Awakening 1.03
The last two days could only be described as abominable. It wasn't through the fact that I was unmasked that caused the issue, although it could easily be construed as such.
No, the issue was my father.
While I had every intention of explaining to him what had happened, and that I was a parahuman when he had arrived home, that opportunity had unfortunately been robbed from me by one of my dad's coworkers who just so happened to be on PHO when the video was posted.
Instead, when my father came home, he already knew what had taken place and had suddenly decided he wanted to be a father once again.
Don't get me wrong, I love my father, but the relationship between us had become completely dysfunctional after my mother's death. She had been the glue of the family.
While I could understand his intent—to see that I was safe—suggesting that I join the Wards was not something I was certain was the path to safety.
No, if not for Konan's knowledge, I would have been woefully ignorant and maybe have agreed with him. But it had been her experiences that had provided me with the realization that there had been more than an innocent interest in those questions from Miss Militia. In fact, they seemed more intended as a fact-finder for something other than recruitment.
And until I could figure out what that was, I would be giving the PRT a wide berth. Call it paranoia, call it thirty-something years worth of life as ninja and a revolutionary stuck in the back of my head, but I didn't like not understanding what people wanted with me. What they wanted they wanted to know about me – and why.
Dad hadn't agreed with that, believing that joining with Wards was the safest choice for me. He had been prepared with little informational tidbits hoping to get me to agree with him. When that had failed, he had tried to pull the father card.
Suffice to say, that had not ended well. I could make a multitude of excuses about why I snapped, from the events of my life, to Konan's knowledge niggling at the back of my mind, to the fact that my father was trying to push me to do something I did not want, but the fact of the matter was that I had, and in the process likely damaged our already-tenuous relationship irreversibly.
I scowled at the memory, how I had looked at him and simply observed that it was only now—after all the dirty laundry had been aired, and I suddenly mattered—that he tried to be a father. It was unfair, but, if I was to be honest, it simply was the end result of him not being there and me being too much of a coward to go to him until it was far too late.
I could still see the hurt on his face even now, like an open wound upon my soul – but if I really wished to be honest, I was unsure if there was anything really to salvage, or even if I wanted to salvage it.
I let out a deep exhale, forcing away those thoughts for now. It was something that was not critical at this moment, what matter is what I needed to do.
Even with two days of sorting memories, meditation, and exercises, there simply was too much I had to have done. I knew that sooner or later I would be visited by New Wave, and now I found that I wasn't even sure where I wanted to join them. Or if it was her that was influencing that sentiment.
Her. Konan. Amazing, yet terrifying. The idea that there (had) existed a world with people who could change the landscape with their bare hands, wield the elements, and perform superhuman feats the likes that many capes on Earth Bet would be hard-pressed to achieve left me at a loss.
Sure, all the ninja in their world combined probably wouldn't equal the parahuman population of a single country on Earth, but when short-range teleportation is a child's technique and the average shinobi would fit in three-quarters of our power classifications by themselves? I'd always been more impressed by quality than quantity.
Yet, even that paled to Konan herself. How can you describe the knowledge, the feeling, of living an entire life not your own: to have lived, to have loved, to have fought, to have died? It was beyond words. I mean, how could I honestly compare my life to hers?
I wasn't ashamed to admit that I envied her. She had been one of the most powerful people in her world, and that was honestly saying something; both because of her competitors and considering the world she had inhabited was fairly patriarchal. Women had a chance of matching their fellow men, but they were too few and far between to take away from the reality.
She was strong, and I… I was not.
But maybe I could be.
I slowly opened my eyes and stared at the fluttering pieces of paper that danced in the nonexistent wind before me, gripped by an aspect of my power. If it was really a power at all.
It was strange; as far as I knew, when a cape gained their abilities, it had some sort of theme and defined limits. It did not evolve, nor did it improve with practice—even if a cape could get better at how they used it—but instead was generally set. It could ramp up, like with Lung, but it was still firmly constrained in a singular mode. And yet I had none of those limits beyond simply my capacity of chakra, something that was currently middling, but I was determined to increase it.
(If I could. Maybe chakra itself was my power. Maybe I was 'just' a Trump, with an internal reservoir I could shape into other forms, like some sort of discount Eidolon. But that didn't feel right).
What then? I knew I was capable of great things, of reaching Konan's levels, but it would take time. Time that I honestly wondered if I had, considering the clock was ticking now that I had been unmasked to the world.
My hand softly closed, the paper floating the in air folding and contorting before becoming butterflies that fluttered in the air in front of me. They hovered there for a moment, before flying out of the window and into the wintry night.
For a moment, I wondered what she might have thought of this world. Then I quickly shook my head; I knew perfectly well she would have been disgusted by all of this, much like I already was.
There was no denying the reality that was readily evident if one simply paid close enough attention: Brockton Bay was dying. With each week… no, with each day, my home was slowly strangled by crime and apathy.
I shoved aside those dark thoughts, not really wanting to dwell upon them. I mean, if a fifteen year old could divine the state of her hometown, just what did that mean about the people in power? I would dwell upon that later, once I actually figured out what I wanted to do in the here and now.
Time was something I needed, and needed desperately. Right now, I wouldn't amount to much, even with what I was already capable of.
Sighing, I got to my feet and stretched, wincing as various kinks in my body worked themselves out. Stifling a small yawn, both due to the night and the time I had spent meditating, I padded softly through the house, going down the stairs to grab a small snack.
Still, in the last two days, I had achieved quite a bit at least in, well, remembering Konan's memories, at least in regards to basic techniques, combat stances, and other abilities. There was still a lot I needed to do, but it wasn't just that; it was also the bleedthrough. Maybe memories was the wrong word for them - sometimes I thought like she would, and if I hadn't spent all this time thinking, I wonder if I would have noticed just how much she had already had an impact upon me.
I know perfectly well that the old me would have never stood up to the trio. Not in a million years. In a way, they had achieved what they intended – they had destroyed me, and I had merely become a revenant shambling through my non-existence. If not for my trigger, if not for Konan, I would have either likely amounted to nothing or given up entirely.
But with Konan's influences… I think the better question was just how much I wanted to embrace her, and how much I wanted to be myself. Quite honestly, I didn't know. I mean, Konan had such a strength to her that I wanted nothing more than to replicate —and yet I didn't want to become what she spent most of her life being.
Maybe I could channel it while I was a cape? Would that be right? Or would it be wrong?
It was with these thoughts rattling in my mind that I opened the fridge, taking a look at my options.
At least now I knew where my increased appetite had come from. And the growth spurt too, I mused as I grabbed a jug of milk, a trio of bananas, and jar of strawberry jam, before closing the door. Walking towards the table, I also grabbed some bagels.
One of the downsides of my trigger was my increased caloric intake, which meant that food costs had ratcheted up. It wasn't backbreaking yet, but if this intake amount was simply to fuel me for the basics, it was going to skyrocket once I actually started exercising, and become unfathomable once I start engaging in combat.
"Yet another thing," I muttered aloud to myself as I spread the jam on the bagel I had selected. It just seemed the more I brooded, the more problems I discovered.
Lifting up the bagel, I opened my mouth to take a bite before freezing as several of the paper bugs that I had created and placed over the neighborhood rippled with alarm. I hadn't really expected anything of them, except they had merely been an exercise, but if they were warning me of something….
Placing down the bagel, I walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, proceeding to peek out of the window to the front of the house, and watched as two vehicles pulled up to the front of the house. Immediately, through the link I had with the paper butterfly, I sent it closer, wanting to know who these people were.
I was immediately thankful for the technique, one that had fallen into disuse for Konan thanks to Nagato's chakra rain rendering it obsolete. If it hadn't been in—
A chill ran up my spine, even as I let the curtain go back, my mind whirling at the imagery I was seeing.
Why were the Empire Eighty-Eight here?!
I immediately answered that as I bit back a curse. It made a sick sort of sense. I was the type of poster girl white supremacists would hold up, a white girl who triggered while being assaulted by a black girl. The story would write itself. All they had to do was get me to join and they had their bloody shirt.
But what could I do? Victor and Othala might have been preferable to Hookwolf and Stormtiger, but that was like saying Lung was preferable to Leviathan. True, but really not the point. I thanked whatever deity there was that dad was asleep, because I doubt he would have allowed me to try and handle this. If anything, it would have escalated, even if this wasn't a forcible recruitment attempt. How long would it be until it became forced anyway?
No, I had only one option here, as a plan began to solidify in my mind.
As he closed the door behind him, Victor took a look around the neighborhood with a calculating look. It wasn't much of one, but it was always the unexpected that had a tendency of ruining everything. So as he looked around him, he noted possible points of threat before returning back to the home of one Taylor Hebert.
He had seen the video himself, and while he was intrigued at the ability, he wasn't exactly sure exactly what could be gained from Hebert being recruited apart from the propaganda. Paper was not exactly useful in a fight.
But orders were orders, and he would at least make a solid effort to ensure success.
His head turned to his wife, Othala, who had quietly walked up beside him, her own expression inscrutable in the faint light given off by the streetlamps and houses they passed.
"Let's go," he muttered, motioning a few of the men he had brought along to take up positions to watch, before striding towards the Hebert household, his wife taking position to his rear and left. She laid one hand on his back, looking for all the world like a woman holding her lover — but it was that hand that would grant him invincibility the moment there was a threat.
Hopefully it was unnecessary, but you didn't survive Brockton Bay with hope.
It was only halfway to the house that he paused, as the sound of fluttering paper caused his guard to raise. He watched as several pieces of paper flapped through the air, idly noted that the paper was coming from places that would be perfect for surveillance, as the various sheets went towards the house, before gaining altitude, and—
He blinked, for a moment questioning what he was seeing as the paper continued to coalesce into something that sat upon the top of the Hebert household. Whatever it was shifted around as the paper began to taper off, before it became evident that it was at least humanoid. A pair of wings emerged from the figure and spread, paper floating in and out of their form. They stood up on the roof, highlighted by the moon.
If he been religious, he may have been taken by how almost angelic the wings seemed, but as it was, he merely scoffed at the obvious theatricality of the move. Still, while it might not have been subtle, it was the sort of grandstanding he wouldn't have expected from a freshly-triggered cape, or a teenager. Let alone both.
The figure then slowly rose off the Hebert household, floating down to the front of the house. Her—it was obvious who it was now—wings furled in behind her as she began striding towards him. He didn't even need to turn to know Othala was stepping slightly closer to his side, further hidden by the invincible wall she could make his body with a thought.
Eyes narrowing behind his mask, he let his own ability reach out and take a 'sip' of her skills, only to frown as he found nothing. It was as if he was trying to reach into a void, which was… strange.
"Victor," Hebert greeted, causing him to raise an eyebrow at how unnatural it all felt, like he wasn't dealing with a recently triggered fifteen year old girl but a veteran cape, "may I ask as to why the E88 is here?"
"We are actually here to see you," he trailed off, deciding to treat this a bit differently, and offering her an opportunity to provide a cape name.
"I haven't decided what to do with my life," Hebert responded, divining his intent, "but I think I should preface this by saying I have no intention of joining the Empire."
"May I ask why?" he asked.
"Because I have no interest in being a Nazi," came the flat reply, causing Othala to bristle, the green eyes snapping to her for a second before they came back to him, "in fact, the gangs are half the reason this city is going to hell."
It was with that statement that he realize that whatever possibility for recruitment had likely died a silent death. But the fact that she hadn't adopted a hostile stance towards them at least left the situation tenable.
"And you think being a hero is going to change anything, Miss Hebert?" he asked, keeping his tone polite, even as he again reached out with his ability, "it seems to me that the so-called heroes around here are just another gang, only their masters are the rich and powerful. At least with the Empire, you would know who you are working with and have a goal."
There was a subtle tilt of the head, as the cape across from him seemed to consider his words. For a moment, he wondered if there was an opportunity to take advantage of the situation.
"You're right," came the answer, which did take him aback, because he had expected at least some rejection of the statement, not outright acceptance.
"Of course you're right, Victor," she continued, "the Protectorate, the Wards, New Wave, all of them, they're only really protecting what they can in all of this – where 'what they can' is the rich. The powerful. Those who can afford to live under their aegis. But the difference between them and you is that if they walked past a woman getting beaten up in the street, they wouldn't check to see if she was white first."
And with that, he knew it was a done deal. Now the question became what his options were. Kaiser had been clear that there was to be an attempt to recruit the teenager, but he was not so clear as to what would happen if they failed.
It was obvious that Hebert was going to be a hero, independent or otherwise, so did that change his orders in a way that gave him a green light to eliminate her? But then there was the problem that he could not take her skills, which should be impossible – so what other impossibilities might she be hiding up her sleeve?
The soft sound of shifting paper drew him from his thoughts.
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Victor. Please. I'm not interested, and further pursuit is only going to end poorly for all of us."
His hands curled at the perceived threat, but there was truth in her statement. His mandate did not allow him to take any action against Hebert at this time. And it wasn't like they didn't know where she was in the future if she so chose to take a stance against them.
No, now was not the time, and just as he made his decision, it was suddenly robbed from him at the sound one of his men shouting "Cape!"
A very distinctive motorcycle came to a stop a little way down the street, and a familiar figure dismounted.
Armsmaster.
And that was when all hell broke loose.