Radiant 1.3
As was rapidly becoming the norm for his experiences in Earth-bet, Alex found that even their PRT headquarters was a disappointment. Instead of a slab of tinkertech armour (that despite being of roughly equal height to its surroundings managed to loom over every building for blocks around) he was faced with…. A
remarkably ordinary office building, the only noticeable feature of which was the PRT shield logo stencilled on the front.
And the windows.
Oh boy, there were windows.
Alex was no architect, but even he was pretty sure that the last thing a paramilitary headquarters needed was for one of its walls to be a massive structural weakness. Worse yet, it was hopelessly inferior to the ostentatious defences of 'The Rig'- which he had learned was the nickname of the offshore protectorate HQ. After all, what was the point of the PRT if it was so obviously outclassed by the very parahumans it was charged to police?
Passing through the sliding front doors (also glass) he walked up to pretty the young woman at the front desk, who wasn't quite quick enough to hide her flash of revulsion at the sight of his outfit (
and it was a damn shame that he couldn't use his costume, but he needs to look like a rookie) before quickly schooling her features into reserved smile. "Welcome to the PRT ENE HQ sir, how may I help you today? Unfortunately, our tours for today are mostly booked, but will continue to run every two hour-"
"-I want to join the protectorate!"
His words made the receptionist do a double take in the middle of her (admittedly well-rehearsed) speech. Ordinarily, Alex wouldn't interrupt her in such a manner, but in this case he felt justified in his haste; the quicker he could join the sooner he could begin making a difference, a real one. He could always apologise later, anyway.
His musings were interrupted by a cough from the receptionist, whose hand was hovering over a high-tech looking handset on the desk (
and, no doubt, a concealed button for the various internal defences). It seemed that she had just asked him a question. Giving her a guileless smile, and a 'what can you do?' shrug, he waited for her to repeat herself, which she did, though not before a long-suffering sigh.
"Sir, Dauntless and Armsmaster are currently on their way to pick you up, and will escort you to a spare room to complete the preliminary paperwork and set dates for any interviews or power testing sessions. I wished to ask if you had picked a name for us to use in the meantime?"
Names were important things, he knew. A good name was worth just as much as a good power if used correctly, and he had often used his own combined with his not-inconsiderable reputation to defuse situations that would otherwise have turned violent. He had toyed with the idea of re-branding, but ultimately couldn't bear to change the name that he had bore for most of his life.
But before he could make his heroic declaration, he was once again interrupted- this time by the doors opening on the far side of the room, letting the heroes in. And they were
most definitely heroes. From the bold but simple aesthetic of Dauntless' spartan-themed ensemble to the moulded plates of Armsmaster's armour, there was no way either could have been misconstrued as anything else. Here then, were the people responsible for clawing Earth-Bet back from the brink in a way that he was sure he never could have managed in his early days. Given the almost
palpable sense of security both men gave off, Alex could see how they had succeeded.
Dauntless was the first person to approach, followed shortly by Armsmaster. But instead of being welcoming or even cordial, they looked…. wary (
As though they were afraid he would lash out at the slightest provocation). He would have been offended, but if the behaviour of that vigilante from yesterday proved anything, it was that everyone seemed significantly more high-strung than he was used to. Well then, he'd just have to be extra friendly to compensate.
"Hello there!" He called as they approached "I'm new to this place and wanted to be a hero, so I have come to join the protectorate!" he punctuated his statement with a wide smile. Dauntless paused, looking slightly confused, but Armsmaster didn't break his stride, stopping directly in front of him. He took a moment to look Alex over, and nodded, more to himself than anything else. "A good decision. What is your power, and what role are you specifically requesting?".
The question took him aback for a second – why would he join the protectorate to be anything
other than a hero? – but he answered dutifully anyway. "In reverse order: I want to be a hero, and …uhhh… some form of gravity control? I'm not really that experienced at this". Dauntless nodded at his response, while Armsmaster merely tilted his head, and said nothing. He really wasn't the most personable guy, was he?
Dauntless was the next to speak, obviously trying to break the silence before it became awkward. "That's great and all, but we're jumping a bit ahead, aren't we? Let's start with introductions. I'm Dauntless and this is Armsmaster". He held out a hand for Alex to shake. "Is there any name you would prefer to have us use for now?"
For perhaps the first time since his arrival, Alex was struck – not by the differences, but by the similarities between his home and Earth-Bet. Despite the strife and suffering, the powerful gangs and dangerous vigilantes,
there were still heroes. There were still people willing to risk it all to keep the world safe. As he raised his hand to Dauntless', his smile was the most natural it had been in
days.
"Atlas. Call me Atlas".
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"What do you mean
the name's already taken?"
It hadn't even been a full day since they picked him up, and already Shawn thought of the new guy as 'the Odd One'. Snap judgements like that were more Ethan's thing, but in this case Shawn felt pretty justified in his impressions.
The guy just didn't make any
sense.
On the one hand, he seemed sincerely nice- in a way that very few people could claim to be, in Shawn's experience, and he combined that with an almost literal weight that appeared to underscore his every word and action. When he said or did something, you knew that he
meant it. '
A master power?' If so, it was the shittiest effect he had ever seen, and a poor fit with the rest of his powerset. It reminded him more of Legend, that unconscious charisma earned via years of leadership.
Which fed into his second point: the guy was shifty as all hell. While the protectorate loved to advertise every new member, the truth was that not many volunteered to join of their own free will. In most cases, it was a trade for something- security, money, reputation. While volunteers did exist (both he and Armsmaster were examples of that, after all) for them to be that…
enthusiastic, was almost unheard of. And it wasn't that the guy was a naïve idiot either – Shawn had been carefully observing 'Atlas' for the last couple hours as he filled out the forms for his application to the Protectorate, and he had shown an almost frightening insight into the practicalities of hero work; the kind that one only got from experience with the system… or working against it.
(
and, of course, he had been even more confusing in his complete lack of knowledge about Brockton's cape scene beyond the very basics in a way that screamed 'new guy'. Was he trying to be a goddamn paradox on purpose?)
About the only expected result of his registration was how much it annoyed Armsmaster. While the Tinker had remained outwardly stoic, he had slowly grown more withdrawn and sullen as the new guy chattered on. Shawn knew this mood very well- he'd been exposed to it a lot during his own early days, when everyone was hyping him up as the next triumvirate member and his merchandise filled the storefronts. The man had never been anything less than professional, but his resentment had been clear as day to anyone who knew how to see beneath his robotic façade.
It wasn't helped by what they had heard about his power; whilst mild gravity control didn't
seem that impressive, it was the sort of skill that could be leveraged into a formidable toolset with the correct training. No doubt Armsmaster was inwardly cursing about the unfairness of the world when he thought that he could use that strength to clear up the Bay by himself.
Still, it wouldn't have been the first time the protectorate had recruited someone with a less than stellar background, and the fact that he had volunteered alongside his obvious ignorance on cape matters meant that he couldn't have done that much before he came to register. What sort of established super-villain would throw it all away for a hero's thankless job?
Yeah. Shawn wouldn't say that he was ready to trust his life to such a suspicious person, but he seemed genuine and that was more than enough to warrant at least professional courtesy. And if the guy
did come out as a former super-villain or something? Shawn would be there to lend a helping hand.
That was, after all, what a true hero did.
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Even though he knew that what he had done was merely step one in a very long road, Alex couldn't resist doing a little victory dance as he exited back through the front doors of the PRT building (
and now that he thought about it, a glass front did give an impression of openness, unlike the distant Rig- and he had noticed that any area of importance was either underground or heavily restricted. Jonah would approve!) and stepped back into the wide streets of downtown Brockton Bay.
He allowed himself another moment of internal celebration before growing serious again; it was time to implement phase two of his plan. Unfortunately, he had neglected to research the vigilantes of the bay when he had been in the library, considering the protectorate to be of greater importance. Still, he was reasonably confident in his ability to track her down. In his experience, if there was one quality that defined capes as much as their belligerence, it was their pride (
and it wasn't one that was restricted to villains, either- David, Kurt, even Alex himself had all had close calls because they refused to interact with the world on anything but their terms. If there was one thing he would credit the Doctor for, it was that she had taught them all when to push those instincts aside).
If her previous behaviour was any indication (
and it was one hell of an indication, running down thugs rather than tracking them to base or ambushing their reinforcements) there was no way she would not try to gather information about him before a second confrontation. And since he had zero presence in this world, the only way to gather it would be direct observation.
Which meant following him around.
Thus, all he needed was to head out to gang territory and begin busting heads, and she would come to him.
'And then I shall, with my endless optimism, convert her to the side of the heroes!'
OK, that sounded ridiculous even in his head- clearly he had spent too much time around Mouse Protector recently…
But the base idea was sound. Alex had worked on much tougher cases in his time, albeit with greater support and more time, but the fact that she was a vigilante and not a super-villain meant that she was on the right path already.
'The most likely cause for her lack of registration, even as a protectorate affiliate, is her predilection for violence and aggressive tactics. Not good for PR, but I could likely put in a good word for her once I have gained some credibility with the protectorate. In the meantime, I'll need a way to keep close to her- a partnership?'.
That seemed like the best idea; if they managed to connect properly, he'd be in a position to bring out her full potential- especially if she grasped the same lessons on control it had taken him years to master under David's – and later Rebecca's – rather…
sensational methods.
(
If anyone asked, his smile was 100% because he would be training another hero and not that he would be finally subjecting introducing someone else to the training that had created Atlas.
Chevalier didn't count- the need to preserve Cauldron's secrecy and the watchful eyes of the Youth Guard had prevented Alex from applying the full regimen. When he had tried sneaking him to a remote enough location to do it anyway…. well, there was a reason he developed techniques for immobilising Alexandria).
Best case scenario, Brockton gained a new hero and a well-trained Ward -
Alex would know. He'd helped create the organisation in the first place – and even if she refused to sign on, he would never miss an opportunity to help a child who had obviously been through terrible trauma.
he hoped his child would never be broken like that.
Shaking his head, he refocused himself.
'All of these are hypotheticals anyway. First, let's find the girl before planning her life out for her'. He'd start out in the same are of downtown that she'd met him in last time, and work his way on from there until either she found him or something else required his attention. That way, no matter what, he'd have made a positive contribution to the city.
That was, after all, what a true hero did.
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"Armsmaster, Dauntless."
Emily Piggot strode into the darkened meeting room. As Director of the PRT East North East, she was used to dealing with problems. Capes were making a hash of everything, the world was circling around the drain and recently, a good day was one where things didn't turn to shit.
She couldn't tell how she was going rate this one yet.
"Alright, give me a full report. I've read your preliminary briefings, so if you have any additional observations or comments now's the time to make it heard". Technically speaking it was beyond her remit as PRT director to give orders on the acceptance of capes into the protectorate, but it would be a cold day in hell when she let the capes freely add to their ranks with no oversight. In the middle of a world gone mad, the advice of those few who were sane was needed more desperately than ever.
Predictably, Armsmaster was the first to respond. "I don't trust him" was all he said, but Piggot was long since used to having to wring explanations out of him, even if she often considered it easier to squeeze blood from a stone. Raising an eyebrow at him, she motioned for an elaboration.
"Not only did he arrive unannounced, with no prior interaction with the protectorate, he also lied at least twice during his time at PRT HQ". Despite the factual nature of his statement, Piggot couldn't help but note that he almost sounded petulant. Best to head it off then, before he could build up steam for a diatribe.
"And Dauntless? What were your first impressions?". The other man shrugged, and Piggot had to suppress a grimace at his nonchalance; it was apathy like this that was responsible for a fair few of the world's problems at the moment, the other half being the eventual – and usually messy – self destruction of every parahuman regardless of alignment or seeming stability. The fact that she had to rely on
them of all people… but it was her job to work with what she had, not whine about the hand she'd been dealt. She focused her attention back on Dauntless.
"I didn't have any particular problems with the guy. Sure, he seemed a little shady, but he never made any untoward actions or gestures whilst I was watching. Besides, he seemed sincere about wanting to be a hero; I say we give him a chance. And even if he turns out to not be on the level, we'll be in a position to subdue him quickly. Keep your enemies closer and all that…"
It was a decent starting point- but only that. If Piggot was going to let an unknown into the protectorate, she was going to damn well sure have either information or leverage on him- and there was no doubt that Armsmaster would have been searching for both, given his animosity towards the newcomer. "Armsmaster, you previously mentioned that this 'Atlas' lied twice during your meeting. What specifically did he try to hide?"
Armsmaster tilted his head, no doubt accessing his armour's logs. "The first lie was his statement that, and I quote,
'I'm not really that experienced at this'. The second was that his insistence that he wanted to be a hero" – and here he shot Dauntless a
look – "the statement only read as a partial truth. He's holding something back".
The conclusion that Armsmaster had come to was as clear as day, but Piggot couldn't help having her doubts about the whole thing. Even if his lie detector was foolproof (
impossible, every cape was flawed in some way), he was also missing the bigger picture. 'Atlas' statement was, after all, a partial
truth; not enough to condemn him by any means. His lie about his 'new cape' status though….
"I assume you followed up on his first statement?". This, Emily thought, was why she kept Armsmaster around; if 'Atlas' had experience, it was a viable thread for investigation.
Experience meant evidence. Paper trails. Records. In short, everything that the PRT would need to uncover whatever it was he wished to hide and hopefully find leverage over him. It wasn't a very pleasant thought, but it had to be done. Better to have the information and not need it, after all.
"As part of the registration process he gave us a name- Alexander Everett, though even a cursory search proved it to be an assumed identity". The last statement caught Piggot's interest; one of the easiest mistakes to make was to assume the identity of family or friends, often providing a link for any properly trained investigator. Just another example of how much capes screwed up, though in this case it could be used to her advantage- with a little bit of prompting to Armsmaster. "And whose identity did he assume?".
The response was disappointing. Apparently, Alexander Everett had been a decidedly average person up until he'd died of cancer in 1986. Whilst he was survived by both a brother and a sister, both currently lived in New York, and neither had ever had contact with anyone remotely matching 'Atlas' description- never mind that he himself would have been no older than Everett at the time.
With that said, his lack of records could itself be a clue. The identities of many early parahumans – both Hero and Villain - had been sealed by the Government in the early days thanks to the craze of 'secret identities' before the PRT had been founded. 'Atlas' appeared old enough to have emerged in that period…
And whilst actual records were scarce, the PRT archives
would contain many thousands of police reports from those days. If tracking down Atlas by name wasn't possible, perhaps he could be identified by his powerset. Gravity control was, after all, a very memorable ability.
"Alright. We'll be following up on that thread in two ways. First, I will be asking Chief director Costa-Brown to search the old files for mentions of anyone related to Alexander Everett. Secondly, I will request the other divisions for police files from the time period. When they arrive, I expect you to help search for mention of anyone that matches 'Atlas' powerset".
Armsmaster perked up at that. "Excellent, I will contact Dragon and-" "-
NO."
Piggot had been hoping that Armsmaster would be mindful enough to prevent information leaks, but of course the mere thought of
Dragon would make him throw Opsec out the window.
Dragon was the world's premier Tinker and perhaps the PRT's most 'trusted resource'. That in turn had given the woman a chance to schmooze her way into every corner of the organisation. Emily had yet to figure out the cape's game, but no one gathered that kind of power without one. And though the Tinker hadn't been actively detrimental
yet, there was no reason to trust her with potentially sensitive material before they had gotten a hold of the situation.
Letting out a deep breath, Emily moderated her tone. "Whilst she would be an excellent aid, Dragon is not a member of the protectorate or the PRT and not authorised to access the archives". Left unsaid was the fact that the servers that they were stored on were probably of her design anyway. Just another reason to get everything authorised by the Chief Director, Emily supposed. It would throw off anyone wondering what those files were for.
"On second thought, I'll ask the Chief Director to contact the other divisions as well- her influence should help us get those files faster" (
and make it seem less like a violation of 'The Rules'). After all of the refused calls for assistance from the ENE division, Piggot was sure she'd co-operate if only to keep from being seen as snubbing her.
Armsmaster gritted his teeth, but said nothing. Piggot knew from experience that he would be itching to find something 'productive' to do with himself after her rejection of Dragon's aid, and Dauntless had successfully avoided having to contribute to the discussion at all, as he always did. Keeping them here further, she judged, would only breed resentment.
"Dismissed, both of you. I'll follow up from here".
Once they had left, Emily allowed herself a rare moment of vulnerability, sinking further into her chair with a sigh. As if the current situation wasn't bad enough, she now had hat was
at best a refugee from his past demons and at worst a former super-villain – one who had survived the Golden Age of heroes no less – running around her city. Still, she'd done what she could to minimise the damage, and if the investigations worked out they'd have a means of controlling him if necessary.
It didn't make her actions any easier, but Emily Piggot was never one to run from her problems. She may have been bending the rules and risking escalation, but it was worth the risk in exchange for even a better insight into the mystery man who'd appeared at their door- and possibly setting a precedent she could use to make such methods easier in the future.
In a world went mad and with the howling tides constantly on the rise, she had and would continue to do whatever she could to kick them in the teeth and stack the deck in her favour as long as it meant even a modicum of safety for those under her charge. To try anything less was a dereliction of her duty.
Even if the capes condemned her for her
'lack of morality', she'd stay the course.
That was, after all, what a true hero did.
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Lately, it was the small things that kept Rebecca going.
The paperwork, the meetings, the minutiae of running an organisation as large of the PRT. What others hated, she accomplished with a drive and focus that wa the envy of everyone that met her.
(
what she didn't tell them was because it was the only thing that gave her satisfaction nowadays).
How many criminals had she stopped? How many threats averted? Surely she had a tally in the hundreds for both- and yet, whenever she shed her mundanity and took to the skies as Alexandria, she couldn't help but feeling that she was making less of a difference than she did as the Chief Director. Wasn't that what she had signed up for, to save lives?
Even her costume reminded her of that nowadays. What she had once seen as practical and effective, a hallmark of her dedication to being a hero
above the image politics other got mired in, now seemed to her to be more like the greyed out uniform of an old soldier, throwing himself at an army even if he knew it was meaningless. Despite the effort, the protectorate had barely maintained the status quo- one where it was over three to one in the villains' favour and sliding closer to the brink every day. Not that she had given up on being Alexandria, of course- perseverance in the face of impossible odds was the first lesson of heroism, one she had learned even before the vial was offered…
At least the orders she gave, the emails she sent- all of these would produce reports, and returns,
tangible evidence that her actions had helped someone come out of their trials better than when they had gone in. The second lesson of heroism; the ideal you represent is more powerful than you could ever hope to be.
Despite Rebecca Costa-Brown's status as a faceless bureaucrat to thousands, she represented the aegis of the PRT- living proof that parahumans would never overcome the shelter of civilisation. And that was more reassuring to most than the hope Alexandria's appearance would ever inspire.
Or maybe she was just moping. She'd been doing a lot of that lately as well.
Shaking off her wandering thoughts, Rebecca once again focused on the softly glowing screen in front of her, filled to the brim with messages from every branch of the PRT. Requests for men, materials, armaments, information- that last one caught her eye.
A request for access to the archives, from PRT ENE? Rebecca quickly scanned the message; a mysterious new cape had applied to join the ENE protectorate, one whose background was mysteriously missing, and Piggot wanted to comb through the old records for any traces of his identity.
If Rebecca had had the energy, she would have rolled her eye. Piggot was a decent administrator, but her prejudice against capes would often overwhelm her common sense- the decision of what to do with this 'Atlas' should have been left up to Armsmaster as the head of the ENE protectorate, and even then it was frowned upon to track down a cape's identity so brazenly. The fact that Piggot would bend the rules for what was by all indications a better case than many protectorate recruitments marked a new low for her stability. Absently, Rebecca made a mental note to review possible successors to Piggot when she had the time.
Despite this, the woman was cunning. It would be hard to deny such an innocuous request after the many negative responses to requests of extra equipment and staff that the PRT ENE had on record. That wouldn't stop her having a look at the requested files herself, though, just to make sure that Piggot didn't get anything more than she needed to know.
The request form itself seemed innocent enough. 'Atlas' had demonstrated some form of gravitational manipulation – useful, but limited – and had registered under a false name, 'Alexander Everett'-
Don't worry, Rebecca, I'll still be here.
The desk screamed as it twisted, warped beyond recognition by the forces applied to it.
If there's one thing I'm better at than you, it's being stubborn.
Dropping what remained of her desk, Rebecca slammed a hand on a button carefully recessed into the window frame. Within seconds, privacy screens had come down over all the windows and a tinkertech bug sweeper had gone over the room a dozen times. Only when it was confirmed clear did she speak, and her voice was distorted almost beyond recognition by her snarl.
"door me".
Seconds later, Alexandria stormed into the sterile white hallways of Cauldron base, her feet cracking the white tiles as they came down.
…Hey, I heard about your 'miracle'…
Whoever had sent this message, She'd- but she was getting ahead of herself.
…I'm glad. Really! It's just, uh, I wanted to ask a favour from you…
She'd play their game and unravel their strategy.
…when you've won, you'll spare a thought for poor old Alex, right?…
She'd hunt them down, and
then…
…what do you mean, if you succeed? I know you can do it. You saved me, after all …
She'd already condemned
so many in pursuit of her goal. Just this once, she wouldn't act the hero.
…Goodbye, Rebecca. I guess it's time for you to save the World…
For some reason, that thought only made her feel even worse.
…
A/N: And I'm back after some family stuff had me rushing of to India for a week, but that's no excuse: I'll try to be better from now on, I promise!
In other news, this chapter really fought me; I'm still pretty sure that I flanderized the PoV characters into being OOC, but I guess that's the point of experience. Worst case scenario, I revisit this bit later on. With that said, I still think it's my finest work yet in both quality and quantity. Do you agree?
Oh, and thanks to @IKnowNothing for stealing hours of my life using both the quest and this writing prompt.
Until next time!
