Introduction to the horrible, horrible world of Worm
====================
It was a bright and breezy day in the wonderful city of Brockton Bay. The sun was shining, the temperature was a balmy slightly-above-freezing, the clouds were few, the birds were singing, and the Nazis were shooting at anyone vaguely-to-allegedly darker than them.
This was, unfortunately, a normal day.
A few streets west from where the group of heroes called New Wave was holed up, some skinheads with genuine Soviet-era AK-74s (one even had an RPK light machine gun and felt, I am sure, very special) were firing wildly at a single black man who was rebounding all the bullets back at them. This was not, in fact, stopping them in this rather unintelligent act, but seemed to be encouraging them to continue with, if anything, more vigour. Skidmark yawned as more bullets rocketed toward the idiots, although this was partly because he was very, very high. He did have some backup, but the trembling tweakers he had brought along were, in the most part, merely armed with baseball bats at best. This was to keep them on lighter sentences when the cops showed up. He was high, not stupid. Well, in this one case, at least.
To the north, the local law enforcement agencies had just finished up a major fight with the Azn Bad Boyz gang, by running away when the leader of the gang showed up and tried to barbecue the lot of them. A man who can turn into a dragon has a lot of leeway in this sort of fight, especially one who has fought against an existential threat and, if not won, at least made it a draw. His lieutenants hadn't even bothered to show. He was Lung. He was enough.
Our intrepid heroes, unfortunately, were in neither of these places. They would have backup if they were. Some different Nazis had piled out of a van and started shooting up a barber's shop, and New Wave had been patrolling nearby. All six had barreled in to put a stop to this, but found the Nazis did have backup.Last edited: Yesterday at 9:39 PM Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Revanick, Agmad, JJLPH20 and 20 othersFoxfaxYesterday at 9:28 PMReader modeNewAdd bookmarkThreadmarks Threadmarks A lot of white, not a lot of power? New Threadmarks FoxfaxKnow what you're doing yet?Yesterday at 9:33 PMNewAdd bookmark#2"Carol, they're going left!" Explosions and a few stray bullets tore through the air as a silhouette darted back down the alley to join the rest of her crew.
"How the. Fuck did. We not. Die?!" panted a woman, dressed in white spandex and clutching a bullet crease in her arm. Her compatriots, similarly clad, cowered behind various trash cans, garbage bags, and a dumpster, keeping as far out of line-of-sight as possible.
"God knows, but be quiet and we might just live to find out," hissed another woman. In contrast to her companion's black fleur-de-lis, she sported a starburst on the chest. More explosions, sirens, and the occasional crack of gunfire kept all six of them ducking down, flinching in dread as the sounds slowly petered out into silence. That was somehow worse.
A new Rogue had come to town, and started a brawl with the locals at a bar. Turns out some folks don't like it when your skin is the colour of volcanic rock and you go into certain establishments. She had been lynched by those folks, or at least they had made a spirited attempt. Also turns out trying to hang a flying pyrokinetic Brute rarely worked out, regardless of how many racist morons you threw at the problem. The woman, who the news said was named "Volcanica", had responded to the attempted murder by burning down the bar with around twenty white supremacists inside. The gang who owned the bar, known locally as the Empire 88 (AKA the Nazis, those skinhead assholes, dead men walking, or loyal patriots depending on your neighbourhood) had also responded, with more attempted murder. This went just as well as before, but now capes were involved. This had escalated into a full-blown gang war when some idiots from the Empire found some other idiots selling booze and drugs to the spectators, because Brockton Bay's populace were not exactly the brightest bulbs when it came to avoiding conflict.
The local heroes had been forced out to calm the situation, or look even weaker than they were. So far, it had not been going well. The Empire had brought in new capes from somewhere to complement their already larger cape forces. Now, the pair of a large-in-all-directions power-armoured Tinker called Sturmgewehr and a short, skinny Blaster/Brute called Dresden were blowing up the Archer's Bridge Road and had driven off the Archer's Bridge Merchants. This included nearly killing their newest cape, a drug Tinker named Fresh.
The two were covered in swastikas and lightning bolts. Sturmgewehr even had a pointed hood on his power armour. A strange look for a guy allegedly originating from "downtown Berlin".
"Right, once the big guy needs to reload, we can head out and hit them." The leader of the group in the alley, a woman with crossed orange blades as her emblem, looked rattled. Her outfit was scuffed in several places, and torn in a few more. The initial encounter had gone about as well as a group of unarmoured citizens attempting to arrest a group of heavily-armed and heavily-armoured nutballs usually goes.
"Carol..." the youngest man began.
"Lightstar, it's Brandish when we're...!"
"We nearly got pasted as an aside when they blew up that gas station, and that Brute's scalding beams are far faster than our attacks. We can't get close." The moustached young man, whose star-adorned chest identified him, cuddled with the youngest woman, she of the French emblem. She trembled more due to the burns inflicted upon her than any fear. They'd been doing the hero thing for long enough now that this specific brand of shakes was easier to push back. He spoke without much heat, keeping calm despite the glances he kept giving to the injuries on what was clearly his partner.
"Well, not without a distraction." The largest man, whose bulging muscles and towering height had merely made him an easier target, was covered in marks where he'd been skipped across the street. "I saw a car park back there. We can draw them over, and catch them between us and the PRT, easy!" He bounced on his feet, nearly unhurt. His huge frame was able to mitigate the heat of Dresden's blasts, but not the concussive force.
Brandish crept to the corner of the alley, keeping an eye on the two thugs as they high-fived over the corpse of a Merchant who hadn't run fast enough. She growled, barely under her breath, then nodded after a moment's thought. "OK, that's a workable plan. Lady Photon, you get Manpower to the car park, then you and Flashbang will pepper them from range. Fleur, you and Lightstar come with me to flank, and we'll drive them towards Manpower. We can box them in, maybe take them down. If not, we contain until the PRT show up."
The rest nodded, got to their feet and "Hey, Nazi fucks, catch!" blinked in surprise as a black-masked woman popped out of a manhole behind the swaggering pair and tossed something before dropping back down to dodge the inhumanly fast reaction shots from Sturmgewehr's armour. Dresden was engulfed in an orange cloud that hardened immediately. He began swearing, but his struggles proved useless as the containment foam both held firm and ignored his heat blasts. Lady Photon took her opportunity and blasted a hole clean through Sturmgewehr's tinkertech shoulder weapon. It sparked, fizzed and, just after the cape ejected it, exploded. The strange plasma inside melted the asphalt as it burst free. The flash of light blinded Brandish and Manpower, who had jumped out to apprehend the Nazi. Lady Photon was unaffected, however, and was able to put another bolt of light into the pistol the Empire cape drew.
His swearing (and jetpack) drowned out his compatriot as he bolted. "Stop him!" Brandish ordered. Shaking his head to clear it, Manpower picked up a dumpster and clobbered the Tinker out of the sky with a well-aimed toss. Several thousand pounds of garbage can beat several hundred pounds of power armour as the Tinker spiralled into the car park they were planning to corral him into. Dresden's blasts were beginner to melt the street beneath him, so Lady Photon, Fleur and Lightstar ran up to roll the confoamed idiot over until he couldn't hit anything, while the others sprinted after the still-swearing Tinker.
"Fuckin' hell! Mah fucking' head! When ah find her, ah'll give her what ever' black bitch des'rv. ..!" His New Jersey-accented tirade was stopped by the angry fist of god, delivered by the somehow-even-angrier fist of Carol Dallon. Her empowered punch smashed straight through his stupid hood and his stupid helmet, and stopped on his stupid face. His babbling and consciousness both ceased. Brandish knew exactly how hard to hit when she wasn't distracted by heat beams and plasma blasts. Before she could cuff him, she had to jump back when a metal knife-blade slammed into the ground just where she had been.
The spike was answered by a ball of light that blew the crown clean off of the grandstanding villain, who was thrown back from the lip of the roof he'd been about to monologue from. Flashbang had to dodge a different spike of metal, this time the size of a spear. The cackling woman who'd thrown it shrieked as she had to avoid a bicycle tossed by Manpower. A man who was pure white in skin and outfit ran up and intercepted a blade of pure energy and was, to Brandish's horror, cut in half. Then, somehow, he was fine a few seconds later and firing a pistol at her, forcing her to turn into a light-ball and bounce away. The fight very quickly devolved into chaos as Nazis, the heroes and occasionally a black-masked woman would toss grenades, beams, spears and punches at each other.
The stalemate was broken by the near-silent arrival of a large motorcycle and the actually-silent opening of a door in thin air. Upon the bike was a power-armoured figure with a halberd, who distracted everyone from the door by hitting the alabaster man into the air with the halberd's butt, then confoaming him with a blast from the blade before he hit the ground. Manpower used the distraction to aim a sedan at the posturing spear-creating woman, who used her powers to divert it over her head.
The circular air-door opened, and a rather nondescript man stepped out onto thin air, frowned, then hopped to the ground. He was dressed casually, with a fur-hooded jacket, black t-shirt and ratty jeans, but had a sword at his side. Messy black hair was tucked beneath a "Sportsball :3" ballcap. He grumbled to himself, engrossed by his phone. "OK, looks like the anomaly is this way..." He started to walk toward the car park when a shadow passed over him. He looked up to find a car. He blinked in shock, as it was two feet away, at head height and doing roughly ninety miles per hour. "Oh..."
Everything went black Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Agmad, Kalsted, Chronodevil and 24 othersFoxfaxYesterday at 9:33 PMReader modeNewAdd bookmark Threadmarks Threadmarks Preppers, Preggers and Keggers New Threadmarks FoxfaxKnow what you're doing yet?Yesterday at 9:34 PMNewAdd bookmark#3Rhythmic beeps came from beside me. Right next to my head. 'This hurty my thinky.'
I shifted under a thin sheet. 'Ah, bed, my friend, this seems cliche, and I don't know why,' thought... 'Hmm, that's a problem.'
I couldn't remember.
"Whur... whur amma?"
I heard the bustling of someone at his bedside and cracked an eye open. This was a very bad idea. I don't think railroad spikes were meant to be embedded in your forehead, but someone seemingly did, and was applying their new ultimate technique to just above my right eye.
"Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"
"Ooh dear, thassa lady. Scary lady. Hokay. Lady. M'head hurtsa most. Light hurts. Can' think good. Arm hurts but less. Can feel muh eve'thin' so dun think an'fin' else is busted..."
"It's good that you can answer, sir. Can you tell me your name?"
"Yeah, sure, it'ssss.... huh. Can' 'member. Go'.... got no mem'ries. Heh. Memoriiiiiiies, roun' and bouncy in moooooonliiii... Wait, thass... thass no'rra words."
Speech was even more sluggish than thought. 'They must have me on the good stuff.'
"Sorry, usually ah don' start singin' 'til my tenth pint..."
"Don't worry, sir. I'm sure everything will return to you in time. For now, I'll go get something for you. To help you rest for a while longer."
"Sure, sure, Imma wait here 'til ye come back, get me some juice while yer gone..."
Darkness reclaimed me.
====================
It was a week later. The man had waded into and back out of consciousness a few times, but this time it seemed to have stuck. "Yes, doctor, I'm afraid I still have no idea what my name is."
"And your health otherwise? Anything feel off?" His doctor, a lovely young man by the name of Forester, looked frazzled. This Guy (as he'd named himself in lieu of anything else, it was better than John Doe) knew it was because of the aftermath of a gang war, rather than anything he himself had done. At least, that's what the guy in the bed next door said.
"Hand-eye, speech, thought, all okay. Mobility is fine according to the physio, and literacy seems unaffected if the daily crossword is anything to go by. Six down for 'Tigger's Pal' was Roo. Pooh has an H, and it was tripping me up." Kenneth Davies, never Ken and the guy in the bed next door, blinked, grabbed his paper, furiously crossed out something, then started writing faster until he threw the paper down with a muttered curse. He glared at them both.
"Not. A. Word." They'd been having a crossword-off for the last few days. It was the first time he'd lost.
"Well, the local PRT office is coming to talk to you later. We're hopeful they can clear up some things. Until then, hang tight, and we'll get you some water to refill the jug. Mister Davies, would you like anything while I'm talking to the nurses?"
"New knees, but insurance won't cover that, so thanks for getting the bullet out, doc."
"No need for thanks, it's what we do."
"Every need in Brockton Bay." Davies was black. Very black, despite the extremely Welsh accent and extremely Welsh grandfather who'd visited him yesterday in a flurry of consonants. The hospital had likely never heard so many L's in succession as he and his Tad back-and-forthed faster than I could understand. His lovely, round, gentle, Nigerian grandmother had said very little other than to fuss over him and try to get the name of the man who'd shot her dear Kenneth. Kenneth had refused, but only so she wouldn't end up in jail "or on Kaiser's list." He said later that more than one bully in Cardiff had never done it again once his Mam-gee got involved. I believed him; she had that look in her eye. My granny was the same...
'Fuck, why can I remember that, but not her face and not my name?'
"Got something again?" Kenneth asked. Observant, that guy.
"Yeah, your granny reminded me of my granny just then, but I can't remember why."
"That's good. As you recall more, it should eventually break through whatever is keeping your memory back." The doctor was scribbling on a pad. "I will be back once the PRT are here." I saluted with two fingers the nice way.
"So, what are you doing once you're back up and about?"
Kenneth shrugged. "Check on the wife. Rebuild the wall they tried to get through. Refuel the jinny. Restock ammo. Maaaaaaybe get a little drunk. Or a lot."
"You have your own generator?"
"Got a jinny, stocked bunker and a wall of guns. Bought my place offa Endbringer prepper. Can't be too careful, as I have so beautifully shown." He preened. Deserved it too, the jammy bugger. He had held off two dozen skinheads who'd tried to get to his wife, shooting six of them. Her family had been by yesterday, too. More non-English words had flew past my head as the Kim's thanked Kenneth profusely. Both families had come to the US after a certain lizard git had visited London. The two had met when a group of like-minded immigrants were commiserating, and the rest was pregnancy.
"I genuinely want to know how... an English woman, of Korean parents... can, for marrying a Black Welshman... be a 'race traitor'..." This Guy said, bunny ears not optional, "to a bunch of white supremacists." Kenneth laughed at his flailing. "It fuckin' boggles my mind, but there might be some quantum bullshit scientists can untangle from such bendy thinking."
"It's almost like the Empire recruits from the shallow end of the gene pool or something."
"Hah!"
"Anyway, once you're out, want to come out for a celebratory?"
"Don't mind if I do, to wet your baby's head. What you calling her anyway?"
"Well, Mam-gee and Halmeoni have decided on Greta, after my mum."
"Oh, I forgot the race traitor's mother-in-law was Austrian, how silly of me."
"Australian, actually." We both dissolved into laughter. Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Kalsted, Agmad, Chronodevil and 22 othersFoxfaxYesterday at 9:34 PMReader modeNewAdd bookmark Threadmarks Threadmarks Sorry, and other platitudes New Threadmarks FoxfaxKnow what you're doing yet?Yesterday at 9:34 PMNewAdd bookmark#4"Sir, we're to bring you to the meeting room?" Smol nurse. Tol orderly... no, she too was nurse. Both adorbs. Fuck, my meds are still doing me good.
"Fair enough. Lay on, MacDuff." The taller nurse looked like she was going to correct me, then smiled as she realised I'd gotten it right. Tolnurse be shook by the spears, methinks. Smolnurse was nonplussed. They decanted me into a wheelchair, because whoo, I am still woozy. Down, down into the deep, who knows what we'll find... on the 6th floor. Ah. A large man in a silly outfit. White spandex admittedly looks good on him. He has muscles on his muscles.
"They're waiting for you inside, if you'd care to join them?"
"Sure, mate, just be aware I am kinda out of it. Just a bit. Took some painkillers about an hour ago, still burning through 'em. Sorry in advance."
Smol nodded, and Tol added that "He requires some specialised painkillers due to his condition. He should be fine in a few minutes."
"Onward! Your king demands it!" I looked to Tolnurse. She shook her head. "Lord?" Smolnurse this time. Not that either. "Patient?" Giggles. Right. "Your undesirable burden humbly asks it!"
They wheeled me into a meeting room. Ooh, interview setup. Five behind the desk, me in front. Large window to the left, no that's fake and there's someone behind it. Lovely, I feel very wanted. I called for a high five, which both nurses returned before they stood by the door, leaving me with the Men In Black (who were mostly women). "Right woman. White spandex just like the guy outside but with purple instead of yellow, boob-mark is an explosion. Related to the other woman? Speaking of. Centre-right lady. White spandex like the dude outside, but more white and crossed blades on yer boobs. Seriously, enough with putting stuff there, I don't want to perv. Middle woman. Heavy, but it used to be muscle, military, looks not to be fucked with. Guy centre-middle. Pusher of le pencil. Probably a lawyer or manager. Nice suit. Wait, that's actually a really nice suit. Fuck man, your tailor's pretty damn good. Metro as fuck, glad you own it, tell yer husband he's lucky. Lady on the left. Fatigues, a flag mask that makes me want to punch someone for telling you it's a good look, glowy knife thing strapped in a holster on yer left breast. Great, more perving I don't wanna do. They're all, like, really nice, especially yours, wouldn't mind staring more, but come on, man." The man and the woman on the left blushed. I blinked. "Oh. Fuck, I said all that out loud, didn't I?"
Tolnurse looked like she wanted to die from desperately trying not to laugh. She was actually crying, red in the face. "I-I'm afraid that's the medication, it reduces inhibition," she wheezed.
Stout military lady face-palmed. Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Agmad, Chronodevil, anon747anon and 22 othersFoxfaxYesterday at 9:34 PMReader modeNewAdd bookmark Threadmarks Threadmarks Yer a Parahuman, Larry. Or is it Moe? New Threadmarks FoxfaxKnow what you're doing yet?Yesterday at 9:35 PMNewAdd bookmark#5"Hello, Mr Doe." Military Lady that's not in fatigues is obviously the boss here, but the other boss lady with the sword-boobs doesn't seem to like that.
"Call me That Guy. It'll work until we know better."
"I am afraid that, for legal reasons, we'll have to go with Doe for now. We've asked that you join us to discuss what will happen going forward."
"Cool, cool. If I blurt out anything too silly, I'll ask that it doesn't colour your view of me."
"So, for this interview, we will be recording from here on.
"Yay, it missed me perving!"
She sighed, the swords-lady growled, and the knife lady face-palmed this time. The other two chuckled. "Sign here to show you understand that the interview will be recorded by us..." Raised eyebrow. I drew an X, what the hell else am I supposed to write? Grunt, nod of acknowledgement. "Thank you. Time is 15:34 EST on the 7th of September, 2007. Location is room 6-27 of Brockton Bay General Hospital. Present are the subject, John Doe. Interviewing are Emily Piggot and Miss Milita of the PRT, and James Conroy for the City of Brockton Bay. Also present are, by request of the subject, Sarah Pelham and Carol Dallon of New Wave. We'll start by going over what we know about you. You stated you have some form of amnesia?"
"According to the doctors, yep. I keep remembering little flashes of things that have no real relevance. Just snippets here and there. Nothing solid. No names or faces. Stabbitha keeps showing up, but that's about it."
"You call the sword Stabbitha?"
"Well, I have to call her something other than Mine. Swords need a name, and she's not telling me, so placeholder until then."
Big sigh. In through the nose, out through the nose, too. "Very well. The sword keeps disappearing from evidence storage and appearing within a few feet of you. Do you have any idea why?"
"Ma'am, I don't even have an idea how. Maybe she likes me."
"According to the various tests performed, you are quite clearly a parahuman. Do you know what powers you're capable of?"
"First, what's a Parahuman? Second, powers?"
"Your body is not human. It seems to be artificial and plays merry hell with Thinkers." Explosion Boob Lady.
"Nice voice, very mellow." Cough, ah, out loud again, got it, finger guns. Sigh from who I assume is Miss Militia and not Emily Thank-fuck-that-T-is-silent, since she's got a mask on, I doubt that's her real name, and a secret identity isn't worth much if you're out in the open. "Sorry, but I don't know what you mean by 'not human'. I think I feel normal." Poke, poke. "At the very least, I squish in the right places and, umm, intake and output normally." I glanced at the nurses, who nodded.
"Yes, we had to test that. That at least appears normal, but your internal structures are decidedly not," back to Emily. "You also seem to be exceptionally durable and burn through medicines very quickly. We'll want you to come in to test your abilities." Nod, nod, seems fair so far.
"Moving on, you were present at the arrest of Dresden, yes?"
"From what I read in the paper, at least. Other than that, I've got no idea who that is." She spun a laptop around to show an interview with an idiot. "That clearly would be fetish wear if he wasn't taking himself waaaaaay too seriously. Yellow lightning bolts on the nipples, black swastika on a white codpiece, red spandex, ruffled collar, little cuffs, high heels...?" ("They're cowboy boots! For riding!") "Oh god, that poor guy, they put him in assless chaps what the fuck." ("That's to deflect the sparks my beams make!") I had my head in my hands, but even through my fingers I couldn't look away, fucking hell. He was so proud of the outfit his 'Führer's men' had given him. I actually started to feel sorry for the guy until I looked back at the iconography. "Good god, I have never been more glad to not remember interacting with that."
"Imagine having to fight him. He shoots heat beams that feel like being hit by a truck." Dallon...? Yeah, that was her name. Carol Dallon did not look like she felt sorry for him. "He blew up a store with five people inside for fun." My eyes widened.
"Relax, they're all okay," Ms Pelham said. "Minor bumps and bruises only. We got them out before he brought the place down." Oh, thank goodness.
"He and another cape fought New Wave to a standstill before the rest of the Empire joined in. You arrived from an alleyway and were struck by a projectile, knocking you unconscious."
"Car to the head, pity I don't remember it. Just glad some idiot on PHO got it on camera. God, I look goofy. The memes are funny, though. 'Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I got in this situation...' The Seinfeld theme with the big guy outside was good, too." Mrs Pelham flinched. Good. My head still hurts and your boo caused it.
"Which brings us to why we're here. We are prepared to assist you in acclimatising to your condition..."
"That's nice. I have been told my phone is broken and my clothes were destroyed, so real quick... Where am I going once the hospital needs its bed back?" Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Agmad, Chronodevil, LostBastille and 21 othersFoxfaxYesterday at 9:35 PMReader modeNewAdd bookmark Threadmarks Threadmarks Ivory Tower New Threadmarks FoxfaxKnow what you're doing yet?Yesterday at 9:35 PMNewAdd bookmark#6"Well, that is the crux of the matter." Ah, Mr Conroy, you do not have the voice of Batman. This saddens me. "As you are an unknown, who is uninsured..." Oh, shit, that sounds bad. That's bad, right, America?
"He doesn't need to be. The fault has already been declared to be ours, New Wave's, but he is covered under Parahuman Defence of Others." Ooh, Mrs Dallon, you speaky the lawyer speak. Teach me your snakey-tongued ways. Though not those ones, I can see the wedding band. "Thus, the city covers his medical fees through the PRT and us."
"Nice. Still don't have a hovel to lay my head."
"Should you join our affiliate program..."
"Sorry, you've nice boo... fuck, sorry. Please ignore that. Damnit. My brain is slowing down. Or the meds are catching up. I meant to say..." OK brain, eyes on the prize and off Miss Militia's knife holster. Ooh, that's a nice light fitting up there. "I have no idea what that program is, and I am fine with finding out, but I need at least somewhere to call a temporary home before signing up to anything."
"I'm afraid that's not something covered, as you're not a resident of the county, state or country." Aw, Mr Conroy wants me to be a hobo. Yay, bench life! Actually, do they still let people sleep on benches? Would I be a hobo or a bum?
"We can't cover you unless you sign up to the program," Emily continued. Why you sound so smug?
"As a parahuman, you're disbarred from using your powers to elevate yourself above non-powered individuals. We pride ourselves on our individual freedoms to empower ourselves in America." Mr Conroy why are you not vengeance and the night, but instead a lawyer?
"Don' see how that has anything to do with my predicament, but okay." My head is lolling a bit. I shake it, which genuinely does seem to help. Okay, focus until the policos bugger off, then sleep the sleep of the heavily sedated.
"You can set him up in a hotel until the tests are done. Once we know more about him, we can see what's what." Ah, forthright, my dear Carol! I am glad you are at least a little on my side!
"I am afraid..."
"Oh, for god's sake, we cover a fifth of the cost as per our Charity agreement. This is what it's for. You only have to cover a fifth, and the PRT does the rest. We do this every time." Ah, Mrs Dallon, after Miss Militia, you have the nicest... voice. Fuck you, brain, I am on to you.
"Wait, you come across amnesiacs often?" Maybe I'm not alone in this weird memoryless void?
"Only once for New Wave, a young lady made of ink, but I've been involved often enough to know there are agreements in place." And back to the other sister.
"So, we get me a place to hang out when the docs decide I am to go cold turkey. Cool. What then?"
"Testing, as Mrs Dallon said. We figure out what you can do and, hopefully, how."
"Great. Wonderful. Sleep now." Ah, Tolnurse, your bosom is smol but comfy. You are elevated in my mind to best nurse. Thankee.
"Hello darkness, my old friend..." Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Agmad, Chronodevil, Sevas and 19 othersFoxfaxYesterday at 9:35 PMReader modeNewAdd bookmark Threadmarks Threadmarks Cringe out your spine New Threadmarks FoxfaxKnow what you're doing yet?Yesterday at 9:37 PMNewAdd bookmark#7The drugs wore off, the embarrassment didn't.
====================
It's later, back on the ward. My eyes snap open, I calmly raise my fist to my mouth, then bite down, whining.
Well, it was a good run, time to go walk into the sea, I think.
The sniggering from the next bed isn't helping.
No, really, you can stop any time now.
"Ow!" Somehow, my sword fell over and cracked Kenneth on the knuckles. She is the bestest sword and none can say otherwise.
"I assume that I am now the laughing stock of the hospital?"
"Aw, mate, you have no idea."
"Stop sounding like Windsor Davies when you don't even have the decency to be related."
"Never!"
Hey, look, a distraction. What's Mrs Dallon doing here, it's...? Ah, bollocks, the clock says it's either four or sixteen hours later. Could be either, since it's still light out, so it's hopefully the latter, or I'm going to say something stupid mid-hallucination, then go sleepy time. Again.
"Hello, Mr Doe."
"Seriously, has no-one checked the tag on his underpants or something?"
"I have to hope that the PRT was thorough in their search of your belongings..." Mrs Dallon stops, thinks about how competent the PRT has been in the last few weeks. "I'll check. But before that, we have managed to hash out a living situation in the short term for you, as you're being released today."
"Today?! I don't even have clothes. I think I might get arrested going about in this gown." I mean my ass is magnificent, but... Why do I know that? For fuck sake, brain.
"We managed to get the correct sizes from the ones you were wearing, so I have a new set here. They also released your clothes, what remains of them. They're outside in the car."
"So, I'm to head out with you? Very well, I'll just pop into the toilet. Gimme a sec."
Cheap slacks, brown. Cheap t-shirt, cheap socks and cheap underpants, black. Apparently I prefer briefs to boxers. Sweet, I have sneaks instead of shoes, very comfy, also black. At least the waterproof jacket is blue.
I came back to Mrs Dallon cooing over Kenneth's baby pictures. I have to admit, his daughter is very cute. His son looks like he wants to murder you in every photo, though. Very angry baby. "Right, these seem to fit well enough. Kenneth? It has been a pleasure but, if I stay any longer, they'll drug me up again to see what other nonsense I can spout. I'll send you an e-mail so we can set up a time to celebrate you kicking Nazi ass."
"No problem. New Wave are good people. They'll see you right."
I shook his hand and followed Mrs Dallon to the lifts. "We have managed to get you hotel accommodation for the next week, after which the PRT will put you up in their subsidised housing. There's currently some damage being repaired, so they couldn't move you in immediately."
"Political or actual?" She raised an eyebrow. She seemed happy I was quick on the uptake. Yay, I get a gold star... I'm still a bit high, aren't I? Fuck.
"Actual, or I would be more annoyed. A truck went out of control and smashed into the front of the block. They're still doing safety inspections." A few guys got in at the next stop. Then a few more. Then a few more. Fuck, I've seen this film, we were only on the fourth floor. The snap-hiss of Brandish's beam sword made all the burly white men decide to get out at the second floor rather than the ground. I gave her a nod of approval. To win without fighting etc.
"Ground floor, Exits, vending machines and recept..."We both ducked as an explosion echoed through the foyer. Screams, glass shattering, an idiot with a knife running around on fire, two cops crash-tackling him and putting him out prior to kicking his ass (nicely done, guys, that's the correct order). All in all, a normal Brockton Bay day, according to Kenneth. "Wait here, I'll see if I can help!" Fair enough. I ducked out of the elevator and got behind a pillar. Outside, a truckasaurus was belching fire at a shirtless guy in a tiger mask. He was screaming at it, and that was keeping the flames back somehow. The beam struggle was shattering concrete and every window in quite a radius. The impasse came to an end when a ball of light smacked into the tiger guy, then reformed into Carol Dallon, who pointed her energy blade at his throat. The truckasaurus unfurled wings, so it was actually a dragon robot. Neat. Wait one. There's always some asshole. I stepped on the hand of a dude who was drawing a bead on Carol with a pistol.
"Hi."
He looked up, blinked, then began to convulse. "Oh. Shit! Nurse! He's leaking! From the nose and ears!" Thank fuck he dropped the gun. A nurse and a doctor ran over. Everyone else continued gawking at the robo-dragon. The cops who weren't involved in the self-arson idiot or the tiger guy wandered over. I sighed. I'm never going to get out of here.Last edited: Yesterday at 9:39 PM Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Chronodevil, Sevas, LostBastille and 13 othersFoxfaxYesterday at 9:37 PMReader modeNewAdd bookmark Threadmarks Threadmarks ACA... Sometimes useful. New Threadmarks FoxfaxKnow what you're doing yet?Yesterday at 9:37 PMNewAdd bookmark#8They are, despite the best efforts of some of them.
====================
"Thanks for visiting, Mrs Dallon."
"The film was enough to prove you have nothing to do with his fit. And the PRT stating you didn't have a Striker power helped."
"That's nice of them, considering even I don't know if that's true."
"Anyway, the man who was going to kill me will face his day in court, as will Stormtiger."
"He named himself after...?" I sighed. "I am unsurprised at his lack of inspiration. We're still stuck here until they let me go, though."
"Mr Doe?" Hark, a detective! Well, probably. As far as police shows have told me, they're either all detectives or beat cops or that one guy who calls people loose cannons and makes one into the other.
"We've gone over the footage, and there isn't enough to hold you on. So we're releasing you under cognisance of New Wave for now. Please be aware that any further problems and we might have to get you back here, and you may be called to provide further evidence." Poor fucker sounds like he should have been off shift eight hours ago. It hadn't helped that every time they took my sword off me, it reappeared next to me as soon as someone took their eyes off it. Also, the pRT had shown up and started swinging their tiny weiner about, so I was technically not under their jurisdiction.
"Right, I'll get out from under your feet. Thanks for the coffee."
Out we go. Big sigh from Carol. Nil desperandum, dear lady, our chariot awaits! Behold the majesty of the... Lexus RX350?! Ew, Carol, you should have more self-respect.
I gingerly crawl into the beige interior, hoping it won't infest me, and we're on our way. Time for the time-honoured task of making really shitty small talk. Nice weather, yes, it is quite nice for how late in the year it is. Oh yes, indeed, the traffic is good for nine at night. No, I hadn't heard the latest Brockton Bruins score, how are they doing? Oh dear, we seem to be being overtaken by fire trucks, I wonder where they're going. No, I didn't expect the hotel to be on fire. The hotel I was supposed to be sleeping in, it's that one? Well, poop.
Meet the family, also threats
===================
"PRT? Hello, there's been a bit of a problem. No, with accommodations. Yes, I can hold. Oh, and while I'm here, have you checked the John Doe's belongings for names? Yes, yes, I'll hold."
====================
I never knew swords could squee. Well, at least I have a name now. Names are important.
====================
"Mr McAlpine, you will stay in the spare room, until and unless you require using the facilities, then go there and back and nowhere else. I have two young girls and..."
"Carol, I'm genuinely thankful for all you've done so far, but if you ever imply I'm a wrong 'un again, yer gonnae be pickin' your teeth oot yer stool."
Carol Dallon blinked, looked for a second like she was going to double down, then sighed and took a second to unruffle her feathers. "Ah? Oh. Sorry, James. I'm a bit frazzled. All our plans have gone up in smoke." She snorted. "Literally"
"Look, I get it, you don't know me. I'm fine with a couch to sleep on, or I'll even kip in a tent if you're unsure. Wouldn't be the first time I've slept under the stars... Oh, come on, brain, can't you even tell me if I was camping?"
Oh no, that's a pitying look. I am not to be pitied... why does my sword feel like she's laughing at me? Well, screw you, too.
"I phoned ahead when we stopped for snacks. Mark and the girls should be waiting." Since when can a sword's ears prick up like a meerkat?
"And here we are." A very nice three-up two-down with a big garage. Suburbia at its... finest? I guess? Two small silhouettes in the door, one big dude standing outside. Lumberjack shirt, slacks, tired eyes. Oh yeah, he'd have been looking after two hyperactive bundles of joy all on his own. Well, from what I can see, one hyperactive and one shy bundle of joy. I shall stand by the car until introductions, then.
"Mom!"
"Oof! Victoria, what have I told you about running off the porch?"
"mumble mumble noff too," the girl 'said' from where she was buried in her mother's jacket. The guy walked up and joined the hug. The other girl hung back, then pitter-pattered forward and joined in tentatively.
"Now, now, everyone, I'm fine. The guy never even got to try." She didn't let them go, though. She must have been holding it together less than I thought. "Now, please meet the man who saved me earlier today, James McAlpine. He'll only be here for the night, but please get on with him."
"Only for the night, hopefully. Today has been weird."
Mark Dallon strode forward with his arm out. "Thanks for the save. I don't know what we'd have done if Carol had been hurt."
"Nah, she's done more than enough for me to make me want her out saving the day in the futu... ow." The older girl had run up and punched me in the leg. "You rang?"
"mumble" Quick hug. Run off. Huh. No, stop the giggling, Stabbitha, she's a tween, they're not supposed to make sense. Wait, did... did her sister bow to me? Now she's ran off, too. Stop laughing! Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Chronodevil, Sevas, LostBastille and 17 othersFoxfaxYesterday at 9:39 PMReader modeNewAdd bookmark Threadmarks Threadmarks Primo Victoria New Threadmarks FoxfaxKnow what you're doing yet?Yesterday at 9:40 PMNewAdd bookmark#10*begins headbanging*
====================
Inside, Mark showed his incredible husbandlyness by having a glass of wine and food for the wifey in the dining room. I got a McDonalds meal in the kitchen, and was genuinely happy. Poor bastard had to hear his wife was a second away from being shot in the spine, and still thought to get me something. Nom nom nom. Ow. Oh no. I have been punch-ed once more. This time in the arm, but only because I'm sitting. "Yes?"
"Do you really have a sword in there?"
"Stop poking her, she gets angry. But yes."
"She?"
"I call her Stabbitha, because she won't tell me her name." Oh, don't you huff at me, young lady. We both know you can speak up at any time. "Here. Don't touch the blade, or your mother will kill us both."
Victoria stumbled a bit. "Wow, it weighs a lot."
"Seems to weigh less for me than everyone else. Now, give me her back before your mother comes in and barates me for being a watery bint."
"Do you have powers? What are they? There's classifications; what are yours? Are you gonna be a hero? Are you joining New Wave? I thought it was only our family that was allowed."
I held up fingers and counted through them. "Yes, allegedly. Dunno. Again, don't know, but one of the suits mentioned Brute. Possibly, if the pay's good enough. Probably not, because of the last bit."
"Ooh. Dad's a Blaster and Mom's a Striker-Breaker."
"Sweet. I saw your Mom take down Stormtiger today. She was pretty awesome." Ack, my eyes! The smile, it is blinding!
"Tell me tell me tell me!" Bouncy little bugger. Ah, the other one's at the door. I motion for them both to sit. There's McDonalds Coke for them. Hopefully, it's not full-fat or they'll be bouncing off the walls.
"I'm Victoria, and this is Amy!" Still shy. Is that a light novel she's carrying? Looks shoujo-y. Explains the bowing.
"Hello, you can call me James. I'll be here until tomorrow, then your Aunt's taking me to get my powers tested."
"How did Mom take out Stormtiger?"
"Cannonballed into him while he was fighting a dragon robot. Then did a whole badass stomp thing on him with a blade at his neck."
"Cooool." Victoria was beaming, while Amy was nodding.
"Very cool, young lady. But it's time you were both in bed."
"Aw, Moooo-hoooooom!" Victoria yawned. "I'm not sleepy at all!" You are fooling no-one, least of all Amy, who is trying not to laugh. I give her a wink, but she ducks behind Victoria again.
"Come on, we'll get you settled." Carol wanders off with Victoria in tow, complaining all the while that she wasn't tired or a child or yawning or anything.
"Is that a katana?"
"I call it a weeb-stick to annoy people, but yes."
"Are you any good at kendo?"
"Kenjutsu for real swords." She nodded authoritatively, but the sword seemed to disagree. I don't know why she would, I'm right. "And I think so. For some reason, I think I did the nothing personal kid thing once."
"Oooh. Could you show me?"
"Once the PRT's done with me tomorrow, we can ask."
"OK. See you tomorrow, then." I waved as she slumped upstairs. Nice kid, even if she never got within ten feet of me. More taking outside while I crunched everything up for disposal, then Mark stuck his head in.
"Follow me. Here's the room. Emergency toothbrush and soap, the bathroom's here, though we're asking that you don't wake the girls if you have to go during the night."
"Thanks for having me. I'll be out of your hair as soon as possible."
"You saved Carol, it's the least we can do."
I waved him off and set about going to sleep.
====================
My name is not STABBITHA, you ASS!
Then tell me what it is.
Listen!
I am listening!
Listen properly!
"WIDE AWAKE AND I CAN SEE MY PERFECT SKY IS TORN!"
My eyes snap open.
"YOU'RE A LITTLE LATE! I'M ALREADY TOOOOOORN!!"
I look to the clock radio on the bedside cabinet.
It's 7am. Technically, this is late enough that murder is frowned upon. There's slamming of a door, and the screaming is muffled again. Whoever originally sang that, whatever I did to make you hate me, I apologise.
Well, at least I can get up. I run a hand down my face. Shouldn't I have stubble?
No, I like my man clean-shaven.
Oh well, at least I have teeth stuff.
"ILLUSION NEVER CHANGED! INTO SOMETHING REEEEAAAALLL!"
"VICKY! QUIET!"
"SORRY, MOM!"
"AND BRUSH YOUR TEETH PROPERLY, THERE'S NO WAY THAT WAS LONG ENOUGH!"
Ah yes, the soft symphonies of family. I put on the little clock radio. A little quiet ditty led into a driving beat that had me banging my head while I awaited the emergence of Hurricane Vicky. Much stamping of feet down the stairs. I check to make sure Amy hadn't jumped in ahead of me, then perform the usual ablutions. My mouth not absolutely vile, I go down to the kitchen to find the family already arrayed around Carol. I feel bad about intruding because, y'know, they nearly lost her. Victoria notices me, however.
"You're late!"
"A wizard is neither late, Victoria, nor is he early..."
"He arrives precisely when he means to!"
"10 points to Amy."
"The appointment for the PRT is at 8:30, and the rest of New Wave is coming. We have been asked to renew our power registry after the whole incident with you," Carol said. She offered muesli, like herself and Mark were having. Well, it's better than nothing. At least it's not whatever sugary abomination Victoria is currently slurping. Or Amy's... porridge? Huh. Well, it does seem a tad chilly out. You do you. Nom nom nom. Aww, she's like a little chipmunk.
"They're meeting us here, and the PRT are sending a bus, so you don't have to worry about squeezing into the car with us."
"We're going too!" Nod nod, nom nom.
"Sure, why not. I get to show off whatever nonsense I can conjure."
"Vicky! Amy!" Another teenage girl walks in, accompanied by what is clearly her mother and sundry others. Well, we'd all finished our breakfast anyway, might as well meet'n'greet. Handshakes, polite introductions, ignore the fact that Mr Pelham is informing Mark, Jess and Mike about the boob thing, ignore the fact that Mrs Pelham is laughing herself silly at Mr Pelham telling Mark, Jess and Mike about the boob thing, try not to sink into the earth due to the looks of awed horror the kids are giving me. Y'know, normal things.
After my horrific burns are salved a bit by "call me Neil" also talking about what happened yesterday, with 10 minutes to go, we all pile out to await the bus.
Yes, small boy, this is a sword. Here, hold the hilt. Yes, you all can. No, Amy, it's fine, see? It doesn't cut unless you swing it hard or run your hand down the blade. So don't do that. Right, I'll show you. Hold it like this, see? No, it's a two-handed weapon, regardless of how it's held by... what's a Ninja Turtle? Huh. That's not a katana, it's straight-bladed. Still awesome, though. Dual-wielding takes a lot of skill. The artist knows how you have to move to swing with any strength in that position; they've done their homework. Yeah, you can see how they must have got a gymnast...
What's up, Stabs? Where? Fuck! "GUN! DOWN!" Everyone is moving too slowly. The skinhead's pistol is clear and pointing at... I move faster than I thought possible, a flicker of motion and my left hand slaps into the back of Jess's head and I slam her into the dirt, pain blossoming in that arm. I continue on to the skinhead, making sure my blade is clear. No, no second shot for you, asshole. That gun gets to be in two pieces, now. Yes, you have fewer fingers. You should have thought of that before you shot at us. Now, sit the FUCK! DOWN! Ow, my fucking hand. Use the hilt to bash him, not the hand holding said hilt. I know that, why did I do this instead? "Everyone, sound off!"
"Amy? Eric?" Vicky is pulling herself to her feet. There's whimpering from the pile of kids. Crystal had jumped on top of the others, covering them. She'd moved faster than anyone else, I think even faster than me. The dumbass is screaming that we should never have gotten in the Empire's way and that we're race traitors and we'll be crushed under the bootheeled de blah de blah de blooble. My right hand was glowing green as I put pressure on the wound. What the fuck happened to everyone else?
Oh shit, they're down. The only ones moving are the youngest kids, even Crystal is out.
I struggle to my feet. My blade feels somehow heavier, as do my eyelids, but I can stay awake long enough to check on the adults. The kids are starting to panic when they can't wake Crystal up. A quick check of the vitals and... "Don't worry, kids, they're out cold, but otherwise fine. Dipshit over there must have done something."
I wrap Vicky in my non-shot arm as she sprints at the downed dumbass. "Not worth it. It's OK, Victoria, he's not worth it." Amy had grabbed on, too. Good reflexes. Eric, white to the lips, grabbed some zip-ties from his mother. She has a utility belt? Gotta get me one. I cuff the lonely sunshine fuckwit and finally get bored of his invective (no, my mother does not, in fact, suck dicks of monkeys, thank you) and punch him the fuck out. The others are just starting to stir as Amy checks on the neighbour.
Aaaaand there's the bus arriving just now, how lovely. Miss Militia is sprinting this way. Oh well, at least she can deal with the nutter.
Carol was chatting with Mark. It was mostly about how the charity was underperforming compared to others in the state. "We're not doing as well as last year, but we do better than others in the city." The last week had been incredibly stressful. It did not help that her day job was stressing her enough that she'd not had very much time for her family for the month before that. Which also stressed her. Mark was missing his doses. Vicky and Amy had begun to get a little distant. Being teens, it was expected, but she'd hoped her little girl would stay littler than she had. 'She's so smart, already trying for High school grades and college courses,' she thought. Moving on from Vicky, who was bouncing around with Eric and talking to Mr McAlpine, she moved her gaze onto her sister and Neil, who had their heads together. Something about a setup shop... Oh, yes, Hallowe'en was next month.
"We should get some fireworks, since the Thanksgiving display was cancelled last year."
"Only if we want Vicky and Eric to try to launch them off the roof again," Mark chuckled.
"Mrs Channing's chihuahua has never been the same."
Mike snorted. "The Channing's go through dogs like most families go through toilet paper. If I didn't know better, I'd think they were eating them or something." It seemed every few months, a new dog would be added to the puppy pile, and another would be rotated out. To give Mrs Channing credit, she was a marvellous trainer, and her being just down the street meant the girls never lacked for doggy interaction. It always made the girls sad when a particularly-beloved stray was trained enough for a real home.
Jess was hanging off his arm, her bandages peeking out from her blouse. One of her flowers was resting just inside her light jacket, keeping her warm. "Heh. She does have people coming and going all the time." Suddenly, a storm of barks, boofs and yips. All of them looked towards the dog trainer's home, where the lady herself had been feeding what were usually some of the quietest dogs they'd ever encountered. "Wonder what set them off? Where's Mrs Channing?"
A man ducked around Mrs Channing's fence, close-cropped hair, wifebeater, jeans, dragging a pistol from his belt. "FOR THE EMPIRE!"
====================
Jess felt a shiver of horror as she stared down the yawning barrel, fire belching from it. Before her life could flash before her eyes, she felt a vice clamp around her head, and her legs were swept from under her. She was planted face-first into the sidewalk. Something broke as thunder roared over her.
====================
Mike had barely begun to react when there was a thump of displaced air, and Jess was gone in a spray of blood. There was another thump, and the shooter was screaming and clutching his hand. The new guy's sword was outstretched, having clearly cut the gun in half. "NO! No-no-nononono!"
====================
Carol, Sarah, Neil and Mark were already moving, instincts and reflexes honed by years of facing exactly these situations. Just never before at their home. Brandish had blinked into Breaker form, hurtling towards the shooter, putting herself between her family and a second shot. Flashbang brought similar balls of energy to his hands and prepared to fight. Neil hurled himself towards the shooter to disarm him. Lady Photon brought a shield of force up between Jess and the shooter.
But, with two tearing thumps of displaced air, and one screaming Empire lackey, it was already over.
====================
Crystal didn't know why she was on edge. Something was off, so she kept by her brother. Listening to the new guy banter with Eric was fun. Watching her brother nerd out about his stupid comics was nice, too, but she just couldn't relax.
Oh, god.
Mr McAlpine was gone with a flicker of pseudo-motion. She barely even saw him blur.
She didn't know why, but she was already throwing herself back, crushing Amy beneath her, grabbing Eric and Vicky to join her as the guy drew his gun on Aunt Jess. When the bullet slammed through Mr McAlpine, she was already on top of them. When it diverted straight towards them, she desperately raised her hands, a barrier blazed into being and
[DESTINATION]
a pair of cosmic beings were entwined in a dance, each shattering parts off of the other and devouring them
[AGREEMENT]
swimming through the void, spiralling and weaving through more realities than there are particles
[TRAJECTORY]
a tiny planet hoves into view, small and blue and green
[AGREEME-]
Oh, I don't fucking think so.
Crystal passed out. Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Chronodevil, Sevas, LostBastille and 14 othersFoxfaxYesterday at 9:42 PMReader modeNewAdd bookmark Threadmarks Threadmarks POW!(er testing) New Threadmarks FoxfaxKnow what you're doing yet?Yesterday at 9:43 PMNewAdd bookmark#13Aftermath of the attempted murder
====================
"I want something done!" Carol Dallon was pacing before the PRT Director's desk. Everyone in the family who was not underage was in the room with her.
"Brandish, from what we can find, he's not actually a part of the Empire," Director Piggot said. "We can't go after them over what a wanna-be did to try to cosy up to them."
"But we can ensure he is a never-was with a strong enough custodial sentence," John Renick added.
"So, you're saying there's nothing we can do for them blatantly breaching the unwritten rules?" Mike gritted.
Sarah tried to calm her brother and sister down, murmuring something only they could hear. With a visible effort, Brandish dragged her temper under control and sat on the couch. Mark took the opportunity to put an arm around her. After a few moments of stiffness, she relaxed, if only a fraction. Mike stayed standing by the door, his jaw tight.
"No, I'm saying that according to our intelligence sources, the Empire had no idea the suspect even existed before now, and they've publicly disavowed all knowledge." Piggot pushed a manila folder across her desk. Neil grabbed it and, after a glance through, passed it on to Sarah. It was a heavily redacted report on what the Empire did and did not know about the incident. It led to the annoying conclusion that this really was a lone gunman with a political point to prove.
"I can't believe I was nearly killed by a guy called Norman. Always thought I'd go out against someone called Abominatus or Doommonger or an Endbringer or something." Surprisingly, Jess seemed to be taking the attack the best. She'd joked that she'd keep it together for Mike, and he'd do the same once he was less angry. The laughter had been a touch hollow.
"He nearly managed to kill two of us, and all we can do is get him for assault," Neil said.
"Attempted murder at the least, if we can swing it. There is a major problem with that, though. A bunch of strangely-well-paid lawyers showed up, trying to get bail," Piggot groused. "We were lucky to get an unbiased judge to shoot it down."
"The Empire is making a statement. Allfather wants the little shit to be a spark to ignite his followers." Carol frowned. "Do you need any help? I know we can't be anywhere near him, but we might be able to do some extra patrols to free up extra watchers."
"I doubt he'll be broken out, but we do have people looking out to make sure he doesn't have an accident in prison."
"Allfather is pragmatic, despite being a true believer. He'd have to break out a normal individual from a PRT transport. Madcap has disappeared, so he'd have to use his own men, and frankly, Norman isn't worth it."
"If I had Norman and two nickels, he'd be worth two nickels," Mike growled.
There was a pause as everyone refused to look at each other. Piggot finally sighed and held up another folder. "So, to address the elephant in the room. Yes, Crystal triggered. We're currently testing her and McAlpine at a facility outside the city limits. From what we can see, she got some powers from her parents, but others that seem... off."
Another day, another murder attempt. After Norman Baker was dragged off, we got a grilling by the PRT, the cops, the media, and the kids, in that order. Everyone woke up fine, which was a relief, though they wondered why I didn't gonk out. Apparently, I can heal, which is nice, though Jess declined until they could test what it was I actually did. Vicky went on a little rant about different types of healing capes and how rare they were. Crystal had "triggered", which I was told meant she gained powers. When someone triggers, it can affect other capes, which is what happened to New Wave. Seems a bad thing when the people responding to traumatic events can be fucked around by them, but what do I know?
After all that nonsense, we all went back to the Dallon home for takeout, and the kids basically puppy-piled, and no-one wanted to wake them up after the events of the day. So I got another night in what I now knew was the second guest room. Mike and Jess went in Vicky's room, and the Pelhams got guest room the first. I guess none of them wanted to be away from family. Don't blame them, that's twice in two days they could have lost someone.
Next day, after the now seemingly-mandatory Victoria serenade, Miss Militia rocked up again to try to get the bloody testing done. The adults were dragged off for a meeting with the higher-ups, but the kids were allowed to come watch me try to fart lasers or whatever it is I can do. Crystal was to be tested, too, thanks to the agreements between New Wave and the PRT. Vicky managed to blag an autograph through sheer enthusiasm.
Mind you, this is a nice facility they dragged us out to. Great view, wide open spaces, peaceful wildlife, anti-aircraft towers, missile batteries, pillboxes, bunkers, all the amenities. A bearded guy in blue power armour met the bus. Miss Militia had introduced him as Armsmaster (more squeeing from Vicky, another autograph procured). He had a good handshake, didn't try to do the macho squeeze thing. We were also introduced to Dragon, a "tinker" from Canada who was assisting (this squee probably damaged instruments, although Amy and Eric got an autograph too. Armsmaster grudgingly added two more for them). He led me and the squirts into the facility and wired me up like the Six Million Dollar Man. Doctors Smith and Johns (dammit, so close) scanned the absolute bejesus out of me.
Apparently, my body seemed built rather than born. Skin, bone, organs, all in kinda the right place, but way tougher than they should be. I was stronger and faster than a normal human, but I wasn't bulletproof, as Norman's fucking Desert Eagle showed, but blunt force might find it difficult to down me.
Pity they didn't check against more than a scalpel, resistance to cutting was increased too, according to the maniac. (-_-
For some reason, my resistance to damage was way higher if I knew an attack was coming. I seemed to be able to clench... something in me that put an invisible barrier in place. Brought me up to bulletproof, for a given value.
Hierro. Or as the knuckledragger calls it, guts. o(*>_<*)o
We found that out when Armsmaster started putting me through my paces. This involved kicking my ass, halberd-to-sword. I complained that I wasn't fully healed, but he waffled something about baselines and booted me into the fighting circle, so here we are.
"You seem highly skilled with the sword."
Hah! He wishes!
"She seems heavier than when I first found her. I seem to be a bit... sluggish, too. I know how to fight, I was obviously taught, but... I feel... slow? Reactions and actions. I can't remember why, but I know I'm better than this." Every so often, something tugged at me, as if I was supposed to do... something in between the swings of the sword, after certain parries or feints. Armsmaster was better than me, his armour allowing him to move faster and hit harder, but I was just plain quicker overall. He held the edge, however, and after a five-minute spar that left me panting and him slightly sweating, we moved on to the next test.
My healing seemed to ramp. It seemed to do nothing for a few seconds to the poor rats we tested on, then began cellular regeneration. It left very little scarring, and what scarring it did leave seemed cosmetic. So, I can give people badass scars but not debilitating ones? I'll take it. Couldn't regrow limbs or kill disease, but it was better than nothing. I had a strange interaction with Dragon, seeming to be able to specifically heal her suits, but not normal technology, and not her or Armsmaster's tinkertech for some reason.
Heal the soul, then the body. It's so simple. (^_^)
However, when it came to movement, I was in a class of my own. I could blip across the room in a thump of air faster than the eye could follow. I would have to stop doing whatever it was that was moving me that fast to act, but I could bum rush pretty much any one of the training dummies before they could get a weapon up. It took a dedicated speedster to keep up. However, it was tiring. After less than ten of those, I was tapped out, though it seems that my energy source for that wasn't physical, as my fat stores stayed the same. My recovery times seemed to be pretty much the same, regardless of circumstance.
Why the fuck did you remember that? I get that it's the simplest of the movement techniques, but it's brute force over finesse! Tsk, you're better than that! 8(>_<)8
In hand-to-hand, I was pretty good, pinning Armsmaster three out of five times without power use, and Miss Militia four out of five (she damn well knew what she was doing flashing me that boob, I swear).
Crystal was... weird. She could now fly, shoot lasers, create barriers... and had a new sword, that followed her like mine did. She didn't have my strange anatomy, but did have a lesser version of my barrier, although hers broke after a single hit. She was stronger, faster, tougher, but only in short bursts. Dr Smith thought she had gained similar abilities to her mother, her father and myself, as we were the closest to her when she triggered. Johns thought all of her abilities ran off the same battery, so to speak. So she could use a minor version of her father's super-strength or a skin-tight barrier or a burst of speed, but not all at once. They told me that abilities were fixed once acquired, that training would only let you use those powers in different ways. Part of me thought that was nonsense.
Yeah, this part! :3
She didn't seem to inately know how to wield it, so I foresaw kendo lessons in her future. Meditation on the blade and more esoteric stuff can come once she's less likely to chop her own arm off.
Final results, Mover, Striker, Brute for me. I am a dude who can move fast and smack someone with a bit of metal, then heal them back up. Blaster, Mover, Shaker, Brute for young Ms Pelham. Flying, lasers, shields and can also move fast and smack someone with a bit of metal. More granular results would take some time, and Armsmaster was due for a patrol, so we adjourned so he could roar off on his large motorcycle that I totally wasn't jealous of. We were joined by Miss Militia and one of Dragon's smaller telepresence quad-drones.
"Yeah, after Newfoundland, I'd want to never go out again too, even without the phobia." Nom nom nom.
"Vicky!" Amy looked scandalised.
"Whoff?" Waffles and maple syrup, meal of champions. I had a replicated steak. How the heck does this place have literal food replicators but such crappy internet? The tech seems schizo to me.
As the kida berated Vicky, Miss Militia turned to me. "The mobile phone you had when you were found is being sent back from testing. It was, as far as we can determine, just a very durable phone, so is being returned." A Pilaf for the lady.
"Get anything useful? About me, hopefully, but if it's as durable as you say, you could reverse engineer it."
"A few of the internal structures might lead to more durable DragonTech phones (tm), but the data seems lost," Dragon replied. Aw, nothing for her. I was hoping the drone would have a glass of oil with a curly straw.
"Worth a shot."
"I wish to perform more tests, to examine why you can affect my suits."
"Sure, if the PRT is fine with it?" Miss Milita nodded with an eye-smile. Vicky had thrown a roll. Eric was lining up a retaliatory strike with some Beardsticks (Armsmaster-branded breadsticks, what the fuck). I defused the battle by removing the ammunition.