4.3 - Parian Interlude

Sabah Rahi

Slightly earlier

Sabah sighed as she finished closing up for the night. Post the New Year's rush business had begun to taper off and anxiety gnawed at her like an old friend as she mentally tried to tally the sales she'd made that day.

Renting her own shop on the Boardwalk had cost her all of her savings, it had been a gamble and one she still wasn't sure had been the right one to make. Whilst she never doubted that she was doing the right thing for herself once she'd committed, despite her mother's worries, Sabah had remained constantly aware of just how precarious her finances were even without the ever present tightrope of neutrality she walked every day.

Satisfied the alarms were set and giving the front of the store a final once over she walked into the back, gaze slipping over the items on display as she quickly determined if it would be worth bringing down any of the more out of season picks from upstairs to add to the discount rack.

Nonetheless as much as the stresses of being a financially strapped Rogue in a city like Brockton Bay weighed on her, days like today reminded her of why she had chosen her path in the first place. Her store might have been a curious novelty to both residents of the Bay and tourists alike, but it meant a certain guaranteed footfall even if only a fraction of those ever bought anything at all.

The show in the afternoon had gone well and she'd even been approached by an adorable fan. Sabah smiled under her mask at the memory. When she had first opened her boutique she had endured a constant amount of scrutiny and rampant curiosity from all walks of life. There had certainly been fans and she had tried to be polite and courteous with all, even as it grated when some were little more than cape enthusiasts trying to weasel details out of her that she would never share.

Yet despite all her efforts to the contrary; choosing the name 'Parian', her costume, her non-threatening demeanour and the children's shows she put on week after week, it had still left her with a reputation she had not sought nor wanted. She had been dismayed to read her wiki article and the rampant PHO threads on her person and discover she had been labelled as distant and even cold by some. Certainly it had helped in warding off the worst of the nuisances, but it had been disheartening to see her efforts to be professional yet warm had amounted to so little beyond the children she entertained.

It made days like the one just passed all the more special for their rarity. Sabah was slightly disappointed she hadn't thought to get the younger girl's name to attach to the memory, it had been so long since a fan had approached her and with such an endearing nervousness too. Perhaps if she had been less rushed off her feet she would have liked to talk more, but instead she could only hope the girl returned at some point. Sabah wasn't even certain the other girl had actually been that much younger than her, which had certainly been an interesting realisation at the time.

"No matter' she whispered to herself as she opened the door and made her way upstairs to the small apartment that sat atop the store itself. Either the girl returned or she wouldn't, though she would be sure to check PHO later, she could at least send the girl a thank you for stopping by if she saw an obvious posting from her.

A small mess of materials and papers greeted has as she entered her small workshop and she put the thought out of her mind to actually tidy it up a little. That 'there was always tomorrow' was a mantra that had become largely engrained in her since the opening of her shop, with so many things vying for her attention on a day to day or even hourly basis. Even if it would have been the work of mere minutes with her power to maintain the meticulously tidy workplace her parents might have expected of her. But the days she performed were far more exhausting than most and she simply wanted to make dinner and sit down.

Though as she went to bed that night, Sabah couldn't help a small smile of satisfaction that for all her ill-gained reputation of aloofness, there were those still happy to speak to her of their own earnest appreciation, regardless of what others thought.

.

.

Sabah had been coming down the stairs to ready the shop to be opened when she had seen the letter. Granted it would have been truly hard to miss considering the piece of paper had been stuck to the window of the door that led into the shop and served to completely obscure her view. And that would have been without the fact of the large hand written note of 'Parian' facing her, that had immediately drawn her eye as she'd reached the bottom of the short flight of stairs.

She had never particularly liked that the door separating the stairs to her apartment from the boutique itself had a window, but with all of her other expenses it was something she had never had the funds to do anything about, even if she had gained something of an appreciation to be able to see into the other room before she stepped through.

The paper itself was a single sheet of A4, which appeared to have been folded several times as if the sender had been intending to slip it into an envelope and then had thought better of it.

Sabah was glad they had, a plain piece of paper was something to be cautious of, an envelope she would have simply disposed of immediately. She had been harried by the Empire more times than she could reasonably count and would not have put it past them to leave a little surprise in an otherwise innocuous envelope as yet another message for her.

There was as always a certain dark irony to her thoughts whenever they inevitably drifted to the Empire Eighty Eight. Since she had set up her shop the Empire had attempted to make overtures to her numerous times. She had known before opening her boutique that there were reasons Rogues were practically non-existent in Brockton Bay, yet she had felt as a harmless clothier she would be more immune than most to any recruitment attempts from the various gangs in the city.

It was of course sheer naivety in hindsight, wishful thinking if she wanted to be charitable to herself. The fact she was a parahuman alone gave her value she hadn't truly internalised when she'd set upon the idea of opening her own shop on the Boardwalk. Even though she had already registered with the Protectorate as a Rogue they had still stopped by on more than one occasion, both as a show of force that she had been grateful for and to try and convince her to give up her independence and join their own organisation, which she had been far less appreciative of.

With her location on the Boardwalk she had been spared from the attentions of the ABB and the Merchants along with other gang members were kept at bay by the constant patrols of the enforcers, even as some of the latter made no effort to hide that they did not particularly approve of her. Though whether that had been because she were a parahuman, a woman or merely a potential source of trouble for them, having opened a shop in their 'territory' she had never been able to discern.

Then of course there was the Empire. It had been easy for her to forget at first that all others saw of her was her costume and her mask. A part of her had always been worried that the Empire and to a lesser extent the ABB would attack her or her shop as she wasn't Asian and she certainly wasn't white. So the thought that either organisation would wish to recruit her had truly never crossed her mind, even with the pointed warnings she had been given time and time again from the Protectorate.

At first it had been simple intimidation, customers in her shop who didn't buy and didn't cause any trouble, yet they took off their scarves, took off their gloves and their allegiance was made plain for her to see in the tattoos they had displayed so brazenly. It had been a simple threat, yet a poignant one, even if she had been unsure that they would truly follow through. The Boardwalk as she understood things had largely been considered a sort of neutral territory for the money it brought into the Bay through tourism alone and she had fully intended to adhere to that as a neutral Rogue herself.

But then the Empire had sent their capes, the carrot to the proverbial stick one evening as she was closing up shop and the enforcers had been nowhere to be seen.

At the time she had been uncertain who had been sent to see her, though in her own flurry of research after the fact she was quite certain it had been Krieg escorting Othala, even as she knew those were merely the Nazi capes she'd been allowed to see.

She had been terrified at the time, fully believing that after their previous threats had failed to frighten her off they had simply decided to kill her and burn down her store. All to send a message to any other non-white parahumans that believed they could operate in a city where the Empire held.

Consequently the fact both Krieg and Othala had been so courteous to her had come as a complete shock until the realisation of what they saw in her had sunk in. Each of the Empire parahumans had been cordial and polite, friendly even despite how obviously tense and wary she had been. Looking back it had been obvious that neither had wanted a fight nor expected one and clearly hadn't thought they were in any danger if one did occur, which had been another chilling realisation in and of itself.

Instead they'd simply asked her how she'd been getting on, complimenting some of the pieces she had on display and commiserating the difficulties Rogues had operating their own private businesses. She'd even been able to relax slightly, cautiously drawn into the conversation so as not to appear impolite.

They had talked to her of how the Bay had once been a shining jewel of prosperity and how one day they hoped it could be again, lamenting over how unsafe the city had become since. She had almost laughed when the epiphany had hit her in the middle of one of Krieg's more impassioned speeches, grateful her mask didn't show her surprise when she realised the man's pitch was so similar to that one of the Protectorate Heroes had given her in the first few weeks of opening her shop.

Krieg and Othala had only made allusions to the Empire itself, simply talking about how unsafe the Bay could be for an unaligned Rogue such as herself and that they had the structure and support network to provide somewhere she could safely flourish, whilst working towards the betterment of the Bay for all.

In a way it had scared her more, that the Empire could act so softly, offering promises instead of threats, not even a real hint of the party line she'd have to follow were she to take them up on their 'most generous offer'.

Even more terrifying had been the moment she'd had to decline them, watching them frown, watching them think and wondering if that would be the moment she would die. That Hookwolf or even the Kaiser himself would enter her shop and impale her upon a blade for her temerity in refusing the Empire's call.

She had been as polite as possible, pleading her desire to remain neutral, yet another part of her terrified that despite a decade of living in the country, some part of what remained of her parent's accents would slip through and finally reveal her for what she wasn't.

The Empire instead had seen a scared white woman denying them, but even as they had exchanged glances, obviously unhappy with the result they had decided not to press her. Not then at least and simply let her be, fading back into the night along with the promise that the Empire would always be there to accept her when she was ready to commit to the 'right cause'.

Sabah had thought that would be the most terrifying day of her life, but that had come next when she realised the Empire hadn't given up at all.

She'd been given just long enough to believe they had left her alone for good before she was approached again. There weren't any further visits from the Empire's capes, just those men and women who swore allegiance to them. Bald men and those occasional women who held themselves with meaningful arrogance and a cruelty behind their smiles. They would remind her of the Empire's offer, informing her that the Empire's 'generosity and patience' were not unlimited and all that implied.

The Heroes of course did nothing, more concerned she had been approached so brazenly at all than the ongoing threats to her life and livelihood. They had simply informed her that non-powered thugs were the jurisdiction of the Boardwalk's enforcers and the police. Unhelpfully reminding her that all her problems could be so easily solved if she were to give up her independence entirely and join their organisation for the safety and security they could provide .

There was some sympathy to be found, Assault and Battery had made an effort to patrol through her part of the Boardwalk for a time and Velocity had made an appearance more than once. But a part of her wondered if the PRT weren't waiting until the Empire burned her shop down before they could simply make another offer she wouldn't then be able to refuse. To have another parahuman 'safely' under the jurisdiction of the PRT and another message to any would-be Rogues like her.

With a sigh Sabah paused at the door, letting her power slip into the room, quickly unspooling the thread from a nearby scarf as the needles hidden in her costume came to float around her like waiting vipers.

She felt more than saw the strands of coloured threads snaking across the shop floor, looking for any obstruction, anything out of place before she was finally satisfied there were none. The threads reached the door and repeated their task, slipping over the surface, brushing softly for anything that might indicate a trap of some kind and a small measure of relief found her when she swiftly discovered nothing at all.

Sabah hadn't expected any tricks with the paper itself and was left satisfied when her threads found nothing amiss, a slight tearing sound coming through the door as her threads easily pulled it from the glass with a tug and she stepped through after, giving it a brief inspection before she allowed it to be deposited in her hand.

Deciding that she had more than enough time before her assistant arrived and found the storefront still shuttered and alarmed, Sabah retreated back upstairs with her prize. If she were going to read a threat or anything else then she may as well have a hot drink to go with it.

.

Dear Parian,

Hello! I am a new Independent Hero and I was wondering if you did commissions for Hero costumes?

I'm new and don't really know if there's an etiquette for this sort of thing, so I'm sorry if this is the wrong way of going about it.

Also I'm really sorry for leaving a letter like this, I know it's probably creepy, but I couldn't figure out how to approach you without getting attention and causing us both trouble. I promise I haven't touched anything and I'm sorry if I scared you.

I've added my phone number at the bottom, so if you could please call or text me to let me know? I probably won't be able to respond during the day on weekdays, but anytime after that should be fine.

Thank you for your time and consideration Parian and even if you say no I appreciate you taking the time to read this letter to the end.

Sincerely,

Ghost Step

.

"Well that's the most polite request I think I've received so far." Sabah murmured to herself as her eyes tracked down to the mobile number listed on the bottom of the letter.

Of course despite her ambiguous reputation she had been approached by almost every party with regards to costumes. The Protectorate had wanted her to come in for extensive power testing, which would have been provisional to entering into any hypothetical contract with the organisation. Sabah had declined them for the want of remaining neutral in both appearance and her actions. It was ultimately too great a risk for her as power testing could give entirely the wrong impression to the Empire or any other factions should the information somehow find its way out as she'd seen in various leaks in the past.

The Empire had made their desires for her services very clear to her and then there had been the Vigilantes and so called Independent Heroes. In truth it had been something she had demurred on for quite some time, fearing any action, even an ostensibly neutral one as providing costuming services to unaligned capes might mark her out in some way and provide a justification, however slim for interested parties to escalate their own actions against her.

But ultimately due to a simple combination of time, curiosity and a distinct lack of financial security she had decided to entertain certain offers. Not that these had unfortunately gone anywhere.

Whilst Brockton Bay had one of the largest populations of capes per capita of perhaps any city in North America, the amount of capes who remained neutral were vanishingly small and seemingly less so year on year. The first who had enquired had been a gruff older man who had simply called himself Snowstorm. She had been nervous getting his measurements and discussing the particulars of his outfit, but they had come to an accord and he had given her an advance whilst she finalised the designs pending his own approval. Unfortunately he had never contacted her again and she'd never found out if he had been killed or simply left Brockton Bay altogether.

Somehow Snowstorm had been the most successful of her potential clients. Perhaps a dozen unaligned capes had made enquires at one point or another. Plenty had been uncontactable, more had never come back to her after their first conversation when she discussed her rates and the needs for assurances that they were in fact an unaffiliated hero. Several more had demanded to meet at a location of their choosing and had cut off all contact when she'd refused. Some she knew had died or been injured enough that they were no longer relevant, others she saw appear again in the various gangs either through PHO or when their arrests or deaths were announced in the news or by the PRT.

Independents and Vigilantes were by and large simply too economically disadvantaged to afford her services and those that could, by all accounts used their funds to escape the city entirely if they were able to do so.

Sabah was forced to admit that the approach of the letter in front of her was endearing in its novelty if nothing else. All other enquires to her had either been in person, through the mail or PHO itself. To simply find a letter in her store, no alarms tripped, nothing out of place? If the tone of the missive had not been so genial she might have assumed the skilful placement of the letter itself was an implicit threat.

Taking another sip of her tea she read through the letter once more, analysing the language and the tone, trying to imagine the parahuman behind it. They were likely young, or were at least affecting such a persona. Their lack of availability during weekdays would infer either a job or perhaps full time education, presumably the former if they felt they could afford her services at least.

The apology and clumsy attempt at polite formality did bring a small smile to her lips even as she cautioned herself against reading too much into what were ultimately words upon a page. There was a saying that one should never let a thinker talk and she certainly had no knowledge of whom she was dealing with to make any real assumptions.

Mulling over the letter Sabah decided to leave it where it was and continue preparing for the day ahead, quickly depositing her mug by the sink before heading back downstairs.

She couldn't rule out another Empire ploy, Nazis and thugs they might have been but she remembered all too well how insidiously well mannered and affable the two Empire capes had been and she would not put it past the group to try a different tact with their current lack of results thus far.

However one thing that remained true was that the Empire were overall impatient, an impatience that had trickled down to the men and women they sent to harass her from time to time. Their goons were a regular appearance even if their pathetic attempts at shoplifting were easily thwarted and the enforcers by then well accustomed to their ploys. Sympathisers some of them might have been, but to display such in broad daylight was another matter in its entirety.

Sabah decided the letter could keep. She would perhaps give things a week or maybe two, see if any of her inevitable 'polite conversations' with the Empire made any allusions to the letter, or if anyone else of note made themselves known in their impatience. After that? She supposed she would see what the young cape had to say, even as she couldn't help but think about just what materials she had in stock and her mind drifted to thoughts of previous projects she had long put out of her mind.