If you were to tell me that I'd find myself in a bar owned by a guy who kicked the ever-loving shit out of Hookwolf, I would probably laugh in your face or ask you if you were on crack.
After having met the man for myself, witnessing him manhandle Hookwolf as though he were disciplining a child, I definitely would have believed them now. I still don't understand why I'm sitting at a table, watching the man picking up the smashed remains of his counter. I don't even know why I took him up on his offer. Was this one of those Master/Stranger effects I've read about? I don't feel any different, though…
"S-so, who are you?" I asked timidly. "A-a-are you a new cape?"
The man looked over his shoulder and at me, eyebrow raised. "Do I look like some kind of whacko in his pajamas to you?"
"Well, no, but…"
"'s fine, sister," the man waved a hand in dismissal. "The name's Rodin. Call me Boss. I run this bar."
"I didn't know we had a bar near the Boardwalk."
"I opened up shop last month. Came to Brockton Bay for vacation and all that," Rodin told me, making me blink. Who in their right mind would come to this place for
vacation? "I wasn't expecting those idiots to try busting my shop in daylight, though. The LARPERs always this active this time of day?"
I sweatdropped. "LARPER?"
"The assholes calling themselves Nazis."
I wasn't sure what amazed me more, the fact that he could act so calmly when he more or less painted a target on his back or that he was calling the Empire Eighty-Eight a bunch of fakes.
Rodin held up a fragment of his counter up to his face and grimaced. "Bastard owes me a new counter."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and took a deep breath. I remembered what he called me when he saw me sitting on my butt near his bar.
"Why did you call me a halfer?" I asked as calmly as possible. "If it's because of my hair, it's-"
"Wasn't talkin' about your hair," Rodin cut me off with a chuckle. He tossed the last piece of debris over to the pile near the corner of the room before taking out a cigar from his pocket. He somehow managed to light it up with the snap of his fingers. "I was talking about what you are. How the hell did you end up that way? Last I checked, Triggers don't make you half-demon."
I blinked a few times before staring at Rodin in confusion. "…what?"
"Well, unless one of those Cthulu rejects found a way, but I don't remember that gold bastard going off anywhere."
I'm so confused. What on Earth is he talking about? Is he crazy? Or just one of those "weird" capes who believe their powers are magical in nature? I swear, I've heard about a cape group like that in New York.
"Ah, whatever, what that asshole does ain't my problem," Rodin grumbled before turning to me. "Anyway, how long has it been since you Triggered?"
"H-How did you know?!"
"Your old man." At the mention of my Dad, I went ramrod straight. Rodin continued, "He came here last month, probably a day or so after you got sent to the hospital. At first I didn't pay him any mind, since he came for a drink. Then he showed up again every once in a while, rambling on and on about how fucking pissed he was, how he failed his daughter and how he much he screwed up. He even showed me a picture he had in his wallet." Rodin gave me another look, this time more amused. "Though last I checked, you had dark hair in that photo. Decided to start your angsty teenage years or something?"
"I wish…"
The pain in my chest grew worse. When Rodin talked about Dad, I felt like I had been sucker-punched in the gut. Dad was wrong. He wasn't the one who screwed up here. I knew that better than anyone. If I just told him about what was going on at Winslow…
"That still doesn't explain how you knew I Triggered?"
"Trapped in a locker full of shit? Got stuck in a coma? People getting superpowers from experiencing the worst day in their lives?" Rodin snorted. "An idiot could figure that much out, though I gotta admit, wasn't expecting to see any parahumans like you. Speaking of, are all parahumans a bunch of douche bags, or are those Empire assholes just the special ones?"
"Well, you
are black," I pointed out to him. "And I've heard they want to expand their territory a little. A black man who just arrived in Brockton Bay and opened up shop? They probably thought you were a prime target."
The dark-skinned man scoffed. "I noticed."
That's probably what happened before I arrived; Hookwolf must have come here to intimidate Rodin, maybe run him out of town or kill him before things snowballed. Why Purity and Kaiser, one of the heaviest hitters of the Empire and the other the head honcho himself were present, I had no idea. Maybe they happened to be here by chance. In either case, I couldn't help but worry what was going to happen to Rodin now. He may be a little weird, what with his mention of demons and all, but he seemed pleasant enough, yet he was likely to be hounded the moment those videos taken by the bystanders hit the net, whether by the Empire or people looking to recruit him.
Still, for some reason, I had a feeling he would be alright. That tingling sensation, that primal fear when I saw him deal with Hookwolf, lingered on the back of my mind. I had no idea why I reacted like that, but if that sense of danger wasn't unfounded…
The more I thought about it, the more confused I was. Who in the world
was Rodin?
"You should probably head on home, sister," Rodin suddenly told me. "Didn't mean to call you in my place just to talk your ear off 'bout something you ain't ready for."
Something I wasn't ready for? What did that mean? I was about to ask what he meant before I heard footsteps approach the bar from outside, followed by a sharp knock against the door frame. I looked over my shoulder and
barely repressed the urge to squeal in shock and awe when I saw not one, but two Protectorate capes standing outside.
"Sorry, is this a bad time?" Assault asked with a disarming smile, clad in his trademark red suit. Next to him was Battery. "We came because we heard something interesting happened over here while we were out on patrol, so…"
Rodin smirked. "Only interesting thing around here are you two. Unfortunately, we're closed right now. For maintenance, obviously. Don't suppose "parahuman insurance" is a thing?" Assault laughed as though what Rodin asked was a joke while Battery rolled her eyes. I saw her glance at me for a moment, but she passed me over in favor of speaking with the bar owner. "Head on home, kid. Don't make your dad worry. Oh, and word of advice. Try to steer clear of the Trainyards. Been hearing some weird shit going down over there."
I raised an eyebrow, wondering what he meant by that before shrugging. I left the bar behind me and made my way back home. I had no doubt that Assault and Battery were going to ask Rodin about the incident with Hookwolf and the Empire, maybe even offer him a job with the Protectorate. That would definitely make headlines: "Bar Owner Wrecks Hookwolf And Joins Protectorate."
…still, I can't shake the feeling that something's off with that guy. Something about him doesn't feel normal. Stranger still, I don't think he's a cape, despite evidence saying otherwise. I'm not sure
why I know that, but something inside me recognizes Rodin as something else.
…maybe I should get myself a Master/Stranger screening from the PRT. Everything just feel strange, and it's happening way too fast.
I returned home and spent the rest of the day doing menial tasks, such as doing laundry and cleaning my room. It was late in the afternoon when I finished my self-appointed chores that I made a decision that I should have done a long time ago. It started when I happened to glance at Mom's picture, the one showing her when she was alive and I was still a baby, safely held in her arms. Something in that picture spurned me to head into a place I hadn't thought of going into in years.
I closed the door behind me, descending down the stairs. I ignored the fact that, despite the lights being off, I could see clearly in the darkness. It was just another oddity that I wanted to think about another time, choosing to focus on what was in front of me. I reached the bottom of the steps and found myself staring at an assortment of boxes, all neatly piled and stacked in the corner. I grabbed the first box I saw, undoing the folds keeping it closed.
Inside the box was an assortment of knick-knacks and items that didn't look like they held any sentimental value. It was just kid toys I used to play with when I was little, along with books that Mom used to read to me when I couldn't sleep. The book in my hands was my favorite growing up, the cover and spine being so worn out that it was unraveling and coming apart.
The books and toys were just the tip of the icerburg, though. The thing that captured my attention the most, the one thing that I wanted to bury and never look at again until now, was a simple photograph. It was the sort of photograph you would see framed and put out in the open for friends and family to see, but to me, it was so much more. It showed a father and a mother standing together in front of a house, their six-year-old daughter smiling and grinning while holding up a victory sign with both hands.
I hadn't looked at this photograph in years. I even forgot it existed. Yet the moment I picked it up from the bottom of the box, I couldn't stop crying. The tears refused to cease and dripped from my cheeks.
An hour later, I emerged from the basement, holding a box of stuff Mom used to own or things that she gave me. Dad showed up then and there, finding me holding the box with wide-eyes before he saw how red my eyes were. Neither of us said anything. There wasn't a need to. He gently took the box from me and set it on the ground, and the two of us spent the rest of the day going through the boxes.
It wasn't the same, but as we looked through the things that Mom owned or the things she gave us, it felt like she was sitting there with us.
Feb. 4, 2011
I looked up from my breakfast and stared at Dad, slightly dumbfounded. "…could you repeat that?"
Dad's smile threatened to break his face in half. "I finally got word back from the faculty at Arcadia. They want you to come by and take an assessment test on Sunday."
For a moment, my brain stopped working. I could barely believe what Dad just told me. When my brain finally rebooted and properly processed what I just heard, I spluttered. "B-but my grades were
shit. I-I mean, even if they know about the bullying and want to give me a chance, what about the tuition fee? W-we can't afford that, can we?"
"Funny you should mention that…" Dad pulled out something from his pocket and set it down on the table. It looked like a leaflet, showing an insignia or marker I didn't recognize. "Apparently, Alan got in contact with these people and told them what happened, and they had a talk with the school faculty."
I took the leaflet and examined what was written. From what I gathered, it was a lot like a troubled youth program. Instead of focusing on kids that went through all kinds of trouble, like say rehabilitated gang kids or troublemakers that went through Juvie like clockwork, they leaned more towards the kids who were severely affected by, and I quote, "harsh and unsafe environments that ignore the plights of children." The way it was worded, I swore they were talking about Winslow specifically.
"'Brockton Bay Junior Adult Safety Organization'…" I read aloud with a frown. "I've never heard of these guys before."
"Neither have I, but Alan says they're legit. Apparently, they have ties to the Youth Guard and are something of a subsidiary, but instead of being geared towards underage capes, they work with average day kids." Dad snorted. "From what Alan told me, the organization was founded by Naomi Hess."
Again, my brain froze.
"…
Hess?" I choked. "As in, Sophia Hess?"
"Her mother, as it turns out." Dad nodded. "Alan spoke with her a little after Blackwell settled on reparations. He didn't know she was Sophia's mother at the time, but when he informed about the reason why he was contacting the BBASO, she wasn't surprised in the least by what she heard. Well, up until she learned the specifics."
I leaned in, curious. "How bad?"
"Let me put it to you this way. If what Alan said was true, had this Naomi woman met your mother when she was alive, they would have hit it off within seconds of meeting, because they both have tempers that would make even the devil cry."
It felt so weird, hearing how Sophia's mother would have gotten along with my own if she were still alive. Still, as suspicious as I was about this whole thing, I wasn't going to hold what Sophia did to me on her. She may have been Sophia's mother, but that didn't make her responsible for what happened. If anything, I pitied this woman for having someone like that for a daughter.
"…so, how does she fit into me getting into Arcadia?"
"A program for kids who suffered because of hostile environments, be it from their homes or in school facilities, etc. They're basically paying out of their own pockets to ensure troubled youths get into better schools."
"And they're good?"
"From what it seems, yeah. I've heard nothing but glowing reviews." Dad nodded. "It's up to you, though."
I looked back at the leaflet as I read its contents. The TV was going off in the background, a news reporter talking about how Fallen were aggressively starting some kind of public notice campaign. I ignored it completely in favor of understanding what the group was about. After I read it thoroughly, I set the leaflet down on the table and looked at Dad square in the eyes.
"I think we should go for it," I said seriously. "I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, and from what it sounds like, they mean well. Plus, I feel like I'd just be spitting in Uncle Alan's face with all the work he put into getting us this far."
Dad grinned. "Great! I'll talk to one of the teachers and tell them you'll be taking the test in three days."
In Killer Instinct Announcer Voice:
UUUUUUUUUUUUULTRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA COOOOOOOOOOOOOOMBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
For the record, I'd just like to say that some scenes were harder to write than most. I honestly feel like some of these scenes are maybe a little awkward, so I might go back and rewrite them.
Also, this is the last of the downtime chapters for this arc. The last few chapters will be Taylor getting herself into trouble with Orthrus and subsequently finding out the existence of demons, plus the fact that she is now a half-demon.
Any thoughts or criticisms of this arc so far? Give me your thoughts, and in the meantime, enjoy the slices of life, everyone.
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