(A/N: Disclaimer warning for mature language: high school girls can be vicious. Also, to those of you who haven't yet, I still require your eternal servitude (sign here). Also, did I mention there's AU elements? Anywhere? No? Oh well.)
"Son, you coming down or what?" I heard from downstairs. I turned off the rushing water of my bathroom sink, spitting my mouth rinse into the drain.
"In a minute, just give me a second!" I shouted back.
I slightly wet my hair, the dirty blonde length of hair inherited from my mother making it difficult to style. Difficult, but not impossible. I spread a paste through it, styling it over to one side. Finished, I washed my hands and looked into my gray-blue eyes and readied myself for the next part of my morning routine.
"You've got this. You. Got this. First day back at Winslow, don't blow it. No cape talk, no… him talk," I told myself, pointing at the mirror. My daily ritual done, I put up my toiletries and grabbed my backpack, quickly stepping down the stairs into the living room. It was an open floor plan, with a TV on one end and a couch sitting in the middle, various family pictures and shelves on the wall.
Some would say two stories and a twenty-five hundred square foot house is too much for two people, but my father and I got along fairly nicely for a downtown suburb.
"Tamks, daf," I thank, shoving my mouth full of the jellied toast he set on the kitchen table.
"Speak with your mouth empty, how many times?" he asked, sizzling bacon on the not quite modern stove. The same could be said for the rest of the house, but we made do.
"Until it's inconvenient," I said, forking the eggs and bacon off my freshly acquired plate.
"Would it be inconvenient to tell you the bus is coming?" my dad asked, the roar of a bus roaring down the street.
"Shoot, thanks dad!" I panicked, grabbing my bag and running out the door and a strip of bacon half hanging out of my mouth.. Thankfully, the driver had just stopped at my house, allowing me on. I made my way toward the back where the high school kids usually sat. Settling in, I got ready for another day at the worst place in Brockton Bay: school.
A dark hand slammed itself against the next locker over from mine, startling me.
"Andre, Jesus, you nearly made me crap myself!" I yelled, the grinning face of a tall, lanky figure sliding into the corner of my vision.
"One day, I am going to get you to swear, if it's the last thing I do," he teased.
"And one day, you're going to take things seriously," I said. I shut my locker, zipping up my backpack and hoisting it over my shoulder.
"Have you checked PHO? The forum's gon-" Andre began, interrupted by a short, chubby interloper.
"Have you guys checked PHO? There's some new capes in town and the thread's going insane!" Greg Veder said just a little too loudly.
"Yeah, I was just telling him," Andre said, trying to emphasize that Greg was intruding. Unfortunately, with Greg being Greg, he couldn't see the writing on the wall if it was surrounded by neon lights.
"I mean, they've got a bog-standard Striker with the usual energy power, but the other two are insane!" Greg said, excitement in his tone as we walked through the school to class.
I bristled as he dissed my power, but let it slide. I couldn't really prove him wrong about the utility of my power without showing him, and as nice as Greg is, he's the last person you would trust with a secret identity.
"Requisition might seem like a knock off Miss Militia at first, but then you notice he actually knows how to fight and when to dodge, and then you realize he's a grab-bag cape. Super cool. Stampede seems to be some kind of infinitely variable dinosaur, and if that isn't-"
"Greg, buddy, it's my first day back. Can I please just try to enjoy it?" I cut him off, giving him a look. Unfortunately, Greg Veder.
"Oh, sorry, you're usually into cape stuff. Welcome back. I'm sorry about-"
"Don't say his name. Please. Just go away Greg," I said, turning into my classroom. I mouthed I'm sorry to Andre, a panicked look on his face as I left him with damage control. They continued walking on while I took my seat, several other students already in the class.
I sat near the middle, where the teacher would ask me questions, but not always call on me. While I did try to get good grades, I'd found I worked best when left to my own devices. I pulled out my english book for homeroom and slipped what I'd dubbed my 'cape journal' over it.
Finally, the last of the students attending took their seats as the bell rang. Mrs. Gladous, our homeroom teacher, walked in and shuffled some papers on her desk, pushing up her spectacles and fluffing her bun before starting class. She was the classic English teacher, nearing retirement and a mission to make our lives miserable as we struggled through our native language.
"Now then, if you would please open your books to page…" Mrs. Gladous began, her voice droning on as I tuned her out to focus on my cape journal.
Merchant Capes:
Mush, double resist to thunder, double weakness to water, elderseal effective.
Skidmark, resist to thunder, elderseal effective.
Trainwreck and Squealer, baseline humans (no resistances/weaknesses), mechs are weak to thunder.
E88 Capes:
Hookwolf
"...Mr. Halifax, since you seem so intent on studying the book, could you please tell me the issue with this example?' Mrs. Gladous said, interrupting my train of thought.
"The dialog feels stinted. While grammatically correct, the usage of alternative signifying language such as retorted, replied, and inquired would make the sentence read easier," I responded.
"Good answer, Mr. Halifax. Now, if everyone would please turn to page…"
Fight the merchants as a group, they can get nasty. E88 are a do not engage scenario unless thoroughly prepared. Don't even step in ABB territory, even though Lung is…
I perked up as class ended, packing my books and slinging my bag over my shoulder and kept my journal out, making entries as I walked.
Empire cape fights start with HW, Crick, and ST as the "enforcers," avoid confrontation unless as a team, still unfeasible. Keep hitting their bottom line and…
I paused, looking up to take notes of the equation on the board, Mr. Ellis emphasizing we'd be using it heavily in the next semester. Since Christmas break was coming up, he was trying to cram in as much review as possible before finals on Thursday and Friday. He was a wiry man with glasses, and most wouldn't assume he was a resident of Brockton with how unsure of himself he was at times. The equation jotted down in my math notebook, I turned back to my journal.
Merchant capes are not as powerful on their own, but together are troublesome. Pick a fight and use counters. Mush and trainwreck are the powerhouses, target first. Stampede and I are uniquely….
I heard giggling behind me and to my right, sighing as I snapped my book shut. I wasn't going to be able to focus with that incessant noise. Mr. Gladly was explaining the geopolitics of Cape organizations around the globe, but that's not what caught my attention. A spit wad flew through the air, landing in the hair of a dark-haired and lanky girl near the front. Another giggle came from Madison Clements, antagonist extraordinaire.
While she didn't have the brute force or the ammunition of the others in the Bitches Three, sharing almost all her classes with Taylor tended to give her ample time to build on their campaign. And as much as it burned my blood to see it happen, I couldn't do anything. Not for a lack of trying, of course. I'd tried notifying teachers and reaching out to counselors, but I was either turned away, threatened, or straight up ignored. It was frustrating, and if it hadn't been for…for Mickey, I would've stepped in and done something. It's what he would've done.
"Alright class, that's it for today, might as well get to lunch early. I'll stay and speak with anyone who still have questions about the Capes in Society research paper due next semester. Luke, I know you've been gone for the last month, come see me later," Mr. Gladly said, addressing me as he finished class.
"Sure, I'll see you later sir," I replied halfheartedly. If I wanted a good seat in the cafeteria, I'd better get going now. As I made my way down the hall, I heard a commotion near the end of the hallway. A crowd of onlookers had gathered to watch, and what I saw sickened me.
The Bitches Three were assembled around the crouched figure of Taylor Hebert, Sophia with her arms crossed and sneering, Emma with her hands on her hips and Madison ready to jump in. They were laying into her, insult after insult. I tried to ignore it, I really did. I was near the other end of the crowd when my blood was set on fire, almost literally.
"Y'know, I'm not surprised your mom went and died on you. A whole like you would be such a disappointment to their parents. I bet she even enjoyed it. 'Oh, how my whole child disappoints me so.' I bet she even asked your dad to help!" Emma taunted, her voice sickening sweet.
I barely restrained my power before shoving through the crowd and pushed Emma away from Taylor. She fell hard, scrambling on the ground and letting out a cry of pain. I dodged a punch from Sophia and hoisted Taylor to her feet, setting her behind me. At this point, Madison had retreated into the crowd. I stared defiantly at Sophia as Emma got back up.
"So the bitch has a knight in shining armor now, huh? What'd she do to win you over? Get on her knees and-"
"Shut the fuck up before I do it for you," I cut her off, Emma looking more confused than anything that I spoke up.
"Fuckers like you are why I hate this place," Sophia jibed, throwing another punch. I stood my ground, letting my brute rating tank the hit. Taylor was cowering behind me, muttering something under her breath.
"The hell?" Sophia muttered while she threw another punch. This time, she hit me center mass, some of the impact making its way through. Almost instinctually, my power activated in self-defense, activating a small charge of thunder element and reading Sophia. With a cry of pain Sophia jumped back like she'd just stuck her hand in an electrical socket and doubled over in pain. I was similarly stunned but for different reasons. Double weakness to thunder. Weakness to dragon. Elderseal effective. Sophia Hess is a Cape?!
I stumbled back, struggling to keep my balance before a trembling Taylor. Before Sophia could recover, a throat cleared behind me.
"Excuse me, but what is going on here?" a cruel, witch-like voice said.
"Principal Blackwell! This fucker assaulted me!" Sophia cried, her tone and stance changing completely as she recovered herself.
"Is that so? Mr. Halifax, Ms. Hebert, to my office please," the principal said, not letting me or Taylor get a word in.
When I tried to speak up, she gave me a tsk and beckoned for me to follow. I looked back at the Bitches Three, a smug look on all their faces, even if Sophia's was forced.
"Are we clear?" Principal Blackwell finished, her tirade against me finished.
"But I-" I tried to say, A shushing motion cutting me off.
"But NOTHING! You will adhere to school policy, or I will be forced to take extreme disciplinary action. Am. I. Clear?" She reiterated, hands on her spartan desk.
"Crystal, ma'am," I spat, my chair screeching from the force of standing up. I slammed her door shut behind me, a satisfying tirade of yelling coming from behind. Thankfully, she had a hallway office, so we didn't need to deal with the odd look from a receptionist.
"You didn't have to do that."
"I'm sorry?" I asked, a small voice from the chair to my right calling out to me. Before Taylor could respond, Blackwell called her into her office. With a withered look, she walked in and another ten-minute tirade erupted from Blackwell. When the witch was finished, Taylor stepped out, somehow looking even worse.
"I-"
"You didn't have to do that, earlier," she told me, speaking up. She looked up at me, a surprising amount of anger present.
"I'll be honest, I was going to walk away. I've tried to get help," I started, a scoff making its way from the teen, "and none of it ever helped. I was going to walk past and hope not to get involved."
"What changed?" Taylor asked sarcastically, leaning against the wall. She crossed her arms, waiting for my response.
"I…I lost someone close to me recently. His name was Mickey. That's why I've been out of school for the last month. If I'd known they would debase themselves using your mom as a weapon, I would've taken more drastic measures sooner," I explained.
"You didn't," Taylor said, an eyebrow arching.
"I know, and I'm sorry. But I couldn't just let them use her like that. Call it projecting or whatever, but if someone used Mickey like that I…" I trailed off, turning to stare at the ceiling and lean against the wall. Frankly, I didn't know what I would do if someone taunted me with Mick's death, but the end result wouldn't be pretty. Hell, even that thought scares me. Turning back, I saw Taylor staring at the floor.
"I get it, I do. I just don't get why they get to run free when we're the ones suffering," she muttered, her shoulders slumping. I felt thunder crackle through my veins as I remembered what I'd learned from my good look at Sophia.
"I think I know why they get away with everything," I told Taylor, her head whipping up at me.
Double weakness to thunder. Elderseal effective. Damnit, of all the people to discover had a secret identity…
I pounded a fist against the wall, anger at the situation coursing through me, a charge of thunder element unintentionally discharging in response to my emotions. There was a loud popabove me and the sound of glass shattering, the security camera above Blackwell's office smoking. With a panicked look at Taylor, we bolted away from the door, neither of us willing to risk Blackwell's wrath.
"The hell was that?!" Taylor panted, out of breath from our run from the principal's office and across the school.
"I think it was a power surge. Whole building's about to fall apart, I swear," I lied, hoping she wouldn't think too hard about it.
"Still, what were you saying about them?" Taylor asked, pushing herself upright.
"I don't think I can say, but I think I have an idea of how we can take them down," I replied, a grin spreading across my face as I recalled the camera I'd just unintentionally destroyed. Taylor listened carefully as I detailed my brewing plot, a look of hope and a toothy grin of her own forming as she realized what I was planning
Splat!
For a school with an actual budget, Arcadia seemed to have no issue providing runny mashed potatoes from its supposedly state-of-the-art cafeteria. Most people wouldn't mind, and most don't. That is, of course, if you weren't sucked into the social hurricane known as Victoria Dallon, A.K.A Glory Girl, A.K.A., Collateral Damage Barbie.
"Like, seriously, don't they know these things aren't supposed to run like a crook I'm threatening with a dumpster?" said hero complained, the mashed potatoes running off her spoon, which was already suspended several feet above the lunch table, held aloft by a similarly floating girl.
"Maybe if you tried eating without the floating, it would actually go in your mouth," I responded, my own food carefully spooned into my mouth as I attempted to study my pre-calc workbook. Operating word, attempted.
"You are such a party pooper, J. I get you're like, super smart, but you can't fly. There's nothing like it! Once you go up, you never want to go down!" Vicky said, her voice breathy as she slowly rose higher.
If only you knew.
"Victoria Dallon, be seated this instant, or I swear I will shove this ladle so far up your-"
"Sitting!" Vicky shouted, the threat of the lunch lady more than enough to get the teenage whirlwind to sit down. Of course, calling her a 'lady' was being kind. Ms. Engleman was less woman and more beast, with ripping muscles, fiery red hair, and a temper to match. How she was still the head chef was astounding.
"I swear, she has to have a brute rating, you know?" I heard from my right, Johnny swallowing his own river of mashed potatoes.
"Considering how PRT ratings work, I believe it. Heck, I bet she'd be rated master, too. I've never seen anyone tell Vicky off like that and not end up under a car. Or defenestrated. Or in a dumpster. Or-" Chris began, a smile growing on my lips as Vicky's face turned a shade to match Ms. Engleman's hair.
"I get it! I have anger issues. I'm seeing someone for that, you know," Vicky said after a deep, calming breath. A good thing she did as I rubbed the spot where scales had been forming along my arm in response to her anger aura. I was lucky I decided to wear a long-sleeved shirt today, or else I would've had to answer some very odd questions.
"And we're all the better for it. How's your mom doing, by the way?" Johnny asked, twirling some spaghetti around his fork.
"She's… better. Sarah and I went to see her last weekend. She didn't scream my head off, so, progress," Vicky replied dejectedly.
"Hey, at least she can recognize you. I've seen some people who never recover from that kind of shock," Johnny told her, a comforting arm on the hero's back.
"Yeah, I know. After she went after Mar- wait, when have you seen people with psychotic breaks before?" Vicky asked, her train of thought derailing from Johnny's response.
"I live in ABB central. What did you expect, sunshine and roses? Living under Lung isn't all that great. I'm just lucky they've never tried to recruit me," Johnny said, shivering at the thought.
"You got me. So, Vicky, you got any plans tonight?" I asked, changing the topic.
"Weeeeell, I was going to go see a movie, but I have several extra tickets with no one to go with. Whatever shall I do?" she asked dramatically. I smirked, knowing what she'd ask next. "Say, would you, my sisters and brothers from other mothers be willing to come?"
"I'd like to, I really would, but I have plans with some friends tonight. Very exciting plans, right Johnny?" I told the totally not pouting teen.
"Er, um, yeah, exciting stuff!" he hurriedly replied, shoving spaghetti in his mouth. Way to go, Johnny, the worst liar I knew. How he, the most stoic and reasonable guy I knew, couldn't even fib was beyond me.
"Phooey! Y'all are no fun! Immagoaskthenexttablebye!" Vicky finished, lazily floating away with her tongue sticking out at us. I sighed, digging back into my lunch and notebooks, willing the crawl of fur creeping along my spine to recede. As much as I loved hanging out with Vicky, her aura was hell on my self-control.
"Hey, did you hear? That girl has a freaky hobby…" I heard from across the lunchroom, the voice clear yet blending in with many around it. I felt a run of scales crawl toward my neck, suppressing the urge to snarl. Breath in. Breathe out. They weren't talking about me, they weren't.
"So, see you at practice tonight?" a football player asked, clasping arms with a friend.
"Oh, em, gosh, Becky, look at my…"
The scrape of chairs.
A squared plus B squared equals C squared.
The scratching of a pencil on paper.
"Now, class, please turn to page two-hundred and seventeen…"
"Jaiden, you coming?"
"Yeah, finishing up this problem set," I responded, handing Johnny my tray. The last set done, I closed my workbook and slid it into my bag, the texture of the bag grating against my hands.
"You okay? You zoned out for a second," Johnny asked, looking me over as I crossed my arms.
"Yeah, just my hobby acting up," I placated.
"Sensory overload?" he asked, concern crossing his features.
"No, thank god. My hobby has some kind of filter, or dampener. No good way of describing it, really. Just trying to keep the dragons on the inside, y'know?" I responded. While the others had gotten hefty brute ratings, I'd had my senses dialed to eleven, allowing me to hear and feel everything around me, even the breeze of the heating in the school.
"That's good. No one wants a dinosaur running around school. What would the paleontologists think?" he joked, nudging me in the shoulder.
"Andre is rubbing off on you way too much," I joked back, a giggle escaping my throat. "And besides, I can do way more than dinosaurs, you know. Just wait until Hookwolf sees what a lunagaron is…"