better.” 

“That’s not how I usually do things.” Victoria started to protest though she knew the Thinker was right deep inside. 

“It’s how we’re going to do this.” Chimaera replied, calm as ever. 

Victoria

 opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She hated it, but the way Chimaera spoke left no footholds to get a grip on. And, dammit, she knew this woman was right about the numbers. A small team with tight focus and no PRT involvement would get things done faster, it was an insane idea.

But it was also exactly the kind of fight she wanted.

“Fine.” 

A/N

Yall didnt expect this update so soon huh?