Cygnet 1.6
{Name for a young swan.}
I finished the day out without any further incident, and at night returned to my room in time for curfew. After the excitement of the rest of the day, it almost felt like a letdown.
I stood, looking at it from the doorway. It seemed so empty, I thought maybe it'd feel different once I had my own room.
The absence of the computer was an aching void, but I did still have my books… I hoped Sveta was going to be okay. She didn't have many opportunities to talk to people, though she did mention Dragon video chatted with her fairly often.
I lay down on the bed and started to read.
The clock changed, time moving like molasses. I wasn't sure why I'd thought it'd be different… but I found myself thinking that it was supposed to. I'd been thinking that a lot lately, it seemed. After a few hours, I stood, and started pacing. I had too much energy, and there wasn't enough to hold my attention.
I paced for about twenty minutes and lay down again, cycled through Oliver Twist, my notebooks, and my art pads. Maybe I'd try coming up with a costume again for when I got out?
I ended up sketching a web detailing the other patients, and the doctors I had met, their relation to each other.
The hours ground on at a snail's pace, I definitely needed a computer.
...
I might have held my breath the first time I pushed the door open. I don't know why, or what I expected would happen if I wasn't allowed out. An alarm or something? It'd probably just… not open…or something.
But it did open, and I felt a little sheepish stepping out into the empty hall. Once out, I wondered what I'd do; curfew was over at seven, I had an hour free until breakfast and nothing to fill the time. But I steeled my nerves and lifted my head. I'd just have to find something. I could do that.
I wandered through the hall. The exercise room was occupied, a pair of patients… Uh, that was Lethe and… Fusor. They were both running on the treadmills, side by side in sweats. A couple orderlies loitered by the wall.
I needed to get some sweats… I'd ask Doctor Yamada about that. I glanced at my socks and slippers- some sneakers too.
I didn't really have anything to exercise in, but I wandered through the machines, taking a closer look. I experimentally tried the barbell machine. I could barely manage a curl at twenty five pounds. It was kind of sad.
I gave Lethe a wave and she smiled back at me, but I kept one eye on her bird-thing. It sat perched on one of the shoulder machines, snapping its beak.
My power resonated with a constant low-key thrum of danger from it. Lethe's control was not constant- I had a suspicion that it was tied to giving her familiar commands. When it a not actively involved in a task it would act on instinct, and was very territorial. But as long as I kept my distance I'd be fine. Lethe caught my hesitance and her smile faded a little.
"Good morning Taylor!" It was a little forced.
"Morning Lethe." I replied, trying to put a little extra warmth into my reply. She'd tried very hard to make me feel welcomed in my first group meeting, and was a hero through and through. As Falconer she had shown up for two Endbringer fights before her familiar had proven too dangerous to allow in public. "Do you and Fusor always run together?"
Fusor glanced my way, but said nothing, and continued his steady jog.
"Well, for a while." Lethe said, a little breathlessly. She was setting a brisk pace, her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was slicked to her forehead.
Lethe herself was a slightly stocky woman, with freckles and curly brown hair. Perhaps in contrast to her sharp and angular familiar.
Fusor just grunted, concentrating with singular intensity on the treadmill's heartrate readout. He had yet to say a single word to me, and didn't say much to anyone else either.
Someone else entered, Cidersong- Benny. His gangly limbs at odds with the sweat suit. In clashing turquoise and bright red. I gave it a dubious look, was he colorblind?
His smile was bright, however, and the moment he saw me, he bounded over.
"Good morning!" He crowed.
Disorientation, distance. Ability to impede.
"Morning Benny," I said, "You working out too?"
"Indeed!" He thumped his chest dramatically, "One day I will be a renowned hero, hailed worldwide for my daring exploits! If I am to do so, I will need to exert myself most strenuously! The Protectorate doesn't let just anyone in!"
"Really?" Really. In fact, he launched into a detailed explanation for his training regimen and his career plans. They featured a line of action figures with themed variants of his costume in eye-searing shades.
I smiled, he was just… such a kid. All that honest, earnest, endless enthusiasm. I was reasonably certain that he got all of it from watching television, but he truly believed in the idea of being a hero and didn't know how to speak in anything but exclamation points.
I sat on one of the weight benches and watched as he attempted to use the other machines. I felt a little better about my showing, he struggled almost as much as I did. I guess he wasn't a Brute.
Lethe and Fusor left, I waved to them as they did and Lethe waved back. Fusor's sour scowl didn't change at all.
One of the orderlies came by, distributing water bottles and towels and washing down the machines. A sturdy, broad-shouldered man with dark skin- I had to double take, it was the orderly from the cafeteria who had been talking to Mimi, trying to calm her down. His nametag read Lars, and after he gave Benny his water bottle, he recognized me too.
I waved, "Hi."
He smiled broadly, "Good morning! Not exercising today?"
"I don't have any sweats. Or shoes," I said.
"Oh. I can get you set up if you want- exercise uniforms are available for all patients." He look out a notepad, "I'll ask, see what we have, okay? Might be able to set you up today."
I… really appreciated that. I'd enjoyed playing against Heather, and it'd be something to fill the hours with. "Thank you." I scuffed my slippered feet on the rubber mats and stared at the floor.
"I ougtta thank you," Lars replied, "You helping calm Burnscar down really saved me back there."
"You can call me Taylor." I smiled, then frowned, "And… she doesn't like that name."
Lars shrugged broad shoulders, "The staff isn't allowed to use private names for the patients in public. Protection of identity. There's a couple of others that don't like what they're called, but won't pick something else." His face was grave.
I chewed on that for a minute, and watched Benny struggle with the lateral lift machine. Well, I suppose it made sense, there were villains here, and some of the heroes might go back to active hero work after they were discharged.
I was lost in thought, as Benny wrestled with the weights and talked to himself.
But…
"She really hates it." I muttered, pulling in a little. I hugged a knee to my chest. I remembered how Mimi had fluctuated between tears and rage. She hadn't chosen that name for herself.
What did she associate it with? She haden't had time to build a career prior to being implies that Burnscar was an appellation the Asylum staff came up with. Which is pretty fucked up, considering that it refers to her self-mutilation and her mental illness. She can't be burned because of her powers, so her cigarette marks had to be pre-trigger.
"That's what we gotta do."
I nodded and stood up. It was almost breakfast time and I didn't feel like watching Benny wrestle with the machines any longer. I just wanted to… move. Move and think.
On the threshold Lars' voice stopped me, "Hey, some of the docs hate it too."
I glanced back at him. He was smiling a little lopsidedly, and sadly. I tried to smile back, and left.
...
"I've never really known what to do with blank paper." Nick confessed, as he stared at a lonely circle on his page. His pen wavered idly, and I sympathized.
"I know," I said, "I always hate it- 'draw whatever you want' and nothing comes." I had a squiggly, meandering line that I was trying to shoehorn into something, anything in my head. I tried rotating my humble canvas, looking at it from a fresh angle. Maybe I'd switch over to watercolors.
Breakfast was followed by something Doctor Yamada had suggested I try- a 'creative therapy workshop', which was like arts and crafts in middle school.
No, wait, it was exactly like being back in school.
The workshop was set up in a room with ceramic tile floors and one full wall of locked cabinets. There were two counters with that black resin stuff you saw in chemistry class. Probably to simplify cleaning.
There was paints and pencils, mostly, but nurse Stevens mentioned there were potter's wheels and clay, woodcrafts, even Legos- by the bucketful. They had to be kept in designated public areas and times, however, since some patients (mostly Tinkers) would take the materials and hoard them.
The supervising nurse stressed that we were not allowed to take anything out of the room, and did this enough that I didn't even wonder if some Tinker had taken them and built something before.
Of course someone had. Of course.
Nick was taking the workshop too, but not Heather- which honestly might have been for the best. I also saw Benny, who was trying valiantly and energetically to turn his own sheet of paper into some kind of Picasso and Gogh still life (what of, was not clear), and the tiny blonde girl that I was pretty sure had been sitting on the ceiling in the sunroom the day of my orientation.
I was pretty sure, because she was sitting on the ceiling again. This time with a fistful of markers and a length of butcher's paper. She lay on her stomach, legs idly kicking in the air as she drew. Almost all of it was even on the paper.
"I used to draw all the time, back at home." I said, "But I haven't had much inspiration since..." Since the alley. And the hospital. "Since I came here I guess."
I hadn't felt very creative at all. But… I think that was passing. I took another look at the squiggle, turned the page again.
The nurse was mostly concerned with Benny, since he was getting paint everywhere. Hmm. That might be something. I started working on the line of the desk, Benny's energetic movements and the nurse bending over the desk kind of worked themselves into the squiggle…
Well, I didn't think I'd be winning any competitions, but it was something.
"I had a dog," Nick said, "… Called her Snickers."
I looked up from my paper. Nick was propping his cheek up on his arm, wistfully staring across the cabinets.
"Used to walk her with Dad." He said, "Play fetch in the woods, she'd chase everything that could run."
There was a deep melancholy, in his expression. I turned my power on him, but it was impossible to be sure- was it the loss of the dog, his father, or the freedom of the outdoors? It could have been all of them, and none. He'd been here longer than me, all of those things were something I didn't have… and Dad was a painful place in my heart, but it was already a distant one.
I'd been too young when he died to hold onto it, and I had happier times since then to dull his loss. What about Nick? Had it been a transition from some life changing horror to this empty, lifeless place?
I turned back to my paper, and started to draw the girl. I hadn't caught her name. She was positioned above Benny and the nurse. The streamer of butcher's paper on my page was longer, trailing off behind and below the desk under her.
A shadow passed overhead. I looked up to find the subject of my drawing staring back at me.
She wordlessly extended a hand, pointing. Well, I was mostly just bored anyway- I handed her the page.
She curled up, floating in the air as she studied what I'd drawn and I watched her in turn. It was fascinating, she was just… floating there. My power hinted at her power. Some kind of area-effect dealing with objects around her, including her own body. Telekinesis? Something more nuanced?
"It's pretty," The little flying girl said, quietly, hushed.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Audrey." She had a faint lisp, and looked right at my face when she handed my paper back to me, "You're good drawin'," she whispered.
I smiled at her and, slowly, she smiled back.
...
"The name the staff use is 'Alpha Lyrae'. She never had a name outside Alchemilla." Nick answered, "I, uh, I think a couple of the Doctors named her Audrey. Part of her therapy, I think."
"How do you mean?" I asked.
"She was an orphan or something, the PRT just found her one day up in New York." Nick scuffed his feet as he walked, "She barely talks. I think she was a Ward for a little while, but she had some kind of fit, I guess? It was in the news, I think."
He shrugged, scuffing his slippers. I hmmed.
We were walking to lunch, art therapy over. I felt a little better, but Audrey's shy smile bothered me. Just like Nick's hesitance bothered me, and Mimi's hesitant… I tried to put a word to it. Unfamiliarity? Like she wasn't shy, not the way Nick was, but she wasn't used to people talking to her.
Nick himself... It was a little strange, I… didn't think that his power tampered with his brain. It wasn't intrusive, not like Mimi's, or like Sveta's. He came across as… a little anemic, I guess. Just kind of substantial and lethargic, and thin, he always kind of faded into the background around Heather. But she was a bit off-center so maybe that wasn't really fair. He just seemed a little washed out and sad. Depressed? I didn't know.
The chirpy, annoying, automated, pointless PA announcements softly continued overhead.
Alchemilla is a world-renowned psychiatric health center specializing in inpatient treatment. Our Psychiatrists, physicians, and licensed professionals are board certified to meet the mental health needs of-
"I just…" I tried, "She seems pretty well-adjusted." Which was a backhanded compliment if I'd ever given one, damn it, but she was just a little kid. I couldn't imagine her belonging here let alone living here for more than a year. What would that do to someone? Someone as young as she was? She couldn't have been older than ten!
"I don't know her very well," Nick admitted. Nick shrugged again, and tried to smile but it ended up more of a grimace.
Again, the itch. My power pinged, he was using his, or, it was active. If he couldn't turn it off, it had to be working almost all the time. That happened a lot, usually accompanied by shame and almost physical pain. "Nick... what's your power?" I asked.
Nick jerked like I'd struck him, shrank back a little. "Uh…"
I crossed my arms, "I know you used it just now and…"
"I…" He stared at the floor, "It's nothing special."
"Nick… it hurt you. I know you can't turn it off, but that's all I know." I frowned, severely. At least, I hoped that was how it looked. I didn't think I did severe very well. My glasses made my eyes too wide for it to really take most of the time. It made me look like a large-eyed bird, and when I was younger it only served to get my cheeks pinched.
He was quiet for a moment, then mumbled something so quiet I couldn't catch it.
"What?"
He was pale and his hands shook, and the explanation came out in a rush, "You won't like me any more if I do."
I blinked. Why wouldn't I like him? It felt truthful, but also… shallow? Empty? I'd never felt something like that before, not from someone I was talking to. Voice and inflection were both correct, but I could feel a hollowness- insincerity without the intent to deceive. Did he not mean it? Maybe it was mechanical response, rote reaction? Maybe he didn't like to think about it? Prior experience?
-and a variety of of innovative new mental health treatments-
His expression flickered between fear and apprehension, and shame. Burning shame. "Would you feel better about it if I promised not to?" I asked softly.
Nick jerked and shook his head quickly, "Um, no, can't you tell- your power?"
"No, I try not to… um, invade people's privacy. If I can avoid it." I did. It was harder, if I touched them. "I don't look, if I can help it. But I know a little, just standing near you. You're a Thinker, it has something to do with emotion, I think. You can't turn it off, but it causes you discomfort sometimes, and it just did a moment ago."
Nick nodded slowly, eyes darting up to mine, then down to the floor guiltily. "I… I know what you're ashamed of, or afraid of. What people are afraid of."
I leaned back a bit at that, in surprise. That was… I stalled as I organized my thoughts, "Ah?" I breathed faintly, thinking. What would that be like, to know the most disgusting, most shameful secrets of everyone I ever met? Before I knew anything else about them? What would that be like? But I did know, didn't I?
I touched on my power, and blinked at how afraid he was.
His shoulders were drawn in, hunched forward- the instinctive reaction to anticipated injury. He was bracing for my rejection, or fear. I knew what that felt like, I knew what it was like.
"That's kind of like my power, too, you know?"
Nick met my gaze. I smiled, and ever so slowly, he returned it.
...
Benny had lunch with us. Heather too.
And as Benny didn't have an off switch and Heather didn't have any restraint of any kind, so our table ended up a little crowded and chaotic. I wasn't alone, actually I felt a little crowded. It felt so strange, so different from my first few days.
Benny waved his arms in wide, exaggerated motions as the regaled Heather with a story of his great exploits. I'd heard it three times, and tuned it out, content to eat my sandwich, a little withdrawn from them.
"-And then he fell down the stairs, so I picked myself up and ran to find security- bravely, of course!"
I still wasn't sure if Benny's stories were driven by his sense of humor, or by a disconnect to reality. But they had me smiling all the same.
Lunch was… nice.
Afterwards we all gravitated towards the sunroom. I saw Charnel, seated motionless in the corner by the bookshelf, hands clasped loosely in her lap. She looked like she was asleep, nodded off with her hair obscuring her face. The heavyset man with the orange scrubs was back napping on one of the easy chairs, snoring quietly.
"Want to watch anything?" asked Heather, "We're got all the classics. How's Die Hard sound?" Benny and Nick made approving sounds.
Heather and Benny gravitated to the television, grabbing the remote and looking over the movie library. Nick sat down on the empty couch. I didn't particularly like Die Hard, but I hadn't watched any movies in a while. I kind of drifted across the room while Heather and Benny struggled for the remote to set it all up.
I glanced at the heavy man in the easy chair, and out of curiosity turned my power on him- and to my surprise, he was awake. Awake, and very aware.
I hesitated, then gave the apparently-asleep man a smile, "Um, h-hello?"
He snored quietly, and his breathing shifted slightly. If I didn't have a power that told me otherwise, I'd have thought he was actually asleep.
"I know you're not asleep." I said, "Why are you pretending?"
He opened an eye and looked at me, and yawned lightly, "Hello again." He grumbled.
I remembered him from my first group meeting, and he'd been napping in the sunroom that first day. But for the life of my I couldn't remember his name. I didn't think we'd ever been formally introduced.
"Taylor." I held out my hand.
"Blake." Obligingly, he shook my hand. "And you're Auspice."
I blinked at him, "Just Taylor is fine."
Blake leaned back and winked slowly, "Maser, once upon a time. Used to run with some guys up in Jersey." Blake said.
He'd been a cape? I frowned and thought back. Not a recent name, I was sure about that. I started mentally backtracking. Blake's face fell a little as the silence stretch on- It took me a moment to connect the name with who he meant, and no wonder, I'd been a toddler when that name meant something.
The blood left my face in a cold rush, and I felt a little weak in the knees. My eyes couldn't widen any further if they tried, but he just brightened and laughed. "Oh, you know most of the time it's the Heroes that get all tangled up in knots when I tell 'em that. You sure you weren't a hero?"
"Uh, no. I-I wasn't."
He raised an eyebrow, and his smile dimmed again. "Relax, kid, I'm retired." He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
Maser had definitely been a villain. He'd made a big name for himself in a number of New Jersey gangs shortly after capes stopped being an urban legend, working as hired muscle. He didn't have the Marquis' invincible reputation, but he'd been strong. Oh, he was no Alexandria or Legend, no Eidolon, and certainly no Hero. But he'd been a big name before the Protectorate had been a formal institution, that carried weight.
Maser had disappeared about eight years ago, jst fallen off the face of the planet. And it was a big deal because he was one of a handful of capes that were powerful- truly powerful, back when they stepped out of the shadows.
Why was he here?
I hadn't heard anything about any kind of meltdown- not the sudden kind that usually ended in explosions and a chase that ended at the lip of one of the craters. And that's the kind of thing that usually accompanied a sudden vanishing act like that.
That had happened, not too long ago. I tried to remember the name- it had been a Ward from Pennsylvania, but the name eluded me. All I could recall was the news had been full of that last shot, of a tiny, distant figure running and crawling down the fog-shrouded slope towards the center of the crater in Michigan, towards the faint light that always illuminated the lake at the bottom; until it was swallowed up in the distance and the mist.
There was full coverage for days afterwards whenever it happened, especially if it was a Hero. There was always a lot of collateral.
But… I wasn't getting that impression off Blake. He seemed very laid back, and his stare, from lazy half-lidded eyes was intelligent and assessing.
"You are not insane." I decided.
"That a fact?" Blake replied, and after I gave him a hesitant nod he grunted, "Figured you're smart."
He leaned forward a little, "Tell you a secret, about half the people here are insane, the rest are just dangerous, or people want them locked away and can't send 'em to the 'Cage." He winked again, "Take me- I walk up to the front door and tell 'em I'd like somewhere to retire to where Accord or Chain Man or whoever isn't going to come busting down my door some day because I let myself get fat and slow. Tell 'em I want to retire and I'd like to cut them a deal." He winked again, "See, me? I'm one of the strongest Artilleries in the business, but I can do controlled too. And they got a lot of head cases here, one or two even with a lot of power. So, I tell 'em I can help out if someone gets rowdy. All I ask for is three square meals, a comfortable bed, and no head shrinking."
I blinked at him owlishly, "You… you aren't even a patient?"
"Didn't say that." He flicked his fingers up, and I followed the gesture… Someone had taken a marker and scrawled under the lip of the divider between the cafeteria and the Sunroom, up where you didn't notice unless you knew where to look-
"In a mad world, only the mad are sane." I read.
"Talk to Charnal, been here longer than I have. That girl knows more than she lets on. If you can puzzle through what she says, she is one of the crazy ones." I turned back to Blake, but he was leaned back, and with one last grin and secretive wink, he went back to pretending to be asleep.
I thought about the line, hidden above the door, and additional patients drifted into the sunroom. The huge, obese woman puffing and wheezing, the rocking man (he walked very slowly, with both hands fisted at his temples). Benny and Heather were in a quiet argument attempting to decipher the workings of the television.
("I know what I'm doing- so what, they updated the system."
"I don't think they changed it…" Nick hazarded.
"But what about-"
"No, wait, I found the manual." Nick lifted it triumphantly and Heather immediately snatched it from his hand.)
I didn't feel like getting in the way of that. Would my power even work on that kind of problem? I wondered…
They did, eventually, manage to get Die Hard working much to Heather's cheer. The movie began, and more patients gravitated towards the sunroom. Heather and Benny both lay on the floor, with the remote. Nick sat beside Heather, and I flanked our little group on Benny's side.
A couple additional patients gravitated towards the television as Bruce Willis struggled with the vagaries of holiday travel. I found the patients more interesting than the movie. That one, the balding middle aged man with dark hair washing his hands over and over again with an antiseptic wipe, he was a Tinker- something to do with Composition or Content. That one over there, in the cafeteria the obese woman, she had a strange one, she could…
A chill ran down my spine. There- I could see the little doll-person. Marionette. She was perched on the back of the couch, smiling widely right at me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.
Doctor Yamada had said she'd be in solitary for three weeks! How was she here?
Was she alone?
My eyes darted from face to face. There were nearly a dozen patients gathered in the room at this point. I couldn't be sure- no there! Lizard Prince was lurking in the back, on one of the chairs along with Blake. The girl with the tentacle hair was there too, Inkling. The rest of the gang was out in the Cafeteria. I could see them at the table closest to the Sunroom, talking. Quilt darted a furtive glance my way.
I turned back to the movie, swallowing, and stared at the screen without seeing it. Why were they here? No- first, what could I find out using my power? I took a deep breath, and I loosened my mental hold on it, and turned it on them each.
I closed my eyes and focused on the attention on me- the focus. There were enough people in the room that I had to really sort through what I was picking up, pick through the wordless conversations around me to find the words I wanted to hear. To listen to. The three out in the cafeteria were too far away for me to get a firm impression. Marionette was flush with anger and a malicious impulse for mischief. It was so clear I could tell from where I sat. Lizard Prince, he was much more nebulous. Consideration, cool calculation. But it was more focused, the aim unclear, but narrow.
Marionette hopped down from the back of the couch and walked back to him. I couldn't hear them talking over the movie, and the sound of my heartbeat. But… I wasn't picking up immediate danger. Whatever Marionette was planning or intending; she was going to bide her time. Or I wasn't familiar with enough to pick it up of her. It could fall either way, probably.
And neither option made the stares on the back of my head any easier to bear.
From the back of the room, I could feel their stares. I turned around and looked at Lizard Prince and Marionette; and shark like, they smiled back.