Taylor Hebert just wants someone to listen to her. She just wants the things she believes in to be true. She just wants this world to stop caving in on her. She just wants to stop being afraid.
Isa wants to survive, and make it in this world, even if she has to rebuild her life one piece at a time.
Grace just wants to understand why she is the way she is. What happened to her that broke her so badly.
Three girls brought together by chance and the schemes of nobody at all try to survive in the Cape Capital of America.
Nobody wants to have to break the world until it is whole again, but it doesn't matter what anybody wants.
When I was ten, it seemed as if I had everything. I was going to become the person I wanted, I had Emma by my side, I had a mother and a father who both spent their lives fighting for a better world, and yet able to shelter me from the harsh reality of any fight in the people's names. The world was going down the drain, but I was able to live with it then. I was too young.
And I lived in a bubble. Before Winslow I went to a Middle School where everyone was Alliance, went to Alliance daycares and read all sorts of books that were burned in other parts of the city. Red Diaper Baby Syndrome, they called it.
(This is the story I'd told myself, cleaned up and polished. Not entirely true.)
Brockton Bay was a city divided against itself, but I didn't really see it until Winslow.
But even then, if I'd been afraid it would have been of ragged, spitting skinheads attacking me while shouting things about how I was a "Lustite" (smarter people online went with "Lustrumite" as the insult de jour) or about Lung's League (also called the Asians of Brockton Bay after their legal front organization and many less respectful names) doing just about the same. I wouldn't have ever suspected who was actually behind my torment if you'd forced me to figure it out. But by now it had been established.
Emma Barnes. Sophia Hess. Madison Clemens. And then a rotating cast of characters. Last year, my Freshman year, a Senior had briefly joined in before leaving to go to a nice university. Apparently she thought Emma had saved her, and had helped turn her life around. She'd done that for me before, helped me when nobody else seemed able.
But all the other people, the rest of the posse, they mattered less than those three. I never stayed up all night shaking and half unable to breathe thinking about them, as compared to Emma.
Three people whose families were just as involved in the Alliance as me. Three people who blamed any torment they inflicted on me on the E88 and ABB-League kids, who were only so happy to join in. I'd seen several different fist-fights in school supposedly in my name, but when I hinted or even outright said that it hadn't been the E88, nobody wanted to believe me. It was in my name, but I was just the excuse. Who didn't want to beat up a Nazi?
"Heyy, Taylor," Madison cooed as I walked in. The one thing they'd never done, the one thing they'd never insulted or devalued, among my looks, my personality, my everything, was the name. Madison was a small, cute girl who faked being a sweetheart and wasn't even close to the worst of them. Her brown hair could have made her look mousy, but that's not the animal I thought of when I thought of her. Instead I thought about how she kept up with a chihuahua's tenacity in the way she just endlessly kept up tiny little torments, something I almost wanted to consider microaggressions, things that I could not actually fight back against without looking like I was overreacting. Sometimes, when I tried she'd deny doing it and everyone would believe her.
Winslow was a hostile environment, even if I wasn't being bullied. The Alliance couldn't even really be blamed that much for the general state of Winslow. Their influence stopped at Middle School and started again at College, High School was fed in by too many streams. A part of me blamed them anyway.
I, Taylor Anne Hebert, daughter of Annette and Danny Hebert, had every reason to want to trust them. The Alliance was a nationally known organization, a Popular Front in Brockton Bay bringing together unions, LGBTQ, feminist, and minority-rights groups, remnants of local leftist parties, stray Black Panthers, community defense funds, charities, political lobbying groups… everyone from left of center beyond, to desperately stand against the rising threat of the E88 and Lung for that matter. They had capes, and I knew who those capes were even if they were secret.
Which is why it hurt so badly. Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker, a vigilante that nailed rapists and neo-nazi murderers to the wall. She was important, and she was supposed to be, if not on my side, at least against all the bigots of the world. I couldn't reveal it, there were rules, Annette said years ago, before she... But I knew that Shadow Stalker was important and I wasn't. There were rumors, muttering that I couldn't know the truth of but feared. I had nightmares sometimes, thinking about when she'd stop playing with her food and just finish me off.
A week ago, when I'd finally tried to bring the information on the bullying to The Alliance's attention I knew that that was it.
"This seems more like a bunch of fiction--"
"Fiction?!!"
She'd lurched back in terror, as if I was going to charge her and hurt her, and said, "There's no need for such aggression."
The tone said all sorts of things that I--
"You're spacing out, Tay," Madison said with a smirk.
"No I'm not," I said. I was trying to ignore her. Some part of me couldn't. Some part of me was desperately scrambling to remember, because it's the things you didn't know that killed you. Watch any horror movie, read any decent book. Even just close your eyes and see the fears lurking there. You know it.
"Your best friend, Emma Barnes, wants to talk to you," Madison said, her voice sing-song as she leaned in. She liked to make herself small around me, because it meant me being annoyed looked a lot more like bullying than her sweet nonsense.
"She can get in line," I said, far too exhausted to even pretend to be polite, and Madison looked shocked. She really wanted me to go that way, she was nervous about it, I realized. They had to have something planned to hurt me, something that they needed me to walk in. But fools rush in where angels fear to tread, or so they said.
I wasn't going to be a fool. Emma knew where to find me. When they were pouring juice on me, or starting gossip that never seemed to stick to them, they always knew how to aim at me with all the precision of a guided missile.
I gestured vaguely and carefully towards a collection of bald or nearly bald kids, one of whom wore long sleeves to hide a gang tattoo, afraid that he was going to be caught out as a member of E88, no doubt. "I'm sure they'd have words just as sweet as whatever Emma wants to say. And be more honest about it."
Madison reeled just a little bit, always with the overdramatic act. But I wasn't afraid of her anymore. It felt pathetic that I had been. I'd kept my voice soft, just in case they tried to play it that way. But I didn't usually bite back like this, not even a little bit. I knew what resistance ended in, but…
Five days ago, I'd triggered.
Five days ago I realized the world was a hostile environment, a sort of dreary Hades that would never end, where there was no escape, where everyone who tried would look back and doom me for it. And nobody had tried in a long time. Dad didn't even try anymore.
I realized I'd never be okay. I'd never be used to it. I'll always break, and I'll always be broken. Who wants to live with their soul in the grave, anyways? I'd always be a victim, and if I tried not to be I'd be labeled terrifying, a monster and a man alike…
And that's when… something happened. I don't know the details. Lustrum and others have spent decades pushing more openness about Triggers, even if plenty of parahumans don't want to talk specifics. Even so, there were people who didn't know better. I… knew that a Trigger happened on a terrible day, seemed to replace or more often add to a breakdown. Sometimes it replaced dying in a terrible situation, but it wasn't really possible to make yourself Trigger.
There were a few people who tried and had breakdowns realizing how pathetic it was to try to traumatize yourself just for power… who then Triggered. There were always idiots who threw themselves in danger constantly trying to get it too.
A Trigger was a deeply personal thing, but something to be respected and understood.
Perhaps I could try again, revealing that I was a Parahuman. Perhaps the Alliance would believe my accusations then. Or perhaps exert pressure, get me into some other school while sweeping the situation with Emma under the rug. She wasn't a parahuman, but she was friends with plenty of them.
She'd gotten her interest in capes from me.
Maybe I could go to Aunt Lustrum. She and Mom went way back. But I couldn't be sure anymore, and I had memories of awkward moments and odd questions. I thought all of this to myself, and thought of how I had not gone a single night without nightmares since I triggered (and yet they'd almost felt good, or at least honest), as I stalked off to my locker and began getting ready for a class.
I couldn't be sure if she really cared about me. If any of them did or could.
I couldn't be sure at all.
Once in a while, I got in the sort of mood where I sat through school all day thinking about the way Foulcault compared prisons and schools. I'm the sort who thinks that way. It comes from the company I keep… or my lack of any company at all. Today, though, was almost alright. Almost. Mr. Gladly continued acting as if he was trying to join the popular kids years later. It was easy to pay attention when you needed to for your power to do any good. There were posters that had probably been cool when he was in high school, and even a few jokes from a half-decade ago. He was afraid, I realized, of his old age, of being alone and friendless. He was one of the kids, surely, but the cool version he'd never been.
He wanted to be liked, I decided, because he wanted to be someone different, perhaps? I was guessing, but ever since I Triggered I'd been thinking about fears a lot.
It didn't really help me focus on World Issues, especially since it always turned into debates. On the good days, the Alliance was so busy bickering amongst themselves that the E88-aligned kids didn't get to bring up this or that immigrant crisis or whatever other terrible thing proved that maybe that Hitler had a few things right. Or maybe everything right.
I thought about fears a lot, because that was my power. I could send people to that Hades, that realization of hopelessness. I could show them the shadows of their fear, throw them in two worlds at once, one the waking world that their body was in, and the other a nightmare that their mind was in.
Which meant that if I was going to use the power, I needed to think about what people feared. It seemed like the power worked better when I had a good guess about the person's fear. I needed to see them to start it, but not to keep it up, and so far I could only do it to one person at a time. The longer I held it, the more it hurt my head.
I shifted in my seat, feeling a sharp edge dig into my leg. I'd used it on a half-dozen targets the last few nights, gang-bangers and petty criminals that I could attack from the shadows without having to have a cape name or even a costume. It was always a bit unnerving, the fact that I was making people see horrors that weren't there. It was a cruel power, but I'd used it to make a group of E88 thugs going in for a tag of Alliance territory turn around after they thought they'd turned on each other. They'd yelled, their voices harsh and shrill, and eventually there'd even been blood before they all fled from one another.
I didn't know how long I could hold this vision of Hades, but I knew that if I did the right sort of research I could freak out even Parahumans. Maybe even especially Parahumans, because all of us had things that terrified us. The thought of using them felt bad, but people like Kaiser, Hookwolf, and Lung were dangerous monsters. Each of them had had a terrible day, but they'd long since run out of chances.
I couldn't join The Alliance, but I wasn't going to use my power to mug people, or hurt them. I wanted to be a hero, but the Wards were a joke in the city, and I hadn't had that much of a sense of humor this last year.
I had a plan, and I had a sort of vague, unofficial deadline.
It wasn't a great plan, but I knew about at least a few people I could perhaps convince to work with me. I needed leverage if I was going to figure out what was going on in the Alliance, and maybe stand on my own without having to trust people who might side with Emma or people like her.
It was a strange feeling, because I lived within the Alliance. Literally.
As the day ended, with nothing more than a few hostile looks and a vicious rumor or three that probably hadn't even started with Emma, I had to wonder. By now there was a momentum which meant that people just made up bad things about me because they'd heard stories of all the bad things I'd done and wanted to add to them.
We used to have a house, but we'd sold it a while back, moved to a nice apartment in a neighborhood that was firm Alliance Territory. Flags leaned out from the apartment sides, from the co-ops, from the stores, from everywhere. Union flags. Red and Black. Pride Flags. The flag of the Red Banner Alliance, the ones who were actually fighting the Gesselchaft in Germany. The bookstores sold all kinds of things, but the sections for the 'right' sort of books were bigger.
Everything was different. We all had rules, the real unwritten rules. You don't call the cops, because in Brockton Bay you might as well just speed dial Alabaster or Krieg and be done with it. You don't tell stories, you don't break a picket line, you look the other way if you see something being smuggled in that has an Alliance seal on it. You took care of your own, and you didn't give up… not like Dad had. Not like I had, for a long time.
I loved my neighborhood. Or I did. I had. I'd thought I was required to.
But nowadays I kept on wondering, beneath all that safety and pride, where the pride flag was meant for people like me. Whether the feminist icons on the murals that fill all the back alleys were meant for people like me. Whether the heroes, whether the Protectorate or the ones that supposedly took the fight to the Nazis, would actually protect people like me. Or would they shrug, say they did their best, and focus on the people who mattered.
I'm not going to do that. I'm going to find some way to be better, even if it was just on a small scale.
I found myself looking at the neighborhood in a new way, looking into the alleys. They came in bursts of beauty, scenes from the distant past and the recent future, colors bright and gleaming. Exaggerated, larger than life. The murals on the walls were a promise as much as they were an expression of beauty, and so of course the E88 sent some of its unproven recruits to try to tag them, or call in the police or the city authorities to whitewash the walls, because what the property values needed was less beauty and more drab ugliness.
Something was wrong in this city, and the Alliance had helped. But it had not solved the problem, any more than the Protectorate had. Decades on, and there were still Nazi gangs roaming Brockton Bay.
The last few years, the economy had collapsed and then kept on collapsing, and so now the Alliance was in a race with other elements to be the ones to explain it. To explain that it was not the fault of "bankers" named Rothschild that the already-decaying city that they nonetheless loved had been struck with what was almost certainly a mortal blow. That no, they couldn't save Brockton Bay if they just lynched someone or burned a queer friendly store down for kicks. It sounded like a miserable job.
Someone had to do it.
And someone had to find a way to break this cycle.
I didn't know how.
But I knew how I'd begin.
I'd heard news on the grapevine. You'd be surprised at how much people talked. On and on and on, once they panicked.
Tonight the ABB had something planned, some sort of initiation.
It was a whole complicated mess, the ABB. So there was the legal front that did "outreach" and probably collected fees and bribes, the Asians of Brockton Bay. Nazis called 'em the Azn Bad Boys. Then there was the… something League? It had a fancier name, but everyone called it Lung's League, and then there were all the little gangs that made it up. All together, they had enough power to threaten both the Alliance and E88.
Maybe going after them was a little desperate. Maybe I should give myself weeks to figure out the different fears and doubts that drove the ABB, and the E88.
But I didn't want to. I couldn't stand it.
I didn't trust it. Emma had something planned, something big, and if I didn't do something to armor myself, to make myself feel as if I was doing something worthwhile, I didn't know if I'd survive it.
I also knew that I'd spend all of my time worrying, like an idiot, rather than acting. If my nerves got the better of me, if fear swallowed me, she would never spit me out until I was nothing more than gristle.
I reached the apartment building and stopped to look at the bulletin board. I used it sometimes to see what was happening, to see the arguments that two competing flyers could represent. They were taken down eventually, but slower than they should be, and so on a good day you could see the last few months of debates and events. On a very good day you could see the last year, and on a bad day you realized that this meant that in this constant churn nothing was going to get better.
Flyers for the recent elections, which nationally were Popular Conservatives versus Liberals, and here were E88 versus Alliance. Old protest flyers about Case 53s, NEPEA-5's stalled repeal, the Birdcage, a thousand other little and big causes. A month-old declaration that Electric Avenue was going to be putting on a performance for charity. A declaration that Canary was coming to Brockton Bay in December as part of a holiday tour to raise funds for Earth Aleph refugees. The scraps of a months-passed memorial service for the Empty Summer six years ago. A seminar examining the impact of the Empty Summer. A seminar considering Parahuman psychology and the dangers of overwork that had graffiti on it mocking the fact that it used Scion as an example. The scrap of a torn-down paper that I knew was about a different memorial. Bingo night times and locations. Information on GEDs and college choice, and a seminar on academic excellence. A poetry circle that was going to meet next week. A Leftist Reading Group about to try to tackle Engels. A discussion of a possible strike. A meeting of the Alliance Coordinating Committee that was open to the public, unlike their more secretive ones.
On. And. On.
An entire world, an entire life, half-connected and half-divorced from a world that I knew was falling to pieces.
I looked back and each year had seemed to bring the world closer to collapse. All that happy childhood I remembered had been like being in the eye of the storm, or sheltered by a breakwater against the rising tides.
I tried not to brood. I failed. I stalked inside, walking on a nice black carpet whose flaws I now searched for in vain, and using the stairs to go up to the fourth floor. Every one of the people in this apartment building was vetted by, well, everyone else. Everyone who lived here had some stake in the building as a whole, and sometimes this made them a shelter and sometimes this made them as clannish as what little was left of New Wave. Today it all felt smothering, but I knew a year ago I'd thought of it as a consolation even as I was facing increased torment in school.
Which was true? I didn't know.
All the doors had different signs and symbols. Our door had a union flag and a trans flag. We were on the fourth floor and as far as I knew Empire goons had never gotten this high. A few months ago, on 8/8 I'd watched as the Empire got as close as a block away, at high tide. I'd watched as one of those Nazis got beaten up so badly I am pretty sure that in the dim light of late evening I'd seen an actual murder. Not that I'd ever testify to it, standing out on the balcony, peering down at all of it horrified and yet knowing that this was what had to be done to keep the neighborhood safe, that the fight had pressed that far because the Empire always seemed to go wild on these symbolic holidays.
I don't know what to think about it, because I'm pretty sure I didn't actually disapprove of it. There were questions that had only one kind of answer, but at the same time, I couldn't think about it too hard. It felt a little like there was a bit of a pit that could open up beneath me if I started thinking like that.
Yet.
I shook my head and passed yet another candle.
A candle store had gone out of business a few months ago. The scents now mixed, as the Alliance had bought every single candle at a firesale price and put them in public places to help make things smell a little nicer. They were fancy, hypoallergenic candles, but that didn't stop me from disliking the smell, holding my nose and pushing up my glasses when they had slipped a little bit.
Vanilla and wild rose and other smells lashed out against me, but Dad and I had lost the vote there.
Our door had a union logo and a trans flag on it, as I said, and that made me relax a little bit.
Home was not much. Dad had fallen apart after my Mom died, and there was an entire room in it that only I ever went into. But it was still home.
Yet a part of me didn't even want to think about it. I just wanted to go and grab some of the weird clothing in Mom's room, the stuff that looked like disguises--something green, maybe--and go out.
The 'good' news was that I was going to be heating up dinner tonight. Dad had work to do, now that Lung had lashed out last month. He had a leading role in union organization from his place in Brockton Bay, even if he'd neglected it for years and now did it… essentially all the time.
The docks were no longer safe, and so he spent as much time telling new employees or newly unionized groups what places not to go. What things not to do.
(Before I'd given up, the anxiety of his own dangers might have made me… no. I dismissed the thought.)
So I could slip in, and then wait a few hours and slip out again, and I didn't have to think about it.
I didn't have to think about how nothing would ever be as normal as 'home' implied ever again.
When I went out a few hours later, going through the secret entrance-exit that half the building knew about, nobody even paid me any mind.
I wasn't quite wearing gang colors, or else it would have been a hazard to wear around Alliance territory, but there was enough ambiguity about the garb that it looked innocuous, like something anyone could be wearing. As I walked down the street, able to tell by the cracks and potholes when we were getting beyond Alliance territory, I thought about what I'd do. It was a good thing Dad was a heavy sleeper, and as I made my way into the Docks I aimed at the parts that Lung controlled. Heck, maybe that would be my task. Losing much of the docks to Lung was a humiliation for the Alliance. Most people didn't know it, but it'd put Electric Avenue in a funk, he'd had to cancel several events while everyone tried to find a good answer to a giant dragon. I didn't have an answer, but messing around the edges, getting more of it back. It was worth something. Something the Alliance hadn't done.
Not for now. No, for now, it was time to enter enemy territory. Markers were important.
Now, some things hadn't changed. The gangs that made up the ABB had hardly spent as much on infrastructure as the Alliance had, and most of their tags still existed, but with Dragons and ABB and other gang tags covering the top, emphasizing that whatever individual loyalties they had to their gangs: Triad, etc, etc, there was more loyalty to the whole.
What everyone said, what everyone feared, is that somehow he'd gotten total and complete control through his… odd sort of charisma.
I had to be careful here. Not that it was too hard to hide. All parts of the docks still working these days were built with hiding in mind. I supposed that was one thing I had to thank the Popular Conservatives for, smuggling had helped revive a decent chunk of the dockwork. The stench of fish and other similar smells pervaded the area. I'd like to say it was the smell of evil, but I'd be lying if I didn't know the Alliance side smelled exactly the same.
I knew exactly where initiations were held, I'd just had to pay attention when I went out, see where people's eyes didn't go. The dark corners where monsters scurried and innocence did not exist. Fear was something you started to notice so easily once you actually had a reason to look for it. The only real challenge was making sure you thought about the different kinds of fears. Those who had to live and work here had so many fears, I knew. The Empire, the government that should protect them, and the gang that claimed to. They feared them all. The part that hurt the most was the ones who feared the Alliance. Saw us as just another group out to exploit, brought into the propaganda feed. That hurt. Hurt worse because these days I wondered if there wasn't some truth.
Maybe wharf rats didn't matter as much to the alliance. Maybe all sorts of people mattered less and people just didn't say it. Jugemu was celebrated, but then, he had powers and was the first real symbol of defiance to Lung, and since he triggered shortly before mom died, I didn't really know how much support he got from everyone else.
I stopped because I saw a brace of gangsters--or at least people in ABB colors--passing by, and allowed the moment to drag on, continuing to walk. They were aimed towards the bright neon sign of a takeout place, the bright lights framing the street, the bits of trash that were rolling by in the sea breeze illuminated for a moment in threatening, unnerving shapes. The whole scene seemed so normal and so abnormal, and if this was an ambush, a trick, some failing that would end in my death, I think I'd remember that moment of hunching over and hoping nobody noticed the whole time.
I shook my head. I could sometimes get lost in my head, thinking about fear and worries. But when people were scared of the government looking in, they reacted differently than when they were afraid of a place. I was pretty sure the warehouse I was aiming towards wasn't one of ours, and the E88 didn't even try this far in. It was a squat, ugly building, but no different than any of the other squat, ugly buildings… yet a part of me saw it framed against the dull skies of a November evening and thought it seemed particularly sinister, the locale for some low budget horror. But it wasn't abandoned, far from it. There were the guards, and the buzzing crowd, all of the myriad colors blending together into a hostile, dangerous churn that seemed to press in on me even from a distance. This was danger, this was another symptom of the collapse of… no, I needed to not think of it like that.
No, this was the start of my opportunity to change things. The guards looked nervous, and the crowd included enough people in ABB clothing slipping around that this was something.
But it could have been a party, I knew. The ABB wasn't a small gang, there were all sorts of events. And warehouses had hosted all sorts of parties and bands now and again. The guards were nervous and wary, though, in a way that didn't seem like it was just a rowdy party. This was something serious. Unfortunately for them, tonight I was going to be their worst fears come to life.
One of the guards, a short, wiry man with a tattoo of five dots (I couldn't remember what that meant), was looking a bit different. He was not looking at the warehouse as people streamed in, or even at the crowd. Instead he was looking repeatedly towards a huge bald behemoth with a sleeve of tattoos of his own, including a question mark and copious muscles. I thought that the way he was looking made it feel like there was something there.
What if it was some gang rivalry thing? I had done some research, after all, for all that I… forgot the details of which was which. But that didn't matter.
So I Reached out with my power. It felt a little like this building pressure, like a ghost of the fear I caused was gripping me. It had freaked me out the first time I used it, but not as bad as it should have. I was used to being afraid all the time. I was used to marinating in stress that made any other hormones in me seem like nothing. I could see the wisps of the vision I was creating.
Hades was crafted by two people, and I was only one of them. It was their own personal nightmare, and so I pushed the direction of it, frowning and hunching over just a bit as I concentrated. So this time, when Twitch looked over at Bald, he saw Bald glaring back with hostile intent in his eyes. The hardest part of Hades was ramping it up properly. The shades of Hades, they wanted to attack, wanted to menace. It felt a little like trying to hold back an angry dog and hoping it didn'tmaulyou instead. But I fought it, ramping it up slowly, starting with a quick stareback, and then it stretches and drags like the hours of a school day until it'd almost be easier if he just did anything. If he just killed someone and was done with it. Is he getting closer? The eyes were narrowing. Where is everyone else? Everyone seems to be watching or backing up, they know.
'Know what?' I didn't ask, because now his mind was supplying it, pushing in the details. "I'd" done something to make Bald angry, something that required Bald to punish him just to be fair. And so anyone here, they'd back up and watch it. They'd--
"STOP LOOKING AT ME! I didn't--" Twitch shouted with terror as he reached for his brass knuckles to slip them on. From there, it was almost easy, as the other guy responded and I just had to make the shade a little bit more hostile, a little more menacing. It was almost sad how willing they were to turn on each other. But thugs like that, criminals of that sort, hardly held together, did they? I didn't need to hold the vision together either. I shivered in a strange mix of terror and ecstasy. It felt good to use my power, it always does. Even though I'm also feeling all that fear and anger. I don't know why, but ...
It's probably fine, right? They're my powers. And I was the nightmare this time. The thing stalking the evil in the dead of night, the horror movie monster come to life.
As the brawl starts, others come, distracted, uncaring. And if one late kid in a hoodie slip[ped in, who are they to notice? My ambiguous dress helped, there were too many gangs to keep track of them all.
Inside the crowd was overpowering. As the heat and stench of all the bodies hit me, I thought maybe I'd made a mistake. This was a big, open space filled with hundreds of people. People who could hurt me. Who could destroy me. I wasn't bullet proof. If I was shot I would die. I would bleed out and I would--
I shook my head, and looked around again, twitching as much if not more than Twitchy. Hundreds of people, with gang colors and bright "draconic" colors dominating, I couldn't help but nervously take in that this big open space was filled with not just dozens everyone dressed up to party or riot or both. Weapons were everywhere, though I was sure that plenty of the people here were groupies.
None of them were looking at me, but if they did… my disguise would be decent in the bad light but if anyone looked too close they'd realize I was a pasty white girl. And then all those guns would come out.
Not that they'd need to kill me themselves. First, came the speeches from the unpowered but tough looking grunts, from all the different gangs, giving bold speeches to cheers about the glories of their gang… and the even greater glories of joining up with the ABB or the League or whatever else. That carried on a little bit while I hunched and imagined my violent, painful death again and again if they found out anything at all about me.
And then up to the stage came Lung, who even without powers, was a hugely muscled guy without a shirt, and Oni Lee, the psychotic Triad (or "ex-Triad") killer just standing there by Lung like the perfect minion. Unlike Lung, Oni Lee was in his full costume, a "demon" mask and a black bodysuit, knives at the ready. His powers meant that he could and did act as a suicide bomber, and he was a tough customer. And there's also… oh. That's when I see him. Another guy, thin, short, I can't make out much of the face, as he's wearing a Gold-spray painted Armsmaster-style helmet, but the long black hair stuck out behind it. This is more than just a standard initiation. This is a new cape.
I hold my breath as I look to the stage. My confidence waning, I couldn't possibly take on this group. Maybe I should try to slip out-
Before I could come to a decision, Lung began to speak. The speakers echoed it across the room. "A new age is dawning for the League! We have reclaimed the docks!"
A cheer, louder and louder.
Not all the Docks, I thought. But it was a weak rejoinder.
"And we have what nobody but the PRT has in Brockton Bay. A Tinker. Kintsugi! Joining the cause! For the glory of the dragon! For the glory of our united causes!"
Part of me wondered why he was speaking in English. But the larger part of me froze. Nobody else but the PRT had them. Everyone had to deal with neutrals. Leet served as the exchange point, buying Tinkertech from outside of the city and passing it along, for everyone except Marquis, the rich bastard, who seemed to have the Toybox on speed-dial. Even Lung couldn't (yet) cook the gamer that laid the golden eggs and let the products of more competent tinkers filter in.
The Alliance had to cut deals with him too, for all the little Tinker-tech defenses to protect their buildings, and the drug machines that provided life-saving prescription drugs, and so on.
The ABB were never going to have as many capes as the Alliance or E88 had. They weren't going to have the same popularity and street presence either. They weren't going to have Marquis' everything, the way he'd clearly started to move into the kinds of crimes that aren't really crimes because the collar is white and the suit is Armani.
But a Tinker could change everything, let him take the rest of the Docks. This… maybe I couldn't fight everyone here, but I had to stay and gather what information I could. I could leave a tip for the Alliance. But it'd be better information if I could figure out anything about the new Tinker. Anything we could use. He seemed like a kid, maybe he went to Winslow. (The Unwritten Rules were one of those delicate suggestions, I knew for a fact that people were trying to put pressure on Grue to join up, and I'd heard someone mention his sister offhand. So they knew who Grue was.)
So, maybe something like that could happen? Teenage boys were impressionable, maybe this was just him making a mistake.
I watched, concentrating on the stage. The speech didn't matter, it was more of the same, talking about unity and fighting back against the Empire and the hypocrisy of the Alliance, etc, etc. Maybe I could figure out something about their fears, watching them in the element. I'd already done a lot of research on capes online, but too often they didn't include information I could use. But Lung, he projected a strong front, but I could see the weakness behind it. When someone boasts themselves up, the fear becomes so much easier for anyone with eyes to figure out. He bragged about Leviathan once in a while, and even without bragging everyone knew he'd been at the Leviathan battle. It wasn't hard to guess that he'd be afraid of Leviathan, who wasn't of the Endbringers?
Fear. Helplessness. Hopelessness. Being weak. I knew it, could call up the fear, the knowledge that you lacked the power to do anything.
Oni Lee was harder, because he wasn't speaking much for himself, he was letting Lung talk. He had a mask, he was too far away, I wasn't a miracle worker, just a girl who'd started to pay more attention to the things that people feared and how they revealed them to a discerning eye.
He wasn't that important. The Tinker was important. He was shaking with fear, his every movement giving away more and more. And…
Oh.
I realized. This is what it looked like from the outside, when someone was living through their fear. Kintsugi did not want to be here. Did not want to help the ABB. They weren't willing, and I was sure given any chance at all he'd be more than happy to desperately run away.
He was a victim. Someone being enslaved, made to work under the force of the threats of a vile gang whose work in forced prostitution meant this wouldn't even be unusual for them.
I had to do something.
If I didn't… then how was I any different?
I… I knew the odds. I knew how many people were here. But this was my chance to do something. If I could just create a distraction, if I could find some moment to let him run away I'd do something that would help the Alliance, help the city. A Lung who got control of the Docks with enslaved Tinkers could start bringing in even more smuggled immigrants, even more people forced into bad situations. He could make this one desperately afraid boy look like just an appetizer.
Hell yeah, Maquis makes perfect sense with an actual long term organization to fill the early Coil niche and get all like The Penguin and Iceberg Lounge with it, perhaps with Coil or Faultine or whatever as on retainer to him as the new cape face to the old school crime syndicates. And tying together the New Wave as an actual era and movement bigger than the Brockton Bay Brigade/Dalton family alongside Lustrum's work and the unions and everyone, then fatefully losing their moment and falling apart and thus ceding the groundswell to this new Alliance with real like communists and elements of black civil society vs the Klan and skinheads energy. And of course the big guy himself, Lung explicitly taking up a blursed qausi-vigilante position like how a lot of gangs to operate, and federating together a real street movement getting around/setting on fire the old bosses and going full Cyrus can you dig it while he's at it.
just chef's kiss a Brockton the feels really like a Brockton that's been carved up in constant political and street wars between the E88 and everything else reacting to the giant multi-generational nazi empire. I'm eager to see what happens next!
Sexist and transphobic language, the C word, generalized gang nastiness.
November 7-8, 2010
So there I was, standing in front of hundreds of gang-members. All there, but separate at the same time. You could see the Japanese contingent to the left, Chinese in the middle, and Filipinos on the right. Behind them were the smaller gangs. Korean, Thai, a few groups far enough in the back I wasn't sure what they were, only distinguished by the way they clearly huddled together. The only reason they were all together was the whole "fuck a giant dragon says we have to be here". Which, I suppose, made them like me. It was kinda funny in a way.
Funny the way meat you buy from a black market is funny. Funny the way a week of crippling diarrhea is funny. Funny the way Uber and Leet are funny. Funny the way that kicking a kid is funny. Funny in the way that someone breaking something someone worked on building because they could was funny.
I was here because of a series of bad decisions that started with... Fuck, I don't know my life in general.
I was here because I did the dumbest thing an oar (orphaned asian refugee) could do, and tried to get ahead. Should have seen the world was gonna go kicking back. I'd spent so long just trying to repair my place, fighting a losing battle even with my powers. I'd finally, finally gotten a viable piece of real tinkertech to sell on the LeetNet, something that could finally help get the cash I needed and so I'd showed up a little early.
I'd wanted to scope the deal out, not be one of those kinds of girls--even if I was boymoding it 24/7 right now--who got myself taken advantage of. It was a parking lot. It didn't have enough broken lights. I remember that, and should have realized it in retrospect. Not enough broken lights, cracks in the pavement, sure, but too clean, to unkempt or… or not unkempt, not like PRT or even Alliance territory, but not destroyed enough to be neutral. I should have realized what the too-clean lot meant. But it was empty except for one person who saw me before I could even try to run.
I remember, my first thought was, "I skipped school for THIS?!"
Lung. The scariest, most terrifying cape in Brockton Bay, just glaring at me and striding forward. Maybe I should have run, but all I could think at the time was how funny it was. There were always rumors in the oar, let's call it community. Point is there were always rumors to be careful, Lung's men willing to take in rats for their brothels. That they might just snatch you if they wanted. And my dumbass got caught by the big dragon-fish himself. Pet tinker rather than prostitute, but fucked either way. I just…
"Are you the client?" I asked, or tried to, as my voice died in my throat. My body had turned rigid. I was hoping and praying Leet was just an idiot. That this wasn't a set-up and I could get through it. I'd found an Armsmaster mask dumpster diving, and managed to repair it up well enough that it actually fit pretty nice. So at least my face was protected. Then again Lung might not like the choice and he wouldn't get offended by the inspiration and fry me. I'd have loved to make it look different, but since the mask's purpose was to 'look like Armsmaster' the only mods my tinkering helped with was making it look more like him. I'd spray painted it and ignored my power's whining, but that was it.
I don't know if it was the rest of my body (why didn't I conceal more? Fucking should have gone with full gloves and tucked in socks) or my stupid, stupid voice that gave away I was "Asian", or if Leet fucking fucked me. But either way Lung simply stood there, crossing his arms and staring.
I wanted to run. I wanted to run so badly, But I couldn't even move my feet to try, as Lung just… dominated the empty parking lot as if it was the center of some vast empire. He didn't have goons around. He didn't have any backup that I could see. He didn't need any of it.
His aura paralyzed me like it was an actual power. I didn't even move as he pulled out a machine gun. All I could think, remember thinking was 'why does Lung even need a gun?' And then the sound exploded as he shot me. I yelped ducking and closing my eyes as it continued, not the small, pop pop noise of a movie or one far away, but the Bang! of one up close, repeated again and again. Stupid. I was afraid even though I knew, knew, the shield would hold. My work is good.
I cowered. I lost track of time.
I don't know when the bullets stopped, but they did. Should have acted then. I didn't. Too cowed. I didn't open my eyes until I felt someone gripping the tinkertech from my hands. It was one of Marquis' force fields, the good shit. I didn't even try to resist as he took it from my hands, inspected it, then turned it on and nodded.
Then he picked me up by the scruff of my neck and held me face to face… or mask to mask, really. I was close enough that I could smell his sweat and the faint hint of gunpowder. "I have no interest in your petty attempts at playing at merchant. It is time for you to join us, help your community. You will be Kintsugi. And you will learn not to cower." He said as I nodded desperately, hoping I could even pronounce it. It wasn't like I knew much Tagalog, much less Japanese or Chinese or whatever that name was.
I nodded. I… I knew the score. I'd always been considered an 'adoptable boy' at the refugee orphanage. Someone who didn't look 'aggressive', wasn't Japanese and spoke good english. Even the ones that 'didn't work out' weren't marks against me. Or well, weren't enough that other foster families weren't tried. But… well when you got down to it, Lung was just another foster family. A giant, gang foster family, with honestly about as much choice on my end.
Yeah. Better way to look at it than the prostitute thing. Just another foster family. I told myself. Like a new foster family, Lung didn't leave me alone for a moment, or give me any time. He was smarter than I'd thought, for that, or maybe just impatient, because he brought me to an ABB apartment. I didn't remember much of it when he dragged me by, just the whiffs of my power giving only mild critiques, so it was probably nice. If I was smart I would have focused on escape routes, but I knew what a new foster meant, what they demanded. So my focus was on him, and making sure I learned the rules. Also the fact that he told me I'd be initiated the next day in that voice that accepted no possibility that what he said was not the future.
So there I was. Just me and Lung in the- I think it was the living room? Carpet, it had carpet, I remembered that, so it had to be. Just Lung and myself and my thoughts. Wondering if I was going to find out if you really had to stab someone to join the ABB. That or eat white babies. I was leaning towards stabbing, though if so it was taking a while, as Lung was just talking and talking. Droning on and on and on, like a really bad teacher.
You know what's funny? I can't even remember the Philippines or can't remember most of it. I know just bits and pieces of 'my' language, let alone whatever nonsense Lung is getting at. But I have a crystalized memory of being in class and… not exactly no one understanding me but getting some phrase wrong in a way one of my foster fathers decided was 'being cheeky' and swatting me. It was the one tiny bit of defiance I held on to, during his speech. Lung is just one in a long line. He wasn't special, just another 'father' but he was powerful.
I've lived alone for several months, trying to keep it all going. My trigger was my blessing and my curse. It's power was useful, sure, but every crack was an affront every little imperfection of the paint was an abomination. Even a place as good as Winslow was worth screaming in my head. But at the same time… I could do something about it. For once I could change things. No one to tell me otherwise. I knew how to fix everything, mix-up my own paint, sealant, even figured out how to turn the water back on and keep a set of working pipes. Actually had a place semi-worth living, even if it meant skipping meals and sleeping sometime.
The tinkertech was supposed to be my way out. Trying to get a way out, a way on my own after I lost, after I…
Nevermind.
One of the nuns always ranted about street kids being foolish idiots who would get it, guess she was right. I got greedy. And then Leet fucked me. Maybe. Or maybe he ran off? Didn't matter to me. Everyone knew that Lung's press-ganging wasn't a polite request. So I nodded until he seemed satisfied, and let me head into the bedroom.
And now I was stuck in a room, desperate and waiting for the end…
There was only one thing to do--
Everything was better after I slept.
Okay, yes, maybe sleep wasn't the best idea. You'd think that an upcoming initiation would make it hard to sleep, right? But, like, the bed was nice and I slept on much worse mattresses for weeks. Good mattresses were not to be missed. I realized part of why I'd had such a nice sleep after getting up. My power was barely a hum, as it took in the room.
One little fray in the carpet over there, a joint on that table that was…
I don't even know how to describe it. It was like trying to give color descriptions when you've been blind all your life and everyone else still is. But it had the 'flavor' of something that was built wrong. Built to join right, but always just off a bit, which felt different than something that was built right and broken. It was the quietest my power had been outside my base since- since since I triggered, far as I could remember.
When I'd been building my base I'd had to learn to sleep with a screaming partner in my brain. Sleeping anywhere where it was silent was easy. I'd been staying up the last few days going over and over again on the shield, making sure my first piece of sold tinkertech was perfect. I wanted to show people what I could do.
Girl, that's definitely worked out, I thought to myself. Now Lung knew what I could do. I'd have to make it clear I couldn't build new things. I think I'd said that last night? Sort of. But the last thing I wanted was to have him demand stuff I couldn't do. But that was all for tomorrow. Right then, the bed was nice. I didn't know bed sizes, but it had to fit a whole family, and so soft and silky and honestly I kinda felt guilt about flopping on in my street clothes-
It was… I wasn't sure what time it was when I woke up. I assume morning, at least. There weren't any clocks. Felt like there should have been one. I turned on the light, taking in the view. The bed, in addition to being as already mentioned, huge and soft, also that didn't smell of dirt or grime or anything but freshness and the bits I'd brought with me. Really it was better than the base bed I'd gotten for my own room, not entirely repaired to the same standards, but it had a bigness to it that you couldn't get when you had to think about how much you were really willing to haul up to the fourth floor on your own.
To the left were two little table-cabinet-desk things? I wasn't sure of the fancy word for 'em, but you know where stuff goes next to you when you sleep, hexagonal, if that helps you. A few books lying around on each shelf, but… not much else.
I took the books off, and looked over them. A New Pan-Nationalism, Lessons From Leviathan? Tales of Genji? A Cosmic Dance? That last one's cover was this big sci-fi looking nonsense compared to the first two. A big picture of a spaceship blowing up another spaceship. Huh. I wasn't much of a reader honestly.
So I checked out the table thing. My power always screams things at me, but these were too well-maintained for much. I could tell that the varnish was slightly worn. If I felt it, the wooden grain would be just a little bit off. Something else had been here. My power didn't say what, but I guessed it had to be a lamp or alarm clock.
I got up, taking in more of the room. My feet sank into the plush carpet, which was soft enough to sleep on. Maybe better than the bed, I wasn't used to anything that soft. At least I'd be able to sleep when I joined my next pretend happy family.
The dresser is what drew my eye. I have no way to say it but that it was covered with Asian stuff.
Yes, I realize how that sounds, but, well that was what it was. It was topped with… Asian things.
I realize that sounds very generic, but the entire set felt like some very hastily assembled mish-mash of things that were all beautiful individually, but together were such stew of Porcelain vases, paper fans, tacky old Japanese toys, a K-Pop poster hanging in the background, the sheath of a katana, and still more things that just… didn't make sense. That's the ABB for you. Asian, 100% Asian. Which Asian? Yes. Bits and pieces of memory here and there from one of the decorations on the dresser, but most of it was nothing to me. Chinese, Japanese, not stuff I knew. Even so, there was a lot of it on the dresser including the gilded League Symbol statue… was it called a statue if it was a symbol instead of a person? Sculpture? Sculptures were only like… marble and rock right? Whatever gilded league thingy that was tall enough it dominated all others. The message was loud and clear. And the base of the symbol was almost big enough that I wouldn't see the slight discoloration on the dresser where a TV once stood.
I moved to the window, drawing back the curtains to look out the window. Sadly it somewhat ruined the otherwise nice apartment. Whatever else Lung could do, he couldn't fix that the window outside looked down at Brockton Bay. Even just looking, my power was already noting the sets of decaying buildings with little maintenance. The street over there with the pothole. The powerlines with worn. The peeling paint on the building, the chipping paint on the streets, the smash-
I closed the blinds. Too easy to get lost in that. And it confirmed what I'd figured.
Lung had me in a nice apartment.
A nice apartment three(more?) floors up. One with no electronics.
I made one last check, this time, at the door itself. It was… a door? It didn't seem like it was out of place, minus, one, tiny, incidental detail. The doorknob had been recently changed by someone who probably wasn't incompetent at it, as far as being an amateur, but my power could see the scratches around them and the just… way they didn't fit. Not like a terrible fit. Just not entirely, 100% there. My power didn't let me see what something had been, but I'd bet money they knob used to be able to lock. It seemed Lung had a 'no locked doors' policy. Could have been worse, could have been 'no closed doors', those always sucked.
I had started to lean forward to inspect it more when a knock at the door made me nearly jump back, looking around to see if I could see any cameras monitoring me. Nothing I could spot, and nothing my power could spot. Which didn't mean they weren't there just meant if they were there, they were probably installed with the apartment, not as a hasty patch job. My attention turned back when a voice that was old but like, not that old, maybe twenty? "Hey um, Kintsugi? Sorry, I'm Ryouchi. If you need anything let us know." Right, three floors up, no electronics, and guards. "Also there's a mask on the dresser, Boss said to respect your privacy."
Oh, now my privacy was to be respected. Not last night where Lung had just taken my mask, and made sure to memorize my face just in case. Not when there were possibly cameras.
Stupid. It wasn't like I'd been forced to strip or anything. Really it wasn't worse than a lot of foster families. It was stupid to be bothered by it. But I was.
I don't remember much about what he'd said, more promises of the type anyone gives when they promise they are going to protect you, they're always dumb and fake. Nobody protects wharf rats, not even fellow wharf-rats.
Lung, the Alliance, the PRT… say this for the Empire, at least I didn't get fake promises from them. They said they were going to torture and then murder you and everyone with your skin color, and then they tried to do it.
The only line I remember was, "In us, you will become a man."
Which wasn't worth focusing on. I looked over to the stuff on the dresser , and saw the mask. It was… well if you guessed it was one of those Chinese theater masks, you'd be right. Some Stylized (™) gold lines around it. No idea what they meant. Some Chinese (Japanese?) on it as well, guessing it was Kintsugi? Probably? Who knew? Certainly not me. At least I was allowed to have a mask.
"Also we have breakfast out here, if you want it."
My stomach growled at that.
Well… if I wanted to eat I was going to have to go out there, otherwise my options were…
I considered it. They hadn't removed the lights or sockets. Maybe if I was a tinker who could make a power suit with scraps I could rip them out. Sadly the only thing I could think of looking at them was how to repair them if I needed to, which they didn't. If there was a way to tie the bedsheets up into a parachute, my power was more likely to define that as something being broken. I had… I pat the hidden pocket in my jeans. Still there, small as ever. They hadn't found that.
On the other hand, I was multiple stories up in ABB territory. Probably on high-alert for anyone escaping. Maybe I had the time to use it, or maybe I didn't… and trying now on an empty stomach would be horrible. I shuddered, remembering when I tried that once. Never again. And if Oni Lee and Lung were watching, it wouldn't be enough.
So I had to stay here.
Might as well get food.
Trying anything hungry was stupid. For that matter, so was missing an opportunity to get clean. "I'll be out in a minute," I said, headed for the 'like everything else, oversized' bathroom. I'd managed working water back at my place, but free soap and shampoo wasn't to be missed, and the shower was huge and the hot water didn't run out. I actually tried to get it to run out a little bit.
I showered with the lights off, because I didn't really need to look too much at my body to shower.
Cleaned and with mask on, I took a deep breath and opened the door. Four sets of eyes looked up. "Hey." one of them said.
I gave a small nod.
"Let me get you breakfast," a second voice called. Probably a woman's voice, and yeah, breakfast was good. With that I scanned my room. Like my bedroom it had the luxury of being repaired, in good condition. Nothing for my power to really complain about. The door opened up to the living room, two couches (left one's middle cushion had dirt on it, likely from someone putting a shoe on it), sat corner to corner against each other facing the large, and I mean large, TV. Across the way was a kitchen, which I was able to see into thanks to a bar-style counter that divided the two.
An entire living room and kitchen like that--it wasn't a place that had been used, but instead maintained. I knew maintenance was a nightmare thanks to my Tinker powers, and so it was daunting, almost obscene luxury. The kind of thing you only see on TV. A place where almost nothing was broken.
Almost nothing. On the counter was a coffee maker and a rice cooker, the rice cooker was worn, the Coffee maker was actually half-broke. Trudging along, but barely there, near the pristine TV was a video-game console that was worn from use, and, of course, the clothes of everyone wore. All of them stood out like beacons in the sea of pristine beauty. It was highlighted in a way that forced me to focus on those details while the rest of the apartment faded into the background, even the tiniest imperfection eventually noticed and commented on.
It really did feel as if my power was alive, no idea if that was crazy talk or not. Everyone said capes were half-cracked.
"Hey, I'm Ning, Triad member and official League member." another guy called out, "Over here is Ryouichi, Yakuza and part of the League. Finally we have Joshua from the BNG and one of our newest League members."
Oh, right, the people.
My power didn't really work on people, or anything living. But they were something I should focus on. I knew they were Lung's rodeo clowns, there to provide comic relief while he fought the entire Protectorate one on one and won. I didn't get why he even had a gang, really. It sounded like a lot of relying on other people. Then again maybe it was like a personal hobby. Some people get Yachts, some people get pan-Asian gangs.
Looking over the introduction, you had Ryouichi. Lanky, but fit-ish? Seemed like he gave a shit about his body. Japanese. A little bit old, maybe twenty-ish? To the left was Ning. Really old guy, like he had to be at least twenty-five, short and serious-looking, which I guess you gotta be when at least half your life's passed you by. Then there was Joshua, who was sitting in one of the big chairs, holding a controller and playing something on the TV. He gave a laugh at Ning. "I mean I'm only a younger brother of BNG." He replied with that bit of soft modesty that underlied smugness. "Hey, wanna join?"
I shook my head. Joshua worried me. He was about my age, and Filipino like I was. Did he go to Wilson? I wracked my brain…. Shit, yeah. Wasn't he there sometimes? Yeah I had a half-memory of him hanging out with the gang-kids. Not the recruiter but there. I'd had a foster family that seemed to be sticking by then, and so I hadn't been one of the Oars approached, but that didn't mean he wouldn't know about me if he saw me again. Crap. I did not want him to know me.
"Here you go." My worry was interrupted as the girl presented a tray to me. Rice, some soup, sausages, toast, a couple fruits. The works. A feast. "I'm Malee by the way," she said with a gentle smile.
She was really pretty in the way that left me feeling even more like an ogre in human form than I usually did. I thought about how the hell I was going to manage any transition now that I was being forced into some stupid gang, and even if I could do it I'd never look like that and why couldn't my power just let me fix up my body, it was clearly fucking broken you stupid power, and--
I grabbed the tray and retreated to my room. I was not taking off my mask here.
The breakfast was as amazing as it looked. Not the slop or cold cereal you'd get in one of the community kitchens or orphanages or at school. And people who understood that rice was a breakfast (and lunch, and dinner) food, rather than telling me I wasn't in Asia anymore. The only problem was, it was way more than I could eat. No matter how much I ate, there was plenty left. How anyone could eat this… ugh, maybe some capes ate a lot? I think I read something like that, once. Glad I didn't trigger with that. Either way, it meant that I needed to head out again. I wasn't going to let this go to waste, and I'd seen a fridge out there.
Fridges were amazing, and managing to salvage a mini-one and tinker it to perfection had been game-changing, a return to what I'd once taken for granted. And this breakfast needed to be saved.
Once more I strode into the room.
Once more four sets of eyes went right for me.
I shrugged, and walked over to the fridge, trying to ignore them.
"Looking for something?" Ning said. "Malee can get you anything you want. You don't have to get it yourself, you're a cape!"
I just barely caught the annoyed flash of Malee's half-glare at Ning before she smiled at me with all the genuineness of a politician's apology. "Um, no," I said awkwardly, "just going to put that in the fridge."
Ning laughed. "Saving everything? I know that feeling. Don't worry man, you don't need to do that anymore. You ain't a wharf rat anymore, you made it. Just leave it. Grab a seat."
I really didn't want to. But I knew that this was the rules by which this place operated. They'd all but stated it. Maybe some people were stupid enough to try to challenge them, but me, no. Not that stupid, frankly all I wanted was back to the bedroom,but instead I sat down on the single ridiculously big chair…
Oh that was really nice. Leather? This was probably leather? Like, I didn't know leather but it felt like what I thought real leather should feel like. Soft enough I was melting into it as I watched the TV. On screen were two characters. I recognized one of them as Legend, but had no idea who the other one was, looked kinda like a werewolf. They were fighting, though Legend seemed to be using a lot more kicks and punches than I remember, with only the occasional laser blast thrown in. Eventually the werewolf fell to the ground, as the screen shouted "Legend Wins", Ryouichi groaned as Joshua gave a whoop of joy.
"You wanna play?" Joshua asked, apparently forgetting that I'd already said no, or maybe just eternally hopeful.
"I um, haven't really played this," I said, really hoping that would end the conversation.
"No problem, I'll teach you." Joshua took the controller from Ryouchi and handed it to me. What followed was… well, it was officially an explanation. It had words like 'R1 button' and 'start' which I thought I might have heard of. Then there were others that were just… baffling, at least at first. Honestly, I was shit at it and knew it, but Joshua wasn't a terrible teacher. I fucked up more times than I could count, but he'd just be like, 'yeah, no, that was the square, kicks, try the x button' with way more patience than basically any teacher I'd ever had in my life. It was… well, kinda nice actually, if I wasn't worried that he was gonna know who I was (did it really matter?)
While this was going on Malee sat on the massively oversized armrest of my chair. "Hey there, so, you got anything you want us to call you? Kintsugi is nice, but if you have something else we can use it."
Isa. My mind thought, as my mouth, having better survival instinct just went "Kintsugi's fine."
"Well Kintsugi, are you going to fix me up?" Malee asked. "Or break me a little harder?"
I froze, my face feeling like it was burning. She was so close and flirting with me and…
Look. I wasn't stupid. It was obviously cape flirting. Probably on orders. I wondered if she was actually a working girl or just.. I dunno, someone with the gang. Either way, I hated it, hated the idea of someone being interested in my body which I knew was wrong. And the reminder of what the gang was. It made me even more acutely aware of my body and--
She shrugged. "Hey I'm gonna go grab drinks, you want anything?"
"Beer."
"Buddweiser."
"Coffee."
"Just water." I said. Yeah I was defying the rules now. This was clearly drinking time but… "Er, sorry, I really don't want to be drunk for my initiation." Maybe that would make them think I was older? And I also didn't want to get drunk at all. I didn't specifically hate drinking, though I'd never done it. But I needed to hide my identity, so loosening my self-control? Yeah, no.
Malee left to go get the drink, and I found myself settling in again.
"Okay, so despite what Joshua says, alt mode is not easy mode, it just makes combos more obvious. Point is, instead of doing the ridiculous joystick and button, just hit one, yeah, set it and-there you go laser." Ryouchi spoke up, as if he was used to having to talk louder than Joshua to get a word in edgewise.
"They're nerds about this shit," Ning said, and then added, "But their advice is probably good."
"Of course it's good," Joshua said. "We'd never steer our new buddy wrong. We've needed a good Tinker for… forever. We've been getting wiped out in the streets, whenever Lee or Lung isn't around." He hesitated, suddenly looking around fearfully, "Not that there's any…"
"Oh, give it a break," Ning said. "We all know the boss sometimes… he's a great boss, he's led the Self-Defense League to a lot of great victories. But a Tinker, they make tech and all that, right? Maybe some body armor for us so metal spike one, two, or three doesn't kill us?"
"Or something for KFC." Ryouchi said with the start of a smirk.
"KFC?" I finally chimed in.
"Kaiser's Flying Cunt," All three of them chimed in at once with amusement. Then Ning chimed in. "Heck if you don't want to do defensive stuff I'd love for something to deal with Savoir."
I was silent, trying to wrack my brain for who that was, same sounded familiar--
"Totally independent healer that just happens to mostly heal E88 members," Malee called out, reading my mind, as she returned with the drinks on a tray and began handing them out.
"Yeah, nothing so fucked as beating the shit out of someone and having them bounce right back." Ning finished, then took a deep drink. "Ugh, fuck this coffee is shit Malee." I rolled my eyes, yeah I could tell that.
"Sorry, ain't my fault the coffee maker's broke."
"She's the worst, yeah," Joshua admitted. "Luckily they don't even give pure healers slots in this stupid game, so Vic's the only BB's healer here. She's shit though, garbage tier."
"They also didn't put Lóng in," Ryouchi said with a laugh, "They need to just start putting more villains in, but every time they do it without permission it's all…"
"Ahh, oh no, I'm dying, I'm dying, stop killing me Mr. Villain," Joshua completed. "And then! And then if they aren't, then it's 'oh no I'm promoting criminality!' What's criminal is how bad a character Legend is in this."
"No, no, you see," Ryouchi said. "Legend's a distance char, so you wanna stay apart and tear them up. Up close he hits like Ning." At which Ning rolled his eyes.
The game went on, and honestly, things got better. Everyone chatted, and they felt like regular people I could hang out with, mostly.
And then.
"Point is, I'm jealous, honestly. Lóng will let you do whatever you want. Free rounds at the casino, any drug you could possibly want, legal or illegal, a buncha us normals as bodyguards! Hell, get the girls to give you a little massage eh!" Ryouichi said with a wink. They'd been talking about their jobs, or rather the parts of their jobs that would convince me that this is great.
"Not that Ryouichi would want that. He's into those thai girlyboys." Ning added quickly with a laugh.
"Hey fuck you!"
Right, well there was the reminder of what my new 'friends' were about. Of what they would think and do if they actually knew me. "I'm gonna fix the coffee maker." I said, getting up and hoping they didn't notice how quickly the good mood soured. Maybe they'd all be alright with it. Or maybe they'd pretend to be because I was a Parahuman and could apparently do all the evil I want. Or maybe they'd pretend to be alright and then mock and attack me behind my back. And--
No. I needed something I could control, that I could repair.
"Fix it?" Joshua said.
"Yeah, it's driving me nuts." I swore I could hear its gears grinding wrong still, even though it was done and like, I wasn't even sure the coffee maker had gears. But I heard something wrong and it felt like… like in my head grinding gears on sand and cracked clockwork chaotically clashing. Everything was wrong right now but this is something I could deal with.
As I got up I could hear Joshua whispering to the others, 'wait, are we allowed?'
"Chill out." Ning said. "It's a coffee maker, and we know he fixes stuff, I think we were told that?"
Right, they probably didn't realize I could hear them. Either way I headed to the kitchen where Malee had retreated once the gaming got going. Hey, me and Malee in the kitchen hey me while the boys played video games, that was gender validating, right? Bad joke. Fuck, I was out of it now. As I headed over, I saw Malee again, this time looking a lot less smiles and more… tired. She looked at me. "Sucks doesn't it?"
I… well I tried to give her a look asking more, but with the mask, that was a no go. "Oh?"
"Them being pricks, don't even realize what you are." My heart stopped for a moment. Had she- "I'm Thai too." She continued, oh, right there had been kinda two insults there. "For all we are supposed to be one happy family, they are still assholes. Chinese, Japanese and Philippines are the biggest gangs BB, they get the majority of the spots in the League, and the rest of us." I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything. Heck, if she thought I was Thai, that just meant a safer identity. She, in turn, took a look at the boys playing. "You're smart, you figured out that these are the people Lung wants you to know right?
I nodded.
"Yeah, look at who got chosen to introduce you. I was only chosen for this job to flirt with you ,but you're too smart for that, right?" I gave a nod. Well, smart or really fucking fucked up. But she didn't need to know that. She nodded."Look, I don't know you, but I know you, cause I know us all. You're a Wharf Rat, aren't you?"
"Wharf Rat." "Drowned rat." "Oar". Dozen names for us, all for the same thing, coming in not only as a refugee, but with no parents. Really, I was one of the luckier ones, came in with English and got foster families. Even so, I nodded.
"So am I. I still save every scrap of food in the fridge if I can, because I might need it to survive. Every wharf rat I've known's a survivor. Your situation now, press-ganged into the ABB, sucks. But you'll endure it, make it out the other side, and maybe you'll make people think twice about hurting you later. We are in this together." Fuck I knew this was manipulative. I knew it was her realizing flirting wasn't gonna work and changing tactics but, well--
Dammit, I wanted it. I wanted some other girl to be like 'you and me, we understand each other, unlike those boys out there. You are like me. Sure, it was a lie, both of us. Me for making her think I was Thai. Her for the entire…. Thing. But I wanted it so badly and-
She stopped, flashing a look at the other room before sighing. "You should probably head back, before the boys get too antsy, they're supposed to be watching you."
"Yeah… yeah okay." I said. "But first I'm gonna fix this machine, it really is driving me insane."
I thought about those new 'friends' as I looked at this crowd.
It's funny, and this time not funny haha, but funny weird, the things you notice. I was supposed to be watching the proceedings. Which personally put me in mind of a show-and-tell presentation, the type where each person stood up, was enthusiastically clapped at by their friends, and then everyone else when the teacher gave an eye at them. Except it was gangs and gang leaders, and the teacher was the giant dragon and strongest cape in BB.
I probably should have been focused on the politics there. What gangs cheer just hard enough, early enough for other gang leaders to figure out who was allied with each other, and who wasn't. Figure out my new position.
What I actually was focusing on was what my power was whining at me like an annoyed cat meowing at me.That one little fray on the center-left dragon banner. The semi-broken coffee machine on a table on the side (why was every coffee machine they had was partially broke, and in practically the same fucking way?), that one light that was dimmer than the others. I was shocked that that one hadn't been changed, given the pomp of the event. Did they not care? Or was my power just making it a bigger deal than it was?
The noise, even simply the smell of so many bodies, it all should be overwhelming. But instead it was the little details that mattered. The smell of the musty spot that wasn't supposed to be in the building, mold to come if not dealt with. The whining 'hum' of the light, the faint way I could almost hear its wrongness. The chanting, the call and response of Lung and his army. That was almost background, or maybe I just wanted it to be. Disassociating, they called it right?
Run
A half-heard whisper pierced through my focus, somehow more than the entire voice of the rest of the crowd. Louder than Lung who was right next to me. Who had said that?
Get out
Another, and for a moment I risked turning back. It sounded right near me. Like someone just whispering in my ear.
Run
There it was again, so soft, but coming… it was like it came from the crowd, and not just one voice, but multiple, but I wasn't near enough. I shouldn't hear any whispers, and the crowd was mostly just giving shouts at the end of each of Lung's declarations.
Fear Lung
The whisper sounded so hostile, so evil I… was I seeing things? Just what I needed and--
Had the crowd gotten bigger? I could swear not… not bigger really but denser like… like there were extra people.
More than that…
I hadn't been entirely accurate when I noted all the separate ethnic gangs. There was one gang that wasn't. At the very front, and occasionally spread out through the crowd, watching the other gangs, were the League. Lung's personal chosen from members of each gang. Those Lung elevated above the others, and representatives of his own will.
But.. Was I going insane? Was this… what? I could swear, swear I saw extra eyes in the crowd, shadows and extra hands and faces. League members. Asian. Always Asian, blended without any identity. There, but not. More and more of them, and before… they were league but you could tell, Japanese, Chinese, Korea, you could tell who they were. But now, when I looked I could only see "Asian boy" like it was overriding everything else, faces that came and flickered out. And it was… was like the gangs, the ethnic gangs were dissolving into them All become these boys, these men who were just Lung's enforcers, violence and identity less and-
Run from Lung. Or this is your future
And then… it was gone. It was just faces, again. Just people. People from Asia, or really some were probably born here but… you know. But it was people, I could even see the gangs again. The contrast of the faces, the way the Korea and Japanese and Chinese and Filipino each had their own little section, now so much clear in contrast to that sea. Just… what had I-
Lung shifted, standing tall. It was only then I realized he had gone silent. He was no longer speaking, the crowd was just milling about. Had he seen my panic attack? Was that worth punishment, I--
"Get behind me," he ordered, firmly. He strode forward and looked towards one of the windows. What was out there? He was… he was getting bigger. It wasn't my imagination, muscles were growing, bones were cracking, and I knew this was his power. Had he seen something?! Was there going to be a fight now of all times? I glanced towards the crowd, and they seemed confused too. It was like the moment when the teacher is looking away from everyone and you knew something was going on but you can't figure out what. Only this time is wasn't some teacher who couldn't do shit, it was fucking Lung and it was getting hot in here and-
I threw myself desperately to the ground as Lung sent a burst of fire clear through the damn wall. The wall was fucking gone, my power wasn't even telling me how to fix it, just telling me how completely doomed it was and that there was no point and that the structural integrity of the whole warehouse had been severely compromised just from that one blast. And Lung kept on growing bigger and scarier and now people were screaming, and the flames were spreading across the stage. But I couldn't see anything, it was like he was fighting a shadow.
Was it just a demonstration? Was it an invisible enemy? Had he just burned them to a crisp in one shot?
It was so hot, and my power was screaming at the destruction.
Lung kept on growing and issued roars of challenges as his posture began to bend before his growing height, growing faster than I ever imagined, surrounding himself with fire, turning this way and that, ready to strike at anything. Then, all at once, he rushed off towards the broken wall. Oni Lee followed, ready to back him up against… well nothing I could see. The gang were no longer a generic sea of 'Asian' but a confused mess of people. Some tried to get over to help, some were confusedly looking around, the smartest had taken a step back.
Maybe I should have followed Lung. Be a 'good' lieutenant/son. Sure, it was under his thumb, but it wasn't like being a Tinker didn't make me valuable.
But also fuck that. I'd seen enough foster fathers to know this was bad. Guy was already readying what looked like it'd be an actual wave of fire, his heat so much that even after moving off the stage towards the was-once-a-wall, I could still feel it. There was no more safety here than anywhere else with someone over you. I was running.
Lung had taken the shield I'd wanted to sell, but I had one ace left. I reached into my coat (wonderfully repaired, best personal use of power) and pulled out the tiny keychain. One press and it became a syringe. Or more a Syringe! The thing was comically large, from some stupid video-game. It was so dumb that I had to keep the ridiculous looking holder to get the shrinking effect. I could improve things sometimes, but anything my power considered fundamental to the build, like looking stupid as hell I had no hope of changing. So I was stuck with Leet's stupid design.
I grit my teeth and injected it. For a moment I shuddered, before I shook it off and jumped off the stage. The first part, the League members were going to be the hardest. Once I got through them I could move through the areas between gangs."Move" I shouted into the crowd. "I need to help!"
Some of the idiots actually moved, thank god. Act like you know what you are doing, and you can get away with a lot before they notice. For the first stupid bastard that didn't get out of the way, well that was what the formula was for. Shoulder checks hurt, and mine was already complaining, but I'm betting he didn't expect some scrawny 15-year old to tackle through him like the biggest football player a non-cape could be. I was gonna be hating myself in 15 minutes when the serum wore off, but that was later. Right now I was getting the fuck out of here. Tearing between the Japanese and Chinese, to head to the gap between the Vietnamese and Koreans and finally freedom.
As I continued forward, some high-pitched member of the ABB tried to run towards me. "Hey wait-" but I was gone.
Interesting. Isa is a whole ass trans mood. I didn't anticipate her being a complete OC. That throws must of my guesses about who Grace might be out the window.
Since Marquis is still around I assume that Savoir is Amelia. Who is apparently racist after growing up with her father.
Makes be wonder if Vic is Victoria and she is a healer outside the game or if that was just how the game modelled her canon aura.
Interesting. Isa is a whole ass trans mood. I didn't anticipate her being a complete OC. That throws must of my guesses about who Grace might be out the window.
Since Marquis is still around I assume that Savoir is Amelia. Who is apparently racist after growing up with her father.
Makes be wonder if Vic is Victoria and she is a healer outside the game or if that was just how the game modelled her canon aura.
Ah. That makes sense. She's part of the public relations onion for the racists to draw in "neutral" people who need healing and gradually bring them into the fold when other people star ghosting them for hanging out with nazis.
I kinda hope Malee can get out too. It feels like people are a little more believers or fans of lung here, but she's not being respected much either it seems?
Also it's interesting how Taylor has to use fears to communicate and so that one message comes laden with gender anxiety.
I kinda hope Malee can get out too. It feels like people are a little more believers or fans of lung here, but she's not being respected much either it seems?
Also it's interesting how Taylor has to use fears to communicate and so that one message comes laden with gender anxiety.
So there I was. Just me and Lung in the- I think it was the living room? Carpet, it had carpet, I remembered that, so it had to be. Just Lung and myself and my thoughts.
Not that stupid, frankly all I wanted was back to the bedroom,but instead I sat down on the single ridiculously big chair…
Oh that was really nice. Leather? This was probably leather? Like, I didn't know leather but it felt like what I thought real leather should feel like. Soft enough I was melting into it as I watched the TV.
Ahhh, there's the Lay-Z-Boy. Strangely generous of Lung to let his new conscript use his prize possession, but maybe it's part of the whole carrot-and-stick routine?
Also, if Leet really did sell her out, I can only imagine it was due to him realizing that someone with a Tinker power almost perfectly tailored to complement his will never, ever agree to work with him.
Makes sense that the E-88 would also have different layered gangs and networks wrapped alongside and around normie institutions of like neutral rogues sponsored by the BBPD's Parahuman Outreach Program brought to you by Medhall(tm), while also having different connections to skinheads, survivalists, alt right """western chauvinists"""", etc..., etc...
the original Allfather vision of doing like the white supremacist American Redoubt but in knockoff gotham, reflected and refracted by their enemies too, Lung perhaps a little more directly, but also the Alliance a bit too I think.
Fascinating AU elements. I love when Worm fics reorganize the power structure of BB; never fails to result in interesting stuff in the mix. Shame Isa was given the name Kintsugi by Lung, because that really is a pretty perfect epithet given her power (and he didn't even know the scope of it!). Looking forward to more.
Fear was a strange thing. It didn't always make sense. It was like Triggers. Despite everything Aunty Lustrum(was she still Aunty, I hadn't seen her in years, had she just been tolerating me? No, focus, focus) said, most Capes didn't like to talk about their Trigger Events, even indirectly. The PRT was still downplaying the 'trigger' thing, though they could hardly hide it anymore or hope nobody paid it any mind.
So I did not know how Lung had triggered. But everyone said the powers had something to do with the way you fell apart. So I thought about it. He took damage, he took suffering, and spat out power and strength: growing and growing. Danger, I thought, but also helplessness. There was no choice but to suffer, to not be strong or good enough to avoid the pain that was awaiting.
And then, what was Leviathan? Nobody liked thinking about the Endbringers, because it was such a hopeless thing to imagine doing anything to them. Only one of them was scary in an interesting way, but all of them were terrifying in the purely simplistic way that a storm is terrifying. I'd have to try myself, see if they had emotions or fears or even thoughts that I could use, if I researched them. Scion, maybe? He was a sore topic, but they had fled from Scion before his mental breakdown and death.
But what I knew was that Kyushu had broken before Lung did.
Or did it? Or did he? He hadn't actually saved the city. He hadn't killed Leviathan. He'd achieved nothing more than an impressive performance.
He'd been helpless and worthless again, despite his power.
Everyone feared the Endbringers, but I thought, once I was done warning the Tinker boy, that Lung would react interestingly. The boy was looking around, fidgeting with his shirt, and then as I watched it he moved through a set of actions, thoughtlessly, that settled the shirt and… how was he fixing a fraying strand with just his fingers? Nevermind, it was probably some Tinker nonsense.
I tried to focus on making the siren wail just right.
He froze at first, when he heard the Endbringer Sirens. I did not have the ability to actually imagine what the Endbringers were like, I'd have to draw that from him, and so I concentrated, squinting and hoping I didn't stand out too much. He stopped, and then turned towards the direction of the Docks. The sirens meant that the Endbringer was here, and I whispered in his mind, indirectly, that surely it was Leviathan. Surely it was… the threat.
He tensed, and I grinned to myself, the joy of his fear as rich as chocolate. I focused, eyes straining a little bit to watch him and make sure he wasn't going to--
Oh.
The wall was collapsing, and that meant that a wave was incoming. if he wanted to save his people, he'd need to--
It was about that moment that the flames began to spread. It was at that moment that I realized I'd made a terrible mistake. At the moment when I stopped regretting it at all, because it felt so good to have a crime boss… jumping at shadows on the wall that you'd created.
By then, the person I was trying to save had pulled out… wait, was that a bit of Leet tech? I called out, as he sprinted for the door, "Hey, wait--" but got no further as he left, as flames began to fill the room, as all hints of any sort of calm and control broke down. Screams filled the air, fear as rich and varied as a bouquet. I saw Oni Lee backing up, confused, looking around for the danger and obviously not seeing it.
I noted his size, and was pretty sure he was a teenager. Maybe he'd… maybe I'd find a way to find him again. I knew how to spot that kind of fear. If he was going to school, it'd be because there was no other choice. He'd be nervous, he'd… I knew I'd be able to spot it, anyone observant couldn't help but notice things like that.
But, right then, I wasn't really thinking about him.
I was thinking about the fire.
It was a confused chaos, everyone pushing and shoving, people trampling each other as they went towards the only working exit, the smoke soon making it so that I was coughing and pushing like everyone else. The most I could do, once I dropped the power on Lung, was make a few people shy away from me, as if I'd been about to shove them. Even that was confusing, a few moments here and there as I fought and kicked my way out of there.
In the distance, I could hear real sirens, blaring out the fact that I'd caused a major warehouse fire. People might be dead. No, no, I shouldn't lie to myself. They probably were. As I let the grip of my power go I started to realize what I'd done. I had…
Fuck.
At least the Tinker had gotten out, I thought, when we finally burst through the door like a cork from a bottle. I turned around and saw that the fire was spreading, if not as fast as I had feared. He had stopped, and left. I knew Lung wouldn't stick around as the fire engines came.
A hero, a decent person, would stay to provide information and do what she could to help others.
But I was a white trans girl with obvious ties to the Alliance, if I was found here it might get out.
I slipped away, as did most of the League members, to be fair. Nobody was staying to fight the fire unless it was their job to do so. I stumbled through the night, wondering what the price was for saving one boy. How many had suffered because of it?
I went home.
I went home and laid in bed and trembled as if I was being shaken, and finally sleep knocked me out.
I remembered the feeling, the feeling of the world falling down around me, of a desperate battle, of Alexandria there standing speaking words that meant nothing as I struggled and fought, and then--
Sank.
Down. Down.
They couldn't be killed. You'd have to be an idiot even to try. If you can't win, then why fight?
Down down.
Nobody had seen it. Nobody cared about it. They'd died, he'd been trapped, she'd--
He'd done the impossible, fought Leviathan one on one and stood up to the beast.
It had meant nothing, he had meant nothing.
Down down.
I hit the bottom. I couldn't move, exhausted, broken.
When I saw someone approach, for a moment I thought Mother.
And then I saw the figure reaching down. Strong, brave, honest-- Negation.
Alexandria dragged me up, coughing, gasping, spluttering, roaring, up into the clean air of a shattered world.
'Two gang members dead in Warehouse Fire' the news blared. I watched it carefully, but the newscasters simply stated that Lung had caused the fire. There was no doubt speculation online about why the attack had come. What had happened. I knew Lung would have to suspect Parahuman powers. To think otherwise would be to doubt himself far too much. It also made no sense as some flashback or nightmare.
But he wouldn't be talking, and he had no way of tracking me down. I was safe. I was free. I was okay.
On the bus, crowded and penned in by other kids, laughing and joking and… everything else, I discreetly took out the cell-phone I'd been hiding from Dad for… a while. I scrolled through yet more of the news, and--
What did I expect?
Nothing much new, some rampant speculation about the upcoming Endbringer fight. Nobody knew where, but Behemoth was scheduled to hit within the next week or two. The world was ending and anyone who paid attention was just asking whether it was Endbringers, the return of nukes post-Scion, or a collapsing climate. There was no other world left, Earth Aleph was a ruin where the hundreds of millions still alive were supposed to live in absolute destitution and savagery. Nothing could be done, the current Endbringer protocols, besides being unknown to the public, were supposedly perfected by Thinkers. This was the best we could get. There was no alternative. The best of all possible worlds.
And me thinking otherwise with a power that probably couldn't do anything to Endbringers was pretty useless. I'd just have to… deal with what I could deal with.
Still, I thought of Lung. The Endbringers were many people's worst nightmares. Even the secondhand fear of it, the images of Leviathan, were enough to cause restless sleep for a lifetime. It was cruel, what I'd done, even before people had died of it.
But I didn't regret it, not exactly. I… I hadn't thought about what it would do. I felt if I had evaluated all the dangers and judged that the risk of death was worth the opportunity to save the one person who had no choice but to be there. Everyone else was making a choice, weren't they?
It wasn't a thought that could sustain much, could hold much. It was a thin gruel thought, and so of course I kept on listening to everyone around me talking. Right behind me, two boys were whispering, Franklin and Richard, part of the Community Aid Initiative, which was to say that most of the time they just went around helping people and one time out of twenty they instead were junior brawlers.
"We think he has a sister, in a bad situation. The manager said that we just help her and that'll be a hook to Grue," Richard declared, with a tiny little wave. He was whispering it so quietly that I had to lean in a little bit, but I was safe. There were terrible rumors about me, and even most of the Alliance kids believed a few of them. But (almost) nobody doubted I was devoted to the Alliance. How could they?
But hearing that, I knew what this was all about. Grue was this Independent, barely a villain. He'd been muscle for a number of the petty local gangs without a Parahuman, glaring at people, showing the flag, acting as a bouncer. Small stuff. He had powers that countered Stalker's, which was enough to make me like him. He'd also beaten up a few Nazis when they tried to move in, and so The Alliance was trying to recruit him to be one of their capes. They could forgive a lot worse than some petty crime and intimidation if someone opposed the Nazis.
They thought they knew Grue's actual identity, and he apparently had a sister in some sort of position that left her vulnerable to pressure. They'd say all sorts of things, but I could tell that there were at least a few nerves in the question, "Here?" that Franklin asked.
He didn't want it to be here.
"No, BlueLeaf Middle, it's, we're doing the right thing, I've heard…" and then Richard trailed off. "Nevermind, we'll talk about it later."
He sounded nervous about more than just being overheard. A part of me wanted to figure out who I could talk to without it getting back to The Alliance. I was starting to have some ideas about what I could do. I wasn't sure, but… if Kintsugi really was going to Winslow, I could see about convincing him of something. I'd need to figure out the exact situation, but I had some ideas.
There were a lot of independent capes around here, people who didn't quite fit in anywhere or didn't want to. Everyone talked about Uber and Leet, but there were quite a few parahumans who lived in the margins and faced pressure to jump one way or another. Some of them were just vigilante thrillseekers or petty crooks, but I knew it wasn't all of them.
And if I wanted to figure out anything about the Alliance, about whether they really were as bad as they seemed, I couldn't just talk to Alliance capes and wind up in the system. Not that they had some marching-order style of things, where every cape had to do only what the bosses said. But everyone involved had reasons to be grateful or know that there were things that couldn't be talked about.
There were also constant rumors of scandals, the faintest traces of what, for all one knew, could be larger problems.
All of this had me thinking about how I could be someone separate from The Alliance without running into the arms of the PRT. I didn't trust the Wards, I couldn't fully trust the Alliance, it was silly to imagine being with Faultline's mercenaries, none of the gangs appealed, and… doing it all alone was a very easy way to die. I was just as squishy as anyone else, which meant unless I was just attacking the low-lifes and staying out of everyone's ways, I'd die sooner or later alone. But if I didn't care about making things better, then why not just accept that The Alliance sucked but help them anyways? Or glad-hand babies or whatever the Wards did.
Right now though, I couldn't even imagine how to be someone separate from Taylor Hebert. Punks jeered as The Alliance huddled up to enter the school. There'd been a shooting, a year ago, where an E88 sniper had killed a kid who'd… I couldn't even remember. The torment had been starting then and I'd been numb and terrified and shuddering at how easily it could be me. That was the point, I think.
So now everyone clustered up when they entered the building, for that and because it was a classic ambush spot for less lethal moments, for when some League punk wanted to knock someone over, beat them up a little, and then skip school. I was at the edges of the formation, and I'd gotten the worst of it once or twice. I'd used to be nearer to the center, but I usually couldn't trade for that anymore.
Winslow sucked.
This time, though, the gauntlet was just a bunch of jeering Nazis, muttering slurs that nobody bothered to punish, even the uncomfortable looking teachers. I got called faggot and far worse than that, jeers and insults I knew were at least partially fed by Emma's lies. She'd never directly spread anything about my gender, but my looks? Absolutely.
I knew I was a beanpole with nothing feminine about my body besides the hair I lovingly cared for, and that I would probably never, ever actually pass. Emma knew it too, and once she'd stopped being my friend she wielded these truths tactically. She knew that being seen to say certain things would be a mistake. Her family was as deep in The Alliance as mine had been and still sort of was. But that just meant she got to be cleverer. Imply ugliness, imply all sorts of things without quite… saying them. There were things people could think but not say. Or that I feared they said where I wasn't, and thought the rest of the time.
For instance, once we'd run the gauntlet and apparently decided that now wasn't the day to start a big brawl, there Emma was, smiling at me.
A few people still thought we were friends. Most of the kids had probably learned otherwise, but even so they didn't think it was as bad as it was… I hoped.
Maybe they knew everything and all my talk about Emma having to step carefully was just optimism.
It'd figure.
"Taylor, I wanted to talk," Emma said, her smile not quite meeting her eyes. Emma was beautiful. With the benefit of hindsight, there were a lot of things I'd thought and felt that now were really, really embarrassing after everything I had gone through at her hands. She was an amateur model, though she was usually too busy for more than that. So she was wearing a nice skirt, a dark blouse, and looking at me as if I was a student who'd given a wrong answer so absurd that…
What was it? Could she somehow know I'd Triggered? No.
"No thank you," I said, even though I knew there was no way it was that simple. I was scanning around for--ah, there she was.
Sophia Hess was watching the halls with a tense expression. I'd never seen anyone who spent more of their life angry and about to pounce. Whose body, whose self, seemed aimed at a running battle. She probably wanted to beat up the Nazis, but hadn't been ordered to. She and Emma were friends, but she also seemed devoted to doing what Emma said. I… could understand the feeling. So either Emma or someone from the Alliance had made it clear that there would be no fights today. At least, not this early.
Sophia was glaring at me, nervous about. Me?
Well, if I was a Parahuman, there were decent odds I could actually hurt Emma. I didn't know what Emma feared, not at all. Even this close, I had not the least idea. I didn't understand her anymore. But she knew me well enough to destroy me. Emma leaned in. "You should be careful, the ABB is angry about something. I don't know what, whatever it is isn't that interesting. But I wouldn't want you to… run across them."
"So you're going to try to hit me with them, good to know," I whispered bluntly. I was leaning in a bit too much, and there were whispers.
Emma had me coming and going, she always did. If I lashed out in response to her cruelty, I was violent and troubled and plenty of people said behind my back that it proved I was basically a guy. If I just took it, if I just accepted misery, I was passive and she'd make dark comments about how I wasn't living up to female empowerment, was I? And then someone, I thought it might be Madison, would frame me for outbursts if I went long enough without causing anything.
So even kids who were "on my side" thought I was a troubled troublemaker who got into fights or was too reckless around the enemy who took it out on me.
Emma said, "Really, me?"
"You've done it before," I said, my voice so quiet nobody else could hear. "Not asking you to admit it, but… I'm tired of pretending."
"Pretending?" Emma raised an eyebrow.
"That you aren't my worst enemy," I said, and I let myself sigh.
Emma shook her head, face twisting into an expression I couldn't understand, "You live in a city with Nazis, and--"
"Yes," I said, and then I backed up, because I saw Sophia advancing towards me, and I knew how this went. She wouldn't do anything now, but if I messed around she would make me regret it. I was afraid, that was one thing that didn't go away.
But it didn't hurt as much. It felt oddly warm, the idea of being afraid. Because it felt familiar in some… I don't even know. I understood fear, and so often I couldn't understand the depths of my hurt, the amount that they had taken from me. I knew it was a vast wound, but it… I'd just pretend it was okay.
I had other things to deal with. "Yes, I do. And they still…" but I stopped as Sophia came up right next to her and stood there, looking at me with hostility. I heard giggles in the distance, and I decided, no. If Sophia was going to be glaring at me, standing there shorter and yet far more solid than I could ever be, I'd just leave.
Emma turned, and I saw the start of a harsh word before she relaxed and… whispered something in Sophia's ears.
What?
You know what, it wasn't my problem I decided.
My problem was finding Kintsugi.
I'd spent each of my classes in turn looking, trying to find someone who might, who could at least in theory, be Kintsugi. I supposed that was one thing I could thank Emma for. The same set of skills that I'd developed from the bullying had made me better at watching the class more than the teacher. It was in the sixth period that I hit the jackpot.
He wasn't someone I knew at all. Just another kid, one of the Asian kids. Yes, I know that wasn't a great criteria to start, but it did eliminate 80% of the population. I wasn't great at telling anything else. I knew that the league often targeted the orphaned population (o.a.r.s) since they didn't have a lot of other options. So maybe he was one of them? But I also knew that that population wasn't as big as people thought. Only 30% of the total, just over represented in the media. And far more likely to be victims than the 'killers' the right-wing media portrayed them as.
Still… I had no idea. Trying for something else. He didn't have obvious League gang tags, which, to be fair, a lot of Asian kids recognized that the gangs were fundamentally parasites on their communities. He was kinda shortish? That was… really wasn't great. Couldn't tell much of anything about the rest of him, he was wearing a hoodie… heh, maybe he was actually trans. I rolled my eyes, reminding myself that not everyone wearing a hoodie like it was armor was trans.
Enough to give him my full focus, try and figure out what I could. He would occasionally glance around, fearful of people, people discovering who he was, really. He was jumpy, and I knew that he had to be tired, and tired people were easier to read, really. Easier to guess at, because who was at their best tired? My heart nearly stopped, that was… jumpy was good, a massive point in favor of cape… Or, a small part of my brain pointed out, trans and I should stop misgendering her.
No, no, the glaces were more directed at ABB kids than anyone else, which was a point towards Kintsugi. Besides that, what else could I figure out? I… wasn't sure. Everything else I could notice was probably more abstract, guesses about personality. What wasn't abstract was that the body didn't look used to being that jumpy. Not that it wasn't jumpy ever but not that jumpy. No, I didn't spy on everyone all the time, but it was just obvious. If you'd nearly been burned by Lung, then yeah, that's what you're like. I knew it for sure.
I spent several periods just thinking about him. It was a necessary part of figuring out how to use my powers, if I wasn't just guessing. That other fear, what could it be? Being stuck maybe, maybe? Never getting what he wanted? That seemed like it could fit, especially with a Tinker, but… my guess was frustratingly opaque. I was focusing on fears, because fears helped you understand a lot… but I was still working on understanding people's hopes and dreams.
I was more used to being afraid than having hope. I followed him for one period, and then between periods checked to make sure I knew where he was. I managed to keep him in view, and decided I'd just follow him right out of school. He was a lot more cautious this time, worried about anyone seeing him, not just ABB. He looked more and more nervous. Though it was Winslow, so a part of me was afraid of false-positives. But then he pulled something out of his locker. I couldn't make out what, and had to duck behind one of the other lockers like I was grabbing my own stuff as he nearly saw me.
I knew he hadn't seen me because he wasn't freaking out, but I also knew that I was not exactly a stealthy sort. I was not going to be sneaking around like some sort of High Elf, and I was too tall to be any sort of Hobbit. I kept back, and watched as he headed for one of the classrooms. In movies, the horror villains could seem to almost teleport around, despite being big and obvious, but this wasn't the movies.
I recognized it, it was Ms Fionn, an Alliance social-studies teacher, and one of the better ones, she didn't exactly do anything, but at least she didn't act like I was going to be violent when I got framed for random nonsense that I was sure Madison was behind. He walked right up to the wall in the classroom, staring at the cracked, peeling paint. There weren't any gang signs yet as he put down two cans he'd been carrying.
If this was all just because he was nervous about tagging a wall for the first time, I was going to scream. I felt the tension in my body, the way my knees were joggling as I thought about what to do. The teacher was halfway decent, despite everything, and I'd have to stop him if that was the case. Perhaps a little bit of fear? Just a taste of being caught, but… no. It felt like that wouldn't work.
He opened the paint-cans slowly, and… huh. He was taking out a… roller thing, and with dedication and near perfect care he began repainting the wall. If I had looked at him right then, I wouldn't have been able to figure out anything about his fears, because for the first time he looked calm. For the first time he looked as if he couldn't be afraid. He was enjoying himself, painting the wall so that it looked brand new.
It didn't mean he was a parahuman, but if I'd barked up the wrong tree just to meet a kindly stranger, then there were worse things than that. It was selfish to feel insulted and worried as if it was a betrayal. Wait, no-
No, it was the Tinker. It had to be. He didn't need to lay down a canvas, it wasn't dripping at all, it was as if someone had found the platonic ideal of how to paint perfectly and then did it. He stopped at one of the taped posters of the world, simply pulling out a knife and cutting the tape down without damaging the poster at all, before swapping to caulking the cracks the poster hid and then painting it over perfectly. That just wasn't normal, and I thought I'd know if there was some wall-painting prodigy going around offering his services for free. No, Jacob had something that told him how to do this perfectly. I had no idea what that had to do with being a Tinker, but I suppose I could always ask him. What I knew was that he was a good person.
He wanted to fix things. He wanted the community to be better, and that… that was something I could use. No, saying 'use' made it feel impersonal. But I was already scheming about how I could…
Well. how this could go. Jacob, I realized, was a good person. I'd looked up Kintsugi online, hoping to find something. Turned out it was Japanese, and so no wonder I hadn't known it at first. Kintsugi was this old Japanese art, repairing something with gold. Improving things, making them prettier, making them better than even before they were damaged. He'd chosen that name for a reason.
And now Jacob was repairing the classroom.
There was no question, this was him.
"Gotcha." I whispered under my breath. It was time to make my introduction.
Clockworkchaos: A/N: Poor old Scion, just overworked himself and went crazy one day. Good thing for everyone here he was able to be confined to Earth Aleph.
The Laurent Author's Note: Luckily only guilty people who deserved death went to that ABB warehouse party/gathering, or else the whole 'two deaths' thing would be a very awkward start to her hero career.
Couldn't tell much of anything about the rest of him, he was wearing a hoodie… heh, maybe he was actually trans. I rolled my eyes, reminding myself that not everyone wearing a hoodie like it was armor was trans.
Nothing much new, some rampant speculation about the upcoming Endbringer fight. Nobody knew where, but Behemoth was scheduled to hit within the next week or two. The world was ending and anyone who paid attention was just asking whether it was Endbringers, the return of nukes post-Scion, or a collapsing climate. There was no other world left, Earth Aleph was a ruin where the hundreds of millions still alive were supposed to live in absolute destitution and savagery. Nothing could be done, the current Endbringer protocols, besides being unknown to the public, were supposedly perfected by Thinkers. This was the best we could get. There was no alternative. The best of all possible worlds.
Clockworkchaos: A/N: Poor old Scion, just overworked himself and went crazy one day. Good thing for everyone here he was able to be confined to Earth Aleph.
That is... interesting. Scion isn't dead, but he threw his tantrum early and is just moping around on Earth Aleph now? Tough to think anyone would be able to actually trap him there, given 1) there are barely any capes on Aleph's side of things IIRC, and 2) Scion actual self isn't even technically on any of the Earths (or is on multiple ones, spread through dimensions by definition), but he shows no signs of leaving. That... sucks, as a general situation, even more than the canon one did. He's still a potential omnicidal threat who could easily snap again at some point (meaning Eidolon's mental state of needing to be as strong as possible for the impending final battle/to help/to be valued is still in full effect), but now Earth Bet doesn't even have Scion's 24/7 help with stopping disasters/heroing/driving away the endbringers, when previously the only plan for them at times was "stall and hope Scion shows up in time". What an absolutely rotten combination of factors. (≧﹏ ≦)
(The only seeming consolation is that in this AU, given Scion confined his rampage to only one world and then stopped, it's possible he'll come, or even already came to the conclusion that the "go apeshit" idea wasn't really making him feel any better about his dead partner either, and thus he will never actually end up continuing that rampage. But that's hardly a guarantee, and it still leaves Earth Bet severely in the lurch... leading to the even worse conditions of the world seen here.)
Yes, but they are rather highly correlated, and you might have a better sense for these things than others, Taylor. :3
That is... interesting. Scion isn't dead, but he threw his tantrum early and is just moping around on Earth Aleph now? Tough to think anyone would be able to actually trap him there, given 1) there are barely any capes on Aleph's side of things IIRC, and 2) Scion actual self isn't even technically on any of the Earths (or is on multiple ones, spread through dimensions by definition), but he shows no signs of leaving. That... sucks, as a general situation, even more than the canon one did. He's still a potential omnicidal threat who could easily snap again at some point (meaning Eidolon's mental state of needing to be as strong as possible for the impending final battle/to help/to be valued is still in full effect), but now Earth Bet doesn't even have Scion's 24/7 help with stopping disasters/heroing/driving away the endbringers, when previously the only plan for them at times was "stall and hope Scion shows up in time". What an absolutely rotten combination of factors. (≧﹏ ≦)
(The only seeming consolation is that in this AU, given Scion confined his rampage to only one world and then stopped, it's possible he'll come, or even already came to the conclusion that the "go apeshit" idea wasn't really making him feel any better about his dead partner either, and thus he will never actually end up continuing that rampage. But that's hardly a guarantee, and it still leaves Earth Bet severely in the lurch... leading to the even worse conditions of the world seen here.)
...okay, well, I won't ask how (did he just kill himself in grief?), but in that case Eidolon needs to get a damn grip. I get that his inadequacy issues would presumably still be a thing, but you'd think they'd be at least lessened by the fact that Cauldron has already won — they've accomplished their ultimate goal, and the need for him to be as strong and useful as possible, forever, isn't present anymore. Yet the Endbringers are still here, so clearly he has yet to internalize that. Perhaps even because the Endbringers are still around...
(Earth Bet loses Scion, leaving the second greatest hero to take over as its greatest threat without even knowing it. Yeesh.)
...okay, well, I won't ask how, but in that case Eidolon needs to get a damn grip. I get that his inadequacy issues would presumably still be a thing, but you'd think they'd be at least lessened by the fact that Cauldron has already won — they've accomplished their ultimate goal, and the need for him to be as strong and useful as possible, forever, isn't present anymore. Yet the Endbringers are still here, so clearly he has yet to internalize that. Perhaps because the Endbringers are still around...
(Earth Bet loses Scion, leaving the second greatest hero to take over as its greatest threat without even knowing it. Yeesh.)
The fact the world doesn't Need David has if anything probably just made the Endbringers worse. "You needed Worthy opponents". Well the wrothiest opponanent is gone now.
Yeah, but the reason he Needed Worthy Opponents in the first place was because he was under the impression that if he just fought hard enough, dug deep enough, he could drag up more of the power he'd stopped being able to access, somehow not realizing at any point that his power was not like a pool of regenerating chi or magic, but an explicitly finite well (despite being in Cauldron's upper echelon and knowing what powers actually are). Which he thought he needed to do because he was the strongest parahuman Cauldron/the world had, and without him how the hell were they going to be able to take out Scion when the time came. Granted, the Endbringers and general heroing were still critically important to him as well, owing to his core belief that he needed to be useful to be worth anything as a person, but the former only showed up in the first place because of the above, which cast him into uncertainty that he'd be able to even contribute by the time of the final battle, the one thing he most needed to be at his prime/useful for.
...come to think of it, if Scion's dead, does that mean broken triggers have started happening, or will start happening soon? I'm aware that's probably not going to be relevant to this story, but so few of the ones that use some variation of "Scion's dead/left/vanished/etc" actually detail the aftermath of that (or have the endbringers vanish as well), so I find myself curious anyways.
...come to think of it, if Scion's dead, does that mean broken triggers have started happening, or will start happening soon? I'm aware that's probably not going to be relevant to this story, but so few of the ones that use some variation of "Scion's dead/left/vanished/etc" actually detail the aftermath of that (or have the endbringers vanish as well), so I find myself curious anyways.
There's a little note in the story about how the PRT couldn't keep triggers secret, and I'm torn between that being cauldron like, backing off on their conspiracy work, or if triggers are breaking down and getting worse / more obvious in a way that makes it more public?
