Disassociation 1.3

I didn't give that much of a shit about Taylor, she was just prey after all, but shit like this, it's got me antsy. I don't have any feelings like it, but...

Sure, it's a stupid fucking move, but I went out patrolling with Emma. Didn't even use my real costume, just a silly ski mask and a big coat. I had a target in mind, too.

Those Merchants, they all but pissed themselves when I just used my shadow state.

What sort of fuckers just up and try to murder someone? Fuckers who know what they're about. Too bad they failed.

I didn't use those stupid stun bolts, because who are people going to believe? A bunch of druggies, or me?

They were pretty fucked up. Fucked up good, and guess what, I got myself a little Christmas present. Seems they were doing some money transfer or something, so I snagged a few thou more.

Shit, maybe it will be a Merry Christmas for the lone Wolf...hell, I'll buy something for Emma or something, cause why not? Not like there's much else to spend it on.

I admit, I dwelled on that memory, most of all because if I could prove it-and it was at least somewhat more possible than proving that she'd sometimes used the regular bolts against Grue, and there was a difference between using them on your nemesis and using them on a bunch of non-powered people. Grue deserved it, but...she'd done more than that.

Some even worse version of probation, for the Grue fuckups. If they learned about the murder? Well, then she'd be fucked.

And the thing was, if she'd done it once, broken the rules just because she was bored and frustrated over the winter break, she'd do it again, sometime. There was a feeling in my memories that it was a mistake.

That Sophia had decided she shouldn't do it again because it'd be too easy to get caught, but then again, I had similar memories in times before where she'd nearly killed people with that fucking crossbow, and yet here she was, doing it again. She'd fucked up and killed someone again, and I didn't even feel bad about it because she didn't even feel bad about it and I had far too much on my plate to give a shit, right now.

She never learned, did she? I'd not make her mistakes, at least, that was for sure. I wasn't going to do anything like that!

I was going to make sure my first night out went perfectly, and that involved making sure I was prepared.

My first night out shouldn't be a cape fight, and that meant picking where I patrolled somewhat carefully. A fight with another Cape would happen eventually, but I wanted it to be on my own terms. Ambush, if I could manage it.

So I accelerated my plans, my careful purchase of supplies. My costume was going to be pretty fucking shitty, I'd just have to deal with that fact until I could afford something better, but as long as I had equipment, well, that's what mattered.

And so a few more days in school, get through the week, and then I'd be free at last to start the important things.

Before that, I had another lesson with Mr. Vane. You know, for a shrink he wasn't too bad. He at least had a few funny jokes, and he'd listen, and he didn't look shocked when I used swear words like a regular goddamn person.

I talked a little about my aggression with him. I framed it, of course, in the way it should be framed. It was perfectly understandable that I was a little aggressive, it was a reasonable reaction to the shit I had to deal with, and besides, I'd been looking it up online, and there was this stuff about evolutionary psychology and the way aggression and violence were partially productive parts of the human experience.* Or something.

He just smiled and gamely debated it with me, turned it into what I wanted at the time. I liked a good scrap, and it turned out that when you combined not being a moron with having a spine, you got someone who likes to argue. Debate, whatever. I wouldn't have joined the Debate Team or anything, but it was sorta fun, sparring with him. He pointed out that control was important, and that while there was nothing wrong with anger, if you let it dictate your actions, it was bad.

"But it helps me, and isn't your whole cognitive thing all about how you can't not be biased and stuff."

"Yes," he admitted, "You'll think and act and make decisions by your biases. But there are clearly better biases than others, no?"

"Like what?" I shot back.

"Like, you'd agree that it's foolish to think that the reason the people are bullying you is because you're worthless, right?" he asked.

"Well maybe a little, but I was a weak target, just waiting for a good kick or two," I retorted.

"Surely there were weaker targets out there," Donald Vane said, "It was personal, that's my guess, even if you won't tell me anything about the bullies."

And yeah, yeah it was. He was just guessing, but fuck if Sophia hadn't gone after me just because of Emma.

"Eh, so what, I should hug people and smile a lot?" I shot back. Okay, I knew I was bullshitting here, taking his words out of context. Maybe I cared too much about 'winning' arguments. At the very least, I hated losing. I was a sore loser, the sort who slammed the lockers and yelled at people when I did poorly at a track meet.

"No, what you should do is channel that anger."

"Oh, I can do that," I said, thinking about the patrol.

"Channel it and recognize it. So the start is to recognize your cognitions, and we're going to do that with scenarios."

It was kinda fucking lame. He'd give examples of a situation, then ask what I thought about it, then what I'd have felt about it, and then about if there was anything physical happening to me, and then, well, what I did. First, first they were hypothetical, but then he started bringing up a few incidents I'd told him about in general terms. God, running back over how I'd acted and thought, I was a total loser. And that was still me, so was I-

Fuck, I decided, and then didn't bother to consider the matter any more.

Still, I left with exercises and a list of 'healthy and unhealthy cognitions' though I was pretty sure it wouldn't help much.

Compared to that, the physical side of things was much better. I had another lesson with Hardy Smith, and we didn't talk that much. I just learned and practiced and fought, and he brought up using batons or other weapons like that.

Batons, hrm.

And I ran and lifted weights. Not just jogging, not anymore. Short sprints and long runs, until I had to rest, and a weight lifting routine in the morning. It wasn't hard to wake up a little bit earlier, and I was really making progress. That's the thing, I could see and feel my progress with my own eyes, and that made it a lot better than a bunch of ink blots-though no, Donald didn't use them, and actually started laughing when I asked.

I had more energy going into the day, even if a lot of it was spent exercising, I slept a lot better, and I was just...better. How had I gotten through my life not feeling like this? There was power there, and even the 'control' the psychologist was talking about. I controlled my body, I directed it, aimed and honed it towards the purpose of kicking ass.

And, as the sprint practice indicated, chasing down baddies if I needed to.

And so, on Friday night I prepared to go out. I'd talked to dad recently, trying to keep the bitchiness to a minimum, and since I'd taken a habit of going out running, he probably wouldn't ask too many questions. Lately, he'd been pretty quiet. Focused on his work, I assume.

So as soon as I got home, before he did, I locked my door and decided to do a quick run-through of everything.

I started by stripping down to my bra and underwear. I looked at myself in the mirror for a long moment. Some things exercise couldn't change, and others they shouldn't. I still had my hair, the one thing I'd been proud of, and I still wore glasses, though I'd convinced dad rather easily to buy me athletic glasses, since I was going to be sparring and doing martial arts. It was a surprisingly good cover.

Other than that, well? I still looked like a guy, and damned if I wouldn't officially hate the first person on PHO who thought I was a guy. It'd happen. I knew it, because I wasn't a moron.

I frowned in the mirror, turning around and around. Certainly, I didn't look very feminine. But then again, I hadn't before, and at least now, well.

I tried to look on the upside. I liked being fit, and in a general sense, I looked better. I was about the body fat that a female athlete should have, I had muscle definition without it being ridiculous and as long as I didn't start eating less, I could probably maintain this.

I leaned forward, flexing my arm muscles curiously. I stamped my legs, I touched my stomach. I certainly appreciated looking boyish and also fit more than looking boyish and out of shape. It was all in the right attitude.

I had to do what Sophia would do. She looked in the mirror and she liked who she was because she liked what she could do. She had a body that could kick ass, and so she liked it.

I should just...like mine. I wasn't as strong as Sophia, and I certainly wasn't as fast, but I was probably at least in the same general category now, and if she had a natural athleticism-certainly her mother had always talked about how she'd taken to running everywhere-I'd probably be taller than her when I was grown up. Sure, I'd be tall and ugly and gangly, but it'd be gangly with reach. A tall one meant I'd be pretty damn fast.

And that's how you try to look on the bright side. Really, while I wasn't a looker, why the fuck was I so hung up on shit like that? I had nice hair-the one feature I'd liked about myself before-and now I looked like I could kick some guy's ass.

I switched from my regular glasses to my athletic ones and then took out the cloak. Big, black, ugly as shit. I got it for, like, a buck or some shit. And then a vest, and then a black facemask. I'd thought about a hockey mask, then I could scare the shit out of people. But I'd probably need a hatchet to make it look right, and fuck that.

Then a pair of dark pants and a thick belt, for the pepper spray, the discount handcuffs I'd gotten that were at least hardy enough that I hadn't been able to break them-though a Brute would fuck them up easily-and the cheapo camera. Just in case I needed evidence or something. There were a few more knick-knacks, but not much. Then I'd just slip the baton I'd gotten under the cloak, and there we go. I had no idea how well I'd do. Certainly I had her memories, and experience at fighting, but...I wasn't her. I mean, sorta but also not really. And the cloak wasn't really the sort that Shadow Stalker used. It'd probably not catch the right way, so I'd have to be careful.

All in all, standing in that outfit...I looked incredibly stupid and not really like a hero or even a Cape except in the broadest of ways.

Screw it, I was going out tonight, cause I had a fucking plan.

But first I had to take all of this off, stuff it into a backpack, and go out running.

It was fucking cold out. Yes, yes, that's really damn obvious, but I still was annoyed as I slipped off behind an alley. I had run through this place a dozen times, if not more, had gotten to know the area, and I knew that it was the sort of run-down, formerly middle-class place where the E88 and the Merchants clashed for customers and recruits. It was the sort of place I, the I that was a badass superhero, had hunted in often.

Really fucking awkward, not having a phone booth to change in, but if someone came by I'd just yell at them. And probably hit them with the baton. So, fuck it, bring it on!

A few minutes later, I was dressed, and no intruders. There was an itching feeling traveling up my leg, a little bit of tension. A strange thing to pick up, since I wasn't in Sophia's body, but I guessed it was psychological or some shit, if I'd picked it up. A slight itch, a slight irritation like that, right before I sprung into action.

I shifted into my shadow state. Fuck the other girl who had it, it was MINE. Mine and goddamn glorious. I'd had an Alexandria Lunchbox and worn Armsmaster undies and so goddamn if being a superhero and having superpowers wasn't the coolest thing ever.

The first time I'd shifted, I'd been way too focused on the fact of the memories, but after that I'd finally started to notice everything. The way I could go through walls, and I'd tried doing what little practice I could without getting caught.

Sophia's been able to switch back and forth from the state, as weird as it felt to do so, pretty fast when she needed to. I was hoping I could shift to phase through a hit, then shift back briefly to bring my baton against someone, then back again. Use my light weight and relative invulnerability to be really fucking hard for a civvy to deal with.

It wasn't that Sophia didn't wade in, but she was also good at fighting from a distance, sniping, all sorts of awesome things. But, well, I didn't have a crossbow, so that was that for now.

Stretching, I grinned and shifted into the shadow state for just a moment. No breathing, no heartbeat, nothing. It was a little bizarre, but it also felt so familiar. I could move faster, jump higher, and the whole world-

Honestly, if I could be in my Shadow State more often, I would. As I said before, it was cold, but whereas before I felt it, here I knew it. Here I could tell the difference.

I bent my knees and leapt.

It was a simple trick, and once I was in my shadow state, the two-dozen feet to the windowsill was nothing. Grab it, leap off, almost on automatic. And there.

I stood on the roof, looking around. The sun had gone down a little while ago, and I strode forward, towards the opposite edge of the building. This building was an abandoned factory of some type, and then there, that was a deli, and there was an apartment building. I could gain height, or not. After a moment, I set off towards the west.

Leap, switch into shadow form, make that gap, make that gap, make-

I came up short, just slightly. With a grunt I materialized to grab onto the edge of a window, light spilling out. Inside a girl had turned from the television, an old set, and was staring at me. I wasn't breathing heavily, yet my heart was beating. Why'd I-

Nevermind, I pulled myself up.

Okay, what the fuck was that? Ah. I think I had the...rhythm wrong. My body's not Sophia's, and I wasn't used to this. I had down the moves, but I hadn't really practiced them. I remembered practicing them, but that wasn't the same thing. Goddamn idiot.

But, but hell. That was cool, and I was still okay. Also, the cloak definitely didn't work as well as the real one. So I'd have to probably not overestimate myself.

Which still left me leaping across roofs, wind providing no resistance to my form, as I looked for a likely target.

For a first strike, what I wanted was something simple. Some obvious crime in progress that I could phone in. With plenty of people who could see it. Now, there were all sorts of ways I could go about things. But I knew that Sophia wouldn't be patrolling tonight, and so there would be no chance of running into her, even if they went in the area often. And at least in the short term, maybe there'd be some confusion and harsh questions as to why someone who seemed like Shadow Stalker was out and about when she shouldn't be patrolling.

I was sure that it'd be fucking cleared up eventually, but in the meantime, she could drown in it.

And ultimately, it was going to get out, that I had the powers I did. I wanted people to speculate, especially on PHO, so I could figure out just what line of bullshit to feed people.

Cause I sure as hell wasn't going to actually tell people about the memory thing. Maybe some sort of Trump that copies only powers? Or maybe I could grab powers at random, like some weaker-wouldn't want people to assume too much-version of Eidolon, and I'd just stumbled across one like Shadow Stalkers'?

Eh, I'd see.

An hour in, and I'm starting to wonder if it isn't a bust. Even with me telling dad I'd be going out to get my own dinner, well, I'd have to go back eventually. I saw a few small groups, here and there, and I was pretty sure they were gang bangers.

Call it a hunch, when people were tatted up with lightning bolts and swastikas, and when one of them was carrying a bat. But they weren't DOING anything.

And every so often I'd see a few people furtively slip from one house to another.

This wasn't the sort of place where people went out and about without doing it furtively, honestly, past dark. A shithole, pure and simple.

Goddamn, I could be doing something productive. I should have leapt out at that bunch of nazis earlier, instead I was all cautious and 'fucking woe is me, I want to be all official and catch people in the act.' The longer I patrolled, the angrier I felt, the more frustrated. I'd hoped I'd...I dunno, stumble across something right away.

It was right about when I was going to give up that I saw it. Eight Nazis, though I think I could describe it a little more.

It was a courtyard of an apartment building, and it looked like they were meeting to discuss something. Two guys, one of them bald and the other with blond hair, were standing a little apart, gesturing at small baggies of what I guessed were drugs. Both of them were heavy on the tattoos, with jeans, suspenders, and white shirts. Nearby was a girl just as heavily tattooed, who looked like she'd been built out of the spare bricks of a fucking shithouse.

Though honestly, looking at her, she seemed like the sort who was going for looking tough, like a bodybuilder.

Across from them was a tall, older man, probably past thirty. He had his arms crossed and looked mighty fucking skeptical of something. Behind him were two younger men, with far less tattoos. The one on the right couldn't have been more than sixteen, and his hand kept on travelling to his pocket. Gun? Maybe.

The final two members of the E88 were at each side of the alley, and it was pretty hard not to notice the side-arms they carried. Both guys were heavily tattooed, their clothing similar to everyone else, but they also looked more dangerous. After a moment, I realized that they had to be lookouts, ready to scare anyone off, or be the first to have a shot if Skidmark and his boys interrupted.

The first guy, bald nazi motherfucker, he gestured to the bags. Now, I needed to pay attention, I needed to listen. Because understanding their motives and actions, even if they were fucking Nazis-well, that's how you tore them apart, right? The strong find the weakest points of the losers and tear them to bits. But it was hard to hear from here, and I just kept on itching to go in and attack. "This is…" he gestured to the bag.

The younger boy behind the older man said something, but then paused when he was glared at. Then the blond nazi with baldie said something that seemed to make the others angry.

While this was going on, I'd been making my way down the side of the building. It was dark, and I was trying to stay hidden, but I was pretty damn sure they'd notice me before long.

"...better us...Merchants," one of them said.

The woman growled something at him, low and hostile.

I edged down a little more, and took a photo of the scene. Especially the fact that they were holding what seemed to be drugs. It was lucky I'd thought to get a non-flash, quiet camera. Or else they probably would have heard it, argument or not.

"...Capes," the older man mumbled, and I found myself paying a lot more attention. I was close enough that I could start to hear some of the words, though not much.

Baldie, luckily, was talking pretty loud, "Like you...fucking line…" and then it dipped slightly before he said, "Get real!" and continued to talk, fast and low. Something about...Hookwolf? I hoped he wasn't in the area, I needed this first takedown to be easy. Build myself up, get some practice.

One of the guys said, "God, she's fucking-"

I never found out who was fucking who, or what the fucking point of talking about that was, because I dropped down at that moment.

"Cape!" the young man behind Grandpa yelled, grabbing for his gun.

I wonder what gave it away to the Honors Student. The fact that I was a human shadow, or the fact that his bullet went through me and hit the wall? But I was already storming forward. My world shrunk a hell of a lot, focused down into violence, as I went for Blondie. I smashed the fucker in the face, ducking a hit and driving forward, slamming my baton in his knee.

I didn't even try to hold back. I knew that just like Shadow Stalker, I might eventually break something bad, but I wouldn't kill anyone, and so besides that, who gave a fuck. I slipped into the shadow state, chasing down the kid.

"Get back here," I muttered. Fuck, I hadn't thought that they'd try to run. I needed them trapped in here with me. Lion's den, whatever you want to call it.

So I grabbed the fucker and slammed him against the courtyard wall, as the watchers drew and fired on me.

Benny Frank turned out to not be all stupid asshole, because there was something to be said about being shot at and goddamn missed as I leapt at one of them. I was faster than them, I was better than them. A bunch of grown men, getting their ass beat by a teen girl. I smashed it against his head, dodging his stupid attempt to get at me, to tackle me.

Shit, I should have focused on one of them, because only one of them was down so far, and so I turned to sprint after Grandpa, moving left and right, already feeling like I was losing control of the fight.

Course, Shadow Stalker had fucked up her first fight horribly, but I was better. I should be in more control instead of constantly running back and forth like a goddamn soccer team.

No more time to fight fair, so I tackled the nazi fucker and cracked him across the back with my baton, and then, not satisfied, slammed my foot down against his leg, propelling myself backwards in time to dodge a hail of bullets. I landed on a fire-escape, and then hurled back down.

They hadn't even come closer, but damned if they were trying to run. Two down, and I growled and sprinted after blondie, baldie, and the two watchers. They kept on firing, which pissed me off. Why wouldn't those nazis just stop fighting me! It just made me angrier, and angrier and angrier, and I ran as fast as I could, heart nearly beating out of itself, and then swung my baton at one of the watchers, at his gun arm.

There was a sickening, horrible, amazing crack, and his screams echoed, I could feel the very air itself. Something might be broken, but I wasn't done yet. I brought the baton down on his shoulder, but he didn't fall. Instead he aimed his gun right at me and fired at point blank. But I was too fast, too experienced for him, it took me a fraction of a moment to slip into shadows, and I was grinning now, at that hopeless, stupid, pathetic look on his face.

I wanted him to beg, to beg for me not to break his other arm. Too few people begged, too many curled up or fought to the end and kept on pissing me off and this goddamn nazi had better beg-

I slammed the baton against his chest and he crumpled, but now I was behind and fuck.

Why was this so fucking hard. I just needed to focus. The longer the fight dragged on, the more likely an E88 Cape would show up. I skidded past the second watcher and grabbed Blondie, slamming him against the wall once, twice, a third time.

Thud. "Just fucking." Thud. "Stay down." Thud thud thud. "You Nazi!" Finally I let him go. Four down, four to-wait, where was that Nazi Bitch going?!

She was climbing up a set of fire escapes, aiming for a door near the top. Pretty smart for a Nazi. Once she was in the building, well, at the least it'd take time I didn't have to hunt her down, little coward hiding in their fucking goddamn rat warrens.

Which is when a baseball bat crashed against my back. I stumbled, but didn't fall, pain blossoming outward from my back, and I cursed, aloud, "Fucking goddamn Nazis!"

I'd never felt pain that immediately, that total. I'd been roughed up in practice, but this, this was different. Sophia had never done anything half as bad, but the pain, the pain wasn't as great as the frustration, the anger. I'd fucked up, even in some small way.

"Run from that nigger thug bitch, I'll distract her!" Baldie yelled out.

I shifted into my shadow state, which didn't exactly...end the pain, for say, but changed it. I no longer had a body, so how the hell did I sorta still feel the pain? I darted forward, and though he was stronger than me, I knew what I was doing.

I grabbed his arm and twisted it, using my leverage to do what I'd done before. I slammed my baton against his arm until he dropped the stupid bat.

"Why. Don't. You. Just give. Up." Only when he finally slumped down, unconscious, did I take a breath and try to figure out what was. I was panting, and I could see that the kid and the watcher were out of range. I could chase them, but I needed to stay here.

Nazi Bitch, on the other hand…

I leapt, muscles trained by weeks of work straining into action, and in a single bound I was nearly at her level, climbing the fire escape.

The woman looked terrified, and wasn't that typical? Think they're so tough, Aryan Warriors, all that shit, and then they go up against someone truly hard. And have the gall to call me a N-word when both me and Shadow Stalker, fuck her until the day she dies, were better than this fucking lot. Seeing she wasn't going to get away, she lunged at me, and I dodged, phasing through the fire-escape.

The stupid bitch couldn't stop, and her head cracked against the wall, and she slumped halfway out of the fire escape.

In fact, it looked like she was slowly slipping to fall.

"Shit," she muttered, scrambling to get some traction.

I should let her fall. See how all of her vaunted muscles and all that like a twenty feet drop.

But fuck, fuck, I'm supposed to be more than that.

I grabbed her leg and pulled her back off from the precipice.

I was panting by then, she was really heavy and I'd just taken out six Nazis on my first night out. Hell, most of my panting was from the pain and the fact that I'd been sprinting this way and that nonstop.

When I finally pulled her back, she turned and spit at me, and then tried to lunge.

Baton, meet stupid fucking face that won't goddamn learn to respect me.

That took a little while to get sorted out, but not long. She wasn't any threat at all, none of them were, except that they'd wasted my time and I'd made a stupid mistake. I wouldn't make it again.

Then I dragged the bitch all the way back down. All of the guys were still there, groaning, and I'd begin to drag them all towards the center.

By now all of my body was starting to hurt, not just my back.

There they lay, and I'd found the drugs, too. Not much, I guess the idea was they'd go and meet somewhere else to deal? This was just a discussion?

Still, it was white powder. Probably crack, that's the obvious guess. Shit's illegal, and the fact that those fucking bastards were aiming specifically to get blacks hooked was messed up. Well, there's a laugh. The black bitch had them cowering in their boots. I laughed, slightly painted and then leaned down. Now I'd just loot them for shit and call the police in to get this.

I reached into the belt and touched the phone.

The cellphone I'd gotten, like the one mom had been on, when she had died.

I...damn it. I wasn't going to take their money. I didn't need it, it was blood money anyways.

I let out a breath, and then pulled out the phone, then grabbed the cheapo voice-modulator I'd bought at some novelty store, and dialed the number.

"I just," I began, no preamble, voice booming over the cell-phone, "took down five Nazis in a courtyard at the corner of 23rd and Majors. They have drugs on them, and were doing a deal."

"This is a Cape, correct? So you caught them in a crime-in-action?" the dispatcher asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Very well, we'll send a squad car," she said, with a sigh. "Now, who is this?"

"No one in particular," I said, then hung up.

When I checked the cell-phone time, I blinked. I'd been terrified it was late, but…

Oh my god. That entire fight hadn't even lasted a minute, and I felt like I could just lay down in a bed for a whole day.

I also felt as if I could run a fucking marathon. I'd done it. Not perfect, but then practice makes perfect. I'd done it once, I could do it again.

It was so tempting to just give them a little more 'corrective discipline' with the baton, while I was waiting.

But every time I had thoughts like that, I touched my phone and tried to focus on the bigger picture. I'd seen what happened when I got lost in the moment. I forgot things, and I'd nearly gotten beaten the fuck up by a bunch of gang-bangers that Shadow Stalker could have slaughtered.

When the police got there, I exited, up the fire escape. Just close enough that they could see shadows.

Back at home I rubbed the balm all over my muscles half gone already from martial arts practices, and sat in the shower, thinking. Dad hadn't said anything, but he had to have seen the nasty bruise forming on my back.

I needed to be stronger, and I needed to have some goddamn self-control. Like the psychologist said, I guess.

No clue how to do it, and let me be honest, right at that moment I didn't care. I just let the water wash over me and thought through something far more enticing.

I needed a Brute power, I needed some self-control, why not fucking Glory Girl? Not yet, not until I figured things out a little more. I needed to choose the right second power, get...synergy or some shit, I wrote it all down while I was bored, and I swear the word synergy was on there.

Like I was some fucking corporation.

Leaning back against the back, as the hot water soothed my aching body, not even asleep yet, I dreamed of power.