A/N A Slow Descent pt. 2
Alt title: Revelations and complications.
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Redburndragon: She got bored. And now we get the image of Nero on his fiddle while Rome burns.
Guest: Just vibin'
Aardarm: Don't worry, the set up will be worth it.
Grimnosh: It's revealed later, but Kitsu is completely unaware of how much time has passed. She's been shutting off her mind anytime she was left alone. So, yeah. And you're right. What [Conduit] might consider important to mention, is not what Kitsu would consider important.
And poor Missy. City goes to hell and she's forced to the sidelines. Confirming her suspicions that it was her girlfriend's influence, and not herself, that caused the PRT to give her more important tasks.
Kaykaykaykayan: He'll be lucky if it's just missing teeth. Remember, Kitsu knows how to rearrange someone's gender. And she knows how to give others nymphomania.
Guest: I'm becoming predictable aren't I?
Deathchill: You're welcome!
DancingLeaf: in this chapter, you find out.
Gogmazios: You're welcome!
RadChaos897: Rising tensions from Pokemon Mystery Dungeon?
As for FFN's issues, I've switched to QQ. And as of now, that's the extent of my cross posting. Turns out I fucked way up when formatting the documents for this story. So I'm having to copy paste each chapter, and manually reformat each and every paragraph. So, yeah. Got enough on my plate. It takes an hour to do it too. So QQ is only up to chapter 26.
Efail1: I PM'd you.
I will say, thank you for voicing your issues in a comprehensive and mature way. I am not being sarcastic. You are a breath of fresh air.
If you want to understand further, go to the reviews, and check the review that's two down from yours. You'll see what I mean.
Disrespectfulniceguy: Yeah, that's on me. To clarify, it's meant to be a billion, but was cut down to millions due to taxes. At the time I was writing with no beta so the inconsistency slipped through.
I'm still writing without a beta. I just learned how to check myself better.
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-Date, Time-
'Thoughts'
"Speech"
[Shard]
(Text)
*Sounds/Actions*
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-Monday, August 9th, The Rig, 7am-
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Director Emily Piggot POV
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I watch as Mr. Stark's, New York New Wave representative, Mr. Wilson, takes his seat across from me at my desk. With Legend taking the other seat next to him.
This is the first of several meetings on my agenda for the day. The topic of today is the lease of heroes to operate in Brockton Bay.
"Thank you for meeting with me Ms. Piggot." Mr. Wilson says as he extends a hand for a handshake.
I stare at him impassively. Not wanting to set the wrong tone, I refuse to acknowledge the handshake. This is not a friendly, or casual meeting. Standards need to be set.
"Legend." I say as I regard the member of the Triumvirate. "You understand the gravity of the situation?"
"I do." He says with a nod. "With the Endstopper Child out of the picture, and with Kaiser's, disappearance, the city is quickly losing stability. Crime rates are rising exponentially and show no sign of lowering."
It's relieving to have someone who knows what they're doing.
"Uh, yeah. That's why we're here." Mr. Wilson says as he takes his hand back awkwardly. "Normally, we wouldn't really need to ask to send people over. We got a lot of autonomy. But Tony, Mr. Stark believes you would have better insight as to how we should play this."
'So he sent me a man who clearly doesn't know what he's doing.' I think as I look at Mr. Wilson. 'Depending on his disposition, Mr. Stark either sent me a headache out of spite, or a sign of good faith.'
It all depends on whether or not Mr. Wilson is stubborn or, or placating.
"Precisely." Legend agrees. "The PRT NE is willing to assist to the best of its abilities. Within reason of course, we still have our own people to protect and can't weaken ourselves too much."
"Understandable." I agree before moving to clarify. "I understand that New York has a focus on more destructive capes. That is not what we need here. What's needed is defenders, people who can protect and reduce collateral."
"Understandable." Legend says easily. "With that, I don't think it'll be difficult to lend you one or two capes. I would recommend Clay and Cache."
Trusting his judgement, and not truly having the time to deliberate. I agree to his suggestion. I don't have the luxury of being picky. And I have thirty even more documents I need to parse through.
"Have their documents sent my secretary and I'll read them over." I say curtly before turning back to Mr. Wilson. Time to see how competent he is. "You're already aware of what I require. Do you have any suggestions based on my established request?"
He sits up a bit straighter at my questioning. Never losing that naïve, eager eyed expression. Showing his nervousness and inexperience.
"Um, Yeah! I got a few documents here with some people we can send." He says as he goes to his briefcase and pulls out a few folders. "We have a few decent capes. Sky High, Jessica Jones, and Falcon are who I'd recommend."
'Jessica is the cape Tony mentioned would show up regardless. This is just a formality to accept his assistance and provide a valid reason for her to be here without causing a scene.'
That's the problem with most parahumans. The moment they get powers, they get it into their heads that they're suddenly above everyone else. That their powers and struggles make them more than everyone else. In some cases, it can be argued to be true.
This is not one of them. This is accommodation. Not, privilege.
"Very well, I'll read over them and send word back to you tomorrow." I say as I accept the dossiers. "Speak with the accountant on the third floor. They'll set the time."
"Understood ma'am." Mr. Wilson says as he gets up.
"Miss Piggot." Legend says with a small nod and a smile as he stands up. "I'll have the paperwork done on our end by tomorrow evening at the latest. I hope you have a stress free day."
'Shit in one hand, hope in the other.' I think to myself. 'If life sticks to its normal patterns, I'm going to sleep with fifty new grey hairs as usual.'
"And you as well. I thank you for your assistance." I say as they turn to leave.
Looking to the clock on my wall, I sigh as I realize I have ten minutes before my next meeting.
Deciding I have a little time. I get a head start on reading through the documents of New York New Wave Capes.
Looking through the documents. I realize they have a decent collection so far. Kahldur'ahm is a no. His ethnicity and foreign status make him a massive target for Stormfront's hunters. The only reason Static Shock and Shadow Stalker haven't been sent away is because with all our resources dedicated to keeping the city as stable as we can. We don't have the means to safely get them out of the city. So they're being forced into the safer areas, away from the majority of the gang fights.
Moving on.
Looking through the documents. I realize Ms. Jones is coming no matter what. So I set that one aside to read later.
Hmm, quite a few fliers. What is it with New Wave and fliers? They even have a Tinker with a specialty in, Personalized Aeronautics. And an aerokinetic with a flight suit.
And then they have a brute with flight in the form of a Ms. Foster. The Alexandria package if you will. Though she seems to have a bit of extrasensory thinker powers as well.
What is it with New York and powerhouses?
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-Monday, August 9th, The Rig, 7:45am-
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A stocky man of nondescript, Caucasian features steps into my office. And I feel my mind reverting to my training days in the PRT. His features are nondescript because I can't focus my mind on them. Facial recognition skills are crucial in the field. Identifying hostiles from friendlies and civilians being a necessary skill.
I know what he looks like. But when I try to describe it, I draw a blank.
This man is a stranger.
"Mr. Santino, I presume?" I ask.
"Correct." He says as he steps forward and takes a seat. "I apologize in advance for any suspicion or discomfort you may have over not being able to visually identify me. A necessary precaution when you have access to the information I have."
His words imply that it's not his doing. Otherwise he wouldn't have phrased it as a necessary precaution, when.
"So it's not your power?" I ask.
"Correct." He answers curtly. "Though you'll have to forgive me as I cannot go into detail."
'I didn't think you would.'
"Understandable." I agree with a small nod.
Dealing with WEDGDG is always tedious and, rather contrive at times. Though while annoying, I understand the need for such, obtuse, security measures. Access to the amount of sensitive information and predictions that WEDGDG has, is dangerous. As such, personal meetings with closed system recording devices are always preferred over any other method of communication.
"Shall we start?" I ask. "I'm curious to know what the infamous Watchdogs have to warn me about."
His posture shows no change as he gives me WEDGDG's report.
"Just that we have nothing." He says simply.
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I wait for a further explanation or elaboration. And I feel an all too familiar sense of unease and stress growing in me at the lack of any more information.
"What do you mean?" I ask slowly. Putting emphasis on each word.
"Just that." He says succinctly. "Kitsu is notoriously difficult for thinkers to predict model. And a few months ago, we got confirmation that proximity to her only worsens this effect she has. From a distance, predictions can be made. We just have to target things effected by her actions and presence. Even then, it tends to be inaccurate."
That part I already knew. The running theory behind that being that she's mentally unstable, capricious, and doesn't make plans. Thus predicting her actions difficult, because she can simply change her mind for no apparent reason other than she feels like it. Something that her criminal record and actions corroborated.
"I'm sensing a but." I say.
"Yes." He says. "The thing that had us rethinking this, is that proximity to her, increases this effect. Merely being near her, makes precognitive Thinker powers become increasing unreliable in her presence. Like the powers refuse to accept she's there. Either giving nothing, or causing severe headaches in the Thinkers the more they try."
There's a singular, terrifying conclusion that leads to.
"She's difficult to model not because she's unstable." I piece together. "But rather it's the result of her power."
On one hand. That's good because it means she's not a mentally unstable powerhouse.
"Correct." He says. "Kitsu has manifested the rare ability to be a partial blindspot."
Which is more concerning than a standard blindspot. With a blindspot, you can operate around it. A partial blindspot, is someone who can be predicted, but not without consequence or any real accuracy. A certain Fallen leader being a chief example.
But still. That sense of unease won't go away.
"That's certainly good to know. I'll be sure to keep any precognitive thinkers away from her." I say. "But, you said you had nothing. The city is rapidly falling into the Boston games' unwanted sequel. And there is nothing else for you to say, other than The Endstopper has a power that's keeping her from being predicted."
This is highly suspect. Anytime I meet with a WEDGDG representative. It's always succinct and to the point. They already know what I'll ask, and have answers prepared. This meeting would be over by now. And I wouldn't even remember the meeting. Just have a stack of audio transcripts and a vague recollection of what I was told.
"I was hoping for a more convenient segue into this, but." He says as he touches a device on his wrist. And I'm suddenly capable of perceiving the features of the black woman in front of me.
This, absolute breach of protocol can only mean one thing. They're being dead serious, and risking their identity to prove their intent.
"We have learned that Kitsu's partial blindspot, is not isolated to her." She begins explaining. "Her blindspot encompasses her direct actions and the effects thereof. Worse yet, it bleeds out from there. Creating a series of diminishing returns of that blindspot in proportion to her influence."
"In other words, the more she interacts with something. The more her partial blindspot spreads." I put together.
"Correct." She confirms. "As of now, WEDGDG can only predict prominent events in Brockton Bay with an average accuracy of thirty percent."
As opposed to the projected eighty three percent from six months ago. A steep drop.
"Needless to say, we cannot assist you finding her." She says as she gets up and turns his device back on. Forcing me lose any recollection of his features. "We can however, conclude she is still in the city. But nothing more."
"I suppose that's something at least." I say through a sigh as they leave.
Her presence, despite the headaches, was all that was keeping the gangs subtle. And out of New Wave territory. Making a relatively low maintenance area. She didn't even have to do anything. It was her presence that deterred gang activity.
Nothing like a nuke in the form of a little girl with ADHD and penchant for mischief to keep people on their toes.
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-8:30am-
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Rebecca "Alexandria" Costa-Brown POV
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Stepping into the beige minimalist room, I look to the woman appointed director of the PRT ENE. Stern, stoic, a veritable paragon of composure.
She's changed a lot since the ground troop in Elisburg to now.
"Director." I say with a nod as I take a seat, setting the suitcase I brought with me down on the floor.
"Alexandria." She says with a return of her nod. "It's not everyday I meet with a member of the triumvirate. Much less two, and for separate issues."
She's on her guard, suspicious. That's good. In my experience, people tend to receive unwanted news better when they're on guard and expecting worse news.
"It's not everyday that someone is ordered to release classified information." I respond in kind.
She gives no immediate verbal response. Instead going from a passive stare, to an active glare.
"Elaborate." She says slowly as her brow furrows.
"I'm told that you're already aware of Kitsu's parentage." I say, maintaining my dual identity.
"Correct." She says curtly.
"Perfect. You are to inform the Dallon's of her familial relations." I say.
Her brow furrows as her eyes widen. Showing a clear sign of disbelief mixed with indignation. A sign that she, doesn't agree with the order.
"On whose authority?" She asks cautiously.
"Chief Director Costa-Brown." I inform her. "All individuals who are directly involved in the matter are being informed. Lightstar included."
She takes a deep breath through her nose before responding. Her shoulders tensing as she speaks.
"You can't possibly think this is a good idea." She says calmly.
She's got a good poker face. Even with my ability to cold read that's been honed and being aided by my perfect memory. It's only my extensive time with her, that lets me detect the anxiety marring her features.
"It was not my decision." I lie. "You'll need to speak with Costa-Brown on the matter. I'm merely the messenger."
I grab the black suitcase and set it on the desk in front of me. Sliding the container towards her.
"Doesn't matter how you do it." I say as I let go of the case. "But these documents need to make it to the Dallon's before the week is out."
"There is, no way." Piggot starts as she stares me dead on. "This ends well. For anyone."
It's not ideal. But it is, unfortunately necessary.
"I didn't make the call." I respond. "In truth, I agree with you. And had I not vehemently argued this, you would've received this order a lot sooner."
She takes not even a second to answer back.
"That would've been better." Piggot says with a hardened glare. "Rather than informing them when the girl is missing."
She hisses the last bit. Making her beliefs on the matter, very clear.
"And I agree, if I had known this would happen. I would've conceded and passed the order on sooner." I confess falsely.
We sit here, staring at each other as the clock behind me silently tics the seconds away.
This is unfortunately the ideal scenario. With Kitsu causing a growing blind spot, she's causing a chain reaction that's even had an effect on Contessa. Her paths are becoming unreliable the closer it takes her to Brockton Bay. So far, only one path in the Bay has had any success. And it required direct involvement.
"I have a meeting with Brandish and the Pelham's later today." Director Piggot grits out. "I'll inform her afterwards."
And our projected time until Scion goes AWOL has lowered. Or rather, become more inaccurate. With our projections moving from ten to twenty years, to five to forty.
"Very well." I say as I get up from my seat. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry this task is being forced on you."
With this, we can create a situation that'll take Kitsu out of the Bay. Mike is on his way. His feelings for Jess never faded over time. And after learning that Kitsu might be her, and his, only surviving family, even if in a more indirect way. He's dead set on at least confirming that she is.
Mike's biggest fear, is his children being forced into the dangers of cape life. It's why he left. He disagreed with the New Wave movement, and the one person who convinced him to go along with it, paid for it with her life. And hearing his daughter is already in the thick of it.
Well, Brandish isn't the only one in her family with issues of needing control.
Brockton Bay is too important to have it being rendered unreadable.
Piggot's eyes narrow at me. "Don't lie to me." She mumbles.
'I wasn't'
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Emily Piggot POV
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As I watch the second Triumvirate to visit me leave my office. I can't help but be grateful for kidney problems. And reassured that my decision to turn down Panacea's offer to heal it.
Lord knows I'd have drank myself to death by know if I could.
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-11am-
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Carol "Brandish" Dallon POV
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"Very well." Sarah addresses to Director Piggot. "We can get Crystal and Jenny to patrol the commercial district in Triumph's absence. Meanwhile, we'll have to talk to Ben's parents. But I think we can get them to let him patrol the Boardwalk with the Wards."
Ben's parents have actually been looking to move. With everything that's happening, they fear the worse. Not just Ben being hurt, but also him being made an orphan. So they're thinking of moving.
"Agreed." Piggot says curtly, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Though I'd have you relay to Laserdream and Firebreather that they need to report in every hour. And when a situation occurs."
"Done." Neil responds as he stands up in preparation to leave.
I get up to leave with him and Sarah as well.
"Mrs. Dallon, I'd like for you to say." Ms. Piggot stops me. "There's something more for me to inform you of."
I cautiously sit back down, along side Sarah who looks to me with concern at the sudden change. Which is very warranted. Seeing as we never get asked to stay behind.
"Alone." Piggot says as she looks to Sarah expectantly. "Sensitive information."
With slow movements. Sarah tentatively gets back up. As Sarah and Neil leave, with me staying behind to hear what was so important. I feel my muscles tense in anticipation of worse news.
"Alright." I say as we stare down at each other. "What is it that's so sensitive that you couldn't have Sarah know about it?"
"Straight to the point?" Piggot cocks an eyebrow. "Very well."
She leans over to her desk's cabinets, and pulls out a file. She then slides to across her desk to me.
"A while ago it came to our attention that we had massive holes in our security." Piggot begins to explain. "So, Chief Director Costa-Brown hired outside help to, scour our systems. And in one exercise, broke into the evidence locker of the PRT Headquarters in Boston. And stole some, inconsequential evidence. In this case, one of the things stolen. Was the clothes Kitsu was wearing when she was first found."
"Okay?" I say as I grab the folder with suspicion. "I'm not going to find anything, perverse in this folder am I?"
"There's a reason this meeting is just us." Pigot says ambiguously. "But that's not it."
I open the file to find a bunch of papers detailing findings on her clothes. From the fact that there's the blood of five different people on the front of her shirt. To the gouges and bloodstains on the back.
"In case you didn't already know." Pigot says. "Kitsu, is a Slaughterhouse Survivor. And her clothes reflect a run in with The Siberian and Jack Slash. But more than that. They have her blood on them."
"Why are you telling me this?!" I say as I slam the file shut. "I already know what she went through. I don't need the details."
I don't need to be reminded. I've seen the signs. A major one being that Kitsu will avoid looking at mannequins. And when she does, she stares at it until someone or something snaps her out of it. And she has a general phobia of anything faceless.
Not to mention the recent events this is bringing to mind!
"I'd suggest you keep reading." Piggot parses out, gesturing to the file. "We were able to DNA test the blood on the back of her clothes. Which we have every reason to believe is hers."
"She's indestructible." I point out.
"She's a verfied trump who develops powers with no apparent pattern." Pigot counters. "She could very well have developed her invulnerability as a result of her run in with the nine. But aside from that, I heavily suggest you read the DNA report."
I take the file back. And skim through until I get to the DNA test section.
And my heart stops.
Maternity test, Paternity test, four Avuncular tests.
The reason Kitsu looks familiar, is because her looks are familiar. She doesn't look like Vicky and Crystal because she's vaguely similar to them. If these documents are reliable. Then she looks like them, because, according to this, she's their cousin!
"This is bullshit!" I shout as I stand up. "Jess never had a daughter! Hell, Jess was never pregnant! I might believe this if the mother was someone else and it turned out Mike had a one night stand. But Jess? In case you forgot, we literally saw each other every other day when she was alive!"
I don't even know what to say to this! It's absurd!
"I know." Piggot says calmly. Taking my outburst in stride. "But the DNA doesn't lie. We just thought you had a right to know. Besides, our current theory is multiversal travel."
"Bull, the first time that happened was in Madison, a year ago." I argue as I sit back down to try and calm myself. "Kitsu showed up in Boston, in two thousand and seven.
"The incident in Madison only proved it's possible." Piggot counters. "This could very well be an isolated occurrence as the result of a power Kitsu has, or one that was used on her."
"So you expect me to believe that the girl I'm fostering is coincidentally my niece from an alternate universe?" I say as I cross my arms. "That's asinine."
"I'm just the messenger here." Pigot says as she raises her hands defensively. "I was told to show you the documents, and that's it. I'm not here to challenge your worldview or convince you of anything. Personally, I don't believe this changes anything."
"So this whole revelation is just business then?" I ask in disbelief.
"Yes." She says. "I should also inform you that your brother is also being informed."
"Michael!?" I yell in disbelief. "He's, I, how does he have any say in this!?"
Nothing good could come from his involvement. No contact for three years. And this is how he's brought back up?
"It wasn't my call." Pigot says sternly. "If it were up to me, not even you would've been told. All this information does is complicate things for those who know, while offering no benefit for knowing."
On that, we can agree. The burden of knowledge is a horrifying thing. One that not many, really understand.
"Also, for Kitsu's replacement hearing aides, you'll need to go to Kid Win yourself." Pigot says as she transitions with no care. "After what happened with Armsmaster, he's unwilling to let anyone touch his tech without his supervision."
Okay, you don't just drop heavy shit like that and then go. Oh! Your package is ready as well.
"I don't blame him."
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-1 Hour Later-
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"You were in there for an hour." Mark says as I step into the car. "Anything interesting to tell?"
I have the DNA tests and a few other papers. The names are struck from the results to prevent leaks.
"Just a few documents I need to look over." I say. "Oh, and you might want to find a parking lot. There's, something you might want to see."
"Um, okay?" He says. "Is everything alright?"
"Just, a lot of bullshit." I say as I rub my temples. "And this is something I'd rather not risk Kitsu hearing."
"Um, scale of one to ten." He starts asking.
"I'm drinking tonight." I cut him off. "It involves Mike."
That gets Mark to quiet down as he turns into a side road. The ride to a fast food parking lot being done in an uncomfortable silence.
Bringing up Mike is a bit of a taboo for us. All of us. The day Jess was shot and killed was a day we all died a little. Mike more than anyone.
Mike left, hung up his cape and fled into witness protection. He never really agreed with the movement, and Jess was the one to convince him to go along. If it weren't for her, he would've abandoned us long before we unmasked. And last we ever spoke.
He made it clear that he blames us for her death.
"Alright." Mark says as he puts the car in park. "What's this about?"
I go into my briefcase and hand him the papers.
He takes them and looks through them briefly before setting them on the dash.
"What does this have anything to do with Mike?" He asks snappishly. "We already verified Vicky's ours. Why bring this back up?"
"Mark read the fucking papers okay?" I say as I slap my briefcase. "This has nothing to do with that."
Not long after Vicky got her powers, we all noticed the similarities between hers and Crystal's abilities. Only real difference is that Vicky can't project her forcefield past herself, she has her aura and super strength. No lasers.
Which actually makes her more similar to Neil. And we took her the doctors to get a DNA test. Disguised as a regular doctors visit.
She's Marks daughter. But the knowledge that she might not have been, kind of spiraled Mark further into a depression. It wasn't until Kitsu showed up and gave him a distraction that, well.
I, I don't want to think about this. I'm just grateful he stuck around and forgave me.
"Okay, kinda, not seeing the big deal?" He mumbles. "Just says Subject one, Subject two, and Subject three. None of them are you, me, or Vicky so, what?"
"You recognize your own gene sequence?" I ask in disbelief with a furrowed brow.
"I spent, a lot of time staring at those papers." He says slowly. "I could probably-"
I cut him off by handing him the Avuncular tests. He takes them with a cocked eyebrow and starts reading through them.
"Oh, there I am." He says as he grabs one. "And I'm pretty sure that one's you."
Looking over, I see he's right.
That made me feel, like shit. Which, admittedly I deserve. Doesn't mean I have to like it.
"It is." I say. "Subject two, is Mike. Subject one, is Jess. Subject three, is Kitsu."
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"Okay, now I see." He says slowly before turning ro me in confusion. "I didn't know Jess ever got pregnant."
"She, didn't." I say as I stare out at the Hardee's. Watching quietly as the people go about their day. Completely unaware of any problems in the city at large.
I can't even remember a time like that. It's been so long since I had a truly stress free day.
"Then how the fuck, multiverse?" He asks after a brief pause.
My head snaps to him in shock.
"You, came to that conclusion, rather quickly." I say incredulously. Unable to comprehend how he just, accepted that.
"Carol, honey." He says with an unreadable, almost bored, expression. "We live with several people who break the laws of physics. I realized years ago that if I kept questioning everything, I'd drive myself insane."
"I, that's!" I try to find something.
I'm honestly just pissed he came to that conclusion faster than I did.
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-Monday, August 9th, Dallon House, 1:32pm-
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Rummaging through the through the crate we keep in the garage. Looking for the old family photobook.
I can't get the image of Kitsu out of my head now. How she always bore a vague resemblance to Vicky. How several people mentioned me and her look related.
Finally finding it. I pull out my phone and scroll through some of the photos of Kitsu I have pulled up. Taken from her PHO page. She really likes the camera. Again, something she shares in common with Vicky.
Flipping through the photobook. I find a few pictures of Michael from when he was younger. Age twelve, he had already started growing a beard. Just a few whiskers, but enough that we teased him endlessly for it.
Going back further, I find a photo of Michael at age eight. And holding it next to a photo of Kitsu, my eyes widen in a silent realization.
Kitsu looks like a genderbent Michael when he was younger. Same face shape, same chin, same cheeks, same lips. Same hair color! Mike is a strawberry blonde, just like Kitsu. Though she insists it's a golden orange.
The only differences, are Kitsu's nose, eyes, and lips. Michael has blue eyes, Jess had green. Kitsu's are a turquois, blue green color. And I can't remember much else about Jess's features other than that she had black hair. And I don't think I kept a photo of her. If I did, I don't know where it would be.
But even without it. Just sitting here, staring at the two pictures. I can see Kitsu's resemblance. But, what does this even mean? Kitsu is now, or at least always was, genetically my niece.
I, really don't know how to feel about this. A part of, the logical part, tells me it means nothing. But, the illogical parts of me, the parts I've been trying to beat into submission every other Thursday. Are conflicted.
She's my niece. She's Michael and Jess's daughter. A piece of Jess is still around. Jess was the heart of the team. Always smiling, always here to cheer us up. Great with the kids. She was our emotional backbone.
And I know it doesn't make sense. But I can't help but see that reflected in Kitsu now. And Michael, well.
Outside of looks she's nothing like Michael. Unless you count stubbornness.
This shouldn't mean anything! Kitsu is still Kitsu. Her being some, alternate what-if child between Michael and Jess should be nothing more to me than a little piece of trivia. A fun fact you find on a popsicle stick.
Why can't I convince myself that's all it is?
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-Tuesday, August 10th, New Industrial, 3pm-
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George Swanson POV
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"MRRRRMM!" The black bitch screams and squirms as me and John toss her into the back of the van.
"Shut it." I say as we crawl into the back to act as her guards while Charles starts the van. "No one's saving you, so you might as well save your lungs."
"And if you don't we still have a few darts left." John says as he loads his dart pistol for effect. "We just don't wanna waste them if we don't have to."
Her eyes tear up as John says that. And I look away as the van starts back up.
It's not that I necessarily agree with Stormfront's view. But I live in the industrial districts, her territory. And she's already made it clear what happens to, 'Race Traitors'. I'm not risking my life and family just to make a point.
Worse the cops will do is arrest me. And I can always claim duress. Besides, at least I get paid. Ten percent of whatever the person I bring in fetches.
This one? Young, twenty something. Might be able to get my kid that new game he wants.
"Woah!" *Screeee!*
All of sudden the van jostles as Charles starts cussing up a storm. Skidding and sliding as I fumble around for something to hold onto in the van. Finding nothing in time as I fall over and knock my head on John's knee.
"C!" John shouts in the chaos. "What the fuck!?"
"Fuck if I know!" He says frantically as he struggles to get the car in order. "There was a blue light and now our tires are slashed!"
"Fuck we got a cape!?" John yells as I hold my aching forehead.
*Skiiirrrt*
"I guess?" Charles says as he slows the car.
*Reeeeee*
"Why the fuck are you stopping!?" John yells as I get back up. "A car can still drive on flats! Hit the gas and burn some rubber!"
*Kirrrrrrrrt*
"We don't have rubber to burn!" Charles shouts. "I tried! Our tires shredded off! We're on rims!"
We slow to a crawl as the van fishtails. With Charles trying desperately to keep us from spinning out. I honestly don't know how we haven't crashed yet, and can only assume Charles is taking us through the back roads.
*Krch*
The car rattles and I'm tossed into my seat again as we stop.
"Shit!" I curse at the pain. At least we're stopped.
Getting up, I look through the windshield to see we actually crashed In an alleyway. Windshield's fucked and the front passenger door is bent in.
"Well, fuck me sideways and call me skippy." John says as he puts his bandana on and pulls his gun out.
"No thanks, you're not my type." I say as I try and nurse my headache.
"Not the time George!" Charles says as he pumps a shotgun he grabbed from under the seat.
"Zip it C!" John says. "If we got a cape then we can't give away our names!"
While Charles and John argue with each other. I look down to the crying, fearful girl. I know what the right thing to do is. And I know what the smart thing to do is.
But, maybe here. They can overlap?
While John and Charles are distracted, I kneel down to the girl. Her eyes going wide as she sees me, and she frantically tries to back away. Taking out my spare pocket knife, she shuts up. Getting closer she frantically shakes her head.
"Hey man! What the fuck are you doing!?" John says from beside me.
I'm keeping myself positioned so that my back is turned and he can't see the knife. But if Charles turns around I'm fucked.
"Making sure she's still secure, J." I say as roughly turn her around and pretend to check her bindings. "Can't have her making out lives more difficult."
Placing the knife in her hands. I shove her back around and point at her.
"Don't even think-"
"WAaagh!" I'm stopped from sentence as Charles finally gets his door open. Only to shout.
Looking up, see he's gone.
"Shit!" I curse as I shakily stand up while John gets to the back of the van and tries to shove the doors open. "What happened?!"
"Blue flash!" He says panicking. "Then he was gone!"
"Wait!" I try and call out as manages to kick the doors open.
Only for him disappear in a blue blur. A gust of wind being all that remains as evidence of his disappearance.
I'm not an idiot. I know where this is going. So, I take out my gun, and hold it up.
"I surren-!" Is all get out before I'm slammed into the brick wall.
Dropping my unloaded pistol, I fall to the ground. Winded and hacking up a lung. Pushing myself up to my hands and knees. I wheeze for air. My thoughts are all cut off, as well as my heart, as a pair of blue running shoes step into my view. Slowly looking up, I don't even see anything else as I black out.
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Reginald "A-Train" Franklin POV
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After knocking the guy's teeth in, I turn to the van. Intent on getting the girl out of here and to a hospital for a check up.
"Hold on there pal!" I hear above and behind me.
Quickly turning on my heels, I see two men flying down the alleyway. One in silver and purple armor with gold accents. The other in red and black armor with mechanical wings coming out the back.
I get ready for a fight, before getting a closer look at the wingman. Guy's wearing sports goggles like me. Just, red, and they have wiring on them. And the part that puts me more at ease, is well, I know it sounds bad. But the brother's black. So I know he ain't kosher with what these guys were doing.
"Hey man, you can chill." Wingman says before looking around. "We got reports of a crashed vehicle, that you?"
"In a way, yeah." I shrug. "These guys are Stormfront's men. They were kidnapping the girl in the van over there."
I turn and point the van. Only to find the girl crawling through the front seat and out busting out the windshield. Sliding across the hood and running as she gets to the other side.
"Doesn't seem very kidnapped." Purple man says. "Seems very free to me."
"Look, I saw her get hog tied and tossed in the van." I say as I turn back to them. "Look, let me just-"
I run back, parkour the wall and over the van, grab the girl, run around the back of the alley and around the street to where the other two are. Setting her down, my power cuts off as I stop moving.
"Hyeargh!" She immediately pukes. Likely from the vertigo.
"Look, I gotta go." I say. "You got her, she's safe. Just ask her and we're good here."
I get ready to leave, before a wing extends out and blocks my path.
"That's, not how this works." The purple guy says. "Not at all."
I can't be stuck here playing witness! The longer I'm here, the more likely that someone else is out there getting hurt!
"Huh, well, doesn't matter." I say. And bolt in the opposite direction.
I can't stop. Not for anything.
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-Wednesday, August 11th, Old Industrial District 8am-
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(Warning: Topics of Child Death, Suicide, Mental Issues, ECT.)
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Sam "Falcon" Wilson POV
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"Got eyes on the targets!" I call into my coms as me and Keith fly over the roads. Following the trail of destruction as Hookwolf chases Mechanic through the streets. "West bound towards Marlow. Going eighty five."
Current sitrep, Mechanic was starting shit in Hookwolf's territory. And the canine of collateral took exception to that. Me, Glory Girl, Sky High and Assault are trying to stop them. But between Mechanic's recklessness and Hookwolf's, everything, it ain't easy. Everyone's got a tracker while me and Keith have heads up displays. Keeping the group organized and directed.
"Roger." Sky High, Keith, says as I see him pull in to position on my HUD. "Heard ya loud and clear."
"Where do ya need me bird man?" The voice of Glory Girl rings in my ear.
"Pull ahead of them if you can, see the blue water tower?" I direct the third flier. "Head there. Less they do a U-turn, you should be able to cut them off."
"On it!" She says as her tracker shows her flying off.
"I'm almost there guys!" Assault announces.
Without Battery, who's away for personal reasons, Assault's mobility has been seriously downgraded. He's too used to working with her. So, he's in a PRT cruiser trying to keep up.
Keith pulls in closer, enough so that I can hear his jet pack's thrusters.
"Sky High!" I bark at him. "How much juice you got left?"
"Three fourths!" He bellows, his voice reaching out through the screeching winds. "Seventy percent to be exact!"
'More than enough.'
Keith has a habit of pulling overtime. And as a result, burns through his jet pack's fuel supply. And worse yet, he tends to forget to refuel it.
Shit! Mechanic just made a hard right!
The tricky thing about Mechanic's vehicles is that they don't follow the conventional of most cars. So, him making a sharp turn while going eighty five, is not impossible it seems!
All we gotta do, is stop them. And, barring that, keep them in the area long enough for a barricade to be set up.
Easier said than done.
"Glory Girl!" I exclaim through the comms. "Halt your position! Mechanic is passing right under you!"
"What?" She says in confusion. "Oh fuck!"
Turning towards her as Keith makes a roundabout to cover more ground in case they make another sharp turn. I watch in shock as she dives straight down.
"Glory Girl!" I shout. "What's wrong!"
"There's a kid!"
*kra-rzzzzzzt*
My blood runs cold as my HUD reads off.
(Glory-Girl: Offline)
Shit!
"All units converge on my position!" I demand. "I repeat! All units to my position! Glory Girl is down!"
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-Wednesday, August 11th, Mechanic's Shop, 9:30am-
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(Recommend you skip if you don't like disjointed story telling to project mental issues.)
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Steve "The Mechanic" Pappagallo POV
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Pulling into my garage. I put my car in park. Turn off the car. And step out.
It didn't happen.
My legs are weak as my feet touch the ground. Shaky, and unwilling to stay straight.
I'm just having another bad dream. I've been getting them often enough.
I place a hand on my car to steady myself as I continue.
My head is light as the images keep flashing through my mind. A woman, a boy, and a cape.
Just a bad dream! It didn't happen.
I take a few steps forward as round to the front of my car.
My breath catches in my throat and my heart stops when I feel something wet on my palm.
I couldn't stop in time!
My blood pounds in my ears as I look down at my hand.
Red.
I try to scream in surprise, but nothing comes out. Instead I just collapse to my knees.
It happened. It's real.
"Why?" I croak out. My voice hoarse and ragged as my cheeks wet.
"Because you're a coward." I hear the man across the table tell me.
"What?" I ask as I stare at him. His face marred by a bloody handprint along the side.
"Easy way out." He sneers. "Every, fucking, time."
"No, no I, I just panicked!" I defend myself. "They, they were suddenly there! And, and I couldn't move away in time!"
"And so you ran." He says. "Killed a mother, and a son. Probably that cape girl too."
"No!" I blurt out. "She saved them! She, she had to! That's what heroes do, they save people."
Unlike me.
"Unlike you." The man says. "How many?"
"I don't know." I whisper.
My mind is a haze. When was the last time I drank?
"How, many?" He presses anyway.
Oh, there's a bottle in my hand. Good, I, just need to calm down.
"How many lives until you stop taking the easy way out!" He roars.
"I don't know!" I say as I realize the bottle is empty.
"Then answer this!" He yells. "What do you get, when you take an alcoholic piece of shit, who does nothing by drive away from his problems, and hides in a bottle!? You should now this one! You're looking at the answer!"
I throw the bottle at the man. Watching as it, and the man shatter.
I fall to the ground, my back against the wall. Wondering what's going on, when I feel a familiar weight in my hand.
"You get a piece of garbage." He says. "A waste of space."
I sit here, waiting for him to continue. I have nothing left. No family, no friends. Am I even alive?
"If you won't do what's right." The man says as he pulls my father's old pistol out of my pocket. "Then do the world a favor, and take out the trash."
Holding the gun in my hand. I put it to my head.
"Just one last life." He says through my voice. "And then, no more.
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-5 hours later-
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Waking up with a pounding headache. I look around to see I'm in my shop. Shattered glass, and the mirror on my workshop desk, broken. Looking down, I see one hand covered in dried blood, the other with my father's gun.
"Huh." I say as my headache drowns out any other feeling or thoughts I might've had.
I sit here, and bask in the flickering light of my shop, as a familiar numbness takes hold.
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-Friday, August 13th, The Sewer, 7am-
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Kitsu POV
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'You know, probably should've asked this sooner.' I say to [Conduit] as I come to. 'But, how long have I been here? I have a crappy sense of time.'
[Answer: 9 days]
'WHAT!?' I mentally shout in a panic.
I thought is was only three or four! I gotta get out of here! Mom is gonna be so pissed! And Missy! I missed our date!
Last time I continuously force myself asleep because I'm bored!
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Bonus
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-?, Road to Phandalin-
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Hateron POV
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"It's above you!" Oog shouts.
Looking up, I see nothing but the tree branches. The moonlight casting a series a of shadows as the wind rustles the leafs.
Deciding to trust my teammate. I pull out my sword and cast prep to cast jump-
(You're a Haregon. You can jump into the tree line without wasting a spell slot.)
-But think better of it. The branches are in range, I should save my magic for when it's needed. Launching myself up on my powerful legs. I get grabbed in the branches, an I finally see it.
Pale, taught skin stretched over an elongated face. Solid black, beady eyes bore down on me as it gives me a crooked, ear reaching grin. Rows of needle like teeth lining its maw. In a motion to fast for me to realize before it's already happened.
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"I cast Faerie Fire." Amy says.
"Um, okay. What'd your spell save DC?" I ask as I pause my illusions on the table.
"Doesn't matter." She says with a smirk.
"What do you mean?" I ask in confusion.
"I can choose to fail saving throws right?" She asks with a smirk.
"Yeeessss?" I say slowly, not quite understanding where she's going with this.
"I cast Faerie Fire on myself so everyone can see where I am and that I'm being held by something." She answers.
"Holy crap, that's smart." Missy, who is playing the Tortle Barbarian, says.
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(Percption, nat 1)
"Where monster!?" Roger Cahckough says as he looks around at the ground. "Backpack no see!"
"In the trees, Backpack!" Oog says as he points up.
(I cast guiding bolt)
(But you can't see it.)
(I don't need to. It just has to be within range, I just do it at disadvantage.)
(Okay, roll.)
…
(That's a nat one.)
Roger charges his magic in his hands, feeling the sparklies move through his body-
*Squelch*
"Ah! Bad sparkles! Backpack trauma!" Roger shouts as his pinky is blown off from his own magic.
(Seriously? I lose a finger?)
(That's your third nat one attack in a row. There needs to be something for that level of failure.)
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-5 hours earlier-
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Kitsu POV
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"Okay!" I say excitedly. "Everyone have their characters ready?"
First night of DnD! Mom refused to play when, after reading the entire book. She pointed to the rule of the DM having the final say. And asked what the point in having rulebook was, if the DM can just say that the rule doesn't apply. And I pointed to section that stated the rules are intended to be guideline, not laws.
Oh well.
"Yep!" Missy says and hands me a sheet.
'Okay, let's see here.' I think as I look through it.
Race, Tortle. Class, Barbarian. Alignment, True Neutral. Name, Oog. Character description.
"Missy?" I ask as I look up to the girl with pursed lip, struggling not to smile.
"Yeah?" She asks with a red face.
"You just made Oogway, didn't you?" I ask.
"Maybe?" She snorts, her cheeks puffing out at my accusation.
We stare at each other for a bit as her blush gets deeper and deeper.
"Got mine." Amy says as she hands me her paper.
I take her paper and read over it as Missy tries not to laugh.
Race, Haregon. Class, Invoker. Alignment, Chaotic Neutral. Name, Hateron. Character description.
None.
"Amy, Ames, Panacea, PanPan-" I begin.
"Fuck off." She interrupts me.
"Why is there no backstory?" I ask.
"Meh, does it matter?" She asks with a shrug.
"Yes." I say seriously. "How are you going to roleplay a character, with zero history?"
"Just come up with something for me." She shrugs.
"Amy, there's literally a section where you roll dice for it if you can't come up with anything." I say in exasperation.
"Okay booster seat." She snarks.
"We agreed not to talk about that!" I shout at her.
I'm, vertically challenged. And can't see past the DM screen when sitting. So, we had to get Vicky's old booster seat from the garage. And it still wasn't enough. So, I'm in a raised swivel chair, in a booster seat.
"Too bad." Amy says as she rests her head in her hands.
"Just, go to your background in the book and roll some dice." I say and toss the paper back to her.
Only for it to fly back and land behind the DM screen. So I pick it up and hand it to dad. Who hands it to Amy.
"Here's mine." Vicky says as she reaches over the table to hand me her paper.
My hopes are not high.
Race, Wood Elf. Class, Druid. Alignment, True Neutral. Name, Leyawen. Character description. Leyawen is an 83 year old who ran from her family in the emerald enclave to explore the world. At one point in her journey, she met an old human man who taught her much about herbalism. However, they were eventually run out of every town they journeyed to because of his unconventional practices. Leyawen is a hoarder with OCD and has several pockets on her clothes to store everything.
Finally! A normal character!
"Got mine!" Dad says as he hands me his paper.
Race, half Orc. Class, Cleric. Alignment, Chaotic Neutral. Name, Roger Cahkough.
"Intelligence five!?" I say. "Dad! Six is the minimum to understand common!"
"Me strong! Me carry. Me the backpack." He says with a shit-eating grin.
"You're a cleric though?" I point out.
"Me make pretty lights! People get better!" He says. "Name, Roger Cahkough. Call me, Backpack. I carry!"
The way he said Roger Cahkough, sounded like Rot Yer Cock Off.
…
"Okay." I say simply, ignoring that, as I use my illusion to set the table. "Let's get started. You all meet up in a warehouse in the city of Neverwinter."
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Bonus 2
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Total damages in Brockton Bay as of 08/11/2010
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397.4 million dollars in collateral damages
Increase in violent crimes: 67%
Increase in drug related crimes: 14%
Increase in gang activity: 43%
Decrease in nonviolent Crimes: 2%
Total casualties estimated to be a direct result of the escalating violence: 204
Number of missing person's cases filled between 07/27/2010 and 08/11/2010: 153
Additional notes: Due to continual targeting of civilians, a cage order has been issued towards Hookwolf with a bounty of $160,000.
Due to Stormfront's continuous targeting of civilians and constant violations of human rights, a kill order has been issued as of 08/11/2010. A reward of 5 million USD to be awarded for her capture. 1 million USD for her death.
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A/N
Okay, a bit to unpack here.
Whether or not Mark is Vicky's dad or not, is left pretty much just, up in the air. And the point behind the reveal is not that Neil might be her dad. It's more to focus on the hypocrisy Carol shows in that moment. While also showing how multifaceted people are. Yes, Carol has trust issues, yes, she's a control freak, yes, she expects a lot, yes, she has delusions that she can salvage her family despite it being too late.
But, she's human. She has her regrets, she's made mistakes. And after all is said and done.
Does it matter? It happened years ago. Not making mountains into mole hills or vice versa here, Carol fucked up! But, does it matter who Vicky's dad is? Mark is the one who raised her, Mark was there for her when she was sent to the asylum. Mark, is her dad.
Now, That being said. There are several hints that Mark is her father. Point one. Sarah was completely caught off guard by the revelation. Meaning she knew nothing about it. If Vicky was Neil's daughter, there'd be some slip up. A secret like that doesn't stay buried completely. Point two.
Amy.
She's capable of rearranging people's genetic structure, and knows exactly what she's looking at when doing so. At no point, ever, in Ward or Worm, before or after its reveal, does she even hint at knowing something about Mark not being Vicky's father.
Point three, my story, my rules.
As for why Amy never pieced together that Kitsu is related to the Dallons? Amy's scanning takes time. And Kitsu is afraid of [Princess Shaper] discovering [Conduit] so she'd always cut Amy off before she scanned too much. Afraid of [Conduit] being discovered. While Amy is too interested in exploring her bodies unique systems to pay attention to her genetic markers.
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If anyone is wondering why the girl booked it. She had a warrant for missing a court date for parking tickets and didn't want to get arrested.
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Mechanic's whole thing, is survivors guilt coupled with depression. He blames himself for the initial crash that put him in the hospital and caused him to trigger. And was made worse when the Merchants attack the hospital, the day after he was released. He doesn't believe he has a right, to be a good person.
His guilt has forced him into a cycle of self destruction and validation of the belief he is a bad person. And the sad part is, it has nothing to do with his Shard's influence.
He's suicidal, and ironically enough, his Shard is keeping him alive. His shard likes him, and working to make his issues better. Hence why every time he's about to off himself, he blacks out. And why his tech never fails him.
And before anyone says anything, he's literally a character I made based on a time in my life when I was suicidal.
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Don't forget to leave a review!
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You can find me here, no seriously. I hold polls to vote on which story I upload next.
Kitsu and Lilyrael are my only characters that ever get any votes.
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Link to the discord: discord .gg/DarkWolfShiro