The Demigod of Brockton Bay
A Worm/Demigods CYOA Story
Chapter 2: She Moves... in Mysterious Ways
Dad arrived home a little after six with some chinese takeout. That was a little embarrassing, since I had spontaneously decided to make to cook dinner, and it was almost done. We both stood in the kitchen, my father carrying his empty lunch pail and paper sack of full of MSG laden goodness in his hands, and me pulling a freshly baked meatloaf out of the oven. We looked at each other, each of us completely silent, each of us trying to figure out what to say.
Dad took in my apron and oven glove clad form, my new physical features mostly obscured by a veil of illusion, rendering me a slightly better looking version of the girl I had been yesterday. Dad was wearing his usual work garb; he had on a light blue long sleeved button down shirt and a pair of blue jeans with the legs tucked into his large work boots. Only in the dockworkers union would the head of the organization wear something like that.
We had been standing in silence for almost a minute, before either of us moved. I set the glass bread pan down on the counter, on the rack I had set up to let the meatloaf cool. I gave my father, Danny Hebert, a shy smile. "Hi dad. I'm sorry that I didn't call you and let you know that I was making dinner." I said. I really should have; it had been at least a couple of weeks since I made dinner; the stress of having to return to school had been getting to me lately. Of course, that was all before I got a number of insanely useful reality warping powers.
Dad gave me a weary smile, his pink lips standing out against the backdrop of his five o'clock shadow. He set the food on the table, and replied. "It's alright, sweetheart, I'll just put this in the fridge for tomorrow. Did your first day back at school go alright?"
We had never really spoken about it, the same way we didn't really talk about anything since mom had died, but I knew that he knew that something was wrong at school. Dad was a pretty smart guy, so he probably suspected bullying, but outside of a few half-hearted attempts he hadn't pushed me to tell him what was going on. Dad made a habit of not pushing me, even when he should. Sometimes I kind of wish he would get upset at my silence, and make a real attempt to talk to me; that would probably end up being good for the both of us in the long run, even if it would be unpleasant in the extreme to lay it all out on the table.
God, what was I thinking? It was like my train of thought was an actual locomotive, and it was stuck traveling along the same set of tracks that it did before I got my powers. The fact of the matter was that I wanted my dad back… My real dad, not this stranger wearing his skin like some kind of fucked up meatsuit. And since he hadn't been able to lift himself out of the fucked up funk that losing his wife over a year and a half ago had mired him in, I would probably have to be the one to do it. I would start by treating him like an actual family member, instead of something that got in the way of my life.
I nodded my head. "Yeah, it went pretty well. I haven't really talked about it with you, but early on last year Emma and I stopped being friends. I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but the summer after mom died, while I was away at camp, she turned into a total bitch. Today, she got mad at me over something I said, and she tried to tackle me. I moved out of the way before she could hit me, and she rammed her head into a classroom door. I'm not happy that she was hurt, but it was nice not to have her at school for the rest of the day constantly sniping at me."
I had been preparing the baked potatoes I threw in the microwave earlier as I spoke. I gave my dad a real, truthful anecdote about my day for the first time in over a year as I took the large brown spuds out of the bag I had used to steam them, patting them dry with a kitchen towel and setting them on a small plate. I had prepared four potatoes; twice as many as I usually did, as I was feeling hungry enough to eat two. I turned around to set the plat on the table, noticing that my father had gone stock still, his face sporting a disbelieving look.
"Taylor… what?" I couldn't help but smirk at the bewildered expression he wore, which snapped him out of it. "Wait, when did you and Emma stop being best friends? How did that happen?" He asked, becoming a little more animated.
"Right after I came back from nature camp. I went over to visit her, and she had a new friend there, who really didn't like me for some reason. The two of them were actually giving me a hard time all last year. I didn't really want to talk about it, because I was really hurt that Emma would throw me under the bus like that. Her new friend, Sophia, is a real piece of work… she's a jock with some sort of weird philosophy which she uses to justify picking on people who she thinks of as "weak", which basically means anyone who's not a total asshole to other people for no real reason. I think Emma bought into her particular brand of crazy for some reason."
I finished fixing the salad as I answered my dad's question, adding the tomato and shredded carrot that I had prepared earlier and set in the fridge, then tossing it with the mixture of iceberg lettuce and spinach leaves in the bowl. I grabbed a double handful of rolls out of the bag, placing them on a plate before resealing the container. I put the rolls in the microwave for forty five seconds, then retrieved them and setting them on the table with everything else.
Dad had settled down at the table, his jacket slung over the back of his chair and the sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up. I scowled at him, and pointed to the sink, and he smirked before heading over there to wash his hands. The way he always tried to get out of washing his hands before a meal had been an old hot button for mom and I. I sighed, realizing that I hadn't made him wash his hands like that in over a year. Well, better late than never.
Dad talked over his shoulder as he scrubbed up. "So, this Sophia girl stole your friend away? She sounds like a real piece of work." He paused, dying his hands on the towel hanging next to the sink, and reseated himself at the table. When he got there, I had already dished him up, putting a large helping of salad on his plate, next to the potato and slab of meatloaf. Neither of us had been eating all that healthily lately, and he could use the vitamins from the vegetables. I had an equally large portion of greens on my own plate.
Dad dug into his meal with gusto, scowling at he chewed what he called "rabbit food", and grunting in approval when he tried my meatloaf. I had used mom's recipe, which had been handed down from her grandmother. Dad took a sip of his water, before looking at me again. He looked concerned. "Taylor, it's great that you're sharing all of this with me… but it's been forever since you opened up to me like this. I guess what I'm asking is... why now? Are you in trouble for fighting, or something like that?"
The old, immature part of me wanted to be offended, but now that I has some perspective, I understood that dad was asking because he was concerned for me. I couldn't find it in myself to be upset at him for that. "No, dad, I'm not in trouble. I just…" I sighed. Even with super everything, this was still ridiculously hard. "I guess I wanted to start letting you in again."
I saw my father's eyes soften, his expression one of pleased surprise. "Our relationship has been pretty rocky since mom died, and I really don't like that. I've wanted to talk to you about this for a long time, but it's only now that I'm able to. I don't want us to keep drifting apart until we're strangers, dad. We're the only family that either of us have left."
Unbidden, I found myself crying. I hadn't really meant to get this emotional, but I guess I had a lot of feelings tied up in the complex relationship I had with my father. I was a little surprised when I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me tight against him, but not as much as I thought. I hugged him back, remembering all of the times he used to hug me like this when I was younger. It felt nice, like recovering a missing piece of my life that I had thought lost forever. We eventually broke off our hug, and I wiped my misty eyes. We returned to our dinner, and dad started telling me about his dad.
'It might just be possible to repair the damaged relationship I have with my dad,' I thought, 'given some time and a little effort.' I shot my father a shy smile, which he returned. The rest of the evening went OK.
. . .
I had gone to bed early, intending to wake up at 1:30 in the morning, to begin my plan of making contact with the Protectorate and/or PRT. After doing my evening ablutions, I changed into my pajamas, which I realized didn't fit me very well anymore. It was inconvenient, but as that was the only price for changing from a beanpole into an hourglass, I was mostly alright with it. My head hit the pillow at 10PM, and to my surprise, I found myself waking up fully rested at midnight. I tried to go back to sleep, sure that another hour of shuteye would do me good, but it just wasn't happening.
Bizarrely, I felt positively chock full of energy. My muscles felt good, my mind felt clear, and I was completely prepared to face the day… only it wasn't day. It was the freaking middle of the night! I suddenly remembered that Divine Resilience contained a snippet about "rarely getting tired". I had thought that portion of the description for the power in question had to do with "getting tired" from using special powers, like telekinesis and healing hands, not from regular fatigue. I had even asked the God about it, and she said that it would help me use powers for longer without becoming exhausted from doing so. I guess she hadn't specifically mentioned that it would make me sleep less… I guess I had just assumed that allowing me to use powers for longer was the extent of it. I would need to check my memory, and experiment with my other powers, to see if there was anything else unexpected that I would find.
It suddenly hit me that I hadn't slept at all the night before, when the angel came to visit me, and that I hadn't even noticed it until now. I spent a few minutes completely taking stock of myself, discovering that I definitely felt better than I did the day before, even if it wasn't a huge difference. I had still felt better than I had in a long, long time yesterday, both physically and mentally. I guessed that I did need sleep, at least to operate at my best, but that it wasn't nearly as important to my health and wellbeing as it had been before I ascended to demi-godhood. I smirked; sleeping much less than I used to, and being able to operate at nearly 100% without sleeping would definitely come in handy.
I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I kindly thanked the universe for the extra hour, and changed into my costume. Before leaving, I tried something that I hadn't yet had experimented with yet; using illusions to effect the people's minds. According to the power's description, incorporeal illusions could be used to "cause fear, panic, or whatever you desire". The sheer overpowered brokenness that this description implied insured that it was one of the first powers I picked, and that it ended up on my "must haves" short list.
Now, if only there had been a power or gift that would have allowed me to get more points, or somehow pull new powers out of my ass like Eidolon… that would have been truly amazing. Oh, well, boo-hoo. Look at the girl with fifteen fucking powers crying because she can't get more. Most parahumans had to make do with just one, and those usually weren't even as good as any one of my demigod abilities.
I used God's Eyes to peer at my father, finding him in bed sleeping normally. Good, all according to plan. It was time to see if illusions were as broken as I suspected them to be. I concentrated, imposing my willpower on the universe, substituting the normal fabric of reality with my own. If Illusions could cause fear and panic, I had thought while looking over the power, then they should be capable of causing other 'status effects' as well. In this case, I layered an illusion of sleep over dad's pajama-clad form. Dredging up every memory of being tired that I could recall, I formed them into a tightly compacted intangible ball of sleepitude, and poured it over him. I felt something snap into being, and I saw dad smile, settling into a deeper, more restful form of slumber. 'Success!' I thought, smiling in glee.
Now that I had made sure dad would be waking up to discover me missing from bed, I opened the window and leaped out. I vanished in midair, long before anyone outside my house would have been able to see me past our fence and the large tree in the yard. Boosting my shadow flight with telekinesis, I shot toward downtown Brockton Bay like a rocket. I pushed the gravity manipulation component of telekinesis a little, accelerating to the point that I was moving faster than I could run with super speed. Apparently my reflexes and eyeballs were rated for higher than a little over the speed of sound, the supposed limit of my running speed, because at no point was I moving fast enough that I couldn't see the world around me or control my movements perfectly. I marveled at the stupendous synergy the different abilities I picked had with each other.
I arrived at the PRT building in seconds. Floating sedately into a convenient alleyway, I prepared to become visible and tangible before suddenly stopping. My eyes narrowed, and I frowned… Something had set off my danger sense. What was wrong here? I looked around the alley with my OP-grade eyeballs, soon finding the reason that my "Sixth Sense" power had activated for the first time. There were no less than four cameras in the alleyway, two of them with integrated microphones, and two without. There were also three independent listening devices as well. I studied the 'bugs' intently, wonder who had planted them here, and for what reason. Sure, it could have been the PRT; that was certainly a possibility. Due to the different make and model of the devices, I thought that there were probably two different parties peeping on whoever was dumb enough to switch costumes or use this alley as a landing place/teleport location.
The two surveillance devices with integrated microphones had the look of Tinkertech; they were all smooth lines and futuristic bits and bobbles. I liked the way that whoever had built them had set up the communications array; that entire component was partially placed phased into a pocket sub-dimension, which I was certain the receiver on the other end of the camera had access to. That would allow nearly light-speed communication, with no appreciable lag. The components had all been miniaturized beyond anything I had ever heard of or seen with my new eyes. I wondered for a moment why whoever had built it hadn't utilized a quantum entangled link, as that-
'Woah, hold the phone!' I thought, my conscious mind catching up with my runaway thoughts. 'I can understand Tinkertech!?' Shock coursed through me, as I ran through the enormous amount of knowledge in my mind. Yes, I concluded; evidently I could understand Tinkertech just fine… at least some of it. I supposed that it made sense. For the last thirty years, the power-granted superscience known as Tinkertech had certainly been a field of human knowledge, even if only a small portion of humanity had access to that information. Part of Godly Mind was "being moderately learned in all fields of human knowledge". Apparently that meant every single fucking one, power granted fields of knowledge like Tinkertech included.
I guess "Godly Mind" might be a little more overpowered than I thought. I giggled, my incorporeal form producing no sound. I suddenly wondered if I could build a miniaturized camera like the one I had just analyzed. I was instantly sure that I could, thought getting the correct parts and materials would be difficult. I could substitute telekinesis for many of the tools that were required, thankfully. Could I have built it before I scanned it down to the molecular level with my eyes? I didn't think so. I could probably have made something that would perform the same function, but it would have been nearly as small or efficient. I didn't have designs or blueprints in my head, like I thought real Tinker probably had, but rather I had the distilled knowledge of the principals and engineering techniques behind needed to create super advanced inventions. Likewise, I had a fairly complete knowledge base of mundane science and engineering, which helped me understand the Tinkertech stuff to a surprisingly large degree.
I frowned; this didn't really make sense. Tinkertech was supposed be so difficult to build and maintain that non-parahumans simply couldn't do it. Beyond the attempts to simply parrot Tinkers, and reproduce what they had built, there had been many studies which tried to fathom the actual science behind the marvelous inventions and processes that Tinker had created over the years. Nearly all of these ended in failure, as the Tinkers themselves couldn't really explain what they were doing very well, especially in the context of the current human state of the art in science and engineering.
There had been a few rare exceptions, which had led to the comparatively small and beleaguered population of Earth Bet keeping rough parity with Earth Aleph, the only alternate dimension with which we are able to communicate. There are also many "Tinker Inspired" inventions, which are exactly what they sounds like; inventions which are based upon the functionality or features of Tinkertech, without being actually based on them technologically. Normal scientists would come up with different ways of doing the same things, using mundane techniques… after all, once you know something can be done, you're already part of the way there in terms of doing it yourself.
The "Tinker" knowledge in my head was actual scientific principles, which I could understand and explain, and sound engineering techniques that I should be capable of demonstrating. In order for me to have gained this information, then it had to be a part of "human knowledge". That meant that Tinkers were actually in possession of it in the first place. Nearly every Tinker to ever exist had the same odd limitations against explaining their knowledge and building machines which are replicable and easily repaired. This means that something is actively preventing an entire archetype of parahman from freely using and sharing their knowledge with the rest of humanity. I was shocked and bewildered by this revelation… if we had been able to gain the actual knowledge and principles behind Tinkertech, beginning in the 80's, then I could only imagine how amazing the world would have been by now.
I sudden had a horrendous thought: There may be some kind of intelligent being or force behind parahuman powers, and if so, it doesn't want human technology to advance because of Tinkertech. Oh, I suppose there could be another explanation; becoming a Tinker might damage someone's brain in such a way that they're rendered incapable of sharing the information that they're given, or it could be that somehow only people who have these defects in the first place are capable of becoming Tinkers. I didn't think so, however… It just didn't feel like the correct explanation. It seems that my intuition was enhanced along with everything else, as the "gut feelings" that I have been getting since yesterday have been unusually strong. They seem to arrive just when I need them, and with a surety that I'm correct so strong that I cannot simply dismiss it. I wonder if this is some kind of interaction between Godly Mind and Sixth sense… I suddenly get another hunch that I'm correct. If these gut feelings are correct, then my amplified intuition is potent enough that it could be a superpower in it's own right. I wonder if there's anything that I couldn't figure out, given the right information...
For now, I file the fact that I can understand and build advanced technology, as well as "The Mystery of the Brain-Fucked Tinkers" in my mental 'to do' box. Fuck you, Future Me! You can deal with this bullshit… I've got other things to take care of tonight. I've been hovering in air above the bugged alleyway for over five minutes now, just sitting there and thinking like a chump. I'm itching to get moving at this point. I find a place to become tangible which is no under constant surveillance, and rematerialize myself without becoming visible. It's good to know that I can keep the invisibility part up without the matter phasing; I should probably see if the reverse is true at some point.
I layer illusions again, first making one of a 20's man in a similar costume as mine, and placing it over top of my still invisible body. On top of that, I start to build the illusion that I plan to use for my grab-bag cape persona. I've been trying to decide what my cape name should be since I first conceived of the idea, and after sleeping on it I've decided. I've chosen to base my grab bag persona on a very famous mythical and historical figure. It's a homage to the origin of my powers and my true nature, though that part is not obvious. Most people will probably focus on the popular interpretations of the character I'll be imitating or my appearance, never realizing that there's a deeper meaning hidden under the surface. Those who are completely familiar with the mythos of my namesake will likely believe that I'm another cape with delusions of grandeur, or fantasies of magic, like most of the parahumans who base themselves around figures of legend or fantasy.
I start from the top down, crafting the hair to begin with. Wavy ringlets of golden blond spill forth from my crown, each strand shining with its own inner luminescence. It spills down to nearly the small of my back, despite the elaborate hair ornaments that are woven throughout it; a band of flowers, each of them finely crafted from pure gold and precious gemstones. Over this, I wear a white scarf, which does nothing to cover my face or the back of my head, but instead spills over both sides. The face of the woman I'm imitating is as unnaturally beautiful as my own, for all that it's features are completely different. My avatar has unblemished milk colored skin, with no marks beyond the tiny pores that are needed to create realistic looking flesh. In the middle of my faux face sits a small upturned nose, sitting below the clearest blue eyes imaginable. My cheekbones are fairly prominent, but not pointy, and my ears small and feminine. The jawline is feminine, but still strong, giving a determined cast to my exceptional good looks, terminating in a fairly small chin, which ends in a rounded point.
My illusory body is lush without being overweight in the slightest, with a generous bust and hips, and a slightly waspish waist. My body is clearly well muscled, but there are no unsightly lumps or bulges; my musculature resides beneath a thin layer of soft female padding, allowing me to appear strong, but not masculine. This body is not as tall as my own. My actual form is exactly six feet tall, as I shot up at least three inches due to my physical upgrade. This one is only around five foot nine inches; visibly shorter, but still somewhat tall for a woman.
My "costume" is a 'mostly' period accurate representation of what my namesake was depicted as wearing. I appear to have on a white garment, which is one part dress and one part toga. It's fairly simple up top; sleeveless and white, with thin straps that go over my shoulders near the base of my neck, and contours that hug my ample chest. As the eye follows my dress down, it become more elaborate, gaining layers of free flowing cloth, which billows out slightly. A slit on one side exposes my left leg, nearly to mid-thigh. The rich white cloth is accented with cloth of gold, and the back is open to the base of my spine, exposing the artful dimple above my buttocks. In a nod to cape culture and mores, I wear the smallest domino mask that could conceivably be said to conceal my identity; it had a curved space at the bottom for my nose, and an identical curved portion at the top. I decorated the mask with embossed vines replete with intricate flowers and thorns. I didn't color the mask at all; it was left solid white.
I walked the block and half to the PRT building, my strappy, open toes grecian sandals padding silently on the hard concrete sidewalk. They were white with gold trim, to match the rest of my costume, and the thin straps that went most of the way up my bare calves were stylized flowing vines like the decorations on my mask. A college aged boy and girl who appeared to be out on a date spotted me before as I approached my destination, the boy stopping abruptly to stare at the sheer majesty of my illusory body from the other side of the road. His girlfriend gave him a strange look, before turning to see what had caught his attention. She looked at me wide-eyed for a moment, too, before scowling and elbowing her companion in the ribs. I let out a small chuckle as she dragged him down the street while he clutched the spot on his side where she had poked him.
The PRT building was a fairly normal looking office building, barring the tall rebar concrete fences lined with embedded foam sprayers on each side. Oh, and the body armor wearing PRT agents… There were eight uniformed troopers outside, three two-man teams patrolling the perimeter, while the last pair of guarded the front entrance. I could see all kinds of nifty electronics and mechanisms embedded in the walls of the building, as well as underground, including no less than four "secret" entrances. Well, not too secret when it came to me. I approached the front door, marveling at the three very lethal traps hidden along the walkway that had to be crossed to reach it. The non-lethal countermeasures were even more impressive; what looked like a Tinkertech forcefield generator, containment foam bombs, some kind of bioelectricity interruption system, and sedative gas sprayer. Being in the PRT was serious business! I decided not to do anything that might set off one of more of those traps. I could probably escape from or survive any of them, but why would I want to test that?
The guards at the door tensed when they saw me, and the thick, burly guy on the right grabbed his radio. He whispered something into it while his partner, who was a fairly dainty 20-something woman with dirty blond hair under all of that uniform, reached her hand down most, but not all, of the way toward a pistol that was holstered on her right hip. I gave them a friendly smile as I approached, stopping several feet from them. "Hello, the PRT! I'm a new Independant hero, and I would like to speak with someone in your organization or the Protectorate. I have discovered something that I believe to be a possible crime. May I approach?" I spoke clearly, and loud enough that they were able to hear me from the ten feet back I stood from them. I really didn't want to test my durability and regeneration by getting shot at by the good guys, that was for damn sure.
The man with the radio spoke a few more words into the it, and then listened to a reply that he received. I had been standing there for about a minute and a half by that point. The male agent clipped the communications device back on his belt, before answering my question. "You can head in now. Head to the front desk in the lobby and check in, and someone will be with you shortly to take your statement."
I walked forward, the man smiling at me and holding the door as I walked past. I could see his eyes roaming over my delicious illusionary curves as I walked past. I smiled; it had only taken one day of having a super hot body to figure out how to completely enthrall any heterosexual man, and I didn't even have to use any super powers! Well, I was using a superpower to make the fake body I was flaunting, but that didn't count since I could do the same thing with my regular body. Well, I guess that my regular body was enhanced by what was basically equivalent to a super power… Fuck it, I'm dropping this line of thought like a bad habit.
I walked through the door, stepping into a large, modern looking lobby. I had been here for a tour when I was in my first year of middle school, but they had updated it since then. The gift shop was still in roughly the same spot, though it now took up a lot more of the available floor space, shrinking the lobby down to a small area with less than a dozen chairs, and a tall built-in counter, behind which sat a PRT employ in a non-combat uniform. The receptionist was maybe forty years old, and his mocha colored head was shaved completely smooth, like a billiard ball. I observed him through the wall before I stepped inside, and he was idly flipping through a dogeared novel, a bored expression on his face. He looked up at me as I closed in on the desk, and his expression was anything but bored, now.
He was looking at me intently, a stone cold serious look on his face, and his back was ramrod straight. He had been sitting in a chair, but before I would have been able to see him with normal vision he had stood up. This guy certainly wasn't checking me out… rather, he was looking at me as if I was a wild animal, and he didn't know if I was hostile or friendly yet. I nodded my head at him curtly, and stopped a few feet from the counter. He nodded back, not an iota of vigilance leaving his expression or posture. I smiled under the illusion; I approved of his professionalism and attitude. I was learned enough now to understand that a single, unarmed, unpowered person stood basically no chance against the vast majority of parahumans. That this badass could face an unknown cape with that kind of attitude, especially while unarmed, was impressive.
"Name, affiliation, and reason for visit?" He asked in a bored tone of voice.
"Helen of Troy, independant hero. I'm here because I detected something with my powers that I believe is a crime perpetrated by a parahuman." I gave him the bare basics, delivered succinctly. He seemed like the type of person who would appreciate that.
He raised a single eyebrow, looking at me questioningly. "Please sign into the registry, and have a seat. Someone will be out to meet with you shortly." He placed one of those fancy looking metal clipboards in front of me, a pen with the PRT logo attached to it by a short chain. I picked up the pen, and carefully printed my cape name, using my knowledge of fonts to write it in perfect helvetica. I put the date down in times new roman, and the reason for visit (To report a possible crime.) in comic sans. The PRT agent, who I decided to call Q-Ball in my head, took the clipboard, and entered some information into the computer terminal built into the desk at standing height. It didn't contain any Tinkertech, according to my magical peepers, but the processor inside of it was so much better than the one in my computer at home that I felt like pouting. I refrained from acting like a petulant child, and took a seat in one of the shitting waiting room chairs in the lobby.
Maybe ten minutes later, I began to feel something odd, and it wasn't boredom or impatience. I had been studying a very interesting Tinkertech elevator, trying to figure out the principles behind some of the more esoteric components, so I was far from bored. It was like a buzzing, or tingling, and it was getting stronger. It sort of felt like someone was tickling my spine with a feather, but it was all in my head. Suddenly, a sort of three dimensional radar screen popped up in my head, showing me an image of a 3D map, with only the parts I had been to, or otherwise scanned with my eyes filled in.
I gave it an assessing gaze, and double-checked with my bullshit eye and brain powers; it was sphere with my position in positioned in the center, and it extended out 100 meters in every direction from my center of mass. There was a single "blip" on the radar; a sort of glowing circle, like the one that represented me, and it was getting steadily closer to my position. I double-checked my inventory of powers, trying to figure out what could be causing this weird map/radar effect. The only power I had that could unconsciously track people, for I was sure that the incoming blip was a person, was "sixth sense", and it was only designed to let me discover other Demigods. The God had told me that I was the only Demigod she empowered in my entire dimension, and that other Gods hadn't been here for millennia… so I doubted that I was actually seeing another Demigod. I extrapolated the position of the blip, and took a glance at it with my vision power.
It was Miss Militia; apparently my sixth sense let me detect parahumans, as long as they were 100m from me or less. She was walking slowly through a hallway in the PRT building, holding a clipboard with a piece of paper that contained all of the information the PRT had on me at present. There was a freshly printed picture of my currently illusionary disguise. It had been taken outside on the walkway, while I was waiting to enter the front door. They must have made me wait so they could try to find me in their database, and when that failed, to snap a photo of me for reference. The government hero was lightly chewing on her bottom lip, as she reread the short entry on the page that she was staring at worriedly. If she was that concerned, then I guess meeting with a new parahuman was a bigger deal than I thought.
The heading on the paper read, "Possible Parahuman 'Helen of Troy'. Under that, there was little enough. In the "Powers" section someone had listed "Powers unknown. Possible Thinker rating due to comments about 'Detecting possible criminal activity with powers'" and "Possible Changer/Stranger rating due to idealized body type and unusually symmetrical facial features.'"
I snorted. Someone had put down that I might be a changer or stranger because my disguise was too pretty. I wondered what they would have thought upon seeing my real face. It would have been, though, funnier if it wasn't true… Effectively, I did have a Changer or Stranger rating due to my illusions, even if the power was more of a Shaker ability. Even in the middle of the night, these guys knew their stuff. It said something about the world, and possibly the average parahuman, that we in such dire straights with people as dedicated and on the ball as these protecting us. Now if only they could clean the thuggish pieces of shit wards out of their own organization, I would be happy. Well, maybe not happy, but certainly more inclined to trust and work with them in the future.
As it was I was giving the Protectorate the benefit of the doubt. I hadn't realized when I first found out that Sophia was a parahuman, just how short a timeframe she had been a member of the government agency. I had learned at lunch that the wards had only announced that she was joining their roster two months ago, during the summer break. For all I know she might have joined just a few days before, after the last school year was already over. They was no way the protectorate or PRT would have been able to find out about the bullying she did last year unless they went over Blackwell and her staff's records of my complaints... if they bothered to keep any at all. The principal had seemed unconcerned enough with my bullying problem last year that I doubt she wrote down anything at all. I still didn't know if Blackwell had been aware of Sophia's status as a parahuman; if she has been, she may have been pandering to her due to fear, or because they had some kind of understanding. Oh, well… back I thought Sophia was just a hero that like to bully me in her spare time, these thoughts mattered. Now that she was possible murderess the only thing that counted at this point was to expose her illegal weapons and get her taken off the street.
I followed Miss Militia while thinking, observing her enter the elevator I had been eyeballing earlier. She exited the elevator car on the ground floor, striding toward a small conference room with a two way mirror, before taking a seat. At the same time, a fully kitted out squad of five PRT stormtroopers finished suiting up and strapping weapons to their bodies, in a room that I assumed was an armory. One of them headed to the door near the waiting room in which I sat, while the other four took up positions in various cover positions and hidey-holes between where I sat and where Miss Militia was located. I was becoming more impressed with the PRT all the time… Growing up in the Bay, where huge swaths of the city were basically at the mercy of the two most powerful gangs, the E88 and the ABB, I had harbored a fairly low opinion of the Parahuman Response Team. I figured that if they couldn't clean up a couple of gangs, then either they were incompetent or they weren't trying hard enough.
They definitely weren't incompetent; not that I had seen so far. They probably expected that I wasn't a threat by this point, at least not an immediate one, but the agents I had observed were still doing everything textbook perfect, just in case I was. And if I hadn't had my completely off the wall bullshit eye power then I would never even have known. I felt a sudden wash of foreboding; if the good guys were actually competent, then they might also being doing their best to fight crime as well. If that was the case, then how powerful and/or dangerous did that mean the criminals actually were? I would endeavor to find out, sooner rather than later. After my meeting here then it might be time to put phase two of my strategy into effect.
In addition to the friendly independant hero with grab-bag powers, I would need to create a second identity. This new cape persona would be meant to both inspire hope to the common, law abiding man, and fear to the law breaking degenerate. I had come up with some amazing ideas for this new avatar's appearance and cape name, to the point that I almost wished I could just skip the whole mess here with the PRT and start work on that. Unfortunately, I couldn't… not without looking like some kind of attention seeking idiot, or some kind of incompetent villain. It was too late to back out now, however, even if I wanted to; the door leading deeper in the PRT building opened, and the geared up stormtrooper walked out, her face and gender completely obscured (to other people) by an unflattering black helmet with a mirrored visor.
"Helen of Troy. Please follow me." She said, gesturing to the open door before entering it. I sauntered after her, looking around the bare corridor as if I hadn't already seen every inch of it, inside and out. I easily kept pace with the slightly shorter government agent, and in only a minute or two we arrived at a door that lead into a meeting room. Inside was Miss Militia, as I had seen earlier, though there were a couple of new faces on the other side of the mirrored glass, who were setting up some kind of audio recording equipment.
The patriotic looking cape stood, a friendly smile on her face under the mask she wore. I gave her my own version in response. "Hello there. I'm Miss Militia, a hero with the Protectorate East-North-East. You're Helen of Troy, right?" She spoke perfect english, but there was just the faintest hint of an accent present. Kurdish, my newfound wealth of information informed me.
"That's right." I supplied, my voice like liquid honey. "Thank you for meeting with me on such short circumstances. I'd thought that I would just be talking to one of the PRT guys, not a real superhero, though. I'm sorry if they had to get you out of bed, or something like that."
"It's really no problem," said Miss Militia, who seemed to be warming up to me a little. The muscles inside of her back that had been tense when I first walked in were starting to relax, and she had uncrossed the toes on her left foot inside of her boot. The flag masked heroine continued. "I don't actually sleep, so you certainly didn't wake me up. It's part of my powers," she explained.
"Wow, that's really interesting!" She was like me when it came to sleep... how odd! I had thought Miss Militia's only power was the ability to create phantom weapons. "I'm actually quite similar; ever since I got my powers I've needed very little sleep, only about an hour or two at night at most. I can also skip a night's rest without any big problems if I need to," I confided, both interested to see her reaction, and trying to put her at ease. I figured that giving her this little tidbit wouldn't hurt anything, as it wasn't useful tactically beyond revealing that I might possibly be active at night. Sharing details about my "grab bag" powers also helped build trust, and drew parallels between the two of us. Hopefully it would strengthen the likelihood that she would trust and believe me when I shared my intel with her.
Miss Militia sat back down, gesturing for me to do so as well. I took the proffered chair, crossing my legs as I sat down. "That is interesting." Replied the costumed woman. "There aren't many of us with that ability." She looked thoughtful for a moment, hesitating a little, before opening her mouth slightly to speak. She closed her mouth abruptly, evidently deciding to drop whatever she had been about to say. Odd. She sat up straighter, her posture becoming a little more rigid and professional.
"Sorry, I had something else on my mind for a moment there. Can you tell me what brings you to the PRT building today, Ms. Troy? Or should I call you Helen?" The brunette asked me, her tone more formal than before. She had a clipboard in front of her, with a legal pad clamped to it. Her power, a kaleidoscopic blur of energy, which could turn into various weapons, had become a pen knife in her hand, and she appeared to have every intention of writing down everything I wanted to tell her.
'Game time,' I thought. "Helen is fine. If you want to talk about something else, then I would be happy to meet with you another time, just the two of us. I don't really know any other capes yet, so making a new friend would be great." I gave her shy smile, before assuming my own imitation of her "serious business" attitude. She smiled, her eyes reflecting the expression well enough that even people who couldn't see through solid matter would have been able to tell.
"I'm here tonight because I discovered something upsetting today, which I believe involves one of your Wards." I said, my voice crisp and concise. The government superhero looked a bit surprised, but she didn't interrupt. "I was patrolling near Winslow high school earlier today, and while using one of my powers, I discovered a hidden supply cache inside of the school. It included some very disturbing items... The cache contained a rather less professional version of your ward Shadow Stalker's costume, as well as two miniature crossbows, and some cheap 'burner' cell phones. Most worryingly, there was also a quiver full of hunting arrows." I paused for a second, letting my words sink in. "You can see why I came here as soon as I could."
Miss Militia was wearing an angry frown on her face, and her eyes were narrowed. "I'm going to need to know the exact location of this cache, and how exactly you 'discovered it"." She said, her tone glacial. I could tell that she wouldn't accept me rebuffing her, despite the fact that she was asking me to reveal information about the capabilities of my powers.
"Of course." I replied, "I had suspected that you would need that information. The cache is located behind a bank of student lockers, lodged in the space between the walls. It's in the hallway that just inside the main entrance of the school, on the right-hand side when you walk in. You will need to go approximately half-way down the hallway to get there. The number outside of the locker directly in front of the cache is 251." I rattled off to her. She frantically wrote the information down, not once asking me to repeat the details I gave her. She recorded them perfectly, even down to my somewhat clumsy wording; Miss Militia must have a damn good memory.
I frowned lightly. "As for how I discovered these items… The truth is, I'm a "grab bag" cape, with several powers. One of them is greatly enhanced eyesight, and the ability to see through solid objects." I reluctantly supplied. The heroine sitting across from me gave me a startled look, and I continued, as if I hadn't seen her. "It works great on inanimate objects, but I can't see through people or animals, or anything within a few inches of them. They show up as blank spots when I try looking at them through walls." I scowled, as if greatly annoyed by the 'Manton limits' on this power.
Miss Militia's settled down a bit, as she parsed the meaning contained in the information I had given her, distilling it into the part most important to her; I couldn't see through her costume, and her identity was safe. She looked at me, no longer frowning but still sporting a severe expression. "This is a very serious accusation to make. Are you completely certain of what you're telling me?"
I nodded, completely serious. "Yes. Completely." I replied.
She placed her hand over her eyes, rubbing them gently in exasperation. "Fuck. Tonight and tomorrow aren't going to be fun." She sighed, and then gathered herself. "I believe what you're telling me Helen, but the PRT director will probably insist that you demonstrate your power and sign an affidavit that you're being truthful, to prove that there's nothing funny going on." Militia looked at me questioningly. "She may even insist that you come with us to the school, so that you can show us exactly where the items you found are located."
I frowned. This was going to take longer than I thought. "If we can get started now, then I'll be happy to help you in any way that I can. But I do have places to be come morning… I'll have to take my leave at five or six at the latest." I replied.
Miss Militia stood up, and gesturing at me to follow, walked out of the room. I stepped up beside her, keeping pace by her side as we traversed the hallways. "That should be fine. To get a head start and not waste any time, I would like you to meet with one of our researchers to confirm your power while I contact the director and fill her in on the situation. Is that alright?" She asked.
I smiled at her. "That sounds reasonable. You just want me to demonstrate my visual power, right?" I asked.
The gunslinging cape nodded. "Yes. We don't have time for anything else right now, and there's no need to invade your privacy further. I understand that most capes are a little leary of disclosing all of the details about their powers, and there's no need to subject you to that," she advised me.
It didn't take long to reach our destination. I looked around the small laboratory that I found myself in. I took in the clean counters and floors, and examined the small amount of Tinkertech equipment present. I turned to study a machine that I discovered was for measuring the force of an impact against a large metal plate mounted in the front. 'It's probably something for testing the strength of Brutes and Strikers,' I thought. Like the earlier example I had seen of Tinker made machinery, this device had some weird flaws that the inventor really should have caught in the design phase. The capacitors were slightly undersized for the amount of power required, meaning they would need to be replaced fairly often due to stress from overworking them. This would also cause the machine to overheat a little bit, and of course there wasn't adequate ventilation… That would probably cause the whole thing to accumulate wear and tear rapidly as the various parts overheated. I guessed that it would fail in a three or four months, maybe sooner if it was used frequently.
"Tinkertech is so weird…" I muttered under my breath while looking at the machine. Miss Militia gave me a glance and a strange look, before her eyes opened wide, as if she had just realized something.
"You can actually see inside of that machine, can't you?" She sounded a bit awed. Surely a fairly minor extrasensory ability wasn't that interesting… was it? I hope that I hadn't screwed up by revealing it. In the worst case scenario, I would only have to switch identities… I hadn't revealed very much at all about my powers so far.
"Yeah. Normal machines are fairly straightforward; very logical layouts, easily understandable. The Tinkertech that I've seen so far, though, has all of these weird flaws… It's like the people making them are intentionally sabotaging their own inventions. It perplexes me." I told her.
She looked impressed at my admission. "Do you actually understand how the devices work? Are you a Tinker?" She asked, eyeing me with interest.
"I'm definitely not a Tinker," I said chuckling. "I'm just someone who knows quite a bit about electronics and engineering in general. This device, for instance, uses off the shelf capacitors that are a little too small to handle the current that the machine needs to operate. They can technically supply the power, but it makes the capacitors constantly overheat. They'll probably wear out very quickly." I said. The other woman nodded at me, asking me to continue. "To make matters worse, all of the waste heat made by the capacitors is actually circulating inside of the machine instead of being vented outside of it, causing damage to slowly accumulate on all of the other components." I sighed shaking my head; so much trouble stemming from one stupid flaw.
A tall-ish man in business casual clothing under a lab coat stepped into the room, just as I finished speaking; I had seen him in the hall listening to me talk to Miss Militia. She turned to face the man, giving him a nod and a slight smile, which he returned. "Helen of Troy," she said, looking at me, while gesturing to the newcomer. "This is Dr. Meyers, one of our best researchers. He's here to perform the power test that you agreed to perform."
"Hello there, young lady." Said Dr. Meyer jovially. "It's always a pleasure to meet a new hero!" He was a white man in his late 30's, with thick black hair that was long on top and combed to the side, like actors I'd seen in movies from the 1950's. Intelligent blue eyes shined under his thick, finely groomed eyebrows, paying rapt attention to my appearance. He was also a little short, at maybe five and half feet, though he had a presence that seemed to make his physical stature irrelevant.
The scientist stepped forward to actually shake my hand, something that none of the other people here at the PRT building had done. I shook his hand, giving him a smile. "It's nice to meet you as well, Doctor." I replied. Dr. Meyer gave me my hand back, and then turned to Protectorate member who had accompanied me here when she started to speak.
"I'll just leave you in the good doctor's very capable hands, Helen. The testing shouldn't take long, but the call might, so it may be as long as an hour before I return. I'll have more details for you come I come back." She turned to the PRT researcher. "I leave our guest in your very capable hands, Dr. Meyer."
"Of course, my dear. You go make that call, and please tell the good director that I said 'hi'." He replied. Miss Militia muttered and agreement, and left the room. I saw her walk to a small office with a trio of desks, where she sat down and started dialing a phone.
Dr. Meyer gave me a long look. "So, I understand that you can see through inanimate objects?" He asked, giving me an assessing look, his hands clasped behind his back.
"That's right. I have a few other powers as well, but that's the one we're here to test today." I returned.
"Oh, now you've got me curious! Grab bag capes are so rare, you know… please, off the record, can you tell me what else you can do?" His voice was eager, reminding me of my own antics when I tried to get parents to give me sweets when I was much younger. I glanced around, not finding any other active recording devices, or cameras in this space. Maybe they interfered with the research and power testing done here?
"Well, I heal quite a bit faster than normal, and there's this other thing, but I really don't want to spread it around too much," I whispered, darting my eyes around.
"I promise, not a word to anyone, even my superiors. My entire life is studying and learning more about parahumans, and you've got me curious." He said, whispering as well. "And don't worry about cameras or microphones in this area, we do powers testing for independents and members of other organizations here, so we don't have any fixed surveillance equipment installed; we have to bring in portable devices as needed."
"Well, I suppose it's alright," I said, a lilt in my voice,"since you promised." Gesturing to the ground, I willed one of my portals to come into existence. My "Portals Maker" power seemed to require some kind of input… I focused on it for a moment, trying to- Ah! It wanted me to choose what the portal I was calling into existence should look like. Evidently I could make them look like pretty much anything I wanted. I should probably make it big and flashy, to make the PRT think I couldn't make them without attracting notice. I pictured what I wanted, and just like that the dimensional transportation device snapped into existence.
A swirling blue vortex with a center that looked like stars in the night sky suddenly appeared on the floor. It was perhaps five feet wide-which I had complete control over, I had found, and it took up literally no space on the other plane, being two dimensional. Dr. Meyer stared in the hole which I'd punched in reality, his face lit up like a kid on christmas morning. I gestured over to the wall on the other side of the room, and another portal was suddenly there. The second the other portal appeared, the centers of both portals changed, each showing the the scene visible from other side. Looking into the floor showed us an upside-down, sideways version of our own backs.
Dr. Meyer was literally vibrating with excitement, his eyes wide like saucers. "Are they...? Can you?" He asked, gesturing to each portal, making complex motions with his hands. "Is it safe!?" He practically yelled when I started giggling at his manic enthusiasm.
"Yes, you can travel through them safely." I said. "Watch!" I jumped into the portal in the floor, and somehow emerged from the other side standing, my feet stepping on the floor. The momentum I'd had going in one side had vanished, and my body had been reoriented so that I could emerge without falling onto my face.
"Ta-da!" I said, holding my arms wide. Dr. Meyer was goggling at me, his mouth open.
"Amazing!" He cried, running to a bench and picking up some kind of gadget. Turning it on, he pointed it at the portal on the floor while he studied the small screen on the device. "Astounding!" He crowed. I chucked again; watching him work was hilarious. Dr. Meyer seemed an alright sort. He was pressing buttons on the machine, which I'd identified as a Tinkertech gravitational force sensor, looking more and more ecstatic by the second.
"Young lady, do you know what you've done?" He asked gleefully. I shook my head, not understanding what he was getting at. "You've just gone faster than light! You've proven that it is possible to traverse the universe at superluminal speeds!"
I frowned. "Don't teleporters do that all the time?" I asked him. I consulted my own knowledge base on parahumans, but there wasn't much there on teleporters. They were extremely rare, and the studies on them were apparently more than my "moderate knowledge" of this particular subject covered.
"Nope!" Said the doctor, who was fiddling with a different device now, a rod-like machine which contained small sensors of several different varieties. "There is always a delay, or an effect, or some other trick to simulate instantaneous transportation. There are way to get around the speed of light, to cheat and bypass it entirely. Some capes have powers which we've proven actually tunnel into different quantum universes, and then have effects which travel back and forth, causing the illusion of moving faster than light… but they're just bypassing it, not actually moving that quickly in any one universe." He pushed the rod through the exact center of the portal, causing half of its length to emerge from the other side.
He turned back around, looking at me seriously. "You've actually done it, though, Helen. Your portals are both in this quantum universe. According to my readings, the two points in space have somehow been joined together, becoming one point. Do you know how big this is? Depending on the mechanics of your power, this could be the biggest discovery in the last few decades!"
I frowned. Shit! This wasn't good… I wished for a second that I had taken Telepathy, despite despising it for the violation of privacy and sense of self reading and editing people's memories would have allowed me. My mother had taught me that the mind should be sacrosanct, it was where our consciousness resided, our sense of self. To violate that sanctity was worse than rape, and modifying the mind forcibly was no more or less than murder of the person that used to exist before the change. No, even if I had taken telepathy I wouldn't murder the kind, funny Dr. Meyer for the crime of discovering something about my power.
"That really is amazing, Dr. Meyer, and I would be happy to leave the portals running for now. But we really need to test my eye power." I said, gesturing to the plain clock on the wall of his lab. Over ten minutes had already passed, and I had no clue when Miss Militia would want us to roll out.
The good doctor looked at me oddly, like I was deranged for a second, before sighing. He shook his head violently, as if to clear it, and then took a big gulp of the coffee he had brought into the lab with him when he first arrived. "Of course, of course." He said, voice filled with resignation. He smiled gently. "I'm sorry my dear… sometimes I just get carried away with myself. Still, when we are done I will give you my card. I'd like you to think about letting me do a course of study on your portal power. You would not only be helping me out, but you would be helping mankind learn more about the universe." I opened my mouth, and he held up a hand. "Please, don't answer now, please just take my card, and consider it."
"Alright." I said. The next twenty minutes were dull in comparison. Dr. Meyer had me look through several different materials, spotting things hidden behind or inside of them while he took readings. Meanwhile, I kept the ports running so that he could continue to collect information from his sensors. We were finished with testing soon enough, and the good doctor put some notes about my eye powers into his computer. We chatted for a little while longer, talking about various mundane things. Nearly forty five minutes after arriving in the lab, I detected two people coming down the hallway toward my location, and one was definitely a parahuman. I zoomed in, and discovered Miss Militia and a heavyset blond woman who was a little older than the heroine, both of whom were headed in my direction. I took a quick glance at the blonde, before zooming in on her anatomy and looking harder. Shit… she was messed up! Shredded kidneys, scarred lungs, metabolic issues... you name a long term disorder that's caused by battle trauma, and she probably had it. Why hadn't they brought in Panacea or another healer for her?
I gave Dr. Meyer a heads up that company was on the way, and he scrambled to remove his sensors. As soon as his equipment was outside of the portals I shut them down. The swirling pits of darkness disappeared as if they had never been. The black haired scientist hung his head and sighed, looking as though someone had run over his dog. I snorted, wondering if he had bipolar disorder or something along those lines. People didn't normally swing back and forth to emotional extremes like he did, unless something was wrong. Well, it wasn't like he dwelled on it... he was happy again a moment later, intently studying a printed copy of the notes he had made on my x-ray vision. It didn't actually use x-rays, thank God… that would have been horrifying. Giving the entire City of Brockton Bay cancer was not on my agenda.
Miss Militia and her boss stepped into the lab, where the doctor and I were sitting on stools and chatting about random things. We had been discussing muons before the newcomers arrived, which it turns out I can actually sort of see now, if I really concentrate on doing it. Bullshit magic eyeballs are bullshit. I stepped off of my stool and turned toward the door, acknowledge the director of the local PRT branch. She ignored my nod, and walked toward me until she was less than a foot away. I glanced down as her awkwardly, wondering just what in the hell is going on here.
I realized at that point that not only was being so close to a stranger extremely uncomfortable, I had no idea what the director's name was. The woman, who had a very unattractive haircut, by the way, was studying my face intently, as if searching for something. I looked down into her face, in the just the same manner, wondering just what in the fuck this was all about. Before I could get too annoyed, however, the stocky blonde backed up to a reasonable distance, grunting unintelligibly.
"Helen of Troy," she said, like my nom de plume tasted bad in her mouth. "I'm Director Emily Piggot, of the Parahuman Response Team. Please; tell me why I shouldn't lock you up for potentially compromising my Ward's civilian identity." She growled.
In that moment I was incredibly grateful that I had chosen Divine Mind. If my ability to feel restraint hadn't been enhanced, then likely I would have attacked this pompous idiot on the spot. Enough of my rage leaked through my subconscious that my illusionary self was looking at her with a fierceness that turned the beautiful features on its face into something terrible. Involuntarily, Piggott backed up a step, placing her right hand into her jacket. She didn't actually draw the gun she had holstered there, not yet, or else I would may have had to do something regrettable.
Miss Militia was holding an enormous large anti-material rifle in her hands, a horrified expression on her face I noted that while the weapon was pointed at the ground near where I stood, the gun projection was not actually aimed at me.
I looked down at the pug-like face of the woman who had nearly committed suicide by cape. I don't think she had any idea how enraged I had been... If she had know how close she had brought me to the edge, then she likely would have tried to put me down already. Still, the naked hostility in my gaze had unnerved her enough to nearly draw a weapon on an unarmed woman in the heart of her own base of operations. I can only guess that Miss Militia was simply following this idiot's lead, as a good subordinate usually should… The cape did not seem happy about it, however.
I looked down at the director, my icy blue eyes narrowed. Now that I could control myself better, I looked more annoyed than psychotically outraged. "I'm sorry… did you just threaten to unlawfully detain me because I accidentally stumbled upon "your ward" storing lethal weapons in a public school?" My voice was as cold as ice, and I couldn't shake the feeling that this situation could easily go very wrong, very quickly, especially if this crazy bitch was actually serious about detaining me and not just trying to throw her weight around. 'Oh, look,' I thought, nearly panicking, 'I accidentally a fat joke!'.
Piggott lowered her hand, looking at me with a measure of… something... in her expression. Surprise? Or… could it be… respect? It was either that, or she was constipated. Still shaken up, my magic eyes quickly scanned her intestines, swiftly completing this dark task before I could command them to stop. I gagged at the wave of vile information that hit my brain, hiding the convulsion with my illusion powers. I could fool all the senses with illusions, including sound thankfully.
'Yeah,' I thought, my brain feeling like it needed to be scoured with a brillo pad and then dunked in bleach, 'She is making that face because she's constipated.' Goddamnit… For a moment there, I thought that my honest anger might have impressed her.
"I want you to know that you're treading on dangerous ground here, 'Helen'," said the PRT official, who appeared to be much more composed than she had been a moment ago. "You're obviously a new cape, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt… at least for now."
The stocky administrator looked at me piercingly. "Frankly, your power is dangerous. If you go around uncovering the secrets of parahumans, then whether you're doing the right thing or not, it won't be long before someone decides you're too much of a threat and simply end you."
I studied her for a moment before speaking. I concluded that Emily Piggott actually seemed to believe what she was saying. I could appreciate that I had complicated her life by coming down here in the middle of the night to give Piggott and her fellows the bad news that one of their junior supers may had gone off the reservation. I could even understand that the leader of the PRT was a very sick woman, and that I had woken her up in the middle of the night; she couldn't have been feeling very good, physically. Snapping and being upset I would have been fine with; shooting the messenger am not.
"I didn't come down here expecting to be praised, but your overly confrontational attitude is completely uncalled for." I said, causing her frown to deepen. "It could have been a plumber who found those weapons." I informed her. "There are pipes in that wall, and one of them was nearly rusted through in spots." I stared her in the eyes. "And doesn't the empire 88 have a cape whose projections can go through solid walls? What if he was near the school and found those arrows? What if it was practically any other Thinker besides me? You should be thanking me for being a good citizen, that I came to you rather than simply leaving your problem for someone else to find."
I snorted, my eyes hard. "Not to mention the reason I actually cared enough to let you know about the bullshit that someone in your organization pulled... You could be learning that your junior hero fights crime with fucking hunting arrows when the morgue pulls one out of someone's body."
Piggott gave me a long look before turning around and marching back the way she came. I stared at her retreating form, wondering if every victory I achieved in life would feel this hollow. Probably just the ones that are completely meaningless, I decided.
"Militia, you and your new friend had better hurry your asses up." Piggott called over her shoulder when she was nearly too far away to hear. I looked at named parahuman, and she gave me a sympathetic look. God damn, if this is what it felt like just to meet the bitch, then it was probably twenty times worse to be her subordinate. I'm very, very glad that I had decided that the wards had nothing to offer me. Between psycho Sophia and uber-bitch Emily Piggot I would have probably lost myself and gone carrie on the whole city within a week.
"Let's get this over with." I said to the woman in the modified woodland camo BDUs. She nodded, and we headed out. With our longer legs and better physical conditioning, we easily caught up to Piggott. We found her in the armory, where she was strapping on an extra-large flack vest, and attaching various weapons and gear to her rig.
"Emily…" said Militia, a note of concern in her voice. I got the impression that the boss lady didn't normally make a habit of putting on stormtrooper gear and going out in the field. Honestly, with the rough shape her body was in, she should probably be in a hospital, or at least in retirement.
"Your opinion is neither required or asked for, Militia." Said Piggott, her voice hard. "This isn't a combat op, we're just going to the school to secure some evidence." She finished affixing her gear, and then stood. Miss Militia looked like she was going to argue with the other woman, but her next words made her reconsider. "Besides," she grumbled, "I'm up, and after all of this there's no way I'm getting back to sleep. I may as well be doing something useful, like taking the first step in fixing a mistake I should never have made in the first place."
My real eyes went wide, but I took care not to let my illusory facade reflect the involuntary movement. Was she apologizing to me? I considered everything I had learned about Emily Piggott in the last few minutes, and compared it to the massive amount of psychological and social knowledge present in my brain. 'Yeah,' I thought, 'that was her telling me that she's sorry.'.
I almost revealed my healing power, but I held my tongue for now. I seriously doubt she would let a new parahuman she just met use an untested power on her in the middle of the night, shitty, indirect apology or not. I would definitely want to test out my "Healing Hands" ability before using on a person for the first time anyway. While I was musing, Piggott was speaking into a radio communicator attached to her vest. Gesturing at us to follow, she lead us to an exit on the other side of the building and down a floor, which opened up into an underground garage.
The same squad of troopers who had suited up to counter any bullshit I tried to pull when I first arrived was waiting for us, with a PRT armored personnel carrier all ready to go. The head stormtrooper help his boss into the back, and Miss Militia and I follow.
Riding in the back of the vehicle was fairly uncomfortable. There were bench seats with four-point harnesses on each side, and lots of extra room in the read, presumable for equipment or prisoner transport. There were six seats in the back, and there were seven of us, which made things a little difficult. I offered to be the one who rode while standing, but Miss Militia politely told me to sit down, ignoring my protests. There were some handholds on the walls which she used to keep secure, so it worked out fine.
Before too long, we reached the school. The driver parked the APC, and the rest of us got out, still stretching our legs in relief despite the short amount of time it took to get here. Piggott had somehow managed to rouse Principal Blackwell and summon her to the school. The administrator was waiting for our party when we arrived, sitting on the top step at the school's front entrance. The severe looking woman was clearly tired, and she was gulping too-hot coffee coffee from a travel mug to try and make up for it. Blackwell had a much more severe scowl on her face than she normally did, and she was not shy about letting us know that she was unhappy to be here.
Piggott went to speak with the principal while Militia and I made small talk and the PRT agents secured weapons and double-checked their equipment. One of the troopers was carrying a bulky Tinkertech power tool with half a hundred functions, and another had a large bag containing a multitude of more mundane power tools. I guess I had known all along that they were going to have to cut through the wall where the cache was stored to get at it, but I hadn't really considered the mechanics behind it before now. Barring some kind of tinkertech phase shifter... or the active cooperation of the person who we were investigating... I doubted that there was another way to get the evidence out of its hiding place. I guess having reality altering powers was really starting to mess with my perspective, even after only one day of having them.
I heard some arguing between Piggott and Blackwell, the principal raising her voice a few times. Phrases like "unacceptable" and "disruption to the children's education" came from the school employee's mouth, while Piggott uttered words such as "need to know" and "random inspection of affiliate school's premises". Blackwell eventually complied with the PRT Director's demands and unlocked the front door, but she was clearly reluctant to do so. She looked at our procession sullenly as we prepared to head inside.
It was go time. The principal looked even unhappier than she had previously as she watched our procession march inside. Studying her expression, I think I detected a note of worry on her face. It took a moment to put all the facts together, but as the seven of us stepped into the main hallway of the high school, I realized that Piggott had not given her any information about why the PRT needed access to Winslow tonight. While cold, I could definitely see the upside to doing things that way. If Blackwell was somehow in league with Shadow Stalker, then keeping her in the dark would be completely necessary. Likewise if she was one of those idiots that you often see who can't help but run their mouths about anything and everything. 'Still, I thought, 'it must be pretty shitty to be kept out of the loop when something like this happens to the school you're in charge of.'
The black haired school administrator walked over to her vehicle, her face drawn. She sat herself in the driver's seat, and started the vehicle. She turned on the heat and the radio, and sat completely still, her knuckles turning white from the force she used to grip the steering wheel. She didn't leave, though, and I realized that she would need to be here after the PRT and I were done cleaning up the mess that had been partially caused by her idiotic decision to use a "light touch" on Sophia. I decided to keep one eye on Blackwell throughout this endeavor. It's not that she herself was dangerous... I just didn't trust her. Blackwell is the type of person who would sell their own mother if she was offered enough, and I didn't want to see what she would resort to if she thought any of Hess's shit was going to land on her.
Blackwell had kindly turned the lights on for us, which made the hallways seem more like a place sane people would actually visit. When we first arrive, the unlit school hallways had reminded me of a scene from a 'B' horror movie. Oh, I could still see perfectly, even with the lack of light… but I had still been able to tell that it was dark and dreary, nonetheless. Piggott turned to me, her eyes all business now. There was none of the overt accusation in the way she looked at me before, none of the fire when she was arguing; only calm professionalism. I appreciated that.
"Ms. Troy; if you would, please lead my team to the location of the weapons cache," asked the head of the local PRT branch curtly.
"Sure. It's this way," I replied, gesturing. I walked slowly down the hallway, moving my head back and forth throughout the area I'd given for the location of Sophia's stash of backup vigilantism accoutrements. The other cape present walked by my side, her power taking the form of a large "fuck you" pistol, which was holstered at her side. Piggott walked two steps behind me at my other side, studying me intently. I guess the quasi-apology earlier from the PRT leader, and deciding to actually accept responsibility for this mess didn't mean that she trusted me. I guess I wouldn't either, if I were in her shoes. For all I know, this whole school could have been gone over with a fine tooth comb moments before we arrived. Like and idiot, I hadn't been observing it until we were nearby… I would have to start 'thinking long range', now that I could view any part of the city that I wanted pretty much at will.
It only took a moment to reach Sophia's Locker. "All of the items I saw earlier are still here. They're between the walls, directly behind this locker," I said, pointing at the offending storage container.
"Davis, Burns," ordered Emily Piggott, "Open it up."
The PRT agents carrying the powertools went to work. The guy with the normal tools, Burns, took out a small device which looked like a dremel rotary tool's beefier older brother. He attached a compact lithium-ion battery pack, and fired it up. The saw let out a quiet whine, which exploded a into a cacophony of harsh, high pitched sounds as he applied it to the combination lock which secured the metal storage space. A squealing razor orchestra serenaded us, for a second, and then cut out as the lock fell to the ground in two pieces.
Davis collected the locke and placed it into an evidence bag. He then proceeded to bag up everything else in the locker as well, placing as many of the items as would fit into larger plastic bags, which had serial numbers and places to record inform, just like the first. Afterward he stepped back with his loot, and the other tool wielding trooper took his place.
Burns was a stocky, well muscled woman of medium height. As she stepped up to the locker, she swung the large device into place, lining it up with the upper left-hand corner in the back of the locker. As I watched her working, I was her handle the Tinkertech powertool like it weighed nothing, which is most assuredly did not. She pressed a button on the Tinkertool after flipping a toggle, and a shimmering saw-like protrusion sprung forth from the tool's depth. My mind ran the numbers, and I discovered that the blade was exactly the right length and width to cut the back of the locker and about an inch of wall behind it, while the Burns stood as a comfortable distance.
The stormtrooper pulled a trigger on the underside of the device, and the blade began vibrating, causing the shimmering metal to take on a more reflective appearance. She touched the end of it to the seam in the back of the locker, and slowly moved it downward. As the blade dropped, it cut through metal and wood with nearly as much ease as my lightsaber could have, and without any of the issues that utilizing a blade made of magnetically contained plasma typically caused. I snorted in amusement; Tinkers were such bullshit.
It didn't take long before the back of the locker was sliced clean off. Burns pulled it out with some type of mag-clamp, which her Tinkertool also contained. Davis went back in with a crowbar after her colleague moved out of the way; he had to turn sideways a bit and get down on his knees to reach the back of the locker. The armor-clad PRT employee worked quickly, carefully removing pieces of drywall and insulation until the space behind the outer layers was completely exposed.
Between the large boards which framed the wall, we spied Sophia's downfall. Piggott scowled at the damning items, her eyes promising pain and suffering to the person responsible for their presence. I smirked with my real mouth under the more stoic illusion I wore, enjoying the moment immensely. No matter what happened to Sophia after this, I had won. Discounting my confrontation with Emma yesterday, this was the first taste of victory I'd had in the war with my tormentors. I found myself enjoying it a little less than I thought I would however, and it didn't take my vast mental power to figure out why. In the grand scheme of things, they were nothing more than a distraction, a stepping stone on my way upwards. I had easily laid both of them low, and with about as much effort as it would have taken to swat a pair of flies. Simply put, I was beyond them now.
Oh, well. It was a good excuse to introduce one of my new faces to the PRT, at the very least. Hopefully this would allow me to gain some credibility. The next time I needed something from them it should be easier thanks to the contact I had made tonight. I looked at Miss Militia, a look of muted sadness present in her delicate features. The PRT guys didn't seem to give two shits.
I glanced at the clock on the wall; it was 3:45AM. I had no idea how long my bullshit sleep illusion would last, but I needed to be home no later than 6:00, or by 6:30 if I really wanted to push it. I didn't know if I would have to release the compulsion for Dad to be able to wake up normally, or if he would throw it off when his alarm clock sounded at half after six... but either way I absolutely had to be there unless I wanted to answer some very pointed questions.
One of the other troops, one whose name I didn't know, was meticulously collecting Shadow Stalker's indiscretions, labeling them with a pen as he sealed up each individual nail in her coffin. Miss Militia and Piggott had walked a few feet away, and they were speaking to each other in low voices. I didn't bother to read their lips; I didn't much care how things were handled from here so long as Sophia was out of my hair from now on.
Piggott turned to look at me, her expression still quite upset. She walked over to where I stood, her gaze never leaving me the entire time. Despite the fact that she wasn't any kind of threat to me physically, the PRT Director was actually kind of intimidating. I guess she would have to be, in order to reign in people who had superhuman powers. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to speak.
"Thank you for bringing this very serious matter to our attention, and for your assistance in this investigation, Independant Hero 'Helen of Troy'," she said formally, her words clipped. I could practically taste the simmering anger lying just below the surface. "We've come to a point in this matter where your security is not sufficient to-"
"Oh, shit!" I cried, my eyes wide. Piggott looked startled as I interrupted her, my exclamation erupting completely out of the blue. I had a very good reason for doing so, however… I had fucked up royally. I'd been watching Blackwell in her gas guzzler, as she listened to shit music on the radio and tapped on the screen of her smartphone. At first she had been playing some kind of crappy generic version of bejeweled, but at some point, while I hadn't been paying attention, she had switched to texting. I would have noticed a phone call, or something overt like that, but in my hubris I had seen fit to leave her phone's screen unobserved for the last fifteen minutes or so while we cracked open the wall behind the locker. It was a stupid, shitty mistake, and I felt like a complete idiot for making it.
And it was a pretty fucking awful mistake, too, because Blackwell had texted Shadow Stalker almost as soon as I stopped observing her phone. The school principal had sent three messages in total, to a contact that she had creatively named "S.S.". Yeah, she was a real mental giant, wasn't she?
The first text read, "Heads up. PRT is at Winslow. Might have something to do with you.".
S.S. replied with "What's going on? More details?"
Blackwell messaged her back with, "PRT Director is here w/ 2 capes and 5 officers. Wouldn't even tell me what's going on."
S.S. then said, "Shit. Thanks 4 teh info. Consider the favor I did for you repade."
The last message from Blackwell said, "No problem. You did me a solid, so I'm just returning the favor."
I rapidly scanned the area surrounding the school, my attention shifting outward in an ever expanding radius via the judicious use of my eye powers and super speed to increase the processing abilities of my superhuman mind. About a mile away, and rapidly closing in on the school, was a human shaped figure made out of shadow. She floated between buildings' rooftops using her Breaker state, going solid again on each rooftop and running to gain momentum between jumps. It wouldn't be long until she arrived. I doubted she intended to fight us, she was probably coming here to find out what the PRT was up to.
My blood ran hot and cold as I snapped out of my trance, which had lasted nearly ten seconds. Piggott was looking at me with suspicious in her eyes, and I could see that she had taken at least three big steps back from where she had previously been standing. The PRT guys were a little on edge. Miss Militia had come over to where I was standing, and she had been snapping her fingers in front of my face while speaking my cape name, trying to get my attention.
Using the most serious tone of voice I could muster, I spoke. "The school employee who's sitting in the SUV outside just set down her cellphone, so I took a look at the screen. She was texting someone called 'S.S.', warning them that the PRT and two capes are here to investigate them. I really strained myself, and looked way further out than I normally like doing… I can't see people, exactly, they just look like blank blobs normally. There's a blank blob moving over rooftops and sort of floating between them, which is headed this way. Maybe five minutes out at most."
"God DAMMIT!" Shouted Emily Piggott, her face turned crimson. "That stupid goddamn schoolmarm is going to fucking prison for this!" She growled.
"Helen, are you willing to follow my commands and the commands of my officers for the duration of this emergency?" The PRT Director asked me seriously, speaking as quickly as possible.
"Yes." I agreed immediately.
"Describe your powers to me, as clearly and accurately as you can in thirty seconds." She snapped.
"Visual clairvoyance, variable range. Creation of portals between any two places that I can see, though they can only move organic matter, no metals etcetera. Heightened reflexes, regenerative healing..." I hesitated slightly, and Piggott opened her mouth, her eyes narrowed. "Very short range telekinesis, manton unlimited." I whispered finally, causing her to abort her rant.
Miss Militia stared at me, her eyes wide, and one of the PRT grunts whispered "Holy shit," under her breath. I looked at the ground, as if upset at having to reveal my 'secret powers'.
"Ok, here's the plan," snapped out Piggott, "Militia, take off any synthetics now." The cape didn't even hesitate, starting to strip off some under-armor and a few polymer sheaths for various weapons that she had on, her modesty nonexistent in the face of orders.
"Michaels, Catz." she said, causing the two officers to snap to attention. "Saunter your asses up to Blackwell calmly and take her into custody. Make sure to secure her phone, then get your asses to the APC and brief Gutierrez and Horner on the situation. Tell Gutierrez to radio for cape backup while he takes that bitch back to base. You two plus Horner conceal yourselves near the entrance and try to take Stalker down with your tasers if you she comes in that way." The two stormtroopers bolted back to the entrance, slowing to a walk when they got within sight of the parking lot.
She turned to the tool specialists. "Burns and Davis. You two and I are going to secret ourselves in different classrooms near this position. If Stalker gets this far, take her ass down." She said. Two two troops grabbed their equipment and then entered two of the closer classrooms, while leaving the closest for Piggott.
"Troy, portal to the roof, now." She belted out, nearly making me jump. I was nearly in awe of her tactical acumen; she had set all of this in motion in less than two minutes! I could see one of the PRT agents she had sent outside, Catz, I thought, roughly slapping Blackwell into cuffs while Michaels collected the Principal's smartphone. As soon as I heard her words, I got with the program and made a portal to the roof.
"Militia, take a covered firing position on the roof. Use your 'bug zapper' as soon as you get a bead on Shadow Stalker." The cape, whose uniform was a bit disheveled, and somewhat less armored than before, hopped through the portal which showed a view of the roof. We saw her sprint toward one of the corners, which had three foot high concrete walls. She began looking around the grounds of the school intently. Her power reformed into something that looked like one of the ghostbusters proton accelerators, complete with backpack and a slim projector wand, which were connected together by a thick tube. She had manifested the wand with a night-vision scope on it, which she was using to peer through the darkness. Her power was total bullshit, I concluded.
"Troy; I want you to play spotter for Miss Militia. Point her at Shadow Stalker as soon as you see her arrive. If Militia can't hit her, I want you to use your portals to engage and attempt to capture our rogue ward yourself." Her face twisted into a rage filled expression , and I involuntarily took a step back, shocked at the sudden transformation. "You will capture Shadow Stalker non-lethally, or you will back off and let her escape." She snarled. "Do. You. Understand." She said,making it a statement instead of a question, enunciating each word carefully.
"Of course," I told her, my voice conveying the gravity that I was sure she needed. "I promise you that I will not seriously harm Shadow Stalker if I have to face her." I assured the PRT Director. 'Like I would sully my powers by killing Sophia with them,' I thought with a mental grimace. She just wasn't worth it.
I leapt through the portal onto the roof, cancelling my portals when I was all the way through. I crouched down near Miss Militia's position, waiting for Sophia to arrive. The Protectorate cape had been close enough to hear Piggott's instructions for me, so she knew that I was going to be spotting for her. I could see that the PRT Party Van we had arrived in was a few miles away by now, and that the three troopers outside had excellent coverage near the school's main entrance.
Piggott and the two tech troopers who had dismantled the locker were all safely ensconced in their own private classrooms, beady little eyes, covered by high-end optics, pointed toward Sophia's deconstructed locker. Piggott had turned out the lights in the hall, which was something I hadn't even thought of. If Sophia managed to get passed Miss Militia and I, then a lit corridor at night might have made her bolt. I may have been and order of magnitude smarter than Piggott, but she had me beat out in terms of sheer experience… It would be a bad decision to get on her bad side.
We didn't have to wait long for our prey to arrive. I couldn't help but wonder what Sophia would think about my "Strength" if she knew about my real powers, or even about the watered down set that I had sold to the PRT. She probably would have taken up tripping me, that's for sure. She was floating through the air in a parabolic arc, aiming to land in the bleachers overlooking the track behind the school when I alerted Miss Militia. That was on the whole other side of the building from our current position, so the government cape and I quickly and silently relocated to the opposite side of the roof. By the time we got there, Sophia was nearly in view.
I watched carefully as the costumed teenager darted from the side of the bleachers to a gardening shed behind the school. She stood there for a few minutes in her incorporeal form, watching the school and waiting. I looked under her mask, and saw a grim look on her face, as well as a steely determination in her gaze. Clearly, this was not a happy girl. I used my gifted knowledge of sniper spotting to help Miss Militia aim her weapon, making sure not to correct for projectile drop or wind resistance, as she was using a laser-induced electricity projector. If my engineering knowledge was correct, then it wasn't actually a Tinker weapon at all. The "bug zapper" was made completely out of mundane parts, though some of them were reverse engineered or "Tinker inspired". For all of its bulk, it was also a one-shot device… a limitation that was made moot by the weapon projecting cape's powers. If she needed more shots, Miss Militia could just reform the weapon with a full battery charge. What utter bullshit!
Sophia peeked her masked face around the side of the shed she was using for cover, like a little mouse looking out of its hole to see if the coast was clear. The woman in beside me in the tailored BDU's took aim at my whispered instructions, shifting her weapon until she could see the edge of Shadow Stalker's mask through her night vision scope. Sophia tensed, resting on the balls of her feet, by every indication intending to run for the school's rear wall, to the same place I had seen her phase through earlier today. At the last minute, however, she turned around and bolted back the way she came, spooked by something that even I failed to detect.
"Shit," I cursed, "She's getting away!" I opened a portal portal to the top of the bleachers, which would be a great vantage point if she went back the way she came from. Miss Militia let out a curse in a language that I didn't speak, and then chased after me. I had colored the swirling part of my portals a darker blue, so that they blended better into the night. We emerged on top of the bleachers just as Sophia rounded the side, and Miss Militia raised her weapon, then took a shot.
A crackling streak of white lightning erupted from the bug zapper, missing Sophia by inches when she spun on a dime and changed directions. She went into her Breaker state, darting through the bleachers, and out the other side. Cursing again, I sprang over the top of the bleachers, and fell the thirty feet to the ground, cartwheeling as I landed to shed the excess velocity from my fall. I leapt into a run, darting after the retreating cape. I popped two portals into existence, one five feet in from of Miss Militia, and one on the school grounds, fifty feet in front of the direction Shadow Stalker was going.
My partner for the evening's events leapt through the portal, landing on the other side in a crouch. She shouldered the firing wand, and took aim at Shadow Stalker's center mass as I ran after the girl at a very fast pace, just shy of Mover speeds. Unfortunately, the girl I was running after did have a mover rating, which she proved by shifting into her smoky alternate form and gliding every few steps. I cursed mentally, wishing that I had told Piggott that I had a mover rating rather than regeneration… I didn't want to make a liar of myself and hurt my credibility with the PRT by revealing that I had lied about my powers.
Miss Militia fired her BFG again, and just as before, the wayward Ward changed directions on a dime by kicking off the ground sideways and shifting into her breaker state exactly as Miss Militia pulled the trigger. I frowned; combat precog wasn't supposed to be one of Shadow Stalker's powers! Just what in the fuck was going on here? Deciding to end this charade, I opened a portal right in Shadow Stalker's face, just as she was changing directions, while opening the other end of the hole in space/time right in front my position.
The smoky cape flew through the portal in her breaker state, and emerged less than three feet in front of me in her regular human form. I didn't think that she shifted voluntarily, so the reversion appeared to be an effect caused by my portal. I decided that I would need to explore that further. I could see pieces of Stalker's costume get left behind during her trip through the spacial anomaly. Her miniature crossbows, arrows, mask, and several pieces of her costume dropped to the ground on the side of the portal as she passed through, leaving her wearing a wrecked, partially incomplete costume that was only held together by a few stitches.
'She must have had a lot of metal fasteners holding her outfit together,' I thought. The loose pieces of cloth covering her body began to flutter to the ground in dribs and dabs, leaving her shocked and open to attack. I grabbed onto Sophia's entire body with Telekinesis as she she stared at me with surprise and terror, her eyes wide with incomprehension at her sudden and inglorious defeat. Grinning ferally, I locked down all of the young athlete's muscle groups down, preventing her from moving in any way, shape, or form.
"Gotcha!" I crowed, giving her a big shit-eating grin. Man, who would have thought that hunting someone down like an animal was this much fun!?
I could see the young cape's arms and legs twitching under her skin as she fought to escape the iron grip of my mental muscles. It was for naught; as soon as I locked her down, the compulsory gun toter on the other side of the school lawn lit up the night with a blast from her lightning canon, putting the rabid dog we had been chasing down for the count. As soon as Shadow Stalker was hit, I released my hold on her. I watched in fascination as the teenager's body crackled with rivulets of electricity, the energy being partially absorbed by her body, though most of it flowed through her, disappearing into the ground. The caught cape's muscles spasmed like crazy, causing her to flop to the ground and shudder wildly. She continued to twitch for a few seconds before going mercifully unconscious.
I looked at Miss Militia's gun with jealousy, wishing I had one. Well, I could always build one, I guess… or something even better, using my Tinker knowledge. I determined to do just that; I was a little short of easily available long-range options, unless I was willing to call forth the big guns. I had high hopes for Telekinesis in the future; there were several science fiction and fantasy books I had read which demonstrated some very interesting uses for mental control over matter and energy. I would need to try some of them out, and figure out which, if any, of them I was capable of performing. That, however, was a matter for another time.
Miss Militia sprinted across the school lawn in seconds, and before I could say "Bob's your uncle" she was securing Sophia's wrists and ankles with strips of the teenage Ward's own torn costume. She pulled the dark skinned girl's hood down, covering her face from view slinging her over her right shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I blinked at the heroine's quick, decisive actions. She didn't seem to be superhumanly quick or strong, but she was definitely in peak physical condition. The Protectorate member also didn't seem to need to stop and rest at all; it was like she was built to keep operating at top capacity indefinitely.
"Nice comb technique with your powers. Can you make a portal back into the school?" She asked.
"Sure." I said, gesturing to a spot just in front of us. The inside of the classroom where we last saw Piggott appeared in the middle in the swirling blue tear in the fabric of reality, causing the overweight woman to level her taser at us. Her mental IFF caused her to relax, as soon as she recognized the people on the other side of the dimensional fracture. The director looked us over, assessing the situation in an instant. Her eyes flickered between Miss Militia and I, before settling on Sophia's bound, unconscious form.
"Good work." Said the blonde woman, from the other side of the controlled spacial anomaly. "Miss Militia, please step through and transfer custody of Shadow Stalker to Davis. We have velocity inbound in two minutes, and Armsmaster and Dauntless in another ten to fifteen. We'll have two more PRT crews here within the hour for suppression and cleanup as well."
The woman in the flag-themed costume stepped through the portal, and I followed after her. Soon enough, Sophia was being carted off by Velocity, who showed up sooner than expected. I watched the 'speedster' running as he approached the school, my eyes and the calculator which seemed to be built into my brain providing me with information about his powers. He was moving at just shy of 300 mph, which was under half as fast as I could move at my quickest. There was also something weird about his power… He was moving very fast, but the wind around him wasn't affecting him very much at all, and he seemed to be a little blurry. I kicked my vision power into overdrive, tearing through layers of reality in an effort to better understand what was happening here.
Suddenly, I understood. When he moved quickly, whole sections of Velocity weren't here anymore… The effect was a little like my portals, but not quite. Instead of a hole that tunneled from one part of our own reality to another, the matter he was composed of was shearing through several different realities, like his body was some kind of fucked up multi-dimensional onion. Layers of his body were spread across a dozen different quantum realities, all of them connected together by a giant crystalline thing that occupied all of the same dimensions Velocity interacted with... except for this one. The thing that seemingly controlled the superhero's powers appeared to be some kind of computing device, with so many other functions thrown in that I couldn't count them in the seconds I spent observing it. It was so bizarre looking that it made my head hurt. It looked like something all the Tinkers in the world, M.C. Escher and a master jewelsmith would have collaborated together to create. Just viewing it made me feel sick to my stomach, and I broke off contact almost immediately.
. . .
I stood there reeling, going over the bizarre information that I had just discovered. Just what was Velocity? Some kind of Tinker creation, or an alien monstrosity masquerading as human? Was the crystal thing his real body? My ramped-up mind suddenly had a strange thought… what if the thing was the source of his powers? If that was the case, then other capes might also be connected to his crystal thing as well. I quickly scanned Miss Militia's powers, letting my eyes peel away the layers of reality behind the small knife on her hip. The mass of rainbow madness that was her powers (when it wasn't a weapon) also lead to a series of alternate quantum realities, inhabited by a slightly larger, more complex crystal thing, thought it shared many similarities with Velocity's. It was definitely different, though. Did each cape have their own giant crystal power generating computer?
'Holy shit.' I thought, 'This is HUGE!" Had I just discovered where superpowers came from? I think I did. Of course this discovery, like most of those which were truly worthwhile, lead to a shitload more questions than it answered. Foremost among them was: "Where do the crystal things come from?". They didn't look like living things, quite, though they were definitely made from biological materials. Another odd thing was that my Tinker granted knowledge base contained many similarities to the structures on both of the crystal… I couldn't keep calling them things… the crystal power relays had parts which were very similar to many examples of Tinkertech which I had seen.
Surely the two facts couldn't be unrelated… It had been noted by several parahuman researchers that many pieces of Tinkertech were very similar to observed superpowers. I suspected that the reason for this was because the power relays granted the parahumans they were connected to either the ability to use their hardware directly, which allowed the cape in question to generate the effects themselves, or in the case of Tinkers, simply gave them the knowledge and technical knowhow to build thing which replicated the effects of the same powers. That neatly answered my earlier questions of why Tinkertech was either badly designed, or could not be replicated by normal people… The power relays didn't want humanity at large to have powers, even machine replicated knockoffs.
I had been standing outside while thinking, after having been asked by Pigott to stick around for a bit until she could give me field debrief when things slowed down a bit. I looked through the school walls, and was surprised to learn that it was nearly 5:30… I would need to leave here very shortly. I would also need to think about the awesome, world-shattering revelations that I had uncovered tonight. I had some many questions that I could not even begin to articulate them at this point, and I felt that it would be a while before they were answered to my satisfaction. Thankfully, I would probably have a while to seek my answers… School had started on a Thursday, and today was Friday… School would definitely be canceled after the events of tonight, so I would have a long weekend to start unraveling this mystery.
My musings were interrupted by Emily Piggott, who strode out of the school, looking so sick and weary that my resolve to keep my healing powers hidden wavered once more. 'Surely,' I thought, 'Just a tiny bit of healing wouldn't hurt?'
The director and I sat in the back of one of the PRT trucks, and she had me go over the events of the night, from my perspective, while simultaneously taking notes by hand and recording my statements with a digital voice recorder. My voice was clear and succinct as I spoke, and it wasn't long before I had described my encounter with Shadow Stalker to her satisfaction. All the while my mind was awhirl; could I figure the mystery behind superpowers myself? Could I learn to replicate parahuman powers the my Tinker knowledge I'd been given, and my ability to view and comprehend parts of the power relays? Thankfully my illusion powers allowed me to appear attentive and unconcerned to the PRT Director.
"I'm always a bit leery of working with new, untested parahumans Troy... but I have to admit that you have proven yourself a valuable asset tonight. I'd like to thank you for the information you provided, and your assistance in capturing Shadow Stalker." Piggott paused a moment, before continuing, this time more serious. "I think it need not be said that any information about her identity is to be kept to yourself. In fact, I must insist that you sign a nondisclosure agreement to that effect. We take the secret identities of our heroes, even ones under investigation, extremely seriously."
"Of course, Director. I understand completely." I said, knowing that this was non-negotiable. If I refused to sign the form, then I could kiss any cooperation from the PRT in the future goodbye. I jotted a stylized version of my cape name down next to the 'X', dotting my initials next to a the three places it was required as well. As it went, the PRT's nondisclosure papers weren't that bad… They would merely sue me into the ground and make my life hell if I revealed Sophia's real name or face, not send me to prison or have me flogged with reeds.
"Thanks once again," said Piggott as I made ready to leave. She hesitated a moment, before holding out her hand for me to shake. I smiled warmly at her, pleased with the minor show of trust. I then proceeded to violate it horribly by using my powers on the woman without her knowledge or consent. From what I had seen, I don't think that Emily Piggott would have ever knowingly allowed someone with powers to use them on her, whether it benefitted her or not. Seeing how powerful and effective a leader she was as a virtual cripple, while deprived of sleep... God only knows what she would be capable of while in perfect health. I wanted to see that Piggott. I burned to watch as she used her newfound strength and wellbeing to accomplish great things for the city of Brockton Bay. My desires would become reality; I would force them to.
As we shook hands, I slowed down my perception of time using my super speed ability, and then concentrated on healing. I didn't want to heal her outright, this needed to be Subtle, with a capital "S". I willed an enormous helping of the healing energies I could feel resting inside of me to flow gently into Piggott gently, using the physical contact we shared as a medium. I directed the gifted power to pool inside of her without affecting the woman, lying fallow for at least a full day before doing anything. Afterward, the stored energies would slowly repair her damaged organs and systems, over the course of days or weeks. I could feel that all of this was within the capability of my power... and as I commanded it, so it was. Reality and my divine gift bent to my command, and when we finished performing the ancient greeting of warriors and pulled our clasped hands aways from one another, there was absolutely no sign of my benevolent betrayal.
"Thank you Director, it was a pleasure. I look forward to working with the PRT in the future." With a salute, I opened an opaque portal to a spot only a few blocks from my house, and stepped through. Closing the spacial tear behind me, I checked for observers, and then went invisible and intangible when I found none. It took me only seconds to return home. Dropping my shadow state, I dispersed the illusion I had been wearing all night, and then changed out of my costume using Telekinesis. Forgoing a shower for now, I threw on the clothes I had gone to sleep in last night; a loose T-shirt and a pair of soft cotton shorts.'
Immediately after changing, I went to check on my father. I found him sleeping soundly, a look of contentment plastered across on his slumbering face. I checked on the illusion I had placed, and it was still present, though weakened by half. I estimated that it would last another five or so hours without my intervention before fading completely. Still, it would be diluted enough after another hour or two that normal outside stimuli, like an alarm clock, would be enough to wake him up.
Smiling down at my dad, I placed my hand on his chest. It began glowing, and I tricled healing power into his body, trying not to heal, but to discern what health problems he might have. I was dismayed to discover his extremely high blood pressure, and the blockage of several arteries. It was worse than it first appeared, too… Dad had some fairly serious damage to his heart, indication of at least two or three mild heart attacks in the past few years. There were also some dietary deficiencies, and a veritable host of micro-cancers from the abuse he had subjected himself to by not caring for his body properly. My face fell, tears streaming down from my eyes as I thought about how close I had come to losing my last living parent, without even knowing it.
"No!" I whispered vehemently. I would not allow this to come to pass! Under the force of my emotions, an enormous torrent of healing power burst from the hand I had placed on his chest. Vast quantities of a blazing, golden light burst forth, being soaked up by Dad's tissues as it streamed from my palm. Dad's body made use of the enormous quantity of power to repair itself to a pristine condition in less than a second. In my distress, I had used far too much power… a mere drop would have been enough to fix the small but serious ills which his body held, and I had used a river's worth. Some… unintended consequences followed my hasty action.
Dad's muscles started becoming far larger than they had previously been, swelling in size enormously as they drank up the power I was unwittingly feeding them. Noticing his bulging musculature, I panicked, willing them to become their normal size. The huge, powerful muscles shrank in size under my direction, all of the strength and power they had been given compressed into a package which was only a little larger than their previous sizes. The rest of his body had changed as well, though nothing standing out in so visually dramatic a manner as his muscle tissues had. The neurons in his brain were all firing faster than before, and his heart was pumping slower and more powerfully than a normal person's. Dad's bones were an order of magnitude more dense than those of a normal human, and their molecular structure was different, now... more like a crystal than regular bone tissue. His immune system had been ramped up, and I could see enormous, almost savage T-cells prowling my father's bloodstream… They looked like they were hunting for invading pathogens, which simply did not exist after the healing I had performed.
I continued to assess the stupid, idiotic mistake that I had made. I noted that Dad's teeth had all been repaired. I could sense that his… I blushed, looking away. My cheeks were on fire and I felt sick, like I was going to vomit in my mouth. There had been several... enhancements... to his downstairs, much to my everlasting embarrassment. That was something that I could have lived my entire life without ever finding out. I certainly hadn't will that to happen! Did his subconscious play some role in how the excess healing energies were applied?
God, what the fuck had I been thinking, throwing all that power at him!? I had nearly drained my reserve of healing energy. It had been enough to make me feel a little tired, like I had when I tried to sprint a block or two before I had become a Demigod. I could sense that my energies were refilling, but it felt like it would be a few hours before my healing tanks were topped up. I facepalmed with my free hand… Based on some quick calculations, I had used enough energy to fully heal over a hundred people just now, when all I had really needed to do was partially heal one man. It was good thing that this was a healing power, or else all that energy might have caused him to explode or something… If it hadn't been used to enhance him, then the power involved actually might have done Dad some damage… his mortal body couldn't just hold on to that level of power without consequence.
'Oh, shit!' I thought. 'What am I going to tell him?' Looking down at the sleeping form of my dad, the changes I had wrought were fairly obvious, at least to someone like me who had seen him nearly every day of my life. The skin on his face was tighter than it had been and most of the wrinkles had disappeared, making him look at around a decade younger. The scar that had been on his chin, the souvenir of a college bar fight which mom used to tease him about, was no longer there either. His body was built differently than it had been; there was more size and definition in all of his muscle groups. He looked powerful now, like he had been working out for years.
I stood there for a few minutes, contemplating just how I was going to explain to my father that I was now a Demigod. I hung my head, ideas being thought up and then discarded as fast as they popped into existence. Maybe I could-
I was interrupted by a loud yawn. I snapped my head up, as Danny Hebert woke up on his own, throwing off my weakened sleeping illusion like it was nothing. He sat up in bed, blinking his eyes in surprise as he saw me standing at his bedside. "Taylor? Honey, what are you doing in here? Is something wrong?"
I gulped, sitting down beside him. I briefly considered covering him with an illusion of his previous self permanently, but I ruthlessly quashed that idea. I would slip up sooner rather than later, and it wasn't like Dad wouldn't notice how his body felt now, or the new things it should be capable of. Based on what I had observed, he was definitely going to be superhumanly strong and fast, not to mention much more durable; there was no hiding those things. Besides, he was my father… I wasn't prepared to betray him by lying about the fucked up thing I had just accidentally done. If doing it in the first place had been wrong, then trying to gaslight him into believing that his changes weren't real would be monstrous.
I dropped my own illusion, which I had been using to make myself look like the plain old Taylor of the day before yesterday. "Dad, there's something I need to tell you…" I said, taking in his wide eyes and surprised express. As I began explaining the fantastic things that had befallen me, I felt my father reach out and take my hand. His strong grip felt reassuring, and I continued talking, telling him about everything I had done so far since I had received my powers. I prayed that this would turn out alright.
