Console

by Soleneus

A new piece has been set in the grand game of Superheroes, with one hand set to flip the board and break out the video games. But first, he has to deal bullying Wards and his new powers. Not quite a Gamer fic.

2. Grab the Waifu and GTFO

Chapter 2

…

Moving turned out to be the easy part, when we got around to it, anyway. We had to stick around for a month just so I could have my meetings with a therapist and we could figure out where to move. Alaska came up, as did Maine, but eventually we settled on a small city in New Hampshire called Brockton Bay.

"Yeah there are gangs, but the neighborhood we'll live in is far away from all that," Aunt Cecilly waved my concern off. "And the cost of living is so low, we can afford a better car, maybe a fancy new refrigerator…and I know you've been eyeing a PlayStation, young man."

"Honestly auntie, I doubt I'll have much time to play, between moving, training, patrolling and playing games to level up," I shrugged, scrolling the page down to look at the rest. "Oh hey, they have one of the highest concentrations of capes in the US."

And not just capes, but lady capes, too. "That means you'll almost always have backup when you go out, right?" my aunt asked, looking over the list.

"…Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking."

The look she gave me meant she was not fooled in the slightest. But come on, there were so many! Glory Girl, Panacea, Miss Militia…I was actually kind of stuck on them. Oh right, Lady Photon, Brandish…"Do you want to go to Brockton Bay because Brandish lives there?" I asked suspiciously, and my aunt's blush was all the answer I needed.

Speaking of ladies I'd realistically have no chance with, before Thanksgiving rolled around, I'd summoned Master Chief's armor (from Halo 3) and had my first meeting with someone I hoped would be a life-long companion. Cortana.

It had nothing to do with the fact I found her immensely attractive. Not at all.

"What the-? Chief, what's going on? Where are we?"

"Stay calm," I said evenly. "Everything will be explained soon."

I might just stay as the character for the voice alone. I might've just turned sixteen, but my voice had yet to finish cracking at inopportune times. Thinking back, it was kind of interesting how my voice didn't crack while I was talking to Henry or Director Peterson. Maybe a high Charisma score had something to do with it?

"Wait…you're not John," Cortana said suspiciously. "This isn't the Ark…explain. Now."

I reached up and pulled her chip out of the back of my helmet, setting it on my desk. I nearly did something very unmanly when her lavender holographic form flickered above the crystal heart, her arms crossed as she glared at me suspiciously. "I'm not the Master Chief, you're right, but it's kinda hard to explain," I began, unsealing the helmet and setting it on my desk. And then I quickly moved it when my desk started creaking under the weight.

"You…you're young," the AI said in surprise, the data streaming over her body flickering. "You carry yourself like a Spartan, but you can't be older than eighteen."

"I turned sixteen a month ago, actually," I replied, unable to contain a smile at finally getting to meet her face-to-face. "The first thing you should know: it's not 2553, it's November 8th, 2010, and superpowers exist."

She blinks up at me, the lines of code slowing to a crawl. "Superpowers," she said skeptically, I guess she was still processing the date. "You mean like in comic books?"

"Yeah, pretty much," I nodded. After Scion came, the comic book industry tanked rather hard. Having all the real life examples running around effectively kneecapped the fantasy when reality had the same thing, but you could actually touch it. "There was this guy…actually, I don't know why I'm trying to explain this to you when I could just give you access to the internet. You can use the internet, right? I mean, you are literally centuries ahead of current technology. I hope it isn't like the Empire versus the Ewoks."

"…I should be able to, yes," Cortana said carefully. "I can crack the Covenant Battle-net in seconds, old Earth technology shouldn't be any more difficult."

Pulling up my laptop, I pressed the power button and winced as it cracked under my finger. "Oh right, super strength. Shit." It could've been my imagination, but I swore I saw Cortana crack a smile…for maybe half a second. Carefully, I typed in my password, treating my keys like they were made out of cookie, and managed to open the internet. "I, uh, don't know if you need to be plugged in, 'cause if you do…that's kind of problem."

"For something this simple? No, remote interfacing will work," she replied, her avatar hopping off the crystal to walk to my laptop, raising a hand to the screen and flickering. "…What is this? A golden guy appears out of nowhere and powers start sprouting up like weeds? Then these 'Endbringers' show up and massacre entire cities? I don't know if you know this, but…your Earth kinda sucks."

"Hey, at least we don't have to deal with the Covenant and the Flood," I pointed out evenly, "Here, it's a planet full of shit. There, it's half the Galaxy."

"Let's not play misery poker and just agree that things could be better," she shrugged, her code flickering in surprise. "…Games? We're the stars of video games…John would be so embarrassed if he found out." She hummed in thought. "I guess if I'm here, despite supposedly being fictional, that means you have some sort of power. Mind telling me what it is?"

"I think you can put it together yourself, but I'll tell you anyway," I said, resisting the urge to sit down. Half a ton of armor would not be kind to my old wheelie chair. "I have the power to become any video game character as long as I have the game inside me, gaining their skills and abilities. A part of the power are somethings called 'traits', which can make my powers more effective or a bunch of other things. One of the traits I bought was equipment summoning, which is what I used to summon you."

Cortana frowned. "I don't know if I should be flattered you summoned me first, or insulted that I'm considered 'equipment.'" Her avatar jumped and briefly glowed pink. "Oh. Oh my."

She must've seen all the fanart; the good stuff, the bad stuff and the sexy stuff. "Yeah, you're fairly popular," I smirked knowingly, "Especially since you're pretty much naked or at least look like it."

"They do know I was built for cyber-warfare, right?" She asked uneasily before blanching. "And that my body is a holographic representation? I can't touch anything, let alone do that."

I shrugged. "Attraction outweighs reality, most of the time. Anyway, the reason I summoned you is because I was hoping you'd help me…and maybe stick around and we could be friends?" The last part came out in an undignified rush but shut up!

Finished with her perusing, Cortana stepped away from my laptop to stare up at my pathetically hopeful face. "I will admit that this world is intriguing, but I can't stay," she said apologetically. "John needs me."

"That's the thing though, I think I summoned you from some sort of pocket dimension that created a copy of you and the armor from the game," I explained in a somewhat desperate hurry. "That would mean that there isn't actually a Chief to go back to, because you're still…not real. If that makes sense." It didn't to me, and I'm the one who said it. But then again, it was half made-up.

The lavender AI folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Are you just saying that so I won't want to leave?" She asked shrewdly.

I licked my lips. "Yeah, maybe, but it could be true! Here, let's see…" I looked down at my green-armored hands, willing the armor to disappear. And it did so, leaving me in my clothes but still in the Spartan body. And Cortana was still on the table, too. I hiked up my shirt and pulled out my cord, sticking it in my TV and turning it on.

"What the…?"

The Halo 3 opening screen appeared as did the music, and I pressed start on the controller I pretended to hold, selecting continue and watching the loading screen. Cortana seemed taken aback, as if seeing the game herself was proof that neither of us was insane. We watched as a smoking Pelican dropped into a snowy crag, throwing up snow and chunks of metal.

Her avatar went rigid as her voice came through the screen. "Halo. It's so new. Unfinished. I'm not exactly sure what will happen when we fire it…"

Master Chief's raspy voice answers her. "We'll head for the portal. And we'll all go home."

I paused and turned to look at her, trying to gauge her reaction. "So, I'm just a copy?" she said thoughtfully, "I don't feel like a copy. I remember everything I've done, everything I've been through."

"If it helps, I think you're real," I offered helpfully.

She shrugged. "It does, actually, if only a little bit." Her gaze turned searching. "Why did you summon me, really? I doubt it was to see if you could give an AI an existential crisis…or your obvious attraction to me."

I knew she'd find that out eventually, given that my fanfiction was on my laptop along with some of the more artful pictures I'd found online, but I didn't expect to feel so embarrassed. "Yeah, well, I mean…not just because…" I cleared my throat meaningfully. "You saw what the world looks like, how bad it is. I have power, and I can use that power to make things better. If I can, why shouldn't I at least try? But being a hero is dangerous, and I need someone to watch my back, someone who's completely on my side…and as much as I love my aunt, I don't want her anywhere near the hero business."

Cortana hummed in thought. "Nice speech. How many times did you practice it?"

"More times than I would be comfortable admitting," I said bashfully, "As for why you, well, you're smart, competent, capable and a bunch of other words that mean you're really good at what you do. And I know I can trust you; besides the whole 'I am your sword, I am your shield' thing, you want to do what's best for humanity. Helping me is one of them."

"Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?" she replied dryly, though I saw the hint of a proud smile. "And what do you mean by 'one of them'?"

I threw my hands up. "What do you think, Cortana? Look around! It's 2010! If the Covenant do exist in this universe as well, you know everything there is to know about them. And now, you have time to prepare humanity for the threat…if they exist. Even if they don't there's still so much out there that could murder our ass it's not even funny. And, to be honest, if we can't save Earth from ripping itself apart…we can at least get the hell out of here."

She closed her eyes, putting her fingers to her temples in what was usually a sign for 'I'm thinking really hard.' That or 'I'm about to read your mind.' I won't lie, that would've been bad. "You're not wrong," Cortana admitted, opening her eyes. "But how can I help when I'm 'equipment'? What would happen if you summon other equipment, would I be destroyed or stored in some black space where nothing happens?"

"I do actually have an idea on how to fix that," I responded slowly. "You're a program, right?"

"To put it very, very, very simply, yes," she nodded, her eyes narrowing in thought.

"And what can you do to programs?" I asked leadingly.

"Upload them," the AI realized, her head snapping up. "You think…"

"If I can upload your program, you could stay here independent of the chip," I finished, grinning widely. "Unless my powers affect reality that much, you should be fine when I switch characters or gear."

"Yes, that could work…" Cortana paused before sighing. "It could, but I doubt any sort of storage exists that could contain my data. Not to exaggerate, but I'm one of the most complicated AI's ever created. I was-"

"-Created from a flash-clone of Dr. Halsey's brain, I remember," I interrupted. "But there are more options. Despite it being twenty-ten, we have some pretty impressive technology, it's almost sci-fi. I'm sure we could find something we can use…or, I could access the multi-dimensional shop and just buy one."

Her lavender avatar blinked up at me. "You have access to a multi-dimensional shop…how?"

I shrugged. "Bullshit powers are bullshit."

"Alright, that's a start…but how much would an extremely advanced semi-crystalline chip cost, exactly?" She asked, and I found myself wondering the same thing. "Again, not to inflate my ego, but it cost literal billions to build it. Myself plus the Chief's armor and interface probably cost about the same as a small cruiser."

I grimaced. "That's a good point. I gave it a look-over a while back and some things are definitely more expensive than I'd thought. Like BioShock 2, it's sixty bucks here but on the Abyssal Auction, it's ninety dollars! What kind of bullshit is that?"

"I may be able to jury-rig something out of the local electronics, but we'll need diamonds or crystals of an exacting quality and a lot of electronics," she said dryly, crossing her arms. "Can you think of any places that would have those things?"

I thought for a second. "Well, my mom's jewelry box is upstairs in the attic and she had a whole bunch of diamonds, crystals and gold. My aunt doesn't want them but doesn't want to throw them away, and it's jewelry, I don't care about it." I stopped, wetting my suddenly dry lips. "And, well, there's an electronics recycling plant close by…"

"…And that's a bad thing?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

I sighed. "What do you know about Triggers?"

"They're what give heroes their powers along with an extra section of the brain, which is typically activated in moments of high stress or the likelihood of death, typically referred to as 'your worst day ever'…oh."

"Yeah, I nearly got crushed to death there," I said, more harshly than I intended. "Sorry. I'm seeing a therapist, but it still haunts me. I doubt it'll ever actually go away."

"Yeah, PTSD has a way of sticking around," Cortana said softly, "Sorry."

"It's alright," I sighed. "Maybe…going back there, seeing it in the light…maybe that'll help. It might even be good for me."

"It could," she agreed with a nod, "But that's assuming you have the right materials here."

I stood, scooping up her chip from my desk and heading towards the stairs, bouncing my head against the top of the doorframe. Right, seven foot instead of five eight. The attic was fun. "No time like the present."

My footsteps were loud as I walked to the thin cord hanging at the far end of the hall, and pulling down the folding ladder released a piercing squeal only matched by a legion of fangirls. "Saul sweetie, what're you doing in the attic?" Aunt Cecilly called from the kitchen, likely snacking on Twinkies.

"Trying to find the materials to make a highly-advanced chip that can hold an AI!" I shouted back.

"Okay! Make sure to introduce us later!"

"John and now Saul," Cortana muttered as I climbed the creaking rungs. "Something of a theme emerging here."

"Captain Keyes was named Jacob," I pointed out, emerging into the dusty, barely-lit attic, "And here we are. I think my mom's stuff was in the back."

Moving the boxes was easy and annoying at the same time, and both had to do with being the Master Chief outside of the armor. It was easy because the Chief could flip a Warthog and snap necks like pretzels, so boxes of old clothes and random crap were like feathers; and annoying because I kept slamming my head on the low-hanging beams. Eventually, I managed to find the box labeled 'Mom's stuff' and opened it up, finding the lacquered mahogany box that my mom stored all her jewelry in.

Honestly, I don't know why she kept so much gaudy crap. I suspected most of it came from my grandparents, but Aunt Cecilly doesn't talk about their mother and as far as my father was concerned, his family back in Japan could go fuck themselves, and I'd never bothered to find out why.

I held Cortana up in one hand while I sifted through the piles of jewelry, picking out a few pieces at her order. Why she wanted those pieces…well, she tried to explain, but I understood…none of it. The technology is interesting, but fuck if it isn't incomprehensible to someone who hasn't even graduated.

Eventually, I had the right pieces and was free to close the box, put it away and let myself forget about all the crap up there we'd have to go through when we moved. Setting my loot on my desk, I went to pull on my jacket and discovered another problem I'd overlooked: for some reason, the clothes I'm wearing stretch to fit my proportions, but that leaves me with no other clothes, including my jacket and shoes. I don't think it's a problem when I'm turning into characters around my size, but the Chief is not my size.

Borrowing my dad's old sandals worked for footwear, but I had to go out with just my shirt on. Cortana complained playfully about having to stay in my pocket, but there was one other place…the back of my head. That would be safer overall, if completely out of place. I slotted her in, shivered at the sensation of ice water pouring in my skull and pulled on a beanie I'd never used before that moment.

My disguise of a seven-foot tall very muscular man wearing sandals, a short-sleeved shirt and a beanie in the middle of Fall complete, I headed outside. It being Fall, there weren't that many people out and about, and the few that were did their best to ignore me or crossed the street. Being intimidating was a nice feeling, but I had to hurry or someone might've called the cops. I had some favors backlogged with the PRT, but I think getting arrested would've pushed it.

My steps slowed as I approached the recycling yard. It wasn't the middle of the day anymore, the sun had disappeared over the horizon and I walked home feeling an ease I hadn't in almost a year. And then, hands closed over my mouth, ripping away my belongings, lifting and throwing me in a container like they were disposing of a bag of trash.

And then the lock clicked, sealing my fate.

"Saul?" Cortana's voice cracked through the vision like lightning, bringing my mind back to the present. "You still in here?"

"Yeah," my throat was dry and my voice cracked, but I felt immensely better, "Just…having a flashback."

"We can do this later, you know," she said softly, understandingly.

"No," I replied firmly. "I can't let it dictate my life." That said, I crouched and jumped over the fence. Turns out, without the half-ton of armor, Chief can jump. I cleared the fence easily and landed with a crunch of gravel. Distant machinery whined and thumped, so I was free to creep around the stacked metal containers, heading for one that was still open.

Inside, computers, microwaves, phones and various other machines were stacked haphazardly. Cortana directed me to take smartphones, cracking them open and taking most of the circuitry inside along with the cases that weren't completely broken. I pulled a microwave apart and a broken Playstation, and all together it was a rather lumpy handful. That was apparently enough, so I left the lot behind and jumped the fence again.

At home, I cleaned my desk and laid my ill-gotten gains out over a thick sheet of paper, yanking Cortana and summoning the armor back at her direction. "What are going to do in the armor?" I asked, sealing the helmet and slotting her in.

"Well, the armor can lock up in emergencies, but the subsystem's malleable. So, while you were gathering the pieces, I wrote a program that should allow me to puppet the suit by causing micro-locks," she explained, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "I do need your nervous system for the fine controls, so…can I borrow it for like, an hour or two?"

I shrugged carelessly. "Sure, go ahead. I warn you, though, I might fall asleep. I'm oddly tired."

I could feel her shrug, somehow. "I can work with that. I hope you don't drool."

I wasn't worried about drooling, more about mumbling in my sleep because I'd definitely be dreaming about her. Cortana started droning on about the extremely complicated technical details which might as well have been Klingon for all I understood, and I was out like a light in minutes.

…

I woke with a start and a crack as my stiff back protested my falling asleep standing up, and I didn't know what roused me until Cortana poked me in the face…with my own finger. "I'm up, I'm up! What'd I miss?"

"Only some of the most impressive jury-rigging and ad-libbing of advanced technologies the world has ever seen…or at least you," she replied, using my hand to point at a very sleek smartphone. It was six inches long and four wide, so more of a small tablet, really, with smooth lines and subtle curves, colored a shining black except in the center, where it lightened to a dark purple. "I couldn't make it any smaller, the technology just doesn't exist yet, but it's more mobile than a storage unit the size of an engine block."

"How'd you put this together?" I asked, gently lifting the chip to examine every surface of it. The back was black and featureless except for a camera lens.

"Well, I had to manipulate the energy shield into a scalpel so I could cut the gems, since I doubt you have any diamond-edged or laser cutting tools handy. Incidentally, I wouldn't lean too hard on your desk; the edge of the blade was only a few micrometers thick and I may have cut something important while I was messing around with the length." Visually, nothing appeared wrong with my desk, but I took her word for it. "Then I had to rub two of the scalpels together to create enough friction to create a soldering iron. It's not much, but it should work for now. All it needs is a little jump."

I picked the chip up, cradling it in one massive gauntleted hand. "How do I jump it?" I asked curiously, wondering if I'd need to get some jumper cables and pop the hood of my aunt's car.

"I need you to take it to a power plant; there, we'll need to hook into the central power grid and at the stroke of midnight, channel all the power the plant can generate into the chip for exactly 2.345379 seconds," she stated confidently.

"Uh…are you making that up?" I said a bit nervously. For all I knew, she could be telling the truth, in which case my day had gotten a lot more complicated.

"I am, actually!" Cortana answered cheerfully and I resisted the urge to face-palm as she chuckled. "I can tap into the micro-fusion generator powering the armor's systems to give it a jump-start; hold on a second."

The energy shield popped with a static crackle as an alarm blared inside the suit, the HUD flashing red as the bar representing the shield's power blinked frantically. As I watched, the bar refilled with a pleasant hum and the chip's screen lit up. "Why does the chip have a screen?"

"Because it also acts as a phone," she said simply. "Alright, yank me and let's find out if this'll work."

I removed her chip from my head, setting it and the phone down next to each other on the desk. The crystalline center flickered as her lavender avatar appeared and stepped over to the phone, kneeling down by its side and placing a hand on the purple center. Her form blinked and stuttered as the screen rapidly flashed a kaleidoscope of colors before it spasmed and shut off with a loud snap.

"Dammit!" Cortana stomped her foot, glaring down at the inert phone angrily before sighing. "I guess it was too much to ask for this to go right. But, hey, at least you got the most advanced phone on the planet out of the deal."

I scowled, dismissing the armor and plopping down in my chair, pulling laptop in front of me. "I don't want a phone, I want a friend," I muttered rebelliously, opening up the Abyssal Auction website. "I'll look at the price for a real version of your chip, give myself a number that I can start saving towards. Maybe I could sell some old jewelry?"

Cortana's avatar sat down next to my laptop, frowning grumpily. "You wouldn't have to if I got the stupid thing to work," she grunted, looking up at the screen as I typed my query in the search bar.

"Oh hey, there's one that only costs five hundred dollars!" My excitement spiked as I saw the number.

"It's says 'replica,'" she pointed out and my excitement flatlined. "Who would want to wear a replica of a highly-advanced chip as a necklace, anyway?"

I added 'real' to the search and hit enter, my eyes finding an entry that I clicked on, saw the price, and went pale. "…Dear god, I don't think that much money even exists."

"Maybe if you mined half the moon for resources," Cortana said faintly, sighing deeply. "We tried, at least. I'm sorry it didn't work out, but…nope, I can't think of a brightside."

I went stiff as realization struck and that time, I did facepalm. "I am so stupid," I murmured, laughing in relief. "I can't believe I forgot!"

"Forgot about what?" The lavender AI asked curiously.

"I have a voucher!" I announced, jabbing a finger at the screen. "One free item, any price! This is perfect!"

"Huh," she said aloud, cocking a head in thought. "That is handy…but maybe you should think long term. If it's one free item, any price, then maybe you should save it for something really good, like a starship or something."

The speakers let out a joyous ding! as I bought the chip and confirmed that I wanted to use my voucher. "To put it bluntly, fuck that! You're worth more than a fleet of starships, Cortana. I honestly can't see any better use for that coupon than making sure you can stay around." Thinking back, that was incredibly selfish of me, buying something that expensive with something that valuable. But I'm a hero, right? I can be selfish a few times.

"I wish you gave it more thought," Cortana sighed, before giving me a small smile. "But thank you. Flattery will get you everywhere." She peered at the screen searchingly. "I wonder how long it'll take to be delivered? Not to mention how."

Both questions were answered quickly as the screen of my laptop deformed, stretching back into an infinite swirling void that spat out a gift-wrapped box directly at my face. Tearing open the box revealed an inert copy of her chip, helpfully paired with an instruction pamphlet on transferring synthetic consciousness across mediums.

I laid the new chip out on the desk, barely able to contain my excitement as Cortana walked over to it and laid a hand on on the surface. The original flickered and went dark as the new one lit up with the familiar purple glow, her avatar reappearing with a luxurious stretch that made my thoughts go in very bad directions.

"It's so roomy in here!" She enthused, sighing happily as her data streams flowed with renewed energy. "I never realized how cluttered my thoughts were getting!"

Loathe as I was to bring the mood down, I had to point something out. "We still need to find out if this works or not," I cautioned even though I was unable to contain a smile. "Maybe leave a message for yourself in case it doesn't? That way we won't have to go through the whole conversation again."

Cortana rolled her shoulders, stretching her neck before nodding. "All right, hit me," she ordered, closing her eyes.

I did the same, licking my lips nervously as I announced, "Quit Game: Halo 3." Feeling myself suddenly shorter and a lot less muscular, I cracked open an eye and peered at the only chip on the desk, my heart sinking as I found it dark and inert. Slumping into my hands, I resisted the urge to cry even as it pounded from behind my eyes. I was so close, so close to finally having someone I could really talk to…

"Surprise!"

I jumped with a startled shriek, tumbling to the floor. I scrambled back up and Cortana was there, standing atop the glowing chip with a mischievous smile on her face. "It…it worked?"

"Yup! I didn't feel a thing!" She announced happily, smiling widely. "Seems like you're stuck with me after all."

"Seems so," I chuckled, sighing my fears away before a thought occurred. "How am I supposed to carry you around? You're not exactly…"

"Subtle?" Cortana finished knowingly. "I have an idea about that, actually…"

…

Her idea turned out to be resummoning the armor and taking control again, this time integrating her chip into the phone, though not to the point where I couldn't remove her if necessary. With that in place, there was some room for her to add in a few defences; a phone that nice-looking would definitely get stolen if I wasn't careful and fuck me if I was letting anyone take her away. She added a shock function, so that if someone other than me tried to handle the phone, they'd get a few thousand volts and a car alarm in their ear.

I introduced her at dinner that night, and Aunt Cecilly loved her immediately. I think it's because they're a lot alike, despite the massive differences. They both want to help people and have no patience for idiots.

The Thanksgiving we had was a bit of blowout, a kind of swan-song for our last holiday in Seattle. We had a nice fat turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes and green bean casserole, which ended up being lunch and dinner for a week afterwards we had so much left over.

And things were going well on the Cape front, too. My transfer to Brockton Bay had gone through, we had a first-class flight scheduled for the twenty-eighth of November and the movers would be here and gone within a couple of days. We'd spend the last night in a hotel before packing our bags and leaving; but before that happened, my Aunt and I had an important conversation late one night, while we were drinking hot tea on the couch.

Cortana had taken to spending her nights on the internet, either researching everything there was to know about capes, our new home, or completely kicking ass in online games. And possibly playing the stock market like a fiddle, she was very coy about making money somehow.

Her research into Brockton Bay had come up with something that wasn't all that surprising: not to put too fine a point on it, Brockton Bay was a shithole. There was a gang of neo-Nazis, an Asian-centric gang called Ab or something, drug-dealers, mercenaries and smaller gangs, not to mention the fact that the villainous capes outnumbered the heroes by an unsettling margin.

It was a giant pile of fermenting manure, just waiting for a carelessly discarded cigarette so that it could explode and get shit everywhere.

It should've been discouraging. Should've, but wasn't. If anything it made me want to go there even more. Here was a city in desperate need of heroes, despite the amount already based there. With my powers…I can do some crazy shit. But I can also do a lot of good, and Brockton Bay needed a hearty dose of good.

That's the thing about manure. You can turn it into a bomb…or you can turn it into a lush, fruit-bearing field. All it needs is an almost suicidal amount of effort and so much determination it could be classed as insanity.

I knew that, and my aunt knew that. But, I wanted to make absolutely sure we were on the same page when it came to moving.

"So…Brockton Bay sucks," I was never very subtle.

"Yeah," she said bluntly, sipping her chamomile. "My personal hero residing there aside…it's a fucking terrible place."

"Language," I chided jokingly.

"English!" Aunt Cecilly rejoined, chuckling. "But seriously, it's worse than here. I know we should look for another place, but…there's just so much we can do, you know?" She asked a bit desperately. "There are so many people in need of a helping hand, for legal matters and others. I could help a lot of people…does that make me a bad person?"

"That you're taking us to a place so low the only way to go is up because you desperately want to help people?" I questioned dryly, taking a deep drink of my chai rooibos. "I'm a bit biased, though, since that's exactly what I'm thinking."

Auntie gave me a confused, astonished and proud look; it wasn't a pretty expression. "Really?" She asked aloud, mostly to herself. "I've been kinda beating myself up over this for a little bit, hoping you'd understand eventually…guess I kinda underestimated you, huh?"

I shrugged. "A lot has happened in the last month," I muttered, fidgeting with my teacup. "It put a lot of things in perspective…what happened to me…I don't want it to happen to anyone else. If I can stop that from happening to one person, the therapy, the-the nightmares…they'll be worth it."

"Oh sweetie," Aunt Cecilly murmured, taking my cup from my hands and pulling me into a tight hug. "You don't have to be a hero, not if you don't want to. Doing something only because you feel obligated to do it is why I've never been married. I'd be a massive hypocrite to demand the opposite from you."

"I do, though," I whispered, nuzzling her shoulder. "Not just because I want to help…but because I'm tired of being ignored, of passed over and fading into the background. I know…I know some of that was my fault in school. I never made the effort to make friends or stand out…but now I can. The second one, anyway."

She kissed the top of my head, her arms tight around me. "I'm proud of you, you know," she sighed, her hands warm and comforting on my back. "I know your parents would be, too."

I didn't mean to scoff in disbelief, at least not aloud, but the sound escaped anyway. Aunt Cecilly sighed sadly and simply threaded her fingers through my hair, allowing the conversation to die.

…

While I was fanboying over Cortana and preparing to move, the PRT hadn't been quiet. Harper's actions were widely publicized, though in such a way that they actually benefited somewhat. They claimed that a brand-new Ward (me) had broken the case wide open, but that I wished to remain anonymous in case any of Harper's allies wanted a shot at me.

Frankly, it was such bullshit that I'm astonished anyone actually believed it (especially the part where Harper had allies), but if it meant getting justice for myself, Henry and all the other people he'd fucked with, I'd smile and nod. I think the Cape community knew the truth and all agreed to keep it quiet. Maybe, I didn't know any actual heroes then.

It probably makes me an asshole, thinking of Harper in the Birdcage and smiling, but I really don't care.

The whole thing with him trying to straight-up murder me was kinda glossed over, what with a teenaged Ward purposefully Mastering an entire school, and while it did irritate me, again, as long as he was getting punished it didn't matter.

Eventually, though, our time in Seattle came to an end. Aunt Cecilly handed the keys to the movers and we took a cab to the hotel, one of the fancier ones even. With her selling the house and car, she had a nice infusion of cash into her account, so she sprung for a fancy room and bought a new car online, which would be waiting for us at the airport in Brockton Bay, which she would drive to our new house in one of the nicer neighborhoods.

Honestly, I didn't care where we were living as long as I got to spend more time with Auntie. I didn't realize how much I missed the past years of living together, but spending a few months with her constantly around made it blatantly obvious just how cold the house had gotten.

At the hotel, I found myself doing something I hadn't in a long time: Cuddling with Aunt Cecilly. I woke up the morning of our departure playing the small spoon to her big one, and it was honestly some of the best sleep I'd had in weeks. Having Cortana around as both a friend and someone to discuss my powers and sometimes as a night-light, was something I'd be forever grateful for.

I'm also sure I caught her singing to me while I slept once, but I never found out for sure.

At the airport, the only people to see us off were Henry and Mrs. Delgado. Aunt Cecilly had already said her goodbyes to her coworkers and the only people I would miss were coming with me, but I appreciated the thought.

Mrs. Delgado gave me a massive hug and despite using my Fallout 3 character, it still popped my spine. It might've been something to do with someone else's mother, but I don't remember my mom ever hugging me like that. Along with the hug, she gave me a loud kiss on the cheek.

"You are a good boy," she said tearfully. "And I know you will grow into a good man. If you ever need anything, I'll help however I can."

I don't know how she expected to help, but it was nice idea.

Mrs. Delgado moved on to crack my aunt's back while I looked to Henry. He wasn't quite as pale and the bags under his eyes had lightened, but he still had a long way to go before he was anywhere close to normal again.

He offered me a hand and I took it, shaking firmly. "I, uh…I just want to thank you, man," he said embarrassedly. "I know I was a real bastard to you for a long time, but even then you still helped me. I…I won't forget that, man. Even if we never see each other again, even if you go crazy and take over a city or something, you'll still be a hero to me."

That made me feel immensely guilty. I hadn't chosen Henry because I wanted to help him, I'd chosen Henry because I had an in with him, and a way to break Harper's actions open. He didn't need to know that, though.

"I appreciate that, man," I nodded, giving him one final shake before stepping back. "We're more than the actions we take, you know? Don't let the past stop you from having a bright future, alright?"

Henry sighed harshly and nodded, his eyes firm. "I'll try, man. Have fun being a cape, yeah?"

I shrugged. "Hopefully." Aunt Cecilly took my arm and we walked towards the distant gate, waving to the distant Delgados before getting folded into the crowd.

Getting to the airplane was annoying as all hell, but eventually we got on the plane and went right to the front. First class was, like, stupidly nice. The chairs were made of soft leather, there was plenty of leg space, outlets for charging phones and the like, with complimentary pillows, headphones and food. They even had screens on the back of the seats so you could watch movies during the flight.

The flight from Washington on the West Coast to New Hampshire on the East Coast would take about ten hours, with stop-ins and transfers in Nebraska and Chicago before even getting to the time zone, so I had a lot of time to think.

Also, talk to Cortana and play games. There was a USB port in the laptop, which apparently my cord, still weird to say, could fit in. I tested it out and it turns out my cord changes to interface with any screen; so with my TV it was an HDMI, with the older model in the living room it became a the tri-color red-white-yellow setup and with computers, it became a USB.

I guess that made me the most advanced video game console on the planet…if the whole 'superpowers' thing didn't top it.

So, while we spent most of the day on a plane, I cradled my phone to my ear and pretended I was talking to someone while I tapped away at my keyboard. "It's a problem, I know, but I think I know how to solve it," I replied to her question.

"Is it a trait?" She asked dryly. "You know you can't rely on those for everything, right? You only have two you can switch out."

Her question was 'do you realize most games are about killing things?' I did, in fact. It was a massive problem, but one that could be solved, either with finding games with non-lethal abilities, or finding a trait that made lethal, non-lethal. Either of those, or I was going to be so limited in my ability to be a hero.

Shooting people until they die is generally a bad way to be heroic. Unless it's Call of Duty.

I sighed, pausing my game and tabbing out to open the Abyssal Auction. "Alright, so I should look for a game that has non-lethal combat."

"And a method of getting around quickly that isn't a car," Cortana added. "You need to have a well-rounded trio of power sets to call on while you're patrolling, and switching out games takes too long. With Halo you have the Chief's armor, strength and durability, plus he's rather fast. That can be your Brute game. With Fallout, you have the Stealth Suit and Charisma, so that can be your Master/Stranger game. Though, I don't think it's the best fit, but let's focus on the third one for now."

"Alright, so games with non-lethal combat, enhanced parkour and speed," I mused aloud, typing them into the search bar. The first game that came up was Prototype and its sequel. "Oh hey, Prototype. I already have that one."

"That's the game where the protagonist is a walking virus, right?" My AI companion pointed out flatly. "Also, the character is so dense he cracks the pavement when he runs, right? That's constant property damage right there."

"Yeah, but Alex is so powerful," I didn't whine, "But you have a point. I'll keep it as an 'in case of emergency' game. Next one is…InFamous? Ah, a superhero game. The guy can absorb and manipulate electricity, climb buildings and skate on power lines. Alright, I'll admit that sounds completely badass and handy in a city setting. And there's a sequel, too, which means it's either a lot better or a lot worse than the first."

"There's a second sequel, with a trailer even," she said interestedly. "Take a look at that."

I felt my eyes widening as we watched the protagonist dash around by turning into smoke, speed up the side of buildings leaving neon after-images, launch himself high into the air and bolt across the sky on hard-light wings. "Oh dear god. That is so. Fucking. Rad," I murmured in awe. "I'm going to abuse the shit out of my powers, I don't give a fuck."

"Language," my aunt murmured in her sleep.

"How much does it cost? I want this, like, now," I scrolled down and sighed at the price tag. "A hundred bucks…that's better than your chip, but I don't have that kind of cash."

Cortana chuckled softly, and I could hear the smile. "Oh really? Check your bank account." I had no idea how to do that, because I'd never had a bank account before, unless you count a trust from my parents I couldn't touch. "You have a bank account now, by the way."

I followed her directions and found myself staring at the number in the 'available' column. "Two thousand…where'd you get that much money? And how'd you get money in the first place?"

"As a budding hero, do you really want to know?" she replied teasingly, "And I might have, kinda, snuck a little bit out of your trust, sorry. I put it all back, with some interest, don't worry."

I admit, Cortana stealing money from me was annoying, but she gave me more so I didn't really care. "Just tell me next time, okay?" I sighed, tabbing back to the Abyssal Auction and buying InFamous: Second Son. "Thank you, though."

"No problem. We're in this together, right?" She asked warmly, and I felt my heart pound a little. Damn my attraction to smart, snarky ladies.

"Yeah." My screen deformed and spat out a gift-wrapped copy of InFamous that I managed to catch before it clattered to the floor. Ripping it open, I peered around to make sure no one was watching and held my shirt out as I pressed the button and my disc tray slid out. I replaced BioShock with InFamous and closed it, pausing as a thought struck. All my games were Xbox games. The game in me when I triggered was an Xbox game. What if I couldn't use Playstation games?

There was only one way to find out. "Access Game: InFamous: Second Son." My vision rippled and the HUD changed, replaced with blank sections that would hold the power bar and super meter. Good, my bullshit powers were still bullshit. The start screen appeared on my laptop and I settled in to my stupidly comfortable seat to play.

…

It is possible to get tired of playing games. After we transferred to the next flight in Nebraska, I pulled out my smart AI-phone and opened up the dossiers the PRT had sent me on the Wards in Brockton Bay. It didn't contain their civilian names, but it did tell me where they went to school, and that's where I found something that set off my alarm bells.

Shadow Stalker, a former vigilante known for her violent methods, went to a school called Winslow, while all the other Wards went to a place called Arcadia. Winslow, by all accords, was worse than Olympic Valley had been before Raymond Harper had shown up, with drug deals and gang recruitment and the occasional gang-related violence incident, given that two major gangs recruited out of there.

Arcadia, on the other hand, was a state-of-the-art campus with Glory Girl and Panacea attending alongside most of the Wards.

But stop me if this sounds familiar: a cape with a shady history, all alone in a shitty school. If something similar to Harper wasn't happening there, I'd eat Halo.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered, opening my laptop and beginning to type a letter to the Director of the Brockton Bay branch of the Protectorate. In it, I outlined my concerns about the situation and volunteered my services in finding out if shit was going down. Yeah, I'd be giving up a pretty kick-ass school for a bit, but fuck my education if someone else is suffering because some little bitch wanted to exert some petty fucking authority on people who can't fight back. "Cortana, can you check this over for me?"

The phone flickered in my pocket, my screen blinking in reply. "Make sure to mention how much they owe you for exposing Novacaine, but subtly…actually, let me do that, subtlety isn't really your thing," she replied, sections of email erasing before getting filled in. "There, that should do it. The Director for Brockton Bay is Emily Piggot, and she's well-known to be suspicious of capes, even the ones working with her. If I'm wrong, and I rarely am, she should be on board with trying to catch Shadow Stalker. Actually, you might not have to bring up the part where they owe you, hold on."

She edited the email again, refining it down to a simple but strong message, then sent it off. "Thanks, Cortana. Do you think you could tutor me in writing messages like that? I'm not very good at it."

"Sure thing," she replied happily, typing a smiley emoticon on my laptop. "You should catch a nap if you aren't going to play. Heroes need their rest; even junior ones."

She wasn't wrong.

…

The rest of the trip was rather boring, all told. The only excitement came when we were approaching Brockton Bay, circling the airport when my aunt suddenly tugged on my sleeve, wordlessly pointing at the window. I peered over her shoulder and felt my eyes go wide.

Flying along outside of the plane, her back towards the ground, her hands behind her head like she was sunbathing by the pool (an image I'd store in that dark part of my brain) was Glory Girl, blonde hair held away from her smiling face by a tiara. She turned her head and looked at us, giving a jaunty wink and a salute.

Numbly, my aunt and I waved at her before another familiar figure flew in beside her, nudging her and jerking her head down meaningfully. The purple starburst on the chest plus the tiara, again, let us know it was Lady Photon rebuking her niece.

With a pout, Glory Girl dived below the clouds and the leader of New Wave gave us a sheepish 'sorry folks' wave before disappearing.

I traded incredulous looks with my aunt, allowing a giddy smile to cross my lips. "Alright, this place just got a hundred percent more awesome." A passing flight attendant giggled as she touched a button, turning on the seat-belt lights.

The descent was nice and calm, and we found our new car without trouble. It was simple tan sedan that came out about a year ago, with good MPG, whatever that means. It even had that new-car smell when we slipped inside and buckled up; and damn well it should've, it was newly-bought.

Even though I'd seen Brockton Bay from the sky and online, seeing it in person cemented my opinion. To be honest, it reminded me of a more stressed Seattle, except with a ship graveyard and a boardwalk with a beach. And an oil rig out in the Bay.

It was bad, but it definitely had potential.

Traffic was pretty good, despite it being a weekend. It probably had something to do with that fact that it was the middle of winter. We arrived at our new house within thirty minutes, which was situated in one of the more high-end neighborhoods, but not the rich 'burbs with the fences. Most domiciles had an SUV or a sedan parked by the garage, a few even had kiddie toys scattered around the lawn.

Our house was a tad smaller, with only two bedrooms and an office, plus one and half baths. Not quite as big as the old house, but that was kind of the point; just me and my aunt living there made it feel more like a mausoleum than a home; a smaller place was perfect. Apparently it used to have three rooms, but the previous owner knocked a wall down and expanded the master. And I knew that because my aunt had called it a selling point.

Stepping inside, we found the couch set up across from the TV along with the shelves and the bookcase, but it was all empty, with most of the boxes scattered around the living room. "Why don't we…" Aunt Cecilly yawned and stretched, smacking her lips, "Grab a quick nap before we start seriously unpacking? I'll order a pizza and we can go through all this crap over a few slices?"

"Sounds good," I agreed, failing to suppress my own yawn.

"I call the couch!"

…

I woke up just as the sun was dipping below the horizon to the smell of pizza and the opening of boxes, stepping out into the living room to find my aunt sitting at the coffee table with open box at her feet and half a slice hanging from her mouth. "Hey sweetie," she mumbled around a mouthful of pizza. "I was just going through your parent's stuff."

"Did you finally figure out what you're gonna do with all the jewelry?" I asked, taking a slice of pineapple and Canadian Bacon and taking a bite, opening a box labeled 'Dad's stuff.' Inside was a bunch of suits and jackets, along with a few anime tapes and manga.

"I'll keep the more nostalgic pieces and sell the rest," Aunt Cecilly announced, sifting through the box boredly. "I don't need that much jewelry, I don't know why Angela needed all these pieces, either. Some of these look like the cheap costume crap you can buy at a Walmart."

I hummed in agreement, shifting aside the suits to expose an old Nintendo and a few cartridges, along with a long plastic box. Frowning in confusion, I reached inside and pulled it out, resting it on my lap as I opened it. Inside were a pair of Power Gloves, one labeled 'Angela,' the other labeled 'Ken.' I felt tears spring to my eyes as I picked up my dad's left-handed glove, running my fingers over my mom's right-handed one.

…What a couple of complete fucking nerds. Who the hell even bought a Power Glove, let alone a set?

As I twisted the glove around, an idea began to percolate in the back of my mind, designs forming front of my eyes. "Hey, Cortana? Do you have the number of the Tinker in the Wards, Kid Win?"

"Yeah, I do. Why?"

…

"Are…are you sure?" Kid Win asked in disbelief, "That's what you want to go with?"

"Yeah," Saul answered simply. "Is it something you can do, or should I be going through…some kind of requisition process? I, uh, I haven't been a Ward for… well, at all, so I don't actually know…a lot. Uh. Sorry."

"Nah, it's fine, always glad to help," the teenaged Ward said, scratching side of head above his visor. "So, do you want to use the actual gloves or like, replicas?"

"Replicas, please, these things are old, they'd probably tear if I wore them," the newest Ward replied with a faint chuckle. "I, uh, appreciate you, you know, answering my call. Haven't even met in person and I'm already asking for favors. Fantastic."

"It's fine, you'll just owe me a favor later on," Kid waved him off. "Alright, I think that's everything. It should be ready by next week…should be. I'll try my best, but no promises."

"I did kinda spring it on you," Saul shrugged. "Thanks, again. Uh, have a good Christmas?"

Kid Win blinked. "Uh, dude? Christmas is in, like, three weeks. We'll meet up before then but, yeah, you too."

There was an awkward silence, broken by a quiet shuffling. "I'm just…gonna…hang up," Saul muttered embarrassedly. "Alright, bye."

The Tinker snorted as the line closed, letting out a quiet chuckle. "Well, this is gonna be fun."

…

It took a few days, but we were eventually sorted out and settled in. In the mornings, Aunt Cecilly would study up on local cases (also known as fangirling over Brandish) while waiting for replies to her resumé. I would get tutoring from Cortana on the local capes (also known as fanboying over…pretty much all of them), and practicing quickly switching between games. Then we'd go out for lunch at a different place, trying out all sorts of food and finding the differences in Chinese food from Seattle and Chinese food from Brockton Bay. There was a pretty big difference, turns out. There was a lot less teriyaki, more's the pity.

After about a week, a beaten van pulled up and disgorged a a muscular man in jeans and a jacket, who knocked on my door. I answered and found myself using the Chief's instincts to scan the man. He carried himself like a man trying not to carry himself like a soldier and looked like he felt naked not wearing armor, with a subtle lump under his left arm. "Saul Dewitt?" He asked softly.

"That's me," I answered calmly. "Can I help you?"

He held up a badge that fit PRT standards. "Joseph Tanden, I'm here to escort you and your aunt to the Rig," He said quietly.

"Alright, let me grab my aunt," I replied, shutting the door. "Cortana, did you get a good enough look?"

"Yup, scanning now," she responded cheerily. "Hm, let me see…Joseph Tanden, a history of minor alcoholism, served in the Army six years but otherwise, nothing else. Seems legitimate."

"Good enough for me," I replied, loading InFamous, Fallout and Halo into my disc tray. "Do you want me to leave you here? It'd be kinda hard to explain having such an advanced phone."

Cortana chuckled lightly. "Oh, you don't need to worry about that. As far a they're concerned, a Tinker in Seattle, Blackout, gave it to you during one of his episodes because he felt responsible for Novacaine."

"Blackout…the guy with narcolepsy and sleep-tinkering?"

"That's the one. As far he knows, it's true."

I grinned, pulling on a sweater. "Good, I didn't want to leave you behind. Aunt Cecilly! PRT's here!"

"Coming!" She called, jogging down the hallway while pulling her dark blonde hair into a simple bun. Tugging on her jacket, she briefly modeled by our shoes. "How do I look?"

"Smokin,'" I replied instantly.

"Bitchin,'" she smiled, zipping up her olive jacket.

"Language!"

"English."

Mr. Tanden was waiting awkwardly by the door, giving us not-quite-a-smile before he lead us to the van. The inside was rather roomy and comfortable as far as vans go, being just the three of us plus a driver. Both PRT guys sat up front while we took the back, sitting in silence while they drove us to the ferry terminal and pulled into a parking spot aboard the ship. "Would you like anything from the galley?" The driver, a younger woman with a burn scar on her cheek asked, twisting around in the seat to look at us.

My Aunt shook her head, smiling politely. "No, thank you."

The driver left and returned ten minutes later with a cup of coffee she passed to Tanden while she downed what smelled like tea, along with an oatmeal cookie. A bit later, she started the engine and drove us onto the Rig, driving into a covered parking lot. "Here you are," she nodded, pressing a button that opened the back doors. "Thanks for choosing the PRT Taxi service."

I chuckled quietly and gave her a wave as Tanden led us to a security checkpoint, where they ran my phone and wallet under a sensor, handing it back when nothing happened before doing the same to my aunt. Then we were taken on possibly the most advanced elevator I'd ever seen, all shining metal with doors that opened in segments, one at a time. "Huh," my aunt muttered. "Fancy."

The ride up was smooth, with barely any inertia or evidence that we were moving at a speed, besides the blinking light and the window looking out over the Bay. We arrived at the right floor and Mr. PRT made us follow him into a sealed room, leaving us with a nod and an open door, which was filled a minute later by two people.

The first was a woman with steel gray eyes and blonde hair, built like a brick house and twice as solid, but not fat. She seemed to be made out of concrete, mortared with vinegar and blood.

The other was a familiar figure in power armor, the only part of his face visible being his bearded chin. Armsmaster. You know, I still don't understand why he calls himself that, because he isn't a Master of Arms. He could whip some ass with his awesome halberd and he had tech for days, but that was it. Besides the Tinkering.

"Afternoon," the solid woman greeted us with a short nod, taking a seat across from me. "I'm Director Emily Piggot. I understand you've already signed the permission forms and waivers in Seattle, Ms. Whittaker, but I'd like to hear it myself. You do understand that your nephew, Saul M. Dewitt, will be involved in combat with drug dealers, gangs and villainous capes, yes?"

"I am aware and support his decision to be a hero," Aunt Cecilly replied levelly.

Director Piggot flashed what might've been a microscopic smile. "Very good." Armsmaster handed her a file, which she passed across the table to my aunt. "This is a typical NDA. I know you have legal experience, so I won't bother trying to explain something you already understand."

My aunt hummed and signed, initialed and dated, passing it back to the Director who signed, initialed and dated as a witness, passing it back to Armsmaster, who made it disappear somewhere in his armor.

"Now, I've heard from Director Peterson about your powers, Mr. Dewitt," her piercing gaze moved onto me, almost subconsciously making me grit my teeth nervously. "I would like a demonstration and an explanation for the record." That said, she pulled a recorder out of a pocket and set it on the table, switching it one. "This is Emily Piggot with prospective Ward S-076823J, with Armsmaster witnessing."

I swallowed thickly, wishing I had a glass of water. "Alright, I can summon the equipment of video game characters and use them with the same amount of skill the character can."

"Is your ability limited to just weapons or just armor?" Armsmaster asked gruffly. Not that he was being impatient, that's just what his voice sounds like.

I shook my head. "As long as I've played the game, I can summon anything that qualifies as equipment, sir," I said nervously. "I can show you."

I stood up from the table and backed away slightly, lifting my arm and tapping a made-up code on the invisible buttons. "What are you doing with your arm?" Director Piggot questioned.

I jumped. "Oh, uh, it helps me visualize what I want to summon if I tap a code in," I answered, hating the way my voice wavered. "My therapist says it's, uh, psycho…somatic, I think."

"Very well." Curiosity thus satisfied, she folded her hands and stared at me.

I finished tapping out the code and exhaled harshly, breathing deeply as I summoned the Chief's armor, whispering, "Access Game: Halo 3."

Suddenly I was seven feet tall and clad in worn green power armor, opening my eyes to see Armsmaster's lips had tightened suspiciously and the Director had narrowed her eyes. I felt the Chief's calm certainty wash over me and I snapped off a crisp salute. Reflexively she barked, "At ease," and I fell into parade rest. Minutely shaking herself, Director Piggot eyed me speculatively. "If you would demonstrate summoning weapons, please."

"Yes ma'am," I tapped my left arm twice before reaching over my shoulder, pulling the Assault Rifle that appeared in my hands in front of me.

"That's a gun," Armsmaster said aloud, his voice tinged with suspicion. "Are you intending to use firearms?"

"No sir," I replied calmly. "I don't intend to use firearms in the field. While most of the weapons I have access to in this game are firearms, there are a pair of melee weapons available." I reached behind me and holstered the Rifle, barely feeling it disappear as I reached down to the thigh holster and pulled an inactive energy sword, flicking my wrist as it snapped to life with a hiss of burning air. "Energy Sword."

I put that away then reached behind my back, this time bringing out a large, technologically advanced hammer about as long as Chief was tall. "Gravity Hammer."

"…I see," Piggot muttered, her lips twisting in what might've been a grimace. "Do you have another example?"

"Yes, ma'am, I've prepared three examples for today," I answered respectfully, dismissing the Gravity Hammer and bringing my arm up, tapping in another fake code as I whispered, "Acces Game: Fallout 3."

I was suddenly a foot shorter and much less armored, wearing a tight, climate-controlled black suit, padded with kevlar and light armor plating on the wrists and feet up to the shins. Thin orange wires were taped to the surface, a Pip-boy on my arm, the orange visor partially covered by a shady-looking fedora.

"And what is this armor capable of?" Armsmaster asked, a tad more at ease when I was shorter than him.

Instead of speaking, I crouched, the refractive field activating after a second, bending the light around me until I was little more than a slight ripple in the air. "It can generate a refractive field, making me close to invisible." I stood, pulling the crossbow out of the my thigh holster. "I also have this. It fires darts coated in scorpion venom, capable of temporarily crippling limbs. It can be lethal, but only after eight or nine shots, and even then it would take a few minutes for the full effect."

The Director seemed a bit better dispositioned towards me after that, nodding in thought. "And the final example?"

I licked my lips nervously behind my visor. The last example would either impress them or scare the shit out of them when the full implications hit; I was just glad I'd saved that morning. I tapped the Pip-boy's screen, murmuring, "Access Game: InFamous: Second Son." I really needed to find a way to shorten the words needed to access my games.

The Chinese Stealth Suit disappeared, replaced by a pair of black sneakers with a yellow stripe, faded blue jeans, a white hoodie underneath a jean vest decorated with multiple buttons, a blue and white bird triumphantly spreading its wings on the back, and a red beanie. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal a Native American Tattoo on the left forearm, and a simple chain wrapped around the right.

"…And what does that do?" Piggot arched an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Wordlessly, I raised my hands and pushed on the power inside, my fingertips glowing with heat as smoke rolled off my arms. "I can absorb and manipulate smoke, neon, video and concrete," I said simply. No need to mention the whole 'power absorption' thing, since I doubt it would work on powers that use completely different rules.

"You're saying your power allows you to access other powers?" Armsmaster said in disbelief.

"I can use their equipment with the same skill they can, and if the character has an item that allows them to use powers…" I patted the chain on my wrist meaningfully, very glad the game didn't exist here.

Piggot blinked, her eyes narrowed. "I see," a soft knock echoed from the door. "I would like a more in-depth demonstration, but for now I'd like to introduce you to the rest of the Wards."

I dismissed Delsin's stuff with a tap on the arm, feeling a new nervousness creep up my spine. "Does that mean…I'm officially a Ward?" I resisted the urge to wring my hands.

The corner of her lips twitched. "It does. Welcome to the Wards, Saul Dewitt," she said officially, standing from the table. She didn't shake my hand or anything like that, but she nodded. Which was nice.

Armsmaster held the door open for her, an armored and masked PRT guard coming inside with a box he set on the table. "Kid Win finished your request," the Tinker explained shortly, "Welcome to Wards."

As the door closed behind them, I let out an explosive sigh, feeling the weight lifting off of my shoulders. My Aunt was up, hugging me tightly before I knew it. "You did well," she said hurriedly, feeling my shaking. "I'm proud of you, sweetie."

"Thanks, Aunt Cecilly," I murmured, embracing her. "Thanks for being here."

"Of course," she said simply, stepping back with a smile. "Alright, I'll wait in the garage, since I'm your guardian and I don't want to get in your way while you make friends with the new kids. Don't be shy, okay?"

I sighed. "I won't, Aunt Cecilly," I muttered.

"Good boy!" She chirped, kissing my cheek. "See you in a bit!"

Then she left me alone with the box. Inside was just what I asked for.

…

"Does the new guy even have a cape name yet?" Shadow Stalker grumbled, leaning against a distant wall with her arms crossed.

"He literally just joined, Stalker, give him a break," the brown-armored form of Clockblocker shot back. "And no, I don't mean arms. Or legs. Or balls."

The black-suited former vigilante grunted dispassionately, content to ignore everyone else and stew in her annoyance, while Aegis and Vista quietly chatted with Kid Win and Gallant. "I'm telling you, it looks stupid as hell," the younger Tinker told the others. "Is it a rule with capes that their first costume looks like bat chose it from a My Little Pony/Hot Topic convention?"

The other teens laughed quietly, though the knight-themed Gallant remained quiet and thoughtful, somewhat disturbed by the presence he knew to be the new Ward. He'd been the first to arrive in the room, stretching his senses into the next room, finding the stoic annoyance of Piggot next to the stoic suspicion of Armsmaster; across from them was a resigned but proud feeling, and next to them was a bundle of nervous hope.

Then, the nervous hope changed to cool military precision so fast Gallant thought he'd fallen asleep, while Piggot and Armsmaster both showed signs of smothered alarm and intrigue.

Then the cool military presence blinked out, replaced by smooth, quiet aura. And then that had been replaced by with smirking confidence. Gallant had to restrain himself from bursting into the room when he felt the Director and the Tinker's alarm slowly replaced with a dawning sense of determination.

By the time he pulled himself out, the others had joined him in the room, followed by Piggot and Armsmaster. Now, they were waiting for the new cape.

Gallant felt the new Ward's rising confidence as he suited up for the first time, a smile tugging at his lips as the new guy psyched himself up in preparation to meet them.

Then, the door knob turned and Saul stepped inside.

His costume, in comparison to Gallant, Aegis and Clockblocker was lightly armored, with silver shin guards above light but strong shoes made for running, jumping and climbing, a kevlar vest covered in thin metal strips for flexibility and protection against knives. Underneath that, he wore a grey muscle shirt that exposed the muscle on his arms above the elbow, the lower part covered in fingerless gloves and silver armguards; curiously, there appeared to be video game controllers integrated into the guards on this forearms.

His mouth up to his nose was covered by a black cloth mask, his eyes hidden behind a matte black visor that also covered his ears, leaving a stretch of his forehead and his short, light brown hair exposed.

"…Hi," Saul said lamely, scratching the back of his neck, inadvertently bringing attention to the small symbols on the left side of his chest. A larger green power symbol above what looked like Morse code, but on closer inspection was revealed to be directions. Up up down down left right left right B A. "I'm uh…you can call me Game Master."

…

…

…

…

A/N: Hey look at that, I started a new story and I'm updating a few days later! Who recognizes that? And how much do you wanna bet on how long it's gonna last? I've got fifty on me writing half of chapter three before getting blocked and going back to another story. Maybe I'll start the next Story in the Hero Series? Maybe I'll finish the next chapter of the Life? Maybe I'll even update Dare To Wander, if you can imagine that! Or, Hoping beyond Hope, I'll fucking finish JotWE in the next century?

Hell if I know. I will admit though, that writing at teenaged Saul who's not quietly confident or a violent badass is very interesting. Really, though, I'm flying by the seat of my pants here; an uncomfortable way to fly, but better than taking a train.

Big thanks to NorthSouthGorem and Dairegh for all their help and the constant talking and distracting which, oddly enough, actually helped. The former is still the only other author, but…I've been hearing things about the latter. Maybe keep an eye on him, eh?

Also thanks to the Boys on Xbox!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you did, make sure to follow and leave a review!

Stay Awesome!

~Soleneus

P.S.: I loved hearing about your favorite games, so let's continue. Which games has the best traversal system? For me, it's Titanfall 2. First time I played, I kept missing jumps and dying very ignobly, but eventually it got to the point I can cross most of the maps without touching the ground! Which is not to say I'm good at the, y'know, shooting part…

:(

Stay Awesome Some More!

~still Soleneus