Interlude:
(With thanks to
Jinnt for the
original piece!)
***
Leaning forward, her hands crossed over her chest, Aisha stared.
The patchwork rabbit stared back.
What the fuck am I doing here?
Straightening up, she turned her head to look around at the crowd of young children - mostly at least four or five years younger than herself - bouncing around energetically, though most still stared at her costumed form with wide eyes filled with wonder and curiosity.
With a great, heroic effort, she resisted the urge to flip them off.
I should be with bro, with the Undersiders… I dunno, fucking robbing banks or something. Beatin' the shit outta skinheads.
Turning her back on the stand of stuffed animals, she let her gaze wander across the floor. The mixture of parents and children would occasionally notice her helmeted gaze and shy away from the perceived scrutiny, which sparked a small feeling of glee each time.
Yeah, you better fuckin' be afraid. You ain't got shit on me now.
After taking a step forward, she watched as the shifting bubble of space around her instantly moved in response - the nearby civilians cautiously keeping their distance from the generically-costumed Ward.
Who gives a shit if Tay's the only one who can remember if I'm even alive? I've got power now.
Blinking underneath her full-faced generic-grey helmet, Aisha snorted at the unintentional pun with her new cape name.
Maybe I can work that into a taunt? Dennis might have some ideas…
Aisha smirked at the memory of the jokes told yesterday by the wise-cracking Ward while the group waited for his food, at least until her eyes finally found the target of her search: Vista, signing autographs while thanking the crowd of kids her age for their support.
Ok, sure, whatever. Missy can actually be nice whenever she's not trying to be a bossy little pipsqueak.
Having silently observed the more experienced Ward handle dozens of autographs, accolades, and well-wishes, Aisha quickly turned her head to see the ring of nervous civilians around her shift in response to the movement.
Ugh. Fuck this.
Letting her control over her power slip, she grabbed the rabbit and stalked off to find Taylor, barging through the momentarily-confused crowd before it eventually settled back into its usual mid-morning crush.
***
Thankfully, finding the attention-attracting, human-disguised Ward only required following the trail of murmurs, gossip, and rumor-mongering. There may have been a few toes 'accidentally' stepped on along the way, but it wasn't as if anyone remembered what caused them.
Eight minutes later, Aisha discovered the older Ward, in her elegant dress-of-a-costume, elbow-deep in a pile of small paint jars. Mechanically stirring the ocean of color like some kind of vat-stirring robot.
Taking a moment to note the usual blank display of emotion on Weaver's barely-concealed face as she silently stirred the massive crate of paint jars, Aisha shook her own head in exasperation - both at the antics, and that she had expected anything different.
"Weavs."
Without even turning her head to acknowledge the address, the older Ward replied in her cold, robotic monotone; her hunt through the tide of paint jars unimpeded by the vocalization.
"Who. Power unsuppressed. Theft unaccepta-"
Scowling, Aisha cut her off by waving the stuffed bear around in indignation.
"Wha- no, fuck, I'm not shoplifting! This is all on the PRT's dime anyway!"
"Understood. Battery second floor, LEGO department. Deliver store merchan-"
"Wait, ugh, I… look, the stupid rabbit is just like one my bro won for me at a fair in the Market when I was real little, 'cept that one's toast now 'cause of fuckin' Benjy. But
I can't be seen buyin' it 'cause I've got a rep to keep.
You don't give a shit about what people think, and who the fuck knows - you'll probably wind up making it the hottest shit around."
Shoving the patchwork-quilt rabbit at the pre-occupied older Ward, Aisha waited with arm outstretched until Weaver slowly pulled her own arms out of the enormous basket of paint jars - a small jar of golden-brass paint held within her left hand. Swivelling her right arm to meet Aisha's own, Weaver smoothly pulled it out of the younger Ward's grasp.
"So just do me a favor and buy the dumb thing. You can give it back to me later, when no-ones around."
After waiting a moment for any further explanation, Weaver turned her head down, observed the bear carefully clasped in her right hand, and then cleanly rotated her head back to look straight at the younger Ward.
Ugh, I wished she, like, blinked or something. Fuckin' creepy.
"Understood," Weaver intoned, dropping the rabbit in her own shopping bag like an arcade claw machine.
Then, in a swift, smooth motion, she held out her now-free hand and snapped open a small door in her down-turned palm. Before Aisha could react, a second FAO Schwarz shopping bag popped out of the door in a burst of the weird, physics-defying energy that sometimes flowed around the older Ward.
Grasping the new bag just as gravity began to re-assert itself upon it, Weaver maintained her unbroken stare at Aisha's costumed helmet.
"Accept."
Cautiously leaning back from the bag while extending a wary hand to accept the offer, Aisha was afraid to ask, "What's this?"
"Hand-held video entertainment system. Seven games: two role-playing, two rhythm, three action. Three of seven: Earth-Aleph imports."
Blinking under her mask, Aisha paused a moment before snatching the bag and opening it. After peering inside to confirm the contents, she turned her head back up to look at the older Ward in confusion - the realization hitting her right as she opened her mouth.
"You got me-? Oh, right: PRT's dime."
In response, Weaver's head rotated a perfect forty-five degrees left, then back in the other direction the same amount - her usual (weird) approximation of a head-shake. Afterwards, the human-looking older Ward resumed her unblinking stare at Aisha's helmeted head.
"Negative. Battery preoccupied with Vista, Twins. Personal funds. Compensation unnecessary."
Aisha just stared at her "Why?"
"Multiple games rated Mature. PRT approval: low probability. Current form's perceived maturity enabled purchase."
Figures. Fight fuckin' Endbringers, but can't buy a goddamn shooter. Still…
"Why do you even care?"
"Coordination, assistance between teammates increases effectiveness, survival probability."
Snorting, Aisha shook her head and waved off the sentiment with a hidden smirk.
"So, what am I suppose to help you with, then? Findin' some hot robot dude for you to hammer? Or you want help turning back into a real girl?"
After holding her unnaturally-still gaze for several seconds longer than distinctly comfortable, Weaver eventually snapped her head down-and-up in an approximation of a nod before striding off towards the nearest cash register.
"Material, tangible assistance accepted."
Wait… what?
"Taylor?"
But the older Ward had already moved swiftly through the crowd, which quickly parted with a stunned - and almost reverent - awe as she strode forward with all the grace of a well-oiled machine.
Can't even handle my own damn power and now she's expectin' me to help her? All I can do is… ugh.
Absently, she closed her hand where the memory of the soft, quilted bear still lingered. A much better memory, at least, than the leering faces of Empire Eighty-Eight skinheads backing her into a corner of the Endbringer shelter…
Shaking her head to banish the memories back to where they lurked in her nightmares, Aisha followed in Weaver's wake.
Fuck it.
