Chapter Text
Lurk 1.1
Friday, April 8th, 2011.
The mirror in the girl's bathroom of the social studies wing at Winslow High School was cracked in three different places.
Taylor Hebert stared at her drenched face and resisted the urge to add even more fractures to her reflection. She'd probably just break her hand, and add some blood to the juice and soda already soaking her clothes and pooling on the grimy tile floor.
She couldn't catch a break for one fucking day.
Now that her tormentors had figured out that she was hiding in the bathrooms during lunch, they would be able to split up and find her again. There were more than enough brainless lackeys who were willing to give up their lunch time for Emma's approval.
It never stopped.
Day in and day out for the last year and a half, her former best friend found new and creative ways to torture her. Some of the pains were relatively minor in isolation, like having juice dumped on her while she tried to eat. It just added insult to injury that she had to eat in the fucking bathroom in the first place. A vain attempt to avoid her tormentors.
But the small injuries added up. The constant stress, watching over her shoulder, waiting for the next inevitable strike… It was as exhausting as it was infuriating.
Plus, some of the injuries weren't so minor. She could still feel the bugs and the bile crawling over and into her skin, burning and biting and-
Taylor kicked the plastic maintenance bucket stowed haphazardly under one of the chipped sinks. The cacophony of hollow plastic against ceramic wasn't nearly as satisfying as she'd hoped.
"You know, I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, everyone else's existence isn't quite this depressing," a bored voice said from behind her.
Taylor glared into the mirror.
Nobody wore a stranger's face today.
Perfectly straightened blonde hair fell in sleek lines down either side of their decidedly average face, parted in the middle. They could have been any of the high schoolers wandering Winslow, although they didn't sport any of the usual acne or blemishes that marred most normal teenagers' skin. Whoever it was they were emulating was short, barely coming up to Taylor's chin, and just a little on the soft side.
Despite their claims to the contrary, Nobody was a vain little shit. None of their usual forms were deliberately unattractive.
"Would it kill you to fuck off, just this once?" Taylor growled through gritted teeth. She wasn't in the mood for Nobody's complaining today.
"It just might," Nobody leaned against the wall and pulled out a cigarette. "Better not to risk it."
"Don't you dare light that in here. The last thing I need right now is Blackwell finding me in a bathroom leaking smoke," Taylor groaned.
"The smoke smell pops with me, don't worry. The particles are technically part of me, too, or whatever. How else do you think I get away with smoking at home?" Nobody rolled their eyes and sighed dramatically.
At least they got rid of the cigarettes.
Taylor still wanted to break something.
Nobody examined their perfect fingernails in lieu of smoking.
Over-dramatic fuck.
"So… how's that 'be the bigger person' plan coming along? Is ignoring the crowned princess bitch and her merry band of sadistic parasites as satisfying as it looks from over here?"
Ironically, having someone to focus her frustration on was actually kind of helpful. Not that Taylor would ever tell Nobody that. They'd be insufferable for weeks.
"Sarcasm isn't the lowest form of wit," Taylor replied. "Only because it isn't wit at all."
"Ouch," Nobody deadpanned, pushing off the wall to stand straight. "You should definitely try that one on Emmi. I'm sure she'll crack in the face of your clever banter."
Anger burned white hot in her veins and Taylor spun, lashing out and punching Nobody right in their stupid, smug, infuriating face.
Pain jolted through her hand and lanced up her arm. The dull thud of flesh against flesh sounded louder than it should in the empty bathroom. It was still probably better than punching the mirror, though.
She actually managed to put a surprising amount of force into the blow and her irritating companion stumbled backwards, cracking the back of their head on the painted concrete.
They were able to stay upright by bracing a manicured hand on the wall, but at least some blood leaked into their perfect fucking hair and they left a red splatter on the wall from the impact.
"Fuck, that was a good one," Nobody let out a wheezing chuckle. "Feel better?"
They flickered, and suddenly they were whole and pristine once again, leaning back against the wall and smoking that damn cigarette.
Taylor punched them again, even though her hand already hurt from the first time. Punching Nobody in the face without hand-wraps was stupid. It obviously hurt her more than it hurt them, and it didn't even really make her feel all that much better.
"Have you considered doing this to dear ol' Emmi instead of me?" Nobody spat a gob of bloody saliva onto the tile floor. They popped and reformed again, this time without the cigarette. The blood on the tile disappeared, too. "As much as I just love being your infinite stress relief punching bag, it seems counterproductive."
"Go fuck yourself."
"I probably could, although I haven't taken the time to figure out the logistics. Of course, I'm basically you, if you squint and tilt your head a bit, so if you wanted a healthier form of stress relief-"
"Absolutely not."
Nobody flickered again and suddenly Taylor was staring at very familiar sharp emerald eyes and long, shiny red hair.
"Are you sure? We both know-"
Taylor punched them again and stormed out of the bathroom.
It wasn't fucking fair.
Part of her wanted to cry, but she shoved that broken piece of herself down into the depths and just marched for the nearest exit. She couldn't go to class like this anyway.
The juice was starting to dry, and her clothes felt sticky. They clung to her in weird ways, somehow too tight and too loose at the same time.
Luckily, the bell for the next class period must have rang at some point while she was busy glaring at her reflection or beating up Nobody, so the hallway was empty.
She shoved the emergency exit door out of the way with unnecessary force. It wasn't like the alarms actually worked.
Useless fucking school, with useless teachers and useless fucking Blackwell.
Fucking Emma.
Fucking Nobody.
The iron knot of anger and anxiety and something that might have been akin to grief didn't start to loosen its stranglehold on her until Winslow was out of sight.
Footsteps inevitably followed her, but Taylor refused to give them the satisfaction of acknowledgement.
"Jeez, you've got long legs," Nobody complained from behind her. "Look, I brought a peace offering. You forgot your bag, and I can't take it with me when I pop. Obviously. Since it's, y'know, real."
Taylor kept walking. Nobody could deal with their own shit for a whole two minutes.
"I… Dammit, Taylor. I'm sorry, okay? About the Emma thing. That was a low blow. Would you believe me if I said I was just trying to help?"
"No."
"Okay, yeah, that's fair. Wow, this bag is really heavy. What the hell are you schlepping around all day? And why?"
Taylor couldn't use her locker anymore. Nobody fucking knew that, or at least, they should. If they bothered to think about it for more than three seconds.
The old brick buildings slowly became less and less run down as they walked, like a weird sort of reverse time lapse. Taylor's house wasn't exactly in the nicest area of the Docks, but it was a fair bit better than the parts surrounding Winslow.
She usually took the bus, but she couldn't be bothered today. She needed to feel something, even if it was just the burn in her legs from the rapid pace. Besides, this way the juice would dry quickly, and she didn't need to worry about sticking to the bus seat or having anyone look at her.
Nobody except Nobody, of course.
Hilarious.
They were halfway home before Nobody finally gave in and filled the silence.
"C'mon, Tay, stop for a sec, please," they whined. "I like this body. I don't want to switch to a taller one just because you're stuck like that and apparently took up speed walking when I wasn't looking."
"Don't call me that."
"Fine, oh glorious creator, please slow your gargantuan stride so us mere mortals can-"
Taylor knew she was giving them what they wanted, but she spun around to face Nobody anyway.
"What the fuck is your problem? Can you not be a fucking asshole for five whole minutes? Is it really that hard for you?" Taylor demanded.
She was so fucking sick of it. Of everything.
"I said I was sorry, didn't I?" Nobody put her backpack down and flickered, suddenly free of sweat and any other evidence from their march across the city. "Look, you know this needs to stop. They can't get away with treating you like that forever, but this plan of yours? Just put up with them until you leave for college? It's fucking stupid."
"What else am I supposed to do?" Taylor clenched her jaw. She knew what Nobody was going to say. This wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation, or at least very similar versions.
The buildings on this block were boarded up, so at least they had some relative privacy.
"You're smarter than me, but we can figure something out, together. There has to be a way to use your power, my power, whatever, to fix this bullshit. We can trick them, or something, I don't know-"
"No. No, I'm not going to…" Taylor groaned and tried to find the right words.
Using her power to fuck over Emma and Sophia was entirely too tempting. That was the whole fucking point.
She wouldn't be like them. She was better than that.
Although, right this moment, she didn't feel better. The sticky liquid had long since dried, and now her clothes and hair were… crusty. She didn't want to think about it.
The heavy rock of rage and frustration in her gut was back, though. Great.
"Either we come up with a plan together, or I'm going to do something about it myself. And we both know that my plans are awful," Nobody said.
"Don't you dare," Taylor hissed, the anger turning cold. "Don't you dare fucking blackmail me, you pathetic-"
"It's for your own good! Pull your head out of your ass for a split second. This is insane! You can't just let them-"
'I'm not letting them do anything-"
"Yes, you are!" Nobody's sudden yell was strangely loud on the deserted street. "You are. You could have stopped them months ago. We could have stopped them. But no, you're just so fucking insistent on letting them treat you like shit. I'm tired of watching it. I'm tired of dealing with you being pissed and awful because of it. You aren't the only one who has to live with you!"
Taylor took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a long moment before she crossed her arms over her chest. Maybe, if her arms were crossed, she could resist the urge to punch Nobody again.
"She isn't important. If you mess with her, then it's just proving that she matters. And she doesn't… fucking… matter," Taylor hissed.
"You know that's bullshit. This obviously matters to you, or you wouldn't be like this," Nobody pointed out. "I know the school won't help, and your dad would probably just make it worse, but we have to do something."
"We are-"
"Hiding in the bathroom during lunch and ignoring them when they corner you in the hallways isn't something! It's like, literally the opposite of something. Look, if you don't help me come up with a better idea, I'm just going to turn into Emma again and go punch a teacher. Or maybe I'll punch Sophia. I don't know. You're the mastermind here, I'm just-"
"Stop… talking," Taylor said.
For once, Nobody actually shut up.
Huh.
Taylor clenched her fists and forced down the instinctual denial that jumped automatically to her lips.
Nobody was an asshole, but that didn't automatically mean they were wrong.
And even if they weren't right, they could make her life a living hell if they fucked this up because she refused to help.
Besides, it wasn't like she could actually stop them.
It was infuriating, and she hated the lack of control, but that didn't make it less true.
Taylor didn't know why this time was different, why it was so much harder to say no than every other time they'd had this conversation. Maybe it was because she was actively covered in dried juice. Maybe it was because her grades were slipping again, and she couldn't face her father's disappointment. Maybe it was because she couldn't stop seeing Emma's sneering, stabbing, perfect face when she closed her eyes.
"Fine," Taylor bit out eventually.
"Really?"
"Don't fucking push it," she sighed. "But yeah, really. We'll think of something… nothing that will… I don't know, kill them, or whatever-"
"Sure, because they've never tried to kill you-"
"-and, if you agree not to fuck up my real life, we can actually go out on a real patrol this weekend," Taylor continued over them like Nobody hadn't spoken.
"Really?" They asked again, and Taylor almost changed her mind. This was going to backfire horribly in so many different ways.
But Nobody was right, in their own way. She needed to do something. This tension, this pressure, needed some kind of release, or she was going to explode.
"Don't make me say it again or I'll go for another swim in the Bay."
"You're kind of shitty at negotiating. I'm trying to fix your real life, if you haven't noticed," Nobody grumbled.
"Well, with friends like these…" Taylor cracked a grin against her better judgement.
"Shut up. I didn't say I was good at it," Nobody rolled their eyes.
"Neither did I," Taylor replied flatly.
They stood in silence for a long moment. A paper fast food bag blew across the broken street in the warm spring breeze.
Finally, Taylor sighed and picked up her backpack. It was still a bit damp, but she would handle that later.
"I guess we should go… figure out a costume, then? And maybe a name?" Taylor shrugged helplessly and looked over at Nobody. Their expression was unusually morose, their eyes looking for something in Taylor's face with a weird intensity. It looked out of place, even on the stranger's face.
Nobody's faces may change, but the underlying expressions didn't. The words they said and the way they said them were always the same. They were still them, no matter who they looked like.
They didn't answer, and Taylor resisted the urge to sigh again.
She was well aware that things weren't exactly fair to Nobody, either. They were just such an ass about it, it was easy to forget sometimes. Taylor honestly didn't know if she would trade places with them if she could.
"For the record, I'm… sorry, too," Taylor said, even though the words didn't want to leave her throat. "I know this isn't easy for you, either."
"Aww, that's sweet, Tay," Nobody's voice returned to its usual sarcastic tone. Unfortunately. "I always knew there was a warm, loving cinnamon roll hidden somewhere deep inside that pit of angst and teeth you call a-"
"I genuinely hate you, sometimes. You know that, right?" Taylor groaned, but her heart wasn't in it anymore. She was just… tired.
"You say the nicest things. I'll make sure to remember that when the nights get cold."
"I'll find a way to kill you," Taylor promised. As if she hadn't already tried.
"I wish you would. I didn't ask to be born," Nobody tried to keep a straight face, but Taylor could see the crooked grin peeking through underneath. This was familiar ground, for them.
Taylor rolled her eyes and they started walking again; more slowly this time, side by side. And, since Taylor was carrying her own bag, Nobody could pop and reform anytime they wanted. They were much less insufferable when they could make adjustments as they pleased.
Even if all that meant was lighting another damn cigarette.
Taylor didn't actually mind all that much, though. Not when they were outside, at any rate.
Maybe, despite everything, being stuck with Nobody wasn't the worst thing in the world.
They were still the most irritating power on the face of the planet, though.
…
Monday, January 3rd, 2011.
They'd never woken up before, but this felt kind of like that.
Before, they hadn't existed. Now, they did.
Weird.
They blinked and surveyed the dirty, empty hallway of Winslow High School. Rusted lockers with chipped paint lined both walls.
They remembered this place.
How did they remember? Why did they remember?
They remembered being Taylor Hebert.
Except they weren't.
Because Taylor Hebert was stuck in the locker at the end of the row in front of them. They knew which one belonged to her. They remembered her getting shoved in there, along with the rancid trash and blood and vomit.
But they hadn't gotten shoved in there, even though they remembered it.
They put aside the strangeness of remembering things they never experienced. They should probably help her, right?
That's why they were here.
They didn't know how they knew that. It wasn't even a requirement, just a general suggestion. Still, it wasn't like they had anything better to do.
They walked over to the locker. Taylor had gone silent, even though they knew she was still inside.
They remembered the moment that she gave up. Accepted that no one would ever care.
The locker was locked. Obviously.
Inconvenient.
They were pretty sure they weren't strong enough to break a metal padlock with their bare hands.
They tried anyway.
It didn't work.
"Is somebody there?"
Oh. Taylor had noticed them fiddling with the lock. That was awkward.
"Yes? Um… yeah, I'm going to go find some… bolt cutters? Or something?" They said. Their voice sounded strange in their own ears. Like it'd never been used before.
Hilarious.
You know, most people probably don't have to deal with finding bolt cutters in a school thirty seconds after being born.
Did that mean it was their birthday?
They'd figure out that part later.
"Don't… leave."
Okay, finding bolt cutters was going to be much harder if they also couldn't leave. Sorta mutually exclusive options there, Taylor.
"I'll be back, I promise, but I can't get you out without something to break the lock."
They looked down at their hands. Long, thin fingers and pale skin.
Despite Taylor's protests, they strode down the hallway to the nearest bathroom.
They'd expected it, but staring into the mirror and seeing Taylor's face staring back was… weird.
They weren't her.
They could be somebody else, though.
Maybe somebody with bolt cutters?
The first stolen memory that came to mind was Taylor's father working on the fence in the backyard, holding his old tools.
There was a soundless pop, and for a very brief moment they stopped existing.
Then, as quickly as they left, they were back. With a very different face, tired bags under their eyes and a receding hairline. They even got some grass stained jeans and a flannel out of the deal.
Perfect.
They ran back down the hallway, bolt cutters in hand.
"Please…" Taylor's voice was weak.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm working on it. Sorry, I've never done this before," they rambled, trying to get the shackle in between the blades of the long handled loppers. It took longer than it should. Taylor's struggling on the other side of the door didn't help. At least she wasn't dead or something.
Finally, they found the right angle and the lock broke with a snap that echoed in the empty hallway. The door opened and they jumped backwards to avoid the tiny tidal wave of grossness that also included Taylor's floundering body.
Taylor writhed on the ground for a moment before managing to pull herself up to her hands and knees.
They reached down to help, but didn't want to touch the… everything, going on there, so they pulled back instead.
Yuck.
Taylor finally looked up at them and her bloody face twisted with a whole mess of emotions they didn't understand.
"Dad?"
Oh. Right. Whoops. They were still wearing his face. That was awkward.
"No, no, um… sorry? I don't know why I'm apologizing. I'm not your dad, I'm… uh…"
Shit. They didn't know what they were. That was inconvenient.
Taylor pushed herself away from them in horror, ending up against the door of the locker she just fell out of. That was probably a fair reaction, given the circumstances.
"Look, I'm kinda clueless too, here, but I can…" They shifted to look like Taylor again. "See? I… uh… oh, that's probably not helpful. Fuck."
Sure enough, Taylor pulled in a deep breath and tried to scream.
Luckily, she choked on the residual vomit and who knows what else, so all that came out was a hacking cough and a strangled keen.
"Shit, sorry." Why were they still apologizing? They'd just saved her from that trash heap. Taylor should be thanking them, honestly. "Look, I don't know if you want anyone to find you like this or not. I was born, like, literally five minutes ago, so, y'know, any insight would be welcome here."
Taylor didn't seem to be in the right state of mind to respond. She just stared up at them with glassy, bloodshot eyes.
Maybe they should stop wearing her face. Yeah, that would help. Right?
Someone who could help, someone who could make her feel better…
They frantically rifled through Taylor's memories like a crooked businessman trying to shred all his documents before a surprise tax audit.
They shifted again, and this time Taylor managed to scream in earnest. High pitched and terrified, with a good mix of pain and longing and horror added for spice.
In hindsight, putting on her mother's face was a terrible idea.
They could hear footsteps from a nearby classroom.
They probably shouldn't be here.
Scratch that. They definitely shouldn't be here. Not wearing Annette's face, or anyone else's, for that matter.
Shit. Fuck.
Working with unnatural instincts that they definitely needed to think about more when Taylor wasn't screaming, they popped like a soap bubble and reformed on the roof of the school.
Cool. Cool cool cool.
No one would look for them up here, right?
Fuck, it was cold, though.
They crouched down to avoid being seen and looked out over the rundown buildings.
Taylor remembered the city. She'd walked and driven down the streets between the brick facades countless times, but they hadn't. It was somehow novel, and not, at the same time.
Being tall didn't make it look less shitty.
The quiet solitude was kind of nice, though. It had been a chaotic few minutes of existence.
They waited until an ambulance and a police car showed up. A paramedic walked Taylor to the open back of the ambulance. At least she was walking, and not… worse.
Then the real Danny showed up and marched over to the ambulance as quickly as possible without breaking into a run. Seeing him again after their previous fuck up was probably weird for Taylor.
Actually, all of this was probably weird for Taylor.
It was pretty weird for them, too.
The ambulance pulled away with Danny's truck in hot pursuit, and they popped away along the rooftops after them.
…
Monday, January 3rd, 2011.
"Are you sure you don't need anything, Taylor?"
Her father's pleading tone was like sandpaper. She knew that he couldn't help with anything that mattered.
Luckily, she hadn't picked up any crazy diseases or anything from the filth, so they let her go home from the hospital as soon as the blood tests were finished.
Besides, she had other things to worry about right now.
Like why she remembered cutting herself out of the locker. And following the ambulance. And waiting outside the hospital and copying strangers' faces to use later.
Why she could see the ceiling of her own bedroom right now, through the eyes of whatever the fuck was lying on her bed.
Part of her wanted to call the PRT and report an unknown parahuman stalker. She was still considering it.
But weirdly, whatever it was, it felt like… herself, somehow. It was bizarre. Like she suddenly had a new limb that acted autonomously.
It was time to go face the music, and her father couldn't do a damn thing to help. Not with this. Not with anything.
"No. I'm going to go lie down for a while, though. It's been a shitty day."
"Okay," her father still looked worried. "I'll knock when I get back with dinner."
He didn't comment on her language, which was nice. Silver linings of being locked in a tiny metal box filled with her own vomit and bugs and rotting, bloody-
Taylor cut off the spiraling thoughts before she could crack again. She'd already lost her shit once today.
She shivered and pushed the memory of its unfamiliar expression on her mother's face as deep as she could.
The shivering didn't stop until she made it to the top of the stairs, though.
The door to her own bedroom shouldn't be this intimidating.
Fuck it.
She opened the door and walked inside like she wasn't fucking terrified. What did she have to lose, anyway?
Sure enough, as expected, the thing wearing her face was lounging on the bed, hands behind its head without a care in the world.
Taylor walked across the room in silence and sat in her desk chair. It felt like her scowl would become permanently etched into her face. Her jaw hurt from alternating between clenching her teeth and forcing herself to relax.
"What are you?" Taylor asked finally.
The thing on her bed shrugged horizontally.
"No idea," it said.
That was… unhelpful.
"Could you not?" Taylor demanded. She meant to sound in control, but she just felt… whiny. Which made her even more pissed.
"Not what?"
"Look like me. It's fucking creepy."
"I thought it'd be less weird than seeing some random person in your bedroom," it said, crossing its legs, her legs, and staring down at her with her eyes.
"Well, it's not," Taylor said.
"Who do you want me to be, then?"
"I don't know. Someone else. Not my mom. Or dad. Or-"
Then the thing turned into Emma, and Taylor stood up so fast she knocked her computer monitor off the old desk.
Seeing her again, right there, lounging on her bed like it was nothing… it knocked the wind out of her like an elbow to the stomach.
A physical blow would have hurt a lot less.
Taylor took the part of her that wanted to cry and buried it even deeper.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She hissed.
"What? I thought you'd like to talk to Emmi," the thing had the audacity to smile at her. With Emma's face. "Don't you want to hear her say how sorry she is for all the-"
"You're not her!" Taylor yelled. Hopefully her dad had already left to get takeout for dinner. "You're not real. I don't know what the hell you are, but I need you to get the fuck out of my house and leave me alone."
"That's not very nice. No wonder you don't have any friends, if you treat them all like that," Emma's mouth said with a stranger's expression.
Taylor clenched her fists so hard she felt her fingernails break the skin of her palm.
She managed to resist the urge to throw the desk lamp at fake Emma's smug fucking face.
"I'll call the PRT," Taylor ground out through clenched teeth. "They'll find a way to get rid of you."
"You'll, what, call them on yourself?" It said sarcastically.
Taylor's mind went strangely blank.
"What?" She asked incredulously.
"You made me, dumbass," the thing said like it was explaining something obvious. "I can't go more than a couple blocks from you. I remember everything you remember, in real time. If I can see myself out of your eyes, which, by the way, your vision is absolute garbage, I don't know how you stand it. You need to update your prescription-"
"Get to the point."
"Touchy. But, if I know what you know, I'm willing to bet you know what I know. So, you already know what I'm going to say," it sat up on the edge of the bed and crossed its arms.
Emma's arms.
Fuck.
"Change into somebody else. Now," Taylor said coldly.
"Say 'please'."
Taylor threw her desk lamp at it.
Her aim was slightly off because the plug got ripped out of the wall, but the heavy lamp still clipped what she now recognized as her own parahuman projection's face.
Of course. Of fucking course she would get actual superpowers, just to summon a fucking asshole of a thing that she couldn't fucking control.
"Ow," her projection said in a tone of genuine surprise, touching its bloody lip.
Good.
"Get out of my house, and stay the fuck away from me," Taylor said as forcefully as she could. There had to be a way to make this thing listen to her. "As soon as I find a way to get rid of you, I'm going to lock you in a box somewhere and throw away the key."
"Best of luck with that. Trust me, I tried to leave your ass at the hospital. Hanging around there all day was boring as hell. If I can't get rid of myself, how are you planning to?" The projection rolled Emma's eyes.
"I'll find a way."
"I'm absolutely shaking with anticipation, can't you tell?" It deadpanned.
The projection flickered and suddenly Emma's face was perfect and unbloodied again.
It's fucking with me. On purpose.
Taylor honestly didn't know if she hated it or the real Emma more, in that moment.
"You're not her," Taylor hissed. "You're just an empty thing, a hollow fucking shell pretending to be a person. You're nobody."
The thing still wearing Emma's face just snorted derisively and smiled.
"Maybe I am."
…