Origin 1.5
There was a debriefing; it came later than I expected it to, but there was one. For some reason, Miss Militia was nervous - she made me change clothes and broke three combs on my hair. Despite my best attempt at pestering the knowledge out of her, she wouldn't tell me why.
The first thing I noticed upon arriving was that we weren't using the Director's office.
This was the other room, the spare - the room I'd been admitted to when I first arrived at the PRT building. Something clenched in my chest at the sight of it. Miss Militia gave no outward sign of her displeasure, but I had seen her at her angriest; at this point, she was beyond fury.
I began to formulate scenarios. This was obviously a psychological ploy - unless it wasn't. Malice or ignorance?
Director Howard was sitting in front of the desk, not behind it. There was one other chair, presumably for Miss Militia.
If he wasn't in charge here, then it was safe to say a guest had chosen the meeting point. It would have to be someone important, someone from out of town who didn't have an office of their own. Ignorance was more likely, but malice was still a possibility.
"Director," Miss Militia began, voice like liquid hydrogen, "I was told your office was undamaged. Is there a reason we're having the debriefing here instead?"
Howard looked very out of touch with the whole scenario; he'd never been a particularly robust man, reminding me oddly of my grandfather, but right now he was positively sweating nervousness. "Ah, yes, surprise visitor from headquarters, really last minute -"
"Who?" Miss Militia asked, narrowing her eyes.
Heartbeats - plural. I didn't know where they'd come from - one moment there were three of us, the next there were five hearts beating within ten meters. I suspected a teleporter.
"Me," a smooth, cultured tone rang out as the door opened. I didn't turn; I could see her just fine, and it was safer this way. She was tall and athletic looking even in a monkey suit, her long black hair pinned up in an immaculate bun at the back of her head. "I apologize for the abruptness of the meeting. I didn't want to take over your Director's office, and the board room is currently being reconstructed."
"Chief Director Costa Brown," Miss Militia stated, mostly for my benefit. I froze, suddenly glad I hadn't turned around yet, and began to carefully manipulate my body language to one of nervous shyness.
That's Alexandria you're in the room with!
Fully composed at last, I turned, eyeing the second woman curiously. She had short black hair and features that pointed to either Spanish or Italian heritage; I wasn't sure what she was doing here, honestly. Could the Chief Director of the PRT really be so busy she had to bring an aid with her?
Alexandria - no, Costa-Brown noticed me looking and smiled. It was an expression every bit as fake as my expression was - a product of superior decision making and precise motor skills, showing exactly what she wanted and nothing else. She kneeled down, putting herself at my level; with anyone else, I would have said it was them being nice, but from her this too was a form of manipulation. "I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Rebecca, and this is my secretary Alex."
"I'm Josh," I said brightly, extending my hand. She hesitated, then shook it; doubtless she had been briefed beforehand on my capabilities. "It's nice to meet you, Rebecca."
Director Costa-Brown glanced at Alex, obviously expecting something to happen, but her secretary remained near the door with a slight frown on her face."It's nice to meet you too, Josh. If you don't mind, I have to talk to Miss Militia for a moment, okay?"
I nodded and went to sit on the couch. Alex sat down on the far end. The rest of them clustered around the desk.
Just like that, I was forgotten. Miss Militia gave me a quizzical look, but my charade was otherwise unquestioned.
I wasn't sure whether to be proud at the deception or irritated at its effectiveness.
"We will begin this interview with your report, Miss Militia," Costa Brown began, pulling out a folder from a very official looking briefcase. "Specifically, we will focus on the casualties inflicted on the Slaughterhouse Nine, beginning with Skinslip."
I sidled over a couple inches closer to the secretary. She turned her attention towards me, eyes cautious but steady.
My power. . . told me very little. First Impressions was working fine - I understood the Chief Director perfectly, instinctively knew how to act around her, but with Alex there was basically nothing. I frowned pensively.
While we were sizing one another up, Costa Brown was talking. "Since Skinslip was new to the Nine, his bounty is commensurately smaller. Still, he was a recognizable member, and the bounty issued by the PRT was in excess of two hundred thousand dollars."
"That's. . ." Miss Militia was lost for words. "A lot of money."
"Mm. Take it without regrets; the Teeth already received theirs through a proxy. This will make the situation more. . . palatable."
Director Howard grimaced. "Paying villains for taking out villains - I understand the concept, but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth."
I deliberated for another few seconds before throwing all caution to the wind. Any reaction was better than no reaction. The others were still talking; I had an opportunity. I turned to the scrutinizing secretary.
"You smell like cordite," I told her innocently. Alex leaned away from me uncomfortably. "Do you like guns?"
"Not really," she admitted after a moment. "Only when they're necessary."
"I see," I said lamely, desperately searching for another topic of conversation. I eyed the tag on her suit. It was similar to the Director's, but somehow it held a higher, undefinable sense of quality. "Your clothes are nice. Do you always wear designer clothing?"
"When I can," she said, looking embarrassed. It was the first real emotion I'd gotten out of her. It made me strangely proud.
Director Costa-Brown cleared her throat, eyebrow raised. Alex coughed, then handed her a set of documents from her briefcase.
"There are still a few important things to go over." Director Costa-Brown pulled a set of photographs from the briefcase and began to pass them around. Autopsy reports - I'd recognize the crushed skull anywhere. "Care to explain why this wasn't in your report?"
Like that, the temperature dropped ten degrees. Miss Militia stiffened, eyes flickering to me. She opened her mouth as if to speak.
"Sorry," I spoke up. Everyone turned to face me. Alexandria - and it had to be Alexandria, not a body double - raised one eyebrow. "I forgot to mention it in all the excitement. I was just so worried about my friend, you know - it slipped my mind."
"Slipped your mind. I see. As a Wards Associate, you are obligated to provide a report on any use of your powers, especially in the case of lethal force." She paused, letting that sink in for a moment. There wasn't much impact - both of us knew she didn't have much of a case. "In this case considering your youth, the target's standing kill order and the general chaotic situation, I will let it slide provided a full report is provided by midnight tonight."
I nodded contritely. There wasn't much else I could add.
"This is aseriousviolation of regulations. While I understand the circumstances, therewillbe consequences. If you were in the Protectorate and the situation had been any less dire, I would have you stripped of your position and prosecuted. As it stands, I will allow your guardian to determine your punishment. Makesurethat something like thisneverhappens again." Costa-Brown said, expression stern.
"Wait," Director Howard spoke up for the first time in ten long minutes. I blinked; honestly, I'd forgotten he was in the room. He looked. . . disturbed. The pictures were pretty gruesome."You killed Hatchet Face, one of the original members of the Nine? How?"
I shrugged. "I hit him."
He gaped at me. "Hatchet Face is a high level Brute with nullifying Trump powers. How on Earth does achildcrush a Brute's skull without access to his powers?"
Everyone but the Chief Director was making the same expression. Costa-Brown just steepled her fingers, face impassive.
I considered. Honesty was probably the best course of action."Dunno. I hit him and he died."
Beat.
Miss Militia sighed, hiding her eyes behind one hand.
"We're going to run a few more esoteric power tests when we're through," Costa-Brown spoke without lowering her hands. "You can look forward to that, as well as the bounty from Hatchet Face. Considering your age, it will be put in a trust supervised by your guardian until your majority."
Ouch. Odds are that by the time I got all that legal tinder it'd be most valuable as literal tinder. I winced.
Ah well. Not like I'd know what to do with that kind of money anyways. I perked up as she began to speak again.
"As for your friend, we found several . . . oddities." She replaced the photographs and removed several official looking documents that I recognized as death certificates. "You claim she was attacked by the Nine, and our research confirms that - except, the missing persons report was filed several months ago. She also bears signs of experimentation by the tinker known as Bonesaw."You're not fooling anyone.
I leaned forward. "I'm sorry to hear that. I can only say I failed in my duty as a hero, not rescuing her sooner."Don't complain because someone else is doing what you can't.
She narrowed her eyes at me. "There has been considerable pressure to remand her to a more. . .high securityfacility. Just in case. Bonesaw had a very deadly specialty, after all."Do you honestly think we'll let you get away with this?
I smiled. "I think you'll find that I'm as high security as it gets. After all, I'm the only one who can overpower the Siberian."I think you don't have much of a choice if you want me on board.
Director Howard and Miss Militia watched the back and forth with confused eyes. I suppose we weren't being that subtle.
"That is true," she conceded after a moment, sitting back in her chair. "She's very fortunate to have someone like you watching over her."I think you overestimate your value.
I nodded. "Much like me, she doesn't have any family remaining. I'm her friend, and probably the only person she trusts. I'll take responsibility for her."No reason we have to be enemies. She can be an asset.
A millisecond's pause as she weighed options. "I see."
Miss Militia sighed. "You realize you can't just adopt her, right?"
I blinked, looking away from the Chief Director. "What?"
She drummed her fingers on the chair impatiently. "You're too young for something like that. What you really want is for me to adopt her. You could at least ask my opinion - andstop with the eyes."
My bottom lip trembled convincingly. Miss Militia glared at me, the knife at her side twisting into a cattle prod. Costa-Brown cleared her throat.
"This neatly segues into our third topic. Have either of you watched the news lately?" Momentarily derailed by the non-sequitur, we both shook our heads. Howard simply sank lower in his chair, face still pasty white. Costa-Brown tapped a control. The screen came on.
"Still no response from the Protectorate about the controversial new program that the Youth Guard is calling 'a blatant attempt at rules lawyering' despite protests at virtually every level. The Wards Associate Program for very young and wayward parahumans -"
She tapped the button again and the volume turned off, the images and subtitles continuing unabated.
Yeah. That wasn't leading to anything constructive.
"How long has that been running?" Miss Militia asked, staring at the silently monologuing anchor.
"We started getting calls from 'outraged parents' about twenty minutes after the representative left. A few hours later they had an interview on live television. Unfortunately," here Costa-Brown sent me an irritated look, "the Thinkers that normally catch this sort of thing didn't, and after the shooting in Kentucky and that scandalous affair in Chicago the Protectorate can't handle any more bad publicity. This was meant to be a pilot, much like the regular Wards were, but after conferring with my advisers we have decided to scrap the Wards Associate program."
"That's. . ." I was at a loss for words.
Miss Militia leaned forward. "What about Maledict? She can't join the Wards. We'd have to outright lie about her ability. The consequences -"
"Have been considered," Costa-Brown interrupted smoothly, "and relocation has been offered. When she reaches her majority, she can join the Protectorate as a member of our support division. Until then, her mother has agreed to Maledict serving the rest of her probation in the Ice Box."
Ah, Anaktuvuk- how we love thee. I really hope she likes cold weather.
"You said her mother agreed to Maledict transferring," Miss Militia said slowly. "What about the rest of the family?"
"They are staying behind." Costa-Brown said flatly. My hands clenched on the wooden frame of my chair.
"And Josh?" Miss Militia asked quietly. "What will happen to him?"
"Without the Wards Associate program, he won't be able to stay on base." Costa-Brown hesitated. "And, since theraison d'êtreof your guardianship was based on the program -"
"No," I told her, voice calm. "Not acceptable. I don't care what allegations are being made. Miss Militia is my guardian, and no PR concession is going to change that."
"Whether acceptable to you or not Miss Militia lives on base and as such you cannot live with her," the Director pointed out, voice tight with irritation. I got the feeling people didn't say 'no' to her very often. "We plan to transfer you to California, which will allow you to work directly under Alexandria. Your opinion, in this case, does not matter."If you want access to the girl, you'll do what I say.
"It's not going to happen," I told her flatly, discarding all subtlety. If there had been any more tension in the room, lightning bolts would be spontaneously forming midair between the two of us."I'm not leaving Brockton Bay. If Alexandria wants me for a pupil, she can come here herself. I'm not a Ward - technically I'm not even a Ward Associate any more. As such, I don't believe you can force me to do anything."Try it. I dare you. Push me on this and see what happens.
We glared at each other. Costa-Brown's eyes flickered to her secretary, who simply shrugged. The implicit threat of noncompliance was a very real one. It was basically my nuclear option; really, the only reason I stuck around was out of preference. If I wanted to go for a walk and wander the ocean floor, you'd have to have Clairvoyant and Doormaker on your side to come after me, and there was literallynothingthat could make me do what I didn't want to.
If you were a strong enough parahuman, you got a lot of leeway as long as you avoided committing outright crimes.The consequences of pushing such a person could range from simple disobedience to outright villainy.
And yet, the Chief Director couldn't simply give in to the demands of a preadolescent, be he ever so precocious. We were at an impasse made of pride and machinations, neither of us willing to give an inch.
"I have a suggestion," Miss Militia said, the tension in the room decreasing slightly. "Josh technically has a house, after all."
Catching on instantly, I grimaced but played along. "It's a few miles out of town, but it's still in my name."
Director Costa-Brown - no, Alexandria nodded slowly, turning to face her secretary. "Alex, you went over the briefings with me. Do you remember the house in question?"
Alex startled at being addressed, then assumed a fixed expression of flustered concentration. "Oh. Yes. About fifteen miles out. The commute would be more difficult, but the area is wide open enough to be defensible."
Costa-Brown's eyes lingered on her for a moment before moving on to Miss Militia. "I see. You realize, of course, that this option will negatively affect your career?"Fine. You'll get your way this time. I expect great things from you in return.
Miss Militia hesitated, glancing at me for a fleeting moment, then nodded resolutely."I signed the papers. Living a little farther away isn't that bad."
I resisted the urge to gloat and morphed my expression into a pleased smile.
"And the girl - Riley Thornton?"
My smile flickered.
Miss Militia sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I want to meet her first. I sympathize with her circumstances, but I'd at least like to know what she looks like and get her opinion before doing something this important."
Alexandria nodded, eyes containing a sliver of anger. Not someone that liked to be maneuvered. "Understandable. Director Howard, stay - we must discuss the PRT's. . .response."
Director Howard swallowed heavily, but nodded. He had the air of someone going to meet a firing squad.
There wasn't much chatter after that. The Director handed us some forms, we signed them, then we went our separate ways.
...
Riley was still asleep. She'd woken for all of ten minutes the day before, but even after I calmed her down some she was close to hysteria. I was cheating with all my might and considerable intellect, ruthlessly using all my knowledge of her past and the benefits of my powers, but I had the feeling this wasn't something that would get better right away.
Right now, her face was calm and peaceful. Due to her distress and the still healing wound, she'd been given mild sedatives. The Bonesaw of the future had been a patchwork person, put together over years of gore and mayhem.
This girl, Riley, was a genuine six year old with bits of her personality sandblasted off through six months of captivity.
Where's Yamada when you need her?
"It's hard to believe," Miss Militia said, voice quiet, "that this girl was a member."
She didn't dare finish, not even with the assumption of privacy. Riley's circumstances couldnotbe allowed to get out.
"Yeah," I said, voice just as quiet. We sat there in silence for a moment.
"Josh," Miss Militia spoke, "back there with the Director - the way you were talking -"
"She knows," I confirmed. "Or she at least suspects strongly enough that she won't investigate."
She frowned at me. "It seems kind of risky on her part. It was hard enough for me - why would the Chief Director of the PRT ignore a threat like h- that?"
"Probably because she's not a good person," I told her frankly. Behind her mask, Miss Militia's eyebrows shot up. "Once you remove the concept of justice, the choices become simple. If she pressed the issue, she would lose a Brute strong enough to overpower the Siberian. If she didn't press the issue, she'd keep that Brute and gain a powerful Tinker as well. It's in the Protectorate's best interests to play dumb."
"That's. . . ruthless."
"She's trying to save the world." I said, brushing hair out of Riley's face. "She'll compromise whatever she has to in pursuit of that goal."
We were silent for a moment.
"I've met her several times now," Miss Militia said pensively, turning to face Riley again. "It's strange - I never picked that up about her, but you did, and on your first meeting. She's always seemed like - well, a paragon of justice to me."
I grimaced. "I have a - sixth sense I guess when it comes to people. It's not a power, though my power probably enhances it. My father used to introduce me to his business contacts before I triggered, had me check them out. It was kind of a game between us."
Miss Militia nodded, still looking at Riley.
"I don't know her," Miss Militia said after a few minutes passed. "I know of her, know what she's done in just a few months, but I don't know her at all."
"You didn't know me either," I reminded her plaintively, "and I was literallycoveredin blood after my trigger."
"You didn't join the - them," she fired back. "HerUnclehad her experiment on civilians in ways that would make Mengele blush."
"He forced her to heal her mother first," I told her. She frowned at me, not sure of where I was going with this. I continued relentlessly. If she didn't understand, she wouldn't take Riley in and all my efforts would be for naught. She wouldn't be able to tolerate a foster home, not even a PRT sponsored one. "He cut her, had her bleeding out, and he made Riley heal her. While she was performing surgery, other members of the Nine hurt someone else in a different room."
I let out a shuddering breath. "He did this over and over until she was too tired to hold the scalpel, too tired to walk up the stairs, until she was out of resources to help them with. She joined the Nine because her mother told her to 'be good' with her last words. She didn't know any better. There was no malice in it; it would have taken divine intervention to slip past the rest of the Nine, and more divine intervention to work through Jack's programming."
Or Protectorate intervention, I carefully did not say.
Let it be known, it took a lot to horrify Miss Militia. Still, from the way her knuckles were turning white on the bed's rail, she wasn't thinking charitable thoughts. She took in a deep breath, then let it out. "She - told you all this?"
"Not all of it," I admitted. "Some. Enough. I extrapolated the rest from crime scene photos."
"Hmph." In spite of the tension, the corner of her mouth quirked upwards. "Seriously, what kind of seven year old uses the word 'extrapolate?'"
"The parahuman kind," I quipped back, smiling.
She sighed, straightening. The pressure in the room seemed to leap back up as Miss Militia drummed her fingers on her baton, face implacable. I didn't interrupt.
"If I do take her on," she said finally, tone serious, "we're going to have to be very careful, both with her and with the Director. Howard was in room with us; he'll have heard everything, and will be drawing his own conclusions. Since she's a parahuman and considering her situation, Costa-Brown will expect her to join the Wards when she gets older."
I nodded. "I'll talk to her about it. Does this mean. . .?"
"Yeah," Miss Militia grimaced, "I'll do it, provided she agrees when she wakes up."
It wasn't the most enthusiastic adoption ever, but it was enough for me. She let out a surprisedoofas I put my arms around her and squeezed. She returned the hug hesitantly.
All things considered, today could have gonesomuch worse.