A/N: Worm does not belong to me, neither do the OC's powers.
Chapter 4
April 12th, 11:46 p.m.
Melanie stared at me with a blank face and dead eyes. She then opened her bottom dresk door and took out a bottle of something brown-no label- poured a drink that was, let's be generous and say it's a double, and I swear to fucking god she did it all without blinking. How the fuck did she do that without powers? One eye is kind of twitching though.
Kidding aside, Melanie's wide-eyed stare was cut off as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She then opened her eyes in a glare at me and began loudly cursing me in a language I didn't know.
Seriously, I have no idea what language she's cursing me in. I've only ever scraped by a 'fluent' in one language but I knew most of the curses for languages you run into in America. Just a privilege of living with such a sparkling personality. Same reason I know what the misdemeanor court is like in nine states and which counties are loose on public intoxication laws. But I have not been told to eat shit and die in whatever this language is, and based on my superior grasp of context clues I'm pretty sure that's the gist of what she's getting at.
After an impressively long time Melanie tapered off. I waited for a moment while she caught her breath, but the curiosity was killing me.
"What language was that? I've never been told to go fuck myself in that language before."
Her expression made my sluggish brain throw out that I probably should have waited another minute, thanks brain for letting me know after I already fuck up. Tense silence stretches for a bit.
"Icelandic. We were looking into Gregor's past and found that's the other language he knows. Picked up a bit in case it might be useful."
"Ah, you learned the swears. Definitely useful, and I'll hit Gregor up to teach them to me."
"I learned more than the curses." She snapped.
Melanie closes her eyes and holds her head in both hands, not like someone weary or sad, more like someone trying to crush a melon.
"Alright. This is what we're going to do. Get out. I'll read all three of your power lists again and try to think about what this means for the city. Then we'll talk again, meet back here in…thirty minutes. Go."
And with that I skedaddled from her office to let her read. I sat down in the hallway to think, and I found myself conflicted.
Despite the cultivated air of obliviousness I give off I tend to be more aware than I show. Sometimes that's not as true as I would like, but I'm usually at least aware of when I'm giving people whiplash. I know that a barrage of world-upending facts, one after another, was seriously not helping Melanie's nerves in this situation. So the conflict comes because I do feel kind of bad, because I do occasionally have the self-awareness to realize that I'm being fucking Too Much, but it's also one of the funnest things I've ever experienced. There's a fundamental flaw in what I have that passes for a personality that I can't function in a normal conversation. Always get too bored. I was the guy that would make anything weird just to keep myself entertained. Now here in my present situation I'm not sure what a normal person would do, I just knew that my impulse to lean towards comedic timing was not helping the situation. But in my defense I'm trying for a mostly honest approach here and there's no way to front-load all this information and not get a little mind-fucky. And would Faultline believe a stranger that opened by saying he was like better Eidolon? She's so stressed because she understands how massive my power is and what it could mean for not just the city, but likely all of earth bet. The three of us-
"Hey. Get back in here."
Oh shit, has it been a half hour already? And here I was lost in my moral quandary. Oh shit I'm not becoming some brooding anti-hero am I?
"What are you snickering at?" Melanie asks as we retake our seats.
"Oh, nothing. Just a funny thought."
"Whatever. Alright, so if you have the power to 'lend' these mantles how would a mantle transformation interact with parahuman powers?" she asks.
"There's no real way to tell before trying. I know that the person will be able to use the mantle powers, but will have to learn how. And the mantles all grow through use and experience. Even if someone else is using the mantle the mantle powers will grow over time. It's one of the reasons I'm willing to lend them out at all. It's a way for the power to grow even while I'm focused on other things."
"The mantles grow the same with other people as with you? No difference?" She asks without looking up from a legal pad where she's taking notes.
"Sort of. The mantle grows, but they'll never be able to hold more than one. It's only my reach that's growing."
"And the other two."
"Yeah them too. But they're not growing as fast as me."
She looks up.
"How do you know?"
"I know what mantles they have and what they can do. Either of them have more instant power than me, there's no way I could handle a titan and a dragonliche right now, but the powerful growth of the Free Man I've been going on about is special. Out of all thirty mantles it's the one specifically marked as having no limit. It doesn't give instant power, but it has more than one power that amplifies the speed of growth. I'll be using two mantles way before the other two guys. And by the way since it's getting tiring calling them the other guys, I'm just gonna go with Guardian and Darkness. The first one even chose it himself, and I don't know what the other has decided to call himself."
"Fine, but you're sure that the 'growth' power isn't just physical strength? You really believe it will affect other powers or your capacity to hold powers?"
"Completely. I've already tapped into it. A small amount. Like, a tiny fraction. Look at my hands." I gesture to the half-healed burns stretching up to my elbow.
"Totally fucked up after fighting Lung. Seriously gross. But I couldn't let go of the Free Man's mantle, so I had to push myself. I didn't really grasp two mantles. The mantles have some basic power below the level of the actual skills, and I managed to take a small amount of the basic energy of the Life Warden to heal myself. It was probably a hundredth of that mantle's basic healing power, but it was enough."
"Why couldn't you let go of the Free mantle?"
"What? You know why. The Free Man grows stronger through injury. If I dropped it then my fingers got roasted like hotdogs for nothing!"
"I- You- …No. Not tonight."
"Technically this morning." I helpfully added.
"Shut up. Fine, so you have one mantle, but your reach is growing, and you can also lend out the ones you're not using. You're offering to lend mantles to the team?"
"I have to assume that Guardian and Darkness are going to arm the Protectorate and the Undersiders the same way sooner or later. We better get ready for it as soon as possible, and anyway this will be good for my power. Every mantle grows with time and experience, but I'm prioritizing the most useful combat powers. The less useful mantles would just go unused, but this way they can gain experience and your crew gets, well, even a less useful mantle is a pretty good powerset."
Melanie nods.
"I get it. So the first goal of training will be getting the crew trying different mantles to see what fits them."
"Exactly. Right now we only have theories, but I have some ideas for what we might start with."
"I do as well. We can compare notes. Let's start with Spitfire."
"Okay, this is an easy one. She should definitely take the Corvid mantle."
"...I usually like to keep Emily on the ground so she can be near Elle in case anything happens. Why do you think the Corvid is so obvious?" Melanie sounds genuinely confused but willing to listen.
"Well a full pyrokinetic would probably make a phoenix, but her napalm-breath thing would definitely make a poor man's dragon. It'd be dope as hell."
There's a long silence. A very long silence.
"Koal…" Melanie seems to be searching for the right words. When she couldn't find them, she says, "are you seriously this stupid? Like are you for real this much of a dumbass or are you doing a bit of some kind? It's too late for this shit."
Wow. Okay Melanie gets a little touchy when she's tired. Really trying not to let that hurt my feelings.
Shaking her head, Melanie goes on.
"When thinking of the crew I immediately picked out the Life Warden for Emily. Her power is dangerous, and has always scared her. She doesn't have any immunity to fire like real pyrokinetics, and she has to act with tremendous restraint to use her power at all on missions. Having a healing power would make her more confident in her offensive power, and make her more useful to the team in other ways, which is something she wants."
"Hmm. I had kind of been thinking of that mantle being one of the ones I would add to myself, because the healing synergizes so well with the Free Man, but this might actually be better. I could start gaining from healing now, not when I can grasp a second mantle. Plus those healing contracts you talked about earlier sounded very lucrative and also, fucking boring. Let her have them and 60% of the pay from them. That should be pretty decent right?"
"That's generous of you, but I'm not sure about you treating this as a free ticket to mutilate yourself."
I just waved this away.
"It's too early to talk about training. Let's focus on the matter at hand."
"Fine. If we have Emily down as potentially the healer, what did you have in mind for Newter and Gregor? Both of their powers work through their skin."
"Alright so this is gonna feel pretty far out there, but just go with it for a minute. The Corvid and the Sea kaiju."
I paused for her to react but she just kept staring like I was now the one speaking Icelandic.
"I'll explain my reasoning." I continued when it was clear she would not.
"I knew that Newter's powers work from skin contact or body fluids, so I thought what if he could fly, and his psychedelic sweat could drip down onto people when he flies above them. In Gregor's case he already has a low brute durability because of his body structure, and it actually sounds similar to the shock absorbing flesh of the kaiju. I figure they could build off each other."
"I…alright let's start by saying that you almost approached a coherent point at the end. Gregor's body does somewhat absorb shock like your description of that power. But with his personality I believe he would be happier with almost anything else. But we can get to that in a minute, why are you pushing the corvid so hard? Do you have something against birds?"
"Fuck. fine. I've mostly been thinking of suggestions based on which mantles I want for myself. I know I'll be able to use more than one eventually, but I also know I'll never use all ten at once. I could if it were just about strength, but some of the mantles transform your body, and those ones aren't compatible with each other. Or, maybe some are but not all. I just know that I can't have a power trying to turn me into a bird, a kaiju, and a robot all at the same time. With the Thing Out of Time I can double myself and use two of those transformations, but that's still leaving at least one changer state. The bird seems the least useful to me, but like, least useful is still a flying power. Everyone says they want one of those right?"
"It doesn't hurt. It might be a good idea to have everyone train on at least one mantle, so we all share that understanding. If everyone trains on the Corvid someone will be a fit….Not Labyrinth though. She needs to stay near one of us even on good days."
I scoff.
"Obviously Labyrinth isn't gonna use the Corvid."
"Whatever. Let's get back on topic, we were talking about suggestions for Gregor and Newter. As I said, I think Gregor would prefer almost anything over a changer form of a giant monster. I think he would much prefer the Calculator, or even the Dogs of War, if the projections aren't biased."
"A good point, but I already had someone in mind for the Dogs of War."
"Oh?"
"It's a durability brute package with projections that act human. Who, on this team, both has no protections and the most experience leading in the field?"
Melanie scowls.
"I was focused on the rest of the team. I hadn't actually been thinking about taking a mantle myself."
"Riiiight. Half your team would consider a score of men expecting orders from them a hassle more than a power. It's a power that could make a clever commander into the next Coil, but for me is worse than useless. What do normal humans with guns mean to me? They would be a distraction if used at all."
"I still think it makes sense as a fit for gregor. He wants interactions that don't revolve around his appearance. A unit of men that only see him as a commander might be a nice change of pace for him." She stubbornly argued.
"And I still think that a mercenary crew is the perfect fit for the most experienced leader on this team, you know, the mercenary team. And if the Dogs of War would be a positive thing for Gregor, we could just give him the Great Stone Gods instead. We can trust him to act responsibly and he gets literal worshippers. That's gotta be different from what he usually gets."
After yet another long silence a miracle happened and this one ended with both of us breaking out in laughter. I'm sure it was mostly the early hour but the image of Gregor solemnly donning a ceremonial robe and ornate headdress to sacrifice like a chicken or something to a cheering crowd of cultists gave me the giggles that would not stop. I wonder if I can convince him that the headdress is mandatory for the powers to work. Eventually the laughter trails off and as it does I can see where Melanie's thoughts shift to actually consider it.
"...We'll see in training." She grumbles.
"Alright. So only Labyrinth is left. Though honestly I'm not sure giving her a mantle is the right choice. The whole team looks out for her, cares for her, but she's not stable. Her power affects her mind, and she has good days and bad days. Her good days are when her power is weakest, so she might benefit from using a mantle on those days, but on the days her power is strongest I just don't think any mantle will be useable to her in that state."
"What are you talking about? Labyrinth is obviously going to be the Caravan Master. Don't worry about her good or bad days, it'll be cool."
"Cool like a Spitfire Corvid? Koal, take this seriously."
"What the fuck? No I mean cool as in nothing will go wrong, the situation is chill. And this isn't one of my wonderful ideas. It's obvious."
"What's obvious?"
"Excuse me?"
"All you've said is Labyrinth should be the Caravan Master and that it's obvious. Why is it so obvious?"
"I- wait are you fucking with me? Like in retaliation for my acting obtuse earlier?"
Now embarrassingly enough, this went on way longer than it should have. After far too many rounds of "wtf are youtalking about?!" Melanie eventually said the thing that jarred my brain out of the Benny hill theme loop it was stuck in.
"Koal, you're acting irrationally. Like something's affecting your mind. If I were the PRT I'd throw you in master/stranger confinement." She said with a large amount of controlled frustration.
…was I really acting so strange? Upon a moment's reflection I caught up to what Melanie had long since noticed and had to admit that I was acting strange. What, was it just my turn to be the one influenced by their power? I tried to consult the not-memory in my head containing the information on my power. I even closed my eyes and went to the visualization of the room with the ten altars. But after a thorough examination of the inner working of my mind the best I could come up with was,
"My power seems to think it would be a good idea for Elle to have that mantle, and I don't know why."
From that point the meeting mostly devolved, with Melanie making the expected statements of frustration and questioning, but I really couldn't provide the answers she was looking for. I had no fucking clue either. So a few minutes later she called it, agreeing to resume what she would have to admit was later this morning, as we were now probably around the time determined early risers would start their day. She left to get a few hours of sleep before meeting with her team, and I told her I was doing the same, but honestly it seemed easier to me to just stay up at this point.
Since I didn't have the money to get drunk, I killed the next few hours walking around the city. I was hoping with how gang-infested Brocton Bay supposedly was I could get mugged in no time and then I could refill my (stolen) wallet. Because it's not mugging if they try to mug you first. But hours of wandering down dark alleys watching the sky lighten and nothing. I must have been doing something wrong cause I don't know the area. Was I not being bothered because I wandered into Empire territory and I'm a white dude? Well that absolutely cannot stand, those Nazi fucks need to get the message I'm an enemy quick.
I spent the rest of my walk wondering if I could find a contractor in town that would build a rainbow star of David fifty feet tall as an art installation. I walked until the sun was up and the city was alive but when I got back to Palanquinn late morning, I still hadn't figured out the logistics.
I came up to the living quarters as the rest of the crew was getting up. Gregor and Emily were both around, but both Elle and Newter were still getting ready. I was surprised to see Melanie up on so little sleep, but understood that pointing this out would not be welcome when I was the cause of her sleepless state.
Man. I get scolded for all the shit I start, but really I should get credit for all the shit I don't start.
When the whole crew was up and ready Melanie called them into the conference room where I last tried to lead a lecture. I had already cleared with Melanie that she would talk to the crew first, so I let her take the info-dumping role this time and went to take my own shower. I took my time, thinking of implementing some kind of snack-based self reward system every time I resist the urge to kick a hornet's nest. I strolled into the conference room maybe forty minutes later, feeling somewhat refreshed for someone who still hasn't slept.
Some animated discussion of some kind cut off as I walked in.
"So, I'm guessing y'all have questions." I begin.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Newter immediately asks in a strange tone.
Why– wait, it sounds strange because it has the expected intensity those words are usually delivered in, but not like normal. Normally when someone says what the fuck is wrong with you, it isn't a question. There was frustration in his words but mostly he actually wanted an answer.
"Newter!"
"Dude–"
"A little more freeform than I imagined. Is-"
"Shut up. Like we actually need to know what the fuck is wrong with your brain and thought processes and whatever if we're gonna trust you, because right now you're coming off like a wacko." Newter rants.
"Newter!" This time it was hissed from Emily who was glaring at him while, oh Elle is with her. That's why she's so pissed. When Newter sits back looking at least slightly chastened Emily turns to me.
"Faultline briefed us on what you told her about your power last night. We were discussing what this means for the team…and the conversation strayed for a few minutes into communication styles, and why a person might talk with no clue what information is important." She finishes in a diplomatic tone.
I look her directly in the eye and say, "Yeah, a lot of people suck at communication." As I watch Emily's head slowly explode and the small, unfortunate part of me cackles in mean humor, I remember that I haven't known these people for years and can't count on nostalgia and obligation to put up with my bullshit when I was in a shit-kicking mood.
"Sorry! Look, I'll try to be fully serious for a bit. Yes, I've been messing with you some. I have a weird sense of humor, I like to freak people out, and I've never been one to pick up on obvious warning signs, or I do pick up on them and do the opposite. Like a kid that sees a big red Do Not Push button, and just has to push that button more than anything in the world. But not all of what's screwing with your head is my sense of humor. If I tried to play it completely serious all the time, I'd still be dropping bombs that make me seem crazy, just different ones. 'Different communication styles' sums it up well, and I blame my family. Every one of my dad's line has a communication style my mother compared to turkeys circling nothing.I- oh, uh, domesticated turkeys are some of the dumbest animals alive, and if one of them gets spooked by nothing you'll end up with all of them circling for hours, all around nothing for no reason."
I added that last part when I noticed how confused people were.
"That is to say, my circumtuitous way of speaking is just how I speak. I'm not doing it to annoy you. The other stuff I totally was, but not that. The last thing I think is making me come off as a loon, other than most parts of my personality, is all the info I'm dumping on y'all when you barely know me. Like, you now know all the major points of my power, how would you explain it to people you're just meeting? No matter what you're gonna have to unload some exposition to get them up to speed. The good news is that I'm pretty much out of mind-blows now that you know pretty much everything about my power. I only know like 2-3 more things that would give you an existential spiral. Six tops."
There were a lot of complicated looks going in every direction at that, but no words for a long moment. Eventually Faultline sighed and spoke in weary resignation.
"Alright. Newter asked, and we got as much of an answer as we could expect. We're moving on."
"Soooo… we're not gonna ask about those six things?" Newter asks the room.
"Do you want to clean the nightclub bathrooms for a month?"
"Nevermind." Newter mutters as he sinks into his chair a little.
"Now that we've all read his power description and Koal is here to answer any questions, we can really get started." Melanie pauses as she makes sure to make eye contact with every member of the team. "We need to talk about the direction of this team, and each of our new roles going forward."
"Where's the last machine that's been giving you problems?" Vector asked the foreman of his latest jobsite, Jim or Jeff or something like that he was pretty sure. It didn't matter, as he doubted he would be back. The man was leading him to an industrial mold injector that was the only silent machine in the shop. The man used a great many words that Vector had to mentally distill down to the points: Machine vibrates too much, makes a screeching sound, overheats to shut off in minutes. Just from that information Vector was certain he could help. Old machines in shops like this never get the maintenance they need and something either falls off or rusts up. All he needed to do was get within a few feet of the machine and he would be able to tell where a gear wasn't catching and just spinning, or where pressure was falling onto one bolt that's rusted through, or whatever it would be. This would be easy to either fix or identify the part that needs to be replaced, or it would be easy if he could get to it.
Vector sighs and tries to smother his irritation, even though the idiot foreman had kept talking without noticing his very expensive parahuman consultant wasn't following. Eventually the man notices his audience is less annoyed, then realizes he was talking only to himself. He turns around is seemingly genuine confusion, and his dumb cow faces alternates between staring at Vector's wheelchair, and staring at the various cables and oil spills of a workshop that had never heard of OSHA. Vector silently seethed, questioning whether the man hadn't noticed the wheelchair after leading him around all day to each glitching machine, or if the man had never looked at the workshop he ostensibly runs for a living. Vector had to wait while the foreman argued with his guys until someone began clearing a path. When he could eventually make his way to the offending machine he could tell it was exactly as he predicted, two bolts fastening the outer casing to the floor had failed, rusted through, and it was causing the vibration and putting stress on the last holding bolt. They were lucky the vibration was making the machine overheat, if that last bolt failed while the machine was fired up whoever was running it would be leaving in an ambulance or a body bag. Vector told all this in his professional voice to the bored foreman. All he had left to do was to remove the panel covering where he could show the foreman the offending bolts. It took a bit of work, because of course the fucking machine hasn't been serviced since the Reagan administration, and Vector pulled out a flashlight and can of WD-40 to get the panel open and this job done with.
"Heh. That's pretty handy. I guess you don't need a utility belt huh?" The foreman chuckled to himself.
Closing his eyes, Vector sighs. The idiot man had rambled most of a day of Vector's life away and just as it ended he just had to get the courage to poke the disabled cape. He returned his tools to the back compartment of his chair and left without a word. There was nothing he could say. There was a time he would kill someone for laughing at him like that. He could still do that, either with the .32 in the inner side pocket of his chair or just his hands if he could grab the man. Even now, even as he was, he was strong enough to kill one scrawny man. But it wouldn't accomplish anything. He was Vector now, and Vector was a rogue that acted as a parahuman consultant. Killing ableist clients was bad for business when they made up most of his clients period.
Vector was just getting out of that rat's nest of an industrial shop when his chair dinged. He quickly checked his phone, as the chair only did that for specific people.
'Meet ASAP. New player could shake things up.'
-UM
Well, shit. Vector thought.
He's only vague like this when he's excited, or when he knows it's something I'm not gonna like. Wonder which it is this time? But with the kind of day he was having, Vector had a funny feeling which one this was.
40 minutes later Vector was rolling into Uppermost's office. He was long familiar with it and long-since gotten used to the opulence of an Elite branch leader's office, even if they were the smallest branch of the Elite. Uppermost's mask was sitting on a corner of his desk, and one look at his friend's face told Vector what was going on.
"You heard about a new healer, David?"
Some excitement left David's face while he pouted.
"I don't know how you keep doing that. I know your thinker power can't tell you that."
"Who needs a thinker power when only one thing makes you so giddy you practically bounce in your seat."
David shrugged it off and regained much of his former excitement.
"Well anyway you're right. I've heard of a new trigger with a healing power that sounds…strange. I think it sounds promising."
Vector sighed. He reached up and slipped off his mask, dropping it to his lap.
"David, I- … look it isn't that I don't appreciate all you've done for me, I do. After my recovery when I was going crazy not being able to fight you talked me through exploring rogue uses for my power. You were…everything good about the Elite when I had nobody. It's just…. It's been more than a decade and we've been through this nine times. I go through the huge struggle to travel to see this new healer, I get my hopes up, and then nothing. Nine times. Nine failures."
"Seven failures, Seth."
Seth dismisses this with a wave of a hand, it was an old argument. All seven healers who tried to fix his spinal damage failed. Panacea wouldn't try since he had been affiliated with an Elite branch for years before she triggered, it was common knowledge that Brandish policed who had access to the world's greatest healer and would never dare to let someone she deemed villainous receive healing. That was insult enough, but the last one refused to even try healing him once they found out how he got injured, and who injured him.
"And after the last one I said I was done. It's nice that we tried, but nine tries is enough for me. I've moved on, and the career I've built in the Elite doesn't revolve around fighting. Being in this chair isn't half as difficult as the people around me. I'm not being a guinea pig anymore. Or are you going to try to tell me that this isn't really about the world's most valuable tinker with a central nervous system disorder? That's what you're hoping, that something that can heal my spine will save Uppercrust. How many times are we going to do this?"
"Just one more try, Seth." David spoke softly with firm determination. "Just one last attempt…because there won't be any time for more. Uppercrust's time is so limited we won't have anything else to try if this fails."
Seth was silent for a while. After a moment David continued.
"You know Uppercrust was the one who brought me into the Elite? Brought me into his branch, then sponsored my rise to lead my own branch. Everything I've built since is thanks to him. I know what I'm asking of you, but this is time sensitive, under the only true deadline. It's so important, I've called in Jetlag to take you tonight.
"Ah shit, I fucking hate Jetlag." Silently Seth continued his cursing. He was already heading to meet an unknown parahuman, doing so defenseless made his skin crawl.
"I agree, the side effect of his teleportation is not preferable. There's a reason his travel rates are a hundred times lower than Strider. Since you're going to be dealing with his unpleasant trump effect, I will take care of it."
That…actually surprised Seth a little. He expected that maybe David would send Redline with him to somewhat offset Jetlag. But David said he would take care of it. Seth had gotten so used to the way he used his power now, he almost forgot what it used to be like. How long has it been since he was at full strength?
"So you're giving me back my charge." Seth said.
"A counter-offer, one minute after Jetlag drops you off you will receive your charge, plus an additional three. That should more than make up for Jetlag's power dampening."
Now this was big. This was the reason Uppermost was an Elite branch leader, no matter what gratitude he feels for Uppercrust. The leaders of each sect of the Elite were all incredibly powerful thinkers, tinkers, or trumps. Uppercrust does have a lot of sway in the organization since Uppermost wasn't the only branch head sponsored by Uppercrust, but no branch of the Elite can survive just on the generosity of a sponsor. They may be the smallest branch of the Elite, but in a decade of working for him Seth only saw an upward rise, almost entirely on the back of David's power alone. He could either take or give a 'charge' to a parahuman. Losing a charge makes the power weaker, regaining the charge restores it to full power, and three extra charges…
"I would say so." Seth agrees. Three extra charges would probably leave him stronger than normal even after Jetlag's side effect hit him. It was a closely guarded secret of their branch that Uppermost could move charges around at a distance, but it helped them edge out the more aggressive Elite trumps. Uppermost only needed to touch someone in person the first time he takes/gives a charge. After the first time he can do it from anywhere, with the user's consent. Using it to get around Jetlag's trump effect was just a new application Seth hadn't thought of.
"Are we expecting trouble, or am I being dropped somewhere hot?"
"Hot would be underselling it, but there's no cause to expect specific trouble. A contractor who's done some jobs for us in New England put out word that they would start accepting bids for parahuman healing and tinker collaboration. Sounds like they have a new member, possibly a recent trigger, that's a healing tinker. Or, at least a tinker with some healing tech. Your healing is already paid for, so all you have to do is meet them and vet them. If this is another failure, you come back and take a vacation on me, with my thanks for humoring me. But if they can help you, and if they seem trustworthy, I'll have Uppercrust there as soon as you give word. We have Strider on call to bring him as fast as possible."
"Funny how he gets Strider and I get fucking Jetlag. You know he mostly gets paid to teleport enemies into ambushes? His power is literally an attack."
David chuckles and pulls a bottle out of a desk drawer, along with two glasses.
"Seth, my dear friend, when our branch's yearly budget matches the budget for a single job from Uppercrust, we won't have to hunt for bargains either." Passing one glass of scotch to Seth, they both drink.
"So where am I actually headed?" Seth asked after a while.
"Back to the east coast. Brockton."
"...ah fuck."
This wasn't going to be good.
"Alright, now come in for a landing gently, okay more gently than that." I call out as Newter comes in for a slightly hotter landing than he intended. He skids into the type of perfect crouch that needs power-given flexibility to easily pull off. He rises and lets the gleaming silver armor melt off him. The living metal of the Fallen Star moved like liquid and conformed to each of their body types.
"Man, I cannot wait to take that thing out into open you have any idea how fast it can go?" Newter asks as he jogs up to the gathering group. I'm just glad he's not complaining anymore since drawing the short straw of last place.
"Newter, what did my floor do to you?" Faultline draws attention over to where she stands next to the enormous scorch marks that show where he landed.
"Oh, uh, my bad?" He offers in a chastened tone.
They had been training for a few hours with my power. Everyone agreed to the idea of everyone training on the same mantle, at least for a trial, but no matter what I did I couldn't convince anyone to use the Corvid. The deciding factor ended up being that they only had the Palanquin building to work in, at least for now, and there wasn't enough space for a kaiju-bird to fly around. But, there is just enough space for power armor to fly around a bit, so everyone got to test out the feel of it.
Faultline sighs and follows Newter to where Emily is talking with Gregor. I assume Faultline is going to do a debriefing of some kind before breaking for everyone to train in the mantle agreed upon for them. I take the moment to slip off to the side of the room, where I wander up to a counter set into a window in the room's far wall that hadn't been there this morning.
"How's it goin, shopkeep?" I drawl.
The young girl beams proudly beneath a green patterned mask.
"Doing well, Koal. What do you need?"
Yes, the best thing to come out of this training was the rest of the team eventually seeing reason.
Okay, so I guess I wasn't exactly speaking objectively, but I pushed Faultline to lay out everything about my 'strange' belief that Labyrinth needs to have my caravan master mantle, and reactions were mixed. There was a lively debate with a lot of accusations thrown around about my motivations, but eventually the room settled into a consensus. Since Elle was having another good day (remarkable luck having two in a row) they could ask her what she thought and wanted to do.
They turned to the end of the conference room where Elle was waiting. Since this was one of her good days, her power's range was very small, and grew slowly. She was bouncing from one wall to the next in a rolling office chair, leaving her territory and resetting her range every time it grew too big. A good day also meant most of her attention was in the room instead of in her other worlds, so she understood and agreed to try it immediately. Everyone was curious and half were reluctant but I don't think any of them imagined I was the most curious out of all.
This all started because my power seems to give me information in the least helpful way. Like computer files with all organization removed, but in my brain and memories. I didn't know why Labyrinth needed that specific mantle, I just know that my power thinks it's obvious. Like, the Free Man is strong, you can poop in the Fallen Star's mech-suit, and Labyrinth needs this merchant power.
"Hot chocolate, made with milk and a bit of creme de cacao, but if anyone asks, it was black coffee." I told the bemused girl and threw down a five.
"No problem."
Labyrinth takes her time counting my change back to me then reaches beneath the counter and pulls out a fresh hot chocolate.
"Dude," I say. "You might already be my favorite mantle. The very first thing you do with your power, and it's any beverage in the world. I think this was worth it just from that."
"I'll be selling more than just that, soon." She says. She looks at the shop around her with pride, and considerably more focus than her team are used to seeing even on good days.
That's the real point of the issue. The reason my power wanted to help her, and she was drawn to my power. The Caravan Master's mantle had to be the strangest out of all the mantles. It was one of only a few non-combat roles and probably the hardest to conceptualize into a parahuman powerset. I knew only from some cursory examination of the mantle that it would be creating (or teleporting) matter, but only in exchange for money. Potentially useful for sure, but it seemed like a rogue operation that was unrelated to my goals. But after much argument the team agreed to see why my power wanted Labyrinth.
The moment I transferred the mantle to the young girl there was a …twist in the room and suddenly, there was a door behind Labyrinth. Someone, I'm not sure who, started asking the obvious questions, but I just watched in silence as Labyrinth opened the door that hadn't just been there. She steps into the mystery door and closes it behind her, then a moment later the top half of the door swings open onto a counter. Labyrinth steps up to the counter.
"Open for business."
Obviously the room fell into confusion but after some time and questioning of Labyrinth it looked like the mantle was interacting with her power. She could see into pocket universes that she could shape, and until today her power had been as much a disability as a shaker 12 force. Her focus was always split between reality and her worlds, leading to her good and bad days when she was more or less in reality. But when she accepted the mantle of the Caravan master, something about her power combined, and she manifested her shop in reality. It suddenly made a world of difference because in her shop she was here, really here fully for the first time since her trigger. The team had crowded around the window into her shop as she wandered the large, impossible room looking through shelves of strange things.
"I look forward to it. I'm guessing after our next job most of the team will be spending half their paycheck exploring your shop."
The young girl just grins and bids me goodbye as I return to the rest of the team. When I get close enough Faultline addresses me.
"Good, Koal. We were just talking about how best for Spitfire to get used to her new powers."
Spitfire, or wait, since her mask was clipped to her belt was I supposed to call her Emily? No, Faultline just called her Spitfire.
"Oh, that's an easy one. We just need to get you some practice." And, having said my piece, I took the most direct action to help my teammate.
I punched the floor.
I haven't had such a direct test before, so this was enlightening. My fist left a smallish crater in the concrete floor, with cracks spreading outwards and some chunks of concrete crumbling away at the edges. It looked like a jackhammer had just begun to break ground. Satisfyingly superhuman, but I knew I would have to grow immensely, and fast, if I wanted to survive what is coming.
"What did I say about my floors?" Faultline says in a flat tone. I was going to answer her, but when I opened my mouth to give an entirely reasonable explanation for why punching the floor made sense, only a strangled gasp came out.
Oh, there's the pain.
Seriously, I know I was hurt worse during the fight with Lung, but at least it was a fight. I had adrenaline hopping me up then through the worst of the squickishness with the burns, but here I didn't even raise my heart rate before smashing my hand again. Bones were certainly broken, and the skin along my knuckles split open, bleeding heavily and…yep that's bone. Wonderful.
"Oh for the love of god, Emily heal this jackass." Faultline snapped.
The brunette steps up with a frown that holds less heat than Faultline's tone.
"You really shouldn't injure yourself for no reason."
But I was not listening to her scolding, as the radiant healing light began to wash over my shattered hands, bringing blessed relief. Well, mildly disturbing relief with the sound and feel of bones shifting back into place. It took maybe five minutes until I could no longer feel it shifting and she let the light fade.
I stood up and didn't answer right away. I felt the skin on the knuckles of my newly healed hand, then felt the knuckles of the other hand.
"I did have a reason for injuring myself. My hand is stronger now. I could probably do the same thing and I bet I wouldn't break any bones and my knuckles wouldn't split. It'd probably leave a bigger hole too."
"If you put another hole in my floor I'll make sure she doesn't heal you from your next stupid idea."
"Fine! But we'll have to figure something else out for me to work out. That means Spitfire goes with me to the boat graveyard to watch me punch heavy things, or anyone else's better idea."
Faultline gave a big sigh and spoke in a weary tone.
"I already have something lined up for Spitfire's healing contracts, and if it goes well it could lead to opportunities for you Koal."
"You already have contracts for healing lined up?" I ask
"There are people that always have an ear out for any word of parahuman healing. Even sending out discrete word to trusted sources had anonymous offers pouring in for as soon as possible. I had to talk the first client into waiting until tomorrow morning."
"Huh. That…makes sense I guess."
We continued talking for a bit but they were all still being really weird about me injuring myself. I jumped into battle with a rage dragon, why would I be afraid of shit I did before I got powers? Granted I didn't leave craters on anyone's floor but the injuries that come from punching something that shouldn't be punched were another charming perk of my character. Whatever, the point being that besides my run with Newter this was another day wasted on show and tell. I considered just leaving or even cutting out on our run to go to the boat graveyard to find a punching bag, but I knew Faultline and Spitfire wouldn't like that. Since I was definitely going to piss them off that way, I might as well not burn up their gratitude prematurely.
I was so caught up thinking on this subject that I started falling behind Newter again, though this time I'm pretty sure it's only because I was distracted. When our finish line was in sight I shook myself out of my ruminations and dug into the focus rising from the competitive spirit of the Free Man. I had been free running for like, three days now, and had run with someone more experienced to emulate. The racing didn't really make me stronger, and my level of super strength already created a level of super speed, what it really did was enhance my skill. The first race with Newter I had the same level of brute, but I was basically flailing around, so bad that the super strength probably did more harm than good. Now I was moving gracefully; changing direction without losing speed, not destroying my footholds with my force, and finally catching up to Newter at his fastest. When we had like two jumps before our finish line I make it, and when Newter leaves the roof to jump over a busy road, I catch his orange tail and yank him backwards before making my own leap.
"Haha! Gotcha bi-"
That's when, instead of landing on the roof of a twelve story building, I hit the fire escape around the seventh floor and then ricocheted into the opposite side of the alley, then a dumpster before finally rolling to a stop.
It appears I may have miscalculated.
"Hey dude are you still alive!? You fucking dented a fire escape!" Newter calls out as he jumps down to the alley I'm convalescing in.
"Seriously dude, what did you think would happen? You know what my power does." The orange teen says as he walks up to me.
"I'm not stupid." I try to snap but more groan. "I know your skin oils get people high, I just thought I could handle it. And I did, for like a second longer than anyone else."
"Just in time to throw off your jump. Really impressive. But how are you even talking? You bounced around this alley pretty hard."
"Oh, I'm definitely fucked up." I agree. "My hands and arms aren't broken because they've been hurt enough already, though I'm pretty sure my left wrist is sprained. Not really important considering my ribs, sternum, feet, and legs are all broken at least. Really just luck that my jaw wasn't broken too."
"Yeah. Luck. Not able to walk, but can talk just fine. Real…lucky."
Newter carried me back to the club, and on the way back to the Palanquin, I wondered if the bar would give me a line of credit. I should have money starting tomorrow from the healing contract. But when we got inside I started reassessing my evening plans.
We had come in through the back door by the loading bay in the late afternoon. Newter said we should only be passing through some bartenders on a smoke break at this time, but we actually walked straight into some kind of meeting. Or maybe an argument based on Faultline's posture. She was in a tense stance talking with a man in a wheelchair.
"-need to communicate with your own office better." Faultline was saying in a cold tone when I wandered close enough to hear.
"No argument from me. Uppermost made a serious miscommunication. I apologize for this misunderstanding, and can only say that he was extremely eager for this deal to happen and was careless."
"Uppermost was eager for this deal, or you?" Faultline asked.
The man clenches his jaw. So this growing tense on both sides. I looked between them and noticed Spitfire standing awkwardly behind Faultline. She notices the unusual angles of some of my limbs and rushes over, immediately beginning to heal me. It's obvious this guy is tomorrow morning's healing contract shown up fourteen or fifteen hours early.
"What's going on?" I break into their heated discussion. The two capes turn to me, and wow, Faultline can really communicate a glare through a blank welder's mask.
"This is Vector. Tomorrow morning's first healing contract. Only someone is too eager to wait until the agreed time."
Vector's pov
Dave, you are a colossal ass and if this works I'm kicking your ass. Seth thought as he fought to keep his anger from his tone and face.
"Again, a misunderstanding. My office told me the appointment was for as soon as possible. I'd be happy to wait until the morning," or forever, "But my boss has asked me to get this done as fast as possible. I've tried calling him, but I'm not getting through." Because the rat bastard is dodging my calls. He fucking did this on purpose. Vector was about to go into the same arguments Faultline wasn't impressed with, but the newcomer cut him off.
"It's fine. Spitfire can just heal him now. Can you pay now?" He turned to Vector. Seth had assumed since the man was unmasked he was an unpowered employee of the local he was meeting with. The man looked entirely unremarkable, why would he have a say in this matter?
"Of course." He said with a trace of indignation.
"Great. Then let's just do this now."
The woman he had been meeting with- Faultline - didn't seem to enjoy the newcomer's casual attitude. They stepped off to the side for a moment and whispered for a time. Then Faultline seemed to try to face-palm in her mask, and the guy walked back to them.
"Alright, we're good to do this. Spitfire needs practice healing, I need drinking money, let's do this."
Not the most encouraging beginning, and Spitfire made zero sense as the name of a healer, but at least it seemed that they were moving forward. Spitfire stepped forward with hands that began to glow softly.
"So, what put you in a wheelchair, and why haven't you been healed yet?" The stranger asks.
Asshole.
"There are complications associated with my case that make other parahuman healers unable to help me." Let's pray that for once, an idiot will take the deflection and not push it.
"What, like your injury or disease or whatever is unhealable? That can't be right. Spitfire?"
"It looks like just spinal damage. The spine was severed neatly, and he has some brute power that's kept his legs from atrophying. I'll be done in five minutes."
"There." The man said with a gesture towards the healer. "Normal spine damage. I can think of two healers that can fix that off the top of my head, and if you have the money for this healing you should have found a dozen more before we showed up. So why haven't you been healed yet, and you still haven't mentioned what put you in that chair, could they be related?"
…if this idiot stumbles into the truth ass-backwards and ruins this I might kill him.
"The two you're probably thinking of first are both heroes, Panacea with New Wave and Scapegoat with the Wards, and while the branch I come from is proudly above-board and focused on corporate consultancy, the Elite are legally classed as a villain organization. The PRT won't let one of theirs heal me unless I turn myself in, and independents are discouraged by them from helping me. It's not that every healer in the world can't help me, they just won't."
It's been years since I've even thought of religion, but if there's a god let that be it.
"Hmm. That still sounds like you're avoiding the question of what injured you. If it's just because such an injury is traumatic and you don't want to talk about it I'll feel like an ass but then again, you're a parahuman, so it probably wasn't as bad as your trigger. Unless your injury gave you a power and paralyzed you."
Seth opened his mouth to say something when a shiver passed through his entire body and he froze. The light reflecting off Spitfire's mask shifted as she looked up, but Seth knew what she would say. Because he felt that shiver pass through his whole body.
"I'm about to finish up. You should feel strange for a bit while the nerves reconnect."
Thankfully the questions ceased and the room fell silent as everyone watched Vector's legs begin to twitch and tremble. Feeling was returning and he couldn't help wild laughter bubbling up as the reality began to sink in. Seth truly hadn't thought it would happen, and the questioning asshole at the end almost blew it for him, but he made it. It was happening.
"Ohh. You want to know who severed my spine?" Vector asked with a trace of laughter still in his tone.
"Yep. I even had Newter look you up on his phone while we were waiting, but no one knows how Vector was injured. You appeared in the Elite already disabled."
"That's true. I became Vector after I joined the New York Elite. I learned to use my power as a business consultant. A Thinker who can see force Vectors, and a Shaker who can shift them. But I didn't always go by Vector. It's a PR trick we stole from the Protectorate. Clean up an old problem with a new mask."
Spitfire stepped away, the light fading from her hands. Slowly, Seth stood under his own strength for the first time in more than twenty years. He was grinning so wide he seemed possibly manic.
"Every time I came close to true redemption, the healer would learn who crippled me and refuse to heal me. Even when she was caged her name was enough to make them run from me. The heroes won't heal me out of principle, but the rest were just cowards. You want to know what happened to me!? Don't bother looking for Vector, he's the man I built from a chair. Look for Seren the Needle if you want to know who I was. I was a prized pupil, before the Harmonious severed my spine!"
Seth knew he was very not good right now. The rush of getting what he wanted for so long and had given up on was pushing him over an edge of some kind. He knew he shouldn't be telling his life story to strangers, knew that he was slipping into patterns he had broken free of years ago. Seth had spent his career in the Elite learning the vain corporate-speak of buzzwords and platitudes, one of professionalism that he had conducted most of this contentious meeting with so far. But now he knew he was slipping back into the sanctimonious formality that the Harmonious raised her pupils with. Seth had worked hard to get away from speaking like that. But on his feet for the first time in decades and with his blood up he could feel the katas ingrained into his muscles like they had never left. He needed to fight something.
"You were a student of Crane the Harmonious? And she injured you? Oh my god, is this perfect. You have to fight me!"
End/
A/N: Hey just letting you know this story will continue and I have other stories I'm going to be starting soon as well. I haven't posted in months due to a series of events that involve Covid, brain-fog, and downloading Elden Ring. Hopefully I'll return to more frequent uploads. Cheers.
Oh also I promise this is the last exposition heavy chapter, next one begins action.