inFAMOUS – 5:

Silent Beliefs

Prologue

I guess you could say that our world isn't exactly normal anymore. Then again, when was it ever? Beyond terrorists, crazy religious folk, and politicians actually trying to make a damn difference (which was very rare), "normal" for us good people seems to be pretty screwed-up.

But for me and my friends, "normal" seemed to be getting your back patted on the street and congratulated on a job well done; on being a Hero. I couldn't even take a damn step outside without being hoarded for autographs!

Luckily, I wasn't as famous as my dad, who constantly had to relocate his home so the crazy stalker girls, who didn't know he was already married and had a kid (or two, if you count myself), wouldn't be able to find them. I really felt for the guy.

Then again, I had a kid of my own. Cutest little thing you'd ever seen! She has my face, hair and eyes, but the resemblance ends there, I guess. She's as stubborn as my husband and I put together, and has my husband's bright personality. It's so weird, surreal even, to say that so naturally… Husband, kid… Where'd the time go? Wasn't it just yesterday that I'd been kicking Sasha and Alden's asses with my dad and best friend? Wasn't it just hours ago that I met the most persistent, annoying bastard in the world, and fell for him? Minutes ago that I'd been fighting for my life, against a crazy-ass doppelganger who I'd harboured inside of me?

And people wonder why I'm so pissed all the time. It's not like I've really had much time to sit down and take a breather.

For the most part, I'm like my dad. I have powers, but I only inherited the gene, not his electricity. Believe me when I say that I could've gotten different powers than the ones I have now, seeing as I met alternate versions of myself and they've all had different personalities and powers, with different backgrounds because of the choices that people made. As for the rest, I'm totally my mother. Red hair, green eyes (that were previously silver for a few months), stubborn and violent.

I've had a few adventures before. The past six years've given me a chance to take a break from crime-fighting (something my kid doesn't know about, and will not know about until I think she's ready to hear it), and stay at home with the little troublemaker. After learning that, in an alternate future, I only saw her for a few weeks after she was born, and then returned from a mission-gone-wrong when she was fifteen years old, I was pretty insistent that I be in every minute of her life. She didn't seem to mind much.

It was another usual day. I was playing with my daughter, who was obsessed with Cole and Lucy MacGrath, the two superhumans, and insisted that we play "Hero" with her dolls. I heard the door open, and smiled.

My kid leaped to her feet and ran to the door, where her daddy was already preparing for her hug.

"Hey kiddo!" he greeted, grinning as usual. "Mommy didn't burn the house down today?"

In case you're wondering, he's not making a crack about my powers. He likes to make fun of my cooking skills still, even after I took classes.

She shook her head. "Nope! She made cookies!"

"Oh! That sounds great!" My husband pecked our little girl on the cheek and then passed her into my arms, giving me a chance to kiss him.

"By the way, just because we have a three-year-old kid together doesn't mean I won't string you up," I told him. "How'd the interview go?"

"Same as usual," he said, loosening his tie. "Just some people wondering when I'm going to make a new CD. It's getting harder and harder to meet with the demands these days."

I nodded. "Well, do your best. You always come through in the end." I put her in a chair and placed some spaghetti on the table. It was her favourite. "Are you changing before you join us?"

He shook his head and sat beside me. "I'd rather eat right now." He stared casually at the plate, and then smiled. "So, it's already been, what, six or seven years now, since we first met?"

I smiled. "I think it's seven."

"The first food we ate together," he remarked slyly. "I thought you'd forgotten."

"D'ya think my memory's that bad?" I sighed. "Lance Grey, you have such low confidence in me."

He grinned. "I often wonder if you'll remember me in the morning, actually. You might burn me, Joan. And Kayce will never forgive you."

Kayce looked up from her spaghetti and studied us. "Why would mommy burn you?" she asked.

"God, I keep forgetting that she's got your bluntness," Lance quipped. "Mommy might burn me by staring at the back of my skull constantly. She's pretty good at it."

One of my eyebrows arched. "Or I might toss him into an open flame."

Much to Lance's surprise, Kayce snickered. I guessed that the thought of her father running with his pants on fire around us seemed as amusing to her as it was to me.

Later that night, when we'd put Kayce to bed, Lance and I sighed and rested against the backboard of our bed, exhausted from the day.

"You miss it, don't you?" Lance asked.

"Miss what?"

He smiled. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I miss it." I unconsciously raised my hand and willed fire into my palm, then stared at the red-orange flames for a time before I deactivated them. "I miss giving bad jokes to people as they're getting beat up and burnt. Cole gets all the fun."

"Well, Trish sure as hell doesn't think so," Lance said. "She hates the attention. Poor kid. You're doing good staying outta that stuff."

I nodded. "Still…"

Lance crawled under the covers. I followed quickly, and then found myself being hugged to his chest. I was still kinda upset at the height he had over me.

"Still, you need to take out a bad guy or two every once-in-a-while." Lance sighed. "If only I could set up something where you could get rid of the paparazzi for me…"

I laughed. "Right. Like that'd work."

Lance kissed me on the forehead. "G'night. See you in the morning," he said.

I smiled. "Yeah. Night."