Orderly (Worm Semi-SI)

[Obscura]

A/N: So I went ahead with removing the Coil retcon from Orderly. See the previous post if you want more information, or find it in the informational threadmarks. Also, the same warnings that applied to the previous two chapters apply to this one as well. Last one for now, we'll be into interludes next and when we get back to Jacqueline the subject won't come up for a while.

---

So the problem was pretty clear. Well, no, it absolutely wasn't clear, but it wasn't going to get any clearer with further discussion. The remaining inclarity wasn't a matter of a lack of information sharing within the armoured room, it was information that we just didn't have yet.

Or secrets I wasn't in on, but that's not a helpful topic of speculation. Whichever it was the time for talking about what was was over, it was time to start talking about what to do about it.

Namely, whether the PRT should wipe the Merchants out completely or just make a major strike against them while making sure to pick up "Leggy Joe" and any sources he might have.

To be honest, I don't think anybody wanted to leave the Merchants intact, or even seriously damaged but recoverable. Some concerns were raised about the opportunity cost of such an action, the danger of creating pushback, and the possibility of destroying evidence tracing back to their outside source if there was one, but those weren't too serious. The Merchants weren't really a big enough threat for the first two, and for the last we could wait a bit to find out and then destroy them.


There was the matter of inadvertently strengthening the E88 by taking out their competition, but the Merchants weren't much by way of competition in the first place. Given their far superior cape roster both numerically and in terms of individual power and skill, greater numbers in general, greatly superior equipment and infinitely better organisation, it was patently obvious that the Nazis could wipe out the Merchants any time they wanted to. Quite simply, if they got too uppity or less useful as a conveniently contemptible "example" of "the 'true' nature of an 'inferior' race", they'd be gone.

Ugh. I feel tainted just quoting that, and I'm not even quoting them directly. One of the people whose names I didn't know said it in quite possibly the most sarcastic tone I have ever heard, air quotes and everything. Presumably he wasn't happy with their existence. Who can blame him? They're literal Nazis.


Anyway, nobody was happy about enabling the racists, but wiping the Merchants out wouldn't do that. Unlike something else that was obliquely referred to, but not explicitly stated. I could tell it was at least partially to spare my feelings.

Please, man, you're obviously referring to Lung getting captured on Sunday. I'm not stupid.

Was another thing I accidentally said out loud. That was awkward.

And then Thompson burst out laughing.

"Didn't bother to read her file, didja?"

Sort of, anyway. It was hard to make her out over the guffawing. Fortunately, somebody else laughed, or it would have been really awkward. It was the guy I'd accidentally called out, too, so I've got to give him credit. Mad props, analyst whose name I should probably learn.

Fortunately, I managed to not say that out loud. Instead the one who ended it was the director, with a:

"Alright, alright. This isn't the time for either of those conversations."

She was smiling when she said it though. Just a little, but the little things count.


"As a matter of policy, we can't let them get away with even trying something like this. It doesn't matter that Jacqueline wasn't a Ward yet, or that the attempt was unsuccessful. If anybody gets away with anything remotely like this, all the villain groups will be trying it. We need to send a message, and do so in a way that leaves no room for doubt."

The director wasn't smiling for that bit, but I would have been concerned if she had been. Serious as the grave was probably the right way to go for that. And I couldn't disagree with what she was saying.

Even if it wouldn't actually fix the problems of Bay much, and even though more gangs would probably fill in their niche, I'd be rather pleased if the Merchants as an organisation ceased to be. Maybe some of them would come to be people I wouldn't mind meeting after they got off the drugs and recovered their senses and morality, but the group as a whole had to go. They were just dragging each other down, like a bunch of lead balloons tied to each others' feet.

Though I wouldn't be too surprised if a lot of them never learned. Between human nature and the nature of the penal system here, it'd be difficult. Not that it was something I could do anything about anytime soon. Maybe ever. You know, for somebody whose power is basically "magically make things better" there sure seem to be a lot of things I can't magically make better.

And I resent that. Tremendously. I should probably just be happy for what I can do, but this world is broken and the fact that it's going to be tremendously difficult to fix in any meaningful way irritates me. I know full well that it was always going to be hard, and I have no intentions of letting it stop me, but it's incredibly annoying all the same and I need to be honest with myself about that. Maybe part of that could be cleaning up the mess that would probably be left behind.


So we were going to crush the Merchants. Hopefully with some out-of-town Protectorate assistance. Not that such was strictly necessary, but it would send a stronger message. The PRT protects its own. One more in a long chain of such messages, since naked intimidation is the only thing keeping the Wards program functional and without it we'd probably all be dead.

Like I said, this world is broken.

And there really wasn't much more to say. All the secret things had been covered, everything that absolutely had to be kept under wraps. The mundane details of bringing them down didn't require discretion, not on this level. If anything, they'd probably advertise, if only after the fact. Before that, I expected they'd put a bunch of different stories out to different people, see which ones (if any) the Merchants believed, and try to find the leak that way, but that wasn't my department.

Besides, I had a whole bunch more meetings to get to.

Okay, maybe two doesn't count as "a whole bunch", but it was bad enough.

At least a lot of people seemed sympathetic as they left. Or pitiful. I'd consider complaining about that, but my situation really was pretty piteous. Any "help this girl" type feelings were a plus in my book. And I had an hour to get lunch. That was nice.

 

[Corundrom]

About the coil thing, as far as I'm aware it's not actually a retcon, so much as something so unimportant to the narrative it was never actually mentioned in universe(iirc coils bodysuit doesn't show any skin as well, to better hide the fact he uses a body double a lot) so just never mentioning skin in general with him is fine

 

[Obscura]

About the coil thing, as far as I'm aware it's not actually a retcon, so much as something so unimportant to the narrative it was never actually mentioned in universe(iirc coils bodysuit doesn't show any skin as well, to better hide the fact he uses a body double a lot) so just never mentioning skin in general with him is fine

Click to shrink...

Retcon means retroactive continuity, things that weren't in the older parts that are added in later. They doesn't have to directly contradict anything else, though those are far and away the most notorious cases. It's not always a bad thing, but there are specific problems with using it in regards to membership of a minority, and a lot more issues with this specific instance. In this case it's grossly insensitive, but not a problem in terms of contradicting canon or introducing plot holes, the more usual issues with retcons.

Wildbow's retcon doesn't help in regards to storytelling, but the only issue caused in that regard is lazy stereotyping, and frankly it was just the cherry on top of the sundae of the ABB, Skidmark, the Merchants in general, Shadow Stalker/Sophia Hess, and probably some more stuff I'm missing.

Edited: Typos

 

[Kit]

I've already mentioned that I agree with you about the Coil racelift, so I'll just note my profound amusement that you have actually used 'inclarity!' Obscure vocab does seem in keeping with your UN, and I love to see it.

 

[Obscura]

I've already mentioned that I agree with you about the Coil racelift, so I'll just note my profound amusement that you have actually used 'inclarity!' Obscure vocab does seem in keeping with your UN, and I love to see it.

Click to shrink...

It's pretty fun, though I don't always realise when words are obscure, which causes problems when writing Interludes.

 

[Obscura]

Danny:

It was almost a normal weekend. Almost. If Danny ignored all the things that made it so very different, he could at least try to pretend that nothing had changed, that everything was okay. He could imagine that Annette was just grading papers, that Taylor was out playing with Emma, that loss and alienation and fear hadn't become key elements of his life. And he could even pretend to believe it, if only for a moment.

Then the doorbell rang.

Danny hesitated to get up. It probably wasn't worth it, but…

Then it rang again, and just kept ringing and ringing, noise hammering into Danny's ears. He got up. A bug landed on his shoulder and attempted to be reassuring. It didn't help. He appreciated the gesture, but even though he knew Taylor told it to, it didn't feel like his little girl.

And it was a reminder that his little girl really wasn't so little any more. She'd seen more, endured more, than he'd ever wanted her to, and she'd come out of it with powers and the determination to make a difference or die trying. And it was quite possible that she would die trying, no matter how much Danny tried to keep her safe.

She was in the Wards now, and that much was good. The safest place, the safer way to make things better. Safest, safer. Not safe. It was nowhere near safe enough. Wards weren't killed often, and the PRT didn't take it lying down when they were, but it did happen, and that was too much.

But it was the best Danny could do. More than he could do, really. If Taylor hadn't cooperated, there really wasn't anything Danny could have done about it. Much as he might want to swaddle her away from all the evils of the world, he couldn't. Literally couldn't, since she was determined to do something and, as a cape, she was powerful enough that he only got a say if she let him. Which she did, but that say only went so far.

He wouldn't mind so much if it didn't mean he couldn't stop her being a hero. Heroes died. One of the lessons Danny's old man had passed on to Danny, from his time in the military, and an inextricable truth of the Parahuman world. Not all of them, but far too many.

Danny had already buried his wife. He had no wish to bury his daughter too.

The doorbell was still ringing. Danny didn't think it had stopped at any point, actually. That was rather concerning. Taylor had learned not to do that by age six. Probably just a prank, he decided. But he went to the door anyway, if only to take the tape off.


"Alan? You look horrible."

Danny's best friend hadn't been what he was expecting. Not that Danny had been much of a friend of late. Since he'd lost Annette, Danny hadn't once tried to reach out. He really hadn't handled that well, he could see that now. She wouldn't be happy with him for that.

Danny certainly wasn't.

And judging by his appearance, Alan Barnes was in at least as bad a way. His eyes were bagged more heavily than they'd ever been during law school, and that was saying something.

His clothes looked like he'd worn them for a least three days straight, he was leaning heavily, not even seeming to notice that his hand was still on the doorbell, and there was more than a hint of sweat, vomit, and stale beer in the air around him. With the expression on his face, he looked the very picture of a man so consumed with guilt he neglected to take care of himself.

Danny knew that look all too well, even if he'd managed to avoid falling into it this time. And he could very well guess why Alan had it. Coil. The villain had destroyed both their daughters' lives for no reason, and Alan was blaming himself for not realizing what happened until it stopped, for reasons nobody could have anticipated. Honestly, Danny felt the same way.

Alan didn't respond, not immediately. Instead he stumbled forward into Danny, roughly enough that they might have toppled over if Danny hadn't been half expecting it. As it was, he was able to steady both of them.

Idly, Danny noted that there wasn't a bug to be seen.

"I, I screwed up Dan, I screwed up"

"We both did, Alan. We really did."

Alan didn't answer.

Danny sighed a little, though he didn't notice it.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

 

[Obscura]

Sophia:

Sophia Hess was eating tacos. She didn't really like tacos, but she didn't really like anything the cafeteria was offering as a "lunch option" at the moment and she didn't feel prepared to go elsewhere to eat. So tacos it was. The tacos weren't really what she was thinking about though. What Sophia was thinking about was Jacqueline Colere.

Partially because Sophia felt like she had a debt she needed to repay. Partially because bad things seemed to happen to the girl a lot. Partially because she seemed to have her life much more put together than Sophia's despite all the bad things that had happened to her.

Mostly, though, it was because Jacqueline Colere was right there by the salsa dispenser with a textbook "are you okay?" face aimed at Sophia. (Sophia should know. Miss Militia had literally given her the textbook.) That face probably had something to do with the tears running down Sophia's cheeks.

Sophia might have been focusing overmuch on not being able to go home.

And now Jacqueline was looking at her, and Sophia didn't know what to do about it. So she didn't do anything. Not on purpose, really, she just got caught up trying to figure it out. And Jacqueline apparently decided to take action. Well, first she looked around for something, Sophia didn't know what, but then she took action. In a quiet way.

First she approached. Slowly, hesitantly, clearly willing to back off the second Sophia indicated she should. Sophia remained frozen. Jacqueline approached. Sophia remained frozen. Jacqueline approached again, this time coming into reach. Sophia still remained frozen.


And then Jacqueline spoke. Softly, gently, like Sophia was a spooked animal. She supposed the analogy wasn't entirely inaccurate.

"Can I sit with you?"

Well, Sophia couldn't deny such a polite request. She'd been raised with better manners than that. That made her nod in response even before she realized she actually wanted to say yes. She could tell Jacqueline was trying to help, and she wanted to be helped, even if she hadn't quite connected the dots before she acquiesced. So she was awfully surprised when Jacqueline started talking about herself.

"The first time I met a parahuman, I had just turned seven. There weren't a lot of capes in Newfoundland, not compared to Brockton Bay. Across the whole island, there were maybe two thirds as many as this one city has, and most of them were pretty low-key. I barely knew what a parahuman was.

"He was kind, and sweet, and so very, very persuasive. He was rated at Master Five, as a Thinker hybrid, because of his power. If he wanted you to do something, he instantly knew how to talk you into it. 'Speakeasy' was what he called himself, and he was a monster. I don't like to use that word, not for human beings, but it fits. The things he's done…"

Jacqueline paused and exhaled briskly. It conveyed a surprising amount of emotion, anger and bitterness and sadness all at once. Sophia was beginning to suspect that this was not a very happy story.


"Thing is, I didn't know any of that. And even if I had, he would have been able to work around that. So he got me to follow him pretty easily. And for a few days I was one of his little horde of minions, most of them in the same boat. Speakeasy didn't really do anything much during that time. The worst he did was play darts."

Sophia didn't think that sounded too bad. She even managed to say so, albeit very quietly.


"It is when the dartboard's alive."

Sophia stood corrected.


"At least none of those darts sank in more than a centimetre or so, and he eventually let the poor girl get medical attention. It seemed perfectly reasonable of him at the time."

How could that possibly seem reasonable?

"Like I said, he was very persuasive."

Master, right. That made sense.

"Anyway, eventually he got bored and wandered off, not bothering to check to see if any small children got left behind. Fortunately, this one was. My parents were very relieved."

Sophia supposed they would be. They hadn't had someone living in their home to convince them their missing daughter was still there.


"I didn't really understand what happened at first, but when it hit me it hit hard. I hadn't done anything all that awful, but I could have. He could have made me, if he'd decided to bother. It was pure luck that he didn't. People talked a lot about how it wasn't my fault, that I couldn't be blamed for what he made me do. It didn't help much.

"Because if it wasn't my fault, then it was something I couldn't do anything about, something that couldn't be stopped. Something that could happen again no matter how properly I behaved. And I preferred to blame myself, preferred anything to accepting that. It wasn't until just recently, after so many other pointless tragedies and traumas hit my life that I realized that attitude wasn't helping. Blaming the victim never does. It took me a while to realize that.

"Life isn't fair, and an awful lot of it is actively unjust. Especially capes. Refusing to recognize that didn't do me any good. So here I am. Trying to mitigate the damage. Trying to fix things, trying to undo bad things before they turn worse. That sort of thing. And there's still a lot of bad stuff happening, even to me, despite everything. But I'm trying to focus on what I can fix, the good I've done, what can be done in the future. That sort of thing. I think it's working. Mostly."

"Why are you telling me this?"


Sophia couldn't help but ask, even if she suspected she knew the answer.

"Can't a girl just vent about her problems sometimes?"

Sophia supposed "a girl" could. Anyone should probably be able to, and Jacqueline had earned the right more than most. Not that she believed for one second that that was the real reason. She reached out and hugged the archaicly-dressed healer.

"Thank you."


Jacqueline just hugged back. For a while anyway. Then she had to go get the lunch she had forgotten to acquire. But she asked if it was okay first, and she came back once she had it, so everything was alright.

Then Sophia Hess and Jacqueline Colere were eating tacos. Sophia didn't really like tacos, but it was still by far the best meal she'd had in a long time.

 

[Kit]

Well hello, regular conversations with my therapist about how incredibly frustrating it is to be at the mercy of events entirely beyond my ability to control or change (like, you know, a global pandemic). You seem familiar...

This Sophia, Master victim and traumatized kid, is very different than the usual depictions of her, but I like that, and you've made her believable here. (Ditto Jacqueline, who has the therapeutic advantage of non-Earth Bet memories to pull on, if nothing else.) The fact that she recognizes what's happening here - Softly, gently, like Sophia was a spooked animal. She supposed the analogy wasn't entirely inaccurate. - and that it's nonetheless effective is especially heartwarming, imo, because ofc Sophia doesn't know who or how to ask for help. Seeing her get it anyhow gives me the warm fuzzies.

 

[Obscura]

This Sophia, Master victim and traumatized kid, is very different than the usual depictions of her, but I like that, and you've made her believable here. (Ditto Jacqueline, who has the therapeutic advantage of non-Earth Bet memories to pull on, if nothing else.) The fact that she recognizes what's happening here - Softly, gently, like Sophia was a spooked animal. She supposed the analogy wasn't entirely inaccurate. - and that it's nonetheless effective is especially heartwarming, imo, because ofc Sophia doesn't know who or how to ask for help. Seeing her get it anyhow gives me the warm fuzzies.

Click to shrink...

Canon Sophia is really a very aggravating character, on top of being racially insensitive to a degree I've only recently begun to understand the sheer extent of, and not a very interesting one at that. Honestly, my first impulse was to have her sent to Juvie and never show up again. I'm glad I didn't.

Tying her into things and making the changes needed to do so has made everything so much more complicated for me, in all the best ways. Ever since I started writing 5-4, she's just really come to life in a way I couldn't hope to duplicate for most characters. She's basically an OC, really, but I think that's probably for the better.

 

[Obscura]

Do you ever feel like you have absolutely no idea what you're doing? Because it is not a pleasant feeling, and I certainly felt it during that little lunch period.

Not with the meal itself. I don't really like tacos, but I am fully capable of operating a taco bar with minimal assistance. So long as I don't get distracted anyway.


So, anyway, I got distracted. At least this time it was by something important. I was being helpful and kind. Or trying, anyway. It definitely felt like I had no idea what I was doing. And I should probably explain. Let me start at the beginning.

So there I was, trying to figure out how much salsa the dispenser would dispense per pump and if that amount would affect how much stuff I could put in a tortilla when I noticed Sophia. That, in and of itself, would not have been a problem. Taylor would have had significant reason to be disturbed by Sophia's presence, but Taylor was still at home. Probably. Her ability to keep track of my location was significantly better than my ability to keep track of hers. Either way, I had no such problems with Sophia.

The actual problem was that Sophia was obviously distraught. I mean, don't get me wrong, that wasn't her fault, but it was still problematic. If somebody had been with her and helping, that would have been one thing, but it looked like she needed help and wasn't getting it. So I was just a touch concerned. You understand. Or at least I hope you do. I'd like to think my invisible audience are decent people and actually exist, even if it seems like I'll never get real confirmation one way or the other.


Anyway, I decided some help was in order. And that's where it felt like I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. But, well, I was a parahuman teenager and I wasn't about to let that stop me. Or maybe I just cared too much. Take your pick. Though it wasn't like I actually had no idea what I was doing, I had plenty of theoretical knowledge and even some practical experience.

It just didn't feel like enough when faced with a crying mostly-stranger, especially one whose tears were ultimately the result of my actions. Granted, leaving her Mastered would have been infinitely worse, and it wasn't like I'd had any real control over it anyway, but a small, deeply irrational, part of me still felt guilty. I really didn't understand that part, but it was still there, making everything awkward. Well, more awkward, in truth. Things were already awkward even without that.

And I was staring, wasn't I? I quickly looked around, both to break eye contact and to check if there was anyone better qualified to help around. There wasn't.


Welp, might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. I had a somewhat similar experience, with that scumbag Speakeasy. Maybe that was enough in common, or maybe she could learn from how I handled it. Well, the later parts of how I handled it. The early bits weren't something to emulate. I knew such things could help. I read it in a book.

I approached, not stopping to allow me to talk myself out of it. Slowly, so as to avoid startling her. She hadn't made any sort of gesture or expression to discourage me. Or, really, any gesture at all. Let me tell you, it really ramped up the tension. Just asking if I could sit with her was significantly more difficult than it should have been, even if I managed to keep it out of my voice. Being nice is hard, sometimes.

She managed to say yes. A little blankly, a little automatically, but it was a yes. I took it for a sign to keep going, at least for the moment. The instant I got something in the other direction, I'd back off.

Though I really hoped it wouldn't come to that. To that end, I paused for a bit. It wouldn't do to hurt the person I was trying to help further. So, I'd avoid any direct comparisons, and do nothing that could be perceived as a slight, one-upmanship, or that classic mug's game, misery poker. Actually, just bringing it up directly would probably be insensitive. To that end, I decided a bit of a white lie was in order: I'd simply pretend it had nothing to do with what Coil had done to her.

Could I actually pull off such a deception? Probably not, if she was actually interested in what I said. And I wasn't sure I wanted to try, anyway. Her actually thinking my intentions were purely selfish wouldn't be good. I could, however, maintain a polite fiction and avoid bringing up what happened. Well, what happened to her. There was no real need for that, not if my intentions were purely to provide a point of commonality and share some of how I handled it. And it could hurt her. Couldn't forget that.


So I just started talking. Once I started, it was easy to keep going. Not pleasant, but easy. Natural. It would have been harder to stop, in all honesty.

"The first time I met a parahuman, I had just turned seven. There weren't a lot of capes in Newfoundland, not compared to Brockton Bay. Across the whole island, there were maybe two thirds as many as this one city has, and most of them were pretty low-key. I barely knew what a parahuman was.

"He was kind, and sweet, and so very, very persuasive. He was rated at Master Five, as a Thinker hybrid, because of his power. If he wanted you to do something, he instantly knew how to talk you into it. 'Speakeasy' was what he called himself, and he was a monster. I don't like to use that word, not for human beings, but it fits. The things he's done…"

I stopped there. She'd be better off not knowing, and while I couldn't stop her looking it up later I could at least not describe a bunch of atrocities to somebody who'd probably already heard far too much of that sort of thing in the past week.


But Sophia still wasn't saying anything, so I got back on track.

"Thing is, I didn't know any of that. And even if I had, he would have been able to work around that. So he got me to follow him pretty easily. And for a few days I was one of his little horde of minions, most of them in the same boat. Speakeasy didn't really do anything much during that time. The worst he did was play darts."

"That doesn't sound so bad"

Ugh. My stupid attempt to downplay things made it sound, well, stupid. At least she was engaged. And comfortable enough to speak. I had to explain a little more, show a little of how wrong it was, make it clear I wasn't just whining.

"It is when the dartboard's alive."

Too far! She was clearly horrified.

"At least none of those darts sank in more than a centimetre or so, and he eventually let the poor girl get medical attention."

She didn't look all that reassured, but I couldn't say much more that wasn't disturbing or dishonest. Regretfully, I just kept going, hoping to leave the mistake behind me.

"It seemed perfectly reasonable of him at the time."

I paused, subconsciously trying for dramatic effect. Real considerate, Jacqueline.

"Like I said, he was very persuasive."

Yep, definitely A+ consolation. Let no one tell you otherwise, you colossal jerkface.


"Anyway, eventually he got bored and wandered off, not bothering to check to see if any small children got left behind. Fortunately, this one was. My parents were very relieved."

That wasn't a happy look. Welp, the explaining what happened part at least had her feeling bad for different reasons than she had previously. That counted as success, right?

Probably not. I'd just have to do better. Bring up the commonalities a little more blatantly, explain how I'd handled it, the hang-ups that caused problems along the way and how to avoid them in her own case. Hopefully it'd help.


"I didn't really understand what happened at first, but when it hit me it hit hard. I hadn't done anything all that awful, but I could have. He could have made me, if he'd decided to bother. It was pure luck that he didn't. People talked a lot about how it wasn't my fault, that I couldn't be blamed for what he made me do. It didn't help much."

Sophia looked like that was a familiar problem. Unsurprisingly, given what happened to her.

"Because if it wasn't my fault, then it was something I couldn't do anything about, something that couldn't be stopped. Something that could happen again no matter how properly I behaved. And I preferred to blame myself, preferred anything to accepting that. It wasn't until just recently, after so many other pointless tragedies and traumas hit my life that I realized that attitude wasn't helping. Blaming the victim never does.It took me a while to realise that "

Was that (the monologuing) helping? I really hoped it was helping. I didn't believe it was helping, quite the opposite really, but I hoped.

"Life isn't fair, and an awful lot of it is actively unjust. Especially capes. Refusing to recognise that didn't do me any good. So here I am. Trying to mitigate the damage. Trying to fix things, trying to undo bad things before they turn worse. That sort of thing. And there's still a lot of bad stuff happening, even to me, despite everything. But I'm trying to focus on what I can fix, the good I've done, what can be done in the future. That sort of thing. I think it's working. Mostly."


"Why are you telling me this?"

Well, I couldn't just up and say it was because she was obviously traumatised, so I ended up just following through on my preconceived schema, ill considered as it might have been.

"Can't a girl just vent about her problems sometimes?"

Yep. Definitely ill-considered. I sounded like such a brat, complaining about something like that to somebody who'd gone through way worse barely a week ago. Not that I believed in misery poker or anything, but there is such a thing as being sensitive about these things and I'd made it sound like I was just blowing past it in the worst possible way.


And then she hugged me, and thanked me with obvious sincerity, and I realised I might have been looking at my efforts a bit pessimistically. I hugged back and reconsidered. In hindsight, she clearly hadn't known what to do either when I first approached, and she clearly appreciated what I was trying to do. I strongly suspected it had even succeeded in the end, despite her concern (for me) along the way. I'd even remained kindly and gentle in manner and tone the whole way. I hadn't actually done anything wrong.

Nerves. Nothing but nerves. Anxiety's a rum one, isn't it?


Sophia looked a little sad when I had to go and actually get something to eat but I hurried it along and she smiled when I got back. The ensuing communal intake of corn, meat, cheese, and spicy plant slurry was a pleasant one.

Funny thing is, I'd seen better stuff while I was looking around trying to find somebody to pass the buck to. I only settled on tacos because they were a useful point of commonality. Not sure how much it helped, but it obviously didn't hinder things any. Being nice is hard sometimes, but it's absolutely worth it.

 

[WallFlower]

From Sophia's side it looked as if Jacqueline was playing 5D real time chess with.

Then we got to Jacqueline's side and see that while she was playing 5D chess she only had the partial information of bumbling on 2D Chess board.

It's funny how easy it is to think of someone as a social wizard when looking at them from the outside.

 

[Kit]

So there I was, trying to figure out how much salsa the dispenser would dispense per pump and if that amount would affect how much stuff I could put in a tortilla when I noticed Sophia.

Click to shrink...

I've already said what I have to say about Jacqueline and Sophia, but this? This is super-relatable. The optimal balance of taco or burrito contents is delicate, and must be weighed against the odds of those contents escaping the tortilla.

Now I want Mexican food. Shit.

 

[Obscura]

Being at the mercy of uncontrollable events, uncomfortableness and a sense of inadequacy in difficult social situations, and careful consideration of Taco construction.

Jacqueline is truly the most relatable main character ever written. By me, anyway.

 

[Obscura]

Is it weird to dread the end of a lunch break and the return of work on a Saturday? Like, for most fourteen year olds that's more of a Monday to Friday thing, at least in my experience.

Of course, most fourteen year olds don't have jobs, or a series of horrible, horrible, meetings to deal with. Hopefully it's not that common for them to spend their lunch breaks making friends via the sharing of horribly traumatic events and how they've coped with them either, but that's probably significantly more common.

To be clear, I'm objecting to fourteen year olds having horribly traumatic events in their pasts to share, not the act of sharing them, nor the friendships possibly generated thusly. I'm not sure if Sophia and I were actually friends yet, but we were certainly more than strangers. Fortunately, we were basically guaranteed to meet again soon, what with us being on the same team and all. It wasn't unlikely that we'd even be going to the same school. I made sure to hug her goodbye anyway, and gave a "hope to see you again soon" that was given in great sincerity. And received as such, I think.

She might have interpreted it as sarcasm, but I don't think that's very likely. She wasn't cynical enough for that.

Then I had to leave. Woe is Jacqueline. And Sophia. And Emma. And Taylor. And Danny. And that girl Coil apparently tried to kidnap during the bank robbery. And the countless people who get hurt and/or die violently every day in these parts. Meaning basically everywhere below the local stratosphere. Being woe is, woefully, not an uncommon condition on Earth Bet.

Once again; this world was broken.


So next up was another meeting room. I think. I haven't been keeping track, and it seems likely that only a few of the meeting rooms have the sealing thing, so it might have been one I'd been in before. They all sort of look the same anyway, especially when one is tired, resentful, and/or stressed out.

That "all the same"-ness might explain why I got lost. That or the generally confusing layout of the building: defensibility, security and convenience aren't that much more compatible in architecture than they are in programming. Either way, I had to follow a stonefaced (well, metal and paint helmeted) Gallant to the correct room, once he stumbled over me looking.

Not literally, which was probably for the better. I don't know how much the boy himself weighs, but that power armour seems like it could cause some serious harm if it fell on somebody. Like, it's significantly more covering than plate, and seems to be thicker too. If it had anything like normal armour density, the "power" part of "power armour" was probably the only reason he could even move. It's Tinkertech, so anything about it being normal isn't guaranteed, but I'd rather not find out the hard way, thank you very much.

Also, we made it safely and on time. Not early, or at least not by very much, but not late. That was okay. Things like that were a big part of why I prefer to have safety margins for events like this in the first place.


There were people at the meeting, of course. For the most part, they weren't as nervous as at the last one, all of some amount of time ago. I probably should have kept track of that, huh? Anyway, the meeting started at one twenty, and the guest list was less familiar than the last one. Deputy Director Renick was filling the director role, and him, Sorrows, and Gallant were the only ones I knew by name. Well, and Armsmaster when he once again came in precisely on time. Maybe Triumph counted, but I honestly wasn't sure which Protectorate member he was at first and we'd never actually spoken. There was also that fake-cheery nurse from my pre-tracking-implant checkup (now looking bored), the doctor who'd done my initial checkup the first time I came in, and a whole bunch of other medically inclined individuals.

Sealing, Cedric Devins, we're gonna be asking a few questions, you know the drill. There is nothing new under the sun, except for all the new stuff. Flaring my aura was a bit harder than last time, possibly because of the stress. Not enough to stop me, but enough that I made note of it to discuss with the power testing department later. Though, looking back, it still seemed easier than the first bunch of times. I made note of that too. Then they started asking questions.

That took a while, and I was bored. I couldn't hear what was being said, and I didn't want to find out. My neighbour, fake cheery nurse (real name Cathleen, according to her nametag) tried to alleviate that. It didn't work very well. She'd apparently exhausted her entire conversational repertoire the last time we'd met, or at least the age-appropriate parts, and while I accepted when she asked if I wanted a hug, I could tell her heart really wasn't in it.

Dutiful, mechanical, and dull. It was all the things a hug isn't supposed to be, and there was only so much I could do about that. I tried, I really did, and it just didn't work. No amount of skill or exertion can, if only one side is putting in the effort.

Hugs are supposed to be nice, full of love and care and affection, or at least general benevolence and concern. There should be efforts to adjust for the other participants height, breadth, and positioning, as well as their comfort level, and a sense of cooperation and care. And, for my part, I did all that. Probably not perfectly, but I did. Cathleen didn't, and as far as I could tell she didn't even try. Didn't even pretend to try.

And quite frankly, the whole exhausted conversational repertoire thing would have been a lot more tolerable if she didn't just start going into slightly more elaborate discussions of the same facets of medical history I found so dull the first time around. She could have tried talking about something else, even if she wasn't good at it, or maybe, just maybe, asked me something. I don't think she's ever asked me anything that wasn't strictly job related.

So, quarter points for effort, no points for execution, and I was too polite to say anything about it. Fortunately, it only took a couple days (subjective time) before she had to go in and get questioned.


I sighed quietly in relief and looked around at all the already questioned medicos. After all, I was probably going to have to work with these people at some point. I had just gotten through the first round of attempting to memorise their names when I heard Cathleen cry out and fall to the ground with Armsmaster's halberd pointed at her heart. With my school ID sitting on the pretty white carpet, having clearly fallen out of her sleeve at that. Right then and there, I decided I didn't want to know.

 

[Kit]

Right then and there, I decided I didn't want to know.

Click to shrink...

Ahahaha, of course Jacqueline's takehome about finding out that Cathleen the fake-cheery nurse has been suborned, either by powers or otherwise, is "gives subpar hugs, terrible conversationalist, 0.25 stars."

I mean, it's very understandable that she's just emotionally exhausted from events thus far, and basically can't summon the energy to be seriously concerned, but this phrasing tickled me. I wonder if BOB would enjoy a collated series of Yelp-style reviews of the PRT ENE staff?

 

[Obscura]

Ahahaha, of course Jacqueline's takehome about finding out that Cathleen the fake-cheery nurse has been suborned, either by powers or otherwise, is "gives subpar hugs, terrible conversationalist, 0.25 stars."

I mean, it's very understandable that she's just emotionally exhausted from events thus far, and basically can't summon the energy to be seriously concerned, but this phrasing tickled me. I wonder if BOB would enjoy a collated series of Yelp-style reviews of the PRT ENE staff?

Click to shrink...

Why just PRT ENE staff?

Emily Piggot: "Super cool, reassuring and tough to the nth degree. 4 stars"

Alice Stone: "Really nice and very understanding, but also smart and cool. Just the sort of person you want to drag you out of a bank when it's under siege. 5 stars"

Assault: "He's on the right side, I guess, but he's also a massive jerk. Incredibly inconsiderate, though I can't really say why without bringing up other peoples secrets. 0.25 stars"

Coil: "Take the worst thing you can imagine, then double the amount of badness. You're still nowhere near Coil. Negative infinity stars."

Danny Hebert: "Really nice and trying his best. 4 stars."

Slappy Girl: "Pointlessly mean and really aggressive for no real reason. Would not recommend. No stars."

Armsmaster: "Very professional. 3 stars."

Taylor Hebert: "Very great, but also very down on herself. Needs hugs and self confidence. 5 stars."

Grue: "Violent supervillain, but at least he's pretty restrained about it? Not sure what's going on there. 1 star."

Brandish: "Double Meanie at a minimum. Massively belligerent even with adorable children. Avoid. No stars."

The Patron: "Hugely inconsiderate and grossly irresponsible. Even their existence is frankly terrifying. No rating until I get some answers here."

 

[Kit]

Snip

Click to shrink...

Yesssssssssss, this is the kind of content that I need in my life.

 

[Obscura]

As seems to be a bit of a trend with Nurse Thief-Pants, it turned out that "not wanting to know" didn't mean I wouldn't find out. This time, though, I wasn't so much bored as actively disinterested in things that were probably going to cause a lot of mental distress if I learned them. Not that it helped, given the fact that even though I really didn't want to know, a very vocal part of me still needed to know, in order to be as aware of potential threats as possible. And it wasn't hard to find out.

In this case, the chatter going on around me was a fairly obvious source of information, albeit one I supplemented with my own observations. It turned out that even if I hadn't been listening to the questioning, most of the medical people had. And, apparently, doctors and nurses are tremendous gossips when patients aren't around. Or at least this bunch were. I probably shouldn't generalise like that. It didn't help that I was having a hard time telling who were doctors and who were nurses.


Anyway, from what I figured out at the time and later, events went as follows:

Armsmaster had stopped after the woman gave the expected "no" to the question "have you ever provided classified or confidential information to a villainous, criminal, or unknown party?", and stated "Lie". She gave several more denials and explanations, each of which was responded to with 'Lie", until she started backing off, at which point she tripped over his halberd. She fell to the ground, crying out, and Armsmaster responded to the sudden (inadvertent) movement in one of the ways people expecting sudden violence at any moment do.

Since he was a hero, his way was dodging and getting ready to strike, rather than stabbing. Which was probably for the best. Besides it being a senseless waste of human life, the carpeting would have been tremendously difficult to get blood out of.

At the time, I figured out the lie thing from listening in, and vaguely how it went down, though not which question it happened in response to. Naturally, most of the medicos thought Armsmaster had lost his mind. I, on the other hand, actually knew about the lie detector in his helmet. And I saw the ID she definitely wasn't supposed to have, and I was pretty sure I knew how she got it off me. Which was very irksome. Hugs are supposed to be nice, not an opportunity for theft. There are basic courtesies to be observed in these things Cathleen!

Time to bring her down as hard as possible.


"That meanie! She stole my school ID!"

Nailed it.

Okay, fine, that's nowhere near "as hard as possible", but it did make it clear she wasn't in the right here. And I doubt the gross overreaction of just running up and kicking her in the no-no-touch-touch square would have ended well.

I mean, if she'd started it, that would be one thing. Nobody was going to fault me for self-defence, not against a grown up with twice my body mass. Just kicking a woman while she's quite literally down is a very different story, even if she'd just been revealed as a long-term threat. Especially when my reasoning was so shaky. I mean, I probably wouldn't be arrested or anything, but it would make people think less of me (deservedly), and probably lead to punishment. I try to avoid that. And it would be wrong, besides.

Meanwhile, a little girl accusing their colleague of theft, while pointing at the evidence, was apparently enough to convince the medical personnel that Armsmaster probably wasn't crazy. Not that they thought he was right, but that there were circumstances that at least partially justified it. A lot of them still (mistakenly) thought he was overreacting, but they knew he was reacting rather than just using intimidation and violence for no reason. Telling them about the lie detector probably would have been more effective, but I wasn't sure how secret that was.

Armsmaster ignored them, but looked carefully at the card. The way he held himself, I'd say there's probably a camera in that helmet of his. Well, the way he held himself and the fact that if he had a lie detector crammed in there a camera would be easy in comparison.

Then he handcuffed Cathief, picked up the card (probably for evidence purposes), and unsealed the room. Triumph and Gallant looked alert, probably given some instructions over HUD or something, and then the Protectorate leader and the probable mole left us. Which just left the ostensible purpose of the meeting to handle.


And you know what? I was actually looking forward to that. Yeah, meetings suck, but getting permission for mass treatment and helping out at hospitals was the next step in becoming a proper heroic healer. The number of people I'd be treating with my Aura would increase exponentially, and it'd firmly establish my Aura's credibility as a treatment.

Eventually, I'd like to break away from hospitals, or at least for-profit ones, and start doing something everybody can access without worrying about the bill, but I'd need a proven track record with hospitals. Or clinics, theoretically, but Brockton Bay didn't have any free clinics, and the clinics that did exist weren't equipped to handle anything much more serious than a broken arm. And I could hardly start up a clinic or whatever I ended up calling it without a track record of successful treatments and at least a modicum of public interest.

If I tried, I'd get no patients aside from those who stumbled across it and were desperate enough to go in. Eventually I'd probably scratch up enough success stories from that to really get started, but that would take a while, and money would be an issue. Without government money (because this was America, and Earth Bet America at that), I'd need my own source of capital.

Selling aura exposure to the rich and powerful wasn't exactly that much of a good deed in and of itself, but most of my goals needed money in order to properly accomplish them. It's not quite true that cities and economies don't fix themselves, but Brockton Bay's downward spiral was going to take a lot of cash to even mitigate the fallout, let alone actually make things functional again. And it could help with things like funding a clinic, ensuring the East-North-East branch had the budget to do more than put out fires (mostly metaphorical ones), reforming the local education system, CPS and the many other things in the city that needed reform, and whatever other things needed to be done. There were probably a lot of those.

But the rich and powerful tend to be adverse to buying things that they don't think they can rely on, especially when it comes to their own health. True, they aren't necessarily good judges of that, but it'd be easier to sell to them if I had a bunch of miraculously healthy people to point to.


Although there is the factor of at least some of them just not having any other options. It's a bit of a sellers market for healing: there aren't a lot of healers and a lot of them don't sell for one reason or another. Panacea apparently has moral objections, Othala has warrants and is busy with the Empire, the one other healer Ward apparently has major downsides to his power, etcetera, etcetera.

So maybe I could do without the hospitals after all, especially with a PRT certification. But hospitals were traditional and they'd make things a lot smoother, especially with the non-PRT medical community.

Which I suspected I'd need connections in, and not just because the PRT medical people were just a bit too stunned by having a colleague arrested in front of them to be of much help at the moment.


Eventually things did get under control. Renick wasn't his boss, but he did have some skill in projecting authority, and he was the one who needed to do the most talking. Long story short, things were fine. I had a few different hospitals to look into before my debut, and they'd do fine for finalising my PRT approved healer status.

That, plus a lot of gossip, yelling, grumbling, weird looks, and reassurances is the story of that meeting, and then it was done.

Good riddance.

I still hate meetings. They suck.

They suck so much.

It's frankly ridiculous just how much they suck. I blame Coil.

I had no idea if he was actually involved in Cathief's actions, but I blame him anyway. Just try and stop me. I dare you.

 

[Blaflaix]

I still hate meetings. They suck.

They suck so much.

It's frankly ridiculous just how much they suck. I blame Coil.

Click to shrink...

Coil split the timelines.
In one timeline he arranged for the meeting to be a brief, efficient summery of events to bring everyone up to speed and get on with their day.
In the other timeline, his moles carefully made comments and questions that confused other people so the organizers thought they had to incessantly repeat the same basic information over and over.

After seeing the results of the days work, he concluded that the frustrated, stressed people who had lost a chunk of their day made much better decisions for his purposes.
Also, it was delightfully evil.
Coil cackled in his lair at his evil scheme.

 

[Kit]

scramble

Click to shrink...

Probably 'scrabble' here? Otherwise... huh, yeah, I suppose Colin's flat-affect 'lie' routine would be pretty difficult to believe, if people didn't have the background information. Fortunately, he has a self-described adorable PR-savvy Ward along to help sell things. He should be grateful!

 

[Obscura]

Coil split the timelines.
In one timeline he arranged for the meeting to be a brief, efficient summery of events to bring everyone up to speed and get on with their day.
In the other timeline, his moles carefully made comments and questions that confused other people so the organizers thought they had to incessantly repeat the same basic information over and over.

After seeing the results of the days work, he concluded that the frustrated, stressed people who had lost a chunk of their day made much better decisions for his purposes.
Also, it was delightfully evil.
Coil cackled in his lair at his evil scheme.

Click to shrink...

Not Jacqueline's problem, but hilarious all the same. Would you mind terribly if I stole that for Apocrypha purposes? Or you can do it yourself, I always encourage that.

Probably 'scrabble' here? Otherwise... huh, yeah, I suppose Colin's flat-affect 'lie' routine would be pretty difficult to believe, if people didn't have the background information. Fortunately, he has a self-described adorable PR-savvy Ward along to help sell things. He should be grateful!

Click to shrink...

It was scramble, as in getting as many people ready as quickly as possible, but upon further consideration I've changed it to "scratch up".

Armsmaster not knowing how to person is a major part of his character arc, and he hasn't learned his lesson about why it's important just yet. It just made sense for him not to attempt to explain something like this, and for Jacqueline to take a somewhat unusual approach to dealing with it.

 

[Blaflaix]

Would you mind terribly if I stole that for Apocrypha purposes?

Click to shrink...

Go for it

 

[Obscura]

Alice Stone:

Alice Regina Melancholia Stone, fulfilling her role as the PRT person assigned to watch over the female Wards in the ENE region, nobly resisted her urge to strangle her predecessor in said role as it flared up, despite its sheer potency. It wasn't exactly a new feeling, per se, but her current meeting was definitely adding an extra layer to it. For the moment, Alice was using the (undeniable) fact that she had more pressing issues to deal with to deal with it.

Sure, the situation with Missy Biron and her parents was complicated. Sure, there were a bunch of differing opinions and interests to consider. Sure, Missy probably wasn't completely unbiased, and sure, it was hard. Alice could have forgiven her predecessor for making the wrong decision, provided it came from good intentions. Alice might have even applauded if she'd admitted it was beyond her and asked for help. Instead, she'd kept the status quo going from pure negligence and refused to so much as put in the effort to pretend to care about her charge's wellbeing in more than a cursory manner.

Really, the petty power games alone. The woman barely had any responsibilities, yet was always unavailable. Swift response was important for looking after children, especially children with superpowers. Alice had managed in roughly a quarter that time, while prepping for an interrogation (that wasn't actually an interrogation), trying to figure out how to handle another of her charges almost getting kidnapped and discovering that it was disturbingly likely to happen again, setting up a bunch of meetings, convincing the BBPD to send officers to Winslow to keep the peace while the investigation was ongoing, making sure the current psychiatrist on hand got both Jacqueline and Taylor's psych reports so far without the classified bits, making sure she'd be able to find out the classified bits in a safe manner, figuring out a teenage supervillain's psychological weakpoints, using said psychological weakpoints, and trying to look into everything else her predecessor had had a hand in.


"Are you alright?"

"Sorry about that. Just resisting the desire to strangle my predecessor."

As expected, Missy responded well to the "joke". Laughter and everything. That was good. She didn't need to know that Alice was telling the literal truth. Best if she thought Alice was exaggerating for humor.

Or maybe Missy just agreed. Alice wouldn't blame her if that was the case, though it would be concerning. Although, frankly, just about everything Alice had encountered in her new role was concerning to some degree, not least the part where she was trying to fill it while also continuing to act as a PRT agent, which was more than a full time job in and of itself.

Sometimes Alice really hated the PRT's permanent state of personnel shortage.


"Alright, so we have a few standard options here. Frankly, I'm not sure if any of them are really suitable for something this longstanding, but I'll lay them out anyway."

"... Okay"

"First, there's mediation."

Missy didn't look any more enthusiastic at that than Alice was expecting, and her answer showed much the same:

"No. That's never helped before, and I don't think it's going to help now."

"Might be different with the weight of the PRT on the scales, but if what you've said about their attitude towards the parahuman world is correct I doubt it too."

"Mmm hmm"

Well, that was one option down the drain.

"Right. Then there's-"

And that's when the door to Alice's office slammed open. Well, not really slammed, but it seemed louder than it really was because Alice had been focused on the very difficult conversation she'd been having.


"So, uh, Alice?" Spoke the intruder.

"Yes, what is it, Beck?"

"You know that meeting you were worried about leaving Jacqueline alone for? The one with the medical department?

Why did Alice just know this wasn't going to be good news?

"Yes?"

"It, uhh, didn't go well."

"Didn't go well how?"

"One of the nurses stole her ID. Oh, and Armsmaster thinks she might be a mole."

"Jacqueline!" Missy interrupted. Not unjustifiably, if that was the conclusion she'd leapt to, and it wasn't even an entirely unreasonable one, but it was inconvenient.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no. The nurse. Sorry."

Alice tried to bring the conversation to the important thing: "Is she alright?"

"Not really. I mean, she's not physically hurt, much, but she's in a holding cell and she's almost definitely going to lose her job and be barred from handling anything remotely sensitive at a minimum."

Idiot, Alice thought, then immediately chided herself for being uncharitable. The man was just doing his job, and he was very new. Less than a month with the PRT, and most of that had been training. Technically speaking, he was still in training.

So Alice tried to be very gentle and kind when she asked "Is Jacqueline okay?". She didn't really succeed, but at least she wasn't harsh. Much.

"Oh, uhh. I don't know. I just heard some stuff while I was down by the cell area and I thought you ought to know."

Yes, Alice ought to have known, and far sooner than she apparently did, not that it was Matthias Beck's fault.

"Yes, I should have. Thank you, Matthias. I'm sorry, Vista, but I think I need to take a look at this."

"I'm coming with you. Jacqueline might be weird, but she's a teammate, and I don't leave teammates behind."

"Fine."

It was probably a good thing anyway. At least it showed that Missy still had a lot of team loyalty. Alice couldn't have blamed her if she didn't.

 

[WallFlower]

which was more than a full time job in and of itself.

Click to shrink...

Seems like the PRT is what I would call an incompetent employer.

People can only be realistically effective and productive for so many hours per day.
If these are the working conditions it's not very surprising that her predecessor had given up.
It's like they are setting the caretakers up for failure.

It's even likely that her predecessor went into this job wide being just as miss Stone, but has been either burned down to ash or landed in a cycle of failures until she had given up as a last ditch defense mechanism.
At that point an employer might as well hire someone new for half the time to get double the value.

 

[Kit]

It's like they are setting the caretakers entire world up for failure.

Click to shrink...

Ftfy. It's a very systemic problem - sort of "turtles all the way down," except it's not turtles, it's hamstringing the capability of people trying to impose order. Turtles would be nicer.