Quest Chapter 30: Ripper 2, a 3x3 eyes fanfic

It had started to rain. Somewhat fitting. While it wasn't quite foggy, I felt the humidity that dampened my bandana.

The costume was waterproof, and after I had reset my cap in the 'proper way' and took out the hood from the hidden zipped pocket, I had little to no trouble.

Every now and then some drops fell from the brim, but it was hardly an annoyance. There was a bit of dampness at my feet, but again it was more of a novel sensation than anything else.

It was calm. The soft sound of the rain was interrupted by the light traffic, most people were taking refuge inside the mall and the shops, and only the disgruntled enforcers and few others were outside.

Kid Win had set his overboard so that he followed him on his head as a cover, Miss Militia had turned her weapon in a mix between an umbrella and a rifle and Aegis took the rain stoically.

He probably didn't need to worry about a cold.

Usually, Aegis and Kid Win would be giving air cover, but considering how the view would be hindered by the rain it was thought of as an unnecessary risk.

And it was hardly good PR if nobody cared to see you.

What looked like a couple moved towards us. They were both teenagers. He looked like a stereotypical jock, if not overly muscled, but one could call him moderately handsome. The other was a girl with frizzy black hair and a startingly pair of blue eyes. She looked concerned about him, even as he dragged her towards us with his right hand, the left keeping up a white umbrella.

I stopped, and I saw that Miss Militia seemed to have recognized him. Maybe he was a fan?

"Good day, may I ask for an autograph?"

As he was looking at me, I moved to take my pen out my 'fun' poach, the one that also had the candies, but he had already everything with him.

He was examining me, as if dissecting the way I moved and how I wrote my name, but it wasn't with hostility or maliciousness, he had this curious look that was born of simple curiosity.

He put the notepad and his pen in his jacket and asked: "Do you like the Wards?"

I smiled: "Sure!"

I fidgeted as he watched me.

I didn't think I was fooling him, but he nodded and smiled. "Good. It's something to think about."

I tilted my head.

"George…" his girlfriend tried to interrupt him.

He looked at her, and his eyes went blank for a moment as if forgetting what he was going to say. He scratched his left cheek and said: "Nothing. Do good work, Ghostchild. I'm happy to see what you'll do for the city."

And they left.

That was something.

Kid Win and Aegis had both a look of recognition, and Miss Militia was watching him go away with a hint of something.

Worry, perhaps?

We asked: "Did you know him?"

Aegis muttered: "It's complicated."

We asked again: "Shadow Stalker complicated?"

They froze.

"This isn't the time…!" Aegis snarled.

We simply stood firm, our eyes bore on them.

Kid Win stuttered: "It's- it's not like that. He had some troubles and-

Miss Militia interrupted him, her voice was level and firm: "Kid Win, this is not the place nor time to discuss this. Ghostchild…"

Her tone took a certain edge: "Never, ever take your personal matters on duty."

It felt like a scolding. We didn't deserve it.

I closed the flow: "You are asking a lot out of me… I don't even know what happened to her. Do I constantly need to watch my back? Wait for some 'other mistake' to happen?"

"We'll talk about it after our patrol, and that's final." She ordered.

I knew it was all I was going to get.

The rain was getting annoying.

We walked for about three minutes in silence. Kid Win was unsettled, Aegis was still very angry, Miss Militia… maybe a bit more tense than usual, but she was keeping a professional demeanor.

Of course, our argument had been muffled and we all portrayed ourselves as heroes, we smiled at the few fans on the way, we signed one or two autographs.

It was less bad than I imagined, I had to admit. It was a common courtesy to not overwhelm patrolling capes, to give them space, even in a relatively peaceful street like this.

Though I feared to be at the center of attention, there was a little warm feeling when the other children kept their attention on me, or when a particular tall cape nerd asked me about my powers, how it worked, and many insignificant details that neither part of myself never questioned about.

Parahumans' powers and Servants' abilities were so arbitrary either way.

We reached the end of the road, an intersection that muddled the territory between the E88 and a 'soft gang', one of those little groups that died after a few months and that separated the Big Gangs of the Bay, providing a sort of cushion between them.

During one of the courses I had to attend, it was explained that it was a policy leaving them alone as their disappearance would shake the other gangs and cause conflicts.

It sounded flimsy to my ears, but again I could see the reason.

There at the corner was the van that would bring us back to base.

It had been a short patrol, half an hour at most.

"Fox-alpha-treat-01, fox-alpha-01."

I scrambled for a moment, searching for the meaning of the code rattled by Vista.

Fox meant crime.

Alpha meant possible parahuman involvement.

Treat meant it had already occurred, the culprit had already escaped.

01 meant murderer.

I knew I shouldn't have called this day 'fitting' for a patrol.

"Are we supposed to come, ma'am?" Aegis asked.

Miss Militia looked at each one of us. "Aegis, Kid Win, provide air cover. Ghostchild, follow me from the rooftops using your first cloak."

We nodded, rushed to two adjacent walls, jumped twice from one to the other until we were on the rooftop. The slick and wet bricks didn't give a problem thanks to whatever material our soles were made of.

When we felt nobody was watching us, we activated our concealment.

While we watched for suspicious people, at least more suspicious than a simple skinhead or a drug addict, Miss Militia calmly walked towards the crime scene and the other Wards provided cover.

The area was already cordoned off by the police, one of their officers was talking quietly with one from the PRT.

"He was a repentant criminal, larceny, assault on his ex-wife, drug abuse."

The description sounded quite... generic for the landscape of Brockton Bay. If we weren't already here, we wouldn't be surprised if another wraith was born.

Well, we didn't count, we were alive.

The policeman stated: "We don't think it falls on your jurisdiction, sir."

The PRT officer disagreed: "Yet you found one of the red pages."

Red pages...?

Where did we hear about them?

Something on TV?

"It might be a copycat. Or are you sure it's a parahuman?"

Miss Militia inserted herself in the conversation: "If there's any suspect of parahuman involvement, we need to be here whether it's true or not."

The police officer grumbled and let Miss Militia in.

We dropped down.

The scene was clean, if not a bit gruesome. The victim had been impaled by an umbrella in his left eye, but it wasn't an instant death. The umbrella was broken in two pieces, and the eye was gouged out, the blood was coagulated around the glassed pupil. He had a trash bag in his left hand, some rubbish had spilled out.

It would have looked like an accident if it were not for the red poster on the wall.

"Joel Scheffer suffered the sin of wrath. Here is the address of his latest victim."

The letters were written using cutouts from some newspapers.

Miss Militia rumbled some codes I hadn't learned yet.

Then we heard Vista's voice from my radio. "Ghostchild, move back to the van and decloak."

We passed past Miss Militia and the cordon block. I reappeared in the middle of the street.

The drive back to base was sober. The argument we had was forgotten in front of the murder.

"Did you see anything?" the rusted red hero asked me.

I nodded. "It was weird. He was killed by an umbrella."

Kid Win muttered: "An umbrella?"

"In his eye." I was fairly sure it touched his brain.

Miss Militia was still outside, patrolling the area with Armsmaster. Someone like him must have the best forensic technology.

Kid Win grimaced: "How close you were in there?"

I said nonchalantly: "Right behind our supervisor."

The brute wasn't all that happy to hear it: "You entered?"

"She told me to provide cover. For all I knew, the killer was hidden there. By the way, do you know what the red poster meant?"

Aegis nodded and explained: "It's a wandering violent vigilante. He travels from city to city and kills a bunch of people before disappearing. Most of them were criminals, but some were just spouses and kids."

"Kids?" This sounded more of a serial killer than a vigilante.

"Of criminals, rarely of villains."

I muttered: "Wasn't there this Gavel guy that went to the Birdcage for that?"

"The Red Poster acts differently. Gavel gave a list of crimes and then executed his targets publicly. The Red Poster must be some sort of stranger, or thinker. He leaves almost no evidence on the scene, and there is little relation between the victims besides their link to criminality."

It sounded bad. What reason did he have to do this?

Not that our wide self had a particular reason either. Our hands were hitching.

We may have called them naive, but the two Wards didn't seem excessively perturbed by the death. Though the victim sounded like a scumbag...

We asked again: "And how long has he been in the scene?"

Kid Win answered: "Seven months and a half? He's been seen in something like three states."

That was a lot of time. It was hard to last this long alone as a cape, especially if he was as elusive as shown.

We flipped our black knife. Our big self had been rightly worried before the pact. Jack was dangerous not simply because we were a Servant, but because we were Assassin. Identity Erasure on its own was a potent Stranger power.

What mom would have thought if we just did what we used to do?

One thing was to kill others to live, another was doing it for sport.

Not that we lost our nature. Our dreams showed it. Spilling Emma's and Madison's blood had been so satisfying.

We compressed our wide self, and I shook my head.

"Are you alright?"

I looked at the tinker. "Yes, just thinking. It wasn't the best first day."

They didn't look assured, but whatever.

When I returned to HQ, I moved to my bathroom and took a shower. The hot water was a great luxury and the peach-scented shampoo was nice.

My used costume was in a marked bag, ready to be cleaned by the staff. I took out my brown contact lenses and put them in my eyes. I put on my underwear, my t-shirt and my pants.

I passed in the common room. Missy was still in costume, but without her visor. She was doing her homework.

She raised her eyes from the book: "Are you going home?"

"Yes."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Okay."

I was tired of awkward conversations.

I offered: "If you want, you can come one of these days."

"Oh. Uhmm, I'll see if I have the time."

"Sure. See you tomorrow."

Dinner at home was a bit quiet. Dad didn't like asking about my time in the Wards.

"How was school?"

Unfortunately, he had other topics to choose from.

" 'ts fine. All stuff I already knew about," I muttered.

"Okay."

I asked back: "Is work always the same?"

"They asked about you, the 'old' you and the 'new' you," he answered.

'Taylor' was working at New York for a stage program in the PRT.

'I' was an orphan taken out of the street.

Too many lies to be comfortable with...

We proposed: "Do you want to watch a movie tonight?"

He rubbed his eyes: "I'm sorry, but I'm tired. This weekend?"

I nodded: "Sure."

So we finished our meal.

I wanted to help him wash the dishes, but he said it was his turn though I knew he was lying.

I wore my pajama, a Battery-themed pajama, and went to bed clutching my old plushie.

Last edited: Nov 25, 2020

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ic3shard13

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Feb 4, 2020

#118

The phone alarm woke us up. We opened our eyes, and we found ourselves under a cocoon made of bedsheets and the pillow.

We got up and saw that our plushie was in the middle of the room.

After washing ourselves and dressing for school, we were ready to prepare breakfast and...

The smell of eggs and bacon welcomed me.

We rushed to the table: "Dad! It was our turn to cook!"

Dad didn't deign to glance at us as he gave us the plate.

We munched: "And last night you washed the dishes, even though we settled differently."

We gulped the orange juice.

We couldn't even be properly angry. Dammit.

He muttered: "Can't I spoil you a bit?"

"What?"

"You already have a job, you changed school. Things are different." The sound of his voice sounded tired.

What an understatement. "Yeah."

Wasn't this what we wanted?

Boring, boring, boring, boring.

The literature teacher, Mr. Grant, was a stickler for rules, the silence was oppressive and he managed to read Alice in Wonderland with a tone dry as a desert.

I was taking notes, sure, but this was ridiculous.

Ashley was sending messages on her cellphone when the teacher was distracted, Missy was trying and failing to follow Mr. Grant, a kid in front of me with short hair, Aaron, was doodling on his notebook.

A boy in the second row near the window snickered, and the relative young teacher glared at him.

"Something funny, Brown?"

Elementary school was surely different. At Winslow, few teachers cared about keeping order and fewer students respected them.

The Brown kid closed himself like a shell, he hunched his posture and looked at the floor.

It hurt me watching him.

"No, teacher," he answered in a meek voice.

Mr. Grant relaxed slightly. "Well, Mr. Brown, would you like to read the next passage?"

The boy took a second to take a breath, then started reading. At first, his tone was uncertain, but as he went on, it became more firm.

Ashley had a strange expression on her face.

Missy was as bored as usual.

The lesson continued, but at least the reader now was more lively.

I skipped P.E., I had a 'condition' that limited how much I could exert myself. I surely had a sad backstory; which was technically true.

I started reading the book I took from Mom's collection. It was Poirot, Murder on the Oriental Express.

I already knew the ending: twelve victims of the murdered killed him in return. The investigator managed to reach the truth, but he proposed another theory to hide the real culprits.

I usually preferred Sherlock Holmes, there was something about deductive reasoning that felt more realistic. But Agatha Christie wrote about the reasons and the types of people that killed.

What sort of person was the Red Poster?

They weren't attacking a criminal organization, they killed randomly. He didn't want fame, his targets weren't important.

Was he a simple sadist?

Did he really have powers?

It was weird. That the murder happened my first day of patrol was just the cherry on the cake.

Maybe I shouldn't overthink it too much.

Maybe I shouldn't read detective stories.

There were so many books to choose from, why did I have to pick this?

Didn't my whole self have already decided that Jack's old way of life had no meaning in this world?

I had a home, I had a family, I had something to look forward to.

Dad had promised to watch a movie with me.

Tomorrow I would watch one with Ashley and her friends.

In the afternoon there would be a short conference on the Poster.

I continued to read the book.

Missy and I skipped lunch to go directly to our 'extra-scholastic activity'. If I hadn't seen other children doing the same, it would have been a weak cover.

Entering the back of the unsuspicious van, I stretched myself.

She broke the silence: "I have talked with my mother. She said I could do a sleepover if your dad would get me to school the next morning."

"Really? I mean, I'll ask him. I don't think there is a problem."

It had been a long time since I had a sleepover. The bed should be big enough for both of us.

The problem was finding something to do. A movie?

I was watching a lot of movies these days.

Mhhh.

"What are you thinking?"

"What we are going to do. I have some board games."

"Please, don't tell me you have Monopoli. It's horrible."

I did have it.

I proposed: "Risk?"

She was biting one of her fingers: "Maybe... Do you have 'The Protectorate: the board game'?"

"There's a board game of the Protectorate?"

"Yes, one for each region."

"And you bought them?"

She muttered: "We have a discount."

Right. Like the Battery themed pajama, the Miss Militia swimsuit, the PRT jumpsuit, the Dauntless shirt, the Legend jacket, the Alexandria jeans, and the Armsmaster underwear.

The discount was great, and they were good clothes.

Fortunately, we didn't buy Armsmaster underwear yet again, and they were out of production.

We did want our action figure when it came out, though.

"We know. It's just... how many heroes change every year?"

"There are expansions," she explained somewhat defensively.

"... Do you collect them?"

She grumbled but didn't deny.

Well, at least we discovered she had some sort of hobby.

"There's a market for it, you know. There are lots of pieces that have a lot of value."

And she put a front yet again. Did she want to appear an adult so badly?

My big self grew up halfway and it was hardly funny.

Not that it was bad growing up.

"You can bring a box with you when you come."

She blinked twice, then smiled: "Sure!"

I thought that the Wards followed a strict diet regiment. Instead, we frequently had pizza, Chinese take out, fast food, and other unhealthy orders.

The poor kitchenette in the corner was mostly unused. I wasn't certainly a great cook... I picked another salty fry. Naah.

Gallant commented: "So this guy always killed using whatever he finds on hand? He must be a Thinker."

Clockblocker replied: "He leaves no proof on the scene. I say he's a Stranger."

Nobody was taking this too seriously. With all the crimes on the Bay, a wandering killer that hit criminals was hardly the priority of the Protectorate.

I piped up: "Nobody thinks he's a Master? Maybe he controls a projection to do his job."

Vista argued: "No. Most minions look too weird and out of place for stuff like this."

The hamburger was too big. I cut it into two pieces.

As I munched one, I saw that Kid Win and Clockblocker were watching me. Dennis had an insufferable grin.

"What?" I deadpanned.

Kid Win glanced at my half-eaten hamburger: "You used your power to cut food."

"And I won the bet," Clockblocker said smiling.

They bet on this...?

Vista looked at me with a sigh.

I repressed a snort. Some memories of the War were returning and... there were lots of people that we killed, that we ate.

We took another fry, dipped it in the ketchup and ate it.

Finally, Miss Militia arrived with Sergeant Lanny. He was the guy that made us lessons about combat protocol, M/S protocols, and surprisingly he gave me some PR advice.

He wasn't friendly at all, I suspected that the fact I killed some of his co-workers wasn't easy to forget. Yet, he had a calm tone of voice and he explained when I asked without a problem.

He wasn't particularly intimidating, in reality, he was a bit shorter than my old fifteen years old self, but he moved like a soldier and he had muscles.

He projected the Red Poster's page: "You must have heard them in the news, and I hope all of you searched for information about them. You have access to the PRT cape database for a reason, don't forget that. Now, we know they are a cape because thinkers confirmed it, and we received confirmation from Watchdog that the poster you found yesterday is the real deal."

The slide changed, showing the picture of the crime scene. The body had already been removed, and the scene looked clean.

"Now, the suspect is probably male. His first two victims were a priest and a pimp."

Aegis asked: "A priest?"

"More of a cultist. Nothing like the Fallen, but there are a lot of crazies out there. He demanded 'retributions; he invited families to secret celebrations, all adorned in robes. He was also an anti-parahuman."

That wasn't common, if at all. Few were against parahumans: if someone pointed to villains, someone else celebrated heroes, if someone looked at the monsters, somebody talked about the Triumvirate, Dragon, the leaders of the Protectorate.

"So it might be a reason why he was the first victim. The fact they always denounce the sins of those they kill is another point in favor of the theory that they are from this community. Unfortunately, after Father Andrew's death, many fled the town. Keeping track of one hundred and eight people is hard the best of times, especially if we don't know if it's their first target or just their first known target."

Tracking a Stranger or Thinker in those numbers sounded a headache.

"Why aren't they a bigger priority? They hadn't killed a lot of people, but we know basically nothing about them," I asked.

"Because they aren't scary enough, they don't have enough reputation. Miss Militia, if you please."

The ex-Ward took the slide command out of his hands.

"You all know about the capes in the city, about the gangs, about the heroes. Most capes, with heroic tendencies or not, want to be recognized."

A memory of my old self playing with Emma with a towel flashed in my mind.

"The Red Poster is instead subtle. They don't target enough people to shake a city, most of them are criminals and this doesn't scare the public, and they aren't high-level criminals. We don't know why the Red Poster do what they do, a theory suggests that they choose such victims because it's easier to act undisturbed."

We nodded.

Regardless of our reason, prostitutes weren't exactly held to high standards. Jack the Ripper was famous because they were a scandal, something that people feared without feeling insecure.

Clockblocker asked: "So if they aren't all that big of a deal, considering our usual cape population, why are we having this reunion?"

Miss Militia answered: "Because we don't know if they'll keep their low profile. And it is a lesson. Do you know about Nice Guy?"

Kid Win said: "Former member of the S9, his Stranger power made him unable to be seen as a threat. It was stronger if he had a line of sight with you."

The Protectorate member nodded: "Exactly. He started as a vigilante, and his power was initially thought to be quite weak. The less we know about a cape, the more dangerous they are. The first time we fought Victor, we thought he was a low lever thinker on Leet's level. Next days, we found that he knew all our old M/S codes and managed to free two Empire capes from prison."

The sergeant took word again: "We aren't asking you to search for this guy. This isn't your job, and it isn't the job for most of the Protectorate. But since the mess fell on your lap, we wanted to teach you the danger of unknown parahumans, and to make you see why we can't exactly leave them alone or spend all our resources finding them. If you are worried about your family and acquaintances, just tell them to travel together. Of course, if you aren't criminals..."

Thinking about Sophia, I repressed a snort.

"You shouldn't need to worry. Class dismissed."

I got up and got out.

"I don't like it," Vista commented.

"Me neither. It's not like we can do much." Gallant agreed.

She glanced at him, huffed and hurried away.

He slumped slightly.

We ran to our room, trying to not get into more teenage drama.

Dinner was again a quiet affair.

I asked: "Dad is it alright if a friend comes for a sleepover?"

He sighed: "What sort of friend?"

"She's from school."

He had a pensive expression: "Do you trust her?"

I nodded.

"Then I don't see a problem. If you want to do the dishes tonight it's fine with me, Jackie."

While I was washing the dishes, I wondered why he didn't call me Taylor. Maybe he was afraid someone was listening?

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Feb 7, 2020

#124

I was in front of the cinema.

We were going to see the last Disney film, 'The Incredibles'. It talked about a family that worked in the

Protectorate of the same region, but they didn't know that, as they never unmasked to each other. In the reviews, it was written that it had a cameo of Legend.

"Hi Jackie!"

I greeted Ashley and her two friends. One was Lea, a girl of a grade above ours that Ashley met at her dancing lessons.

The other was Tom, a shy and skinny boy I had some classes with.

Wait, now that I looked at him more carefully... he was the 'Mr. Brown guy'?

... I should have paid more attention to my classmates.

Lea wore very colorful clothes, clashingly so, while Tom had a simple shirt and a pair of jeans.

He didn't seem the type that cared particularly how he looked.

Lea started the conversation: "So, the Incredibles?"

Tom commented: "I know on Aleph they made their own version."

I snorted. Cape films on Aleph were all sort of strange and unrealistic. Villains like the Joker would have a kill order faster than I would if I went all out.

"I heard it wasn't that bad," Tom continued.

For now, they didn't look like bullies, not that simple bullies could do anything to me anyway.

We took the tickets, then I went for a bucket of salty buttered popcorns.

Tom glanced at me: "You are going to eat all of that?"

"I'm a growing girl," I stated.

He fidgeted.

"Want some?" I asked.

He relaxed a bit. "No, no, I was thinking… how did you meet Ashley?"

"In class."

He made an embarrassed face and almost put his hands on his head. He was more awkward than I had ever been.

I tried to save him: "Do you like Disney in general?"

He took a moment to answer: "Not really. In fact, I hate those moments in Disney's films when someone suddenly starts to sing. It makes me cringe."

Then he immediately replied: "Not that there's something wrong with that. But I like cape's films."

Maybe he was also interested in their board games.

"Really?"

He took a moment to explain himself. His voice went quieter as he explained: "It's like… there are so many different types of capes out there, all with

their unique powers. I just like to imagine what I'd get, how it'd change me…"

I took another mouthful of popcorn and rushed to my seat.

As I sat, I tried to ignore what he said.

Maybe Missy was right, hearing what unpowered thought about us was… weird.

The advertising started, and I tried to not get affected by the conversation too much.

"You could say, we triggered him."

I wanted to hide my face in the popcorn bucket. That line was so wrong on so many levels.

Then the credits rolled.

"Well, I have to go to the bathroom." Ashley suddenly said.

She looked at me. Tom stood between us awkwardly.

I repressed a sigh and followed her. The bathroom was empty and surprisingly clean.

She said while washing her hands: "Didn't enjoy it?"

I shrugged: "A bit, yeah. I just think cape stuff isn't exactly for me."

She hummed. "What do you think of T?"

T? Oh, Tom. "He's… nice."

Wait, did she want to set me up with him?

She continued: "T is a nice person, yes. I know he can be awkward, but… T has a bit of a problem expressing what he wants."

I didn't like this. "Like what?"

"Friends."

Uh. Okay. Too much understandable.

"T has always been a bit different, and in a city like this it's difficult to be yourself."

I frowned: "What do you mean?"

"It's not my thing to tell, but please don't be put out about what he says. You don't seem the type to judge people for who they want to be."

I repressed a snort.

She quickly explained: "It's a compliment. You aren't afraid to come to school with your dad, you dress as you want, you even managed to speak with our class loner. And you're smart."

Well, it might seem like it. The fact that Missy was considered a loner...

"Even if you are a bit of a hardass," she shamelessly said.

I took a deep breath. No knifey Jackie now.

I looked at her in the eyes. "What do you mean?"

"This!" She pointed at my face.

"You are so jumpy and grumpy all the time. You answer the teachers with a half bored face, you don't eat lunch with us, you always get out of school like a lion is chasing you."

She put her hands up: "I get it, you were homeschooled, so maybe you aren't totally comfortable. It's just... you know, I was one of Missy's first friends? Then the mess with her parents happened, then suddenly she stopped going out. I don't know why... but she isn't very happy these days."

"You don't know me." Or her.

"I don't. I'm just afraid..."

She muttered with a quiet voice: "Are you two in a gang or something?"

I opened my mouth, closed it, took a very deep breath.

I wined: "No."

Her apparent relief made me giggle.

She fumed: "I was serious! Sometimes I see her out and she's with older boys, and this girl that looked ready to gut my stomach."

I was so going to tell Missy this.

"And she has two cellphones like they show in films. You know, one for business and one for family and lovers?"

I contained myself. It was getting too much.

"Thanks," I said, as I removed the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes.

She stood there with a very grumpy expression, but she finally relaxed.

"It's fine. Just, can you tell her I didn't mean what I said?"

I furrowed my brows: "What do you mean? Did you invite me just to use me as a messenger?"

She sighed: "I told you I invited you 'cause you're cool. That would be the ice on the cake."

I tried to fight the blush blossoming on my face.

Taylor Hebert cool?

Jack was many things, but cool in teenage terms probably not.

Well, my powers were cool. And my yellow eyes.

I glanced at my white strand of hair. It was... coolish?

Being a Ward was cool?

A splash of water hit me in my face.

I glared at the culprit.

"What? You looked like you were shitting yourself in your pants. Only because you're smart doesn't mean your brain won't explode if you overuse it."

Ashley acted too similarly to Clockblocker.

But she was a good person. It would have been easier to tell if I entered my Servant-like state, but even know I could see she cared about her friends.

I'd have to ask Missy what happened between the two of them.

"Fine, I'll tell Missy. But don't ever do it again."

She blinked innocently: "Do what?"

I splashed her and got out of the bathroom. It was lucky that nobody entered.

I hear a nasal 'Hey!' as I slammed the door.

By the time I got out, Lea and T were already gone. Ashley explained that their parents were very strict and they didn't want to keep waiting out of the cinema for them. I went with her to the bus station and took my bus.

Tonight I'd be sleeping at the Wards, again. While no Ward had a night shift, it was a way to ready us to our future as Protectorate members.

I thought it was a lot of bull. I didn't want to join the Protectorate. I wanted... something else, a prospect.

While we were good at fighting, and we enjoyed it, there was a lot more than that.

"So he chose to transfer," Aegis said as he entered the room.

I perked up from the couch.

Clockblocker commented: "Damn, and here I wanted more testosterone. Seriously, though, good for him. Brockton Bay wasn't the nicest place for someone like him."

I put down my smartphone. "Who are you talking about?"

Clockblocker explained: "A Ward, he triggered the first week, while you were in M/S protocol."

We twirled one knife. "This city sucks."

Vista snorted.

"Language," Gallant said.

We looked at him. "Really? You do know how old we were before we triggered."

"I just don't like it. There's no need to use that type of words."

Vista rolled her eyes.

She turned to us. "Don't use them out there, though. Or Image will skin your ass."

Clockblocker muttered something under his breath.

Aegis glared a bit at Vista, while Gallant slumped slightly.

We closed Fruit Ninja and decided we didn't want to do anything with all this teenagerness.

We asked: "Vista, can we go to our room?"

"Sure, Knifey."

Cheeky little...

We arrived in our room. We closed the well.

"Do you want to ask me something?"

I shook my head. "You know I went to the cinema with Ashley, T, and Lea, right?"

She froze a little. "Yeah?"

"Well, Ashley was worried about you. She thought..."

"What?" Missy deadpanned.

"We were in a gang."

Most of her muscles froze for a minute.

"How? Why?"

"Because we leave school early, you have two cellphones, 'one for work and one for families and lovers', as she put it, and you stopped talking to her."

It was hard to keep a straight voice.

I saw her face reboot in a neutral expression. "Thank you for not telling the other Wards. Clockblocker would have been insufferable."

We smirked.

"And... I'll probably need to talk to her, right? What a pain."

"A pain?"

"She's not dumb, but she doesn't understand. Even without telling this..."

She pointed at the building.

"She hasn't faced as serious problems. She's... naive."

We didn't know what to say. We thought the Wards were naive.

"She tried to reach out to you," we muttered.

Even if she heard us, she didn't comment.

We returned to the common room.

Kid Win had gotten out of his lab, and he showed it. Slightly gazed eyes, a mattered coat, dirty gloves.

He was talking with Gallant about his latest project.

Clockblocker, who had taken our spot in the couch, looked at the two of us and exclaimed: "Damn, and I thought girl talk was supposed to be longer."

Neither Vista nor we gave him an ounce of attention.

Aegis was cooking, surprisingly. He didn't seem the type to cook.

The smell was nice.

We asked: "What are you doing?"

"Chili."

Uh, neat. He was hispanic, after all.

Suddenly, all of our cellphones buzzed.

The message was short and concise.

"Confirmed another kill by the Red Poster."

Nobody said a thing, but the atmosphere sobered up.

We broke the silence: "So, will we have another lesson on this guy?"

"No," Kid Win answered. "He's not our problem. It was a message to confirm that our families are safe."

We thought about Dad. Was he worried that we had to fight people like the Red Poster?

"What about the transferred guy? Does he know if his family is safe?" we asked.

Gallant replied: "Yes. I mean, he should already be out of the city. Wards' parents have privileges to transfer in other cities and have facilitations to take other jobs."

We nodded, that made sense.

"He was the guy that asked for your autograph," Kid Win said. "He's a brute. I don't think the Poster can hurt somebody like him."

Oh.

Aegis grunted: "Kid Win, you shouldn't have said it. Secret identities are secret for a reason."

"I just wanted to explain..."

As the two bickered and Gallant tried to play peacemaker; we sat near Vista and reopened Fruit Ninja. Now that we were thinking about it, we were getting hungry.

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ic3shard13

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Feb 10, 2020

#136

We wanted to play a game of hide 'n seek.

But nobody was there to play, the streets were empty and the moon wasn't shining. It was covered by a lot of smog.

There were shadows of those that could have been, there was a lingering smell of smoke, there was the pat-pat of our running feet, the drops of our sweat and the beat of our heart a sign we were the only ones.

There were friends outside, but we couldn't call them in.

It was quite cold, memories of a recent day, a day of playing, arguing, discovering and worrying.

We didn't see it, but we know that in a nearby street a man had died, an umbrella in his eye. A mistake of Wrath, or so they said.

Another memory, the spent eyes of our father.

The poster of a film.

The cell we were for days in.

A sound of a flute.

"Are we in hell?"

Nobody answered so we continued playing, cutting words and images on the wall. It was easier than we thought, it was like dough.

We weren't in London anymore, yet we weren't in Brockton either.

What would be the final shape of our home?

When we woke up, we stared at the walls for a while. That had been trippy and weird.

We clutched the pillow. Not one of the worst dreams, but not one of the best either. Was it another effect of our joining? We didn't feel any different though.

We closed the well...

Maybe it was a bit smoother?

I checked myself in the mirror... No, nothing there had changed as well.

I looked at the wall clock, it was 5.55 A.M.

I really didn't want to go back to sleep.

I sat on the bed in thought for minutes, twirling a knife. Carlos's dinner had been nice. And I was pretty sure there were some bacon and eggs in the fridge.

It was a half-hour later when the bleary eyes of the other Wards entered the room.

I wasn't a great cook, I knew how to move in a kitchen and that was it. I would have preferred to eat breakfast with Dad... I hoped he'd feel better this weekend.

Carlos was one of the first to arrive and had settled the plates, the glasses of juice and milk. He was, like the others, a bit surprised about my gesture.

Chris asked, eyeing his plate: "What did we do to deserve this?"

I scoffed: "Nothing. I woke up early and I wasn't feeling sleepy."

He munched the eggs.

"Did you sleep well?" Dean quietly said as he filled a cup of coffee.

I hummed without commenting.

Missy gulped two glasses of milk and picked the bacon with her cutlery.

We simply used our own. Well, except for the fork. We didn't want to make a mess.

"You know, if we were actually responsible people, we could eat like this every morning," Dennis exclaimed.

"And why we can't be responsible?" Carlos asked.

"Well, unless somebody wakes up early every morning..."

We rolled our eyes.

"But whatever. It was just an idea about breakfast. Food for thought, am I right?"

We refused to join the general groan that was spreading across the table.

"I'll cover the dishes, okay?" Carlos said.

Well, fine for us. He didn't seem such a stuck-up jerk when he wasn't wearing his mask. Maybe it was the morning?

Dean frowned. Right, thinker power. Yadda yadda.

Missy finished her plate: "Let's go change, shall we?"

We nodded and followed her.

"Where did you learn how to cook?" Missy asked as we traveled on the generic civilian vehicle.

I looked to the side. "Dad returns home late and well, since Mom was gone, I had to pick up a thing or two..."

"Oh." She quieted.

For all her spunk, I was getting the idea that Missy wasn't that better than me at this conversation thing.

When I entered the classroom, I knew something was wrong. T was comforting Ashley who looked down, like a lot. Missy took an inscrutable expression.

"Hey, are you alright?" I asked Ashley.

She turned to me with a half glare: "Didn't I tell you?"

"What?"

She nodded to herself and whispered: "Oh, right, I don't have your cell number. My cousin is dead."

I flinched.

What there was there to say?

She continued: "I knew it could have happened. He entered a bad group at Winslow... You know, I could have gone there. Thankfully I'm closer to

Clarendon." Her voice broke.

Missy asked: "Was Josh...?"

"Yes," she answered.

Tom gave her a tissue. She blew her nose.

"I hate this. He wasn't like that before. Do you remember, Missy, when he went with us to the circus?"

Missy nodded as she blinked once, twice, then opened her mouth.

"I can't do anything about it. Some fight to change the city, but it's hard and..."

Whatever she wanted to say died in her lips.

Ashley muttered: "Please tell me you aren't in a gang or I'll punch you."

Vista exclaimed: "I'm not!"

"You are not what, Miss Byron?" An adult voice said.

The math teacher had finally arrived.

Missy exclaimed: "Nothing, teacher!"

Ashley giggled.

When lunch came, I was a bit conflicted.

Ashley was feeling a bit better, but not much. For all the awkwardness Missy felt, she was trying to comfort her as well. T spoke quietly and rarely, but

it seemed to help. Even the dusty English teacher acted less harsh today. The other classmates bumbled their condolences as well, but they stayed on the side.

I hardly knew her, it was less than a week since school started and yet...

I didn't know what to do. What was there to say? One of my first thoughts was to ask how he died. It was a stupid suspicion, but the idea it was the Poster that did it...

It was hard to say either way. The gangs were festering the city, death wasn't uncommon.

We munched another piece of the sandwich we had prepared this morning. It would be so easy to go out and lash out against this.

But to do what?

Lose what little we gained?

We heard footsteps, so we closed the well.

I shouldn't have bothered. It was Missy.

She was wearing her usual serious expression, but it was a bit frayed.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes," I lied. "Why are you here?"

"I thought you needed... I don't know. Ashley has other people, who know her better than me."

I didn't comment.

She shook her head: "She truly thought we were in a gang... Maybe I was colder, but it's not like I can tell her what I'm doing, and I can't act like old Missy was..."

I thought about Dad.

"Why not?"

She asked confused: "Sorry?"

"Why can't you be yourself?"

She bristled: "I'm me. I just grew up faster, I have responsibilities. I can't play around. Even if you don't want to do the same, I thought you respected what I'm doing."

I was angry, very angry. She hadn't changed as we did. I brought my hand to my scar, Sophia's scar. It was faded, and the skin was smooth unless I got hit by acne again.

She flinched. "I just don't have much in common with her anymore..."

I took a deep breath.

Wards' life didn't give much for social life. There were events we had to attend, for example, that social gala in three weeks. My official debut at the

end of the next week.

I asked: "Was it the Poster?"

She fidgeted: "Well, not really. The guy that got targeted murdered Josh. He was 'greedy'."

She snorted: "Just a ladder climber of their little organization."

I looked out of the window. The Boat Graveyard was in another direction.

"This city sucks," I said.

Missy started to giggle.

I looked at her. "What?"

"Your tone of voice. It was just... I don't know. Usually, I'm more serious when I wear... you know."

I nodded. "Well, you are quite happy in all those conferences and videos on the Net."

She rolled her eyes: "PR. And... it's cool to show off. I practiced my poses, you know."

That made me feel better.

She continued: "I'm just doing what I can to do good."

I didn't know what to say. What did it even mean?

The bell rung.

"When you want to go, I'm ready," I told her.

She nodded, and we went towards the parking lot.

Time passed slowly as I lied down on the seat in the van.

Vista was messaging with her phone, the driver was as quiet as usual. I wasn't even sure he was the same guy.

The vehicle stopped for a minute or two; the yelp of an ambulance siren told me the cause.

"Today is your second patrol, right?"

I turned to Vista: "Yeah."

"I'll be with you, Clockblocker and Triumph."

Triumph wasn't present most of the time. He had to catch up to all the Protectorate regulations and codes.

Another reason why Ghostchild would say bye-bye as soon as she can.

Seriously though, did being a hero need to be so bureaucratically boring?

We materialized a knife and started flipping it.

The patrol involved, once again, the Boardwalk.

Unfortunately, this time there were a lot of people around. It would be longer than last time, we were supposed to pass around the streets where the first murder occurred.

Velocity was running around our perimeter, ready to help us if worst came to worst.

The two other Wards and we stepped out of the vehicle.

"The new Ward!"

"I like Vista more."

"They are kids, you can't prefer them to Shadow Stalker! She was sexy!"

"I heard she's a Stranger. Thank goodness she's one of the heroes!"

"Do you think they'll make a poster for her? I heard they'll sell candies..."

I so wanted to enter Presence Concealment and run away.

Instead, I smiled.

I wrote something like seven autographs, had ten photos taken of me, and I saw at least four cellphones pointed in my direction.

I also gave something like ten gummy ghosts, after I asked the kids, and the adults, if they were allergic.

They asked us to demonstrate our powers, so we juggled with our knives, the ones that were neither scalpels or butcher's knives.

A blonde freckled girl asked: "Can you do something else?"

We closed the well, although we didn't want to, and answered: "Yes. I can move really fast. And I guess you heard about my Stranger ability."

I noticed how she looked at my hair.

"Faster than Velocity?"

I sincerely thought about it. I wasn't as fast as my wide self was in the War...

I didn't know what it scaled to; I hadn't hold back during tests but it was different from a fight.

"I don't think so..." I said.

A male voice spoke behind me: "Want to give a demonstration?"

I turned to Triumph.

"Are you sure?"

He smiled and said: "You and Vista can go to the rooftops and do something. I'll deal with the fans on the ground."

He turned to Vista: "I'll trust that you won't cause trouble."

My teammate made an unnecessary grand gesture and created a way up to the rooftops. She looked at us and we shook our head.

We jumped towards one of the fire escape stairs on the left, we gripped the railing and scaled up.

We ran on the stairs, they were dirty and a bit rusted but it didn't matter.

Once we arrived at the top, we saw Vista tapping her foot impatiently. We rolled our eyes.

She said:"Want to do something cool?"

"Yeah?"

Vista took a moment of concentration then space twisted.

There was now a ramp between this and the adjacent building, who had now a distorted wall in the middle of the rooftop.

We asked: "And?"

"Go on, and we'll make things more interesting," she said with an uncharacteristic vulpine smirk.

We rolled our eyes again, snorted and run.

The jump from the ramp to the other building had been easy.

We ran closer to the wall, and space distorted again. There was another wall behind us now.

Our feet fought against gravity as we sprinted towards the sun. We jumped back, flipped in the air and started running to the top of the other wall.

Less than six seconds had passed, but when we saw a boxy cavity on the first twisted lump of space, we jumped inside it.

Vista used her powers again, forming a slide that suddenly went up and twisted to the left returning to where we came from.

Without thinking twice, we ran up and down and drifted on the turn, and when a hole suddenly appeared in the end, we directly jumped down of the building.

Vista turned to us with a cheeky smile, and when she offered, we beat the high five.

Taking a deep breath, we closed the well and bowed with Missy.

People started clapping.

After other twentyish autographs, eleven photos, and sixteen good questions, as in questions I didn't feel bad answering and didn't make us feel like we wanted to gut someone, we finally finished our patrol.

Triumph had been nice and supportive, even if he wasn't the de facto leader anymore I knew I could've worked with him if I forgot about Shadow Stalker, which happened more than once during the patrol.

It was more stressful than the first, but I managed.

It was still more attention than either part of me had since... ever. It scared us and made us giddy at the same time.

There was a report of a mugging on a nearby street, but Triumph managed to deal with it on its own.

Once I returned home, I managed to convince Dad to let me cook.

"Sausages?"

I served the plate and asked: "Is there something wrong with them?"

"You found them icky."

I blushed. I had watched a documentary on their production. "It was six years ago."

"Well then, there won't be a problem with hot dogs."

I firmly shook my head. They didn't even bleed. "That isn't meat."

Sometime later he commented: "I saw the video."

We asked: "What video?"

"Your little spectacle on the Boardwalk."

We scratched our head.

He didn't add anything about it.

"Are you ok?" we asked.

He took a glass of water and answered.

"It's just been some hectic days. I almost drove to our old home. I just need some time."

We asked: "You do remember what we'll do this weekend, right?"

After some seconds, he answered. "The film, right. Do you have any preference?"

We thought about it. Disney was no. We had to bleach our memories of their latest film.

An idea popped in our mind: "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade?"

It was a search of the Grail. And it was fun. And he kicked Nazis' butts.

He nodded: "We should have it."

"And popcorn," we added.

We got up and went to bed.

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ic3shard13

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Feb 14, 2020

#147

It was raining.

Tomorrow would be the day that Triumph would enter the Protectorate.

I was in my room in the HQ, reading the latest news of the Bay. The Red Poster hadn't made another move yet, maybe they changed the city. From what I read, they were quite erratic, they didn't kill more than ten victims before they moved.

The most interesting news was a new gang, the Undersiders, and of the three members, Tattletale was a total unknown.

It was boring. We really didn't care about the cape scene. We wanted to do something else.

There was also a list of protocols to learn for 'public interactions', and it was boring and stupid. They might have written, "don't accept candy from Strangers".

Damn, that was a stupid joke. Maybe the gym was free?

We moved to the kitchenette and started to make a peanut butter sandwich.

A scalpel was close to a butter knife, right? Besides the sharpness.

The door alarm beeped for thirty seconds.

We grumbled and attached the bandanna. Who was it?

Most of the Wards were out, Kid Win was tinkering in his lab, and Gallant was at the console.

There weren't supposed to be any visitors.

The door opened, and Miss Militia entered. She was alone, and she was bringing a bag with herself that immediately caught our eye.

It was a bag without identity, one of those you could buy anywhere. It wasn't stylish, it wasn't professional, it looked practical at most, and it was colored a dull grey. There wasn't a brand on it, not even the usual PRT or Protectorate logo.

"Good afternoon, Ghostchild."

We glanced away and said: "Hello, Miss Militia. Do you need somebody?"

Her green bottled eyes crinkled up the corner in a way that showed undoubtedly a smile.

"I wanted to talk with you for a moment if it's possible?"

We looked at our sandwich.

"You can eat it if you want."

She sat on one of the chairs and started messing with her cellphone.

After a moment of hesitation, we unclasped the bandana and started munching.

Once we finished, she asked: "Do you feel ready for tomorrow?"

The question was said with a simple tone that didn't hide any suspicion. We took a napkin and cleaned ourselves.

"We think so. We don't understand why we aren't being introduced with him though." The public already knew about Ghostchild.

Heck, hearing our classmates talking about us was so surreal.

"There are still things you have to learn. When you patrol, a simple show of your powers is good enough. But in these kinds of events, every hero is asked a lot of questions, and we aren't sure you are ready yet."

Nobody wanted a PR bomb.

We compressed our wide self. "I understand."

I looked at the bag again. "Is there anything else?"

The ex-Ward said: "Well, there is one thing I want to know. How much do you know about make-up?"

My brain scrambled to understand what she said.

"Make-up?"

Miss Militia nodded as if it had any sense.

I asked for clarification: "Why?"

"We can't exactly have someone else do it for us. There is the matter of secret identity."

Nevertheless, "but why?"

She explained: "Tomorrow you will be on the news, on TV. It will be different from videos taken from shaky cellphones and posted on PHO. You know, all the Protectorate and Ward's members that don't wear a full face mask wear at least a light make up on these occasions."

That made me feel slightly better. Assault, Kid Win and the others wearing cosmetics sounded a bit funny.

I told her the truth: "I don't know much about it."

It was something I learned from Mom and Emma.

It was years since I used lipstick.

She nodded and took out something out of the bag.

It was... make-up. The packaging was still sealed. It had the emblem of the Guild on it.

She explained: "Dragon had created this from reverse engineering a chemical tinker."

"Dragon... makes this stuff?"

I knew she developed a lot, as expected by the greatest tinker in the world, excluding Hero. But this sounded... shallow.

She continued absently: "It gives a lot of founds. And it helps with peculiar capes, like case 53's."

The monster capes, the ones who missed their memories and bore that omega mark.

In my case, I gained more memories when I triggered. But my eyes were different enough that they needed tinker tech makeup.

It sounded ridiculous.

"Can we move into my room?"

The last thing I wanted was to be found doing this by others.

"Sure."

I was happy I didn't make a mess like last time with bubble wrap.

There were scattered papers on the desk, and I left my red pen uncapped, but everything was in its place.

I took off my cap and I removed a black strand of hair from my eyes.

Miss Militia was waiting outside of the door in a pose that was relaxed but ready, like a resting soldier.

"You can come in," I told her. I imagined it was implied, but it was nice having my stuff regarded as mine.

She closed the door and placed the bag on the nightstand.

She opened it and took out the Guild products. There was eyeliner, a skin cream, a lipstick, foundation, concealer and that was it. I would have dreaded if there was more, honestly.

"Why lipstick? I should be wearing the bandana after all."

It was nice for dried lips, though.

She glanced at it. "Honestly, I don't know. This package comes as a set."

I opened the lotion. It had a faint vanilla scent. I took off my gloves and applied it. It felt nice, like a flower on my skin.

Was it another luxury that old Taylor forgot?

I was a great idiot.

I commented: "I know how to use them. I thought they would be more complicated."

With a calm voice, Miss Militia asked: "Do you know how to cover your scar?"

We rubbed it. "Do we need to? The bandana covers it."

For a moment, we imagined she'd drop the subject and leave.

Then, she removed her bandana.

We didn't know what to expect. When she smiled, showing her perfect white teeth, we glanced away.

"I have a little scar, near my lip."

It was true, it was very faint.

"My cover job in the PRT is being an office worker. I found it useful to hide it the rare times I had to act it."

Our eyes, the color of our hair, the scar. For an Assassin, we were easily recognizable, Identity Erasure aside.

We nodded resolutely. "That seems useful."

Somehow, she grinned once again. "Do you want to learn?"

We agreed.

She removed the transparent plastic cover from all the products.

We didn't even notice when she started applying them to our face.

It felt like a dream, the surrealness kept us from talking or moving.

Her hands were callous and her nails were cut short. Even in these movements, she was precise and collected, and it was easy to see thanks to the pocket mirror she showed us.

When she finished, we found ourselves asking: "Do you do this for all the Wards?"

She blinked once, twice.

She replied: "Not really."

She hesitated for a moment. "I'd like to say we aren't giving you special treatment, but we all, and I personally, want you to understand that even if we failed you... We are trying. I spoke with Aegis, and he told me that you are integrating nicely with the rest of the team."

Aegis said this!?

"I won't be here often. The cape scene has moments of dullness like these, but they don't last long."

We had a serial killer doing as they please and this was dull.

The world sucked.

She put her bandana on, and then gazed at the clock.

"As a matter of fact, I'm scheduled to patrol in thirty minutes."

Yes, and the Wards would return soon.

"Goodbye, Ghostchild."

Then she left, as she arrived. We were surprised she didn't tell us her name but after everything else...

Miss Militia was married to her job, but we doubted she'd be a bad mother.

"And for this responsibility, I have decided to continue my career as a hero in the Protectorate."

A quiet clap followed the end of Triumph's speech. There weren't a lot of people, mainly higher-ups of the PRT, most of the Protectorate, the Wards, contributors, journalists, the mayor and his family, and New Wave.

There weren't a few, but it wasn't a big event: everybody knew Triumph had chosen to continue working for the Protectorate.

After an unspoken signal, Aegis took the microphone from his predecessor and continued talking.

Vista was chatting with Gallant and Victoria Dallon, aka Glory Girl, who, like her family, was wearing civilian clothes that followed the color scheme of her costume. It was so cheesy.

Director Piggy was discussing something with the Renick guy and a spindly and tall black man.

"And for this, I'm happy to take the place of my old leader..."

Darn, if it sounded fake. And rehearsed.

What was even the point of this?

Did Sophia give a speech?

It sounded absurd.

Dad had decided to stay at home, and I couldn't fault him.

I wouldn't be here if I could.

At least we'd watch a film together when I'd be back, as he promised.

"How's the hero's life for you?"

I turned. It was Glory Girl. Her sister and her mother were watching me as if I'd do something villainous at a party of the Protectorate.

I rolled my eyes.

As there was no camera in our direction, I muttered: "It sucks."

She giggled. "Gallant, can I keep her?"

Her boyfriend sighed: "No, you can't. And Ghostchild, please don't say that ever again. You don't want to end up on PHO and do remedial PR lessons."

We shuddered.

At least, our future speech was supposed to be short and cute. How our powers were cute we didn't know.

Victoria replied: "I understand it's hard. Cape life seems easy from the outside. But when you start kicking villains' asses, it's all worth it."

Gallant commented sardonically: "Aren't you supposed to say 'when you start making a difference' or 'when you help people'?"

She snorted: "When I do both, what's the difference?"

We so wanted to be out of here.

If her aura acted up again...

Last time it had scrambled our head badly as if our big self had meshed with our wide self in a rollercoaster.

The well closed.

The Alexandria package asked: "Hey, is it true that you have your brand of candies?"

Darn, there was a camera in our direction.

I smiled: "Yes. Do you want some?"

"Of course!"

A familiar male voice rebuked: "You shouldn't accept candy from Strangers, you know."

"Clock, that was horrible!" Vista exclaimed.

I'd never tell anyone I thought it before.

Victoria blinked at the Striker.

"Aaand I'll return to my family. Most of you Wards are surely nice, but I can only sustain so much dorkiness before falling ill."

With the smugness of a man that knew he hadn't reached the bottom of the barrel yet, Clockblocker replied: "What, afraid of some candy? Are you sugar you don't want some?"

Glory Girl levitated to reach his eye level. "You are a villain that needs pun-ishment."

I took Missy's left hand and fled the scene. Thankfully there was a free balcony where I could vent freely.

I asked her swiftly: "How long until we can leave?"

She glanced at the upper left of her visor.

"Thirty minutes."

I sat on the rail. There weren't many stars in the sky, too much light pollution.

I reluctantly wined: "I want to go home."

She asked smugly: "And what you'll do there? Go to bed early?"

I deadpanned: "I'll watch Indiana Jones. And I won't feel like I want to die."

"Is that why you are on the edge?"

I looked down. I was pretty sure I'd survive the fall.

"Of course not. There are things I want to live for."

Somehow, my answer stopped her snarkiness.

She teased: "Like being a hero?"

Or maybe not.

I created a knife and threw it down.

"Ghostchild!"

"It disappeared before it hit the bottom."

She shook her head and muttered something under her breath.

With an higher tone of voice, she asked: "Do you want to drink something?"

I touched my bandana.

She rolled her eyes. "We have a private room to refresh, you know. Sometimes these things last hours. You are lucky it isn't Summer."

I repressed a sigh and followed her, hoping that the night would end soon.

I was worried. Dad wasn't answering the phone.

I should have called the PRT and told them to get me home, but the last thing I wanted was to stay even one more minute with them.

I walked behind one alley and we vanished.

"Daaad!" The door was slightly ajar. With some reluctance, we entered.

The first thing that hit us was the scent of blood. We ran towards the familiar smell. It was coming from the bathroom.

"Dad!"

His wrists were slitted, blood was flowing in the bathtub.

His skin was pale, his eyes were closed and there was no breathing sound.

Our hands tried to search desperately for a heartbeat.

Thankfully, there was something.

We started to suture his cuts, failing to not imagine how easily we could eviscerate him for abandoning us.

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Feb 21, 2020

#165

He was alive, barely. He was breathing thanks to a machine, he was living thanks to the IV near his bed.

He needed new blood, and we offered ours, but they refused, as ours was weird. Thankfully, they had some in reserve.

Panacea had to be called to be sure that our 'half-assed' suture was ok and didn't have any strange effects.

We knew how the body worked, even if we didn't know all the names of the bones and the cells. And at the moment, we wanted to break and rupture and eviscerate the body of the culprit, dad or not.

That was a coward's way out that our big self never considered, that would have ashamed Mom.

Until he woke up, if he ever woke up, we'd never know the answer.

"You should go to sleep."

We glared at the nurse. They tried to move us away from him, more than once, but we showed we didn't want to move.

Danny's hands weren't very warm, they didn't feel safe, but we wouldn't leave them until we had an answer.

The nurse left and walked out of the room, with a tired and pitiful look.

We didn't want it. We stopped crying before the aid arrived.

No part of ourselves saw a point in crying. What was the point of asking for help, if the world was a cold and uncaring place?

Armsmaster had berated us for hiding our medical skills. As if we trusted the PRT.

Why play the hero? We didn't want to do good. We wanted to be left alone, with those we cared about.

It was dark and warm.

Some sounds were coming from outside, reverberating through the walls.

The people weren't shouting, but they were chatting animatedly.

As we opened our eyes, we remembered.

Who got us here, in the Wards' room?

We were supposed to stay with da- Danny.

We got out of the bed.

We were wearing the cloak. We remembered feeling a bit cold... we really did fall asleep.

Our hands were trembling, we were hungry.

A picture of a beating heart appeared in our head.

It was difficult, but our wide self let go.

I took a deep breath sitting on the bed.

Why did it happen?

I shook my head. There was no point in thinking about it.

Shit happened.

I asked myself if I should be wearing my costume, but I saw no point.

I didn't want to play hero today. I just took the bandana and the cap.

The cloak... there was no point in keeping it.

We braced ourselves and opened the door.

When we entered the room, we saw Vista chatting with Clockblocker, Aegis was working on his laptop and a box of donuts was on the table.

We took them, returned to our room and closed the well.

I quickly ate the first, and I was eating the second donut when somebody knocked.

I stood silent for a while, and the sound stopped.

I took out my cell, opened Fruit Ninja, closed it immediately and silenced the phone.

I decided I needed a shower and took it.

We got angry when we heard the knocking again.

I dried myself, got out of the bathroom and changed in my clean pair of clothes.

I looked at the ticking clock. I only spent twenty minutes under the water.

There was not much to do, was it?

I hugged the pillow. It was comfy and clean, but it wasn't warm, it didn't have a heart-beat.

Were we still alive?

We pressed our right hand over our chest and waited.

Did it always beat so fast? And so hard?

The well closed and I stabbed the pillow. Once, twice.

Poor thing didn't deserve it.

I let go of the knife.

What was I doing? If it were the Holy Grail War, I would be useless.

Just for someone who nearly died?

I needed a drink. Time for more Concealment.

We exited the room and got tackled.

We were on the sofa in the living room. What the heck?

Vista snorted smugly as she pinned me down.

Oh, right. Shaker 9.

Clockblocker snickered in a corner of the room, and we wanted to stab him if only he wouldn't die.

Aegis glowed him into silence, thankfully. He was also somebody we could eviscerate without too much problem, now that we thought about it.

We stated: "What do you want?"

The joking stopped, and Vista got up from her position.

She answered: "We wanted to know how you are."

"Fine."

We got up and moved to the fridge. We opened a can of soda and gulped. The fizzy sweet drink cleared our ideas a bit.

The rusted red hero coughed to grab our attention. "Ghostchild... Taylor, there are some things we need to clear. Nobody expects you to patrol this week. At the same time, investigations are being done, and you'll be informed of any findings."

We arrived at the point: "Are we free to go home?"

The brute sighed: "No, you can't. Your house is being searched from top to bottom for any evidence. And as a minor without a guardian, the Protectorate has taken the temporary responsibility for you."

Other chains. Well, at least they needed to tell us what they found.

"So, any proof?"

"It's highly probable your father didn't do it himself."

We crunched the tin can and freed our breath. He was too stubborn to die like that, after all.

It didn't mean we were done. "Who, then?"

"We don't know. There's no clear proof of who did it. They didn't even find the weapon."

We created a scalpel and twirled it between our fingers, stabbed the crushed can, and made it disappear.

Clockblocker cackled: "Ah, that would be funny in a horrible and twisted sense. But no, the smartphones gave your movements. And the timing isn't right. He must have been cut just after the end of the conference."

It was nice to know the PRT was somewhat competent when they wanted.

We closed the well.

I asked: "So who did it? The Poster?"

Aegis tilted his head slightly: "Maybe. The lack of precise evidence points towards them. But it went against their modus operandi. No Poster, and the target was more important than usual."

I bit my finger thinking about this. He did some work for the Dockworkers, maybe not everything was perfectly legal...

No, if he was targeted, "It's because of me."

The Ward?

The trigger event that led to the death of troopers?

Jack the Ripper?

How much could a thinker learn on their own?

"There are no witnesses, I imagine."

Aegis shook his head.

I was supposed to have a secret identity!

What was the point of changing my name if I was still targeted?

It would have been better if I left him. No more rules, no more strings, no more connections.

And it wasn't like I had the abilities to find this damn Poster, if it was them.

I threw the tin in the bin.

"Do I need to go to school?"

I knew the question sounded stupid, but if I also had to deal with that on top of everything else I would gut someone for stress relief, like that boring as hell English teacher.

Aegis pondered: "I think you will return, eventually, but not soon."

I exhaled in relief. "Can I go see my Dad?"

The white-clad Striker replied: "We three are supposed to patrol soon... but there shouldn't be a problem to escort you out. But I think you'll need to do some testings first."

If things continued like this, the PRT would analyze the chant of my NP quite soon. And order me to change it for PR purposes.

Vista frowned for a moment. "I'm coming with her."

Aegis muttered: "Piggot won't be happy."

"It's voluntary, she can suck it up for once."

I smiled at her: "Thank you."

Clockblocker took the word: "Don't worry, the two of us will manage to find an excuse."

I nodded to him and went to my room to take my stuff, ready for at least another hour of testing.

We looked at the pig on the table. It was sedated. We materialized a butcher's knife.

"Do we need to make a BBQ?"

Vista snorted while Panacea continued to glare at me. Like it was our fault she was here, she volunteered.

The doctor spoke: "This is for testing."

We replied: "We can't do that with an animal, with a pig!"

"Why? Pigs are quite close to humans after all."

That we didn't doubt. But Jack the Ripper never gutted pigs.

"Don't know. Powers are stupid like that."

The doctor sighed: "And all you can do is heal?"

We stared at him. We almost had more powers than all the other Wards combined.

"I mean, regarding this thing."

"Yes." Honestly, we just did it.

"You heard her, call the voluntary."

Soon, a sleeping Hispanic woman arrived on a stretcher. She was wearing only a flimsy hospital gown. Our eyes glanced momentarily to her womb.

"Do we cut her?"

The doctor shook his head: "No, I'll do that."

The gash in her leg started bleeding slowly.

Panacea took the patient's right hand as we started to work.

One stitch here, another there, the gap was a little too large but whatever... Done.

The doctor was pinching his nose. "That's horrible. I feel compelled to remove it and do it myself. Panacea, do you confirm it's working?"

The healer answered: "Yes. There's a sort of energy flowing in the cells, but it isn't harmful. It's simply accelerating the healing of the wound. Can you do it in other ways? There's any limit?"

We replied: "It needs to be a surgery. And nothing too complicated."

She deadpanned: "Complicated how?"

"Diseases, infections, poisons. Only flesh wounds, don't ask about brains or something too precise."

The doctor asked: "What if the wound is internal? Like a hemorrhage, a broken bone?"

We materialized the black scalpel: "We'd need to cut. And internal bleeding... don't know."

Panacea snorted: "Cut how? Because if this- she pointed at the suture- is how you do things, you would butcher them."

We wanted to show her a butcher's skills.

It was not our fault that our Skill was like that. We were supposed to dissect people, not heal them.

Not that we should do it, except to those that deserved that.

We stopped the flow.

"Well, you can bring the pig back. I won't be able to heal it, but a cut is a cut, right?"

The doctor replied: "No need. We have a replica for this sort of thing, remember?"

"You mean the puppet?"

It closely resembled a male human being, but it was nothing more than a tinker-tech construct created for testing the lethality and some abilities of powers. Sure, there were measurements with other machinery, but it was useful. I didn't need it much, because I knew how much a body could take, but it was quite realistic, up to a point.

Of course, it was totally useless to learn how to fight, especially considering the Manton limit of some powers.

Swiflty, assistants arrived to remove the volunteer and brought the replica.

The doctor used a blue marker to circle the zone I'd be operating on.

We make the first cut, then the second, we opened the wound, saw the mechanical beating of the heart, and closed it together.

We closed the well and my eyes twitched. If it were alive, it wouldn't be dripping all that fake blood.

Panacea looked at the mess with amusement. Bad mother, bad daughter it seemed.

The doctor was looking closely at the cuts. "That... seems old?"

Vista piped up: "Old?"

"The technique, I mean. I studied the history of medicine for my own curiosity, but we don't open like that anymore. Ghostchild, I'd suggest you follow some medical course, but I understand it's not the time. But please remember to disinfect your patient every time, powers or not."

That could be useful. If that skill could change, wouldn't it mean we were alive? Servants were dead, they didn't get better.

We nodded.

Vista asked: "Have we finished?"

After he said yes, the two of us scrambled to get back to base.

As we went, Vista turned to me and asked: "Do you want to do anything tonight?"

Find the killer. "Don't know. Why?"

"We could have a sleepover."

Oh.

"But the other Wards?"

"I can ask them to stay at home. I'll think they'll understand, even if Kid Win may throw a fit. He never stops tinkering."

"Okay. Do you have anything in mind?"

As we discussed what to see and what to do, we felt better. And we assured ourselves that I'd never let anything happen to those close to me.

If Sophia found the time to bully me and go to the mall, we should have some time as well.

To do what, however?

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ic3shard13

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Feb 24, 2020

#178

There were a lot of things I wanted to say to him. How much he was hurting me, how little he was there, how I should have asked for his help and how he should have asked for my help. He wasn't as cold as last night; in the light of the day, his sleeping face was much more relaxed and peaceful, like a doll of a man that forgot his wrinkles and worries. The scars on his wrists and the white hair on his head and his stubble made him look so fragile.

A child wasn't supposed to be stronger than their parents.

I tightened my grip on his hand and resolved myself once again to find the truth.

I went out of the door and made a gesture to Dennis and Missy to go out.

The pale red-head commented: "Already done? You haven't spent more than five minutes."

I grunted: "There's not much to do."

He smirked: "You don't pray, don't you?"

"Not really."

"Well, too bad. It makes me relax."

I was surprised. "You believe?"

"Kinda. Maybe? It's just something, a habit. We always did in my family. If there's a Big Guy up there, good. If there isn't, it doesn't cost me anything. The world is crazy enough either way. It might surprise you, but I don't take many things seriously. But hoping the things I do care about stay safe and well, it's worth a shot."

I repressed a snort. If I had to believe in God, I believed in an uncaring entity. And I didn't want to, I needed to know that the choices I made were mine to be judged.

Missy took the word: "So, you'll return us to the base?"

He looked out of the window: "Don't know. The weather seems fine. If you want, we can spend some time outside before you have your fantabulous no-boys sleepover."

I didn't want to return yet.

"Can we go to the grocery store?"

Missy said: "We can't buy too much trash. I need to eat carefully to keep my figure."

She did order a salad with her burger.

I told her my plan: "I want to make carbonara."

"You know how to do that?"

"It's easyish. If you want, you can help."

Dennis grunted sardonically: "Women. Such mysterious creatures. They embraced feminism and rejected the notion of the stay-at-home housewife, yet they discuss the intricacies of cooking. Will they reveal themselves as the heretics that add cream to the carbonara, or will they stay true to the original?"

He shook his head looking at the bay.

Missy deadpanned: "I can't believe he has a driver's license and we don't."

I nodded.

After buying the stuff we needed as Ward's expenses, we went to buy ice cream. The place was a little corner in the Boardwalk, quite close to the road where the first victim fell.

I wondered if it was worth a shot seeing the scene again, but what could I do that Tinkers and Thinkers didn't? I was almost glad that Armsmaster was working on Identity Erasure if it helped him find the fucker that went against my family.

Not that it would be easy for the killer to act again, all the Wards family were guarded by plainclothes agents and I was pretty sure we were being followed by one of the 'inconspicuous vans' that the PRT often used.

I took another spoon of black cherry ice cream. It was a bit hard keeping the flow at bay when I felt nice or bad sensations. I wondered if Aegis felt similar. Did he taste food with all his mouth? If he continued not being a dick I'd ask him.

As I tasted a very sweet cherry, I heard a bang.

Dennis and Missy tensed. The costumers and the ice-cream man looked nervously at each other, an old-looking man laughed tiredly as what was probably his niece started to cry.

A white flash passed in the sky.

The three of us got out.

I muttered: "Are we supposed to do anything?"

Missy asked: "Didn't you say this isn't your business?"

"I also said I didn't want you to get hurt."

Dennis checked his work phone. "I contacted the console. If we want, we can change in one of the vans and calm down the civilians. It looks like Sunny Nazi is heroing again."

A red lighting reverberated in the clear sky.

I mumbled: "Eclectic Shock, he's part of the Homies, right?"

A gang that dwelled in trafficking drugs and held a small territory at the edges of the Empire. They had only two capes, Shock, a blaster/shaker that gathered energy and released it in a clap of thunder and electric arcs around him, and a brute called Throwball, who became stronger and more resilient as he grabbed and compressed more stuff in his hands until he threw it. On PHO it was speculated they were a couple, which might be a reason Purity was targeting them, besides the fact that Shock could use Kaiser and Hookwolf as lighting catchers.

A projectile flew close to Purity, but she evaded it easily. She was a good counter to them.

Missy grimaced: "Let's move."

I nodded.

As I suspected, two of the vans in the parking lot opened to let us inside. Clockblocker went in the blue van, and Missy and I in the black one.

We hurried to change, and after the clasps clapped, we stretched our limbs. We wanted to get in the action, hurt someone.

"There's no reason to go knifey for now, you know," a certain Shaker berated.

But we couldn't. Stupid rules.

"It's just, what are we supposed to do? Get civvies out?"

She agreed: "Yup, Clock and I are good at this. Even if there are always idiots that just stand there filming the fight or that don't want to get out of their house."

"Should we scout, see things?" We asked without whining.

"No. Only if the higher-ups order you."

A voice crackled in our ears: "Velocity, Armsmaster and Dauntless ETA in thirteen minutes. Jango Delta Overwatch."

AKA, 'wait and don't be stupid, keep casualties at minimum'.

The van stopped in another parking lot. We actually weren't any closer to the fight scene, it was mostly a diversion to separate our identities, not that the distance mattered much with our powers.

"I'm heading towards Clockblocker. You can watch us from the rooftops, but don't interfere."

We agreed reluctantly. In less than two minutes, we were given a clear view of what was happening.

"Throwball is inside the abandoned warehouse on the third street. We hear the sounds of crashing metal."

"Copy, keep your position."

A red blur passed. As usual, Velocity was one of the first to arrive and started his spiel of 'standing down' and 'surrendering'.

Neither Eclectic Shock nor Purity deigned him a glance.

Another bolt erupted in the air, this time its color was green. Multicolored arcs of lighting emanated from the black-clad cape in a circular area around him.

He ran towards the building where his companion was. Velocity was behind him and was dodging the few electric arcs that came close to his position.

When the electricity stopped, Velocity rushed to the villain and punched him in the face, cracked his lens and broke some of his fingers.

Shock snarled, a gold-colored lighting formed in the sky and three seconds later it struck his position, but Velocity was already too far.

The villain cried: "Throwball, where the fuck are you?"

Purity threw a blast in his direction, but some of the arcs managed to intercept it and it exploded in mid-air.

The Homies cape entered the building. Silence ensued.

The local Protectorate Trump had arrived and shouted: "Purity, Eclectic, Throwball, stand down!"

The 'heroine' flew away, towards the deeper parts of Empire territory.

Armsmaster ordered in the coms: "Don't follow her. We can apprehend the other villains."

After a moment, he said: "Ghostchild."

"Yes?"

"Can you enter the building, see if they are still inside?"

Dauntless replied: "Sir, I think it's dangerous to-

"Dauntless. Ghostchild is a powerful Stranger, as long she doesn't engage she'll be fine if she keeps her distance. Copy that?"

We answered: "Roger."

We jumped off the rooftop to a balcony, and from there we reached the ground.

There wasn't a lot of light inside, but the burnt smell of plastic and wood guided us behind a rusted forklift. There was a hole in the wall that led to an adjacent room, that had the door opened to outside.

We went out and found ourselves in a closed alley, with no villain in sight.

"Ghostchild here. Both capes seem to have escaped-

Armsmaster interrupted us: "Roger, I see your position. Come back."

He saw what? Was he tracing the radio signal?

We didn't ask ourselves why the coms were working, after all.

We got back to the main road and dispersed Concealment when a black lightingbolt appeared in the sky.

While the speedster entered his breaker stated, Dauntless 'skated' in the air, moving in quick dashes towards the impact point.

We returned to the rooftops and tried to follow them, but they were too fast.

"Throwball is dead, Eclectic Thunder is retaliating heavily. Vista, close Rein's Road' southwest entrance!" Armsmaster ordered once again.

Damnit!

Several lamps on the street exploded as a rainbow of electric arcs touched them. Cars alarm started and blew out around Eclectic Thunder, who had stopped restraining his power.

Bolt after Bolt hit his position, and he stopped moving.

Most powers usually didn't have a limited reserve, but it wasn't rare they asked for a price, like headaches for Thinkers or fugues for Tinkers. It looked like Thunder traded mobility for pure power. What was the point though?

Did Armsmaster kill Throwball? He had setups to go against Lung, it seemed strange he had to escalate.

Suddenly, a grenade came under Eclectic's feet, and it exploded releasing the yellow foam, which quickly enveloped the villain. The arcs fizzled and stopped. A grey bolt hit the yellow blob, and it melted a bit of the foam.

Wasn't it supposed to resist heat?

Regardless, another grenade exploded and more foam enveloped him. The next bolt did nothing. A squad of PRT soldiers appeared quickly with Vista and Clockblocker on their side.

We joined them.

We flinched as another thunderbolt crackled, but it was smaller than the others. Three seconds later, a yellow spark fizzled in the sky, but it didn't even reach the ground.

We reappeared in front of Clockblocker.

"Gah! Don't do that!"

We giggled.

We turned to our shaker friend: "What happened?"

Vista preened: "I helped the troopers launch the first grenade."

We stomped our feet. "No fair."

Clock mumbled: "No fair?"

We summoned a knife: "We could have hit him."

"They are made of metal." Vista deadpanned.

"Exactly."

She looked dumbfounded.

We clarified: "We could have launched knives, the arcs would have been attracted by them, and when we dissolved them the arcs would have disappeared."

Clockblocker unhelpfully said: "That sounds stupid and reckless. And electricity doesn't work like that."

We snorted: "His did. And before he got mad, there was a delay between the bolts."

Vista bristled: "And after?"

Well, if he stayed a sitting duck... "The Mist."

Clock denied: "No, just no. Just, don't."

"Hey! We did respect the rules! We're just saying we could take him."

The time-themed hero wordlessly joined the troopers in the van where the yellow blob was contained.

Vista pinched her nose: "You're such a kid."

"And you won't learn how to make carbonara!"

She stomped her foot: "That's unfair."

We smirked and hurried to the parking lot we came from.

I munched a gummy ghost. The lemon taste wasn't bad.

"Why are you eating candies before dinner?"

"Why aren't you grating cheese?"

She stretched the hand that was holding the grater.

"It's more tiring than it looks."

I nodded. I continued cutting the cheek lard in fine pieces, using the kitchen knife. She didn't want me to use Jack's butcher knife, even though a death curse was supposed to be sterile.

"About the Poster..."

Oops, we broke the chopping board.

Missy flinched.

We said calmly: "Don't remind us of them when we have a knife on hand."

They acted in the middle of the battle and managed to kill a cape! How did they know when to attack and where to place the Poster?

How could we catch them?

If we attacked Throwball when we knew where he was, maybe we could have caught him!

"I don't think it was them."

"Why?"

She washed her hands. "It was too fast. And Throwball was killed by chemical gas. They usually used weapons of convenience, like knifes, walking sticks, door stoppers. It could be the work of a copy cat."

"Or they joined a team," we muttered.

She snorted: "Do you think a psycho like them would join anyone?"

We stared at the chopping board. We restarted our cutting.

After a while, we said: "Missy."

"Yes?"

"We're glad you are on the team."

She sputtered. "You can't say that, miss Anti-hero!"

We giggled, imagining to cut the bastard in a thousand pieces.

Last edited: Feb 27, 2020

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Feb 29, 2020

#189

It was raining heavily.

Missy had gone to her mother's house, Chris was working overtime in his lab, Carlos and Dennis were out. Even if I didn't have to go back to school, doing my homework looked more and more interesting than doing nothing. It was different from the days where I was sick of everything. There was actually something I wanted to do: find the culprit and kill him. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do, but I wanted to. I wasn't one of the good guys after all.

A ping alerted me.

"How u doin?? I'm bord! Stupid rain! D:"

It was from Ashley. I wanted to punt the cell on the wall.

"I'm fine."

"Wanna go to the cine again?"

"No."

A minute later she replied: "Ok. C ya tmrw!"

I didn't know what to say. It wasn't like she could understand.

I changed the channel on TV. It was a documentary on corals. Since Leviathan came, the ocean started to look very scary, and few dared to adventure his depths. It didn't matter that it was very rare to be attacked if you simply went to the beach or explored the seafloor. It wasn't much different from being killed by a serial killer.

"My dad has an aquarium with clownfishes in his studio."

I turned to the source of the voice: "What are you doing here, Dean?"

He replied: "I'm here to make sure that Chris doesn't forget to eat. I swear he's more similar to Armsmaster than both of them think."

"He ate breakfast," I told him.

"Good. Do you want to go to the range?"

"Range?" I flipped a scalpel. "I throw these, but I don't fight from distance."

"You may never know. You might rebrand when you enter the Protectorate, and you might want something else."

I scoffed: "I like my knives. And I'm not going to join the Protectorate."

He sighed. "Isn't it too early to say this?"

I explained my reasoning: "It's not. This just screams fake to me. I don't care about people. If I had to choose between my life and another, I choose mine."

He hummed for a second, then replied: "That kind of decision isn't exactly common. And thinking in extremes doesn't help in most situations."

I snorted: "If the world was a better place, they wouldn't happen. There might be good triggers out there, like the Triumvirate, but I got powers because something went wrong."

His pupils dilated for a second. An awkward silence stretched as the tv described the characteristics of the surgeonfishes, who had scalpel-like scales and often traveled and feed in schools.

Did we mess up like with Missy?

"I don't think it's that simple. When we got powers, we gained something important. Yesterday I had a family reunion I couldn't miss. This afternoon I have a date with my girlfriend. It may be something little, but seeing what people feel helps with those things. Most of what we say doesn't truly match what we feel. We all have different opinions, want different things, but we all feel the same emotions. I'm wealthy, I have superpowers and I'm dating a superheroine. I have little in common with most people. But I know you, all of you, felt better after those children asked your autograph. I know you like spending time with Missy. I know you're angry that the Poster is still at large. My power helps with this, but I don't think it's impossible to reach to each other."

They were pretty words, but it didn't change the fact that what happened was Shadow Stalker's fault.

Did he try to reach her as well?

With some people, it simply wasn't worth it.

He changed topic: "Armsmaster had found something where the gas was released yesterday. Some strands of black hair and the mark of boots."

"Is it...?"

"They are recent."

Missy's words ringed in my head. "It doesn't confirm it's the Poster's."

He grimaced: "True. Maybe their power has limits, maybe it was a copycat, but I doubt it since the victim fell exactly in front of the poster. There's the matter that the gas disappeared rapidly, and you didn't feel the effect. However, it suggests that they might be a thinker."

"Why?"

"It was too well orchestrated. They might have access to new resources and they are escalating."

That was true. Unless the Red Poster could be in many places at the same time and stay unnoticed, it was easier to think of them as a thinker. A precog, maybe.

However, "It feels weird."

The faux-tinker tilted his head.

"The Poster had always done this stuff personally. There was only one case where they used a gun, the rest happened with improvised weapons or fake incidents. They don't seem the type to make cold plans and stick to them. They need to be in the action."

Even Dad's attempted murder was weird. It didn't make sense that he was targeted. Send a message to us? To the Wards?

Pings escaped from our phones.

Dean looked at the message and commented: "Dammit. They hadn't waited a day. The ABB and the Empire are fighting in the Homies' territory. The Protectorate is moving in full force."

We got up.

"Naha. We Wards are off-limits," the Blaster chided.

"Yesterday we got involved," we replied-

"Yesterday it was just three capes, and they all knew better than attack a Ward. We don't know how many Empire forces are there, and Oni Lee and Lung don't use kids' gloves."

And it's not like we could go all out. It wasn't night yet, we doubted that our weapons would do much against Hookwolf, Alabaster, Lung, Kaiser or the Twins if they already started to fight and the Mist was a 'no-no'.

Another sound came from his other smartphone. He glanced at it and he grumbled. "Tonight I'm free, it seems. Damn Vicky."

We suppressed a giggle. "Is the training room still an option?"

He smirked. "Sure. Let me ask if Chris wants to come."

Gallant's blasts looked like nebulous blobs of light that flew out of his hands. They didn't damage the targets, but they made them rattle. He also shot fancy beams from his fingers that did even less but were a bit faster.

Us, on the other hand... range remained a problem, but we trained speed. The targets, red balloons, appeared at faster and faster rates, and there wasn't a clear pattern either. The popping sound was satisfying though.

Kid Win was trying one of his blasters at the range. The shots were fast. He stopped himself for recharge often though, as he fumbled to insert the battery in the magazine, and his marksmanship left a bit to be desired.

An alarm sounded in our part of the training room.

Fifty-something seconds from the record.

We closed the well.

"Damnit. Can I try again?"

Gallant commented: "You're drenched in sweat."

Kid folded his blaster: "Yeah, and I'm getting a bit tired. I need to work with the battery. And the auto-aim. And the balance."

He shook his head. "It's not really good for the field for now."

I asked: "Why?"

"It's not any better than a normal gun."

"Does it kill?"

He shook his head furiously: "No! It has a simple stun setting. There is a way to shoot a stronger blast, but at most, it will give a heart-attack if the target has some health problem."

"Then it's better than a gun. Heroing is about preventing collateral damage, right? If it didn't make any sound, it would be even better."

I managed to say it without sounding sarcastic. Yay.

The Tinker mumbled: "It wouldn't be too easy, but if I... nevermind. It could be done."

I took a sip of water. "What is the point of the balloons anyway?"

Gallant said: "Oni Lee."

"Oni Lee?"

He explained: "Armsmaster created the test to train."

It made a sort of sense. Silent teleporters, balloons?

I had to ask. "Did he make the record?"

"No, that was Miss Militia. And you did well. She has guns, her bullets fly faster than your knives," the emotion thinker reassured me.

If I were a Servant though... well, better be alive than dead.

I asked Kid Win: "What were you working on before?"

He looked dejected. Was every conversation a landmine?

"I was working on an auto-aim function for this, but then I found myself developing an attachment that made this shot a sort of bullet spray," he said, pointing at his blaster.

Gallant said: "That sounds useful. You might have to ask the department for approval though."

"I know, but I didn't finish either of them. Heck, I took part of the recharger I was making to build them."

I tilted my head, thinking of the old games of cape-pretend and the PHO forums about munchkinering powers: "All three sounds useful. Both the auto-aim and the shotgun-like shot will need energy, but using them both at the same time is a bit meaningless. The charger would have to direct energy to one or the other."

Kid Win looked at me with wide eyes. "I need to hurry, bye."

He ran towards the lab in a full sprint.

"What the hell?"

"Language."

I glared at Gallant.

"I think you gave him an idea," he said smugly.

"No crap, Sherlock. Yet I don't think I'm a supergenius."

"Armsmaster always made him work on only one thing at a time. But when you made him see the bigger picture..."

He continued happily, "He must have understood something."

Tinker powers sounded stupid.

"He might make a gun for you, you know."

I rebutted: "No. First, my knives are more than enough. Second, Vista needs something more than me."

He grunted: "It's easier to sell you with a gun than Vista."

I adjusted my bandana. "That doesn't make any sense. If she snaps, she could cause traffic accidents on a whim."

He grimaced: "I don't like to think of my teammates snapping."

We smiled sweetly.

"Don't joke. And for how much trouble the Bay gets, she's still a Ward. Her power isn't necessarily violent, unlike yours. Being a hero doesn't mean being violent."

We made sure nobody was nearby, then we replied: "You would be more convincing if you weren't wearing tinker tech armor. What does it have to do with your power?"

"I bought this, and it helps in hiding my power."

So you were an entitled rich boy.

"Why hide your power in the first place?"

"People don't like emotional manipulators."

We thought about Heartbreaker, the Simurgh, Canary. How many Masters were out there?

"Hit us."

He stopped walking and asked: "Why?"

"We're a brute," we reassured him.

He shook his head. "That's not a reason, why?"

"We think we have a power that makes us immune from Masters's effect," we admitted begrudgingly.

"You're not supposed to be hiding your powers," the fake tinker passed judgment.

"It isn't working. It didn't work with Glory Girl," we whispered.

He calmly inquired: "Are you sure you have it?"

"Yes."

"Well, this needs tests. It's not something we can do on our own. We also need to be sure you aren't overwhelmed."

He was referring to those days, before the contract. It had been a miracle that our big self hadn't been eaten, that our wide self had stopped. We didn't want to lose control again, but there were people out there that could hurt us and those dear to us in many ways. Honestly, we were just a fish in the ocean.

"Are you okay?"

We flipped a knife. "Yes." Our wide self compressed. "I just want to take a break."

We arrived in the base. Gallant turned off his armor's lights and he removed his helm. His face was clean and well kept, without stubbles, pimples or zits.

I, on the other hand, hurried to my room to take a shower.

The costume was starting to get itchy in some places, and the cold sweat was annoying to deal with. It didn't mean that what I was wearing was uncomfortable, it was designed to be used in battle.

It had many little holes that helped with the perspiration, and the padding was soft.

I was simply sweating a lot, just like when I was...

Uh. Looking at myself in the mirror, leaving Jack's influence aside, I saw a young Taylor Hebert. I knew it already, but to feel things I had forgotten growing up was strange. There was a lot that was going to follow, though: the ache of growing bones, the hitches on my chest, pimples, my first period-

We threw ourselves in the shower and opened the hot, scalding water. There was a time to grow up, but it wasn't the moment.

Last edited: Mar 1, 2020

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Mar 4, 2020

#192

The white of the walls blinded our eyes, as enemy after enemy popped in our vision. Red covered the floor as we threw and struck the ever closing teleporter. We perforated the last clone-

And the alarm blared. We glared at the timer.

I shook my head, I did gain some seconds. Practicing in the middle of the range helped. It was how Armsmaster did it, the Tinker wasn't much of a ranged fighter. I waited for the transparent door of reinforced glass to open as a tired technician took out cleaning tools to clean out the balloons.

My supposed handler, a male officer of thirty or so years old, came in my direction.

I didn't particularly like him, he had to follow me almost everywhere, and he had been on my back since the remaining Wards had gone to school. I almost wished I had gone as well. My hand wandered to my civilian smartphone on reflex, but I stopped, remembering I turned it off.

I took a sip from the straw of my water bottle as I wondered what to do. There was television or the Net, but I wasn't very interested.

I didn't want to go visit Dad.

The left door opened and a certain heroine entered. Miss Militia was carrying a green baton attached to her belt, and her eyes curved in a smile as she found me.

"Hello, Ghostchild."

"Hello," I replied. After a moment, I added: "I heard you captured Hookwolf and Oni Lee."

She became serious: "Yes, Armsmaster had developed a knockout gas that acted quickly. Both of the villains are already sentenced for the Baumann."

The Empire lost a heavy hitter, but the ABB came out worse. Lung was strong, but he was alone. Yet, Miss Militia didn't look too happy.

"Isn't it good news?"

She sighed: "It is. But there are going to be repercussions."

She morphed the baton in an assault rifle, then an Uzi. She placed herself in front of one of the free normal ranges and pressed the button that started the session.

I settled on a wall, watching her and other officers manning weapons of different kinds. I wasn't an expert in them, I didn't know the difference between a clip and a magazine, and they looked cold, ruthless.

I shouldn't judge, but killing shouldn't be so impersonal.

Miss Militia was the better shooter, she aimed and fired just a bit faster than others, and as she switched weapons, the recoil, if she felt it, didn't bother her a bit.

Fortunately, the reinforced glass managed to dampen the sounds, making it no different from the pops of the balloons.

I wasn't quite sure physics worked like that, but if tinker tech was involved... I did have Dragon cosmetics in my room.

The lights of the building started to flicker, fizzed and turned off. We saw green flashes coming from the Blaster position, red alarms as people started muttering codes after codes, and just a few seconds later, the lights returned blinding our eyes momentarily.

Our handler shouted: "Ghostchild, Ghostchild."

We dropped our Concealment. "What happened?"

He came to me. "We need to return to Ward's HQ."

Miss Militia was already out of the door. The range was shutting down as men came and went in opposites directions.

We sighed and followed the handler, knives in hands.

Even though it was an emergency, most people continued to do their job unperturbed, and we didn't know if they were disciplined or simply used to this sort of mess.

As we heard the words 'attack to the Rig,' we understood that whatever was going on was big.

We entered the tunnel, and the reinforced door behind us shut down with sounds of moving gears and contraptions.

The tunnel was colored by a yellow light, which meant we had to be alert, in opposition to the red of 'full emergency' and the blue of 'business as usual'.

Damned handler, if we were on our own we would have already arrived.

We were at the entrance when the door opened.

The handler said: "Excuse me, do you have-

He moved in front of us and took a bullet in the head.

Another shot trespassed our left arm.

We blocked a third with our knives as we released the Mist.

A final shot hit our ribcage, and we coughed blood.

"It's not stopping!"

"Did you kill the bitch?"

We jumped on the first speaker and cut his throat.

We used our right hand and chopped off the arm of the second speaker, who collapsed and screamed for the shock.

We used the body of our first target as a shield against the third assassin as the sound of gunfire continued.

The weapon jammed.

"Shit!"

We threw a scalpel right in her eye, breaking her visor. She collapsed on the floor.

We released the Mist.

We were alone, with four dead. We coughed again, as blood kept pouring. We had neither time nor energy to use Surgical Procedure.

The bodies were still warm.

We materialized a butcher's knife and started cutting. Blinded by pain, we cursed how difficult it was to dissect a person with only one hand, especially if they were wearing a combat vest.

We reached the first heart and started heating.

It was little energy, they weren't sorcerers.

We moved to the second corpse and did the same.

With the little energy we had gathered, we started removing the bullet in our chest.

Then we moved to our left arm. It had perforated our shoulder, but we felt whatever energy we absorbed knitting the bones together.

We looked at the sutures and we giggled. They did look like shit.

Our tongue rolled between our teeth, feeling our blood and that of our enemies. We took out our water bottle, sipped, gurgled and spat.

We wanted a shower. We wanted a tooth brush.

We looked at the handler. He died protecting us.

Dad...

We looked at the face of the woman, our second heart.

We recognized her, we had met her once or twice. We didn't know if the other two were in the PRT or if they stole the uniform.

The matter was that we weren't safe, and those around us weren't safe.

We moved to the third attacker, opened his ribcage and ate his heart as well. We needed everything.

We dropped the cellphones, the earpiece, the splattered cap, we used the bandana to clean some of the grime.

We hurried out, covered by Concealment and by Identity Erasure, just as people were entering the tunnel.

It took hours to reach the Docks.

We stole a pair of clothes from a Wallmart, we changed in a public restroom, we used the spare contact lenses we had and we dumped the costume in the Bay.

We had something like fifty dollars, emergency money for the Wards.

We wondered for a moment if it was worth it to return to our old home, but we knew it was all empty. And the PRT knew it.

Thankfully we found an abandoned hotel near the Shipgraveyard. It was called "The Grand Bay Hotel".

We entered from a broken window on the second floor, and after making sure there weren't any squatters, we entered one of the locked rooms.

It was an old suite, there was a lot of dust in the air, but the bed was protected by a thick plastic cover.

The air was old and stunk, but the brief circulation from the opened door made it better, livable. We jumped on the bed.

It wasn't very soft, and one spring was broken. We took one, ten, twenty deep breaths.

We let go.

"It's not fair," I mumbled.

I sniffed, a salty tear entered in my mouth.

I took one of the last gummy ghosts to clean it.

What was the point of the attack?

Was it the Poster?

Did they know I was Jack the Ripper?

And even then... I knew I was doing well. I was listening to those pricks.

They were corrupted, they let Sophia and that officer inside. I couldn't stay with them.

And they must know I ate those people. Telling them it was a matter of life or death wasn't going to fly, explaining I ate souls to survive?

They would send me straight to the loony bin.

I hoped they continued guarding Dad.

Why did I not go to school?

Telling Ashley and the others that I had family problems sounded much more simple than living on the streets.

A little song hummed in my head. I blew my nose thinking where I heard it.

I threw the tissue paper on the floor. This place needed to be cleaned.

As I fell asleep, I remembered it was a lullaby Mom used to sing me.

Thankfully, there was a fast-food open 24hr/7, it was far enough from the abandoned building that I felt confident I wouldn't be traced. And this was not an area the Protectorate patrolled often, especially at night.

"Excuse me, I want a double cheeseburger with fries."

The college-age worker looked at me skeptically. "Don't you have parents, kiddo?"

I glared at him. "I don't need parents to order."

He added: "Do you have money?"

I put a ten-dollar banknote and two coins on the counter.

He lazily shrugged and noted my order.

I had to wait for 15 minutes. The fries were sogged in oil, the meat in the burger tasted like cardboard and the cheese felt like glue.

I got out and kicked a can on the sidewalk. I stared at the rattling piece of metal, unsure of what to do.

I needed to find who was targeting me and make them pay.

But I needed help.

The PRT wasn't going to help me, I didn't doubt they would throw me to prison.

I didn't trust any of the gangs.

The only option was the Palanquin, but they were out of town and I didn't have the money to pay them.

I turned in a back alley and vanished.

As we walked aimlessly, we saw Armsmaster's motorbike crossing the street at high speeds.

We tightened as the motor rumbled and the Tinker surpassed us.

We climbed a warehouse, as we waited for an eventual return of the Tinker. It didn't happen.

We jumped down the building and we walked down the road.

We weren't very tired. We were angry, bored and sad, but not tired.

Walking at night was oddly nostalgic, how many victims could we make in a single night?

We bit our lips, there was no point.

Making a name as Jack the Ripper... it would paint an even bigger target on our back.

And it was wrong.

Only because we couldn't be a hero it didn't mean we had to do evil.

We pressed our hand over our heart. We were alive.

We flexed our injured arm. It was a bit rigid, but it didn't hurt.

We removed the contact lenses and materialized our cloak.

We cut a piece of it, made two holes, and used it as a cheap mask.

We spent thirty minutes wondering in the deserted streets of the Docks waiting for an idea to come when we heard a shriek and the sound of screeching tires.

We hurried to the place when we saw a black car stopped by dumpsters scattered in the road. The driver looked like a pudgy man in his thirties, out of some important affair.

A thug in ABB colors broke the windows, unlocked the door and threw him out. Three companions were quickly behind him.

The driver blathered: "Please, if you want, take this!"

He took out his wallet.

The gangster spat in his face and swatted the wallet from his hand.

One of his accomplices moved towards the car.

"Shit, it's some good stuff. What the hell was a rich fucker like him doing in this hellhole?"

The rich fucker wheezed and paled.

The leader answered: "Fuck if I know."

He said other words in a foreign language, and a girl on his side took out a knife.

We took an exception to that.

We threw a scalpel in the hand of the tall man that had a gun, we slashed the legs of the girl and we punted the supposed leader to the ground as we broke his spine with our butcher's knife.

The car admirer quickly escaped, and we turned to the teenage boy we left alone.

We pointed a knife at him: "Call the police and an ambulance."

He laughed hysterically as he shouted in what could have been Chinese, he took out the phone and called the police and the ambulance.

The gun holder was trying to remove the scalpel impaled in his hand while the girl failed to get up and walk.

The man we were sitting on uttered: "You're fucked, absolutely fucked. When Lung is back, he will kill you, lil bitch."

We frowned. "Where is he?"

He stayed silent.

We created a scalpel and moved it close to his eyes.

"Somer's Rock. He's at Somer's Rock."

"Where is Somer's Rock?"

He rattled the address.

It had been easy, too easy. We took out the cellphone from his back pocket.

"What's the password?"

He shouted it.

The cell had Internet.

We dematerialized the knives and moved to take the wallets of th gangsters.

The victim was still on the ground with a dumbfounded expression.

"You can go, if you want," we said.

He scrambled in the vehicle, made a u-turn and escaped.

We took the wallet he left on the ground and we turned to the gangsters. "We'll be watching you. Don't try anything funny."

"I can't fucking get up, we won't try anything!" The girl cried.

We eyed her body for a while. She flinched.

We turned in an alley and used both our stealth skills.

We waited until the sirens of the PRT came.

Last edited: Mar 5, 2020

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Mar 9, 2020

#213

Somer's Rock wasn't what we expected.

It was a mediocre pub, hit by time and age: the outside paint was peeling and the rusted red of the bars on the window flowed like blood. It was one of the many half-dead businesses in the street, and it was far from ABB territory. There were some cars parked in front of it, good cars for what we knew, which was little.

There was a problem: only the front door was the obvious entrance.

Concealment or not, opening a door was going to grab attention, especially if the hinges weren't well kept. Sniffing the salty and humid air of the Bay, we doubted it. We circled the building and found nothing; the same was for the roof.

Sitting on the edge, we swang our legs a little.

Besides the little thrill, this night sucked. But we didn't want to play vigilante.

We had a half mind to visit that thug in prison, but for all we knew Lung had been here and he was already gone. It was far from that alley after all.

We slumped for a few minutes: keeping Concealment was tiring, and the earlier scuffle didn't help.

Thankfully, three people got out of the establishment.

Before the bell of the door stopped ringing, we had already recognized two of them: one was a shirtless muscled man who wore rattling chains and a tiger mask, the other was a scarred woman who wielded two little scythes and had her head caged. Cricket, Stormtiger and their follower were heading out to one of the cars.

We decided to enter the building as the door was still open.

The interior was lifeless, dingy and depressing like the exterior promised. The counter and the wood floor were of the same color, only the yellow lights of the dying lightbulbs saved the pub from total dullness, like glittering eyes under the moonlight.

We blinked, as we looked at the spectacle in front of us. Thank goodness we didn't rush this.

Sitting around a table were Kaiser, Krieg, and Victor, on the opposite side were Lung and Oni Lee.

As if playing pacifier was a spindly and tall man who wore a black bodysuit with a snake's motif.

"... this is sufficient compensation for the incident, correct?"

The atmosphere was tense, Krieg was rigid and firm, Victor looked ready for a fight, Kaiser was tightly grasping the metal of his makeshift throne.

On the other hand, Lung was sitting arrogantly on the plastic chair, his legs splayed and his arms crossed, but he managed to convey power and anger.

His underling was the opposite, cold and steeled like a well-kept weapon, an aspirant for the Assassin class.

Kaiser rebuked the snake-themed villain: "We aren't going to play on his terms, Coil. He killed Hookwolf in what was supposed to be a joint operation to deny the Protectorate a victory. We hate each other, but the alliance was supposed to be kept. The Empire demands more."

Before we had time to process the information, the dragon of the Bay rebuked: "It's my fault he didn't know how to swim? You had your twins on the coast, those two blondes could have caught him."

Coil made a pacifying gesture: "I'm sorry you can't seem to reach a compromise, but there is another matter to consider. The Red Poster-

Victor snorted: "That D-lister cape?"

Coil continued: "attempted to kill a Ward."

Everyone subtly shifted.

Kaiser asked: "Do you have any proof on that?"

The snake-themed villain took out from a black reflecting briefcase two copies of what appeared to be PRT documents.

Oni Lee picked one, Victor the other.

The teleporter briefly nodded to his leader and gave him the papers, while Victor said: "This is real. And the Ward barely managed to survive."

Lung replied: "And how do we know it's him? One of the attackers had been one of my informants for years, and I doubt she was one to follow the justice of a half-heard cape."

Coil interjected calmly: "It doesn't matter. The Protectorate had been played as a fool twice in the same day, and the Poster is the most apparent candidate for this attack. The Poster already targeted the family of the Ward and a villain before, they will be escalating regardless. Faultline and her group are currently tasked to retrieve information on the case from a suboffice of Watchdog, but I won't have the information for a while."

Kaiser briefly glanced to the tall and thin cape, before glaring to Lung once again. "The Empire will not upset the Bay for now, but the offense will be repaid, Lung. Victor, Krieg, let us go."

The throne of metal blades disappeared on the ground.

The three Empire capes left slowly, each of their steps was a stern clack on the wood floor.

The leader of the ABB muttered something to Oni Lee in what felt like Japanese.

Krieg cursed in German.

After the neo-nazis disappeared, Lung asked: "What is your game in this?"

"Excuse me?"

"This charade. You know very well that our two gangs will fight once again."

Coil took a moment to find his words and replied smoothly: "It's simple: I have my operations to think about. A war between your group and the E88 is not beneficial. But I hardly believe I have quenched Kaiser's ambition, and it's clear that his followers, Hookwolf's followers, will seek retaliation at any cost. But the real threat I'm thinking about is the Poster. Throwball died unmasked, and they managed to infiltrate the local PRT in a very short time. They are acting against everyone's interest."

Lung snorted. "Very well, be as it may, Snake."

He ordered something to Oni Lee, who disappeared leaving falling ash.

"But know that being a coward will bring you nowhere. A body double is nothing more than a clever trick."

The supposed double smiled: "Not everyone is gifted with the might of the Dragon of Kyushu."

Kyushu? Wasn't it the place attacked by Leviathan some time ago?

Lung tensed for a moment and his eyes glowed a cold orange.

He chuckled: "Snake, there are always bigger fishes in the ocean. I won't disturb your pond for now, but learn to be wearier."

He sniffed and added: "If the next time you won't be here in person, I'll kill this faker."

The supposed double didn't even flinch.

The Asian cape took out a wallet from his leather jacket and left a big sum on the table.

We followed him silently out of the door, and after we stepped outside we darted towards our hotel.

Hookwolf drowned.

The gangs knew about us.

They were worried about the Red Poster, and the Protectorate's retaliation.

E88 and ABB were going to clash.

The B-lister Coil had more power, or leverage than we thought, and he was shady as shit.

We still didn't know what to do. Even if one of the gangs was backing the Poster, not including the ones present at the meeting, it would require months to investigate.

There was something to say about blind luck, though. If we could get more information...

It wouldn't be easy. We took out the stolen cellphone to look at the hour. It was almost midnight, and the battery was at a measly twenty percent.

After thirty minutes of uselessly wandering around, we found ourselves at a supermarket. After we made sure there was nobody we knew inside, we dropped Concealment and entered.

The tired woman at the check-out didn't give me more than a passing glance, and I felt thankful.

I filled two bags with prepared food and other necessities, like a toothbrush, a charging battery for the cellphone, a prepaid phone, towels, and other boring stuff. I didn't need to go knifey for the moment, but it was heavy.

I went to the check-out, and I saw the cashier arguing with a young girl who won puberty and wore outrageous clothes.

She had a long neck, breasts bigger than I had before, high cheekbones, and all this gorgeousness was packaged in trashy clothes, a top that barely counted as underwear and ripped jeans with blue neon leggings. Thankfully she was partly covered in a big leather jacket that wasn't her size because I felt personally offended at seeing her.

Not that it didn't matter much, as I was going to have a new chance at puberty even if I didn't care about it.

"I saw you, Aisha. You paid for the can of coke, but not for the pringles," the cashier said.

"You can put it on my dad's tab," Aisha jabbed.

"Child, I don't care about your petty game, leave the pringles or I call the police."

I tensed.

"Yeah, at this hour, the cops are all waiting to stop the dreadful nigger from stealing chips from the poor white American lady-

"Enough!" Ms J cried.

She muttered: "Do you think I like it? You know I can't say no to them."

The black girl tsked. "You used to sell rainbow flags with Legend's face."

I remembered there was a graffiti outside, of Kaiser sitting on his metal throne and one of the two giant twins, Fenja if I had to guess, stomped on caricatures of the minorities the Empire hated.

It was depressing that I didn't give it much thought.

"I'll pay," I said.

I flinched at the attention the two of them gave me. As if it was my fault I was listening to their bickering.

I explained: "I need to be home soon."

The girl smirked and the cashier scowled.

Like the fast-food part-timer, she made sure I actually had the money to pay for the stuff.

Being a pre-teen had its disadvantages.

After the transaction concluded, I moved out of the building and calmly walked towards the hotel.

Or that would have been if somebody hadn't decided to follow me.

I turned to face her:"What do you want?"

"Well, shorty, you must have an interesting story to tell."

I felt many conflicting feelings. "Not one you have to hear."

"Cmon lemme guess. You escaped your parents home, Ms. J is thinking the same. She's calling the police right now."

Which wouldn't be a problem if I used Concealment and Identity Erasure.

"Why are you interested?"

She put on a face of innocence: "You helped me."

I rolled my eyes. "Aren't you going home?"

"Only because my deadbeat mom wants me to fill her cravings, I'm not going to. In fact..." She opened the tube of chips. "I'm going to take a potato

chip and eat it!"

She crunched loudly and inappropriately.

"Want one?"

I took two pringles. Way better than that fast food.

She yawned, and I quickly followed her.

I put the bags down and rubbed my eyes. My sleep schedule was messed up.

"Your white streak is cool. I think I'll color my hair as well. But you need less lame clothes, you look like you took them randomly from a sale bin."

My gaze glossed over her appearance. "You don't have the right to say that."

She pushed her chest forward and murmured: "If you got it, you flaunt it."

She sneezed. "Fuck it's cold."

I giggled.

The cell buzzed. I looked at the message, it was Asian gibberish. Another message arrived, then another.

"What the heck? You look too caucasian for this shit," Aisha commented too close to me.

"I bought it from a streetseller," I lied.

"So it was stolen? Not bad. It looks a bit fancy though, are you sure it isn't tracked?"

"Maybe," I commented.

I was fairly sure that my stealth skills hid my position, and it's not like I cared about that smartphone.

There were lots of unsavory owners in the Bay.

And I bought a prepaid.

I turned it off.

"Can I have it?"

Unfortunately, I couldn't turn her off.

"No."

"Listen, I know a guy who knows a girl who knows about stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Like if this is tracked. She's a hacker with mad skillz."

Did I care about the info of a third rate thug? He delivered me to Lung though. The idiot thought I would stumble in a villain meeting and get skewered.

As if they would have noticed me if I didn't want to.

"And what do you get out of this?"

"I shit with you and other people," she admitted without an ounce of dignity.

And I thought that Ashley was noisy. I grimaced, there was no use for those kinds of thoughts.

"Fine. How do I contact the hacker?"

She pulled out a freaking business card.

'Aisha Laborn, -- extraordinare'

On the other side was a telephone number.

"Why do you have this?"

"Because my bro bought a machine for making business cards, and I used it."

I feared for the sanity of her family.

"And it's handy and classy. I can write whatever adjective I want on it."

That wasn't a place for adjectives.

I sighed. "Ok, I'll call you tomorrow."

"Not before lunch," she yawned.

I nodded. I wondered for a moment if it was safe for her to go home.

"Goodnight."

I went into an alley and disappeared.

We rolled our eyes, we just had to track her until she went home.

Which was pretty creepy, now that we thought about it. Well, we had been a ghost, creepy was part of the package.

Thankfully nobody could see us carrying grocery bags.

We huffed at the moon. We had all the time of the night, nobody was going to wait for us. And nobody was going to expect us either.

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ic3shard13

Mar 9, 2020

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