2.2
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- She/Her
"Dad, hold on a second," you say, rushing out to meet him. Your faithful hound follows at your heels.
"Taylor?" he asks, stopping just before he gets in the car.
"Take Eurus with you," you say. The wolf in question perks up and gives a loyal bark upon hearing her name.
"Eurus? That's your, uh," he says before giving a vague gesture in the direction of your giant wolf made of wind. She barks again and wags her tail.
"Right. I want you to take her with you so she can keep you safe," you tell him.
"Keep me safe?" he asks. "Taylor, I'm just going to work, what's-"
"I'm an open cape, dad," you interrupt him. "That means we're in danger of people who might want to recruit me or worse." His expression darkens, but you barrel on. "Now I can keep myself safe, I have superpowers, but this is the only way I know how to keep you safe when I'm not around. So please, take Eurus."
He looks at Eurus with fresh eyes, then looks back to his car. A car which is looking mighty small next to the gargantuan wolf.
"I'm not sure she'll fit," he admits.
"She's made of air, she can squeeze in there," you say. You really hope that's true. "So please dad, take her with you."
He gives a resigned sigh. "Well, I suppose it'll give the boys at work something to talk about. You're sure she's safe?"
"Absolutely," you assure him. Then you turn back to Eurus. "Eurus, go with dad now, and do whatever he says, okay?"
Your hound gives a happy bark and trots down next to your dad, wagging her tail excitedly. Seems she's excited for the car ride.
"This is gonna take some getting used to," says your dad as he eyes the massive wolf. "But I suppose this is life with a teenage superhero. Things are gonna be different now that you're the great and powerful Zenith," he says with a chuckle.
"Yeah," you say, not laughing. "They will be."
***
Once you bid your dad farewell (and once you stop glowing), you notice you haven't actually lost sight of him. Oh, he's gone, on his way to work, but you can still see him through Eurus' eyes. That's interesting, and more to the point, it was a surprise. You didn't know that you could share Eurus' senses. You can't afford to keep being surprised by your powers, so you opt to do a round of power testing.
You find out quickly through some weightlifting that while you're strong, it's not superhuman strength. You're very fit, probably on the scale of an Olympic athlete, but that's all it is.
The same cannot be said of your toughness: you're super-humanly tough, and you discover you can make yourself even more durable by tensing in just the right way. It's oddly exhausting and it makes you glow, but the results… you watch in amazement as the kitchen knife skids across your skin without leaving a mark. You've half a mind to call yourself bulletproof if you play your cards right, but you have no easy way to test that. Regardless, this is a very cool power, and one that would let you be a successful cape even without your super-persuasiveness.
With that done, you need time to stop your forehead from glowing again. You also need to get some info from the Protectorate, so you decide to kill two birds with one stone and make a phone call to see what resources they have for aspiring independent heroes. You're about to call the Protectorate's vigilante hotline when you pause, remembering the business card you got from Kid Win. Surely having an actual hero's perspective would be best, right?
You retrieve the business card from your room and stare at it. It's red with gold lettering designed to look like circuits, and as you study the card you realize you're stalling.
You huff out a breath. So what if he likes you? That's just your powers at work it's not – it doesn't mean anything. You hope. Or do you hope for the opposite? You honestly have no idea, and that's why you're stalling.
You grit your teeth, firm up your resolve, and dial the damn number. He immediately picks up.
"This is Kid Win," he says.
"Hi," you say. "This is – well, you called me Lux yesterday, but I'm going to go by Zenith."
"Oh, wow, okay," he says. You can hear air rushing past him as he speaks. Is he flying right now? "Uh, I didn't think you'd actually call. Not that I don't like you calling! It's just, you know, you give a pretty girl your number, you don't necessarily expect to hear back."
Pretty? Since when – no, focus, Taylor.
"I was actually calling to see if the Protectorate had any resources for independent heroes," you say, choosing to ignore the flirting entirely.
"Right, that makes sense," he says, sounding vaguely disappointed. He quickly rallies. "Well there's a class the PRT offers for independent heroes, it covers all the legal stuff, power classifications and countermeasures, and some basic first aid. I can arrange for you to take that tomorrow if you want, but just be warned it's a full day thing so you better clear your schedule. And, uh, they're probably gonna push you to sign on as a Protectorate Affiliate."
"What's that mean? 'Protectorate Affiliate?'"
"Oh, that's what they call the independent heroes who do things nice and by the books. No looting, no excessive violence, maintaining certain image standards, that sort of thing. Think New Wave."
"Right. Are there any benefits?"
"It makes it easier for you to cooperate with the rest of the good guys," he explains. "You get looped into our communication channels, and your info and requests are given extra priority compared to vigilantes. Like, say you find an Empire dog fighting ring. You can actually call for help on that and get PRT troopers at your back instead of raiding it by yourself and risking having to solo Hookwolf."
"That does sound nice," you say, privately wondering if it's worth the cost. No excessive violence is fine, but no looting hurts your bottom line by definition, and those 'certain image standards' are frustratingly vague. Does it mean they just don't want you going on a racist tirade, or does it mean you can't criticize the PRT?
You'll have to do more research.
"I've got another question, while I've got you on the phone," you say.
"Shoot."
"The Archer's Bridge Merchants. What do you know about them?" you ask.
You hear him take a hiss of breath. "Already picking your targets, huh? Well be careful. The Merchants are scum, they won't hesitate to break the rules if they think they can get away with it."
"'The rules?'" you ask.
"Ah, right, you're new. Basically there's certain standards of behavior that even most villains keep to when dealing with other capes. No murder or maiming, no unmasking or going after civilian identities, no sexual assault, no long term Mastering, no fighting when there's an S-Class threat, and, uh, that basically covers it."
"And the villains just agree to this? Lung and Kaiser and Hookwolf just… play by 'the rules?'" you ask incredulously.
"Well it's kind of a mutually assured destruction thing, isn't it? You break the rules, even the other villains will come down on your head."
"I see," you say slowly, while inwardly your mind is racing. This sort of system, these clear standards with just as clear consequences that everyone agrees to, that doesn't just spring up on its own. Someone had to have established the boundaries and consequences first, but who had both the means and the motive? The Triumvirate is one possibility, but you wonder why they'd want to protect the secret identities of villains. More bodies to throw at Endbringers, maybe? Except no, this system would predate Behemoth's arrival, wouldn't it? So the purpose of it remains unclear.
And how has the system not broken down? How has it endured Heartbreaker, the Slaughterhouse Nine, Nilbog, repeated Endbringer attacks, and so many others? So many things should stress or refute it, and yet it's clearly lasted decades.
You shake your head clear. Another mystery for the pile.
"Well, thank you for telling me about that. Any other tips on the Merchants?"
"Uh, yeah, actually. Everybody knows they deal out of that old tourist trap that looks like a lighthouse, you know the one that's like right at the edge of the Docks? That's basically the only territory they hold, but there's a reason we don't just march in and arrest them all: that's Squealer's workshop, and like, the first rule of Tinkers is that you do not fight them in their workshop."
"Thanks for the advice, I'll definitely keep that in mind. I also want to do that class you recommended, by the way," you say.
"Cool, I'll let them know. Just head to the PRT HQ at 8 o'clock tomorrow morning and let the person at the front desk know who you are."
"Thanks again," you say before glancing at the clock. It's probably about time for you to leave if you're going to get your shopping done. "Well, I have other things I need to get done today, so-"
"Wait!" interrupts Kid Win. "I mean, uh, do you want to maybe do a joint patrol some time? It wouldn't be just the two of us, Wards don't do solo patrols, but it could still be nice?" That last part comes out as more of a question than it should, but his intentions are transparent. Kid Win has a crush, and he's shooting his shot. You're still baffled that he's crushing on you, superpowers or no, but every instinct you have is telling you that's exactly what's happening.
You're not sure you share his feelings. You barely know the guy, after all. Still, maybe getting to know him better wouldn't be such a bad thing? If nothing else, you could use some superhero friends.
Or it could end up being a disaster of teenage drama. You don't know, you've never had to deal with this shit before! You were the social pariah, the loner freak, and now, well, now apparently you're not.
You take a deep breath and calm yourself. Then you make your decision.
[ ][Kid Win Patrol] "Sure," you say. "Just let me know when you're available." (You will do a patrol with Kid Win and another Ward in the coming days)
-[ ] "I'd like to get to know you better." (You're interested in seeing where this whole 'crush' thing leads)
-[ ] "I could use some more friends." (You're not interested in Kid Win)
[ ][Kid Win Patrol] "Sorry," you say. "I've got a lot of things on my plate right now." (You will not patrol with Kid Win)
Kid Win accepts your response with all the grace and dignity the teenage superhero can muster. You exchange a few more words, then hang up and move on to the next item on the agenda: shopping.
***
As soon as your forehead mark goes away, you head out, armed with your dad's credit card and vague notions of a costume.
You start with a shop you'd found on the internet the night before, a place on Lord Street that specializes in secondhand electronics. You're able to bargain them down, getting a used cellphone and a bodycam for such a discount you're a bit worried the store is actually losing money on this sale.
You swiftly leave the electronics shop, programming a few key numbers into your new phone before making your way to a nearby thrift shop. There, you strike gold.
There's biker leathers here that actually fit you, a nice black set that'll go well with anything while giving you a little bit of... well, your powers will protect you more than the leathers will, but every little bit adds up, right?
You also find a beautiful long coat that's in the exact colors as your light: it starts white at the top, then fades to a brilliant golden color at the bottom. Best part is, the inside is absolutely riddled with pockets, so you can carry whatever you need. A utility belt, some sunglasses, and combat boots complete the ensemble, and soon you're looking at yourself in the mirror in your full costume.
This sort of vibe, but a little more armored, the coat is a different color, and you have sunglasses and no swords.
After spending a moment to admire your costume, you decide you'll need to do your hair differently while you're in your hero persona to better differentiate between the two. A nice, messy updo should work.
From there you move on to other shops, grabbing bits and pieces to go in your utility belt or to use with your costume: you grab a first aid kit, a couple collapsible fighting batons, even a gas mask on the off chance it'll prove useful.
By the end of the day, you're so laden with supplies it's a genuine struggle to get it all home. But get home you do, where you find your dad waiting with Eurus. The big wolf immediately rushes to greet you, nearly bowling you over in her enthusiasm.
"No, off, get off girl!" you protest laughingly as she licks your face. It's a bizarre experience being licked by a dog made of wind; it's like a gentle breeze, but with more firmness and texture to it than wind should rightly have.
"Eurus was very popular today," your dad says as he picks up some of the bags you dropped.
"Yeah?" you prompt him as you finally manage to get Eurus to calm down. Her tail's still wagging up a storm (pun intended), but she's letting you collect your things and head inside.
"I mean, a giant wolf made out of thin air, of course she was popular," he explains. "Everybody kept asking what she was, where she came from. Nearly got the PRT called on me a couple times, but by the end of the day they were all sad to see her go."
"I'm glad," you say, finally getting in the house. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to put all this away, and then do some research on the Protectorate Affiliate program."
"What's that?" he asks.
"A way to cooperate with the PRT without being a Ward," you explain. "I'm trying to decide if it's worth the restrictions it comes with."
"Alright," says your dad. "When you're done, what's say we watch a movie together tonight? I… I'd like to spend more time with you than I have been lately," he admits.
You smile and give him a hug. "I'd like that."
***
The image rules for Protectorate Affiliates are frustratingly vague. The only official rules are that you 'meet Protectorate standards for a heroic image and do not unduly complicate the Protectorate's mission.' A little research shows you some things that have gotten people booted from the program before: racial slurs, sexual harassment scandals, drug use, the usual suspects. More interestingly, you find a hero from Detroit, Dynamight, who was kicked out of the program after making going on an extended rant disparaging the PRT and criticizing how they handled 'capes of color.' So it seems criticism can get you the boot.
Of course, there's also New Wave, who have made it clear they desire more transparency from the Protectorate on numerous occasions, and they're still considered valued partners by the PRT. So clearly some level of criticism is okay, but there's a line somewhere and Dynamight crossed it. Where is that line, exactly? Well, that's the million dollar question.
The vagueness of the image rules and the prohibition on looting are the only real issues you have with the program. Everything else fits with the sort of hero you want to be anyway, or else is just more encouragement to play by 'the rules' that Kid Win explained to you earlier.
You weigh your options, and ultimately, you decide to…
[ ][Protectorate Affiliate] Sign up with the program tomorrow (Once you sign up, you'll receive the tertiary Backing (Protectorate) merit, which can result in you being loaned a tertiary Command (PRT Troopers) merit in some situations. This is contingent on the PRT's approval of you and your actions)
[ ][Protectorate Affiliate] Avoid the program (You will later have the option of obtaining the tertiary Resources merit from looting)
With your research done, you head to the living room to find your dad has already picked out a movie: Monty Python and the Holy Grail, a nice, fun comedy with no hint of capes or superpowers anywhere to be found. You approve of his choice, and the two of you settle down to watch.
Well, the three of you. Eurus squeezes herself into the living room and plops herself down next to the couch, soliciting head scratches from you and your dad. You both oblige, to Eurus' obvious pleasure if her tail repeatedly thumping against the floor is any indication.
This is nice, you think as your dad chuckles at the antics of Arthur and his knights. You can't remember the last time you spent time with your dad like this. It must have been before your mom died, before the bullying started, just… before.
But now you're in the after, after you got superpowers, after you talked your dad out of the worst of his grief, maybe after you started to become a family again.
You smile, and lean into your dad with a hug.
"Taylor?" he asks, surprised.
"I love you, dad," you say. He smiles warmly and returns the hug.
"I love you too, kiddo."
"Taylor?" he asks, stopping just before he gets in the car.
"Take Eurus with you," you say. The wolf in question perks up and gives a loyal bark upon hearing her name.
"Eurus? That's your, uh," he says before giving a vague gesture in the direction of your giant wolf made of wind. She barks again and wags her tail.
"Right. I want you to take her with you so she can keep you safe," you tell him.
"Keep me safe?" he asks. "Taylor, I'm just going to work, what's-"
"I'm an open cape, dad," you interrupt him. "That means we're in danger of people who might want to recruit me or worse." His expression darkens, but you barrel on. "Now I can keep myself safe, I have superpowers, but this is the only way I know how to keep you safe when I'm not around. So please, take Eurus."
He looks at Eurus with fresh eyes, then looks back to his car. A car which is looking mighty small next to the gargantuan wolf.
"I'm not sure she'll fit," he admits.
"She's made of air, she can squeeze in there," you say. You really hope that's true. "So please dad, take her with you."
He gives a resigned sigh. "Well, I suppose it'll give the boys at work something to talk about. You're sure she's safe?"
"Absolutely," you assure him. Then you turn back to Eurus. "Eurus, go with dad now, and do whatever he says, okay?"
Your hound gives a happy bark and trots down next to your dad, wagging her tail excitedly. Seems she's excited for the car ride.
"This is gonna take some getting used to," says your dad as he eyes the massive wolf. "But I suppose this is life with a teenage superhero. Things are gonna be different now that you're the great and powerful Zenith," he says with a chuckle.
"Yeah," you say, not laughing. "They will be."
***
Anima drops to 0/10, motes are 5/5
Once you bid your dad farewell (and once you stop glowing), you notice you haven't actually lost sight of him. Oh, he's gone, on his way to work, but you can still see him through Eurus' eyes. That's interesting, and more to the point, it was a surprise. You didn't know that you could share Eurus' senses. You can't afford to keep being surprised by your powers, so you opt to do a round of power testing.
You find out quickly through some weightlifting that while you're strong, it's not superhuman strength. You're very fit, probably on the scale of an Olympic athlete, but that's all it is.
The same cannot be said of your toughness: you're super-humanly tough, and you discover you can make yourself even more durable by tensing in just the right way. It's oddly exhausting and it makes you glow, but the results… you watch in amazement as the kitchen knife skids across your skin without leaving a mark. You've half a mind to call yourself bulletproof if you play your cards right, but you have no easy way to test that. Regardless, this is a very cool power, and one that would let you be a successful cape even without your super-persuasiveness.
You spend 1 mote and gain 1 anima to test the effects of Iron Kettle Body.
You have a 1 in Athletics (which represents general athleticism, nimbleness, and speed) and a 3 in Physique (which represents raw strength and toughness). Unlike in many games, a rating of 1 is not 'bad'. You're Exalted, you don't do anything poorly. Instead, 1 implies competence, while 3 implies you're a badass at that sort of thing. 5, which is as high as the scale goes, means you're the best of the best and capable of superhuman feats. Your Presence, for example, is a 5.
Your soak is 3 unarmored. It can be raised up to 5 for an instant with the use of Iron Kettle Body. For reference, an ordinary person in full steel plate has a Soak of 3. A Soak of 5 is the equivalent of an epic hero wearing armor out of legend. This is, I'll remind you, your unarmored Soak.
Lastly, your health levels. You have 10 health levels. The average named character has 5 health levels, so you can take twice as much punishment as someone like Armsmaster (and that's before taking your soak into account).
Your soak is 3 unarmored. It can be raised up to 5 for an instant with the use of Iron Kettle Body. For reference, an ordinary person in full steel plate has a Soak of 3. A Soak of 5 is the equivalent of an epic hero wearing armor out of legend. This is, I'll remind you, your unarmored Soak.
Lastly, your health levels. You have 10 health levels. The average named character has 5 health levels, so you can take twice as much punishment as someone like Armsmaster (and that's before taking your soak into account).
With that done, you need time to stop your forehead from glowing again. You also need to get some info from the Protectorate, so you decide to kill two birds with one stone and make a phone call to see what resources they have for aspiring independent heroes. You're about to call the Protectorate's vigilante hotline when you pause, remembering the business card you got from Kid Win. Surely having an actual hero's perspective would be best, right?
You retrieve the business card from your room and stare at it. It's red with gold lettering designed to look like circuits, and as you study the card you realize you're stalling.
You huff out a breath. So what if he likes you? That's just your powers at work it's not – it doesn't mean anything. You hope. Or do you hope for the opposite? You honestly have no idea, and that's why you're stalling.
You grit your teeth, firm up your resolve, and dial the damn number. He immediately picks up.
"This is Kid Win," he says.
"Hi," you say. "This is – well, you called me Lux yesterday, but I'm going to go by Zenith."
"Oh, wow, okay," he says. You can hear air rushing past him as he speaks. Is he flying right now? "Uh, I didn't think you'd actually call. Not that I don't like you calling! It's just, you know, you give a pretty girl your number, you don't necessarily expect to hear back."
Pretty? Since when – no, focus, Taylor.
"I was actually calling to see if the Protectorate had any resources for independent heroes," you say, choosing to ignore the flirting entirely.
"Right, that makes sense," he says, sounding vaguely disappointed. He quickly rallies. "Well there's a class the PRT offers for independent heroes, it covers all the legal stuff, power classifications and countermeasures, and some basic first aid. I can arrange for you to take that tomorrow if you want, but just be warned it's a full day thing so you better clear your schedule. And, uh, they're probably gonna push you to sign on as a Protectorate Affiliate."
"What's that mean? 'Protectorate Affiliate?'"
"Oh, that's what they call the independent heroes who do things nice and by the books. No looting, no excessive violence, maintaining certain image standards, that sort of thing. Think New Wave."
"Right. Are there any benefits?"
"It makes it easier for you to cooperate with the rest of the good guys," he explains. "You get looped into our communication channels, and your info and requests are given extra priority compared to vigilantes. Like, say you find an Empire dog fighting ring. You can actually call for help on that and get PRT troopers at your back instead of raiding it by yourself and risking having to solo Hookwolf."
"That does sound nice," you say, privately wondering if it's worth the cost. No excessive violence is fine, but no looting hurts your bottom line by definition, and those 'certain image standards' are frustratingly vague. Does it mean they just don't want you going on a racist tirade, or does it mean you can't criticize the PRT?
You'll have to do more research.
"I've got another question, while I've got you on the phone," you say.
"Shoot."
"The Archer's Bridge Merchants. What do you know about them?" you ask.
You hear him take a hiss of breath. "Already picking your targets, huh? Well be careful. The Merchants are scum, they won't hesitate to break the rules if they think they can get away with it."
"'The rules?'" you ask.
"Ah, right, you're new. Basically there's certain standards of behavior that even most villains keep to when dealing with other capes. No murder or maiming, no unmasking or going after civilian identities, no sexual assault, no long term Mastering, no fighting when there's an S-Class threat, and, uh, that basically covers it."
"And the villains just agree to this? Lung and Kaiser and Hookwolf just… play by 'the rules?'" you ask incredulously.
"Well it's kind of a mutually assured destruction thing, isn't it? You break the rules, even the other villains will come down on your head."
Rolling Force + Embassy = 7 dice at difficulty 5
Rolled 5 successes on 7 dice (!!!), you can tell that this is the result of someone meddling.
Rolled 5 successes on 7 dice (!!!), you can tell that this is the result of someone meddling.
"I see," you say slowly, while inwardly your mind is racing. This sort of system, these clear standards with just as clear consequences that everyone agrees to, that doesn't just spring up on its own. Someone had to have established the boundaries and consequences first, but who had both the means and the motive? The Triumvirate is one possibility, but you wonder why they'd want to protect the secret identities of villains. More bodies to throw at Endbringers, maybe? Except no, this system would predate Behemoth's arrival, wouldn't it? So the purpose of it remains unclear.
And how has the system not broken down? How has it endured Heartbreaker, the Slaughterhouse Nine, Nilbog, repeated Endbringer attacks, and so many others? So many things should stress or refute it, and yet it's clearly lasted decades.
You shake your head clear. Another mystery for the pile.
"Well, thank you for telling me about that. Any other tips on the Merchants?"
"Uh, yeah, actually. Everybody knows they deal out of that old tourist trap that looks like a lighthouse, you know the one that's like right at the edge of the Docks? That's basically the only territory they hold, but there's a reason we don't just march in and arrest them all: that's Squealer's workshop, and like, the first rule of Tinkers is that you do not fight them in their workshop."
"Thanks for the advice, I'll definitely keep that in mind. I also want to do that class you recommended, by the way," you say.
"Cool, I'll let them know. Just head to the PRT HQ at 8 o'clock tomorrow morning and let the person at the front desk know who you are."
"Thanks again," you say before glancing at the clock. It's probably about time for you to leave if you're going to get your shopping done. "Well, I have other things I need to get done today, so-"
"Wait!" interrupts Kid Win. "I mean, uh, do you want to maybe do a joint patrol some time? It wouldn't be just the two of us, Wards don't do solo patrols, but it could still be nice?" That last part comes out as more of a question than it should, but his intentions are transparent. Kid Win has a crush, and he's shooting his shot. You're still baffled that he's crushing on you, superpowers or no, but every instinct you have is telling you that's exactly what's happening.
You're not sure you share his feelings. You barely know the guy, after all. Still, maybe getting to know him better wouldn't be such a bad thing? If nothing else, you could use some superhero friends.
Or it could end up being a disaster of teenage drama. You don't know, you've never had to deal with this shit before! You were the social pariah, the loner freak, and now, well, now apparently you're not.
You take a deep breath and calm yourself. Then you make your decision.
[ ][Kid Win Patrol] "Sure," you say. "Just let me know when you're available." (You will do a patrol with Kid Win and another Ward in the coming days)
-[ ] "I'd like to get to know you better." (You're interested in seeing where this whole 'crush' thing leads)
-[ ] "I could use some more friends." (You're not interested in Kid Win)
[ ][Kid Win Patrol] "Sorry," you say. "I've got a lot of things on my plate right now." (You will not patrol with Kid Win)
Kid Win accepts your response with all the grace and dignity the teenage superhero can muster. You exchange a few more words, then hang up and move on to the next item on the agenda: shopping.
***
Anima drops to 0/10, motes are 5/5
As soon as your forehead mark goes away, you head out, armed with your dad's credit card and vague notions of a costume.
You start with a shop you'd found on the internet the night before, a place on Lord Street that specializes in secondhand electronics. You're able to bargain them down, getting a used cellphone and a bodycam for such a discount you're a bit worried the store is actually losing money on this sale.
You swiftly leave the electronics shop, programming a few key numbers into your new phone before making your way to a nearby thrift shop. There, you strike gold.
There's biker leathers here that actually fit you, a nice black set that'll go well with anything while giving you a little bit of... well, your powers will protect you more than the leathers will, but every little bit adds up, right?
Your costume will count as light armor, meaning your Soak increases by 1 as long as you wear it. Light armor has no mobility penalty, and mundane light armor has no effect on your Hardness.
You also find a beautiful long coat that's in the exact colors as your light: it starts white at the top, then fades to a brilliant golden color at the bottom. Best part is, the inside is absolutely riddled with pockets, so you can carry whatever you need. A utility belt, some sunglasses, and combat boots complete the ensemble, and soon you're looking at yourself in the mirror in your full costume.
This sort of vibe, but a little more armored, the coat is a different color, and you have sunglasses and no swords.
After spending a moment to admire your costume, you decide you'll need to do your hair differently while you're in your hero persona to better differentiate between the two. A nice, messy updo should work.
From there you move on to other shops, grabbing bits and pieces to go in your utility belt or to use with your costume: you grab a first aid kit, a couple collapsible fighting batons, even a gas mask on the off chance it'll prove useful.
By the end of the day, you're so laden with supplies it's a genuine struggle to get it all home. But get home you do, where you find your dad waiting with Eurus. The big wolf immediately rushes to greet you, nearly bowling you over in her enthusiasm.
"No, off, get off girl!" you protest laughingly as she licks your face. It's a bizarre experience being licked by a dog made of wind; it's like a gentle breeze, but with more firmness and texture to it than wind should rightly have.
"Eurus was very popular today," your dad says as he picks up some of the bags you dropped.
"Yeah?" you prompt him as you finally manage to get Eurus to calm down. Her tail's still wagging up a storm (pun intended), but she's letting you collect your things and head inside.
"I mean, a giant wolf made out of thin air, of course she was popular," he explains. "Everybody kept asking what she was, where she came from. Nearly got the PRT called on me a couple times, but by the end of the day they were all sad to see her go."
"I'm glad," you say, finally getting in the house. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to put all this away, and then do some research on the Protectorate Affiliate program."
"What's that?" he asks.
"A way to cooperate with the PRT without being a Ward," you explain. "I'm trying to decide if it's worth the restrictions it comes with."
"Alright," says your dad. "When you're done, what's say we watch a movie together tonight? I… I'd like to spend more time with you than I have been lately," he admits.
You smile and give him a hug. "I'd like that."
***
The image rules for Protectorate Affiliates are frustratingly vague. The only official rules are that you 'meet Protectorate standards for a heroic image and do not unduly complicate the Protectorate's mission.' A little research shows you some things that have gotten people booted from the program before: racial slurs, sexual harassment scandals, drug use, the usual suspects. More interestingly, you find a hero from Detroit, Dynamight, who was kicked out of the program after making going on an extended rant disparaging the PRT and criticizing how they handled 'capes of color.' So it seems criticism can get you the boot.
Of course, there's also New Wave, who have made it clear they desire more transparency from the Protectorate on numerous occasions, and they're still considered valued partners by the PRT. So clearly some level of criticism is okay, but there's a line somewhere and Dynamight crossed it. Where is that line, exactly? Well, that's the million dollar question.
The vagueness of the image rules and the prohibition on looting are the only real issues you have with the program. Everything else fits with the sort of hero you want to be anyway, or else is just more encouragement to play by 'the rules' that Kid Win explained to you earlier.
You weigh your options, and ultimately, you decide to…
[ ][Protectorate Affiliate] Sign up with the program tomorrow (Once you sign up, you'll receive the tertiary Backing (Protectorate) merit, which can result in you being loaned a tertiary Command (PRT Troopers) merit in some situations. This is contingent on the PRT's approval of you and your actions)
[ ][Protectorate Affiliate] Avoid the program (You will later have the option of obtaining the tertiary Resources merit from looting)
Backing means that you have standing in some organization, in this case the Protectorate. Tertiary Backing means you have a position in the organization, but no real command or influence. They'll help you out, but in a minor way.
The Command merit means you have armed forces you can call on. They will aid you in battle. Tertiary Command means a size 1 group with Regular Drill: in other words, a single PRT squad.
Resources means money. The uses of this are self-evident. Tertiary Resources is enough for a comfortable lifestyle while still having enough money to throw at small problems.
A reminder that tertiary merits add 2 dice to applicable rolls.
The Command merit means you have armed forces you can call on. They will aid you in battle. Tertiary Command means a size 1 group with Regular Drill: in other words, a single PRT squad.
Resources means money. The uses of this are self-evident. Tertiary Resources is enough for a comfortable lifestyle while still having enough money to throw at small problems.
A reminder that tertiary merits add 2 dice to applicable rolls.
With your research done, you head to the living room to find your dad has already picked out a movie: Monty Python and the Holy Grail, a nice, fun comedy with no hint of capes or superpowers anywhere to be found. You approve of his choice, and the two of you settle down to watch.
Well, the three of you. Eurus squeezes herself into the living room and plops herself down next to the couch, soliciting head scratches from you and your dad. You both oblige, to Eurus' obvious pleasure if her tail repeatedly thumping against the floor is any indication.
This is nice, you think as your dad chuckles at the antics of Arthur and his knights. You can't remember the last time you spent time with your dad like this. It must have been before your mom died, before the bullying started, just… before.
But now you're in the after, after you got superpowers, after you talked your dad out of the worst of his grief, maybe after you started to become a family again.
You smile, and lean into your dad with a hug.
"Taylor?" he asks, surprised.
"I love you, dad," you say. He smiles warmly and returns the hug.
"I love you too, kiddo."
Your minor intimacy of "Dad (disappointment)" becomes a minor intimacy of "Dad (hope)".
