Aurora Moon
Verfied Insomniac with too much time on her hands
- Location
- USA, Earth
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Yup, you wrote a socially awkward teenage boy very well.
From Hated to Hero (Worm AU, Trump!Greg) [Complete]
- Thread starter Distraktion
- Start date
Distraktion
Trying. Sometimes succeeding.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
I went back and cleaned up the end a bit (added a sentence, italicized a word or two). I had meant to indicate that he'd realized that he was taking way too much pleasure in seeing someone get hurt by a dog, and had released the power. Which, admittedly, would probably have made this next encounter a lot easier if he'd had a little of the ol' Hair o' the Dog in him for dealing with her...
Distraktion
Trying. Sometimes succeeding.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Pretty much that. Positivity, while a great way to try and keep upbeat for some people, can also go so far as to become toxic. The sort of smothering here may seem great to those doing it, but for someone receiving it...not so much.
Distraktion
Trying. Sometimes succeeding.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Author's Note: Following the rewrite of Arc 1 in Sept 2020, this threadmark ceased to exist (we went from 14 chapters to 12)
Last edited:
ILostmyAccount
Anarcho-Don't Steal My Stuffalist
- Location
- The Ancapistani Helicenter
Looks like things might finally be looking up for Greg.
I like it.
He still needs to talk to the PRT though.
I like it.
He still needs to talk to the PRT though.
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Bro. You really gotta cockblock us on that tasty family drama resolution? I am perturbed and annoyed, but nevertheless await the next update with enthusiasm
Interlude 4: People Are Complex Equations
Distraktion
Trying. Sometimes succeeding.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
AN: Originally this was just a fun little side-story, but then one thing led to another and here we are. I think this was a pretty decent job, overall. Could have been a bit shorter, but it's just so much fun to write these characters! Overall, I give this interlude a B+...
No, wait- *BOOM*
******************************
Interlude 4: People Are Complex Equations
[Saturday, Dec 25, 2010]
[Bakuda]
I love math. It's solid, dependable, and even the crazy parts eventually made sense. Like, the Poincare Conjecture seemed like a drug-fueled donut monster when I first heard it, but after a lot of study and more than a few sleepless nights I managed to get it. Now, I could talk about it in the same sentence as the Earth being round and it was just as normal to me.
That's a joke, see, because the Conjecture involves spheres. Damn, I'm good.
Where was I? Ah yeah, normal.
Normal, is pretty goddamn eye of the beholder these days. I'm a Tinker, see, one of the best on the planet, and what was normal for me a year ago has long since changed. But like I said, knowing about math means that I don't get all bent out of shape on that. I just have to change my perspective, and realize that what I used to think of as "normal" wasn't, and it all snaps into focus. Like a lens that was making things blurry, and now it's crystal clear.
Normal is always changing, just like my knowledge of math and my understanding of other things. A year ago I'd have never thought that I could combine a gallon of paint, a grenade, and three Gameboys (the old kind, not that new Advance shit) to make a bomb capable of painting any entire room in half the time it would have taken to do it by hand.
But as I stood there, freezing my goddamn face off (my fault for wearing a gas mask on a winter night) while two nerds cavorted around in costumes robbing people, I had trouble considering that this would ever be normal. I had a great view of their 'crime spree' from atop a parking garage, shoppers eagerly spending the last few hours of daylight returning the gifts they'd lovingly received for Christmas earlier this morning. We were all being entertained, but in different ways.
I'd always heard rumors about Uber and Leet, figuring that they were just sandbagging in their fights because they cared more about fame than anything else. Their little themed heists made chump change and the ads on their grade-school website were half what they could have gotten from just taking a grenade to an ATM. Still, the cops barely ever threw the book at them, cape heroes wrote them off as a joke, and they'd never even killed anyone to make a point.
Both had oversized boxing gloves that were bouncing anyone they punched away from them, but aside from a few bruises nobody was actually getting hurt. Leet was dressed in what looked like a retrofitted tan bomb suit that he was practically swimming in, a crown on his head and a big fake belly with a duct-tape X on the belly button. Uber was in a pair of green shorts, black shoes, a black tank top, and green gloves.
The duo were hitting a small shopping center, running from store to store bopping people and grabbing their goods. They couldn't really carry much with those gloves, so they were mostly tossing the goods to other people or putting them in a big pocket in Leet's ever-growing belly.
I figured that their real problem was a lack of motivation. So, I decided to help them out...in my usual bombastic fashion. Actually, it was a grenade, but "grenade-tastic" doesn't really roll off the tongue the same way.
My contribution to this little event was a simple magnet grenade I had made. I actually had two of them, and threw the first at the little golden webcam they always had following them around. Aside from scrambling their 'snitch,' it also gave it a very unique magnetic charge. The other grenade went onto the top floor of the abandoned parking garage that had been closed off by the fire department weeks ago (thanks Lung!), and the snitch was pulled slowly in its direction.
I had been watching them both from atop that very garage for several minutes, and calmly started walking towards the back stairs to wait. I knew both loved that little camera, and that any minute now they'd be jogging (or lumbering, in Leet's case) up here to retrieve their tech.
***
"Here they come." A voice in my ear alerted me that I'd been dead on. "10 seconds to showtime."
"We have to hurry, dude!" Leet's voice was unusually deep, and I gave credit to the suit he was wearing. He sounded a lot like the Hippo-named boxer he was playing, lending a bit more authenticity to his character. My respect for both went up a notch...and then immediately dropped when they leaned over to get the snitch and bonked their heads together.
I couldn't stop myself from laughing, and as both whipped their now-sore heads in my direction, I shrugged and came out from my 'hiding' spot. I tried to look as imposing as my five-foot nothing frame allowed, spreading my legs and shoulders a bit as my makeshift grenade launcher (v34.12, now with voice activated launching!) swung to point just a few feet to their left.
Nothing like a casual barrel-sweep to remind people that you have a weapon pointed near them.
"Who the hell are you? A fan who liked our Team Fortress 2 video?" Leet spoke before his friend could, laughing and gesturing at my getup. "We have to get going soon, but I can sign your mask if you want. Who should I make it out to?"
"Leet, I don't think this is a fan." Uber started to interrupt, and I could see enough of his face (flesh-colored mask over his eyes and scalp, giving the impression that he actually had that spike black hair) to know that his jaw was clenched. "I think she's actually-"
"Uber, you always tell me I shouldn't be gatekeeping girls out of gaming, I really don't think that's a healthy attitude for you to have." Leet playfully slapped at his friend's chest, apparently not realizing that he still had his boxing glove's bounce field active. Uber went flying, hitting the ground a few feet away and rolling backwards to a crouch. "Whoops, sorry about that, bro. Anyway, miss, what do you think of today's crime adventure? Perfect timing and costumes, eh?"
"Well, the costumes are good, I'll give you that." My voice was a bit altered by the simple chip I'd stolen from a discarded toy mask in a Goodwill last week, and it didn't change his expression at all. I could practically hear my little brother, the one who actually had time to play video games growing up, whispering in my ear that they were play-acting as characters from Punch Out. "The costumes and Tinker-tech get a 10, but the timing only gets an 8...Boxing Day is tomorrow. You made your fuse too short, blew a bit too early."
"Ah, dang it, I was going to wait until tomorrow, but PHO was saying that New Wave and the Wards were going out on the town tomorrow for some joint event, and I didn't want to worry about that whole mess." Leet sighed, looking over at his erstwhile companion, who had rejoined him and was standing in what looked like a casual defensive stance. I'd heard that the guy had more than a bit of fighting experience, and tried not to put my finger on the trigger as I saw his eyes go in that direction. He elbowed Leet. "Anyway, I'd love to talk more, but we have some work to do, so unless there's anything else…?"
"Actually, there is something else. Something important. Something grand..." I started to step forward.
"Crap, okay look." Uber held up a hand...well, boxing glove. "If this is about the Grand Theft Auto thing, then let me just say that it was early in our careers as super-provocateurs and we went too far. We fucked up, I know. We apologized in-person to all three of the women we hurt, covered their medical bills, paid for their therapy, and even did a PSA about..."
"This isn't about that." As much as it pained me to do it, this was my best chance at making my plans come to fruition...so I took my hand off the grenade launcher and held it out in their general direction. I mean, it was still voice activated, but they didn't need to know that. "I've been scoping out the major players in this town, and none of them really blew me away. You guys, though, you really pop. You've been burning hot for months, and I think that we-"
"Take it down a notch with the bomb terminology," a voice said in my ear, and I grimaced.
"Wait. That mask, that grenade launcher, the random bomb terms every few sentences," Uber's tone made me flinch a bit. The warning had come too late, it sounded like he had figured out who I was by my habit of using certain terms when I was nervous. It calmed me down, and I never even realized I was doing it. "Everything else lines up...you're Bakuda. You're the nutjob bomb tinker who tried to blow up a college because-"
Leet's glove lashed out again, and bumped Uber. The man went flying again, and this time he flew twice as far before rolling again. He leveled a glare at Leet, but the big (because of his armor/suit) Tinker didn't even notice.
"Whoops, my arm slipped." Leet didn't sound sorry at all. "I'm kind of immature like that. Next thing you know I'll start verbally abusing someone with a history of questionable decisions who lured us to the top of an abandoned parking lot and currently has a grenade launcher."
"Well, that's two, Hippo." Uber rubbed the butt he'd landed on, returning to his friend and standing just outside of Leet's reach. "Do it again and Little Mac is gonna have to TKO you, got it?"
"No prob, Mac." Leet shared a grin with his friend, as if all was forgiven and turned back to face me. "But seriously, why are you here? Cut to the chase. We've got things to do."
"Simply put? I want you two to join my crew. You have talent, I have pure destructive power, and I think we could work well together...better than with any other gangs." I started counting off my fingers, less to keep track and more to keep them from worrying so much about the grenade launcher pointed in their general direction. "I don't do drugs, and you two have done enough Capcom games that I know you know that 'Winners Don't Do Drugs.' Lung blew up one of his own warehouses last week and as Tinkers we know better than to be around anyone that unstable...and that's coming from a bomb tinker."
The three of us had a laugh over that one, even if Uber's still sounded a bit forced. I continued, "Finally, I'm too Asian for the E88, and after that Wolfenstein robbery where you 'accidentally' burned one of Hitler's original paintings I doubt they love you much either. We need to band together, and I want you to join me so we can protect each other. Together, we could be explosively effective."
"I'm with you on a lot of that, but you said 'my' crew, and that makes me wonder why you think you'd be the leader?" Leet started to count off his own fingers, realized he just had a huge pair of boxing gloves, and then sighed and just listed points. "We already make decent income from our site, have a huge fanbase, and the PRT barely even tries to stop us. Joining you would make them take us seriously, and we might even lose a lot of subscribers because of your...y'know...past."
"It's a no from me, Bakuda." Uber was less circumspect, and crossed his arms. It wasn't easy to do with boxing gloves, but he'd actually turned off his bouncers, so he managed. His mouth was set in a firm line, and he didn't even look at Leet. "We don't care for bullies, and I can't think of a better example than the one in front of me. You got a bad grade and tried to bully your professor into fixing it. You got in trouble and tried to bully Cornell University into forgiving you. Now you're here, trying to bully us into working for you."
"So, it's just that cut and dry, huh? All your cannons are in a row?" I held my hands out to the side, ignoring their quizzical expressions as the code phrase I'd programmed into my grenade launcher made it swing in their direction, focusing on Uber since he'd talked last. A few specific words, and it would launch a freeze grenade at him. "If I'm a bully, then why aren't you two gamer nerds just falling in line for me?"
"Take it down a notch," repeated the voice in my ear, but I ignored it. I was getting heated up.
"Because back when we were kids, I used to get beat up all the time." Leet started to explain, his voice oddly quiet. It took me a few seconds to realize that he'd turned off his voice changer, and I had to strain to hear him until he slowly got louder. "Uber would always protect me, but I started to feel bad about always getting him hurt. He had so many friends and clubs, but always found time for me. I finally told him one day that he should just leave me to the bullies."
"I told him to go fuck himself, that I'd rather bully him myself than let them lay a finger on him." Uber smiled, and for a moment it was like listening to my friends in college banter...and not to super-nerds in tinker gear who had just spent the evening stealing thousands of dollars of electronics. "So I decided that I would teach him something, so that even if I wasn't around he'd be okay."
"So you taught him to fight?" The confusion was pretty clear in my voice. Their capers usually had Leet in either a mobile suit with ranged attacks or a shielded suit like this one, because even the 12-year-old Ward Vista could beat him up...without her powers. It was actually a bit sad, and I'd always wondered if he was just sandbagging for humor. "I...don't see it."
"Nah, I could never fight as well as Uber, even before he got powers he was a beast. Meanwhile, I make scarecrows look buff by comparison." Leet's goofy grin took some of the sting out of his words, but I could still see his friend's smile fade at that. "No, he taught me to be confident, and it motivated me to get into art and writing. It was hard at first, but pretty soon I could take just about anything that came my way without getting down on myself for failing."
"Yeah, and believe me we've faced a lot of bullies and jerks in our time. But with each encounter we got stronger, and never let anything keep us down for long." Uber threw an arm around his friend and the other boy bopped him a few times with his (thankfully depowered) boxing glove. Both started laughing, and their one-arm hug broke up as they stood tall to face my grenade launcher (which was still pointed at them) with conviction on their faces.
"Yeah! It doesn't matter if it's a spiky-haired teenager with explosive sweat, an overweight cousin whose family forces me to live in a cupboard under the stairs, a bossy little girl who pulls the football away when I go to kick it, a six-year old who torments me in ways that my stuffed tiger can't help me overcome…"
"Those all sound like oddly-specific and probably fictional situations." I commented, and that only made them laugh harder. I rolled my eyes, and waved a hand, motioning for them to get to the point. "So what you're saying is that since I'm a bully and you're confident, you want to stand up to me to prove a point? Even with this grenade launcher pointed at you?"
"Yeah!" Both nodded, and Uber's smile grew so much I wondered if his entire face was a Tinkertech mask of some kind. He pointed a glove at me. "You lived a perfect life of happiness and success, then had one bad day when you got a B+ and went nuts. No offense, but that's nothing like the kind of crap we've dealt with our whole lives. You've never had to face bullies. You've never had to deal with people who do terrible shit just because they're petty, ignorant, self-righteous, small-minded pieces of sh-"
***
[Then]
"Professor!"
Professor Bao pointedly ignored me as I continued to wave my hand in the air, choosing instead to walk around the room handing back our midterms. The other students had no problem looking or glaring at me, but since I had the top grade in the class (despite being a year younger than them) their opinions didn't matter to me one bit. I was destined for greatness.
The question I had for the old man, as it had been every class, was whether or not word had come back on my entry in the Millennium Prize Math Problems contest. It had been a long shot, but my family had barely been able to afford to send me here to Cornell...and with the winnings (a million dollars!) I could pay them back and then some. Heck, I might even be able to move them to a better part of town, or send my siblings to college!
I'd spent months working on it, but I was pretty sure (95% sure, at least) that I had a proof of the Poincare Conjecture that would pass any scrutiny. I'd handed it off to Professor Bao almost a month ago, along with my letter of explanation and other information. He'd promised to send it immediately, and I had thanked him profusely for helping my mathematics dream come true.
But since that day, he'd grown more and more shrewd when it came to talking to me, often even making appointments with me and then skipping them. I was pretty sure that he was just overworked, and so I'd tried to help him out by pointing out mistakes he was making on the various quizzes and tests he'd been giving us.
For instance, the one that he slapped on my desk, pulling me from my thoughts, had a note on it asking me to please stop doing so...and a B+? How? I hurriedly flipped through it, and found that he'd mistaken my explanation of bicontinuous functions to be a mere continuous inverse function (ignoring the note I had that pointed out the rest of that proof on the back of the page). I quickly jumped to my feet, running out of the classroom and to his office.
He was still there, apparently caught up in what seemed like a happy phone call with someone, and immediately disconnected the call as I entered the room. Knowing I wasn't one of his favorite people, I put on my most careful smile and radiant expression. The other students who were milling around the hallway stopped to watch, knowing that the two of us were prone to...spirited discussions.
Despite the audience and my smile, he was not happy to see me. Further adding to my embarrassment, he loudly proclaimed that all grades were final while pointing at the sign (with those words in multiple languages) over his left shoulder. He then told me to get out, and started to get up and shoo me out of his office.
I took a moment to formulate a nicer way (than usual) to point out his error, but froze as I saw a brand new addition to the wall of certificates and diplomas that covered his wall. It hadn't been there yesterday, and the shining glass frame almost seemed to taunt me as the man got nervous.
"Now, while that might be only my name on there despite using some of your work-" He started whispering, but I wasn't listening...I was just staring. I ignored him as he put his arm on my shoulder and tried to pull me away from his door, closing it with one foot.
It was a certificate from the Clay Mathematics Institute.
"-besides, nobody would even believe you if you tried to expose me, so you should just-"
Awarded to Professor Bao, working alone.
"-can give you straight A's all year if you just keep this a secret from-"
For his proof on the Poincare Conjecture.
"-even fix that B+ right now!"
...for a moment, the only math I cared about was the amount of force that my hands could apply to his throat. The other students interrupted me, so I never found out the answer.
*
"As I said, Dean, I think the poor girl was just overworked and the stress got to her." Bao's voice echoed out of the Dean's office. I would have been closer, but a campus security guard had sat me down in a folding chair just outside the office, and refused to let me enter and defend myself. I had spent the night in their jail cell (practically a locked closet), and during that time things had gotten worse. "But now that all these other details are coming out, we may not have a choice."
Other details, in this case, being the fact that shortly after I'd been nabbed by campus security, a legion of students had gone on social media and spread lies about my 'cutthroat nature,' my made-up drug habits, and one was even claiming that I had talked about bombing the school. Of course, none of them had any proof, but local news had picked it up and it was spreading like wildfire. My hopes that the truth would prevail were starting to burn away in that wildfire...
"You're right, Bao. If she did this over a B+, and even half of these rumors are true, then we can't take the risk." He sighed, and then started printing something before calling out, "Bring her in!"
The security guard grabbed me by the arm, roughly dragging me in despite my protestations that I could walk. Only as we entered and the Dean gave him a nod did he let me go, but still kept an eye on me and a hand on his taser. I started to defend myself, but saw how the Dean refused to make eye contact and knew that the battle was already lost.
I just stared ahead as the Dean told me that he was very sorry, but they were going to have to expel me. That all my credits could be transferred, but no school would be likely to take me for some time. That I should really seek mental help for my anger issues, and that attacking Bao over a B+ could have saved me from a life in prison...and that I should be thankful to the man.
Meanwhile, Bao just grinned at me and then schooled his face into sadness when the Dean looked at him. This was the man I was supposed to be thankful to?
The man who had stolen MY work? My MATH?
MY FUTURE?!
It was like an explosion in my head. All the anxiety and fear I'd felt all month, combined with the need to make my parents proud, added to my incredible need for perfection because they'd sacrificed so much for me...
I turned and ran, a headache like I'd never felt spiking so hard that I was seeing double for a moment. The security guard let out a little squawk and tried to chase me, but with adrenaline, fear, and anger roiling in me I was faster than anyone else in that moment.
I made it out of the building and just kept running. I was afraid to stop, and before I knew it I was at the edge of campus and all alone. I was completely alone now, no family or friends or...
By then the pain had gotten so bad that my vision went dark, and it was only the feeling of leaves and branches in my face that told me I was running through one of the stupid decorative hedges the Dean loved so much. I tripped, I fell, and I just...gave up.
I ran out of steam, fighting to escape, and finally broke down into the ugliest cry I'd ever had. I'd lost everything, had it all taken away from me, and now I was going to have to tell my family...
PAIN
I felt like I was dying, like my brain was exploding, and then everything went dark.
*
When I woke up, the pain was gone. The light was also gone, and night had fallen.
But none of that really mattered to me, because I was staring at a television on sale in the little electronics store just a few hundred feet away. On it, Bao was being interviewed by the local news about me.
I knew it was about me, because he was lying and they were believing him. From the subtitles, I could see him claiming that I was dangerously unstable, and police nodding appreciatively.
But I didn't care about that, because I was looking at the television.
Five minutes later, I was looking inside the television, having removed the glass window with the simple application of a brick. The store owner tried to stop me, but all it took to get rid of him was the mere threat of a brick. He said he was calling the police, but I'd snatched the phone from his hand.
I needed that phone more than him. I used it to call Bao, warn him to come clean or else.
Then I took the phone apart. Also the TV. Also...well, I'd suddenly had an idea...
It had occurred to me that there were other ways to change the world besides just math.
Ways to solve problems. Ways to get back at Bao. Ways to make my mark on the world.
In my case, all the best ways also went BOOM.
*
That night, as Bao spread lies about me to the media, claiming that I had planted bombs all over the campus, I was hiding in an alley with parts stolen from the electronics shop.
While the news raved about the Protectorate coming in and being unable to find the bombs planted by a new villain cape called Bakuda (nice name, that), I was marveling at an inventive new device I had crafted. It combined six alarm clocks, three smoke detectors, and a microwave to create an effect that split things into equal-sized pieces. It also made a very loud bang.
As I left town, I made sure to toss it inside Professor Bao's apartment window. He had just long enough to read the note ("What's the radius of a circle?") before it went off, and divided him into 314 equally-sized pieces. Get it?
I'm sure Bao would be laughing too, if he weren't a thieving bully who got killed by karma.
Well, karma and my Pi Bomb.
***
[Now]
"-it, whose entire goal is to stomp on you because it makes them feel bigger."
"They're right, Boss. Also they're on a roll." I frowned under my mask, but as if he could see me he added. "Even if you don't agree, you should at least apologize."
"You're right, I am being a bully. Sorry!" My raised hand, bowed head, and sudden words stopped their rant in its tracks, and I sighed. I gave the grenade launcher two slaps, disarming the auto-target system. I took a deep breath, and tried again. "I screwed this up by coming in hot, thinking I had to take what I wanted. I'm too used to dealing with...terrible people. Sorry, I've just been dealing with a lot of shit lately. What I want…"
What I wanted was my family back, but they'd practically disowned me after I killed Bao. In the moment it had seemed like the right thing to do...but I was still a murderer now. I'd stolen, hurt people, and caused a lot of panic since then. I hadn't killed anyone else, but that was more by luck than actual effort.
What I want are people I can trust. Friends. A family. Someone to have my back.
But how was I ever going to have friends or a family again, after what I'd done? I was just a-
"Challenge them to a contest." The voice whispered in my ear. "They're gamers. They'll love it."
"What I want...is a contest." I repeated the words slowly, and the idea began to form as I continued. Seeing them glance at each other and not hearing an outright refusal, I continued. "We meet in 2 weeks, in front of your hideout, and my best bombs take on your best costumes. We each get to show off our best, you get money for your channel, and then-"
"So what, we beat you for our channel and you go away forever?" Uber interrupted me, his eyes still on my grenade launcher. He traded a quick glance with Leet, who just shrugged unhelpfully. "If you win, not that you will, are we just supposed to become your slaves? Sounds like a pretty stupid deal."
"Nah, if I win then we team up, but as a three-person crew." I ground my teeth for a moment, hating to give up on my plan, and I finally clenched a fist as I continued. "No leader, just three confident people who the other big gangs in the city don't want to mess with. It keeps me safe from the nazis, junkies, and rage dragon...and keeps you two protected in case the PRT ever decides to come after you for that Earthbound thing you did last month."
"Seriously, we warned everyone a full week in advance that it was called the Pencil Eraser!" Leet whined, stomping his foot petulantly as Uber patted him on the back. "They had plenty of time to get ready for it. It was their own fault for not taking me seriously when I made a device that destroyed all the pencils in a 1-mile radius. Heck, Arcadia loved us for giving them the day off from school."
"I know dude, I know." Uber sighed, shaking his head and turning towards me. He carefully crossed the short distance between us and, after a glance back to get a nod from the still-sulking Leet, reached out to shake my hand. "Anyway, I think we accept. Our awesome gear and Tinkertech versus your little firecrackers, winner chooses where we go from there. We'd offer to send you the location, but from the way you're talking you probably already know where it is. You seem like the sort of person who likes to do her research."
"What can I say, I like to be prepared. Oh, speaking of which..." I turned and started walking away, removing a small remote control from my pocket as I did so. I very pointedly pressed a large button on top of it, smiling as I heard them both dive to the ground. The button didn't actually do anything, but it felt good to keep them on their toes. "Just figured I'd disarm that before going. See you in two weeks, kids."
"We're gonna have to pull out all the stops on this one, dude. That lady's scary as hell."
"But also kind of a hot badass, y'know?" Leet replied in a voice that had me wondering if he was looking at my butt. I heard a thumping noise, and glanced back to see that Uber had bounced the big Tinker with his boxing glove, and the two were laughing and bopping each other.
Seeing them fool around like that made me happier than I'd like to admit.
"Seems like that worked out better than we planned. Good thing we went with my suggestion after all, eh?" The voice came in my ear again, and as I rounded the corner into an alley I groaned and popped the radio out. I slipped the device into a pocket, then started to take the grenade launcher apart. By the time it was in pieces and safely stashed in my coat, I had been joined by my new bodyguard.
He was nothing impressive physically, only a few inches taller than me and wearing heavy clothing to protect from the cold. But most people still might have given him a second look when they noticed the way his right arm was a bit bulkier than his left, or that one hand was metal.
Well, that and the way he'd joined me by leaping down into the alley from several stories above, the sound of straining metal wire the only noise to be heard. Landing as light as a feather, he gestured and the hook that was stuck in the roof above clicked out of place and allowed the thin cable to wind back up into his elbow housing.
"Arm still working okay?" I asked, gesturing for him to hold it out so I could check it over. He rolled his eyes, but let me check my rudimentary work and make sure that neither the grappling gun nor the bomb-launcher had taken any damage from his rough treatment. "How was the sniper scope, by the way? I haven't made any bomb-bullets yet, but the scope is-"
"Yeah, I know, Boss. It was good. It let me keep an eye on ya, and the grappling hook is a lot smoother now." He took the arm back, clicking it through both the grapple mode and gun mode before returning it to a normal (if metal) arm. "Anyway, we better get back to da hideout. My ABB contacts say we got about an hour window til they patrol dis area again."
"Got it." With that, the two of us began to head back to the crappy apartment workshop I'd set up shop in. As we walked, I bounced ideas off of him for weapons I could make, since my opponents were apparently going to bring their A-Game.
"Maybe a bomb that puts people to sleep?" I asked, my Tinker mind already dancing with new possibilities. "I've heard about a Case 53 in town who can give people temporary drug trips and knock them out with his sweat."
"Yeah, I was about ta say, maybe if ya wanted teammates ya don't start off by meltin' their bodies or nothing." He grinned, and I found myself rolling my eyes and laughing. He said that he'd only started using the Brooklyn accent to stand out when he was in the ABB, but now it was hard for him to remember not to fake it. "Yeah, I'll pay a visit to that nightclub he hangs out at, see if I can get some samples so ya can make a Drug Trip Grenade?"
"Keep working this hard, and someday I'll be working for you." I joked, but he just chuckled and shook his head at me. We arrived at the apartment and he stepped inside, checking it and disarming my traps. "I can at least give you a raise, if you help me knock over an ATM…"
"Nah, I don't need none of that, Boss." He returned to the door and held it open, giving me a fake bow. "I'm perfectly happy being your bodyguard, test subject, and Gun Guy."
"...we've got to come up with a better codename for you than Gun Guy." I entered and took off my mask, glaring at him a little as he laughed and followed.
He had told me he didn't remember much from the day he'd been hurt, losing his arm and nearly dying in a warehouse explosion visible from a mile away. All his memory gave him were bits and pieces. Lung getting mad at him and crushing his gun, an alarm going off, Lung throwing fire and roaring, him shooting, and then finally an explosion that nearly killed him.
Also, someone whose face he couldn't recall, who kept calling him 'Gun Guy' over and over.
"Seriously, there have to be better name options." I tried talking to him again, but he just shrugged it off and started heating up some of the leftovers he'd made the night before. Even with a new arm, he was an excellent cook. "You shouldn't have to use a nickname whose creator you don't even remember!"
"I dunno about dat, Boss." Gun Guy shrugged, then held up his arm and shifted it to Gun Mode, posing as if he was on a movie poster. "It's kinda growing on me."
************
AN: Hey, that's what happened to Gun Guy! Well, looks like he landed on his feet. I mean, after he landed on a box after an explosive blew him off his feet. Come to think of it, maybe he landed on his arm, and that's why it's metal now? Eh, you know what I mean!
Mathematicians: I'm not claiming that Bakuda, a college student, could have created the proof for the Poincare Conjecture. I think it was more that she did a lot of work on it, turned it over to her professor to enter for her, and then he stole all her work and used it himself. Not that him stealing her work and claiming all the glory justifies her actions (murder), but it does help me use her as something other than a mad bomber. Also, math is fun!
Next time on From Hated to Hero: Arc 1 isn't over yet! We still have an Epilogue, as Greg reviews over his time as a parahuman and tries to make positive changes in his life.
No, wait- *BOOM*
******************************
Interlude 4: People Are Complex Equations
[Saturday, Dec 25, 2010]
[Bakuda]
I love math. It's solid, dependable, and even the crazy parts eventually made sense. Like, the Poincare Conjecture seemed like a drug-fueled donut monster when I first heard it, but after a lot of study and more than a few sleepless nights I managed to get it. Now, I could talk about it in the same sentence as the Earth being round and it was just as normal to me.
That's a joke, see, because the Conjecture involves spheres. Damn, I'm good.
Where was I? Ah yeah, normal.
Normal, is pretty goddamn eye of the beholder these days. I'm a Tinker, see, one of the best on the planet, and what was normal for me a year ago has long since changed. But like I said, knowing about math means that I don't get all bent out of shape on that. I just have to change my perspective, and realize that what I used to think of as "normal" wasn't, and it all snaps into focus. Like a lens that was making things blurry, and now it's crystal clear.
Normal is always changing, just like my knowledge of math and my understanding of other things. A year ago I'd have never thought that I could combine a gallon of paint, a grenade, and three Gameboys (the old kind, not that new Advance shit) to make a bomb capable of painting any entire room in half the time it would have taken to do it by hand.
But as I stood there, freezing my goddamn face off (my fault for wearing a gas mask on a winter night) while two nerds cavorted around in costumes robbing people, I had trouble considering that this would ever be normal. I had a great view of their 'crime spree' from atop a parking garage, shoppers eagerly spending the last few hours of daylight returning the gifts they'd lovingly received for Christmas earlier this morning. We were all being entertained, but in different ways.
I'd always heard rumors about Uber and Leet, figuring that they were just sandbagging in their fights because they cared more about fame than anything else. Their little themed heists made chump change and the ads on their grade-school website were half what they could have gotten from just taking a grenade to an ATM. Still, the cops barely ever threw the book at them, cape heroes wrote them off as a joke, and they'd never even killed anyone to make a point.
Both had oversized boxing gloves that were bouncing anyone they punched away from them, but aside from a few bruises nobody was actually getting hurt. Leet was dressed in what looked like a retrofitted tan bomb suit that he was practically swimming in, a crown on his head and a big fake belly with a duct-tape X on the belly button. Uber was in a pair of green shorts, black shoes, a black tank top, and green gloves.
The duo were hitting a small shopping center, running from store to store bopping people and grabbing their goods. They couldn't really carry much with those gloves, so they were mostly tossing the goods to other people or putting them in a big pocket in Leet's ever-growing belly.
I figured that their real problem was a lack of motivation. So, I decided to help them out...in my usual bombastic fashion. Actually, it was a grenade, but "grenade-tastic" doesn't really roll off the tongue the same way.
My contribution to this little event was a simple magnet grenade I had made. I actually had two of them, and threw the first at the little golden webcam they always had following them around. Aside from scrambling their 'snitch,' it also gave it a very unique magnetic charge. The other grenade went onto the top floor of the abandoned parking garage that had been closed off by the fire department weeks ago (thanks Lung!), and the snitch was pulled slowly in its direction.
I had been watching them both from atop that very garage for several minutes, and calmly started walking towards the back stairs to wait. I knew both loved that little camera, and that any minute now they'd be jogging (or lumbering, in Leet's case) up here to retrieve their tech.
***
"Here they come." A voice in my ear alerted me that I'd been dead on. "10 seconds to showtime."
"We have to hurry, dude!" Leet's voice was unusually deep, and I gave credit to the suit he was wearing. He sounded a lot like the Hippo-named boxer he was playing, lending a bit more authenticity to his character. My respect for both went up a notch...and then immediately dropped when they leaned over to get the snitch and bonked their heads together.
I couldn't stop myself from laughing, and as both whipped their now-sore heads in my direction, I shrugged and came out from my 'hiding' spot. I tried to look as imposing as my five-foot nothing frame allowed, spreading my legs and shoulders a bit as my makeshift grenade launcher (v34.12, now with voice activated launching!) swung to point just a few feet to their left.
Nothing like a casual barrel-sweep to remind people that you have a weapon pointed near them.
"Who the hell are you? A fan who liked our Team Fortress 2 video?" Leet spoke before his friend could, laughing and gesturing at my getup. "We have to get going soon, but I can sign your mask if you want. Who should I make it out to?"
"Leet, I don't think this is a fan." Uber started to interrupt, and I could see enough of his face (flesh-colored mask over his eyes and scalp, giving the impression that he actually had that spike black hair) to know that his jaw was clenched. "I think she's actually-"
"Uber, you always tell me I shouldn't be gatekeeping girls out of gaming, I really don't think that's a healthy attitude for you to have." Leet playfully slapped at his friend's chest, apparently not realizing that he still had his boxing glove's bounce field active. Uber went flying, hitting the ground a few feet away and rolling backwards to a crouch. "Whoops, sorry about that, bro. Anyway, miss, what do you think of today's crime adventure? Perfect timing and costumes, eh?"
"Well, the costumes are good, I'll give you that." My voice was a bit altered by the simple chip I'd stolen from a discarded toy mask in a Goodwill last week, and it didn't change his expression at all. I could practically hear my little brother, the one who actually had time to play video games growing up, whispering in my ear that they were play-acting as characters from Punch Out. "The costumes and Tinker-tech get a 10, but the timing only gets an 8...Boxing Day is tomorrow. You made your fuse too short, blew a bit too early."
"Ah, dang it, I was going to wait until tomorrow, but PHO was saying that New Wave and the Wards were going out on the town tomorrow for some joint event, and I didn't want to worry about that whole mess." Leet sighed, looking over at his erstwhile companion, who had rejoined him and was standing in what looked like a casual defensive stance. I'd heard that the guy had more than a bit of fighting experience, and tried not to put my finger on the trigger as I saw his eyes go in that direction. He elbowed Leet. "Anyway, I'd love to talk more, but we have some work to do, so unless there's anything else…?"
"Actually, there is something else. Something important. Something grand..." I started to step forward.
"Crap, okay look." Uber held up a hand...well, boxing glove. "If this is about the Grand Theft Auto thing, then let me just say that it was early in our careers as super-provocateurs and we went too far. We fucked up, I know. We apologized in-person to all three of the women we hurt, covered their medical bills, paid for their therapy, and even did a PSA about..."
"This isn't about that." As much as it pained me to do it, this was my best chance at making my plans come to fruition...so I took my hand off the grenade launcher and held it out in their general direction. I mean, it was still voice activated, but they didn't need to know that. "I've been scoping out the major players in this town, and none of them really blew me away. You guys, though, you really pop. You've been burning hot for months, and I think that we-"
"Take it down a notch with the bomb terminology," a voice said in my ear, and I grimaced.
"Wait. That mask, that grenade launcher, the random bomb terms every few sentences," Uber's tone made me flinch a bit. The warning had come too late, it sounded like he had figured out who I was by my habit of using certain terms when I was nervous. It calmed me down, and I never even realized I was doing it. "Everything else lines up...you're Bakuda. You're the nutjob bomb tinker who tried to blow up a college because-"
Leet's glove lashed out again, and bumped Uber. The man went flying again, and this time he flew twice as far before rolling again. He leveled a glare at Leet, but the big (because of his armor/suit) Tinker didn't even notice.
"Whoops, my arm slipped." Leet didn't sound sorry at all. "I'm kind of immature like that. Next thing you know I'll start verbally abusing someone with a history of questionable decisions who lured us to the top of an abandoned parking lot and currently has a grenade launcher."
"Well, that's two, Hippo." Uber rubbed the butt he'd landed on, returning to his friend and standing just outside of Leet's reach. "Do it again and Little Mac is gonna have to TKO you, got it?"
"No prob, Mac." Leet shared a grin with his friend, as if all was forgiven and turned back to face me. "But seriously, why are you here? Cut to the chase. We've got things to do."
"Simply put? I want you two to join my crew. You have talent, I have pure destructive power, and I think we could work well together...better than with any other gangs." I started counting off my fingers, less to keep track and more to keep them from worrying so much about the grenade launcher pointed in their general direction. "I don't do drugs, and you two have done enough Capcom games that I know you know that 'Winners Don't Do Drugs.' Lung blew up one of his own warehouses last week and as Tinkers we know better than to be around anyone that unstable...and that's coming from a bomb tinker."
The three of us had a laugh over that one, even if Uber's still sounded a bit forced. I continued, "Finally, I'm too Asian for the E88, and after that Wolfenstein robbery where you 'accidentally' burned one of Hitler's original paintings I doubt they love you much either. We need to band together, and I want you to join me so we can protect each other. Together, we could be explosively effective."
"I'm with you on a lot of that, but you said 'my' crew, and that makes me wonder why you think you'd be the leader?" Leet started to count off his own fingers, realized he just had a huge pair of boxing gloves, and then sighed and just listed points. "We already make decent income from our site, have a huge fanbase, and the PRT barely even tries to stop us. Joining you would make them take us seriously, and we might even lose a lot of subscribers because of your...y'know...past."
"It's a no from me, Bakuda." Uber was less circumspect, and crossed his arms. It wasn't easy to do with boxing gloves, but he'd actually turned off his bouncers, so he managed. His mouth was set in a firm line, and he didn't even look at Leet. "We don't care for bullies, and I can't think of a better example than the one in front of me. You got a bad grade and tried to bully your professor into fixing it. You got in trouble and tried to bully Cornell University into forgiving you. Now you're here, trying to bully us into working for you."
"So, it's just that cut and dry, huh? All your cannons are in a row?" I held my hands out to the side, ignoring their quizzical expressions as the code phrase I'd programmed into my grenade launcher made it swing in their direction, focusing on Uber since he'd talked last. A few specific words, and it would launch a freeze grenade at him. "If I'm a bully, then why aren't you two gamer nerds just falling in line for me?"
"Take it down a notch," repeated the voice in my ear, but I ignored it. I was getting heated up.
"Because back when we were kids, I used to get beat up all the time." Leet started to explain, his voice oddly quiet. It took me a few seconds to realize that he'd turned off his voice changer, and I had to strain to hear him until he slowly got louder. "Uber would always protect me, but I started to feel bad about always getting him hurt. He had so many friends and clubs, but always found time for me. I finally told him one day that he should just leave me to the bullies."
"I told him to go fuck himself, that I'd rather bully him myself than let them lay a finger on him." Uber smiled, and for a moment it was like listening to my friends in college banter...and not to super-nerds in tinker gear who had just spent the evening stealing thousands of dollars of electronics. "So I decided that I would teach him something, so that even if I wasn't around he'd be okay."
"So you taught him to fight?" The confusion was pretty clear in my voice. Their capers usually had Leet in either a mobile suit with ranged attacks or a shielded suit like this one, because even the 12-year-old Ward Vista could beat him up...without her powers. It was actually a bit sad, and I'd always wondered if he was just sandbagging for humor. "I...don't see it."
"Nah, I could never fight as well as Uber, even before he got powers he was a beast. Meanwhile, I make scarecrows look buff by comparison." Leet's goofy grin took some of the sting out of his words, but I could still see his friend's smile fade at that. "No, he taught me to be confident, and it motivated me to get into art and writing. It was hard at first, but pretty soon I could take just about anything that came my way without getting down on myself for failing."
"Yeah, and believe me we've faced a lot of bullies and jerks in our time. But with each encounter we got stronger, and never let anything keep us down for long." Uber threw an arm around his friend and the other boy bopped him a few times with his (thankfully depowered) boxing glove. Both started laughing, and their one-arm hug broke up as they stood tall to face my grenade launcher (which was still pointed at them) with conviction on their faces.
"Yeah! It doesn't matter if it's a spiky-haired teenager with explosive sweat, an overweight cousin whose family forces me to live in a cupboard under the stairs, a bossy little girl who pulls the football away when I go to kick it, a six-year old who torments me in ways that my stuffed tiger can't help me overcome…"
"Those all sound like oddly-specific and probably fictional situations." I commented, and that only made them laugh harder. I rolled my eyes, and waved a hand, motioning for them to get to the point. "So what you're saying is that since I'm a bully and you're confident, you want to stand up to me to prove a point? Even with this grenade launcher pointed at you?"
"Yeah!" Both nodded, and Uber's smile grew so much I wondered if his entire face was a Tinkertech mask of some kind. He pointed a glove at me. "You lived a perfect life of happiness and success, then had one bad day when you got a B+ and went nuts. No offense, but that's nothing like the kind of crap we've dealt with our whole lives. You've never had to face bullies. You've never had to deal with people who do terrible shit just because they're petty, ignorant, self-righteous, small-minded pieces of sh-"
***
[Then]
"Professor!"
Professor Bao pointedly ignored me as I continued to wave my hand in the air, choosing instead to walk around the room handing back our midterms. The other students had no problem looking or glaring at me, but since I had the top grade in the class (despite being a year younger than them) their opinions didn't matter to me one bit. I was destined for greatness.
The question I had for the old man, as it had been every class, was whether or not word had come back on my entry in the Millennium Prize Math Problems contest. It had been a long shot, but my family had barely been able to afford to send me here to Cornell...and with the winnings (a million dollars!) I could pay them back and then some. Heck, I might even be able to move them to a better part of town, or send my siblings to college!
I'd spent months working on it, but I was pretty sure (95% sure, at least) that I had a proof of the Poincare Conjecture that would pass any scrutiny. I'd handed it off to Professor Bao almost a month ago, along with my letter of explanation and other information. He'd promised to send it immediately, and I had thanked him profusely for helping my mathematics dream come true.
But since that day, he'd grown more and more shrewd when it came to talking to me, often even making appointments with me and then skipping them. I was pretty sure that he was just overworked, and so I'd tried to help him out by pointing out mistakes he was making on the various quizzes and tests he'd been giving us.
For instance, the one that he slapped on my desk, pulling me from my thoughts, had a note on it asking me to please stop doing so...and a B+? How? I hurriedly flipped through it, and found that he'd mistaken my explanation of bicontinuous functions to be a mere continuous inverse function (ignoring the note I had that pointed out the rest of that proof on the back of the page). I quickly jumped to my feet, running out of the classroom and to his office.
He was still there, apparently caught up in what seemed like a happy phone call with someone, and immediately disconnected the call as I entered the room. Knowing I wasn't one of his favorite people, I put on my most careful smile and radiant expression. The other students who were milling around the hallway stopped to watch, knowing that the two of us were prone to...spirited discussions.
Despite the audience and my smile, he was not happy to see me. Further adding to my embarrassment, he loudly proclaimed that all grades were final while pointing at the sign (with those words in multiple languages) over his left shoulder. He then told me to get out, and started to get up and shoo me out of his office.
I took a moment to formulate a nicer way (than usual) to point out his error, but froze as I saw a brand new addition to the wall of certificates and diplomas that covered his wall. It hadn't been there yesterday, and the shining glass frame almost seemed to taunt me as the man got nervous.
"Now, while that might be only my name on there despite using some of your work-" He started whispering, but I wasn't listening...I was just staring. I ignored him as he put his arm on my shoulder and tried to pull me away from his door, closing it with one foot.
It was a certificate from the Clay Mathematics Institute.
"-besides, nobody would even believe you if you tried to expose me, so you should just-"
Awarded to Professor Bao, working alone.
"-can give you straight A's all year if you just keep this a secret from-"
For his proof on the Poincare Conjecture.
"-even fix that B+ right now!"
...for a moment, the only math I cared about was the amount of force that my hands could apply to his throat. The other students interrupted me, so I never found out the answer.
*
"As I said, Dean, I think the poor girl was just overworked and the stress got to her." Bao's voice echoed out of the Dean's office. I would have been closer, but a campus security guard had sat me down in a folding chair just outside the office, and refused to let me enter and defend myself. I had spent the night in their jail cell (practically a locked closet), and during that time things had gotten worse. "But now that all these other details are coming out, we may not have a choice."
Other details, in this case, being the fact that shortly after I'd been nabbed by campus security, a legion of students had gone on social media and spread lies about my 'cutthroat nature,' my made-up drug habits, and one was even claiming that I had talked about bombing the school. Of course, none of them had any proof, but local news had picked it up and it was spreading like wildfire. My hopes that the truth would prevail were starting to burn away in that wildfire...
"You're right, Bao. If she did this over a B+, and even half of these rumors are true, then we can't take the risk." He sighed, and then started printing something before calling out, "Bring her in!"
The security guard grabbed me by the arm, roughly dragging me in despite my protestations that I could walk. Only as we entered and the Dean gave him a nod did he let me go, but still kept an eye on me and a hand on his taser. I started to defend myself, but saw how the Dean refused to make eye contact and knew that the battle was already lost.
I just stared ahead as the Dean told me that he was very sorry, but they were going to have to expel me. That all my credits could be transferred, but no school would be likely to take me for some time. That I should really seek mental help for my anger issues, and that attacking Bao over a B+ could have saved me from a life in prison...and that I should be thankful to the man.
Meanwhile, Bao just grinned at me and then schooled his face into sadness when the Dean looked at him. This was the man I was supposed to be thankful to?
The man who had stolen MY work? My MATH?
MY FUTURE?!
It was like an explosion in my head. All the anxiety and fear I'd felt all month, combined with the need to make my parents proud, added to my incredible need for perfection because they'd sacrificed so much for me...
I turned and ran, a headache like I'd never felt spiking so hard that I was seeing double for a moment. The security guard let out a little squawk and tried to chase me, but with adrenaline, fear, and anger roiling in me I was faster than anyone else in that moment.
I made it out of the building and just kept running. I was afraid to stop, and before I knew it I was at the edge of campus and all alone. I was completely alone now, no family or friends or...
By then the pain had gotten so bad that my vision went dark, and it was only the feeling of leaves and branches in my face that told me I was running through one of the stupid decorative hedges the Dean loved so much. I tripped, I fell, and I just...gave up.
I ran out of steam, fighting to escape, and finally broke down into the ugliest cry I'd ever had. I'd lost everything, had it all taken away from me, and now I was going to have to tell my family...
PAIN
I felt like I was dying, like my brain was exploding, and then everything went dark.
*
When I woke up, the pain was gone. The light was also gone, and night had fallen.
But none of that really mattered to me, because I was staring at a television on sale in the little electronics store just a few hundred feet away. On it, Bao was being interviewed by the local news about me.
I knew it was about me, because he was lying and they were believing him. From the subtitles, I could see him claiming that I was dangerously unstable, and police nodding appreciatively.
But I didn't care about that, because I was looking at the television.
Five minutes later, I was looking inside the television, having removed the glass window with the simple application of a brick. The store owner tried to stop me, but all it took to get rid of him was the mere threat of a brick. He said he was calling the police, but I'd snatched the phone from his hand.
I needed that phone more than him. I used it to call Bao, warn him to come clean or else.
Then I took the phone apart. Also the TV. Also...well, I'd suddenly had an idea...
It had occurred to me that there were other ways to change the world besides just math.
Ways to solve problems. Ways to get back at Bao. Ways to make my mark on the world.
In my case, all the best ways also went BOOM.
*
That night, as Bao spread lies about me to the media, claiming that I had planted bombs all over the campus, I was hiding in an alley with parts stolen from the electronics shop.
While the news raved about the Protectorate coming in and being unable to find the bombs planted by a new villain cape called Bakuda (nice name, that), I was marveling at an inventive new device I had crafted. It combined six alarm clocks, three smoke detectors, and a microwave to create an effect that split things into equal-sized pieces. It also made a very loud bang.
As I left town, I made sure to toss it inside Professor Bao's apartment window. He had just long enough to read the note ("What's the radius of a circle?") before it went off, and divided him into 314 equally-sized pieces. Get it?
I'm sure Bao would be laughing too, if he weren't a thieving bully who got killed by karma.
Well, karma and my Pi Bomb.
***
[Now]
"-it, whose entire goal is to stomp on you because it makes them feel bigger."
"They're right, Boss. Also they're on a roll." I frowned under my mask, but as if he could see me he added. "Even if you don't agree, you should at least apologize."
"You're right, I am being a bully. Sorry!" My raised hand, bowed head, and sudden words stopped their rant in its tracks, and I sighed. I gave the grenade launcher two slaps, disarming the auto-target system. I took a deep breath, and tried again. "I screwed this up by coming in hot, thinking I had to take what I wanted. I'm too used to dealing with...terrible people. Sorry, I've just been dealing with a lot of shit lately. What I want…"
What I wanted was my family back, but they'd practically disowned me after I killed Bao. In the moment it had seemed like the right thing to do...but I was still a murderer now. I'd stolen, hurt people, and caused a lot of panic since then. I hadn't killed anyone else, but that was more by luck than actual effort.
What I want are people I can trust. Friends. A family. Someone to have my back.
But how was I ever going to have friends or a family again, after what I'd done? I was just a-
"Challenge them to a contest." The voice whispered in my ear. "They're gamers. They'll love it."
"What I want...is a contest." I repeated the words slowly, and the idea began to form as I continued. Seeing them glance at each other and not hearing an outright refusal, I continued. "We meet in 2 weeks, in front of your hideout, and my best bombs take on your best costumes. We each get to show off our best, you get money for your channel, and then-"
"So what, we beat you for our channel and you go away forever?" Uber interrupted me, his eyes still on my grenade launcher. He traded a quick glance with Leet, who just shrugged unhelpfully. "If you win, not that you will, are we just supposed to become your slaves? Sounds like a pretty stupid deal."
"Nah, if I win then we team up, but as a three-person crew." I ground my teeth for a moment, hating to give up on my plan, and I finally clenched a fist as I continued. "No leader, just three confident people who the other big gangs in the city don't want to mess with. It keeps me safe from the nazis, junkies, and rage dragon...and keeps you two protected in case the PRT ever decides to come after you for that Earthbound thing you did last month."
"Seriously, we warned everyone a full week in advance that it was called the Pencil Eraser!" Leet whined, stomping his foot petulantly as Uber patted him on the back. "They had plenty of time to get ready for it. It was their own fault for not taking me seriously when I made a device that destroyed all the pencils in a 1-mile radius. Heck, Arcadia loved us for giving them the day off from school."
"I know dude, I know." Uber sighed, shaking his head and turning towards me. He carefully crossed the short distance between us and, after a glance back to get a nod from the still-sulking Leet, reached out to shake my hand. "Anyway, I think we accept. Our awesome gear and Tinkertech versus your little firecrackers, winner chooses where we go from there. We'd offer to send you the location, but from the way you're talking you probably already know where it is. You seem like the sort of person who likes to do her research."
"What can I say, I like to be prepared. Oh, speaking of which..." I turned and started walking away, removing a small remote control from my pocket as I did so. I very pointedly pressed a large button on top of it, smiling as I heard them both dive to the ground. The button didn't actually do anything, but it felt good to keep them on their toes. "Just figured I'd disarm that before going. See you in two weeks, kids."
"We're gonna have to pull out all the stops on this one, dude. That lady's scary as hell."
"But also kind of a hot badass, y'know?" Leet replied in a voice that had me wondering if he was looking at my butt. I heard a thumping noise, and glanced back to see that Uber had bounced the big Tinker with his boxing glove, and the two were laughing and bopping each other.
Seeing them fool around like that made me happier than I'd like to admit.
"Seems like that worked out better than we planned. Good thing we went with my suggestion after all, eh?" The voice came in my ear again, and as I rounded the corner into an alley I groaned and popped the radio out. I slipped the device into a pocket, then started to take the grenade launcher apart. By the time it was in pieces and safely stashed in my coat, I had been joined by my new bodyguard.
He was nothing impressive physically, only a few inches taller than me and wearing heavy clothing to protect from the cold. But most people still might have given him a second look when they noticed the way his right arm was a bit bulkier than his left, or that one hand was metal.
Well, that and the way he'd joined me by leaping down into the alley from several stories above, the sound of straining metal wire the only noise to be heard. Landing as light as a feather, he gestured and the hook that was stuck in the roof above clicked out of place and allowed the thin cable to wind back up into his elbow housing.
"Arm still working okay?" I asked, gesturing for him to hold it out so I could check it over. He rolled his eyes, but let me check my rudimentary work and make sure that neither the grappling gun nor the bomb-launcher had taken any damage from his rough treatment. "How was the sniper scope, by the way? I haven't made any bomb-bullets yet, but the scope is-"
"Yeah, I know, Boss. It was good. It let me keep an eye on ya, and the grappling hook is a lot smoother now." He took the arm back, clicking it through both the grapple mode and gun mode before returning it to a normal (if metal) arm. "Anyway, we better get back to da hideout. My ABB contacts say we got about an hour window til they patrol dis area again."
"Got it." With that, the two of us began to head back to the crappy apartment workshop I'd set up shop in. As we walked, I bounced ideas off of him for weapons I could make, since my opponents were apparently going to bring their A-Game.
"Maybe a bomb that puts people to sleep?" I asked, my Tinker mind already dancing with new possibilities. "I've heard about a Case 53 in town who can give people temporary drug trips and knock them out with his sweat."
"Yeah, I was about ta say, maybe if ya wanted teammates ya don't start off by meltin' their bodies or nothing." He grinned, and I found myself rolling my eyes and laughing. He said that he'd only started using the Brooklyn accent to stand out when he was in the ABB, but now it was hard for him to remember not to fake it. "Yeah, I'll pay a visit to that nightclub he hangs out at, see if I can get some samples so ya can make a Drug Trip Grenade?"
"Keep working this hard, and someday I'll be working for you." I joked, but he just chuckled and shook his head at me. We arrived at the apartment and he stepped inside, checking it and disarming my traps. "I can at least give you a raise, if you help me knock over an ATM…"
"Nah, I don't need none of that, Boss." He returned to the door and held it open, giving me a fake bow. "I'm perfectly happy being your bodyguard, test subject, and Gun Guy."
"...we've got to come up with a better codename for you than Gun Guy." I entered and took off my mask, glaring at him a little as he laughed and followed.
He had told me he didn't remember much from the day he'd been hurt, losing his arm and nearly dying in a warehouse explosion visible from a mile away. All his memory gave him were bits and pieces. Lung getting mad at him and crushing his gun, an alarm going off, Lung throwing fire and roaring, him shooting, and then finally an explosion that nearly killed him.
Also, someone whose face he couldn't recall, who kept calling him 'Gun Guy' over and over.
"Seriously, there have to be better name options." I tried talking to him again, but he just shrugged it off and started heating up some of the leftovers he'd made the night before. Even with a new arm, he was an excellent cook. "You shouldn't have to use a nickname whose creator you don't even remember!"
"I dunno about dat, Boss." Gun Guy shrugged, then held up his arm and shifted it to Gun Mode, posing as if he was on a movie poster. "It's kinda growing on me."
************
AN: Hey, that's what happened to Gun Guy! Well, looks like he landed on his feet. I mean, after he landed on a box after an explosive blew him off his feet. Come to think of it, maybe he landed on his arm, and that's why it's metal now? Eh, you know what I mean!
Mathematicians: I'm not claiming that Bakuda, a college student, could have created the proof for the Poincare Conjecture. I think it was more that she did a lot of work on it, turned it over to her professor to enter for her, and then he stole all her work and used it himself. Not that him stealing her work and claiming all the glory justifies her actions (murder), but it does help me use her as something other than a mad bomber. Also, math is fun!
Next time on From Hated to Hero: Arc 1 isn't over yet! We still have an Epilogue, as Greg reviews over his time as a parahuman and tries to make positive changes in his life.
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ILostmyAccount
Anarcho-Don't Steal My Stuffalist
- Location
- The Ancapistani Helicenter
Dude, you somehow made me feel sorry for Ms. "I put bombs in people's heads, ain't I the greatest?" Bakuda.
You're good.
Also nice to see Gun Guy doing well for himself, and it'd be real ironic if he ends up making friends with Greg all over again.
You're good.
Also nice to see Gun Guy doing well for himself, and it'd be real ironic if he ends up making friends with Greg all over again.
I don't know, I think a professor that stole my work, a million dollar prize, got me kicked out of college, and labeled a nut, while causing me to trigger may well have deserved the Pi he received. I doubt she was the first student he bullied while using his position to do so, I just can't feel for him due to that and would have liked to see him exposed for it. It may not have helped get her out of trouble, but at least her family may have received the prize money to do what she wanted to do with it, to send her family to college. First time I have read a story with Bakuda where you want her to get help. Good job.
Distraktion
Trying. Sometimes succeeding.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Author's Note: Following the rewrite of Arc 1 in Sept 2020, this threadmark ceased to exist (we went from 14 chapters to 12)
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- Location
- England
As an avid book reader and introvert, Books _are_ perfect, but I think you meant 'aren't' in context.
Distraktion
Trying. Sometimes succeeding.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Thanks! Great catch, haha.
Arc 1: Epilogue
Distraktion
Trying. Sometimes succeeding.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Arc 1: Epilogue
Final Journal Entry...maybe:
It's really hard looking back at your own mistakes and calling them actual mistakes.
This isn't easy. After the written tongue-lashing I read from the Thinkered-up version of myself, Kaleidoscope, though...I know that I need to do this. I have to change, to be willing to change, because I can't just keep making mistakes like the ones I've been making all week.
I could have died to Knife Guy, the ABB, Lung, Gun Guy, Bellows, or my own dumb choices. The fact that the Undersiders didn't rob or kill me was luck. I can't just count on being lucky anymore. I have to make good plans. I have to improve.
So, I just read back through my Journal. Every entry, every note, every page. I've got it all open right here, and I'm going to do what I should have done in the first place.
Instead of just writing down my thoughts, as though that solved anything, I'm going to reflect on what I've learned in the past few weeks. Because I have to change. I have to ask myself whether any of this was worth it, and if it wasn't...I need to find something that does work.
If this Journal wasn't actually helping me, then what would have worked better?
Let's see...
Do I Understand My Classmates? Yeah, I think I do now. Sure, I can be annoying, but out of everyone at school only one of them ever did anything that could have really hurt me...Emma. Having people make fun of me or beat me up doesn't mean they hate me...it just means they're jerks. Also, if they're just reacting to the bad way I act, then that should tell me something.
Do I Understand Exercise? All that running I did that first night, all those power tests I failed, and it should have taught me that I need to take better care of myself. I never understood why my body was always failing me, but that's because all this time I was the one failing myself. Exercise was trying to tell me something this whole time...I just wasn't listening.
Do I Understand My Plans? I put my own plans on too high of a pedestal. I spent so much time thinking on all the angles and making big schemes, and was too afraid to question them. Look at the last week! All the plans I'd had that were years old had been failures, and all the ones that I just assumed were perfect were anything but. I had to stop going into everything thinking I was right...and be ready to be told I was wrong.
What I need is to find a way to stop working alone. Is there anyone I can trust, though?
Do I Understand My Powers? I thought that my powers were terrible. Even after I figured them out and realized that I could copy powers, I thought they were such a bad match for me. I mean, powers that require other people, given to the guy who has no friends and sucks at talking to people? But now I get it! I have the greatest powers I could possibly get, with such versatility. They've given me the motivation I need to become a better Greg.
Do I Understand My Brother? No, not yet. But that's not his fault. Sure, George and I didn't always get along perfectly, and I felt like he was trying to leave me behind. He had a new life, new job, new girlfriend, and it always seemed like he was rubbing all that in my face. But now I think that he was just trying to inspire me, to show me what perseverance and motivation could get me. He had my back, even after getting hurt...he deserves more recognition.
Do I Understand the ABB? They're a criminal gang, and that seems straightforward. But as Gun Guy taught me with all his safety stuff, I can't just assume that they're all a faceless evil entity. They're people, and they have lives.
Do I Understand Lung? As much as anyone else does, I guess. He's a force of nature, an unstoppable enemy, and I was a fool for taking him on alone. I need to respect my limits.
Still, maybe someday I can fight him with friends by my side. A lot of friends. Like, a LOT.
Do I Understand Hospitals? Yeah, I think I finally do. I shouldn't feel so bad about what happened when I was a kid. All of those doctors and nurses took an oath, and all they were doing was helping a sad, injured kid. I can't blame them for the way bullies kept coming after me, the principals who punished them, or my parents for caring about me. Going to the hospital was smart. Screaming at the nurse...less smart. She didn't deserve that.
Do I Understand the Law? Yeah. It took me meeting Bellows to fully get it. That guy was what I was on the track to becoming. Someone who saw the world in black and white, was obsessed with one goal, and had so much confirmation bias and deep-seated rage that dismissals set him off like an atom bomb. I need to be more like Kalpin and Hobson, a true team of friends.
I don't even need to keep going, I know where this is headed.
Most of all, it tells me that I have to start working on Greg instead of Greg's powers. I need to make sure that I have parents, a brother, and maybe even friends to support me. But how I'm going to actually pull that off...that's something I'm probably not going to figure out tonight.
This might be my final journal entry, or maybe it's just time for my journal to evolve.
-GregV.
***
[Saturday, Dec 25, 2010...Christmas Morning!]
After typing up my (potentially) final journal entry, I went downstairs to sit on the couch and think about how I was going to fix everything I'd broken.
Lisa was right, it's only a matter of time before I get dragged into a fight or a cape matter.
I couldn't always count on super-brain powers to get me out of the problems I had created. I had to learn not to make them in the first place, and the right way to deal with them. No more running away, no more hiding, and someday...no more secrets. Powers wouldn't always be there to help me...I had to learn to help myself.
I need to build that support network GstringGirl was talking about. No more Secret Journals.
...come to think of it, that gives me a really good idea! Just a...quick...nap...first...
Unfortunately, before I had time to work out this great idea, I must have dozed off. In my defense, I was on a comfortable couch and pretty tired from a long night of yelling, talking, and using super-brain powers to reset my social connections with my family.
Then someone was shaking me, and I heard my name.
"Greg, honey, did you sleep down here?" Mom was there, and I awoke from a dreamless sleep to see her concerned face peering down at me. She was in a bathrobe, and appeared to be a mix of worried and bemused. As I laughed nervously, she joined in...gesturing at the tree. "Well, I guess it's not the first time you've slept by the tree. Merry Christmas, Greg."
"Merry Christmas, Mom." I stood quickly from the couch and gave her a hug, only stopping when she let out a little squeak of surprise. I felt like I hadn't seen her in days. "Oops, sorry."
Admittedly, from my point of view it had certainly felt like days. The last time I had seen her she had been ready to fight me to protect George, as he leaned on her with blood dripping down-
No, stop thinking about that. Kaleidoscope sorted that out for me. Be happy for once.
I gave an unsteady smile, one that she returned, and I think both of us realized that no matter how well last night had ended...that didn't erase everything I had said or done earlier. Luckily, we were spared from any more nervous dialogue when Dad clambered downstairs, followed by George. Both paused at the bottom of the steps, looking owlishly at us before laughing.
"So Greg, did you manage to catch Santa Claus this year?" George asked, a grin on his face as he pretended to look around. He walked around the room, not bothering to hide the small bandage on his hand, and I even think he pointed it at me so that I wouldn't worry about it. He looked up our chimney, then sighed theatrically, "Guess we forgot to camp out this year, huh?"
"Well, to be fair we had a lot of other stuff on our minds last night…" I started, then paused as everyone froze and looked anywhere other than at me. Taking a deep breath and noting a wonderful smell still in the air, I quickly added, "Like Mom's sweet potato pie! I don't know how you do it, Mom, but that was divine as always!"
Everyone let out a relieved laugh, and I internally cheered as the level of discomfort in the room almost visibly decreased. Mom headed for the kitchen to start making coffee, Dad started fussing with the tree's lights, and George started moving things off the coffee table carefully.
Oh, better help George with that heavy coffee table stuff. I kind of owe him for that hand.
Wordlessly, I moved to help George, and together we started clearing things off of the coffee table. I tried to start talking to him more than once, but even though he'd been cordial earlier with Mom and Dad around...I could still tell he was worried about something.
I wonder what Kaleidoscope said to him? He was already nervous beforehand...what's his deal?
Soon enough, we were all seated in the living room, having had a quick breakfast, and my parents were looking at the gifts I had gotten them. I had insisted that they open them first, just smiling and shrugging when they tried to ask what was inside. I didn't want to give the wrong impression, and also...I really had no idea what Kaleidoscope had gotten them.
Their faces, a minute later, told me that it had been something amazing.
Even after that, as George and I tore through our own presents from our parents, envelopes from distant relatives, and little tchotchkes from our Christmas stockings, I found myself thinking about their faces. They'd been so surprised, so happy, and so proud of me.
But it wasn't me, was it?
No, those gifts hadn't technically come from me. It was almost enough to bring me down…
But in a way, it was from me. Just a different version of me. The Greg I could be.
Someday, I would be that Greg, the one who brings smiles to my parents' faces. Who fills my brother with hope. Who has friends that rely on him. Who inspires others.
Powers didn't solve my problems for me...they just gave me more options. That meant I needed to stop worrying about my powers so much, and fix the rest of my life.
I can make this happen.
I could make this happen.
I had already started, now it was time to keep going!
[End of Arc 1]
*********************
AN: So ends Arc 1, with a happy holiday for Greg and new ideas on the horizon!
In Arc 1, Greg Triggered and focused entirely on his powers, finding that as you might expect, his non-powered life suffered incredibly for it. He jumped to conclusions, made dumb plans, made many mistakes, and got in a lot of trouble. Sure, he learned a lot about his powers, but he had to sacrifice a lot to get there. He pushed his family away, lied, and panicked. Even when he started confronting his problems and being responsible, it was still only a band-aid solution.
Starting in Arc 2, though, he's going to go in a different direction. He feels pretty secure in his understanding of his powers, so now he's going to try to set them aside and fix everything else about his life. Is that a good idea? Of course not! Going to the one extreme (all powers, no regard for anything else) was a disaster, so why would the other way (fix my social/family life at any cost) be any different? But he's a human teenager...and so he learns by doing, failing, and trying again.
Thank you all for reading, commenting, and helping me to make this such an enjoyable experience, and I hope to keep up the same level of quality as we move forwards.
Next time on From Hated to Hero: Arc 2's Prologue! Greg had an idea in this epilogue, a way to improve himself. Not physically, or with his powers, but to start building a strong foundation that would serve him for years. All he needs...is to be willing to ask for help. But of course it's never that easy, because it's a very strange kind of help he's asking for...from a very odd source...
Final Journal Entry...maybe:
It's really hard looking back at your own mistakes and calling them actual mistakes.
This isn't easy. After the written tongue-lashing I read from the Thinkered-up version of myself, Kaleidoscope, though...I know that I need to do this. I have to change, to be willing to change, because I can't just keep making mistakes like the ones I've been making all week.
I could have died to Knife Guy, the ABB, Lung, Gun Guy, Bellows, or my own dumb choices. The fact that the Undersiders didn't rob or kill me was luck. I can't just count on being lucky anymore. I have to make good plans. I have to improve.
So, I just read back through my Journal. Every entry, every note, every page. I've got it all open right here, and I'm going to do what I should have done in the first place.
Instead of just writing down my thoughts, as though that solved anything, I'm going to reflect on what I've learned in the past few weeks. Because I have to change. I have to ask myself whether any of this was worth it, and if it wasn't...I need to find something that does work.
If this Journal wasn't actually helping me, then what would have worked better?
Let's see...
Do I Understand My Classmates? Yeah, I think I do now. Sure, I can be annoying, but out of everyone at school only one of them ever did anything that could have really hurt me...Emma. Having people make fun of me or beat me up doesn't mean they hate me...it just means they're jerks. Also, if they're just reacting to the bad way I act, then that should tell me something.
Do I Understand Exercise? All that running I did that first night, all those power tests I failed, and it should have taught me that I need to take better care of myself. I never understood why my body was always failing me, but that's because all this time I was the one failing myself. Exercise was trying to tell me something this whole time...I just wasn't listening.
Do I Understand My Plans? I put my own plans on too high of a pedestal. I spent so much time thinking on all the angles and making big schemes, and was too afraid to question them. Look at the last week! All the plans I'd had that were years old had been failures, and all the ones that I just assumed were perfect were anything but. I had to stop going into everything thinking I was right...and be ready to be told I was wrong.
What I need is to find a way to stop working alone. Is there anyone I can trust, though?
Do I Understand My Powers? I thought that my powers were terrible. Even after I figured them out and realized that I could copy powers, I thought they were such a bad match for me. I mean, powers that require other people, given to the guy who has no friends and sucks at talking to people? But now I get it! I have the greatest powers I could possibly get, with such versatility. They've given me the motivation I need to become a better Greg.
Do I Understand My Brother? No, not yet. But that's not his fault. Sure, George and I didn't always get along perfectly, and I felt like he was trying to leave me behind. He had a new life, new job, new girlfriend, and it always seemed like he was rubbing all that in my face. But now I think that he was just trying to inspire me, to show me what perseverance and motivation could get me. He had my back, even after getting hurt...he deserves more recognition.
Do I Understand the ABB? They're a criminal gang, and that seems straightforward. But as Gun Guy taught me with all his safety stuff, I can't just assume that they're all a faceless evil entity. They're people, and they have lives.
Do I Understand Lung? As much as anyone else does, I guess. He's a force of nature, an unstoppable enemy, and I was a fool for taking him on alone. I need to respect my limits.
Still, maybe someday I can fight him with friends by my side. A lot of friends. Like, a LOT.
Do I Understand Hospitals? Yeah, I think I finally do. I shouldn't feel so bad about what happened when I was a kid. All of those doctors and nurses took an oath, and all they were doing was helping a sad, injured kid. I can't blame them for the way bullies kept coming after me, the principals who punished them, or my parents for caring about me. Going to the hospital was smart. Screaming at the nurse...less smart. She didn't deserve that.
Do I Understand the Law? Yeah. It took me meeting Bellows to fully get it. That guy was what I was on the track to becoming. Someone who saw the world in black and white, was obsessed with one goal, and had so much confirmation bias and deep-seated rage that dismissals set him off like an atom bomb. I need to be more like Kalpin and Hobson, a true team of friends.
I don't even need to keep going, I know where this is headed.
Most of all, it tells me that I have to start working on Greg instead of Greg's powers. I need to make sure that I have parents, a brother, and maybe even friends to support me. But how I'm going to actually pull that off...that's something I'm probably not going to figure out tonight.
This might be my final journal entry, or maybe it's just time for my journal to evolve.
-GregV.
***
[Saturday, Dec 25, 2010...Christmas Morning!]
After typing up my (potentially) final journal entry, I went downstairs to sit on the couch and think about how I was going to fix everything I'd broken.
Lisa was right, it's only a matter of time before I get dragged into a fight or a cape matter.
I couldn't always count on super-brain powers to get me out of the problems I had created. I had to learn not to make them in the first place, and the right way to deal with them. No more running away, no more hiding, and someday...no more secrets. Powers wouldn't always be there to help me...I had to learn to help myself.
I need to build that support network GstringGirl was talking about. No more Secret Journals.
...come to think of it, that gives me a really good idea! Just a...quick...nap...first...
Unfortunately, before I had time to work out this great idea, I must have dozed off. In my defense, I was on a comfortable couch and pretty tired from a long night of yelling, talking, and using super-brain powers to reset my social connections with my family.
Then someone was shaking me, and I heard my name.
"Greg, honey, did you sleep down here?" Mom was there, and I awoke from a dreamless sleep to see her concerned face peering down at me. She was in a bathrobe, and appeared to be a mix of worried and bemused. As I laughed nervously, she joined in...gesturing at the tree. "Well, I guess it's not the first time you've slept by the tree. Merry Christmas, Greg."
"Merry Christmas, Mom." I stood quickly from the couch and gave her a hug, only stopping when she let out a little squeak of surprise. I felt like I hadn't seen her in days. "Oops, sorry."
Admittedly, from my point of view it had certainly felt like days. The last time I had seen her she had been ready to fight me to protect George, as he leaned on her with blood dripping down-
No, stop thinking about that. Kaleidoscope sorted that out for me. Be happy for once.
I gave an unsteady smile, one that she returned, and I think both of us realized that no matter how well last night had ended...that didn't erase everything I had said or done earlier. Luckily, we were spared from any more nervous dialogue when Dad clambered downstairs, followed by George. Both paused at the bottom of the steps, looking owlishly at us before laughing.
"So Greg, did you manage to catch Santa Claus this year?" George asked, a grin on his face as he pretended to look around. He walked around the room, not bothering to hide the small bandage on his hand, and I even think he pointed it at me so that I wouldn't worry about it. He looked up our chimney, then sighed theatrically, "Guess we forgot to camp out this year, huh?"
"Well, to be fair we had a lot of other stuff on our minds last night…" I started, then paused as everyone froze and looked anywhere other than at me. Taking a deep breath and noting a wonderful smell still in the air, I quickly added, "Like Mom's sweet potato pie! I don't know how you do it, Mom, but that was divine as always!"
Everyone let out a relieved laugh, and I internally cheered as the level of discomfort in the room almost visibly decreased. Mom headed for the kitchen to start making coffee, Dad started fussing with the tree's lights, and George started moving things off the coffee table carefully.
Oh, better help George with that heavy coffee table stuff. I kind of owe him for that hand.
Wordlessly, I moved to help George, and together we started clearing things off of the coffee table. I tried to start talking to him more than once, but even though he'd been cordial earlier with Mom and Dad around...I could still tell he was worried about something.
I wonder what Kaleidoscope said to him? He was already nervous beforehand...what's his deal?
Soon enough, we were all seated in the living room, having had a quick breakfast, and my parents were looking at the gifts I had gotten them. I had insisted that they open them first, just smiling and shrugging when they tried to ask what was inside. I didn't want to give the wrong impression, and also...I really had no idea what Kaleidoscope had gotten them.
Their faces, a minute later, told me that it had been something amazing.
Even after that, as George and I tore through our own presents from our parents, envelopes from distant relatives, and little tchotchkes from our Christmas stockings, I found myself thinking about their faces. They'd been so surprised, so happy, and so proud of me.
But it wasn't me, was it?
No, those gifts hadn't technically come from me. It was almost enough to bring me down…
But in a way, it was from me. Just a different version of me. The Greg I could be.
Someday, I would be that Greg, the one who brings smiles to my parents' faces. Who fills my brother with hope. Who has friends that rely on him. Who inspires others.
Powers didn't solve my problems for me...they just gave me more options. That meant I needed to stop worrying about my powers so much, and fix the rest of my life.
I can make this happen.
I could make this happen.
I had already started, now it was time to keep going!
[End of Arc 1]
*********************
AN: So ends Arc 1, with a happy holiday for Greg and new ideas on the horizon!
In Arc 1, Greg Triggered and focused entirely on his powers, finding that as you might expect, his non-powered life suffered incredibly for it. He jumped to conclusions, made dumb plans, made many mistakes, and got in a lot of trouble. Sure, he learned a lot about his powers, but he had to sacrifice a lot to get there. He pushed his family away, lied, and panicked. Even when he started confronting his problems and being responsible, it was still only a band-aid solution.
Starting in Arc 2, though, he's going to go in a different direction. He feels pretty secure in his understanding of his powers, so now he's going to try to set them aside and fix everything else about his life. Is that a good idea? Of course not! Going to the one extreme (all powers, no regard for anything else) was a disaster, so why would the other way (fix my social/family life at any cost) be any different? But he's a human teenager...and so he learns by doing, failing, and trying again.
Thank you all for reading, commenting, and helping me to make this such an enjoyable experience, and I hope to keep up the same level of quality as we move forwards.
Next time on From Hated to Hero: Arc 2's Prologue! Greg had an idea in this epilogue, a way to improve himself. Not physically, or with his powers, but to start building a strong foundation that would serve him for years. All he needs...is to be willing to ask for help. But of course it's never that easy, because it's a very strange kind of help he's asking for...from a very odd source...
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ILostmyAccount
Anarcho-Don't Steal My Stuffalist
- Location
- The Ancapistani Helicenter
So now he'll go to the PRT?
Thank god.
Also, why do I have a sinking feeling this is gonna go Mutant Deviations-style power sapience via Kaleidoscope.
Thank god.
Also, why do I have a sinking feeling this is gonna go Mutant Deviations-style power sapience via Kaleidoscope.
- Location
- Hell
Dude he's hinting at Greg going to undersiders for help (Or something like that) PRT
Arc 2 Prologue: Peer Review
Distraktion
Trying. Sometimes succeeding.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
AN: Just a little prologue before we kick the arc off for real. I've got a lot of stuff planned for Arc 2, everything from Fashionable Forays and Family Feels to Brotherly Bonding and Bloody Battles!
But first, in the Epilogue of Arc 1 Greg realized that keeping all his problems to himself had almost led to disaster...so here's a little peek into his first steps into trying to open up to others. Thing is, he doesn't have a lot of people he can open up to, especially after the way he acted all through Arc 1. Luckily, he does have a few options...
**************************
Arc 2 Prologue: Peer Review
[Saturday, Dec 25, 2010...Evening]
"Okay, this should be far enough." I muttered to myself, glancing around subtly and trying not to let it look like I was checking for witnesses. I settled down onto one of the many handy (and wonderfully clean) benches that dotted Brockton Bay, and pulled out my phone.
I stared at my phone.
My parents had been so tired from last night and everything else that they had decided to take a nap. Before the left, though, I mentioned to them that I was thinking of getting into jogging...and was going to take a quick walk around the neighborhood. I had my phone on me, and promised that I wouldn't go too far or be gone for longer than an hour.
They seemed oddly okay with that, and told me to have a good walk. It made me feel a bit bad that I had now walked a good mile past our neighborhood, since I'd actually told them a little white lie. I was now several neighborhoods away, and the streets were clean but empty.
Already starting to undo Kaleidoscope's work...but I can't risk this call being traced to them.
I slipped my scarf up over my mouth and nose, to disguise my voice a bit, and then carefully pulled out my wallet. After staring at it for a moment, I gingerly removed a business card, and then dialed the number on the card.
It rang. It rang again. Then I hung up, my hand shaking a little.
Sure, I wanted to change, but going to the PRT is a huge step! Maybe I should rethink this-
My phone rang in my hand, and I was so startled that I answered and held it to my ear before I realized that it was probably…
"Hello?" Hobson's voice asked, sounding tired. "We lost our connection. Are you in duress or danger? If so, please cough twice and then sniff."
"N-no! I'm fine!" In the background I could hear cloth sliding on cloth, and realized that the man was probably getting dressed and leaping into action or something. The sound stopped, and then continued at a much slower pace. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."
"Not a problem, I needed to get up anyway. Kalpin seems to have stolen my alarm clock again in an attempt to get me to sleep more." He gave a good-natured chuckle, one that I shared because it sounded like something the short blonde man would do. "We spent most of last night checking on various parahumans known for New Year's Eve shenanigans, so we're both tired."
"Oh, well I should probably let you go do...um...paperwork or something." I started to hang up. "Sorry to bother yo-"
"Wait." His voice was dead serious, and I stopped. I put the phone back to my ear. "If you called this number, my personal number, then this was serious. Please, talk to me. Take your time."
If I hang up, he might just track the phone, or do all kinds of things. I guess I may as well…
"Okay, sorry. This is G-" I stopped, mentally slapping myself for almost doing the exact thing I was trying to avoid in the first place! Idiot! Okay, what else could I use to identify myself? "This is that guy you met at the hospital. The one who...uh...wasn't actually ABB."
"Ah, of course. Good to hear from you." Hobson's voice warmed up considerably, and I heard bed springs creak as he sat down. I wondered if he'd been getting ready to do something. "Kalpin and I were wondering when we'd cross paths with you again. How are you?"
"I'm kind of at a crossroads, I guess." I trailed off, then took a deep breath and tried my best to think of how to sum up my situation and worries (without giving anything too personal). "I've come to realize that dealing with everything alone is just going to end in disaster, but at the same time...I'm not sure I'm ready to out myself to my parents or the PRT. Not yet, anyway."
"Well, out of curiosity, what's stopping you? Are you afraid your parents will react...badly?"
"Sort of. I mean, not in a violent or abusive way." I recognized that by saying it that way, it actually made it sound more like I thought that would happen. Smooth, Greg. "It's more that we've been through a lot the past few weeks, and I don't want to drop this on them as well. We have some issues, and are starting to work through them. I'm starting to see ways I can improve our relationship, and want to fix things before outing myself...but…"
"But you're still afraid of doing this alone. At the same time, you're also afraid of just handing over all responsibility, as if it will also destroy your independence and faith in yourself?" Hobson suggested, and I found myself nodding despite him not actually being able to see me. "Well, if it sounds like I'm familiar with that situation, it's because I am. Can I tell you a story about why?"
I nodded again, then realized that he still couldn't see me and answered in the affirmative.
"About twenty years ago, Kalpin was a very...imaginative little boy. He played games, dreamed of big adventures, and explored the woods behind his house all the time. Like many children his age, he was also kind of a brat...ignoring schoolwork, disobeying his parents, and constantly messing with the girl next door."
"Sounds familiar." I muttered, smiling to myself. "No wonder I liked him so much."
"Indeed, although not everyone shared that opinion. Regardless of his bad grades, detentions, kids making fun of him for acting childish, and bullies, he still refused to give up on his dreams. You see, Kalpin idolized the hero known as Vikare…" Hobson paused, as if remembering something. "Kalpin always envisioned himself as growing up to be like the man, as either a detective, spaceman, superhero, or other fantastic larger-than-life persona."
Wow, a Vikare fanboy. Now that's old school. He was the first superhero after Scion...until he…
"Then Vikare died." Hobson sighed, as if recalling the same pain that everyone who was alive in 1989 seemed to share. The hero had been killed attempting to stop a riot, ending the Golden Age of Parahumans. "But that didn't stop Kalpin. He decided that he was going to follow in the man's footsteps. He would get better grades, get tall and strong, and become a cop or hero."
"That's quite a change!" I smiled, remembering similar dreams when I was a kid. "I'll bet his parents and teachers were thrilled."
"Not...quite. They actually didn't believe him." Hobson chuckled, and not in a nice way. This may have been a part of his own life he didn't enjoy talking about, but he still pressed on. "Kalpin had spent years telling amazing stories, having big dreams, and rarely following up on any of them. He only did housework and homework when forced to, and avoided responsibility as a matter of his very being. Nobody believed this new dream would last very long at all."
"Why would-"
"Except for me." Hobson said, with a firm declaration so sudden and sharp that I almost wondered if a third person had entered the conversation. "I was his only friend back then, and I swore that I would help him achieve his dreams. No matter what!"
"That's why you two are such good friends, huh?"
"One of many reasons. He kept pushing ahead with his dreams and ideas, and I kept him grounded and on-track. His grades began to improve, he started to grow up, he became more mature and dependable, moved out to live with his best friend…"
I don't think I need to ask to know who that best friend was.
"...and then finally there came a day when he confronted his parents as a newly-hired member of the PRT. He told them all about how he got there...and they apologized for not believing him." Hobson sighed, and I could hear him handling something that I couldn't see. "He just shrugged it off, saying that he always believed in himself, and that I had as well, so he'd stopped caring what they thought a long time ago."
"So what you're saying is, what? Find a friend to help guide me, and forget about my parents?"
"No!" Hobson's voice was sharp, and then he lowered it again. "No, what I'm saying is that you don't need to treat doing this alone and going to your parents as two steps that are right next to each other. Rather, you should treat them as being a few steps apart and work your way up to them. Start by climbing hills, then work your way up to mountains. Just...don't take too long."
"So maybe, I could find a friend, or someone to hold me accountable. Someone who can call me out on my dumb choices and help me think of better ones…" I trailed off, thinking, and Hobson let me. "Then, in a few weeks, when I think I can deal with giving up control and have a stronger bond with my parents, come out to them and the PRT?"
"As an officer of the PRT, I would say no. I would say that you should report right this very moment for power testing and classification, and join the Wards." He chuckled, then added, "But you called my personal number. So as Hobson, best friend of Kalpin, I say...yes, you're on the right track. Just, remember my story...don't shut your family out. Parahumans need support! They need people to trust, people to call them on dumb choices, and people to love."
"I understand. Thanks, Hobson...I guess I'll see you guys in a few weeks." My mind was already racing, an idea I'd had earlier was now looking much better. Maybe I could make this work after all. "Hey, by the way, I had been wondering...why do you guys call each other by your last names?"
"What, Kalpin and Hobson?" He laughed, then whispered back. "What makes you think those are our last names?"
Then he hung up.
***
So now I was back in my room, once again typing away on my computer while I heard my parents watching a movie with George down below. I'd been working on my new idea for over an hour now, and was carefully tweaking the last few details of an email.
I was having trouble hitting Send, though, so I switched to another window and looked at my Secret Journal. Every page had received several edits, and I thought about the original idea as a whole while my eyes roved over the page one...last...time.
The Secret Journal idea had seemed like such a good idea, but it had a major flaw.
That would be the Secret part. Probably should have seen this coming.
It was easy to say that the worst part about a secret was that it was a secret, but that's what it boiled down to. More specifically, it was the fact that I was the only one in on the secret, and therefore all the pressure was on me. I was the only one who:
Could find any problems, because I was the only one looking for them.
Could make improvements, because I was the only one who knew what was happening.
Could make corrections, because I was the only one who'd know when things went wrong.
The list went on and on. Essentially, I had to do everything, and for someone juggling as much as I was now, that was just too much pressure. Not only did I have my new powers, but I also had to worry about how things would interact with my parents, George, my life, time management, and...in a week...school. That alone would add a whole pile of problems.
No, I couldn't keep this a secret anymore. Trying to go it alone for only a week had gotten me blown up, burned, shot, cut, and nearly arrested several times. I'd fought a supervillain because nobody had suggested it was a dumb idea. I'd gone after the ABB because of a childish tantrum. I'd told my parents off, without considering how they really might have felt.
I could list my mistakes all day, or I could actually get to work on preventing them.
I couldn't just trust that I'd run into someone like Lisa again to pull my dumb ass out of the fire. There wouldn't always be powers there to save the day, and I-
I need to stop stalling and click the button already. The sooner I ask, the sooner I know.
...maybe I'd read it over one more time, just in case?
***
Even though my grounding didn't technically end for another few hours, Mom and Dad had given me back by computer and phone early. They'd claimed that they didn't want to keep me away from my friends, and I hadn't had the heart to tell them that "friends" didn't need a plural.
Besides, if all went as planned, I would only need one friend.
To think, I never would have had this idea if not for all the punishment I went through!
It was during that hellish week of punishment that the idea had come to me. I had been unable to focus on powers or anything fun, so all I had time to do was chores. Every night I'd go to bed exhausted, and find the 'lessons' of the day spinning through my head until I finally passed out. But it wasn't until tonight, after a fun day of presents and family, that it had all finally clicked.
Dad had been making me do chores, carrying heavy loads around and such. My muscles had hated me for it, but the hardest part at first had been the boxes that I could barely even slide. For those, at first I had been angry at Dad, thinking he was just doing it to make me feel terrible.
But then I'd asked him for help, exasperated...and he'd instantly grinned and leapt to my rescue. It hadn't made the boxes any lighter, but suddenly the job was going twice as fast. Even when we dropped a few, we'd both taken the blame and Mom had let us off with only a glare.
Was he trying to teach me to ask for help, and how powerful a team could be?
Meanwhile, Mom had been giving me loads and loads of books to read and talk to her about. Homework, with a limited time to read it, and discussions I couldn't avoid. But what had really bugged me was when she'd give me stuff that was too much for me to read in a limited time, or too complex for me.
I'd been annoyed, but then right near the end...I'd told her as much and she apologized. She decreased the difficulty, without questioning me. No comments about my literacy, no veiled insults, nothing like that. Just acknowledgement that it was okay to come up short, maybe?
Was she trying to teach me that it was okay to admit when I was in over my head?
I guess it was because I'd never been in this particular mindset before, but I realized last night that they had been trying to teach me...in a new way. I'd thought they were just coming up with new ways to punish me, after that conversation I'd overheard, but...
They were actually trying new methods of getting through to me. Even if I was being difficult.
They were trying. Even if I couldn't see it. Now I feel even worse about telling them off.
I shook my head. It didn't matter, because I was seeing it now. I was using their lessons.
Or at least I will use their lessons, if I ever stop spell checking this damn email.
Biting my lip, I read it one last time, just in case there were any mistakes.
Really, just one more time? That's what I said last time.
Twentieth time's the charm! This email must be perfect!
***
GstringGirl,
Sorry it's taken me a week to get back to you. My parents grounded me for...well, let's just say it's a long story and I kind of had it coming. I hope leaving like that wasn't too rude, but parents, you know? There's no snooze alarm on parental judgement.
So, I know this may seem like it's coming out of nowhere, but I wanted to thank you for your advice on that fanfic we were talking about before we got cut off. The ideas you had about creating support networks really paid off, and the character is becoming more balanced and fun to write. The world is solid and all the powers are set, so I'm looking forward to writing more.
...which actually brings me to a favor I wanted to ask. It's okay if you don't want to, but I was kind of hoping you would be willing to be my Pre-reader? The problem I'm having is that the character is...kind of a socially awkward jerk, and made a lot of mistakes. I don't want to change what I have so far, but feel like I can improve from here on out with your help. I've got it on a password-protected shared drive, and having you read it and talk to me would really help.
I know I say a lot of dumb stuff on PHO, but you've always had my back, and I'm really thankful for that...even if I don't always say it. I'm trying to be better about that sort of thing, and writing this character has helped me see some of my own flaws. Much like the main character, I'm trying to get a better relationship with my family and friends, and your advice helped with that. You're one of my friends, so technically by helping me, you help yourself have a better friend.
Anyway, sorry for the usual word vomit. I've been writing and rewriting this for a bit. Regardless of what you decide, thanks for the help...and for being there for me.
Void_Cowboy
***
The idea had come to me when talking with GstringGirl a week ago. She had said that my "self-insert fanfic character" needed a support network, a friend...someone they could talk to and trust. Even if she didn't know I was talking about myself, she'd been right that people (capes or not) needed someone in their life to be honest, supportive, and at times...critical.
It was kind of like what I'd seen with Kalpin and Hobson. Sure, they worked well together, but they were literally the definition of buddy cops. Both covered for each other's weaknesses, amplified each other's strengths, practically seemed to read each other's minds...they were a team, and together they were far greater than they'd have been alone. They also poked fun at each other and called each other out on dumb stuff (mostly Hobson on Kalpin, admittedly).
They represented the kind of friends that I had always dreamed about. I wondered how they had met, and what amazing tales they could tell about their lives and adventures together. To grow up knowing someone like that, I'd have imagined the days were just packed.
Luckily, I had someone like that, and any minute now I would find out whether she was interested in helping me improve my "writing style" (or life, in reality) with tips and advice.
It may have seemed silly, like I was just trading out one lie for another, but I had to go slowly. I just...I didn't really know how to talk to my parents, brother, or even a therapist about this sort of thing. I couldn't go to the PRT proper, there wasn't a hotline I could call without being afraid of having the call traced, and...there were just too many things that could go wrong.
I'd heard all the horror stories of capes being outed by friends, family, and even random strangers. But in this case I wasn't actually giving her any details about me (aside from my first name) or my actual powers. Thanks to the anonymity of the internet, I was pretty sure I could make this work. I had already taken painstaking precautions to avoid it being linked to me.
So I had made a copy of my Secret Journal and archived it elsewhere, putting it on a thumb drive and hiding it under a loose floorboard in my closet. Then I had updated the folder so that I could share it with someone, but made sure the files and text couldn't be copied. Finally, I had painstakingly gone through all the entries and made massive cuts, changes, and alterations.
For instance, the main character was now Greg V. Reed. Other characters included Talia Abert (Taylor), Sofiyah Esh (Sophia), Irma Burns (Emma), Madaline Clubbins (Madison), and so on.
My powers had been changed to just copying a single power and having it be weak as heck. I'd cut out the hospital, as well as changing the details in a bunch of my powered adventures. It was now a self-insert fanfiction set in Brockton Bay, a place she already knew I lived, about a kid named Greg who wanted to fix up his life before trying to become a hero.
In other words, fiction based on truth, hidden as fiction. I'm a genius!
After the way she came through for me with her other advice, I knew that I could turn to her for something like this. I didn't need help with powers or costumes, no...what I needed was someone to help me "shape the narrative" of my "self-insert" and his growth as a person.
In other words, having her look over my (severely edited) mistakes up until now and figure out what to do from here. Now that I had my powers mostly figured out, I could get her help fixing the other parts of my life that desperately needed it. Something she was good at, apparently.
That meant family, friends, social life, and so much more that I had no idea how to fix. I was going to put my powers aside for a bit, and work on Greg Veder, like I had been planning before. The problem before had been that I'd spent so much time rushing to use and understand my powers, everything else about my life had fallen apart.
What I needed was someone who would call me out on my dumb choices, make suggestions about what I could do better, and maybe even suggest powers that could help. Not do the job for me, but just help...and they always said that two heads were better than one.
It was time for some peer review, and then I could-
DING
My email notification went off. I felt a surge of nerves shoot through me, and for a brief moment I considered what her reply could be.
Is she telling me that it's a dumb idea, and that she has better things to do than-
Is she laughing, taking a screenshot to tell all her friends and family about the loser that-
Is she letting me down gently, already blocking me because I was being too much of a-
"No. Calm down." I took a deep breath, speaking out loud and closing my eyes.
No way of knowing the future if I'm too afraid to even look at it.
I'm never going to be a hero if I can't even take chances...if I can't even learn to trust people.
I opened my eyes, and read her reply. Just in case, I read it a second time.
Then I smiled, and pumped my fist in the air.
This was going to be great!
*************************
AN: Thus, the "Secret Journal" evolves! Story arc 2 will no longer have random monologues with just Greg! Now it'll be a discussion with GstringGirl, as he is called out on dumb stuff he did before and given suggestions on new things to try. Even better, it lets me expand on their relationship a bit, as well as still providing a hint of what's to come in each chapter.
...yes, I know it's a very teenage thing to do, trusting someone he's only known online for something like this, but he's changed virtually everything but his first name and removed most of the powers stuff that could identify him. This is an idea that fits well with a child of the internet who wants to improve but isn't ready to trust the non-anonymous humans in his life. Also, I can assure you that I know at least one real human being who has actually done something like this.
Next time on From Hated to Hero: Arc 2 truly begins! With his goal to become a hero renewed, Greg decides to...spend the cash and gift cards he got from Christmas! But wait, what's this? A powerful hero and some terrible teenagers? The incredible temptation to take an awesome power? Can Greg control himself...or maybe even learn a valuable lesson?
But first, in the Epilogue of Arc 1 Greg realized that keeping all his problems to himself had almost led to disaster...so here's a little peek into his first steps into trying to open up to others. Thing is, he doesn't have a lot of people he can open up to, especially after the way he acted all through Arc 1. Luckily, he does have a few options...
**************************
Arc 2 Prologue: Peer Review
[Saturday, Dec 25, 2010...Evening]
"Okay, this should be far enough." I muttered to myself, glancing around subtly and trying not to let it look like I was checking for witnesses. I settled down onto one of the many handy (and wonderfully clean) benches that dotted Brockton Bay, and pulled out my phone.
I stared at my phone.
My parents had been so tired from last night and everything else that they had decided to take a nap. Before the left, though, I mentioned to them that I was thinking of getting into jogging...and was going to take a quick walk around the neighborhood. I had my phone on me, and promised that I wouldn't go too far or be gone for longer than an hour.
They seemed oddly okay with that, and told me to have a good walk. It made me feel a bit bad that I had now walked a good mile past our neighborhood, since I'd actually told them a little white lie. I was now several neighborhoods away, and the streets were clean but empty.
Already starting to undo Kaleidoscope's work...but I can't risk this call being traced to them.
I slipped my scarf up over my mouth and nose, to disguise my voice a bit, and then carefully pulled out my wallet. After staring at it for a moment, I gingerly removed a business card, and then dialed the number on the card.
It rang. It rang again. Then I hung up, my hand shaking a little.
Sure, I wanted to change, but going to the PRT is a huge step! Maybe I should rethink this-
My phone rang in my hand, and I was so startled that I answered and held it to my ear before I realized that it was probably…
"Hello?" Hobson's voice asked, sounding tired. "We lost our connection. Are you in duress or danger? If so, please cough twice and then sniff."
"N-no! I'm fine!" In the background I could hear cloth sliding on cloth, and realized that the man was probably getting dressed and leaping into action or something. The sound stopped, and then continued at a much slower pace. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."
"Not a problem, I needed to get up anyway. Kalpin seems to have stolen my alarm clock again in an attempt to get me to sleep more." He gave a good-natured chuckle, one that I shared because it sounded like something the short blonde man would do. "We spent most of last night checking on various parahumans known for New Year's Eve shenanigans, so we're both tired."
"Oh, well I should probably let you go do...um...paperwork or something." I started to hang up. "Sorry to bother yo-"
"Wait." His voice was dead serious, and I stopped. I put the phone back to my ear. "If you called this number, my personal number, then this was serious. Please, talk to me. Take your time."
If I hang up, he might just track the phone, or do all kinds of things. I guess I may as well…
"Okay, sorry. This is G-" I stopped, mentally slapping myself for almost doing the exact thing I was trying to avoid in the first place! Idiot! Okay, what else could I use to identify myself? "This is that guy you met at the hospital. The one who...uh...wasn't actually ABB."
"Ah, of course. Good to hear from you." Hobson's voice warmed up considerably, and I heard bed springs creak as he sat down. I wondered if he'd been getting ready to do something. "Kalpin and I were wondering when we'd cross paths with you again. How are you?"
"I'm kind of at a crossroads, I guess." I trailed off, then took a deep breath and tried my best to think of how to sum up my situation and worries (without giving anything too personal). "I've come to realize that dealing with everything alone is just going to end in disaster, but at the same time...I'm not sure I'm ready to out myself to my parents or the PRT. Not yet, anyway."
"Well, out of curiosity, what's stopping you? Are you afraid your parents will react...badly?"
"Sort of. I mean, not in a violent or abusive way." I recognized that by saying it that way, it actually made it sound more like I thought that would happen. Smooth, Greg. "It's more that we've been through a lot the past few weeks, and I don't want to drop this on them as well. We have some issues, and are starting to work through them. I'm starting to see ways I can improve our relationship, and want to fix things before outing myself...but…"
"But you're still afraid of doing this alone. At the same time, you're also afraid of just handing over all responsibility, as if it will also destroy your independence and faith in yourself?" Hobson suggested, and I found myself nodding despite him not actually being able to see me. "Well, if it sounds like I'm familiar with that situation, it's because I am. Can I tell you a story about why?"
I nodded again, then realized that he still couldn't see me and answered in the affirmative.
"About twenty years ago, Kalpin was a very...imaginative little boy. He played games, dreamed of big adventures, and explored the woods behind his house all the time. Like many children his age, he was also kind of a brat...ignoring schoolwork, disobeying his parents, and constantly messing with the girl next door."
"Sounds familiar." I muttered, smiling to myself. "No wonder I liked him so much."
"Indeed, although not everyone shared that opinion. Regardless of his bad grades, detentions, kids making fun of him for acting childish, and bullies, he still refused to give up on his dreams. You see, Kalpin idolized the hero known as Vikare…" Hobson paused, as if remembering something. "Kalpin always envisioned himself as growing up to be like the man, as either a detective, spaceman, superhero, or other fantastic larger-than-life persona."
Wow, a Vikare fanboy. Now that's old school. He was the first superhero after Scion...until he…
"Then Vikare died." Hobson sighed, as if recalling the same pain that everyone who was alive in 1989 seemed to share. The hero had been killed attempting to stop a riot, ending the Golden Age of Parahumans. "But that didn't stop Kalpin. He decided that he was going to follow in the man's footsteps. He would get better grades, get tall and strong, and become a cop or hero."
"That's quite a change!" I smiled, remembering similar dreams when I was a kid. "I'll bet his parents and teachers were thrilled."
"Not...quite. They actually didn't believe him." Hobson chuckled, and not in a nice way. This may have been a part of his own life he didn't enjoy talking about, but he still pressed on. "Kalpin had spent years telling amazing stories, having big dreams, and rarely following up on any of them. He only did housework and homework when forced to, and avoided responsibility as a matter of his very being. Nobody believed this new dream would last very long at all."
"Why would-"
"Except for me." Hobson said, with a firm declaration so sudden and sharp that I almost wondered if a third person had entered the conversation. "I was his only friend back then, and I swore that I would help him achieve his dreams. No matter what!"
"That's why you two are such good friends, huh?"
"One of many reasons. He kept pushing ahead with his dreams and ideas, and I kept him grounded and on-track. His grades began to improve, he started to grow up, he became more mature and dependable, moved out to live with his best friend…"
I don't think I need to ask to know who that best friend was.
"...and then finally there came a day when he confronted his parents as a newly-hired member of the PRT. He told them all about how he got there...and they apologized for not believing him." Hobson sighed, and I could hear him handling something that I couldn't see. "He just shrugged it off, saying that he always believed in himself, and that I had as well, so he'd stopped caring what they thought a long time ago."
"So what you're saying is, what? Find a friend to help guide me, and forget about my parents?"
"No!" Hobson's voice was sharp, and then he lowered it again. "No, what I'm saying is that you don't need to treat doing this alone and going to your parents as two steps that are right next to each other. Rather, you should treat them as being a few steps apart and work your way up to them. Start by climbing hills, then work your way up to mountains. Just...don't take too long."
"So maybe, I could find a friend, or someone to hold me accountable. Someone who can call me out on my dumb choices and help me think of better ones…" I trailed off, thinking, and Hobson let me. "Then, in a few weeks, when I think I can deal with giving up control and have a stronger bond with my parents, come out to them and the PRT?"
"As an officer of the PRT, I would say no. I would say that you should report right this very moment for power testing and classification, and join the Wards." He chuckled, then added, "But you called my personal number. So as Hobson, best friend of Kalpin, I say...yes, you're on the right track. Just, remember my story...don't shut your family out. Parahumans need support! They need people to trust, people to call them on dumb choices, and people to love."
"I understand. Thanks, Hobson...I guess I'll see you guys in a few weeks." My mind was already racing, an idea I'd had earlier was now looking much better. Maybe I could make this work after all. "Hey, by the way, I had been wondering...why do you guys call each other by your last names?"
"What, Kalpin and Hobson?" He laughed, then whispered back. "What makes you think those are our last names?"
Then he hung up.
***
So now I was back in my room, once again typing away on my computer while I heard my parents watching a movie with George down below. I'd been working on my new idea for over an hour now, and was carefully tweaking the last few details of an email.
I was having trouble hitting Send, though, so I switched to another window and looked at my Secret Journal. Every page had received several edits, and I thought about the original idea as a whole while my eyes roved over the page one...last...time.
The Secret Journal idea had seemed like such a good idea, but it had a major flaw.
That would be the Secret part. Probably should have seen this coming.
It was easy to say that the worst part about a secret was that it was a secret, but that's what it boiled down to. More specifically, it was the fact that I was the only one in on the secret, and therefore all the pressure was on me. I was the only one who:
Could find any problems, because I was the only one looking for them.
Could make improvements, because I was the only one who knew what was happening.
Could make corrections, because I was the only one who'd know when things went wrong.
The list went on and on. Essentially, I had to do everything, and for someone juggling as much as I was now, that was just too much pressure. Not only did I have my new powers, but I also had to worry about how things would interact with my parents, George, my life, time management, and...in a week...school. That alone would add a whole pile of problems.
No, I couldn't keep this a secret anymore. Trying to go it alone for only a week had gotten me blown up, burned, shot, cut, and nearly arrested several times. I'd fought a supervillain because nobody had suggested it was a dumb idea. I'd gone after the ABB because of a childish tantrum. I'd told my parents off, without considering how they really might have felt.
I could list my mistakes all day, or I could actually get to work on preventing them.
I couldn't just trust that I'd run into someone like Lisa again to pull my dumb ass out of the fire. There wouldn't always be powers there to save the day, and I-
I need to stop stalling and click the button already. The sooner I ask, the sooner I know.
...maybe I'd read it over one more time, just in case?
***
Even though my grounding didn't technically end for another few hours, Mom and Dad had given me back by computer and phone early. They'd claimed that they didn't want to keep me away from my friends, and I hadn't had the heart to tell them that "friends" didn't need a plural.
Besides, if all went as planned, I would only need one friend.
To think, I never would have had this idea if not for all the punishment I went through!
It was during that hellish week of punishment that the idea had come to me. I had been unable to focus on powers or anything fun, so all I had time to do was chores. Every night I'd go to bed exhausted, and find the 'lessons' of the day spinning through my head until I finally passed out. But it wasn't until tonight, after a fun day of presents and family, that it had all finally clicked.
Dad had been making me do chores, carrying heavy loads around and such. My muscles had hated me for it, but the hardest part at first had been the boxes that I could barely even slide. For those, at first I had been angry at Dad, thinking he was just doing it to make me feel terrible.
But then I'd asked him for help, exasperated...and he'd instantly grinned and leapt to my rescue. It hadn't made the boxes any lighter, but suddenly the job was going twice as fast. Even when we dropped a few, we'd both taken the blame and Mom had let us off with only a glare.
Was he trying to teach me to ask for help, and how powerful a team could be?
Meanwhile, Mom had been giving me loads and loads of books to read and talk to her about. Homework, with a limited time to read it, and discussions I couldn't avoid. But what had really bugged me was when she'd give me stuff that was too much for me to read in a limited time, or too complex for me.
I'd been annoyed, but then right near the end...I'd told her as much and she apologized. She decreased the difficulty, without questioning me. No comments about my literacy, no veiled insults, nothing like that. Just acknowledgement that it was okay to come up short, maybe?
Was she trying to teach me that it was okay to admit when I was in over my head?
I guess it was because I'd never been in this particular mindset before, but I realized last night that they had been trying to teach me...in a new way. I'd thought they were just coming up with new ways to punish me, after that conversation I'd overheard, but...
They were actually trying new methods of getting through to me. Even if I was being difficult.
They were trying. Even if I couldn't see it. Now I feel even worse about telling them off.
I shook my head. It didn't matter, because I was seeing it now. I was using their lessons.
Or at least I will use their lessons, if I ever stop spell checking this damn email.
Biting my lip, I read it one last time, just in case there were any mistakes.
Really, just one more time? That's what I said last time.
Twentieth time's the charm! This email must be perfect!
***
GstringGirl,
Sorry it's taken me a week to get back to you. My parents grounded me for...well, let's just say it's a long story and I kind of had it coming. I hope leaving like that wasn't too rude, but parents, you know? There's no snooze alarm on parental judgement.
So, I know this may seem like it's coming out of nowhere, but I wanted to thank you for your advice on that fanfic we were talking about before we got cut off. The ideas you had about creating support networks really paid off, and the character is becoming more balanced and fun to write. The world is solid and all the powers are set, so I'm looking forward to writing more.
...which actually brings me to a favor I wanted to ask. It's okay if you don't want to, but I was kind of hoping you would be willing to be my Pre-reader? The problem I'm having is that the character is...kind of a socially awkward jerk, and made a lot of mistakes. I don't want to change what I have so far, but feel like I can improve from here on out with your help. I've got it on a password-protected shared drive, and having you read it and talk to me would really help.
I know I say a lot of dumb stuff on PHO, but you've always had my back, and I'm really thankful for that...even if I don't always say it. I'm trying to be better about that sort of thing, and writing this character has helped me see some of my own flaws. Much like the main character, I'm trying to get a better relationship with my family and friends, and your advice helped with that. You're one of my friends, so technically by helping me, you help yourself have a better friend.
Anyway, sorry for the usual word vomit. I've been writing and rewriting this for a bit. Regardless of what you decide, thanks for the help...and for being there for me.
Void_Cowboy
***
The idea had come to me when talking with GstringGirl a week ago. She had said that my "self-insert fanfic character" needed a support network, a friend...someone they could talk to and trust. Even if she didn't know I was talking about myself, she'd been right that people (capes or not) needed someone in their life to be honest, supportive, and at times...critical.
It was kind of like what I'd seen with Kalpin and Hobson. Sure, they worked well together, but they were literally the definition of buddy cops. Both covered for each other's weaknesses, amplified each other's strengths, practically seemed to read each other's minds...they were a team, and together they were far greater than they'd have been alone. They also poked fun at each other and called each other out on dumb stuff (mostly Hobson on Kalpin, admittedly).
They represented the kind of friends that I had always dreamed about. I wondered how they had met, and what amazing tales they could tell about their lives and adventures together. To grow up knowing someone like that, I'd have imagined the days were just packed.
Luckily, I had someone like that, and any minute now I would find out whether she was interested in helping me improve my "writing style" (or life, in reality) with tips and advice.
It may have seemed silly, like I was just trading out one lie for another, but I had to go slowly. I just...I didn't really know how to talk to my parents, brother, or even a therapist about this sort of thing. I couldn't go to the PRT proper, there wasn't a hotline I could call without being afraid of having the call traced, and...there were just too many things that could go wrong.
I'd heard all the horror stories of capes being outed by friends, family, and even random strangers. But in this case I wasn't actually giving her any details about me (aside from my first name) or my actual powers. Thanks to the anonymity of the internet, I was pretty sure I could make this work. I had already taken painstaking precautions to avoid it being linked to me.
So I had made a copy of my Secret Journal and archived it elsewhere, putting it on a thumb drive and hiding it under a loose floorboard in my closet. Then I had updated the folder so that I could share it with someone, but made sure the files and text couldn't be copied. Finally, I had painstakingly gone through all the entries and made massive cuts, changes, and alterations.
For instance, the main character was now Greg V. Reed. Other characters included Talia Abert (Taylor), Sofiyah Esh (Sophia), Irma Burns (Emma), Madaline Clubbins (Madison), and so on.
My powers had been changed to just copying a single power and having it be weak as heck. I'd cut out the hospital, as well as changing the details in a bunch of my powered adventures. It was now a self-insert fanfiction set in Brockton Bay, a place she already knew I lived, about a kid named Greg who wanted to fix up his life before trying to become a hero.
In other words, fiction based on truth, hidden as fiction. I'm a genius!
After the way she came through for me with her other advice, I knew that I could turn to her for something like this. I didn't need help with powers or costumes, no...what I needed was someone to help me "shape the narrative" of my "self-insert" and his growth as a person.
In other words, having her look over my (severely edited) mistakes up until now and figure out what to do from here. Now that I had my powers mostly figured out, I could get her help fixing the other parts of my life that desperately needed it. Something she was good at, apparently.
That meant family, friends, social life, and so much more that I had no idea how to fix. I was going to put my powers aside for a bit, and work on Greg Veder, like I had been planning before. The problem before had been that I'd spent so much time rushing to use and understand my powers, everything else about my life had fallen apart.
What I needed was someone who would call me out on my dumb choices, make suggestions about what I could do better, and maybe even suggest powers that could help. Not do the job for me, but just help...and they always said that two heads were better than one.
It was time for some peer review, and then I could-
DING
My email notification went off. I felt a surge of nerves shoot through me, and for a brief moment I considered what her reply could be.
Is she telling me that it's a dumb idea, and that she has better things to do than-
Is she laughing, taking a screenshot to tell all her friends and family about the loser that-
Is she letting me down gently, already blocking me because I was being too much of a-
"No. Calm down." I took a deep breath, speaking out loud and closing my eyes.
No way of knowing the future if I'm too afraid to even look at it.
I'm never going to be a hero if I can't even take chances...if I can't even learn to trust people.
I opened my eyes, and read her reply. Just in case, I read it a second time.
Then I smiled, and pumped my fist in the air.
This was going to be great!
*************************
AN: Thus, the "Secret Journal" evolves! Story arc 2 will no longer have random monologues with just Greg! Now it'll be a discussion with GstringGirl, as he is called out on dumb stuff he did before and given suggestions on new things to try. Even better, it lets me expand on their relationship a bit, as well as still providing a hint of what's to come in each chapter.
...yes, I know it's a very teenage thing to do, trusting someone he's only known online for something like this, but he's changed virtually everything but his first name and removed most of the powers stuff that could identify him. This is an idea that fits well with a child of the internet who wants to improve but isn't ready to trust the non-anonymous humans in his life. Also, I can assure you that I know at least one real human being who has actually done something like this.
Next time on From Hated to Hero: Arc 2 truly begins! With his goal to become a hero renewed, Greg decides to...spend the cash and gift cards he got from Christmas! But wait, what's this? A powerful hero and some terrible teenagers? The incredible temptation to take an awesome power? Can Greg control himself...or maybe even learn a valuable lesson?
Last edited:
Distraktion
Trying. Sometimes succeeding.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Thanks! Even before I started writing the chapters for this section, I was planning out the pre-chapter dialogues they'd have. Not only to guide me in writing the chapters, but also because they make a great team for something like this.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Looking forward to seeing Sveta's take on Greg's 'fanfiction'. I winced a little at the email though, that "parents, you know?" line probably stung a bit. I hope she figures out what the fic's really about fairly quickly, she struck me as fairly perceptive of things like that from what I recall of her.
ILostmyAccount
Anarcho-Don't Steal My Stuffalist
- Location
- The Ancapistani Helicenter
Nice little pep talk from Hobson, god knows Gregboi needed it.
Hopefully he keeps this up, your character development for him is great.
Hopefully he keeps this up, your character development for him is great.
2.1: Dealing With Self-Control
Distraktion
Trying. Sometimes succeeding.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
AN: Arc 2 begins for real! Time for Greg to start learning to deal with the things he used to think hated him, to stand up to his problems, and triumph over...wait, what does that title say? Self control? Oh man, did you forget you were a teenager, Greg? I know some adults who still haven't figured self-control out! Way to start off with one of the hard ones…
****************************
2.1: Dealing With Self-Control
GstringGirl: so, i read all the notes you gave me, and i gotta say...
Me: Yeah? What did you think?
GstringGirl: ...your protagonist is a complete and total idiot!
Me: Ouch. I resemble that remark! But seriously, aside from that what did you think?
GstringGirl: he's a wuss! he runs away from everything and has no self-control
Me: Well, to be fair he's 15, panics a lot, and need I repeat myself...he's 15.
GstringGirl: so is that why you called all his enemies dumb stuff? because he's dumb?
GstringGirl: like that nazi! you couldn't come up with a better name than 'knife guy?'
Me: He had a knife, he was a guy. To a 100lb weakling, that's practically unbeatable.
GstringGirl: ok...but if he was so weak, why do your notes say he fought Lung once?
Me: Well...the thing about that is...uh...reasons?
GstringGirl: for that matter, how did he even find him? I mean, why was even Lung there?
Me: It's a requirement in Brockton Bay cape fanfics. They all have to fight Lung at some point.
GstringGirl: what, so Lung is just standing around in Brockton Bay, waiting to be fought?
Me: Not exactly, but as a power copier, this fic is going to have a lot of cape interactions.
GstringGirl: it can't all be fighting though, he should probably meet them in street clothes too
Me: Eh, with his taste in fashion, that actually might make them all run away from him.
***
[Sunday, Dec 26, 2010]
"Hey Greg, looking sharp!"
"Thanks!" I pointed back at the speaker, snapping both fingers and firing my finger guns at them. They grinned at me and nodded, as I turned and showed off my sweet new spread of clothing. "Check this out. I'm hero material, head to toe!"
Indeed, Christmas had been good to me, and for once it wasn't all just a mish-mash of clothing and gift cards. No, in this case it was a very specific piece of clothing...and a bunch of gift cards, which I guess was a welcome change of pace. The gift cards were all in my desk drawer, waiting for me to figure out the best way to use them, but right now I just enjoyed looking good.
On my head was an Armsmaster knit cap, efficiently crafted to deflect the maximum amount of wind while also keeping enough heat for warmth. My shoes were the same brand, and while they might have been a few months old they had the same water-resistance...as well as microfibers that supposedly wicked sweat away, probably storing it in some sort of hidden pocket dimension.
Wait, that might just be my imagination. Eh, whatever. At least they're not exploded in a hospital.
My jeans were one of my usual old pairs, but the green of Miss Militia and a flag logo branded my butt as the property of the USA. My socks were also her brand, not that anyone would have known, but since it was chilly this morning a pair of shorts was probably out of the question. My shirt was one of my limited edition ones, barely worn and showing Scion in beautiful gold and brown...but the real treasure was what covered it.
Perhaps they'd noticed that my wardrobe had far too much red and green in it, especially after the whole "ABB cosplay" thing, but my parents had found a nice way to nudge me in a new direction. My number one favorite hero, Eidolon, had a new jacket in his clothing line that had just come out, and I was the proud owner of one of the 10,000 made so far. I proudly stretched my arms out, enjoying the full range of movement despite the sort of stiff leather feel it had.
"Wow, that looks amazing, Greg." I looked over my shoulder, nodding in reply and turning back around. "Hey, Greg, the color is really amazing, but why's there stuff on the lining as well?"
"Oh, well that's the best part!" I laughed, sliding the jacket off (something I'd done a dozen times now) and displaying it. The coloration was similar to Eidolon's costume, a blue-green that slowly shifted to green-white as it reached the sleeves. It even had a built-in hood like his costume that could be stored in the neck. But the real surprise was what else it could do. "Check this out!"
I flipped the jacket inside out, then slipped it back on and revealed the exact same jacket...but with Alexandria's black and Legend's blue, a mix of silver and grey between them. This was meant to signify the connection between the three members of the Triumvirate, and also meant that I was basically getting two jackets for the price of one. No longer would people tease me for wearing the same thing all the time!
Now they can tease me for wearing the same TWO things all the time. Much better.
"That's amazing, Greg! It really-"
"Greg, who the heck have you been talking to?" Dad opened my door, looking around and seeing that I was alone in my room. It was clean enough that he could move around inside, but still made a bit of a show of looking under the bed and in the closet. Finally, he turned a wry smile my way and...paused.
Dad had promised to try and tone down the humor when it came to my social awkwardness and odd habits, and I instantly felt my heart go out to him for catching himself so fast. I know that I would have had to screw that up at least a few dozen times to get it right, with copious feedback from my conversation partners. I quickly moved to fill the sudden silence, turning my jacket back to normal as I did so.
"It's okay Dad, I know it was kind of strange. I was just practicing showing off my sweet new jacket, in case I run into anyone and they want to try complimenting me for a change." I slipped the jacket back on and crossed the room, giving him an out. I'd noticed both him and Mom being a lot more complimentary the past few hours, so this was a Grade-A opportunity for just such a-
"If they're not complimenting you, son, then they don't know what they're missing out on." Ah, there it was. I made sure to smile widely, the first step in my attempts to fix my relationships (at GstringGirl's advice) being to express my emotions better. Dad grinned back, and caught me with a one-armed hug as I got nearby. He stealthily leaned in to whisper, "Also, I've got your mother distracted for a few hours, so go ahead and end that grounding a bit early."
"Really?" I whispered back, glancing in the mirror as if to check my own reflection for verification. "Can you do that? I mean, this is Mom we're talking about. Remember the time you told me I could watch Nightmare on Elm Street and then she grounded both of us for a weekend?"
"To be fair, we'd have gotten away with it if you hadn't started screaming during the scene with the...you know what, never mind." He shook it off, probably remembering that I'd only started screaming because he'd flipped out when Freddy did that thing with the bed. "George is trying to convince her to go on some kind of vacation thing, so she's stuck with him for a while. Go on."
He made motions with his arms, as if shooing me away, and I immediately headed for the door. Then, as if remembering something, I stopped and came back for a minute.
One hug later, and about 15 seconds after that, and I was out the door.
Time to go into town and show off my sweet new duds!
***
"Oh my god, what a total dweeb! Can you believe this guy?"
Well, I got their attention, at least. That's step one, probably. Good job so far?
My plan had been going so well, despite a few hiccups along the way. I had taken a bus into the denser parts of town, figuring I'd start at the Boardwalk and walk around a bit. I didn't have much money on me, but I could look for some nice after-Xmas sales and remember them for later. Plus, this was an excellent chance to try a few of the suggestions I'd gotten from both my mother and GstringGirl.
Surprisingly, their advice had been remarkably similar on the subject of improving social skills. Though one had made the suggestions via books and conversation, and the other through chat messages and websites, they both came down to very similar lines.
Although, I don't know GstringGirl's actual age. For all I know she's a mom with bad grammar.
Anyway, both had told me not to try and rush a friendship right off the bat (like I'd been doing for years at school), but instead to treat it more like getting into a hot bath. Look at the water, dip your toe, ease your way in, and then relax until you're used to it. Actually, that had been Mom's analogy. GstringGirl's was more about how Crawler adapted to lava that one time.
Either way, that was one of the main reasons for my sweet all-cape outfit. Not only to show off my amazing jacket, but also because it made me stand out. The point of this walk and my easy-going expression was to practice conversation with random people. Given the number of cape fans in Brockton Bay, there was no doubt that I'd eventually run into someone who wanted to trade words, and then I could work on talking to them without stress or fear.
"Look at him, is he gonna cry? Hey Veder, are you sad we don't like your baby clothes?"
Unfortunately, I just had to run into two of my worst enemies:
Emma Barnes, and the faceless mass of bullies known as Emma's Entourage
"No, I was just wondering if I should..." I trailed off, looking anywhere but at her grinning face. The girls had all been clustered around the window of a high-end clothing store, chatting about something, and I'd made the mistake of walking over to see what the commotion was. Now I was remembering all the things I hated about her, and felt vindictive. "...call the cops on you."
Rather than recoil in fear or plead with me not to ruin her life, Emma burst out laughing. Her cronies joined in, and she slowly stalked forwards until we were only a few feet apart.
"I'm not sure if you know this, geek," Emma smiled, tossing her hair over one shoulder, flicking her fingers as if I was a speck of dirt. "But hurting peoples' feelings isn't a criminal offense. If it was, then maybe hurting other senses would be illegal as well, and that whole outfit would be enough to get you thrown in the Birdcage!"
I went stock still, my face frozen in fear, and they all started calling and laughing again. They probably thought that I had just crumbled under some sick burn, but in reality I was shocked that she somehow knew I was a parahuman. Had she known that I triggered, connected the dots?
No, wait, she was probably just making a play off the Birdcage being the worst jail ever...
...and my clothes, being a fashion crime. Well, whatever, that's just like, her opinion, man.
"N-no, I didn't mean that at all!" My voice might have cracked a bit, and they started another round of laughter as Emma turned to walk away. I gave them a moment to calm down, and then threw out my sick burn. "I mean the way you tried to get me killed by the E88, Emma."
Emma stopped. She held up a hand and her friends went silent. Then she turned around.
Why is she smiling? All I need are the phone records and she'll be...oh no.
"If you had any proof, that might mean something, Veder." Emma came closer, putting a hand on my cheek as if we were lovers. I flinched away a little, and her smile curved a bit more than I would have liked. Despite that, she continued to talk, lowering her voice. "Do you have any actual records of a phone number leading you somewhere? Or...is this just a Red Herring?"
Shit, I'm an idiot. That was the screen name she was texting me from. She played me.
"Y-you, you can't just-" I gritted my teeth, feeling like her eyes were burning into mine. "You can't do this to people. It's not right, I could have been k-killed."
"Then maybe in the future you should stay down in the gutter, with the rest of the weaklings."
I started to reply, but then she stepped forwards and slapped me, hard. I felt a ringing in my ears, and staggered to the side until I slammed into the glass near the door to the clothing store. I dimly saw someone inside hand something off to another patron and then walk towards me, but I was too busy trying to get my feet under me and-
"Hey, can you guys please keep it down?" An oddly familiar voice caught my attention, and I turned to see someone who was blonde, beautiful, and...wow. I couldn't stop staring at her. "Some of us are trying to get these sales before all the good stuff is gone, and...hello?"
"Sorry, he was...he was...wow." Emma had sounded apologetic (in that fake voice she always used when she got caught bullying Taylor), but then trailed off part way through. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that she was staring, just as I was, at this vision of beauty in front of me, and I immediately cursed myself for daring to dedicate any of my attention to anything but this-
Wait, what was I thinking about?
"Sorry about that, I sometimes let my temper get the best of me." The woman...who was still beautiful, but now no longer taking up every ounce of my brain, apologized. "Was there some kind of problem out here?"
I glared at Emma, as if daring her to try something (secretly hoping she wouldn't), and she seemed to decide that it wasn't worth causing a scene. More likely, she didn't want me to loudly accuse her of nearly getting me killed by nazis. Instead, Emma just started to talk about her adoration of the one who had just been messing with our minds a moment earlier.
I was staring at the woman as well, but it was for a slightly different reason. Now that I was able to actually think, I recognized her as Victoria Dallon, or Glory Girl of the Independent group called New Wave. One of the few (for a good reason) groups of heroes that had willingly unmasked, they were all very well-known in Brockton Bay for their powers, deeds, and appearances.
Victoria in particular was a knockout blonde, dressed in normal clothing that nonetheless looked stunning on her. I knew nothing of fashion, but the way Emma was going (as Victoria seemed to preen at the attention) it must have been amazing. I was looking at the hero as well, although I was looking at something that Emma probably didn't care that much about...
Her powers. I was looking at her powers. I mean, she was beautiful but...powers!
There were four of them, although it seemed like my power couldn't decide whether the last one was actually two powers. As usual, they had an odd theme that was probably personal to Victoria in some way.
Why do they look like that? It's like Wind, or maybe Tornadoes? Hurricanes? Air?
The first power was a powerful wind, and I was calling it Gale Force. It felt like anything that came into contact with it would be deflected or knocked off course. It was probably the force field she had, which I'd heard was capable of deflecting bullets, rocks, and punches from the toughest of Brutes. What was odd was the way this power also felt like it was just about to run out with every gust...but the air kept coming. I wasn't sure what that meant.
The second power made me glad I'd watched Total Recall, because this was obviously some kind of air pressure. I decided to call it Heavy Wind, and decided that it must have been her super strength. It crushed everything it came into contact with, which explained why she sometimes got accused of control issues. What was strange was the way it felt like it was connected in some way to Gale Force, making me wonder if it was like Velocity's birds…
The third power was a glorious breeze, and despite not being that strong it felt like it could lift anything. As if just touching it would let me pull right off the ground, move around as easily as the birds, and touching down to Earth would be entirely optional. This was her flight, I guessed.
But this last power (powers?), this is just strange. Is it two powers or one?
The last power, I decided, was meant to be two powers. Somehow it had been crammed together as one power, but it felt like it was wildly out of control. Fitting, then, that it was a Tornado. One moment it was majestic, awe-inspiring, and beautiful...I wanted to touch it, to hold it, to...love it...
Then without warning, it shifted into a horrifying, destructive, monster of a storm. I briefly saw her looking at me, but I was so startled that I cast my eyes to the sidewalk, trying not to think about the power looking at me.
So, that's why the rumors of her having a fear aura or love aura are so widespread.
"So, did you have fun staring at her boobs, Veder?" Emma's voice cut into my thought process, and I looked up to see the door closing and Emma regarding me as if I was something she'd scraped off her shoe. Whatever kind fangirl she'd been a moment ago had vanished, leaving only the Dark Bully Queen of Winslow. "Glad I could make your Christmas wish come true."
"I wasn't looking at that!" I panicked, looking around and seeing that Emma's entourage hadn't heard her (to her annoyance, they were still chattering about seeing Victoria) and neither had most of the passers by. I grasped for something to say, going with, "I was impressed by her...clothes."
"Yeah, I'll bet." Emma rolled her eyes, walking past me and bumping me with a shoulder as she passed. I stumbled a bit, though not into the glass again, and caught myself. "Like you know anything about clothes with a half-ass costume like that knockoff jacket on."
Annoyed, I started to stalk after her, two of her bigger friends stepping up to block me. Any one of them was more than a match for me, the boy with the physique of a scarecrow, but even with that in mind I didn't find myself backing down. Their eyes on me made me feel powerful, and I grinned as their attention made me feel strong. I was the center of attention.
Maybe my grin had them feeling off, because they suddenly looked worried about something. I widened the grin, and they backed up a bit as I stood there staring them down. I could actually feel a sort of pressure in my skull, like a headache that didn't hurt, and pressed harder on it as my new power drifted closer to the rest of those ungrateful-
Wait, new power? Oh crap, I must have grabbed something by accident.
Trying to play my sudden panic off as a lack of interest in them, I scoffed and crossed my arms. As I looked inside myself, I pretended to look down on the two girls dismissively. It was made easier by the fact that both were a few inches shorter than me, and perhaps helped by my attempt to mimic the same sort of stance I'd seen Lung take. Both looked confused.
Yep, there it is. I have the Bipolar Tornado. Hmm, good name for it. Let's just switch that…off.
As if a switch had literally been flipped, both girls lost the uncomfortable feeling that had come over their stances and glanced at each other. Neither said a word, and they quickly turned and rejoined their herd of free-range Followers. They were probably too afraid to admit that they'd been worried about a skinny weirdo, and would write it off as nothing.
Wow, great self-image there, Greg.
Ignoring my own self-recrimination for being down on myself when I had a power that made people afraid of me, I started trying to figure the power out. Emma appeared to be done messing with me (for now), and instead was giving the others a play-by-play of Victoria's fashion choices. She supposedly worked as a model or something, so I guess she was an expert.
I, on the other hand, was an up-and-coming expert on parahuman powers, so I was doing some research of my own. I was looking deep within myself, trying to figure this new power out.
And if the power activated by accident and made some bullies a bit uncomfortable, big deal.
My version seems pretty weak, and it's not like this is a Master effect, right?
***
It took a few minutes, but I more or less figured the power out. I wasn't sure if this power was pheromones, lights, hypnotism, some combination of them all, or...power bullshit. Whatever the actual pathway from me to others was, it created an aura about ten feet around me.
There was a pressure in my mind, like a new muscle I'd never felt before, and I decided that must be like the kink in a garden hose. When I turned it off, I felt a pressure in my mind increase a bit. Turn it on, and the pressure would vanish.
Wow, that must be why she always forgets she has it on. It's an actual effort to suppress it!
Following that was the startling realization my emotions determined the intensity of the effect. If I thought about something that annoyed me (that one girl who kept popping her gum), the girls to my left got a bit antsy. If I tried something that made me mad (like how Emma had nearly gotten me killed) they'd physically shift away from me, sometimes without realizing it until they bumped into someone.
Okay, now let's try the Love/Awe version. Maybe if I twist it...like this? That was easy enough.
Now, what would make me happy? Ha, what a dumb question. Where to even start?
I noticed suddenly that Emma had gone quiet. I glanced over at them, wondering if this was the point when she was finally going to just tell me to buzz off already. I'd been standing here for several minutes, after all. I was sure that at any moment she was going to tell me off and have her friends give me a shove to drive the point home.
But what I actually saw made that whole line of thought grind to a halt. Emma and the others were staring at me, smiles on some faces and slack jaws on others. It wasn't like before, when they'd been happy to see a target or amazed at how dumb I was, no.
This was actual Awe, Adoration, and...Love? They were looking at me as if I was the greatest thing in the world, a hero worthy of the eyes of millions. Everything I had hoped for, right in front of me with none of the effort I had been so nervous about. It was all right here.
This is what I wanted. Respect, love, adoration, and...friends.
Right here. Right now. My dream can come true.
For a brief, heartstopping moment, I had a little daydream.
***
In my dream, I was surrounded by everyone. Friends, family, classmates, and even new people.
All my social issues were just completely ignored, and everyone accepted me for who I was.
My parents and brother were proud of me, and I didn't feel like I needed to be different for them.
I could wear the clothes I wanted to, without being made fun of. Some people even copied me.
I could tell jokes without people getting mad or feeling uncomfortable. They all laughed with me.
I could ask questions without being insulted, and actually learn what I was doing wrong.
I could meet new people without being afraid, and be able to make mistakes and gaffes.
More than any of that, even when I messed up, people would love me. They'd appreciate me.
And if they didn't? I could make them fear me. I could have friends to defend me.
I'd never be afraid again. I'd never be alone again.
Or...would I be more alone than ever? Especially when the power wears off...
Yeah, I'd get in trouble, but wouldn't it be worth it, just for a little bit?
No. I'd be letting myself down. I'd be letting them all down.
No, this wasn't worth it. There were so many things wrong with thinking like this. It would be fake, like those kids who used to pretend to be my friend and then prank me. Hell, I would basically be like a bully, forcing people to like me against their will instead of letting them choose. Instead of letting my own charm, sense of humor, and creativity convince them.
But the thing that bothered me most of all was how similar it was to the plans I'd made as a child...the same ones I'd rejected weeks ago. I was letting my dreams of revenge, of impressing others, and of making a new life instead of fixing the old one back into my head. This wasn't the type of person I wanted to be, the sort who just let his powers fix his problems. I had just spent a week learning (with the exception of the thing with Lisa) that a life like that was a dream.
But man, it was a really nice dream, huh? Something to look forward to, I guess.
This, though? This was wrong. I was acting like a villain.
It was exactly what Kaleidoscope had warned me about. I was being a goddamn idiot and testing my powers out on civilians. I had lied to myself that it didn't matter because they were bullies, but that was wrong. I'd let myself get drunk on power, lower my standards, and fail.
I have to be better than this. Better than them. Need to hold myself to a higher standard.
I clamped down on the power, and the dream ended.
***
"Sorry, what were you saying about that belt, Emma?" I called out, and the girl in question shook her head, looking at me oddly for a moment. She glanced at the others and seemed to realize that they had gone silent as well. Rather than think about anything else (like why she'd just been staring at me), she immediately recovered.
"The...belt. Yes, the belt!" Emma gestured grandly at Victoria, who was holding a white belt up to her dress. I knew nothing about why it did or didn't work, but Emma was treating this like some sort of Master's level thesis, ending with her guarantee that a "fellow fashionista like Vicky" would certainly pick the belt.
Which is why it was so funny that she tossed the belt to a clerk, shrugging as the woman put it back on the shelf. It made me chuckle, seeing Emma's slack jaw as her whole big explanation crumbled to dust around her. She whirled to glare at everyone laughing…
Oh wait, I'm the only one who actually laughed out loud. Whoops. Eh, sorry not sorry.
"What, you think you know fashion and clothing better than me, Veder?" Emma looked as if she was going to stomp over and hit me again, but instead hid her mouth behind her hand and giggled. "You probably get all your clothing tips from comic books and video games, what do you know? Go on, Veder, regale us with your knowhow!"
Her friends chuckled, and I should have felt the usual surges of anxiety and embarrassment flowing through me like water through a firehose. She waved a hand at me, as though she was a knowledgeably professor and was doing the whole "would you like to teach the class" thing. I really felt like I should have been stuttering, mumbling, or beating a hasty retreat.
..but instead I just felt kind of happy. They were all looking at me, expecting something, and for some reason that felt really good. On some level I knew that it was Victoria's personality, making me love having them watch me. Maybe this explained some of her actions, and why she sometimes went a bit overboard by accident. It was nice being the center of attention, wasn't it?
Know what? They want to see something amazing? They want a show? Let's give them one.
"You're right, Emma, I actually don't know that much about fashion." I smiled at her, watching her face light up, and then quickly continued before she could regain the upper hand. "In fact, one of the reasons I've been standing out here was because I wanted to get my courage up, to ask someone who knows a lot about it for some tips. I think I'm ready now. I'm ready to learn!"
"Well, it's not something that can exactly be learned overnight, especially in a case as...remedial as yours." She put on an innocent face, eyes glinting as her friends began to chuckle over whatever hilarious joke she was leading up to. "But I suppose I-"
"Oh I wasn't talking about you." I cut her off, relishing the moment as her face fell. Instead of thinking about her anger, I thought about the look on Mom and Dad's faces, when I had put on my new jacket and hugged them both. I wasn't using the power, I was just using my own memories to overcome my worries. Emma's attempt to retake the conversation fell flat, and I snidely added. "You obviously don't know as much as you think, and someone who can't admit when they're wrong isn't someone I trust to teach me anything."
Now comes the hard part. Deep breath, turn, and…
"Later, girls. I'm going to ask some real experts." I waved dismissively at them, then opened the door to the clothing store and entered. I sauntered up to the front desk, taking my time so it didn't look like I was running, and not looking behind myself no matter how much I wanted to.
Inside was a spacious, oddly relaxed area, various mannequins and racks set up to show off clothing in the most extravagant lighting, colors, and materials possible. Victoria was off to my left, having just stepped into what looked like a changing area, and aside from a few other women at the opposite end of the store the place was oddly empty for this time of day.
I also can't help but notice that they're all watching me. Nice entrance. Stay calm.
"Can I help you?" I stopped my inspection of the store and looked across the checkout counter (an impressive swooping thing made of shiny marble) at the clerk, who was looking at me with an odd expression on her face. I stole a glance at her nametag (Ren), then gave an easygoing smile.
"Sure thing Ren, I was actually hoping to get a bit of advice." I pretended to look around the store, as if checking out the latest styles, leaning on the counter and trying to look as casual as possible. I smiled at one of the women across the store, then added, "I actually know very little about fashion, but was hoping that I could get some tips from an expert. One of the girls out there claimed to be one, but she's also a horrible human being, so…"
"We might be able to help with that, but...you do know that this is a women's clothing store, right?" I startled, nearly sliding off the counter (in my defense, that swoopy thing made it hard to find purchase...heh, purchase) before I caught myself. I turned to face Ren, and saw that she had a full-blown grin on her face now. "I mean, I'm the last one to call someone out on dressing different from what society expects, so I can probably steer you in the right direction."
"Well, that is...the thing about that is…" I stared at Ren, in shock.
"Hey, Ren, this dude giving you trouble?" I heard Victoria's voice behind me, but didn't even turn around. "Want me to maybe show him the door?"
"Nah, I can handle it Vicky. I think he actually wants to learn about fashion, but may have bitten off more than he can chew. You got a few minutes to kill for a crash course in clothes?"
"You kidding?" Victoria laughed, and I heard a noise that sounded a lot like her slamming one fist into her other palm. "Between the two of us girls, he'll be lucky to survive!"
Victoria's words made me want to turn and make a funny comment, but I didn't.
My own cape-geekdom made me want to turn and thank a hero I love, but I didn't.
What had happened with Emma made me want to turn and explain myself, but I didn't.
Hell, even Ren's grin made me want to escape a little…but I didn't.
I just kept staring straight ahead, at Ren.
More specifically, at her parahuman powers.
*****************
AN: Next time on From Hated to Hero: Well, Greg wanted an expert, and now he's got two! Hopefully that confidence he picked up from Victoria helps, but it seems like there's more than just confidence attached to her power. Also, who's this other parahuman, what's her deal?
****************************
2.1: Dealing With Self-Control
GstringGirl: so, i read all the notes you gave me, and i gotta say...
Me: Yeah? What did you think?
GstringGirl: ...your protagonist is a complete and total idiot!
Me: Ouch. I resemble that remark! But seriously, aside from that what did you think?
GstringGirl: he's a wuss! he runs away from everything and has no self-control
Me: Well, to be fair he's 15, panics a lot, and need I repeat myself...he's 15.
GstringGirl: so is that why you called all his enemies dumb stuff? because he's dumb?
GstringGirl: like that nazi! you couldn't come up with a better name than 'knife guy?'
Me: He had a knife, he was a guy. To a 100lb weakling, that's practically unbeatable.
GstringGirl: ok...but if he was so weak, why do your notes say he fought Lung once?
Me: Well...the thing about that is...uh...reasons?
GstringGirl: for that matter, how did he even find him? I mean, why was even Lung there?
Me: It's a requirement in Brockton Bay cape fanfics. They all have to fight Lung at some point.
GstringGirl: what, so Lung is just standing around in Brockton Bay, waiting to be fought?
Me: Not exactly, but as a power copier, this fic is going to have a lot of cape interactions.
GstringGirl: it can't all be fighting though, he should probably meet them in street clothes too
Me: Eh, with his taste in fashion, that actually might make them all run away from him.
***
[Sunday, Dec 26, 2010]
"Hey Greg, looking sharp!"
"Thanks!" I pointed back at the speaker, snapping both fingers and firing my finger guns at them. They grinned at me and nodded, as I turned and showed off my sweet new spread of clothing. "Check this out. I'm hero material, head to toe!"
Indeed, Christmas had been good to me, and for once it wasn't all just a mish-mash of clothing and gift cards. No, in this case it was a very specific piece of clothing...and a bunch of gift cards, which I guess was a welcome change of pace. The gift cards were all in my desk drawer, waiting for me to figure out the best way to use them, but right now I just enjoyed looking good.
On my head was an Armsmaster knit cap, efficiently crafted to deflect the maximum amount of wind while also keeping enough heat for warmth. My shoes were the same brand, and while they might have been a few months old they had the same water-resistance...as well as microfibers that supposedly wicked sweat away, probably storing it in some sort of hidden pocket dimension.
Wait, that might just be my imagination. Eh, whatever. At least they're not exploded in a hospital.
My jeans were one of my usual old pairs, but the green of Miss Militia and a flag logo branded my butt as the property of the USA. My socks were also her brand, not that anyone would have known, but since it was chilly this morning a pair of shorts was probably out of the question. My shirt was one of my limited edition ones, barely worn and showing Scion in beautiful gold and brown...but the real treasure was what covered it.
Perhaps they'd noticed that my wardrobe had far too much red and green in it, especially after the whole "ABB cosplay" thing, but my parents had found a nice way to nudge me in a new direction. My number one favorite hero, Eidolon, had a new jacket in his clothing line that had just come out, and I was the proud owner of one of the 10,000 made so far. I proudly stretched my arms out, enjoying the full range of movement despite the sort of stiff leather feel it had.
"Wow, that looks amazing, Greg." I looked over my shoulder, nodding in reply and turning back around. "Hey, Greg, the color is really amazing, but why's there stuff on the lining as well?"
"Oh, well that's the best part!" I laughed, sliding the jacket off (something I'd done a dozen times now) and displaying it. The coloration was similar to Eidolon's costume, a blue-green that slowly shifted to green-white as it reached the sleeves. It even had a built-in hood like his costume that could be stored in the neck. But the real surprise was what else it could do. "Check this out!"
I flipped the jacket inside out, then slipped it back on and revealed the exact same jacket...but with Alexandria's black and Legend's blue, a mix of silver and grey between them. This was meant to signify the connection between the three members of the Triumvirate, and also meant that I was basically getting two jackets for the price of one. No longer would people tease me for wearing the same thing all the time!
Now they can tease me for wearing the same TWO things all the time. Much better.
"That's amazing, Greg! It really-"
"Greg, who the heck have you been talking to?" Dad opened my door, looking around and seeing that I was alone in my room. It was clean enough that he could move around inside, but still made a bit of a show of looking under the bed and in the closet. Finally, he turned a wry smile my way and...paused.
Dad had promised to try and tone down the humor when it came to my social awkwardness and odd habits, and I instantly felt my heart go out to him for catching himself so fast. I know that I would have had to screw that up at least a few dozen times to get it right, with copious feedback from my conversation partners. I quickly moved to fill the sudden silence, turning my jacket back to normal as I did so.
"It's okay Dad, I know it was kind of strange. I was just practicing showing off my sweet new jacket, in case I run into anyone and they want to try complimenting me for a change." I slipped the jacket back on and crossed the room, giving him an out. I'd noticed both him and Mom being a lot more complimentary the past few hours, so this was a Grade-A opportunity for just such a-
"If they're not complimenting you, son, then they don't know what they're missing out on." Ah, there it was. I made sure to smile widely, the first step in my attempts to fix my relationships (at GstringGirl's advice) being to express my emotions better. Dad grinned back, and caught me with a one-armed hug as I got nearby. He stealthily leaned in to whisper, "Also, I've got your mother distracted for a few hours, so go ahead and end that grounding a bit early."
"Really?" I whispered back, glancing in the mirror as if to check my own reflection for verification. "Can you do that? I mean, this is Mom we're talking about. Remember the time you told me I could watch Nightmare on Elm Street and then she grounded both of us for a weekend?"
"To be fair, we'd have gotten away with it if you hadn't started screaming during the scene with the...you know what, never mind." He shook it off, probably remembering that I'd only started screaming because he'd flipped out when Freddy did that thing with the bed. "George is trying to convince her to go on some kind of vacation thing, so she's stuck with him for a while. Go on."
He made motions with his arms, as if shooing me away, and I immediately headed for the door. Then, as if remembering something, I stopped and came back for a minute.
One hug later, and about 15 seconds after that, and I was out the door.
Time to go into town and show off my sweet new duds!
***
"Oh my god, what a total dweeb! Can you believe this guy?"
Well, I got their attention, at least. That's step one, probably. Good job so far?
My plan had been going so well, despite a few hiccups along the way. I had taken a bus into the denser parts of town, figuring I'd start at the Boardwalk and walk around a bit. I didn't have much money on me, but I could look for some nice after-Xmas sales and remember them for later. Plus, this was an excellent chance to try a few of the suggestions I'd gotten from both my mother and GstringGirl.
Surprisingly, their advice had been remarkably similar on the subject of improving social skills. Though one had made the suggestions via books and conversation, and the other through chat messages and websites, they both came down to very similar lines.
Although, I don't know GstringGirl's actual age. For all I know she's a mom with bad grammar.
Anyway, both had told me not to try and rush a friendship right off the bat (like I'd been doing for years at school), but instead to treat it more like getting into a hot bath. Look at the water, dip your toe, ease your way in, and then relax until you're used to it. Actually, that had been Mom's analogy. GstringGirl's was more about how Crawler adapted to lava that one time.
Either way, that was one of the main reasons for my sweet all-cape outfit. Not only to show off my amazing jacket, but also because it made me stand out. The point of this walk and my easy-going expression was to practice conversation with random people. Given the number of cape fans in Brockton Bay, there was no doubt that I'd eventually run into someone who wanted to trade words, and then I could work on talking to them without stress or fear.
"Look at him, is he gonna cry? Hey Veder, are you sad we don't like your baby clothes?"
Unfortunately, I just had to run into two of my worst enemies:
Emma Barnes, and the faceless mass of bullies known as Emma's Entourage
"No, I was just wondering if I should..." I trailed off, looking anywhere but at her grinning face. The girls had all been clustered around the window of a high-end clothing store, chatting about something, and I'd made the mistake of walking over to see what the commotion was. Now I was remembering all the things I hated about her, and felt vindictive. "...call the cops on you."
Rather than recoil in fear or plead with me not to ruin her life, Emma burst out laughing. Her cronies joined in, and she slowly stalked forwards until we were only a few feet apart.
"I'm not sure if you know this, geek," Emma smiled, tossing her hair over one shoulder, flicking her fingers as if I was a speck of dirt. "But hurting peoples' feelings isn't a criminal offense. If it was, then maybe hurting other senses would be illegal as well, and that whole outfit would be enough to get you thrown in the Birdcage!"
I went stock still, my face frozen in fear, and they all started calling and laughing again. They probably thought that I had just crumbled under some sick burn, but in reality I was shocked that she somehow knew I was a parahuman. Had she known that I triggered, connected the dots?
No, wait, she was probably just making a play off the Birdcage being the worst jail ever...
...and my clothes, being a fashion crime. Well, whatever, that's just like, her opinion, man.
"N-no, I didn't mean that at all!" My voice might have cracked a bit, and they started another round of laughter as Emma turned to walk away. I gave them a moment to calm down, and then threw out my sick burn. "I mean the way you tried to get me killed by the E88, Emma."
Emma stopped. She held up a hand and her friends went silent. Then she turned around.
Why is she smiling? All I need are the phone records and she'll be...oh no.
"If you had any proof, that might mean something, Veder." Emma came closer, putting a hand on my cheek as if we were lovers. I flinched away a little, and her smile curved a bit more than I would have liked. Despite that, she continued to talk, lowering her voice. "Do you have any actual records of a phone number leading you somewhere? Or...is this just a Red Herring?"
Shit, I'm an idiot. That was the screen name she was texting me from. She played me.
"Y-you, you can't just-" I gritted my teeth, feeling like her eyes were burning into mine. "You can't do this to people. It's not right, I could have been k-killed."
"Then maybe in the future you should stay down in the gutter, with the rest of the weaklings."
I started to reply, but then she stepped forwards and slapped me, hard. I felt a ringing in my ears, and staggered to the side until I slammed into the glass near the door to the clothing store. I dimly saw someone inside hand something off to another patron and then walk towards me, but I was too busy trying to get my feet under me and-
"Hey, can you guys please keep it down?" An oddly familiar voice caught my attention, and I turned to see someone who was blonde, beautiful, and...wow. I couldn't stop staring at her. "Some of us are trying to get these sales before all the good stuff is gone, and...hello?"
"Sorry, he was...he was...wow." Emma had sounded apologetic (in that fake voice she always used when she got caught bullying Taylor), but then trailed off part way through. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that she was staring, just as I was, at this vision of beauty in front of me, and I immediately cursed myself for daring to dedicate any of my attention to anything but this-
Wait, what was I thinking about?
"Sorry about that, I sometimes let my temper get the best of me." The woman...who was still beautiful, but now no longer taking up every ounce of my brain, apologized. "Was there some kind of problem out here?"
I glared at Emma, as if daring her to try something (secretly hoping she wouldn't), and she seemed to decide that it wasn't worth causing a scene. More likely, she didn't want me to loudly accuse her of nearly getting me killed by nazis. Instead, Emma just started to talk about her adoration of the one who had just been messing with our minds a moment earlier.
I was staring at the woman as well, but it was for a slightly different reason. Now that I was able to actually think, I recognized her as Victoria Dallon, or Glory Girl of the Independent group called New Wave. One of the few (for a good reason) groups of heroes that had willingly unmasked, they were all very well-known in Brockton Bay for their powers, deeds, and appearances.
Victoria in particular was a knockout blonde, dressed in normal clothing that nonetheless looked stunning on her. I knew nothing of fashion, but the way Emma was going (as Victoria seemed to preen at the attention) it must have been amazing. I was looking at the hero as well, although I was looking at something that Emma probably didn't care that much about...
Her powers. I was looking at her powers. I mean, she was beautiful but...powers!
There were four of them, although it seemed like my power couldn't decide whether the last one was actually two powers. As usual, they had an odd theme that was probably personal to Victoria in some way.
Why do they look like that? It's like Wind, or maybe Tornadoes? Hurricanes? Air?
The first power was a powerful wind, and I was calling it Gale Force. It felt like anything that came into contact with it would be deflected or knocked off course. It was probably the force field she had, which I'd heard was capable of deflecting bullets, rocks, and punches from the toughest of Brutes. What was odd was the way this power also felt like it was just about to run out with every gust...but the air kept coming. I wasn't sure what that meant.
The second power made me glad I'd watched Total Recall, because this was obviously some kind of air pressure. I decided to call it Heavy Wind, and decided that it must have been her super strength. It crushed everything it came into contact with, which explained why she sometimes got accused of control issues. What was strange was the way it felt like it was connected in some way to Gale Force, making me wonder if it was like Velocity's birds…
The third power was a glorious breeze, and despite not being that strong it felt like it could lift anything. As if just touching it would let me pull right off the ground, move around as easily as the birds, and touching down to Earth would be entirely optional. This was her flight, I guessed.
But this last power (powers?), this is just strange. Is it two powers or one?
The last power, I decided, was meant to be two powers. Somehow it had been crammed together as one power, but it felt like it was wildly out of control. Fitting, then, that it was a Tornado. One moment it was majestic, awe-inspiring, and beautiful...I wanted to touch it, to hold it, to...love it...
Then without warning, it shifted into a horrifying, destructive, monster of a storm. I briefly saw her looking at me, but I was so startled that I cast my eyes to the sidewalk, trying not to think about the power looking at me.
So, that's why the rumors of her having a fear aura or love aura are so widespread.
"So, did you have fun staring at her boobs, Veder?" Emma's voice cut into my thought process, and I looked up to see the door closing and Emma regarding me as if I was something she'd scraped off her shoe. Whatever kind fangirl she'd been a moment ago had vanished, leaving only the Dark Bully Queen of Winslow. "Glad I could make your Christmas wish come true."
"I wasn't looking at that!" I panicked, looking around and seeing that Emma's entourage hadn't heard her (to her annoyance, they were still chattering about seeing Victoria) and neither had most of the passers by. I grasped for something to say, going with, "I was impressed by her...clothes."
"Yeah, I'll bet." Emma rolled her eyes, walking past me and bumping me with a shoulder as she passed. I stumbled a bit, though not into the glass again, and caught myself. "Like you know anything about clothes with a half-ass costume like that knockoff jacket on."
Annoyed, I started to stalk after her, two of her bigger friends stepping up to block me. Any one of them was more than a match for me, the boy with the physique of a scarecrow, but even with that in mind I didn't find myself backing down. Their eyes on me made me feel powerful, and I grinned as their attention made me feel strong. I was the center of attention.
Maybe my grin had them feeling off, because they suddenly looked worried about something. I widened the grin, and they backed up a bit as I stood there staring them down. I could actually feel a sort of pressure in my skull, like a headache that didn't hurt, and pressed harder on it as my new power drifted closer to the rest of those ungrateful-
Wait, new power? Oh crap, I must have grabbed something by accident.
Trying to play my sudden panic off as a lack of interest in them, I scoffed and crossed my arms. As I looked inside myself, I pretended to look down on the two girls dismissively. It was made easier by the fact that both were a few inches shorter than me, and perhaps helped by my attempt to mimic the same sort of stance I'd seen Lung take. Both looked confused.
Yep, there it is. I have the Bipolar Tornado. Hmm, good name for it. Let's just switch that…off.
As if a switch had literally been flipped, both girls lost the uncomfortable feeling that had come over their stances and glanced at each other. Neither said a word, and they quickly turned and rejoined their herd of free-range Followers. They were probably too afraid to admit that they'd been worried about a skinny weirdo, and would write it off as nothing.
Wow, great self-image there, Greg.
Ignoring my own self-recrimination for being down on myself when I had a power that made people afraid of me, I started trying to figure the power out. Emma appeared to be done messing with me (for now), and instead was giving the others a play-by-play of Victoria's fashion choices. She supposedly worked as a model or something, so I guess she was an expert.
I, on the other hand, was an up-and-coming expert on parahuman powers, so I was doing some research of my own. I was looking deep within myself, trying to figure this new power out.
And if the power activated by accident and made some bullies a bit uncomfortable, big deal.
My version seems pretty weak, and it's not like this is a Master effect, right?
***
It took a few minutes, but I more or less figured the power out. I wasn't sure if this power was pheromones, lights, hypnotism, some combination of them all, or...power bullshit. Whatever the actual pathway from me to others was, it created an aura about ten feet around me.
There was a pressure in my mind, like a new muscle I'd never felt before, and I decided that must be like the kink in a garden hose. When I turned it off, I felt a pressure in my mind increase a bit. Turn it on, and the pressure would vanish.
Wow, that must be why she always forgets she has it on. It's an actual effort to suppress it!
Following that was the startling realization my emotions determined the intensity of the effect. If I thought about something that annoyed me (that one girl who kept popping her gum), the girls to my left got a bit antsy. If I tried something that made me mad (like how Emma had nearly gotten me killed) they'd physically shift away from me, sometimes without realizing it until they bumped into someone.
Okay, now let's try the Love/Awe version. Maybe if I twist it...like this? That was easy enough.
Now, what would make me happy? Ha, what a dumb question. Where to even start?
I noticed suddenly that Emma had gone quiet. I glanced over at them, wondering if this was the point when she was finally going to just tell me to buzz off already. I'd been standing here for several minutes, after all. I was sure that at any moment she was going to tell me off and have her friends give me a shove to drive the point home.
But what I actually saw made that whole line of thought grind to a halt. Emma and the others were staring at me, smiles on some faces and slack jaws on others. It wasn't like before, when they'd been happy to see a target or amazed at how dumb I was, no.
This was actual Awe, Adoration, and...Love? They were looking at me as if I was the greatest thing in the world, a hero worthy of the eyes of millions. Everything I had hoped for, right in front of me with none of the effort I had been so nervous about. It was all right here.
This is what I wanted. Respect, love, adoration, and...friends.
Right here. Right now. My dream can come true.
For a brief, heartstopping moment, I had a little daydream.
***
In my dream, I was surrounded by everyone. Friends, family, classmates, and even new people.
All my social issues were just completely ignored, and everyone accepted me for who I was.
My parents and brother were proud of me, and I didn't feel like I needed to be different for them.
I could wear the clothes I wanted to, without being made fun of. Some people even copied me.
I could tell jokes without people getting mad or feeling uncomfortable. They all laughed with me.
I could ask questions without being insulted, and actually learn what I was doing wrong.
I could meet new people without being afraid, and be able to make mistakes and gaffes.
More than any of that, even when I messed up, people would love me. They'd appreciate me.
And if they didn't? I could make them fear me. I could have friends to defend me.
I'd never be afraid again. I'd never be alone again.
Or...would I be more alone than ever? Especially when the power wears off...
Yeah, I'd get in trouble, but wouldn't it be worth it, just for a little bit?
No. I'd be letting myself down. I'd be letting them all down.
No, this wasn't worth it. There were so many things wrong with thinking like this. It would be fake, like those kids who used to pretend to be my friend and then prank me. Hell, I would basically be like a bully, forcing people to like me against their will instead of letting them choose. Instead of letting my own charm, sense of humor, and creativity convince them.
But the thing that bothered me most of all was how similar it was to the plans I'd made as a child...the same ones I'd rejected weeks ago. I was letting my dreams of revenge, of impressing others, and of making a new life instead of fixing the old one back into my head. This wasn't the type of person I wanted to be, the sort who just let his powers fix his problems. I had just spent a week learning (with the exception of the thing with Lisa) that a life like that was a dream.
But man, it was a really nice dream, huh? Something to look forward to, I guess.
This, though? This was wrong. I was acting like a villain.
It was exactly what Kaleidoscope had warned me about. I was being a goddamn idiot and testing my powers out on civilians. I had lied to myself that it didn't matter because they were bullies, but that was wrong. I'd let myself get drunk on power, lower my standards, and fail.
I have to be better than this. Better than them. Need to hold myself to a higher standard.
I clamped down on the power, and the dream ended.
***
"Sorry, what were you saying about that belt, Emma?" I called out, and the girl in question shook her head, looking at me oddly for a moment. She glanced at the others and seemed to realize that they had gone silent as well. Rather than think about anything else (like why she'd just been staring at me), she immediately recovered.
"The...belt. Yes, the belt!" Emma gestured grandly at Victoria, who was holding a white belt up to her dress. I knew nothing about why it did or didn't work, but Emma was treating this like some sort of Master's level thesis, ending with her guarantee that a "fellow fashionista like Vicky" would certainly pick the belt.
Which is why it was so funny that she tossed the belt to a clerk, shrugging as the woman put it back on the shelf. It made me chuckle, seeing Emma's slack jaw as her whole big explanation crumbled to dust around her. She whirled to glare at everyone laughing…
Oh wait, I'm the only one who actually laughed out loud. Whoops. Eh, sorry not sorry.
"What, you think you know fashion and clothing better than me, Veder?" Emma looked as if she was going to stomp over and hit me again, but instead hid her mouth behind her hand and giggled. "You probably get all your clothing tips from comic books and video games, what do you know? Go on, Veder, regale us with your knowhow!"
Her friends chuckled, and I should have felt the usual surges of anxiety and embarrassment flowing through me like water through a firehose. She waved a hand at me, as though she was a knowledgeably professor and was doing the whole "would you like to teach the class" thing. I really felt like I should have been stuttering, mumbling, or beating a hasty retreat.
..but instead I just felt kind of happy. They were all looking at me, expecting something, and for some reason that felt really good. On some level I knew that it was Victoria's personality, making me love having them watch me. Maybe this explained some of her actions, and why she sometimes went a bit overboard by accident. It was nice being the center of attention, wasn't it?
Know what? They want to see something amazing? They want a show? Let's give them one.
"You're right, Emma, I actually don't know that much about fashion." I smiled at her, watching her face light up, and then quickly continued before she could regain the upper hand. "In fact, one of the reasons I've been standing out here was because I wanted to get my courage up, to ask someone who knows a lot about it for some tips. I think I'm ready now. I'm ready to learn!"
"Well, it's not something that can exactly be learned overnight, especially in a case as...remedial as yours." She put on an innocent face, eyes glinting as her friends began to chuckle over whatever hilarious joke she was leading up to. "But I suppose I-"
"Oh I wasn't talking about you." I cut her off, relishing the moment as her face fell. Instead of thinking about her anger, I thought about the look on Mom and Dad's faces, when I had put on my new jacket and hugged them both. I wasn't using the power, I was just using my own memories to overcome my worries. Emma's attempt to retake the conversation fell flat, and I snidely added. "You obviously don't know as much as you think, and someone who can't admit when they're wrong isn't someone I trust to teach me anything."
Now comes the hard part. Deep breath, turn, and…
"Later, girls. I'm going to ask some real experts." I waved dismissively at them, then opened the door to the clothing store and entered. I sauntered up to the front desk, taking my time so it didn't look like I was running, and not looking behind myself no matter how much I wanted to.
Inside was a spacious, oddly relaxed area, various mannequins and racks set up to show off clothing in the most extravagant lighting, colors, and materials possible. Victoria was off to my left, having just stepped into what looked like a changing area, and aside from a few other women at the opposite end of the store the place was oddly empty for this time of day.
I also can't help but notice that they're all watching me. Nice entrance. Stay calm.
"Can I help you?" I stopped my inspection of the store and looked across the checkout counter (an impressive swooping thing made of shiny marble) at the clerk, who was looking at me with an odd expression on her face. I stole a glance at her nametag (Ren), then gave an easygoing smile.
"Sure thing Ren, I was actually hoping to get a bit of advice." I pretended to look around the store, as if checking out the latest styles, leaning on the counter and trying to look as casual as possible. I smiled at one of the women across the store, then added, "I actually know very little about fashion, but was hoping that I could get some tips from an expert. One of the girls out there claimed to be one, but she's also a horrible human being, so…"
"We might be able to help with that, but...you do know that this is a women's clothing store, right?" I startled, nearly sliding off the counter (in my defense, that swoopy thing made it hard to find purchase...heh, purchase) before I caught myself. I turned to face Ren, and saw that she had a full-blown grin on her face now. "I mean, I'm the last one to call someone out on dressing different from what society expects, so I can probably steer you in the right direction."
"Well, that is...the thing about that is…" I stared at Ren, in shock.
"Hey, Ren, this dude giving you trouble?" I heard Victoria's voice behind me, but didn't even turn around. "Want me to maybe show him the door?"
"Nah, I can handle it Vicky. I think he actually wants to learn about fashion, but may have bitten off more than he can chew. You got a few minutes to kill for a crash course in clothes?"
"You kidding?" Victoria laughed, and I heard a noise that sounded a lot like her slamming one fist into her other palm. "Between the two of us girls, he'll be lucky to survive!"
Victoria's words made me want to turn and make a funny comment, but I didn't.
My own cape-geekdom made me want to turn and thank a hero I love, but I didn't.
What had happened with Emma made me want to turn and explain myself, but I didn't.
Hell, even Ren's grin made me want to escape a little…but I didn't.
I just kept staring straight ahead, at Ren.
More specifically, at her parahuman powers.
*****************
AN: Next time on From Hated to Hero: Well, Greg wanted an expert, and now he's got two! Hopefully that confidence he picked up from Victoria helps, but it seems like there's more than just confidence attached to her power. Also, who's this other parahuman, what's her deal?
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