[] Bone of the Father
Realign 14.8
Thursday, August 9
"You know, people used to think the rise of computers would mean kids wouldn't learn how to write properly anymore," Lacey says as she passes through the living room. "I don't know whether they'd be happy or horrified if they saw you now."
You do your best to ignore her taunt, focusing instead on the paper you have to write for your English class. And you are writing it, even if it will not look like it when you are done. Three screens are positioned around you to help out. Two float, one showing the digitized version of the book you have to perform a literary analysis of and the other accessing the internet for various references. The last screen is sitting in your lap, and as you use a slim metal stylus to write words onto the screen, they are converted into type. The strange mix of analog and digital is entrancing in its own way, and you will almost be sad when it is finished and Perfect Storm uploads the document into the school's computer system so you can print it out and hand it in.
'Almost' being the key word here. Your mother might have been an English professor, but this is certainly not what you want to do with the rest of your life. At least with programming, there is a useful finished product at the end of a day's work.
Thankfully Samantha is not here to add on to the taunting, though you don't really know what she is doing other than that it involves Missy in some way or another. Your Guardian Beast was frustratingly tight-lipped on the subject. Asking Missy through text got you a smiling face emoji as the sole reply. Whatever it is, they want to keep it a secret for now.
"At least computer text is legible, unlike some people's handwriting—"
"Call from unknown individual," Lacey's Device says in its whispery voice, interrupting your comeback. "Not auto-dial number."
"You have Asclepius filtering out robo-calls?" you ask in surprise.
"Of course. Don't you?"
Well, when she puts it that way…
Lacey shakes her head at you. "Put it through."
"Hello? Is this Aeris?"
Her eyes turn to meet yours. You know she bought a burner phone as a justification so Aeris would have a dedicated number without giving out her personal cell – though why she didn't have it grab a random available number like Perfect Storm did, you haven't the foggiest – but you did not think she shared it with anyone except the hospital. Apparently she is thinking the same because she replies, "It is. Who are you, and how did you get this number?"
"It's Jujak." Lacey appears to think for a moment before her shoulders relax. "I got your number from the hospital. I need your help. Or I have somebody here who needs your help, anyway."
«What do you think?» Lacey asks.
«You mean if he's telling the truth or not?» You shrug. «There's no way to know without checking it out.»
You doubt your answer is as helpful as she wanted, but with few other options she sighs. "Where are you?"
Only a few seconds later, the two of your arrive at the street corner Jujak named. Both of you stand clad in your Barrier Jackets, and Lacey's drone hovers in the air around her. "Down here!" a voice calls out from a nearby alley.
Several Flare Shooters pop into existence next to you as a safety measure. You doubt many things can get through Lacey's barrier, much less yours, but there is no reason not to tread with caution. Caution that turns out to be entirely unnecessary when you walk down nearly out of sight of the street. A man in a faintly reflective scarlet bodysuit and a dull grey helmet kneels on the ground, his hand pressed hard against the stomach of a young black man who has slumped against the back corner of a dumpster. His head turns to you. "He needs healing now. I can feel his pulse getting weaker."
"Get out of the way." The cape you presume is Jujak backs away, and Lacey takes his place. Green light surrounds her hands and shines down on the red smear staining his torn shirt. "This looks like a gunshot wound."
"That's exactly what it is," Jujak says, leaning against the brick wall and clutching his chest. "I heard the gun go off and charged in. Found him like that surrounded by a bunch of gang bangers. Soon as I chased them off, I called you. Figured if I called an ambulance, they'd wind up taking him to the morgue instead of the hospital."
"They shot you too, didn't they?" you ask as the obvious reason why he is holding himself like this becomes clear.
Lacey whips her head around to stare at him, and he waves her off. "I'm fine. Sore, but that's it. He's the one you should worry about."
While Lacey is busy doing her job, you decide the investigative portion of this adventure should be yours. "Do you know what gang it was?" After Agent Morgan's explanation of the new gang boundaries, you think you know which group it is that claimed Nicetown and why they would attack a random black man, but why make assumptions when you have an eyewitness right here?
"Looked like the Wolfheads." You nod. That is about what you expected. The Empire used to do this exact thing, attacking minorities for no other reason than that they were there, so it doesn't surprise you that their offshoot does the same thing— "Least, I think it was. Both the Wolfheads and Fairyland treat this place like their turf, and I've heard one of the other new gangs, the Horses or something, was claiming the same thing. It's gotten bad the last month or so."
"I've done as much as I can," Lacey says, standing up and brushing off the knees of her robe-like outfit. "From what I can tell, the bullet is still inside. He'll need surgery to remove it, but his injury is no longer life-threatening. Asclepius, call EMS and have them come pick him up and take him to Temple."
"Yes, Madam."
"Alright, get over here. I have enough juice left to heal you."
Jujak waves his hands in front of him and hisses in pain at the movement. "Look, don't worry about it. I'm fine. See?" he says, pointing to a scuff on the right side of his chest. "Didn't even punch through my costume. I'm just bruised up and sore, but I'm sure it'll heal on its own."
Lacey looks over at you with raised eyebrows, her intention clear. You smile back and lift a hand, a relatively small bit of power running through you.
"Hey! Hey!" Jujak yells as he lifts off the ground. "What are you doing?!"
"Ignoring your machismo and fixing you up." This time Lacey's healing light falls on Jujak, and perhaps thirty seconds later she ends the spell. "There. All better. Was that so hard?"
"…No, I guess not."
She nods definitively, and you set him back down on the ground. "You need to be more careful," she continues, the firmness of her voice and lack of worry about lecturing a cape a sure sign she is in work mode. "You're not invincible. If a bullet can injure you, you need to make sure you don't get hit by a cape. That'll do a lot more damage."
"Yeah, I know," he says after a moment, his shoulders sagging. "But somebody's got to do it. The Protectorate doesn't come out this far, and Hellbeast… Let's just say there's a good reason he works alone. The only guy these people can count on to help them is me."
Lacey sighs in resignation. "I understand. Just be careful. If you're all these people have, you have to stick around for them."
"I don't plan on going out easy." He laughs quietly. "Besides, you can only die once. I intend for mine to be worth talking about."
You shake your head at his flippancy, but then you notice Lacey staring at Jujak. "You can only die once," she whispers. A fire appears in her eyes. "Paul?"
"Uh…"
Jujak or Paul or whoever he is looks like he is about to bolt, but another application of telekinesis fixes that problem. "You know him?" you ask Lacey.
"I think I do, and I have questions."
"Then let's get some answers." Jujak is heavier than you, so it takes a bit of magical oomph to toss him into the air and onto a nearby rooftop. Once he is up, you hold out your hand for Lacey to take and teleport both of you onto the same roof.
"I don't know when you learned how to do that, but I wish you hadn't," he wheezes when you arrive.
"And I wish you didn't have a death wish!" snaps Lacey. "How did you even get my work number, anyway?"
"Work number?" Jujak's voice is confused, and he pushes himself up onto his feet. "I just called your cell number. You have a different one for work?"
"Of course I—" She stops and rubs her forehead. "They both redirect to Ascii. Ascii, from now on could you please tell me which number someone's calling me at?"
"Yes, Madam. Apologies."
"Can I get some context, please?"
They both look at you as you stand there with your arms crossed and one foot tapping. If you do not get some answers quick, you will be sorely tempted to throw some fire around until somebody starts talking.
Lacey glares at Jujak. He in turn mutters something likely uncomplimentary and fiddles with the back of his head. The helmet splits into several connected plates, and he pulls it off to reveal an Asiatic face and a sheepish expression.
«Storm, I'm going to need more information than these two are willing to give.» Your eyes narrow. «Especially since he looks familiar but I can't place him.»
«Referencing database… Identity Paul Huynh. Former dockworker in Brockton Bay. Member of Privateers.»
That explains why you recognize his face, and with that information another piece clicks into place. "You were the guy who was arguing with Tim at the Fourth of July party."
He rubs the back of his head. "Yeah. He was trying to talk me out of doing this, and I was trying to talk him into making just one thing for me."
What he must have wanted was obvious. "A weapon."
"What? No. This." He motions to his shiny costume that you now realize must be made from Tim's special metalweave fabric. "All I wanted was something that looks appropriately cape-ish and provides some protection in case I got stabbed or shot. You know, like happened tonight."
"You're a cape now?" Knowing what kinds of horrors people have to go through to Trigger, you cannot help but feel sympathy for him. You know he was not a cape when the Privateers broke up, which means something awful must have happened after.
"Um…" He looks away from you. "I won't go and claim I'm a parahuman or anything."
Not a parahuman? You know he is not a mage; you scanned all the Privateers, and only Lacey and Tim came up positive. So if it he isn't a mage and isn't a parahuman… What is he?
"You're an idiot." Lacey looks like she is one wrong word from punching Paul's lights out, and putting someone who abhors fighting as much as she does in that state takes some effort. "What the hell were you thinking, dressing up like a cape and running around? You're going to get yourself killed!"
"I'm not going to get myself killed. At least, that's not the plan." He raises his hands as though to make some gesture to defend his action, then he just drops them again. "I'm not going after capes and gang members. I think we all learned that lesson a while ago. That's just a recipe for trouble. Thing is, there are plenty of bad people who aren't capes. They can't flick my head off or burn me with their minds. They're regular people just like me. They see a cape, or someone they think is a cape, and they'll run away. That means whoever they were hassling can go home without getting beaten to a pulp or shot or stabbed. Or at least will have someone around to call 911." He shrugs. "I did some thinking after the Privateers went kablooie. Somewhere between Brockton Bay and here, we forgot what we were doing and why. The goal wasn't to crush the gangs beneath our feet. It was to protect regular people who couldn't protect themselves.
"Just because I'm by myself instead of part of a group doesn't mean I can't do something to help, even if it's just a little thing like this."
The angry expression on Lacey's face fades as Paul keeps talking, and when he finishes she shakes her head. You can tell she does not have the heart to argue with him about why he is doing what he's doing, even though she still disagrees with the what. "Who gave you this idea to dress up like a cape, anyway?"
He flushes and winces. "Animal Planet?" he answers in a whisper.
"Wha?" Normally you would be more articulate, but that answer makes absolutely zero sense.
"It was late! I was flipping through channels! There was nothing good on, so I figured hey, I'll just watch some animals run around for a while before going to bed. This British guy was the narrator, and he started talking about something called biological mimicry. It's where animals that aren't dangerous have the same colors or shapes as other animals that are, or patterns that make them look bigger and scarier than they really are. That got me thinking about how everyone sees a costume and immediately thinks cape even though there's no way to know for sure unless they use their power, and anybody with brains is going to skedaddle way before that happens. If I look the part, nobody questions it."
"Anybody with brains, huh?" Whatever anger he managed to sooth away in Lacey's mind comes roaring back full force, and you just step back out of the line of fire.
You have to admit, though, this is far more entertaining than Ethan Frome.
Since this chapter involves Lacey, a question. She knows the Guardian Beast ritual, and she doesn't have a template (anymore) and thus will never be able to support twin Beasts. Do you want her to create a Guardian Beast sometime in the next week?
[ ] Yes
-[ ] Create a randomly generated Guardian Beast (no control, bonus skills)
-[ ] Design a Guardian Beast (choose animal/gender/age/class, no bonus)
[ ] No, do not create a Guardian Beast now
