Chapter 5
Rajvik_wolfboy
Wolf amongst the stars.
- Location
- Florida
**Sophia Hess**
Pain, that was the first thing that I recognized as I awoke and rolled off the concrete bench that doubled as a bed in the cell. "Da fuq," I mumbled muzzily taking in my surroundings. "What the hell happened to me?" I asked as I looked around. This was one of the prisoner containment cells. Who the hell stuffed me down here? I thought before shrugging, Whatever, it's not like I can't just walk out through the wall. The smugness in that thought carried me to the wall beside the door where I activated my power and went to step through, only to find myself kissing the cinderblock wall while being electrocuted. Staggering back I pawed at the source of my pain, a set of bracelets, each of which were wrapped around a wrist or ankle.
"Good evening miss Hess," a voice commented from the monitor inset into the door to the cell. "I see you have awoken."
"Trooper," I said moving to where I could see the monitor and the trooper on it could see me clearly. "Do you know why I'm in a confinement cell?"
"Yes I do," the trooper answered. "You currently stand accused of violating your probation. A Youth Guard Representative, your lawyer, and your mother will be meeting with the director soon, so if I were you, I would sit back and wait to see what that brings before trying anything, rash."
"Understood," I grumbled in reply as I tried to remember what exactly had happened. I had gotten a text on my PRT phone to report to the Wards area to answer some questions, and when I arrived Aegis had been waiting there in full costume. The door shut behind me and then suddenly there was pain and darkness. "Someone hit me with a stun gun in the back of the neck," I muttered.
"Don't think too hard about it, miss Hess," the trooper on the screen replied. "Your dinner will be served shortly, I believe tonight is Chipped beef on toast."
**
**Taylor**
Once the others had left us alone, I turned to Panacea and smiled, "Thank you," I told her, "I appreciate you not mentioning all the scarring and obvious near death experiences that I have had."
"They weren't asking about that," she answered. "If they had asked for a full workup and report it would have been interesting to see how high the director's eyebrows and blood pressure would have gone. That said, anything else is your business, not theirs."
I nodded, "Still, thanks for that," I returned. "I really didn't want my dad knowing how close I've come to dying over the last several years."
"Or how often I imagine," she commented before quirking an eyebrow at me. "Suicidal often?"
"Now that I'm back in Brockton," I said with a smile, "not so much. The spending seven years elsewhere over the course of a day, that will take some getting used to, but for others, not me. Those first couple of years in Seattle though." I shook my head and sighed. "I didn't realize it until my entire team turned around on a run just to pull my ass out of a crossfire that I had people there that cared about me. And it wasn't until someone I respected pulled me aside and told me that I was putting them in danger by doing things like what got me caught in that crossfire. It opened my eyes, I tell you."
"Why bring that up though," Panacea asked looking at me with a concerned look on her face.
"Because it takes one to know one most of the time," I told her. Her reaction was to blink while drawing back from me and draw in a deep breath while going wide-eyed. "Listen," I continued, "I've been there as you can tell. No one to turn to, knowing something that you don't feel you can share with anyone around you for whatever reasons, real or imagined. Just like I did, you need someone that has no skin in your game, someone who can be totally objective and when you do, or are thinking of doing something, you can run it by them."
She looked at me with squinty eyes, "Why?" she finally asked. "You don't owe me anything."
I smiled at her. "You know about me and my stupids," I told her calmly. "And I know what it is like to put myself in that sort of situation, to push the envelope to the point of putting myself in a bad situation. A situation where even the slightest mistake could have gotten me or my team killed."
"And me?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"I don't know your issues yet," I answered bluntly. "But I can tell you, pressure to perform is quite the bitch, and it never seems to get any easier."
She looked at me for a minute before nodding. "Alright," she said after another minute. "But you're going to tell me what the hell happened to you. Nothing left out, nothing sugar coated."
"Alright," I answered, "but not here, not now, there are too many things to be done and the PRT still want their pound of flesh." Panacea nodded and we got up. Walking to the door she offered me her hand, "Amy Dallon, healer," she said.
"Taylor Hebert," I answered, "call sign Owl. I'm a shadowrunner."
**
Emily Piggot sighed as she sat down in her office and finally relaxed. The Hebert girl was being hard headed and stubborn, but reality would eventually teach the young Case-Eighteen woman. Hopefully without too much bloodshed she thought. Miss Hebert had been right though, there had, on occasion, been people who had claimed to have been kidnapped and transported, or else come from an alternate dimension. Almost all of them had been discounted and found to either be attention seekers or mentally disturbed in one way or another. Four, five now with Miss Hebert, had not been, they had in fact, been verified as having powers not related to a Corona growth.
Carol Dallon had been correct also, NEPEA-5 was written expressly to deny "Parahumanity" the ability to use their powers to create businesses that would put the normal population out of work. The thought being that by not allowing parahumans to dominate a trade or ability with their powers, the normal person could maintain the skills to perform those trades themselves. What those laws had failed to take into account, or was maybe the actual intent behind them she thought bitterly, was that this left the parahumans exactly two options. Join the Protectorate or Wards and become another cog in the machine, or else become a villain and become the grit in the gears.
Originally anyone who had shown any sign of any kind of powers were defined as parahumans, but then accusations had started to fly. People who had gotten lucky in the stock market were accused of being thinkers and forced to forfeit their funds. Scientists who were ahead of their time in the fields of physics, chemistry and electronics were accused of being tinkers. It was a distraction the fledgling PRT didn't need to deal with, so when someone with the funds to hire a decent set of lawyers to fight the claim that they were a low level brute, (because an up and coming boxing phenom wasn't going to be pain resistant nor strong,) it was taken to court and the PRT lawyer effectively threw the case.
The end result was that the legal definition of what was a Parahuman had to be "Tightened up" and was changed from "A person showing signs of any kind of superpower" was changed "A person displaying powers and possessing a Corona growth amongst their neural tissue as identifiable by an MRI scan." (Monstrous capes were exempted from this definition as it was also recognized that their powers were what had changed them.) This of course had caused the Case-Eighteens to be classified as "Not Parahuman" and thus not within the PRT's jurisdiction.
By that point three of the four Case-Eighteen's had disappeared into the populations of the US and Canada, while the last was working his way up in the Protectorate. He was currently in Chicago, a city that while the man would constantly comment that it stank of "Bugs and death", he also refused to leave for any other city. Picking up her phone, Emily Piggot punched in the number for the Chicago PRT offices, "Hello, Directory Hardesty please" she said when the phone was answered.
"One moment please director," the agent or secretary on the other end of the line said before transferring her.
A moment later the line was picked up by John Hardesty, director of the Chicago PRT. "Emily," he said, the smile evident in his voice. "How are things back east, hell of a winter isn't it?"
Emily Piggot couldn't help it, smiling as she answered, "Not bad John," she said jovially. Hardesty had been the first director she had worked under when she had come out of the hospital after Ellisburg and had taught her all the ins and outs of the bureaucracy. "Bit of a problem with one of my Wards that I will probably be sending to Juvie, but that will resolve itself in the courts."
"I get the feeling this isn't a social call then," her mentor replied the laughter leaving his voice.
"Unfortunately no, it isn't," she answered, going solemn as well. "I have a Case-Eighteen on my hands that won't come in out of the cold. Is there any way I could possibly convince you to loan me your Case-Eighteen for a few days?"
"I'll talk to him and see what can be worked out and when," the man replied.
"Thanks John," Emily said, a small smile gracing her lips. "If you can get him to come, then I will seriously owe you one."
"I'll see what I can do."
**
Pain, that was the first thing that I recognized as I awoke and rolled off the concrete bench that doubled as a bed in the cell. "Da fuq," I mumbled muzzily taking in my surroundings. "What the hell happened to me?" I asked as I looked around. This was one of the prisoner containment cells. Who the hell stuffed me down here? I thought before shrugging, Whatever, it's not like I can't just walk out through the wall. The smugness in that thought carried me to the wall beside the door where I activated my power and went to step through, only to find myself kissing the cinderblock wall while being electrocuted. Staggering back I pawed at the source of my pain, a set of bracelets, each of which were wrapped around a wrist or ankle.
"Good evening miss Hess," a voice commented from the monitor inset into the door to the cell. "I see you have awoken."
"Trooper," I said moving to where I could see the monitor and the trooper on it could see me clearly. "Do you know why I'm in a confinement cell?"
"Yes I do," the trooper answered. "You currently stand accused of violating your probation. A Youth Guard Representative, your lawyer, and your mother will be meeting with the director soon, so if I were you, I would sit back and wait to see what that brings before trying anything, rash."
"Understood," I grumbled in reply as I tried to remember what exactly had happened. I had gotten a text on my PRT phone to report to the Wards area to answer some questions, and when I arrived Aegis had been waiting there in full costume. The door shut behind me and then suddenly there was pain and darkness. "Someone hit me with a stun gun in the back of the neck," I muttered.
"Don't think too hard about it, miss Hess," the trooper on the screen replied. "Your dinner will be served shortly, I believe tonight is Chipped beef on toast."
**
**Taylor**
Once the others had left us alone, I turned to Panacea and smiled, "Thank you," I told her, "I appreciate you not mentioning all the scarring and obvious near death experiences that I have had."
"They weren't asking about that," she answered. "If they had asked for a full workup and report it would have been interesting to see how high the director's eyebrows and blood pressure would have gone. That said, anything else is your business, not theirs."
I nodded, "Still, thanks for that," I returned. "I really didn't want my dad knowing how close I've come to dying over the last several years."
"Or how often I imagine," she commented before quirking an eyebrow at me. "Suicidal often?"
"Now that I'm back in Brockton," I said with a smile, "not so much. The spending seven years elsewhere over the course of a day, that will take some getting used to, but for others, not me. Those first couple of years in Seattle though." I shook my head and sighed. "I didn't realize it until my entire team turned around on a run just to pull my ass out of a crossfire that I had people there that cared about me. And it wasn't until someone I respected pulled me aside and told me that I was putting them in danger by doing things like what got me caught in that crossfire. It opened my eyes, I tell you."
"Why bring that up though," Panacea asked looking at me with a concerned look on her face.
"Because it takes one to know one most of the time," I told her. Her reaction was to blink while drawing back from me and draw in a deep breath while going wide-eyed. "Listen," I continued, "I've been there as you can tell. No one to turn to, knowing something that you don't feel you can share with anyone around you for whatever reasons, real or imagined. Just like I did, you need someone that has no skin in your game, someone who can be totally objective and when you do, or are thinking of doing something, you can run it by them."
She looked at me with squinty eyes, "Why?" she finally asked. "You don't owe me anything."
I smiled at her. "You know about me and my stupids," I told her calmly. "And I know what it is like to put myself in that sort of situation, to push the envelope to the point of putting myself in a bad situation. A situation where even the slightest mistake could have gotten me or my team killed."
"And me?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"I don't know your issues yet," I answered bluntly. "But I can tell you, pressure to perform is quite the bitch, and it never seems to get any easier."
She looked at me for a minute before nodding. "Alright," she said after another minute. "But you're going to tell me what the hell happened to you. Nothing left out, nothing sugar coated."
"Alright," I answered, "but not here, not now, there are too many things to be done and the PRT still want their pound of flesh." Panacea nodded and we got up. Walking to the door she offered me her hand, "Amy Dallon, healer," she said.
"Taylor Hebert," I answered, "call sign Owl. I'm a shadowrunner."
**
Emily Piggot sighed as she sat down in her office and finally relaxed. The Hebert girl was being hard headed and stubborn, but reality would eventually teach the young Case-Eighteen woman. Hopefully without too much bloodshed she thought. Miss Hebert had been right though, there had, on occasion, been people who had claimed to have been kidnapped and transported, or else come from an alternate dimension. Almost all of them had been discounted and found to either be attention seekers or mentally disturbed in one way or another. Four, five now with Miss Hebert, had not been, they had in fact, been verified as having powers not related to a Corona growth.
Carol Dallon had been correct also, NEPEA-5 was written expressly to deny "Parahumanity" the ability to use their powers to create businesses that would put the normal population out of work. The thought being that by not allowing parahumans to dominate a trade or ability with their powers, the normal person could maintain the skills to perform those trades themselves. What those laws had failed to take into account, or was maybe the actual intent behind them she thought bitterly, was that this left the parahumans exactly two options. Join the Protectorate or Wards and become another cog in the machine, or else become a villain and become the grit in the gears.
Originally anyone who had shown any sign of any kind of powers were defined as parahumans, but then accusations had started to fly. People who had gotten lucky in the stock market were accused of being thinkers and forced to forfeit their funds. Scientists who were ahead of their time in the fields of physics, chemistry and electronics were accused of being tinkers. It was a distraction the fledgling PRT didn't need to deal with, so when someone with the funds to hire a decent set of lawyers to fight the claim that they were a low level brute, (because an up and coming boxing phenom wasn't going to be pain resistant nor strong,) it was taken to court and the PRT lawyer effectively threw the case.
The end result was that the legal definition of what was a Parahuman had to be "Tightened up" and was changed from "A person showing signs of any kind of superpower" was changed "A person displaying powers and possessing a Corona growth amongst their neural tissue as identifiable by an MRI scan." (Monstrous capes were exempted from this definition as it was also recognized that their powers were what had changed them.) This of course had caused the Case-Eighteens to be classified as "Not Parahuman" and thus not within the PRT's jurisdiction.
By that point three of the four Case-Eighteen's had disappeared into the populations of the US and Canada, while the last was working his way up in the Protectorate. He was currently in Chicago, a city that while the man would constantly comment that it stank of "Bugs and death", he also refused to leave for any other city. Picking up her phone, Emily Piggot punched in the number for the Chicago PRT offices, "Hello, Directory Hardesty please" she said when the phone was answered.
"One moment please director," the agent or secretary on the other end of the line said before transferring her.
A moment later the line was picked up by John Hardesty, director of the Chicago PRT. "Emily," he said, the smile evident in his voice. "How are things back east, hell of a winter isn't it?"
Emily Piggot couldn't help it, smiling as she answered, "Not bad John," she said jovially. Hardesty had been the first director she had worked under when she had come out of the hospital after Ellisburg and had taught her all the ins and outs of the bureaucracy. "Bit of a problem with one of my Wards that I will probably be sending to Juvie, but that will resolve itself in the courts."
"I get the feeling this isn't a social call then," her mentor replied the laughter leaving his voice.
"Unfortunately no, it isn't," she answered, going solemn as well. "I have a Case-Eighteen on my hands that won't come in out of the cold. Is there any way I could possibly convince you to loan me your Case-Eighteen for a few days?"
"I'll talk to him and see what can be worked out and when," the man replied.
"Thanks John," Emily said, a small smile gracing her lips. "If you can get him to come, then I will seriously owe you one."
"I'll see what I can do."
**
