Chapter 5: Imago
Dean:
Gallant stopped before the pair of Tinkertech doors, unsure of how to proceed next. Despite having been a Ward for little more than half a year now, this was the first time he'd ever been called to Armaster's lab. The Protectorate leader didn't interact much with their junior branch outside of the regularly scheduled meeting, where he stuck to a strictly business-like demeanour, speaking in his distinctive assertive, matter-of-fact tone. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, he had quite a bit of respect for the senior hero, but he was by no means an approachable person. Definitely not the type to include more than the strict necessary when sending an appointment notice.
And that was why it took him a good five minutes of fiddling around the control panel in front of him before finding the proverbial doorbell. The thick gloves incorporated in his armour did not help at all.
When thinking of what a Tinker's workspace might look like, Gallant didn't have any point of reference except for the crowded mess of papers and oil stains that anybody not named Kid Win would call uninhabitable. Even so, he imagined Armsaster's lab was impressive even by professional standards. He didn't even bother trying to make heads or tails of the strange, wiry contraptions displayed behind the glass cases, but everything was arranged and labelled to perfection in a way that made sense. To call it utilitarian in favour of welcoming would be an understatement, but he could easily follow the logic of the layout, how everything was designed to complement its neighbour in a seamless transition. In a way, the stubborn devoidness of any character became its character. Here, the man in midnight blue armour in front of him looked right at home.
"You're late," Armsmaster said, his back still turned against Gallant as he hovered over the table, his silhouette fogged away in the shades of colour that only Dean's eyes could perceive.
"I'm sorry, sir." He answered, not seeing the point in giving any excuses. He doubted the thought of giving him any instructions on how to open the door had ever crossed the man's mind.
"I've gotten started on a couple more modifications on my halberd. I'll be done shortly" He said, his voice slightly muffled by the sound of what looked like some sort of electrical saw in his hands. Gallant nodded by reflex, not that Armsmaster could see from his position. He quietly took a seat on a nearby chair, thankful that he was not in any particular hurry for the rest of the day. He knew that the word 'shortly' had very little meaning when talking with a Tinker. He resolved to pass away the time by looking around for any particular interesting creation, but as was often the case, he kept getting distracted by the waves and splashes of colour emanating out of Armsmaster.
Dean was used to associating the hero's presence with tones of dull silver, but right now a sharp blue was enveloping him, nearly indistinguishable from the resort of his armour if not for the occasional tinges of light purple. Still, in the centre of the colourful storm was the same fiery red as always, flaring endlessly without any heat. Like a flame that would freeze your skin rather than burn it.
Gallant usually preferred not to look any deeper than that, to delve for the emotions that gave form to what his brain was interpreting with the help of sight, but he couldn't help but notice that amongst all the heroes, he was the only one lacking that morose grey that hangs above everybody's heads like a foreboding cloud. Even Assault's ever-cheerful yellow had been stained by its suffocating parlour, refusing to leave their side ever since that incident.
Gallant realized this was a good opportunity to address one of his main concerns for the past few days.
"Sir?"
"Yes?" Armsmaster responded, not missing a bit.
"I was wondering if there were any updates regarding the 'Jason 13th' case?"
"You have all been briefed on the current situation when our investigative team decided that there was no evidence to suggest that Brockton Bay could be the target for a possible repeat of the event. The Wards will be notified should anything change." The man spoke with little to no inflexion, like he was reading straight from a report. All the while, his hands did not slow down at all as they fiddled with a small control panel from the shaft of the weapon. Gallant didn't get discouraged, however.
"I know that, but without any new information and with all those theories running around on the internet, it's easy for the team, myself included, to start worrying. Especially since Nimue has a personal connection with one of the campers. Clockblocker and Vista are doing their best to cheer her up, but they look pretty stressed themselves. "
"What sort of theories had been circling around?" Armsmaster cranked his neck to look at him.
"With the way those bodies looked, there was a lot of speculation that the Nine were involved. Others think that some of Nilbog's creatures might have escaped, since the proximity..."
"Nonsense." the Tinker shook his head dismissively. "The timeline doesn't sync up with the last of the Slaughterhouse Nine's sightings, and there are no reports of any long-range teleporters having been recruited in their ranks. As for Nilbog, Dragon's surveillance is nothing less than flawless, the chances of a breach that was not discovered until now are close to null."
"Then?" Gallant pushed on. Armsmaster's eyes unfocused for a second, no doubt glossing over some documents that appeared on his visor's HUD.
"The Protectorate Thinkers seem to believe that, more likely than not, this was the result of a Trigger Event gone horribly wrong. Whether the new Parahuman fled the premises during the aftermath, or they themselves were killed, could not be determined. The corpses' DNA had been scrambled somehow to such a degree that when identification was attempted, the results that came back were gibberish, each sample matching multiple entries in our database. Some of them had been deceased for decades. Similarly, visual identification has not been reliable, due to the state the bodies had been reduced to."
Gallant could feel a painful node forming in his stomach. He had seen some of the photos as well and he was certain they weren't going to be leaving his nightmares any time soon.
"Any leads on potential survivals?" He dared to ask, despite himself.
The ensuing silence was telling enough.
Armsmaster finally abandoned the jumble of pieces on his table and turned towards him. "Since you brought up Nimue, this is a good time to get onto the reason I called you here." Gallant cringed, glad that his armour hid away his expression. Who changes the topic like that? "I want to hear your opinion on your new teammate."
"As you know sir, the Trump aspect of her power prevents me from getting an accurate read on her." He doubted the hero was the type to forget something like that. After power testing, Nimue had been classified as a low to mid-tier Brute, with a good Mover rating and unspecified Trump one. Safe for Vicky and himself, there were not many capes in the Bay they could call in to test its scope and limitations.
"Yes, but I wanted to hear an opinion from someone who has spent an adequate amount of time with her," Armsmaster said. "In my experience Thinkers and Masters are the ones who tend to pay the most attention to people's demeanour and pick up on any particular habits."
'Blaster.' Gallant almost corrected him before he could stop himself. Due to his armour, it was easy to brand himself as a Tinker, but that was his official classification in the PRT. The Protectorate tried to steer away as much as possible when it came to giving their heroes the 'Master' classification, due to the less than stellar reputation that set of powers tended to inspire. He couldn't blame them though, even to himself the fact that he could influence people's will was something he tended to avoid thinking about too much.
Instead, he thought about his answer for a second. "I would call her a good addition to the team. She is not very excited when it comes to patrols and such, but she never turns in her paperwork late and she is very good at interacting with fans and steering away from more undesirable topics. She's quickly integrated herself with the others and tries to keep a good relationship with everybody. I'd say she's still learning the ropes, but sometimes she feels even more experienced than myself."
That was an accurate description. Personally, she thought of her as the typical queen bee, minus all the bitchiness associated with the title. She was like a more subdued version of Vicky, and not a lot behind in looks as well (Not that he'd ever say that out loud to his girlfriend, since he rather liked it when his arms remained attached to his body). She was the type of person who became the centre of attention without lifting as much of a finger, always friendly with everyone but never getting herself caught in another's person pace. He gave it until the end of the week when either Dennis or Carlos started crushing on her.
He doubted Armsmaster was interested in hearing about any of that, though.
"If I may ask, is there a reason you're asking me about Nimue?" Gallant doubted it was just because she was new. Armsmaster seemed to have relegated most of his duties regarding the Wards to Miss Militia, an arrangement that seemed to suit the both of them just fine. There had apparently been a brief period when he had worked on some projects with Kid Win when Chris had joined, but that was probably due to them being both Tinkers.
In response, Armsmaster pushed a couple of buttons on his computer, a large screen flaring up to display a series of documents of some kind. Unfortunately, the text was too small for Gallant to read from this distance, so he probably shouldn't have bothered.
"There have been multiple reports of vigilante activity in ABB territory for the last couple of days. Multiple individuals suspected of gang activity have been violently assaulted in a disturbingly brief period of time, a pace that no previous unaffiliated cape had ever showcased since Lung. Most of the victims had been subjected to some degree of either maiming or severe internal bleeding. A good 40% had been found deceased, with another 50% being either in critical condition or suffering from crippling injuries that nothing short of Panacea's intervention could rectify." Even from behind his visor, Gallant could feel Armsmaster's eyes harden. "It has been determined that a good portion of the injuries were inflicted after the victim had been already subdued."
Gallant remembered that during last night's debriefing, they had been explicitly told, in no unclear terms, to steer clear of the ABB area for the foreseeable future. Things suddenly clicked.
"Does that mean Nimue is being suspected of...?"
"No." Armsmaster probably didn't take notice of how Dean's heart seemed to skip a good couple of beats, or how his shoulders sagged as the sudden wave of relief crashed into him head-on. "Velocity, Dauntless and I have all interrogated some of the survivors, and they all had a similar description of the vigilante We have provisionally codenamed this new cape as "Orangutan" and he is to be treated as a dangerous Brute, and hostile. If encountered, Wards are ordered to evacuate the premises and to notify a Protectorate member effective immediately."
"Understood," Gallant said. Armsmaster met his stare for a moment, then nodded.
"Good. As for Nimue, I am worried that these events don't encourage her to either imitate or seek out Orangutan, considering the situation of her Trigger Event."
Dean very pointedly did not react to that.
"Fresh triggers tend to act rashly, due to a combination of their recent trauma and a desire to explore and utilize their new power. Under no circumstances should she even consider acting on her own or seek out a fight with one of the major gangs in the city."
"She doesn't seem to be the type to do something like that," Gallant said. He could see Armsmaster's mouth open up in response, but so he quickly added: "Of course, as her teammate, I will make sure to steer her away from any trouble and will notify you if I notice anything strange in her behaviour."
"Ver well." The hero nodded. " That should be all for now. I hope this is just an unfounded worry, but do keep an eye on the situation." His piece said he swirled his chair back to the table and resumed his work, moving with such purpose and fluidity as if he had never paused.
Taking this as his cue to leave, Gallant stood up and prepared to bid his superior goodbye, when a familiar duo of colours at the edge of Armsamaster's aura drew his eye. A hollowed-up orange, a mere shadow of a feeling. Uncertainty.
"Sir, was there any other reason for your worries regarding Nimue?"
Armsmaster didn't stop Tinkering this time, but from where he stood he could see his back tensing ever so slightly. They stood there in silence for a short while, until Gallant became sure the man was going to continue the conversation. He did, however.
"Nothing alarming or anything like that. I was just going over some of the reports regarding her integration into the Wards, and one particular file from the Marketing Department caught my eye, that's all," he said in a low tone. "Apparently Nimue had been the name they had come up for her after her first suggestion was refused. She was pretty stubborn about her choice, too."
Gallant's eyebrow furrowed in confusion. Why would something so minute catch Armsmaster's attention at all? Sure, people gave Dennis the side eye for a while after he came out to the public with his name, but that had never threatened to escalate into something serious.
"What name did she initially want to go by, sir?"
"Titania."
It took him a moment to make the connection. Literature was never his forte, after all. Though very few people didn't know of the famous character from Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. The Queen of Fairies.
Dean's armour made a soft clanking sound as he couldn't suppress a shiver.
"I'm telling you, just mention Mouse Protector next time you run into Miss Militia. Her weapon automatically flickers. It's like instinct."
"No thanks. I'd rather not be on the other side of Miss M's gun barrel any time soon."
Dean was already taking off his helmet by the time the doors to the Wards' quarters opened. Except for when they had tour visits planned or if a new member just joined up, everybody preferred to unmask when they were hanging out around here. Something about not being able to see another person's face instinctively made people more guarded, more hesitant to open up. Like there was a thin barrier around them, nearly imperceptible yet keeping them at a distance. Not that Dean had any problems like that.
He wondered when it was that people's auras started becoming the first thing he noticed when looking at somebody. There weren't many people present in the room right then. A pale pink started invading Missy's space as soon as he stepped inside, even as she pretended to remain absorbed in her homework by the table next to the open-spaced kitchen. Dennis's playful, cerulean blue, stood in contrast with the beige couch as he lunged around, chatting with Emma as he mindlessly flipped through the TV channels.
Speaking of Emma, she was the only that had at least part of her uniform on at the moment. He imagined her custom-made suit was more accommodating for her wings than her regular clothes. Even now they seem to strain against the confines of the armchair their owner had claimed for themselves, curled around her like a protective blanket around her shoulders and upper arms. As always, Dean had to strain his eyes to look at her.
The aura around her was unlike everything he had ever seen before. It was as if his brain was forcing him to imagine a new colour and then show him three different shades of that colour. When he first met her he had assumed it was similar to when a rainbow was mashed together in order to birth white light, but this wasn't quite right. The light had depth, a nuance to it, like a never-ending vortex sucking you deeper into its centre. What could that centre even look like, his eyes stung just thinking about it.
He knew that he wasn't unfair to Emma, and he tried to be as friendly as possible to compensate for it, but he couldn't stop that smidge of wariness creeping down his spine. It was the opposite of when he met Vicky for the first time. The fact that she was resistant to his power played a huge part in his initial attraction to her; for the first time since he became a cape, he could finally have someone that could interact with as his equal. That imbalance formed along with the inane knowledge that no matter what the other person does, they were always going to be an open book to him. He was rid of all of that when he was with her.
In a complete reversal of that, not being able to see Emma's emotions kept him on his toes around her.
Perhaps sensing his eyes linger on her a little too long, the girl smiled towards him.
"Anything wrong, Dean?"
"Ah? Sorry, no. I was just lost in thought for a bit," he scrambled to recover.
"What's up, man?" Dennis called out as the remote settled on some foreign sitcom his mom used to like. "Don't tell me good ol' Armsy went that hard on you? Did he run out of training dummies and wanted to test his weapon against a live subject?"
"We all know that if Armsmaster wanted to tear someone a new one with his spear, you would be the first one on the list. With Kaiser lagging close behind." He snarked back.
"Har Har. Did little Dean I knew to turn into a comedian while I wasn't looking? Oh, how fast they grow!" Dennis cried out while pretending to wipe away a tear. Dean ignored him.
"It was just a routine check-up on my power armour. Armsmaster said he was thinking of some upgrades for it and he wanted to discuss it with me." He lied smoothly. Ironically enough, bending the truth was the first skill you learned to pick up as a hero. The secret was blending some truth in as well. "He also said to pass along that there's gonna be a meeting tonight. About a new cape in town."
"Are they gonna try to make them join the Protectorate?" Missy asked, abandoning any pretense of sparing a thought to her math equations. "Maybe they're around our age and we could end up with a new Ward. We very rarely get to people signing up so close to each other."
"Oh my, Missy! Did you get bored of me already?" Emma jokingly teased. The younger girl blushed, stammering to correct herself.
"No, I meant, like, it would be nice to have a few more girls around here, except for us. Ah, not that I have any problem even if it's just us, but, you know..."
Emma laughed softly. "I get what you mean. I wouldn't mind a few more girls around here as well. No offense boys, but Missy and I are kinda outnumbered here."
Dean shook his head. "I doubt they're gonna try to recruit him. He's been hitting the ABB pretty hard lately. Too brutal for the PRT's tastes." He subtly stole a glance towards his left from the corner of his eye, but Emma's expression didn't seem to change at all.
"Maybe they're planning to team up with that Stalker guy," Missy suggested. "Piggot doesn't seem too happy about the crossbow wounds that keep showing up in the hospitals." Dean doubted it. From what Armsmaster told him, 'Orangutan' didn't just resort to excessive force. He seemed to actively take pleasure in torturing his victims.
"I'm calling it now Shadow Stalker's a girl." Dennis proclaimed, raising his hands up in defence as he was met with flat looks from every person in the room. "Now, hear me out. Remember Alex from class C? My Clocker Radar is never in the wrong about these things."
"I think you should rename it to the Pervert Radar." Emma raised an eyebrow. "I'm suddenly glad we're not going to the same school."
"I'm telling you, you weren't there. Everybody laughed at me back then. Well, want to know who was laughing a week later?" Dennis continued his comedy routine, even as his aura started to resemble Missy's in pigmentation. It seemed like a week had been a bit too generous of a timetable.
For his part, Dean was fine to let the conversation flow by him, only occasionally chiming in when someone addressed him or it was his turn to make fun of Dennis. His thoughts however were elsewhere, going back to his meeting earlier in the lab. Then even further back, to the meeting about the incident in the parking lot and the subsequent announcement of a new Ward joining. Even if capes tended to steer away from discussing Trigger Events as much as possible, there was little they could do about one as public as that. Especially in one that resulted in casualties.
Trigger Events. The means by which a natural parahuman got their powers. He understood the concept, it had been one of the first things Cauldron explained to him during trial testing, but that was only on the surface. He couldn't even begin to imagine how it must feel. For the most defining moment of your life to be the one where you were at your lowest. For every time you used your powers to be reminded of when you were the most powerless.
He looked towards each one of his friends. Missy, who was still so young in his eyes, yet was trying so hard to act above her age. She was the longest-serving Ward. Dennis, always with a smile and a quip on his lips, to the point Dean could never imagine him without. Emma, who shined so bright and laughed seemingly without worry, when only a couple of weeks ago she had been through the worst hell imaginable.
There was a burden on their shoulders, one that even with his powers Dean doubted he would ever be able to help them lessen it. He would never be so callous as to feel guilty for being the one who took the easy way out, that would be an insult to his teammates. But at that moment, as Missy and Dennis started fighting on the couch for the remote and Emma pointedly ignored them by scrolling on her phone, he felt oddly alone.
AN: If anyone's wondering why I chose this name for Emma's cape persona... it's a Fate reference. Not gonna spoil anything, just know that Nimue is another name that the Lady of the Lake went by, and it has to do with the duality of a certain character from LB6.