Big Mouth

Summary: Taylor has always thought she had a mouth that was just a bit too wide, but she knew how to keep it shut, and when to open it.

When the Dark Smoke cleared, the villains were revealed.

A tall, obviously male, figure in leathers and a skull themed helmet.

A significantly shorter male, a boy even, in frilly ren-faire reject clothing with a stupid mask, and an actually pretty nice looking scepter.

A girl entirely too confident in her body figure in purple spandex.

A butch girl in a fur lined coat and a cheap plastic mask.

A massive beast of a man with bulging muscles on his muscles and a misproportioned head.

Taylor's lips pursed. She knew them. The Undersiders, the escapist masters of Brockton Bay, thieves of petty caliber that were only famous for being squirrely and slippery. Also because one of them was a known murderer. Not much information on them in general, and only scattered forum posts from those who'd had interactions with them to go by. Enough people'd had interaction with some of them to construct a general picture.

Joy. The entire situation was just absolutely wonderful. Just when you think life's looking up, you stick your head out of the hole and then the elephant that just gorged on taco bell rears its ugly butt.

Their leader, presumably, Grue, barked orders for everybody to get down. The musclebound brute made threatening gestures. The dogs growled.

Someone tripped in an unnatural way.

Taylor glared at the man in biker leathers as he approached her. "Didn't you hear me? Get down on the ground and put your hands up!"

"Or what?" she replied, petulantly, putting her hands on her hips and striking the 'defiant irreverent and disrespectful teenager' pose that she'd seen some humanoid clichés adopt.

"You're gonna get hurt," Grue said, his voice low and threatening.

"Oh, yes, because that's gonna be fantastic for your rep, won't it? I can already see the headlines, "Grue of the Undersiders beat up a defenseless little girl", right after the headlines that say "Undersiders captured because they stupidly attempted to rob a bank in broad daylight"," Taylor mocked.

"Oh hoho," the effeminate boy laughed in an obviously mocking manner, "she's got you there fearless leader."

"Shut up Regent," Grue said.

Ah so that was his name. PHO was unclear on that. Hm, what could she do now?

"Listen girl don't make this harder than it has to be, I'll-"

"No you won't," Taylor said, rolling her eyes. "You're not gonna lay a finger on me, that's not your style. You're neither dumb nor suicidal, you avoid fights and most of your reported sightings seem to be mercenary work, based on patterns and results," she said. "You're not stupid enough to put hands on a powerless teenaged girl and put yourself on the list of villains that Miss Militia can shoot without guilt," she continued.

Grue seemed annoyed, but didn't seem willing to interject.

"She's just stalling for time," the girl in purple interjected, "just move on to loading stuff on the dogs and don't waste time on her!"

Grue shook his head. "You're right," he said. "I'll go help Regent and Browbeat, Bitch, Tattletale, keep the situation under control!"

An assorted grunt of acknowledgment from the Undersiders answered him and he moved. Taylor glared at him as he did.

"Ah, yes, Tattletale," Taylor said. The group's Thinker. "You know there's actually more information about you than there is about your teammates?" she asked.

"Oh? You got into the Protectorate's files on me? Interesting!" Tattletale said with a visible grin. "What've you got for me?"

"General consensus suggests that you've got an extraordinarily powerful Thinker power but are either suicidal or pathologically incapable of shutting up," Taylor said, freely.

"Funny that you're saying that, since you were absolutely prepared to get beat up. Tell me, are you familiar with the term 'suicide by cape' by any chance?"

Taylor snorted. "I know what you're trying to do," she said.

"Feeling powerful, huh? Your name, uh... T? Taaay," Tattletale stopped and grinned. "Yes, Taylor, that's it!" she said. "Right, Taylor. You're feeling powerful right now, not like you feel every day, right? You're feeling like a bold and powerful hero standing up to the eeeevil villains, but for all your talk you're just stalling for time. Shocking news for you girl, help isn't coming. We planned this. The Protectorate is out of town and the Wards are in school. We took out the alarm when we came in. You're all alone now, again, like a lonely little miserable-"

Taylor smirked and Tattletale suddenly stopped.

"What-" Tattletale's eyes widened.

Taylor's smirk grew. "Good night, bitch," she said, sounding extremely satisfied.

Tattletale dropped like a rock as a mousy-looking young woman sighed behind her. "Thanks for distracting her. I swear she almost sells the whole Psychic bullshit sometimes," she said. "That was very brave you know."

"It's not bravery, I knew Grue would never put a hand on me, and Tattletale's really no different than what I deal with at school every day," Taylor said, shrugging, "Only with no added emotional attachment to bother me," she said with a smile. "What about the big guy?"

"Out too. Self biokinesis doesn't mean much to me," the brown haired girl said, shrugging.

Amelia 'Amy' Dallon. Taylor resisted a grimace. All of her information was a matter of public record, including her name before she was adopted, and enough research into Brockton Bay's history would reveal a nasty little open secret that most people didn't know about.

"Are you ok?" she asked. "You look a little lost there, the adrenaline must be coming down," she said, sounding mildly worried.

"Yes," Taylor said, shaking her head. "Just got lost in thought for a moment. Have you-"

"Called my sister, yes," she said.

Taylor nodded. "You," she said, pointing at a random person who was untying someone else, "call the PRT," she said. When he protested she ratted off the number and the guy seemed to just give up and grudgingly began to dial.

"Well this is a mess. Just once I get a nice little windfall, and want to go buy some ice cream to celebrate, and this happens. I'm getting a debit card as soon as I can I swear..." Taylor muttered to herself.

"Did you know that approximately fifty seven people suspect that Dean Stansfield and Gallant are the same person, purely because of Glory Girl's behavior towards the ward named Gallant?"

Taylor's words cut the silence of the night air.

Amy sighed. "I figured," she said, shrugging.

"Good, because that's just the people who suspect. Another thirty or so have signed NDAs regarding that identity," Taylor added. "The PRT is starting to get antsy about all these agreements and the money they have to pay to keep it hidden."

"How do you know this?" Amy asked, taking a drag of her cigarette.

"Well, some investigation here, some investigation there, some people owed me a couple of favors and well, nothing too illegal," Taylor said, smiling in amusement. "Well nothing too immoral at any rate."

Amy chuckled. "You said you had something big for me. Spill," she said.

"You wanted to know who your father is, didn't you?" Taylor asked, frowning. "I can get you that information, but you have to do me a very important favor first."

Amy closed her eyes, and the silence stretched for a few minutes. The park was empty, and only the distant sounds of a city with a dormant night life interrupted their placid, calm and somewhat comfortable silence.

"Name it," she said.

"In room one hundred and twelve of the Home for the Terminally Ill, there's a red haired man with a terminal disease. Cure him, and I'll tell you."

Amy frowned. Taylor usually asked for favors in return for her work. They ranged from simple cosmetic surgery on a third party to life-saving treatment to, in one memorable occassion, accompanying her to buy clothes in the boardwalk. It wasn't anything unusual. But usually the favors corresponded in weight to what Amy asked of her. Was it really so easy to discover information on her father?

Either way, it was a simply request.

The next night, after she had completed her work for the day, Amy Dallon learned that her name was Amelia Lavere, she learned that she had a father who loved her dearly, and that he was in the Birdcage.

From Dragon, of all people, who delivered a message to her from the man himself.

"How the fuck did Taylor get blackmail on Dragon of all people?" Amy mused, despite herself, a mix of happiness, terror and self loathing swirling within her.

Taylor munched on popcorn. "You're such a nerd," she said, looking at where Amy was bundled up in blankets on the couch. "Hold on, are you crying?"

"Have you no heart?!" Amy replied, scandalized, "you're a cold hearted monster if you don't cry over Mr. Spock's death!"

Taylor rolled her eyes. "I feel like it's an insult to his sacrifice. He said it best, right? We shouldn't grieve, live long and prosper."

"I expected a visit," Taylor said. "I know too much, don't I?"

"No," the woman in the Fedora said. "You don't know enough," she explained. "And that's the problem. Come, walk with me."

Taylor squeezed Amy's hand. "I'm glad we got to meet," Taylor said, giving her a smile.

"This can't be the only way, please," Amy's eyes teared up, "please, you're- you're smart, Taylor, you have to- don't let it- You're smarter, please, you're the smartest person I know!"

"There are other ways," Taylor admitted. "But... I really... This is the best. The needs of the many outweigh..."

"... the needs of the few," Amy finished.

"You're such a nerd," Taylor said with a smile.

They remained still for minutes, just holding each other's hand.

Not too long after, the name of Khepri passed into legend, while the name of Taylor Hebert would be lost and forgotten, just as planned.

"Are you okay?" Victoria asked, looking at her sister.

The revelations of her sister's relation to the man who had so thoroughly traumatized her mother was a bit of an awkward sticking point, but it'd ended up bringing the sisters closer together, in the end, as even Carol Dallon ultimately found the ability to deal with the problem... with copious therapy... mandated by a court.

"Yeah," Amy said, slowly, making it very clear she was not. "I'll be," she added. "I'm sorry, Taylor. I shouldn't be crying," she said.

"Ah, right," Vicky said. "I got this text message today from an unknown number. It said to tell you to live long and prosper," Victoria said, looking at Amy even as she laid flowers on her best friend's empty grave. "Know what that means?"

"It means that I'm a huge nerd," Amy said, a smile drawing itself on her face. "And a reminder, I guess... Come on. Take me back to the hospital. I feel like healing some people tonight."

Victoria smiled. "Ok. One short distance flight on Glorious Airlines coming right up!"

Omake: Or, how Taylor got Dragon to go along with that...

"Hello, Geoff," a grave, thunderous voice growled into the warehouse that the Dragonslayers were based from as they tried to disrupt another one of Dragon's operations.

Caught away from their stolen tech, the men had absolutely no chance in hell to fight off a royally pissed off Armsmaster trying desperately to release his only friend from the Dragonslayers' shackles.

"H-How did you find us?" Saint, Geoff Pellick, asked as he was arrested.

"You should not have ordered food delivery," Armsmaster said, dryly.

"But how! Those are private, the AI shouldn't be able to-" Saint's eyes widened. "That bitch!"

"Yes, that bitch," Armsmaster said. "I'll owe her a million favors after this, but it'll be totally worth it!"