Time passed, and I settled into my new routine.

In the mornings I attended classes, turned in homework, and took tests. At lunch I sat with the other Wards and New Wave, rarely ever saying a word. Sometimes it grew tiresome, hearing them go on and on about their social lives and other topics I had neither context on nor interest in. No one asked me to leave, though, so there I remained. At least the initial incident with Glory Girl was never repeated. Since that day, Victoria Dallon had taken to walking around school like a normal human being. She never seemed to entirely relax in my presence, but insisted on sharing a table anyways. I had the feeling she treated it as a test of courage.

In the afternoons, Dean drove me to PRT HQ and I made the transition to cape mode. Being a Ward was surprisingly solitary when you weren't on the patrol schedule. Everyone had their own duties to attend to; the base wasn't exactly host to a non-stop teen party that people dipped in and out of. If I saw someone heading out or coming back in I'd exchange greetings or inquire how their patrol had gone (usually—Shadow Stalker and I were content to mutually ignore each other), but most of the time I operated alone.

I spent a lot of time just shut in my room, reading about the myriad heroes and villains of the world. I continued attending physical training with Sergeant Callahan, and a wide array of other PRT courses as well. First aid, criminal law, de-escalation techniques, responsible use of force and so on. Once a week I manned the console and listened as my teammates confronted Brockton Bay's many criminals, wondering if I'd be in their place soon. Thankfully, no one had been maimed or killed yet, which I tentatively took as a good omen.

Well, not unless you counted the time Aegis got run over by Squealer's truck, but it was Aegis. By dinnertime, you couldn't tell it had ever happened.

In the first week of October, they finally cut the cast off my arm. According to the doctors it was close to a best-case scenario, helped by the fact it was a clean break—just as the ABB guy had said, not that there was any way in hell I'd thank him for it. Now that I officially had all my bones intact, I was cleared for more rigorous strength-building and martial arts exercises. Whatever weakness I'd felt in the healed limb improved quickly; given the injury rate for PRT troopers, they had plenty of experience in this field and it showed. I didn't think I'd be imitating Bruce Lee anytime soon, but my performance in a fistfight might rate above 'embarrassing'.

All in all, it was one of quietest stretches of life I could remember in Brockton Bay. The enjoyment was only somewhat spoiled by fretting about when the other shoe would drop.

And, of course, there was the small matter of what I got up to on the weekends.

October 23, 2010

"—unless you become a parahuman, in which case you will be sedated and transported to Syracuse for further evaluation." I could recite the script from memory at this point. The only part that ever changed was the city, depending on where the nearest PRT outpost was. Right now we were in upstate New York, somewhere between Syracuse and the Ellisburg quarantine zone. The area was sparsely populated due to its proximity to Nilbog's kingdom, and the cloudy weather only added to the desolate feeling. "If you have any objections to this, please make a sign. Otherwise, I will proceed with removing you from the loop."

The Gray Boy victim screamed in agony. Seeing as she had been doing so the entire time, though, it didn't count as a sign. The sound didn't bother me much anymore. Hearing random blood-curdling screams wasn't unusual in the Docks, and while the unnatural looping effect had been unsettling the first few times, it was remarkable what the human mind could grow accustomed to. "Proceeding to phase one." I announced.

Some of the victims were capes looped in the heat of battle, but this one was merely an unlucky housewife who'd been trapped in her living room the last twenty years. As such, the Slaughterhouse Nine had taken the time to have some 'fun' with her. Three knives were continually stabbing her in the back, while a fourth wriggled around in her stomach. Knives. Why was it always knives? At least this was a fairly mundane from of torture—the guy last week who'd been looped after being chopped in half at the waist, now that had actually made me feel ill. Panacea had had to literally mash his split halves together to re-fuse them, which had almost been worse.

I carefully moved around the dusty living room, nibbling away at the edges of the loop. I had gotten pretty good at judging if things were 2 meters away or not. Whether this was part of my power or just a matter of practice, I couldn't tell. The three knives at the back clattered to the floor, and a PRT trooper came up to collect them. The rest of the squad watched in silence. There had been cheers and gasps of awe the first time they saw me do this, but by now we'd had nearly two months of Gray Boy duty together. The wonder was long gone.

"Phase one done." I said. The squad stirred into action, taking their set positions around the victim. One armored figure, notably smaller than the rest, came to stand at my side. We couldn't risk our healer being incapacitated by trigger backlash, plus Panacea wasn't keen on experiencing a second space whale vision. "Proceeding to phase two."

I leapt forward, undoing the loop in one fell swoop. Two PRT troopers immediately grabbed the victim by the arms. Her eyes rolled up. "Triggering!" someone called out. We'd all learned to recognize the telltale signs. A third trooper jammed a syringe into her neck. It contained a cocktail of potent sedatives, along with neurotoxins known to interfere with the Corona Pollentia. The dosage estimate was highly imprecise given the difficulty of weighting a Gray Boy victim—or it would be, if we weren't simply injecting her with enough to knock out an elephant. Needless to say, this was an appalling act of medical malpractice—or it would be, if we didn't have a cape who could manipulate blood chemistry at will.

Once the victim had gone limp, I stepped aside so my power was only covering her head, while Panacea got to work on her body. There was a nasty squelch as she yanked the knife from her stomach. Normally that would result in death via massive blood loss, but instead the gaping wound healed within seconds, not even leaving a scar.

I flexed my right arm. Six weeks to heal a broken bone seemed rather pathetic next to that.

"Healing done." Panacea said. This wouldn't account for any brain injuries, but as a rule Gray Boy had preferred his victims to remain lucid throughout their torture, and Panacea (as she repeatedly reminded us) didn't do brains anyways.

She returned to the safety of the null field. Time for the most delicate part of the operation. I took a couple steps back, releasing the victim's Corona and Gemma. Nothing happened. Good. Constantly active powers were a rare but dangerous breed, restricted to the likes of Ash Beast and Sleeper...and me, I guess. Though we'd yet to require it, the contingency plan for such cases was for me to stay by them at all times until they made it to a holding cell. After that? Well, I suspected that if the power proved dangerously out of control we'd see an expedited Kill Order handed down. Even if arguably necessary, I wasn't sure I wanted to witness that.

Panacea stepped cautiously forward and brushed a fingertip to the victim's forehead. "Trigger confirmed. Corona and Gemma look normal." Typical, really. Of the nearly forty people I'd un-looped so far, all but two had triggered. Those who were already parahumans had second triggered, which despite sounding completely made up was apparently possible. A couple troopers wrapped up the process by hosing the victim with confoam, then strapping her to a stretcher. The entire sequence had taken under five minutes. We filed out of the house—I made sure to take up the rear so as to not dissolve the foam—and boarded the unmarked bus that ferried us between loops. Every one of us was wearing standard PRT armor, so anyone watching would've seen a bunch of faceless soldiers loading a restrained woman into a bus with tinted windows.

That sounded kind of sketchy, come to think, but at least no one would know who we were.

This was my life now, on weekends at least. With regards to the weekdays, Mom and Dad had been adamantly against me missing more school than I already was even if it was to save people from eternal torment. And if the PRT had felt any temptation to push the guilt-trip angle, the mention of Youth Guard regulations put a stop to that.

Yes, my parents had read the rulebook start to finish, why do you ask? I had to get it from somewhere after all.

So two days out of seven for the past two months, I'd been dashing across New England, grinding away at Gray Boy loops. We'd knocked out all the loops in Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut already. Soon we would run out of loops that were reachable through a weekend road trip, and I didn't know what happened next. Maybe they'd fly me out over winter break to do the more distant ones? The prospect was slightly daunting, seeing as I'd never been on a plane before. Statistically, of course, I knew flying was an order of magnitude safer than driving and those fears were irrational. No doubt everything would be just fine.

I settled in for the drive back to PRT Syracuse. The actual un-looping might be brief, but the logistics—time on the road, transferring the victim to secure holding, waiting around in case anything went sideways while they were woken up—took far longer. I pulled my history textbook out of my bag and leafed to our assigned chapter on the Silk Road.

Next to me, Panacea removed her helmet, shaking her hair until it returned to its customary state of frizz. It was a mystery why she always took that seat, considering she almost never talked to me on these bus rides. Not that I minded. Being forced to engage in personal conversation while confined to a moving vehicle wasn't my idea of a good time. Therefore I was surprised when today she actually opened her mouth for once. "So. You having fun?"

"Eh...not that much fun, but I'll deal." Where was she going with this? I understood that breaking Gray Boy loops was supposed to be a big deal, but the process was quite repetitive.

Panacea nodded slowly. "Because they're suffering." she muttered, more to herself than to me. "And you're the only one who can do something about it."

"That's true, I guess." Put that way, our mission sounded much nobler than it felt. If I was going to be expected to do cape work, at least this was reasonably safe and I got overtime pay for it. The plight of the victims was horrible, of course, but also remote, given how sparsely I interacted with them. I wasn't remotely qualified to deal with severely traumatized people; the doctors and psychologists could handle that, thank you very much. I didn't need to be called a witch, again, or to have someone tearfully kissing my boots in gratitude (which was even more uncomfortable).

There was a long pause from Panacea. "And...does it bother you? The responsibility?"

She looked expectantly at me. I got the feeling she was going to scrutinize my answer closely for...something. It put me on guard. "Should it?" I said carefully.

"I don't know." She slumped back in her seat with a sigh. "Why not then? How do you deal with it?"

I thought it over. I did understand what she was getting at, intellectually. There was an argument to be made that given how much Gray Boy victims suffered from merely existing, I should feel a lot more moral urgency about this. Skipping school. Skipping meals. Skipping sleep in order to free them as quickly as possible. No one had suggested I do something so drastic, though, and honestly I didn't want to. Should I feel guilty about that? Whether or not I should, I found that I didn't. "I think," I said. "that if no one's putting extra stress on you, there's no point doing it to yourself."

There. That was a reasonable answer, or so I thought. But Panacea just chuckled humorlessly. "What, that easy?"

This wasn't the part where she went off on a judgmental rant, was it? "I manage, more or less."

No rant was forthcoming, thankfully. She lapsed into an even longer silence, to the point I thought/hoped she'd dropped the topic. Then, another question. "Do you...do you ever wish you didn't have powers?"

I could answer that one confidently. "So far, definitely not. Despite the, uh, inconveniences." I rubbed at my arm. "Wait, do you?"

She shrugged. "Maybe...?"

"Well, I guess you'd be okay. Your whole family are capes, your sister's an Alexandria package..." I tried not to sound too bitter about that. "Me, though? Back to the slums." In principle—as even Armsmaster had admitted—parahumans were a scourge upon Earth Bet. In practice, it was a cape's world and we were all living in it. The practical trumped the principle in that calculus, no contest.

"Oh." To my relief, that finally stopped Panacea from asking tricky questions. Back to the Silk Road. Being a Ward didn't mean getting homework extensions, after all.

October 25, 2010

Surprisingly, I was called into the Director's office on Monday.

I wasn't the type of person who enjoyed surprises, and if I was this wasn't the sort of surprise I'd enjoy. I tried to think of any PRT rules I'd broken lately, but couldn't. Unless you counted that time Gallant and I might have broken the unwritten rules with regards to one Thomas Calvert, but that had been ages ago. No one had followed up about our tip, and I hadn't seen him again. Maybe it was a false alarm, or maybe he'd been exposed and secretly sent to the Birdcage. Sadly, I hadn't heard about any of the local villains disappearing, so the latter was unlikely.

As such, my expectations for the meeting were low, but it still proved an unwelcome shock. "I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

"I'm quite sure you heard correctly the first time." Director Piggot cast me a sour look. "You're officially medically cleared for low-risk combat missions, and thus I'm proposing we add you to the patrol schedule. Like every other Ward." she added.

Now, I had noticed my teammates didn't seem to like the Director very much. Clockblocker, for one, routinely nicknamed her 'Miss Piggy' when no authority figures were present. I found that a lazy moniker, since she neither looked nor acted anything like the Muppet. Personally, I rather respected her for her sense of caution. I was happy to not participate in a glorious suicide charge against the ABB and Empire at once, like Director Vista or Director Shadow Stalker would probably order us to. Right now, though, I could feel that respect fraying by the second. "Ma'am," I began, as politely as I could. "I'd like to point out that I don't have any powers useful against ordinary criminals."

Piggot nodded. "You're not wrong. A good thing I don't expect you to fight ordinary criminals."

"I thought that was the point of patrols." From my experiences on the console, the vast majority of confrontation were with normals. Cape fights were rare enough that you couldn't reliably plan to find one on any particular route.

"Yes and no." said Piggot. "Do you follow PHO, Blank?"

"I just read the wikis." As a rule, I avoided Internet forums like the plague. Interacting with random strangers in real life was fraught enough; I didn't see why online strangers would be any better.

Piggot scowled. "If only I had that luxury. You should know, then, that you've received a decidedly mixed reception. There are all manner of wild theories about why you haven't been seen for months after joining. And yes," she said to forestall any objections. "I know there are good reasons for that, but the public doesn't. See for yourself."

She passed me a sheet of paper. I pitied whatever poor PRT agent had been forced to trawl the depths of PHO to compile it. According to various commenters I was a former villain, I was a rabid anti-Case 53 racist, my power was something completely useless, I was Mastering people into forgetting they'd seen me (what?), I was secretly a resurrected Gray Boy (seriously, what?), and I was actually a PRT psy-op to convince people there were more heroes than there were.

"Okay, that's...irritating, but I didn't become a Ward to make people on the Internet like me."

"This is bigger than you." Piggot retorted. "Your reputation reflects on the PRT as an organization. Negative perceptions of heroes are counter-productive to our mission, to showing that parahumans should be accepted in society—"

"Should they?" I blurted out, then winced. Yes, question the PRT's basic mission statement in front of the Director, great idea. It was just that those words sounded patently absurd coming from her mouth. I had read the internal files; I knew how high Lung and Hookwolf's body counts were; I had seen people locked in eternal grayscale agony, and Piggot surely knew of more horrors still. What about any of that deserved acceptance?

For a fleeting instant, I thought I saw the ghost of a smile on her face, but it might have been my imagination. "An astute question. But regardless, it's in your interest that people believe so."

She was right. I had asked should they, when in reality it was should we. The practical over the principle, again. "And me going on patrol will prove it." I said skeptically.

"As far as you personally are concerned, it really might." she said. I couldn't think of what to say to that. "You aren't convinced, are you? Speak your mind." When I still hesitated, she huffed impatiently. "That's an order. Insulting the Director to her face isn't actually against the rules, if you're worried about that."

I took a breath. "I'll be frank, then. It feels like I'm risking my life for a PR stunt."

Piggot snorted. "We're all risking our lives just living here. And I think you overestimate the danger. Contrary to what you may believe, Wards patrols are designed to not get you killed."

"I wasn't implying—"

She waved it off. "Don't mention it. I must say, it's refreshing to have one of you worry about too much excitement, for once." Piggot shuffled some papers around. I wasn't sure if she actually needed to consult them or it was just for effect. "Now, the plan is for you take the Boardwalk route—I don't need to insult your intelligence by telling you it's the safest part of the city." Of course, she'd just told me anyways. "As a matter of fact, we've never had a Ward injured walking it. On Friday, since it's the statistically lowest-crime day of the week here." Not saying much, in Brockton Bay. "You'll be partnered with Vista, since she's proven she can indirectly use her power on you. She, by the way, managed this route when she was ten years old."

"I assume my parents will have to agree?"

Piggot definitely smiled now. "Those are the rules, yes. A good thing I already spoke to them, and they're agreeable." What? "Seeing as it won't lead to you missing more school."

Damn it. "Seems like it's already decided then." I muttered.

"If you're honestly telling me," said Piggot. "that you would leave the Wards and become a villain rather than walk through the safest part of town in full body armor, then I might reconsider. Otherwise, yes."

"...I'll do it." I conceded. I didn't know if I was brave for agreeing, or a coward for not pushing back harder. "For the record, I still think this is a farce."

"And you're free to think so." Piggot said neutrally. "Dismissed."

October 29, 2010

Friday came all too soon. I stood in the Wards base, my recently-eaten school lunch feeling like a bowling ball in my stomach. Earpiece, check. Baton, check. Taser, check. Pepper spray, check. Zip ties, check. I had mentally reviewed the loadout a dozen times already, but I needed something to do. I checked myself in the wall-mounted mirror, just to make sure my costume was on straight. It occurred to me that I'd never worn it in a public setting before. Honestly, I looked like a real hero, or at least someone not to be messed with. The armor plating spoke to solidity and strength, while the mirrored helmet hinted at mystery. If someone dressed like this approached me in the street, I would be very much intimidated.

That was good, because I definitely felt more scared than scary right now. Not to say I was crying and puking in front of my coworkers—I still had my dignity—but there were palpable nerves at work here.

Thankfully, the helmet hid all my inner angst. "Comms check." Aegis, who'd drawn today's console shift, said in my earpiece.

Kid Win was taking a dedicated Tinkering day, but the other six of us acknowledged the check one by one. "Blank here. I copy." I said at the very end.

Clockblocker clapped me on the back. "Ready to lose your patrol virginity?" he said, cheerfully crude as ever. "Aw, our little Blank is all grown up."

"Good luck. I'll keep an eye out for you." said Aegis.

Triumph and Gallant likewise wished me well. Shadow Stalker didn't. "Whatever, you'll be fine. A baby could do the Boardwalk run." To be fair, that was about as kind and encouraging as she ever got. I avoided speaking to her unless strictly necessary for good reason. I still had no idea what her real name was; in fact, I wasn't sure any of us did. It seemed in character for her, forcing us to mildly inconvenience ourselves by masking up whenever she entered the room.

We parted ways outside the base. The others were taking the elevator to the parking garage, where PRT vans would whisk them to the start of their routes. Vista and I would have to take the stairs—or at least, I would. Vista had other ideas. "Wait here. I have a shortcut." she told me. I waited, and watched the staircase distort as if in a carnival mirror. Three floors compressed into the space of one, and the narrow stairwell opened like a zipper, leaving a hole wide enough for a little girl to climb through. Vista happily jumped in and clambered up out of sight, before poking her visored head back down. "Okay, now you come up."

I went in with rather more trepidation. If I stared at my feet, the ascent was entirely ordinary, yet outside my bubble of normality I could see the M.C. Escher nightmare the stairs had turned into. All the while, Vista's face hovered overhead, seeming to never get any closer. It was like walking on a stepper machine. Finally I reached her at the top landing, and the warped dimensions snapped back. "Didn't feel like a shortcut." I said.

Vista grinned. "It was one for me."

Fair enough. It added some spice to the process of going up two floors, I'd grant her that. "Normally I just warp from the roof to the Boardwalk." she explained as we exited onto Lord Street. "But you'd probably fall off, so we'll do it the boring way."

"Sorry to make you walk." I wasn't sure if I meant that sarcastically or not.

"I don't mind walking." she said, a bit defensively. I pushed the button to cross over to the Boardwalk. We waited patiently for the light to turn green. Heavens forbid that us law-abiding heroes be caught jaywalking. "So...excited for your first patrol?" Vista asked.

"Not that excited." I admitted.

Vista nodded sagely. "I get it." The light turned green, and we headed over to our route's official start point. "Boardwalk is kind of boring. But put in the time and you'll get more action, I promise."

"Right." I very deliberately avoided correcting her misconceptions. The Boardwalk was, true to its name, made out of wooden planks. It snaked all along the length of the coast, wedged between Lord Street and Brockton's namesake bay. Our route would take us south to north, along the section between PRT HQ and Protectorate HQ. I thumbed my earpiece the moment my boots touched the planks. "Blank to Console. Starting Boardwalk route now."

"Acknowledged." Aegis replied.

That was it. I was officially a patrolling hero. There weren't that many people around on a weekday afternoon, but I forced myself to remain alert nonetheless. My hand drifted to the taser at my belt. Basic training had emphasized that it was very uncouth to walk around weapon in hand, but surely being ready to draw at a moment's notice was only prudent.

I looked left and right, scanning the passerby for any sign of a threat. Even if they looked innocent enough, I knew well what a hive of scum and villainy this city was. Any one of these people could be a drug dealer, or a Nazi spy, or a drug-dealing Nazi spy. Even that little old lady walking her dog on the beach. Or that shirtless man sunbathing on a towel—actually, that was kind of strange, considering it was almost November. Or that blonde girl, drinking coffee outside a ritzy cafe. The blonde girl was most suspicious of all. She looked to be my age and certainly wasn't a Ward, so shouldn't she be in school right now?

"Psst, Blank." Vista whispered. "Relax. You look like you're ready to tase someone."

"I am ready to tase someone." Then I noticed something quite alarming indeed up ahead. "Hey, do you see that?"

A group of young men had congregated on the boardwalk. They all had their phones out and appeared to be filming us. One of them pointed directly at me and said something to his neighbor, an excited smile on his face. "Ah. Cape geeks." Vista said knowingly.

"Cape geeks?"

"Yeah. This is one of the established patrol routes, so you see them hanging out sometimes." Vista nudged me her elbow. "Bet they've been waiting to see the new Ward for a while, huh?"

I scowled. "Don't they have anything better to do?" How did these people pay the bills if they were gawking at capes every day?

And honestly, a bunch of grown men obsessing over parahuman minors sounded kind of creepy. Maybe they even went home and wrote fanfiction about us, the fucking degenerates.

"Don't say that to their faces." Vista advised. "Unless you want to get flamed on PHO."

Smile and nod and keep my mouth shut, got it. I could do that. I didn't even need to smile, thanks to the helmet. The pointing and chatter intensified as we neared. One of them broke ranks to approach us directly. "Hey, Blank! Good to finally see you!" He was overweight, about to the extent of Director Piggot, and had an unkempt beard covering his chin and upper neck. He took a few steps forward, before something about my demeanor gave him pause. "Uh...don't tase me."

I moved my hand further from the taser. "Wasn't thinking about it." I lied.

"Okay...anyways, could you sign this for me?" He shoved a pen and notepad in my face.

Vista gave me a tiny nod. All right, it looked like we were doing this. The pen and pad looked noticeably greasy, and I was glad my costume came with gloves. In an oversight, signing autographs had not been part of my training, but I dredged up vague memories of elementary school cursive lessons and wrote down my name. Cape name, of course. "Here you go."

"Thanks." said the cape geek. "Uh, would you mind, like, writing a message too?"

"What do you want me to write?"

"Oh..." Apparently, despite asking he hadn't thought about it. "I don't know. Your message to the people of the city, maybe?"

Well, if that was what he wanted, I would oblige. I jotted down the first thing that came to mind. Of course, once the other cape geeks saw this they could hardly miss out themselves, and flocked around us like seagulls around a trawler.

Vista and I were there for a while.

Topic: Blank sighting!

In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Brockton Bay ► Teams ► Wards

Exploratorium (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Posted on October 29, 2010

Our boy is real! Spotted patrolling the Boardwalk with Vista, proof.

I got his first verified autograph too, here. When he joins the Triumvirate in ten years I'm going to be rich.

Chilldrizzle

Replied on October 29, 2010

OP, why did he tell you to "stop committing crimes"? Got something to share?

Exploratorium (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Replied on October 29, 2010

Uh...I might have phrased some stuff poorly.

We got stopped thrice more for pictures and autographs. By the third, even I mostly stopped suspecting that they were disguised villains out to steal our internal organs. According to Vista, for PR reasons Wards were discouraged from telling members of the public to fuck off, so we indulged them every time. I was beginning to understand why she disliked this route. For me, it was a bit annoying to repeat the same song and dance, but better annoyance than actual threats to life and limb. And at least they were all polite about it. Even the stupidest Brocktonite, it seemed, knew better than to act rude or creepy towards masked people in strange costumes. You never knew which of them could and would turn you inside out in a heartbeat.

Two hours into patrol, I was still doing my due diligence with regards to scanning the surroundings, but this was feeling a whole lot more like an ordinary walk down the street. No homicides had happened under our noses, at any rate. As such I was rather startled when a giant bear's head popped into view, looming over the Boardwalk shops. It swayed from side to side to some kind of silent beat. "I don't think that's normal." I observed.

Vista was unconcerned. "Probably Parian. She does jobs around here sometimes." Right, that was the cloth-controlling rogue. On closer inspection, the bear's face bore traces of stitching and its eyes were black beads. We turned the corner, and saw now that the head sat atop a twelve-foot tall body. The bear danced a lively jig in front of a posh clothing store, spinning an advertising board in circles. A small audience had gathered to watch.

It took me another second to spot its master. Parian was huddled under the shop's awning off to one side. If I hadn't recognized her from her PRT file, between the frilly dress and porcelain mask I might have mistaken her for a mannequin.

"Hi, Parian." Vista waved at her. After a momentary hesitation, Parian raised a white-gloved hand and waved back.

Feeling it would be impolite not to join in, I waved as well.

"Hello, Vista." Parian said stiffly. "And—you are Blank, correct? A good day to you." There was something odd about the way she talked. I couldn't put a finger on it at first, since her accent was perfectly neutral and every syllable perfectly pronounced. Then I realized that was precisely what was odd. When I was in middle school, there had been a couple of Asian transfer kids in my classes who'd talked the same way, so as not to sound like they were fresh off the boat.

It wasn't my place to pry, anyways. Parian was coming out from under the awning to greet us, so I held up a hand. "Don't get too close. My power might mess up your bear." I'd learned from the unfortunate mishap with Glory Girl. I didn't want her pissed at us because I'd made her creation explode all over the Boardwalk.

The doll's mask bobbed down and up. "I see, thank you. I take it the power nullifier theory is true then? It seemed far more plausible than that Gray Boy nonsense."

I hated PHO. "Something like that." I said noncommittally.

Parian didn't seem to mind the non-answer. "A trade secret, then. I understand."

"Yeah. Well, it was nice to meet you but we should let you get back to..." A long-buried thought suddenly struck me. "Actually, do you mind if I ask a question?"

Although her mask was expressionless, I could imagine Parian's eyebrows rising. "Go ahead."

"Okay. How did you end up as a rogue?"

Whatever question Parian had expected, this wasn't it, judging by the long silence that ensued. "Um...I guess it was the natural thing for me."

Vista scoffed. "Clearly not, since you're the only one around."

"For me." Parian repeated. "I don't want to be a villain, and I'm not saying that just because you're here. And, no offense to you, but I'm not cut out to be a hero. I mean, just the idea of fighting makes me shiver—"

"Well if no one fights—" Vista interrupted.

"Let her finish." I chided, with a firmness that surprised even myself. "Go on, Parian."

"Um, yes, so fighting isn't my thing, like I said. And this way I can at least make a living. College tuition isn't free, and the Boardwalk shops pay pretty well." I could imagine. Some of the dresses on display in the window had what looked like four figures on the price tags. Hiring a bona-fide cape to advertise for them was probably just another way to demonstrate their exclusivity. "Plus the work aligns with my major, too."

"And you don't have problems with the gangs?" I followed up.

"That...is a concern, yes." Parian clearly didn't enjoy this topic. "But I try to limit my appearances to safer neighborhoods, and they haven't bothered me so far. It's not as if a bunch of stuffed animals would be much use to them, is it?"

"I see. Thanks for your time, then." With that, we said our farewells to Parian and continued the patrol.

"What was up with that?" Vista asked once we were out of earshot. "You're not planning to go rogue on us, are you?"

"Just curious. There aren't a lot of capes like her." I deflected. Of all the parahumans I'd met, Parian seemed by far the most sensible. Forget heroes and villains, the rogues were the ones who had their shit together. "Besides, I don't think my power's much good for making money."

Vista giggled, taking it for a joke on my part. It wasn't, not entirely. Parian's life was the sort of life I'd hoped becoming a cape would unlock for me. A source of income, a university place, and no gang problems? I envied her, I really did. If I lasted twenty-one more months until I turned eighteen I'd have a chance at the same. There was no legal mechanism forcing me to join the Protectorate if I found a better opportunity elsewhere...

I wondered, though, if by that time I'd be too far in the deep end to walk away.

I shook my head clear. It was bad form to get lost in thought on patrol, even if we were nearing the end. It was half past three already, and the sun was visibly lower in the sky than when we'd started. We were slightly behind estimate given the number of times we'd stopped and Vista's inability to use her shortcuts. I could see the oil rig that was PHQ ahead and to my right, its iridescent force field floating on the bay. My old neighborhood of the Docks lay on the left, just across Lord Street but seemingly a world away from the Boardwalk's glamorous shops.

As I watched, a cloud of white smoke puffed up on a rooftop deeper in the Docks.

My eyes widened. I snapped my head back forward as a collective cry of shock and fear arose from the people nearby.

He was there. Standing bold as brass in the middle of the Boardwalk, as if waiting for us. A plain black bodysuit, stuffed to the gills with knives and grenades. The leering red face of a Japanese oni. I had never seen him before, but every Asian in the city knew that demonic mask. If Oni Lee came for you, you died, simple as that.

Oni Lee raised his hand to point accusingly at me. He shouted two words, and though his Mandarin pronunciation wasn't perfect I understood well enough. "漢奸!"

Bizarrely, my first reaction was a flash of rage that a man themed after a Japanese mythological creature had the gall to call me that. My immediate second reaction was utter panic. What was Oni Lee doing on the Boardwalk?! Why was he speaking Chinese to me?! I reached for my taser. Shit, he was at least six meters away—was it safer to charge in hopes of catching him in the null field or stand our ground or—

Space distorted. Oni Lee was suddenly a tiny figure in the distance. I had little confidence it would hold him long, given his teleportation. "Oni Lee on the Boardwalk!" Vista yelled. "We need backup—"

Oni Lee shouted again, louder and shriller. Even from artificially far away, I heard it clearly. "NANI?!"

My Japanese might be rudimentary, but I still knew what that meant.

He hurled something round and black our way, and in the same motion threw himself forward at full sprint. Screaming people scattered in all directions. "Grenade!" Vista flicked her wrist. The grenade became a speck floating high in the air. Oni Lee sprinted in place as if trapped on a giant treadmill. I swiveled to aim my taser at the empty space behind Vista's back. "Watch out, he's going to—"

Wait, no. Why was a teleporter running at us? I glanced back at Oni Lee. He threw a knife; it traveled mere inches through the air before dropping. Up above, the grenade burst with a faint pop and a twinkle like a shooting star. Then Oni Lee screamed. It was a desperate, bone-chilling sound that seemed to go on and on and on, until abruptly cutting off when he exploded into a cloud of white ash.

"Fuck!" Vista swore, letting go of her power. I was too frazzled to question if a twelve-year-old should be saying that word. "Where'd he go?!"

Both of us pressed our backs together and turned in circles, trying to see where he'd teleported to. Yet even though I spun around until I began to grow dizzy, neither of us glimpsed that red mask again. "Is...is he gone?" Vista said uncertainly.

"I guess?" I said, just as unsure. The crowd, formerly in a state of panicked flight, now felt secure enough to edge closer, murmuring anxiously among themselves. I had to suppress a sudden shiver as the adrenaline drained from me. "So much for the safe patrol..."

"Blank, Vista!" Aegis's voice crackled in my earpiece. "Velocity's en route, just hang in there!"

"We're okay, Console!" Vista answered. "We, uh, we scared him off, I think. Somehow?"

I didn't respond. I stared at the thin dusting of ash on the ground, replaying the brief encounter in my head. I was getting a very, very nasty feeling about what had just transpired.

A streak of red barreled down the Boardwalk, weaving in between the crowd. A blink of an eye later, Velocity was hurrying up to us in his red racer's costume. "Are you two all right?" he said in concern. "What happened with Oni Lee?"

"We're fine!" Vista reassured him, once again. "No idea what Oni Lee's deal was. He just showed up today and then—"

"He knew who I was." I said quietly.

Both other heroes looked at me in alarm. "You're sure?" Velocity asked. I leaned closer to recount what Oni Lee had said and what it meant, and what I could see of his face turned quite grim indeed. "That isn't good."

"No." I agreed. "And then...I think we had a power interaction and, um..." Now for the really awkward part. "Oni Lee might be dead."

Topic: Blank vs Oni Lee!

In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Brockton Bay

bothad (Original Poster)

Posted on October 29, 2010

Guys, I'm freaking out here. What the hell did I just witness?

Okay, so I was on the Boardwalk near PHQ to see Blank's first patrol (and Vista too). Then ONI MOTHERFUCKING LEE shows up. Says something to Blank I didn't understand, probably some Asian language? Vista does her thing, Oni Lee throws some stuff, then he starts SCREAMING IN TERROR and fucking explodes. He didn't come back. Velocity showed up right after to take the Wards away. Video

PRT's handling the cleanup. They're literally sweeping Oni Lee's dust into a bag right now. Did I just watch a man die? Did the new Ward just kill Oni Lee?!

Miner89er

Replied on October 29, 2010

Uh, holy crap.

Has a Ward ever killed someone on their first patrol before?

Brocktonite03

Replied on October 29, 2010

That's got to be shortest cape fight I've ever seen, if you can call it that. Oni Lee probably got spooked by something and teleported away. Say what you will but he's an experienced cape, there's no way he'd just die in five seconds, right? Right?

Bruce Lao

Replied on October 29, 2010

Sounds like Oni Lee called him "race traitor" in Chinese. Don't want to get in trouble for identity speculation so I'll leave it at that.

Chilldrizzle

Replied on October 29, 2010

Fuck, if he's actually dead Lung isn't going to be happy. At all. Well, this might be the day Brockton Bay finally burns down, nice knowing you all.

On the bright side, Exploratorium I think your autograph's worth something already.

Oops! How's that for an escalation? Some of you might have already guessed why Oni Lee appeared and what happened to him, but all will be explained.

Someone asked if Blank/Panacea would be the pairing...there are a lot of obstacles to that, some more obvious than others. Amy does have some hope that, if not a friend, he can be someone who "gets" her in ways the more battle-happy heroes don't, but he's possibly even more closed off than she is, plus their ways of thinking are very different.

Someone also asked if Blank could kill an Endbringer. My response is, how would you get him to the fight to begin with? You'd need a lot of luck to get one to spawn right next to him...