Chapter 8-1

Sam wasn't in class today. I suppose that was unsurprising, all things considered. Nevertheless, it was another entry on a long list of things that worried me. I could visit her in the afternoon, but I didn't want to come across as pushy. As Dad told me before I left, my presence might remind her of what happened and end up doing more harm than good.. As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. Nevertheless, if she wasn't in school tomorrow, I'd have to give her a call.

I had other issues, though. Apparently, director Piggot had been sacked. Okay, 'reassigned' was the word Armsmaster used, but he wasn't fooling anyone. At any rate, we had a new director now and the first thing Renick did was move the Wards to the PRT headquarters down in the city. On the surface, it seemed like a small thing, but I could tell from Armsmaster's face that it wasn't. By moving the Wards, Renick effectively placed the Wards under the PRT's direct command. Instead of working with the Protectorate like we've always done, Armsmaster would have to borrow us from the PRT instead. Effectively, Renick's taken a lot of firepower away from the Protectorate with this move.

"So, anyone else think this is a load of political bullshit?" Missy said, the moment Armsmaster was out of earshot. "I mean, it's obviously about Monday, right?"

"I don't know anything more than you do." Carlos quickly added. "But you're probably right."

"I'm just surprised they didn't axe Armsmaster too." Was the question on my mind. "They both made the same 'mistake', if you want to call it that."

Lisa started grinning. "I don't think the PRT wanted to fire anyone. Some politician probably caught wind of the whole mess and the big cheeses had to get rid of someone to shut them up. PRT directors are replaceable. High rated Tinkers are not. So, yeah, what Missy said: political bullshit."

"Great." I muttered in response. "I should get going. Appointment with the shrink."

"Be nice to him." Carlos informed me. "The doctor, McGraw, he's a good guy. You can trust him."

Of course I could, as I went on my way. With a sigh, I knocked on the door and entered. The doctor was sitting in a chair that looked more at home in a living room than an actual office. He politely asked me to sit down. Phillip McGraw, his name tag said.

Dr. McGraw was a balding man with a big mustache who looked strangely non-threatening, in spite of his height and the strict-looking suit he was wearing. His posture and body-language oozed stability and calm. Paradoxically, it was unsettling. He was just too friendly. I wondered if he was the result of some experiment to generate the world's dadliest dad, if that makes any sense. At any rate, it was setting off alarm bells in my head. From his appearance, I'd guess that he wants me to relax, let my guard down, and spill all my secrets. Then again, he was a psychologist, so he might actually be well-meaning. Who knows, I might be presently surprised one day.

But I wasn't going to push my luck.

After a few minutes of sitting around, studying one another, I began: "So, how's this going to work?"

The doctor looked at me and smiled. "Well, that depends on you, Taylor. Or do you prefer Banshee?"

"Taylor's fine."

He nodded and continued: "Very well. My job is, at its core, to help people achieve their goals. What that goal is depends on you."

I blinked. It took all of my self-control not to laugh in his face. "Seriously? Does anyone actually buy that?"

To his credit, the doctor's expression didn't change at all. "If it's not that, what do you think my job is?"

"Easy. You're here to diffuse time bombs. Something bad happened to us and the PRT wants to know if we're still stable enough to function. You might think you're here to help me, but we both know that the guy sighing our paychecks doesn't. Piggot would have thrown me under a bus if she thought it was necessary and I doubt Renick's any better."

"That is a rather pessimistic way of looking at it." He said, almost mournfully.

"Doesn't mean I'm wrong. Been screwed over a lot lately. Trust is hard to come by."

"I suppose it is." The doctor calmly replied. "So why don't you trust me?"

That obvious, huh? "It's not you, really. It's just that you, like me, are part of a larger whole and the PRT will use what I say here against me if they think it's necessary."

"We have doctor/patient confidentiality. I'm morally and ethically obligated not to tell anyone what we've talked about."

If we'd met a month ago, I might have believed that. "But the PRT can and will bend the rules when it suits them. Besides, if you got the impression that I'm a threat to someone, you'd warn the director immediately."

"Yes, I would." McGraw replied. At least he was being honest. "It is my job, after all. That said, I don't get the impression you're moments away from starting a massacre."

"Really? You got all that from three minutes of conversation?" I asked, skeptically.

"I'm a good judge of character, Taylor, and your file is very extensive. Unless, of course, you think I'm wrong."

I didn't reply for a moment. "I am a threat, doctor just…not in the way you and everyone else seems to be thinking." I sighed. "The PRT lives and dies by its PR and I have two giant guns aimed at its head: Shadow Stalker and a classified matter that could probably destroy the organization if the public ever found out about it. The only reason I haven't screwed over the PRT yet is because I can't afford to burn bridges."

He nodded. "You're right, I suppose. The director is worried and he probably should be. It's his job to be worried. The PRT is important and we can't let one director's mistakes bring down the whole system. Sure, you have plenty of reasons to keep quiet, but people want assurances."

"And that's where you come in?"

He snickered. "Not really. Psychology isn't an exact science at the best of times and when capes are involved, anything I say becomes little more than an educated guess. I can give them some warning, though, which is better than nothing at all."

"That's…surprisingly honest." Too honest. I was starting to wonder what he wasn't telling me.

"You'll never trust me if I lie to you and I can't do my job if you don't have some faith in me."

"Fair enough." I admitted. "I'm just not sure what you're after."

"Like I said…"

"You want to help me. I know. That doesn't mean that being honest is in my best interest." Before he could respond, I continued. "We're all human beings in the end, Doctor. It's really easy to take things out of context and blow them way out of proportion. You wouldn't be the first to make that mistake."

"And by that you mean the other Wards?" He was on to me. God, it's like talking to Lisa. "By the way, I know what happened last Monday. You're free to talk about it with me, if you want to."

I sighed. Well, there's no harm in telling him, then. "Carlos: definitely. Lisa and Missy seem to at least understand why I've killed those people. The others…I don't know where they stand. I don't suppose you could help me with that?"

"Unfortunately, I can't." He said. Not that I had expected him to. "But that's not really the issue, I think. What I really want to know is: are you at peace with what happened?"

I thought for a while, trying to formulate the best response. It wasn't a test. They probably wouldn't kick me out of the Wards or lock me up if I gave the 'wrong' answer. Nevertheless, this was probably the most important question he'd ask. Even if they couldn't do anything major, they could still force restrictions or try pushing me around in a misguided attempt to 'help' me. A hundred small pains can be just as bad as a few big ones, as Emma had thaught me over the past few years.

Should I be honest? Should I tell him what he wanted to hear? Wouldn't he be trained to see right through them?

Fuck. Why does everything have to be a battle?

"I…I'm worried about the others. Missy is taking this particularly hard. I want to help her, well, all of them, but I'm not sure how. Team cohesion and morale has taken a huge hit and that has to be fixed, preferably before the next disaster strikes. Personally, though? I think the Boxheads had it coming. They abducted one of our own, so we hunted them. They shoot to kill, so we do the same. I'm not saying I liked doing it, but that's how these things go. Do you want to know if I feel guilty for killing them? After everything they've done? No, I don't. I didn't see a better option at the time."

"But if there had been a better option?"

Shaking my head, I answered: "If I had a wide-area foam grenades, I could have disabled those men on the roof. If I had an effective, long-range non-lethal weapon and a taser powerful enough to get through their uniforms, I could have left the shotgun and the glaive at home. We could have captured some, or even all of them alive. Unfortunately, the weapons I describe either don't exist or weren't available at the time. On top of that, we had an objective and the Boxheads would have killed me or my friends to keep us from saving Kid Win. So yes, I wouldn't have killed anyone if there'd been a better option. There just wasn't a better option to take."

"That's…understandable, I suppose. Director Piggot should have known better than to send you into a bad place like that."

I blinked. "Piggot? You think I'm blaming her?"

"She gave you the orders, didn't she?"

From an outsider's point of view, I guess that makes sense. If this whole mess was distancing me from the other Wards, it wouldn't be that surprising that I'd blame the one who ordered me to jump in. That said, I didn't have an outsider's point of view. "What was she supposed to do, let Alad win? Look, I never liked Piggot all that much but I think she did the right thing, considering the situation. If you want someone to blame, blame the Boxheads. They're the ones who escalated and forced us to kill. We just reacted accordingly."

"And that is enough for you?" How did that man stay so calm? It's like nothing I said even bothered him.

"I'm not feeling guilty, if that's what you're asking. Like I said, I'm sorry that it had to happen and I wished there had been another way, but what's done is done. Wallowing in self-pity doesn't help. Believe me, I know."

He looked at me knowingly. I think he understood, or at least pretended that he did. "Would you do it again, or to someone else? Let's say, hypothetically, that the director tells you to kill a crime lord. Kaiser, for instance? Would you do it?"

I took a few seconds to think about it. "If he had a gun pointed at me or my friends and the only way to save them would be to kill him? Yes, I would. However, it would only be as a last resort, even more so than with the Boxheads."

"Really? You think the Boxheads are worse than the Neo-Nazis?" I picked up something resembling surprise, or maybe even amusement. Well, it's something, I guess…

"They're both bad in their own way, but that's not what I meant. In spite of everything they've done, the Boxheads are small fries. Nobody cares if they die, not even Alad himself. Killing someone like Kaiser has repercussions. Big ones. He leads the most powerful gang in the city. If I kill him, the best case scenario is that Empire 88 implodes. What follows will be weeks of bloody gang warfare as different factions rip each other apart. The civilian casualties and the damage to the city would be horrifying."

"And the worst?"

"That one of Kaiser's lieutenants rallies their people and declares war on the PRT. Considering that the Empire has something like three times as many capes as we do, it's a fight we probably won't win without reinforcements and even then, there won't be a Brockton Bay left to save when the dust settles. So let's just say that killing Kaiser would be a terrible idea and I'd do everything I can to avoid it."

"A lot of people would call that double standards."

"A lot of people also think it's okay for Wards to die fighting the Endbringers while at the same time complaining every time they get into a minor scuffle in the streets." I sighed. "'Double standards' is pretty much the name of the game. Sophia Hess wouldn't have gotten away with pushing me in a locker if she wasn't a Ward."

Doctor McGraw didn't answer for a while. He just sat there, studying me again. It was unnerving.

"So, am I crazy or not?" I finally asked.

"One short conversation isn't enough to form a diagnosis, Taylor." He calmly replied. "However, if you're worried about being a danger to your teammates: Don't."

"What do I have to do, then?"

"Right now? I think you need to understand that you can't be a Wards team without being a team. You have to understand each other and their points of view. Try to remember that everyone sees the world differently, and that that's okay."

Really? That was the best advice he could give? I'm not a trained psychologist or an adult and even I know that. Seriously, what's up with this guy? It's like his intelligence yoyo's up and down. Then I remembered that these were the same people who never figured out Sophia was a psychopath. Maybe I should adjust my standards a little.

Not trusting myself to not say something insulting, I simply replied: "Okay. Thanks, I guess."

He smiled and said: "Well, I think that's enough for now. I can tell you more after I've had a talk with everyone." As I got up to leave, he added: "If Lisa's there, would you mind sending her in?" I nodded and went on my way.

I spotted Lisa on the way out. "You're up." I told her. "Oh, and try not to rip the guy apart too much."

The girl just grinned.