Orderly (Worm Semi-SI)
- Thread starter Obscura
- Start date
- Superhero
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
It's not that hard to understand, when you look at it right. With her mother, Taylor has probably encountered the concept before, but having been exposed to an idea in the past doesn't necessarily mean that you recognize it when it comes up again, especially if it comes up in an unfamiliar context. And I rather doubt Annette taught her daughter about using pocketwatches as a weapon. Note that Taylor doesn't seem confused, even though Jacqueline's explanation isn't a very good one.
22-4 Incommensuracy (Interlude: Taylor)
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Taylor:
Taylor sat by a window, slowly working out how each and every joint and muscle worked in some common butterfly species whose name she didn't know. Down in the basement, she did much the same for a black widow. Further from home, in the labyrinthine depths of the anthill in the backyard of the house three doors to the right, Taylor stretched and squirmed and learned for the same purpose. In several houses, she did so as an almost literal fly on the wall.
Dozens of bodies at a minimum for each kind of arthropod she had under control were working it out, and all the while Taylor struggled and strived to better understand what her new bug senses were telling her. She wasn't anywhere near as good as Jacqy seemed to think she was, but she was getting better, and that had to count for something, right?
Hopefully, that something would be enough. Taylor's new friend had a way with words, and Taylor was also trying to learn from that. Somehow, Taylor's mimicry didn't seem quite right, but she thought she was making some progress there too. Some.
In the little black van sitting somewhat unobtrusively a bit down the block, Taylor kept an eye on the people keeping an eye on her house. They were supposed to be there after all, but she didn't entirely trust them, or the people who'd put them there. Jacqueline did, and Dad mostly did, but Taylor was warier. Or more cynical, she suspected, but then she was cynical about herself too, so that was alright.
And she was reading a book. Or trying to read a book, anyway. She wasn't making a lot of progress, and a lot of that progress was just because she'd read it before, but it was a "valuable learning experience", like her teachers used to tell her before she'd gone to Winslow and the idea of "valuable learning" slowly corroded into a distant dream.
That probably wasn't a healthy train of thought. Taylor was trying to take better care of herself, if only because of the constant reminders from Dad. And Jacqueline, though the latter usually tried to be unobtrusive about it. Or maybe it really was accidental. Jacqy was an affectionate kid, not a perfect parahuman mastermind, no matter how hard she tried to be both. Which was honestly pretty cute when it wasn't deeply concerning.
Like now. Taylor, the original Taylor, the body that was distinctly Taylorish and not a bug, was having a difficult conversation. Jacqueline being smart and weird because she was smart and weird was cute. Her being smart and weird because she was deeply, fundamentally afraid?
Well, that was scary in and of itself. The fact that the girl's fears seemed to be entirely justified by her background and her understanding of cape society in general (which seemed to be much better than Taylor's own) made it terrifying.
Taylor showed it. She scurried and hid, curled in on herself, froze in place, and generally gave in to buggy fear a thousand times over. Several thousand, actually. Four thousand, six hundred, and sixty seven to be precise, and it could have been a lot more. The part of Taylor that Jacqueline could see, however, was perfectly calm and reassuring. That was important. She had to be gentle and strong, or she might break Jacqy. And she'd never forgive herself if she did that.
So Taylor-Prime gave her friend (little sister?) permission to not explain if she didn't want to, and let her do so when she insisted. She thought that was what she was supposed to do, but wasn't certain. Vague, deliberately suppressed memories helped, but not enough.
She couldn't even begin to figure out if the pocketwatch thing was a good idea or not. She hadn't even remembered what a pocketwatch was until Jacqueline explained, and even then she'd never heard of anyone using one as a blunt instrument. She supposed she'd just have to have faith in Jacqueline. That was something sisters did. She was pretty sure about that part. They also paid attention and made astute remarks. So she did that. Or at least tried to.
"And a pocketwatch fits with the aesthetic your power stuck you with." didn't seem all that astute to Taylor. It felt stupidly obvious. But it'd rushed past her mouth, so she was stuck with it. So when Jacqueline puffed up all indignant like (and not even slightly intimidating) and defended the aesthetic, Taylor poked a little hole in her theory. Now she was sulking and grumbly, but she wasn't scared out of her wits anymore. Mission Accomplished?
That sort of summed up all her progress of the moment. It wasn't like her other endeavours were going much better. Instinct worked just fine for moving around and such with her minion-hers, but trying to memorize their capacities wasn't working so well. What if someone got killed because Taylor didn't know she could do something? She wasn't anywhere near good enough with the bug senses, and she knew she hadn't been working hard enough there. She had no idea what to look for in the PRT van, and she wasn't even sure about what she was looking at. Learning how to talk to people? Weird and awkward at best. Reading was worse. And she had no idea what happened to her toast.
At least she was good at multitasking, even if that was just because of her power. She could do a lot of things at once, even if she wasn't good enough at any one thing. That was good, right? She could help?
She could be worth something.
She hoped.
Taylor sat by a window, slowly working out how each and every joint and muscle worked in some common butterfly species whose name she didn't know. Down in the basement, she did much the same for a black widow. Further from home, in the labyrinthine depths of the anthill in the backyard of the house three doors to the right, Taylor stretched and squirmed and learned for the same purpose. In several houses, she did so as an almost literal fly on the wall.
Dozens of bodies at a minimum for each kind of arthropod she had under control were working it out, and all the while Taylor struggled and strived to better understand what her new bug senses were telling her. She wasn't anywhere near as good as Jacqy seemed to think she was, but she was getting better, and that had to count for something, right?
Hopefully, that something would be enough. Taylor's new friend had a way with words, and Taylor was also trying to learn from that. Somehow, Taylor's mimicry didn't seem quite right, but she thought she was making some progress there too. Some.
In the little black van sitting somewhat unobtrusively a bit down the block, Taylor kept an eye on the people keeping an eye on her house. They were supposed to be there after all, but she didn't entirely trust them, or the people who'd put them there. Jacqueline did, and Dad mostly did, but Taylor was warier. Or more cynical, she suspected, but then she was cynical about herself too, so that was alright.
And she was reading a book. Or trying to read a book, anyway. She wasn't making a lot of progress, and a lot of that progress was just because she'd read it before, but it was a "valuable learning experience", like her teachers used to tell her before she'd gone to Winslow and the idea of "valuable learning" slowly corroded into a distant dream.
That probably wasn't a healthy train of thought. Taylor was trying to take better care of herself, if only because of the constant reminders from Dad. And Jacqueline, though the latter usually tried to be unobtrusive about it. Or maybe it really was accidental. Jacqy was an affectionate kid, not a perfect parahuman mastermind, no matter how hard she tried to be both. Which was honestly pretty cute when it wasn't deeply concerning.
Like now. Taylor, the original Taylor, the body that was distinctly Taylorish and not a bug, was having a difficult conversation. Jacqueline being smart and weird because she was smart and weird was cute. Her being smart and weird because she was deeply, fundamentally afraid?
Well, that was scary in and of itself. The fact that the girl's fears seemed to be entirely justified by her background and her understanding of cape society in general (which seemed to be much better than Taylor's own) made it terrifying.
Taylor showed it. She scurried and hid, curled in on herself, froze in place, and generally gave in to buggy fear a thousand times over. Several thousand, actually. Four thousand, six hundred, and sixty seven to be precise, and it could have been a lot more. The part of Taylor that Jacqueline could see, however, was perfectly calm and reassuring. That was important. She had to be gentle and strong, or she might break Jacqy. And she'd never forgive herself if she did that.
So Taylor-Prime gave her friend (little sister?) permission to not explain if she didn't want to, and let her do so when she insisted. She thought that was what she was supposed to do, but wasn't certain. Vague, deliberately suppressed memories helped, but not enough.
She couldn't even begin to figure out if the pocketwatch thing was a good idea or not. She hadn't even remembered what a pocketwatch was until Jacqueline explained, and even then she'd never heard of anyone using one as a blunt instrument. She supposed she'd just have to have faith in Jacqueline. That was something sisters did. She was pretty sure about that part. They also paid attention and made astute remarks. So she did that. Or at least tried to.
"And a pocketwatch fits with the aesthetic your power stuck you with." didn't seem all that astute to Taylor. It felt stupidly obvious. But it'd rushed past her mouth, so she was stuck with it. So when Jacqueline puffed up all indignant like (and not even slightly intimidating) and defended the aesthetic, Taylor poked a little hole in her theory. Now she was sulking and grumbly, but she wasn't scared out of her wits anymore. Mission Accomplished?
That sort of summed up all her progress of the moment. It wasn't like her other endeavours were going much better. Instinct worked just fine for moving around and such with her minion-hers, but trying to memorize their capacities wasn't working so well. What if someone got killed because Taylor didn't know she could do something? She wasn't anywhere near good enough with the bug senses, and she knew she hadn't been working hard enough there. She had no idea what to look for in the PRT van, and she wasn't even sure about what she was looking at. Learning how to talk to people? Weird and awkward at best. Reading was worse. And she had no idea what happened to her toast.
At least she was good at multitasking, even if that was just because of her power. She could do a lot of things at once, even if she wasn't good enough at any one thing. That was good, right? She could help?
She could be worth something.
She hoped.
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- Pronouns
- She
Poor Taylor. At least she's getting support now
It's unfortunate how many forget Taylor's not simply a "queen of escalation." Her relentless drive was a blade without a hilt and really fucked her up.
Huh… Jaqueline has had quite a bit of success by virtue of Taylor realizing she has a problem.
So… silver linings?
Huh… Jaqueline has had quite a bit of success by virtue of Taylor realizing she has a problem.
So… silver linings?
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- Location
- Attached to a wall
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Don't be tricked Taylor it's a ruse she is obviously succeeding in her diabolical plans. To get a big sister.
If you don't watch you will take the side of this diabolical Master will make do for things for her like helping her with her homework.
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Taylor's life was deeply messed up well before she she started making stupid cape decisions, and fixing that sort of thing isn't easy. I've been trying to draw attention to that and have actual, helpful, steps taken to address it without trivializing it like a lot of fics fall into. I'll take your comments as confirmation that it's working.
Personally, I think canon Taylor knew she had a problem, but blamed herself for it and took really unhealthy measures to distract from it rather than attempting to address it, which she had no idea how to do anyway. As one might expect of teenager with zero education in regards to mental health, even without an external conflict drive.
22-5 Indistinguishable
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
You know what my power is ridiculously handy for?
Getting stains out.
And also medical treatment, especially cases that are otherwise beyond (the local version of) medical science, (Earth Bet's version being well behind my other homeworld's, but some of the things the aura could do were beyond both) or just failed by the healthcare system. One of those things probably isn't going to save a whole bunch of lives, but that doesn't mean they aren't both nice to have.
Especially when somebody gets careless with their toast.
Not that I'm naming any names, Taylor.
That was probably a bit petty of me. It's not like she did it on purpose. Or that she's just careless with other people's clothes. Honestly, she's better with mine than her own, for some reason. It's probably just one part of her larger pattern of low self esteem leading to poor self-care leading to low self-esteem and so on and so forth. A vicious cycle. I strongly suspect that I can't drag her out of it on my own, so hopefully Jackson or Danny or the other Wards can help, but even then it's definitely going to take a while. I hoped I was prepared to put in the effort, because it wasn't going to be easy.
But there's a time and a place, and right after addressing an equally emotionally draining but otherwise unrelated issue was not it. Also, I didn't have a plan then. So instead we moved on to discussing how to stay safe as a cape.
Getting at least a basic grounding in self defence was a no-brainer, as was carrying a cell phone or radio or something to be able to call for help. Well, a no-brainer for me; Taylor had learned that lesson the hard way. (Seriously, that was ridiculously unlucky for a first time out, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. It was still stupid and reckless on her part, but really.) As Wards, the PRT would be providing both, and a lot better than we'd be able to get on our own at that.
Taylor knew more about armour than I did, and by quite a lot. Really, I didn't even know if the yellow plates I suggested she add to her bodysuit would actually provide any protection, I just thought it'd look friendlier with them. Which it did, but it turns out that they do, in point of fact, protect her, and they're quality stuff. Quality stuff she got surplus from the PRT, but quality stuff nonetheless.
She also had some pepper spray, which was probably a good idea. And a baton, which could come in handy, but that's just a baton and nobody cares. I'm not really sure if she needs more. Unlike me, she has a power that's actually useful offensively, even if she is a glass cannon. Not every cape can be a Brute. Tinkertech's good, but it's just too limited for that to be workable. And it'd probably make things even worse, hard as that might be to believe.
Then I rather unsubtly turned the conversation towards the benefits of having a team. I suppose I was feeling defensive about basically cajoling Taylor into joining the Wards. Well, mostly helping Danny cajole her into the Wards, but that's as maybe. I played a part, and I felt I had to defend my decision. For some reason. Probably not a rational one. She hadn't even actually questioned it, at least not to me.
I'm like eighty-five percent sure she knew what I was doing, but she didn't question that either. She's cool like that. Not, like, in any way the internet or high-school students would ever accept, but she chill.
(Did I use that right? Please let me have used that right.)
There were some pretty compelling reasons. Still are, I'll state, just in case this somehow makes its way to somebody considering joining up. I don't know, maybe Patron's just gonna post all this on PHO to mess with me. That seems deeply inconsiderate and poorly thought out, which means it's likely right up their alleyway. Or Assault's. Maybe they're one and the same? They probably aren't, but it's weird to think about.
There's a good deal of similarity in their probably-well-meaning-yet-ill-considered approaches, and the way they just assume everything they do is not only perfectly okay with everybody, but actively laudable, even when that's very much not the case, is similar. Plus a tendency to just rely on their inhuman abilities for everything, at least according to Assault's PHO profile and the one point of contact I have for Patron.
On the other hand, their demonstrated capabilities are very different in scale, and I really can't imagine either of them hiding that kind of raw power while acting as a public figure for a day, let alone the years (not a lot of years, but enough to be plural) the Protectorate hero had been active. Nor are their styles very similar beyond a basic boorish boisterousness. Patron was trying (way too hard) for grace, eloquence, and a sense of magnanimity in that letter, while Assault just didn't care. Plus one was super (inaccurately) archaic and the other isn't. Them being one and the same would require a level of intelligence, subtlety, acting skills, and careful consideration that neither had demonstrated even remotely approaching.
They're both jerks though.
Right, advantages to being on a team. Equipment and training, which I already mentioned. That was how I segued into the subject in the first place. The whole tonne of bricks thing. A public relations department, which was a big leg up for me and a massive and desperately needed leg up for Taylor. For all sorts of reasons. She's really very sweet and kind, but man is she bad at people. Blame Coil. Always. Always be blaming Coil. You just had to warp some random schoolgirls into monsters, didn't you?
Fie, that plan doesn't even make sense!
Also, there's a certain amount of safety in numbers. Having more force with you when you go out to kick tushy and take names isn't a bad thing, but there's more to it than that. A lone individual, even if they're a cape, is far more vulnerable to being picked off by ambushes and the like than a small, well-coordinated group.
Really top tier capes have ways to deal with that sort of thing, but Taylor and I were squishy humans. She was a pretty good Thinker and a pretty powerful Master, but that wouldn't necessarily help. At least not enough. That'd make her less vulnerable than most, but less is a relative term. She seemed to agree, and we agreed on no solo patrols pretty quickly. Technically we'd already done so when we signed up with the PRT, since they do not allow Wards to patrol alone under any circumstances, but Taylor looked pretty surprised when I mentioned that.
I briefly wondered why she didn't read her Wards contract thoroughly, given her general mistrust of authority, then remembered that she'd been busy covering Grue with bugs. Then I wondered how that turned out.
Like, what was the point of that? From what I was told, she didn't even use any biting or stinging insects, so it can't have been that scary, and it wasn't like he had any way of connecting the threat to beating me up. Eh, it's probably not important.
So I told her "You need to read these things, Taylor, they're important." and she just looked at me strangely. So I hugged her, she hugged me back, and a butterfly landed on my head. That probably wasn't a coincidence. Taylor-Taylor walked off, hopefully to look at the contract, but the very affectionate butterfly indicated that she was still looking after me. Well, affectionate by butterfly standards. In my experience, non-Mastered butterflies are quite shy, and very flighty, though I continue to not be an entomologist.
That's probably not gonna change anytime soon, just so you know.
Getting stains out.
And also medical treatment, especially cases that are otherwise beyond (the local version of) medical science, (Earth Bet's version being well behind my other homeworld's, but some of the things the aura could do were beyond both) or just failed by the healthcare system. One of those things probably isn't going to save a whole bunch of lives, but that doesn't mean they aren't both nice to have.
Especially when somebody gets careless with their toast.
Not that I'm naming any names, Taylor.
That was probably a bit petty of me. It's not like she did it on purpose. Or that she's just careless with other people's clothes. Honestly, she's better with mine than her own, for some reason. It's probably just one part of her larger pattern of low self esteem leading to poor self-care leading to low self-esteem and so on and so forth. A vicious cycle. I strongly suspect that I can't drag her out of it on my own, so hopefully Jackson or Danny or the other Wards can help, but even then it's definitely going to take a while. I hoped I was prepared to put in the effort, because it wasn't going to be easy.
But there's a time and a place, and right after addressing an equally emotionally draining but otherwise unrelated issue was not it. Also, I didn't have a plan then. So instead we moved on to discussing how to stay safe as a cape.
Getting at least a basic grounding in self defence was a no-brainer, as was carrying a cell phone or radio or something to be able to call for help. Well, a no-brainer for me; Taylor had learned that lesson the hard way. (Seriously, that was ridiculously unlucky for a first time out, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. It was still stupid and reckless on her part, but really.) As Wards, the PRT would be providing both, and a lot better than we'd be able to get on our own at that.
Taylor knew more about armour than I did, and by quite a lot. Really, I didn't even know if the yellow plates I suggested she add to her bodysuit would actually provide any protection, I just thought it'd look friendlier with them. Which it did, but it turns out that they do, in point of fact, protect her, and they're quality stuff. Quality stuff she got surplus from the PRT, but quality stuff nonetheless.
She also had some pepper spray, which was probably a good idea. And a baton, which could come in handy, but that's just a baton and nobody cares. I'm not really sure if she needs more. Unlike me, she has a power that's actually useful offensively, even if she is a glass cannon. Not every cape can be a Brute. Tinkertech's good, but it's just too limited for that to be workable. And it'd probably make things even worse, hard as that might be to believe.
Then I rather unsubtly turned the conversation towards the benefits of having a team. I suppose I was feeling defensive about basically cajoling Taylor into joining the Wards. Well, mostly helping Danny cajole her into the Wards, but that's as maybe. I played a part, and I felt I had to defend my decision. For some reason. Probably not a rational one. She hadn't even actually questioned it, at least not to me.
I'm like eighty-five percent sure she knew what I was doing, but she didn't question that either. She's cool like that. Not, like, in any way the internet or high-school students would ever accept, but she chill.
(Did I use that right? Please let me have used that right.)
There were some pretty compelling reasons. Still are, I'll state, just in case this somehow makes its way to somebody considering joining up. I don't know, maybe Patron's just gonna post all this on PHO to mess with me. That seems deeply inconsiderate and poorly thought out, which means it's likely right up their alleyway. Or Assault's. Maybe they're one and the same? They probably aren't, but it's weird to think about.
There's a good deal of similarity in their probably-well-meaning-yet-ill-considered approaches, and the way they just assume everything they do is not only perfectly okay with everybody, but actively laudable, even when that's very much not the case, is similar. Plus a tendency to just rely on their inhuman abilities for everything, at least according to Assault's PHO profile and the one point of contact I have for Patron.
On the other hand, their demonstrated capabilities are very different in scale, and I really can't imagine either of them hiding that kind of raw power while acting as a public figure for a day, let alone the years (not a lot of years, but enough to be plural) the Protectorate hero had been active. Nor are their styles very similar beyond a basic boorish boisterousness. Patron was trying (way too hard) for grace, eloquence, and a sense of magnanimity in that letter, while Assault just didn't care. Plus one was super (inaccurately) archaic and the other isn't. Them being one and the same would require a level of intelligence, subtlety, acting skills, and careful consideration that neither had demonstrated even remotely approaching.
They're both jerks though.
Right, advantages to being on a team. Equipment and training, which I already mentioned. That was how I segued into the subject in the first place. The whole tonne of bricks thing. A public relations department, which was a big leg up for me and a massive and desperately needed leg up for Taylor. For all sorts of reasons. She's really very sweet and kind, but man is she bad at people. Blame Coil. Always. Always be blaming Coil. You just had to warp some random schoolgirls into monsters, didn't you?
Fie, that plan doesn't even make sense!
Also, there's a certain amount of safety in numbers. Having more force with you when you go out to kick tushy and take names isn't a bad thing, but there's more to it than that. A lone individual, even if they're a cape, is far more vulnerable to being picked off by ambushes and the like than a small, well-coordinated group.
Really top tier capes have ways to deal with that sort of thing, but Taylor and I were squishy humans. She was a pretty good Thinker and a pretty powerful Master, but that wouldn't necessarily help. At least not enough. That'd make her less vulnerable than most, but less is a relative term. She seemed to agree, and we agreed on no solo patrols pretty quickly. Technically we'd already done so when we signed up with the PRT, since they do not allow Wards to patrol alone under any circumstances, but Taylor looked pretty surprised when I mentioned that.
I briefly wondered why she didn't read her Wards contract thoroughly, given her general mistrust of authority, then remembered that she'd been busy covering Grue with bugs. Then I wondered how that turned out.
Like, what was the point of that? From what I was told, she didn't even use any biting or stinging insects, so it can't have been that scary, and it wasn't like he had any way of connecting the threat to beating me up. Eh, it's probably not important.
So I told her "You need to read these things, Taylor, they're important." and she just looked at me strangely. So I hugged her, she hugged me back, and a butterfly landed on my head. That probably wasn't a coincidence. Taylor-Taylor walked off, hopefully to look at the contract, but the very affectionate butterfly indicated that she was still looking after me. Well, affectionate by butterfly standards. In my experience, non-Mastered butterflies are quite shy, and very flighty, though I continue to not be an entomologist.
That's probably not gonna change anytime soon, just so you know.
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- Pronouns
- She
Aw, Taylor continues to try to person 
22-6 Interface
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Say what you will about the PRT's budget (and trust me a lot has been said on that subject) but the parts I've seen have all been lightning quick for government work. Or even compared to most private enterprise, especially in Brockton Bay's decaying economy. Of course, parahumans are a Big Thing here, and I was Very Important through basically no fault of my own, so that might explain it. My little protection and weaponry plans were typed up and on their electronic way only a few minutes after my little talk with Taylor ended.
Not even an hour later, I had a preliminary response. Jackson seemed enthusiastic about the bodysuit idea, and the pocketwatch was apparently doable, at least from his end. Meaning that it worked thematically and it wouldn't be too expensive to acquire. Apparently he wasn't qualified to evaluate it as an actual weapon.
Which wasn't exactly surprising. He might be a PRT agent as well as a PR guy, but most PRT agents don't carry strange and exotic weapons. The memetic "Agent Atlatl" aside.
Also, I had like a dozen meetings tomorrow. Most of them looked less like "business as usual" and more like part of The Plan. The guest lists were telling. No Taylor, small groups of people I was unfamiliar with (usually accompanied by superiors who were in on The Plan), Armsmaster, and Gallant, plus at least one additional Protectorate member per meeting, probably for extra security.
Aegis didn't exactly fit that profile, but he also fit into my little schema, in a way. I'll explain later. It wasn't subtle, if you knew what to look for, and were permitted to look in the first place. I was willing to bet that not many of the guests would. Which was good, because I was betting my life, quite possibly literally. If any of them were under Coil's influence, Mastered or otherwise, and they figured it out…
Well, that'd be bad.
In other news, the sun's core isn't exactly friendly to conventional human lifestyles.
As for why all this was on a Sunday, I could think of a couple possible reasons. First, there was no school. This was easily important enough to justify pulling Gallant out of class, in my arrogant opinion, but when you're doing something secret it's important to avoid drawing attention to it. Pulling a Ward out of school was something the PRT apparently tried to avoid for precisely that reason in regards to secret identities, so it'd need to be explained. Scheduling for the weekend was a workable workaround. At least as far as I know.
For obvious reasons, I am not privy to the details of Gallant's school life. It's probably in Arcadia, but I don't even know how old he is. Nor do I have any particular desire to find out. Secret identities are serious business.
None of the meetings were all that odd looking in and of themselves, presumably also for attention-avoiding reasons. It was only the fact that there were so many of them, and with so many of the people key to the screening part of the plan invited to each of them, that tipped me off. A meeting with the PR department as a whole to discuss my debut, the trainers to discuss a regimen, medical to discuss how my power might help them (the healing part of my power wasn't secret, not within the PRT, and it wasn't intended to be a secret to the public for much longer), legal to get hospitals to agree and set up agreements with patients, et cetera, et cetera.
Basically, it was all the stuff I'd need to debut as a Ward and get to work as fast as possible. Which was probably at least a secondary objective. Get things running and my name out before I get caught up in something else, you know? Given the amount of trouble that had managed to find me (that's my story and I'm sticking to it) without even having a costumed identity, going open cape as soon as possible probably looked a lot more palatable from a "keeping Jacqueline safe" point of view. And I'd like to say that I think that's a good point of view to take. Keeping Jacqueline safe is important.
I'm Jacqueline Colere, and I approved this message.
And the heroes who'd be there made sense with that as well. Armsmaster was the head of the local Protectorate, and, according to normal procedures, that put him in charge of the Wards. I'd never actually seen him doing anything unless his Tinkertech was specifically required, but it is what it is, even if I have no clue what "what it is" is. Regardless, he had a believable reason to be attending.
A believable reason that may or may not have been true, but it was definitely at least superficially plausible. And superficially plausible can take you a long way. Just take a good look at history, communications, social sciences, politics, basically anything that involves really looking at how people are shown society and how to think about it.
Aegis is, was, and will be my Petty Officer. Sorry, Wards Captain. Don't know where the other thing came from. Well, I do, I'm just not going to tell you. I can do that, since it's not really relevant. I don't know how much actual authority that position gives him, but if the title isn't an empty one he's someone who probably should be kept in the loop. Gallant was the established Ward I knew best. "Best" meaning I'd encountered him like three or four times, but he was a familiar face to an extent. It wasn't exactly the strongest excuse ever conceived of, but it would probably work if nobody looked at it too closely.
Which means basically the same thing as "superficially plausible".
Mara Sorrows wasn't on the guest list, but I had little doubt she'd be observing things. Obviously, if you're trying to hide the fact that you're doing a Master/Stranger sweep you don't advertise that the Master/Stranger screener is going to be there. That's just common sense.
I stopped thinking about that when something hit me as I glanced at the screen. Namely, that not all of those meetings were tomorrow. Some of them were today. And it was already pretty far past the time I should have left if I wanted my usual margin of safety.
Stupid unfamiliar PRT scheduling app.
Not even an hour later, I had a preliminary response. Jackson seemed enthusiastic about the bodysuit idea, and the pocketwatch was apparently doable, at least from his end. Meaning that it worked thematically and it wouldn't be too expensive to acquire. Apparently he wasn't qualified to evaluate it as an actual weapon.
Which wasn't exactly surprising. He might be a PRT agent as well as a PR guy, but most PRT agents don't carry strange and exotic weapons. The memetic "Agent Atlatl" aside.
Also, I had like a dozen meetings tomorrow. Most of them looked less like "business as usual" and more like part of The Plan. The guest lists were telling. No Taylor, small groups of people I was unfamiliar with (usually accompanied by superiors who were in on The Plan), Armsmaster, and Gallant, plus at least one additional Protectorate member per meeting, probably for extra security.
Aegis didn't exactly fit that profile, but he also fit into my little schema, in a way. I'll explain later. It wasn't subtle, if you knew what to look for, and were permitted to look in the first place. I was willing to bet that not many of the guests would. Which was good, because I was betting my life, quite possibly literally. If any of them were under Coil's influence, Mastered or otherwise, and they figured it out…
Well, that'd be bad.
In other news, the sun's core isn't exactly friendly to conventional human lifestyles.
As for why all this was on a Sunday, I could think of a couple possible reasons. First, there was no school. This was easily important enough to justify pulling Gallant out of class, in my arrogant opinion, but when you're doing something secret it's important to avoid drawing attention to it. Pulling a Ward out of school was something the PRT apparently tried to avoid for precisely that reason in regards to secret identities, so it'd need to be explained. Scheduling for the weekend was a workable workaround. At least as far as I know.
For obvious reasons, I am not privy to the details of Gallant's school life. It's probably in Arcadia, but I don't even know how old he is. Nor do I have any particular desire to find out. Secret identities are serious business.
None of the meetings were all that odd looking in and of themselves, presumably also for attention-avoiding reasons. It was only the fact that there were so many of them, and with so many of the people key to the screening part of the plan invited to each of them, that tipped me off. A meeting with the PR department as a whole to discuss my debut, the trainers to discuss a regimen, medical to discuss how my power might help them (the healing part of my power wasn't secret, not within the PRT, and it wasn't intended to be a secret to the public for much longer), legal to get hospitals to agree and set up agreements with patients, et cetera, et cetera.
Basically, it was all the stuff I'd need to debut as a Ward and get to work as fast as possible. Which was probably at least a secondary objective. Get things running and my name out before I get caught up in something else, you know? Given the amount of trouble that had managed to find me (that's my story and I'm sticking to it) without even having a costumed identity, going open cape as soon as possible probably looked a lot more palatable from a "keeping Jacqueline safe" point of view. And I'd like to say that I think that's a good point of view to take. Keeping Jacqueline safe is important.
I'm Jacqueline Colere, and I approved this message.
And the heroes who'd be there made sense with that as well. Armsmaster was the head of the local Protectorate, and, according to normal procedures, that put him in charge of the Wards. I'd never actually seen him doing anything unless his Tinkertech was specifically required, but it is what it is, even if I have no clue what "what it is" is. Regardless, he had a believable reason to be attending.
A believable reason that may or may not have been true, but it was definitely at least superficially plausible. And superficially plausible can take you a long way. Just take a good look at history, communications, social sciences, politics, basically anything that involves really looking at how people are shown society and how to think about it.
Aegis is, was, and will be my Petty Officer. Sorry, Wards Captain. Don't know where the other thing came from. Well, I do, I'm just not going to tell you. I can do that, since it's not really relevant. I don't know how much actual authority that position gives him, but if the title isn't an empty one he's someone who probably should be kept in the loop. Gallant was the established Ward I knew best. "Best" meaning I'd encountered him like three or four times, but he was a familiar face to an extent. It wasn't exactly the strongest excuse ever conceived of, but it would probably work if nobody looked at it too closely.
Which means basically the same thing as "superficially plausible".
Mara Sorrows wasn't on the guest list, but I had little doubt she'd be observing things. Obviously, if you're trying to hide the fact that you're doing a Master/Stranger sweep you don't advertise that the Master/Stranger screener is going to be there. That's just common sense.
I stopped thinking about that when something hit me as I glanced at the screen. Namely, that not all of those meetings were tomorrow. Some of them were today. And it was already pretty far past the time I should have left if I wanted my usual margin of safety.
Stupid unfamiliar PRT scheduling app.
Thanks for the update.
22-7 Intolerance
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
So there I was, bursting out the somewhat dilapidated front door when the butterfly on my head alerted me to the (rather pretty) heavily armoured woman coming up the driveway, just in time to avoid a collision / being bowled over.
I just bet that's a sentence that's never been used before. And if it has (and you can prove it, I've learned my lesson about that), I'll eat my hat. Well, first I'll have to get a hat, but Jacqueline Colere isn't the kind of girl to let that stop her. Or the kind of girl to speak of herself in third person, except when she's making some sort of (melo)dramatic point. Or when she thinks it's funny, she guesses.
Snrrk.
Though I am the kind of girl to deliberately buy a small one. And I'd probably get a good leather soup recipe first. Some of those survived the end of the Great Depression. Save for webcomics and a few cape forums, the internet here hasn't really taken off the way it could have, (I'm in a better position to judge than most) so there's not quite as much trivia and questionable information as there could be, (ditto) but there's enough city destroying events going on that people are actually worried about it being necessary. And, all too often, it is. Not that there's a whole lot of overlap between people who need that information and people who have internet access, but practicality is optional online.
As is also evidenced by how few meals the average person's supply of leather would make, and the sheer amount of potable water that those recipes tend to require. Personally, I think you'd be better off just hoarding canned food and water filtration stuff.
Note to self: Start hoarding canned food and water filtration stuff.
Thanks to the marvels of modern rank insignias, I knew this woman was a PRT sergeant. Thanks to the marvels of modern name tags, I also knew her last name was 'Thompson'. And I knew she'd come up to the house in order to inform me that I had a meeting to get to, thanks to the marvels of her immediately telling me (kindly) that I had a meeting to get to. Still, not everything I figured out was quite that obvious.
That she didn't have a lot of faith in the scheduling app, or at least not in the ability of a girl with zero PRT training to follow it, was pretty close to that obvious, but not quite. The same went for the fact that the rest of her squad was almost definitely watching, most likely on her orders. I'm not precisely an expert in law enforcement in general, let alone the paramilitary variety, but I knew enough to know those were basic stuff.
I could also tell that she was probably pretty good at her work. Not from anything she said or did, but from her existence. The PRT wasn't quite the old boy's club that the military or conventional police departments were, in fact it was fairly loud about being (mostly) egalitarian (for instance, the chief director was also a woman of colour), but it wasn't perfect. No organisation ever truly is.
The parahuman world in general is kind of weird about discrimination. Most cape groups simply can't afford to turn away a cape based on their sex or the colour of their skin. We're too rare, too valuable, and too blasted dangerous for that. Similarly, it's a bad idea to be openly bigoted against a parahuman, especially where they can hear you. Which is a pretty big area, for some Thinkers, and even otherwise we're likely to find out.
Homosexuality is also pretty protected, more so amongst the heroic side, at least in North America. Having an openly gay (and also extremely powerful) man at the head of the largest heroic organization extant probably helps with that.
(I'm discounting the Yangban, the official parahuman force of the current Chinese Dynasty. Yes, there's another one here. The Yangban overthrew the Communist party a few decades back, and put what everybody thinks is a puppet on the throne. Nobody outside the organisation is quite sure how many Yangban members there actually are, and they're more like an extremely powerful secret society than a conventional hero team, so their claim to being the largest hero group is questionable at best.)
Even Trans rights are more accepted when the person is a cape. It's very, very, far from perfect, but I doubt NewU could be as blatant as he is if he wasn't a cape. At least not safely. Not that he was safe, but that was more to do with being an independent Tinker than anything else.
For various reasons, there aren't a whole lot of those around. There aren't all that many completely independent capes in general, compared to the gangs, syndicates, loose bands of homicidal maniacs, and hero organisations, and their average life expectancy is even shorter than that of capes in general. Cause, you know, being alone has the disadvantage of being alone. (And there's nobody to avenge them, so people are less reluctant to kill them. Tonne of bricks thinking is important.)
Tinkers have it way worse in that regard, because they need materials, usually very expensive materials, to work with, time to work on their devices, which leaves them extremely focused and easy to ambush if they aren't in a well defended base, and good personal defences if they actually go out, since at their core they're still just squishy humans.
Some Tinkers have Tinkertech to get the last, and squishiness is hardly unique to them, but the other two are massive problems most capes just don't have to deal with. Plus most Tinkertech can often be used (though not maintained, an important distinction) by non-Tinkers, so the big groups have even more incentive to recruit them than they do for most capes.
But getting back to my point, there's also the exceptionalism factor. Kind of like how the ancient Greeks were perfectly okay worshipping goddesses while still being deeply misogynistic to human women. A parahuman's distance from the baseline obviously isn't as big as the one between the mortal and the divine, but if one plugs up one's ears and sings loudly enough one can delude oneself into thinking it's different when the "inferior" race/sex/sexuality/gender identity member in question is a cape. Which, you know, really undermines the bigots' point, but it's not like that's a big loss. Maybe some of them would/will even learn acceptance, to go along with their hopefully-no-longer-reluctant tolerance. I'd like that, I really would.
There are some dark points of course, since parahumans are still humans, with all the various foibles and flaws thereof, plus a few of our own. Capes who don't look human tend to be mistreated, despite the PRT's best efforts. Case 53s especially, since without histories it's easy to pretend they were never human. And some powers don't get the friendliest responses, though there's a lot more justification for that. But besides that, capes are hard to discriminate against.
That doesn't apply when the discriminating party is a stronger cape, or is backed by stronger capes (especially with bigotry motivated gangs like the Empire and Bad Boyz being a very real danger), and, of course, the unfortunate baseline humans who have to work with us ornery reality deviants enjoy no such protection.
The good sergeant presumably had to struggle and strive to reach her rank, but I was outside of that. Although considering I intended to do something entirely different from most capes, maybe Taylor would be a better example. Taylor was outside that struggle.
What she was in, if I was hearing correctly, was the mudroom. Or maybe it was the entranceway. Or it could have been the vestibule. The area behind the front door, however they refer to it. So was Danny, who was being firm about Taylor not going, and being grounded.
Until she was sixty, apparently. Which seemed just a touch excessive, but I could see where he was coming from. To be honest, I'd thought he'd forgotten about that. (And I definitely didn't forget about it myself. No way, no ma'am.) Of course, there was no way he could enforce it unless Taylor cooperated. Leaving aside the issue of her reaching adulthood long before the theoretical endpoint, he just wasn't there to check on her most of the time.
She'd been out and about a lot since Sunday, though it's entirely possible those didn't count. After all, all of those times had been school stuff (weird school stuff, but school stuff all the same), with Danny himself, PRT related, buying essential supplies for a guest, or various combinations thereof. Hopefully, she'd learned her lesson about absurdly reckless behaviour.
She didn't shout or scream or anything, for what that's worth. I don't think she attempted to sneak out, but it's not like I was there to catch her if she did.
Anyway, I asked Sergeant Thompson if she would kindly escort me to my meeting, and received her gracious assent. That boded well. I could see just a hint of a cute little smile, so she was either happy to play along with my eccentricities or just really committed to keeping me sweet. Probably the former. If the PRT trained all their troopers to that level of subtlety their conventional policework would probably be a lot better.
I think I've said something about it before, but the PRT's track record on that front isn't terribly impressive. Better than most militaries or paramilitary groups that have tried, certainly, but not all that much, and a lot of that can be attributed to a clearly defined mandate they don't step out of much.
Still, Sergeant Thompson could be an exception. I didn't have any way of knowing, at least without starting to push buttons, which would be a lot more trouble than the information was worth. And mean. Maybe not extraordinarily so, but it's not the kind of thing I'd like to think I could do to my allies without good cause.
I was pretty sure I could do precisely that, and much worse, with good cause (or what I think is good cause, anyway), but I also hoped I wouldn't have to find out. Even as I dreaded the very likely possibility.
Also, I followed the good sergeant into the PRT van.
In case you were wondering.
I just bet that's a sentence that's never been used before. And if it has (and you can prove it, I've learned my lesson about that), I'll eat my hat. Well, first I'll have to get a hat, but Jacqueline Colere isn't the kind of girl to let that stop her. Or the kind of girl to speak of herself in third person, except when she's making some sort of (melo)dramatic point. Or when she thinks it's funny, she guesses.
Snrrk.
Though I am the kind of girl to deliberately buy a small one. And I'd probably get a good leather soup recipe first. Some of those survived the end of the Great Depression. Save for webcomics and a few cape forums, the internet here hasn't really taken off the way it could have, (I'm in a better position to judge than most) so there's not quite as much trivia and questionable information as there could be, (ditto) but there's enough city destroying events going on that people are actually worried about it being necessary. And, all too often, it is. Not that there's a whole lot of overlap between people who need that information and people who have internet access, but practicality is optional online.
As is also evidenced by how few meals the average person's supply of leather would make, and the sheer amount of potable water that those recipes tend to require. Personally, I think you'd be better off just hoarding canned food and water filtration stuff.
Note to self: Start hoarding canned food and water filtration stuff.
Thanks to the marvels of modern rank insignias, I knew this woman was a PRT sergeant. Thanks to the marvels of modern name tags, I also knew her last name was 'Thompson'. And I knew she'd come up to the house in order to inform me that I had a meeting to get to, thanks to the marvels of her immediately telling me (kindly) that I had a meeting to get to. Still, not everything I figured out was quite that obvious.
That she didn't have a lot of faith in the scheduling app, or at least not in the ability of a girl with zero PRT training to follow it, was pretty close to that obvious, but not quite. The same went for the fact that the rest of her squad was almost definitely watching, most likely on her orders. I'm not precisely an expert in law enforcement in general, let alone the paramilitary variety, but I knew enough to know those were basic stuff.
I could also tell that she was probably pretty good at her work. Not from anything she said or did, but from her existence. The PRT wasn't quite the old boy's club that the military or conventional police departments were, in fact it was fairly loud about being (mostly) egalitarian (for instance, the chief director was also a woman of colour), but it wasn't perfect. No organisation ever truly is.
The parahuman world in general is kind of weird about discrimination. Most cape groups simply can't afford to turn away a cape based on their sex or the colour of their skin. We're too rare, too valuable, and too blasted dangerous for that. Similarly, it's a bad idea to be openly bigoted against a parahuman, especially where they can hear you. Which is a pretty big area, for some Thinkers, and even otherwise we're likely to find out.
Homosexuality is also pretty protected, more so amongst the heroic side, at least in North America. Having an openly gay (and also extremely powerful) man at the head of the largest heroic organization extant probably helps with that.
(I'm discounting the Yangban, the official parahuman force of the current Chinese Dynasty. Yes, there's another one here. The Yangban overthrew the Communist party a few decades back, and put what everybody thinks is a puppet on the throne. Nobody outside the organisation is quite sure how many Yangban members there actually are, and they're more like an extremely powerful secret society than a conventional hero team, so their claim to being the largest hero group is questionable at best.)
Even Trans rights are more accepted when the person is a cape. It's very, very, far from perfect, but I doubt NewU could be as blatant as he is if he wasn't a cape. At least not safely. Not that he was safe, but that was more to do with being an independent Tinker than anything else.
For various reasons, there aren't a whole lot of those around. There aren't all that many completely independent capes in general, compared to the gangs, syndicates, loose bands of homicidal maniacs, and hero organisations, and their average life expectancy is even shorter than that of capes in general. Cause, you know, being alone has the disadvantage of being alone. (And there's nobody to avenge them, so people are less reluctant to kill them. Tonne of bricks thinking is important.)
Tinkers have it way worse in that regard, because they need materials, usually very expensive materials, to work with, time to work on their devices, which leaves them extremely focused and easy to ambush if they aren't in a well defended base, and good personal defences if they actually go out, since at their core they're still just squishy humans.
Some Tinkers have Tinkertech to get the last, and squishiness is hardly unique to them, but the other two are massive problems most capes just don't have to deal with. Plus most Tinkertech can often be used (though not maintained, an important distinction) by non-Tinkers, so the big groups have even more incentive to recruit them than they do for most capes.
But getting back to my point, there's also the exceptionalism factor. Kind of like how the ancient Greeks were perfectly okay worshipping goddesses while still being deeply misogynistic to human women. A parahuman's distance from the baseline obviously isn't as big as the one between the mortal and the divine, but if one plugs up one's ears and sings loudly enough one can delude oneself into thinking it's different when the "inferior" race/sex/sexuality/gender identity member in question is a cape. Which, you know, really undermines the bigots' point, but it's not like that's a big loss. Maybe some of them would/will even learn acceptance, to go along with their hopefully-no-longer-reluctant tolerance. I'd like that, I really would.
There are some dark points of course, since parahumans are still humans, with all the various foibles and flaws thereof, plus a few of our own. Capes who don't look human tend to be mistreated, despite the PRT's best efforts. Case 53s especially, since without histories it's easy to pretend they were never human. And some powers don't get the friendliest responses, though there's a lot more justification for that. But besides that, capes are hard to discriminate against.
That doesn't apply when the discriminating party is a stronger cape, or is backed by stronger capes (especially with bigotry motivated gangs like the Empire and Bad Boyz being a very real danger), and, of course, the unfortunate baseline humans who have to work with us ornery reality deviants enjoy no such protection.
The good sergeant presumably had to struggle and strive to reach her rank, but I was outside of that. Although considering I intended to do something entirely different from most capes, maybe Taylor would be a better example. Taylor was outside that struggle.
What she was in, if I was hearing correctly, was the mudroom. Or maybe it was the entranceway. Or it could have been the vestibule. The area behind the front door, however they refer to it. So was Danny, who was being firm about Taylor not going, and being grounded.
Until she was sixty, apparently. Which seemed just a touch excessive, but I could see where he was coming from. To be honest, I'd thought he'd forgotten about that. (And I definitely didn't forget about it myself. No way, no ma'am.) Of course, there was no way he could enforce it unless Taylor cooperated. Leaving aside the issue of her reaching adulthood long before the theoretical endpoint, he just wasn't there to check on her most of the time.
She'd been out and about a lot since Sunday, though it's entirely possible those didn't count. After all, all of those times had been school stuff (weird school stuff, but school stuff all the same), with Danny himself, PRT related, buying essential supplies for a guest, or various combinations thereof. Hopefully, she'd learned her lesson about absurdly reckless behaviour.
She didn't shout or scream or anything, for what that's worth. I don't think she attempted to sneak out, but it's not like I was there to catch her if she did.
Anyway, I asked Sergeant Thompson if she would kindly escort me to my meeting, and received her gracious assent. That boded well. I could see just a hint of a cute little smile, so she was either happy to play along with my eccentricities or just really committed to keeping me sweet. Probably the former. If the PRT trained all their troopers to that level of subtlety their conventional policework would probably be a lot better.
I think I've said something about it before, but the PRT's track record on that front isn't terribly impressive. Better than most militaries or paramilitary groups that have tried, certainly, but not all that much, and a lot of that can be attributed to a clearly defined mandate they don't step out of much.
Still, Sergeant Thompson could be an exception. I didn't have any way of knowing, at least without starting to push buttons, which would be a lot more trouble than the information was worth. And mean. Maybe not extraordinarily so, but it's not the kind of thing I'd like to think I could do to my allies without good cause.
I was pretty sure I could do precisely that, and much worse, with good cause (or what I think is good cause, anyway), but I also hoped I wouldn't have to find out. Even as I dreaded the very likely possibility.
Also, I followed the good sergeant into the PRT van.
In case you were wondering.
Last edited:
- Location
- Elsewhere
Mind you, there would be certain hazards trying to forcefully recruit a Tinker.
Especially a biotinker.
"Make me Super Soldier Serum, or else!"
"I hate you. Here you go."
"...this isn't going to turn me into a chick, is it?"
"What? Of course not! I would never weaponize that!"
"Good." *Gulp*
"I have much better ways of making you miserable."
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I've mentioned this before on AO3, but NewU isn't a Biotinker. On a related note, he isn't that much better than normal medical transition, or at least our world's normal medical transition. His specialty is only tangentially related to what he's trying to do with it, so he's still hit with a lot of the usual limitations. With hormones, for example, he can make it so you only have to take them once (directly under his supervision and with a lot of tech involved) but afterwards they don't do anything that well-managed hormone treatment couldn't do otherwise. It's kind of like if Squealer devoted her life to making better houses.
I don't think he, or any other ethical trans person, would consider using transition tools for punishment either. Dysphoria is a serious matter, and forcing it on someone is extremely questionable, morally speaking, as he would be especially aware. In general, people who've suffered something, then devoted their lives to helping others overcome it, are generally reluctant to condemn others to it, especially for cheap laughs.
Of course, that doesn't mean that NewU isn't extremely dangerous when he wants to be. There is a reason why he's managed to remain independent.
- Location
- Attached to a wall
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Speaking of Case 53s, I wonder if her field will work on a certain Boston ward.
If it does Jacqueline is likely going to get all the hugs.
If it does Jacqueline is likely going to get all the hugs.
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Not sure which you mean. If it's Weld, probably not. His power may not work in a way he likes, but it does seem to work in a perfectly functional package and his mutations look to be an essential part of it. If you mean Hunch, that's significantly more likely, since his changes don't seem to have anything to do with his power.
- Location
- Attached to a wall
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The fact that his package is functional, does not mean that his power is healthy for him.
He is an absolute social genius for his ability to emphasize despite the fact that he has a reduced emotional range.
And even if that can't be fixed giving his tongue some organic tissue in order to either taste and or feel things in his mouth would probably mean the world for him, because it will increase his ability to socialize with his peers.
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
If Jacqueline's power can give people with physically perfectly functional bodies that are nonetheless terrible for their mental health new ones, that makes her basically the holy grail for trans people, and I don't really want to diminish the difficulties of transition that much. Not unless I can do it in real life, anyway. I'm already having complicated feelings about a few things.
23-1 Infundibulum
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Do you know what it's like inside a small, cramped space with a bunch of buff men and women in armour?
It's not great. Nowhere near as bad as, say, spending days in a horrifically overcrowded fishing boat during a "wave event" big enough and bad enough to sink an entire massive island, but bad enough to bring back unpleasant memories. No, that's not a hypothetical, and it's not overstating things. If anything, it's really, really understating the horror of the situation. Not everybody who made it onto a boat out of Newfoundland made it back off said boat again, even if the boats themselves arrived mostly intact at various destinations along the coastline. Which a lot of them didn't, by the way.
Then there was the dead father, neighbours, and basically everyone Jacqueline/me had ever known except for her/my mother, massive confusion and fear about what was going to happen, massive resentment, high stress, frayed tempers and the complete loss of any feeling of control or safety on the parts of every single person aboard ship. It was not a particularly happy time in my/Jacqueline's life. Or anybody else's, for that matter.
It never is, when an Endbringer attack is successful. It rarely is even when the forces of humanity manage to drive them back.
"Buck up, kiddo. You'll do fine."
Being small and cute is great for getting people to reassure you when you have problems. It's less great at getting them to realise what, exactly, those problems are. And to be honest, I didn't really want Sergeant Thompson to know. She was essentially a stranger after all. One more thing to talk to somebody about, but not her, and not then.
Of course, that raised the question of who and when, but the only one of today's meetings I thought probably wasn't at least partially an excuse for M/S screening was a therapy appointment. Naturally, it was the last item of the day. That was probably just a practical concern: it was significantly longer than any of the other items, and having it last would allow me to deal with anything that came up during the previous ones if I wanted to.
So I just allowed her to comfort me.
It helped.
Not enough, but it helped.
Also, it's incredibly awkward to be comforted in a tiny metallic space with a bunch of heavily armoured people just looking at you. At least a three, and that's being very conservative. Still, needs must when the devil drives. It worked long enough to arrive at the PRT building for the bajillionth time. Or however it is numbers work. Nobody knows that. They're basically magic. Or maybe I'm blatantly lying in order to distract you from me changing the subject as quickly as possible.
In either case, I stumbled out of the van, and into the waiting arms of one Alice Stone. I'll leave how literally you take any of that up to you, but we were soon inside, and I was being apologised to for the inconvenience. Apparently, she knew that calling me over on such short notice, and most of that notice on a platform I hadn't actually been told about, wasn't very considerate. She'd been very busy, but that wasn't a good excuse. At least not to her.
It seemed perfectly valid to me, but I wasn't the one apologising. I was the one attempting the legendary "hug and forgive" manoeuvre. Legendary usually means difficult, especially when it comes to manoeuvres, but I didn't find it hard at all. Guess I'm just awesome like that.
"Yeah… you are. You're awesome, Jacqueline."
Well, that told me two things. The first was that I was still having problems with my internal monologue not being internal. To be honest, that wasn't much of a surprise by that point.
The second thing that told me was that something was seriously wrong. Part of it was what she said. Normally that sort of comedic boasting isn't something one just agrees with. Most of it, though, was in the way she said it. A little bit sad, a little bit fearful, somewhat choked and far quieter than usual. It was the kind of tone you take when you're talking to a kid with cancer and you're not sure if they're going to make it. She knew something I didn't, something dangerous.
Given my powers, I was pretty sure it wasn't cancer. That left supervillains.
Well, it left a lot of stuff, but I felt it was probably supervillains. Or possibly "just" supervillain minions. Sure there are criminals in town who aren't involved in cape stuff, but they generally get/stay that way by avoiding cape stuff. Oh, and things bad enough to draw down that kind of heat, like kidnapping and murder.
Well, kidnapping or murder of people who aren't rival gang members, anyway. Like it or not, (and I don't) most people in this town just don't give an iota of concern about gang-on-gang violence. Partly because of the usual antipathy towards and dehumanisation of gang members, made worse by the sheer harm done by the big cape gangs, and partly because there's so much of it. But it was unlikely that someone without cape-level connections was plotting against me. And if the PRT knew about such a threat from somebody without connections or powers, they or the Protectorate would put a stop to it pretty darn fast.
For non-criminal threats, there aren't a whole lot of diseases that can get through my aura and Panacea, so it probably wasn't that either. Accidents, well the thing about accidents is that if you see them coming, they're easy to avoid. So while they're a possible problem for me, they aren't the kind of problem that would leave a PRT agent that concerned before the fact. And I rather suspect I would have noticed if it was after the fact. Really, that applied to most really bad things that could be threatening me that weren't diseases or plans for violence. Including unplanned violence, incidentally.
So I could only conclude that I had a supervillain after me. Or several supervillains, as the case may be. But she hadn't said anything about it here, and there had to be a reason. Maybe she was scared to tell me. Maybe she wanted to sit me down first and try to soften the blow. Or maybe it was the kind of thing she couldn't risk talking about outside of a secure room. No (safe) way to say for sure but to wait. And so I did.
Most people wouldn't consider rushing straight to a meeting room in an automatic "I'm going to be late because I'm not showing up early" panic (that was really a "something really bad is happening" panic in disguise, but let's not quibble about that little detail) to be "waiting" per se, but that's their problem. Or nobody's problem, depending. Point is, it's not my problem. I have enough of those, thank you very much.
It's not great. Nowhere near as bad as, say, spending days in a horrifically overcrowded fishing boat during a "wave event" big enough and bad enough to sink an entire massive island, but bad enough to bring back unpleasant memories. No, that's not a hypothetical, and it's not overstating things. If anything, it's really, really understating the horror of the situation. Not everybody who made it onto a boat out of Newfoundland made it back off said boat again, even if the boats themselves arrived mostly intact at various destinations along the coastline. Which a lot of them didn't, by the way.
Then there was the dead father, neighbours, and basically everyone Jacqueline/me had ever known except for her/my mother, massive confusion and fear about what was going to happen, massive resentment, high stress, frayed tempers and the complete loss of any feeling of control or safety on the parts of every single person aboard ship. It was not a particularly happy time in my/Jacqueline's life. Or anybody else's, for that matter.
It never is, when an Endbringer attack is successful. It rarely is even when the forces of humanity manage to drive them back.
"Buck up, kiddo. You'll do fine."
Being small and cute is great for getting people to reassure you when you have problems. It's less great at getting them to realise what, exactly, those problems are. And to be honest, I didn't really want Sergeant Thompson to know. She was essentially a stranger after all. One more thing to talk to somebody about, but not her, and not then.
Of course, that raised the question of who and when, but the only one of today's meetings I thought probably wasn't at least partially an excuse for M/S screening was a therapy appointment. Naturally, it was the last item of the day. That was probably just a practical concern: it was significantly longer than any of the other items, and having it last would allow me to deal with anything that came up during the previous ones if I wanted to.
So I just allowed her to comfort me.
It helped.
Not enough, but it helped.
Also, it's incredibly awkward to be comforted in a tiny metallic space with a bunch of heavily armoured people just looking at you. At least a three, and that's being very conservative. Still, needs must when the devil drives. It worked long enough to arrive at the PRT building for the bajillionth time. Or however it is numbers work. Nobody knows that. They're basically magic. Or maybe I'm blatantly lying in order to distract you from me changing the subject as quickly as possible.
In either case, I stumbled out of the van, and into the waiting arms of one Alice Stone. I'll leave how literally you take any of that up to you, but we were soon inside, and I was being apologised to for the inconvenience. Apparently, she knew that calling me over on such short notice, and most of that notice on a platform I hadn't actually been told about, wasn't very considerate. She'd been very busy, but that wasn't a good excuse. At least not to her.
It seemed perfectly valid to me, but I wasn't the one apologising. I was the one attempting the legendary "hug and forgive" manoeuvre. Legendary usually means difficult, especially when it comes to manoeuvres, but I didn't find it hard at all. Guess I'm just awesome like that.
"Yeah… you are. You're awesome, Jacqueline."
Well, that told me two things. The first was that I was still having problems with my internal monologue not being internal. To be honest, that wasn't much of a surprise by that point.
The second thing that told me was that something was seriously wrong. Part of it was what she said. Normally that sort of comedic boasting isn't something one just agrees with. Most of it, though, was in the way she said it. A little bit sad, a little bit fearful, somewhat choked and far quieter than usual. It was the kind of tone you take when you're talking to a kid with cancer and you're not sure if they're going to make it. She knew something I didn't, something dangerous.
Given my powers, I was pretty sure it wasn't cancer. That left supervillains.
Well, it left a lot of stuff, but I felt it was probably supervillains. Or possibly "just" supervillain minions. Sure there are criminals in town who aren't involved in cape stuff, but they generally get/stay that way by avoiding cape stuff. Oh, and things bad enough to draw down that kind of heat, like kidnapping and murder.
Well, kidnapping or murder of people who aren't rival gang members, anyway. Like it or not, (and I don't) most people in this town just don't give an iota of concern about gang-on-gang violence. Partly because of the usual antipathy towards and dehumanisation of gang members, made worse by the sheer harm done by the big cape gangs, and partly because there's so much of it. But it was unlikely that someone without cape-level connections was plotting against me. And if the PRT knew about such a threat from somebody without connections or powers, they or the Protectorate would put a stop to it pretty darn fast.
For non-criminal threats, there aren't a whole lot of diseases that can get through my aura and Panacea, so it probably wasn't that either. Accidents, well the thing about accidents is that if you see them coming, they're easy to avoid. So while they're a possible problem for me, they aren't the kind of problem that would leave a PRT agent that concerned before the fact. And I rather suspect I would have noticed if it was after the fact. Really, that applied to most really bad things that could be threatening me that weren't diseases or plans for violence. Including unplanned violence, incidentally.
So I could only conclude that I had a supervillain after me. Or several supervillains, as the case may be. But she hadn't said anything about it here, and there had to be a reason. Maybe she was scared to tell me. Maybe she wanted to sit me down first and try to soften the blow. Or maybe it was the kind of thing she couldn't risk talking about outside of a secure room. No (safe) way to say for sure but to wait. And so I did.
Most people wouldn't consider rushing straight to a meeting room in an automatic "I'm going to be late because I'm not showing up early" panic (that was really a "something really bad is happening" panic in disguise, but let's not quibble about that little detail) to be "waiting" per se, but that's their problem. Or nobody's problem, depending. Point is, it's not my problem. I have enough of those, thank you very much.
Thanks for the update! You know… I guess PRT professionals would actually appreciate Jaqueline knowingly working to be cute. It works (seems to be) and shows that Jaqueline could be relied on to have a brain.
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Shrugs. I certainly don't think any of them would hold it against her, but I don't know if any of them would think quite that way. Jackson appreciates it, but he's a PR guy, he could easily be appreciating it on it's own merits. The other one we know for sure is aware of it is Stone, and I think this quote about sums it up:
Now obviously, those two can't speak for everyone, and I could see Piggot taking your stance if she cared at all. So maybe. I'll certainly be taking it into account in my understanding of the characters, and I really like your speculation: it genuinely helps.
23-2 Informant
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Meetings are just plain awful, I've decided. There are probably a whole whack of a lot of workers and such across the worlds who agree with me on that, but I suspect most of them would say that they're boring, tedious, tiring, or so on and so forth. Something along those lines. Me, I dislike meetings because every time I go to one something awful happens.
Every freaking time!
Oh, it makes me mad. And very, very stressed.
To be clear, I mean group meetings. I've had somewhat good luck with one on one appointments and so forth. But meetings?
Just plain awful. And no, I don't care that I never made the distinction before, or that I'll probably drop it when I'm less insanely irked. I'm making it now. Deal with it.
But I should probably explain. Let me start at the beginning. Though it's gonna take a while to cover the full story.
The first meeting was a security meeting. My security, to be specific. And, as it turned out, there was a very good reason for that. In hindsight, that little detail probably should have tipped me off that something was wrong before Stone's morosity did, but hindsight is 20/5. And also I panicked the second I looked at them in schedule mode and noticed I was running late (by my standards). That might have had something to do with it.
Anyway, I wasn't late to the meeting. In fact, I was the first one there. Turns out that people who actually have work to do don't have time to show up really early for meetings. Stone did, literally right behind me, but I'm pretty sure her job of the moment was keeping an eye on a certain adorable healer. Nothing about it had been said, but she was on duty and following me. And she'd been right there in the garage when I arrived. That didn't seem like a coincidence.
It probably wasn't a secret or anything. I just hadn't asked.
I had other things on my mind. Which was why I just sat down and fidgeted rather than drawing mazes on the board or anything. Reassuring looks failed to achieve much. Both Stone and I were nervous. (But she wasn't really morose at the moment. Hopefully that meant whatever the issue was was avertable, or at least manageable.)
And then Gallant showed up and he seemed to be nervous too. His body language was, anyway. Probably. I may have been projecting. That armour of his really hinders my ability to tell what he's feeling. Of course, my Aura really hinders his (visor's) ability to tell what I'm feeling, so I suppose turnabout is fair play.
Aegis has no such excuse, but his level of apparent nervousness was basically the same as the presumably slightly younger Ward.
The guy whose name isn't Commander Awesome was also nervous when he arrived, although either to a significantly lesser degree or under a good deal more control. And with more grit to it. Same with Battery (not Puppy, even if I had to remind myself of that. Thanks, Assault). Neither Thompson nor the other three sergeants who arrived looked nervous when they came in, but they clearly picked up on their superior's feelings and responded appropriately. Same with both Lieutenants. A few people I didn't recognize by name and who didn't have convenient rank insignias or nametags were also nervous.
Emily Piggot was determined. As far as I can tell, she just doesn't do nervous. I'd seen her angry, and I like to think I'd seen her quietly affectionate, but nervous? Never. Once again, I found that reassuring. The woman is truly a pillar of emotional strength. And unlike certain literal pillars I could name, she felt like one I could lean on. It was not enough to make the meeting anything like a pleasant one.
If anyone else noticed Mara Sorrows ghosting in after the director, they didn't say anything about it. She gave off almost no emotional impression whatsoever. And Armsmaster was the last to arrive, precisely on time once again. Down to the second. I have no idea how he does that, but whatever it is, I want in. So I can avoid spending a single accursed second longer than I have to in meetings.
The secure room protocols are still really cool though. There's something reassuring about the sight of massive sheets of metal moving to shield you from the world. I watched it nearly obsessively, since I felt the need for all the reassurance I could get.
I'll skip over the storytelling, aura spreading and questioning parts of the experience. Suffice to say that they went exactly as they should have, with no unpleasant surprises. Well, no unpleasant surprises for me. The people who weren't in the know were rather surprised about the whole Coil thing.
It would have been boring if I wasn't completely on edge the entire time, what with my firm conviction that some horrible piece of information was going to come through the instant it all ended. Sadly, I wasn't far off.
"As most of us should be aware, at 10:37 AM on Wednesday, April 13th, Billy Cletis Ewart, a member of the parahuman criminal organisation 'The Merchants", attempted to abduct Jacqueline Colere."
I was pretty aware of that, though the guy's name was new. And it did confirm he was an actual Merchant, and not just a random homeless crook. The difference isn't actually a very large one, but it meant he had friends. Or at least associates. The kind of people the Merchant's usually recruit tend not to have the relationship maintenance skills for really deep friendships. But that wasn't the really scary bit.
"Ewart was captured by the then-independent Hero Vespiary, fortunately before any grave harm was done."
Sadly, a child being held at gunpoint without actually getting shot didn't count as "grave harm" in this town. Not compared to everything else. And that, too, wasn't the really scary bit.
"While it initially appeared that he acted alone, further investigation has revealed the situation is far more complex. Although Ewart seems to have acted without orders and of his own initiative, he has admitted to targeting Colere specifically, with her name, face, and status as a parahuman known to him, although he was not aware she was in contact with the Parahuman Response Team."
Obviously, nobody was happy with this. Least of all me. If all the glares going around were somehow focused onto a single point, that point would have instantly burst into flame. Regardless of how fireproof it supposedly was. There's a reason why flammable and inflammable came to mean the same thing, and there isn't anything that isn't both when exposed to that much fury. The combined glowering could have cowed an elephant, if there was one within a thousand miles. It was probably for the best that my would-be abductor wasn't in the room. The PRT people probably would have been professional about it, but it's not wise to tempt people unnecessarily.
Oh, and if he had been in the room my already thin facade of bravery would have snapped like a toothpick trying to hold up the Empire State Building.
"Ewart claims to have acquired this information from another member of the Merchants, one 'Leggy Joe', real name unknown. Leggy Joe was apparently in possession of a school photograph of Colere, a rough description of her power, and a great deal of additional information Ewart claims not to remember. This information was additionally shared with several other Merchants members, and it is likely that Skidmark and his Lieutenants are now aware of it."
And that's still not the really scary part. Though it was certainly more than frightening enough for my tastes.
Stars above, I hate meetings.
Every freaking time!
Oh, it makes me mad. And very, very stressed.
To be clear, I mean group meetings. I've had somewhat good luck with one on one appointments and so forth. But meetings?
Just plain awful. And no, I don't care that I never made the distinction before, or that I'll probably drop it when I'm less insanely irked. I'm making it now. Deal with it.
But I should probably explain. Let me start at the beginning. Though it's gonna take a while to cover the full story.
The first meeting was a security meeting. My security, to be specific. And, as it turned out, there was a very good reason for that. In hindsight, that little detail probably should have tipped me off that something was wrong before Stone's morosity did, but hindsight is 20/5. And also I panicked the second I looked at them in schedule mode and noticed I was running late (by my standards). That might have had something to do with it.
Anyway, I wasn't late to the meeting. In fact, I was the first one there. Turns out that people who actually have work to do don't have time to show up really early for meetings. Stone did, literally right behind me, but I'm pretty sure her job of the moment was keeping an eye on a certain adorable healer. Nothing about it had been said, but she was on duty and following me. And she'd been right there in the garage when I arrived. That didn't seem like a coincidence.
It probably wasn't a secret or anything. I just hadn't asked.
I had other things on my mind. Which was why I just sat down and fidgeted rather than drawing mazes on the board or anything. Reassuring looks failed to achieve much. Both Stone and I were nervous. (But she wasn't really morose at the moment. Hopefully that meant whatever the issue was was avertable, or at least manageable.)
And then Gallant showed up and he seemed to be nervous too. His body language was, anyway. Probably. I may have been projecting. That armour of his really hinders my ability to tell what he's feeling. Of course, my Aura really hinders his (visor's) ability to tell what I'm feeling, so I suppose turnabout is fair play.
Aegis has no such excuse, but his level of apparent nervousness was basically the same as the presumably slightly younger Ward.
The guy whose name isn't Commander Awesome was also nervous when he arrived, although either to a significantly lesser degree or under a good deal more control. And with more grit to it. Same with Battery (not Puppy, even if I had to remind myself of that. Thanks, Assault). Neither Thompson nor the other three sergeants who arrived looked nervous when they came in, but they clearly picked up on their superior's feelings and responded appropriately. Same with both Lieutenants. A few people I didn't recognize by name and who didn't have convenient rank insignias or nametags were also nervous.
Emily Piggot was determined. As far as I can tell, she just doesn't do nervous. I'd seen her angry, and I like to think I'd seen her quietly affectionate, but nervous? Never. Once again, I found that reassuring. The woman is truly a pillar of emotional strength. And unlike certain literal pillars I could name, she felt like one I could lean on. It was not enough to make the meeting anything like a pleasant one.
If anyone else noticed Mara Sorrows ghosting in after the director, they didn't say anything about it. She gave off almost no emotional impression whatsoever. And Armsmaster was the last to arrive, precisely on time once again. Down to the second. I have no idea how he does that, but whatever it is, I want in. So I can avoid spending a single accursed second longer than I have to in meetings.
The secure room protocols are still really cool though. There's something reassuring about the sight of massive sheets of metal moving to shield you from the world. I watched it nearly obsessively, since I felt the need for all the reassurance I could get.
I'll skip over the storytelling, aura spreading and questioning parts of the experience. Suffice to say that they went exactly as they should have, with no unpleasant surprises. Well, no unpleasant surprises for me. The people who weren't in the know were rather surprised about the whole Coil thing.
It would have been boring if I wasn't completely on edge the entire time, what with my firm conviction that some horrible piece of information was going to come through the instant it all ended. Sadly, I wasn't far off.
"As most of us should be aware, at 10:37 AM on Wednesday, April 13th, Billy Cletis Ewart, a member of the parahuman criminal organisation 'The Merchants", attempted to abduct Jacqueline Colere."
I was pretty aware of that, though the guy's name was new. And it did confirm he was an actual Merchant, and not just a random homeless crook. The difference isn't actually a very large one, but it meant he had friends. Or at least associates. The kind of people the Merchant's usually recruit tend not to have the relationship maintenance skills for really deep friendships. But that wasn't the really scary bit.
"Ewart was captured by the then-independent Hero Vespiary, fortunately before any grave harm was done."
Sadly, a child being held at gunpoint without actually getting shot didn't count as "grave harm" in this town. Not compared to everything else. And that, too, wasn't the really scary bit.
"While it initially appeared that he acted alone, further investigation has revealed the situation is far more complex. Although Ewart seems to have acted without orders and of his own initiative, he has admitted to targeting Colere specifically, with her name, face, and status as a parahuman known to him, although he was not aware she was in contact with the Parahuman Response Team."
Obviously, nobody was happy with this. Least of all me. If all the glares going around were somehow focused onto a single point, that point would have instantly burst into flame. Regardless of how fireproof it supposedly was. There's a reason why flammable and inflammable came to mean the same thing, and there isn't anything that isn't both when exposed to that much fury. The combined glowering could have cowed an elephant, if there was one within a thousand miles. It was probably for the best that my would-be abductor wasn't in the room. The PRT people probably would have been professional about it, but it's not wise to tempt people unnecessarily.
Oh, and if he had been in the room my already thin facade of bravery would have snapped like a toothpick trying to hold up the Empire State Building.
"Ewart claims to have acquired this information from another member of the Merchants, one 'Leggy Joe', real name unknown. Leggy Joe was apparently in possession of a school photograph of Colere, a rough description of her power, and a great deal of additional information Ewart claims not to remember. This information was additionally shared with several other Merchants members, and it is likely that Skidmark and his Lieutenants are now aware of it."
And that's still not the really scary part. Though it was certainly more than frightening enough for my tastes.
Stars above, I hate meetings.
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- Location
- Attached to a wall
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Welp, time to set up an anti-drugs campaign. If the aura works against 'masters' then it might work against drugs.
EDIT: grammer
EDIT: grammer
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- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
It might:
Thing is, I don't think it's quite time yet. The PRT is somewhat unlikely to offer that to the actual Merchants themselves, and certainly not before they're caught. More likely, it's something that will happen afterwards, and Jacqueline might have to suggest it. It's not exactly within the normal superhero or anti-cape remit, and just because Emily Piggot is willing to let Jacqueline operate outside that pattern doesn't mean the PRT is institutionally set up for it.
The Test!
- Location
- The House of Moon and Star
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The day has cometh, as was foretold in the not-particularly ancient prophecy!
TRUE OR FALSE:
1: Halberds, like other polearms, need a lot of space to work with.
( ) True.
( ) False.
2: Cute and Cutesy mean the same thing.
( ) True.
( ) False.
3: If you aren't endbringer-level strong, violence has consequences if you aren't careful about where you apply it.
( ) True.
( ) False.
4: The unwritten rules are enforced primarily through brinkmanship, extreme violence, and mutually assured destruction.
( ) True.
( ) False.
5: Keeping Jacqueline safe is important.
( ) True.
( ) True.
MULTIPLE CHOICE:
1: What is a basic flaw in the methodology of using violence to solve problems?
A) It doesn't work.
B) It's dishonourable.
C) It can only be done so often.
D) It technically solves the problem immediately in front of you, but it usually doesn't do so in a remotely constructive or helpful manner.
E) It runs the risk of attracting flies.
2: Where was the original Jacqueline Colere born?
A) Newfoundland
B) Brockton Bay
C) New Brunswick
D) Boston
E) The Land of Make-Believe
3: Shopping is:
A) Great
B) Terrible
C) Excruciatingly Boring
D) Incredibly Exciting
E) A Thing
4: D is for:
A) Death
B) Dog
C) Doughnuts
D) Defenestration
E) Deoxyribonucleic Acid
5: My middle name is:
A) Danger
B) Jay
C) Non-existent
D) Maybelline
E) Freaking Adorable
6: What is best in life?
A) Sex, drugs, and Rock and Roll
B) To crush your enemies, to see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of their women.
C) Tortellini and/or hugs.
D) Money. Lots and lots of money.
E) Hot water, good dentishtry and shoft lavatory paper.
7: Changing universes, gaining a superpower, and merging body and soul with a homeless orphan was:
A) Excruciatingly painful.
B) Honestly way less dramatic than I was expecting.
C) Quite possibly the single most nightmarish experience imaginable.
D) Completely unexpected.
E) A good way to pass the time.
SCORING:
Give yourself a point for each question you answered, another ten points if, looking back, you honestly believe you answered all of the questions in good faith, and seven more points just because. Use these points for any purpose you deem them fit for, then try and maintain a decently healthy lifestyle both physically and mentally.
Author's Note: Just a bit of apocrypha I've been fiddling with on and off for a while, and finally decided to post. If you want to know which answers are "right" despite that not affecting your score in the least, consult the spoiler below. For those questions that reference specific chapters and things within Orderly (most of them), that's also where you'll find out which. For non-Orderly references, within The Test! or not, feel free to just ask.
True or False section:
Multiple Choice section:
- True. Reference to 6-3 Insular
- False. Reference to 6-1 Inadvisability
- True. Reference to 11-1 Incivility
- True. No specific reference
- True. Reference to 22-6 Interface
Multiple Choice section:
- D) It technically solves the problem immediately in front of you, but it usually doesn't do so in a remotely constructive or helpful manner. Reference to 11-1 Incivility
- A) Newfoundland. Jacqueline is mentioned to be from Newfoundland in several chapters, the first of which is 1-1 Initiation. 2-3 Inquiries reveals Jacqueline was specifically born in Corner Brook
- E) A thing. Reference to 17-5 Indiscretion
- D) Defenestration. Reference to 7-6 Inutterable
- C) Non-existent. The fact that Jacqueline doesn't actually have a middle name is established in 6-8 Inquisitive and mentioned again in 7-8 Ingredients.
- C) Tortellini and/or hugs. Tortellini is a reference to 5-3 Invisible. Hugs are a reference to Jacqueline's general hugginess.
- B) Honestly way less dramatic than I was expecting. The very first sentence of the fic, in 1-1 Initiation.