Changes 3.8

Christmas shopping was one of those things. Simultaneously the best thing ever, and confusing as heck.

Toy shopping? Amazing. Surprises? Awesome.

Toy shopping for surprises, with the people they were meant for? Not nearly as fun.

I mean, how was I supposed to be surprised by the Nerf guns, when I was the one picking them out? What wonders lay inside that familiar-looking parcel of patterned paper?

I guess I had an advantage, being unable to exclaim in the traditional fashion. I wouldn't have to sound convincing, at least. Unfortunately, that meant my mom's weird obsession with mailed thank-you cards would finally bear fruit, since I couldn't express my thanks verbally.

Ooh, that one looked interesting. An action figure of Chevalier, complete with functioning cannonblade and real cutting action. Then again, I could get my Wards discount if I got it from the gift shop. I passed it by.

Cape merchandise held a special irony with me, these days. It was fairly common to see something Protectorate branded in school, except now I knew I was part of that system. Someday, I might fight alongside some of them, talk with some of them. Soon, I might see my own logo in the halls.

Hey, an RC hovercraft.

-Shangri-La-

Christmas Eve. The day before the traditional day we celebrated the birth of one of the most influential figures in history, at least before parahumans began to appear. A day for family, for heavy meals and snowball fights.

Personally, I planned to live up to that ideal, if not in that order.

Whap! went the snowball as it crashed against the back of David's wool cap. He spun, searching for his attacker, just in time for Jordan's well-timed volley... which was not nearly as well aimed. 'A' for effort, though. He returned fire, using his 7 years of experience to their fullest, but it was to no avail.

I was cheating.

Snowballs are really easy to make and throw when you can control ice. I can even make it look natural. The perfect blend of soft and compact for optimal throwing. David soon was forced to retreat, hastily erecting a wall to hide behind.

But I didn't factor in one thing; Jordan was a dirty traitor, who tended to side with David.

I now had freezing cold snow down my back, and I couldn't just remove it with my powers (too public), and it was so cold! The traitor was running off with my stockpile of perfect snowballs, right to my enemy, and I was helpless to stop it.

I finally untucked my shirt, allowing the freezing snow to escape, and proceeded to dodge the hail of return fire. A few shots still hit, mostly because they had been thrown wide. I had to finish this fight fast, or it could get messy. Our snowmen might get injured!

I charged their way, ducking snowballs as they depleted the plundered ammunition. As I got within ten feet of them, I leaned down, gathering two forearms worth of powder, and leaped over their fort wall. Jordan received his forearm via air delivery, but I gave David his directly, knocking him and myself into the snow, sputtering and laughing.

I started making a snow angel, and received a face full of snow as they took their revenge.

-Shangri-La-

"Sleigh bells ring, are you listenin'? …"

"So I tell Dennis to stop goofing off, and he just gives me this look, like this," David made a face, "and holds it just long enough that I think he might be really angry. I stare him down, trying to stay serious, and we both just crack up at the same time." He laughs, and my mom joins in. I smile, and Jordan keeps scribbling at his coloring sheet.

"You should bring him over sometime. I'd like to meet him."

"Really, I can? Would you mind if he brought his game console over?"

"No problem, we can find something else to do."

I smirked a bit, wiping it off my face as David gave me a look. I imagine Dennis would be thrilled to come over. I wonder if he would unmask, or if I'd have to pretend not to know him the whole time, and what hijinks might ensue from that.

"Sorry for the wait." Our waiter walked up, carrying a massive platter. "Bit busy tonight. I'd like to offer you a dessert on the house, to make up for it."

"Oh, thank you! I'll have to see what you have."

He smiled briefly, then served us. I got a refill on my root beer.

Wow, that was some good mac and cheese. Too bad we couldn't eat here every night.

The table settled into a comfortable symphony of forks, knives, and various sounds of eating. I traded half my shepherd's pie for some chicken alfredo, but hoarded my delicious cheesy goodness for myself. The meal was delicious.

Afterward, we got two molten lava cakes with egg nog ice cream, and each ate half, and my only regret was that I didn't eat a whole one. We vowed to return to this restaurant, but left sated.

-Shangri-La-

If there's one thing I really disliked about Brockton Bay, it was the distinct lack of good wilderness areas nearby. There was a small mountain north of the city, but after that there were no state parks, no lakes, no exceptional forests, for dozens of miles.

So, it was a fair treat to find that our plans for Christmas Eve included driving halfway across the state to go to a forest of lights.

It was almost as beautiful as one of my nicer worlds, and all the more special because it wasn't. Because I could still focus on my family, with no more distractions than usual.

Jordan's face, bright and happy, pointing everywhere, letting out 'oohs' and 'aahs'.

David, tall and smiling, the light glinting off his glasses as he walked in silence, sipping a cocoa.

My mother, Aurora, framed in lights, genuinely enjoying the antics of her youngest son without a hint of distraction or annoyance.

The trees, laced with lights of all sorts, glowed and shimmered and danced in the chill quiet of the night, dark bark contrasting with the snow. Soft music played in the background, and the moon, while not quite full, was still quite fat and bright in the sky.

Deer made of sparkling LEDs pranced through the trees. A nativity made with loving care and lit by soft, warm glows stood in the snow. An immense, three-dimensional sleigh led by nine reindeer was paused in midair over the path. Stars and celestial lights were simulated throughout, stark against the dark depths of the forest beyond.

It was magical.

My phone rang.

I dug it out. Who could be –

No.

No, no, motherfucker, no!

My mom was looking back at me. I had stopped walking, staring at my phone, clutching it.

"Michael?"

I held up the phone, showed it to her as she walked over.

"ENDBRINGER ALERT: BEHEMOTH SHOWING ACTIVITY UNDER AFRICA. ALL PROTECTORATE AND WARDS REPORT TO BASE."

She read it, and her face fell.

-Shangri-La-

The ride back was quiet, subdued, and well over the speed limit.

For most of the ride, nobody talked. As we approached the exit, though, I pulled out my phone. I had to tell her.

'I'm going to go.'

She gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white, her jaw straining.

'I can make a difference. I'm strong.'

"You're not invincible!" she yelled. "You're just a little boy, my little boy! You're eight years old, you-aren't-ready!" She punctuated the last three words with punches to her horn. "This isn't some kids game, it isn't anything like the Wards. This is Behemoth, the Hero-Killer, the black devil! He's killed hundreds of capes, millions of people! He's an Endbringer, in the most literal sense there is!"

I knew that. 'I'm scared too.' I was just a child, but I had power. I would use it, maybe make a difference for once. Behemoth was terrifying in a way Lung couldn't be, but I couldn't just sit back and watch the whole fucked up disaster cycle go on.

'But, I'm going. I want to help.'

She stared forward, watching the road with an intensity I hadn't seen in her eyes in a long time, not since the last time Uncle Rick had come to the house, when she told him never to return.

"I know I could stop you. I could deny permission, and they would leave you here. You don't understand how much I want to do that." She paused, lips pressed tightly. "I know you wouldn't forgive me for it, but maybe you would understand." Another pause. My brothers wisely kept their mouths shut.

"You can go, but be careful. We expect you back for Christmas dinner, okay?"

I nodded. We got on the downtown exit.

I dug out my phone, texted Hannah to let her know I was almost there, and sat back into my seat.

As we pulled up to the back entrance of the PRT building, I tried to think of what to type. I had so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to do, and now, in what might be my last moments with my family, I had no words. My fingers just twitched above the glowing screen, constantly aborting attempts at words as incorrect, or not enough, or too far off the mark.

The screen turned off, and I sighed, and slid it into my pocket. No goodbyes, no words seemed right for the feelings I had right now. I got out, and they followed. We walked down the alley in silence, a mockery of my inability to talk.

Suddenly, I was swept up in a hug, then two more. I put a hand up, resting on my mother's hand, warm in the chill of the Christmas Eve air.

The moment was interrupted by the high voice of my younger brother. "Kick his butt!"

I huffed a quiet laugh, wiping tears from my eyes, as I stepped through the door.

-Shangri-La-

They were waiting for me on the roof. Shadow Stalker and Clockblocker, most of the Protectorate, save Triumph and Dauntless, and Panacea.

"Okay, we're all here. Strider is scheduled to arrive in five minutes, so let's go over the basics. For those of you unaware, Behemoth is capable of bypassing Manton limitations at a range of 32 feet. We call this his Kill aura, because while he does not instantly kill anyone in it, he has the ability to, unless they are resistant in some way.

"For safety's sake, those of you on search and rescue should try and remain outside 200 feet, and even attackers should only venture to about 100 feet from him, unless they are invincible to it, like Battery is for short periods. Mandala, the PRT is unsure of your resistance, so stay outside 100 feet if you do attack.

"The seismic readings indicate South Africa as the target. Be careful here; the Apartheid policies of the South African government do not apply during a crisis, but tensions are high, especially across racial boundaries. Do not rise to the bait for any comments made; we are under truce."

A resounding crack rang out as Strider appeared on the helipad, clad in a blue and black costume.

"Express to Johannesburg, now taking passengers." He said dryly. "This everybody?"

Armsmaster nodded.

"Right." Crack. "Good luck, then." Crack.

We were standing in a tent, halfway across the world.

Behemoth was minutes away from surfacing.

Shit.


A/N: And here's where I drop the bad news. Updates are going to slow down, at least for the next arc. This is mainly to help facilitate the rebuilding of my completely exhausted backlog of material, which I have been relying on for several updates now without inspiration to replace them. I have an update to finish the arc, but then I only have half of the first chapter in Johannesburg. I know, it's a dick move to do this, but I just couldn't find time or inspiration to write, and Endbringer fights take research to do well.

New update schedule will be Fridays, starting this week. Hopefully, I can rebuild the backlog over the next month or two, and twice-weekly updates can resume next arc.