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Bronze Barbarians: Luke B., Markus
Iron Intellectuals: WanderingDaemon, Cybercrisis, MouthyStorm
Machine Menace: Aydrik
Nuclear Noncombatant: Amanda E.
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Herald
Chapter Seven
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Headquarters, Parahuman Response Teams, East-North-East Division
Brockton Bay, Massachusetts
"Hmm, not the most hospitable building, but then I suppose it isn't really meant for tours or public consumption." Annette Hebert remarked contemplatively to Miss Militia as the middle-eastern woman escorted her into the lobby of the PRT HQ, looking around with evaluating eyes as the hero signed her in to the building. "Have you ever actually had a villain attack here? I can't remember such a time, personally, but...?"
The last few days with the Heberts had been some of the most… interesting in the Kurdish-American's life. Not in the Chinese sense of the word, perhaps, but interesting all the same. The first thing that had been clear is that Taylor had inherited a great deal from her parents. Her height and eyes had quite clearly come from her father, while the rest (perhaps most prominently her slender build and her long, honestly luscious hair) had clearly come from her mother.
If Miss Militia hadn't already been interested in them from their files, she would have been smitten the moment they first laid eyes on one another. Of course, that had made things a bit awkward, and she had had to mind herself to avoid appearing flirtatious during conversations. Not a problem that she had often encountered in her life, and not for quite some time.
"Not counting Squealer's attempt that your daughter stopped, not for a long time. Not since The Teeth and The Nine were last in the city, and even then, it was a footnote compared to some of the other things that were going on." Was the response as Militia handed the mother of her potential Ward her security pass and led the way beyond the receptionist's desk. "We've never captured Oni Lee or Lung, so the ABB have had no reason to. The Empire prefers to ambush our prison transports rather than attack us here, and until the other day the Merchants hadn't had the need, or the wherewithal, to do so either."
"How is Squealer doing? I know my daughter was very concerned for her health, given that she'll soon be going through the withdrawal symptoms of whatever godforsaken cocktails she's been consuming over the last few years." Annette didn't even bother trying to stifle the question that bloomed in her mind, genuine concern seeping from every word and pore, and Miss Militia glanced back at her for a moment before sighing.
"She isn't faring well. Your daughter is insisting that we give Squealer some sort of tea that she says will help, but, with no offense meant, we aren't inclined to trust any unknown substances. Especially substances that we're quite sure are biotinkered, given their alien natures." The heroine responded a bit tiredly, looking rather like she was resisting the urge to rub her forehead.
"Minnan parten, no doubt?" Annette's words weren't really a question, despite the slightly inquiring pitch of her voice, and Militia nodded as they stepped into an elevator. Smiling slightly, the mother continued. "My daughter has always been fond of her remedies, even if I have no idea how she comes up with them or where she gets the ingredients. Three years ago, I had a nasty bout of pneumonia. She had me drinking that tea three times a day for three days and I was back on my feet without further complications. Better than any antibiotic any doctor has ever prescribed, I can tell you that!"
"How long exactly has Taylor been doing this, then? She's already a bit young for powers, but three years ago would have left her in middle school!" Militia was clearly shocked, and worried, by the idea, and Annette blinked slightly in surprise at the emotion in the question before frowning thoughtfully and contemplating the question.
"Well, I've always known my baby was special, of course. Every mother says that, I know, but I knew there was something beyond that. She's always been well-spoken, sharp as a razor, too smart for her age, and popular with those around her. But things like the tea…oh, not long after she hit puberty, I suppose. Ten or eleven years old, I would say." She finally responded, not sounding concerned in the least, and Militia was struggling of a polite way to ask what sort of Trigger Event could have occurred at such a young age. She had been younger than that herself, of course, but her situation was hardly a measuring stick for those of the average American middle-school girl! Especially back before Brockton Bay had turned into the nightmare it now was, though it had never exactly been a peaceful place.
"She seems remarkably mature for her age. Its unusual to see a teen so well-spoken and capable of critical thinking. Even her initial arguments about the Wards were well-reasoned and clever, if perhaps short-sighted. Ironic, I know, given I praised her critical thinking." She said instead, hoping to draw the conversation to the subject naturally. With any luck, the other woman would remark on naturally. With any luck, the other woman would remark on why her daughter was so mature, which could provide the opportunity Militia needed to ask further questions without coming across as rude and intrusive.
"Well, part of it is her father and I. Neither of us are fools, and I made sure that I was teaching her things at home in addition to what she was learning at school." Anette explained, which Militia had expected. When one's mother was a college professor, a well-regarded one, it would make sense that one would probably have a bit more schooling at home than typical. "She's always been a complex girl, though. All the social graces of a princess, but God she can cut you straight to the bone with that tongue of hers when she wants to!"
"Yes, I've noticed that she can be…honest in conversation, no matter what the subject is." Militia admitted, blushing lightly and side-eyeing the mother as they stepped out of the elevator and moved down the long hallway to the Director's Office. She hadn't forgotten Taylor's detailed and vocal appreciation of many of the female parahumans in the city, herself included, nor had she forgotten Taylor's announced intention to forge a menage-a-trois between her parents and the heroine.
She should want to dismiss the idea out of hand, never mind have accepted being the point of contact with the couple and the PRT, but she hadn't quite managed to convince herself to do it. Nor, if she was terrible honest with herself, had she tried very hard. She had been intrigued from the outset by the pair, and the voiced intent to push her into their relationship had not done a great deal discourage her interest. Odd, perhaps, given the world in which she had been raised, or for that matter the general culture of the United States itself, but she couldn't help but feel interested all the same.
"I know that tone, and that look. What did she say this time?" Annette half-laughed, half-sighed, and Militia's blush brightened to a degree that the Hebert matriarch wouldn't have thought possible, given the dusky skin tone of her companion. The heroines shook her head in denial, to embarrassed to voice what had happened, and Annette contemplated the possibilities.
"There are a few options I can think of. The first, perhaps the least likely given the reason we're here, is that she vented no small amount of spleen in regards to your organization, and you all feel the need to discuss it with me. Not that I think joining the Wards couldn't happen in parallel to such a thing, but my daughter is more subtle, and tactful, than that."
'Tactfulness' and 'subtlety' weren't exactly the words that Militia would use to describe Taylor thus far, if she was going to be perfectly honest.
"The second, somewhat more likely, is that my daughter shamelessly expressed her interest in several members of your organization, yourself included. She's been quite vocal in her praise of several young ladies in the city."
Militia was opening her mouth to confirm that, both because it was true and it would deflect the mother from the real reason that she was so embarrassed. Unfortunately for her, it immediately became clear that Taylor had inherited more than just her looks from her mother. Adopting a stern look, the mother frowned at the hero.
"Do I need to worry about my daughter seducing you, Miss Militia?"
"Mrs. Hebert! Of course not, I would never…!" Militia yelped in shock and protest, the words she intended to say lost forever in one instance of profound emotion. She had thought that she had been embarrassed before, but this was something else entirely! She suddenly paused, visibly thinking over what had just been said. She couldn't help but give voice to the question that popped into her mind. "Wait, why would she be seducing me? Isn't it traditionally the other way around? And why would there be any seductions at all?"
"Calle me Anne-Rose, my dear Miss Militia. For one thing, I know for a fact that you're her type, because you're my type, and she gets her excellent taste in women from me. For another, my daughter isn't a particularly passive girl. She prefers to take a more active role in her relationships, whatever sort they happen to be." Annette informed her bluntly, and the heroine blushed luminescently once again as she shrunk in on herself slightly, looking around the hallway anxiously to ensure no one was overhearing this surprising and intimate conversation. "Of course, I bet that she already decided to set you up with her father and myself. As interesting and attractive as she would find you, she would think you a better fit for the two of us."
She paused for a moment, giving the heroine a long, head-to-toe look of frank evaluation and approval, before continuing.
"Tell me, how would you like to have dinner with Danny and myself this week, perhaps at The Driftwood?"
Miss Militia stared at her blankly, seemingly in shock, and Annette couldn't help but find the (cliché as it might sound) deer-in-the-headlights look terribly attractive on the woman. She had always heard that Militia and Chevalier had been a couple during their younger years, but given how flustered the woman was…
"It seems that 'taste in women' is not the only thing your daughter inherited from you, Miss Hebert." Militia finally said, taking a fortifying breath as she visibly fought to control herself and tamp down on her embarrassment. "She was no less bold during her interview with Battery and Armsmaster. She also, it seems, has your measure, given that she did indeed declare her intentions to insert me into your relationship."
"She could have been subtle about it, I suppose, but she likely doesn't find that nearly as entertaining as letting you know exactly what she intends for all of us." Annette responded blandly, enjoying the conversation immensely. "So, dinner? I promise you we don't intend anything untoward, we just want to get to know you better. We certainly don't intend for you to be a plaything we dispose of when we're bored, if that is what you are worried about."
"We're here to discuss Taylor's Membership with the Wards and your own safety, not my attractiveness or suitability for a, a, menage a troi!" The heroine responded stiffly, before swiftly changing the subject before Annette could respond. "However, your comment about Taylor's subtelty, or lack thereof, brings up another subject that Armsmaster and Director Piggot will want to discuss with you at your meeting with them. They're rather concerned with her determination to…"
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"'Take the city in hand', I believe was the phrase that she chose to use. I have more than enough people trying to do that already, I have no interest in one of my subordinates being added to that list. If your daughter wants to join the Wards, all of you need to understand that there are protocolsfor how we do things here. Protocols like when to engage criminals and villains, when to enter a dangerous location, how to interact with civilians, and how to avoid PR disasters like spelling your name in human bodiesand uploading the video to Youtube!"
Emily Piggot was not the most…diplomatic person, she knew, and she would be the first person to admit it, even if only to herself in the privacy of her own mind. She might be a Director now, rubbing elbows with mayors and governors and senators, but at her core she was still the Strike Team commando that had been affectionately (and somewhat ironically) known as 'Lady' by her comrades. She was a soldier, not a politician, and for that matter she despised politicians almost as much as she despised villainous parahumans. Moreso, even, in many cases.
The villains could be counted on to be honest about their villainy.
The Hebert family, however, obviously appreciated candor to a degree she had never experienced. The girl's bluntness during her 'interview', and the mother's equal bluntness with Hana during their own conversation (which had, of course, been reported word-for-word to both herself and Armsmaster), had made that almost painfully clear. So, she would repay their honesty with her own.
"I don't see what the problem is. It's not like any of them died! I didn't even hurt them all that bad, really, nothing more than a few bruises, lacerations," Taylor protested, though if Emily was going to be honest the conversational tone the girl was using made it sound less like a protest, and more like a grocery list.
"Broken bones, extensive soft tissue damage, extensive dental work, God only knows how much psychological damage from your little terror-tactics. Acting like a horror movie character when dealing with a bunch of strung-out lunatics? We're lucky none of them had heart attacks!" Emily responded, waving a hand to the rather large amount of paperwork relating to the extensive, but not life-threatening, injuries that the teen had doled out in a handful of minutes. Of course, much like young miss Hebert's own protests, her complaints were arguably pro-forma. She needed Herald in her organization, and everyone in the room knew it.
That didn't mean she was going to let them walk all over her, nor that this negotiation would be anywhere near as easy as those for most Wards.
Danny Hebert was no pushover, having single-handedly run the Dockworker's Association for nearly two decades now, limiting the influence of the gangs in the entirety of the Docklands and probably the only cohesive group on the city that didn't leak like a sieve. He was a professional negotiator and a proven leader, one that wouldn't have been easy to push around even before Craftworlds had swept into the city and hired the entire DWA at an incredible wage to begin working on the vast tracts of real estate that they had purchased. She almost scowled at the thought. Almost the entirety of the coastal region of the city, save the Boardwalk itself, was now owned by one organization, thanks to the stupidity of the mayor!
"I dealt only the damage necessary to ensure that a previously-defeated opponent could regain their feet and attempt to attack me from behind. Not that an attempted ambush by such pathetic individuals could hope to lay me low, but caution is the companion of wisdom." The girl actually flicked her long fingers, physically dismissing both Emily's argument and the very thought of the Merchant's posing a threat to her with a confidence that was staggering. "Besides which, the mind-numbing concoctions with which those trash 'enhance' themselves could well have effects such as pain suppression that allow them to find beyond what they should with more 'measured' responses."
She made no effort whatsoever to hide the amused disdain in her voice when she spoke of 'measured responses. Most Wards were disappointed that signing up to be a hero didn't mean getting to crack skulls and throw people through buildings like the old comic books…or, for that matter, the more modern Earth Aleph ones. Of course, given her parents, her tone was more likely due to lack of progress in combating the villains and affiliated gangs which was, in part, due in no small part to those same 'measured responses'.
"As for potential psychological damage, Director, I hope you will not consider us cruel when we say that the mental and emotional well-being of such people are not the highest on our priorities." Annette added calmly, laying a hand on her daughter's arm and squeezing lightly in what the other adults in the room could imagine to be vaguely chastising. "While they may have been badly frightened in the moment, one hopes that their incarceration and the programs in place for those in their situation will not only assist them in disposing of their dependencies on illicit substances, but any lingering emotional trauma as well."
"Herald's treatment of Squealer proves that she isn't needlessly cruel, if prone to arrogance and unnecessary displays of power." Armsmaster remarked baldly from his own position by one of the walls, and Militia visibly didn't wince in response. She did wince, and shoot him a dark look, when he continued. "Miss Militia has expressed concerns for her ability to work with a team and whether it will put her in danger with more capable opponents. Or, for that matter, put her teammates in danger as they try to support her."
"They'll be fine if these, I believe the most popular polite appellation is 'soccer moms' would let them actually learn how to protect themselves." Taylor scoffed, jabbing a thumb at the Youth Guard representative, a balding middle-aged man that looked like every stereotypical Hollywood bureaucrat ever. Said 'soccer mom' swelled with indignation, and kept on swelling as she kept talking. "Honestly, I understand the desire to avoid turning children into soldiers, but you would think they'd let someone with Vista's powerset have a taser or something. Purse snatcher is attempting to make an escape? She flexes her power, hits them before they can react, and the situation is resolved. No chance of things…devolving, nor of a long and ardous chase."
"Miss Hebert, the Protectorate and the PRT are not…!" the representative started, bearing severe and tone like a lecturing teacher, but she ignored him. Well, actually, Emily would have to be a bit more honest than that and say that the girl simply steamrolled him and kept moving.
"Shadow Stalker? Significant anger management and self-control issues, with some deep-seated trauma. Of course trauma is par for the course for parahumans, especially young girls, but the fact remains that that girl needs to receive a propermartial arts training, immediately. She'll be less likely to cause bad injuries or receive them, and the mental aspects of a real education in the field would help her deal with that aggression issue of hers. She is an utter disaster waiting to happen."
"Now wait just a minute…!"
"Aegis? I understand that adaptation and redundancy to an absurd degree happens to be his power, but he's over-reliant on his durability. Taking hits full force when you have to makes sense if you can handle it, like he can, but taking anything and everything thrown your way because you're a barely-trained brawler is beyond foolish." Herald, and young Hebert was definitely being Herald at the moment, shook her head in disbelief. "I've seen that boy fight, and I could probably take him apart in a straight fight without using any powers at all. He has no idea how to use his bulk to his advantage, no notion of leverage, his footwork is atrocious, his attacks are so telegraphed they might as well be announced ahead of time, and his defensive blocking is appalling. A hard enough alpha strike would take him down without a struggle, and overwhelming his adaptation short-term with a high-speed fight wouldn't be difficult either!"
"That is not the subject of…" Emily couldn't believe the man was still trying to get a word in, Herald obviously wasn't interested in listening. She was tempted to put her foot down, as the meeting was getting out of (her) control at the moment, but the insights were useful…and seeing the Youth Guard taken down a peg or two was worth a great deal in her books.
"Gallant? Besides the fact that the boy definitely has a hero complex and can't seem to keep his girlfriend happy for longer than a week despite how easy it should be for him, he doesn't know when to shut his mouth and engage the enemy full-force! Diplomacy is all well and good, but he is going to get himself and his teammates hurt or killed if he insists with his absurd displays during pitched combat! Besides which, it's insane that a tinker such as himself has no physical weapons beyond his own body!"
"As a Ward, violence should be a last resort, and…"
"Kid Win? First of all, good gods does he need a new name! Kid Win sounds like something from one of Dad's old comic books. The really cheesy ones (Hey!). Sorry Dad, you know it's true. At any rate, there isn't a villain on this planet that will run away or surrender because Kid Win is chasing them. Secondly, it looks to me like he's trying to pursue too many projects at once. He needs to start combining them if he wants to have any sort of success, because he can't go into a fight carrying an entire armory of half-designed prototypes."
"And Clockblocker?" Emily couldn't help but ask, wondering what this girl would say about the Ward's resident joker and non-violent problem-causer.
"Clockblocker thinks he's much more amusing than he actually is. I'll say this, though, out of your entire Wards program, he is the most useful in a fight. A combination of himself and Vista shuts things down pretty quickly, even with the randomness of how long his 'pauses' work on targets. The problem is, it's the only trick he knows, and he has trouble with multiple targets. Tunnel vision, a very common issue with rookies." She responded bluntly, and Emily raised her eyebrows sardonically at this civilian girl calling a Ward with nearly two years of experience a 'rookie'. Of course, it wasn't an unfair comment given the feats to which this 'civilian' had attatched her name. "Really, it's only these 'Unwritten Rules' of yours that keep any of the Wards alive if this is the sort of training and equipment the Youth Guard permits them to have. Frankly, my joining has more to do with ensuring that the gross stupidity of such an over-zealous and delusional agency doesn't get them all killed."
"Miss Hebert, that is enough!" the Youth Guard representative, who had evidently finally had enough, shouted. His face was red with wrath, and he was actually glaring at the two adult Heberts with disapproval plain in his bearing. "Mr. and Mrs. Hebert, this sort of behavior is entirely intolerable! I must insist that you control your daughter!"
"You insist?" the coldness in Mrw. Hebert's tone would have been a warning to most people, but either the representative didn't notice it or he was too incensed to care…or, perhaps, he thought that his position made him immune to such things as parental wrath. Whatever the reason, rather than back down or soften his tone, he squared his proverbial jaw and bulled on.
"I do! This sort of immature, reckless, ignorant behavior is exactly the reason the Youth Guard exists! It's all well and good for an uninformed child to rant about the unfairness of it all, but it is not her place to question the wisdom of her elders!" he declared passionately, even going so far as to begin gesticulating. "The Youth Guard is responsible for the protection and nurturing of underaged parahumans, whether that suits their fancy or not…and whether or not their parents decide to toe the line and maintain their presence in the child's life."
"Mr. Patrickson, you overstep!" Emily barked, rising sharply to her feet and levelling a dark look at him, mentally cursing herself for not intervening sooner. The situation had, in the course of a single sentence, threatened to spiral out of control. Her cape leadership was visibly seething, even the typically unemotional Armsmaster, the parents were quite clearly offended and furious at the implication, and Herald…
"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you terribly." Herald did not scream, did not yell, did not even raise her voice. Indeed, she was perfectly calm, her voice even. So terribly calm, so frighteningly even, and Emily felt a shudder in her soul at the amused look of those unnatural eyes, that small half-smile that could not be more benign. Because Emily's soul knew what her mind did not, could not: that the ire of something ancient and powerful had been kindled. Herald glanced up from the fingernails she had been idly buffing on her shirt, the light gleaming off those dark-orange orbs, smoldering like coals at the heart of a fire. "After all, you couldn't have just threatened my parents. Implied your willingness to take me away from them if I didn't lick your boots like a brainless fool."
She paused for a moment, tilting her head slightly to regard him, like a falcon sizing up its next meal. A serpent, ready to strike. He said nothing, trying to appear stern and unyielding. So confident in his power, his lofty goals and towering stature, so sure that his connections and purpose protected him.
"But surely no human could be so foolish, so arrogant, to contend with me in such a way." She continued, still smiling that smile, still speaking ever so softly, ever so calmly. "Surely no one could imagine that they might succeed, that they might endure my wrath, that they might be protected by a position as worthless as their own feeble flesh."
She got to her feet, fluidly, slowly sauntering over to him. Her tone was almost purring now, as she drew closer, eyes gleaming.
"After all, they would surely be wise enough to no that what I did to the Merchant's is nothing compared to what I would do to such a person."
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There will be a couple of sidestories that take place during the 'missing moments' referenced in this chapter. I tried to fit 'Miss Militia at the Hebert home' and 'Herald shows off during power testing' into this chapter for about a month and a half, but I couldn't make it work properly. So, they'll get their own snippets. For AO3 and , they will be posted as an interlude compilation chapter.