1.12
The sun cresting the horizon sent its rays across the study's carpet. Richard sipped his coffee as he listened to James. He knew that it was coffee. He could, on some level, smell and taste it, but it wasn't a real feeling. More of an academic notion than a feeling. The concept of taste. Just another small reminder that he was not as normal as he might like to think.
As if he could forget. Not with his link to Taylor constantly hovering in the back of his mind. She was coming; moving unerringly toward James' house. If he wanted, he could have followed the link and found her easily. If he was in a hurry, he could pulse- send a wave of his intent along the link, and she would probably call him to her side. It made him uneasy how right that concept felt. She didn't seem to have any hold over his mind, but why then did his distance from her make him so worried?
Was it because she was prone to getting into trouble? Or because she was basically his meal ticket? Because he liked and valued her? He didn't know. Regardless, he kept his focus split between Taylor and James.
"This… Herbert girl." James said. "What are your plans for her?"
"Hebert." Richard said. "I'm tied to her, so we need her on board."
"Empire material?"
Richard shrugged. "In my day, yes. I don't know how my son handles things. She's not comfortable with it though. I doubt she'll ever be a believer."
James raised an eyebrow. Richard kept imposing his memory of what James looked like over this older man who resembled his friend. He looked like James, but James didn't have those fine lines under his eyes, or the wings of gray at his temples.
"I've been soft-balling things for her so far." Richard continued. "Playing up the good stuff and downplaying the bad. Do you know who the second ghost she picked up was? Some nigger, Skidmark."
James snorted into his coffee, and then choked as the drink went up his nose.
"Fucking Skidmark?!"
Richard smirked. "I know, right? It's like he was tailor-made to be… I mean, you've met him. It's all I could do not to gut the man."
He sipped the coffee again, decided he didn't like the reminder of his abnormality, and set the mug down. James' study hadn't changed much since Richard died. The furniture and carpet were different, but the dark wood paneling was the same that he and James had installed so long ago.
"We need her on board though. I think we'll get her, too."
"Willingly, or by force?" James asked.
Richard shrugged. "The former, mostly. She's lonely. No friends, isolated because of her powers, father in a coma from a suicide attempt. Easy recruit material. I showed her a little affection and she latched onto me in a heartbeat."
James frowned at him and he hesitated.
"What?"
"It's…" James looked away, gathering his thoughts. "That's the kind of thing I expect to hear from your son. We burn through too many good capes because he uses them like tools. Gesellschaft keeps threatening to stop sending us people."
Richard checked the link again. She would be there soon.
"It's not like that." He said. "Look, I like her, I do. She's damn smart, and there's… buried treasure there. She took to leading her ghosts around like a natural. I didn't get close to her just because of what she's worth. I did it because she's a good kid and I want to help her."
"But…" James supplied.
"Did you see the news? That girl who died in her locker? That's Taylor."
"In the- Jesus, Richard! How is she still around?"
"Some aspect of her powers. I think she's channeling her own ghost in the same way that she does mine." The link told him that Taylor was coming down the street and he picked up the pace. "Look, that girl who put her in the locker? The black girl? Taylor was ready to kill her without any input from me. First blood, on a parahuman negress. Does that sound like Empire material to you?"
James looked unconvinced. "Villain material maybe, but killing that girl out of revenge is a lot different than killing her because she's black."
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "James, where's she going to go after she kills Night Fighter?"
"Shadow Stalker."
"Same difference. Who better than her good friend Allfather to welcome her into the Empire? Sure, she doesn't believe, but we show her some acceptance, keep her away from the dirty jobs, maybe find some kids her age to make friends with…"
He trailed off, letting James think about it. He could see the gears turning in his friend's head.
"And then?" James said after a moment.
Richard's smile grew wolf-like. "We get her in the Empire and we're set. Do you understand what kind of power we're talking here? How many dead Empire capes are there in Brockton Bay? How many dead villains willing to march under our banner for a second chance? We could drive the Protectorate out. Finally do the city like we wanted."
"That sounds like the Richard I remember." James said, finally smiling. "You old idealist bastard."
"Cynical prick."
They glared at each other. James broke first. He snickered before bursting into laughter. Richard lasted only a second longer before he lost it too. Their laughter filled the room, erasing the last of the lingering, unspoken tension.
After a moment, Richard raised his mug.
"To filicide."
"Dramatic as always, Richard." James said dryly before raising his own mug. "To the Empire."
Coffee made for a poor toast, but they did it anyway. And even if Richard couldn't taste his, his anticipation was flavor enough.
The easy silence that followed lasted until he noticed Taylor's signal.
"She's here." He said.
James' expression sharpened, and for the first time since reuniting, Richard recognized the man he had known.
"Showtime."
SPEAKSPEAKSPEAK
Breaking the thug's nose was amazing. The wet snapping noise of cartilage breaking, the feeling of impact jolting up my arm, the minor flash of not-pain in my knuckles. Not pleasurable in itself, but incredible with the sheer sensation.
Michael could feel things. And I felt what he felt. The feeling of his fists smashing the Merchant to a bloody pulp was my feeling as well. Even if Michael didn't feel as strongly as I had in my brief moment of un-undeath, he still felt.
He moved as I willed it. Right now, I was willing him to beat the shit out of the man we'd walked past. Some scumbag Merchant robbing a woman. Allfather would understand the delay.
I'd spent my journey with Michael using him to touch things we passed. Everything we passed, really. Walls, buildings, trash cans, stray cats, sleeping homeless, rotting fruit, rocks, bricks, more stray cats, broken metal, tires, cars, drunk homeless, a dead guy, used needles, even more stray cats… Michael liked cats.
Hitting the robber was better than all that though. I wasn't just using Michael to feel things, I was using him to help someone. I was using my powers to help someone. Yeah… that was a good thought. I could help the dead with my powers, and then help the living with the dead.
Stopping this mugging felt more right than anything I'd done with Allfather so far. I liked him, but joining the Empire? The whole thing felt wrong to me. There had to be other ways to protect Dad than that. A few short hours ago, I'd been ready to make the sacrifice and join the Empire to keep Dad safe, but things were different now.
Completing Michael's contract had changed everything. I could suddenly affect the world. Communicate with people through him. Touch things. I didn't have to rely on a bunch of finicky cape ghosts. I might be able to make it on my own. Without the Empire.
I could complete Allfather's contract and then break off- Allfather's contract!
Michael whispered a litany of curses as I took stock of what I knew.
If I completed Allfather's contract, he'd change- turn into whatever Michael was. Some kind of shadow? An echo, maybe? It didn't matter, because I knew that the person named Michael Paulson was gone. I could feel the changes wrought in his shard. It was like it had been overwritten. Where Michael had been, there was only me now. It seemed like there were some remnants- Michael liked cats more than I did. But those remnants were just that- they were leftovers; imprints on the shard.
And if Allfather got what he wanted, he'd end up just like Michael.
I punched the mugger one final time. I relished the sticky feeling of bloody knuckles on skin, but my overall excitement was shot. Even my euphoria about possibly returning to life couldn't stand in the face of what I'd just realized.
The Merchant was a mass of bruises, and he'd lost consciousness at some point, but he'd had it coming. I had Michael throw him in a dumpster.
It was awkward controlling Michael. Like watching myself move on camera. I moved the me that was him, but I was watching through the me that was me's eyes.
"Ma'am?" I said, helping the woman up. Her face was swollen and bruised, and her mouth bloody. "Are you alright?"
She was shaking, and I tried patting her reassuringly on the shoulder.
"Y-y-you." She gasped. "Th-thank you."
The me that was me got a little tearful at that. I might have just saved her life. My first time interacting with a person in so long, and she was grateful to me!
"Do you need me to call the police?" I said through Michael.
"I've got a ph-phone. If you don't m-mind, you c-c-" The woman couldn't get any more words out before she burst into tears, throwing her arms around Michael. She sobbed uncontrollably into his chest, clutching him for dear life. Clutching me
Just for a moment, I lost myself in the contact.
Returning her hug was even better than beating up the mugger.
SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK
I left Michael with the woman. If I ordered him to do something, he'd basically go on auto-pilot. So I commanded him to stay and keep her safe until help arrived. It was pretty strange seeing him move autonomously when I'd just had total control of him.
The me that was me went on my way, moving determinedly now. The rest of the journey was uneventful. I started taking shortcuts, cutting straight through buildings and houses to get there faster. Allfather needed to know the truth.
The guilt was staggering. This was as bad as with Dad. I'd hurt another person because of my ignorance of my power. Now Allfather would pay the price, just like Dad had.
My fault.
This was all my fault.
When Michael returned to my power, his job done, I left him unsummoned.
Looking at him made me feel sick.
The house was large and well-kept, in the middle of an upper-class neighborhood I'd never been through before. I assumed it was Krieg's, but it wasn't what I expected from a Nazi supervillain. Having Allfather had shattered most of my preconceptions already, but the normality still threw me off. It was one thing to know that all the supervillains running around Brockton Bay went home to their wife and kids, and another to see it. Skidmark's filthy warehouse had been more in line with what I expected.
I found Allfather sitting in the study, having coffee with another man. Allfather was unmasked, his helmet sitting on the coffee table. He rose to greet me as I walked through the door.
"Taylor." Allfather gestured to me for the man's benefit. "This is James. You might know him better as Krieg."
James was tall and lean. His build made me think that he'd worked hard to keep fit even into middle-age. He smiled politely, but it did little to soften his stern features.
He stood as well, looking at a point about a foot to the left of me.
"Miss Hebert, it's a pleasure to have you here."
My first instinct was to summon Michael so I could talk to James. I smashed the impulse down. He'd just make things worse.
"Allfather, can we talk alone for a minute?" I said. "Something important happened after you left me."
Allfather blinked, looking taken-aback. "Oh? James and I were just planning out my return to the Empire."
"This is related to that. I need to talk to you before we do anything else."
He took in my grave expression and nodded. His eye didn't leave me as he relayed my question to James. I wasn't used to being able to see his face. The worry I saw there only made me feel worse.
James gathered up the coffee mugs. "Take your time, Richard. The kids will be up soon and I've got to make their lunches."
He left through a side door, leaving me with Allfather. I sat down in the spot that James had vacated. Allfather returned to his seat, leaning forward, concern now clear on his face.
"What's wrong?" He said.
"When you left, I helped Michael with his deal. I…" My stomach churned as I tried to figure out how to say it. How was I supposed to tell him? What did you say to someone when you were responsible for their imminent death? Allfather waited patiently while I searched for the words. None came to me, and I squirmed awkwardly on the couch.
Finally, I just bit the bullet and summoned Michael.
What followed was nightmarish.
I explained my powers in detail, as best I knew. And then I explained exactly how I'd damned him with my own stupidity. Allfather mostly stayed quiet, but his expression grew darker with every word I spoke.
When I finished, I thought that he might scream at me, or start breaking things, but he didn't. He just sat there, staring between me and Michael in stony silence. I stayed quiet, letting him process things.
Gradually, emotion edged its way into his blank mask. He had the same expression I'd worn after I died. Utter, mind-numbing despair. He didn't cry though. I didn't expect him to. What he was feeling was too big to be expressed through something as simple as tears. This was world-shattering.
I had destroyed him.
Eventually, I went to sit beside him. I didn't know what else to do. He was coming to terms with the fact that if he completed his contract, he would essentially die again. Dealing with the fact that I'd cheated him out of his dreams. That he was on borrowed time.
"I'm sorry." I said.
This was my fault. I'd given him false hope; a second chance at everything he'd ever wanted. The Empire, Iron Rain, Brockton Bay. All of it an empty promise.
"I'm sorry, Allfather."
It was long minutes before he spoke to me.
"Damn you." He hissed. "You goddamn bitch. What right do you have to apologize? You offered me the world and- God dammit. My second chance was a joke! It was a devil's bargain, you- you- y-"
His voice broke.
Without thinking, I pulled him into a hug, resting his head against my heart.
I thought he would push me away, but he didn't.
He kept his face against my chest, his whole body heaving.
The front of my shirt felt damp. I didn't look down.
We had no body heat to share.