With Great Power: Reprieve

[Reprieve]

Taylor grimaced against the morning light, squinting as her peaceful sleep was interrupted by an odd sound just a few feet away.

Unsure what it was, she rolled over in her sleeping bag and tried to ignore it, but the sound persisted. Her groggy mind worked to place it, depriving her of the sleep that she sought, and with a frustrated groan, she sat up.

She found herself in Emma’s bedroom, exactly as she remembered when she went to sleep last night. Or well, not exactly.

Taylor stared at her best friend, hunched over her laptop just above her. The girl’s eyes were glued to the screen as her fingers flew over the keyboard, producing that sound that had woken Taylor up in the first place.

Judging from her posture, she had been there for a while. Which was slightly concerning, because Taylor was pretty sure she was in that exact same spot when she woke up to go pee four hours ago.

“Emma.”

The redhead didn’t respond, her eyes locked on whatever was displayed on screen as she muttered to herself in tones Taylor’s tired mind could barely even hear.

Taylor tried again, louder and slightly more annoyed. “Emma.”

“But if I… No, that’d just blow up in my face. Literally. Maybe if I—”

“Emma Barnes.”

Emma jolted, swiveling around in her chair with a surprised expression. Dark circles hung under her eyes, her red hair was a frazzled mess, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. Or at least a day or two.

She blinked, as if she wasn’t really sure what she was seeing, before her expression brightened. “Oh! You’re awake!”

“How could I sleep with all that racket?” Taylor grumbled, not unkindly. She squinted at her friend. “How long have you been up?”

Emma looked at the time and winced. “I lost track of time?”

“Emma.”

“Okay, okay! I haven’t slept! But before you get all lecture-y on me… I wanna show you something!”

Emma rolled herself to the side, gesturing towards her desk with the eagerness of someone who had been waiting a long time to show something off.

Curiosity got the better of Taylor and she crawled out of her sleeping bag and stepped up to the desk, slipping by Emma who had moved to stand to the side with an eager smile.

“What… Emma, what is this?” Taylor breathed, eyes wide as she stared at what was resting on the desk.

“Something I’ve been working on,” Emma said, grabbing her laptop and setting it on her lap. “I didn’t want to show you this early but you kind of caught me and there’s no hiding it now so… What do you think?”

Taylor leaned forward, her breath catching in her throat. Sitting amid a mess of wires and scattered tools were four mechanical limbs, each about three feet long. They were clearly unfinished—the wires exposed and half-joined by plates of metal—but the skeleton of a design was there.

“Are these spider legs?” Taylor ran her hand along the metal casing. “When…”

“You’d be surprised how much time a girl has when she’s just watching her friend swinging around.” Emma preempted Taylor’s question with a cheeky smile. “It’s been a slog trying to make this without my parents finding out, but all that stuff you’re bringing me is helping out a lot.”

She suddenly yawned loudly, her whole body stretching with the motion. “Honestly, actually connecting the things properly is the hard part. I need to make sure I have everything right so they won’t, you know, fry my brain or anything.”

“Fry your brain!?” Taylor repeated, horrified.

“I’m kidding! Mostly.” Emma waved her hand dismissively.

“That is not reassuring!”

Emma just huffed and Taylor stared at her friend, not entirely sure how to process that statement.

She supposed she should have expected something like this. She had been the one to suggest Emma take a break from their little Transit project when it was clear that they hit a roadblock. Emma, being Emma, clearly decided to channel that frustration into something productive and entirely self-destructive.

Still, brain frying? They still weren’t entirely sure what Emma’s specialty was, but given what Taylor had seen so far, she wasn’t sure she wanted her friend to figure it out until she learned a little bit of self-control.

But before she could voice her concerns, her eyes caught the heavy bags under Emma’s eyes again, and she decided that particular conversation could wait. Right now, her friend looked about two seconds away from passing out, and the fact that she hadn’t yet was nothing short of a miracle.

“Okay, we can talk about this whole thing later,” Taylor sighed, reaching for the blanket that the mechanical limbs were laying on and had clearly been wrapped in. She carefully draped it back over the half-finished project, obscuring it from view. “But right now, you need to sleep.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “What? No! I’m fine, I just need to—”

“Emma, you look like a raccoon that got hooked on coffee and energy drinks,” Taylor said, turning her friend’s chair around to face the bed. “You’re taking a nap, and then we’re going out to have a nice day like we planned.”

Emma opened her mouth to argue, but a yawn betrayed her, her eyes drooping momentarily before she snapped them back open to glare at her friend. “I hate you.”

“Hate me all you want, you’re still going to bed.” Taylor smiled, steering the chair toward the bed. “If you want, we can both work on this tonight. I don’t know what I can do to help, but if there’s a non-zero chance that you brain blast yourself, then I’m gonna be here.”

As she moved to lift Taylor into the bed, Taylor suddenly paused. She raised her head, sniffing the air like a dog and causing her friend to look at her weirdly.

But Taylor didn’t care about that, because right now her mind was fixated on the smell of fresh bacon, eggs, and whatever else wafting in from downstairs. Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her that she conked out with only a protein bar to fill her stomach last night.

Emma raised an eyebrow at the sound. “Hungry?”

Taylor flushed slightly. “Okay, new plan. Breakfast first, then sleep.”

“Wow, so much for being the responsible one,” Emma teased, though her own stomach gurgled in solidarity. Clearly she hadn’t had the wherewithal to grab a midnight snack.

“Shut up,” Taylor spun her friend around, making for the food. “Come on, let’s go see what your parents made.”

~~~

The smell of breakfast grew stronger as Taylor wheeled Emma down the stairs, her mouth watering with every step. By the time they reached the dining room, she was practically drooling with anticipation.

The table was set with a proper Sunday spread. Crispy bacon lined one plate, sausages were piled on another, and a whole heaping of scrambled eggs sat in the center next to a plate of toast and a carton of orange juice.

It was like something out of a cartoon, especially when Alan, sat at the head of the table with a newspaper already spread out in front of him, looked up and greeted them with a warm smile.

“Just in time!” He called as they reached the ground floor, “Zoe just finished putting everything out.”

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” Taylor said, gently guiding Emma to her usual spot at the table.

“Morning, Daddy,” Emma chimed in, though the words came out sluggish. She reached for the orange juice immediately, pouring herself a glass with slightly trembling hands.

Alan’s brow furrowed as he took in his daughter’s appearance. “Rough night, sweetie?”

Emma paused mid-pour. “Yeah, I guess I just... didn’t sleep great. Just one of those nights, you know how it is.”

Taylor shot her friend a look that promised a talk as she took her own seat. The redhead avoided her gaze, suddenly very interested in the sausage on her plate.

Zoe Barnes bustled in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She smiled warmly at Taylor. “Good morning, you two. Did you girls sleep well?”

Taylor glanced at Emma who was busying herself with a piece of sausage. “Mostly.”

“Good to hear. Eat up then, there’s plenty.” Zoe took her seat beside her husband who had already grabbed his own plate and begun to dig into the spread his wife had prepared.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Taylor loaded her plate with enthusiasm, her stomach and insane metabolism guiding her to fill up.

Alan gave her a strange look as she piled food on top of food, and she returned it with a sheepish smile and a laugh. “I didn’t eat a lot yesterday.”

He seemed to buy her excuse as he chuckled, looking at his wife with a smile. “Well help yourself, Taylor. We made more than enough to go around.”

Smiling, Taylor tried not to shovel food into her mouth too quickly, though she’d be the first to admit it was a losing battle. Across from her, Emma picked at her food, her eyes drooping every few seconds before she snapped them back open.

Alan noticed. “Emma, are you feeling alright? You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine, Daddy,” Emma insisted, though a yawn undermined her words. “Just stayed up a little late.”

Zoe looked between the two girls, a small frown on her face. “I know you girls like to chat but you can’t stay up all night fooling around, Emma. Your physical therapist said—”

“Sleep is important, I know,” Emma rolled her eyes, as if she had heard the words a million times. “It was just one night, mom. My nerves aren’t going to stop healing just because I stayed up a little too late.”

Zoe frowned at her daughter’s words and tone, but as always, Alan came to the rescue to save his little girl from her mother’s wrath.

“Well, how about you two take it easy today,” he suggested.

“That’s actually what we were planning,” Taylor jumped on the opportunity. “We were just gonna head to the Boardwalk, maybe do some window shopping. Nothing crazy.”

Alan’s expression shifted, his eyebrows raising in alarm. “The Boardwalk? I don’t know, girls. With everything that’s been happening in the city lately...”

“It’s the Boardwalk, Dad,” Emma reassured him. “There’s like a million people there on Sundays. We’ll be fine.”

“The Boardwalk is literally one of the safest places in the city,” Taylor added. “Lots of foot traffic, PRT patrols, not exactly prime territory for trouble.”

Alan still looked uncertain. His eyes drifted to Emma’s wheelchair, then back to Taylor. “I don’t know...”

“Daddy, please.” Emma’s voice took on that particular whine that only teenage girls could perfect. “We’ve been cooped up all week. We just want to get out for a bit.”

Taylor nodded solemnly. “I’ll watch her, Mr. Barnes. I promise.”

The man sighed, setting down his newspaper. He looked at Taylor, his expression softening. “I know you will, Taylor. You’re a good girl.” He turned to his daughter. “Fine. But you keep your phone on, and you call if anything happens. Anything at all.”

“Yes, sir, Emma said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“And Taylor?” Zoe added.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Make sure she actually sleeps tonight. She listens to you more than she listens to us.”

Taylor couldn’t help but smile at that. “I’ll do my best.”

Breakfast continued in lighter spirits after that. Taylor devoured seconds, then thirds, earning an impressed look from Zoe. Emma managed to finish a full plate, looking slightly better with some food in her system.

By the time they finished, the morning sun was streaming through the windows, promising a beautiful day. Taylor helped clear the table despite Zoe’s protests, then helped Emma back upstairs.

As they entered her bedroom, Emma was already chattering with excitement about what places they would go, “So I was thinking we’d go to that one place beside the Dillon’s and see what they have first. There’s that little hardware store over there that we could visit too and see if they have copper wires because I’m out. Oh! And then—”

“First,” Taylor gave her friend a look, “You’re going to bed.”

Emma’s face instantly fell into an angry pout. “But Tay—”

“You and I both know that if I bring you down there right now, you’re just gonna fall asleep and I’ll be left rolling you around until I realize,” Taylor clicked her tongue, “It’ll probably take a little while too. Long enough for you to get a sunburn, I bet.”

Emma roled her eyes, seeing the ‘threat’ for what it was. “Alright, I’ll take a nap. Jeez, it’s like you’re my mom or something.”

“More like a concerned big sister,” Taylor grinned. “Go to sleep, I’ll wake you up in a few hours and we can go. It’s not like we have anything else to do today.”

“Fine~” Emma sighed, climbing into bed. She was already in her pajamas so she didn’t need to get changed, simply slipping under the covers and getting comfortable. “What are you going to be doing though? You better not try and leave me here to go out heroing.”

“I,” Taylor reached into her bag and pulled out a thick textbook and a notebook. “am going to work on the homework I should have finished two days ago, but couldn’t because I was running around grabbing little black boxes.”

“You really should get better at procrastinating,” Emma’s voice was already half-asleep as she said this, and by the time Taylor looked over to retort, she was practically out of it.

“Better to procrastinate than do everything all at once and end up like you,” Taylor muttered, a small smile on her face as she flipped to the first annotated pages.

~~~

The Boardwalk was bustling, just as Emma had promised. Families strolled past storefronts, tourists snapped photos of the ocean, and street performers vied for attention from passersby. The smell of salt and fried food mingled in the air, creating that distinct atmosphere that Taylor had always loved as a kid, and brought back wistful feelings even now.

“So where to first?” Emma asked, wheeling herself alongside Taylor as they made their way down the wooden planks. “There’s that new boutique that just opened near the pier, and I think the record store is having a sale.”

Taylor shrugged, happy to let her friend take the lead. “Whatever you want. I just wanted to get out in a way that didn’t involve ‘you know what’ for once. Swinging around can be fun, but the rest gets exhausting.”

Emma glanced at her. “I bet.”

They wandered aimlessly for a while, popping into stores that caught their interest and browsing through racks of clothes they couldn’t afford. Taylor held up outfits for Emma’s approval while the redhead critiqued each one with brutal honesty.

It was nice, Taylor thought. Just two friends hanging out without the whole dramatic danger that came with cape life. She loved being Widow, loved the thrill of swinging through the city and helping people, but moments like this were good to have once in a while.

They were debating where to grab lunch when a crowd caught their attention. A large group had gathered outside a building Taylo recognized: the Dollhouse. Colorful fabric twisted and turned in the air above the crowd, manipulated by unseen forces, and the sound of delighted laughter drifted over the noise of the Boardwalk.

“Is that...?” Emma craned her neck to see.

“Parian,” Taylor nodded. “Looks like she’s doing a show.”

The two girls made their way closer, weaving through the crowd until they had a decent view. Parian stood in the center of a small cleared area while around her, giant stuffed animals danced and tumbled, controlled by her power. Children shrieked with joy as a massive cloth elephant lumbered past, its trunk reaching out to gently nudge them.

Taylor watched with appreciation as Parian entertained her audience. She thought the woman’s work on costumes was good, but watching her control those stuffed animals, drawing delighted laughter from kids and adults alike, she could tell that Parian enjoyed this work just as much.

“She’s good,” Emma commented, watching a cloth giraffe bow dramatically to a group of tourists.

“Yeah,” Taylor agreed. “She really is.”

Tayor and Emma found a spot near the front of the crowd, close enough to see the details in Parian’s work but far enough back that Emma’s wheelchair didn’t obstruct anyone’s view. A few people glanced their way, some with that particular look of pity that Taylor hated seeing directed at her friend, but Emma either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Her eyes were fixed on the show, a small smile playing on her lips.

Parian was in her element. The rogue cape moved with practiced ease, her hands making subtle gestures while her power did the heavy lifting. A massive lion padded through the crowd on silent paws, letting children reach out to touch its soft mane, while a family of cloth rabbits hopped in circles around a squealing toddler.

Emma tapped on Taylor's shoulder, directing her gaze upwards. A serpent made of shimmering blue silk wound its way through the air overhead, eliciting gasps from the audience, and even Taylor herself found herself in awe.

“She’s really talented,” Emma murmured, watching the serpent twist and dive. “She’s controlling all of those things at once. The amount of control she has must be insane.”

The show continued for another twenty minutes as Parian switched from simple showboating to actual story-telling. Said story – a tale about a princess, a dragon, and a knight – was simple, but had all of the children present drawn into it with rapt attention.

It helped that she did the voices too.

All in all, Taylor found herself enjoying it more than she expected. There was something refreshing about watching a cape use their powers for something so purely... positive. No villains to fight or cats to save, just entertainment and art and making people smile.

When the show finally wound to a close, the crowd erupted into applause. Parian took a bow, her dress swishing theatrically in a way that Taylor suspected was purposeful, before her creations began to deflate and fold themselves into neat piles.

A small sign propped up near the front indicated where people could leave tips, and a line began to form as the woman began to pack up.

“We should give her something,” Taylor said, already reaching for her wallet. “She saved my butt with that costume discount.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “You mean when you saved her worker and she gave you a discount as thanks?”

“Same difference.” Taylor pulled out a few bills. It wasn't much, but it was more enough to show appreciation. “Come on.”

She pushed Emma’s wheelchair toward the tip area, weaving through the dispersing crowd. When they reached the front, Taylor dropped the money into the decorative jar Parian had set out.

The rogue noticed the gesture, her masked face turning toward them. She gave a small, polite nod. “Thank you for your contribution.”

“Your show was great,” Taylor said earnestly. “The kids really loved it.”

Parian’s voice softened slightly. “That’s the goal. It’s nice to see people enjoy themselves.”

The woman's voice didn't hold any recognition which Taylor was happy for. Her costume was custom-made, after all. It wouldn't be hard for Parian to notice that she had the exact build and hair as the girl she made a costume for not that long ago

Taylor smiled. “It’s nice seeing someone use their powers for something other than fighting.”

Parian tilted her head, considering the statement. “Not everyone has that luxury. Powers don’t come with a manual for how to use them, but I’m fortunate enough to have options. I try to make the most of them.”

Taylor nodded, understanding more than Parian probably realized. “That’s really cool. I mean it.”

“Thank you,” Parian dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Please, enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

Taylor and Emma moved away as the next person in line stepped up to leave their tip. They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments before Emma spoke.

“You really meant that, didn’t you? About powers and fighting.”

Taylor shrugged, guiding Emma’s wheelchair back toward the main crowd. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

“You’re so corny,” Emma giggled. “Admit it, you just want to swing around without having to deal with an idiot every five minutes.”

“That’d just be a perk.” Taylor grinned. “Hey, I’m hungry. Wanna grab a bite to eat?”

“Sure, there's a few places around here I wanted to try.” Emma said, leading the way.

~~~

The deli was a small place tucked between a souvenir shop and an ice cream parlor, the kind of hole-in-the-wall establishment that tourists walked past without a second glance. Taylor had almost missed it herself, but Emma had spotted the menu board propped up outside and decided it was perfect.

Taylor had to admit, she was right on the money. Inside, it was like stepping into a different world. Wooden tables dotted the floor, each one topped with a small vase of fake flowers. Vintage posters lined the walls, advertising sodas and sandwiches on sun-faded foil, and the smell of fresh bread and deli meats wafted through the air.

Only a handful of other patrons were scattered around the room – an elderly couple by the window, a man in a suit hunched over his phone, and a pair of teenagers sharing earbuds in the corner. It was a little slice of peace and quiet away from the bustling Boardwalk, and Taylor found herself relaxing as they headed into a booth near the back.

She positioned Emma’s wheelchair at the end of the table, sliding into the seat across from her. After a few minutes, an elderly waitress took their orders and retreated to the kitchen without much fuss.

“So,” Taylor said once they were alone, “the spider legs.”

Emma looked up from her menu, which she’d been studying for no reason since they’d already ordered. “What about them?”

“I’ve been thinking about them,” Taylor admitted, folding her hands on the table. “About what you said this morning. About what they’re actually for.”

Emma was quiet for a moment, her green eyes dropping to the table. When she spoke, her voice was softer than usual. “They’re for me, Tay. So I can be useful.”

Taylor frowned. “You’re already useful, Ems. You–”

“I know, I know.” Emma waved a hand before she could continue. “But I’m still stuck here.” She tapped the armrest of her wheelchair. “I’m still the girl in the chair while you’re out there swinging between buildings and fighting criminals. I’m still the one who can’t run, can’t jump, can’t do anything but watch.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m tired of watching.”

Taylor's shoulder throbbed in phantom pain and she swallowed. She didn't know what to say to that

“Those legs will change that. When they’re finished, they’ll function as extra limbs. I’ll be able to control them like they’re part of my body – reach things, grab things, move around better.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “Could you imagine me skittering across roofs and up walls like an actual spider? I bet I could scare the crap out of some muggers or something.”

The image of Emma, shaded in darkness, descending from on high in metal spider legs, did sound pretty awesome…

“That sounds cool,” Taylor admitted. “But what did you mean about the input? You said you needed to get it right.”

Emma’s smile faltered slightly. “The input is the hard part. The arms need to connect to my nervous system somehow, otherwise they’re just remote-controlled sticks. I need to figure out how to make my brain recognize them as part of my body.”

“And that’s where the brain frying comes in?”

Emma winced. “I told you I was mostly kidding.”

“Mostly.”

There was a pause. Emma’s fingers drummed against the table.

“Em.” Taylor leaned forward slightly. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

The redhead’s fidgeting stopped. She met Taylor’s gaze, staring at her with an unreadable expression. Then, she sighed, shaking her head.

“It’s complicated. Tinker stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I could try.”

Emma hesitated, her lips pressing together.

“Look, I…” she paused, sighed, and continued in a quieter tone, “Tinker powers are weird, right? I've had blueprints in my head from the start but nothing to build them with. Now that I do, I get more ideas and… I'm starting to think my power is more messed up than I originally thought.”

Taylor straightened. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it spat out about a dozen different ideas on how to connect my tech directly to my brain, for starters.” Emma said it so flippantly, throwing it out there with all the sass that Taylor had come to associate with her friend, but her words make Taylor's stomach drop into her feet.

“It’d help with the input lag – basically make it non-existent – and I could do it myself in less than an hour,” Emma continued talking like what she was saying was in any way normal. “I’d have to build telescopic tools and upgrade my headset so I could move them independently without worrying about it frying my brain, but I'm pretty sure I could do it. My power wants me to do it.”

Taylor watched her friend, carefully still. “And what do you want?”

“I want to help you,” Emma said firmly. “To be out there, not just watching from inside my room. I mean, obviously I'd need more than some robot legs to do what you do, but as long as I have time and enough parts, that won't be a problem.”

Taylor stared at her friend, a knot forming in her stomach. Emma didn't even deny the idea of putting something in her brain. She was so focused on what she wanted that she didn't even see what was so utterly wrong about what her power was suggesting.

Taylor remembered Emma’s casual comment about brain frying, and the way she’d said it like it was just another mechanical mishap. She had mistaken it for Emma being her usual, sarcastic self, embellishing things to mess with Taylor. But now she was starting to wonder…

“Emma, promise me you’ll be careful,” Taylor said, her voice firm. “I mean it. Don’t do anything insane just because your power tells you to.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but there was fondness in the gesture. “I won’t do anything insane. I’m not an idiot, Tay. I know my limits.”

“Do you?”

The question hung in the air. Emma met Taylor’s gaze, her expression serious for once.

“I’ll be careful. I promise.” she said, completely earnest. Taylor almost believed her.

“I’m holding you to that,” Taylor replied.

They stared at each other for a long moment, the silence stretching, before it was broken by a pair of plates being sat in front of them.

Taylor blinked, looking down as the waitress disappeared into the back. Right, they were at a restaurant.

They tucked into their meal, conversation forgotten in lieu of enjoying some surprisingly delicious turkey clubs. As they chewed, the tension that had built in the booth settled to something much more benign, and the both decided it was best to move on for now.

Taylor wiped her mouth, clearing her throat. “So. Besides plotting neurological surgery on yourself, what else have you been up to?”

Emma smirked. “Oh, you know. The usual. Dying of boredom, hating my physical therapist, trying to finish that history project before Monday.”

“I thought you said you were almost done with that.”

“I said I would be almost done. Past tense. Future tense. Whatever.” Emma waved vaguely. “The point is, I’m procrastinating like a champion.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics: school gossip, movies they wanted to see, Anne’s new boyfriend that Emma insisted was a loser. Taylor pushed down the worry lingering in the back of mine, letting herself enjoy the moment for what it was.

But somewhere in the back of her mind, the worry remained