I very much enjoyed being surprised! =)
Firebird, a Worm AU/Xover?
- Thread starter chibipoe
- Start date
I very much enjoyed being surprised! =)
Cxjenious
The Young Lion
Leading up to and including the Piggot scene, I agree. It's expressed in the text. Hence why I didn't mention the scene in my post.
But at the same time, there is something strange about how glibly she used her power to avoid Sophia, and how sparingly she used it afterwards. Namely, the scene with Armsy and Dad, and maybe the one with her friends...
True, but... Taylor didn't know that's all the meeting would be. For all she knew, Piggot was as much an unreasonable bitch as Emma/Sophia/Blackwell. I understand why she didn't use it for this particular scene, but what ended up happening in the scene isn't justification for not using her precognition to begin with.
Tiredness, a desire to be in control, to feel normal, are all valid reasons (and yet she still attempts to get in Piggot's head), but the reason mentioned above, that it wouldn't have been useful given Piggot's actions, doesn't hold water, because she didn't know what Piggot would do in the first place.
We know that, but Taylor doesn't. I don't particularly care about her seeing possible variations of possible futures; only that she make use of the tools given to her as she's used them from the first chapter. Looking into the future and seeing a bland, civil meeting would've been just fine. Again, given the in text justification for her not using her power, I can understand Why she didn't. For others, not so much.
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notmi
Super Koala God Super Koala
I meant at all. Taylor seems to have fantastic powers, except at any point where she should actually use them. This has already been addressed somewhat by the author, though, so I'll drop it.
I find the emotionally exhausted explanation to fall flat for me. She doesn't feel exhausted to me, She just feels passive. The "emotional exhaustion" seems to just pop up out of nowhere, as it wasn't represented in earlier chapters, and feels artificial to me. She feels like a completely different person than in earlier chapters. Like, she has shown a complete lack of an ability to control her emotions. That's fine, but that lack should not disappear for plot reasons. Consistent characterization is a thing.
I think a large part of my complaints comes from the separation of her actions in regards to the PRT in contrast to her earlier actions and thoughts. Early on, by influence of Jean, she is confident and sure of herself, fairly easily making friends and planning her way out of the bullying. She even has several "Bow down to me" moments that seemed to have died down for some reason. This, in an unhealthy way, is even reflected in her blow-ups against her friends and father. When they start to take control of things away from her, and take her out of the comfort zone she had made for herself, she freaks and lashes out. This, while not a good thing, is reasonable and in character.
Contrast that to her actions in regards to the PRT/Protectorate. In spite of them disregarding her refusal several times, completely ignoring her privacy, and just all around making asses of themselves, she still seems to treat them with respect, and just seems to accept their actions as if she should have no say in it. Armsmaster literally spied on her for several weeks, and she just brushes it off. He then proceeds to ham-handedly out her to her father in a public place, in an extremely reckless manner, but she is more angry at Danny than him, and seems completely over it later. Even Miss Militia acts in a rather crude way to her. Yet this doesn't seem to lower them in her opinion at all. If it does, it doesn't reflect in her actions.
I'm not sure if it's just because Chibi likes those characters or what, but Taylor seems incapable of having a spine when near them.
chibipoe
May I tell you of the glory that is Catradora?
- Location
- Astoria, Oregon
I retconned that out.
OverReactionGuy
Verified Sanity
Well... Taylor gets her powers from a comic, so recon's are bound to happen.
thefluffyone
Big Ego for Something so Small, eh?
- Location
- Earth
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chibipoe
May I tell you of the glory that is Catradora?
- Location
- Astoria, Oregon
That gif is really obnoxious.
thefluffyone
Big Ego for Something so Small, eh?
- Location
- Earth
Spoiler'd for obnoxiousness.
FinalPyre
Ennui Engine
For me, the thing that seems most off about this development is that for all of Taylor's apparent stubbornness and aggression in earlier chapters, it seems that she never suggests -- or even considers -- the "no" option. Piggot can give her all the options that work through the system that Piggot operates in, but Taylor never seems to consider "What if I just say 'no'?"
That's a pretty standard reaction for teenagers, even. Danny selling her out to the Ward program doesn't actually mean that they can bring down consequences on her if she isn't willing to cooperate. She can just not show up, and do whatever she wants really, and I believe they would be quite limited in what they can do to discourage her. At best, they might be able to do something like pin property damage she causes while acting independently in costume on her father. That's not going to work in their favour either.
They have the legal authority to declare that she is part of the Wards program, but they have no capacity to actually make her be a Ward. They probably can't even legally make her show up if she doesn't want to.
I understand that she's exhausted, but it seems like she went from loads of asserting her dominance and aggression -- needing to feel like she was regaining control -- to being super submissive and giving away what little control she has left.
And I guess as an aside, I also feel the precog and mind reading not working everywhere is starting to feel really hand-wavy. If you didn't ever want them to work when they would do anything important, you maybe should have left them out of the powerset?
That's a pretty standard reaction for teenagers, even. Danny selling her out to the Ward program doesn't actually mean that they can bring down consequences on her if she isn't willing to cooperate. She can just not show up, and do whatever she wants really, and I believe they would be quite limited in what they can do to discourage her. At best, they might be able to do something like pin property damage she causes while acting independently in costume on her father. That's not going to work in their favour either.
They have the legal authority to declare that she is part of the Wards program, but they have no capacity to actually make her be a Ward. They probably can't even legally make her show up if she doesn't want to.
I understand that she's exhausted, but it seems like she went from loads of asserting her dominance and aggression -- needing to feel like she was regaining control -- to being super submissive and giving away what little control she has left.
And I guess as an aside, I also feel the precog and mind reading not working everywhere is starting to feel really hand-wavy. If you didn't ever want them to work when they would do anything important, you maybe should have left them out of the powerset?
Thank you for another chapter. Real life interfered and I was unable to comment on your reply to my previous post until today, when I saw this chapter. (I can't say that I enjoyed it as much as the others but I'll comment on it and try something new a bit further down.)
First some questions if you don't mind.
I'm sorry I wasn't clear enough when I asked the question originally. What (if any) policy does the PRT/Protectorate have if an unwilling Ward does not join the Protectorate when they no longer qualify as a Ward, due to age, says "Goodbye, hope to never see you again," and gets a place of her own. The parent's contract can no longer force them to be a Ward as they are old enough to legally make their own decisions. The ex-Ward has probably learned a great deal about the PRT/Protectorate/Wards and must represent a security risk. Also, a Ward would (to the best of my knowledge) still have been too young to sign any binding legal documentation, like non-disclosure agreements. (And once free would likely not want to sign anything.) So do they have a policy (in your reality) and if so what?
My second question. Responsibility for the wards. Who is responsible for what? Schedules, training (if any), counselling/therapy (if any), budget, field command and so forth. I ask because in a previous chapter the Wards referred to Armsmaster as "the boss" and Madisson reported to him and took his orders. With what he has done and Taylor's current feelings towards him... It could be a problem if he is responsible for the wards.
My third question. Is there anything in the Ward's contract that Danny signed that would allow the PRT to either keep Taylor as a Ward if he tries to change his mind? Or perhaps there are things like fines perhaps that would strongly discourage him from trying to withdraw her from the wards program?
My last questions are about Lieutenant Simmons.
Also, Lieutenant Danica Simmons's comments and words did not seem to be that of a professional agent giving a tour, she was too perfect for setting up Tailor to respect Piggot, sympathise with her and to absolve her (and the PRT) of any blame for Taylor's current situation to be anything but deliberate. For example
Was she instructed to act like that?
Now for something that bothered me. (And hopefully some constructive criticism. Please ignore all you want as you're good at writing and I'm not. Very much not.) In the original story Piggot reffered to Parahumans as monsters more than once in her thoughts. I believe she also referred to them as either insane or mad at least once. You got around Taylor sensing/reading her attitude (if she is like the original) it in this story by making her very hard to read and that felt a lot... weaker... than what you usually write.
Also, I don't believe that you wrote that it was that hard to get a read on Armsmaster. Taylor just got a headache whenever she started. (Likely due to starting to read the shard as well.)
First some questions if you don't mind.
I'm sorry I wasn't clear enough when I asked the question originally. What (if any) policy does the PRT/Protectorate have if an unwilling Ward does not join the Protectorate when they no longer qualify as a Ward, due to age, says "Goodbye, hope to never see you again," and gets a place of her own. The parent's contract can no longer force them to be a Ward as they are old enough to legally make their own decisions. The ex-Ward has probably learned a great deal about the PRT/Protectorate/Wards and must represent a security risk. Also, a Ward would (to the best of my knowledge) still have been too young to sign any binding legal documentation, like non-disclosure agreements. (And once free would likely not want to sign anything.) So do they have a policy (in your reality) and if so what?
My second question. Responsibility for the wards. Who is responsible for what? Schedules, training (if any), counselling/therapy (if any), budget, field command and so forth. I ask because in a previous chapter the Wards referred to Armsmaster as "the boss" and Madisson reported to him and took his orders. With what he has done and Taylor's current feelings towards him... It could be a problem if he is responsible for the wards.
My third question. Is there anything in the Ward's contract that Danny signed that would allow the PRT to either keep Taylor as a Ward if he tries to change his mind? Or perhaps there are things like fines perhaps that would strongly discourage him from trying to withdraw her from the wards program?
My last questions are about Lieutenant Simmons.
Why was Lieutenant Simmons given Taylor's identity? Why not her cape name? Shouldn't the PRT try to keep her identity secret? Or at least pretend that they're doing so?
Also, Lieutenant Danica Simmons's comments and words did not seem to be that of a professional agent giving a tour, she was too perfect for setting up Tailor to respect Piggot, sympathise with her and to absolve her (and the PRT) of any blame for Taylor's current situation to be anything but deliberate. For example
Was she instructed to act like that?
Now for something that bothered me. (And hopefully some constructive criticism. Please ignore all you want as you're good at writing and I'm not. Very much not.) In the original story Piggot reffered to Parahumans as monsters more than once in her thoughts. I believe she also referred to them as either insane or mad at least once. You got around Taylor sensing/reading her attitude (if she is like the original) it in this story by making her very hard to read and that felt a lot... weaker... than what you usually write.
However before this Taylor was able to read her, at least somewhat
In the future, while Taylor is still clumsy with her telepathy, could it perhaps be handled by her reading an emotion, feeling or even partial thought and misinterpreting it? If she tries reading Piggot and gets a feeling of disgust or anger, she can believe, due to what is being discussed, that the feeling is for how Armsmaster or her father mishandled something. Determination can be mistaken for a determination to help her instead of determination to manipulate her into something. A fragmentary thought "This will work" can be mistaken for what she thinks is help being offered, instead of realizing that it is for manipulation that is succeeding.
Also, I don't believe that you wrote that it was that hard to get a read on Armsmaster. Taylor just got a headache whenever she started. (Likely due to starting to read the shard as well.)
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earthboy
(verified ape)
- Location
- NYC
- Pronouns
- He/Him
That's incredibly ominous, given the context of who's saying it.
I'm sorry but I've reread the chapter a couple of times and it still feels like it's about an entirely different character then the one from before. even with going over it with the emotional exhaustion in mind
Don't forget Gallant. Him running squealing to Armsmaster probably won't sit well with her either once she finds out about it. And if they happen to suggest that she
Sasha
Not the Leader
- Location
- The Ever After
Yeah, that's something I was worrying about too. It's really not a question of if, but rather when Taylor will snap and cause some sort of mass panic and/or destruction.
There were mentions of her not really having an appetite this chapter, and I can't help but wonder if that's because she ate off-screen or because she's not yet hungry enough to go munch on a star a-la-Dark Phoenix:
I don't know whether that's quite appropriate. She joined a criminal organization that (I think it was implied) had special privileges due to how Alexandria messed up and what was needed to cover that up.
That might perhaps maybe be because she was manipulated by Lieutenant Simmons to see Piggot as good and ill before the meeting. (Good: Somebody who won't try to abuse you. Ill: Somebody who should't be pressed too hard.) When Piggot then offers her that "great" third option she doesn't press Piggot about it. Hopefully she'll sleep on any descission and discuss it with Victoria first. And remember that Piggot insisted on this late night meeting. (But I agree, it felt off to me too.)
I don't know what legal action, if any, they could take against her. Maybe they would act against Danny? Threaten to sue him for everything he's got on some flimsy exscuse or another? (Sub clause whatever in the contract.) After all, the PRT and Protectorate in the original story were far from being good organizations. (Individual members yes, the organizations itself no.)
Hopefully this will be handled in the next chapter.
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HoboKnife
I'm glad we got to know each other better.
Yeah, it really feels like she just sort of suddenly decided to stop being bullheadedly uncooperative with everyone, even people she knows had her best interests in mind... especially jarring as Piggot is basically the exact type of person to inspire that behavior in the first place, more than anyone Taylor's been needlessly antagonizing so far.
Dreaming - 2.6
chibipoe
May I tell you of the glory that is Catradora?
- Location
- Astoria, Oregon
2.6
The rooftop was devoid of any obvious guards when I started to touch down, although the series of blinding lights pointing skyward made it hard to tell for sure. As I landed though, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. One pattern of lights lit a path straight to a nearby door, and I could imagine that if I looked again, it would be a landing pad from above. With both feet firmly planted, I gazed around for a moment, rubbing my arms against the chill breeze as I debated with myself one last time over continuing or just leaving.
Miss Militia's argument had brought me here and just a few more steps would continue what my dad had started with filling out those papers. Right now, I still had a choice. I could say 'no' and just turn around and fly away, and nothing would stop me. And I wanted to, just so badly wanted to. But at the same time, another part of me asked if I wanted to go back to my father? That was a question that I honestly didn't want to answer.
But after everything else, all the anger, all the frustration, looking at the door just made me realize one thing.
I'm tired.
I was done with today in all its moments. But thinking back, I was tired of myself. The shocks were done, the reveals had happened, and the conflicts in retrospect were lost. I had won in the fact I had gotten in the last words. But without the haze of my frustrations and anger, I realized that having the last words hadn't been worth it. I collapsed inward on myself, shrinking into my jacket as the heat seemed to leave me with the thought. I just wanted everything to end and to pretend like I hadn't made the mistakes I did.
I laughed bitterly at that. Like I could turn back time and not be an idiot a second time round. I couldn't help but tick off those mistakes, one by one.
Catherine and Minako had at least deserved a chance to explain. For every failing I had thrown at my dad, there was one I was probably guilty of as well. I had taken all that anger from Armsmaster and I had dumped it on everyone else in turn, not listening and just letting it speak for me. As much as I wanted to place all the blame for today on someone else, I couldn't deny my own part. I was as much to blame for everything self-destructing as anyone else.
I uncrossed my arms to look up, thinking of my dad and what had brought me here as I began trying to pick out stars. I gave up after a moment. With the roof lights, I couldn't see any of the ones I usually looked for. At least the moon was visible, a waning crescent that filled me with melancholy as I stared upward.
I looked away from it quickly, shivering like someone had poured cold water down my back. Thoughts of earlier replaced the sadness, as embers of my earlier anger igniting for a moment and my fists clenched. The core of it was that feeling of betrayal when he had told me I didn't have choice in the matter, that he thought he could just suddenly dictate my actions after ignoring everything. No asking or anything, just his choice out of the blue that made me grit my teeth.
The anger vanished as quickly as it had started, leaving exhausted clarity. I wasn't sure we could fix this, after the things I, we, had said. I wasn't sure I wanted to. His choice had lead here. But my choice had sparked it. Which circled me round again to what I was going to do now. I could stay here to hear the Director out or leave and ignore this entirely. The urge at the back of my mind itched, to use my precognition and chart the results of both actions.
But I wouldn't, at least not going back. I was going to stay. This ended now, one way or another. I would resolve this, I had to. Because before I could go back and fix my other mistakes, I had to try and fix this one. The resolution at least gave me something to focus on, something to draw my attention from how my hair was a mess from flying, or how it felt like I had weights on the end of my eyelids and how my muscles felt drawn and painfully tight.
"I hear them out. That's it. After all," I said with a dry laugh. "What are they going to say that could make it worse?" Miss Militia had been honest, so I could at least start by standing by what I had said. I nodded to myself as the decision was made, looking toward the door, somewhat curious as to why I was still alone. I started to reach forward trying to see if I was expected to enter by myself or not when it opened on it's own and I cut off my peek at the future.
A uniformed PRT agent stepped out, looking around for a second before her eyes settled on me. She was taller than me, blonde hair framing a heart-shaped face. A questioning smile broke out on her face as she gave me a once over as she approached me.
"I assume you're who I'm supposed to meet, yes?" she asked, giving the roof another survey before once more fixing her regard on me. One hand came up, holding an ID card toward me. "Lieutenant Danica Simmons."
"That's me," I almost-mumbled, lowering my walls to try and get a feel for her. I immediately regretted this as I hadn't realized that there were a lot of people in the building beneath my feet. I hastily rebuilt the blocks, hiding my sigh of relief as one of exhaustion as the noise faded to an almost inaudible murmur before I blinked away the fuzz at the edges of my vision and smiled hollowly. "I guess I'm here to see the Director?"
Danica nodded. "So I was told. The Director is indisposed handling some medical issues and will be occupied with that for awhile longer. I can show you to a waiting room, if you'd like or, with your permission, I could give you a bit of a tour to pass the time?"
I closed my eyes, feigning deep thought as I reached forward, tracing myself on the first option. In the end, all I could see was myself, lounging in a bare room as the minutes passed. In the end, nothing happened and I was welcoming quietly into the room and I cut if off. I opened my eyes and nodded."The tour sounds nice, actually."
The agent nodded, smiling as she gestured for me to follow after her. "Great! While I can't take you everywhere, There are a few spots I can show you." As she guided me through the door, I looked behind me and upward to the sliver of the moon again and I felt that odd sense of melancholy once more before the door closed behind me.
The clicking of the machine as it did its work was almost enough to lull her into a drowsing sleep as she leaned back into the medical chair, lit almost solely by the light of her laptop. The room itself was dim bordering on dark, the lights turned low but not so low as to not afford her enough light to work by, because there was always work, but not enough that anyone who had to enter her presence could see her like this.
Not that there was any chance of that. She had standing orders not to be disturbed during this time unless there was an emergency. Nothing was occurring now that warranted interrupting the session. Not even the mess that was finally coming to a head, which was the situation that had kept one of the Protectorate occupied on what she had felt was a wild goose chase.
Today had proven her wrong, but the information scattered across the surface in front of her still merited a thorough assessment. The girl was volatile and Armsmaster's speculations suggested that she had enough power to be a concern. Emily Piggot sighed, massaging the sides of her head as she considered the options for handling the situation. Her eyes tracked across the reports, several of which were hastily assembled evaluations of how she was likely to be thinking, provided by the Thinkers in PRT employ.
Most of it was going to be useless, she knew, as teenagers tended toward the mercurial so often that determining what they would do was often difficult to predict. Still, they were at least going to give her enough information to build the best method of settling the powder keg of issues around the girl.
The Director's attention was drawn away from the papers to her laptop, the reports that Armsmaster had submitted after he and Miss Militia had met with the girl filling most of the screen. She took note of his belief that she had some sort of intuition into what people were thinking. If that were true, it would make it difficult to convince her with her normal methods. Thinkers were always troublesome. One had to be creative, mercurial even. The worst part was not knowing what a Thinker was doing precisely.
She looked over the notes on what they had determined about the girl's home life, explicitly the father, both from the recordings of his call to Armsmaster and what had been investigated independently. His overzealousness in pursuing this matter was proving indirectly useful and she wondered for a moment how he had provoked her to such hostility with the information available.
A schism between father and daughter over his making a decision without consulting her. She considered that fact, tapping a finger on the table rhythmically as she did so. That was an avenue she could explore. Done properly, she could widen the gulf between them and secure a potential asset for the Wards by redirecting any anger away from them towards a more familial source.
A downward twist of her lips accompanied the dismissal of the notion. It was tempting, but left too many cracks that others could exploit. She needed the girl on board willingly, not through sleight of hand that might be uncovered. No, playing the girl against her father was not an approach she needed to pursue. Best that any further breaks between them had no hint of PRT or Protectorate involvement at all, given what had occurred already.
That lever discarded, she continued in thought. Plans were weighed, compared, and tossed away when found wanting. She reduced the issue to something like a numerical problem: what combination of factors would increase the standing power of the Wards and Protectorate, and indirectly the PRT? What ones would decrease potential damage and maximize the payoff?
Her eyes settled on one line of text in one of the reports, from either Armsmaster or Miss Militia, she wasn't sure who, remarking on the girl's frustrations with people making decisions or talking at her. The girl was a combination of a near-paranoid distrust of authority combined with recent events into an emotional bomb ready to go off. In the reports own words, 'Everyone is an enemy' to her.
Emily Piggot nodded to herself as a method of approach took shape. It was going to be tricky, given the potential minefield the girl was likely to be, but if she played her cards right, then she could turn this into a benefit for all involved. The key would be choice. Both illusionary and real. Start with that and build from there.
She looked at the clock, noting the time. The doctor would be in shortly to get her detached from this and then she could meet with Taylor Hebert. She began cleaning up the files spread out before her, then sent a message to the agent she had escorting the girl around the less sensitive parts of the building. She was going to get unhooked, cleaned up and then she would see what could be done with this situation.
The building that served as the headquarters of the PRT in downtown Brockton Bay was surprisingly welcoming once you got inside. I wasn't sure if this was simply a front, but the hallways I was led down had an air of welcome and comfort about them that made it hard to ward off my drowsiness. It was probably helped by the emotional echoes of genuine concern and belief in their duty that I felt from a good handful of the people throughout the building. Nearly everyone I could feel was sincere in their desire to help make things a better place.
There still was, however, an undercurrent of hopelessness, a sense of near-constant agitation. I couldn't pinpoint exactly why or where it was coming from as there were enough people in the building that if I dropped my shields to look in depth, I'd be overwhelmed like I was at Fugly Bob's. I followed the agent who had met me on the rooftop. Danica was now guiding me on a roundabout tour to what I assumed would end with the Director's office while I gave half my attention to her and half to looking around as we descended through the building towards our destination.
I didn't know a great deal about the Director of the PRT, but the brief moment I had dropped my shields a little to get a better feel for the people in the building, I had found one who had a lot more occupying their thoughts than what I assumed were the rank and file staff did. That was probably the Director and the impressions I had gotten were of a person determined to do their job no matter what, mixed with discontentment of some sort. Still, I felt a strange mix of guilt and glee that she was here this late dealing with me. For my PRT guide though, it was mostly guilt. She had been polite to me so far.
"I'm sorry to have you here, showing me around when it's so late," I said, glancing at my cellphone's clock as I broke my silence while following behind her with my shoulders hunched, trying to stay tense to ward off my exhaustion . It was late. I hadn't realized what time it was, with all that was happening. It made me realize just how much I had to fight to not mumble my words and keep the world in focus. Or how much my contacts itched. "I'm surprised the Director is here at all, given the time."
"Well, this is when it gets busiest, actually. Mondays are always long days for her. Meetings during the day and overseeing everything else in the evening," Danica said, grimacing slightly as she glanced in my direction. "She shouldn't pull such long hours though, given her health."
"I can come back tomorrow," I offered, the desire to sleep prodding the words out before I could think further on what she was saying. "I can find a place to stay and be back first thing in the morning, if that will work better."
Danica waved a hand. "Mondays are just her longest days, is all. Some of us don't think she should work late, though, for her own well-being."
It took me a moment to consider it, but ultimately I decided to probe more on the fact contained in her statement. "She's ill?" I frowned slightly. That could be the person I had felt initially. Determined to do their job even if they were sick. That didn't seem like all of it though.
"Not ill, but not well," Danica explained after a moment, looking off into the distance for a second before smiling. "All the same, while she can be difficult and a few of us worry about her, I don't think I could ask for a better boss."
"Really?" I asked, feeling a strong sense of pride from her even through my walls. She meant what she said about the Director. I turned my head slightly, staring at a wall as I tentatively started to stretch my thoughts out toward others, to see if they felt the same.
"Are you coming?" Danica's questioning voice intruded on what I was doing, drawing my attention back to myself.
"Oh, sorry," I murmured, blinking and pulling back. "I spaced out."
"A bit overwhelming, is it?" she asked with a smile. A couple of uniformed PRT agents came down the hall from the direction we were going, talking animatedly. They fell silent as they saw Danica, snapped quick salutes before moving on and resuming their conversation.
"It is a bit," I told her, looking back at the pair for a moment. "Something going on? They seemed kind of excited."
"We had a new Ward transfer in, finally," Danica said. "It's kicked up a bit of a fuss. The Wards are also changing shifts, so everyone's handling that as well."
"Another new Ward?" I asked, smiling wryly at the thought. "A good thing, I hope?"
Danica nodded and looked at me for a moment, measuring me. I kept still as much I was wanted to. For all that she had been amicable and easy to talk to, Danica's gaze now was assessing me in a way that left me wanting to move away or draw her attention to anything else.
"I believe so," she finally said, settling back into the easygoing manner she had before. "I won't lie, as far as capes go, the Protectorate and Wards are outnumbered when you look the rest of the city. There's more villains than both combined and even if you count the independents on our side, we still are at a disadvantage. Everyone we can get is a boost to our effectiveness."
I nodded silently, mulling over her words as she drew a phone from her pocket and looked at something on the screen. Danica sent off what I thought were multiple messages quickly, then looked at me.
"So, the Director's finishing up and should be ready to meet with you shortly," she said. "In the meantime, I've cleared the cafeteria. Did you want to get anything to eat or drink real quick?"
"I'm not hungry," I said with a shake of my head, realizing it was true. I still had the box with the burger tucked into one pocket of my backpack, but there was no desire to eat. I just felt too tired to even take the effort. "I wouldn't mind something to drink though."
"That," Danica smiled as she spoke, "we can do. Follow me."
Vista dropped her mask into a nearby chair. "That was boring. I get the PR angle, but do we honestly have to stop for every single tourist on the Boardwalk? I swear we're not going to waste our time with stupid patrols of the boardwalk where we end up getting our pictures taken more than actually stopping crime when I get a say."
"Don't you have some growing before the- hey!" Clockblocker rubbed the back of his head, ducking away as she raised her fist menacingly from the other side of the room. "That was uncalled for."
"Not funny," she growled before going over to the miniature refrigerator and pulling a bottle of chocolate milk out. "I mean, I heard 'Oh, you're so cute' so much tonight."
"Well, you are, half-pint," he said, pulling his own mask off and walking over. She gave him an irritated look as he ruffled her hair, pushing his hand away.
"Dennis, stop," she said plaintively. "I'm not a kid!"
"Missy," he said seriously. "We're all kids as far as Piggy is concerned. It'll get better, I'm sure."
She glared at him. "Easy for you to say. You've got less than a year and you'll be in charge when Aegis switches teams."
"Don't remind me," he said sourly, holding his hands up. "Not looking forward to that. Gallant can have the job as far as I am concerned."
"Excuse me," a female voice interrupted and both turned to see an asian girl with a backpack slung over one shoulder standing in the doorway. "This is the Wards meeting room, right?"
"That's us!" Dennis said brightly. "You're our new member?"
"Flechette. Lily Kitazawa, as well, I suppose." she answered, before smiling and dropping her backpack into a corner chair. "I'm going out on a limb, but… Vista and Clockblocker?"
Dennis laid a hand against his forehead. "I've been found out. Yes, I'm Vista. Don't tell-ow!"
Vista moved her foot off of his. "You're not funny. I'm Vista and he's Clockblocker."
"It's just the two of you?" she asked, looking around at the mostly empty common area curiously.
"Oh, the others are getting ready to go out or just coming in for monitor duty," Vista explained. "We just got back, actually."
"I'm here!" Kid Win called out, rushing into the room and almost stumbling. He was struggling with some part of his costume. "Sorry, dinner was a huge thing and ran long. I'm not late, am I? Please tell me I'm not late. Piggot's going to have my head if I'm late to patrol again."
"You're fine," Dennis said. "We just got back in and were meeting with our new member."
"Oh!" he blinked, looking at Lily for a meet. "Sorry, didn't notice you. I'm Chris. Kid Win."
"Lily," she said, smiling at him as well.
"Nice meeting you," he said, glancing at the other two. "Do you guys know what's going on upstairs? I wanted to get something from the cafeteria to take with, but the guards were out keeping anyone away."
"The Director's meeting with someone," Triumph's voice cut in as he entered with Aegis in tow. "We're supposed to stay out of the way until it's sorted out. That's all I know at the moment. Kid, you and Aegis should be going if you don't want to be late."
"Got it," Kid Win said, going to a locker and taking out what looked like a skateboard. "Ready, future boss?"
Aegis nodded, looking toward him from where he have been speaking to Lily. "Let's go. It was nice meeting you, Lily. We'll talk more when we get back, if you're still here."
"Gallant and Browbeat have the last patrol," Vista said sourly, moving to the couch and dropping onto it with a pout. "They'll probably show up here in a bit."
"What's that about?" Lily asked quietly, nodding toward Vista, who had turned on the television and was morbidly clicking through channels.
"Hm? Oh, that. Well…" He walked toward the other side of the room and Lily followed. "Missy's kind of got a crush on-" The words died in his throat as he slowly turned, to find that the two of them were now standing near the couch.
"Vista's got a crush on…?" The youngest Ward asked, forcing a smile at him.
"On Browbeat?" he finished with a grin.
"No." Vista said, snorting. "That'd just be weird."
He blinked. "Wait, what? Why? He's a handsome guy… I'm told… by people who like guys… I wouldn't know myself. At all."
Lily's eyes sparkled as she covered her mouth with one hand. "I'm sure. Vista, what do you think?"
"Well!" He said, a touch too loud, drowning out whatever she had been about to say. "What do you think is up with Piggy's secret meeting?"
"Someone changing sides, maybe?" Vista wondered. "Seems like it's something important if they're blocking off places. Maybe don't want someone to be seen?"
"I don't know if things are done the same here," Lily said. "But this sounds like the practice if there is someone they don't want seeing certain places or people. Or those people seeing him or her. First time security procedures, it sounds like."
"I suppose if they want us to know, we'll be told," he finally shrugged before almost bouncing. "Who's up for video games?"
"Don't sit near him if you play," Vista said, standing up. "He cheats with his powers."
"I'll play if I get to pick," Lily said, grinning in a way that made Dennis uncomfortable.
"Um, sure?" he agreed with a nervous smile.
"You have Doki Doki Revolution?" she asked, looking over the gaming equipment and the platform with an almost predatory gleam in her eyes that turned into an outright sparkle as she honed in on the appropriate gear.
Vista looked confused at the wolfish grin on Lily's face while Clockblocker, feeling a new sense of metaphorical gaming doom, swallowed nervously as he now-shyly replied in a half timid "Yes…?"
"Perfect!" she said gleefully. "Help me get this set up and we'll started."
I didn't say anything as Danica pushed the button on the panel and the elevator doors closed, beginning its ascent to the floor where the Director's office was. I spent the wait leaning against the elevator wall, eyes closed as I tried to relax just enough that I wouldn't appear nervous without dozing off. I had a half-finished bottle of tea that barely qualified as such now tucked in my backpack from the cafeteria. The brief stop in the cafeteria had done nothing to spark an appetite, leaving me potentially less hungry than I was before I entered.
"Now," Danica said, breaking the silence after a moment. "Please understand that how all this happened wasn't intended to happen as it did. I cannot speak for others, but I can say that while your day was incredibly stressful, keep in mind that none of us, especially not the Director, are against you. Whatever you decide, remember that, please?"
I nodded without opening my eyes, somewhat enjoying the cool metal of the wall. The chill was actually starting to help against a building migraine as I had to keep diverting more focus to keeping my mental walls up. "I will." I recited more than actually said. The pace had slowed down after the cafeteria and what energy I had been running on to keep myself going seemed almost completely spent now. Curling up in bed seemed highly appealing now and I wondered if I could put this off until the morning.
No, I was here and the Director was too. Running off now would just sour everything. I had agreed to come here and hear her out and that, at least, I was going to do. The elevator dinged and the doors slowly opened, revealing another hallway that looked more or less identical to several others that I had been in since I got here.
"This way," Danica said, making a left turn into the same waiting area I had seen in my mind earlier. In the corner of the space, the door with Director printed on the glass sat closed. "Let me check that she's in and I'll be right back." I nodded and settled into a chair, depositing my backpack beside me as she disappeared through the door.
My eyes drifted toward my pack and I saw the zipper had come undone, revealing part of my costume. I bit my lip at the sight of it. Should I go change into it? Be Sirin for this meeting instead of Taylor?
I shook my head and pulled the zipper closed. No, no point to that now. Everyone it mattered with at the moment knew who I was anyways. Putting it on would just be an exercise in redundancy. I had other things that I could worry about, like not letting myself be suddenly overwhelmed by telepathic background noise. Still, I was pulled from my musings as the door opened again and my PRT escort exited and gestured to the door.
"She'll see you now," Agent Dianca looked down at my pack and offered a hand forward. "I could hold that if you want, or…?"
"I don't imagine you'll let me just carry a pack in to the Director's office that hasn't been searched," I said with a bit of forced humor.
"I promise it'll be fine," Danica said while she gave me a small smile "It'll be here when you get out." Ultimately, I nodded silently as I passed it over. I took a deep breath and went in, letting the door close behind me.
The woman behind the desk looked unwell, was my first thought. It was quickly replaced with stern as I looked closer. She was wearing a slightly rumpled white dress shirt, with a similarly rumpled suit jacket in navy blue hanging from a hook to her left. She looked overweight and the artificial light in the room made her pallor look even more off.
Blonde hair shifted slightly as her heard shifted and steel-grey eyes regarded me, weighing in the same manner that Danica had done earlier.
"Taylor Hebert, I presume?" she asked after a moment, apparently satisfied with whatever she had found while assessing me.
"Yes. And you would be Director…?," I said tiredly. One eyebrow shifted slightly upward and she nodded slightly.
"Piggot. Emily Piggot, Director of Brockton Bay's Parahuman Response Team," She gestured towards a chair, so far friendly enough albeit I hadn't tried to get a read off of her. "Have a seat Miss Hebert, please."
"Thank you," I said, trying to settle instead of slump into the indicated chair. "I suppose a thank you is in order for seeing me so late about this." I kept my gaze focused on her. I wasn't picking up anything hostile, but it was hard to get a read on what she was thinking. Trying to reach through my wall and get a feel for what she was thinking while keeping it up was becoming a task, one harder than it was supposed to be. The tiredness I felt made keeping my blocks in place to screen others out while holding the walls up difficult. Doing that while attempt to get a read on her was quickly starting to feel like a self-defeating cycle.
Her eyebrows shifted again and I thought she was pleased for some reason as she settled her hands on the desk, fingers laced together. "The sentiment is appreciated, Miss Hebert. I hope you'll forgive me if we get straight to business?"
I nodded. "Certainly." Definitely the person I had noticed earlier. This close, there was no mistaking the sense that she had a lot on her mind, though I couldn't get anything more specific than that. It was like a static or fuzz was invading my senses the longer I went on. I tentatively contemplated just outright lowering my shields to get more of an in-depth feel for her thoughts, but the instant I brushed up against them I immediately recoiled as the voices surged in volume before dying down again and the attempt died altogether. It was enough that I almost missed what she said next, and had to discreetly pinch myself to bring back focus.
"I am given to understand that your father has signed the papers to admit you into the Wards program," she began and I shifted both at the unwelcome reminder and at the moment of discomfort from the influx of lingering emotions but remained silent. "Also, that he intends you to participate regardless of your own wishes."
Her hands did not move in the slightest as she regarded me while I grimaced in agreement. "That is certainly within his authority as you are a minor and he your legal guardian. So, in the strictest sense of things, once he placed his signature on those documents, the meeting we are having now became a pointless formality from a legal standpoint."
I nodded slightly, but I bridled the urge to stamp my feet or shout denials. I was both too tired to do so and genuinely curious where she was going with this. Legally, perhaps she was right, but I didn't see how they could really enforce that. But she was leading this to somewhere, I could feel that much, for certain.
She drew her hands apart and gestured for emphasis. "Also strictly speaking, that while the paperwork is in his possession and has not yet been filed and recognized by us, they are not legally binding in any way, shape, or form. You currently exist in a sort of legal limbo in regards to this situation. You are not a Ward, or an affiliated Parahuman and do not have any of the standard privileges afforded to such."
"However," she continued, crossing her fingers in front of her once more. "You do have a series of options open to you in how to resolve this. Of course, provided that your father does bring in and file the paperwork, you legally become a Ward. In which case, while you cannot be forced to participate in any given activity, it does become difficult to operate as a Parahuman in a number of ways."
I frowned even as I started on a different approach. I tried harder not to reach out, but to listen like before. To let her thoughts echo off my defenses. But all I got was an echo of what she was saying, laser-focused and clear. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean, ma'am."
"Simply put, if your father submits that paperwork, your safety becomes in large part the responsibility of the Protectorate, PRT, and Wards," she elaborated. "Both morally, and more prominently, legally. We are obliged to look towards your well-being, and failure on either side of the line can carry heavy repercussions. There are organizations set up that if some conditions are not being met, can legally intervene to great effect."
"That being said," she went on. "I will be honest with you, Miss Hebert. While I won't deny our need for additional members to the Wards and eventually the Protectorate, as Agent Simmons informed me she had advised you on, I also won't deny that I do not want to add another Ward under this sort of situation."
"My father forcing me, you mean?" I asked, a bit of my temper flaring for a moment both at that point being brought up, and the sheer lack of anything from my senses. Just echoes and strictly controlled emotions. It was almost like...
She smiled thinly. "I'm of the understanding that your situation is not the most stable, from several angles. I have one new Ward that was just introduced today, to add another that is, if you'll ignore my bluntness, as emotionally volatile as you are currently, is inviting trouble."
"But you want to," I said before I could stop myself. "Is it because of being outnumbered?"
The Director said nothing for a moment before nodding, a hint of exasperation leaking through as she sat back in her chair. "It's hardly information that you cannot learn for yourself, but yes. The fact is, the Protectorate and Wards are outnumbered almost two of them to every one of us."
"There are independents and rogues, though," I pointed out, while I tried one last time to listen past the white-noise and hear what she was truly thinking. "Is it really that bad, even with them?"
Her thin smile returned with a grim edge. "Even accounting for them, it is. Unfortunately, many among the independent community are… unreliable at best. A hindrance at worst. For as much good as they do, with respect to them, the PRT and Protectorate have to clean up their messes. Rogues refuse to participate at all on either side, although the ones that are able to follow through on that are either strong enough to evade recruitment or weak enough to not warrant it."
It was... It was almost like she was controlling herself just so I couldn't feel anything. But that's impossible, right?
"Isn't any help better than no help?" I asked, frowning slightly at her description.
"All things being equal, yes," she elaborated. "Unfortunately, we live in a city with three different parahuman gangs. Two of these gangs have very dangerous individuals capable of vast destruction. We have an unspoken truce that keeps everything in control, but it's a powder keg, Miss Hebert. One that I have to manage. I will use any resource at hand if it will help prevent the spark that might make this city go up in flames."
I didn't say anything and she continued after a second. "So, yes, though it could potentially be disruptive due to the current situation you find yourself in, I would accept you into the Wards if you chose to join. We need every hand that can be spared and if I'm to manage the cauldron that is Brockton Bay, I will make use of any resource that is available to me."
Something about what she said felt off and I tried to parse what, mulling the words over in my mind. I was having no luck in getting beyond her focus on our conversation. She believed in her words and I could tell she was being honest, but getting any reading of her beyond the context of the job she did seemed impossible.
The realization was like a flash. Because this is her life. I can't read anything beyond that because this is all she's thinking about. She's focused solely on what's happening now. I worried at my lower lip as I considered her words. Granted this key, it made understanding her a bit easier, even though I couldn't go rifling through her thoughts with how focused she was.
"So, if my dad filed those papers and I refused to work as a Ward and continued as an Independent, what would you do?" I asked out of genuine curiosity. She had been straightforward so far and I thought the question a good one to see if she would continue to be or if she would try to deceive me.
Director Piggot's gaze was unyielding as she regarded me. "If you were taking action on your own and partaking in the activities that many Independents participate in, while legally classified as a member of the Wards program? I could and likely would bring the necessary resources to curb you, Miss Hebert. Several of which would undoubtedly worsen the situation. As I said, a nuisance at best and a hindrance at worst. Use your abilities in a regular set of activities, such as that young woman who does party tricks for children, certainly. Go out as a cape? No. I cannot take the risk that your actions would not disrupt the balance we have here while legally the Wards are on the firing line for any misstep you take."
"Don't misunderstand, Miss Hebert," she told me. "I don't care for the stalemate at all. The gangs have far too much power. When that breaks, something I plan to delay for as long as possible, I want it to do so on my terms and when it favors us the most. Not the other way around. Until then, as much as I dislike it, there is a waiting game. The alternative is open warfare in the streets and I will not have Brockton Bay become a warzone."
I nodded slowly, considering her reasoning. It made sense. While I couldn't clearly hear her deeper thoughts, she was at least telling the truth about what she was saying. But did she believe it? "And if I joined the Wards? What then?"
Her fingers laced together once more. "Let me answer your question with a question. Why did you decide to put that costume on and go out the other night? You halted some drug deals and a robbery. Why?"
"Why wouldn't I?" I asked, confused. Still, the question did make me pause for a moment as I gave it some deeper thought. When I first got powers, I was content with just using them to marginally improve my own life. But then they had started evolving. Now though? That was a question I hadn't really asked myself. It had been a natural progression from having 'not directly useful powers' to what I had now. And to be honest, I didn't have a clear answer as to why that had happened, so when I started speaking again, I had to hold my voice firm as I passed off my uncertainty with a shrug. "It felt like the right thing, so I did it."
"Just that?" Director Piggot asked. "No other reasons? Fame? The rush of having power over others?"
"No," I shook my head, then thought of something that I hadn't given attention to for weeks. Out of sight, out of mind. Was it just to do the right thing or was part of it that I wanted to show I was better than her? I hadn't put much thought to Sophia since I was rid of her, but I had gotten more serious about my costume and going out after that. I shrugged, pushing aside the thought. "Just the right thing to do, that's all, Director."
Director Piggot eyed me, her expression unreadable before shuffling some of the papers on her desk. "Ultimately, Miss Hebert, I appreciate your desire to want to, as you put it, do the right thing. Which brings us around to why you're here."
I nodded in agreement, but didn't interrupt as she went on. "Your father has filled out the paperwork and intends to submit it to us, I am given to understand. You were or are opposed because of him deciding without talking to you. As your legal guardian, he can do that, unfortunately for you. However, as I mentioned, what happens from there is entirely dependent upon you."
She paused for a breath. "You can resist and revolt, making things difficult in any number of ways, I am sure. We can apply pressure through legal means to try and bring you in line. This would be one of the negative paths as everything would just serve to drive you further against us. You can go from here and as long as you don't engage in parahuman activity until you are of age, we would keep a watch on you, but nothing more."
"Or," the Director said. "You can commit to the Wards, work to do right, as you said. You'll have others with powers that are your age, but there are strict rules of conduct you will have to abide by, along with a chain-of-command and several protocols and such. While the PRT and Wards are not a purely military program, and strictly never have been or will be, you would be expected to follow orders from myself or a Protectorate member."
I rested my elbows on the tops of my thighs, letting my chin settle on my hands as I considered the options she had laid out. I could walk out, that was clear. Even continue as an independent, but if… when my dad submitted those papers, that gave them influence over me and would put us at odds. However, my eyes narrowed as suspicion spun into being at the back of my mind. "There's another option."
Piggot smiled loosely as she nodded, folding her hands in front of her. "Correct. As we have discussed, as soon as your father hands in the paperwork, you are legally bound as a Ward. However, that paperwork is for full membership as a Ward. Taking into account your unique disposition, we are willing to offer a third option that could benefit us both."
"In short, you accept a form of probationary status in the Wards. A trial run as it were. You would not be bound by the standard rules, and may operate independently provided you worked with the Wards when asked, and that you allowed for several provisions on both our part and your own." Her gaze did not leave mine as she spoke and I got the impression she wasn't done, so I didn't interrupt with questions.
"I even happen to have," she began, reaching into the pile of paper and pulling out a manila folder, "the paperwork for that right here. Provided you and your father sign this, the forms he has are rendered null and void until such a time you chose to file them."
"How soon do I have for that choice?" I asked, gingerly accepting the folder she had placed on my side of her desk.
"In this case, you have little time," she said calmly. "You know your father better than I. When do you think he will turn those papers he has in?"
I grimaced at the reminder and stood, shifting my legs to get feeling back in the spots where I had rested my elbows. "Fair enough. I appreciate your honesty in this. I don't know what I'll do, but thank you nonetheless."
"You're welcome, Miss Hebert," she said, standing as well, a flicker of something I couldn't decipher behind eyes. "You have my apologies for how all of this has played out. Have a pleasant night." I murmured my own well wishes and quietly left the room. Danica was sitting in the waiting area with my pack in the chair beside her.
She looked up from the tablet she was working on. "All finished?"
"For now, I think so," I said, unzipping my pack and fitting the folder into the inner sleeve where one of my binders was. I fished out the box with the hamburger from Fugly Bob's. "Um, I hate to ask, but is there somewhere I could toss this?"
"We've got one on the way back up," she said. "I assume you'll be leaving by the roof?"
I nodded and shouldered the pack after I had closed it. "That seems easiest, yeah."
"The second Wards patrol just went out a little bit ago, so it's clear," Danica told me, tapping something on the tablet before blacking out the screen. "Shall we?" I followed after her and in just a few minutes, was outside on the brightly lit roof.
"It was nice meeting you, Ms. Simmons," I told her, enjoying the night breeze after the recycled air inside the building. "Maybe I'll see you again soon?"
"Perhaps. Take care." Danica called as I lifted off. I glanced back and saw her heading toward the door while keeping an eye out around the roof before my momentum carried me away from the bright pillar of the PRT headquarters.
--
The rooftop was devoid of any obvious guards when I started to touch down, although the series of blinding lights pointing skyward made it hard to tell for sure. As I landed though, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. One pattern of lights lit a path straight to a nearby door, and I could imagine that if I looked again, it would be a landing pad from above. With both feet firmly planted, I gazed around for a moment, rubbing my arms against the chill breeze as I debated with myself one last time over continuing or just leaving.
Miss Militia's argument had brought me here and just a few more steps would continue what my dad had started with filling out those papers. Right now, I still had a choice. I could say 'no' and just turn around and fly away, and nothing would stop me. And I wanted to, just so badly wanted to. But at the same time, another part of me asked if I wanted to go back to my father? That was a question that I honestly didn't want to answer.
But after everything else, all the anger, all the frustration, looking at the door just made me realize one thing.
I'm tired.
I was done with today in all its moments. But thinking back, I was tired of myself. The shocks were done, the reveals had happened, and the conflicts in retrospect were lost. I had won in the fact I had gotten in the last words. But without the haze of my frustrations and anger, I realized that having the last words hadn't been worth it. I collapsed inward on myself, shrinking into my jacket as the heat seemed to leave me with the thought. I just wanted everything to end and to pretend like I hadn't made the mistakes I did.
I laughed bitterly at that. Like I could turn back time and not be an idiot a second time round. I couldn't help but tick off those mistakes, one by one.
Catherine and Minako had at least deserved a chance to explain. For every failing I had thrown at my dad, there was one I was probably guilty of as well. I had taken all that anger from Armsmaster and I had dumped it on everyone else in turn, not listening and just letting it speak for me. As much as I wanted to place all the blame for today on someone else, I couldn't deny my own part. I was as much to blame for everything self-destructing as anyone else.
I uncrossed my arms to look up, thinking of my dad and what had brought me here as I began trying to pick out stars. I gave up after a moment. With the roof lights, I couldn't see any of the ones I usually looked for. At least the moon was visible, a waning crescent that filled me with melancholy as I stared upward.
I looked away from it quickly, shivering like someone had poured cold water down my back. Thoughts of earlier replaced the sadness, as embers of my earlier anger igniting for a moment and my fists clenched. The core of it was that feeling of betrayal when he had told me I didn't have choice in the matter, that he thought he could just suddenly dictate my actions after ignoring everything. No asking or anything, just his choice out of the blue that made me grit my teeth.
The anger vanished as quickly as it had started, leaving exhausted clarity. I wasn't sure we could fix this, after the things I, we, had said. I wasn't sure I wanted to. His choice had lead here. But my choice had sparked it. Which circled me round again to what I was going to do now. I could stay here to hear the Director out or leave and ignore this entirely. The urge at the back of my mind itched, to use my precognition and chart the results of both actions.
But I wouldn't, at least not going back. I was going to stay. This ended now, one way or another. I would resolve this, I had to. Because before I could go back and fix my other mistakes, I had to try and fix this one. The resolution at least gave me something to focus on, something to draw my attention from how my hair was a mess from flying, or how it felt like I had weights on the end of my eyelids and how my muscles felt drawn and painfully tight.
"I hear them out. That's it. After all," I said with a dry laugh. "What are they going to say that could make it worse?" Miss Militia had been honest, so I could at least start by standing by what I had said. I nodded to myself as the decision was made, looking toward the door, somewhat curious as to why I was still alone. I started to reach forward trying to see if I was expected to enter by myself or not when it opened on it's own and I cut off my peek at the future.
A uniformed PRT agent stepped out, looking around for a second before her eyes settled on me. She was taller than me, blonde hair framing a heart-shaped face. A questioning smile broke out on her face as she gave me a once over as she approached me.
"I assume you're who I'm supposed to meet, yes?" she asked, giving the roof another survey before once more fixing her regard on me. One hand came up, holding an ID card toward me. "Lieutenant Danica Simmons."
"That's me," I almost-mumbled, lowering my walls to try and get a feel for her. I immediately regretted this as I hadn't realized that there were a lot of people in the building beneath my feet. I hastily rebuilt the blocks, hiding my sigh of relief as one of exhaustion as the noise faded to an almost inaudible murmur before I blinked away the fuzz at the edges of my vision and smiled hollowly. "I guess I'm here to see the Director?"
Danica nodded. "So I was told. The Director is indisposed handling some medical issues and will be occupied with that for awhile longer. I can show you to a waiting room, if you'd like or, with your permission, I could give you a bit of a tour to pass the time?"
I closed my eyes, feigning deep thought as I reached forward, tracing myself on the first option. In the end, all I could see was myself, lounging in a bare room as the minutes passed. In the end, nothing happened and I was welcoming quietly into the room and I cut if off. I opened my eyes and nodded."The tour sounds nice, actually."
The agent nodded, smiling as she gestured for me to follow after her. "Great! While I can't take you everywhere, There are a few spots I can show you." As she guided me through the door, I looked behind me and upward to the sliver of the moon again and I felt that odd sense of melancholy once more before the door closed behind me.
~~~~~~~~
The clicking of the machine as it did its work was almost enough to lull her into a drowsing sleep as she leaned back into the medical chair, lit almost solely by the light of her laptop. The room itself was dim bordering on dark, the lights turned low but not so low as to not afford her enough light to work by, because there was always work, but not enough that anyone who had to enter her presence could see her like this.
Not that there was any chance of that. She had standing orders not to be disturbed during this time unless there was an emergency. Nothing was occurring now that warranted interrupting the session. Not even the mess that was finally coming to a head, which was the situation that had kept one of the Protectorate occupied on what she had felt was a wild goose chase.
Today had proven her wrong, but the information scattered across the surface in front of her still merited a thorough assessment. The girl was volatile and Armsmaster's speculations suggested that she had enough power to be a concern. Emily Piggot sighed, massaging the sides of her head as she considered the options for handling the situation. Her eyes tracked across the reports, several of which were hastily assembled evaluations of how she was likely to be thinking, provided by the Thinkers in PRT employ.
Most of it was going to be useless, she knew, as teenagers tended toward the mercurial so often that determining what they would do was often difficult to predict. Still, they were at least going to give her enough information to build the best method of settling the powder keg of issues around the girl.
The Director's attention was drawn away from the papers to her laptop, the reports that Armsmaster had submitted after he and Miss Militia had met with the girl filling most of the screen. She took note of his belief that she had some sort of intuition into what people were thinking. If that were true, it would make it difficult to convince her with her normal methods. Thinkers were always troublesome. One had to be creative, mercurial even. The worst part was not knowing what a Thinker was doing precisely.
She looked over the notes on what they had determined about the girl's home life, explicitly the father, both from the recordings of his call to Armsmaster and what had been investigated independently. His overzealousness in pursuing this matter was proving indirectly useful and she wondered for a moment how he had provoked her to such hostility with the information available.
A schism between father and daughter over his making a decision without consulting her. She considered that fact, tapping a finger on the table rhythmically as she did so. That was an avenue she could explore. Done properly, she could widen the gulf between them and secure a potential asset for the Wards by redirecting any anger away from them towards a more familial source.
A downward twist of her lips accompanied the dismissal of the notion. It was tempting, but left too many cracks that others could exploit. She needed the girl on board willingly, not through sleight of hand that might be uncovered. No, playing the girl against her father was not an approach she needed to pursue. Best that any further breaks between them had no hint of PRT or Protectorate involvement at all, given what had occurred already.
That lever discarded, she continued in thought. Plans were weighed, compared, and tossed away when found wanting. She reduced the issue to something like a numerical problem: what combination of factors would increase the standing power of the Wards and Protectorate, and indirectly the PRT? What ones would decrease potential damage and maximize the payoff?
Her eyes settled on one line of text in one of the reports, from either Armsmaster or Miss Militia, she wasn't sure who, remarking on the girl's frustrations with people making decisions or talking at her. The girl was a combination of a near-paranoid distrust of authority combined with recent events into an emotional bomb ready to go off. In the reports own words, 'Everyone is an enemy' to her.
Emily Piggot nodded to herself as a method of approach took shape. It was going to be tricky, given the potential minefield the girl was likely to be, but if she played her cards right, then she could turn this into a benefit for all involved. The key would be choice. Both illusionary and real. Start with that and build from there.
She looked at the clock, noting the time. The doctor would be in shortly to get her detached from this and then she could meet with Taylor Hebert. She began cleaning up the files spread out before her, then sent a message to the agent she had escorting the girl around the less sensitive parts of the building. She was going to get unhooked, cleaned up and then she would see what could be done with this situation.
~~~~~~~~
The building that served as the headquarters of the PRT in downtown Brockton Bay was surprisingly welcoming once you got inside. I wasn't sure if this was simply a front, but the hallways I was led down had an air of welcome and comfort about them that made it hard to ward off my drowsiness. It was probably helped by the emotional echoes of genuine concern and belief in their duty that I felt from a good handful of the people throughout the building. Nearly everyone I could feel was sincere in their desire to help make things a better place.
There still was, however, an undercurrent of hopelessness, a sense of near-constant agitation. I couldn't pinpoint exactly why or where it was coming from as there were enough people in the building that if I dropped my shields to look in depth, I'd be overwhelmed like I was at Fugly Bob's. I followed the agent who had met me on the rooftop. Danica was now guiding me on a roundabout tour to what I assumed would end with the Director's office while I gave half my attention to her and half to looking around as we descended through the building towards our destination.
I didn't know a great deal about the Director of the PRT, but the brief moment I had dropped my shields a little to get a better feel for the people in the building, I had found one who had a lot more occupying their thoughts than what I assumed were the rank and file staff did. That was probably the Director and the impressions I had gotten were of a person determined to do their job no matter what, mixed with discontentment of some sort. Still, I felt a strange mix of guilt and glee that she was here this late dealing with me. For my PRT guide though, it was mostly guilt. She had been polite to me so far.
"I'm sorry to have you here, showing me around when it's so late," I said, glancing at my cellphone's clock as I broke my silence while following behind her with my shoulders hunched, trying to stay tense to ward off my exhaustion . It was late. I hadn't realized what time it was, with all that was happening. It made me realize just how much I had to fight to not mumble my words and keep the world in focus. Or how much my contacts itched. "I'm surprised the Director is here at all, given the time."
"Well, this is when it gets busiest, actually. Mondays are always long days for her. Meetings during the day and overseeing everything else in the evening," Danica said, grimacing slightly as she glanced in my direction. "She shouldn't pull such long hours though, given her health."
"I can come back tomorrow," I offered, the desire to sleep prodding the words out before I could think further on what she was saying. "I can find a place to stay and be back first thing in the morning, if that will work better."
Danica waved a hand. "Mondays are just her longest days, is all. Some of us don't think she should work late, though, for her own well-being."
It took me a moment to consider it, but ultimately I decided to probe more on the fact contained in her statement. "She's ill?" I frowned slightly. That could be the person I had felt initially. Determined to do their job even if they were sick. That didn't seem like all of it though.
"Not ill, but not well," Danica explained after a moment, looking off into the distance for a second before smiling. "All the same, while she can be difficult and a few of us worry about her, I don't think I could ask for a better boss."
"Really?" I asked, feeling a strong sense of pride from her even through my walls. She meant what she said about the Director. I turned my head slightly, staring at a wall as I tentatively started to stretch my thoughts out toward others, to see if they felt the same.
"Are you coming?" Danica's questioning voice intruded on what I was doing, drawing my attention back to myself.
"Oh, sorry," I murmured, blinking and pulling back. "I spaced out."
"A bit overwhelming, is it?" she asked with a smile. A couple of uniformed PRT agents came down the hall from the direction we were going, talking animatedly. They fell silent as they saw Danica, snapped quick salutes before moving on and resuming their conversation.
"It is a bit," I told her, looking back at the pair for a moment. "Something going on? They seemed kind of excited."
"We had a new Ward transfer in, finally," Danica said. "It's kicked up a bit of a fuss. The Wards are also changing shifts, so everyone's handling that as well."
"Another new Ward?" I asked, smiling wryly at the thought. "A good thing, I hope?"
Danica nodded and looked at me for a moment, measuring me. I kept still as much I was wanted to. For all that she had been amicable and easy to talk to, Danica's gaze now was assessing me in a way that left me wanting to move away or draw her attention to anything else.
"I believe so," she finally said, settling back into the easygoing manner she had before. "I won't lie, as far as capes go, the Protectorate and Wards are outnumbered when you look the rest of the city. There's more villains than both combined and even if you count the independents on our side, we still are at a disadvantage. Everyone we can get is a boost to our effectiveness."
I nodded silently, mulling over her words as she drew a phone from her pocket and looked at something on the screen. Danica sent off what I thought were multiple messages quickly, then looked at me.
"So, the Director's finishing up and should be ready to meet with you shortly," she said. "In the meantime, I've cleared the cafeteria. Did you want to get anything to eat or drink real quick?"
"I'm not hungry," I said with a shake of my head, realizing it was true. I still had the box with the burger tucked into one pocket of my backpack, but there was no desire to eat. I just felt too tired to even take the effort. "I wouldn't mind something to drink though."
"That," Danica smiled as she spoke, "we can do. Follow me."
~~~~~~~~
Vista dropped her mask into a nearby chair. "That was boring. I get the PR angle, but do we honestly have to stop for every single tourist on the Boardwalk? I swear we're not going to waste our time with stupid patrols of the boardwalk where we end up getting our pictures taken more than actually stopping crime when I get a say."
"Don't you have some growing before the- hey!" Clockblocker rubbed the back of his head, ducking away as she raised her fist menacingly from the other side of the room. "That was uncalled for."
"Not funny," she growled before going over to the miniature refrigerator and pulling a bottle of chocolate milk out. "I mean, I heard 'Oh, you're so cute' so much tonight."
"Well, you are, half-pint," he said, pulling his own mask off and walking over. She gave him an irritated look as he ruffled her hair, pushing his hand away.
"Dennis, stop," she said plaintively. "I'm not a kid!"
"Missy," he said seriously. "We're all kids as far as Piggy is concerned. It'll get better, I'm sure."
She glared at him. "Easy for you to say. You've got less than a year and you'll be in charge when Aegis switches teams."
"Don't remind me," he said sourly, holding his hands up. "Not looking forward to that. Gallant can have the job as far as I am concerned."
"Excuse me," a female voice interrupted and both turned to see an asian girl with a backpack slung over one shoulder standing in the doorway. "This is the Wards meeting room, right?"
"That's us!" Dennis said brightly. "You're our new member?"
"Flechette. Lily Kitazawa, as well, I suppose." she answered, before smiling and dropping her backpack into a corner chair. "I'm going out on a limb, but… Vista and Clockblocker?"
Dennis laid a hand against his forehead. "I've been found out. Yes, I'm Vista. Don't tell-ow!"
Vista moved her foot off of his. "You're not funny. I'm Vista and he's Clockblocker."
"It's just the two of you?" she asked, looking around at the mostly empty common area curiously.
"Oh, the others are getting ready to go out or just coming in for monitor duty," Vista explained. "We just got back, actually."
"I'm here!" Kid Win called out, rushing into the room and almost stumbling. He was struggling with some part of his costume. "Sorry, dinner was a huge thing and ran long. I'm not late, am I? Please tell me I'm not late. Piggot's going to have my head if I'm late to patrol again."
"You're fine," Dennis said. "We just got back in and were meeting with our new member."
"Oh!" he blinked, looking at Lily for a meet. "Sorry, didn't notice you. I'm Chris. Kid Win."
"Lily," she said, smiling at him as well.
"Nice meeting you," he said, glancing at the other two. "Do you guys know what's going on upstairs? I wanted to get something from the cafeteria to take with, but the guards were out keeping anyone away."
"The Director's meeting with someone," Triumph's voice cut in as he entered with Aegis in tow. "We're supposed to stay out of the way until it's sorted out. That's all I know at the moment. Kid, you and Aegis should be going if you don't want to be late."
"Got it," Kid Win said, going to a locker and taking out what looked like a skateboard. "Ready, future boss?"
Aegis nodded, looking toward him from where he have been speaking to Lily. "Let's go. It was nice meeting you, Lily. We'll talk more when we get back, if you're still here."
"Gallant and Browbeat have the last patrol," Vista said sourly, moving to the couch and dropping onto it with a pout. "They'll probably show up here in a bit."
"What's that about?" Lily asked quietly, nodding toward Vista, who had turned on the television and was morbidly clicking through channels.
"Hm? Oh, that. Well…" He walked toward the other side of the room and Lily followed. "Missy's kind of got a crush on-" The words died in his throat as he slowly turned, to find that the two of them were now standing near the couch.
"Vista's got a crush on…?" The youngest Ward asked, forcing a smile at him.
"On Browbeat?" he finished with a grin.
"No." Vista said, snorting. "That'd just be weird."
He blinked. "Wait, what? Why? He's a handsome guy… I'm told… by people who like guys… I wouldn't know myself. At all."
Lily's eyes sparkled as she covered her mouth with one hand. "I'm sure. Vista, what do you think?"
"Well!" He said, a touch too loud, drowning out whatever she had been about to say. "What do you think is up with Piggy's secret meeting?"
"Someone changing sides, maybe?" Vista wondered. "Seems like it's something important if they're blocking off places. Maybe don't want someone to be seen?"
"I don't know if things are done the same here," Lily said. "But this sounds like the practice if there is someone they don't want seeing certain places or people. Or those people seeing him or her. First time security procedures, it sounds like."
"I suppose if they want us to know, we'll be told," he finally shrugged before almost bouncing. "Who's up for video games?"
"Don't sit near him if you play," Vista said, standing up. "He cheats with his powers."
"I'll play if I get to pick," Lily said, grinning in a way that made Dennis uncomfortable.
"Um, sure?" he agreed with a nervous smile.
"You have Doki Doki Revolution?" she asked, looking over the gaming equipment and the platform with an almost predatory gleam in her eyes that turned into an outright sparkle as she honed in on the appropriate gear.
Vista looked confused at the wolfish grin on Lily's face while Clockblocker, feeling a new sense of metaphorical gaming doom, swallowed nervously as he now-shyly replied in a half timid "Yes…?"
"Perfect!" she said gleefully. "Help me get this set up and we'll started."
~~~~~~~~
I didn't say anything as Danica pushed the button on the panel and the elevator doors closed, beginning its ascent to the floor where the Director's office was. I spent the wait leaning against the elevator wall, eyes closed as I tried to relax just enough that I wouldn't appear nervous without dozing off. I had a half-finished bottle of tea that barely qualified as such now tucked in my backpack from the cafeteria. The brief stop in the cafeteria had done nothing to spark an appetite, leaving me potentially less hungry than I was before I entered.
"Now," Danica said, breaking the silence after a moment. "Please understand that how all this happened wasn't intended to happen as it did. I cannot speak for others, but I can say that while your day was incredibly stressful, keep in mind that none of us, especially not the Director, are against you. Whatever you decide, remember that, please?"
I nodded without opening my eyes, somewhat enjoying the cool metal of the wall. The chill was actually starting to help against a building migraine as I had to keep diverting more focus to keeping my mental walls up. "I will." I recited more than actually said. The pace had slowed down after the cafeteria and what energy I had been running on to keep myself going seemed almost completely spent now. Curling up in bed seemed highly appealing now and I wondered if I could put this off until the morning.
No, I was here and the Director was too. Running off now would just sour everything. I had agreed to come here and hear her out and that, at least, I was going to do. The elevator dinged and the doors slowly opened, revealing another hallway that looked more or less identical to several others that I had been in since I got here.
"This way," Danica said, making a left turn into the same waiting area I had seen in my mind earlier. In the corner of the space, the door with Director printed on the glass sat closed. "Let me check that she's in and I'll be right back." I nodded and settled into a chair, depositing my backpack beside me as she disappeared through the door.
My eyes drifted toward my pack and I saw the zipper had come undone, revealing part of my costume. I bit my lip at the sight of it. Should I go change into it? Be Sirin for this meeting instead of Taylor?
I shook my head and pulled the zipper closed. No, no point to that now. Everyone it mattered with at the moment knew who I was anyways. Putting it on would just be an exercise in redundancy. I had other things that I could worry about, like not letting myself be suddenly overwhelmed by telepathic background noise. Still, I was pulled from my musings as the door opened again and my PRT escort exited and gestured to the door.
"She'll see you now," Agent Dianca looked down at my pack and offered a hand forward. "I could hold that if you want, or…?"
"I don't imagine you'll let me just carry a pack in to the Director's office that hasn't been searched," I said with a bit of forced humor.
"I promise it'll be fine," Danica said while she gave me a small smile "It'll be here when you get out." Ultimately, I nodded silently as I passed it over. I took a deep breath and went in, letting the door close behind me.
The woman behind the desk looked unwell, was my first thought. It was quickly replaced with stern as I looked closer. She was wearing a slightly rumpled white dress shirt, with a similarly rumpled suit jacket in navy blue hanging from a hook to her left. She looked overweight and the artificial light in the room made her pallor look even more off.
Blonde hair shifted slightly as her heard shifted and steel-grey eyes regarded me, weighing in the same manner that Danica had done earlier.
"Taylor Hebert, I presume?" she asked after a moment, apparently satisfied with whatever she had found while assessing me.
"Yes. And you would be Director…?," I said tiredly. One eyebrow shifted slightly upward and she nodded slightly.
"Piggot. Emily Piggot, Director of Brockton Bay's Parahuman Response Team," She gestured towards a chair, so far friendly enough albeit I hadn't tried to get a read off of her. "Have a seat Miss Hebert, please."
"Thank you," I said, trying to settle instead of slump into the indicated chair. "I suppose a thank you is in order for seeing me so late about this." I kept my gaze focused on her. I wasn't picking up anything hostile, but it was hard to get a read on what she was thinking. Trying to reach through my wall and get a feel for what she was thinking while keeping it up was becoming a task, one harder than it was supposed to be. The tiredness I felt made keeping my blocks in place to screen others out while holding the walls up difficult. Doing that while attempt to get a read on her was quickly starting to feel like a self-defeating cycle.
Her eyebrows shifted again and I thought she was pleased for some reason as she settled her hands on the desk, fingers laced together. "The sentiment is appreciated, Miss Hebert. I hope you'll forgive me if we get straight to business?"
I nodded. "Certainly." Definitely the person I had noticed earlier. This close, there was no mistaking the sense that she had a lot on her mind, though I couldn't get anything more specific than that. It was like a static or fuzz was invading my senses the longer I went on. I tentatively contemplated just outright lowering my shields to get more of an in-depth feel for her thoughts, but the instant I brushed up against them I immediately recoiled as the voices surged in volume before dying down again and the attempt died altogether. It was enough that I almost missed what she said next, and had to discreetly pinch myself to bring back focus.
"I am given to understand that your father has signed the papers to admit you into the Wards program," she began and I shifted both at the unwelcome reminder and at the moment of discomfort from the influx of lingering emotions but remained silent. "Also, that he intends you to participate regardless of your own wishes."
Her hands did not move in the slightest as she regarded me while I grimaced in agreement. "That is certainly within his authority as you are a minor and he your legal guardian. So, in the strictest sense of things, once he placed his signature on those documents, the meeting we are having now became a pointless formality from a legal standpoint."
I nodded slightly, but I bridled the urge to stamp my feet or shout denials. I was both too tired to do so and genuinely curious where she was going with this. Legally, perhaps she was right, but I didn't see how they could really enforce that. But she was leading this to somewhere, I could feel that much, for certain.
She drew her hands apart and gestured for emphasis. "Also strictly speaking, that while the paperwork is in his possession and has not yet been filed and recognized by us, they are not legally binding in any way, shape, or form. You currently exist in a sort of legal limbo in regards to this situation. You are not a Ward, or an affiliated Parahuman and do not have any of the standard privileges afforded to such."
"However," she continued, crossing her fingers in front of her once more. "You do have a series of options open to you in how to resolve this. Of course, provided that your father does bring in and file the paperwork, you legally become a Ward. In which case, while you cannot be forced to participate in any given activity, it does become difficult to operate as a Parahuman in a number of ways."
I frowned even as I started on a different approach. I tried harder not to reach out, but to listen like before. To let her thoughts echo off my defenses. But all I got was an echo of what she was saying, laser-focused and clear. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean, ma'am."
"Simply put, if your father submits that paperwork, your safety becomes in large part the responsibility of the Protectorate, PRT, and Wards," she elaborated. "Both morally, and more prominently, legally. We are obliged to look towards your well-being, and failure on either side of the line can carry heavy repercussions. There are organizations set up that if some conditions are not being met, can legally intervene to great effect."
"That being said," she went on. "I will be honest with you, Miss Hebert. While I won't deny our need for additional members to the Wards and eventually the Protectorate, as Agent Simmons informed me she had advised you on, I also won't deny that I do not want to add another Ward under this sort of situation."
"My father forcing me, you mean?" I asked, a bit of my temper flaring for a moment both at that point being brought up, and the sheer lack of anything from my senses. Just echoes and strictly controlled emotions. It was almost like...
She smiled thinly. "I'm of the understanding that your situation is not the most stable, from several angles. I have one new Ward that was just introduced today, to add another that is, if you'll ignore my bluntness, as emotionally volatile as you are currently, is inviting trouble."
"But you want to," I said before I could stop myself. "Is it because of being outnumbered?"
The Director said nothing for a moment before nodding, a hint of exasperation leaking through as she sat back in her chair. "It's hardly information that you cannot learn for yourself, but yes. The fact is, the Protectorate and Wards are outnumbered almost two of them to every one of us."
"There are independents and rogues, though," I pointed out, while I tried one last time to listen past the white-noise and hear what she was truly thinking. "Is it really that bad, even with them?"
Her thin smile returned with a grim edge. "Even accounting for them, it is. Unfortunately, many among the independent community are… unreliable at best. A hindrance at worst. For as much good as they do, with respect to them, the PRT and Protectorate have to clean up their messes. Rogues refuse to participate at all on either side, although the ones that are able to follow through on that are either strong enough to evade recruitment or weak enough to not warrant it."
It was... It was almost like she was controlling herself just so I couldn't feel anything. But that's impossible, right?
"Isn't any help better than no help?" I asked, frowning slightly at her description.
"All things being equal, yes," she elaborated. "Unfortunately, we live in a city with three different parahuman gangs. Two of these gangs have very dangerous individuals capable of vast destruction. We have an unspoken truce that keeps everything in control, but it's a powder keg, Miss Hebert. One that I have to manage. I will use any resource at hand if it will help prevent the spark that might make this city go up in flames."
I didn't say anything and she continued after a second. "So, yes, though it could potentially be disruptive due to the current situation you find yourself in, I would accept you into the Wards if you chose to join. We need every hand that can be spared and if I'm to manage the cauldron that is Brockton Bay, I will make use of any resource that is available to me."
Something about what she said felt off and I tried to parse what, mulling the words over in my mind. I was having no luck in getting beyond her focus on our conversation. She believed in her words and I could tell she was being honest, but getting any reading of her beyond the context of the job she did seemed impossible.
The realization was like a flash. Because this is her life. I can't read anything beyond that because this is all she's thinking about. She's focused solely on what's happening now. I worried at my lower lip as I considered her words. Granted this key, it made understanding her a bit easier, even though I couldn't go rifling through her thoughts with how focused she was.
"So, if my dad filed those papers and I refused to work as a Ward and continued as an Independent, what would you do?" I asked out of genuine curiosity. She had been straightforward so far and I thought the question a good one to see if she would continue to be or if she would try to deceive me.
Director Piggot's gaze was unyielding as she regarded me. "If you were taking action on your own and partaking in the activities that many Independents participate in, while legally classified as a member of the Wards program? I could and likely would bring the necessary resources to curb you, Miss Hebert. Several of which would undoubtedly worsen the situation. As I said, a nuisance at best and a hindrance at worst. Use your abilities in a regular set of activities, such as that young woman who does party tricks for children, certainly. Go out as a cape? No. I cannot take the risk that your actions would not disrupt the balance we have here while legally the Wards are on the firing line for any misstep you take."
"Don't misunderstand, Miss Hebert," she told me. "I don't care for the stalemate at all. The gangs have far too much power. When that breaks, something I plan to delay for as long as possible, I want it to do so on my terms and when it favors us the most. Not the other way around. Until then, as much as I dislike it, there is a waiting game. The alternative is open warfare in the streets and I will not have Brockton Bay become a warzone."
I nodded slowly, considering her reasoning. It made sense. While I couldn't clearly hear her deeper thoughts, she was at least telling the truth about what she was saying. But did she believe it? "And if I joined the Wards? What then?"
Her fingers laced together once more. "Let me answer your question with a question. Why did you decide to put that costume on and go out the other night? You halted some drug deals and a robbery. Why?"
"Why wouldn't I?" I asked, confused. Still, the question did make me pause for a moment as I gave it some deeper thought. When I first got powers, I was content with just using them to marginally improve my own life. But then they had started evolving. Now though? That was a question I hadn't really asked myself. It had been a natural progression from having 'not directly useful powers' to what I had now. And to be honest, I didn't have a clear answer as to why that had happened, so when I started speaking again, I had to hold my voice firm as I passed off my uncertainty with a shrug. "It felt like the right thing, so I did it."
"Just that?" Director Piggot asked. "No other reasons? Fame? The rush of having power over others?"
"No," I shook my head, then thought of something that I hadn't given attention to for weeks. Out of sight, out of mind. Was it just to do the right thing or was part of it that I wanted to show I was better than her? I hadn't put much thought to Sophia since I was rid of her, but I had gotten more serious about my costume and going out after that. I shrugged, pushing aside the thought. "Just the right thing to do, that's all, Director."
Director Piggot eyed me, her expression unreadable before shuffling some of the papers on her desk. "Ultimately, Miss Hebert, I appreciate your desire to want to, as you put it, do the right thing. Which brings us around to why you're here."
I nodded in agreement, but didn't interrupt as she went on. "Your father has filled out the paperwork and intends to submit it to us, I am given to understand. You were or are opposed because of him deciding without talking to you. As your legal guardian, he can do that, unfortunately for you. However, as I mentioned, what happens from there is entirely dependent upon you."
She paused for a breath. "You can resist and revolt, making things difficult in any number of ways, I am sure. We can apply pressure through legal means to try and bring you in line. This would be one of the negative paths as everything would just serve to drive you further against us. You can go from here and as long as you don't engage in parahuman activity until you are of age, we would keep a watch on you, but nothing more."
"Or," the Director said. "You can commit to the Wards, work to do right, as you said. You'll have others with powers that are your age, but there are strict rules of conduct you will have to abide by, along with a chain-of-command and several protocols and such. While the PRT and Wards are not a purely military program, and strictly never have been or will be, you would be expected to follow orders from myself or a Protectorate member."
I rested my elbows on the tops of my thighs, letting my chin settle on my hands as I considered the options she had laid out. I could walk out, that was clear. Even continue as an independent, but if… when my dad submitted those papers, that gave them influence over me and would put us at odds. However, my eyes narrowed as suspicion spun into being at the back of my mind. "There's another option."
Piggot smiled loosely as she nodded, folding her hands in front of her. "Correct. As we have discussed, as soon as your father hands in the paperwork, you are legally bound as a Ward. However, that paperwork is for full membership as a Ward. Taking into account your unique disposition, we are willing to offer a third option that could benefit us both."
"In short, you accept a form of probationary status in the Wards. A trial run as it were. You would not be bound by the standard rules, and may operate independently provided you worked with the Wards when asked, and that you allowed for several provisions on both our part and your own." Her gaze did not leave mine as she spoke and I got the impression she wasn't done, so I didn't interrupt with questions.
"I even happen to have," she began, reaching into the pile of paper and pulling out a manila folder, "the paperwork for that right here. Provided you and your father sign this, the forms he has are rendered null and void until such a time you chose to file them."
"How soon do I have for that choice?" I asked, gingerly accepting the folder she had placed on my side of her desk.
"In this case, you have little time," she said calmly. "You know your father better than I. When do you think he will turn those papers he has in?"
I grimaced at the reminder and stood, shifting my legs to get feeling back in the spots where I had rested my elbows. "Fair enough. I appreciate your honesty in this. I don't know what I'll do, but thank you nonetheless."
"You're welcome, Miss Hebert," she said, standing as well, a flicker of something I couldn't decipher behind eyes. "You have my apologies for how all of this has played out. Have a pleasant night." I murmured my own well wishes and quietly left the room. Danica was sitting in the waiting area with my pack in the chair beside her.
She looked up from the tablet she was working on. "All finished?"
"For now, I think so," I said, unzipping my pack and fitting the folder into the inner sleeve where one of my binders was. I fished out the box with the hamburger from Fugly Bob's. "Um, I hate to ask, but is there somewhere I could toss this?"
"We've got one on the way back up," she said. "I assume you'll be leaving by the roof?"
I nodded and shouldered the pack after I had closed it. "That seems easiest, yeah."
"The second Wards patrol just went out a little bit ago, so it's clear," Danica told me, tapping something on the tablet before blacking out the screen. "Shall we?" I followed after her and in just a few minutes, was outside on the brightly lit roof.
"It was nice meeting you, Ms. Simmons," I told her, enjoying the night breeze after the recycled air inside the building. "Maybe I'll see you again soon?"
"Perhaps. Take care." Danica called as I lifted off. I glanced back and saw her heading toward the door while keeping an eye out around the roof before my momentum carried me away from the bright pillar of the PRT headquarters.
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- Location
- Existance
God damn it.
I just skimmed it thinking it was a new chapter, copied from the last but with Coil interfering. Glad it wasn't though.
chibipoe
May I tell you of the glory that is Catradora?
- Location
- Astoria, Oregon
I wouldn't do that.
Though while making some changes, contemplation was made to a Phoenix reset, just to be funny
- Location
- Australia
I would like to address the idea that using pre-cog to see the meeting with Piggot in advance would have been pointless because Piggot would have acted exactly the same way regardless. It's bullshit.
In science, it's called the Observer Effect, and is basically summed up as "sometimes observing a phenomenon inherently changes it." Seeing the future will inherently change it, even if the only differences are in thoughts and feelings.
Let's say she sees the meeting as it was written, then enters the office and gets exactly the same speech and options as she saw. She even leaves on cue. Is this the same as the chapter?
No. Hell no. Because she knew what was going to happen in advance. Knowledge is power. Let's make a list of the differences:
4 and 5 mean that she knows what decision she needs to make in advance.
7 and 8 mean that emotion manipulation and being exploited due to her exhaustion (both things that happened) lose most—if not all—of their effect.
2 and 8 mean that the sales pitch fails in its manipulation of thoughts and emotions (this doesn't have to be malicious, but you are trying to change the way someone thinks and feels about something) for the same reason as the above: you know what's going to happen. If you see spoilers of the shocking plot twist before you get to that part of the book, it doesn't have the same dramatic effect as finding out for the first time in-story. No matter how good the performance, it will never change the fact that purely by knowing what will happen, you will react to it differently on an emotional level. The element of surprise is gone, the tension and suspense they build is meaningless. Which means the one trying to effect you emotionally is shit out of luck.
And imp'd by a revision/update.
I won't belabour the point about the pre-cog and telepathy. It still feels forced, but it only strains SOD, doesn't break it. I've liked your work so far, both on this and other fics; I'll trust you know where you're going with this.
In science, it's called the Observer Effect, and is basically summed up as "sometimes observing a phenomenon inherently changes it." Seeing the future will inherently change it, even if the only differences are in thoughts and feelings.
Let's say she sees the meeting as it was written, then enters the office and gets exactly the same speech and options as she saw. She even leaves on cue. Is this the same as the chapter?
No. Hell no. Because she knew what was going to happen in advance. Knowledge is power. Let's make a list of the differences:
- She knows what Piggot looks like
- She knows Piggot's speech beforehand
- She knows what stance Piggot will take
- She knows what options Piggot will offer
- She knows how Piggot will respond to specific queries
- She knows how Piggot will act if she takes the passive approach
- She has more time to consider and analyse the meeting
- She will have gone through the meeting multiple times
4 and 5 mean that she knows what decision she needs to make in advance.
7 and 8 mean that emotion manipulation and being exploited due to her exhaustion (both things that happened) lose most—if not all—of their effect.
2 and 8 mean that the sales pitch fails in its manipulation of thoughts and emotions (this doesn't have to be malicious, but you are trying to change the way someone thinks and feels about something) for the same reason as the above: you know what's going to happen. If you see spoilers of the shocking plot twist before you get to that part of the book, it doesn't have the same dramatic effect as finding out for the first time in-story. No matter how good the performance, it will never change the fact that purely by knowing what will happen, you will react to it differently on an emotional level. The element of surprise is gone, the tension and suspense they build is meaningless. Which means the one trying to effect you emotionally is shit out of luck.
And imp'd by a revision/update.
That does a better job of conveying her emotional exhaustion, yeah. Still seems uncharacteristic, but nowhere near out-of-character. Honestly, I think the problem with that wasn't the way that she acted, but that the transition from "raging at the world" to "tired and submissive" happened so quickly. I can see it happening, that's not the problem, but it seemed to happen too fast.
I won't belabour the point about the pre-cog and telepathy. It still feels forced, but it only strains SOD, doesn't break it. I've liked your work so far, both on this and other fics; I'll trust you know where you're going with this.