It's always wonderful when I discover a new type of stress to add to my growing collection. Grief, depression, frustration, loneliness, I was used to all of them. My favorite, of course, was the stress of knowing that someone, for no discernible reason, absolutely hated my guts and was constantly planning to add to my misery in ways both big and small, while I had no recourse but to wait for the next attack. It was a good thing I enjoyed that so much, otherwise I'd sure get tired of having to experience it day in and day out for probably the rest of eternity.
Fuck, I hate my life.
But yeah, today introduced me to a new sort of stress. I didn't have a word for it just yet but I did have a definition: waiting in a room for hours, not sure what was going to happen, just sitting there in near silence, not even knowing if anything bad was going to happen at all. Say what you will about my regular school life, at least there I knew that bad shit was going to happen, I was just waiting to find out when and what. But right now, I had no idea how much trouble I was in, or even if I was in trouble at all. All I had to keep my mind off the anxiety was trying to figure out the perfect word for it. Uncertainty? Nervousness? Boredom? It had aspects of all of those, but I just couldn't figure out if there was a word for all three.
"Hurry up and wait."
"Huh?" I jerked my head up to look at my father, who was sitting beside me. Dad looked like he'd seen better days, mostly because he had. I could still remember when he was all smiles, bad puns and blind optimism. Now he had a receding hairline and bags under his eyes, all the smiles and optimism beaten out of him by life. It hurt to look at, to see just what had been lost.
I was almost certain he felt the same when looking at me.
Nevertheless he looked up from where he'd been staring a hole into the table and gave a wry smile. "Hurry up and wait. It's a phrase we used to use a lot in the Navy. Actually describes the government as a whole pretty well in my experience. Shouldn't have been surprised the PRT worked the same way."
"Hng." I grunted my understanding, ever the consummate teenager.
"Are you okay? Really?" Dad asked, just like he had a few times during the wait. I was almost annoyed, I kind of wanted to be, but I was just as worried as he was.
"I'm fine, Dad. I just-"
My answer was cut off as someone finally, finally, opened up the door to our uncomfortable little meeting room. We'd been sequestered here at least an hour ago, maybe more. I couldn't tell because there wasn't a clock on the wall, and my watch had stopped working years ago after one too many 'accidental' juice spills.
The woman that entered wasn't that tall. She'd probably be an inch or two shorter than me if I stood up straight. And yet I felt like she was towering as she marched into the room. Maybe it was the no nonsense expression she wore, with her blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail, and the briefcase she carried like a weapon. Maybe it was the sheer anger she radiated like some kind of forcefield.
Despite the rage, she schooled her expression into something professional when she sat down across from us. "Miss Hebert. Mr Hebert. My name is Carol Dallon and I've been contacted to act as your legal representative. Before we get into any details though, I have a single question for you: do you regret what happened today?"
Her name sounded familiar but I was too distracted to make much of it. Instead, I looked at my hands, thinking. I'd fantasized about it before, laying in bed late at night after particularly bad days. Getting powers, taking revenge, making those bitches pay. But now that it had actually happened? I remembered everyone on the floor, some clutching at their wounds, wounds I'd given them, while the others just cowered. They looked at me with fear in their eyes. No more scorn, no more hatred, just terror. And there was really only one answer I could give.
"Of course I do." I said, fighting back tears. Maybe I'd wanted to hurt them. Maybe I'd wanted to make them pay, just a little bit. But more than that, I just wanted them to stop, that's it. That's all. This? It was all just a big accident.
Mrs. Dallon just nodded. "Good. I specialize in parahuman law and I've got quite a bit of experience representing parahumans, but I absolutely refuse to work for unrepentant criminals. But as long as you regret what happened-"
"I do."
She frowned a touch at my interruption but continued. "-then I'll do my utmost to work in your best interest. Now, onto business. I'm sorry to say but you're in quite a bit of trouble. An explosion on school property, numerous accounts of assault with a parahuman ability, revealing a Wards secret identity and attacking her, as well as-"
"Wait, a Ward? I don't remember anything like that." I asked, genuinely confused and in a rising panic.
"You don't recall one Sophia Hess using her powers publicly?"
"Well yes, but-" I froze as the pieces slid into place. Sophia avoided the initial destruction by turning into smokey and intangible, right before she attacked me. There was only one parahuman in Brockton Bay with a power like that.
I slumped forward, elbows propped on the table while I clutched my head in despair. "Oh god, Sophia was a Ward. I electrocuted a fucking Ward."
"Indeed. There's also the tinkertech adjustments you made to a single phone, which technically counts as destruction of government property." Mrs. Dallon paused for a moment, letting that sink in. "However, there's some good news as well."
""Really?"" Dad and I were practically synchronous in our disbelief.
"Yes, really. For one, parahumans are rarely held responsible for actions taken during their trigger events, even those that are particularly destructive. Provided, of course, that those actions were not deliberately malicious. The fact you called the incident in yourself, as well as surrendered peacefully when the PRT arrived on scene reflects particularly well on you in that respect."
Dad raised his hand slightly between sentences. "Sorry to interrupt, but 'trigger events'? I'm not exactly up to date on cape terminology."
"I'll provide some notes for you to study later. It's important that you and your daughter understand all the relevant terms soon, considering." Mrs. Dallon made a note. "In this particular case, I don't blame you. The PRT does its best to keep this particular bit of information quiet. Most parahumans gain their powers during highly traumatic events, usually following an extended period of stress. The only known exceptions are Case 53s, commonly known as 'monstrous capes,' but that's simply because their origins are completely unknown to begin with. Now, you can understand why we don't want that knowledge spread, yes?"
"Because stupid people would take stupid risks to try to gain powers?" I hazarded a guess. It wasn't that much of one to be honest.
Mrs. Dallon nodded. "Or worse, criminals forcing trauma on civilians to try and force triggers. Anyway, because of their traumatic nature, it's understood that parahumans will instinctively use their new powers to escape their trigger events, regardless of the consequences. It's similar to self defense laws in certain regards."
Part of me, some naive part that had somehow survived through the bullying and also just living in Brockton Bay in general, wanted to believe that people wouldn't do that to other people. But no. No, I could totally buy that people would inflict continuous misery on others in the hopes of getting a superpowered slave or something. It had happened for much pettier reasons than-
Oh. A thought occurred. A stupid, stupid thought but the logic was there, somewhat. If Sophia was a Ward, she presumably knew how trigger events worked. And if Sophia trusted Emma as much as it looked like, she probably told Emma about being a Ward. And if she told Emma about that, she probably also explained trigger events. And if Emma knew about trigger events, why would she continuously put me through more and more traumatic bullshit and risk me coming after her in a superpowered revenge-binge? Unless… Did she want me to get powers? Did… Did she think she was doing me a favor?
I automatically rejected the idea. Even if Emma had seemingly lost her fucking marbles while I was out of town, she wasn't that stupid. And if she was that stupid and thought that asinine plan was a good idea, then I was going to electrocute her all over again. On purpose this time. Maybe it would reverse whatever brain damage she had.
"Miss Hebert? Are you paying attention?"
I shook my head to chase away the dumbness. "Sorry, just had a stupid thought."
"Hrn." Mrs. Dallon made a noise of disapproval. "As I was saying, that isn't the full extent of your advantages in the current case. On the more cynical side of things, you're simply more useful to the PRT than Shadow Stalker ever could be. A powerful Blaster/Brute is already more valuable than a low tier Breaker ability like Shadow Stalker's, but the real draw is your Tinker power. Tinker's are often seen as some of the most valuable recruits for any Cape organization due to them acting as a force multiplier when provided with supplies."
That made sense to me. A guy with super strength was good. A guy with super strength in high-tech armor that made him invincible was better.
"Also, Shadow Stalker is notorious for being… difficult to work with at the best of times. You may be a better choice simply based on attitude alone, provided you know how to behave yourself." Mrs. Dallon's expression implied I really, really ought to behave myself. So I nodded quickly and kept my mouth shut.
"Good." She continued, while getting out a pad of paper and a pen. "Now that we've got all that cleared up, why don't you tell me about what happened in your own words."
"It's a bit of a long story." I said, feeling awkward. But I started telling her everything, starting from when Emma was still my friend, to how she changed and how the bullying happened, all the way up to the Locker. By the end of it, Dad was looking almost as broken as when Mom had died, while Mrs Dallon looked even sterner than before, although she'd noted everything down dutifully..
"Do you have any evidence of this, Miss Hebert?" she asked, voice tight and controlled.
"I started keeping a journal listing incidents about a year ago. I also printed up any emails they sent me and saved them."
"Hm. Those will likely be corroborating evidence at best, but everything helps. When you get home, please make some copies and forward them to my office." Setting aside one pad of paper, she got out a second one. "Now then, we're almost done for now. To finish up this initial meeting, I'd like to know what you want to happen next, both of you. A lot of what you've been through is due to the PRT's negligence or incompetence in dealing with Shadow Stalker, so we have some ammunition to make some demands of them."
Huh. I honestly hadn't been expecting that. Honestly, I almost felt too good to be true. After so long being ignored by my school's administration, the fact that a larger authority actually might be willing to make my life better was hard to believe. Even if it was to just save their own reputation.
I stayed quiet for a while, thinking. But what I wanted wasn't that complicated and every time I tried to think of something else, I just kept coming back to the same few needs. "First off, I never want to see Emma, Sophia or Madison again. I don't really care how or why, but I guess transferring schools would be nice. Winslow's kind of shit. After that, I want to be a hero, and I can't do that if I'm in jail or anything, so I don't want… I mean, I did hurt people and make a mess, but it was honestly an accident. So it's not like I want to completely get out of all the consequences but I just… I don't want to be labeled a villain either."
"You don't want to pursue criminal charges against them." Mrs Dallon asked, sounding surprised.
"Not really. Like I said, I don't really care what happens to them. I just want the bullying to stop."
"Unfortunately, I can't say the same." Dad said, speaking up. "Those girls hurt my daughter. I want them punished in some way, not just for us, but so they don't hurt anyone else either. I also want Taylor to be kept safe. I… I know you want to go out and be a hero, Taylor, and I know that I can't stop you. But it's dangerous out there and I just…"
I reached out and squeezed Dad's hand. It wasn't much but it got a small smile out of him.
"Alright. Your first request shouldn't be hard. On the topic of keeping safe though, I'd also like to point out that you'll need protection as well, Mr. Hebert. Unfortunately, Miss Hebert's trigger event was very public and her identity is almost certainly already public knowledge. The PRT will do their best to suppress its spread but honestly, it's a forgone conclusion. And that means that criminals can and will try to use you to get to her.
""...Fuck."" Dad and I once again were in total sync.
"Indeed. Which leads me to the final thing I'd like you to consider for now: what you will do in the future. If you wish to use your tinker ability to work as a Rogue, I'll of course provide the proper paperwork and aid you in that direction. Same if you want to work as an independent hero. However…" She actually trailed off there. For the first time since meeting her, she seemed to hesitate to speak.
"Yes?" I prompted.
She actually sighed before continuing, which surprised me. "As much as I personally dislike the option, as a professional and with your best interests in mind, I do have to recommend joining the Wards."
"You seem against the idea quite a bit. I'm surprised, I'd have thought that you'd have a higher opinion of your fellow heroes. Does New Wave work closely with the PRT?" Dad asked and my eyes went wide. That was why Mrs. Dallon's name was so familiar, the Dallons were half of the extended family that made up the local independent hero team, New Wave. Apparently they tried to start a movement about unmasking and taking heroes taking more accountability, but it never caught on.
Fuck, no wonder she was so firm on not representing criminals. But also, holy fuck my lawyer was a superhero!
Ignoring my silent revelation, Mrs. Dallon explained. "We do. However, there's a reason why New Wave remains independent to this day. The PRT and the Protectorate, while they do their best, are also far from efficient or fair in my mind. The fact that they couldn't or didn't stop what was happening to Taylor is just one example of that. They're burdened by bureaucratic red tape, factionalism, a PR department with far too much sway in practical matters and orders from on high that may not have local interests at heart, in my opinion. In a normal circumstance, I'd recommend against joining up with them.
"However, your situation is not the norm. As I said, with Miss Hebert's identity revealed, you both lack the usual layer of safety most capes enjoy. While the PRT will temporarily provide protection for you, Mr. Hebert, if Taylor remains independent, they'll eventually stop. But if you join, they'll continue that protection indefinitely, even help with moving to a new city if you prefer. They've done this sort of thing before."
Dad clicked his tongue, clearly frustrated. "Tch. So they're going to hold that over our heads, huh?"
"It's manipulative, I agree. But it's better than the alternative, as much as I wish it wasn't. Still, it remains your choice." There was a flash of a frown across Mrs. Dallon's face and I remembered why the New Wave movement hadn't gotten off the ground. One of their own had been shot to death in her own home. Not something I wanted to even consider happening to Dad.
I made a sound of acknowledgement and started thinking. I didn't want to leave the city. It may have been foolish, but this was my home. It was Dad and Mom's home too. If I could, I wanted to make it a better place. So that was a non-factor. Of course, I wanted Dad to be as safe as possible. But at the same time, I don't think I could bear it if I had to deal with Sophia or anyone like her on a daily basis anymore. That really was the deciding factor, I guess. "Do you think I can meet the Wards before deciding?"
"That shouldn't be an issue. In fact, even if you aren't interested in joining, the longer you maintain the possibility that you might, the longer the PRT will play softball with the criminal charges you may face." Mrs Dallon said as she pulled out yet more papers. "Now then, if you'll just sign a few things…"
***+++***
We spent three hours doing paperwork. Three. Fucking. Hours. I know that three doesn't seem like that much, but look at it this way. I had to spend 180 minutes doing nothing but writing stuff down. No breaks. Hand cramps cannot begin to describe my agony.
And the worst part is that, after that, I didn't even get to go home. I had to talk to several more people, PRT agents, policemen, everyone seemed to want a statement from me about what happened. And that included yet more signing documents, but at least it wasn't constant anymore.
The only bright spot was, surprisingly, my Dad. He was with me the entire time, helping to explain stuff, getting me drinks, even just offering a pat on the back when I got tired. It wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, but after having been on my own for so long, yeah it felt nice. Like he was actually in my corner again, rather than just hanging around in the same general space.
When everything was finally, finally, wrapped up, we were allowed to go home. I hopped into Dad's truck and we drove home, PRT van following us all the way. We were both utterly exhausted, so we got some fast food from a drive-thru rather than have to cook anything. Once home, we mostly ate in silence, giving our voices a break after the constant talking we had to do earlier.
When we were finally done, I started to throw out the trash but Dad spoke up. "Taylor… I know today was a lot. And it sounds like you've been dealing with a lot for a long time now. Did you.. Want to talk about it?"
I thought for a second, before shaking my head. "Not tonight, Dad. I'm too tired. Tomorrow though?"
Dad didn't entirely look like he believed me, but let it go anyway. "Alright, tomorrow. Have a good night, Taylor. Sleep well."
Dad slumped in his chair afterwards. He looked tired. Defeated even. I wasn't sure what to think of it. It reminded me of when Mom died. But he was with me all day, almost, and while he looked exhausted, he didn't look broken. Maybe… I didn't know what any of it meant. But I hoped that it meant he'd start actually caring again. I wanted my dad back.
After heading up-stairs and changing into my PJs, I straight up fell into my bed. I didn't even bother getting under the covers, feeling tired enough to just fall asleep instantly. But unfortunately, I didn't.
My mind was overwhelmed with everything that happened today. All the stress, the excitement, the boredom and the terror were bouncing around in my brain, preventing me from getting sleep. It was such a roller-coaster of a day, I didn't know how to process it all. I still remembered how it felt to be trapped in that locker, gagging and shivering as bugs crawled on my face and the stench made me sick. I remembered all the fucking paperwork Mrs. Dallon made me sign, how my headache and my heart-rate spiked whenever she casually mentioned criminal charges. I remembered the people I hurt and the guilt that came with it.
I remembered what it was like with my powers active and how much better it was than just being me. The way my mind had rushed with ideas, new and fantastic. The way that I knew, not just hoped, but knew that things could get better and that I was the one capable of building that better. The power of Zeus at my fingertips. The feeling of lighting in my veins.
Was it any wonder I wanted to feel that way again?
Getting up, I promised myself it would just be for a second. To feel a bit better. To remind myself that it wasn't all just a dream. I didn't know if I was lying to myself.
With a grin, I felt the power that was inside of me, the strange, shifting energy that was underneath the surface, always ready to be summoned. I felt it and pulled. The energy rushed forth, filling my body and coating it with power. But it was different this time. I couldn't feel the crack and tingle of lightning in my veins. Instead, there was something else. Something… youthful? There was a flash of light, and-
I was supposed to be in a suit. A purple suit with a bronze gauntlet on my arm and the tips of my hair dyed blue. That's what had happened last time. But that's not what happened this time.
I had a dress on. No, worse than that. It was a skirt. A white, ruffly skirt with a pastel pink blouse. I had white gloves with gold trim on my hands, pink stockings up past my knees and goddamn feathers in my hair. I looked like a fucking Sailor Moon knock off.
I only realized that I was holding something in my hand when it started to wriggle and I instinctively let go. The item I dropped appeared to be a children's toy, a red wand with a gold star in a winged circle at the end. It looked like it was made out of cheap plastic but it was clearly more than just a toy. Instead of falling to the ground, it flew up to my face and started to speak. "Hi there! So you're my new Master, huh? A bit older than I prefer to work with, but that's fine. I'm Kaleidostick Ruby, nice to meet you!"
"Oh, what the absolute fuck."
***+++***
Oh my god, what the fuck am I doing. I'm notorious for dropping stuff and never finishing anything. We'll be lucky to get a second chapter out of me.
My own pessimism aside, I hope everyone enjoys this little brain fart of mine. I'd say I have big plans for later, but honestly, it's all random.
How the fuck do you do a decent author's note?
