Director Piggot wasn't just going to punish them by making them work with the Protectorate, Jim realized. No. She was going to punish them by making them work with the Protectorate, and that included all the record keeping…
The sheets and sheets of reports that they'd have to fill in for any interactions, especially any fights, were a lot thicker than anything the Wards had been required to do. The briefings were faster, and less time for questions. You were expected to read your pre-briefing sheet, and the first time Jim forgot something that was written down…
He winced.
And then he winced again as a bowling ball zipped over head and smashed into a storefront.
"GOT YOU, SUCKERS! FIFTH-STREET TITANS FOR THE WIN!" The skinny teen was actually dancing in plain sight on top of a car as his weapon zipped around, smashing other things.
Jim dropped down, as the Protectorate headcam he was wearing relayed the image to Console.
"Any idea who this is?"
"Small time gang out of Riverside, mostly property damage misdemeanors until they tried to make their mark," Console said. "They dropped off the map after their former leader took a school hostage to force Alexandria to fight him."
"You're kidding." Jim said. "Did she?"
"Didn't want the precedent to get established and she had some Wards who had just graduated into the Protectorate who could use the exercise. You've got Cannonball, Zapper and Flamehands."
"Understood," Jim said. "We got the girl with the hands in confoam already."
"Zapper's down," Claire said as she and Miss Militia portaled out next to Jim. "She didn't even know how to fight!"
"This guy doesn't either," Jim said. They were about two blocks from Empire territory, in a part of the town that had been held by the Merchants. The three had just shown up and started trashing things, telling everyone they were the bosses, and they'd let themselves get separated. Two down, the most dangerous left.
"Cannonball!" Jim shouted. "This is the Protectorate. Put your weapon down, cease using any parahuman powers, and surrender!"
"Fuck you!" the bowling ball zipped back to orbit around his head. "Why don't you come out and fight me! Or did Lung make you chicken!"
He's got to be kidding. He can't be this stupid…
Or maybe it was just that the Bay had a higher standard for villains.
"Miss Militia, wanna do the thing?" The heroine nodded, and Jim grinned. He leaped over the car and stood before Cannonball, Eclipse at the ready. He normally didn't get to ham it up like this.
"You are right, Cannonball, there's only one way to solve this. To decide who rules this town!"
"Right, that's what I'm—AIEEEE!"
A portal opened up right behind him, and trusting in Claire's placement, Miss Militia had shot him with first a beanbag round and then seconds later, a taser round. He went down, twitching. Jim took one leap and put him down, keeping an eye on the bowling ball as he zip tied him.
"Really," Jim said, "You should thank me about this. You could have run into Hookwolf, or if you were really unlucky…"
"Orb Weaver," Claire said.
Cannonball was coming out of it. "Who the fuck cares about someone who just uses bugs?" he asked.
"Oh, if you stay in the Bay, you will…" Jim said.
Later, after the group of would-be villains had been handed off to the PRT, Jim, Claire and Miss Militia were sitting in a diner.
Writing the report. Jim stared at the pages and pages. You couldn't record it verbally or type it into a computer (because of the danger of tinkers), and so the initial report had to be handwritten, so that they'd have an immediate record that no hackers could hurt. Then when they got it home, it'd be scanned into the computer and converted into a print out that Director Piggot would read, while the handwritten report went into storage in case it needed to be checked against the computer files.
It wasn't until the last year of being a Ward that you had to do that, and Jim and Claire had missed that. Until now.
Jim was carefully writing, remembering all the format rules.
Avoid passive voice. Always use I when reporting events, to ensure that everyone knows it's from your viewpoint. Never draw conclusions that you did not personally see. Remember that this initial report may be used in later court proceedings.
He sighed. "I believed that Cannonball was seeking to do property damage and not deliberately targeting civilians. However, three civilians (see attachment A), suffered minor injuries in the fight due to flying fragments caused as a direct result of Cannonball's use of his parahuman abilities."
"It seems odd," Claire said, sucking on her straw, the milk carton sitting by her completed report.
Oh yeah, the rule that nobody tells you. Don't have open glasses you can spill around a report you just took thirty minutes to finish. Jim winced at that memory.
"What?" Miss Militia asked. Some girls were staring at them, cell phone cameras obvious.
"These are all…" Claire shrugged. "They don't know how to fight, they barely know how to use their powers. What was Cannonball doing to do? Go walking into Empire territory and assume that Victor wasn't just going to snipe him when he's standing in the open?"
"Yeah," Jim said. "Where are the Teeth or the Elite? We've got reports of them scouting but…"
"The first major group to make a move is the one everyone will concentrate on, and the Empire is still very powerful, despite the pressure we've put on them." Miss Militia nodded at the reports. "Groups like this are pushing in, hoping to gain a foothold that they can use to either stand off the big players or convince them to give them a slice of the pie. They also distract us…" She paused and listened to a news report coming off of the TV above the counter.
"And in the news, Collingswood had a brush with the fast living style of Brockton Bay." The news anchor was a blond, a broad smile on her face. "A string of violent assaults and smash and grab robberies ended today when a small-time criminal gang known as the Undersiders evidently turned over a new leaf, revealing the source of the assaults as a parahuman who gained strength from the anger of others." There were several clips, showing a man, his body covered in some kind of primitive armor, throwing things, before one of Bitch's monsters slammed him into a mobile home and a dark cloud covered the area, vanishing to reveal the tied up villain. "While the PRT has stated that the Undersiders still have a number of charges pending against them, recent events make us wonder if their villain designation will be long for the world…"
"Huh," Jim said. "Who did they get?"
"Ragemaster," Miss Militia said. "It was on your morning briefing. Page 30." She took pity on Jim. "He gained strength from anger, like the woman said, but he needed long term contact with his victims to influence them and feed off their feelings. Even with that, he topped out at Brute 3, Master 2."
"Congratulations to the Undersiders," Claire said, then blinked and looked over at the people staring at her from the other booths. "But they um, should definitely come in to resolve any previous issues with the PRT and justice system."
"Good," Miss Militia said. "Also, since I don't sleep, I always read the reports fully. I doubt anyone else worried overmuch about already captured villains." She tilted her head. "But in this case, if you see them again, knowing how best to congratulate them might assist with convincing them to try and resolve any major sticking points."
"Understood," Jim said and signed his name (and soul) to the bottom of the report. Then it was time to start patrolling again. Miss Militia on her bike, Claire with her portals, and Jim, if he didn't want to portal, with his ability to run as fast as a small car.
"But if you're bored," Miss Militia said. "Trust me, this is the lull before the storm."
"No, if the universe wants to keep us bored, I'm good with it." Jim said.
Miss Militia shook her head, her voice quiet. "I'm afraid the universe doesn't always agree with us."
With that, they paid the bill and headed out to continue to patrol the city.
"Now," Merlin said. "Focus on the future." He glanced at the girl, her eyes blindfolded as she stood, glowing balls floating around her. "We can look ahead, to see what the tides of destiny may bring us."
Jim was off drilling with the rest of the Wards, before his regular match up with Armsmaster, and Claire...
Evidently, Merlin had decided that it was time for Claire to play discount Jedi.
"But…" Claire bit her lip. "Doesn't that mean that everything is predestined? That anyone going to hell… No matter what they do…" Before she'd learned about the Trolls, church was something you did, if you couldn't figure out a way to head off with Darcy and Mary.
But she'd seen souls. She'd almost died.
And heaven and hell were a lot closer than she'd thought, back in those long-ago days of a year and a half or so.
"No. For one thing, our visions are never so clear. The further ahead they are, the vaguer." Merlin paused. "A common danger of wizards who focus on seeing the future is fleeing the death they foresaw in Baghdad… just in time to make their appointment in Samarra." Merlin glanced down, and a glowing ball drifted closer to Claire, before she tilted her head to let it pass. He nodded in approval. "But the second factor is that to say that all is predestined indicates that you believe that what you see is all there is. A man may die in despair, or die resigned, or die exultant that he has fulfilled his purpose, and yet to us, the event may be the same. To the powers that lay beyond…" Merlin shook his head. "No. But your powers in that field will take years to develop beyond flashes, coming at the will of the universe, not yours." He paused. "Do not attempt to rush that. The gift of sight is… not an unmixed blessing."
"No?"
"For one thing, you'll never be allowed in a gambling hall again in your life." Merlin chuckled. "But what we are working on here is seeing a few seconds into the future, as you've been doing quite often, albeit unconsciously."
"When?"
"My dear, no doubt you are quite athletic and quite skilled with… a javelin, was it? Angor Rot was death, one of the most skilled warriors to walk this earth, and yet you not only survived him, but you also beat him. Think back. How many times did you just 'happen' to move your head in time to avoid being killed?"
Claire paused. Shit…
"But now we will work on consciously avoiding it." And the balls were zipping towards her, as she moved her head from side to side. Moments later. "Now for some more."
Claire knew there were more floating balls, but she was blind… She saw a flash of a ball hitting her in the side, and she was moving.
"This…" Claire dodged again. "This is how you beat Jim!"
"Not entirely—I do have some small skill, after all, but it was how I made it look so easy."
"You…" Claire dodged two more balls.
"Would you have preferred he fight Gunmar as he was? You are more experienced now, Fair Claire, how would James Lake vs. Gunmar and Angor Rot have gone without his change?"
Claire said nothing, as she jumped over another ball zipping at her.
"Oh, I forgot to ask, have you consummated your relationship with the Trollhunter yet? I have a bet with Assault—"
"WHA—" A ball smacked Claire in the face, and as she opened her mouth to shout, another one hit her in the belly, turning her shout into a gasp as the air was knocked out of her. Claire ended up sitting on her ass, blindfold half off, while to add insult to injury, a single red ball kept bouncing up and down, lightly smacking the top of her head.
"We will have to work on your concentration," Merlin said placidly.
"That was cheating," Claire grumbled.
"Well, if you can be assured of only facing stupid enemies, then we can dispense with this."
"No," Claire muttered and she wasn't sounding like a surly five year old, she really wasn't.
"Good. Remember, the best wizard only takes action when needed. Ideally, one day you won't need to fight very often, because you've… nudged things in the direction they need to go."
"Carol won't tell me," Amy said. "I checked the adoption records, because…"
Because I healed the secretary's arthritis.
She hadn't made it an exchange. But when she shook her hand, she'd seen it and asked if she wanted it cured. The woman had been grateful, muttering how 40 was too young for that…
And then when Amy had said what she was there for, the woman had decided that while she wasn't technically an adult, it hurt none, and it was her own life, after all.
"But the father is listed as John Doe, but not deceased." Amy paused. "Aunt Sarah, how can that be? There's no sign that he agreed, and half the paperwork is gone!"
Vicky had offered to find out, but Amy didn't want her to. Carol and Vicky… Well, Carol was Vicky's mom, and she didn't want to hurt Vicky.
"Amy…" There was a sigh. "Do you really want to know? It's in the past and it might end up hurting a lot of people."
"I do," Amy said. On her palm, a glowing, shimmering dragonfly sat, before it took off into the sky, gleaming against the dusk showing in her open window before it vanished. They were sterile, and their DNA would collapse on death so there was no chance of contamination.
But they were something pretty, and working on the patterns, the complex way to ensure that the DNA would self-destruct…
It was oddly relaxing. More so than healing.
"Your mother…" There was a pause. "This involves things that hurt her deeply."
"What about me?" Amy asked.
"I…" Aunt Sarah fell silent for several minutes. "Carol will never agree."
"I don't care," Amy said. "I—Aunt Sarah, I need to know this."
"Amy, I and Uncle Neil will meet with you. Are you working at the hospital?"
"No. Today is, um, 'me' time." Amy reddened. "Merlin told me to."
"Merlin? That new Trump? What does he have to do with this?"
Oops. "He's training me. Or working on helping me with my power."
"But your power is—maybe we should talk about that, as well. Can you meet us in an hour at the Florida Cafe?"
"Yeah—yeah," Amy said. She held a flower in her hand, the surface changing color.
It was better than running around and screaming at what she was doing.
"I'll be there," she said.