Side-Step TM
Thinking back, Trevor blamed the little girl for everything.
"You need to get your costume," she said.
Just some girl, standing on his doorstep. She didn't have a costume on or anything, but she might as well scream "cape." What kid says something like "we need to go, Newtype and Miss Militia are going to die" without blinking?
No normal kid says that.
Trevor shuddered at the time. A trap he thought at first, a gang trying to lure him out or the PRT trying to trap him. He'd read stories of all kinds of horrible things that happened to tinkers.
"I can't—"
The little girl scoffed at him. "How do you know if you don't try?" She turned and started down the steps. "And bring a first aid kit."
So he tried, and what did it get him?
A few minutes of feeling awesome followed by days of trouble, that's what.
"Ms. Medina—"
"Missus," his mother corrected.
"Mrs. Medina," Triumph corrected. "Look, we get it. We've all been here ourselves."
"But we're out of time," Dauntless added. "It's one thing when he keeps a low profile, but Trevor went out in costume. The gangs will target him if we keep stalling."
"Can you assure me he'll never get hurt?" his mother asked.
"You know we can't do that," Dauntless said. "No matter how much we wish we could."
Trevor stalked back up the stairs quietly. Not hard to slip back into his room as long as he avoided the squeaky step at the top. He closed the door and fell back on his bed, blaming the little girl the entire way.
It did feel kind of cool. Like a small rush, and then a sense of triumph knowing he'd saved them. So, kind of neat as a one time thing.
But now the Protectorate wouldn't leave him alone.
I just want to build stuff, he thought.
Standing in front of cameras and posing for photos sounded like a waste of time. Talking about what it's like being a teenager and a hero, or walking the street and taking selfies. As cool as the Wards were, the Wards spent most of their time doing nothing. They didn't get to do anything important, and the important things involved villains who wanted to kill them.
So what's the point?
Heroes just die, and nothing changes.
Despite his closed door, Trevor still heard the debate downstairs. Not particularly clearly. Maybe every third word, but he heard his mother's patience running dry. She wanted Triumph and Dauntless to leave. They relented eventually, and Trevor tracked the sound of footsteps creeping up the stairs.
His mother stood on the other side of his door for a few minutes before continuing down the hall.
Things weren't the same since Dad died.
Getting up, Trevor opened his closet and started pulling his costume out. He didn't take all of it. Just his boots, the power pack, and his belt. A hat and a hoodie helped obscure his face, and he climbed out the window.
He didn't really know where he wanted to go, just that he didn't want to be home.
His apartment building fared better than most others on the block, but he still checked the alley below before climbing down the fire escape. Old Tom never liked intruders, and he sometimes camped out by the dumpster. No sign of him tonight, though.
Once out on the street, Trevor kept his head down and stuffed his hands into his pockets. No one noticed him. Thanks to Newtype—and he felt pretty sure Newtype did it—his name got out but his face didn't. Not having much of a social life kind of paid off on that front. He didn't use Facebook or anything like that, and no one really kept any pictures of him on theirs.
Made it easier to avoid being stuck in the house all the time.
He decided to wander on over to the hardware store. Maybe find a few random things for something. He'd been thinking of building a new boiler for the apartment. The one in their building sucked and took forever to heat up even a gallon of water, so it always became a race to be the first person to shower in the morning.
Something to do if nothing else.
He kept his head down as he entered. The store did decent business, but seeing as he'd broken in once to get some things he didn't want to draw too much attention. Making his way over to the power tool section he looked through some of the automatic ratchets. The new X9000 supposedly had some kind of superconductor in it. Something A Seattle based Tinker designed to be produced in number and lasted a few years before needing replacement.
He'd like to get a good look at one, but the store didn't have any of the model.
Disappointing.
He started looking at some of the screwdrivers when the door opened. He turned absentmindedly, and immediately turned back.
The three Asian men looked around the store, one wearing a gaudy red suit. A tall and skinny guy. The two on his left and right towered even taller, both with broad shoulders and big muscles that showed through their red and white shirts.
ABB.
Trevor started trying to measure the distance to the back door, but the three men ignored him.
They walked up to the register, the old man glowering at them.
"It's that time of the month you old coot," the guy in the red suit laughed. "Security isn't cheap. Gotta pay your share."
The old man frowned. "Security from who? You?"
"I think he's talking back, Yan," one of the other men said.
"I think he is."
The old man's neck receded into his chest. "No, I'm sorry."
"Better be," Yan said. "Where's my money?"
Trevor slipped out the door while the old man turned around and reached for a shelf behind the register. He turned down the street and started back toward home. The old man would pay them their money. He'd be fine.
Getting involved wouldn't fix it.
Nothing ever changed, so why bother?
The sound of a loud bang stopped him.
Trevor stood frozen, his heart stopping with each bang that followed the first. He kept standing, even when the door opened behind him and all three men ran past. One held his shoulder, red staining his already red coat. Yan stopped, his eyes turning on Trevor.
Trevor saw the gun in his hand and looked away.
Yan grinned and started walking after the other two.
"Good job, kid. You know your place."
Trevor said nothing, holding stock still until Yan turned the corner. The sound of sirens echoed in the air, and a few people along the street started emerging from their hiding place. Trevor turned slowly, his feet scuffing against the pavement.
The door hung open, a pool of red flowing from behind the counter.
"What happened?"
Trevor didn't look to see who asked. He flipped his boots on, the tractors in the soles spinning up and shooting him down the street. He stopped at a deserted corner, heart pounding in his chest.
Not my fault, he thought. What was he supposed to do?
He lifted his head, eyes widening at the name on the sign in front of him. Shifting his attention to the opposite street corner, he felt the rain on his head. The silence that followed the crash.
He didn't remember how it started. One second nothing, and then the car slid off the road and hit the wall. He remembered calling for help, trying to pull his father free. The woman in the car said something, but the blood in her mouth muddled the words.
No one helped.
Why should they? People died in Brockton Bay all the time. Just the way it was...
And there was that little girl's voice again.
You're not even going to try?
She glared at him when she said it, stared right through him. Like he might as well not exist.
How do you know if you don't try?
Trevor shook his head and sped away.
Nothing ever changes. It's always the same, and it'll always be the same.
His phone rang in his pocket.
A text from Greg?
Trevor frowned.
He barely even knew Veder, but ever since he got outed the kid just kept messaging him. To be fair, Trevor messaged back once or twice. He got lonely, not being able to go to school and struggling to talk to his mom. Greg might not know how to shut up, but at least he seemed eager to talk and listen.
vcb: You need to see this!
Trevor blinked and tapped on the link.
Topic: A Special Thanks to Toybox
In: Boards ► Capes ► Rogues ► Toybox
Newtype (Verified Cape) (Original Poster)
Posted on May 29, 2011:
I'm not good at this.
Recent events have given me pause. Thirteen people died at the hands of a psycho who killed because he could. It's hard for me. I didn't want anyone to get hurt, but trying to stop people from getting hurt got other people hurt.
It's something I didn't appreciate about heroes before becoming one. How hard it is to make the right choices when it's never clear what the right choice is, and having to live with the consequences of the choice you make.
So, it's nice to know that some people really do care about the consequences of their actions. I'd like to thank Toybox for their very generous donation of $13,500,000 dollars to the Red Cross's Africa mission. It's really important work, and I am very excited to learn about it.
Almost makes all the arms dealing to villains worth it, don't you think?
(Showing Page 1 of 3) LOCKED
► Dodge! (Verified Cape) (Toybox)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
We did that? That's kind of cool. Not sure why Pyro didn't say anything.
Trevor turned his phone. Something about that felt off. Looking over the post again, he saw the problem.
Thirteen people died, and Toybox donated over thirteen million dollars to charity?
Almost makes all the arms dealing to villains worth it, don't you think?
The news said something about the assassin that went after Relena Peacecraft using lots of Tinkertech gear.
His jaw slackened, and he kept reading.
► Tin Mother (Moderator)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
This is coming very close to a thread lock. All members of Toybox need to stop. If you believe a crime has been committed you need to report it to the authorities. Newtype, you and your robots need to stop antagonizing!
► Newtype (Verified Cape) (Original Poster)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
Antagonizing? I'm just giving credit where credit is due.
► PyroFire (Verified Cape) (Toybox)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
You robbed us bitch!
► ThePurple1 (Verified HARO)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
Language
Language
► Jokerboy
Replied on May 30, 2011:
Someone please tell me what the fuck is going on
► Anakry101
Replied on May 30, 2011:
This is amazing.
► Djbriloholic
Replied on May 30, 2011:
I'm… I'm feeling very torn right now. What day is today?
► Evanessence
Replied on May 30, 2011:
Judgment day, apparently.
► 3ndless (Guy in the Know)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
Jokerboy, Newtype says she's congratulating Toybox on a big charity donation, but Toybox is saying she's emptying their bank accounts.
► Char
Replied on May 30, 2011:
Oh no.
► AllSeeingEye
Replied on May 30, 2011:
Oh yes! Laughing so hard right now!
► Jokerboy
Replied on May 16, 2011:
Endless, The fuck?
► St. Judes (Verified Saints)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
Is this the right thread for this? Newtype said we could thank Pyrotechnical for her donation here. Thank you so much! It's so hard to get people to fund our research these days, and it's great to see tinkers taking an interest in more conventional medical development!
► PyroFire (Verified Cape) (Toybox)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
WTF?!
► Laughter (Unverified Cape)
Replied on May 16, 2011:
I'm so glad I got popcorn for this.
► Newtype (Verified Cape) (Original Poster)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
And now $250,000 to Saint Jude's Children's Research Hospital. Very noble of you, Pyrotechnical. A round of applause for the generous donor.
► TheRed1 (Verified HARO)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
Clap
Clap
► TheOrange1 (Verified HARO)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
Clap
Clap
► Forecast (Unverified Cape)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
Clap Clap
► ThePink1 (Verified HARO)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
Clap
Clap
► Glacial (Verified Cape) (Toybox)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
You have no idea what you're bringing on yourself.
► StarGazer (Verified Cape)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
I hope that is not a threat. Playing by such rules are unlikely to end well for you.
► PyroFire (Verified Cape) (Toybox)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
Jesus, what do you want?!
► Newtype (Verified Cape) (Original Poster)
Replied on May 30, 2011:
For now? I'm settling for the simple pleasure of seeing Toybox give back after arming so many murderers to the teeth. I mean, the dead aren't coming back to life, but it's the thought that counts.
Trevor frowned.
Toybox wasn't going to stop selling weapons just because Newtype took their money. They'd sell more to make it up, right? So why bother?
There'd always be another tinker to make some weapons for criminals. Actually, maybe he could do that? It wouldn't be hard…
Trevor stopped the thought, his phone falling from his hand. He stepped back, remembering the old man in the store. He didn't want that. He wanted to make things, to build the images in his mind.
But he didn't want that.
Why?
Trevor sped down the street, asking himself the same question over and over. He didn't know the answer. So why did she bother? What drove her to try when it seemed so pointless?
She robbed Toybox, for what? For arming villains? She threatened to out the gangs if they attacked anyone in their civilian identity. They still did it when they wanted, didn't they?
Why?
Why did she do any of it? What drove her?
Trevor knocked on the door and waited. He just wanted to talk, easy enough so long as he didn't get really nervous and start babbling just because she's pretty.
"I'll get it," a voice called from the other side.
Trevor went over what he wanted to say in his mind.
A talk, he thought. Just a talk. Maybe, see why she did what she did?
The door opened, and Taylor's eyes widened. "Trevor?"
Trevor raised his hand and smiled. "Hi, Taytype, I—"
He stopped, watching as her expression switched from confusion to fury.
"Did, I just say Tay—"
"House," she snarled. "Inside. Now."
