Papiergeist: A New Dawn 1-01
- Location
- The Lair
As many of you are probably already aware, either by the lack of updates, posts, or my frustrations on discord, that Papiergeist, as it currently is, simply is dead. When I started out with this story, I really didn't know exactly what direction I wanted to go. I was flying by the seat of my pants and I honestly just crashed and burned because I didn't have a plan outside of the fact that I had an idea and I was excited by it. However, I just fell short and worked myself into a corner that I could not work myself out of in a way that worked and didn't take away from the direction I had initially been taking it.
So, a year ago, I decided that I would rework Papiergeist. Rework both the power creep, but also change the interactions between Taylor and Konan's memories, but also just try to make it better in a way that I would be satisfied with and avoid the previous pitfall that existed. That isn't to say that some ideas won't survive the rework, it's just the direction of the E88/PRT scheme just wouldn't work out in the end. I'm not exactly happy with what I do have done, not in the content, but in the amount of it. I had wanted to meet the amount of chapters before I posted this, but time and life have a way of escaping.
Anyways, I will just continue posting here, after conferring with a friend who conferred with an Admin. It just felt that it would be better to keep both the original and the rework contained within one thread in order for easy comparison.
So, here it is, at least, the first chapter of what I'm calling Papiergeist: A New Dawn. I plan at least for now to post a chapter a week over the next month, and hopefully I can work up some more content, though, I'm right now I'm projected to be stuck working 60 hours weeks for at least the next month.
---------------------------------------------------
Awakening 1.01
Erich Schroeder has never run faster in his life, as he stumbled over a trash can, but quickly picked himself and continued going. No, he had never run this fast, but he was not going to slow down despite the protestations of his lungs as he struggled for his breath. Not for what he knew was chasing after him.
It was supposed to have been a simple arms shipment for the Empire Eighty-Eight, a couple of pallets of former Soviet Bloc weapons and ammo that no longer had any use to their former masters except a quick buck. It was the sort of thing that the Empire Eighty-Eight needed for their ongoing turf war with the Azn Bad Boys.
There had been rumors of course, of some new cape that was busting various drug deals and low-level members of the E88, ABB, and Merchants, but he had dismissed it as nothing more than usual ghost stories to spook newbies. After all, fear was an excellent motivator in keeping men on alert for the event of anything going wrong. Especially a fear of capes.
And while the presence of Hookwolf had raised a few eyebrows, considering Hookwolf's personality and status as one of Kaiser's lieutenants, it had simply been treated as added security since the Merchants had been seeing lurking in the area the last couple of days.
At least, until she appeared.
He had been looking over the weapons, taking note of their condition and functionality, when Hookwolf suddenly became alert. That had been the only warning they had when she had appeared among them.
A woman with blue hair, her orange eyes burning into them, clad in an asian looking overcoat with red clouds in them, and of all absurd things, a flower in her hair. It had been the craziest thing, all of them standing there, staring at this woman, the woman's expression one that would make Mona Lisa jealous.
Then the silence was broken by the sound of sizzling, he only had a moment to watch as the expression on her face broke, her lips curling into a smirk before she exploded.
The resultant pressure wave knocked him out for a moment, his consciousness coming back slightly woozy as he slowly gathered himself back together, his ears ringing. He only had a moment to catch himself, thinking the damn crazy woman pulled an Oni Lee, before, to his shock, several more of her descended into the room.
His wits only had enough time to return for him to catch Hookwolf bounding across the room expression positively feral as blades had already sprouted from his limbs, his target one of the clones. The leaping attack missed badly, as the clone dodged it effortlessly. He then watched, as sheets of paper began breaking off from the sleeves of the clone and folded into a pair of knives, as Hookwolf snarled and adjusted back towards her, intent on tearing her in half.
Only to be stopped with a pair of metallic clangs that echoed through the warehouse.
Did she just use paper to stop Hookwolf, was the collective thought that ran through those that were still conscious enough to witness what had just taken place. Even Hookwolf in his battle lust seemed to hesitate a moment in shock.
He didn't have time time to recover from his shock as he found himself flying back through a crate, another clone landing a flying jump kick upon his face.
Watching as one of the more feared members of the E88 get taken down, and those clones were proceeding to disarm and detain the rest of the men was enough for Erich. Spying the suitcase of money, and knowing that at least Kaiser would at least forgive if the money made it back, he scrabbled along the ground to keep as low of a profile as he could, grabbed the money, and made a break for it, as Hookwolf let out another howl.
—Papiergeist—
Throwing the remnants of the wooden crate he had been kicked into, Brad Meadows could only see red as he lowered himself onto all fours, body now a distinctive mass of blades and hooks that had earned him the name 'Hookwolf'.
The only reason he had been sent here to guard the weapons shipment because there had been a series of attacks on both the ABB and themselves by a single cape in the last week. While the attacks were made upon grunts, it was enough of an encroachment that Kaiser had wanted additional security upon this weapons shipment.
It seemed that Kaiser's worries were well-placed. But that didn't matter to him.
What mattered was this bitch had dared. He was going to eviscerate her. Bathe in her blood and use her entrails to grease his blades.
Letting out a howl, wanting nothing more than to turn her into abattoir , he bounded towards them, opening the maw of his wolf's head, intent on ripping and tearing flesh from bone from this Oni Lee-wannabe. They both split, and he pursued the right one that had kicked him, as she ran. He didn't care that his charges were getting overwhelmed around him, he only cared about blood and revenge.
Watching as she ran towards a wall, a dead end, he grinned, sensing that the end of the hunt was near. But then she did the unthinkable by running up the wall. Too late, he was unable to stop his momentum, causing him to burst through the warehouse wall, and into the dark street outside.
Shaking his head to work away his dizziness from the impact, he recovered enough to catch as his tormentor came casually strolling through the hole as if this was an everyday stroll through the neighborhood.
"You bitch," he snarled, sprinting towards her. Only when he got close enough to her, she burst apart into thousands upon thousands of sheets of paper that then flew around and began wrapping tightly around him.
At first, he was taken aback at the suddenness of the attack. But once he recovered, he began fighting. While it may have worked against other parahumans, it did not work against him, snarling and cursing, he 'withdrew' his blades into his core, feeling paper that felt impossibly stronger than possible constrict further, before forcing his essence back out again.
Slowly, but surely, it worked, as cut after cut began to compromise the paper's integrity. It was slow progress, but soon enough, he was able to break out. Panting from the exertion, the bloodlust fading away, he barely had enough time to realize that he was now surrounded by more of her, each of them knelt in front of their own piece of paper.
Nor did he have enough time to process whatever else he was seeing, as in perfect synchronization, they slammed a hand down on those papers, and electricity arced upwards, forming an impromptu dome that surrounded him, before the dome collapsed around him, the walls of electricity merging into the center where he was.
There was, however, enough time for him to scream, as the very metal that gave him his name worked to conduct the electricity, leave him in agony as every nerve ending lit afire, before blissful unconsciousness consumed him.
—Papiergeist—
Leaning up against a wall, Erich paused for a moment to catch his breath, his lungs begging him to breathe something more than gasps. He was now at least several blocks away from the scene, far enough away to hopefully have eluded his pursuer.
Taking stock of his surroundings, he took a deep sigh of relief when he realized he was back in Empire territory. He must have run a lot more than he thought. Discarding that errant thought, with trembling fingers, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a phone, before dialing a number.
After a few rings, the number picked up..
"Erich. What's wrong?"
James Fleischer, also known as Krieg, had been a close friend of his for years, with their families frequently having dinners together. While he had cut his teeth as an arms dealer, with a nose at getting better and better arms for the Empire Eighty-Eight, James had helped with some shipments over the years through his contacts.
"James. Dinner didn't go as planned," he spoke, still trying to catch his breath, using a code phrase indicating that the deal had gone wrong, "had an uninvited guest."
"Where are you, Erich?"
He looked around, noting the landmarks.
"I'm at—"
He froze as the fluttering of paper caught his attention, because it almost sounded like angry fluttering and it was above him.
Slowly, he craned his head up. When he saw what was above him, the phone dropped out of his hand and clattered to the ground as James tried to call out his name again.
"Mein Gott," Erich whispered, taking in the sight of the same woman, standing on the side of the building as if she were standing upon the ground, looking down upon him with those burning orange eyes.
And then she broke apart into paper and enveloped him in darkness.
—Papiergeist—
It was with the growl of his motorcycle that Colin Wallis, Armsmaster, arrived at the scene, parking it and retrieving his halberd as he dismounted. Taking in the scene of the hole in the warehouse, he then looked around the rest of the scene that had been called in by an anonymous citizen, keen for any sort of trap that may await both himself, but also the PRT response team that was on the way.
Though, if his suspicions were correct, the citizen that had called in was far from anonymous. In the last week, the Brockton Bay Protectorate had fielded calls from this person, and on each occasion, they were led to a location with unconscious criminals, and a folder with photos and a precise written report on what had taken place. Empire Eighty-Eight, Azn Bad Boys, Merchants, or unaffiliated, it didn't matter to this vigilante. All they had been able to gather from criminal statements was that the vigilante was a woman with parahuman abilities and that she did not wear a mask.
Why the parahuman chose not to wear a mask or disguise herself was worrisome. As without the backing of any organization or gang, they were free game to retaliation wherever they were. It was only a matter of time before someone recognized them and the parahuman would likely find themself coopted or dead.
Furthermore, there was an element of clinical brutality in her nonlethal takedowns. Several of the arrested required treatment at the hospital, with some of them even requiring the medical mercies of Panacea herself. This newcomer did not seem to hold back, which worried Colin, as there was a very fine line between the brutality so far, and simply killing the criminal if this parahuman so chooses.
Honestly, he did not approve of this parahuman whatsoever. Both her vigilantism, but also her lack of adherence to the rules and standards that made a cape what they were. As far as he was concerned, this cape needed to be brought into line, before they made things worse, either for themselves, or the rightful authorities.
Striding forward, yet keeping a cautious eye about him, he whirled around and brought his halberd to bear against a the sound of feet impacting pavement as a figure that had landed after jumping down from a warehouse across the street, beside her floated a human-shaped bundle of paper.
Eyes narrowing behind his visor, he took in the figure before him. Female. Late twenties to early thirties in age. Asian features. Estimated five and a half feet tall. Maybe hundred pounds , if that. Blue hair. Orange eyes. Clothing consisting of a cloak with red clouds adorning it, leggings, and...were those sandals? Other notables features include a stud in her lower lip.
"Armsmaster," the woman greeted, her tone soft, yet containing a solemn strength to it that seemed completely opposite of what he'd expected.
"Are you the one who called," he asked, though he already knew the answer, keeping an eye on the bundle.
"Yes," and with that, the bundle of paper slowly floated towards him, paper flaking away from whatever was inside it to reveal a man, who was laid at Armsmaster's feet, "Erich Schroeder. One of Empire Eighty Eight's chief gunrunners."
"Is he?"
"Unconscious. Just like all of the others."
"The Protectorate would like to inquire as to the method you achieve that."
It was something that had stumped their scientists. Every single criminal found at the scene had been unconscious with a 'tag', for lack of better word, attached to them. Written in archaic Japanese, somehow it kept those it was adhered to unconscious until it was taken off. The only thing that their scientists could figure out, was that these tags themselves consisted of paper, blood, and ink that was able to create a bioenergy field that induced unconsciousness.
There was a quirk of her lip, but nothing else came from it, causing his hackles to rise, but he refrained from saying anything more on that. Instead, she placed a briefcase down beside herself and reached into her cloak, retrieved a manila folder and placed it on the briefcase itself, then stepped back as the PRT began arriving.
"Hookwolf will require medical observation for shock injuries and electrical burns. All crates containing weapons and ammunition have been rendered non-operational through destruction. As per Eckhardt v Illiniois, I am informing you that I have collected twenty thousand, eight hundred, and sixty-five dollars as part of remuneration for services rendered in disruption of a non-financial crime in progress. There is a receipt for the transaction in the folder along with photographs, statements, and relevant paperwork necessary to fulfill the Eckhardt test and this case."
How was she doing that, he had to wonder. The call in was only twenty minutes ago. Yet, according to her, she not only had a report ready to go, but included the necessary paperwork to fulfill an Eckhardt test, where a cape had to prove the legitimacy where they would gain a monetary amount in excess of five thousand dollar. A test that was designed specifically to be difficult for independent capes to benefit from.
Just what was her power to be able to do it that quickly?
The fact that this woman was actively working to fulfill an Eckhardt test only colored his opinion towards her further in a negative light. Yet, he had orders to attempt to recruit her,
"If you joined the Protectorate, you would not have to worry about fulfilling the Eckhardt Test, Miss…"
"Tenshi."
Colin's Japanese was rather rusty, he was willing to admit that, so while the word 'tenshi' had a ring of familiarity, he was not sure what it meant.
"And while I am honored by your offer, Armsmaster, I must respectfully decline."
"May I ask why?"
"No," and with a small smile, her 'skin' peeled away into individual sheets of paper that were carried away in the light wind, leaving Armsmaster standing there alone with a crime scene, more questions than answers, and a further dislike for the newly named Tenshi.
—Papiergeist—
My eyes opened to the sound of tapping on the window. Smiling, I got finished putting on my clothes before walking over to the window and opening it, a small paper bird hopping in. Holding out a hand, it then hopped up on there, before unfolding and absorbing into my body.
I had to close my eyes to focus, but with it, I could recall everything that had transpired after I had captured Schroeder and broken off for home, leaving a clone to tie up loose ends and leave the money with the Protectorate.
Armsmaster, I thought with a frown, laying back down on my bed as I considered the exchange between my clone and the leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate capes. It was still—difficult with all these memories of a life I had never lived crammed into my head. At times I had found myself thinking like Konan, and at other times I was myself. Yet there were times I was a distinct blend of the time. Even two months later I was still having trouble coming to terms with it.
Honestly, I could have handled Armsmaster better. No, scratch that, I could have handled him more maturely. But how can you be mature when you discover that the people you look up to have failed you so spectacularly?
It wasn't just them even. It was the whole damn system. When I had been been in that locker that night, surrounded in indescribable refuse, there hadn't been anyone there to save me. Hell, they had allowed it to reach that point by willfully ignoring that plight in their petty selfishness.
Konan's memories had made it rather clear a lesson that I didn't learn until after I triggered: People will protect whatever little pie of power they have no matter who or what they have to step on. Because they don't want to be that guy with even less power. The less said about the zealous accrual of power, the better.
Konan's thirty years of experience was evidence enough of that reality.
Sighing, I dismissed that thought. I shouldn't be dwelling on this. I should be celebrating! While Hookwolf had been an unexpected wrinkle to the evening, I couldn't complain. In the pantheon of capes in the Brockton Bay area, Hookwolf was a big enough name for me to gain some fame while being a poor match for my current repertoire of skills: With his dependency upon blades and closing the range, where I could use subterfuge, clones, seals, and my paper to mitigate and contain.
It may be an acceleration by a few weeks of what I had been planning overall, simply because by taking down a parahumancriminal like Hookwolf I put my name on the map, I currently had the resources to offset it. It would be a bit more tight, but I could make it work. And if things got tight—well—there were means to fix it, I just would prefer not to pursue them at this time. But a shinobi makes do with the tools he or she has.
Closing my eyes, I settled those thoughts, finding an inner peace that two months ago would have been impossible to achieve. It was strange, how all it took was one really fucked up day to make me realize just how truly small my problems were. When I triggered, I not only gained powers, but I gained her memories and perspective, and it opened my eyes to everything that was wrong with this world.
And tomorrow, I would take another step forward to a new dawn.
So, a year ago, I decided that I would rework Papiergeist. Rework both the power creep, but also change the interactions between Taylor and Konan's memories, but also just try to make it better in a way that I would be satisfied with and avoid the previous pitfall that existed. That isn't to say that some ideas won't survive the rework, it's just the direction of the E88/PRT scheme just wouldn't work out in the end. I'm not exactly happy with what I do have done, not in the content, but in the amount of it. I had wanted to meet the amount of chapters before I posted this, but time and life have a way of escaping.
Anyways, I will just continue posting here, after conferring with a friend who conferred with an Admin. It just felt that it would be better to keep both the original and the rework contained within one thread in order for easy comparison.
So, here it is, at least, the first chapter of what I'm calling Papiergeist: A New Dawn. I plan at least for now to post a chapter a week over the next month, and hopefully I can work up some more content, though, I'm right now I'm projected to be stuck working 60 hours weeks for at least the next month.
---------------------------------------------------
Awakening 1.01
Erich Schroeder has never run faster in his life, as he stumbled over a trash can, but quickly picked himself and continued going. No, he had never run this fast, but he was not going to slow down despite the protestations of his lungs as he struggled for his breath. Not for what he knew was chasing after him.
It was supposed to have been a simple arms shipment for the Empire Eighty-Eight, a couple of pallets of former Soviet Bloc weapons and ammo that no longer had any use to their former masters except a quick buck. It was the sort of thing that the Empire Eighty-Eight needed for their ongoing turf war with the Azn Bad Boys.
There had been rumors of course, of some new cape that was busting various drug deals and low-level members of the E88, ABB, and Merchants, but he had dismissed it as nothing more than usual ghost stories to spook newbies. After all, fear was an excellent motivator in keeping men on alert for the event of anything going wrong. Especially a fear of capes.
And while the presence of Hookwolf had raised a few eyebrows, considering Hookwolf's personality and status as one of Kaiser's lieutenants, it had simply been treated as added security since the Merchants had been seeing lurking in the area the last couple of days.
At least, until she appeared.
He had been looking over the weapons, taking note of their condition and functionality, when Hookwolf suddenly became alert. That had been the only warning they had when she had appeared among them.
A woman with blue hair, her orange eyes burning into them, clad in an asian looking overcoat with red clouds in them, and of all absurd things, a flower in her hair. It had been the craziest thing, all of them standing there, staring at this woman, the woman's expression one that would make Mona Lisa jealous.
Then the silence was broken by the sound of sizzling, he only had a moment to watch as the expression on her face broke, her lips curling into a smirk before she exploded.
The resultant pressure wave knocked him out for a moment, his consciousness coming back slightly woozy as he slowly gathered himself back together, his ears ringing. He only had a moment to catch himself, thinking the damn crazy woman pulled an Oni Lee, before, to his shock, several more of her descended into the room.
His wits only had enough time to return for him to catch Hookwolf bounding across the room expression positively feral as blades had already sprouted from his limbs, his target one of the clones. The leaping attack missed badly, as the clone dodged it effortlessly. He then watched, as sheets of paper began breaking off from the sleeves of the clone and folded into a pair of knives, as Hookwolf snarled and adjusted back towards her, intent on tearing her in half.
Only to be stopped with a pair of metallic clangs that echoed through the warehouse.
Did she just use paper to stop Hookwolf, was the collective thought that ran through those that were still conscious enough to witness what had just taken place. Even Hookwolf in his battle lust seemed to hesitate a moment in shock.
He didn't have time time to recover from his shock as he found himself flying back through a crate, another clone landing a flying jump kick upon his face.
Watching as one of the more feared members of the E88 get taken down, and those clones were proceeding to disarm and detain the rest of the men was enough for Erich. Spying the suitcase of money, and knowing that at least Kaiser would at least forgive if the money made it back, he scrabbled along the ground to keep as low of a profile as he could, grabbed the money, and made a break for it, as Hookwolf let out another howl.
—Papiergeist—
Throwing the remnants of the wooden crate he had been kicked into, Brad Meadows could only see red as he lowered himself onto all fours, body now a distinctive mass of blades and hooks that had earned him the name 'Hookwolf'.
The only reason he had been sent here to guard the weapons shipment because there had been a series of attacks on both the ABB and themselves by a single cape in the last week. While the attacks were made upon grunts, it was enough of an encroachment that Kaiser had wanted additional security upon this weapons shipment.
It seemed that Kaiser's worries were well-placed. But that didn't matter to him.
What mattered was this bitch had dared. He was going to eviscerate her. Bathe in her blood and use her entrails to grease his blades.
Letting out a howl, wanting nothing more than to turn her into abattoir , he bounded towards them, opening the maw of his wolf's head, intent on ripping and tearing flesh from bone from this Oni Lee-wannabe. They both split, and he pursued the right one that had kicked him, as she ran. He didn't care that his charges were getting overwhelmed around him, he only cared about blood and revenge.
Watching as she ran towards a wall, a dead end, he grinned, sensing that the end of the hunt was near. But then she did the unthinkable by running up the wall. Too late, he was unable to stop his momentum, causing him to burst through the warehouse wall, and into the dark street outside.
Shaking his head to work away his dizziness from the impact, he recovered enough to catch as his tormentor came casually strolling through the hole as if this was an everyday stroll through the neighborhood.
"You bitch," he snarled, sprinting towards her. Only when he got close enough to her, she burst apart into thousands upon thousands of sheets of paper that then flew around and began wrapping tightly around him.
At first, he was taken aback at the suddenness of the attack. But once he recovered, he began fighting. While it may have worked against other parahumans, it did not work against him, snarling and cursing, he 'withdrew' his blades into his core, feeling paper that felt impossibly stronger than possible constrict further, before forcing his essence back out again.
Slowly, but surely, it worked, as cut after cut began to compromise the paper's integrity. It was slow progress, but soon enough, he was able to break out. Panting from the exertion, the bloodlust fading away, he barely had enough time to realize that he was now surrounded by more of her, each of them knelt in front of their own piece of paper.
Nor did he have enough time to process whatever else he was seeing, as in perfect synchronization, they slammed a hand down on those papers, and electricity arced upwards, forming an impromptu dome that surrounded him, before the dome collapsed around him, the walls of electricity merging into the center where he was.
There was, however, enough time for him to scream, as the very metal that gave him his name worked to conduct the electricity, leave him in agony as every nerve ending lit afire, before blissful unconsciousness consumed him.
—Papiergeist—
Leaning up against a wall, Erich paused for a moment to catch his breath, his lungs begging him to breathe something more than gasps. He was now at least several blocks away from the scene, far enough away to hopefully have eluded his pursuer.
Taking stock of his surroundings, he took a deep sigh of relief when he realized he was back in Empire territory. He must have run a lot more than he thought. Discarding that errant thought, with trembling fingers, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a phone, before dialing a number.
After a few rings, the number picked up..
"Erich. What's wrong?"
James Fleischer, also known as Krieg, had been a close friend of his for years, with their families frequently having dinners together. While he had cut his teeth as an arms dealer, with a nose at getting better and better arms for the Empire Eighty-Eight, James had helped with some shipments over the years through his contacts.
"James. Dinner didn't go as planned," he spoke, still trying to catch his breath, using a code phrase indicating that the deal had gone wrong, "had an uninvited guest."
"Where are you, Erich?"
He looked around, noting the landmarks.
"I'm at—"
He froze as the fluttering of paper caught his attention, because it almost sounded like angry fluttering and it was above him.
Slowly, he craned his head up. When he saw what was above him, the phone dropped out of his hand and clattered to the ground as James tried to call out his name again.
"Mein Gott," Erich whispered, taking in the sight of the same woman, standing on the side of the building as if she were standing upon the ground, looking down upon him with those burning orange eyes.
And then she broke apart into paper and enveloped him in darkness.
—Papiergeist—
It was with the growl of his motorcycle that Colin Wallis, Armsmaster, arrived at the scene, parking it and retrieving his halberd as he dismounted. Taking in the scene of the hole in the warehouse, he then looked around the rest of the scene that had been called in by an anonymous citizen, keen for any sort of trap that may await both himself, but also the PRT response team that was on the way.
Though, if his suspicions were correct, the citizen that had called in was far from anonymous. In the last week, the Brockton Bay Protectorate had fielded calls from this person, and on each occasion, they were led to a location with unconscious criminals, and a folder with photos and a precise written report on what had taken place. Empire Eighty-Eight, Azn Bad Boys, Merchants, or unaffiliated, it didn't matter to this vigilante. All they had been able to gather from criminal statements was that the vigilante was a woman with parahuman abilities and that she did not wear a mask.
Why the parahuman chose not to wear a mask or disguise herself was worrisome. As without the backing of any organization or gang, they were free game to retaliation wherever they were. It was only a matter of time before someone recognized them and the parahuman would likely find themself coopted or dead.
Furthermore, there was an element of clinical brutality in her nonlethal takedowns. Several of the arrested required treatment at the hospital, with some of them even requiring the medical mercies of Panacea herself. This newcomer did not seem to hold back, which worried Colin, as there was a very fine line between the brutality so far, and simply killing the criminal if this parahuman so chooses.
Honestly, he did not approve of this parahuman whatsoever. Both her vigilantism, but also her lack of adherence to the rules and standards that made a cape what they were. As far as he was concerned, this cape needed to be brought into line, before they made things worse, either for themselves, or the rightful authorities.
Striding forward, yet keeping a cautious eye about him, he whirled around and brought his halberd to bear against a the sound of feet impacting pavement as a figure that had landed after jumping down from a warehouse across the street, beside her floated a human-shaped bundle of paper.
Eyes narrowing behind his visor, he took in the figure before him. Female. Late twenties to early thirties in age. Asian features. Estimated five and a half feet tall. Maybe hundred pounds , if that. Blue hair. Orange eyes. Clothing consisting of a cloak with red clouds adorning it, leggings, and...were those sandals? Other notables features include a stud in her lower lip.
"Armsmaster," the woman greeted, her tone soft, yet containing a solemn strength to it that seemed completely opposite of what he'd expected.
"Are you the one who called," he asked, though he already knew the answer, keeping an eye on the bundle.
"Yes," and with that, the bundle of paper slowly floated towards him, paper flaking away from whatever was inside it to reveal a man, who was laid at Armsmaster's feet, "Erich Schroeder. One of Empire Eighty Eight's chief gunrunners."
"Is he?"
"Unconscious. Just like all of the others."
"The Protectorate would like to inquire as to the method you achieve that."
It was something that had stumped their scientists. Every single criminal found at the scene had been unconscious with a 'tag', for lack of better word, attached to them. Written in archaic Japanese, somehow it kept those it was adhered to unconscious until it was taken off. The only thing that their scientists could figure out, was that these tags themselves consisted of paper, blood, and ink that was able to create a bioenergy field that induced unconsciousness.
There was a quirk of her lip, but nothing else came from it, causing his hackles to rise, but he refrained from saying anything more on that. Instead, she placed a briefcase down beside herself and reached into her cloak, retrieved a manila folder and placed it on the briefcase itself, then stepped back as the PRT began arriving.
"Hookwolf will require medical observation for shock injuries and electrical burns. All crates containing weapons and ammunition have been rendered non-operational through destruction. As per Eckhardt v Illiniois, I am informing you that I have collected twenty thousand, eight hundred, and sixty-five dollars as part of remuneration for services rendered in disruption of a non-financial crime in progress. There is a receipt for the transaction in the folder along with photographs, statements, and relevant paperwork necessary to fulfill the Eckhardt test and this case."
How was she doing that, he had to wonder. The call in was only twenty minutes ago. Yet, according to her, she not only had a report ready to go, but included the necessary paperwork to fulfill an Eckhardt test, where a cape had to prove the legitimacy where they would gain a monetary amount in excess of five thousand dollar. A test that was designed specifically to be difficult for independent capes to benefit from.
Just what was her power to be able to do it that quickly?
The fact that this woman was actively working to fulfill an Eckhardt test only colored his opinion towards her further in a negative light. Yet, he had orders to attempt to recruit her,
"If you joined the Protectorate, you would not have to worry about fulfilling the Eckhardt Test, Miss…"
"Tenshi."
Colin's Japanese was rather rusty, he was willing to admit that, so while the word 'tenshi' had a ring of familiarity, he was not sure what it meant.
"And while I am honored by your offer, Armsmaster, I must respectfully decline."
"May I ask why?"
"No," and with a small smile, her 'skin' peeled away into individual sheets of paper that were carried away in the light wind, leaving Armsmaster standing there alone with a crime scene, more questions than answers, and a further dislike for the newly named Tenshi.
—Papiergeist—
My eyes opened to the sound of tapping on the window. Smiling, I got finished putting on my clothes before walking over to the window and opening it, a small paper bird hopping in. Holding out a hand, it then hopped up on there, before unfolding and absorbing into my body.
I had to close my eyes to focus, but with it, I could recall everything that had transpired after I had captured Schroeder and broken off for home, leaving a clone to tie up loose ends and leave the money with the Protectorate.
Armsmaster, I thought with a frown, laying back down on my bed as I considered the exchange between my clone and the leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate capes. It was still—difficult with all these memories of a life I had never lived crammed into my head. At times I had found myself thinking like Konan, and at other times I was myself. Yet there were times I was a distinct blend of the time. Even two months later I was still having trouble coming to terms with it.
Honestly, I could have handled Armsmaster better. No, scratch that, I could have handled him more maturely. But how can you be mature when you discover that the people you look up to have failed you so spectacularly?
It wasn't just them even. It was the whole damn system. When I had been been in that locker that night, surrounded in indescribable refuse, there hadn't been anyone there to save me. Hell, they had allowed it to reach that point by willfully ignoring that plight in their petty selfishness.
Konan's memories had made it rather clear a lesson that I didn't learn until after I triggered: People will protect whatever little pie of power they have no matter who or what they have to step on. Because they don't want to be that guy with even less power. The less said about the zealous accrual of power, the better.
Konan's thirty years of experience was evidence enough of that reality.
Sighing, I dismissed that thought. I shouldn't be dwelling on this. I should be celebrating! While Hookwolf had been an unexpected wrinkle to the evening, I couldn't complain. In the pantheon of capes in the Brockton Bay area, Hookwolf was a big enough name for me to gain some fame while being a poor match for my current repertoire of skills: With his dependency upon blades and closing the range, where I could use subterfuge, clones, seals, and my paper to mitigate and contain.
It may be an acceleration by a few weeks of what I had been planning overall, simply because by taking down a parahumancriminal like Hookwolf I put my name on the map, I currently had the resources to offset it. It would be a bit more tight, but I could make it work. And if things got tight—well—there were means to fix it, I just would prefer not to pursue them at this time. But a shinobi makes do with the tools he or she has.
Closing my eyes, I settled those thoughts, finding an inner peace that two months ago would have been impossible to achieve. It was strange, how all it took was one really fucked up day to make me realize just how truly small my problems were. When I triggered, I not only gained powers, but I gained her memories and perspective, and it opened my eyes to everything that was wrong with this world.
And tomorrow, I would take another step forward to a new dawn.
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