Quest Chapter 31: Ripper3, a 3x3 eyes fanfic

It was around 2 p.m. that I got a positive answer from Aisha.

I moved towards the meeting point.

It was a cafè on the edge of the Boardwalk, on the opposite side of the old Homie's territory.

It hadn't been my first choice, but I didn't know an alternative. Even if somebody recognized me, I should have all the time in the world to escape and made them forget.

I rubbed my eyes, as some tears sprinkled.

They were sore and dehydrated, I needed to buy a disinfectant for the contact lenses.

Armsmaster had said they would last a week, I hoped it was enough time to catch them. And after that... there was no time to think about the future. I simply had to find a solution when the problems presented themselves.

After I found the place, we scouted it. Thankfully, it wasn't another Somer's Rock. Sure, it was a bit old, but it looked well kept and loved.

The smell of coffee coming from the machine had us wonder if we wanted to take a cup, even if we were more of a tea-kind of person.

The pudgy barman was chatting happily with an old couple and a freshly baked pie was delivered on the counter.

In one of the boots was Aisha, who was laughing raucously, and the one who must have been her brother.

Good genes were common in the family, he was handsome and had muscles, but not excessively. Thankfully, he wore decent clothes. He reminded us of Carlos, as he watched over Aisha.

He smiled, he looked calm and in control, if not a bit closed, and his mature voice didn't hide it. We wondered if the two boys would get along.

On the other side of the table was a blonde girl whose face was peppered by freckles and had an intense look of concentration.

She was looking at the entrance, at the costumers and the counter as she sipped her cup of coffee. She was pretty, all the three of them were in a better class than our big self had been, and for a moment we wished to leave the matter of the phone alone.

He had just been a thug, the meeting with the villains had been pure luck, and Lung didn't seem all that worried about the Poster. Yet we were alone with nothing, we thought bitterly.

Sighing, we decided to finish this as quickly as possible.

When I entered, Aisha immediately perked up and called me: "Yo, rich girl! Come here!"

I had two hundred dollars with me, but I hardly considered myself rich.

Her brother told her to quiet down, and he smiled: "So, my sister said you have a problem. I'm Brian, by the way."

I took out the smartphone. "I'm Anne. I bought this from a street vendor, and it still had the old sim. I wanted to change it, but I'm afraid it's tracked."

The blonde patted the place right to her: "You can sit, you know. No need to be so tense."

I hummed and followed her offer. She was smiling, but it looked a bit fake.

She asked: "Can I see it?"

"Of course." I lent her the phone.

"I doubt it has anything on it. Whoever possessed it wasn't very important," she commented, scrolling through the contacts.

I asked: "You read Chinese?"

"It's Japanese, actually, but no. I bet it still has interesting information."

I put up a front: "What kind of information?"

She snorted: "Nothing you should be caring about, squirt. But I can pay you two hundred dollars for it."

My eyes narrowed: "Why?"

"Don't you want to order something first?"

I looked at her eyes, glued on the phone.

I took it back.

She crossed her arms. "That was just rude. Hasn't your family taught you better?"

I truly wanted to gut her.

She broke the stare.

"Ehm," Brian interjected. "Lisa, can I talk with you for a second?"

The blonde got up and followed him outside.

Aisha asked: "So, do you like my bro?"

I muttered: "He seems fine."

"I'm sorry to say it, but you ain't his type. Too young and spoiled."

I so wanted to gut somebody. "I'm not thinking about that."

"Interested in girls, then?" She proposed with a supposedly alluring voice.

I rolled my eyes. "Nope."

I called a waiter to order a cup of tea and a piece of the baked pie.

"What's the job of your brother, anyway?"

She smirked: "Tell me something about yourself and maybe..."

This meeting was useless. What was it going to give me? The meeting spot of a drug dealer?

Lung's favorite sushi restaurant?

Even something big, like a stashed house, wasn't something I was interested in.

Heck, if I wanted to help the city it would have been better to leave it to the police or send it to the PRT.

Was this what Scotland Yard was feeling when they hunted Jack?

I didn't like to empathize with them.

Aisha broke my thoughts: "Don't make that face, shorty."

"What do you care?"

"Yo, I settled this because I wanted to repay your favor. If you want to act like the spoiled child you are, do so. My bro and his coworker are in the biz if you know what I mean, they got serious skills."

Why was it illegal to gut people?

Thankfully the order came quickly.

The pie melted in my mouth as the frosty sugar coating liquefied on my tongue.

"Is it good?" Aisha asked between bites of her pastry.

I nodded.

"Can I take a bite?"

I pointed the fork at her face. "I don't want to owe you more favors, trashy."

She cried enraged: "I'm! I mean, I am, but don't you dare call me trashy! At least I don't smell like I have been living in a dump."

"I'm not living in a dump," I replied. The Mist took care of all the critters in the hotel. "And I don't smell."

"You do."

I calmly sipped my tea.

The girl huffed and looked away.

After I finished the tea and the cake, the door opened once again, as the two teenagers entered.

"Aisha, what did you do?" Brian asked.

She rolled her eyes: "Why must have I done something?"

Lisa added: "Are you saying that you're doing nothing?"

Thrashy gave her the middle finger.

The blonde turned her attention to me: "So, there are two options. Either you give us the phone, and we pay you, or we enter a partnership."

I blinked.

Brian explained: "Let's say that we deal with all sorts of information. If you give us more cellphones, of the ABB or otherwise, we can repay you with money or other information."

I mulled it over. It wasn't a bad offer per se, but it was suspicious as hell. I didn't truly need money: stealing was a joke, even if I didn't like it. What were they using this for?

And most of all, I doubted they had the means to catch the Poster.

They were teenagers, nothing more, nothing less.

I rubbed my eyes. Damn contact lenses.

"Give me a week," the blonde stated.

I asked: "For what?"

"To find what you want," she said if I was an idiot.

"And what do I want?"

She slipped the newspaper on the table. The article was on the Poster.

I frowned. It seemed that she knew too much.

I hurried towards the bartender.

A muscled hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me firmly.

"Brian. Don't," Lisa said.

"You don't want to do this," I muttered. I didn't want to make a mess of this nice cafe.

Even if I could return, none the wiser, it was just wrong.

"Let her go," the blonde hushed.

I looked at the nervous costumers, at the waiter who was glaring at the jock manhandling me. He let me.

"Aisha, let's go home," Brian uttered in a deep 'no-nonsense' tone.

She cried: "What?!"

"Aisha..."

"Fuck you! Let's see how you do next time I find something for your job!"

We were making a scene. I pulled out the money for the barman. He stopped my hand.

"Kid, if you want I can call your parents, you know."

I clenched my fists. "No, thanks."

He sighed and returned to washing the dishes.

Thrashy moved at the door and turned to me. "And fuck you too!"

I gave her the middle finger.

We waited outside for the three of them to go their way.

"So this was for nothing..." Brian muttered. "Were you sure this was going to work?"

"It was just an 'honest' try," Blondie said, mocking the word honest.

Muscular and stoic didn't look impressed as he said: "Fine. We'll meet later-

He looked at his sister. "You know where."

On her part, Aisha was failing to look uninterested in their conversation.

"Yeah, I'll see you there, bring the brat back home," Lisa suggested.

"Fuck you," the brat muttered.

Of the two, Blondie seemed the best target. To follow.

And her smile was very annoying.

The group split, and our chase continued.

It was getting annoying. It had been half an hour since we started stalking her, and her walk had been slow-paced and nonsensical.

This was the third time we passed in front of that public bathroom.

"You are very persistent, you know." She stated absently.

We blinked. How did she know where we were?

"I won't bite you, it's just the two of us."

Her tone of voice was firm, and she was smiling, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. She was afraid. That made us feel better.

We let go.

"Don't do any funny business," I said.

"I want to live, thanks," she retorted.

We quickly found a proper talking spot.

The alley was a rundown place littered with thrash, conventional or otherwise. It was a good thing I had shoes, let's leave it at that.

I turned to blondie: "How did you know I was interested in them?"

"I'm a supervillain."

Knifey was the go-to, then.

She added quickly: "Not by choice. I was given a gunpoint option: either I folded, or I died."

How she managed to give these straight lines, we didn't know.

"Not too different from you, probationary Ward Ghostchild, right?"

How much she did know?

She might be a Thinker. Or Stranger. Or Master...

PRT protocols or not, some powers were simply bullshit.

She smirked. And she relaxed, slightly.

"You aren't going to kill me."

"How do you know that?"

"You don't want to. You might not feel guilty for my death, but you won't like how you'll be judged."

We frowned. We were a killer, a serial killer. Yet what she said wasn't false either.

In a world like this, Jack's old way of life was just wrong. We were alive, senseless murder wasn't going to help us.

It was mostly a big self kind of thought, though. Because we really wanted to stab her. We twirled a knife.

Blondie exclaimed: "And stop creating those things! They give me the creeps."

We rolled our eyes. "Do you even know where our power come from?"

She observed the cloak, the knives and paled.

"How the fuck did you manage to enter the Wards?"

We giggled. "We followed Shadow Stalker's route."

She bitched: "Know that you aren't the only want that wants to gut somebody."

We offered a scalpel. She actually took it.

She examined it for a while until she flinched and rubbed her head.

She snorted: "I'm really happy you don't want to be a villain, worst-hero-ever."

We wanted to rebuke, Shadow Stalker existed. And I wasn't a hero either.

In any case, we said: "You're a Thinker."

She nodded: "My 'boss' isn't a nice guy. I wasn't always a villain, I had my own life before. Like you, he discovered I was a very good Thinker, and being the control freak he was he wanted my brain to find all the shit he wants to know."

She didn't seem to be lying, but again, Thinker. "Who is he?"

She slumped on the wall. "Coil. He calls himself a destiny manipulator."

That sounded too good to be true.

She smirked: "I'm sure he has some Thinker powers. All his jobs always went too smoothly, even when his mercenaries lost the loss was negligible. He wants to control everything."

He did seem shady, bringing a body double to a villain meeting.

We looked at her face. "Why are you telling us this?"

"I want out. Grab some of his money, give a little to my teammates, and live my life."

She threw the scalpel our way, and we caught it.

We closed the well.

"Trusting already?"

I shook my head: "This isn't about trust. I can follow you until you get home. I can find Aisha again."

She glared: "You know, this isn't exactly playing by the rules."

I smiled innocently: "Killing is against the rules. Someone tried to kill me and succeded in harming good people. The rules don't matter. And it's not my fault that you tried playing with me."

She sighed bitterly. "Playing... there's a certain joke to make. People parading in silly outfits, doing the impossible."

Fear and awe, distant: that's how I once felt about capes. They were so far away from my old life. Now, they were all that mattered.

I vanished the scalpel. "This is a deal. You don't stab me in the back, I don't stab you in the back. I help you with Coil, you help me with the Poster. When this is finished, you and your friends stop being villains."

I added something as an afterthought. "How much money does this Coil guy have?"

She smiled smugly: "Enough. He pays us two thousand bucks a month, plus some more for his commissions. And he has mercenaries and legit companies."

"You'll find a healer for me," I stated.

She nodded. "Then we're settled. Unless I need to do a blood sacrifice."

I so wanted to stab her.

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ic3shard13

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ic3shard13

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Mar 25, 2020

#241

"... and the broken spine shows an injury possibly caused by a butcher's knife," my colleague reported curtly and harshly.

An uneasy silence filled the room. Armsmaster was tired and angry, he had spent almost all night tinkering a new tranquilizer for Lung.

The Director, used to the man, ordered: "You're dismissed."

A brief nod was all he gave before leaving the room.

She turned to the Wards: "Do you understand now why you can't approach Ghostchild?"

Seeing their faces, it must have hit them a bit. They didn't look particularly queasy, Aegis and the Bay got them used to severe injuries.

Gallant said: "Director, if I may-

"You may not," she said. "You are not to approach Ghostchild in any way. You will stay at the Rig until the investigations are concluded."

Kid Win replied: "You need the supervisor's permission to do so."

They all turned to me.

"I permitted the Director."

Clockblocker glared behind his mask and said: "You need parent's approval as well."

Piggot smirked sardonically. "I already have. Your parents, Gallant's, Vista's."

Gallant didn't look surprised. Vista, however, was befuddled and furious. "You can't be serious."

The director glared: "I am. I'm not sure you understand the gravity of the situation. A Ward has been attacked in the base. Someone has access to information they shouldn't have access to. If this mess isn't resolved as fast as possible, I will be forced to resign, no question. Do you think I have any more time to spend listening to you? This isn't a game."

"I'm resigning," Clockblocer stated.

"You can't," I said.

"Exactly," the director. "You are dismissed. If you have any more complaints, berate Miss Militia."

For a moment, I feared one of them would have used one of their powers. The tenseness in Gallant confirmed my suspicion.

Finally, one by one they got up from their seats and got out.

I glanced at the director, who was already slacking and massaging the old injury. Her tired eyes conveyed to me what I wanted to hear, and I followed the Ward's to the adjacent room.

Clockblocker immediately turned to me: "What does it mean I can't resign?"

"Fifteen September of 2005," I recalled.

"What?"

"Teacher managed to take control of a resigned Ward and used the information gleaned from her to successfully kill three Protectorate members," I continued.

"Since then, if there's a threat of B level or higher, the Wards can to be kept in custody in the PRT base until Watchdog has given sufficient clearance."

"Even if someone attempted to kill a Ward in the base?" Vista asked angrily.

I explained. "It's not that simple. The Ward's base was an old repurposed police office. It has a few openings."

Thirty-one to be exact, ten coming from the tours. "For an attack like that. The Poster, and whoever is behind him, managed to leverage one of them perfectly. If it weren't for Ghostchild's regenerative abilities, she would be dead. The Rig isn't like that. The floor you will be kept in is guarded, heavily. Dragon herself will help Armsmaster create other defenses."

"What about me?" Kid Win asked.

"The same treatment, even if your parents asked for an immediate transfer."

The Tinker blinked. "They need to ask me. And the Youth Guard."

I agreed: "The transfer will be discussed after the mess is resolved, you will have a voice in the matter, don't worry."

I doubted peace would arrive soon. The Empire had all reasons to attack the ABB, whatever fragile alliance they formed to free the prisoners was surely in the dust.

Aegis asked: "What about school?"

"You will go," I said. "Not attending school will give whoever is behind this even more information on your identities- Clockblocker snorted - and your location. We are fairly sure that the Poster needs some time to know what the target does to plan the murder. He never killed a victim in public."

Throwball had been alone when the gas bomb exploded, and the tunnel was free of cameras, as it was used as an emergency shelter in case of an attack from the S9.

"What am I supposed to say?" Vista asked. "The fever excuse won't work for long. The others will want to visit her eventually."

"Say that she can't see people for the time being. They can send letters," I proposed. Honestly, I didn't care about Ghostchild's classmates. There were more important matters to deal with, like finding her as fast as possible.

The matter of the hearts was especially concerning. It wasn't clear the reason, but knowing what sorts of weapon she created... Her changer state needed energy.

My knife flickered into the shape of that handgun as my power answered my discomfort.

"Are you going to babysit us all the time?"

I answered Clockblocker. "Unless an emergency happens, I am. You can stay in your rooms and I certainly won't barge in, but I'll always be close to you."

It's not like there wouldn't be commodities. Television, the Internet, books, videogames. They just needed to stay inside and not meet other people.

"Glory Girl will ask why I can't go out to meet her," Gallant replied.

"Tell her it's Ward's duty," I said curtly.

"That will make her ask more," he continued unperturbed.

I sighed, as I felt my weapon change again. "Gallant, you signed to be a Ward. I'm not saying you shouldn't talk with your girlfriend, but some things are strictly need-to-know. This is a crisis. We know that the Poster learns pieces of information about the victim. The less other people know, the less likely they are to be targeted."

He nodded, but I wasn't sure he was getting it. For all he could see emotions, he didn't always understand what other people thought.

Honestly, I was irritated. I never understood my peers, for all that America gifted me, most people wants and desires seemed... smaller. It was due to the difference in this society and the one I came from. There were injustices, corruption, and greed like anywhere else, but the problems here were mostly contained, manageable.

I got better, not sleeping allowed to catch up quickly with the new world, and the days were my accent showed were long gone.

Ghostchild had been different, or at least I thought. Not that the other Wards didn't have their problems: Missy's parents were simply horrible people, and Carlos's family was far from ideal.

But Taylor didn't want to prove herself, she was straightforward and simply wanted to live her life. The death of Jim and the others had been a tragedy, and she had to answer it, but she complied.

I had been sad, but I got over it. It was simply something that happened in this line of work. There weren't a lot of Wards from my days left.

"So we're supposed to do nothing?" Kid Win asked, slumped on a chair.

I replied immediately: "The Wards aren't a military force. You are young, you have already been on the field more times than most Wards can say."

I found it wrong how often they patrolled. But the Director answered showing me the rejected requests of reinforcement from other Protectorate centers, and it was undeniable how strong and versatile some Wards were.

I didn't like it, but the state of the Bay was what it was. It didn't matter how many Empire capes we captured, they were freed immediately. Lung and Oni Lee led to risky fights, and the destruction they caused was dangerous and costly.

Villains popped up every other day, and it wasn't like gangs out of town didn't give a glance once in a while.

Or independent capes like the Poster, who led a Ward out of our protection and without a guide.

"It doesn't mean I won't resign when this is finished," Clockblocker stated half-heartedly.

I shook my head: "Do what you want if you manage to convince your parents. Call the Youth Guard, pay a lawyer, you are free to do so."

On the words 'parents' and 'pay', he flinched. I didn't like that I reminded him of his financial and medical problems, but at least he understood there were consequences to what he wanted.

I looked at the time. "If there's anything else you want to ask, please do later when we are at the Rig."

It took some time for them to comply, but eventually, we departed to the Rig.

The door opened, and I got up from my chair.

"Hello Militia, how is it going?"

I took a moment to find the right words. "Calm. I'm surprised to see you here, Assault."

He smiled. "Well, I'm just making sure everything is alright. And I thought you wanted to hear about what Dragon and Armsmaster found."

One of my eyebrows raised in the practiced way I often was made fun of on PHO. "Oh?"

"The gangs are putting up a sort of truce, for the time being. The bad news is that they know that Ghostchild has been attacked."

A cape to poach. I doubted she was going to be found easily, and I wanted to think she knew better than rely on a gang. However, it was wishful thinking hoping for her to appear at our doorstep like the last time.

"Any information about the Poster?"

He shook his head: "Sorry, no. Nothing new from Watchdog since the last briefing."

They weren't going to attack today. If they were still fixed on Ghostchild, it meant they didn't have a clear vision on her.

Not surprising, considering her Stranger ability.

On the other hand, it was pretty much confirmed the Poster was a male adult as Mr. Who's answers remained the same.

I hummed. "Are you waiting for the Wards to arrive?"

He replied. "That would be nice, but I have a patrol coming soon. Say hello to the youngsters for me!"

I said goodbye and returned to my computer. Finishing the report of my morning patrol took a while, the robbery on Street Market was a simple affair but like anything else it had paperwork. Not as much as the attack on the Rig, Dauntless injury had been a mess in that sense as well. Panacea had volunteered to help but losing an arm was losing an arm.

I gave another glance at my Protectorate e-mail. No news on that front either, though we were supposed to have reinforcement soon.

It was maybe a half-hour later when Vista entered the office.

"Good morning, Miss Militia," the girl coldly said. She clearly wasn't happy with the current arrangement.

I smiled: "Good morning. How was school?"

Her eyes lowered on the floor. "Ashley and Tom, two of my classmates, told me that they saw Jackie yesterday. I had to invent another excuse."

I blinked. It sounded too good to be true. "Are you sure they saw her?" Brocton Bay was a big city.

"Miss Militia, I'm just saying they saw her. I don't know if they are telling the truth or not," she replied distantly. She muttered something under her breath.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, Ashley was worried she joined a gang."

I frowned: "Does she have a reason to believe that?"

Did you tell her you had superpowers?

Vista blushed and stuttered: "No, no, she was once worried I was in a gang because I stopped going out with her and the other kids and I often left school early. And because I have two cellphones."

"You shouldn't be showing your Ward smartphone to others," I reprimanded.

Blushing harder, Vista rebutted: "It's the one I use the most, like when there was that gunfight in front of our school."

For a moment, I wanted to ask her why she wasn't using her other phone more often. Missy was a diligent kid, I doubted she used it for trivialities.

Then, I remembered how often she remained at the base, how she always volunteered for patrol and console.

The Wards were her peers, but there was always work between them, and the last month broke much of the team spirit that slowly built up each time a new member was added.

I considered Shadow Stalker a simply unfortunate case, a mistake that tended to happen in organizations as large as this, but they were kids.

They weren't used to the brief and fragile life of cape life.

Even Vista, who had been a Ward for years, had never seen the bigger nightmares of this job.

Ghostchild had immediately understood how difficult the situation was, yet she remained innocent in some ways, not unlike my power, which responded to my will like a toddler who wanted to explore the world.

I wished I had a way for making others understand how harsh this was, but I couldn't imagine a way that wasn't needlessly cruel.

They were just kids.

"In any case, that wasn't what I wanted to ask you," the Ward continued formally and coldly.

"Yes?" I managed to say, confidently even. The PR lessons I spent years learning were a crutch that I fell on a lot of the time.

A mix of hope and worry formed in her face: "What will happen to her if we catch her?"

"It's soon to say," I deflected.

"You have been at this for years. You must know how these types of things go," Vista rebutted.

Time for the truth, then. "There are always exceptions, new cases. But, if I had to guess, if she'll continue doing as she does, juvie."

I didn't know how she glared like that. It was both adorable and horrifying, not unlike a rabid bunny.

"Juvie?"

"Have you heard of Alexandria's Bootcamp?"

"I thought it was a joke, Alexandria doesn't have the time to spend around every young villain that gets caught."

I nodded. "Yes. It's, in fact, a particularly high-security juvenile center, where capes are given the chance to use their powers in certain hours of the day. It's close to a Protectorate office and usually, there are about two Thinkers and two Tinkers that guard and direct the facility. It's called Alexandria's because once in a while she makes a surprise visit and uses her Thinker power to discover who did well or not."

"And she's going to be sent there," Vista deadpanned.

"I don't know, it depends if she continues her acts of vigilantism or worse."

"Can't you vouch for her?" She asked accusingly.

"I..." According to what I studied, I could. I hadn't thought it would have come to that so soon. "I will."

"Good," she replied and hurried to her room.

I looked at the clock. Arcadia was further than her school, but not that much. The other Wards were going to arrive soon.

The baton transformed into a rifle.

Maybe I should ask the Director to give the Wards one patrol, all together. Maybe Assault and Battery were free to join.

Spending all this time inside wasn't going to help them at all.

Last edited: Mar 26, 2020

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Apr 1, 2020

#266

I was bored.

The left wall of Lisa's room was filled with notes and random connections between them and other photos. On her computer, were the open tabs of all Red Poster's case.

She blinked. "Fuck me, it's Coil."

I frowned. "Your boss?"

She nodded. "The Poster was pouched by someone with a lot of information. Coil did the same with me."

"It seems too convenient. And he was at the villain meeting."

"Faultline's jobs are confidential. He can say whatever he wants, the mercenary won't contradict him. Anyway, the point is not how, but why. None of the other players has an interest in you."

"And why then he's interested in me?"

"He's a control freak. He makes me double-check everything he has. And he sent me to see you."

We called a knife.

"Calm down, psycho! That's a standard job for him! He made me do the same for all the other capes in the Bay, like frigging Chubster. But I noticed he was persistent in you. I thought he was going to use you to humiliate the Protectorate, releasing the video of your first scuffle."

We banished the blade: "Then where are we going to find this guy?"

She shook her head. "Not now. He has a base, full of mercenaries armed with tinker tech. I'm just surprised he didn't try to kill you with his pow-

She jumped from the seat and pointed at us. "That's it! You don't just screw with his power, you make it useless! He could try a more brutal approach, but he doesn't want to be connected with your death."

"We aren't a trump," we stated.

"It's your stranger power, the horror film one!"

We blinked. "Does it do the same for you?"

"Nope," she said smiling.

We stared.

She stopped smiling.

"Listen, it's the only thing I can think about. I know he has some clout in the PRT, and I'm fairly sure the 'Poster' has no real reason to kill you. He's a lone wolf that goes after easy targets."

We bit our lip. "Then why is he trying so hard?"

"He's being forced," she explained nonchalantly, pointing at herself with a finger as if it were a gun.

The killer that hurt our Dad and almost managed to kill us was forced.

He was no different than a gun pointed in our direction: we still hated him, but it was a hollow emotion.

We closed the well.

"Where is he?" I asked, not sure who I was asking for.

She looked at me again with a strange expression.

"I don't know. Knowing Coil, the Poster will be in his secret base, and he will be guarded. And catching Coil will be difficult, especially if your power interferes with his. He might be working out of town."

It was stupid to ask, and yet... "He has a secret base?"

"A repurposed Endbringer shelter. I'll eat my costume if it doesn't have a self destruct program."

I snorted. I giggled.

We laughed. This was too much, what was next, he had a pet he caressed while cursing his enemies?

Tattletale was examining us again.

She sighed. "In any case, you had your shower, right?"

After taking my breath, I nodded.

"Then you need to go. I'm confident your power meddles with the Poster's as well, but we must be sure that nobody catches about our little arrangement."

"And what's next? You hadn't shown me any proof, and we have no plan."

Lisa stretched her hands. "Continue to use both of your stranger powers, change the sleeping place as often as possible, and if you can, make a ruckus playing vigilante. Make the killer nervous. If Coil is really behind this, he'll contact me. And then..."

As she nursed her head, she continued: "We are going to see. Let's meet each other in four days, at the café. If I'm alone, enter. If I'm not, wait for me to go out. If I'm not there... reach me here. Coil has no reason to suspect me, at least more than usual. I will send you a message if worst comes to worst, but I'll save my skin before yours, ok?"

She wasn't smiling. But she was being honest. I could respect that. I nodded, we disappeared and erased what was left.

We skipped away from our last scuffle.

He wasn't going to walk anytime soon, but he should have known better than attack a blind man. Seriously, was he trying to win a reward for being the biggest scumbag?

Now he was one of the parasites of society, aha.

We counted the money we took. He had barely twenty dollars.

We hoped his cellphone was worth a little more.

Speaking of the devil, our burner rang.

"Killed anyone yet, shorty?"

We ignored her futile attempt to rile us up.

"So still playing vigilante? Good girl. Can you do me a little favor?"

She was much more bitchy now that we couldn't stab her immediately.

We asked tapping our left foot: "How little?"

"Well, Bitch wants to attack a dogfighting ring, and I found three promising locations," she explained.

"With Hookwolf dead I'm sure our manpower won't be a problem, but the time spent on this search is time I could spend on something else if you know what I mean."

We grumbled. "Fine, give the addresses."

"You don't know what to do, right?"

She was just so killable! What were we supposed to do, go out and shank every suspicious shaved male?

Because the Poster was fully shaved, or so Tattletale thought. Something about leaving less evidence.

And it wasn't like he was walking around. The Thinker thought he was in a cell inside the Bond villain's base.

"Calm down, I'm working you know! If I had to guess every time you are close to 'knifing' me, I won't focus on our real problems."

And she even learned that annoying say. Stupid Thinker.

"Don't be such a mean person, then," we replied. Honestly, did she have a compulsory need to needle so much?

"You have razor knives, I only have my tongue," she commented sardonically.

We groaned.

"You could return to the Wards you know, if you really really miss your friends."

Our eyes searched for an appropriate and close target.

"Send the address, now."

"Fine, fine. Bye-bye!" She finished chirpily.

Twenty seconds later, a message arrived. At least, it wasn't too far away.

Finding the place had been easy: it was the only building with some dogs inside.

They were old, famished and sick. The poor beasts looked like anything but 'fighting' dogs, they were probably the appetizers of the event. We sent a message to Tattletale to confirm the location and we strolled along the street.

People-watching was a strange experience when nobody saw you.

There weren't a lot of people outside, either because they were working or their 'working' hours blended in the night, but some housewives were going grocery shopping, a disheveled taxi driver was smoking a cigarette, a hobo was asking for money with a piece of cardboard as he caressed his dog, two house painters were giving back color to an old building, painting over old gang tags and other graffiti.

It wasn't the Market Street or the Boardwalk, but this piece of the city was alive.

Our eyes glazed over a clothing store. It was a bit rundown, and for what we knew about fashion, it wasn't following the trends.

But there was a white dress with a red ribbon that caught our attention. It wasn't a style we would ever choose, too cutesy-looking and Madison-like, but we wanted it.

We bit our lip: why did we want it? The clothes we were wearing were cheap, we didn't care about fashion. Yet this folded dress, white like snow, was something we wanted.

It was... nostalgic, like a half-forgotten dream. It wasn't a feeling coming from our big self, but our wide self. It was confusing.

We watched inside the store and our surroundings, hurried into a blind spot, then I appeared in front of the store.

"Good morning, young lady."

I turned to the middle-aged shopkeeper.

"Good morning. Is there a dress of that type on my size?" I said confidently pointing to the piece of clothing.

She smiled, adding more wrinkles to her face. "Wait for a minute, I have to see in the back."

I nodded and waited. I rummaged through the clothes, trying to understand why the other dresses didn't make my heart flutter like that. Mom didn't wear dresses too often, and the few I once owned came from older times when I wasn't afraid of how I looked or acted.

I wasn't a tall and gangly teenager yet, but those days weren't too far away.

I was looking forward to that. Cranking my head up to talk with anybody was annoying.

The store bell rang, and my eyes widened.

Lea and T were here. T was nodding to Lea as they were whispering to each other. He looked very nervous, and Lea was massaging his left shoulder.

I had the time to leave, and make everyone I met to forget me. But the shopkeeper already returned, walking hastily and carrying the dress. Her eyes relaxed when she saw I was still there, and she beamed at the new arrivals.

"Tom, Lea, finally seeing your aunt today?"

Now that the shopkeeper pointed it up, I could see some familiarities between the three. All wore straight hair, the color of their skin was similar, and some other details, like the upturned noses and big ears, though not identical, were alike.

As I was examining them, Lea said: "Hi Auntie, we wanted to-

And they noticed me.

T became even more nervous, as he said: "Jackie? What the heck are you doing here?"

I scratched my head. "Buying clothes."

Lea frowned: "Ashley told me you were ill."

That was the excuse for not being at school, a debilitating disease that couldn't let me see others.

It felt awkward leaving them hanging up like that, but they didn't need to know. I wasn't going to return to school anyway, and I doubted I would meet them again.

"Are you ok?" T asked.

I blinked. "I am," I lied.

Lea hummed: "You know, Ashley's worries start making sense. That's disturbing."

A palpable awkwardness quickly formed.

Thankfully, the shopkeeper asked: "Don't you want to try this?"

I nodded, took the bundle and hurried into the dressing room.

In a few seconds, I gathered the courage to look at myself in the mirror.

It was pretty, as I assumed.

My long black hair kept in a ponytail contrasted with the snow-white, if not for the white strand.

I summoned a knife. Somehow, the black of the blade and the red of the rusted blood fit as well.

I shook my head, I wasn't going to 'work' with this.

But for going out...

My hand traced the scar left by Sophia and the one on my shoulder, which was faintly visible. My eyes stung, reminding me of that other problem as well.

So much for a secret identity, Assassin.

I looked at the price tag. It wasn't like I had much use of money, though.

I was going to wear it.

With a firm nod, I went out of the changing room.

The two teenagers were looking at some of the clothes, but T looked way more awkward doing that.

"I'm going to buy it," I told the cashier, handing out the money.

She nodded, took out a pair of scissors, and cut the price tag.

Lea turned around me. "It looks good, but aren't you going to feel cold?"

I pointed at my jacket: "I have that." And the cloak.

T tilted his head: "I took you more of a gothic or metal kind of girl."

Gothic? "I'm not emo," I defended myself.

"T doesn't mean in that sense. Just the style." Lea replied, pointing to my white hair.

I moved the bang. "That's not the reason why I have it."

I wouldn't ruin Mom's hair just for a fashion statement.

Their eyes widened. Was it... pity?

I wanted to go.

"It's been nice to see you, but I have to be home soon. Bye!"

"See you... at school!"

I turned to them and lied: "As soon as possible!"

I went out and found the closest spot to change.

We took out our phone. There had to be something to do!

Bingo, a meeting! Kaiser was supposed to be there with the Twins, Krieg, Victor and Othala.

It might be a waste of time or a sham; the idiot was surely at the bottom of the ladder.

But with Hookwolf being dead, and the Protectorate in full alert, the Nazis had to do something to feel important.

We asked Tattletale via message if it was legit.

She answered: "Yes, but don't get killed."

We snorted. Scouting was enough. We weren't going to face the Empire head-on.

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ic3shard13

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Apr 3, 2020

#270

Disclaimer: this chapter contains slurs, racism and horrible people

"It's ready," James, Krieg, said.

I glanced at him, then I walked on the stage.

Like a well-oiled machine, my armor didn't clang, as I formed and shifted the joints to suit every step. It was a minor trick that took an ounce of concentration, but as always, it worked.

The popular image of a knight out of a fairy tale didn't leave much space to the clumsy sound of metal ringing against metal.

Yet my calm pace and silent steps, as if the armor was my second skin, always impressed.

Naturally, I wasn't a simple knight. I had a crown on my head, I was a king, a Kaiser, a guide and stalwart defensor of whatever cause my followers wanted.

The crowd of believers started to cheer. It was about a hundred of people, all members of the E88.

As I arrived at the right place in the stage, I swept my eyes on my public.

Resentful, jobless low-class grunts that wanted an answer to their conditions.

Young men and women that tried to find a place to fit in.

The believers, who knew more about the Mein Kampf than I ever did.

Two groups were missing from my audience, those more inclined to bloodthirst and fight, and the well-respected WASPs that merely expressed their concern on the shifting state of society, good morals and their wallets.

The first group had already been addressed in the funerary rites and festivities we held for Brad. He had asked for a Viking sending, after all.

The second wouldn't touch the drabble in front of me with a pole.

I waited for them to calm down.

"Good men and women of the Empire. These are dark days."

Always the bad before the good.

"Our infestation of chinks and niggers has ruptured like pus. We lost a warrior, a comrade, an ally in the last fight against the supposed protectors and the Chinese beast. But with every loss, there's a victory. We freed the people from the grasp of the Homies. We strengthened our borders. We managed to acquire the weapons to defend us. We are keeping our families safe. We are taking back what they stole us." I took a meaningful pause. Let them fill the void.

"We are here. And we are not alone. I present you with our latest ally, a young woman who decided to make a difference, who decided to fight the good fight."

Floating down from the ceiling, a large piece of asphalt landed gently on the stage.

Rune was young, naive and so easily molded.

Her transportation ability was a force multiplier, and she was a young face for the teenagers to connect with.

She didn't work at all as a replacement for Brad, but Brad had always been a unique case.

Like me, he had never been racist, however, he was zealous in his own way.

He had been a blunt hammer, a fearsome reputation, and an honorable warrior, another facet of the Empire that could resonate with our people.

I would miss the nights we passed drinking the imported beers he was always a great lover of. They were one of the few moments where I could almost relax. Never truly relax, of course. Never leave a chink in your armor.

"She had been captured by the cops, sent to prison just for her beliefs. Yet, she grasped back her freedom and came to us."

She was nervous, expectedly so.

"Please, make applause for Rune!"

It wasn't immediate. Not everyone here believed every single one of my words. Yet, as more people started clapping, others joined faster and faster, like waves in a sea.

It was simply how it worked. And as time passed, what they dismissed would slowly make a sort of sense, if only to justify the actions they did.

Of course, there were those that didn't give a damn about ideology and knew perfectly well we were a gang. Usually, they didn't come to this sort of meeting, but the appearance of a new parahuman was always good news.

Time for the second part of the show. I made a gesture to Krieg, who quickly called Fenja and Menja.

The two valkyries were carrying a black girl.

They were splendid and poised.

She was dirty, her hair had been cut badly, and she was wearing a prison uniform.

It was perfectly fine for her to be dressed like that, she was a criminal. And it was well and good that her eyes were red and bloodshot, while her guards were pristine.

"This... wench had assaulted Rune in prison."

I let the silence speak for itself. Well, the girl was crying, but it was pathetic and fitting: the more she resembled an animal, the better.

"Tonight, is a night of revenge, a night of justice. Rune, are you ready to make your first step?"

She wasn't, she didn't know about this. But I told her there would be an initiation.

Not that it mattered if she struck or not: girl power aside, it was, of course, natural that she wasn't ready to strike yet. She was too good and innocent for this dirty, but necessary job.

I waited for a long moment, as Rune marked a knife.

And then she was stabbed in the back and fell bleeding on the ground.

I rushed towards the cape, a preteen wearing a dirty cloak and a piece of cloth as a mask.

Her yellow slitted eyes bore on me, and she launched two scalpels.

Who, predictably, did next to nothing to me.

But I spoke too soon, as the lights on the ceiling crashed.

Now there were dark spots. The warehouse had small windows and few lights, so the moonlight helped little. The normals ran out, giving in their feelings of self-preservation and giving us more space to fight.

Victor and Othala rushed in, and thankfully he threw a fireball on one of the wood crates that were used as a seat.

Othala ran towards Rune, healing her.

I thundered: "Ghostchild, show yourself."

She didn't appear. Well, it was worth a shot.

Krieg moved towards me and whispered: "Isn't it time to move, boss?"

I grimaced. This night was supposed to be a win, a victory for the Empire.

"Let's wait. If we manage to capture her, we could always send her to our European friends."

And if she died, well, she had chosen to leave the PRT protection, and the organization didn't know about this.

I ordered: "Fenja, Menja, go outside!"

"What about the nigger?" Fenja asked.

I swallowed the insult that was coming out of my mouth and shouted: "Leave her!"

Thankfully, they did as I wanted. This was not a good place for their power.

Now, the problem remained. How to deal with a Stranger?

Othala commented: "She'll live, but the poor girl needs rest."

We waited for our opponent to make a mistake.

Then we heard a giggle.

I formed a thousand blades in that direction.

Krieg, after being touched by Othala, ran to give a look.

He shook his head.

"Kaiser," Victor said. "If we wait here, we are fishes in a barrel. There are several vantage points she can attack us from."

I wanted to snarl. Instead, I agreed. "Let's move."

Krieg took the nigger and we went outside.

The twins were already two stories tall.

We had the vantage point. Soon, our armed mooks would start scouting the area under Victor's order.

God bless the PRT's M/S protocols.

Krieg threw the blackie to the ground, and from the cry and the snap, he broke one of her bones.

"Well, rat! We are all here! Why aren't you fighting us?"

No answer. Damn silence.

Victor muttered: "Damnit. The Undersiders are assaulting our ring, Cricket and Stormtiger won't be able to come."

Fantastic. My late French dinner was ruined.

Fenja started coughing. Faster and faster.

Menja joined her.

I looked at them: a fog was descending from them. And on Fenja's head was Ghostchild.

"Fenja, on your head!"

As if she was swatting a mosquito, the blonde valkyrie started slapping her head, but the stranger simply evaded her attacks.

She started to talk: "Yeah, let's murder it.

Hell is starting. We are flames, rain, power..."

Her eyes and knives were becoming a brilliant red, and a cloak of darkness was enveloping her. She rushed down Fenja's arm.

"Let there be a slaughter!"

I felt afraid.

"Maria the Ripper!"

She jumped and slashed Fenja's abdomen. Those two knives were nothing more than pins for the giant.

Fenja instantly returned small, and a rupture of blood exploded from her abdomen. Viscera scattered on the street.

Ghostchild licked her knives and she made a face as if it tasted weird.

She was supposed to be a Ward!

Menja was crying and coughing, and she slowly became smaller. The fog had affected her.

And it was coming towards the rest of us, fast.

Krieg rushed towards Fenja and picked her up. The monster threw some of her knives, but thankfully his brute powers held.

We were already retreating towards our cars, that fog was too dangerous.

If only Kayden hadn't left us, taking Night and Fog as well. Damned woman.

We rushed in one of our cars, being careful to keep an eye on the Stranger.

She didn't move, she slowly walked... towards the blackie.

I took Victor's gun and shot the nigger in the abdomen. I threw a blade that skewered her legs

The monster sported a look of absolute hatred.

I repressed a laugh.

We entered the car, and Menja started crying, caressing the body of her sister.

"She's dead. She's dead," she repeated between sobs.

Othala rubbed her back.

Victor snarled. "Dammit. Do any of you remembered who attacked us?"

I blinked. It was Ghostchild... right?

A Ward?

How did she kill Fenja?

Victor turned to his wife: "Why are you healing Menja?"

"She's... sick? I have to. But, but she doesn't have any cut!"

What did attack us?

I was angry, enraged. And afraid.

I was going to die. That Tammi bitch became a cape and I was going to die.

The unexpected rescue had been nice, but she was scarier than the nazis.

I wanted to give her a thumbs up, but I was having trouble keeping my wounds closed with only one functioning arm.

The squirt in front of me looked concerned. She materialized a scalpel.

"Going to end my suffering?"

She shook her head. "We can heal you. But we need to be quick."

Well, who was I to deny a second miracle?

I complied, and she started to cut.

It hurt, it hurt like hell.

I cried like a bitch. My prison rep was going to be sunk if anybody discovered this.

Her hands were quick but clumsy.

I swear she worsened the injuries.

But the bullet was out, and the wounds were closed.

"It looks like shit," I said, without even knowing why.

I didn't want to anger the crazy heroic(?) cape.

She pouted, and she stuttered: "Anyway, this should last for all night. But you'll need food and blood to heal completely."

I nodded.

"I wanted to be a doctor, you know. I know some stuff."

Though it was easier to make drugs than medicine.

She didn't seem convinced, but she let it go and gave me a burner phone.

"Call the police, the PRT."

I agreed.

When I was interrogated an hour later, I said I didn't know who saved me. I was simply scared, then very scared, then calm and mildly amused.

Last edited: Apr 3, 2020

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ic3shard13

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Apr 7, 2020

#288

Releasing the noble phantasm and showing up those bullies had been fun.

The E88 lost another heavy hitter.

We saved that girl.

We weren't feeling guilt at all. It had been a spur of the moment decision... and it felt good.

It wasn't like we were going to unleash it every night.

It wasn't even needed most of the time.

Our stomach rumbled. We lazily opened one eye.

Time to get up!

It was almost noon, we overslept a tad too much. Tattletale hadn't called yet, but no news was good news. As long as her story on Coil was true, and not an excuse to ditch us. He was fishy, but the plan seemed so convoluted.

Well, we were scary. If we knew who this Coil guy was, he'd be dead at the end of the day.

Our stomach rumbled again. Darn, we had to eat real soon. Thankfully, there was a Deli closeby. After making sure nobody was watching where we were, we dropped the Concealment.

I fixed my dress, took out the contact lenses, made a mental calculation on how much I could buy, and entered the shop.

I took a bag of chocolate cookies and a soda tin. It wasn't a proper meal, but it wasn't like I was going to be scolded.

I rubbed my eyes, these contacts were worsening day after day.

I walked towards the cashier when somebody shouted: "Hands up, everyone! This is a robbery! Don't be idiots, and you won't get hurt!"

I put the food on the ground and slowly raised my hands. I frowned, I could deal with them easily...

The blonde robber ordered the shopkeeper to open the cashier. The young man complied and quickly filled a shopbag with money.

The other was keeping an eye on the hostages: me, two teenagers, and one woman of unclear age that wore a tacky dress.

It was too risky.

Another balaclava wearer hurried inside. "Boss, it's the Protectorate. They are just two street over."

Shit.

The boss answered: "Let's take a hostage."

His eyes lingered briefly on each of us, but I already knew who he chose.

"You girl, come here."

I nodded. I just had to wait for an opportunity to vanish.

I made one step. Then another.

And that was when I noticed something was wrong. Their weapons were clean and looked new. Their worn clothes weren't first class, but they were wearing something padded underneath. He had chosen me without hesitation.

He was working for the Poster!

We hurled two scalpels in his eyes.

The other thieves were already in position. We hurled the body as a shield against the lookout and hunkered down. Crouched, we jumped against the blondie, and after we fell on him we slit his throat.

The cashier needed a shower. Thankfully our cloak was covering the dress.

Unfortunately, the third guy was better than we thought. Fortunately, he was aiming for the head. We moved it...

And dark hair fell on the ground. Our hair smelt of blood, gunpowder, and fire thanks to this idiot.

He shot again, again and again, but we weren't a sitting duck. Each time he moved his finger, each time was in the point of pushing the bullet, we skipped one step closer.

It was tiring: our stomach was echoing the bangs of the bullet, and the screams of the bystanders didn't help. It was giving us a headache.

Finally, we drove our knives in his stomach, and we ripped him apart.

His body was torn in two.

We got up and walked back. We opened the fallen bag and munched a biscuit. Blood wasn't good with chocolate.

Well, it was time to...

"Alt, and stand-

Before she composed herself, we had time for another biscuit.

"Wraith, stand down," Miss Militia ordered.

We didn't like that name. Not that 'ghost'-child was much better.

It seemed we didn't have time for a drink. We put the can under our left foot and started rolling it.

"You can't catch us," we stated.

Was this part of the plan of the Poster? Being captured by the Protectorate, then killed in prison?

Her eyes hardened. "Dauntless and Armsmaster are coming. The Wards are coming. You can't escape forever. You don't need to do this."

It was already too late. We needed to escape their sight as soon as possible to activate Presence Concealment and Identity Erasure.

Stalling wasn't going to help us.

"Let us leave, or we'll release the Mist," we exclaimed, with far more confidence than we had. We didn't have the juice for it, and whatever part of our conscience left didn't want to kill these people.

We licked a knife and smiled, to rile her up and take whatever energy was left.

Her face became more determined.

There wasn't enough space to dodge her, she was way better than these armed up mooks.

In other words, if she went for lethal, we were done.

But if she discovered our bluff, we were done either way.

We dropped the smile. "We don't want to hurt you. Or anyone else."

"You can't keep doing this. You can't go around killing people. We are supposed to be better than this," she replied.

"Sometimes we don't have the luxury to be better," we retorted, as we took the soda.

We passed the can from hand to hand. Cmon, we needed just one second.

"That fucking Bonesaw-lite is Ghostchild?!" One of the two teenagers muttered.

Miss Militia looked torn and attempted a reply.

We hurled the can and hit it with a scalpel.

The heroine was ready to dodge a knife and shoot, but the sugary shower was all we needed. We rushed out of the store into the street and started running.

And Dauntless was flying in the air. We went in the opposite direction.

And there was Armsmaster. The tinker wasn't looking happy, at all.

But he wasn't a mover, at least.

"Stand down!"

We moved towards an apartment complex and rushed inside the first open window. We heard the click of Armsmaster's weapon as he launched something. Thankfully, whatever it was didn't reach us.

The apartment looked cozy if a bit dirty. We opened the door and we found ourselves inside a kitchen with a forty-something old man.

Naturally, he screamed. He took a knife from his drawer.

We rolled our eyes. We dodged his awful stab, took the knife from his hand and punted it down the floor.

He stared at me in terror. We took an apple from his fruit basket, opened the door and went outside his apartment.

We vanished and erased our existence.

We took a bite and relaxed, marginally. We needed a shower, badly. And a haircut.

The dress was sweaty and the ribbon was loose.

We went upstairs, on the last floor. The strong steps that rumbled in the stairwell meant that Armsmaster was coming.

Thankfully, the way to the roof was open. We went outside, just in time to see Dauntless landing on it.

We took the final bite, launched the apple core and sprinted in the opposite direction.

As we used the fire escape stairs to escape, we stopped running and we leaned on the rail. Each step was tiring, and we almost slipped twice.

We giggled. So this was what it meant to be hunted as a criminal.

To think we could have been on their side.

We rubbed our eyes. Darn, we lost one of the contacts.

After Winslow, maybe it would have been better to escape. Live on the road or whatnot.

No, it wasn't how it would have gone.

The thrill of last night, the pride in saving someone, the joy in killing. We were going to be hunted in any case.

We walked towards the public bathroom we used this morning to clean ourselves.

We entered, and after making sure nobody was there, we closed the well.

I stumbled on the sink. I washed my face and my hands.

I stared dumbly at the watered and dirtied blood flowing down.

I gulped some water and coughed.

I wasn't hurt, thankfully, and the dress was mostly okay.

But my long hair was ruined. It wasn't like it had a clear bullet hole, this wasn't a cartoon.

But the points were frazzled, and the blood had caked on it. And it smelt of burned hair.

I recalled a knife, which felt much less real than before. Just this was straining. I took all the hair in a bundle, and I cut the strands off.

It wasn't the worst cut. It gave me a wild child sort of impression.

But I preferred my old hair. It was the most treasured part of my body.

I fixed my dress, I retied the ribbon and removed any strand left on my clothes.

I took another gulp of water. It was vaguely metallic.

Now that I noticed, I needed to pee.

And that was when the door opened.

I called a knife.

I blinked. "Are they idiots?"

"Surrender!" Vista exclaimed.

I chuckled. "No, seriously. I know that Wards can't act on their own, especially against a dangerous cape, especially if the Protectorate is already there."

"I'm here on my own," she stated.

"How did you find me?"

"Armsmaster's gizmos."

I nodded. Maybe his shot had hit me, after all.

"Aren't you supposed to let me go?" I asked.

There was a reason that the heroes never backed the villains in a corner.

"This was my decision. You can't just keep escaping."

I frowned. "This isn't a game. Even if I surrendered, I'm not going back in the Wards. I killed people."

"Shadow Stalker killed people. Are you saying you're worse than her?" she asked.

I didn't have an answer, so I didn't give her one.

"Miss Militia promised to back you up," she added quickly.

That made me feel better. I respected her decision to fight me, it was something I would have done in her place.

But knowing she wanted to support me...

Vista was nervous. Sure, the way out was a twisted Escher painting I didn't want to step in.

And I had barely the energy for the knife held in my hand.

The heroes were certainly going to rush in soon.

And it wasn't like I could take her hostage. She was too stubborn, she would cut each of my escape routes even if I held her with a knife.

There was only one way. It was purely selfish. I needed energy, and a beating heart was in front of me.

Maybe it was better this way. She was too innocent for this world.

We unlocked the well. She looked at our hair and grimaced.

We created a knife. She closed her eyes and put her arms in front of her.

A bang followed. A red rose bloomed in our dress.

A second shot followed, we fell down, and our eyes looked at the ceiling.

There was a red poster.

We didn't have time to read, as the cold enveloped us.

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#296

I didn't want to do this, but I had no choice.

I tugged the collar around my neck.

The drawing was quite simple: a clean if old bathroom, the glass of the mirror was fogged by the hot water in the tub. The body was surprisingly clean, just two cuts in his wrists.

I sighed and read the notes behind. The man was a widower, and the worst he did was evading taxes for his company. There were the few battle brawls in his youth, but that was scratching it.

I didn't like this. His daughter was a parafreak. The drawing wasn't clean enough, it was rough around the edges.

I should have enough time for the job, or so the Snake promised.

I went in front of the door and opened it with the passe-partout he provided. It was new, it didn't even squeak. I put the shoe covers and stepped inside. The bathroom was on the left, as the drawing promised. Following the instructions, as if they were scenes of old films, I mimed the drawn me. I entered inside and pulled out the razor.

The lanky man was sleeping. I gently took his left wrist, and I cut.

He opened his eyes. He gazed at the blade and muttered 'sorry' under his breath, before closing them again. He wasn't sleeping, but he wasn't clearheaded either.

I moved to the other wrist, did the deed and stepped out.

After I started the car, I gave Danny Hebert a short prayer. There was no joy in this work, even if I knew another page was added to my draw book.

I reflected on what was happening. I managed to kill a parafreak, but it was with his help, so there was little joy in that.

He had also been a faggot, but in the grand scheme of things, he mattered little. Better him than the freaking Nazis.

Seriously, did they forget who we fought in World War 2?

He had also killed three people when he fell, but I wasn't going to judge him for that. It was only the number of pages that helped me.

Sometimes I wished I could show Ma and Pa my notebook, but only I could see it. I snorted, the only one interested in it had been the Serpent.

I focused on him. The draws separated themselves, one told me to go back and tell the little parafreak who sent me, she would attack him and... it got weird, all the other drawings got scratched by black marks.

The other made me go to the base, then I took a gun from Joseph, the guard on the second floor. I tried to shot the Snake, and my collar exploded.

No luck tonight.

He was alive. Ghostchild or what the heck she was called managed to save him.

Three pages burned in my notebook, but I felt oddly satisfied: Coil wasn't happy.

"So, Mr. McMiller, it appears you told me the truth regarding the limits of your... abilities," he said, putting an odd emphasis on the last word.

Was he trying to play tough? He looked more stupid than anything else.

"Yes, Mr. Coil," I replied. No need to make him angry at me yet.

He clicked his fingers and one of his lackeys brought a document on the table.

I gave it a once over. "This is about her healing, right?"

"Yes, indeed. The report is fresh from the morning. I'll expect a plan in twenty-four hours."

Or else went unsaid.

I nodded and went back to my cell. He left me with very few belongings: a laptop connected to the Net, a copy of the Bible and a printer for the posters.

I opened the Holy Scripture. Beneath the bookmark, I read out loud:

"His body was like topaz, his face like lightning, his eyes like flaming torches, his arms and legs like the gleam of burnished bronze, and his voice like the sound of a multitude."

This was an angel. An otherwordly being that induced terror, exactly like the monsters with the C.

I didn't have any letters on me, I knew it because I searched for them.

But something was imprinted on me nonetheless. I tried not using the drawing book, I really did.

I flexed my right hand. No, the thumb didn't move anymore. I couldn't write, I couldn't draw.

I was learning how to use my left hand, but it simply felt wrong. There wasn't any beauty in that, it was like the old drawings I made as a child, of me, Mom and Pa in our small house on a hill.

I knew there wasn't anything against left-handedness in the Book, but it was hard. And I kept looking at people, and if I focus too much the drawings start to appear, like vignettes in a newspaper.

Whenever my draw book is completed, I kept thinking of it, until I did the deed.

I just took the little time between the drawings to make myself at peace.

I took the time to relax, help the charities and choose the next sinner.

Then, when ink blobs started to cover the pages, I knew it was time to go on and change place. I liked to think it was a sort of pilgrimage, to see the highs and ends of the world.

Now I was trapped in a cell like a mad dog.

I sighed. Time to get to work. More acts, more pages, easier time to strangle the snake.

"Isaac McMiller, I request your presence immediately."

I was dumbfounded. What the heck he wanted with me?

The cell door opened and I followed Eliza. I knew I could kill her, nothing less than three drawings.

The pages were positively stained by ink and my collar would explode, but it was the thought that counted.

I interrupted my musings as I found myself in front of the Snake.

"Ghostchild is no longer in the Wards. I want you to trace her as soon as possible."

I frowned. "Her ghostly powers make it a real problem you know. The drawings get scratched quickly, and I need at least an hour for page, you know."

"It seems you don't understand," Coil chided.

My collar tightened, and I coughed. I grabbed it with my hands, trying to make space, but it wasn't working.

I gasped for air, as my vision dulled.

The Snake pushed a button, the collar loosened and I took a really big breath.

"Will you comply?"

I nodded, cursing him to hell.

It was like a domino. Now, the Snake guy was going to provoke the Protectorate guys to attack Ghostchild after sending some of his lapdogs, like that Joseph idiot, against her.

It wasn't my fault he asked my opinion on whom to send.

Then, she would escape the Protectorate guys and go to the bathroom where I pinned the poster.

Seriously, it had been there for six hours and nobody had noticed it. Not that people tended to look up in a dirty bathroom.

Then she was going to confront her other parafreak friend, they would discuss, the space warping girl would close the door, the windows would be deformed beyond comprehension, so I would shoot from where the wall was supposed to be.

And after I shot, everything snapped back right into its place, I would drop the gun, enter the car and run the heck out of there.

I didn't like this plan.

First, it was what the Snake wanted, and fuck him.

Second, the ghost girl creeped me out. Her notes were weird: what did it mean she 'supposedly killed six women in the nineteenth century'? And that she ate the soul of three people?

And she also killed the giant Nazi, Ninja or something.

This was creeping me out, I needed an exorcist, not a fudging hellish power.

Third, the other parafreak was ok, and she was going to be devastated for life.

Fourth, the drawings ended... weird. No inky spots, they were detailed, but... what was all that fog? And the lamps?

It was clear, I knew all her gizmos, powers and abilities, but it didn't feel enough.

Naturally, I told the 'boss' everything, and he made a 'tut-tut' sound as if I was a dog while he held that damnable remote.

He thought I was crazy, that the souls' excuse wasn't going to work.

I grimaced. It was more like he was afraid. He was a Snake, he chose an apt name. He wanted to get bigger, eat bigger preys and sick his venom on his enemies. He was only seeing the land he was standing on, and the grass covered up his eyes.

He didn't believe in the sun, he didn't believe in warm blood.

I didn't know his sins, as I didn't see his face, but I knew cowardice and greed were two of them.

I unlocked the safety of my handgun. I never liked these things, I sucked at using them. They always left more inkblots that I wanted to count, and the gunpowder always remained attached to my clothes.

Did Miss Militia bring deodorant with herself to cover the smell?

I took a deep breath. I was nervous, I was sweaty and I didn't want to be found thanks to a drop of sweat.

I didn't like this, I never asked for this. I just wanted to get rid of the book, have a pie, a shower and watch a film, maybe a spaghetti western.

I counted to ten.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

I clicked the trigger, two times to be sure. I dropped the gun and ran.

Vista shrieked, and I knew the heroes were coming.

But I was already driving in the opposite direction.

I relaxed and took a gum. Liquorice, just as I liked it.

"Hey, weird guy, going somewhere?"

I flinched and spitted it out. I gave a glance at the passenger's seat.

A little kid was there. He looked right out of one of those Dickens films we used to watch on Christmas.

I looked at my drawings. Nothing, they were blank.

That never happened.

"You have a name, kiddo?" I asked as I stopped the car.

"I do not." The creepy kid replied.

I exited the car and ran. It was foggy, it smelt worse than that night, where everything started.

I searched for help. I tugged at my collar, asking where the fuck was the Snake.

Nobody replied. I slapped myself, thinking I was an idiot, I shouldn't have left the car.

I turned back, and I wasn't where I had been.

The streets looked old, older than the Bay, and the lamps illuminating everything were ancient.

I heard a giggle, I turned, and it was nothing.

I made a prayer to God and kept walking.

I found myself in front of a white chapel. I thanked the Lord and entered.

I shouted: there were kids, so many of them, all knelt down.

They were praying, if the half-hearted sighs and glares could be called such, to the portrait of a blonde woman wearing a scandalous armor.

This was hell. I made a step back, and they all turned their glares on me.

I tugged my collar.

"You smell tasty," a white-haired little girl stated innocently.

"Not now, we need to know who sent him," a voice from a taller girl and what the fuck why was the Ghostchild alive?

"It was Coil," I blurted. I waited for a second.

The collar didn't explode, and I wasn't sure if I liked it.

All the children pouted.

"This is too easy. Did we get killed by this idiot?"

"We should torture him anyway. He hurt us, dad, the retainer, and who knows how many."

"Do we have the time?"

"We are dead."

I took out my cross and pointed it at them.

They weren't impressed.

But then, fucking then, they froze.

Everything froze: the fire of the candles, the drapes, the air.

And everything disappeared.

I ran. I found the car. I called the Snake and told him about how it went.

"Well done," he replied angrily.

I heard a beep, followed by another, then another.

The sound intensified and accelerated.

"No, no, nooo!"

I cried, I sniffled, I prayed and asked pardon.

I was going to die, and the draw book was sending me straight to hell.

The sound stopped.

The cell thrilled again. I answered.

"Who's there?"

"Come back to the base, quickly."

I stared at the cell. I closed the call and smashed it against the window.

Last edited: Dec 21, 2020

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ic3shard13

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Apr 15, 2020

#329

Darkness, then light.

It wasn't like the light of the sun, or of a flame, but the cold light of a lamp in a dark room used by tired eyes to read an old book.

There was consciousness, and the limit of our old body ceased.

We weren't here or there.

We were in the shop, where we scavenged the bodies of the fake robbers.

We were chasing the killer that robbed us of our precious life.

We were eating pigeons, rats, and other vermins, trying to find any excuse to prolong our brief existence.

We were facing Armsmaster, who was uttering about shaker and master's protocols.

We were giggling at the gangsters who were shooting at us.

We were in front of our body. It was dead, yet... there was something.

A trickle of energy coming from it. A chain, a bound?

It was keeping us in place. Not literally, but it made our thoughts clearer.

Vista was crying and sniffling. Her eyes were open, she was facing us. She was very brave.

"Are you going to kill me as well?"

We didn't have a good answer. From a selfish perspective, she was alive, we weren't.

From what little defiance in our fate coming from the shattered Big Self, we didn't want to.

"Why do you think we are going to kill you?"

She pointed at the body. "You did this, didn't you?"

We blinked. We looked back at the body. We glanced at the mirror.

We chuckled and scratched our head.

"We are Jack."

She frowned and glared. "Are you joking, is this a fucking joke?"

Miss Militia stormed in.

She gave a glance at the crime scene and sneered: "Get down!"

Her weapon was different: very futuristic, it didn't seem to need a magazine.

"Is that tinker tech?"

She turned to, well, us. A part of us that looked like a blonde little girl with long hair and a dark robe.

Miss Militia narrowed her eyes.

"It isn't. Speak, now!"

We sighed, both part of us. We needed to be theatrical to make them understand our perspective.

"We are Jack. Or Jackie, as you knew her. The Poster has already escaped," we said in a chorus and pointing at the poster on the ceiling.

'Ghostchild is a murderous sinner.'

It even wrote we ate souls. Thinkers were freaky.

Miss Militia stuttered: "You're, you're the 'children'? How?"

We shrugged. That was a really good question, but we had no answer.

Vista exclaimed: "You can't believe in this nonsense! She's dead!"

We internally flinched. She did say the truth.

We were dead, in a worse position than a Servant. All our souls were scattered, like crumbs of bread, and we didn't have any more power than thousands of children.

There was certainly strength in numbers, but as long as the PRT evacuated the area quickly, we would be alone, and we would quickly fade.

The only way forward was revenge, plain and simple. Just another deranged cape story.

It sounded worthless.

"Ne, want to play?"

Clockblocker shivered. "This is creepy, very creepy. What the heck is this? Did Labyrinth took a liking in Victorian London?"

A tophat wearing 'gentleman' sneered at him and continued to walk.

A newsboy was shouting about the third death by the hand of Jack the Ripper.

Gallant was looking intensely at us and the other illusions. He shook his head. "Console, I'm mastered. I'm not sensing emotions from people inside the field. What is the state of Ghostchild?"

"She's dead. So you're projections coming from her? You look independent. And you're practically everywhere in these two blocks. And you can create illusions," Armsmaster summarized.

We nodded and sipped the soda. It wasn't the worst explanation.

The tinker frowned: "Are you going to attack us?"

"Are you ready to assault children with your weapons, Armsmaster?" we replied. "We aren't going to move from here."

"It's so unfair! I'm not going to catch you if you don't land!"

"So unfair!"

Dauntless remained in the air, unsure of what to do. We started throwing rocks at him.

"This is too easy. Did we get killed by this idiot?"

"We should torture him anyway. He hurt us, dad, the retainer, and who knows how many," we nodded sagely

"Do we have the time?" we asked rhetorically.

"We are dead," we shrugged.

And the idiot took out a cross. As if he were a saint or at least a decent person.

"And stop doing that!" Vista shrieked.

We continued poking the body.

The chain of energy felt important, but we didn't know why.

Miss Militia asked: "What are you going to do?"

We tilted our head. "Don't know. Don't care. Not much you can do when you're dead."

And this London wasn't a nice place. We almost wanted to thank the Simurgh to have gotten rid of the real thing.

"By the way, Coil is backing the killer. And the Poster is a bald douche with a broken nose, pale lips. He is tall as Gallant out of his armor, and one of his left fingers is bent wrong. He also wears a stupid collar," we divulged.

We saw the knife we had summoned before and took it slowly.

Miss Militia readied her weapons, and Vista stretched the room to defend herself.

We ignored them.

This bond meant something. We cut it, and everything froze and quickly got sucked in a vessel.

There were so many souls, in just this little piece of the city. And it wasn't the most populated.

They were feeble lights, some were good and some were bad.

At that moment we knew we had to choose a Master. To fill the vessel of Jack the Ripper, Ghostchild or Wraith, we needed to keep our souls close.

There weren't many choices, between the people close to our corpse.

Miss Militia, a heroine who fought for the greater good respecting society.

Vista, a friend who ran to meet us and we attempted to kill.

'Jack's way of living can't continue,' our Big Self thought.

Jack's way of living brought us to our death.

If we had the time, we would have asked for permission.

But if somebody had to take responsibility, it was the adult.

Our dark place returned to the well, and Miss Militia's hand burned.

We returned dematerialized. Our pool of energy was being filled very slowly, a trickle of what we had before.

Being alive had its perks, who would have thought.

Miss Militia didn't have a Command Seal, or at least not a good one. It looked more like a single red cut. If it worked like we remembered, which was little, it would be a single order.

We didn't like being under her thumb, but better her than many other people.

Well, time to play nice, we supposed.

We reappeared in front of the two heroines.

Naturally, our Master readied her rifle. "What did you do?"

"A pact," we answered. "A way to continue to exist."

We decided to take a gamble. "Your sigil on your hand? It's a seal. You can order us anything, and we will obey, wanting or not."

"That's it? You make a pact and you stay alive?" An incredulous Vista asked.

We sighed. "This body isn't real. We'll never grow up."

Mom would be ashamed for sure.

Well, Taylor was certainly dead. Did we even have the right to call her Mom?

At least we had still her hair, even if it was cut short and white in places.

"So you are under my control? Then you'll need to explain what happened since you ran away, and the true extent of your powers. If you will lie, I'll use this 'sigil'," Miss Militia ordered.

We nodded and followed her outside.

We couldn't help but notice how Vista continued to look between us and the corpse.

Red didn't suit her color scheme.

Of course, we immediately got foamed. We dematerialized and got out of it.

"Fuck... That's straight better than Shadow Stalker," a trooper said.

Miss Militia turned to Vista: "Enter that van, the rest of the Ward will join you soon."

The shaker nodded and hurried to the car.

Then, the heroine ordered me: "You'll be coming with me, and you won't make sudden movements."

We complied. It was clear she wasn't kidding.

Once we entered the security transport, we half-giggled.

We were in the same situation as less of a month ago.

Once seated, the questioning began.

"What was that shaker effect?"

Big question.

"This body isn't real, it's filled by that place and the children. The energy we are being given by the pact is used to fuel this body and contain the inside."

"Why did it look like that?"

Harder question: how much to say, how much was the truth?

Let's keep this simple.

"Our power and the children come from that time. Our abilities take after a certain famous person. Well, not that person, more like how they were thought. Somehow, it landed on Taylor. After agreeing, Taylor and Jack reached a compromise."

We basically spelled it out. If this were a Grail War, we would be doomed.

Fortunately, most capes were weaker than us and didn't have a wishing cup to chase.

Unfortunately, accidents happened in any case.

Miss Militia frowned: "What does Jack the Ripper have to do with this? And who are these children?"

"Jack the Ripper was just a famous serial killer. The Jack made of kids was a victim and a very bad person. White Chapel would have been worst if it weren't for Taylor's presence. You don't know how we killed Fenja, right?"

The blaster looked resigned as if she expected us to do better: "So it was you. How."

Her voice hadn't raised and remained calm. There was nervousness, however, and tiredness.

"It's an attack that will eviscerate any target. But there are three conditions to make it absolutely lethal: the target is female, it's night and it's foggy. If these conditions are met, she will die for sure. If not, it depends on chance, but it's still a nasty cut."

Her weapon quickly shifted into many forms, as the interior of the van sparkled with green lights.

"You will write a detailed report of your abilities, and we'll test all of them."

We nodded. For a moment, we thought she was going to use the seal.

We were in a cell. A high prison security cell. We told them about our dematerialization, but they needed to feel in control somehow.

The feeling was mutual.

Miss Militia was in another cell, screening for M/S protocols.

All the Wards were in the same state.

What we did, what the Poster freed, caused an uproar. A shaker effect on that level worried more than a few people.

We didn't kill anyone, even if we got close with the Poster and the gangsters.

The thugs managed to shoot themselves.

We flipped our pen one last time and continued our report.

Writing about the fight against the E88 was fun.

We wondered what happened to the prisoner and Rune, the new addition to their rosters wasn't as bad as them.

That was why we didn't murder her.

Now, the question remained of what Coil would do. The sore loser was determined to do anything to get rid of us.

Lisa said that he had moles in the PRT, and we believed it. But we had to tell them of our powers, or Miss Militia would have wasted the seal.

We finished the report and sighed.

We were bored and worried.

Would they transfer us?

Would they imprison us?

We didn't think we would fade anytime soon. If Miss Militia used the seal, we just needed to find another parahuman in time.

We frowned. Why a parahuman? Were they more energetic?

The blood we tasted from every parahuman we fought was weird.

Not bad weird, or good weird, just weird.

As if there was a certain otherworldliness to that.

Damn, we had to write that as well, right?

Whatever, we would deal with that later.

We went on the bunk and fell asleep.

The soldier that was watching her called out from a distance behind her, the ever familiar that was a threat and an order at the same time.

Sick with fear, Hana looked around, searching for something that could tell her where to go, how to move.

In that moment, she knew she wasn't going to die right away. She couldn't walk any further, it was physically impossible, as though her feet were as rooted to the ground as the trees were. They would make her watch as they tortured one of the other children to death. Then they would start on the next, maybe Hana herself, until they had another child willing to act as decoy and clear the traps from their way in the simplest, most dangerous manner possible.

She saw something vast.Last edited: Dec 21, 2020Like148Hugs23Meow1Sun1ic3shard13Apr 15, 2020View discussionThreadmarks Interlude 6 View content ic3shard13ic3shard13PronounsShe/HerApr 19, 2020#357The girl cried as one of her bones broke from the impact.It wasn't fair. Treating people as cattle was horrible.Ghostchild prepared her knives. She could take two of them, maybe three, but it was risky. She doubted that the nazis would care about collateral damage.She needed to scare them away. She looked at the twins.The harder they fall... Jackie jumped on a giant head and released the Mist.It was funny seeing the villains searching for her in confusion."Fenja, on your head!"The valkyrie dropped her weapon and slapped her head. Ghostchild was fast enough, but the sounds of giant flesh meeting giant flesh rumbled like cannons.She needed to be faster. The Mist wasn't made to cover such a small area.Well, time for her second trump card.She started to talk: "Yeah, let's murder it.Hell is starting. We are flames, rain, power..."She felt cold darkness surrounding her, as her eyes focused on her target.She rushed down Fenja's arm."Let there be a slaughter!"Pain, sorrow, despair, hatred, cold, and rage swelled inside the Ripper as her knives took the curses of uncountable lost souls."Maria the Ripper!"She jumped and tried to slash the giant's abdomen. It didn't leave a nick.The Ripper smiled, knowing she had won.Fenja returned to her original stature and her womb got slaughtered, releasing a light shower of bloodJackie licked her knives and she grimaced. It tasted weird.Now, she hoped that the victim didn't get caught in the Mist.She let Krieg took Fenja's body as a consolation's prize. She threw some scalpels as if she was attacking them.They started to escape. Jackie relaxed and sighed and moved towards the prisoner. And fucking then Kaiser, as the sore loser she was, attacked the black girl.She added him to her bad book and rushed to the girl rescue."Going to end my suffering?" the girl asked between heavy breaths.Jackie shook her head. "We can heal you. But we need to be quick."She didn't seem convinced, and she looked at the bloody knives with fear. Jackie dismissed them and called the scalpels.It was a rushed job. The cape ignored the patient's cries as she cut flesh and bone in the hope of finding the bullet.She sealed and patched it up using the bandages that she could summon with her cloak.The prisoner croaked: "It looks like shit."Ghostchild fought the blush blossoming on her face. "Anyway, this should last for all night. But you'll need food and blood to heal completely."The girl added: "You know, I wanted to be a doctor."What a strange thing to say when you were so close to death, Ghostchild thought."Call the police, the PRT," Jackie added, and ran away.Once she was far enough, she checked herself for injuries and she made sure that the dress wasn't stained red."It looks fitting for a hospital, like a nurse uniform..." she muttered.It was a silly dream. Yet it wasn't wrong to wish for something."If I find a way to heal Dad," Taylor muttered.I woke up drenched in sweat. My power changed in sparkles of green energy at a speed that seemed to follow my beating heart."Code iota ai sierra five, code iota ai sierra five," I repeated.My eyes fell over the rash on my hand. Was this that caused the dream?"Confirmation, Miss Militia. What happened?""I had a dream where Wraith appeared. It was surreal," I stated."Mhm. We'll verify."I glanced at the cell bars. I was going to stay for at least another day, wasn't it?I removed my bandanna and washed my face at the sink. I looked at the baton.How long was it since I dreamt of something different from my memories?If this were the dreams that would follow, I was happy that she chose me over Missy. I had the luxury of staying awake, she didn't.Thankfully the protocols were paranoid enough that they required to sleep.What was her power?Hanna knew intellectually that some powers altered the mental states of their users, but that attack, that 'Maria the Ripper'...She looked at her hand. Could she order her to use it? Or to ban it?The speakers asked: "Miss Militia, are you okay?""Yes," she answered. I wasn't okay, but okay enough."She said the dream was due to the 'bond' between the two of you. She recalled some of your memories."Oh. Well, that wasn't good news."She says it can happen if both of you fall asleep. She adds that she forgot to tell you and didn't want to keep it as a secret."I slumped on the bed. "Did she?"That was at least Thinker 2. How many powers did she have?"She also says that the two of you can communicate with each other telepathically.""..."Powers weren't supposed to work like that. Even the Simurgh didn't use telepathy."We can test it later."I shook my head. "No, better to ascertain this quick."If she could start it on her own, it was only a matter of time before it happened.I concentrated on the seal. I broadcasted. I felt like an idiot. her voice replied timidly. It was a clear sound that appeared to come from nowhere, with no echo.Three full seconds passed, as I took a deep breath."I can hear her. I'll tell her to show the number three to the cameras." she complied with worry and... was it eagerness?The speakers reported: "Wraith has followed your suggestion. Miss Militia, I think it's enough for tonight."I nodded and fell back in the bed.Seconds ticked by, as I struggled to find a way to not fall asleep again.I took out a piece of paper and started writing what I dreamt about.It wasn't the strangest report I had ever written, but it was surely up there.I hoped my position wasn't compromised.A cape that had a reverse mastering power was unheard of, but Jackie proved herself as an exception of most rules.Was she like a Butcher from another dimension?My weapon changed fast into other weapons, and for a moment I worried it would shape itself in the form of one of her knives.Thankfully, it was a harmless Glock.I thanked God that at least this happened to me and not Vista.Seeing a companion killed in front of you the first time was hard, having to endure protocols and a voice in the head wasn't going to help.Thinking of the devil. She asked with a bit of concern. I municating like this was even easy. Almost convenient.There was a lot of weight in that syllable.I asked: she answered. she complied meekly.I returned to my report. I had to add this as well, right?If this continued to happen, it would be hard.Sympathizing with villains was always a slippery slope, but knowing that you failed somewhere and a cape you trusted made the wrong decisions for supposedly good reasons, that they had believed it was the better way, it was worse.How did the Poster, and Coil, manage to infiltrate the PRT to this extent?I shook my head. I hoped the isolation would end soon, and I'd be allowed to do my part in setting this right."Aegis, how is the team doing?"The Ward settled himself in an uneasy stance. "Ma'am, can I be frank?""Of course.""It's a shitshow. Vista had realized that Ghostchild tried to kill her, Gallant is seriously considering to join New Wave, Kid Win feels remorseful for refusing to patrol, and Clockblocker has closed up and his jokes now tend to be on the meaner side than usual," he replied. "Having to keep us in the base isn't helping."I sighed. "Can I ask how are you doing?""Badly. Being a leader of the Wards, even if it is a glorified position, is making me feel useless. If I had to say something, it's that we need a break. After Shadow Stalker and this mess, it doesn't feel like we are being trained to be heroes," he ended bitterly.Thankfully, Armsmaster wasn't the supervisor any longer. Human interaction was never his strong suit."As you know, someone else will take my place. Two people, to be precise."That made him raise an eyebrow but didn't surprise him much.It was sounding like being an exception was the rule, nowadays."Aegis, do you believe that the probationary system works?"He took a bit of time to consider. "The numbers speak well but I'm not seeing it happen."A good answer, if not a bit too sardonic."Do you trust the current Protectorate roster?""I do, but... are you saying that one was a criminal?" he asked retorically."He was. Assault and Battery will supervise you for the time being. I'm telling you this because one day he'll give his story. I want you to show him understanding. He's a bit rough around the edges, but I hope Battery will temper him," I finished half-jokingly."I'll try. He was the one that recruited me, and this comes as a surprise, but I trust him. Honestly, I'm curious about his history."I covered the seal on my hand."Is there anything else you want to ask, Aegis?""Did we had to read that report?"That poor pig."You need to know her abilities. If she ever started her 'chant', you need either to escape as far away as possible or interrupt her speaking."His eyes wandered on the ground for a moment. "So there's a possibility we end up fighting her."I grimaced. "It's a very remote possibility. For now, she is cooperating.""Do you trust her, ma'am?""I want to. And please, if you have to call me something, call me Miss Militia. It's not like you have much time before you join the Protectorate."I managed to make him smile a little. "Of course. Can I go?""You can.""A transfer, Director?"Director Piggot sighed: "Between the two of us, it wasn't my first choice. But keeping Wraith in Brockton Bay is asking for a powder keg to explode. Director Armstrong offered to take both of you, under strict conditions. In exchange, a Ward from New York and two Protectorate capes, from Boston and Los Angeles, will come here."It sounded fine, but there was an objection. "Director, but if Ghostchild was being targeted because she interferes with Coil's powers, wouldn't it be better to keep her here?""This was discussed as well. The point is, we can't rely on her. First, we must assume that what a minor villain said was true. Second, Wraith isn't dependable. Do you think we'd be able to convince her to stay at the base while we deal with Coil and the Poster? I don't know how long the threat of your 'sigil' will last."I conceded her points. "How will she be treated?""As a probationary Ward," the director replied as if biting a sour lemon.It must have wrinkled to give her preferential treatment over Shadow Stalker's situation."But she won't go to school. She will study at the base until she'll be deemed safe enough for her to go out. We can't risk her choosing another 'master'."She had explained she could, in theory, do that, either if I used the command or by taking it by force.No wonder she was now also a Trump 4."How long will this last?" I hoped it wasn't permanent."We think two months at most. Tattletale surrendered herself this morning and is divulging everything she knows about her 'boss'. Hopefully, she is a case where the probationary system will work,"Piggot commented sardonically."And Dragon herself is helping Armsmaster inspect every nook and cranny for leaks," the Director ended.Considering Alexandria was going to stay for a few days to investigate the 'shaker event'...It seemed I could leave the Bay in good hands.She dismissed me, and I went packing my belongings.It was an angry why. I answered. I asked she said flustered.If I had known, I would have asked Aegis.Last edited: Apr 25, 2020Like140Hugs22Funny1Meow1Sun1ic3shard13Apr 19, 2020View discussionThreadmarks Shear 6 View content ic3shard13ic3shard13PronounsShe/HerApr 23, 2020#365The cellphone ringed. It was a message from Ashley."Are u ok? Missy said u ain't coming back to school."We wrote: "Had a family problem. Got to transfer.""Ok. If your back, tell us, ok?!""Ok."We lent the phone to Miss Militia. After reading the messages, she gave it back."We aren't going back to school, aren't we?""No," she answered. "But there's a choice you can make. I asked the Director, and he agreed. Since you're actually a soon-to-be sixteen-year-old, you could study for the classes you missed at Winslow and later apply for a GED."We tilted our head. It sounded good. It wasn't like we wanted to deal with other people."You want to be a doctor, right?"We called a knife to toy with. "Why are you asking?""It was in your dream," she answered honestly.Right, this was what a Master-Servant relationship entailed. Knowing too much for their own good."It was just a dream. We can't act as if nothing changed. This body won't age, you know we killed and don't regret it. We aren't stupid, we know that we aren't in prison because you have the mark.""Arriving at the termination of a Ward isn't that easy. It requires a tribunal and a thorough review, both things that need more time than we have. With capes, there are always special circumstances to consider."We frowned. "It doesn't sound fair. Because someone has power, they escape consequences."She glanced at our luggage. "Are you sure you don't regret killing people?"We didn't like that question. So we retorted it to her. "Don't you?"It was unfair knowing she didn't regret killing those bastards, but it was unfair she knew about our old wish.Her weapon didn't change. "I killed many times, and I'd lie if I said I remember each one of them. Some were mistakes, others weren't. But I regret having to arrive at that point."If we accepted her point of view, it was like saying that we regretted being the Ripper."Why did you ask about the doctor thing?""There's college," she proposed unashamedly."We can't enter college," we blurted pointing at our body."Do you know Weld?"What was today about uncomfortable questions?"He's a case 53.""He goes to school, he acted in a TV show and he's fairly popular."And he was famous for his memes."What's the point?" we asked, knowing perfectly well she had a point."He isn't the only case 53 that leads a social life."This conversation was a big déjàvu. Go on your life, they said. It wasn't like we didn't have a life or anything.We decided to ignore her and cuddled in the seat.The van's doors opened and the light hit us in the face.We grumbled and lifted our baggage.We got out and found ourselves in an underground parking lot.It looked completely ordinary if not cleaned and well-kept. There weren't a lot of cars, and the air was relatively fresh.Of course, the five troopers, the protectorate hero Bastion, who wore a satin green plated armor, the Ward Weld, a teenager made of many alloys of metal that looked very refined, made it clear this wasn't the parking lot of a mall.His silver eyes examined us and after a few seconds, he smiled and said: "Hello there. I suppose you don't need a hand for your stuff. I'm Weld, by the way."We shook our head. "We're -Ghostchild, Wraith- Jackie."The name left our mouth like a cough.Bastion finished speaking with Miss Militia and turned to us."Let's move. The Director doesn't have all day. And leave your packs here, others will bring them to your quarters."We clutched our package, but after a nod from Miss Militia, we relented.The four of us, plus a trooper, entered an elevator, and as we went up we settled in awkward silence.Or at least we wanted to."I expected to find you in a cloak," Weld commented."Only because our power gives us a costume, it doesn't mean we wear it every time," we replied as we leaned our back against the wall."Right. I should have thought about that. I read you can't turn your powers off."We grimaced: "Are you seeing a deathly Mist around us? Of course we can turn our power off!"Turning our power off. What would it even mean?Letting that place out?"Weld, shut up," Bastion barked.The Case 53 closed his mouth, thankfully.With a ping, the door opened and we walked closer to Miss Militia.Inside the corridors, there was the same weird mix of officers, troopers, and common employees of the other PRT building.But the atmosphere was a bit more relaxed than the Bay, and there were no decorative plants. Little differences, but they were something.We quickly reached the Director's office.He was a forty-something-year-old man, overweight with long arms and legs. He looked angry, but as he smiled we noticed it was due to his physical shape, like his high forehead, his furrowed brows, and his weird jaw.In a certain sense, thanks to his receding, greying hairline, he also looked like a sort of grandpa."Welcome, welcome. I hope you had a good journey. Now, let's discuss the arrangement, shall we?"He sure was different from Piggot."First of all, Boston is a much calmer city than Brockton Bay. This means we don't make our Wards patrol as often as Brockton Bay. This means they don't stay at our base every single day."We blinked: "Do you mean we'll stay in a cell?"He frowned: "Why do you think that? You'll have your apartment and a legal guardian. There's no emergency to justify leaving you cooped in at the Protectorate HQ."We crossed our arms: "And who's this supervisor?""We haven't decided yet. You will stay at the HQ for a few days to be sure that the Poster hasn't followed you here, but after that, you'll make some decisions on your own. For example, would you like to regain your old identity? Or do you prefer your new name?""That's a thing?!" we exclaimed.Our outburst made Weld chuckle, and we glared him into silence.Armstrong explained affably: "There's no point in hiding who you were. Your father has been transferred to a New York clinic under an alias, and it's clear that whatever enemy you made already knows who you are."That was true. And yet... wasn't there a corpse of Taylor Hebert?"Can we think about it?"He nodded. "Now, we need to set the rules of your probation. Making you return to school will be a problem, but you'll resume your high school studies. You'll stay in the Wards until you are eighteen. You won't join any patrol until we are sure that each facet of your powers has been examined. And you have mandatory therapy."The rules were similar enough to Brockton Bay, unfortunately."We never had therapy."Armstrong frowned: "Director Piggot has different opinions from mine. I can't say she's made worse decisions since her jurisdiction is peculiarly different, but she's less interested in parahumans as people with powers than parahumans as capes known to the public."We glanced at Miss Militia: she looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn't."Now, is there any particular question you want to ask? We also sent a copy of the contract at your working e-mail."We shook our head.He turned to the blaster: "Miss Militia, do you have some questions?""No, Director. This is not my first transfer, after all.""Very well. If this is all, you are all free to go."Weld opened the door, and we followed the case 53 with the Protectorate capes right behind us.The Ward asked: "You seem puzzled."Right, he was going to be a teammate, at least for the foreseeable future."It's nothing," we lied. "Do you know who'll be at the base tonight?""Well, there's me, Hunch, Slapdash, and Grinder."At least we didn't have to meet all the seven of them right away.Hunch was a thinker case 53 who got vague 'whispers' of information of certain objects.Slapdash was a mover: the faster she went the less she was aware of her surroundings, but differently from Velocity, she didn't have problems with inertia.Grinder was a tinker whose technology was heavy, bulky, and destructive, or so his profile on PHO said.With Weld, Miss Militia's seal, and Bastion forcefield, they were quite an impressive force, ignoring the other Protectorate members at the base.For all the Director used a soft glove, he didn't seem stupid either.We soon found ourselves back in a van, and we departed to the Protectorate Headquarters.That was another difference between the two cities: while the Oil Rig was a marvel of tinker-tech difficult to access from the Bay, the ex-Charles Street Jail looked much less technological and more pleasing to the eyes.Sure, it was just the cover of the book and we didn't doubt it had its own set of countermeasures and defenses against intruders, but it was still a historic building in the middle of the city, and not a futuristic construction whose existence depended on the marvel of tinker tech.As we got inside from another yet obscured subterranean parking lot and as we left the unsuspicious van number 39, we arrived in front of a set of elevators.We followed Weld inside one, while the other two went their own way. Mom.We grimaced. Better to leave those kinds of dangerous thoughts out of our mind."Are you okay?""We are."He took out an mp3 player ."Is it a problem for you if I listen to music?""No, go on."It took about three minutes to arrive from the elevator to the Ward's main room.Not considering the building structure, it looked as impersonal as the Bay's old one.Hunch was on a couch specially designed for him, on which he rested his exaggeratedly big head and his short legs. On the side was a tinker-tech motorized walker.Slapdash was sitting near the kitchenette sink and the light reflecting on her golden visor revealed she was chatting on her phone.Her eyes widened behind her golden visor and she shouted: "Yo Weld! And hi Wraith! Or was that your villain name?"She put the phone down. "Honestly, cape names are always a mess! You must have seen that time a journalist called Damsell of Distress Damsell in Distress! Like she wasn't searching for that kind of trouble with that name!"She moved towards Weld and reached to his earphones, but he stopped her hand."I can hear you alright, don't need to touch my stuff."She turned to me: "And they want to make him the next leader, can you believe it?"We blinked.Hunch said, in a surprisingly deep voice: "You get used to her. Hi, Ghostchild. If it wasn't obvious, I'm Hunch. I'll be at the console most of the time, so you'll have to bear with me a lot these days."Slapdash huffed. "Yeah yeah, I'm obnoxious and talk too much." She yawned. "I think it's time for my beauty sleep. Your room is the six on the left."We glanced at her as she zapped away.We seriously wanted to stab someone. The day had been too long.Weld deadpanned: "Did you just summon a knife?"Hunch coughed: "That, what the hell is that? My power is screeching like a bad radio."We recalled it. "We are going to bed. Good night."With that, we left all the potential drama behind.Sixth door on the left, and we were inside. Our baggage was right in the middle of the room.After putting our stuff in the right places, we flopped on the bed with our cellphone.We weren't even tired.We looked at our last conversation."The trip was boring. How was school?"We got over our indecision and we sent the message. We turned off the phone, shut the light off, clutched the plushie, and resolved to sleep until the world made sense again.Last edited: Apr 25, 2020Like132Hugs21Meow1Sun1ic3shard13Apr 23, 2020View discussionThreadmarks Suture 1 View content ic3shard13ic3shard13PronounsShe/HerApr 25, 2020#375"Come in," a voice invited us inside.The room was comfortable but understated, a bit more lively than the other offices. There was even a fake plastic plant, a first in all the building.Sitting behind a desk was the therapist. Looking at her tag, we read Jessica Yamada."Hello. Do you prefer to be called by your codename, or your real name?"We sat on the chair in front of her. Our fingers lingered on the leather. "Real name... you can call us Jackie.""Okay, Jackie. Is there anything you'd like to talk about?""Not really," we answered.If she was offended, she didn't show.We didn't know how much time passed when we became aware we summoned a scalpel. We dematerialized it.We mumbled: "Sorry.""Why?"We squinted at her face. "People usually get antsy when we start playing with them."She gave a small smile. "I have seen worse use of powers. Does it relax you?"Did it?"It's like using a stress ball. It... keeps our mind from overthinking.""Is it bad to overthink?"Usually, yes. "How much do you know about us?""As much as your new teammates.""Do you know who we were before this? How we looked?""There's a photo, but it wasn't the most flattering."If it was the school photo, yes it wasn't."We changed a lot since we triggered, but we had a barrier that separated our civilian side and our cape side. Now there isn't. And that means that we act a bit more... knifey.""Knifey?""It's a word that we use. It means we act more like the person who joined with Taylor," we explained."Do you consider yourself Taylor Hebert?"We opened our mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "Not really.""So, do you think of yourself as the other person?"Again, we answered: "Not really. She, they never had much to begin with.""Can I ask what did they have?""No."She nodded. "Would you prefer the pronoun she, he or they?"We thought about it. "Not he. She or they is the same."Jack the Ripper might not have cared much, but Taylor did."I read it's difficult for you to use the first singular person, but you used to. Is it because you lost the barrier?""Yes. The other person isn't made by one... soul, if we can use the word," we explained, knowing well they were souls.She scribbled something in her pad. "Do you believe in the afterlife?""It doesn't matter. You can call it soul, presence, or anything you want. But saying 'me' feels like not giving them credit, and it doesn't come naturally.""But when you could make the barrier, you used 'me'. Wasn't the conglomerate offended?"We huffed: "No. Don't you have a report of our powers?""Yes. But I'm not asking how it works. That isn't my job. I'm asking if that second person... how should I call them?"We hesitated. "Jack.""Jack wasn't offended by the barrier?""No. Our parts reached a compromise," we stated. Better leave the dreams out of this therapy session."Is that why you choose Jackie?"We nodded unsurely."And because you can't make the barrier, the compromise doesn't work anymore?""That wasn't what we said," we huffed.She settled the pen near her paper. "Can you explain it to me, then?""It's that we don't have balance. After triggering, we had found a place. Then, it's been a rollercoaster of stuff that kept happening. And people got hurt, we got hurt. It's not spiritual mumbo jumbo, we didn't have the time.""Was escaping the PRT part of the compromise?"We grimaced. "No. If it weren't for the seal, we wouldn't be here.""You're being quite straightforward. Usually, my patients ask about confidentiality."We snorted.Right, how much red tape was around a cape psychiatrist?At least, we hoped she was paid well."It isn't a secret. We don't like having decisions made for us.""Is there anything you can decide?"Well, there was."The codename. And our name. But that's it. We can't go back to how things were."'Back when?', that was another overthinking question.She gave a brief smile. "It isn't a lot, but I met my fair share of capes who hated their codenames. Anything you fancy?""No. It just feels stupid. We could maybe disguise for a while, but it won't take much time to make 22 about our identity.""Are you sure? You could ask for a full face mask. And don't you have contact lenses for your eyes?""We can..." We looked at the floor. "But it isn't who we are.""What you aren't?""A he- a cape. Having powers isn't the be all end all."She looked relieved at that. "It really isn't. Have you talked with Weld?""A bit." He had been a bit helpful."I think you could discuss this with him."We lied: "We'll see."She looked at the clock. Sure time flew when you didn't want to talk."I have one last question. You'll need a legal guardian. Do you have someone in mind?"We crawled the fingers over leather. "Saying Miss Militia would be obvious.""Why would it be obvious?"Duh. "Because she has the seal.""I don't think so. In fact, having her close to you, where you can quote-unquote 'steal the seal', could be a security problem."Uh. We didn't think that way.She asked yet another question. "Would you like her as your caretaker?""We don't know."We quickly added: "But if we had to choose, she's better than a stranger."We continued looking to the ground."I think we can conclude this session, unless...?""No," we said."Then, we'll see each other next week. And think about your codename and your name."We nodded and went out.That had been way more tiring than the fight against the E88.And it was going to happen again.Yay.The journey to the training room didn't help. Playing with knives in the middle of the Protectorate building was 'heavily discouraged', and so we had time to overthink.Like the codename. Ghostchild was still a PR favorite, but we hated it. Then there was Strangerdanger, which was even worse. Or let's not forget Misstab, Knice Girl, and Cut Lady.The only possible explanation was that they truly liked Ghostchild or they didn't want to throw the merchandise away.Not that we had a better idea, besides the Ripper and Knifey, which were wrong for the opposite reasons.We huffed in front of the training room, it wasn't time to think this."The Travelers made another hit against Blasto," Hunch said.Grinder, after making a smoothie, asked: "Isn't this the second one in two months? Poor guy can't take a break."He really looked different out of his costume. Gallant and Armsmaster had power armor, but his screamed power. It was bulky, heavy, and slow. And under all of it, was a fourteen-year-old scrawny kid.Firefly sneered: "What is this, sympathy for a fellow tinker?"Firefly was a douche, but his costume was cool. Red and yellow were heroic colors that often worked well together.Grinder rebutted: "Oh come on, the worst he does is tinker tech drugs, and his minions are easy as fuck to defeat. The Travelers, instead, are a real pain in the ass. Just Trickster's power is much more annoying."Firefly stood up and refastened his costume. "I'll give you that. But Sundancer is the worst."Hunch drawled: "Because she uses fire better than you?""Yes! That's cheating! I can't make fireballs without breaking a sweat, and here she is standing near a ball of plasma like it's not an inconvenience! Cheating, I say!"We so wanted to stab someone or this math book.'What was the root of sin(x)?'We turned to the metallic cape. "Have you finished, Weld?"He continued cutting vegetables. "Just a moment."He was very giddy that he couldn't absorb our knives. Which was good, because we didn't want to think what would have happened if he just absorbed the legacy of Jack the Ripper like it was nothing.Hunch muttered high enough everyone could hear him: "It's not like I need to keep looking at this stupid tv show because I can't turn my head or reach then remote."Firefly snorted: "You can ask, doofus. There's the third season of Cape Life again."Hunch deadpanned: "No, thanks. Put a cartoon show if you find it."And so he settled with Tom and Jerry.We closed the book and took out our cellphone.No new messages. This was going nowhere. we replied surprisedWe froze and went up. "We're going to our room."We entered inside and spotted the remaining bubble wrap.Pop.Pop.Pop.We exhaled a breath.Pop. We didn't contact any of the Wards, but neither did they.Pop.Ashley didn't say anything about Missy, so she must have been better.Pop.Pop.Pop.Pop."Ghostchild, you can take back the knife!" Weld exclaimed from the other side of the door.We dismissed it.Pop. We finished the bubble wrap.If that was a choice...Right, we left the book in the main room.We removed the domino mask and massaged our face.If we called her mom, she asked for it.But they had their problems.Firefly and Slapdash were insufferable alone, even more together.Grinder was a quiet kid that mostly stayed in its place.Weld and Hunch... it was weird. Sometimes they talked to us using certain words and euphemisms as if we expected to 'get it', and were disappointed when we didn't.Having more memories and instincts was different from losing all of them, even if the person that came out was surely different.The only ones we had doubts about were AoE, who we hadn't met yet, and Fight-or-Flight, who was currently in the hospital due to the latest Teeth incursion.Miss Militia sighed mentally: Right. she said with some hesitation. There were worse people who we could trust with that. It was our choice, right?We opened the door and returned to the lounge room.We opened the fridge and took a soda can.We gulped and crunched the tin."Jeeze, you are a brute after all."We barked: "Slapdash, shut up."She put her hands up: "Hey, just commenting. I found it funny, that's all!"Hunch rebutted: "I banter better than you, and I learned to talk one year ago!"She snorted: "Do you want to steal Firefly burns?"I threw the tin in the can and grabbed the book. we asked.We groaned and opened the book.'What's the root of cos(2x)?'We so wanted an acceptable target.Last edited: Apr 25, 2020Like137Hugs13Funny8Insightful1Sun1ic3shard13Apr 25, 2020View discussionFirst Prev3 of 4Next LastThreadmarksApocryphaInformationalView contentYou must log in or register to reply here.Similar threadsPidgeWishmaster (Worm/Fate) [Taylor Alt!Power]Pidge Words: 23k 1 2Crossover Fantasy fate worm altpower!taylor taylor hebertReplies 29Jul 15, 2023DellianShe Who Wields the Holy Sword. 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