1.5
I spent most of the morning moving around Downtown with Shielder at my side. I was casting reparos at damaged buildings, streets, sidewalks, and vehicles wherever I found them. This included much of the built-in infrastructure - streetlights, water and gas pipes, and buried cables. There were still a lot of things I couldn't fix, even with magic. Anything where large portions of the object had been utterly destroyed by the flames, or where parts that had been moved too far from the original object, often by looters, was outside of the spell's capabilities.
"Nope, I can't quite reach the damage on the fifth floor," I informed Shielder as we stood outside an office building. The buildings near it were all much shorter so there was nowhere for me to apparate to get closer. "Can you fly me closer?"
"You can't fly?" the younger hero asked, trying for teasing banter. While there was only a year's difference between his age and this world's Justin, I was actually nineteen making the gap seem much wider to me.
"I suppose I could levitate myself, but it would probably be quicker if you can lift me." I replied evenly. It wasn't that I disliked the fellow, I just doubted we'd ever be close friends despite or perhaps because of his minor case of hero worship.
"Sure thing." He gripped me under my arms and lifted me to the needed height. After I cast another couple of silent reparos to set the broken masonry and glass back in place we moved on.
"I still don't understand how you do that," the young hero repeated himself for the seven-hundredth time that morning.
Finally, I decided to give him an answer.
"Through the manipulation of a form of exotic energy that interacts with other forms of energy and matter at the quantum level." That was the Star Trek definition of magic my roommates and I had developed at Ilvermorny. It used a lot of pretty words to say not very much.
"And the little chants you sometimes use?"
"Mnemonics I've developed to help me classify the particular processes. I don't need them, but in times of stress I sometimes fall back on them without meaning to." According to both of my charms teachers, that was a mostly accurate description of spell incantations.
"It looks like magic to me," Shielder offered with a laugh. "Maybe you're the second coming of Myrdin not Eidolon."
"I'm not the second coming of anyone," I almost snapped as the flier set me down on the roof. "I'm just someone trying to help."
"I know," he said, placatingly. "But the people on PHO seem to think otherwise."
"Really? I haven't looked since last night."
"I've peeked while you've been busy. The PHO trolls use the Eidolon comparison for anyone with multiple or complex powers," Shielder offered. "My cousin always gets the Alexandria comparison and my sister occasionally gets compared to Legend. Me? The best I've ever gotten was being called a cut-rate Bastion. At least it wasn't Narwhal. I mean she's cool and all, but being compared to a naked lady is never good for a guy's ego. You know what I mean?"
"I suppose you have a point. Come on. Let's get to the next building. This city's not going to fix itself."
"That's for sure," the younger boy replied.
Most of the morning and afternoon was spent repairing the battle damage. I was called for a few quick healing jobs when some of the construction workers got injured. The few people still trapped were either immediately transported to the hospital or were taken to Othala, who had set up a healer's tent in a nearby park. She was closely watched by Victor, Kreig, and Rune.
Late in the afternoon, Shielder, or Eric as he had eventually asked me to call him, was summoned to meet with his family. I was surprised when he and his sister showed back up a half-hour later.
At 4:30pm Miss Militia had gathered the Wards and the volunteers at the Boardwalk, which had survived the night undamaged. We met at a pavilion overlooking the beach at the south end of the shopping district. It was relaxing to listen to the waves of the Bay gently lapping at the rocky shore.
"We've made much more progress than we had expected," Miss Militia began, her voice pitched to carry over the beach sounds. "Thanks in large part to our newest friends. Manifold's rewind power has set the vast majority of damaged buildings and vehicles back to how they were before the attack. Myriad also played an essential role in locating twenty-seven additional survivors trapped in the rubble. Vista worked very well with Myriad to open paths to those survivors. Clockblocker and Shadow Stalker worked similarly well together finding and digging out another fourteen. You all worked hard today and your efforts are appreciated."
I noticed Taylor was only half listening. She was mostly looking out towards the Bay. Matching her gaze I soon noticed movement in the shallow water as dozens of crabs walked themselves onto the beach and gathered in piles.
"How about as a show of appreciation we provide a crab feast for the workers?" Taylor said to get the group's attention.
"What are you talking about?" Shadow Stalker snapped. "I ain't providing shit. They can buy their own dinner."
I just pointed out to the beach where more edible crustaceans were gathering. I disapperated to the sand and summoned several pieces of driftwood. A few quick cutting spells and some judicious levitation had three firepits ready. I transfigured six rocks into large pots, filled them with water, and started the fires under them.
Turning to the group of capes that had gathered while I worked, I asked, "Does anyone actually know how to boil crabs?"
"Uh, yeah," Dauntless replied. "I used to work in a seafood place. Normally I'd suggest we use saltwater instead of fresh, but given the state of the Bay, I don't think that's a great idea."
"I've done this before too," Browbeat said. "My dad has a boat."
"Alright," Miss Militia agreed. "We can do this. Aegis, how about you and Laserdream go pick up some spices and corn to go with. Kid Win, spread the word to the other workers. I'll contact the PRT and let them know what's going on. Vista and Shilder can I ask you to pick up some paper plates and plastic utensils."
"And lots of paper towels or napkins," Laserdream added. "This is gonna be messy."
"We'll need drinks, too," Gallant suggested. "Clock, how about we go get those?"
"Dauntless, how long do you think until it's ready?"
"Not long," the older hero replied. "The crab is best right out of the pot. So we'll prep things until everyone is back then start cooking."
Within the hour more than thirty people had convened around the crab pots. Taylor made sure we never ran low on the main attraction and I transfigured several picnic tables for people to sit at.
The gathering never quite got festive, as people were worn out both physically and emotionally. While a few dozen people were saved. There were a lot of bodies found as well.
Tourists and other onlookers were standing on the Boardwalk watching the events unfold, often with phones or cameras in their hands. The Wards, several of whom wore full-face masks, had removed mouthpieces that allowed them to eat. Even Miss Militia seemed practiced eating under her scarf while Dauntless simply removed his greek style helmet, showing a half-face mask underneath.
Just as you saw in school dining halls, the various people tended to eat with friends and acquaintances. That meant most of the Wards sat together, though Shadow Stalker joined a group of construction workers for some reason. She was getting a lot of attention from the rough men, but seemed to be enjoying it, or at least giving as good as she was getting.
The Empire capes even made a brief appearance. Miss Militia had offered them food but they decided the company was not to their taste. When Shadow Stalker complained to the Protectorate cape I heard the older woman say something about the Endbringer Truce including relief efforts. I remembered Armsmaster had said the PRT would consider this disaster similar to an Endbringer attack.
I wasn't sure how offering to share with nazies would play to the crowd. Local Justin's memories told me that among certain portions of Brockton Bay's population, including some of the leadership, the Empire was looked at as a good thing for the city overall. This might be another example of that.
"What gave you this idea?" Eric asked Taylor as the three of us, along with Eric's sister. sat at a transfigured table. "I mean it's a great way to end the day, but not something I'd have thought of."
"Well ... I felt them out in the water. The crabs I mean," Taylor replied slowly. "It's not just bugs I can work with. And I remember having a beach boil with my family when I was younger. Not all those memories are good, just like today was not all good. But my mother used to say a good meal goes a long way towards salvaging a bad day. My dad says that hard work should be celebrated. It all just sort of came together."
Trying to cheer herself up, she turned and slugged me in the shoulder. "I wasn't really expecting this guy to quantum up everything else. I just figured people could take the crabs home or something."
She had been around when Eric was sharing my exotic energy quantum technobabble explanation of my powers to the whole group. Though how she decided that quantum was a verb I'm not sure.
"Food has always been a means of bringing people together," I said, sharing something Professor Sprout had told me during the bad days at Hogwarts. "Both a necessity and a blessing. In good times and in bad. Breaking bread together is one of the basic functions of society. I think you did good."
"That's pretty deep for a fourteen year old," Laserdream pronounced sagely.
"I'm a little older than that," I replied.
"Fourteen, fifteen, it's pretty much the same."
"Fifteen, nineteen, not really that much difference," I shot back.
"You just keep thinking that," she said with a smile. "When you're my age, you'll know better."
I sighed. She was right. I was her age and I did know better.
Miss Militia called Taylor and me aside when the meal was winding down.
"First I wanted to thank you again for your exemplary work today. You made a real difference." She placed her hand on Taylor's shoulder. "Second I wanted to say that this little party was a great idea and will go a long way towards building powerful connections between the parahumans and the people they work for and with."
We looked at the cheerful interaction between the city workers, PRT agents, and capes as they cleaned up what little was left after I canceled my transfigurations and vanished most of the trash. I had banished the organic leftovers - mostly crab shell and corn cobs - far out into the Bay to feed the local aquatic ecosystem. I wasn't sure that was the right thing to do, but it made sense to me.
The people cleaning up were more relaxed than they had been all day and the banter between them was more friendly. It made my Hufflepuff heart glad.
"I don't know what sort of relationship you two have, or how Merit is involved," Miss Militia continued after a minute, "but I would like to offer you both places in the Wards."
"I know most new heroes, especially young ones, relish their independence. Almost everyone starts out trying to make a go of it on their own. But then the realities of the cape world, especially in a dangerous place like Brockton Bay, make themselves known. If the young hero survives, they almost invariably see the need for the resources and, more importantly, the protection working in a larger organization can offer. All too frequently they're forced into a gang before they can connect with the Protectorate."
"We lost a young girl just a few weeks ago. She emerged with a dangerous pyrokinetic ability and was forcibly recruited by the Undersiders. She barely escaped that fate, only to fall in with Faultline's Crew. For every Browbeat who manages to survive the dangers of the streets to join the Wards, there's a Spitfire who ends up in the gangs or a Jaybird that just doesn't survive his first encounter with the enemy. Even experienced capes can fall. Last night Lung killed Grue, the leader of the Undersiders, and Alabaster, a member of the Empire."
"I really don't want to see that happen to you two." She ended her pitch looking earnestly between us. She offered each of us a card. "Give me a call at any time. I can set up an appointment to come to the PRT HQ to talk more - either about the Wards or about a less formal affiliation. You'll forgive me if I'm rooting for the Wards."
I looked to Taylor to respond, aware that my extrovert tendencies and her normal reticence seemed to lead to my speaking for her far too frequently in the past few days. I was curious what she was thinking.
"Thank you," the young hero said, taking the offered card. "Like you said, it's important to establish yourself before considering joining a team. To show not only prospective teammates your worth, but to learn your capabilities yourself before asking anyone else to rely on them. I am interested in considering the Wards, but ... maybe not just yet."
"I think my friend speaks for both of us in this," I added with a smile.
"I can respect that," the professional hero replied. "But remember, not everyone will. And you've both made a pretty big splash in the last two days. A lot of people have noticed you and may want you under their thumb. The danger is they may not be willing to take no for an answer. It would be better to be able to tell them you've already got us in your corner."
"Are you saying you won't help us up if we're not Wards?" Taylor's tone sharpened.
"Not at all," Miss MIlitia quickly corrected. "We're heroes. Helping people is what we do. But the various gangs and teams in the Bay effectively respect the membership of the others. For the most part, once you've joined the Wards the other groups will back off. Unless you face them in the line of duty of course. It's part of what's often referred to as the unwritten rules. But we can talk more about those later. It's time to get my team back to base. Good luck and I hope to hear from you soon."
Taylor and I just waved as the other capes departed.
"That was a little weird," Taylor observed.
"Miss Militia's sales pitch?"
"Yeah. She really piled on both the overt and implied threats."
"Help us Obi Wan! You're our only hope!" I quoted.
"Something like that," she sniggered.
"Shall we head back to your place?" I asked. I could disapparate to her house because we had visited it that morning.
Not long after we woke, word had gone out over the radio, TV, and net that Winslow was closed until a safety inspection could take place. Danny had driven us to the Hebert's house. Luckily it had been untouched by the night's events.
Once inside, Taylor had shown off her costume-making set up in their basement. Danny had been amazed at the cloth made from spider silk and freaked out at the idea of thousands of deadly black widows sharing their living space. Taylor had assured him of their safety. When she donned her silk suit, I had offered to recolor it as well as adding long-lasting protective charms. She'd agreed. It was surprising how readily the natural fibers soaked up my enchantments. I felt they were likely to last longer than those I had cast on my own transfigured costume. Taylor had not had time to finish her chitinous mask so she continued to use the one I had created.
"Sounds good. I'm sure Dad is getting anxious," she replied to my offer of a ride home.
Taking her hand I spun on the spot and disapperated us both to her basement. We had arranged with Danny that he would stay away from the area, which made it the safeset landing zone.
"Ugh," Taylor siad, bending over with her hands on her knees. "That still sucks. But you're right, it is getting better."
"It does take a while to get used to," I agreed.
She looked at me strangely. Her mouth started to open when she shook her head and said nothing.
"Taylor! Is that you?" Danny yelled from above. He'd left the basement door open, probaby to hear when we arrived. Apparition was not quiet, especially when I was carrying someone side-along.
"Yeah, Dad. It's us."
Her father appeared in the door frame, a smile on his normally dour face. "I don't have to ask if you've eaten. I think the whole city, maybe the whole country, watched your little barbeque."
"What!" Taylor shrieked, putting a hand to her hair.
"You've both been on the TV all afternoon," He teased, though I could hear the pride in his voice. "They were broadcasting your rescue efforts and Justin's incredible rebuilding, then they just continued when you called out those crabs and created the picnic area."
"Oh god," the embarrassed teen muttered as she pulled off her mask. "Please tell me you're joking."
"One channel got Mayor Christner saying he wanted to turn that stretch of the beach into a memorial picnic area with plaques for the people lost in the disaster and the people active in the rescue and recovery efforts. He even joked about making the Brockton Bay Crab Festival an annual event." Danny was laughing too hard at his daughter's growing horror to continue. He just waved towards the living room.
"And on that note," I said. "I think it's time for me to take my leave. You two have a good evening. I'll see you at school tomorrow, Taylor."
"Ah, no." Danny said. "The City engineers were so busy Downtown they haven't had a chance to certify the school's safety yet. So you get at least one more day off."
"But Winslow wasn't damaged in the attack. Lung never got near it," Taylor protested.
"Welcome to the joys of bureaucracy," Danny said, shaking his head. "The school is in the Docks. The Docks were damaged. Ipso facto, the school must have been damaged. And no one can say differently until the City makes sure."
"Alright, then I'll see you when the powers that be say I can, I guess," I offered before disapparating back to my closet. There were no windows that could see into the space and no one else should be there, not even the staff as Mother made sure I cleaned my own room and took care of my own clothes. A quick switching spell and my costume was hanging and I was wearing a comfortable tracksuit and trainers.
"Justin!" Mother's voice cut through the house like a siren. She stomped up to me as I reached the bottom of the stairs. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"Uh. No?" I replied uncertainly. Like any teen I knew of several things I had done, or the earlier Justin had done, that she might just now be finding out about.
"You've saved the City millions of dollars in road repairs, running new utilities, and lost taxes." She actually hugged me. While more demonstrative than my original British parents, the Finches had never been overly affectionate.
I knew this woman took her responsibilities as a City Councilwoman seriously. I'd just never understood how the financial straits the dying metropolis imposed on the government had stressed her personally. She was sniffling quietly as I returned her embrace.
"Well done, son," Father said as he came up behind Mother and started rubbing her back. She turned to him and they walked into her office, leaving me more than a little confused.
I went into the lounge where they had been and found the TV playing the same news clips Danny had been describing.
I was about to turn it off when the newsreader said, "... Mayor Christner suffered a personal loss in last night's deadly attack. His sister, Emily Alcott, along with her husband Gerold and daughter Dinah were among the fatalities."
The Alcotts were known to the former Justin. His impressions said the adults were nice enough, the sort of wealthy and influential people that his parents both socialized and did business with - like the Anders, the Rosens, and the Stansfields. Dinah had been at that age when she was trying to transform from cute little kid to a real person. It was a shame she would never have that opportunity.
"Police reports confirm that the villainous group known as the Undersiders were partially responsible for Lung's rampage," the newsreader transitioned into a related story. "The gang leader Grue is confirmed dead in the Docks near where the rampage began and CCTV footage shows the remaining three members robbing a charity clothes donation receptacle in the parking lot of the Walmart on NH-101 West thirty minutes after the battle. Our BBPD sources suspect that the remaining gang members have discarded their disguises and are fleeing Brockton Bay in their civilian identities."
I turned it off. That confirmed some of what Miss Militia had told us, but meant nothing more, other than putting more names on the face of the tragedy. I had been dealing with the fallout all day and did not need to wallow in it second hand.
With tomorrow suddenly freed, I decided I would continue my cleanup efforts.
The next morning the parents were already gone by the time I came downstairs. Melissa was waiting for me. "I see you got the 'no school' message already."
"Yes. I heard last night."
"So what are your plans for the day, then?"
"I was thinking of going back out as Manifold and doing some more cleanup. Want to join me?"
"Are you going to ask Taylor?"
"I'll ring her up and see if she wants to come."
"You do that, then we can make plans." Melissa had a little smirk on her face that told me she was enjoying watching the budding romance she imagined was growing. I did not want to disillusion her, but as much as I could see Taylor becoming a friend, she was too young for me to see romantically. As Laserdream said, there really was a difference between most fifteen-year-olds and most nineteen-year-olds.
"Sorry, Justin. I'm going to be spending the day with Dad down at his office." Taylor sounded excited. I knew she and her father had been somewhat estranged, so I was happy she was taking the opportunity to spend time with him.
"Sounds good. I'll catch up with you at school," I replied.
Turning to Melissa, I said, "She's got other plans, and as I think about it, if you don't mind, I rather fancy seeing what I can do on my own today. Don't take it the wrong way."
"No, I understand. Just tell me you're not planning on getting into any combat. You're just going out to do more relief work, right?"
"Right." I replied positively.
"Just keep in touch by phone," she said. "I'd rather not have to rely on the news or PHO to follow your exploits."
"Sounds good," I agreed. "But first I want to do a little prep work."
The first of my potion ingredient shipments had come in and I wanted to do a little brewing. I had added extension charms to two of the pouches on my utility belt to hold potions. The vials had been charmed unbreakable. Now I just needed the potions to fill them. I was able to brew up some Essence of Dittany, some Calming Draught, and some basic Burn-Healing Paste.
In my world dittany was a magical plant. When I found a plant by that name in this world I decided to experiment. It was not quite the same, but it still had healing properties. When I added valerian root to the mix, it increased the efficacy to about half of what Essence of Dittany was in the Wizarding World. It was also useful in other healing potions.
Switching into my costume, and reapplying the protective charms, I disapperated to the roof of City Hall.
Looking around, the area seemed to be much livelier than it had been the day before. A lot more people around and more vehicles on the streets. It might not be back to normal for lunch time on a weekday, but it was getting there.
I popped around Downtown, looking for damage I might have missed the day before, other than the still obvious burnt building and scorched patches. I was able to use scourgify to remove some of the black marks but was not able to repair the subsequent scars in the burned surfaces.
Not finding much to do, I made my way towards the Docks, again following the course of the battle. People had spotted me and were pointing and yelling. I was not there for public relations, so I stuck mostly to the roofs where I could.
In the Docks the state of the buildings were worse than in the city center, making the battle damage more dangerous to their integrity. I started repairing whatever I could, even if the issues did not result from Lung's rampage.
I had kept Melissa notified of my progress, calling in every half hour or so. It was just after my 2:30 call when I spotted smoke in the near distance.
I disapperated to the roof closest to the apparent location of the fire. Looking over the edge of the building I saw a pile of tires had been set ablaze. As expected, it was producing a thick plume of pungent smoke.
"Hey, boy hero!" someone called from behind me.
I spun around, raising my hands, only to stumble as my feet crossed each other as my mind stalled from shock.
A ten-inch-tall man in a tactical suit, complete with a small pistol slung across his chest like an assault weapon, launched himself from the top of an air conditioning vent. He landed on my chest and grabbed onto my costume with both hands.
"Come with me if you want to live!" he shouted into my face from inches away.