ELF.3
Shujin
M. NightShujinlan
- Location
- New York, New York
ELF
Forty-six casualties.
My hands had started trembling shortly after I got over the embarrassment of unknowingly talking to Armsmaster. I sat on the bed, head against the wall as I struggled to breathe through quick, shallow gasps that sometimes strangled in my throat. Forty-six. I killed at least forty-six people. Armsmaster may not believe it was my fault, but still, it was my powers. I wouldn't forget that vision of a hurricane over Brockton Bay any time soon, and neither would anyone else.
Media shit storm.
Forty-six casualties.
Fuck me.
I forced myself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly as I blinked stubborn tears away. I would not break down now. I refused to. I started hiccupping then. It was a stupid, minor annoyance, but it was such a normal problem in the face of everything else that I started laughing through my hiccups. Kurt, a family friend told me once that humor solved everything. It really didn't, it wasn't enough to fix all of this, but the nauseating mix of emotion no longer threatened to overwhelm me.
I ate the rest of my salad and picked up the orange slices. Biting into the first one surprised me. I didn't exactly have super taste so much as a super sweet tooth. If I didn't want super cavities, I was going to have to watch that. I finished it quickly, then washed my face and hands of any juicy leftovers. I had no interest in eating the tacos, and not just because of the artificial smell. Apparently, I didn't need to eat much despite going five days without. I poked the straw into the Capri Sun and sipped at it.
Think more, feel less. Easier said than done, but as mercurial as my moods were, some control was better than none. I was going to be okay.
Later, I heard my escort come down the short flight of stairs, two people wearing body armor before the intercom crackled to life. "Taylor, as circumstances have prevented you from submitting the form, I must ask you several questions concerning safety."
It was Armsmaster again. I smiled weakly and tried not to think about how, ironically, I was not wearing underwear under my gym pants. I quickly stuffed myself into my Aegis hoodie. "Ask away."
"Earlier, we discussed your power usage, and that it coincided with anger. Are you currently under significant emotional distress?"
Was that a serious que – no, what am I saying, it was and if he had asked it five minutes ago the answer definitely would have been yes. As it was? "Had better days, but I'll be fine."
"Do you feel you have control over your abilities?"
I was tempted to lie, but he'd been nothing but honest with me so far. "I don't even know what all of my powers are." On the surface, there was nothing similar about the storm, the laptop, what happened to the agents, what happened to me in the van. There was only one common factor: me. "But I will do my best not to hurt anyone." Else.
He approved of my answer even if he didn't respond right away. "Accurate self-assessment is a good skill to nurture. We know the risks but in light of your cooperation," the door buzzed as the electronic lock opened. "I believe you."
Behind the door were two agents. One had his head bowed, hand to his right ear as he nodded while the other smiled at me. The blonde agent with the slight limp. A handler, I guessed. Someone familiar that I would feel comfortable with. It was probably one of the oldest tricks in the book, but it worked. She wasn't putting on much an act, just a genuinely nice person that wanted to help. I smiled back.
"What happened to your leg?" As her eyebrows inched up, my smile shifted to a smirk and I pointed at my ear. "Could hear it."
She shook her head in exasperation. "Powers." Not offended, or even that bothered. Her partner was less comfortable. I don't know if it's the way he stood with his back ramrod straight or the way that he stared like he knew he shouldn't take his eye off me that tipped me off, but I didn't like it. The woman beckoned me with a hand. "I'll tell you on the way."
"Names?" I asked as I stuffed my hands in my hoodie's front pocket.
"Annabelle." After a moment, she elbowed her partner.
He grunted. "Miller."
Annabelle was the only one to give me a first name so far. "Nice to meet you both." I fell into step beside them. Pulling back the length of my stride was a bit awkward, but I got the hang of it. "So?"
"Right." Annabelle laughed. "It was in college, oh, twenty years back and over Christmas break I took a trip to the Alps with friends."
"Skiing?"
"Snowboarding! If you asked me anything, I would swear myself blue in the face that I knew what I was doing. And I did!" She laughed again. "Turns out the mountain knew better."
We got into the elevator where Miller silently pressed the button. We were on the first sublevel and heading up to the second floor.
"It was a mild winter over there, Italy I mean, so up on the slopes it was half ice, half fresh snow which is really not a good combination." The doors closed with a ding as she chattered. The deluge was reminding me of better days in middle school. "We'd been up there all day, but I wanted just one more run even though it was getting dark and my friends wanted to go back to the hotel. I took the black diamond path, hardest course that went all the way to the base of the mountain. Never got there! Wiped on ice, broke three teeth, busted a lip, concussion and broke my ankle."
I winced as a sympathetic twinge ran down my right leg. "Never healed right?"
She shook her head. "Was up there for hours before my friends noticed I was taking too long. Had frostbite."
"Wow." We reached our destination with the usual stomach lurching stop. "That's – " The doors opened and my Dad was right there in the foyer. "Dad!"
"Taylor?" His head jerked away from the agent he'd been talking to. He looked terrible, like he dressed himself in the dark and then slept in it. Hair uncombed, bags under his eyes and he looked at me like he wasn't entirely sure where his daughter's voice had come from. My heart clenched painfully.
Yeah, that's what I'd been afraid of.
Annabelle gently pushed me out of the elevator with a hand on my back. "She's been through a lot, Mr. Hebert. Please."
"Taylor?" He repeated, his eyes tearing up. "I – "
I rushed forward and he met me with a giant hug that for once, I couldn't get enough of. I burst into tears in his shirt because I don't know if it was just because he was family that made me sensitive or that we were hugging but under my fingers I could feel my Dad bleeding grief like someone had just run him through with a rusty spike. It boiled over, chilling and burning me to the bone, and droplets were falling like ripples on a pond.
"It's me, Dad." I don't know who I was trying to convince. "It's me."
He just hugged me tighter.
__________
"You have a delicate situation on your hands, Emily."
Emily Piggot, Director of the East-North-East branch of the Parahuman Response Team, snorted around her coffee mug. There really was nothing like caffeine, clusterfucks and understatements at half past eleven at night. Rebecca Costa-Brown didn't look any better, with hair gone fuzzy in the cool humidity of California in winter and creased floral dress shirt. The bags under her eyes were almost artful in how they emphasized just how much of a long week Costa-Brown had.
Emily had no sympathy. Brockton Bay was in fine fucking form lately. Spread the joy around.
"I don't want her in my Wards." Costa-Brown's eyebrows inched up in a wordless question. "We don't have the facilities, the budget or the personnel for a case like this. Not just – " she waved her mug at her office. "But the response. High level Shaker, at least."
"I'd advise keeping the Master Stranger rating quiet, for now."
That was a nice cherry on top of the shit sundae. "If I didn't, this whole city would go to hell in a hand basket."
"She'll scare the villains." Brown filled that sentence with so much derision, Emily could almost hear the words bounce off her floor.
It would be as if Legend made a habit of stopping by. The E88, ABB, the Merchants, etc. were so used to the balance of power and having run of the city that any threat to that would be like taking a toy from a spoiled child. Temper tantrums to prove that nothing had changed, that they weren't cowed or weak or whatever justifications deluded minds dreamed up. Give an inch, and they would take a mile. Push, and they would push back harder.
"She scares everybody."
"But she is cooperating, correct?"
"For now." That had been this week's highlight; that the media's darling 'Maelstrom' was not someone that needed to be hunted down and arrested. For now. She wasn't going to get her hopes up. That situation could turn on a polished dime.
"This is not someone we can just let loose. You know how much is riding on this, Emily. She must be in the Wards."
Except this wasn't Legend, but a teenage girl fresh off a trigger. Unstable, confused. Vulnerable.
"I know." Emily took another bitter sip of straight black coffee. "Can I count on assistance with the DA?" Because talking to lawyers never got any easier, especially when they were trying very hard to be absolutely fucking stupid on the government's behalf.
"I'm taking it out of your hands." Thank God. "I've taken the liberty of hiring representation for Hebert for all current and ongoing criminal cases. Trust your PR?"
"They do good work."
"I will leave that to you then. Do you mind if I speak to her and her father for a few minutes?"
Yes, she minded but she could also tell that wasn't a request. She hoisted herself from her seat with a stifled groan and straightened the bottom of her blouse and suit jacket. "By all means."
She walked out of her small office and knocked on her Deputy's door. "Room 24B is all set," he called back with the half muted volume that told her he was on the phone. At this time of night, it was probably his family.
"Thank you."
Time to get this fucking show on the road.
She arrived before they did, as planned. Making them wait was reserved for disciplinary action, letting the perp stew in imagined scenarios. The last thing she wanted was to increase anxiety levels here.
The girl's father was the tall, lanky type with a good eye for clothes he wasn't swimming in, sharp gunmetal grey glasses and thinning dark hair. He also looked about as tired as Emily felt with clothes so creased she suspected he slept in them and a protective hand on his daughter's shoulder. Taylor herself provoked a rare sympathetic twinge. Case 53s, often coined as 'monstrous' parahumans were those whose powers changed them to something profoundly inhuman. They had no memories, just a bowl or C shaped tattoo hinted at an origin.
From descriptions, Taylor Hebert had been tall and skinny with green eyes like her father. That was all that stayed the same. She had the enviable hourglass figure, except her waist was a circumference Emily was certain would kill the average human being with hips that were similarly crushed together. Her proportions were too thin, too long, too sharp. If someone had told her the girl was missing memories and had a strange tattoo, she wouldn't have batted an eye. Not monstrous, but unsettling.
In a way, that she wasn't a Case53 was a shame. You can't miss what you can't remember.
Emily gestured towards the seats around the table with a refilled coffee mug. It was unremarkable as far as meeting rooms go, just a large rectangular room with a large rectangular table in the center and coffee machine in the back. The projector on the ceiling was on, but the screen behind her was mostly blank with just a smallish square in the bottom right corner occupied by Rebecca Costa-Brown's face.
"The Chief Director had a few things to say to both of you."
Taylor's vivid green eyes shifted between the faces before looking down with a bit of a chagrined expression. "Made a mess?"
"That's one way to put it," Costa-Brown said. "I'll be frank. Five days ago has been the worst setback of public opinion about parahumans for the past ten years."
Aggressive opening. Not that it wasn't true if a bit overstated, but aggressive. Emily leaned back in her chair, surreptitiously kicking off her shoes.
Danny Hebert got defensive, as she expected. His face reddened. "I find that hard to believe, with groups like the Nine around."
Countering one extreme statement with another rarely worked out well.
"Dad." Rather than being pleading or submissive like one would expect from a child addressing their angry parent, there was a tinge of command there that Danny responded to. He took in a breath with the look of someone counting, slowly, to ten.
"It is hard to believe," the Chief Director continued as if there had been no interruption. "But how often are the Nine on your mind in your day to day activities? How often do you consider your windows, or a bug going around?" Ah. Emily saw where she was going with this. As ironic as it sounded, the public was almost comfortable with villains like the Nine. Jack Slash was a crafty son of a bitch, and knew how to lay low and disappear.
Danny had figured it out too judging by his severe frown. Taylor was placid.
"The perception of control has always been a delicate balance. Five days ago, that shattered. The public now has evidence that all it takes is a prank gone wrong on the right person – " With impeccable theatrical timing, the larger screen was filled with a scene of the unnatural hurricane above Brockton Bay. "And we just lost a city."
The terror once reserved for Endbringers expanded to every potential trigger event was a fail condition for the PRT. They were far off from that yet. It was likely the knee jerk reactions would peter out and die when the media frenzy did, but in the meanwhile, it was a pain in the ass.
"The DA is considering pressing charges, and likely will."
Danny nearly leapt out of his chair. "They can't blame her for this!"
"I agree." Costa-Brown flashed Taylor a reassuring smile. "Unfortunately, it would not be about culpability, but about making an example of her. The storm lasted two days, and Taylor was interned for five. That is unusual for a trigger event by any standards and while we often excuse trigger event collateral due to trauma." She shrugged. "No one is happy with the idea of excusing a city's worth of collateral."
Technically speaking. Ellisburg was the aftermath of a protracted trigger event, Emily recalled. No, no one was happy with that idea at all.
Danny opened his mouth, but Taylor smoothly slipped in before he could speak. "How can I make this easier for you?"
Join the Wards, Emily thought, as much as she hated the idea. She did not need one more powder keg on the fire but if she had to. Well, considering how invested the Chief Director was in this, she might be able to swing some concessions and the additional resources to make this work.
"Join the Wards." Rebecca gave Emily a nod. "It is the purpose of the PRT to guide and train parahumans in responsible, legal use of their abilities. It would be an excellent first step in soothing fears."
Emily restrained herself from nodding vigorously. What she said, listen to her, couldn't have put it better myself, yadda yadda, etc., etc. Don't make this difficult for me.
Instead, Taylor frowned. "Something…" She trailed off. A power at work, Emily assumed. Jesus H. Christ, how many abilities did the girl have? "Something about what you just said is not true."
The Directors looked at each other in mild confusion. "But it is?" Emily Piggot spoke up to Costa-Brown's defense. "New powers are frequently confusing until the particulars are figured out."
Taylor stared at her like she was a particularly clever dog that had just showed off a new trick she hadn't been expecting, and then there was a ripple of realization widening her eyes and shifting her gaze to Rebecca. "You know something she doesn't."
Costa-Brown took that accusation about as well as one would expect. "I have no idea what you are talking abou – "
"I see…vials?" Taylor's distracted murmur brutally shut the Chief Director down. "Vials with labels. Aegis. Deus. Pyla – "
Rebecca Costa-Brown vanished, replaced by a blue screen and the obnoxious warble of a dropped connection.
In the silence that followed, Emily glared over the table at Danny who looked confused and Taylor, whose eyes were closed and her face pale. She brought up her own hand and pinched the bridge of her nose.
It was too late to toss the girl out and pretend this never happened, wasn't it?
Damn.
