A Hell of a Time

I walked into the PRT building with trepidation. Dad had called in and learned what to do. Because of security reasons, Dad and I couldn't come in together. I'd go in, in costume, and tell the woman at the front desk that I was here to talk with Director Piggot. When she asked why, instead of saying I was here to check the Wards Program, I'd give a randomly generated excuse. I'd then be led to the Director's office, and ten minutes later, when Dad came in, he'd give an excuse that'd been matched to mine and be led up to join me.

I was only here to check out the what joining the Wards would entail, but I was nervous. I fiddled with my skirt a bit, made sure my belts were on straight, and walked up to the front desk. "Hello, I'm here to see Director Piggot."

The woman looked up at me, blinked, and asked: "for what reason?"

I cleared my throat, "I'm a victim of crime. I'm here to complain that my cousin has been glared at by the Slaughterhouse 9." I thought it was a ridiculous excuse, but that's what they gave me to use.

"Okay," the woman replied, "I'll call down an agent to escort you to the Director's office." She typed something into her computer and a few minutes later, a man in a PRT Uniform was escorting me into a presumably Tinker-Tech Elevator, and then down a hall into an office.

Director Piggot was an obese blond woman. Part of me wondered how someone that unhealthy looking got a job in law enforcement, but then I thought that maybe she didn't get fat until after she was behind a desk, so who knows?

The director set down some papers and looked up to me, "take a seat, miss." She gestured to a pair of chairs set before her desk, and I took the one on the right. We sat there in silence, my nerves building up, until Dad was led in and took the seat to my left.

"Now," the director began, "I understand that you're interested in the Wards program?"

"Well, kind of," I began. "I just want to know what it entails right now."

"We want to know what her options are," Dad added.

"I'll start with the basic facts then," the director answered, "if you were to join the Wards Program, you would be given a trust, accessible when you turn 18, which would have a total of $50,000 added to it per year. You would be given a minimum wage salary for the first year, and double that for every year following." I looked to Dad to try and gauge his reaction, he'd probably know if it was a good deal before I did. "You would also be expected to sign a non-disclosure agreement," the director continued, "requiring that you not divulge the identities of any Ward or Protectorate heroes that you become privy too to anyone without the consent of the hero in question. You'd also be barred from discussing classified information with anyone who does not already know."

Dad nodded, "that sounds reasonable, although I've noticed that Wards merchandise is sold. If you say, made an 'Akuma' action figure, would she get any money from sales?"

"Not directly," the director admitted, "part of the standard Ward contract is signing away merchandise rights. However, almost all Wards merchandise sales go into the Wards' trust and salary funds, and your daughter would regain her merchandise rights when she graduated the program."

"I don't know if I like the idea of not having the rights to my image for over two years," I interjected.

"Well, alternative contracts can be negotiated, but they take time," the director replied, "and to be honest, unless you're a high end Trump or Tinker, or otherwise a very valuable cape to have around, you wouldn't be able to get away with anything to far removed from the standard contract."

I nodded, less than happy with that.

"Now," the director changed topics, "as a Ward, you'd be expected to attend school during regular hours, barring emergencies, and to get regular sleep whenever possible."

"You mean like a curfew?"

"No," the director replied, "I mean that the Youth Guard will start breathing down my neck if one of my Wards looks too tired."

I blinked. That was certainly earnest. Dad chuckled. "What would she actually be expected to do?"

"She'd be expected to come to Ward's meetings," the Director said. "If her brand is marketable, she might be requested to attend public relations events. As the Wards program is about learning to be Super Heroes, she would be encouraged to sign up for patrols, either with fellow Wards or with a member of the Protectorate. In the event of an emergency or a crime spree, she might be requested to assist with civilian members of a parahuman gang or low level villains. She'd also have to pass through PR and comply with the Youth Guard instituted regulations on costumes and cape themes."

"PR? Costume regulations?" I didn't like the sound of that.

"Relax," the director said to me, "you're far from the most outlandish costume I've seen." She laughed to herself, "our PR man near had a heart attack trying to talk a Ward who will remain nameless out of a giant codpiece."

I couldn't help it, I laughed out loud.

"Yes, it's quite an amusing story," she continued, "Perhaps you'll hear it in full if you choose to join. At worst, you might have to get a longer skirt. I'm afraid I don't keep up with the exact regulations. Your theme, however..."

"What's wrong with my theme?" Seconds after asking, I realized that "demon" was probably an unusual theme for a hero.

"It is my understanding," Director Piggot began, "That 'Akuma' is Japanese for Devil. Now, normally the fact that you're already known by this name would let you keep it, but... It's not a PR friendly name. Even ignoring the diabolic implications, with the Azn Bad Boyz in town, East Asian names don't test well. Coupled with the connotations of the name... Not to mention that the PRT could get in a lot of trouble for calling a monstrous parahuman within our ranks by a monstrous name, if nothing else, the Youth Guard might get on us for undermining your self esteem."

I blinked... and then I felt something hot building up in my heart. "I'm not changing it. I like the name Akuma. I like the way it sounds. As for it's meaning, I don't give a shit!"

Dad put his arm on my shoulder. "Ta-Akuma, you need to calm down."

I stood up, "No! I explained this to you, Dad, but the director needs to here this: I look like a demon." I took a deep breath, "I can either ignore it, hide away, a cry whenever someone points it out... Or, I can embrace it. I can own it, claim it as my own, and make anybody who tries to make a big deal out of it look like a fool." Not to mention, well, it was my heritage. Something I had, other than my hair, to connect me back to Mom. I looked the director in the eyes, "I'm not changing it. If your PR guy says I can't be Akuma, I'm out the door then and there, because my heart is far from set on the Wards." I took another breath, "I got an offer from New Wave last night, for one. If the Youth Guard has a problem with it, send them to me and I'll explain all of this to them too."

The director blinked. "I understand that you feel strongly about this. Please calm down, and sit back down."

I didn't sit.

Director Piggot sighed "Your reasoning is sound. I'm certain that if it's that important to you, we can take your reasoning and our PR people can spin it so that you can keep the Akuma name. That you're already known by the name and have a criminal take down credited to it helps." She motioned for me to sit, "please, calm down."

I sat back down, blood rushing to my face. I guess I over reacted. The director pulled some paperwork from under her desk. "Now, I've got here a copy of the standard Ward's contract and NDA. I know that you're not sure about joining the program, but I feel that looking over some of the paperwork might help you make your decision." She passed the paperwork forward, but, to be honest it was all Greek to me.

Dad pulled the pile in front of him. "If you don't mind," he asked the director, "as a soulless union bureaucrat I've probably got a better chance at understanding this mess than she does."

"Quite alright," Director Piggot answered. "We expect the parents to read the contracts. It'd be horribly irresponsible of them not to."

Dad nodded and went to reading. The contract was long and looked complicated, it was a good minute of awkward silence before the Director spoke up.

"While your father is going through the paperwork, Akuma, would you like to meet the Team?"

I thought about it. It'd make sense to at least try and get to know a few of the Wards. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to join, but I'd hate to sign up only to find out I'd trapped myself in two years with people I hate. Also, it might take my mind off of the fool I just made of myself. "Yeah."

The director pushed a button on her desk and a few moments later a man came into the office. "Agent Smith," she said to him, "we have a potential Ward here. Take her up to meet the team."

Agent Smith smiled, "Yes Ma'am." he looked at me, "If you'll just follow me young miss?" He motioned for me to get up and follow him, and he led me back to the elevator.