I'm trying to write snippets of original and fanfiction ideas to really get them out of my head. I don't have an expectation that any of them will be really continued unless I get a fresh burst of inspiration. Progress will be inconsistent, When I hit the mood and inspiration basically. Not really much of a writer, YMMVA.
The Brockton Bay Co-op
My first read on him was how passionate he was. Like the cape fanatics in school when they talked about their favorite cape. His name was Ymir, and he was my formal introduction to the co-op.
"Let me tell you a little about our operation, before you commit to us. First, grab that wheelbarrow. Yes, we're not being idle. You'll do some good work even if you aren't joining. The Brockton Bay Co-opt has been around since before Scion. It started during the 60's when a bunch of Kropotkin fanatics decided to engage in urban farming and community renewal projects. We've survived the government trying to shut us down for decades along with various criminal and business entities trying to fuck us over. There was, of course, the great raid of '81, the race riots of '02, the Brockton Energy and Water Conglomerate trying to force our eviction; we still find time to smash in some fascist noses once in a while when they start making trouble again."
I heaved the wheelbarrow with all the strength my scrawny arms could muster. Even with the exercise and daily routines I engaged in, this wasn't enough to make this an easy task. I followed him as he sermonized about the history of the co-op.
"Our struggle was not between individuals, not fighting each other for a promotion, or a house, but rather a struggle for dignity and existence! Even animals will defend the young of others of their species, they'll band together to fight off the cold, the desert, or the predator. Our fight is more abstract, not against nature but selfishness, greed, institutional oppression of the working class, the exploitation of labor, and the virulent racism, homophobia which is very apparent considering we're the white supremacist capital of the East Coast. We absolutely cannot afford to look away when the most vulnerable in our communities are under threat. Because they will always come after us next."
She could plainly see the passion and fervor as he spoke, his eyes aglow like a hell and brimstone preacher talking about what awaited sinners in the afterlife.
"Nature is not our enemy, but the excesses of our society. Even with the advent of parahumans and Endbringers, we should still have enough resources for everyone. Why aren't our resources being used to create more food, decentralize our food and supply system? Cities are a prime target for capes and Endbringers alike. Why haven't we adapted? Why isn't prosperity being equally shared? Because our old world systems of centuries ago keep their stranglehold over us. Think of how insane the world has gotten, along with our priorities! A single cape can destroy hundreds of acres of farmlands, cut off an entire city from outside help. So why aren't we shifting to a self-sufficient model? Because it simply isn't profitable. Because we're stuck in our old ways of how these should be, not how we must change or die. Imagine how much less destructive an Endbringer attack could be if instead of being in a city, millions of people were spread over dozens or hundreds of miles?"
I tried to imagine a world without the dense suburbia, the multitude of stores and different flavors of food all available, 24/7. The idea was almost unthinkable. They were just always there, like how the refrigerator was always stocked, or how I could get dad to drive me whenever I needed it.
"This isn't free love, this isn't singing songs in a circle to patch up relationships. This is about survival. If all of your neighbors are fed, no one will steal your bread. You think packs of wolves or herds of wildebeests come together for love, or family? No, it's to ensure their personal survival and the survival of the group. One provides for the other in numbers. The law of nature and civilization is cooperation. Why do you think so many capes die, or worse? They want to go it alone, be a solo operator, hero or villain. Hell, even the Slaughter House 9 are in a group. Fucked up psychopaths know better than anyone else they can't do it alone."
I looked away embarrassed as he said that. One of my first ideas after the hospitalization was to "prove" myself, build up a reputation, and then leverage that into good terms with the Wards.
"Mutual aid in all forms exponentially increases your chance of survival and the group. More powerful than a mothers love, and infinitely more useful. Sympathy has its places. We don't do handouts. This isn't about charity, it's about my labor, your labor, and everyone's labor. When we achieve a surplus in all things, then we can have the free access and distribution to wealth of the co-op. When you need something, you have it. If we didn't all work together, there wouldn't be enough for anyone and then the community dies. It's everyone's job to look out for this community, it's everyone's job to ensure prosperity. Everyone assumes responsibility for anyone who cannot pay their debt, and they in turn are responsible for everyone else. It's the circle of life."
He ended that statement as we hit our first destination. He called out to various people engaged in leisure, sitting on stoops, playing checkers, reading, or simply basking in the light of a nice day.
"Every person here has deep roots in Brockton Bay, and everyone works for the prosperity of the co-op. If you work, you eat. Simple as that. Not all labor is the same. We need garbage baggers, organic refuse collectors, first aid specialists. Which reminds me, put that wheelbarrow down. We're at the first drop off point. There's a thousand and one things that need to be done, and people aren't too picky. Especially with how much the rest of the Bay has been. We carry these proud traditions alongside mutual aid programs, community outreach, and making inroads with the dispossessed and people of color. Considering we live in the same city as Nazis, this is more important than you think. The Docks and much of the tenement housing population we draw new people from are heavily under ABB rule. Protection rackets, dues, and whatever other perks they want. We're not in a good position to strike out, much less against Lung. See those four vegetable plots? Carefully dump even amounts of the fertilizer in each plot. You said you're good with bugs right? Mind taking some pests out? Multitasking is a good skill for anyone, cape or not. "
"We've always been in the area between the Graveyards and the market. Enough space for hydroponics and close enough to sell the surplus. We have a few cows for milk, chickens, ducks, and pigeons for eggs and meat. Everything is divided as equitably as it can be. Excess funds, when there is any, is recycled right back into the communal projects we have going on here. We mostly use deep water culture techniques for the most bang for our buck. Part time volunteers, weekend co-op warriors who grab organic garbage to recycle as nutrients. We have three resident capes that help support the whole operation, very near and dear friends of mine. We've got Agua. Funny story about his name, he spent months trying to find a good name for himself. Problem is, the best are Hebrew, Japanese, or Celtic based. Not exactly attracting the best attention for obvious reasons. So he went with Agua. Very simple, but it doesn't conflict with any other cape name. Plus we've got a fondness for its simplicity. Agua was one of the first capes to join the co-op. He's in fact one of the longest living capes in Brockton, having been here since '91. That was a godsend, as the city tried to change tactics and get us integrated into the plumbing and electrical grid. They wanted an inch to make a mile, and they couldn't just use the heavy handed tactics that they loved to do decades ago. We were practically a landmark, a feel good story, a beacon of hope and a chance for something new. We had friends in all walks of life and even a few sympathetic power brokers. So they just wanted us to conform to all the specifications and "regulations" despite being mostly self sufficient.
Agua basically jump started our entire plumbing and electricity program. We could thumb our noses at the city all we wanted to. We get our fresh water straight from the aquifer itself, and he pressurizes it enough to create water wheels. Our engineers rigged us up a makeshift hydroelectric system. When that baby started, we were creating so much electricity that we were able to export it! Now the shoe was on the other foot, with the city buying cheap electricity from us."
After I tried to listen, dump the fertilizer evenly at the same time, and have the plant pests get eaten by the spiders in the dark nooks of the greenhouse, we then headed to what he called "The People's Armory". As we walked, I started to notice the details I hadn't picked up before. Everyone was on a constant swivel, hands close to pockets and suspicious bulges on their sides or backs. Then there were the sentries on roofs with binoculars and radios. I had a sense of uneasiness, not being used to seeing so many people armed.
"It wasn't all sunshine and roses though, especially in the bad old days of Allfather and the Teeth. Being an anarchist has rarely worked out when surrounded by fascism and racism. They had deep pockets, places of power, and the good ol' boys clubs of white sons raised on a diet of capitalism and white supremacy. If they couldn't get us legally, they'd get us in other ways. It started with hateful and threatening graffiti. It escalated to break ins, destruction of the farms, to assault. Self-defense was one of our founding tenements. Workers should not, and cannot be disarmed. We can't rely on the police because the people who burnt crosses were often those who went to barbecues with the boys in blue.
Plus, as representatives of the law, they were beholden to the businesses and priorities of the city government. Neither of which were ever allies. We disrupted the status quo, we showed people how much difference you could make, capes or no capes. And we committed the worst cardinal sin of all. We were defending ourselves! Guns, knives, baseball bats, during those days kids were always inside and no one walked without two others backing them up. That's how Stone Cold met us. See, during the big race riots kicked off by the 88, Stone Cold was a local girl who had some friends in the co-op who weren't the right race. Nazis everywhere get a hardon for beating minorities, but anarchist minorities? We were a big buffet dinner, only one cape who wasn't much of a fighter, and everyone else was just a plain jane human being."
I never heard these details before. Cape history, while extensive, didn't really have an insiders look in it. I was enraptured, imagining the setting in my mind. How much fear they had, how fragile their whole world was. Most people didn't like talking about the race riots. It was ugly everywhere, a lot of neighbors looking away and pretending to not hear the screams and bloodshed. He continued his story as we entered a three story building, festooned with barbed wire and rifles sticking out of windows.
"The young Kaiser wanted to make a real name for himself, getting out from Allfather's and Iron Rain's shadows. There he is, him and fifty gang members, swaggering down the main road, throwing molotovs, beating people or worse as they go. Stone Cold, stares them all down. She tells them to leave or else, wanting to leverage the fact that no one really knew about her power. Kaiser, all fancied up in his armor laughs and faces her, one on one. Stone Cold takes a deep breath, and blows. Kaiser is getting slower and colder by the second, his metal armor freezing up and draining him of all his heat. The laughing gang members go silent, then start to shout and fire whatever they have at her. Bullets fucking slow in mid-air until they freeze entirely, plinking on the ground. Kaiser breaks free and starts booking it. He knew this wasn't a fight he was going to win. Some of his posse start to follow, but frostbite is setting in for some of them. Guy falls over with a frozen hand, and it shatters on impact. Whole goddamn street is silent, people peeking from windows and doors. Nothing but the sobbing of a handless man. She tells them to leave and not come back. Single woman, totally stone cold."
Inside the building I could hear the banging of hammers, see sparks flying near an open garage as they weld metal plates to SUVs. This place looked like a rebel base in some far off country, not a co-op defense armory.
"Stone Cold made her decision that day, getting off the sidelines and right into our community. She's the number one reason even Lung didn't make more than a token push, despite us being right next to the tenement projects. He's all fire, all escalation, but that won't help with the air being frozen around him, taking away his flames. Paired up from Agua, lets just say there's plenty of gang members who've had frostbite and amputations in the middle of July, you dig?"
I nodded warily, seeing the logic behind his words, but a little queasy at the explicit picture I was getting. They really meant business. This was life or death for them, and I couldn't even remember the last time I heard about hero patrols in this area, despite its distance from the Market and Protectorate base.
We hit our destination, a gray metal door with no less than five locks. He ushered me in, snacks on the table, and a man with a Greek tragedy mask, contorted in screaming.
"Melpomene", Ymir nodding respectfully at the third and final cape of the Brockton Bay co-op. No one knew much about him besides his name. Not even the forums yielded much information. We sat down on the chairs. I was tense. This was my first real meeting with a cape, and I was determined to make a good first impression.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Melpomene. I'm really impressed by everything I've seen here at the co-op. The amount of work and history is really humbling!" I was nervous that I was laying it on too thick, but I pushed on through. "I've heard so much about the people and capes here, and I think I can make a real difference here! I have obligations, but I can get here whenever needed.". There, pitch done. Now I awaited his reply.
He took a big sigh, leaned back and looked at me for a minute. His gaze was judging as though he was unraveling every little thing about me. In fact, a bolt of fear shot through me. I didn't know his power. He spoke at length about Agua and Stone Cold, but not this guy. Anxiety and agitation was building up. I was rethinking this whole venture, and every decision leading up to this point. A cold sweat snaked down my back, nerves and fire. I was just about to leap up from the chair and just apologize, running away like a coward when he finally spoke.
"You pass." he simply said, looking right into my mask's eye holes.
I was bewildered. He didn't ask any questions, didn't do anything but stare. I looked over to Ymir for some kind of explanation. I didn't put out a sigh of relief. I went from nauseous, to nervous, to relieved. The whiplash was hitting me hard.
Ymir leaned back, his voice taking a hypnotic quality. "Melpomene of all her sisters stood out. She was originally the muse of the chorus, eventually becoming the muse of tragedy. She of all her siblings was reviled most by Man. She was not a harbinger of love, or beautiful, entrancing music, poetry, comedy, or good tidings. Her chorus was a wail of mothers with dead sons. It was the funeral song of heroes struck down too early. She was tragedy incarnate. What I am about to say to you is completely confidential, understand? You can still back out, walk away. But this gets you in the inner circle."
I was never one for indecision, right or wrong. I do, and leave the regret for later. Straightening my back, I steel my gaze and firmly stay in place. Then he dropped a bombshell on me.
"When he looked into your eyes, he saw all the tragedies that have, will, or may not happen for you across all reality and time. He sees your paths, your decisions and their outcomes. He doesn't remember it of course. After he processes it, he completely forgets it. All he knows is the feelings you give him. The feeling if you're a danger to the co-op, the emotions you inspire in others, good or bad. Think of it like a gut feeling back up by actual power."
"So welcome aboard bug, Welcome to the Brockton Bay Co-op."
