"Remember, your papers are due next month, and your rough drafts need to be on my desk or in my inbox by midnight Monday. I won't be available after class today, so if you have questions, you are going to need to talk to me Monday morning at eight. Everyone have a good weekend."
Her class stood and gathered their books, talked in murmurs, and drifted towards the auditorium exit.
Normally, when her last class let let out, Annette took her time as well, stopping to hear her students' questions, voiced complaints and ideas. But today she was on a timer. Which was why, when Lindsey Keine peeled away from the rest, following her, she gave a heartfelt sigh. "Professor, Professor Hebert?"
"Lindsey, I don't have a lot of time today." Annette said, "I've posted my schedule this month. You knew this was coming."
"I know professor, I know, I just-"
"Walk with me." Annette sighed, and Lindsey matched her pace, a brisk walk that had Lindsey trotting to match her longer stride.
"I wanted to do something with, with advent." Lindsey said, "Parahumans have impacted every level of life the world over, and I wanted to compare something before and after the advent-"
Linsey was a good student. Bright, motivated, a little more technical than creative- but that had its place. She had a habit of completely disregarding any guidelines in favor of whatever creative epiphanies she did have when she happened to have any.
"Lindsey, have you discussed this new direction with your group?" Annette cut her off.
"I- um- I did bounce some ideas... Not the full thing, no."
"If you want to change your project that drastically, you'll need to talk to the rest of your group and then email me. Like I said, I will be accepting email submissions. And, if you get it to me by the Monday deadline, I'll accept it."
"Yes Professor." Lindsey deflated a bit.
"See you Monday." Annette said, and left her behind.
Lindsey wasn't a bad kid, and certainly not a terrible student, she just needed to work with her classmates more. What really grated on Annette's nerves was that she was a bit of a cape geek, a tendency which reminded Annette of... of Taylor. It was unfair to think of her students- any of them -that way, but it was what it was.
She sighed.
Annette kept up the pace out into the parking lot, where grey clouds lent the August afternoon a dim cast, found her ageing blue ford, and pulled out and into the afternoon collage traffic.
She headed north, trying to ignore the gang tags on the billboards, a crowned skull painted over blocky letters- E88. The college disrict was left behind as she turned on to an overpass, and all of Brockton spread out under her. The Medhall building towered to the left, and out to her right, the water of the Bay.
Annette headed north towards the Boardwalk, and there the stylized dragon head of the ABB clashed with the coy wink of the Fae. In some places the tags layered on top of one another in a confused jumble. The Teeth's bloody grin, E88's pretentious gothic lettering and swastikas, ABB with dragons and kanji. A few rarer tags, belonging to minor gangs that tried their hand and failed. And the crowned skull. The Marche was as emblematic of Brockton Bay as the shipping industry it was built on and the Marquis had held court in the Bay for twenty years and more. Even while the shipping industry began to struggle, parahumans, and the Marquis, defined Brockton.
As if drawn by that line of thinking, Annette let her gaze drift from the road, out over the boats... Danny always loved boats...
Out on the water, the Protectorate rig dwarfed the boats, towering like a collection of dull grey building blocks on stilts. There was a symbol on the city-side of the rig, a shield and wings, stars and stripes and a motto in Latin. The headquarters of the Protectorate East-North-East.
Annette turned her eyes back to the road before she caused an accident.
She turned off the overpass, followed the turnoff back to ground level. The boardwalk was part of the nicer side of town, with orderly storefronts and neighborhoods that were clean and graffiti-free. Closer to the water it was glitzy, in a way no other part of town was, the piers and beach and the promenade were always busy, even now as the tourist season wound down. The Prom was always open and always lit; where factories had closed and the economic slump drawn on, the Boardwalk had remained vibrant.
Gang signs were not nonexistent, but they were rarer, and not found everywhere. As the nicer side of town, the Protectorate had a regular presence here. And where there were gang signs, the dragons were replaced by the winking eyes- ever since the Fae had pushed the ABB out a few weeks before.
Annette was not sure what to think of the Fae.
Lung was a beast. The face you thought of when a new vigilante was made an example of, when automatic fire erupted somewhere far away in the night, or when a girl disappeared... The ABB being gone from the boardwalk was a good thing. But, as always, another gang had replaced them- and the Boardwalk was still holding its breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Annette turned off the main road, into a neighborhood with trees and two story houses. She pulled up to a house with a garage, a tree in the front yard, and grass just beginning to need cutting; where a girl sat pensively on the front porch, a small suitcase sat beside her. Her hair was red and came to her shoulders- she was pretty. It was almost a juxtaposition whenever Annette saw her and Taylor together- Emma was the pretty one, Taylor was the tall one.
Before, Emma had been full of energy, and it had never failed to bleed over into those around her. Annette had seen that in action, with Taylor. Bringing out smiles in her on her low days, after Danny died. She wasn't smiling now, but she was moving. Fidgeting.
Emma looked up, "Aunt Annette!" she jumped to her feet and walked over as Annette opened the door. She was wearing a comfortable blouse, jeans, with a handbag and sneakers. The drive would be several hours and the stay overnight at a hotel while they visited, followed by the drive home Sunday. Annette's own suitcase was already in the trunk.
"I need to talk to Zoe before we head out, all right?" Annette asked, and popped the trunk for Emma.
"Sure." Emma shrugged, lugging her suitcase to the car.
Annette opened the door and stepped in the the Barnes' household. The front hall's welcome mat muffled the sound of her flats. Zoe was reading at the kitchen table, papers arrayed in front of her.
"Hey Zoe." Annette greeted tiredly.
Zoe stood up, dropping the pamphlet she'd been reading on top of the pile in front of her, "Ready to go?"
"Yeah, Emma's waiting, just wanted to see if you'd heard anything."
After Danny had died, the girls had gravitated together much as Annette and Zoe had. And after her close brush with death, and what that had cost Taylor, Annette had subscribed to the neighborhood watch, and Zoe had followed suit. Annette recognized the pamphlet on the table. She had already read it once, but felt drawn to pick it up regardless. It was plain white paper, and looked like it had been run off a library photocopier en-mass.
'Know Where You Are:
The area extending west of Ferry Station North, including most of the Boardwalk and the factories, is believed to be under claim by the parahuman gang 'The Fae', after a successful upset of the ABB.
The Fae are led by woman acting under the moniker 'Ingenue'. she is believed to be a Trump with emotional and mental manipulation capabilities. Ingenue has a history of acting indirectly, directing her victims in violent rampages. Ingenue is considered highly dangerous and capable of acting both overtly and covertly.
Her ulterior motives are unknown. However, Ingenue is known as an accomplished actress and has engaged in acts of corporate espionage and fraud. Due to the subtle nature of her powers, anyone experiencing violent or suicidal impulses, sudden mood swings, sudden fixations, or other erratic behavior, is advised to seek help from law enforcement, emergency services, and the PRT immediately.
The pamphlet went on to list the known parahuman members of the Fae- Tattletale, a teenager or young woman and relative unknown, speculated to be a Thinker; and Bitch, a girl who controlled monsterous dogs. The pamphlet also noted The Fae possessed a small core organization; either mercenaries, or other hardened sorts recruited for muscle.
Annette had done her research, Bitch had a public record, and a name, Racheal Lindt. She had a long list of foster homes, and had assault, robbery, and homicide on her public record. It struck her as odd that a minor's record would be public like that... But it wasn't something she could use to help Taylor right now. Annette sighed and dropped the pamphlet to the table.
"Any word?"
Zoe shook her head, "Still waiting. There's some talk that the Butcher's rallying to try something, but no telling if the targets will be the Fae, or ABB, or the Marquis."
"It's better than nothing."
Brockton had one of the densest parahuman populations in the United States. Possibly in the first world. There were demographics more heavily weighted towards parahumans in the third world, in Africa and the Middle East, but not in America. In addition to the gangs, there were fourteen known independents in Brockton at the moment. Harsh Mistress, Iron Falcon, Oaf, Vitiator, Saurian... nine members of the Brockton Bay Brigade. The Brockton Bay Brigade was the most visible of the home-brew Brockton white hats. They were photogenic, strong, famous, and after more than a decade continued to fight the gangs with some success. The independents tended to rally around them, a loose alliance of sorts headed by Lady Photon's charisma, Manpower's strength, and Brandish's intensity.
But... Taylor had always been one who stood a little apart from the rest. If Zoe haden't been Annette's best friend, would she have become friends with Emma? Would she have found anyone, or would she have remained alone through her childhood? And, now that she was a parahuman, who would look out for Taylor when- not if -she came home?
The life of an independant parahuman in Brockton didn't have any hard numbers. The national average was five months, without being recruited into a gang, joining the Protectoarate or a larger hero organization. Many, very many, died young and anonymous.
Zoe's hand settled on Annette's shoulder, startling her out of the dark turn her thoughts had taken.
"She'll be all right, Ann." Zoe said, "Go. Emma's been looking forward to this for weeks, and I know you have too." Zoe punched Annette lightly in the arm, "Got 'em?"
Annette smiled a little, "I got 'em."
"Good, now get going Ann. Taylor needs you."
(•͈⌔•͈ ﾂ
"You ready, Emma?"
"Yeah, let's go."
Annette pulled out, and they drove north, headed for the highway, and then for the interstate. Annette asked about school, and sports, and Emma gave short replies. Annette found herself withdrawing into ther own thoughts as well.
Capes had interested Annette, when she was younger. Why wouldn't they have? They were the great mystery off the century, unfolding in front of her eyes.
She had watched old tapes as a wide-eyed teenager, of the advent, the fiery meteors falling from the sky, appearing midair, vanishing mid-fall. The strange lights and clouds, the colored sky. Lightening and the fire, shadows and shapes, hands and ghostly figures. The plumes of smoke and fire, the crash and rolling rumble with each impact.
She had watched with chills and goosebumps and wide eyes.
Parahumans were huge and frightening, or inspiring, and always drew you in. People flocked to them, good people, bad people, and people that didn't care which they were- and a parahuman could say whatever they wanted, do whatever they wanted, because they appeared powerful. Larger than life. Mysterious.
It had always seemed a distant thing, something that happened on the news. Or a place you heard about but had never been.
All that changed when she became the parent of a parahuman. Suddenly it wasn't a curiosity.
After Taylor triggered, Annette had thrown herself into learning as much about the world of parahumans as she could. It hadn't been some far-off colorful fantasy world any more. Not something that she could pick up when she was interested and put down when she wanted. It was Taylor's life now, she had to be prepared for what that entailed.
Annette was painfully reminded her of her college years, Venus Dawn had been like that, Lustrum's idea of a new feminism. Her movement. It had been all the rage on campus, and the gravity had pulled Annette in for a while.
She had gone to a few meetings, put up posters and handed out flyers once or twice, but it hadn't been about the idea- it had been about being part of what someone with powers was doing. She would have said that she was a supporter of Lustrum, but would have had difficulties pinpointing a particular idea that Lustrum espoused that she really resonated with. Venus Dawn always presented a vague, militant subtext, while many of the women who gravitated to it had genuine grievances, Lustrum always dictated what the result needed to be. So, when her result became insanity, Venus Dawn followed suit.
Annette had been glad that she drifted away from Venus Dawn, before the end. The insanity that had consumed Lustrum and her followers had passed her by.
She had gotten lucky. She'd found Danny.
The highway traffic was sparse leaving Brockton Bay, the rush hour was only starting to pick up, and Annette had most of the road to herself. Emma sat silently, listening to the radio and fiddled with her phone listlessly.
She was nodding out before they crossed the city limits, and sound asleep minutes later.
Annette watched her in the mirrors as she drove. She was pale. Had she lost weight?
Emma was very different from Taylor. They had grown together, and in some ways Annette had raised her as much as Zoe had. But, Annette never understood her the way she could Taylor. Emma was different from Taylor. Taylor was easier, simpler; she was shy, she introverted when confronted, was more comfortable with new books than new people- often hiding behind Emma in unfamiliar situations. Taylor's social circle was borrowed from Emma, and her social growth for as long as Annette had raised her had always been something that followed or emulated Emma's.
The road fell away behind them as Annete drove, signs for Boston began to appear along the highway, Alchemilla was located in the town of Centralia, the location, Annette understood, ideal due to its proximity to Boston and the major Protectorate presence there, but Alchemilla itself was located far outside the city limits. She turned off the interstate, onto the highway, flanked on every side by trees as they snaked their way up hills. With the trees around them, there was an illusion of isolation on that stretch of asphault.
They passed a gas station, and Annette pulled over. They still had half a tank, but Annette liked driving with a full tank.
Emma stirred, blinking sleepily and sitting up straight. Annette was amused to note her trying to hide the trail of drool she brushed away from her chin, "Whuha?"
"Still an hour out." Annette said, "Stopping for gas."
"Oh." Emma had bed head, a tuft stuck up like a ducktail.
Annette started pumping, and leaned against the side of the car, "How's school, Emma?"
Emma said nothing.
Her school year had gotton off to a rocky start, at first it had seemed like she was simply having difficulty making the adjustment from middle school to high school. But then both her parents had both mentioned her withdrawing from them, her lack of enthusiasm, and a reluctance to talk about school in general. She didn't want to participate in any clubs or teams. She had a lot of sick days. It wasn't until Emma can home with a cut lip that Zoe had wondered if Emma was being bullied.
Winslow was not a great school. There were longstanding gang problems, particularly under the ABB. That had hardly changed with the change of territories, the gangs had a presence in most Brockton schools and the fighting out in the streets was repeated in microcosm in the hallways. The recent upset of the ABB's traditional territory sent ripples down through the Brockton underworld's power structure, maybe even into the schools that the gangs recruited from.
Annette consoled herself that it could have been worse, the ABB had been known to pressure pretty girls in high school, trap them with drugs or threats of violence, and force them into prostitution. Some of them vanished and were never heard from again.
Emma had never had a problem making friends, navigating the social circles in middle school, but Winslow was a completely different jungle. The school system was experiencing a resurgence of gang violence as the power structure in Brockton realigned. What would that mean for a lone, pretty girl new to the unfamiliar social landscape?
"You know you can talk to me, Emma?" Annette said, "About anything."
Emma looked out the window, away from her. Her silence made Annette feel still more helpless, and angry. She wasn't sure how to help Emma. She didn't know how to help Taylor, and the helplessness made her feel hollow.
Back on the road, the quiet rumble of the car's engine was the only sound. Emma still wasn't talking, she was withdrawn, her body language defensive, shoulders pulled in.
Annette remembered the last time she had felt afraid for the future. Uncertain.
It had been Danny. They'd met at the height of the Dawn, which made it all the stranger when they hit it off- he was studying maritime economics, she was studying classical literature. They had so little in common.
After the fracas that Venus Dawn had devolved to, Lustrum and several other parahumans had been sent to Baumann Penitentiary. The Birdcage, and Annette had sat watching the television and the news utterly numb. She'd spent a whole week cold, in shock. People had been hurt. People had been killed.
She had been part of it. That had nearly been her.
Danny had pulled her out of that. He'd told her about his life. His temper, that he was afraid of. About his classes. About how trackless he'd felt, growing up. How uncertain he'd felt, thinking about his future. He'd been looking for something to dedicate himself to, like her. He understood, a little, of the shock. Of what she was going through.
Annette shook away the memories.
There were no other cars on the road, and it had been some time since Annette had seen one. Ahead, the turnoff to Alchemilla appeared. Annette took it in, and her eyes widened, she swerved to the side of the road with a squeak of brakes. Emma yelped, But Annette sat at the wheel, staring at the road.
Vines were crawling across the asphalt, the trees moved.
In the distance something rose in a long line over the trees- Annette didn't realize what it was at first. It was a wall of stone, statues, a cliff, all jumbled together- rising out of the ground. Higher, higher, higher still- reaching until it cast a shadow over them.
Annette unfastened her seat belt, opened the door and stepped outside in a trance, staring up at it. The road ahead began to shift. It was suddenly a hill, the trees grew taller, taller. Emma gave a little scream, half out of the car door. Annette stumbled over to her, the shifting incline made walking awkward. She reached Emma and seized her shoulders, hugging her tight. They both huddled by the car as a mountain grew above them.
Annette stared up at the imposing cliff wall, and remembered that behind all the glitter and glamour- behind even the illusion of power, and behind the cultivated image, in the end what parahumans had always done best was make her feel small.