A Mile in Your Shoes

Summary: With great power come great drawbacks.

Pity.

Guilt.

Pain.

Anger.

Disgust filled her, her stomach did flips and for an instant, she felt like she was floating, before it all came crashing down. She curled up on her bed, covering her head with a pillow and crying, wishing, hoping, that anything would just make it stop, that they would all just shut up and mind their own business. For a brief moment she wished that they would all just DIE-

She blinked and sighed.

The worst episodes were the shortest. Discomfort as the murmurs bothered her for an hour or two was the most common state she found herself in.

Pity in large amounts distracted her from wallowing in her own misery. A nurse. It really was surprising how much every movement the woman made was practiced. An older woman, had been a nurse for decades, had worked on worse cases than hers.

No amount of practice could account for her heel giving out as she accidentally caught it on an upraised tile. Her shoes were sensible but very old and worn, and the slightly harder heel was glued onto the sole. It tore off with surprising ease. The nurse would fall, and based on her angle, hit her head with the bedframe. Crack her head open. She would be dead in minutes, long before anyone could save her.

Feeling like someone was punching her from within, Taylor unleashed the weight of the presence she had been feeling, and with a burst of strength that left her feeling horribly drained, she forced the tile into place.

It left her feeling nauseous, but the nurse stepped firmly and without issue. She wouldn't even know anything happened. The woman offered Taylor a kind, worn smile. "How are you doing, honey? Not too bored, I hope!"

Taylor returned her smile. Even if she felt like absolute shit right now... it was worth it.

Pity. Anger. Despair.

"What's wrong, Taylor?"

Pity. Anger. Despair.

"Are you gonna run back to mommy? Oh!"

Pity. Anger. Despair. Mirth. Amusement. Joy. Defeat.

"Just like when you cried yourself to sleep for a week when your mommy died!"

Anger. Anger. Anger. Anger. Despair. Defeat.

"Aren't you gonna say anything, Tay-Tay? Cat got your tongue? Oh, silly me, not even a street cat would-"

"I'm glad you miss her too Emma."

Shock. Anger.

"She'd be really disappointed."

Shock. Anger. Fury.

"Why you little-"

Taylor walked away. She was surprised to find nobody even tried to stop her. Then again, she mused as her mind was assaulted with words, feelings, images, sounds - they never would have.

After all, the primary thing she felt... beyond everything else...

Fear.

"There's something different about you."

Taylor closed the door to her locker. Hess was leaning against the wall. Taylor showered after everyone else, unwilling to deal with their taunts before, unwilling to deal with bicurious teenagers and their overcharged hormonal imbalances now. Sophia's mind was jumbled, dark, deep... much swirled in her. She spoke of fear, she spoke of hatred, she spoke of anger. She spoke of pride and of despair.

Loneliness.

Sophia growled and attacked her, wielding crossbows, Sophia tearfully apologized, Sophia died pushing a familiar redhead away from a shining column of light, Sophia shoved a broadhead bolt through the back of a mousy looking woman's head-

Taylor shook her head.

"Right there... You saw something, didn't you?" Sophia asked. "I knew it... you knew exactly what to say and do. For these past few days Emma's been unable to get a word in edgewise and I haven't been able to find you alone even once. There's... you're a parahuman."

Sophia reported to her masters. Sophia kept quiet. Sophia had the information tortured out of her. Sophia spoke to a grinning blonde. Sophia slapped a smug redhead.

"A precog, aren't you?" Sophia said. "Not good enough to see this conversation coming huh."

Sophia's eyes narrowed as she glared at Taylor.

Her mouth opened-

Taylor's arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms into place. "I'm glad you found a friend in Emma, and I hope you two are happy together."

"The fuck-"

Squeezing a bit tighter, Taylor got close to Sophia's ear. "She's a bit fragile, look after her, ok?"

When she pulled back, Taylor offered her a beatific, although slightly strained, smile, and Sophia took a step back.

"I would really like it if you could... not do that?"

Graham Norris, no relation to the TV and movie star, was not a very nice man. He was in fact, a very not nice man. He considered himself a hardcore badass. Sure he had a bit of a beer gut but he spent plenty of time in the gym and it showed. His muscles were big, bigger than most, and he was very tall. With his big beard and shaved head, he cut an imposing, terrifying figure for most people in the city.

The tattoos were almost an after thought, though he still wore a sleeveless muscle shirt to show them off, along the body he was proud of.

"Shaddup ya stupid cunt, this ain't none of your business, walk away!" he barked at the-

He turned around and noticed that the girl talking to him was... a thin, though tall, teenager. She wore what appeared to be a crudely fashioned black cloak, and a simple black bandana, balaclava and sunglasses combo. The blue jeans that poked from below the cloak and the sneakers on her feet clashed with the rest of the image.

But still...

"Y'think playing at bein' a cape's smart in dis city girl," he growled, "Fuck off!"

She took a step in his direction, and he let the woman in his hands fall to the floor. She was entirely too scared to walk away.

He decided if she wanted to play at being a cape, he'd treat her as such, and so he threw the first punch, but he was half drunk and his swing was inexpert. He wasn't a trained fighter in the first place and had needed instruction to learn how to form a proper fist. She tilted her body slightly to the right, and his cross went sailing past her.

"What the-"

He grunted and drew back, throwing another punch, telegraphed and obvious, a right hook this time, sloppy, as if he was trying to use his own arm as a club.

She leaned back, this time, and his punch didn't connect.

As he drew back to try another punch she hit him with her palm, right on his nose, knocking him on his ass with a broken nose.

He tried to curse but couldn't breathe properly and choked on the blood and phlegm that suddenly filled his mouth.

The last thing he knew was when her hand landed on his shoulder.

It was... an interesting experience, Taylor mused.

She walked into the alley and saw Graham Norris shaking a woman on an alley. She was a prostitute. A black prostitute, being manhandled and brutalized by a member of the Empire.

Taylor straightened and followed the script as best as she could.

Anger. Hate. Lust.

"They're criminals!" the blonde insisted.

Pride. Arrogance. Anger.

"They deserved this and so much more!" she added, stomping her foot hard enough to leave an imprint.

Admiration. Anger. Hate. Lust. Arrogance. Disdain.

"Vicky, you don't need to-"

"Look, Ames, I don't care if it's a new hero, I-"

Taylor cast her eyes down. "It's not right," she said, softly.

"Buwha?" the blonde blinked. 'Vicky' continued. "What are you talking about?"

"It's not right," Taylor said, a bit more firmly. "What does hurting them achieve?"

"They get to suffer a little for all the bad they do, it's tit for tat, quid pro quo or whatever," Vicky... Glory Girl, said, tone brooking no argument, as if it was a basic and truthful fact of the universe.

"Two wrongs don't make a right," Taylor said, shaking her head. "An eye for an eye makes the world go blind," she said. "Leave them broken, beaten, battered, and you breed resentment, anger. You are achieving nothing but breeding hate."

She snorted, an unladylike sound erupting from deep within, as if she was having the most authentic funny moment she'd had in a very long time. "Please spare me the Saturday Morning spiel ok," she said. "I've had enough people try to tell me about how I should be the better person, how I should be the one who has restraint in the face of evil or whatever," she said, rolling her eyes. "But this is the real world, girl, the bad guys aren't just going to go away forever once they're put behind bars. They'll be out by tonight, and they'll be back to doing more of the same. This? This is making a difference. So maybe I can't stop every criminal in the city, but these shits? They're definitely gonna think twice before randomly attacking someone in the streets again just because they have a different skin color."

Taylor sighed. "You're wrong, you know."

Glory Girl snorted again. "How? Tell me how I'm wrong, miss Newbie Hero."

"Fear has never worked," Taylor said, simply. "There's three types of criminals. The passionate, the stupid and the professional," she explained. "These three? They are professional criminals. They make a living out of this. They are thugs for a living. You think they didn't know they could find themselves on the other side of your fist one day?" Taylor challenged.

The blonde seemed intrigued.

"The passionate commit crimes in the heat of the moment, they lose control of themselves. They're not afraid of the consequences of their actions, when they do them, they aren't thinking straight in the first place," Taylor explained. "The stupid commit crimes because they are too dumb to think about the consequences of their actions. Fear will never deter them because they're either stupid enough to think they'll get away with it or not intelligent enough to consider the consequences of their actions."

She gestured to the three on the ground. "Like I said, you can't scare these people and make them cower into their homes, never to darken Brockton Bay again. Whether it be because they're desperate for the money or are simply angry misanthropes, all you'll achieve is give them more people to hate."

"Then what do you propose we do? They'll be out by tomorrow if I just drop them off for the police to find them, even if a witness presses charges."

Taylor closed her eyes. "I see your point, and I wouldn't pretend I know how we could fix it. But I know how we can make a difference. Stay your hand tonight. Subdue them. Capture them. Ziptie them in an unusual and funny position to embarrass them. But..."

Taylor looked at the woman who was being comforted by Glory Girl's sister while the heroine debated her.

"Tonight... let's not give them the honor, the reward, of being the center of your attention. How about tonight we make it all about the victim instead? Let's make a difference tonight by protecting what they attempted to break, instead of breaking them in return."

Glory Girl smiled. "You know... you got a point. I got so focused on these bozos that I kinda forgot all about the victim... You're a cool gal. Uh... You got a name for me?"

Taylor seemed pensive. Then she smiled. "Just call me Walker."

I don't know how clear this one is, but... if you need the explanation, here it goes:

Taylor getting Simurgh-y powers is not uncommon. Telekinesis is hella cool after all.

I decided to try to make it a bit more fun tho. So Taylor is basically the "Cauldron Knockoff" version of the Simurgh. She gets the telekinesis, the ability to read minds and the pre and post cognition. She even gets to keep current time cognition as well! All of them with downsides, naturally, which I think I portrayed somewhat. No control over her visions of the future, telekinesis difficult to use and mind-reading turned on 24/7 so she's constantly getting blasted with everyone's feelings all the time.

Anyway, this is just the beginning of the story, and it would involve stuff like Sophia developing from her stock bully persona while she tries to deal with the perceived threat towards Emma that Taylor represents.

(For the record, endgame plan for this one would be to have Taylor murder Eidolon and then the suddenly purposeless Endbringers would be weaponized to kill Scion, with what amounts to a last ditch effort between Contessa and the Simurgh using every other Endbringer as a meatshield while they hit Scion with the Sting)