Huh. 100+ followers. There's a milestone.


"Depends on what time it is," I say. Why is this girl approaching an unknown parahuman and where is her basic survival instinct? I swear to God, lemmings have nothing on Brocktonites.

"It's about," she pulls out a phone and glances at the screen, "Twelve twenty. Actually, I haven't had lunch yet. Do you want to get something to eat?" she asks, cocking her head to the side. Forward, aren't we? She must see something in my posture because she laughs and shakes her head. "No, I'm not looking to hit on the new cape. I just want to chat." Well, free food. I then remember the cash burning a hole in my armor. Alternatively, I could spend the cash and prove that White Rose has both money to spare and a generous heart.

"Well, I could do with a meal. Any particular destination in mind?" I ask, standing up and absorbing the chair back into my armor. As long as it's not crazy expensive, I think I can foot the bill.

"How about Italian?" she asks. "It's a bit of a walk, but I know a nice little place called Lucciano's." Before I can answer she's already walking down the hill towards the entrance of the park. I shake my head and follow after her. If she's some crazy cape geek, I can just leave. If not, maybe this can help me cement a more heroic image. Plus, a casual conversation with a non-parahuman wouldn't go amiss.

I draw stares from other pedestrians but a pointed look at the people holding cameras keeps the rubbernecking to a minimum. I don't doubt that PHO is going to be crawling with photos of me by the end of the day but hopefully I won't come across as a publicity hound.

Lisa has good taste. Two stories with a small nameplate hanging from the overhead balcony that I have to weave my head around. Credit where credit is due, the the host doesn't bat an eye at the pretty blond girl in a sundress walking in with a cape escort and asking for a table. We get a seat in the open air dining space on the second floor with a nice view of a line forming at the front door as cape geeks and reporters desperately try to look like they're not following us. Lisa looks over the edge and laughs.

"Fun fact, she," Lisa points to an irritated looking older woman about halfway down the line, "is here solely for the food."

I keep my focus on the menu while trying to process that. "Could you shed a little light on why these people think approaching a new cape is a good idea?" I ask. The rosticciana sounds nice but the price tag is a little concerning for a pork dish.

"Well, your first act was taking down Lung, so most people think that puts you on the side of the angels," she says bluntly, eyeing her own menu. "That, and you're walking around in broad daylight without the Protectorate coming down on you like a sack of bricks, which more or less confirms it." Well when you put it like that it does make approaching a new cape seem less dangerous.

"Have you decided what you want?" she asks, changing the subject. "My treat, so order what you want."

"We split the check," I respond. "I think I'll have the penne all'arrabiata," I say, picking a weekly special that's priced reasonably. No idea what it is but it's the second cheapest thing. Lisa lifts an eyebrow at that but doesn't say anything, instead waving towards a waiter. He listens to Lisa but both of his eyes are focused on me. Rude. I return his stare and he freezes. I then turn away to look over the cityscape, dismissing him with my body language, and I hear his footsteps padding away shortly after. Lisa sighs, and I turn to look at her. She's wearing an expression that can only be described as an irritated pout.

"Now why'd you scare away our waiter?" she asks. "He was only curious."

"I don't appreciate being treated like a work of modern art," I respond. "If he wants to stare, he can at least wait until he's off shift."

"And you walking around in full costume doesn't contribute to his distraction at all" she comments dryly. I feel heat suffuse my face and snap a toe bone to keep focus. "It's fine if you want to be noticed in public," she says, shrugging her shoulders, "but you could be a little more aware of how it affects people around you."

"Duly noted," I say, closing the conversation. "Now then, why on earth did you take me here?" I ask. If good things just happened, I'd be due more than a few winning lottery tickets.

"Can't a girl just see a pretty new cape and want to say hi?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. I'm not sure how much of my scorn bleeds through my mask, but she picks up on it and lifts her hands in surrender. "I will admit, my motives are not entirely altruistic." And there's the catch. She leans forward, making eye contact. "I was actually wondering if I could ask you about which group you were going to join."

I shrug. "I currently don't want to join the Wards and I'm not sure about New Wave's recruitment policy. I'm not unmasking," I clarify, "And I'm not sure they'd be okay with that."

"You could join a villain team," she offers, leaning back in her chair. I snort. "Hear me out," she says, suddenly all business. "Most villains get caught, right? So why aren't prisons full of them?"

"Because keeping parahumans locked up is insanely difficult," I respond. "I mean, what sort of cage holds Kaiser and Hookwolf at the same time?"

"The Birdcage," she responds. "But do you ever wonder why people bother sending villains like Viktor to regular jails?"

I shrug. I've never really thought in depth about it but even Uber and Leet can break out of regular prison. Surely after the first three or four cases of a villain breaking out of Max Sec the legal system would get the message and just send people straight to the Birdcage.

"It's to keep the game going," she says, smiling, like she knows something I don't. "See, the heroes need someone to fight. Preferably, a 'villain,'" she explains, using her fingers to form air quotes, "Should be a reasonable person that doesn't permanently maim or kill anyone. That way, the public gets a show, the villain gets some cash, and everyone profits."

I stare at her smiling face, like she has the truth and is laying it out like a pearl before me. Like she, a random civilian, has uncovered the perfect way for cape conflict to be structured.

In. Out. Mask on.

"Hookwolf regularly murders people," I state. Lisa's smile starts to falter. "Part of E88's initiation ritual is killing a minority, and they have more than a dozen capes," I say. The smile is gone. Good. "The ABB aren't any better. The other parahuman-run gangs regularly deal in cocaine and heroin, which probably kill more people than any cape. That sounds like a lot of permanent maiming to me," I comment lightly. Lisa frowns.

"I'm not saying that all villains follow the rules-" she starts. No. You don't get to pretend like villains are good people.

"Unless you completely ignore the deaths of regular people, I haven't heard of any villains that follow your rules, Lisa," I interrupt, raising my voice a little. "I'm not sure if you're trying to be some sort of E88 apologist or what," a look of pain crosses her face, "But joining a villain team seems like the first step on one long slippery slope of bad ideas."

The waiter walks up with a blank expression and our food. I thank him quietly while Lisa simply nods in his direction. I look down at my plate. Penne pasta with some sort of red sauce that's too light to be marinara. I spear a few noodles on my fork and lift it up to my face before realizing I don't have a gap for eating in my mask.

Lisa looks over her tortellini and vegetable mix with a shaky smile. "So, how do you actually intend to eat that?"

On an impulse I reshape my helmet into a featureless oval and try warping my teeth to become part of my mask. Nope. But that gives me an idea.

I push some bone into my mouth, forming a thin layer of bone at the base of my gums. I form joints around my jaw muscles on the sides and slowly fracture the front of my mask, making sure that the break is an even zig zag of pointed teeth. I open and close my mouth a few times. The new outer jaw moves easily, and I use my outer "teeth" to pull the pasta off the fork. Hmm, spicy. Lisa's just staring at me and I raise an eyebrow behind my new mask.

"Have I got something on my face?" I ask.

She shakes her head, a small smile back. "Nah, it's just odd that you didn't want to retract the lower part of your mask and eat that way." Right, that probably would've been easier. I shrug and shovel more pasta into my mouth, trying to cover up my flush as something from the spice. Even though Lisa can't see my skin.

It doesn't seem to matter, and she laughs nervously before going back to her food. We eat in silence for a bit. My new "teeth" don't actually help me eat (they're outside my mouth), but they do make a quiet clicking noise with every new bite. Something to work on in the future.

About halfway through the food, the silence moves from polite to awkward. Should I apologize? For what? It's not like I didn't believe what I said. Maybe apologize for the framing? No, I think the word choice was pretty reasonable with the exception of the E88 apologist comment.

Something unsettling crawls up my spine as a pair of people approach me. Did I use my power to browbeat someone into silence? Have I already fucked up?

"Hey."

This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. Exactly the pit I was trying to get out of. Exactly what Emma or Sophia or Madison would do if they got powers.

"Hey!"

God, why did I think this was good idea? Why did I think that Taylor Hebert, the possible-psycho murderer, could be a hero?

"Ugh, Vicky, aura."

Just like that the oppressive feeling of fear is gone. I let out a breath and notice the girl shaking my shoulders. Freckles and frizzy brown hair that makes me thankful for my own black locks, with a tired and knowing expression. On her chest is an ankh, black on a white background.

Amy Dallon. Isidis. The girl who saved my life. I look her in the eyes, and she meets mine unflinchingly.

"Vicky's scared of you, and it reflects in her aura," she says, motioning over her shoulder. I crane my neck and see a white-robed blonde with a figure to kill for sheepishly rubbing one arm. Justitia, A.K.A. Victoria Dallon. Alexandria Lite, with an aura that manipulates the emotions of those around her. At least partially involuntarily, apparently.

"Sorry," Justitia says apologetically. "I didn't mean to mess with your head there, it's just, uh..." she trails off, looking at my mouth.

"Your mask is creepy as hell right now," Isidis says bluntly, pulling a pair of chairs away from a nearby table. "Mind if we sit down?" she asks before collapsing into one anyway. I look to Justitia, who is pointedly waiting for my permission. I motion to the other chair and she sits down gracefully, nodding in thanks. Lisa looks peeved at the new arrivals but holds her tongue. After a moment of silence I decide to ask the first question.

"So how did you find me?" I ask. "Seems awfully convenient for New Wave to show up out of the blue." That, and I have no idea how to react to seeing a pair of A-listers out looking for me.

"How many capes are walking around the city in bone armor?" Isidis asks, holding up her phone and showing a social media feed filled with pictures of me walking down the street. Looks like my attempts to ward off the rubberneckers only worked a little. "Anyway, Vicky's got a whole speech prepared. She can take over from here," she finishes, stealing my glass of water and quickly swallowing half of it before eying my plate of noodles. "Say, would you mind if I..."

I push the plate over to her, already shifting my focus to Justitia. She wriggles a little bit in her seat, pointedly looking at some point on my forehead. I shift my mask back into it's normal helm, dropping the false jaw into my hand.

"Better?" I ask, leaning onto the table and steepling my hands. Lisa snorts.

"You realize you're literally holding a mutated human jaw bone in your hand," she snarks. I idly reshape it into a rose, the bone resistant but still malleable. Vicky takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out. I recognize the motions, and focus my attention her.

"New Wave would like to point out that they are an organization that complies with all laws and regulations. As such, we cannot condone extra legal killing," she says, voice stilted and jerky, as if trying to remember the answers to questions on a test. I feel my stomach drop a bit. She takes a breath and continues. "However, we would also like to make you aware that New Wave is willing to offer limited legal assistance, free of cost, in the interest of maintaining fair and just treatment of underage parahumans by the PRT." She places a business card in front of me, finally meeting my gaze.

"Agh, how can you eat this!?" The staring contest is broken as we both turn to look at Isidis, who is chugging water as Lisa tries to hold in laughter. Eventually, she finishes the glass and slams it down. "So hot!" she hisses, grabbing Lisa's water. After quaffing it and dragging the back of her sleeve across her mouth, she turns to me.

"Listen, we're not mourning Lung," Isidis clarifies. "But being independent is hard enough when you have one cape with excessive force problems on a team." Justitia deflates a little at that, and Isidis shoots her an apologetic look before moving on. "We're waiting to see if the Protectorate is going to cause a fuss over this. If they do, we'll help you so far as we think you deserve it. If they don't, maybe we can schedule some patrols together. Does that seem fair to you?" she asks.

I hold my tongue and think. Honestly? It doesn't seem fair that I need to be worried about a manslaughter charge after my first night of patrolling, and it feels like New Wave is just playing the publicity game.

I grind a few bones and sigh. On the other hand, it does seem reasonable for a group of almost-vigilantes who tread a fine line to keep a respectful distance from the new cape that may or may not be a criminal.

"It makes sense," I say, picking up the card and placing in a compartment next to Battery's. In. Out. Mask. Isidis nods and extends a hand for me to shake. I take it.

"Anyway, if you have some free time this week, I work at Brockton General in the ER from five to six in the afternoons," she says, giving me a firm shake and letting go. "Maybe I can use your bones as transplant tissue. It'd make you some money and let me increase my rates," she adds, smiling.

She and Justitia don't stick around. They fly off, Isidis in bridal carry, and Lisa checks her phone before bidding her own goodby, citing work. She leaves some money at the table (more than her half, given the number of twenties on the pile), and suddenly I'm alone.

It doesn't feel quite so nice now.

I finish the rest of the pasta (which isn't that hot) and call over the waiter.

"Cheque please," I say, mindful of my mask. He shakes his head, face carefully showing no emotion and looking over my head.

"It's on the house," he responds, hands hidden behind his back. I look up at him and see a mask worthy of my own.

Why am I getting a free meal? People give gifts for reasons, even if they're altruistic ones. So what's the reason here? One is that I drew in more customers than I scared away and now they want me to keep coming. Another is that the person running this place appreciates me killing Lung and wants to say thanks.

A third is that they want to keep the murder cape happy.

I motion towards Lisa's money, discreetly adding a fifty to the pile. Way too much but I don't have any change. "The girl I came here with left her half of the bill," I say. The waiter takes it as permission and collects the bills, not spending a moment more in my company. I'll take that as my cue to leave.

I leave a bone rose on the host's podium, trying to ignore the stares of the other restaurant goers, and start walking back to the alley where I left my clothes, thinking about recruitment, justice, and other people.