Agent Todd didn't look happy, neither did Jessica for that matter. Armsmaster, on the other hand, looked somewhat… pleased, if that hint of a smile was anything to go by. About what I had no idea, but it drew an angry look from Jessica when she noticed it.
I was just happy that all that time spent practicing that little speech in front of a mirror had paid off. Look, I wasn't even shaking this time!
"Well, that's understandable," said Todd, looking down at his piles of paperwork. "In that case, let me just change somethings out here…"
While the Agent worked on moving things around, Jessica took the stage.
"There are some things you should know if you go down this path," she began. "First, you will still receive a stipend if you sign up with the PRT."
I opened my mouth to correct her.
She held up a hand to forestall me. "Let me finish. If you do not wish to partake in Cape affairs, nor go your own path as an Independent, then you get labeled as a Rogue. By signing up with the PRT you are saying that you are not going to use your powers for any illegal activities and are just telling us that you have them; this in effect is like owning a gun, you can have it, but you need to tell certain people about it to avoid any issues about you having it. However, if you decide to use your powers for hero work later on, you can get your status changed to an Independent and will receive more support. As a Rogue, you are still granted certain rights and privileges, which varies per region."
"In Brockton Bay," Armsmaster cut in. "That includes a small stipend and a limited healthcare system. If you wished to use your powers for personal monetary gain, then the PRT will assist in basic paperwork, getting you off the ground so to speak. Of course, all of this comes with the caveat that you stay out of trouble and that your power is safe to use for whatever you plan to use it for."
"Yes, that is correct," Jessica continued through gritted teeth. At this point, I figured that Armsmaster, for whatever reason, was on my side, something that I didn't know how to take. My dad apparently didn't know either, but he was looking over at the hero with a suspicious eye.
"Other than that, however, you are basically alone. You will receive no additional support from the PRT, and getting a day job to support yourself is up to you," Todd finished.
It was a different set of paperwork that the Agent handed us, much smaller than the stack he had in front of him before. In it was basically what they had just told us, about being a Rogue meant no fighting either side or supporting them, I'd get some money in exchange for keeping out of trouble, and some healthcare if I got hurt using my powers for (nearly) whatever reason. There was however a stipulation.
"That won't affect her," Armsmaster said after dad brought it up. "That clause is in place mostly because of Tinkers. In case the powers or creations of a cape had an unknown effect or ability of that was discovered later. It's for uses against S-Class Threats, like the Endbringers. I can think of only three times that it has been put into effect, and that included the reason it was formed."
The clause in question boiled down to this; if the Rogue in question found a new aspect of their power that required new testing for its effects, the PRT reserved the right to co-opt the 'aspect,' for use against threats to public safety. But only if it was deemed safe enough to use against said threat and as long as there was a court order from either a local judge or the Supreme Court. An international one could work too if the cape in question was part of something like the Guild, Legion or Sentinel.
Basically, it meant that if a Tinker made a device that stopped everything from moving in its range, the PRT would use it to lock down an Endbringer, even if it meant taking it from the Tinker in question.
On the other hand, it could work in the other way; a Tinker could build something, and the PRT could take it, citing this clause and saying that they're holding onto it, 'just in case.'
It didn't really apply to other types of cape powers in largely the same way because other power came from the cape themselves, it could be too risky for a just one-time deal; which explained why someone like Clockblocker wasn't all over the news from using his power to freeze an Endbringer. Getting close enough to touch one was just too dangerous.
"If at any time you wish to change your status, all it takes is an upgraded form and further power testing at any PRT facility," Todd added.
"But if you wish to test your powers in a safe environment, the PRT facilities are open to you," Armsmaster pointed out with a look toward the members of the PRT. "Regardless of whether or not you join the Wards or sign no further than a Rogue."
At this point my father was engrossed into the world of legal paperwork, passing one every now and again for me to sign. There were some questions he asked for clarification, but other than that we were mostly done.
While Todd and Jessica finished looking over what was given back to them, checking each other's work, Armsmaster stepped forward to the table.
"Miss Hebert," he said with a nod, then handed me a card, two of them actually. "Just in case you have questions more about Capes than the legal side, Dragon and myself are available. She also expressed some interest in learning more about your power, but will understand if you don't wish to talk about it."
I was taken aback. One, if not two, of the greatest Tinkers gave me their number. More accurately, their e-mails and PHO account names. Neither seemed to have a phone number on their card; whether that was just to keep things professional or a lack of a personal one, I didn't know.
Todd seemed really confused at this point, while Jessica's face had soured. I felt like I was missing something. The PRT has been subtly pushing me towards the Wards with every meeting, but Armsmaster, one of the poster heroes for the Protectorate, and by extension, the Wards, wasn't.
While I could understand if they had different opinions, common sense would dictate that you wouldn't let people know about that. Especially if you're trying to recruit someone into your ranks.
Unless Armsmaster didn't want me in the Wards, but that didn't fit his actions. He was blunt and straightforward the times I meet him before, and he was still helpful in providing info that the PRT members were giving.
Maybe he had figured out that with what happened, that I didn't want anything to do with powers?
I really didn't know what was going on at this point between them all, and I just wanted this to be done already.
As my dad handed back the final papers, both Agents looked them over and nodded.
"Everything seems to be in order," said Todd. "Just one last thing."
"Or two, as the case may be," Jessica said. "NDAs."
Two pieces of paper were slid in front of us both, and a stack was joined beside them; then Jessica touched the top of one of the single papers.
"This one here is the Non-Disclosure Agreement pertaining to the PRT and our agreements. It states that you will not disclose the information given to you in this room, nor will you disclose the full details of Winslow without express permission or will face extreme legal repercussions. This stack is the agreements in full, to be given over to the US government for records. A copy can be made available to you if you wish."
"And the second?" my father asked.
Jessica tapped the other paper with a finger. "That is an NDA for protecting Shadow Stalker's identity and records. At this point I'd also like you to confirm the details and the declaration about your treatment at her hand, or a provide testimony if you're willing to give it."
"You want us to protect her!?" my dad half-shouted. "After everything she did to my daughter?!"
"Sophia Hess has already been sent to juvie," Armsmaster interjected on behalf of the PRT workers. "The NDA is to protect her family. If it was discovered that she was a Ward, it is possible that they could face retaliation from criminal elements."
"I'll sign it."
My father cut off from what would no doubt be an argument. Everyone looked at me sharply, and I wilted from the attention.
"This… I …" I had to take a breath. How could I explain this?
"… I don't care about her anymore," I managed to get out. "She can't… she's gone, I never have to see her again, never deal with her again, that's good. I don't care about what happens to her, I don't care about her at all really. From the moment I'd meet her, she attacked me, turned my friend against me, and did everything in her power to make my life hell."
"But I'll sign the NDA, because her family shouldn't suffer from her mistakes."
I didn't know who Sophia's family was, what type of people they were. Were they responsible for who she was? Was it learned behavior? Or was it a byproduct? Was she pushing her shitty life on to others?
Or, the one that I believed was most accurate, was she doing it for the kicks?
My dad sat back down in his chair. His hand found mine and gripped it tight.
Papers were passed around; a pen found its way into my hand. A few exrta questions were asked about what she did to me; about when it started, who helped her, how often did she steal/destroy my homework/classwork.
And I answered them as best as I could, signing away at a form which detailed the same things I talked about, only in legal terms for the courts to tuck away as part of their, 'fact-checking/confirmation' of what the former Ward did to me as per the legal system. Though I was told that it would mostly serve as a legal record because she was already in juvie.
After that, Armsmaster slipped away as quietly as he entered.
[hr][/hr]
Dad had parked his truck around the block. We had to wait for a few minutes before he could pull out into the street because of downtown traffic.
Traffic was… normal, steady for the day and the direction we were heading. It would get slightly worse as we got closer to the boardwalk and Fugly Bobs. Still, dad's truck meandered on, keeping up with the current flow of cars.
Between us lay the copies of the paperwork the PRT provided, held together by a folder and staples. The time after finishing up said paperwork was subdued, largely due to the fact that just minutes before they had covered the range of my bullying and the state Armsmaster found me in.
All in front of dad.
I hadn't told him about the bullying, not really, nor had I said who was doing it. All he knew was that I was having trouble. I… didn't know how he was taking it.
Emma was once my best friend, and to find out that she had been one of the ones to put me into the locker?
And that wasn't even going into the issues with what had happened to the school, or the fact that not only did he not know about it, but the fact that he missed it, that he saw me every day and knew nothing of what was happening.
… most of that was on me, I… I didn't really tell him anything. After mom had died, we both kinda just, fell apart. Dad wasn't really there for a while before he bounced back. Somewhat. And I was on the same path, until Sophia came into the picture.
As for Emma? I didn't really know what to think about Emma anymore. She tossed everything we shared aside, hunted me down just to belittle me, used every dark secret I had against me, and yet it sounded like she was just as messed up as I was when mom died, maybe even worse.
They had told me, more like her dad Alan had told me, the story of how they'd first encountered Shadow Stalker, the assault on their lives, how it broke Emma until Sophia showed up.
I didn't know how to feel about that, part of me, long-buried, was stubbornly pointing out that she'd been taken advantage of, that my friend would have never done those things she did normally. Another part, the one that had helped me survive, was saying that she got what was coming to her. Yet another part asked if it really mattered, if her being sent to the PRT mental clinic fixed things. If what had happened made it all better, if it was justified. A small part just asked if anything would change with this, if I could recover from it all.
Another pointed out that some of it was my fault, I'd been her friend too after all. Why didn't I push for questions harder? Go to her house, talk to her family about what was going on?
'Always look at both sides of the story Little Owl; if a man steals to feed his family, does that make him evil?'
Being an English College Professor, my mom had brought a love of literature into my life. By the time I was ten, she had gifted me books like The Hobbit, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, a few things by Stephen King, books by C. S. Lewis, even a few classics like Treasure Island, or the Count of Monte Cristo. A bit of friction had formed between my parents over some of it; some of what King wrote wasn't exactly suitable for a preteen.
I remembered her telling him that she was letting me read the books not to scare me or because she didn't care, but so I could see things differently, so that I understand the power of words and actions. I was holding a part of history she had said, a whole different world lay within my hands, lessons to be learned and dreams to be lived. Everything and everyone could be a story, and with a book, everyone could dream of what it was like to live in those worlds.
It wasn't just about the story, but the experiences that reading them gave me.
She didn't let me read things like It or Carrie until I was older though.
Dad got over it, somewhat. Mom could to that to someone. I could remember the three of us, plus Emma, all huddled up in the living room, dad reading a Goosebumps book out loud after my twelfth birthday. He'd been the one to buy it, and I still had the boxed set in my room.
… I hadn't read anything but a school book in a while. Dad wasn't the only one that fell apart after her death.
What happened with Emma, happened, and I couldn't change it now, no matter how hard I looked at it or wanted to. I could only move on.
That was when I noticed that we'd stopped.
We parked were on a side street, outside of downtown, but not in the Dock/Boardwalk area proper. One of the intermittent areas, the kind that had the somewhat rundown tourist shops and hotels scattered in it, the place that still saw enough cape and police activity for it to be 'safe,' but not a place you wanted to be in late at night.
"… Why didn't you tell me?" dad asked softly.
I stared at my dad, him clutching the steering wheel with white knuckles, the grip hard enough to make the leather creak.
"Why didn't you tell me?! Why did you just let that happen to you?!"
I could count on one hand the number of times my dad had raised his voice in anger; the number was even less for when it was directed at me.
"I tried," I defended. "The teachers couldn't do anything, or didn't believe me. I tried to get them to stop, to stay away from them, but nothing worked. And it… it was Emma dad, she was my best friend and she knew all my secrets and she just betrayed all of it but she was hurting and I never noticed it and you were distant and hurting but so was I but I didn't want to worry you more because that wasn't fair to you because you are my dad and I didn't want you to know and be angry with me and…"
I had to stop, to breathe.
"Taylor..." my dad began, extending an arm out to me.
I recoiled on reflex, pulling myself back into the truck door, memories overriding actions, and dad.
Just.
Broke.
The look on his face cut deeper then anything Emma had ever said, like the sight of his actions was catching up to him, and how could I react to him of all people like that.
He was all I had left; we were all we had left.
This time, when his arms went out, it was to engulf me into a crushing hug that I threw myself into.
One of his hands was in my hair, the folder between us sliding to the floor.
There was no crying, but there were tears. How long had it been since my dad had given me a hug, a real one?
I wanted to cry, to bawl, but I was… fragmented. Everything was happening so fast. The Locker, waking up in the hospital, Armsmaster telling me about Sophia and Emma. Alan telling me about Emma and Sophia. Getting three weeks of psychiatric treatment on the PRTs tab. Another two to recover at a PRT provided home, the meeting, then this.
I had been functioning day-to-day for so long that now I didn't know what to do.
"I don't trust them dad," I watery said, blinking back tears. "I get that they said that what happened did because somethings fell through the cracks, that they can't watch people twenty-four-seven, that they trusted the wrong people to do their jobs. But I was the one that suffered for it."
"The school put more value on Sophia and her Ward status than the one she was torturing, and PRT just did everything it could do hide what happened. I can't let them get control over me like that, not again. I'm scared dad."
"I know that you thought the Ward would be a good place for me to figure out my powers, but I can't. I can't. I don't want anything to do with them, if I could get rid of them I would but…"
I was stuck with them.
That's what it boiled down to, they were my powers now, and I would have to live with that. Maybe in time I would use them, try to figure out they could do, but now? Now I just wanted things to be like they were before. Before mom died. Before our lives just fell apart.
Mom had said that life was a story, one that had a place for everyone, all interconnected. When one chapter ended, another began, threads still linking to the two, even if what they had connected to were gone.
In a way, this was still part of my moms' own story, her effect still felt on our lives, her story still continuing, like how Bilbo Baggins story ended, but his legend was finished with Frodo. Her actions, her decisions, her very presence, echoing down into me and my fathers own actions and feelings, in what we ate, the things we enjoyed.
Now, some of that was tainted by her absence, forming the echos of what remained of her story.
All of this formed into a new story, one which the foundations were laid into place by her, my dad's story, my story.
Course… all of this just made me miss her more, and I wished that hers didn't have to end so soon into mine.
Dad was rocking me slightly, bring up memories of times long ago. His voice was anchoring me, helping me pull back together the pieces that I had dropped.
"… I worry because that's my job Taylor." said dad. "Even decades from now I will still worry about you. You shouldn't have needed to go this alone, and yes, I am angry, but not with you, never with you. I'm just… I feel I failed you, lord knows your mother would kick my ass over this. she would never let me forget it, but she would still help me all the same. She would be better at it though."
"I'm ashamed to say that I nearly lost you both when she died; Alan was the one that talked some sense into me, which despite what's happened I'll always be thankful to him for. Losing you would mean losing the last of Annette I have left. You're the best of us both Taylor, your mother and me, I see a little of her in you every day."
That brought fresh tears, and I held on a little tighter.
And it also brought up regret and shame, not just about what I did to dad, but about the other kids, the ones that were afflicted by more power. What about them? Was it right that I could just walk away from it all? Or should I have been punished for what happened?
"… never do something like this again Taylor," dad said, interrupting my downward spiral of thoughts. "I'm here for you, always. You don't need to stand alone."
He let me out of the hug, only to hold me at arms' length.
"Here what we're going to do ok? First, we're going to Fugly Bobs." I let a watery laugh out. "I said I would take you. After that, we'll talk some more, about school, about… something. I'm here now, I'm here for you. You don't need to keep secrets from me; in fact, no more secrets, from either of us, ok?"
I nodded. "Ok."
Dad smiled, something I hadn't seen for a while. "After that, we get back to our home, the one we live in. Then… we'll do something together, bridge this gap between us." He gestured at the space between us. "Ok?"
"Ok."
"Good." He sighed. "Better?"
I managed a bit of a smile. "… getting there."
"Ok, off to Fuglys then, unless you want something different?"
I shook my head. "Fuglys is fine dad."
He nodded back and let go of me, turning back to the wheel, but he kept one hand holding onto mine. "… She'd be much better at this than me."
… he was right, mom was better at dealing with the emotional sides of things. Not that dad couldn't manage, but mom always seemed to know exactly what to say.
"…We should work on fixing up the house," dad said suddenly. "The old step in front, I've been meaning to fix it for ages. The bathroom sink needs to be tightened to stop it from dripping as much…"
"My bedroom door needs adjusting," I added softly. "It sticks when the humidity gets high, and the downstairs window, that's stuck, we can fix that."
"All with the money the PRT has provided. Well, some of it," dad shrugged. "I want to put most of it into your college funds, your mother would have my head if it didn't get you a proper education."
I smiled, she just might have. She didn't seem very threatening, but the way mom could look at you, speak to you, talking circles around you… it wouldn't have surprised me that she could make someone like Lung back down just by talking to him, and that was just speaking. Some of the ideas she could come up with bordered on fantastic past par of even the Hobbit. God only knows how she would've taken all of this.
The PRT and Sophia got off light really.
Small steps, one at a time. We could move on, we would. I would go back to school, to Arcadia, graduate, then… I didn't know then, but it was a start.
Dad had work, we had the house, I had school. We'd find ways to move forward, Together. No more floating adrift, we would change things.
… most things.
No more secrets… That promise wasn't going to be something I could keep.
There were somethings you don't tell a father, or even a parent. If I started dating someone, I wouldn't tell him the details, not if I wanted to have his heart keep working. Hiding bad grades for a bit, that's something. Not mentioning my period, or what I needed to take care of it (mom covered that one long ago), other daily life things and whatnot.
Most of it was just stuff you don't tell people day-to-day, or even normally talk about it. When was the last time you told someone how your trip to the bathroom was? Or how long it was?
'Some things,' I thought. 'Are best kept secret.'
"Running away again, are you Kiddo?"
In the side mirror, my Double cocked its head at me. I had noticed it when we had stopped; It was sitting on the side of the truck bed, feet tapping a rhythm on the inside of the bed, watching me with that grin.
"You can't run from them, they're still right here, just waiting for you."
As we began to move, my Double spun around, leaping off the side of the truck to land on the street. Then did a little spin, dancing like a child in the street, its arms outstretched and cars barely missing it. It stopped and waved to me, its echoey voice reaching me like it was right beside me, even though we were rapidly getting distance from it.
"Looking forward to seeing what you do next Kiddo!"
"Just like the allll the rest of them watching you!"
Then it vanished, thin black smoke erupting from where it stood, flowing away like… colors, dropped in moving water.
The last thing to disappear was its glowing eyes.
I turned my attention back to the road, and struck dad up in a bit of stilted conversation about Fugly Bobs.
There were some things that you.
Just.
Don't.
Share.
A/N: While Goosebumps wasn't published until the 90's, Stine was around Pre-Scion, so it's a possibility that some of the things he wrote would still be made, just they might have had a more 'parahuman' spin on things post the mid-80s after Parahumans really start showing themselves (if Scion was the 'first spotted,' then most other capes for at least the next year, if not two, were likely considered myths to the public until coverage really got over them [I don't think Wildbow ever clarified what capes did to 'show themselves to the public' in 1987, so I'm really guessing here]).
That being said, it is likely things didn't change all that much in basic cultural terms (in USA at least, we know that China and Africa changed, don't know how much different in the Europe areas other than a few mentions) in certain areas. Yes, people now had to deal with the fact that there were people that could fly and rip a car in half, but general day-to-day eat-work-live-repeat life likely didn't really take a massive turn until the Endbringers showed up.
That's not to say that things didn't change, from what little Wildbow showed us of grander Earth Bet, there are major changes, but people still have cell phones, use laptops, go shopping with 'cash' (I think USA Bet uses coins, isn't that mentioned in the Travelers interlude?), and other whatnots.
The internet is still a thing (it wasn't until the 80s and 90s that homes really got any use from the net, Internet Explorer didn't show up until 1995 after all), as everyone seems to still use it, be it by PHO or just for communications, as well as use it on phones (I think?), so are most governments and their agencies still around. Some space travel still happened, and the stock market is still there.
Based on all this we can figure that many things are similar, but off in Bet compared to here (The Breakfast Club was released with Nicholas Cage in the role of John Bender after all) but in broad strokes. It's likely that up until the 90s you could step into Bet from our world and could get along fine without any changes to your life, if you just ignore the capes running around that is, and if you are just a background extra in life (this is mostly because we don't have the data on everything that changed in-between the 80s to the mid-90s).
That means, unless Wildbow comes out and says everyone, and I mean everyone, had or made a major change in their lives post-80s that touched them directly, in broad looking-down-the-hall-and-seeing-something strokes, people and things in Bet are largely the same until the 90s roll around, somewhat same kids for a half a generation, kind of same movie plots, books are still made, and wars still happened (those that last one would change pretty quickly, and likely was some of the main fuel for the fire that is Bet).
Then you look back and go, 'hell we jumped the tracks a while ago and didn't notice, didn't we?' as you realize that nothing is really the same. After all, Bet is fundamentally different than our world in 2011, but that the first 5 to 7 years after Scion is spotted? Mostly the same, mostly, just until everything we know as Worm gets its feet under it (or at least what pertains to the everyday joe).
Or at least something along these lines, it's my theory at least. Therefore, why can't some authors and their works be still around post-cape?
No matter what the disaster after all, life goes on, and it finds a way.
Plus there is Earth Aleph to consider as well.
I'm bring this up in an A/N because this is the type of thing I like, the butterfly effects. And could likely spend hours talking to the Simurgh about how her prediction powers work, if, you know, she could talk.
And didn't crush me flat in a second….
Or drive me crazy…
Or set me up as a bomb to kill people…
… Let's not talk to the Simurgh if it's not in a fanfic where you can get away with it, ok?
