Origin 1.2 - October 2005
Life went on. And on. And on.
Andon.
It wasn't boring just because I was precocious for my age; I had a lot of memories in my head that weren't mine, and the person who'd made those memories passed high school and college with a solid 3.2 grade average. To compound this, I had what I modestly called asuper computerin place of my brain.
I didn't forget things - ever. Not after my 'trigger' anyways; older memories were missing things, things my power couldn't or wouldn't reconstruct, but anything afterwards I could envision with crystal clear precision.
Suffice to say, third grade didnothold my attention and the teacher knew it. I was lucky in a way that I even went on to third grade this year - they were halfway convinced to give me the rest of the year off, forcing me to retake second grade.
That's right -retake second grade.
I had to argue forhoursto convince them otherwise.
It was amassivewaste of time.
Despite everything, they forced me to take a couple weeks off from school. With nothing better to do, I researched the issue and found that testing out of school was severely frowned upon, apparently children need 'structure' to form an identity and PRT members were not acceptable role models.
Therewereexceptions, but they were always for Wards whose families had weighed in on their behalf.
I was going to chuck acarat the Youth Guard the next time they came by.
I made sure to ventthatparticular desire with my Protectorate approved child psychologist, who I now saw once a week. I'd been forced to agree on that as a bargaining chip - go to therapy and I would avoid squandering another year of my life in elementary school.
It didn't do very much good of course - my biggest emotional problems were things I could notbeginto explain. Still, it was an outlet, and the guy I went to wasn't reallybad.
Sitting in the clumsily decorated classroom with all the other preteens, I couldn't help but think that maybe I should have gone back to second grade; dealing with Taylor during the day was surprisinglytiring.
We went to the same elementary and shared the same classes, so it was inevitable that we saw one another; I'd be fine with that, except she loved topester me about everything.
It was strange to think about the old timeline. Whereas the Skitter I vaguely remembered was all angst and edges, the current Taylor was almostditsy. She had this sort of energy to her that burned through in everything she did; it wasn't like she was dumb, she was definitely intelligent, she just went on andon.
That child needs an off switch to go with the installed Seriously-Hyper-Drive.
On a more serious note, for all Taylor's annoying bubbliness I sincerely hope that Annette remained - well, alive for starters. Mr. Hebert had worked with my father a long time ago, and while we weren't exactly close I didn't want to see them hurt.
I don't remember the date of the car crash, but my presence in the timeline should have startled enough butterflies that any solid date would be horrifically inaccurate. There wasn't much else I could do except lecture Taylor about cell phones and driving.
I marked that one down as an idea. Maybe if she thought I was boring she wouldleave me alone.
I waved to the Heberts as I waited for my PRT minder to come grab me from school. They waved back, smiling, then drove off in their beat up hatchback.
Leaving me sitting here, waiting for my glorified babysitter.
I stood with literally inhuman stillness, watching for the black sedan. I didn't need sleep, nor did my muscles need rest - I could stand here all day if necessary.
The rest of the children had already gone home. I frowned, glancing down the rows of parked cars.
The PRT had never been late before. In fact, most of the time they wereearly.
"Joshua?" A woman's voice called out as the door opened behind me. "You're still here? Do you need a ride somewhere?"
"No," I said mildly, turning to look at my teacher. She'd always treated me with a measure of wariness - she probably knew I was a parahuman. No doubt the PRT had clued her in the day I sat down in her class. "I'll be fine."
I'm not sure what she read from my expression, but I'd be willing to bet she thought it was cape business. She nodded hesitantly, then, after looking around, left for her hideous lime-colored car. Cape business was none of her business after all. I resisted the urge to scowl.
After about ten minutes, I'd had enough.
Considering the options available to me, I cursed my lack of a cell phone and started to walk. My speed, strength, and durability had doubled over the last year; at least, I assumed my strength had doubled. It was hard to test strength without going down to the graveyard to juggle boats, and we hadn't exactly tested it thoroughly in the first place.
All I know is that extending my telekinesis field is easier now and I needed to be careful with my speed in public.
Of course, that didn't mean I could get around entirely with superpowers. Despite the protection afforded by my speed, I had no mask to protect my identity - if I started sprinting around the chance of a lucky camera catching my face was non-zero. Capes had been outed for similar indiscretions before.
Still, this wasn't a bad part of Brockton Bay - at least, if you were white and it was reasonably bright out. The Teeth mostly stuck to the docks and the Empire didn't go after children. Allfather had literally strung up a man in his gang for being a pedophile, and rumor had it that the man was a cape - a valuable and potentially powerful parahuman. What he would do to a rank and file thug didn't bear thinking on.
It lent a certain protection to kids walking alone in Empire territory.
It was close to dark already - night fell quickly in the winter and it hadn't been a very sunny day to begin with. Now, the sun was beginning to touch the mountains, and we only had about a solid hour of daylight left. My senses thrummed, reaching out and touching the world around me.
There was a certain. . .energyin the air.
Something was wrong. I made a snap decision and cut through the park.
Brockton Bay actually had a fairly nice park. It was midway between Arcadia, my elementary school, and the PRT building. That meant that it was heavily patrolled for the safety of the students and had a high chance of superheros dropping by.
Yet, walking along the trail, I didn't see a single person.
Splash.
I turned left, headed towards the water at an easy jog.
Splash.
I exited the tree line. The park had a fairly small pond, used primarily to support wildlife. It was gated off to avoid idiotic preteen casualties, but the fences were short and easy to climb - in other words, a perfect example of government policy. I jumped over.
A girl with blonde hair reared back her hand and let another stone fly. It skipped once, then hit the other side. Not really her fault - it was a pretty pathetic pond to skip in. She put her head in her hands, tousled hair hiding her face. I sat down next to her.
"Whatcha' doin'?" I asked, curious. She looked up at me, revealing bright brown eyes.
"Nothin'," she said shyly, looking back to the pond. "Waiting for - my uncle. He told me to wait till he came back or he'd be mad."
"I see," I said, looking out across the pond. A couple frogs jumped, splashing aimlessly in the weeds. "I'm Josh. What's your name?"
She hid her face again. "I'm not s'posed to tell."
There wasn't much I could say to that. "I see," I muttered again, a little lamely. Even before, Josh hadn't been that good with other kids. It was one of the reason I had practically no friends, despite my preternatural advantages weighing in."How old are you?"
She perked up a little. "I'm eight!"
"Iam eight and ahalf," I stated smugly, giving her a superior smirk. She scowled and, with one hand, shot a splash of dirty water at me. I dodged with effortless grace, but the second shot caught me right between the eyes with my mouth still open. Sputtering, I wiped the grime off my face and gave her a gimlet eyed stare.
"It'son."
Our battle lasted a good ten, fifteen minutes of watery hell before I finally cried uncle. It was getting dark, and she didn't seem like the type to give up. Now, she was shivering violently in her wet clothes and I couldn't help but feel it was unfair that I didn't get cold.
I sighed, wringing water out of my shirt. Tactile telekinesis would be helpful for this if I could get it under control. The last time I'd tried to do anything with it I'd managed to rip my sweater in half. It was a real tragedy - replacing clothes with the PRT's quartermaster was a trial, and that had been one of my own sweaters.
"Guess it's time to go home then," I told her, looking at the sunset without squinting.
Her eyes widened in alarm. "My uncle said he'd be back by sundown! You need to go, right now!"
I blinked at her. "O-okay," I stuttered, surprised by her vehemence. "Will you be here tomorrow?"
She nodded fiercely. "I'll try."
More heartbeats were approaching. I went the opposite way and jumped over the fence with one smooth action.
No one saw me go. I didn't want to get her in trouble.
It was a soggy, dark walk back to the tower. As soon as I was out of sight, I shed Joshua and was once more Tyrant; there was no place for children in the dark alleyways of Brockton Bay. Despite cutting through gang territory on the way there, not a single person waylaid me.
The guard at the back entrance let out a sigh of reliefwhen he saw me walking up, then started grinning. "You look like you've been rolling in the mud. Your mother's gonna chew you out."
"I'm her ward, not her Ward," I told him, irritated. It wasn't like I minded Miss Militia being my guardian, but she wasn't my mother. I'd have resented her if she'd tried; she didn't, which made me like her a bit more. Out of costume, I was told to call her Hannah. "She can't exactly fire me or stick me on monitor duty."
He chuckled. "You just keep thinking that."
He buzzed me on through.
Miss Militia was pacing in the Ward's lobby. When she saw me, the face under her mask twisted into a ferocious scowl. At times, I really regretted super senses.
"Where have you been?"
Don't show fear, women can smell fear.
Sometimes, it was a pain to have incomplete memories jammed into your head - you could never get a handle on the context, and I wasn't always sure if a joke was being played on me. "The agent didn't pick me up. I had to walk."
She looked at me for a long moment. "And the water on your clothes?"
Keep it vague, keep it vague. Women can smell lies too -
I shrugged. "Took a detour. There was a girl in the pond."
"I see," she said flatly, examining my sopping wet jacket critically. For a moment, no one spoke - even Cognit, watching from the background, had nothing to say. Finally, she let out a shuddering breath and wrapped her arms around me, mud and all. "As long as you're alright, I can live with you being a little late."
"Ha- ah, Miss Militia?" I squirmed a little, trying to worm my way out of the hug.
"Why wasn't I picked up? Did my driver call in sick?"
She hesitated, then sighed and let me go. "I suppose you have a right to know. Jane was - is not coming back. The Slaughterhouse are in town, and their first move was to hit the Teeth this morning. She got called in to assist right after she dropped you off."