Great Sage Above Brockton [Worm/Chinese Myth] Sakadagami 2.04

Each displaying his divine powers, the Third Prince and Wukong battled for thirty rounds. The six weapons of that prince changed into a thousand and ten thousand pieces; the golden-hooped rod of Sun Wukong into ten thousand and a thousand. They clashed like raindrops and meteors in the air, but victory or defeat was not yet determined. Wukong, however, proved to be the one swifter of eye and hand. Right in the midst of the confusion, he plucked a piece of hair and shouted, “Change!” It changed into a copy of him, also wielding a rod in its hands and deceiving Nezha. His real person leaped behind Nezha and struck his left shoulder with the rod. Nezha, still performing his magic, heard the rod whizzing through the air and tried desperately to dodge it. Unable to move quickly enough, he took the blow and fled in pain. Breaking off his magic and gathering up his six weapons, he returned to his camp in defeat.

• Journey to the West, chapter 4

-x-

Taylor Hebert had seen a great deal in her short life. Happy moments with her parents and her friend were now stained black by the physical and metaphorical deaths of both. Living in the cape capital of the USA had tempered her reactions to extreme moments, be they comic, tragic, or just plain bizarre when explained out of context. And then she discovered her bully was a hero-in-training, had powers, and was offered a chance to become a real hero by a monkey.

Yes, it was completely baffling when she thought about it…but like every other curveball life had thrown at her, she could power through it.

But as she peeked her hooded head out from behind a street corner, the last coherent thought passing through her mind before it bluescreened was that she might’ve spoken too soon. 

Because there was no rational way to explain the spectacle unfolding before her.

With trembling fingers, she rubbed some dust off her glasses and pulled back strands of messy hair…yup, a small army of monkeys was fighting off an army of knights.

She knew her teacher was weird. Be it his old-timey way of speaking, the strange comments he threw about whatever was around him, and the fact he was a…well, a talking monkey. Probably a Case-53 like Trainwreck from the news. It wasn’t what she expected when he offered to teach her - though to be honest, she had no idea what to expect. 

Yet this…

Where the fuck did that come from!?

This was a completely different level of weirdness.

It was a localized typhoon of phantom and fur on the street. Crusader’s clones swarmed inward and tried to pierce, slash, and dismember anything that wasn’t them. Wordless howling echoed through the street in an eerie battle cry. Victor fired into the pandemonium from the side, causing her to wince at the staccato of gunfire. She could barely discern anything from the mess, not knowing whether or not any of the bullets struck true. More than once did a clone ram their spear into a furry body…

…only for two things to happen: either the monkey clone pivoted and twisted at the very last second, or the phantom weapon shattered against their skin.

Whatever the outcome, the result was the same: the clone (or was it Wukong himself?) would whack the clone over the head and, causing it to vanish without a trace, only for another to take its place.

Which made absolutely no sense. Taylor thought her tongue would roll into her throat from how low her jaw dropped.

‘How can ghost weapons even break? How can ghosts break, period?’ 

Admittedly, Taylor didn’t know much about Empire capes beyond Kaiser. The news reports of the Protectorate or the Wards’ triumphs and losses - whenever their PR people attempted to save face - always included the villains they fought against. If she had any recollection of Crusader, it wasn’t screaming at her with familiarity. Victor rang a bell, and she’d seen photos of him in the paper, but there was nothing about his powers. From what she could remember from her times on PHO, there was a lot of speculation about it.

‘...well, whatever it is, it doesn’t seem to be helping.’

Indeed, even as he reloaded and kept on firing, nothing changed. Monkeys bashed and smacked phantoms around, howling and chanting as though they were in the jungle. The beating of their staves reminded her of tribal songs from the radio, akin but these were disharmonized and savage. But even amidst the hullaballo, Taylor swallowed at their movements. Sharp, deadly and remorseless. If Crusader’s phantoms were real people, she didn’t doubt the body count would’ve been astronomical.

At some point when he realized nothing was working, Victor started yelling at the real Crusader, who stood beside him with an iron grip on his spear, even as clones flew out of his body.

“Are you even trying!?”

“Screw you! I’m making them as fast as I can! I don’t know which one is real!”

“Why aren’t they turning him into cheese?”

“How should I know, this is next-level cape bullshit! Just nail him in the head!”

“Which one, for fuck’s -” Victor roared and unleashed another hail of ammo. Against the streetlamps, his frown almost seemed demonic, with bared teeth and his blonde hair matting a sweaty brow. As Taylor directed her gaze to the clone brawl, a crazy thought wormed its way into her consciousness:

She could help.

Sneak up close while they aren’t looking, then use her wings to smack them. They were preoccupied, so she had a chance.

First she needed to find handcuffs, something to bind them with until the authorities arrived…and they were out of the scene. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything around that could work as a pair of handcuffs. Maybe one of the shops nearby had zip-ties. 

What am I thinking? Every store within a block’s radius is locked tight. No one is going to stick their head out when this is happening. Did someone call the police - who am I kidding, every cop and hero out on patrol is going to see this! 

She bit her thumb as her mind raced through various scenarios, thinking of any way she could help. Any bystanders were long gone, so that took care of the civilian angle. A good hit from her wings could take out Victor, but then she’d have to deal with Crusader, and she was pretty sure that she couldn’t damage any clones he would summon. But what else -

A howl broke through her thoughts as a monkey threw a Crusader phantom into the air and swatted it like a baseball, sending it careening above their heads and far away down the street, until it disappeared from view.

… On second thought, maybe I should just stay here. Behind this nice, safe, brick wall that’s not in the line of fire of nazis and angry monkeys.

She forced down her welling irritation at standing by and spectating, but…there was little she could do right now, untrained as she was. Wuking might hit her by accident.

Taylor focused back on the fight, where the monkeys kept beating off every spectral knight. She bit her lip as she failed to follow the mayhem, trying to pinpoint which of the clones was the real Wukong. Each clone spun and swung their staves like miniature twisters, hopping around and dispelling Crusader’s clones with movements too fast for her to track. 

Victor finally roared, his voice hoarse and slicked with sweat as he loaded and fired off another magazine -

And then, silence.

It was a blip, missable in the haze of screaming and limbs, but a monkey’s head swung to the side, as though slapped hard. Taylor felt her breath hitch, still uncertain of who was who. Did the nazi finally shoot the real one? 

Wukong blinked and rubbed his cheek in befuddlement, tracing his unblemished cheek, and dragging a clawed hand through his mane. As one, the monkey troupe turned to Victor with wide eyes, holding back the struggling phantoms with ease. The cape in question stood with a finger on the trigger, eyes darting to and fro from behind his mask. 

“Rude.”

Gold flashed - 

And a brown flash shot out of the mess of limbs and right at Victor. Taylor barely saw him gape before the blur collided with his torso and pushed him out of sight. Barely an instant later, the brown mass zoomed back into the pile. Without even offering a second of mercy, the monkey army returned to massacring the ghosts. 

Oh right, his staff could do that.

As the poor girl tried to recover her fraying rationality, one monkey somersaulted high into the air and landed right before Crusader. The armored cape reacted fast, his spear soaring toward the monkey’s abdomen. Wukong tilted his staff, letting the sharpened tip clash against the wood with a resounding clang. 

Isn’t that staff made from wood?

With a great sweep, Wukong swung at Crusader, fully intent on scoring a home run as he did with Victor. Then, Crusader flew backward as a shimmer enveloped him, pointing his spear at the asphalt. Three clones flew from his body and Wukong batted them away, shaking his head ruefully. 

“Is that all? The novelty is losing its luster fast. And your constructs are shoddy! I’ve seen scarecrows endure rougher punishment than these wisps!” As if to prove his point, he rammed his staff through a clone, causing it to shriek in silence before fading. “You will naturally be punished of course, but this Old Sun can show a token of mercy if you stand down.”

Two phantoms broke away from the chaos behind the capes, rushing silently at the monkey. Taylor didn’t even gasp as their phantom spears drew closer, closer -

Right at the neck.

Joined by a third.

A horrible vision passed before her. One of blood, gagging and triumphant nazis. 

The spears were firmly stuck in the monkey’s neck, and at any moment they would jut out and splatter blood all over the pavement -

Wait. What was going on?

Crusader snarled; a near bestial growl that sounded Hookwolf, and pushed the spear further into the monkey’s furry neck. His clones worked in tandem, jabbing and skewering every inch of their opponent’s crouched form…

…but nothing gave. 

The knife bent, leaving unmarred skin.

An incredulous giggle threatened to escape her lips. This was too much. 

“Why…” Crusader growled and swung his spear at Wukong’s head, sending slash after slash while the clones kept on trying to skewer him. Wukong’s staff, held loosely in one clawed hand, didn’t so much as budge in response to the onslaught. “Why don’t you fucking die!?”

He cocked his spear back, intent on ending the cape once and for all -

“Adorable.”

The staff glowed, flew upward and -

Taylor would have paid a lottery’s worth to see Crusader’s expression right now; because no human being could ever make such a sound.

The staff vanished and Wukong spin-jumped, the wind swirling around him and blowing the phantoms away like stray leaves. With one hand, he grabbed Crusader’s helm…

…and slammed his forehead with the force of a battering ram.

Holy shit.

In the recesses of her mind, Taylor imagined a gong, its ringing shattering whatever trace of composure she had left. 

Crusader swayed on his feet, his spear threatening to fall out of his hand at any second while Wukong dusted himself off. When his hand reached his neck, he paused and tilted his head at Crusader, looking his armor up and down.

“With all the metal you clad yourself in, I expected you to endure more punishment than this. Alas, even the sturdiest shield fails in the hands of feeble men with feebler wills.” He sniffed at the cape. “By the setting sun, your lot all cast the same shadow: one of cowardice and savagery, masked by pretty clothes and false bravado. A troupe’s display, fractured the instant other folk see you for what you are and stand up to your chest-thumping.” He waved his hand and gestured to the street, now almost devoid of people. From her position, Taylor spotted several people huddled behind corners, not daring to raise their heads lest they were dragged into this whole mess.

Crusader kept wobbling in place and leaning on his spear, even as he tried to raise his head.  Judging from how he shifted his legs, it wasn’t going too well.

Wukong (and Taylor had a sinking suspicion he was the real deal and not a clone) glanced behind him. Crusader’s phantoms were long gone now, the last of them being…driven into the ground by a monkey jumping up and down on it.

She didn’t laugh. No matter how much her stomach was threatening to burst.

“I’ve witnessed scarecrows with better durability. Though you do earn merit for producing them so quickly. That is the sole acknowledgment I shall grant you; treasure it, for I doubt you shall receive another.” He briefly looked above Crusader’s helmet with a raised eyebrow before returning his gaze to the nazi. “You seem tired. Children should take naps.”

With a fluid motion, he kicked Crusader’s legs from under him and slammed his head into the road. Taylor winced at the sight of the impact and a tiny part of her grew concerned…but then she heard Crusader’s groan before his body went fully slack.

…

…

…

It took every ounce of strength in Taylor’s grip on the wall not to let go. The image was practically seared into her brain from the sheer incredulity of it: Wukong standing above Crusader’s fallen form, and an army of his clones cheered and hollered at the back, breaking into frenzied dance and somersaulting up and down. The monkey turned and bowed thrice to his personal cheering squad - because what else would you call it - then snapped his fingers. A golden haze enveloped each of the clones and they vanished into nothingness, leaving neither hair nor cloth to show they were ever present. Returning his gaze to Crusader, he gently rapped on his helmet with his staff. The faintest of groans returned in response, and Taylor even spotted a finger twitching. 

Ducking back into the alley, Taylor clamped a hand over her mouth and held back…whatever was threatening to spew. Laughter, a cry of disbelief, or a general WTF that would’ve woken up the neighborhood. Possibly a combination of all three. She’d seen cape fights before, both on TV and the internet, occasionally glimpsing them when they broke out on the street. But this was completely different; the sheer ease and theatricality Wukong displayed would shame any Shakespearean actor. 

Screw one-liners, he spat out entire soliloquies! 

More than anything though, were the questions about his powers that burst like a geyser in her mind. And one rose above them all:

What was his power?

And how does being a monkey fit into it?

“Did you enjoy the performance, disciple?”

Taylor yelped and sharply turned around, meeting Wukong’s twinkling red eyes and amused grin. She peeked at the street again, and sure enough, he was no longer there. All that remained was the twitching Crusader.

“How did you-?”

Wukong chuckled and twirled his staff. “Patience disciple. I see the curiosity threatening to gush out of you, but let us take this conversation somewhere private, shall we? I’d rather avoid confrontation with the local authorities, I have no time to deal with that sort of nonsense today.”

Sure enough, the blaring of police sirens rang out from behind them and drew ever closer. 

“R-right. Yeah, I don’t think sticking around is a great idea.”

Tapping the staff against the ground, Wukong didn’t react to the flash of gold as it shrank in his hand. He tucked it into his ear - okay, now she had even more questions - and held out a hand. Taylor grabbed the offered palm and he pressed her against his chest, causing her to squeak. He leapt above the rooftops and began bounding away. 

A few minutes later, he stopped, and Taylor glimpsed the knick-knack shop below and across. The sun had fully set by now and the moon was showing his

“Much better now, yes? Let us take this inside and discuss your imminent questions over tea.”

Again, Taylor was silenced when Wukong, still carrying her, jumped off the roof and landed right in front of the store. They entered and Peizhi sat behind his counter, staring at his phone. 

“A fine evening to you, Peizhi-xiansheng! How was the remainder of your day?”

The shopkeeper’s head shot up and his eyes darted to them. Once he made eye contact with her though, he slouched. 

“Oh…Wukong. I’m-I’m fine, thanks. You were gone for a while.” He shifted his attention to her. “What did he do to you?”

The way he phrased it made it sound like he planned to torture her with hot iron nails. Granted, her body felt like that when they finished the round of training…but nothing.

“We tested my powers for a bit while I did a bunch of exercises.” She said and rubbed her shoulder after Wukong put her down. “It hurts like hell, but I’m fine.”

The worry, however brief, on Peizhi’s face felt a bit jarring to Taylor, even after more than a week of staying with him. He was a complete stranger to her, and Wukong basically foisted her upon his house, but he never displayed anything other than a detached concern. He rarely approached her directly, mostly to ask what she wanted to eat or if she was comfortable, but it didn’t feel forced. 

Taylor wasn’t sure how to approach him herself, or if she even should. Even now, he seemed skittish around her…or maybe it was just Wukong’s presence. 

“Where exactly did you go?”

“The Trainyard,” she replied. Peizhi blinked and his mouth dropped for a moment before he forced it shut. 

“That…makes sense. Plenty of room and things to hit, right?” 

“A strange place to dump metal boxes, but they served an adequate purpose.” He sniffed and shook his head. “The smell was unfortunate, though. Rust makes for an unattractive perfume.”

Peizhi nodded, then bit his lip. “You didn’t…meet anyone there, right?”

“Hah! Ease your mind, my friend! Some vagabond lingered in the far edges of the yard,” Peizhi might as well have turned into stone with those words. “But they dared not approach. Too drunk in their own misery and swill, that they were.”

The shopkeeper’s sigh almost made him slump on the counter. “Right…yeah, I’ve heard plenty of druggies hang there…”

“I shall take note to dissuade them gently. Do you have any of that fabulous chrysanthemum tea left?”

“Um…yeah. In the counter above the sink to the left.” He pushed himself up and opened the counter door. “I’ll boil a pot-”

“No need to trouble yourself, Peizhi-xiansheng!” Wukong interjected. “It’s been a while since this Old Sun brewed a proper pot myself. I wish to do so now and provide an offering to this household as you have graciously done to me.”

Peizhi moved to protest, then contemplated something in his mind that Taylor couldn’t quite make out…before slowly nodding, albeit with extreme reluctance. 

“Just be careful with the teapot, please?”

“I shall treat it with the care reserved for the finest of heavenly silks,” Wukong said, smacking a fist against his robe. He then dashed upstairs, leaving Taylor and Peizhi alone.

For a short while, none of them moved. Peizhi’s gaze flickered to the girl, words on his tongue but he swallowed them, while Taylor averted her gaze and looked at the various knick-knacks on the shelves. Finally, when faint whistling came from the floor above, Peizhi broke the silence.

“Are you…really okay?” he asked. “I mean. Not just with him, but with everything that’s happened…” he trailed off.

Taylor pursed her lips and looked at her shoes. “I’m…still processing it, I guess. All that training kind of pushed it aside but…it’s kinda fucked up. The PRT’s after me, I haven't been home in a week-” Didn’t even talk to Dad. “All because a Ward decided to use me as a chew toy.”

Emma pointed the way. She had to, otherwise how else would Hess notice?

She forced down the rushing tingle in her back. No, she didn’t need to tear another hoodie. 

“Wukong’s training helps keep my mind off it, but I can’t forget it.”

Peizhi crossed his arms and leaned slightly forward. “I’m not gonna say I understand what you’re going through because I don’t. Yeah, what you went through is…he, shitty is an understatement. No offense.” He shrugged and looked at the stairs. “Could be you’re handling it better than I would’ve. Or you’re flipping out hysterically and I just can’t see it.” 

His gaze then returned to her, and despite his uncertainty, the corners of his lips twitched.

“But…you’re here now. You have powers, and Wukong tells me you really want to be a hero, so he’ll help you. Not saying it invalidates everything, but that has to count for something, right?”

…this time it was Taylor who couldn’t help the faint smile.

It didn’t erase what happened, far from it. She didn’t know if she was ever going to get justice for what happened…but right now? This wasn’t so bad.

“Um, I have a question, if you don’t mind?” she asked. 

“Ask away.”

Taylor paused to formulate the question. One of several really, but this one didn’t feel polite to ask Wukong directly.

“Where is he from? The way he talks about some things makes me feel like he’s never seen a city before.”

Peizhi chuckled with exasperation. “You don’t know the half of it. When he first asked me about it, I thought he had amnesia or something similar. Most of those Case-53’s have that, I think.” He then lightly grimaced. “But…it doesn’t feel like that. And his Mandarin is perfect, way better than some of the old-timers here. That’s not a skill you can get online or with a tutor.”

“So he’s really from China?”

“I have no clue, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was.” He rubbed his head. “He always talks about Flower-Fruit Mountain. Maybe he’s from one of the villages near it…but Jinshanling isn’t that rural. Maybe it’s somewhere deep in the country where the locals called one of the nearby mountains by the same name. I’ve heard stories that a few of those villages barely stepped out of the 20th century; that would explain why he asked about nachos, of all things. All I know is that one morning, he showed up in my kitchen, robes and all, eating my food. I…didn’t ask him much about his home.” 

The geography escaped her for the time being, but the gist was understood. That would explain his fascination with nachos. Taylor didn’t know if an American snack like that got past the CUI. But why didn’t he know about trains, of all things? She imagined they’d have that, at least!

A humming snapped Peizhi’s attention away and he opened his phone. He scrolled through it, then his expression morphed into a positively haunted one, complete with rapidly paling skin.

“...after your training, did you come straight back here?” he asked with a faint tremor.

Ah.

Taylor shook her head. Yeah, no prizes for guessing what he was reading. “There was a…hiccup.”

“Hiccup. I see…” Peizhi took a deep breath, set his phone down and pressed his fingers to his nose. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Taylor took the opportunity to mosey away and back up the stairs quietly. Whatever he was mumbling under his strangled breath, Taylor suspected she didn’t want to know.

She made her way to the kitchen where Wukong was pouring the finished tea into cups. 

“Ah, here you are! Come come, critique this Old Sun’s brewing!”

She approached the table and gingerly picked up the cup. The earthly scent tickled her nostrils and she felt the nerves from earlier calming down. When the first drop landed on her tongue, she winced at the sudden heat -

Huh. Actually, it wasn’t that hot.

“This is…really good.” She stared at the liquid with curiosity. “I mean, the tea’s good and it’s not too hot, but I don’t think it’s very different from what Peizhi does. Um, no offense-” 

Wukong let out a bark of laughter. “None taken, dear girl! On the contrary, this Old Sun couldn’t receive a better compliment, especially from his disciple!”

Ignoring her blush, Taylor sat herself down in the offered seat while Wukong did the same in his, calmly sipping his tea. His smile softened from the sharp grin as she stared at the tea, and when he breathed in the smell, it was as though he used all of his lungs for that sole purpose.

“Exquisite indeed. It warms this Old Sun’s heart that the art of cha has not left his old bones. Now, what is it you wish to ask of me? You go first!”

Where to even start?

Taylor returned the cup to the table and took a deep breath. “That…clone power. How can you do that?” 

“Ah, my Body Beyond Body Technique! Yes, a crown jewel of my arsenal!” He plucked a hair from his mane and held it aloft. “With one breath, I can transform my hair into anything I wish! My clones are some of my finer examples.”

She peered closer at the hair, and against the lightbulb, she swore she saw a faint halo shimmering around it. “Anything you want?” she asked. Sounded overkill…but this came from the cape who seemed to drink five liters of drama juice with his morning tea. Still, even if he was hamming it up, that sounded like one useful power, especially with those clones. Was that why he looked like a monkey? Because of those hairs?

“Are the clones real?” 

“They are as real as you and I, child. They do anything I can do, with all my spells and skills, though they are a tad fragile compared to me. I tend to have them vanish after a few hours, saves me the hassle of keeping track of them.”

That was nice. “And you can make-” Wait. Taylor’s eyes widened. “You made my brush from your hair. Does that mean it’s gonna vanish?” She hadn’t even properly tried it out yet!

“Hah! Fret not child. Mundane objects like your gift aren’t bound by those constraints. They are simple constructs, a far cry from my clones, and require no effort.”

She exhaled and banished that brief worry from her mind. “That’s a relief, thanks,” she pointed to his ear. “So does that mean your staff is also like that?” 

“My staff?” Wukong laughed again. “A good guess, but far from it!” He reached into his ear with two fingers and pulled out the needle-sized staff, which expanded to full size in a flash of gold. “My Ruyi Jingu Bang can change size at my command. I could create staves, but none of them could match this one. It was gifted to me by old Ao Guang, the Dragon King of the East!” His fingers caressed the staff as fondness seeped into his voice. “It has been a loyal weapon ever since. A match not even the heavens could pair.”

Dragon King of the East? Was that code for something? A cape from China?

Still, it was an impressive staff, disregarding the strange name. The shaft was polished so well it glistened like glass, the tips were capped with the most elaborate golden carvings she’d seen, depicting dragons and swirls. Along the shaft, Chinese characters were inscribed in gold ink.

Apparently, gold being a soft metal never crossed his mind…but to be fair, it was a very heavy metal as well.

“I believe it is this Old Sun’s turn to ask questions now, my dear. We did promise an exchange, didn’t we?” he asked and set the staff aside. “I’m curious about the group those ruffians claimed a part of. The Empire Eighty-Eight, yes? Could you tell me more about them?”

Taylor shifted in her spot as she felt sourness creeping over her. “They’re the biggest gang in the city, and they’ve been around since my dad’s time. The biggest neo-nazi group in the country backed up with cape muscle. The heroes and PRT have been trying to kick them out for years, but they’re in too deep. The fact their leader Kaiser is a powerful cape himself doesn’t help.”

“A group of thugs so persistent they became leeches. I would call that impressive if it wasn’t so pathetic.” Wukong took another sip of his tea and tilted his head. “What is a ‘nazi’?”

…okay, how did he not know what nazis were!?

“Nazis are…” she tried to find a good description of the group who through terror, war, and blood tried to conquer the world, how their ideology poisoned and condemned two different peoples - one to near-extinction - and that their legacy and continued existence was a blight upon society that should never have been allowed to grow in America or anywhere.

“The worst kind of humans. If you’re not them, they hate you. And if they won’t kill you for that, they’ll ensure you wish they did.”

Wukong took it all in with a sagely nod. “Hate-filled parasites then? Truly undeserving of the number they flaunt. Vandals such as they deserve not even a thimbleful of luck. Why haven’t the heroes removed them?”

“The Empire has capes, and the heroes don’t want to risk innocents getting caught in the crossfire of a cape war,” she replied with a frown. No one said it outright, but everyone knew it. That was why they could get recruits from dumps like Winslow; as long as it wasn’t blatant, the cops and heroes didn’t dare touch them. 

“And I presume the two I encountered were only a tasting of their full forces?”

“Crusader and Victor, yeah. I don’t remember all of them, but there’s also Hookwolf, Krieg - shit!”

“Now that is a fitting name!”

“No, not that!” Although a nazi being named ‘shit’ sounded hilarious. “Victor, where is he?”

“Limping back to his master, no doubt. I admit, my enthusiasm allowed him a chance to slither away, but it is of little concern.”

Taylor’s eye twitched as she calmly gripped her teacup. She desperately prayed not to break it.

“Why isn’t it a concern exactly?”

“Because it is not just this Old Sun they’ll contend with.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked behind his cup.

For the second - or maybe millionth - time today, Taylor’s brain crashed. Was he implying -

“Comprehensive training revolves around more than pummeling boxes and exercising. Only living opponents, ones more suited to your level, will truly help you grow. Fortunately, karma has provided us with the perfect tools to aid you. Low-level crooks, captains and even a chieftain! Right at our doorstep, no less! By the time I finish training you, this false Empire will fall at your feet!”

Most of Taylor, still in shock and denial from earlier events, wanted to scream in protest. How the hell was she going to beat someone like Kaiser, much less a whole gang of capes? She barely knew how to throw a punch!

…but another part, slowly growing, made itself known from the tingle in her back. One that whispered soft words of drive, temptation and excitement.

Are you really gonna chicken out now? What happened to being a hero?

“Let me get this straight,” she said with a small voice, tossed and scrambled with so many emotions she couldn’t keep track. “You want me to take out the Empire? By myself?”

Wukong leaned back and kept flashing that smirk, the amusement radiating off him like a star. “First steps, disciple, first steps. You have plenty of room to grow, but ‘tis always good to have short-term goals in mind. And truly, can you not think of a better one? A full yard has been bestowed upon you, and you should utilize every tool inside.”

He took another sip and his slurping grated Taylor’s eardrums. 

“Tool?”

“How else would you describe an army’s worth of training dummies?”