Old Masters 2.2
Stop shaking.
Stop shaking.
Stop shaking god damn it!
I clenched my fists tight as a wave of hot anger flowed over me again. My entire body trembled as I tried to contain the flood of adrenaline and anger that refused to back down. As if an entire separate being was fighting me for control of my body, it was an immense struggle just for me to remain seated on the sidewalk.
Since my little… freak out, the entire intersection had calmed down. Ambulances and SWAT had arrived within seconds after Weld had calmed me down, and the Blastgerm thugs were being marched off into an armored vehicle, clad in oversized heavy duty handcuffs and chains. The few injured police were being looked over by the paramedics, but it seemed casualties were low.
I felt my stomach and flinched. When the grenade had gone off, there had been a brief, shocking stab of pain that wracked my entire body. I hadn't felt anything like it since my transformation, and it had blind sided me. Maybe that was why I had reacted so violently; after all, most people don't live to appreciate being reduced to paste. Yeah, that made sense, it was a knee jerk reaction to a near death experience. That was a sane and logical reason.
Of course, it was also the wrong one. I couldn't explain why, but I knew that my reaction wasn't… right. That level of anger, that sadism, it wasn't me. I had felt almost like a prisoner in my own body, watching as I unleashed hell on my victims. That in itself was bad, but the similarity to my nightmares was haunting.
I released my fist with a sigh and stared at my hand. It was already trembling again.
Stop shaking.
Stop shaking
Stop-
"Hey, it's Djinn, right?"
My hand stopped shaking, I jerked my head up. It was one of the cops I'd rescued, yes, the one with the injured arm. Now that I wasn't worried about being shot, I could get a better look at him. He was a short man, we were practically eye level if I sat up, with a shaved head and small nose. He had dark brown eyes and smile lines on his face; probably in his mid thirties, it was hard to tell.
"Y-yeah. That's me." I croaked; my throat was raw from all the screaming, and apparently my regenerative abilities were feeling selective today. The alternative that I had overloaded them was too unsettling to think about.
The cop nodded, "Well, I just wanted to say, thanks. You really saved our bacon out here. Sorry you had to go through that though, it couldn't have been easy, especially for a kid like you."
I bit my lip and ducked my head, "I'm not that young."
The man laughed and rubbed at his head, "Yeah, I guess not. Either way, you've got guts kid. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask; I'll be forever in your debt for what you did."
I hoped the blush on my face wasn't too obvious when I lifted my head, and put on a weak smile, "Thanks, mister…?"
He laughed again, "I don't do the mister thing. Just call me Kuririn, all my friends do."
Huh, that was a surprise. I cocked my head to the side, "Your friends call you chestnut?"
Now it was his turn to look surprised, before he smiled and rubbed the top of his head, "Yup, it's what I get for shaving my head on accident as a kid, now I'm stuck with it. You speak japanese?"
"I do?"
When he had said 'Kuririn' there had been no guessing, I had just… known it. Maybe I had picked it up from all the ABB initiates at Winslow. A lot of them spoke nothing but japanese or chinese, so I was bound to pick something up. But still…
"I don't speak Japanese." I admitted. "I just recognized the word."
Kuririn chuckled, "You don't say? That some sort of power of yours?"
"Maybe? Powers are weird." I didn't want to tell him that we were still figuring out what I could and could not do. I had a feeling that it was a secret Armstrong wouldn't want to become public knowledge.
"Okay, you've got me there, I've seen some weird powers over the years." he gestured at the curb, "Mind if I sit down? Paramedics say I'm fine, but I think I need to sit after all that craziness."
"Be my guest." I moved to the side. As I did, I caught Weld out of the corner of my eye, talking with one of the SWAT officers, and he was wearing a relieved, and knowing, smile on his face.
Sneaky devil. I made a note to thank him later; for now, I tried to talk with the officer, and to keep my mind off of the absolute shit storm that was rolling my way. I was not looking forward to explaining what happened to Armstrong.
-M-
Well, I was right. Explaining what happened to the Director was slow, awkward and made it hard for me to look him in the eye, especially after admitting I had literally eaten a grenade At the very least, Director Armstrong didn't interrupt us during our report; it was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
When we finished, the only sound in his office was the bubbling of his aquarium and the steady 'tik-tok' of a wall mounted clock. Like my last visit, we were seated at the coffee table instead of his desk. This didn't help with the nervous knot forming in my stomach. On the bright side, I no longer had the urge to murder anything that looked at me funny, so there was that.
After a long minute of silence, Armstrong took a long draw from his tea, and set it down with a solid 'clink'. He regarded Weld, then me, those dark eyes unreadable. Then he let out a sigh and leaned forward while rubbing his face.
"There's two ways for the fallout to go after today, Djinn. In the worst case scenario, people are left terrified of you as a potential time bomb waiting to go off, and we're forced to transfer you to another city, most likely one of the midwestern departments."
More knots started twisting in my stomach, until Weld gently touched my arm. I blinked, and looked at him. He pointedly looked at my hands, and I realized with a start that I had literally twisted some of my fingers into knots without realizing it. Oh god, that did not look right at all!
Armstrong patiently waited for me to untangle myself, which only took a minute to do. Once I was settled, I put on a weak smile. "And the other direction?"
His own lips turned up in a surprisingly smug smirk, "The other direction is already under way. Every New Years, the mayor holds an honoring ceremony for the heroes of the city, cape or cop. I've already put the paperwork forward and odds are good you'll be awarded a Medal of Valor for what you did today."
I choked back my surprise, "W-what!?"
The Medal of Valor was the highest decoration for bravery that non-military officers could receive in the US. During my entire life, only a handful had ever been handed out. It was rewarded to genuine heroes, men and women that put everything on the line for the safety of others and somehow survived, and sometimes not even that.
All I had done was eat a grenade. There was no way that I deserved anything coming close to that kind of reward.
"Djinn, Taylor." Armstrong said, "Today you willingly put your life on the line to protect people you had never met before. There was no way of knowing you were going to survive what you did. Your first reaction on seeing a life threatening danger, was to throw yourself in the line of fire with no regard for your own safety."
He leaned back in his chair, and steepled his fingers, "If you ask me, that certainly sounds like someone that's earned a Medal of Valor."
I stared at him, my jaw loosely hanging. This was unreal, unthinkable! It was my literal first day as a hero, and they were already getting ready to shower me with medals? Seriously!?
I shook my head, "No no no. Sir, I-I don't deserve this. I can regenerate, I can heal, that wasn't some noble sacrifice, plus I-"
Armstrong silenced my protests with a raised hand, "As far as the public will be concerned, you put your life on the line to save two officers of the law. That's what they'll see and it's what we want them to see. Your rampage afterwards, while excessive, isn't exactly unwarranted either. Most people don't appreciate being blown up after all."
My head was spinning, I couldn't find the words to protect. Me, a recipient of the Medal of Valor, being honored by the entire city of Boston. That didn't sit right, I hadn't earned it, I didn't deserve it. All I had done was what could be expected of me with the powers I had; that didn't make me a hero.
Yes I am aware of the irony of that statement, but my point stands. I had done nothing to be honored like this.
Seeing my obvious internal conflict, Armstrong sighed again, "Let's move on. We can discuss the details of the award later; there are other pressing concerns we need to discuss. This rampage for example. If I understand this correctly, your body was operating on instinct, but you were conscious the entire time?"
The line of questioning was a welcomed relief that pushed me away from unsavory self deprecating thinking. I nodded slowly, trying not to think about the rampage itself. "Y-yes. It was like watching a video of myself in action. Until Weld pinned me, I wasn't actually able to control myself… I was solely focused on making sure the people that hurt me paid for it."
Armstrong exchanged a glance with Weld, and gestured at him with an open palm. "You have something to say, son?"
Weld sat up a little straighter, "Yes. We've seen this kind of phenomenon from time to time with more inhuman capes, typically the more beastly ones. My personal theory right now is that, given your history at Winslow and the past few years, your powers are specifically centered around making sure you can't be hurt."
I raised a brow, and he rolled his eyes, "Let me explain. Your body is intimidating enough that the average person thinks twice before approaching you, no offense."
"Some taken." I deadpanned.
"If they're not intimidated, you have enhanced strength and stamina to defend yourself physically. If that fails, your body has regenerative abilities, and if whatever is hurting you is still too much for that to handle, it enters this… automatic rage state. A sort of 'kill mode' that tosses restraint to the wind. Anything that could or would hurt you is crushed, and you're safe again."
He shrugged, "Not everyone gets powers so thematically tied to their past, but it's happened. Alexandria was a cancer patient before triggering, and now she has an ageless indestructible body. So there is a precedent, just not one this… thorough."
Weld's hypothesis was rational, logical, it made sense. And it was dead wrong. Don't ask how, but I knew that whatever reason he or Armstrong came up with, they wouldn't be able to explain my powers. The only thing I could agree with, was that I did have a kill mode apparently, but it didn't seem to have my best interests in mind.
Armstrong rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I'll make a note of that, Weld, it's very well thought out. Whatever the reason though, its obvious we're going to need to take steps to make sure this doesn't happen again. So, for now, I'm pulling you off patrol until we can get a handle on this. In addition, I'll be cancelling your transfer to South Boston High. If this 'rage state' is aggravated by stress, then putting you in a high school environment would be the absolute worst decision we could possibly make, especially given your… experiences, with the public school system."
I smirked, in a morbid way.
It was relieving though, his decisions. I would have more time to adjust, to learn what I could do and how to control myself. There was no way I'd let them put me in the field until I knew I could control… whatever it was, that was lurking inside me. So it was comforting to know that the Director and I were on the same page.
I said as much, before adding in a more sheepish tone, "I'll… also accept that offer of therapy now, if it's still on the table. It's probably not good for me to bottle up my feelings if getting stressed might make me do... That, again."
Armstrong gave me a warm smile, "I'll talk with Dr. Yamada, I'm sure she'll be more than willing to help. Now, there's still the issue of determining how to figure out exactly how this is… triggered."
He frowned, "The unfortunate truth is, there's not a lot we can do at the moment. Since you're a minor, we legally can't test you to your limits without your parents permission, and… well, I can't exactly see your father consenting to let us try and blow you up again."
No, that was… definitely not something dad would agree to. Frankly, I was having a hard time accepting the fact that I was agreeing to it. But, it was definitely a problem then. The testing and training I had gone through so far was simple, basic, and the most they could do for a Ward. The bureaucratic red tape and the ever-present specter of the Youth Guard made sure that any 'threats to the safety of minors in service to the Protectorate were kept to an absolute minimal.
Unless you ate a grenade, or decided to fight power armored goons in hand to hand combat, apparently.
Weld made himself known again with a raised hand, "Er, Director. I have an idea on how to help Taylor, off the record."
The look on Armstrong's face managed to be an amazing fusion of disgust, terror, amusement, and exasperation all mixed into one. It was actually quite impressive how he managed to display them all at once. And deeply, deeply concerning.
Armstrong rubbed his temples and stood up from his chair. "You'll have to talk to Miss Hebert, out of my office. I can't be involved at all or the Youth Guard will crucify me."
Weld nodded and stood up, offering me a hand. I took it, without hesitation, and stood up till we were eye level, "What exactly do you have in mind?" I asked.
He gave me that same damn reassuring smile and said, "Remember how you said you wanted to meet my master after we broke the cafeteria? Well, it seems you're going to get your wish."
"Oh, wait!" Armstrong interrupted, before we left.
We both turned back to him quizzically. Armstrong sighed, "One final question. Did your clothes survive the explosion, Miss Hebert? Because you're still wearing the costume Glenn gave you?"
I looked down at myself, and blinked, "Huh? I… have no idea, I hadn't even noticed."
No sooner had the words left my mouth, did my clothes erupt into steam, evaporating into the horrific default costume I had shown to Glenn earlier that week.
Fuck my life.
-M-
As it turned out, Weld's 'master' didn't technically live in Boston, but in the rural areas surrounding it. We spent at least 45 minutes driving along the Charles River, until city skyscrapers turned into suburbs and then suburbs into rural towns. Then we wound up abandoning the I-90 altogether and took a series of confusing twists and turns until we were driving through a barely paved road in the middle of an overgrown forest. I figured that might be the end of it, but no.
After we reached the end of the paved road, we found a dirt lot where an old pick up was parked, paint faded and cracked, its bumpers coated in rust. But it's windshield was clean, which meant someone was driving it; three guesses who.
Weld led me down a winding dirt path out that emerged through the forest and into a small lake that the Charles River filtered in and out of. There was an old rowboat there, in far better shape than the truck we had seen, tied to a dingy old wooden dock. I stopped at its edge, put my hands on my hips, and shot Weld a look.
"You've been annoyingly vague this entire trip Weld. I agreed to come because I want to control my powers. But the whole drive here, you've barely said a word."
He looked at me surprised, even as he was untying the rope tying the boat to the dock. "You looked lost in thought; I wanted to give you some space."
I opened my mouth, then closed it with a snap and huffed. Steam whistled through my pores, and my eye started twitching. Stupid metal jerk and his genuine kindness and actual good points. Sulking was practically my only past time, and what can I say, old habits die hard.
Weld finished untying the boat and gestured at it, "I can answer any questions you have on the way there. My master… enjoys his privacy, that's all. He's not much of a city person."
I looked at the boat, then at Weld, and let out a sigh before marching over and stepping into it. One advantage to being the daughter of a dock worker, I had been on my share of boats and dingy's over the years; I had a good set of sea legs, even if my new legs were longer than my old ones.
Weld on the other hand, managed to not so gracefully almost fall through the boat getting in. After a brief tussle with the rope, and the oars, we were finally under way, Weld rowing while I watched the river.
It's surface was calm, gently parting before us as we picked up speed, sending little ripples dancing across its surface. The weather today had been surprisingly warm for Boston, with a clear sky and surprising amount of activity in the lake itself. I could see a few fish, none of which I could name, darting out of our way as we rowed on. My reflection in the rippling water almost looked human, if I ignored the unnatural skin hue. It didn't help, and I grumpily returned to sitting in the boat and staring at the deck floor.
I crossed my arms and looked up at Weld, "So, this… master of yours. You seem to think pretty highly of him. What can you tell me about him?"
Weld thought for a moment as he rowed, "Well… he's a bit eccentric. Can be a bit blunt at times… kind of a crotchety geezer too, if he gets annoyed. But he's a kind man, a good man. I literally would not be the person I am today without him."
He hesitated after saying that, and suddenly took an interest in the lake. "He'll try and mess with you too. Best way to deal with it is to go with the flow. If you get uptight around him, he might decide not to train you, he's very particular about that."
"He sounds like quite the character." I noted, my curiosity piqued.
A reminiscent expression passed over Weld's face, "Oh you have no idea."
Before I could interrogate Weld some more, the boat suddenly jerked to a stop. I caught myself on its rail and looked over my shoulder at the island that seemed to have just… jumped up from nowhere. It wasn't huge (it wasn't a very big lake to begin with) but it definitely should've stuck out.
A ring of dirty sand surrounded a pleasantly green lawn, and a shade of oak trees occupied the eastern side of the island. On the western side, an old white lawn chair rested near the beach edge, and behind it was a small two story house. At one point its walls must've been red, but the paint had faded into a light pink. The roof had fresh red tiling and one of those old fashioned rooster weather vanes swiveled on the roof. Emblazoned in fresh red paint on the second story were the words 'Kame House'.
Weld stood up and cupped his hands together, "Master Roshi! It's Weld! I'm back!"
I heard a scuffling from inside the house, and the green screen door swung open and an old man shuffled out onto the front porch, shielding his eyes from the sun.
Now, let me reiterate that when I say old, I mean ancient. The guy had to be pushing his eighties or nineties at least. He was bald, with a thick white Fu Manchu mustache and beard. He wore a pair of red rimmed sunglasses that were topped with thick bushy eyebrows. A Hawaiian shirt hung from a frame best described as skin and bone, and he waddled forward with a bow legged strut, using a gnarled old wooden cane for support. A thick purple pack of some kind hung from his shoulders even as he waddled towards us, a sunny smile on his face.
Weld stepped out of the boat and onto the beach, bowing his head slightly even as the man, Master Roshi apparently, approached.
"Weld my boy!" he greeted happily, like a grandfather to his favorite grandson, "It's good to see you! How is my favorite pupil doing? Still keeping up with your training I hope, when you're not busy saving the world, eh?"
"Of course, Master Roshi, always." Weld said. The smile on his face was contagious, and I had to fight my own urge to start grinning too.
"And I see you brought a friend? Is this that girl you've been telling me all about, the one you've had your eye on?" he said, elbowing Weld while grinning mischievously.
Weld blanched and I swear he actually managed to blush, "What!? No, she's not… definitely not. I mean no offense Djinn, but I mean…"
"I don't blame you." I replied, deadpan, and stepped over the boat and walked up beside him. I wasn't exactly sure if I was supposed to bow too, or what. This wasn't quite what I had been expecting from the way Weld had talked about him. But, then again, Weld had said the man was a bit odd, so that was my fault more than anything else.
I imitated Weld's little bow and said, "Hi, I'm… Djinn. Weld said you might be able to help me train my powers."
The hunched old man craned his head up and up to look at me, quirking his lips as he did, "Eh… well, kids these days say a lot of things. Can't really promise anything until I get a good look at ya though, can I? He he he. Come on in, take a seat. I was getting ready to eat anyway, this will make for good conversation while I eat."
And with that he waddled back to his house, barely paying us any more attention. I looked at him, and then at Weld. He just shrugged and said, "Well, I did warn you, didn't I?"
A/N: Well I did say it was a fusion fic right? God I hope this isn't too much in one chapter. There's a few bits here I might go back into and expand on, especially in Taylor's initial angst phase. This is more of a transition chapter, next chapter we've got a lot of ground to cover.
Hope you guys enjoyed it though, and please leave comments and criticism below, let me know what I missed or messed up on. Also, editor hasn't actually looked at the chapter yet (he's too busy streaming) so expect the edited copy up tomorrow sometime in the afternoon.
See you all next time!
