KongouBongo
Always got to make time for tea-time!
- Location
- 26°9'1"N 121°22'57"E
Taylor a separate person wasn't for a while she was a combination of the two. This isn't that different other than she is dead but now more of a servant
A child's play
- Thread starter ic3shard13
- Start date
- Crossover
Taylor a separate person wasn't for a while she was a combination of the two. This isn't that different other than she is dead but now more of a servant
globalwarmth
ruining the weather.
- Location
- Polar ice caps
Yep. Killed my interest right quick.
A pitty since I discovered this today and was really liking it
like a sleeping angel
- Pronouns
- She/Her
So, I was writing what Miss Militia was dreaming... and this happened. I changed my idea, but uh, guess you gained an omake!
It was a beautiful sunny day and in a park two girls were playing under the watch of their amused parents.
"I am Alexandria!" a young girl wearing glasses shouted.
"Nuh-uh! You are always Alexandria! I wanna be her!" her redheaded friend bickered.
"I have the cape!" the kid argued, tugging at the towel she was wearing.
"Fine! Then I am Mouse Protector!" the redhead shouted and picked a stick from the ground.
"No, Mouse Protector isn't good! Alexandria is always serious and tough, and Mouse bickers and makes jokes! Miss Militia would be better, since she has guns and weapons and those are serious!" Alexandria said in one breath.
"But I don't like guns. And who cares, you can't decide everything!"
The redhead replied, pointing the stick in the face of her friend.
The sun disappeared, and it was already night.
"We decide what we want!" the girl took a knife out of nowhere and stabbed the redhead.
A motherly voice chided: "Sweety, you can't stab people only because you don't agree with them."
The girl muttered: "Fine. Good night, Emma!"
The stabbed girl exclaimed: "Good night, knifey head!"
Dad, Mom, and Taylor entered their car.
The girl watched the cars and carriages passing by with a disinterested expression.
Some time passed, and Dad and Taylor found themselves alone.
They both looked older and sadder.
"Why do you need more money for school, kiddo?"
The teenager grimaced, hiding the juice stains with her posture. "I had an accident."
They both clammed up, and nothing else was said even after returning home.
Taylor ran to her room and opened her schoolbag. Taking out the class notes, she started reading her assignment: "What do you want to do when you are older?"
She scribbled 'teacher', then scratched. She had a half mind to write 'hero', but it was ridiculous.
"I don't have an idea of what to do with my life."
A white-haired golden-eyed girl appeared in front of her. "That's pretty pathetic, you know."
Taylor flicked Jack's head. "Like you have a better idea. Assassin for hire isn't a stable job."
Jack huffed, took out a knife and stabbed her. Taylor took out another knife and answered in kind.
As they continued their game, the desktop fell over them.
Jackie escaped from under the piece of furniture.
"We could be a doctor... Nah, we aren't as good as healing as we are at hurting," she sighed.
It was a beautiful sunny day and in a park two girls were playing under the watch of their amused parents.
"I am Alexandria!" a young girl wearing glasses shouted.
"Nuh-uh! You are always Alexandria! I wanna be her!" her redheaded friend bickered.
"I have the cape!" the kid argued, tugging at the towel she was wearing.
"Fine! Then I am Mouse Protector!" the redhead shouted and picked a stick from the ground.
"No, Mouse Protector isn't good! Alexandria is always serious and tough, and Mouse bickers and makes jokes! Miss Militia would be better, since she has guns and weapons and those are serious!" Alexandria said in one breath.
"But I don't like guns. And who cares, you can't decide everything!"
The redhead replied, pointing the stick in the face of her friend.
The sun disappeared, and it was already night.
"We decide what we want!" the girl took a knife out of nowhere and stabbed the redhead.
A motherly voice chided: "Sweety, you can't stab people only because you don't agree with them."
The girl muttered: "Fine. Good night, Emma!"
The stabbed girl exclaimed: "Good night, knifey head!"
Dad, Mom, and Taylor entered their car.
The girl watched the cars and carriages passing by with a disinterested expression.
Some time passed, and Dad and Taylor found themselves alone.
They both looked older and sadder.
"Why do you need more money for school, kiddo?"
The teenager grimaced, hiding the juice stains with her posture. "I had an accident."
They both clammed up, and nothing else was said even after returning home.
Taylor ran to her room and opened her schoolbag. Taking out the class notes, she started reading her assignment: "What do you want to do when you are older?"
She scribbled 'teacher', then scratched. She had a half mind to write 'hero', but it was ridiculous.
"I don't have an idea of what to do with my life."
A white-haired golden-eyed girl appeared in front of her. "That's pretty pathetic, you know."
Taylor flicked Jack's head. "Like you have a better idea. Assassin for hire isn't a stable job."
Jack huffed, took out a knife and stabbed her. Taylor took out another knife and answered in kind.
As they continued their game, the desktop fell over them.
Jackie escaped from under the piece of furniture.
"We could be a doctor... Nah, we aren't as good as healing as we are at hurting," she sighed.
Interlude 6
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The girl cried as one of her bones broke from the impact.
It wasn't fair. Treating people as cattle was horrible.
Ghostchild prepared her knives. She could take two of them, maybe three, but it was risky. She doubted that the nazis would care about collateral damage.
She needed to scare them away. She looked at the twins.
The harder they fall...
Jackie jumped on a giant head and released the Mist.
It was funny seeing the villains searching for her in confusion.
"Fenja, on your head!"
The valkyrie dropped her weapon and slapped her head. Ghostchild was fast enough, but the sounds of giant flesh meeting giant flesh rumbled like cannons.
She needed to be faster. The Mist wasn't made to cover such a small area.
Well, time for her second trump card.
She started to talk: "Yeah, let's murder it.
Hell is starting. We are flames, rain, power..."
She felt cold darkness surrounding her, as her eyes focused on her target.
She rushed down Fenja's arm.
"Let there be a slaughter!"
Pain, sorrow, despair, hatred, cold, and rage swelled inside the Ripper as her knives took the curses of uncountable lost souls.
"Maria the Ripper!"
She jumped and tried to slash the giant's abdomen. It didn't leave a nick.
The Ripper smiled, knowing she had won.
Fenja returned to her original stature and her womb got slaughtered, releasing a light shower of blood
Jackie licked her knives and she grimaced. It tasted weird.
Now, she hoped that the victim didn't get caught in the Mist.
She let Krieg took Fenja's body as a consolation's prize. She threw some scalpels as if she was attacking them.
They started to escape. Jackie relaxed and sighed and moved towards the prisoner.
And fucking then Kaiser, as the sore loser she was, attacked the black girl.
She added him to her bad book and rushed to the girl rescue.
"Going to end my suffering?" the girl asked between heavy breaths.
Jackie shook her head. "We can heal you. But we need to be quick."
She didn't seem convinced, and she looked at the bloody knives with fear. Jackie dismissed them and called the scalpels.
It was a rushed job. The cape ignored the patient's cries as she cut flesh and bone in the hope of finding the bullet.
She sealed and patched it up using the bandages that she could summon with her cloak.
The prisoner croaked: "It looks like shit."
Ghostchild fought the blush blossoming on her face. "Anyway, this should last for all night. But you'll need food and blood to heal completely."
The girl added: "You know, I wanted to be a doctor."
What a strange thing to say when you were so close to death, Ghostchild thought.
"Call the police, the PRT," Jackie added, and ran away.
Once she was far enough, she checked herself for injuries and she made sure that the dress wasn't stained red.
"It looks fitting for a hospital, like a nurse uniform..." she muttered.
It was a silly dream. Yet it wasn't wrong to wish for something.
"If I find a way to heal Dad," Taylor muttered.
I woke up drenched in sweat. My power changed in sparkles of green energy at a speed that seemed to follow my beating heart.
"Code iota ai sierra five, code iota ai sierra five," I repeated.
My eyes fell over the rash on my hand. Was this that caused the dream?
"Confirmation, Miss Militia. What happened?"
"I had a dream where Wraith appeared. It was surreal," I stated.
"Mhm. We'll verify."
I glanced at the cell bars. I was going to stay for at least another day, wasn't it?
I removed my bandanna and washed my face at the sink. I looked at the baton.
How long was it since I dreamt of something different from my memories?
If this were the dreams that would follow, I was happy that she chose me over Missy. I had the luxury of staying awake, she didn't.
Thankfully the protocols were paranoid enough that they required to sleep.
What was her power?
Hanna knew intellectually that some powers altered the mental states of their users, but that attack, that 'Maria the Ripper'...
She looked at her hand. Could she order her to use it? Or to ban it?
The speakers asked: "Miss Militia, are you okay?"
"Yes," she answered. I wasn't okay, but okay enough.
"She said the dream was due to the 'bond' between the two of you. She recalled some of your memories."
Oh. Well, that wasn't good news.
"She says it can happen if both of you fall asleep. She adds that she forgot to tell you and didn't want to keep it as a secret."
I slumped on the bed. "Did she?"
That was at least Thinker 2. How many powers did she have?
"She also says that the two of you can communicate with each other telepathically."
"..."
Powers weren't supposed to work like that. Even the Simurgh didn't use telepathy.
"We can test it later."
I shook my head. "No, better to ascertain this quick."
If she could start it on her own, it was only a matter of time before it happened.
I concentrated on the seal.
<Ghostchild?> I broadcasted. I felt like an idiot.
<Yes?> her voice replied timidly. It was a clear sound that appeared to come from nowhere, with no echo.
Three full seconds passed, as I took a deep breath.
"I can hear her. I'll tell her to show the number three to the cameras."
<Can you show three fingers to the camera?>
<Sure,> she complied with worry and... was it eagerness?
The speakers reported: "Wraith has followed your suggestion. Miss Militia, I think it's enough for tonight."
I nodded and fell back in the bed.
Seconds ticked by, as I struggled to find a way to not fall asleep again.
I took out a piece of paper and started writing what I dreamt about.
It wasn't the strangest report I had ever written, but it was surely up there.
I hoped my position wasn't compromised.
A cape that had a reverse mastering power was unheard of, but Jackie proved herself as an exception of most rules.
Was she like a Butcher from another dimension?
My weapon changed fast into other weapons, and for a moment I worried it would shape itself in the form of one of her knives.
Thankfully, it was a harmless Glock.
I thanked God that at least this happened to me and not Vista.
Seeing a companion killed in front of you the first time was hard, having to endure protocols and a voice in the head wasn't going to help.
<Can we ask you a question?>
Thinking of the devil. <What?>
<What did you dream?> She asked with a bit of concern.
<Your fight with the E88,> I replied.
Communicating like this was even easy. Almost convenient.
<Oh.>
There was a lot of weight in that syllable.
I asked: <What did you dream?>
<Your trigger event,> she answered.
<Okay, please don't talk to me until we're cleared, okay?>
<Okay,> she complied meekly.
I returned to my report. I had to add this as well, right?
If this continued to happen, it would be hard.
Sympathizing with villains was always a slippery slope, but knowing that you failed somewhere and a cape you trusted made the wrong decisions for supposedly good reasons, that they had believed it was the better way, it was worse.
How did the Poster, and Coil, manage to infiltrate the PRT to this extent?
I shook my head. I hoped the isolation would end soon, and I'd be allowed to do my part in setting this right.
"Aegis, how is the team doing?"
The Ward settled himself in an uneasy stance. "Ma'am, can I be frank?"
"Of course."
"It's a shitshow. Vista had realized that Ghostchild tried to kill her, Gallant is seriously considering to join New Wave, Kid Win feels remorseful for refusing to patrol, and Clockblocker has closed up and his jokes now tend to be on the meaner side than usual," he replied. "Having to keep us in the base isn't helping."
I sighed. "Can I ask how are you doing?"
"Badly. Being a leader of the Wards, even if it is a glorified position, is making me feel useless. If I had to say something, it's that we need a break. After Shadow Stalker and this mess, it doesn't feel like we are being trained to be heroes," he ended bitterly.
Thankfully, Armsmaster wasn't the supervisor any longer. Human interaction was never his strong suit.
"As you know, someone else will take my place. Two people, to be precise."
That made him raise an eyebrow but didn't surprise him much.
It was sounding like being an exception was the rule, nowadays.
"Aegis, do you believe that the probationary system works?"
He took a bit of time to consider. "The numbers speak well but I'm not seeing it happen."
A good answer, if not a bit too sardonic.
"Do you trust the current Protectorate roster?"
"I do, but... are you saying that one was a criminal?" he asked retorically.
"He was. Assault and Battery will supervise you for the time being. I'm telling you this because one day he'll give his story. I want you to show him understanding. He's a bit rough around the edges, but I hope Battery will temper him," I finished half-jokingly.
"I'll try. He was the one that recruited me, and this comes as a surprise, but I trust him. Honestly, I'm curious about his history."
I covered the seal on my hand.
"Is there anything else you want to ask, Aegis?"
"Did we had to read that report?"
That poor pig.
"You need to know her abilities. If she ever started her 'chant', you need either to escape as far away as possible or interrupt her speaking."
His eyes wandered on the ground for a moment. "So there's a possibility we end up fighting her."
I grimaced. "It's a very remote possibility. For now, she is cooperating."
"Do you trust her, ma'am?"
"I want to. And please, if you have to call me something, call me Miss Militia. It's not like you have much time before you join the Protectorate."
I managed to make him smile a little. "Of course. Can I go?"
"You can."
"A transfer, Director?"
Director Piggot sighed: "Between the two of us, it wasn't my first choice. But keeping Wraith in Brockton Bay is asking for a powder keg to explode. Director Armstrong offered to take both of you, under strict conditions. In exchange, a Ward from New York and two Protectorate capes, from Boston and Los Angeles, will come here."
It sounded fine, but there was an objection. "Director, but if Ghostchild was being targeted because she interferes with Coil's powers, wouldn't it be better to keep her here?"
"This was discussed as well. The point is, we can't rely on her. First, we must assume that what a minor villain said was true. Second, Wraith isn't dependable. Do you think we'd be able to convince her to stay at the base while we deal with Coil and the Poster? I don't know how long the threat of your 'sigil' will last."
I conceded her points. "How will she be treated?"
"As a probationary Ward," the director replied as if biting a sour lemon.
It must have wrinkled to give her preferential treatment over Shadow Stalker's situation.
"But she won't go to school. She will study at the base until she'll be deemed safe enough for her to go out. We can't risk her choosing another 'master'."
She had explained she could, in theory, do that, either if I used the command or by taking it by force.
No wonder she was now also a Trump 4.
"How long will this last?" I hoped it wasn't permanent.
"We think two months at most. Tattletale surrendered herself this morning and is divulging everything she knows about her 'boss'. Hopefully, she is a case where the probationary system will work,"
Piggot commented sardonically.
"And Dragon herself is helping Armsmaster inspect every nook and cranny for leaks," the Director ended.
Considering Alexandria was going to stay for a few days to investigate the 'shaker event'...
It seemed I could leave the Bay in good hands.
She dismissed me, and I went packing my belongings.
<M- Miss Militia, what is going to happen?>
<We are going to Boston.>
<Why?>
It was an angry why.
<Whoever is after you, wants you gone. We are afraid he might attack other Wards or your father, only to get to you,> I answered.
<Ok.>
<Do you want me to take anything for you?> I asked
<There's Alexandria's plushie, but it's in the Wards...> she said flustered.
<I'll bring it to you tomorrow.>
If I had known, I would have asked Aegis.
It wasn't fair. Treating people as cattle was horrible.
Ghostchild prepared her knives. She could take two of them, maybe three, but it was risky. She doubted that the nazis would care about collateral damage.
She needed to scare them away. She looked at the twins.
The harder they fall...
Jackie jumped on a giant head and released the Mist.
It was funny seeing the villains searching for her in confusion.
"Fenja, on your head!"
The valkyrie dropped her weapon and slapped her head. Ghostchild was fast enough, but the sounds of giant flesh meeting giant flesh rumbled like cannons.
She needed to be faster. The Mist wasn't made to cover such a small area.
Well, time for her second trump card.
She started to talk: "Yeah, let's murder it.
Hell is starting. We are flames, rain, power..."
She felt cold darkness surrounding her, as her eyes focused on her target.
She rushed down Fenja's arm.
"Let there be a slaughter!"
Pain, sorrow, despair, hatred, cold, and rage swelled inside the Ripper as her knives took the curses of uncountable lost souls.
"Maria the Ripper!"
She jumped and tried to slash the giant's abdomen. It didn't leave a nick.
The Ripper smiled, knowing she had won.
Fenja returned to her original stature and her womb got slaughtered, releasing a light shower of blood
Jackie licked her knives and she grimaced. It tasted weird.
Now, she hoped that the victim didn't get caught in the Mist.
She let Krieg took Fenja's body as a consolation's prize. She threw some scalpels as if she was attacking them.
They started to escape. Jackie relaxed and sighed and moved towards the prisoner.
And fucking then Kaiser, as the sore loser she was, attacked the black girl.
She added him to her bad book and rushed to the girl rescue.
"Going to end my suffering?" the girl asked between heavy breaths.
Jackie shook her head. "We can heal you. But we need to be quick."
She didn't seem convinced, and she looked at the bloody knives with fear. Jackie dismissed them and called the scalpels.
It was a rushed job. The cape ignored the patient's cries as she cut flesh and bone in the hope of finding the bullet.
She sealed and patched it up using the bandages that she could summon with her cloak.
The prisoner croaked: "It looks like shit."
Ghostchild fought the blush blossoming on her face. "Anyway, this should last for all night. But you'll need food and blood to heal completely."
The girl added: "You know, I wanted to be a doctor."
What a strange thing to say when you were so close to death, Ghostchild thought.
"Call the police, the PRT," Jackie added, and ran away.
Once she was far enough, she checked herself for injuries and she made sure that the dress wasn't stained red.
"It looks fitting for a hospital, like a nurse uniform..." she muttered.
It was a silly dream. Yet it wasn't wrong to wish for something.
"If I find a way to heal Dad," Taylor muttered.
I woke up drenched in sweat. My power changed in sparkles of green energy at a speed that seemed to follow my beating heart.
"Code iota ai sierra five, code iota ai sierra five," I repeated.
My eyes fell over the rash on my hand. Was this that caused the dream?
"Confirmation, Miss Militia. What happened?"
"I had a dream where Wraith appeared. It was surreal," I stated.
"Mhm. We'll verify."
I glanced at the cell bars. I was going to stay for at least another day, wasn't it?
I removed my bandanna and washed my face at the sink. I looked at the baton.
How long was it since I dreamt of something different from my memories?
If this were the dreams that would follow, I was happy that she chose me over Missy. I had the luxury of staying awake, she didn't.
Thankfully the protocols were paranoid enough that they required to sleep.
What was her power?
Hanna knew intellectually that some powers altered the mental states of their users, but that attack, that 'Maria the Ripper'...
She looked at her hand. Could she order her to use it? Or to ban it?
The speakers asked: "Miss Militia, are you okay?"
"Yes," she answered. I wasn't okay, but okay enough.
"She said the dream was due to the 'bond' between the two of you. She recalled some of your memories."
Oh. Well, that wasn't good news.
"She says it can happen if both of you fall asleep. She adds that she forgot to tell you and didn't want to keep it as a secret."
I slumped on the bed. "Did she?"
That was at least Thinker 2. How many powers did she have?
"She also says that the two of you can communicate with each other telepathically."
"..."
Powers weren't supposed to work like that. Even the Simurgh didn't use telepathy.
"We can test it later."
I shook my head. "No, better to ascertain this quick."
If she could start it on her own, it was only a matter of time before it happened.
I concentrated on the seal.
<Ghostchild?> I broadcasted. I felt like an idiot.
<Yes?> her voice replied timidly. It was a clear sound that appeared to come from nowhere, with no echo.
Three full seconds passed, as I took a deep breath.
"I can hear her. I'll tell her to show the number three to the cameras."
<Can you show three fingers to the camera?>
<Sure,> she complied with worry and... was it eagerness?
The speakers reported: "Wraith has followed your suggestion. Miss Militia, I think it's enough for tonight."
I nodded and fell back in the bed.
Seconds ticked by, as I struggled to find a way to not fall asleep again.
I took out a piece of paper and started writing what I dreamt about.
It wasn't the strangest report I had ever written, but it was surely up there.
I hoped my position wasn't compromised.
A cape that had a reverse mastering power was unheard of, but Jackie proved herself as an exception of most rules.
Was she like a Butcher from another dimension?
My weapon changed fast into other weapons, and for a moment I worried it would shape itself in the form of one of her knives.
Thankfully, it was a harmless Glock.
I thanked God that at least this happened to me and not Vista.
Seeing a companion killed in front of you the first time was hard, having to endure protocols and a voice in the head wasn't going to help.
<Can we ask you a question?>
Thinking of the devil. <What?>
<What did you dream?> She asked with a bit of concern.
<Your fight with the E88,> I replied.
Communicating like this was even easy. Almost convenient.
<Oh.>
There was a lot of weight in that syllable.
I asked: <What did you dream?>
<Your trigger event,> she answered.
<Okay, please don't talk to me until we're cleared, okay?>
<Okay,> she complied meekly.
I returned to my report. I had to add this as well, right?
If this continued to happen, it would be hard.
Sympathizing with villains was always a slippery slope, but knowing that you failed somewhere and a cape you trusted made the wrong decisions for supposedly good reasons, that they had believed it was the better way, it was worse.
How did the Poster, and Coil, manage to infiltrate the PRT to this extent?
I shook my head. I hoped the isolation would end soon, and I'd be allowed to do my part in setting this right.
"Aegis, how is the team doing?"
The Ward settled himself in an uneasy stance. "Ma'am, can I be frank?"
"Of course."
"It's a shitshow. Vista had realized that Ghostchild tried to kill her, Gallant is seriously considering to join New Wave, Kid Win feels remorseful for refusing to patrol, and Clockblocker has closed up and his jokes now tend to be on the meaner side than usual," he replied. "Having to keep us in the base isn't helping."
I sighed. "Can I ask how are you doing?"
"Badly. Being a leader of the Wards, even if it is a glorified position, is making me feel useless. If I had to say something, it's that we need a break. After Shadow Stalker and this mess, it doesn't feel like we are being trained to be heroes," he ended bitterly.
Thankfully, Armsmaster wasn't the supervisor any longer. Human interaction was never his strong suit.
"As you know, someone else will take my place. Two people, to be precise."
That made him raise an eyebrow but didn't surprise him much.
It was sounding like being an exception was the rule, nowadays.
"Aegis, do you believe that the probationary system works?"
He took a bit of time to consider. "The numbers speak well but I'm not seeing it happen."
A good answer, if not a bit too sardonic.
"Do you trust the current Protectorate roster?"
"I do, but... are you saying that one was a criminal?" he asked retorically.
"He was. Assault and Battery will supervise you for the time being. I'm telling you this because one day he'll give his story. I want you to show him understanding. He's a bit rough around the edges, but I hope Battery will temper him," I finished half-jokingly.
"I'll try. He was the one that recruited me, and this comes as a surprise, but I trust him. Honestly, I'm curious about his history."
I covered the seal on my hand.
"Is there anything else you want to ask, Aegis?"
"Did we had to read that report?"
That poor pig.
"You need to know her abilities. If she ever started her 'chant', you need either to escape as far away as possible or interrupt her speaking."
His eyes wandered on the ground for a moment. "So there's a possibility we end up fighting her."
I grimaced. "It's a very remote possibility. For now, she is cooperating."
"Do you trust her, ma'am?"
"I want to. And please, if you have to call me something, call me Miss Militia. It's not like you have much time before you join the Protectorate."
I managed to make him smile a little. "Of course. Can I go?"
"You can."
"A transfer, Director?"
Director Piggot sighed: "Between the two of us, it wasn't my first choice. But keeping Wraith in Brockton Bay is asking for a powder keg to explode. Director Armstrong offered to take both of you, under strict conditions. In exchange, a Ward from New York and two Protectorate capes, from Boston and Los Angeles, will come here."
It sounded fine, but there was an objection. "Director, but if Ghostchild was being targeted because she interferes with Coil's powers, wouldn't it be better to keep her here?"
"This was discussed as well. The point is, we can't rely on her. First, we must assume that what a minor villain said was true. Second, Wraith isn't dependable. Do you think we'd be able to convince her to stay at the base while we deal with Coil and the Poster? I don't know how long the threat of your 'sigil' will last."
I conceded her points. "How will she be treated?"
"As a probationary Ward," the director replied as if biting a sour lemon.
It must have wrinkled to give her preferential treatment over Shadow Stalker's situation.
"But she won't go to school. She will study at the base until she'll be deemed safe enough for her to go out. We can't risk her choosing another 'master'."
She had explained she could, in theory, do that, either if I used the command or by taking it by force.
No wonder she was now also a Trump 4.
"How long will this last?" I hoped it wasn't permanent.
"We think two months at most. Tattletale surrendered herself this morning and is divulging everything she knows about her 'boss'. Hopefully, she is a case where the probationary system will work,"
Piggot commented sardonically.
"And Dragon herself is helping Armsmaster inspect every nook and cranny for leaks," the Director ended.
Considering Alexandria was going to stay for a few days to investigate the 'shaker event'...
It seemed I could leave the Bay in good hands.
She dismissed me, and I went packing my belongings.
<M- Miss Militia, what is going to happen?>
<We are going to Boston.>
<Why?>
It was an angry why.
<Whoever is after you, wants you gone. We are afraid he might attack other Wards or your father, only to get to you,> I answered.
<Ok.>
<Do you want me to take anything for you?> I asked
<There's Alexandria's plushie, but it's in the Wards...> she said flustered.
<I'll bring it to you tomorrow.>
If I had known, I would have asked Aegis.
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The prt can't even be mad. She told them at the start she can't be a hero at the start and look what happened.
They've clearly learned their lesson.
I'm sure being a probationary ward will go better this time 🙃
Honestly what could go wrong?
I question the lack of guilt, maybe it's there and it's just not coming across. The PRT and, to an extent, Miss Milita failed Taylor. To the point of letting her "die" twice. If it had been almost any other of the Wards they would have been truly dead. To be fair MM doesn't really deserve the blame, so maybe she sees that, or maybe she just believes that Taylor should have stayed with the PRT regardless of the fuck ups and is angry at Taylor for that.
I just hope she as she learns about Jackie's mental state, she actually shows some of the understanding of how fucked up Taylor was.
I just hope she as she learns about Jackie's mental state, she actually shows some of the understanding of how fucked up Taylor was.
Miss Militia is very very good at doing her duty.
This is good when your interests are aligned with her job, but she's a good soldier, not a good person.
DumplingJr
(Verified Eldritch Being)
- Location
- 4th dimension in 17th plane in the 4th DImension
I can sense the overflowing sarcasm in your text the sarcasm is just oozing of of it.
The PRT and Proctorate don't really have any other Options other than to keep her on call.
As far as they know killing her doesn't work, she can phase through matter (Asterlizaion), and really likes Killing.
If they try to get rid of her best case scenario she leaves and never comes back worst case scenario a Jack gets Jack's leash, a more likely scenario is a different person not beholden to the government gets the command seal.
In fact they got lucky Jack affixed a Command spell on Miss Milita, because while maybe not the best person to handle it at least she's able to reason with the spirit which alot of heros would have difficulty with.
As far as they know killing her doesn't work, she can phase through matter (Asterlizaion), and really likes Killing.
If they try to get rid of her best case scenario she leaves and never comes back worst case scenario a Jack gets Jack's leash, a more likely scenario is a different person not beholden to the government gets the command seal.
In fact they got lucky Jack affixed a Command spell on Miss Milita, because while maybe not the best person to handle it at least she's able to reason with the spirit which alot of heros would have difficulty with.
Shear 6
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The cellphone ringed. It was a message from Ashley.
"Are u ok? Missy said u ain't coming back to school."
We wrote: "Had a family problem. Got to transfer."
"Ok. If your back, tell us, ok?!"
"Ok."
We lent the phone to Miss Militia. After reading the messages, she gave it back.
"We aren't going back to school, aren't we?"
"No," she answered. "But there's a choice you can make. I asked the Director, and he agreed. Since you're actually a soon-to-be sixteen-year-old, you could study for the classes you missed at Winslow and later apply for a GED."
We tilted our head. It sounded good. It wasn't like we wanted to deal with other people.
"You want to be a doctor, right?"
We called a knife to toy with. "Why are you asking?"
"It was in your dream," she answered honestly.
Right, this was what a Master-Servant relationship entailed. Knowing too much for their own good.
"It was just a dream. We can't act as if nothing changed. This body won't age, you know we killed and don't regret it. We aren't stupid, we know that we aren't in prison because you have the mark."
"Arriving at the termination of a Ward isn't that easy. It requires a tribunal and a thorough review, both things that need more time than we have. With capes, there are always special circumstances to consider."
We frowned. "It doesn't sound fair. Because someone has power, they escape consequences."
She glanced at our luggage. "Are you sure you don't regret killing people?"
We didn't like that question. So we retorted it to her. "Don't you?"
It was unfair knowing she didn't regret killing those bastards, but it was unfair she knew about our old wish.
Her weapon didn't change. "I killed many times, and I'd lie if I said I remember each one of them. Some were mistakes, others weren't. But I regret having to arrive at that point."
If we accepted her point of view, it was like saying that we regretted being the Ripper.
"Why did you ask about the doctor thing?"
"There's college," she proposed unashamedly.
"We can't enter college," we blurted pointing at our body.
"Do you know Weld?"
What was today about uncomfortable questions?
"He's a case 53."
"He goes to school, he acted in a TV show and he's fairly popular."
And he was famous for his memes.
"What's the point?" we asked, knowing perfectly well she had a point.
"He isn't the only case 53 that leads a social life."
This conversation was a big déjàvu. Go on your life, they said. It wasn't like we didn't have a life or anything.
We decided to ignore her and cuddled in the seat.
<Taylor, wake up.>
<No.>
The van's doors opened and the light hit us in the face.
We grumbled and lifted our baggage.
We got out and found ourselves in an underground parking lot.
It looked completely ordinary if not cleaned and well-kept. There weren't a lot of cars, and the air was relatively fresh.
Of course, the five troopers, the protectorate hero Bastion, who wore a satin green plated armor, the Ward Weld, a teenager made of many alloys of metal that looked very refined, made it clear this wasn't the parking lot of a mall.
His silver eyes examined us and after a few seconds, he smiled and said: "Hello there. I suppose you don't need a hand for your stuff. I'm Weld, by the way."
We shook our head. "We're -Ghostchild, Wraith- Jackie."
The name left our mouth like a cough.
Bastion finished speaking with Miss Militia and turned to us.
"Let's move. The Director doesn't have all day. And leave your packs here, others will bring them to your quarters."
We clutched our package, but after a nod from Miss Militia, we relented.
The four of us, plus a trooper, entered an elevator, and as we went up we settled in awkward silence.
Or at least we wanted to.
"I expected to find you in a cloak," Weld commented.
"Only because our power gives us a costume, it doesn't mean we wear it every time," we replied as we leaned our back against the wall.
"Right. I should have thought about that. I read you can't turn your powers off."
We grimaced: "Are you seeing a deathly Mist around us? Of course we can turn our power off!"
Turning our power off. What would it even mean?
Letting that place out?
"Weld, shut up," Bastion barked.
The Case 53 closed his mouth, thankfully.
With a ping, the door opened and we walked closer to Miss Militia.
Inside the corridors, there was the same weird mix of officers, troopers, and common employees of the other PRT building.
But the atmosphere was a bit more relaxed than the Bay, and there were no decorative plants. Little differences, but they were something.
We quickly reached the Director's office.
He was a forty-something-year-old man, overweight with long arms and legs. He looked angry, but as he smiled we noticed it was due to his physical shape, like his high forehead, his furrowed brows, and his weird jaw.
In a certain sense, thanks to his receding, greying hairline, he also looked like a sort of grandpa.
"Welcome, welcome. I hope you had a good journey. Now, let's discuss the arrangement, shall we?"
He sure was different from Piggot.
"First of all, Boston is a much calmer city than Brockton Bay. This means we don't make our Wards patrol as often as Brockton Bay. This means they don't stay at our base every single day."
We blinked: "Do you mean we'll stay in a cell?"
He frowned: "Why do you think that? You'll have your apartment and a legal guardian. There's no emergency to justify leaving you cooped in at the Protectorate HQ."
We crossed our arms: "And who's this supervisor?"
"We haven't decided yet. You will stay at the HQ for a few days to be sure that the Poster hasn't followed you here, but after that, you'll make some decisions on your own. For example, would you like to regain your old identity? Or do you prefer your new name?"
"That's a thing?!" we exclaimed.
Our outburst made Weld chuckle, and we glared him into silence.
Armstrong explained affably: "There's no point in hiding who you were. Your father has been transferred to a New York clinic under an alias, and it's clear that whatever enemy you made already knows who you are."
That was true. And yet... wasn't there a corpse of Taylor Hebert?
"Can we think about it?"
He nodded. "Now, we need to set the rules of your probation. Making you return to school will be a problem, but you'll resume your high school studies. You'll stay in the Wards until you are eighteen. You won't join any patrol until we are sure that each facet of your powers has been examined. And you have mandatory therapy."
The rules were similar enough to Brockton Bay, unfortunately.
"We never had therapy."
Armstrong frowned: "Director Piggot has different opinions from mine. I can't say she's made worse decisions since her jurisdiction is peculiarly different, but she's less interested in parahumans as people with powers than parahumans as capes known to the public."
We glanced at Miss Militia: she looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn't.
"Now, is there any particular question you want to ask? We also sent a copy of the contract at your working e-mail."
We shook our head.
He turned to the blaster: "Miss Militia, do you have some questions?"
"No, Director. This is not my first transfer, after all."
"Very well. If this is all, you are all free to go."
Weld opened the door, and we followed the case 53 with the Protectorate capes right behind us.
The Ward asked: "You seem puzzled."
Right, he was going to be a teammate, at least for the foreseeable future.
"It's nothing," we lied. "Do you know who'll be at the base tonight?"
"Well, there's me, Hunch, Slapdash, and Grinder."
At least we didn't have to meet all the seven of them right away.
Hunch was a thinker case 53 who got vague 'whispers' of information of certain objects.
Slapdash was a mover: the faster she went the less she was aware of her surroundings, but differently from Velocity, she didn't have problems with inertia.
Grinder was a tinker whose technology was heavy, bulky, and destructive, or so his profile on PHO said.
With Weld, Miss Militia's seal, and Bastion forcefield, they were quite an impressive force, ignoring the other Protectorate members at the base.
For all the Director used a soft glove, he didn't seem stupid either.
We soon found ourselves back in a van, and we departed to the Protectorate Headquarters.
That was another difference between the two cities: while the Oil Rig was a marvel of tinker-tech difficult to access from the Bay, the ex-Charles Street Jail looked much less technological and more pleasing to the eyes.
Sure, it was just the cover of the book and we didn't doubt it had its own set of countermeasures and defenses against intruders, but it was still a historic building in the middle of the city, and not a futuristic construction whose existence depended on the marvel of tinker tech.
As we got inside from another yet obscured subterranean parking lot and as we left the unsuspicious van number 39, we arrived in front of a set of elevators.
We followed Weld inside one, while the other two went their own way.
<If you need anything, you can also call me.>
<Sure...> Mom.
We grimaced. Better to leave those kinds of dangerous thoughts out of our mind.
"Are you okay?"
"We are."
He took out an mp3 player ."Is it a problem for you if I listen to music?"
"No, go on."
It took about three minutes to arrive from the elevator to the Ward's main room.
Not considering the building structure, it looked as impersonal as the Bay's old one.
Hunch was on a couch specially designed for him, on which he rested his exaggeratedly big head and his short legs. On the side was a tinker-tech motorized walker.
Slapdash was sitting near the kitchenette sink and the light reflecting on her golden visor revealed she was chatting on her phone.
Her eyes widened behind her golden visor and she shouted: "Yo Weld! And hi Wraith! Or was that your villain name?"
She put the phone down. "Honestly, cape names are always a mess! You must have seen that time a journalist called Damsell of Distress Damsell in Distress! Like she wasn't searching for that kind of trouble with that name!"
She moved towards Weld and reached to his earphones, but he stopped her hand.
"I can hear you alright, don't need to touch my stuff."
She turned to me: "And they want to make him the next leader, can you believe it?"
We blinked.
Hunch said, in a surprisingly deep voice: "You get used to her. Hi, Ghostchild. If it wasn't obvious, I'm Hunch. I'll be at the console most of the time, so you'll have to bear with me a lot these days."
Slapdash huffed. "Yeah yeah, I'm obnoxious and talk too much." She yawned. "I think it's time for my beauty sleep. Your room is the six on the left."
We glanced at her as she zapped away.
We seriously wanted to stab someone. The day had been too long.
Weld deadpanned: "Did you just summon a knife?"
Hunch coughed: "That, what the hell is that? My power is screeching like a bad radio."
We recalled it. "We are going to bed. Good night."
With that, we left all the potential drama behind.
Sixth door on the left, and we were inside. Our baggage was right in the middle of the room.
After putting our stuff in the right places, we flopped on the bed with our cellphone.
We weren't even tired.
We looked at our last conversation.
"The trip was boring. How was school?"
We got over our indecision and we sent the message. We turned off the phone, shut the light off, clutched the plushie, and resolved to sleep until the world made sense again.
"Are u ok? Missy said u ain't coming back to school."
We wrote: "Had a family problem. Got to transfer."
"Ok. If your back, tell us, ok?!"
"Ok."
We lent the phone to Miss Militia. After reading the messages, she gave it back.
"We aren't going back to school, aren't we?"
"No," she answered. "But there's a choice you can make. I asked the Director, and he agreed. Since you're actually a soon-to-be sixteen-year-old, you could study for the classes you missed at Winslow and later apply for a GED."
We tilted our head. It sounded good. It wasn't like we wanted to deal with other people.
"You want to be a doctor, right?"
We called a knife to toy with. "Why are you asking?"
"It was in your dream," she answered honestly.
Right, this was what a Master-Servant relationship entailed. Knowing too much for their own good.
"It was just a dream. We can't act as if nothing changed. This body won't age, you know we killed and don't regret it. We aren't stupid, we know that we aren't in prison because you have the mark."
"Arriving at the termination of a Ward isn't that easy. It requires a tribunal and a thorough review, both things that need more time than we have. With capes, there are always special circumstances to consider."
We frowned. "It doesn't sound fair. Because someone has power, they escape consequences."
She glanced at our luggage. "Are you sure you don't regret killing people?"
We didn't like that question. So we retorted it to her. "Don't you?"
It was unfair knowing she didn't regret killing those bastards, but it was unfair she knew about our old wish.
Her weapon didn't change. "I killed many times, and I'd lie if I said I remember each one of them. Some were mistakes, others weren't. But I regret having to arrive at that point."
If we accepted her point of view, it was like saying that we regretted being the Ripper.
"Why did you ask about the doctor thing?"
"There's college," she proposed unashamedly.
"We can't enter college," we blurted pointing at our body.
"Do you know Weld?"
What was today about uncomfortable questions?
"He's a case 53."
"He goes to school, he acted in a TV show and he's fairly popular."
And he was famous for his memes.
"What's the point?" we asked, knowing perfectly well she had a point.
"He isn't the only case 53 that leads a social life."
This conversation was a big déjàvu. Go on your life, they said. It wasn't like we didn't have a life or anything.
We decided to ignore her and cuddled in the seat.
<Taylor, wake up.>
<No.>
The van's doors opened and the light hit us in the face.
We grumbled and lifted our baggage.
We got out and found ourselves in an underground parking lot.
It looked completely ordinary if not cleaned and well-kept. There weren't a lot of cars, and the air was relatively fresh.
Of course, the five troopers, the protectorate hero Bastion, who wore a satin green plated armor, the Ward Weld, a teenager made of many alloys of metal that looked very refined, made it clear this wasn't the parking lot of a mall.
His silver eyes examined us and after a few seconds, he smiled and said: "Hello there. I suppose you don't need a hand for your stuff. I'm Weld, by the way."
We shook our head. "We're -Ghostchild, Wraith- Jackie."
The name left our mouth like a cough.
Bastion finished speaking with Miss Militia and turned to us.
"Let's move. The Director doesn't have all day. And leave your packs here, others will bring them to your quarters."
We clutched our package, but after a nod from Miss Militia, we relented.
The four of us, plus a trooper, entered an elevator, and as we went up we settled in awkward silence.
Or at least we wanted to.
"I expected to find you in a cloak," Weld commented.
"Only because our power gives us a costume, it doesn't mean we wear it every time," we replied as we leaned our back against the wall.
"Right. I should have thought about that. I read you can't turn your powers off."
We grimaced: "Are you seeing a deathly Mist around us? Of course we can turn our power off!"
Turning our power off. What would it even mean?
Letting that place out?
"Weld, shut up," Bastion barked.
The Case 53 closed his mouth, thankfully.
With a ping, the door opened and we walked closer to Miss Militia.
Inside the corridors, there was the same weird mix of officers, troopers, and common employees of the other PRT building.
But the atmosphere was a bit more relaxed than the Bay, and there were no decorative plants. Little differences, but they were something.
We quickly reached the Director's office.
He was a forty-something-year-old man, overweight with long arms and legs. He looked angry, but as he smiled we noticed it was due to his physical shape, like his high forehead, his furrowed brows, and his weird jaw.
In a certain sense, thanks to his receding, greying hairline, he also looked like a sort of grandpa.
"Welcome, welcome. I hope you had a good journey. Now, let's discuss the arrangement, shall we?"
He sure was different from Piggot.
"First of all, Boston is a much calmer city than Brockton Bay. This means we don't make our Wards patrol as often as Brockton Bay. This means they don't stay at our base every single day."
We blinked: "Do you mean we'll stay in a cell?"
He frowned: "Why do you think that? You'll have your apartment and a legal guardian. There's no emergency to justify leaving you cooped in at the Protectorate HQ."
We crossed our arms: "And who's this supervisor?"
"We haven't decided yet. You will stay at the HQ for a few days to be sure that the Poster hasn't followed you here, but after that, you'll make some decisions on your own. For example, would you like to regain your old identity? Or do you prefer your new name?"
"That's a thing?!" we exclaimed.
Our outburst made Weld chuckle, and we glared him into silence.
Armstrong explained affably: "There's no point in hiding who you were. Your father has been transferred to a New York clinic under an alias, and it's clear that whatever enemy you made already knows who you are."
That was true. And yet... wasn't there a corpse of Taylor Hebert?
"Can we think about it?"
He nodded. "Now, we need to set the rules of your probation. Making you return to school will be a problem, but you'll resume your high school studies. You'll stay in the Wards until you are eighteen. You won't join any patrol until we are sure that each facet of your powers has been examined. And you have mandatory therapy."
The rules were similar enough to Brockton Bay, unfortunately.
"We never had therapy."
Armstrong frowned: "Director Piggot has different opinions from mine. I can't say she's made worse decisions since her jurisdiction is peculiarly different, but she's less interested in parahumans as people with powers than parahumans as capes known to the public."
We glanced at Miss Militia: she looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn't.
"Now, is there any particular question you want to ask? We also sent a copy of the contract at your working e-mail."
We shook our head.
He turned to the blaster: "Miss Militia, do you have some questions?"
"No, Director. This is not my first transfer, after all."
"Very well. If this is all, you are all free to go."
Weld opened the door, and we followed the case 53 with the Protectorate capes right behind us.
The Ward asked: "You seem puzzled."
Right, he was going to be a teammate, at least for the foreseeable future.
"It's nothing," we lied. "Do you know who'll be at the base tonight?"
"Well, there's me, Hunch, Slapdash, and Grinder."
At least we didn't have to meet all the seven of them right away.
Hunch was a thinker case 53 who got vague 'whispers' of information of certain objects.
Slapdash was a mover: the faster she went the less she was aware of her surroundings, but differently from Velocity, she didn't have problems with inertia.
Grinder was a tinker whose technology was heavy, bulky, and destructive, or so his profile on PHO said.
With Weld, Miss Militia's seal, and Bastion forcefield, they were quite an impressive force, ignoring the other Protectorate members at the base.
For all the Director used a soft glove, he didn't seem stupid either.
We soon found ourselves back in a van, and we departed to the Protectorate Headquarters.
That was another difference between the two cities: while the Oil Rig was a marvel of tinker-tech difficult to access from the Bay, the ex-Charles Street Jail looked much less technological and more pleasing to the eyes.
Sure, it was just the cover of the book and we didn't doubt it had its own set of countermeasures and defenses against intruders, but it was still a historic building in the middle of the city, and not a futuristic construction whose existence depended on the marvel of tinker tech.
As we got inside from another yet obscured subterranean parking lot and as we left the unsuspicious van number 39, we arrived in front of a set of elevators.
We followed Weld inside one, while the other two went their own way.
<If you need anything, you can also call me.>
<Sure...> Mom.
We grimaced. Better to leave those kinds of dangerous thoughts out of our mind.
"Are you okay?"
"We are."
He took out an mp3 player ."Is it a problem for you if I listen to music?"
"No, go on."
It took about three minutes to arrive from the elevator to the Ward's main room.
Not considering the building structure, it looked as impersonal as the Bay's old one.
Hunch was on a couch specially designed for him, on which he rested his exaggeratedly big head and his short legs. On the side was a tinker-tech motorized walker.
Slapdash was sitting near the kitchenette sink and the light reflecting on her golden visor revealed she was chatting on her phone.
Her eyes widened behind her golden visor and she shouted: "Yo Weld! And hi Wraith! Or was that your villain name?"
She put the phone down. "Honestly, cape names are always a mess! You must have seen that time a journalist called Damsell of Distress Damsell in Distress! Like she wasn't searching for that kind of trouble with that name!"
She moved towards Weld and reached to his earphones, but he stopped her hand.
"I can hear you alright, don't need to touch my stuff."
She turned to me: "And they want to make him the next leader, can you believe it?"
We blinked.
Hunch said, in a surprisingly deep voice: "You get used to her. Hi, Ghostchild. If it wasn't obvious, I'm Hunch. I'll be at the console most of the time, so you'll have to bear with me a lot these days."
Slapdash huffed. "Yeah yeah, I'm obnoxious and talk too much." She yawned. "I think it's time for my beauty sleep. Your room is the six on the left."
We glanced at her as she zapped away.
We seriously wanted to stab someone. The day had been too long.
Weld deadpanned: "Did you just summon a knife?"
Hunch coughed: "That, what the hell is that? My power is screeching like a bad radio."
We recalled it. "We are going to bed. Good night."
With that, we left all the potential drama behind.
Sixth door on the left, and we were inside. Our baggage was right in the middle of the room.
After putting our stuff in the right places, we flopped on the bed with our cellphone.
We weren't even tired.
We looked at our last conversation.
"The trip was boring. How was school?"
We got over our indecision and we sent the message. We turned off the phone, shut the light off, clutched the plushie, and resolved to sleep until the world made sense again.
Last edited:
KongouBongo
Always got to make time for tea-time!
- Location
- 26°9'1"N 121°22'57"E
Teenagers what can you do about them at least Jackie isnt going all murder hobo 
YetTeenagers what can you do about them at least Jackie isnt going all murder hobo
In all honesty therapy should be damn near mandatory for all heros and villains would solve so many damn issues.
- Location
- Paris, France
Ho, I'm pretty sure she CAN, the problem is that she shouldn't ...
Arsur3215Loki
(Unverified Slacker) (606,782,305th Master)
- Location
- Laguna, Philippines
They're in Boston right? Weren't there a villain Blasto there, why not make Jackie be one of the "cleaner" of Blasto's minion. It's ok to kill Blasto's creations.
- Location
- Ohio
I beg to differ. You've been denied the option to enact revenge on Coil and The Poster (for now) and traumatized Vista; you'll be lucky if she ever speaks to you again.
Weld doesn't look like a ten-year-old. No one is going to trust a doctor that looks ten years old, let alone take her seriously. Even if Jackie showed people an ID that had her real age on it, people would still subconsciously see her as a child. The only weird things about Weld only has to worry about his metal skin and ability to absorb metal into his skin. He doesn't have the nearly the same level of baggage as Jackie.
More importantly, you killed and enjoyed it.
...What would happen if Weld absorbed one of Jackie's knives before she could dismiss it?
This, more than anything else, demonstrates that Taylor has more "pull" in the Jack the Ripper Collective. A normal Jackie would have never recognized that calling Miss Militia "mom" would be creepy.
- Location
- Xen
- Pronouns
- Vortigaunt
I love that they refer to villains as sore losers. It's fun to have a protagonist who actually acknowledges it.
Fucking Coil and his self destruct buttons, and deadman switches, and Noelle, and leaking identities, and shooting people in alternate timelines, and torturing people, and all the other things he does because he's a snake.
Fucking Coil and his self destruct buttons, and deadman switches, and Noelle, and leaking identities, and shooting people in alternate timelines, and torturing people, and all the other things he does because he's a snake.
Suture 1
- Pronouns
- She/Her
"Come in," a voice invited us inside.
The room was comfortable but understated, a bit more lively than the other offices. There was even a fake plastic plant, a first in all the building.
Sitting behind a desk was the therapist. Looking at her tag, we read Jessica Yamada.
"Hello. Do you prefer to be called by your codename, or your real name?"
We sat on the chair in front of her. Our fingers lingered on the leather. "Real name... you can call us Jackie."
"Okay, Jackie. Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"
"Not really," we answered.
If she was offended, she didn't show.
We didn't know how much time passed when we became aware we summoned a scalpel. We dematerialized it.
We mumbled: "Sorry."
"Why?"
We squinted at her face. "People usually get antsy when we start playing with them."
She gave a small smile. "I have seen worse use of powers. Does it relax you?"
Did it?
"It's like using a stress ball. It... keeps our mind from overthinking."
"Is it bad to overthink?"
Usually, yes. "How much do you know about us?"
"As much as your new teammates."
"Do you know who we were before this? How we looked?"
"There's a photo, but it wasn't the most flattering."
If it was the school photo, yes it wasn't.
"We changed a lot since we triggered, but we had a barrier that separated our civilian side and our cape side. Now there isn't. And that means that we act a bit more... knifey."
"Knifey?"
"It's a word that we use. It means we act more like the person who joined with Taylor," we explained.
"Do you consider yourself Taylor Hebert?"
We opened our mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "Not really."
"So, do you think of yourself as the other person?"
Again, we answered: "Not really. She, they never had much to begin with."
"Can I ask what did they have?"
"No."
She nodded. "Would you prefer the pronoun she, he or they?"
We thought about it. "Not he. She or they is the same."
Jack the Ripper might not have cared much, but Taylor did.
"I read it's difficult for you to use the first singular person, but you used to. Is it because you lost the barrier?"
"Yes. The other person isn't made by one... soul, if we can use the word," we explained, knowing well they were souls.
She scribbled something in her pad. "Do you believe in the afterlife?"
"It doesn't matter. You can call it soul, presence, or anything you want. But saying 'me' feels like not giving them credit, and it doesn't come naturally."
"But when you could make the barrier, you used 'me'. Wasn't the conglomerate offended?"
We huffed: "No. Don't you have a report of our powers?"
"Yes. But I'm not asking how it works. That isn't my job. I'm asking if that second person... how should I call them?"
We hesitated. "Jack."
"Jack wasn't offended by the barrier?"
"No. Our parts reached a compromise," we stated. Better leave the dreams out of this therapy session.
"Is that why you choose Jackie?"
We nodded unsurely.
"And because you can't make the barrier, the compromise doesn't work anymore?"
"That wasn't what we said," we huffed.
She settled the pen near her paper. "Can you explain it to me, then?"
"It's that we don't have balance. After triggering, we had found a place. Then, it's been a rollercoaster of stuff that kept happening. And people got hurt, we got hurt. It's not spiritual mumbo jumbo, we didn't have the time."
"Was escaping the PRT part of the compromise?"
We grimaced. "No. If it weren't for the seal, we wouldn't be here."
"You're being quite straightforward. Usually, my patients ask about confidentiality."
We snorted.
Right, how much red tape was around a cape psychiatrist?
At least, we hoped she was paid well.
"It isn't a secret. We don't like having decisions made for us."
"Is there anything you can decide?"
Well, there was.
"The codename. And our name. But that's it. We can't go back to how things were."
'Back when?', that was another overthinking question.
She gave a brief smile. "It isn't a lot, but I met my fair share of capes who hated their codenames. Anything you fancy?"
"No. It just feels stupid. We could maybe disguise for a while, but it won't take much time to make 2+2 about our identity."
"Are you sure? You could ask for a full face mask. And don't you have contact lenses for your eyes?"
"We can..." We looked at the floor. "But it isn't who we are."
"What you aren't?"
"A he- a cape. Having powers isn't the be all end all."
She looked relieved at that. "It really isn't. Have you talked with Weld?"
"A bit." He had been a bit helpful.
"I think you could discuss this with him."
We lied: "We'll see."
She looked at the clock. Sure time flew when you didn't want to talk.
"I have one last question. You'll need a legal guardian. Do you have someone in mind?"
We crawled the fingers over leather. "Saying Miss Militia would be obvious."
"Why would it be obvious?"
Duh. "Because she has the seal."
"I don't think so. In fact, having her close to you, where you can quote-unquote 'steal the seal', could be a security problem."
Uh. We didn't think that way.
She asked yet another question. "Would you like her as your caretaker?"
"We don't know."
We quickly added: "But if we had to choose, she's better than a stranger."
We continued looking to the ground.
"I think we can conclude this session, unless...?"
"No," we said.
"Then, we'll see each other next week. And think about your codename and your name."
We nodded and went out.
That had been way more tiring than the fight against the E88.
And it was going to happen again.
Yay.
The journey to the training room didn't help. Playing with knives in the middle of the Protectorate building was 'heavily discouraged', and so we had time to overthink.
Like the codename. Ghostchild was still a PR favorite, but we hated it. Then there was Strangerdanger, which was even worse. Or let's not forget Misstab, Knice Girl, and Cut Lady.
The only possible explanation was that they truly liked Ghostchild or they didn't want to throw the merchandise away.
Not that we had a better idea, besides the Ripper and Knifey, which were wrong for the opposite reasons.
We huffed in front of the training room, it wasn't time to think this.
"The Travelers made another hit against Blasto," Hunch said.
Grinder, after making a smoothie, asked: "Isn't this the second one in two months? Poor guy can't take a break."
He really looked different out of his costume. Gallant and Armsmaster had power armor, but his screamed power. It was bulky, heavy, and slow. And under all of it, was a fourteen-year-old scrawny kid.
Firefly sneered: "What is this, sympathy for a fellow tinker?"
Firefly was a douche, but his costume was cool. Red and yellow were heroic colors that often worked well together.
Grinder rebutted: "Oh come on, the worst he does is tinker tech drugs, and his minions are easy as fuck to defeat. The Travelers, instead, are a real pain in the ass. Just Trickster's power is much more annoying."
Firefly stood up and refastened his costume. "I'll give you that. But Sundancer is the worst."
Hunch drawled: "Because she uses fire better than you?"
"Yes! That's cheating! I can't make fireballs without breaking a sweat, and here she is standing near a ball of plasma like it's not an inconvenience! Cheating, I say!"
We so wanted to stab someone or this math book.
'What was the root of sin(x)?'
We turned to the metallic cape. "Have you finished, Weld?"
He continued cutting vegetables. "Just a moment."
He was very giddy that he couldn't absorb our knives. Which was good, because we didn't want to think what would have happened if he just absorbed the legacy of Jack the Ripper like it was nothing.
Hunch muttered high enough everyone could hear him: "It's not like I need to keep looking at this stupid tv show because I can't turn my head or reach then remote."
Firefly snorted: "You can ask, doofus. There's the third season of Cape Life again."
Hunch deadpanned: "No, thanks. Put a cartoon show if you find it."
And so he settled with Tom and Jerry.
We closed the book and took out our cellphone.
No new messages. This was going nowhere.
<Taylor?>
<Yes?> we replied surprised
<They had captured the Poster.>
We froze and went up. "We're going to our room."
<That's great.>
We entered inside and spotted the remaining bubble wrap.
Pop.
<Does it mean we're going to return to Brockton Bay?>
Pop.
<Coil is still at large.>
Pop.
We exhaled a breath.
<And we don't think it would be the best for you.>
Pop. We didn't contact any of the Wards, but neither did they.
<And what about you?>
Pop.
Ashley didn't say anything about Missy, so she must have been better.
Pop.
<They're thinking to partner us together if there aren't going to be more problems.>
Pop.
<Won't you miss the city?>
Pop.
<Ja- Taylor, I'm used to it. I'm not expecting it to be the same for you, but being in the Protectorate often demands flexibility.>
Pop.
"Ghostchild, you can take back the knife!" Weld exclaimed from the other side of the door.
We dismissed it.
<We don't want to be a hero. Would it mean that we'd have to follow you even if you change city again?>
<Are you sure you want to be a doctor? Not every cape goes out fighting villains. There are relief squads.>
Pop. We finished the bubble wrap.
If that was a choice...
<It's too soon to think about it. We still need to finish the GED.>
Right, we left the book in the main room.
<That's true. By the way, did I interrupt you in your studies?>
<No.>
We removed the domino mask and massaged our face.
<Are you finding yourself well with the rest of the Wards?>
If we called her mom, she asked for it.
<It's easier. There isn't Shadow Stalker's baggage.>
But they had their problems.
Firefly and Slapdash were insufferable alone, even more together.
Grinder was a quiet kid that mostly stayed in its place.
Weld and Hunch... it was weird. Sometimes they talked to us using certain words and euphemisms as if we expected to 'get it', and were disappointed when we didn't.
Having more memories and instincts was different from losing all of them, even if the person that came out was surely different.
The only ones we had doubts about were AoE, who we hadn't met yet, and Fight-or-Flight, who was currently in the hospital due to the latest Teeth incursion.
<Did you have any problems with the Protectorate?>
<Not really, we didn't spend all that time with any of them, but we don't like Bastion.>
Miss Militia sighed mentally: <He's a bit difficult to work with, I have to agree. But he's good at his job.>
Right. <Is there anything else you want to ask?>
<There is,> she said with some hesitation. <For 'logistical reasons', I was offered the position of being your legal guardian.>
<Logistical reasons.>
<It was easier to find an apartment than two apartments. Is it okay for you?>
<What does it mean? We live together?>
<Essentially, yes. And I'd have a bigger say in what the PRT can and can't ask you.>
There were worse people who we could trust with that. It was our choice, right?
<Okay.>
We opened the door and returned to the lounge room.
<Are you sure?>
<If you are.>
We opened the fridge and took a soda can.
We gulped and crunched the tin.
"Jeeze, you are a brute after all."
We barked: "Slapdash, shut up."
She put her hands up: "Hey, just commenting. I found it funny, that's all!"
Hunch rebutted: "I banter better than you, and I learned to talk one year ago!"
She snorted: "Do you want to steal Firefly burns?"
I threw the tin in the can and grabbed the book.
<How long will it take?> we asked.
<About two days.>
We groaned and opened the book.
'What's the root of cos(2x)?'
We so wanted an acceptable target.
The room was comfortable but understated, a bit more lively than the other offices. There was even a fake plastic plant, a first in all the building.
Sitting behind a desk was the therapist. Looking at her tag, we read Jessica Yamada.
"Hello. Do you prefer to be called by your codename, or your real name?"
We sat on the chair in front of her. Our fingers lingered on the leather. "Real name... you can call us Jackie."
"Okay, Jackie. Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"
"Not really," we answered.
If she was offended, she didn't show.
We didn't know how much time passed when we became aware we summoned a scalpel. We dematerialized it.
We mumbled: "Sorry."
"Why?"
We squinted at her face. "People usually get antsy when we start playing with them."
She gave a small smile. "I have seen worse use of powers. Does it relax you?"
Did it?
"It's like using a stress ball. It... keeps our mind from overthinking."
"Is it bad to overthink?"
Usually, yes. "How much do you know about us?"
"As much as your new teammates."
"Do you know who we were before this? How we looked?"
"There's a photo, but it wasn't the most flattering."
If it was the school photo, yes it wasn't.
"We changed a lot since we triggered, but we had a barrier that separated our civilian side and our cape side. Now there isn't. And that means that we act a bit more... knifey."
"Knifey?"
"It's a word that we use. It means we act more like the person who joined with Taylor," we explained.
"Do you consider yourself Taylor Hebert?"
We opened our mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "Not really."
"So, do you think of yourself as the other person?"
Again, we answered: "Not really. She, they never had much to begin with."
"Can I ask what did they have?"
"No."
She nodded. "Would you prefer the pronoun she, he or they?"
We thought about it. "Not he. She or they is the same."
Jack the Ripper might not have cared much, but Taylor did.
"I read it's difficult for you to use the first singular person, but you used to. Is it because you lost the barrier?"
"Yes. The other person isn't made by one... soul, if we can use the word," we explained, knowing well they were souls.
She scribbled something in her pad. "Do you believe in the afterlife?"
"It doesn't matter. You can call it soul, presence, or anything you want. But saying 'me' feels like not giving them credit, and it doesn't come naturally."
"But when you could make the barrier, you used 'me'. Wasn't the conglomerate offended?"
We huffed: "No. Don't you have a report of our powers?"
"Yes. But I'm not asking how it works. That isn't my job. I'm asking if that second person... how should I call them?"
We hesitated. "Jack."
"Jack wasn't offended by the barrier?"
"No. Our parts reached a compromise," we stated. Better leave the dreams out of this therapy session.
"Is that why you choose Jackie?"
We nodded unsurely.
"And because you can't make the barrier, the compromise doesn't work anymore?"
"That wasn't what we said," we huffed.
She settled the pen near her paper. "Can you explain it to me, then?"
"It's that we don't have balance. After triggering, we had found a place. Then, it's been a rollercoaster of stuff that kept happening. And people got hurt, we got hurt. It's not spiritual mumbo jumbo, we didn't have the time."
"Was escaping the PRT part of the compromise?"
We grimaced. "No. If it weren't for the seal, we wouldn't be here."
"You're being quite straightforward. Usually, my patients ask about confidentiality."
We snorted.
Right, how much red tape was around a cape psychiatrist?
At least, we hoped she was paid well.
"It isn't a secret. We don't like having decisions made for us."
"Is there anything you can decide?"
Well, there was.
"The codename. And our name. But that's it. We can't go back to how things were."
'Back when?', that was another overthinking question.
She gave a brief smile. "It isn't a lot, but I met my fair share of capes who hated their codenames. Anything you fancy?"
"No. It just feels stupid. We could maybe disguise for a while, but it won't take much time to make 2+2 about our identity."
"Are you sure? You could ask for a full face mask. And don't you have contact lenses for your eyes?"
"We can..." We looked at the floor. "But it isn't who we are."
"What you aren't?"
"A he- a cape. Having powers isn't the be all end all."
She looked relieved at that. "It really isn't. Have you talked with Weld?"
"A bit." He had been a bit helpful.
"I think you could discuss this with him."
We lied: "We'll see."
She looked at the clock. Sure time flew when you didn't want to talk.
"I have one last question. You'll need a legal guardian. Do you have someone in mind?"
We crawled the fingers over leather. "Saying Miss Militia would be obvious."
"Why would it be obvious?"
Duh. "Because she has the seal."
"I don't think so. In fact, having her close to you, where you can quote-unquote 'steal the seal', could be a security problem."
Uh. We didn't think that way.
She asked yet another question. "Would you like her as your caretaker?"
"We don't know."
We quickly added: "But if we had to choose, she's better than a stranger."
We continued looking to the ground.
"I think we can conclude this session, unless...?"
"No," we said.
"Then, we'll see each other next week. And think about your codename and your name."
We nodded and went out.
That had been way more tiring than the fight against the E88.
And it was going to happen again.
Yay.
The journey to the training room didn't help. Playing with knives in the middle of the Protectorate building was 'heavily discouraged', and so we had time to overthink.
Like the codename. Ghostchild was still a PR favorite, but we hated it. Then there was Strangerdanger, which was even worse. Or let's not forget Misstab, Knice Girl, and Cut Lady.
The only possible explanation was that they truly liked Ghostchild or they didn't want to throw the merchandise away.
Not that we had a better idea, besides the Ripper and Knifey, which were wrong for the opposite reasons.
We huffed in front of the training room, it wasn't time to think this.
"The Travelers made another hit against Blasto," Hunch said.
Grinder, after making a smoothie, asked: "Isn't this the second one in two months? Poor guy can't take a break."
He really looked different out of his costume. Gallant and Armsmaster had power armor, but his screamed power. It was bulky, heavy, and slow. And under all of it, was a fourteen-year-old scrawny kid.
Firefly sneered: "What is this, sympathy for a fellow tinker?"
Firefly was a douche, but his costume was cool. Red and yellow were heroic colors that often worked well together.
Grinder rebutted: "Oh come on, the worst he does is tinker tech drugs, and his minions are easy as fuck to defeat. The Travelers, instead, are a real pain in the ass. Just Trickster's power is much more annoying."
Firefly stood up and refastened his costume. "I'll give you that. But Sundancer is the worst."
Hunch drawled: "Because she uses fire better than you?"
"Yes! That's cheating! I can't make fireballs without breaking a sweat, and here she is standing near a ball of plasma like it's not an inconvenience! Cheating, I say!"
We so wanted to stab someone or this math book.
'What was the root of sin(x)?'
We turned to the metallic cape. "Have you finished, Weld?"
He continued cutting vegetables. "Just a moment."
He was very giddy that he couldn't absorb our knives. Which was good, because we didn't want to think what would have happened if he just absorbed the legacy of Jack the Ripper like it was nothing.
Hunch muttered high enough everyone could hear him: "It's not like I need to keep looking at this stupid tv show because I can't turn my head or reach then remote."
Firefly snorted: "You can ask, doofus. There's the third season of Cape Life again."
Hunch deadpanned: "No, thanks. Put a cartoon show if you find it."
And so he settled with Tom and Jerry.
We closed the book and took out our cellphone.
No new messages. This was going nowhere.
<Taylor?>
<Yes?> we replied surprised
<They had captured the Poster.>
We froze and went up. "We're going to our room."
<That's great.>
We entered inside and spotted the remaining bubble wrap.
Pop.
<Does it mean we're going to return to Brockton Bay?>
Pop.
<Coil is still at large.>
Pop.
We exhaled a breath.
<And we don't think it would be the best for you.>
Pop. We didn't contact any of the Wards, but neither did they.
<And what about you?>
Pop.
Ashley didn't say anything about Missy, so she must have been better.
Pop.
<They're thinking to partner us together if there aren't going to be more problems.>
Pop.
<Won't you miss the city?>
Pop.
<Ja- Taylor, I'm used to it. I'm not expecting it to be the same for you, but being in the Protectorate often demands flexibility.>
Pop.
"Ghostchild, you can take back the knife!" Weld exclaimed from the other side of the door.
We dismissed it.
<We don't want to be a hero. Would it mean that we'd have to follow you even if you change city again?>
<Are you sure you want to be a doctor? Not every cape goes out fighting villains. There are relief squads.>
Pop. We finished the bubble wrap.
If that was a choice...
<It's too soon to think about it. We still need to finish the GED.>
Right, we left the book in the main room.
<That's true. By the way, did I interrupt you in your studies?>
<No.>
We removed the domino mask and massaged our face.
<Are you finding yourself well with the rest of the Wards?>
If we called her mom, she asked for it.
<It's easier. There isn't Shadow Stalker's baggage.>
But they had their problems.
Firefly and Slapdash were insufferable alone, even more together.
Grinder was a quiet kid that mostly stayed in its place.
Weld and Hunch... it was weird. Sometimes they talked to us using certain words and euphemisms as if we expected to 'get it', and were disappointed when we didn't.
Having more memories and instincts was different from losing all of them, even if the person that came out was surely different.
The only ones we had doubts about were AoE, who we hadn't met yet, and Fight-or-Flight, who was currently in the hospital due to the latest Teeth incursion.
<Did you have any problems with the Protectorate?>
<Not really, we didn't spend all that time with any of them, but we don't like Bastion.>
Miss Militia sighed mentally: <He's a bit difficult to work with, I have to agree. But he's good at his job.>
Right. <Is there anything else you want to ask?>
<There is,> she said with some hesitation. <For 'logistical reasons', I was offered the position of being your legal guardian.>
<Logistical reasons.>
<It was easier to find an apartment than two apartments. Is it okay for you?>
<What does it mean? We live together?>
<Essentially, yes. And I'd have a bigger say in what the PRT can and can't ask you.>
There were worse people who we could trust with that. It was our choice, right?
<Okay.>
We opened the door and returned to the lounge room.
<Are you sure?>
<If you are.>
We opened the fridge and took a soda can.
We gulped and crunched the tin.
"Jeeze, you are a brute after all."
We barked: "Slapdash, shut up."
She put her hands up: "Hey, just commenting. I found it funny, that's all!"
Hunch rebutted: "I banter better than you, and I learned to talk one year ago!"
She snorted: "Do you want to steal Firefly burns?"
I threw the tin in the can and grabbed the book.
<How long will it take?> we asked.
<About two days.>
We groaned and opened the book.
'What's the root of cos(2x)?'
We so wanted an acceptable target.
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