Chapter Text
Taylor numbly tried to make sense of things as she examined the thing in the hospital window, a numb, pervading sense of disbelieving shock turning her brain to soup.
Bland, mushy, tasteless soup, with only insinuations of something solid in the murk.
What the hell happened? It was all so foggy.
She got… shoved to the ground, then tied up in the mud, out back of Winslow. With her own jacket?
Then…
Ah. A bucket of rotten, fermented pig guts got dumped on her face, with all the… juices that entailed.
Where the hell did Sophia even get that…
Oh, and the people. The trio brought some of their flunkies together to laugh at her.
The laughter , the bone-deep scrape of humiliation, the memory of it, burned into her mind with such vile ferocity that her vision wavered and swam.
She couldn’t remember, ever in her life, so fervently wishing that she could disappear, escape, from anything and anyone.
Pushing the thoughts away, she tried to focus again.
Right, anyway. Then…?
Then she had slammed the back of her own head into the edge of the curb with such force that she threw up, trying to free herself.
Or maybe that was just the pig guts.
Regardless, right after that, she fell unconscious. There was a vague memory of some bizarre dream, but she couldn’t remember anything about it in particular.
The slime, iron in her mouth -
Alright.
No, actually, it wasn’t alright, but that’s what happened, she noted with only a mild note of mania, as she slowly moved her head to the left, and the reflection followed.
Haha. Ha.
Why wouldn’t it stop following her movements?
Stop. Stop, -!
The thing in the window was mimicking her. Iridescent, pitch black scales twisted as she moved.
It was pissing her off.
It mimicked her too well. Its haunting green eyes, split horizontally by a lighter shade of green turning into a darker shade, then split again vertically by a twitching, slitted pupil, refused to stray from her own gaze.
Its eyes almost looked like a crosshair, if she unfocused her gaze a little. Was that normal?
… Blinking felt weird. Why was... Was she concussed? She couldn't blink.
She tried to extend an arm to yank the curtain closed. Nothing happened.
She…
She could smell too much. It was hard to focus.
The entire building smelled like sickness, disinfectant, and birthday cake.
She could also hear too much.
Like the PRT agents outside the door, gossiping about… something to do with a Ward. And a new parahuman.
…
Wait a second…
The pitch black snake in the reflection paused. Its eyes widened, fractionally, as much as they could. The other clue was its slit pupils thinning into a razor-sharp line and its jaw dropping open at the same time as she did the same, staring with horror- into…
Her own eyes?
Oh.
She was the new parahuman.
She had powers.
That was…
Good? Maybe?
Oh. Oh!
Fuck, so she wasn’t going crazy! Goddamn it! Why the hell did she turn into a snake?! How was that in any way useful?!
The following thirty seconds were a frenzy of her whipping around the empty hospital bed, her new body moving with a disturbingly familiar grace and movements she’d never done before, her belly undulating and body bracing against anything with a grip to zip her around the bed’s edges as she looked around in a blind panic, wondering what the hell to do.
The room was empty, her gown was empty in the bed, and she was still a snake. She couldn’t even talk.
What would come next?
They mentioned a Ward. She didn’t want to be a Ward. She didn’t want to go back to Winslow. She didn’t even want to go home.
Her dad would be so goddamn worried in that annoying way where he would pester and push her to share her humiliation with him, while simultaneously trying to walk on eggshells around her and not leaving it the fuck alone while also being powerless to actually fix anything, making the whole thing completely pointless in the end, forcing her to relive it and share it just to satisfy some dumb paternal instinct in his head that had to know.
It wasn’t his fault, and she couldn’t be too mad at him, yes, but it was still infuriating.
“We should let Panacea see the girl first. It would be borderline unethical to attempt a pitch to the Wards while she is still under duress and unsure of her environment. We don’t even know her name yet, it’s been an hour.” A masculine voice rumbled lowly, just outside the door, and she strained her ears to hear more.
Shit, she certainly wasn’t meeting any heroes like this! She couldn’t even talk!
Naturally, she freaked out, and stretched herself over to the window, clumsily rubbing her belly all over it to try and gain an anchor point of friction while her tail flailed around until it wrapped around the window handle.
Then with strength that shocked her, she twisted the handle and slid the window open until it slammed open the wall with a giant thud.
She leaned forwards, ready to leap to freedo…
That was a long way down.
Right. Brockton General was eight stories tall. And of course, they put her on the top floor.
While the idea of splatting on the pavement like a long pancake right in front of the main entrance and imagining people’s reactions to it was kinda funny for some reason, she still wanted to live. Maybe. Mostly.
Escape plan ditched, she whirled around, debating the merits of pretending to be a stuffed toy and hoping they fell for it.
Or pretending she jumped out the window, then hiding in the room until she could slip away? Oooh, good plan. They already knew she was a parahuman, it’s not like they’d assume she was dead or anything, just a runaway.
She quickly wrapped the tip of her tail around the empty hospital gown, then wriggled around until it was hanging out of the window.
Then she let go, and wondered what to do now that she staged her own… escape?
‘Stuffed toy’ plan was p-
The door unlocked and began to swing open so quickly that she froze in panic.
Then something in her seemed to respond to the familiar, overwhelming desire to hide, and a strange sense of separation enveloped her as she stood there like a dumb fucking idiot, her snake body splayed out half over the bed and half over and out of the window, her head raised about two feet up like a periscope to dumbly stare at the heroes as they swung the door open.
For a moment, silence reigned as Panacea walked in, closed the door behind her, and paused, staring slightly to the left of her.
Then she stared at the open window, brows furrowing.
“... Wait, why the fuck did I come in here?” Panacea mumbled, scratching her head, confused.
Huh?
Before she could wonder about why Panacea seemed to give no fucks about the four foot long, wrist-thick -assuming it was a rather skinny wrist- snake on an empty hospital bed, the superheroine shrugged, turned to lock the door, then in four short, aggressive strides, walked over to the bed.
Before Taylor could have her heart attack in peace, the healer mutely turned, and sat on the bed.
Taylor shifted her midsection out of the way so the healer wouldn’t squish her, staring dumbly up at the cape as the teen stared out of the window, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from her robes with no regard for her.
What on earth was happening…?
“Dipshits can’t even get a room number right…” Panacea grumbled.
… That was not what she expected Panacea to say about fellow heroes. Huh.
Was… did Panacea not see her, somehow? She hadn't even glanced at her.
Despite the trembling fear, she managed to slowly raise her tail, and put it in front of the healer’s face as she lit her cigarette.
Like, directly in front of her eyes.
Then she wiggled it around like worm bait.
Part of her expected Panacea to bite her tail, for some reason. Was that weird?
That was weird.
Panacea casually went to push it aside with her hand, but Taylor was fast enough to jerk her tail away, certain that now, the healer would turn and… and uhm… and, do something?
… Wait, why was she hiding, again? What next? She had no plan here. She just knew she didn’t wanna go back to her normal life. Not right now. Also, snakes were scary. She’d freak everyone the fuck out if they saw her.
Regardless of her flailing panic, nothing happened. Panacea just sucked in some of her cancer stick and stared out the window.
God, cigarette smell was atrocious, with her new sense of smell.
So Panacea… could see her? Or no? Maybe she just didn't care?
This was so confusing.
Panacea casually leaned back and extended a hand to either side of her to support herself.
Unfortunately, that meant her pinkie brushed up against Taylor’s side before she could move.
Taylor did the natural thing, and sat perfectly still, hoping that the healer didn’t notice, again.
Her hopes were dashed when Panacea’s head jerked to the right so fast that her cigarette flicked out of her mouth and flew off somewhere to their left, her gaze lowering to meet hers.
For a moment, they both stared at each other, wide-eyed, probably equally terrified of each other, maybe.
Then Taylor made a run for it, turning and tensing up to try and jump for freedom, readying herself for a dizzying charge, a daring escape from the clutches of- the government, or something, a prison escape where she’d heroically run the hell away.
Instead she made it about half a foot before a surprisingly strong hand clamped down around the very upper part of her neck, squishing her cheeks forward as her muscles all decided to go completely limp.
She might have made a sound vaguely like a balloon suddenly deflating, but she couldn’t be sure.
Her panicking confusion was interrupted by said hero straightening back up from where she’d half- vaulted off the bed to grab her, then shifting to sit cross legged as she brought her forward, face to face.
She felt like a wet towel, being all limp while being dragged around by her neck.
So rude.
Her neck fit strangely well into Panacea’s hand. It actually felt kinda nice.
That was a weird thought. Shut up, brain.
Panacea stared at her, completely befuddled, her entire expression a canvas of sputtering disbelief.
“... What the fuck are you?” Panacea managed, after a few seconds, her tone full of almost offended bafflement.
A slinky, what do you think?!
Unfortunately, her genius sarcasm was unheard and unappreciated.
She couldn’t glare because she couldn't blink, but the slight few muscles above her eyes managed a slight, tiny narrowing.
Panacea rubbed at her temples, staring at her like a… a… something confusing. Sue her, she couldn’t think, she was panicking! Why couldn’t she move?!
“How did I not…” Panacea started, glancing back and forth from her, to the window, then back to her. “How the hell’d you climb up here?” The girl whispered to herself, clearly not expecting a reply.
Wait, climb?
Oh. Uh… That was good, probably. Would probably ensure that Panacea didn’t connect the dots quite yet. Because this was goddamn embarrassing.
Unfortunately, that’s about where Panacea stopped speaking out loud, because nobody normal talks to a fucking reptile. Probably.
Which meant she had no idea what the healer was thinking as the seconds ticked by.
After a few more seconds, the healer decided to gather the rest of her up on her lap as she sat cross-legged in her new position, bundling her limp body into the bowl of her legs. The grip on her neck shifted.
A minute passed like this. Two.
Slowly, she relaxed.
Only then did Panacea let go of her neck, and slowly, she turned to side-eye the healer, confused on what to do as she rested on her lap.
Chiefly, she wanted to run.
Tempting as it was to run away from home or something, she’d probably rather be with her dad than with a complete goddamn stranger.
Even if she was in good hands. I mean, Panacea was Panacea. A hero, a good person, erm, probably, one that was her own age, and was most importantly, not a Ward. Fuck high school bullshit. Never again.
Panacea sighed, just as her vision was unfocusing and sleepiness was starting to overtake her, waking her up.
“Goddamn it, I don’t even want a pet… Whatever the fuck you are. I gotta read up on reptiles now.” Panacea mumbled.
Any relaxation she had vanished as she jerked awake, raising her head and rearing back in offence.
Panacea leaned her head back, eyes squinted in caution.
“If you bite me I’m selling you to a zoo.” The healer mumbled warningly.
… She took it back, Panacea was cruel.
As the healer gathered her up in her arms and got up from the bed, she just kind of gave up, because what the hell else was she supposed to do?
As they neared the door, she pulled in the… weird field around her, inside her. Or, closer, to her? Or just- dimmed its effectiveness?
Panacea would probably notice if nobody asked about the thick, jet black snake in her arms as she went… wherever.
She was getting increasingly nervous.
“Weirdly tame, aren’t you?” Panacea asked her, obviously not expecting a response as she took the stairs up to the roof. “Probably an escaped pet. Exotic, pretty. Your owner probably was rich as hell. Exotics are rich people shit. Medhall CEO? Not too far from here.” The healer hummed to herself, speculating.
Panacea thought she was pretty? Or at least the snake body was. That was... huh.
An employee passed them, but aside from a quick, dismissive glance at her, he didn’t seem to care, to her surprise.
For once, she liked her power. Or this aspect of it, at least. A dial was much more useful than a switch.
The roof opened, and she largely just went with the flow, because what the hell else was she supposed to do?
She didn’t even know where this hospital was. Getting home from here would be impossible even if she escaped. She’d probably get run over by a car or used as a lasso by a junkie on the way there.
Panacea called someone, asking for a pickup.
Ten minutes later, as Taylor had finished coiling herself into a tight, comfy bun in the healer’s arms, enjoying the mid-day view of the Bay from up here, a white-gold streak shot at them, then stopped instantly on a dime, floating over the railing with a concerned expression.
“Ames, what’s up?”
Her first thought was how Glory Girl was… erm… wow. Uh… whoa.
Wait, Ames? She remembered the last name for New Wave, Dallon. Ames Dallon? Amy Dallon!
Pleased to remember Panacea’s actual name, she almost missed the incredulous glance that Amy shot her as she raised her to Glory Girl like an offering, a wordless ‘whaddya think is up?’
Glory Girl stared at her, unconcerned, and Taylor panicked, pulling her power in until it was barely active.
Slowly, the blonde’s eyes widened, blinking.
“I- oh. Sorry, I guess I was- tired? Uh. Why do you have a snake?” Glory Girl asked, floating a half foot back as intrigue crossed her face.
“This is Coil. I have decided to make him my minion and become a supervillain.” Amy deadpanned.
Glory Girl snorted out a startled laugh, swaying in the air. Amy snickered a bit.
“Okay, but, seriously. Uh. I just- found her wandering around the hospital. Pretty sure it’s an escaped pet or something, it’s way too tame not to be. And I mean… who else could keep this thing? I can at least be its vet as well as keeper, until we find who lost her and get rid of her.” Amy reasoned.
Get rid of her? Fuck you, if you're kidnapping me at least try and keep me!
Glory Girl paused, hesitant.
“I mean… it’s kinda… cool? Can’t believe you’re just- holding it like that.” Glory Girl tried, expression twisted in a grimace of distaste. “And uh, if it’s temporary and all that, she might let you? How much care do snakes need? You know how she feels about dogs.”
Amy blinked down at her.
“I have no fucking clue.”
… Well, her day was off to a stellar start.
After some bickering and strategizing, it was decided that they would kidnap Taylor.
She wasn’t nearly as against it as she was when she realized she was about to fly in the arms of a healer who was in the arms of a known to be reckless teenage superhero.
As a snake.
Amy yelped when she tried to run for it, before with the valiant effort of both her and her sister, they recaptured her.
With a grumpy hiss directed at no one, she resigned to her fate and wrapped tight around Amy's forearms.
Halfway through the flight Amy started complaining about her arms turning blue, from how tight she was coiled.
Serves her right.
Taylor hated flying. That feeling of being untethered to anything solid was the goddamn worst.
At least Amy could tell she hated it, because she attempted to murmur assurances to her as she pet along her back. It helped, a tiny bit.
Introductions to Carol Dallon came mere minutes later and were predictably short, since she seemed more of a drill sergeant than a normal parent.
With a strategic application of her ignore-me-power, she managed to hit the sweet spot of complete apathy necessary for Carol to glance at her, think about it for half a second, before grunting out a ‘do as you wish’ before she left for a night time patrol.
The two teens stood there flabbergasted for a few seconds, before shrugging in bafflement.
Amy scrambled to find somewhere to put her in, before deciding that her new pet would reside in a gigantic storage tub that smelled like burnt plastic and play-doh.
It was also way too small for her because she was anywhere from four to five feet of scaled muscle and the whole thing was barely three feet long and two across.
She tried to run for it again.
She failed, despite her valiant struggles. Amy was surprisingly tenacious.
Amy panted like a dying hyena as she finally slammed the lid down and put a pile of books on top, staring at her through the transparent plastic, brow dripping sweat as she leaned against the wall the crate was sitting against.
“You are… a very smart reptile. Why the hell am I struggling against a burnt noodle? I need to hit the gym.” The healer wheezed.
Taylor settled down, absolutely exhausted and stiff and slow.
She’d escape later. It was too damn cold outside as night time crept up.
Her uncomfortable, uneasy sleep was interrupted by a towel being draped over her, before the bin snapped shut again. While startling, she felt much better with something covering her like that. And the darker it was, the easier she could sleep.
An hour or two later, it was interrupted again, but this time by a radiant heater being placed to the right side of her little prison.
Grudgingly, she shuffled over to the right, and hissed in contentment. It was on low heat, but enough to warm her bones at least, as the minutes ticked by.
Warmth felt so good. It was like her entire body and mind sped up, came alive. No wonder she liked being held by Amy so much, during the short ride up the stairs.
Five minutes later, a bowl full of water dropped into the corner.
Taylor drank it dry.
Drinking as a snake was pretty neat. Like sipping through a straw the length of her body.
She fell asleep again before she realized it, and woke up to the shrill sound of an alarm clock, disoriented.
It was by far the most confusing five seconds of her life before she remembered what happened yesterday.
And the alarm clock was still beeping.
Amy Dallon barely stirred.
She occupied herself with wondering how she managed to sleep for what must have been like, twelve hours straight.
Twenty seconds in, she was starting to consider the ethics of murder before she just gave up and decided to go and turn it off herself.
No time to escape like when your captor's asleep, right?