Chapter One: I Do Not Have a Savior Complex
I awoke to my alarm: The sonorous renditions of Bad Canary. Consciousness chased away hazy dreams of hulking monsters, dark storms, and the uncaring face of a gold-enwreathed god.
Groaning, I slipped out of my warm sheet cocoon, pausing to luxuriate in the cold of early morning that spilled from the window. No reason to have a repeat of yesterday's events. I closed my window and started on my morning ablutions.
One shower and hair care treatment later, I was ready to face the new day.
Ha! No crisis this time!
My internal jubilation at surviving this perfectly mundane morning routine went unnoticed by Cody waiting down the hall as I stalked out of the bathroom. Or maybe he did. The smile on my face wouldn't go away, and I was humming along to my favorite Bad Canary song. Sue me, I was happy today. Despite the trials and tribulations coming my way, despite the ramifications I still needed to come to terms with, despite yesterday's stress, I was optimistic.
Hopefully, my family didn't think I was bipolar or having bouts of depression.
I caught Mom and Dad on their way out of the house. They normally rode together in the van to the PRT building.
"Morning Sweetheart," "Have a good day Sweety," quick hugs were exchanged before they had to be off.
Alright, it was breakfast time. Today, I was going to have a real breakfast (I am a proponent of hearty egg based breakfasts).
Pan out. Eggs, sausage, spinach, onions. The ingredients were arranged and the burner set to a medium heat. Ten minutes of cook time produced an acceptable plate of scrambled eggs. Now for the coup de grâce. A generous dose of hot sauce from the burnt orange bottle labeled "Volcanic Hot Sauce".
It wasn't long before Danny and Cody joined me at the dining table. I had, of course, made enough servings for the three of us. Seeing the extra portions, my siblings took up my unvocalized offer, filling up their own plates with some eggy goodness. Sans the hot sauce. More for me then.
Beyond the clinks of silverware on ceramics, the silence in the room was a comfortable one born of many companionable breakfasts spent between us.
Danny left first, "Have a good day you two!"
She got a chorus of "You too!" and "Mhm" in response.
We finished not long after, tidied up the kitchen, and set off.
It's only the first class of the day, and I'm already facing a dilemma. It should be apparent by now to any outside observer that athleticism is not one of my strong suits. Outside of PE, the most strenuous exercise I did regularly was operating stage equipment.
Now Mr. Johnson, my teacher for Health Science and Physical Education, is a firm believer that students in his class should push themselves. He did not expect anyone to exceed their limits, but students caught slacking in the effort department were liable to receive a markdown on their semester grade.
All that is to say, it would be mightily suspicious if little ole me, who flagged after just a couple of warm up laps, suddenly showed the endurance of a professional athlete. For you see, my Stamina would let me breeze through the entire class, and I don't know how to turn it off.
I tried any phrase and mental trick I could think of to no avail. I was the last girl in the locker room, and if I didn't hurry, I would be late to class.
Ok, plan B. I'll pretend to get tired. I had no idea how to convincingly fake exhaustion beyond breathing harder, and a great actor I was not. What could possibly go wrong?
Well, class started off fine. Warm up stretches are no big deal. Nobody gets winded from those. Then came the laps. Do I always run this fast? Should I slow down? It was difficult for me to judge my speed relative to my past self because this felt so effortless.
A joyful, childlike part of me wanted to let loose all inhibitions and sprint at full speed. To really press the limits of my Stamina. I took that part of myself and slapped it about the head until she keeled over dizzy. I will not out myself in PE.
Instead, I gradually reduced my speed and forced myself to breathe harder. A wave of lightheadedness threatened to strip me of my consciousness.
Maybe don't breathe that hard, Sam, I admonished myself while slowing my breathing to non-hyperventilation levels.
Mr. Johnson called a stop. You know, for us to catch our breath. Ha ha. Nobody called me out, so I'll take that victory for now. The Stamina bar wasn't even below the halfway point!
We spent the rest of class doing today's activity/sport which turned out to be dodgeball. This was perfect! Plan C: Play recklessly and get hit.
The shrill tone of the whistle pierced the air marking the start of the match. A mad rush to the center line ensued. Determinedly, I pushed my leg muscles as hard as they could go. This was it. I was the first to reach the middle. Scooping up the foam ball of doom, I took aim at the other team's nearest target. His look of surprise brought a smile to my lips.
My arm swung back, bicep tensed. It will be so satisfying to kamikaze the other team before going out in a blaze of glory. I whipped the ball forwards and released.
The dodgeball slammed into the ground in front of my target to his stunned surprise, bouncing harmlessly away just as another came hurtling into my side.
"Oof," I stumbled to the left.
"Brown, out!" came the teacher's referee call.
Hehe, turns out Stamina does not make me any better at dodgeball. Plan C was successful.
It turns out that no exertion equals no sweating. Goodbye after-gym showers. I could take a shower to keep up appearances, but… Nah. Nobody was paying that close attention to me, and it isn't like I'm the only girl to skip out on them.
Computer Studies was next up on the agenda. As one of only two classes I shared with any of my friends (the other being Art), I looked forward to it.
Cass was already seated at our corner workstation, so I took the chair next to hers. Unlike Winslow, our school had money to spend on educating students; the sleek desktops did not represent state of the art, top of the line hardware, but their computing power outstripped the ancient machines poor Taylor had been subjected to several times over. Also unlike Taylor's computer class, there would be no time to browse PHO or any other sites. Mrs. Wellager kept unruly students on task. Tasks that were not trivial but rather posed a challenge to lazy students.
In this unit, we were constructing a website using the programming language we had learned the previous semester. Convenient website building software like Squarespace did not yet exist on Earth Bet the same way they do on Samuel's Earth. Instead, the vast majority of projects were created entirely on the backend.
"Alright Sam, I think we should get started on the UX elements," I was grateful that Cass took classwork as seriously as I did. Playtime could come later, "Can you handle the GUI?"
At the start of the project, we decided that Cass would handle more of the backend functionality while I handled the design elements.
"No problemo."
Cass blew a strand of hair out of her face and I tugged my braid over my shoulder. Yup, we meant serious business.
The lunch bell rang, dismissing us from our furious coding. Side by side, we walked to the cafeteria.
The selection today was… fine I suppose. Money can't solve every problem. School food will always be school food.
Looks like today's topic of conversation is Ymena's latest boy band obsession. She and Jasmine were gathered over her phone looking at posts Ymena had saved. For such a small girl, she sure had a powerful squeal. Cass joined in, looking a bit interested. Meanwhile, I was only paying half attention.
Forcing myself not to look over at the other table, my mind was consumed by the Dallon sisters. What could I do to help them? What should I do?
There was nowhere for me to even begin. We are not friends. We are not acquaintances. Amy and Vicky do not know me, but I know them. How much do I really know though? Second hand snippets originating from a dramatized version of an alternate timeline of events did not a thorough or conclusive character study make. Disregarding the many fan fiction portrayals, Wildblow's retelling of events never covered Amy or Vicky in their daily life. Worm contained their darkest secrets and most vulnerable moments but nothing that could help me connect with them as people. And most of those moments weren't even from their own perspectives! Taylor Hebert was not exactly a reliable narrator at the best of times, so add in her adversarial relationship with New Wave and the heroes, and you get the worst possible representation of the Dallons.
No, shoving Amy's shameful secrets in her face wouldn't endear me to Amy or her sister. But I felt like I had to do something. What do I know about them? Not Samuel. Not some community of shippers from another reality. What do I know?
Well, Victoria, Glory Girl, has an outgoing, exuberant personality always at the eye of the hurricane that is Arcadia gossip. She patrols regularly, fighting crime with her brute strength, invulnerability, and flight. The quintessential Alexandria package. And she's in an on again off again relationship with Dean Stansfield.
Her sister is the polar opposite. Quiet, introverted, and blunt are all words that people would use to describe Amy. Her powers are nominally to heal any injury as long as it's not brain related. The Bay's beloved healer spends volunteer hours in rotating shifts at the city's various hospitals. When she's not in the ER or at home, you can usually find her not far from Vicky.
Okay, not a lot to go on for building a rapport. What did Worm have to say about the Dallons? Firstly, Amy Dallon's birth name was Amelia Claire Lavere. She was adopted by the Dallons after a raid by New Wave sent Marquis, her father, to the Birdcage. Carol Dallon, known under her hero name as Brandish, was Amy's adoptive mother. Why she chose to adopt Amy, I'm not entirely sure. Samuel's memories seem to recall that there was potential reprisal from Marquis' enemies. In either case, Carol chose to adopt a child that she did not want and did not love. Thus, Amy grew up knowing her mother mistrusted her.
Secondly, the girl had some serious issues with her own power. It seemed to me that a combination of Carol Dallon's paranoia and the societal pressure placed on anyone with a power remotely approaching biotinkering are the causes of Panacea's power insecurity.
Last but not least, Amy's incestuous love of Victoria amplified her other problems. She hates herself for loving her sister, so she restricts the use of her power to curb the temptation to use it on Vicky. Not using her power in novel ways causes her Shard to flood her brain with negative emotions, causing Amy to hate herself. And on and on in a vicious cycle. A negative feedback loop that remains inescapable until her psyche snaps. Not to mention that while Wildblow never confirmed the fact, it is highly probable that Vicky's emotional aura is responsible for Pavlovian conditioning Amy into loving her!
Urgh! The deeper I dive into Amy's awful life, the angrier I get. She does not deserve the treatment she got in the original timeline. Where does Carol get off punishing Amy when Vicky is the irresponsible, collateral damage causing, blatant master power abusing nuisance, and Amy has to clean up after Vicky's messes?
Okay, okay, I'm being unfair to Glory Girl. There's no doubt that she cares about her sister and being a hero. She just… needs to learn control before it's too late. For herself and her family.
And Amy needs to learn to let loose in productive ways. Those sisters are truly polar opposites.
Decision time. Do I interfere or not? Knowing what I know, how it all goes down without me in the picture, how an entire family of heroes is ruined by the fallout, there's only one answer I could give: I'm going to save New Wave.
Or at least the Dallon sisters. Carol, Sarah, and Neil should have done better, and Mark has severe clinical depression.
Since when am I on a first name basis with the New Wave adults? Eh, worry about that later.
I should get back to the conversation before my friends start thinking I'm acting weird again. Back to the gossip mill. Aaaaaand they're all looking my way.
"Pay up," Ymena rubbed her fingers together in the penny pinching universal sign for "gimme the money", a smug grin on her face.
"Ugh," Cass handed over a five dollar bill.
Jasmine hid her giggles behind her hand, although not very well as her upper chest was shaking with mirth.
"Um, what's up?" I tried lamely to reinsert myself back into the group.
Jasmine doubled over in laughter. The virus spread to the rest of my friends. It infected Ymena first, her face scrunching up as hyena cackles echoed out into the lunch room. Not long after, Cass's lips twitched. Alas, her immune system must have been compromised, as the virus morphed the twitch into a full on smile.
Nearby tables were turned our way, curious to what could have caused such raucous laughter. My cheeks heated up. I'm sure everyone within twenty feet could see reddening like a tomato.
"What's so funny guys?" I'm not socially inept. I could tell they were laughing because of me. I just didn't know what was so funny. I had missed some vital part of the conversation.
Jasmine was the one to respond, sputtering out an explanation, "I'm sor- I'm sor-sorry Sam," more giggles, "It's just-j-just that you were staring off at-at the p-popular table," intersperse uncontrolled giggling, "with this look on your face. So-so s-serious and," Jasmine broke down unable to continue amidst the giggles.
"You were totally eyeing up buff blondie!" Ymena blurted the whole sentence before her volume tripled into hysterical cackling.
"Ymena bet me you'd eye fuck Dallon again today. I lost the bet," not Cass too!
When did I turn towards their group? I can't remember at all. Gosh, my absentmindedness was becoming a full on problem.
I covered my face with my hands before sputtering out sounds resembling English, "I just-I-I mean-you guys-mrph urghhhhh."
This of course was a mistake because Jasmine and Cass just laughed harder. Ymena had already surpassed the limit of normal human laughter. The PRT should classify her cackles as a Blaster 1 rating.
That got some attention. At least half of the cafeteria was tuned into our table now. Ohmygosh, how embarrassing.
After far too long, many apologies from my one and only friend Jasmine, and enough embarrassment to power a nuclear plant, the two stooges finally calmed down to a level where polite discussion was possible.
Hoping to not set off another round of amusement I spoke in my defense, "I was not eye f.. I was not eyeing up Victoria Dallon," Good start me. Plausible deniability is great, but now what? "I was just-I was just thinking about how lonely Amy looked," Hold up, I feel like I'm moving into dangerous territory.
"Ohhhhhhh myyyyy," Ymena took my words the wrong way, pretending to fan her cheeks. The grin on her face could give a certain blonde haired, green eyed, know it all supervillain a run for her money.
As if she could feel shame about anything.
"It's not like that!"
"I think the lady doth protest too much," Not Cass too! "Pay up," she mirrored Ymena's earlier mocking pose. Ymena begrudgingly tore $10 from her wallet and slapped it into Cass's waiting palm.
"You think Amy looks lonely?" Jasmine's question caught me off guard. Her face was serious.
The shift in the atmosphere spread to my other friends, joviality leaking out and replaced by ponderous expressions.
Not seeing any way to back out of the topic now, I pushed forward with a partial truth, "Yeah. I don't want to intrude on her or anything, but doesn't it just seem like Amy doesn't fit in with the rest of the group? I've never seen her say more than a sentence to anyone besides her sister. I think maybe she only sits with them because Vicky's there?"
I got a litany of responses, "So you're not into Amy?", "Since when is she 'Vicky' to you?", "You're serious about this."
I responded to Jasmine, "Yeah, I am."
"So, and I really don't mean to come off as condescending Sam, but what are you planning to do about it? What if she wants to be left alone. Will you try to strike up a conversation with her? Invite her over to our table?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know."
"It's admirable to want to help others when you see them suffering. It's one of the traits I like about you Sam. But not every situation requires your interference. You're making assumptions here that she's unhappy without really getting to know her. Maybe she is miserable, or maybe she's just a quiet person by nature. Perhaps there are other stresses in her life that we don't know about."
Dang it Jasmine. How am I supposed to rebut such a reasonable argument? When you don't know what I know…
"Okay, yeah. You have a point. But. It can't hurt to just talk to her?"
"It can hurt if you enter with the wrong attitude. If you go in there with the expectation that she'll open up her heart to you, it will be all too easy to alienate her. She'll see you as patronizing even if you have pure intentions. And if you try to start an innocent chat but end up pushing her too fast, you'll run into the same troubles."
"So what, I don't have any in? I should just drop it right?"
"I'm not saying that Sam. I think you need to find the right approach. Try to find some other point of connection between the two of you, and work from there."
Cass interjected with her own suggestion, "Why don't you sit with their group sometime? If you act polite and interested in their whole drama mill schtick, you can get in at the preppies table. Worm your way next to Amy and bam, now you get to talk over lunch. Don't worry, we'll always reserve a spot for you and Amy when you woo her away from their demented clutches."
Ymena butted in, "Not a bad idea, but you should attack from a higher angle. You gotta go after the other sister first. The Dallons are real close. If you can convince Victoria that you're on the side of the angels, then she'll convince Amy and, presto, you've got her ear."
I wasn't so sure about that strategy for reasons Ymena couldn't possibly know, "I'm not so certain about that plan. What if Amy thinks I'm using her sister just to get to her?"
Or that I'm taking her sister away from her.
Ymena responded, "Are you going to use her sister? There's no reason you can't befriend both of them?"
I am defeated yet again by reasoning and logic.
"Alright. I'll see if I can catch both of them together sometime. Get a three way conversation going so Amy feels involved," This was probably the best plan I was going to come up with.
SPEECH INCREASED TO 3
My life is a cosmic joke.