I yawned and stretched as I woke up, glancing at the now-replugged clock as I walked over to the closet, where I was storing a couple sets of civilian clothes I'd picked up the day before. Hanged into one, a simple black shirt with blue jeans, and left, sparing a glance for my poor ruined costume on the way out. The armour was fairly damaged, and the hoodie was all but shredded, having weathered the bullets a lot worse than I had been lucky enough to. I smirked as I left the house, noticing that none of the others had gotten up yet. Lucky bastards. I walked over to the side of the barricade facing the safe half of the city, carefully avoiding the torn-up bits of street in my way. My power briefly shifted to invisibility and I vanished as I climbed over the cars blocking the path, dropping the power as I walked out of the alley into the city.
Before I could go to the PRT, though, I had another stop in mind. Rifling through my wallet to ensure the wallet I had grabbed off of the gangster last night was there, I walked down the street before ducking into the first technology store I saw. Once there, I grabbed a cheap smartphone and bought it, although the bribe it took to get the cashier to accept it without an ID or a bank account took another hundred out of my rapidly-dwindling funds. But it was necessary; if I was going to convince the PRT to break the stalemate and help us, I needed to convince them we were strong enough to make a difference. Right now, I had powers I didn't understand and so little knowledge of the world I couldn't tell you what year it was or what city I was in. I figured I could at the very least do some research, get a basic understanding of things. Leaving the store, I quickly found my way back to the coffee shop from yesterday, where I headed in to do a quick search of things.
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Oh, what the fuck. That sentence echoed through my mind over and over again as I paged through what I had found. It was June in 2010, more or less a year before 'canon'. But canon was gone, and 'off the rails' didn't even begin to describe what I had found. The Endbringers were wrong. The Simurgh had appeared first, ripping her way through some sort of portal before descending upon Seattle. The second Endbringer, Teiwaz, appeared a few years later, a weak aerokinetic who had been captured and tortured by Gesselschaft until they transformed and began ripping apart all in their path. The was the biggest change of all, really. The Endbringers weren't constructs this time, Eidolon didn't even exist. The third member of the Triumvirate, Arcana, instead drew runes in the sky to cast various spells, and was classified as an extremely bizarre Tinker/Trump, since he had to create them in advance. The Endbringers didn't come out of nowhere this time. Capes second-triggered into them.
Not all second triggers, not even most, only six so far, but they were capes whose second triggers had...broken, somehow, transforming them into an insane eldritch abomination. The third, Leviathan, had appeared in 1998, his main claim to fame being the discovery we made a few years later in the attack on Kyushu. They could be killed. Lung had transformed into an Endbringer during the fight, but had held to his sanity long enough to tear Leviathan apart before taking his place in the cycle. Teiwaz fell a few years later, and was replaced by a gravity manipulator named Cabrakan. Cabraken himself fell in 2007, and was replaced by Atlach, a giant spider that ripped through capes with smoke tendrils, last year.
Scion didn't exist. That was the other big one. Scion, Eden, 'glowing superhero', nothing returned any results even vaguely related to either of the Entities. How was this possible? Did they not exist? Had both of them died this time?
This...was a lot to take in, and I spent several minutes staring blankly at the phone, vaguely aware of the looks the staff were giving me, before I left the building. In a daze, I found my way to a clothing store (the other main goal of this trip) and lost most of my remaining funds on acquiring some nicer clothing. After purchasing it, I made my way back to my house, where I changed into the suit and found my way to a mirror to begin the final part of this setup.
I knew that if the others were concerned about ending up in the Wards, I was definitely the oldest. But I had a problem; I did not look it. Without an ID to prove it, I would have a lot harder time getting the PRT to take me seriously, an already Herculean task as it was. Which is how I found myself
staring into a mirror, mentally preparing myself for what I was about to do. Shapeshifting, I thought, and I felt a familiar shift as I willed my body to change.
My face began to age, shifting and altering into a reasonable facsimile of myself a few years from now. My torso thinned slightly, as my arms and legs lengthened slightly. Finally, a beard pushed its way onto my face. I stared at the image in the mirror, one that was mine and yet looked nothing like me. Perfect, I thought, leaving the bathroom and heading back towards the barricade. I was halfway there before I realized that the beard I had chosen to form was a goatee-possibly not the best way to convince people I was part of a team of superheroes. A brief moment of concentration later, the hair fell off of most of my face, leaving only a moustache.
After clambering over the barricade, I hailed the first taxi I saw, asking for them to take me to the PRT building. The trip finished off what little money I still had left from the gangster. After a relatively brief trip, we arrived in front of the PRT building. It was surprisingly unimposing, a flat, wide two-story building tat looked, all-in-all, like a police headquarters. I thanked the taxi driver and exited the car, shifting my power again as I did so. Analysis, and my perception of the world changed. Immediately, my newly heightened perception picked out several vantage points and notches in the walls of the PRT building that would seem unobtrusive and unnoticeable to most, but which would provide excellent defensive points, or points to fire at attackers from. Mentally gathering myself for the speech I was going to have to make, I strode into the building.
The receptionist glanced up at me as I entered and walked over to him. "Yes? What do you need?" Busy, harassed with complaints, my power supplied, will get annoyed at a long explanation.
Straight to business then. "I represent a group of parahumans who would like to register for Affiliate Hero status with the PRT."
He quirked up an eyebrow at this. Surprised there are independent heroes left alive, my power added. He reached under the table, pulling out a stack of forms and thumbing through them. Removing most of them and putting them back, he handed the set that remains to me. "Here. Have your team fill these out and bring them back. If you need more you'll need to talk to the director about special limits for the team size. You'll also need to meet with him now, and you'll need to bring your team to meet him when you turn the forms in." He recited, in a rehearsed and apathetic monotone.
I nodded. "The sooner the better. Is he free now?"
The receptionist turned to a schedule pinned to the desk. "Yes, he is. He has an appointment soon, so be quick. Up the stairs behind me, third door on the left."
I thanked him, receiving a noncommittal grunt in return as I made my way up the stairs to a bland, featureless hallway lined with doors. My powers helpfully pointed out the multiple spots concealing defensive turrets in the floor and ceiling as I strode to the end of the hall, where a simple door stood, with the words PRT Director Flenders written on a small plaque on it. I knocked, receiving a sharp "Enter.", and I stepped into the room.
It was a simple office room, with a bookshelf on one side and a switched-off television on the other. In the center was a worn desk with a computer on it, currently manned by a man I could only guess was Director Flenders. The only unusual feature the room possessed was a set of near-unnoticeable notching in the back of the room, notchings that were obviously meant to be seen as decorative on the off chance that someone noticed them, but likely concealed even more defensive measures. The man looked up as I walked into the room. "Welcome to my office." He said. "I'm Director Flenders. I assume you are the hero the front desk informed me about?"
I nodded. "Jon Snow." I said, saying the first alias that popped into my head. He offered his hand and I shook it before continuing, "I'm here to talk to you about the creation of an independent hero team."
"Right, they did mention that." He said "Are you aware what you are getting yourself into? It's not a good time to be an independent hero in this city. The gangs press-gang whoever they don't kill, and there isn't really any place for you to recruit more members from. Whatever your group wishes to accomplish, they could do in the Protectorate as well. With more members, we could turn the tables here." Hopeful, wishes to walk out of this meeting with new Protectorate members.
I shook my head sadly "I'm afraid that's not as possible as we'd both like." Speak like you're on the same side. Establish sympathy. "The majority of our group is...age-challenged, and could not join the Protectorate. They have other reasons as well, but they've kept them concealed."
His eyes narrowed angrily "You're telling me that a bunch of children are trying to get themselves involved in a gang war?"
I shook my head quickly, "A year from being able to join at most. As I said, that is not the main reason they refuse to join."
He shook his head, Angry, disappointed, "Do you know what you are getting into with this? Do you think this is a game?"
"Not in the least. We've been fighting the gangs, we know what to expect."
He smiled ruefully, "I suppose you're going to say that you'll keep going with or without permission."
I shrugged. "I already attempted to talk them into joining you, to no results."
"Bring your team with you in a couple of days when you return the forms. We can test your powers there. If I can be certain that I will not be signing your death warrants, I will allow you to become an affiliate organization. If I cannot, I will not be able to allow you to continue." An offer, and a threat. Willing to bring us in by force if he thinks the alternative is us being killed.
"Very well. I'll bring the offer to the others. If they agree, we will return within a few days time."
Flenders looked me in the eyes, "Be careful. This gang war's killed far too many young men and women who wanted to be heroes. Don't make the same mistakes they did."
"I'll pass that on. Don't worry, we've no intention of attacking anyone anytime soon. By the way, we did capture a few of their members the last night. We would gladly hand them over to you for imprisonment."
"Very well. We'll arrange a pickup later today, if you have a way to contact us?" I held up my phone, and he gave me the number. "Call us later, we'll arrange a meeting place. I have an appointment soon, so if you have anything else to discuss...?"
I shook my head, "No, that's all. Have a nice day." I barely kept myself from snarling as I exited the office.
Once outside, I dug out my wallet to check how much money remained, as was dismayed to find that I was completely broke. This meant to lunch, and, more importantly, that there was no way for me to get a ride back home. Looks like I'm stuck with flying then, I thought, knowing that I would not be able to navigate the city on foot. I grimaced. While I had deeply enjoyed flying and wanted to again, it could attract attention from the gangs that I had no desire to acquire, even if I managed to win the ensuing fight. Still, with no money, no navigational skills, and no way to contact the others, there wasn't much of a choice left open to me.
I headed into a nearby alleyway, wanting to at least find a secluded spot to take off from. Looking around one final time to ensure there was no one who could see me, I willed my power to change, immediately feeling the same sensation of lightness that I had last felt two days ago when this power had saved me from my death. Up, I thought, and felt my powers take me to the skies as I began to drift in thought.
That meeting...could have gone better. While the Director at least hadn't said no outright, he'd all but said he'd force us into joining him if he decided that we couldn't survive on our own. Much as I resent that immensely, he does have a point, I thought to myself as is drifted towards the barricade, unconsciously fingering the part of my shoulder where the bullet had hit last night. Still, the others weren't going to like this at all, especially not Alicia. I didn't know what the PRT had done to earn her anger like that, but it was going to make diplomacy between us and them a lot harder if we didn't do anything to stop it. Maybe contact some of the local Protectorate members directly, I thought, If we can get off-the-books training and assistance, it might not matter so much if we have trouble getting official support. Although that would still leave the issue of how to keep him from forcing us for our own protection. His concern was genuine, or at least faked well enough to fool a low-grade Thinker power he didn't know I had, but there still wasn't a chance that that attempt would lead to anything other than a fight.
My thoughts were cut off as a tall, slender woman in a demon mask floated up in front of me, "There you are! I've been looking for you." Instinctively, I dove to the top of a nearby office tower, cracks spiderwebbing in the roof of the structure as I shifted my power into a kind of telekinesis, preparing to hurl it at her if necessary. She laughed, a surprisingly cheerful sound that clashed with her ominous appearance as she landed lightly on the roof in front of me, a few flickering flames orbiting her hands.
"Nervous much?" she smirked "I'm just here to talk, you don't have to worry." I appeared to relax, although I kept a tight grip on my improvised projectiles-to-be with my power.
"I'm listening."
"I saw you leaving that fascist asshole's office." she said, her voice dropping into a snarl at even the mention of the PRT "Let me guess, he gave you the whole spiel, right? You wanted to protect the city, maybe clean it up some, actually help it instead of sitting around in an ivory tower making token patrols and claiming everything's fine? And he told you that he couldn't allow that, that he'd arrest you and force you to join for trying? That it was for your own good?!" My eyes widened in surprise, before I clamped down on my reactions. This woman, (Belial, I supposed) had good intel. Very good intel. Did the Fifth Circle have a Stranger? A Thinker maybe? Best to play along for now.
"You sound like you're speaking from experience." I remarked noncommittally, looking out of the corner of my eyes for a blur in the air, or anything else that might indicate we were not alone.
She chuckled, "Something like that. Let's just say that I'm as sick of the gangs and the blockade as you are, and I'm a lot more willing to do something about it than those assholes are."
I raised an eyebrow "Sorry for the confusion, I'm new here, but isn't the Fifth Circle one of the gangs?"
She laughed, "Nah, that's just propaganda. What we actually are is a group of free spirits who agree the the Protectorate's failed us, and needs to be replaced. Neither of the other gangs would make better leaders, so we had to do it ourselves. The PRT doesn't want to admit that they're a bunch of fascist assholes!", she shouted that last bit over her shoulder, in the direction of the PRT building "so they labeled us a gang just like the rest."
"I see." I said, unsure of what to make of that speech.
"Not much of a talker, are you?" She smirked, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a piece of paper, which she threw to me. "It's the number for one of our burner phones. Call me when you decide to make a real difference in this city." With that, she flew away, leaving me standing on a rooftop staring at a plain piece of paper with nothing but a phone number on it. As I reactivated my flight and drifted home, I considered the results of my encounters today, as well as how to tell the others about what I had learned.