Faith
"God bless you boy…" the old woman said as she lovingly gripped Ryan's hands with that thankful smile. Ryan returned the gesture as he continued to help supply the local community and island that Drake had visited near Haiti. The poor occupants of this place had most of their homes still being rebuilt since yesterday due to circumstances that had him and Drake on alert.
The torn-up trees and houses that were dilapidated and missing their roofs painted a depressing picture that had Ryan realizing and learning more lessons about life. Perspectives that were now being made especially with how many people were affected in various ways with their lives due to something as natural as a storm. It made him reflect on things that his mom told him back then that only made sense now.
It was strengthened when Ryan watched people his age innocently wait in line to receive food. Their dirtied faces filled with so much grief.
Babies and their mothers quietly sitting in corners of the evacuation centers Olympia had set up soothing their sleeping children that everything was going to be okay… tore through Ryan's heart.
Even though he knew that Olympia was going to make sure that these people would get their lives back, probably even better and more prepared with Drake's generous help, it still made him feel wistful and haunted seeing the devastation of what previously was a happy, content community.
Ryan knew of course what natural disasters did to places and such via his teachers and through his mom. But not to the extent of seeing its effect psychologically and physically on people directly in this sense. Each emotion, filled with such intensity and the like made him silent. Each sob, each smile, each thankful and appreciative douse of glee sent his way or to Drake made him feel something that nagged at his heart.
No wonder she never once encouraged nor made him lean on the idea of 'heroism'. Or at least heroism as told by his teachers in his stay at the compound. Heroism as told by Homelander and the many other heroes that he read about and saw on TV or through other means.
It made him happy, of course, to see the good effects of being a hero to many people were, in his time with Drake, but the heavier part of it, the one side that people don't tell or elaborate behind all of the fame, exposure, and smiles was the simple fact that people suffered.
And what caused them suffering or the like was something that one hero could not fix by merely 'saving them' as the job seemingly entailed. There was more to 'saving' people that he now understood quite a lot. Maybe not so much as his current mentor and guardian, but enough that he started to realize what separated the actual heroes who made a difference and those who didn't.
It made him realize that the world was a fragile place. That people were actual humans that had their own lives, hopes, dreams, and fears. That people, powers or not, were just the same as him, just in a different context, life, and outlook.
Now, he knew what his mother meant when teaching him things that mattered most in the world around him.
"It's not about you, sweetie. The world is… it's a big place. It's both a perfect and imperfect world with people who live their own lives just as we do. The most important part of that is remembering that everything that happens is a precious commodity and memory that will never be replaced. That to live is a fleeting, fragile gift that many cherish far too late."
Drake and her fleet, as well as assistance from him, mitigated most of the losses that the local hurricane had inflicted upon these people. Yet even so, lives were still lost. Precious lives that were once a lover, a relative, a parent, or a beloved person that people genuinely cherished, are now gone… forever.
Just like his mom.
And just like her, they were not faceless people who cheered or celebrated mindlessly the presence of a savior or a hero. They are people just like him that wished to live their lives as best they could, with what time they had on their hands.
It almost made him tear up remembering the deep, seated regret of how he mistreated his mom in those final hours. Just because he wanted to prove himself that he could be like his father. That he could be like him, one that disregarded the individual lives of the people they saved without a care about what lay beyond that.
Even though Drake had helped him through the worst of it with their deepening bond, the regret was still there. That the precious moments he now kept deep into his heart were just that now… memories.
Like these people who lost more than loved ones, they only had memories left of them.
"Are you okay dear?" the old woman who thanked him said as she looked at him with concern, riddling her face. Ryan finally noticed that he teared up as he quickly wiped it and smiled to recover and keep up a strong front.
If there was anything that Drake and her crew taught her, it was that to make people feel safe, and feel hopeful of their presence, it was to make them see that they had every intention to get them through this ordeal, regardless of its severity. That a simple, genuine smile was enough to instill comfort in the wake of tragedy.
"I'm fine." He replied as the old woman smiled before leaving with her relief goods. The line that he was attending to would continue on, but he excused himself to Drake's crew, who were happy to take his place at the moment. He would then continue to walk through the great number of Olympia personnel (who were doing wonders on significant building and relief efforts) and civilians who watched him both with equal thanks and indifference.
A bit of regretful self-reflection still riddled his mind as he got to the building Drake was in, where she was coordinating work in an efficient and amazing manner despite the immense size of it, all for the good of the people that they were helping. Her energy was still going strong, and ever since he was put into her care he never once saw her falter or look exhausted despite the many things that would overwhelm even his dad… by a longshot.
She was his hero through and through…
And every single moment ever since she proved to him that she would do everything in her power to make sure that he was cared for solidified her as his favorite hero. Flaws and all.
He wished his mom had met Drake. They would have got along well.
"What're you smiling at First Mate?" his guardian said as Ryan now noticed that she excused everyone in the room to have some time with him. Another trait that made him very appreciative of her care and dare he say it, love. "Something good I hope?" she added as he sheepishly smiled.
But before he could say anything to her, she started sighing, as if in a rare bout of exhaustion as she stretched her arms and legs before sitting right next to him. Their backs were close enough to a nearby window as the sounds of people moving up and about outside and the chirping of birds added to the relatively easy and personal nature of the room.
"Once we get most of the houses up back and running we're gonna have a big party out… all of these administrative duties are making me tired." She said as she leaned back on the couch they were on while pulling him in close to her with her arm that gave him a loving ruffle of his head.
He giggled at that act of affection as he leaned onto her shoulder.
"I don't want you to drink though." He teased her as she started frowning.
"Oh, buzz off kid… I am obliged at least to partake in some drinking. It's called social drinking if you must know. Between adults, regardless of the reason or another, need to do it in order to show that they can socialize… properly in some cases." She said with a grin.
He shut her down with a cute enough pout that made her lose her smile.
"But you promised."
"I promised that I wouldn't get drunk. There's a difference there, kid." She said as an excuse, but his cuteness only made her try to look away, albeit in failure.
"You're gonna leave me in the cabin alone again?" he said with a bit of faux sadness in his voice as Drake eventually broke with a heavy sigh, much to Ryan's vindication and victory.
"Fine. But You have to promise me that you'll sleep early again this time."
He smiled, he could take that deal as he hugged her. Both of them giggled at his antics.
However, Drake eventually squeezed his shoulder.
"Tell me about it, kid… what's got you bothered today?" she softly asked.
There was a small bout of silence between them after that question. Drake was about to let him be before Ryan squeezed her tighter in his embrace.
"How do you deal with everything with a smile all the time?"
It was Drake's turn to be stunned by the question, before softly rubbing his hair affectionately.
"I don't."
His eyes widened. Confusion wracked his mind as he stared at his guardian in question, given at least in his mind, this contradicted everything he had seen her be in the time they were together. Thankfully Drake managed an easy, understandable chuckle leveled at him as she once again ruffled his head.
"I'm still human, kid. Regardless of what circumstances brought me to have this rank, this title, and the power that I hold both literally and figuratively, even I'm still vulnerable on having the same human emotions that bind us all equally."
She then wistfully looks at nothing as a grin appears on her face as if reminiscing both the good and bad in her history.
"And what separates real, genuine people in my book against those that aren't is that they stay at being human regardless of how the world changes them. That they don't forget who and what they are, and what they used to be."
"And what's that?" Ryan asked as their eyes met.
"That they're normal people at their very core. People that have fears, hopes, dreams, yearnings, amongst many things… and most importantly, honesty." She told him as he looked at her, the unspoken question that wished for her to elaborate bearing fruit as she continued…
"People often think that to be something great, to be something like a hero, a leader, or a captain like me requires you to put on a strong front, one that appears like a beacon, an ideal, or a symbol both good and bad to make the people that you inspire, enslave, or lead look up to you and follow your path to the letter…" she chuckles as she removes her rather extravagant hat and placed it on her lap, rubbing it with her fingers as if nostalgia. "…I actually find it's the opposite. Sure, don't get me wrong, those things are important, but at the end of the day symbols are just that, symbols."
Ryan then recalls how much he idolized the heroes that were taught to him while Drake rubbed one of the many pins and medals attached to her hat.
"…Ideals are just that… ideals. They're all abstract things. Abstract things that while good at first oftentimes lose their weight due to either the original idea itself being lost through time or its being changed into something that it's not."
She then places her hat on his lap this time as she squeezes his shoulders affectionately through the arm wrapped around him.
"You asked me how I deal with the more difficult parts of life with a smile of confidence? It's because I have faith." She said with a smile that came from her most personal side. The Drake that was as human and vulnerable as he and the rest of their crew.
"I have faith in people. Faith that they can face such odds and not back down. Faith that with every bad day, there will always be a chance of succeeding. That at the end of the horizon there lies a lovely spark of sunrise against the salty and stormy seas."
Ryan's eyes widen as he takes up her words, absorbing it with awe and even love.
"And that faith has to go both ways. To make the people around you have faith in you…" she points at his chest. "…you have to show them with every ounce of your being that their trust is in good hands. That every action you take doesn't just benefit yourself, but for all the people that put their trust and faith in you."
"Wow." He unintentionally said in awe as they both chuckled together afterward.
"That same faith in humanity is what got me to join Mr. Wodime's quest. Because despite all of the good and bad that happens around the world, I do believe that humanity can be better. That we can do many wondrous and impossible things despite the odds."
He nods at her words as she takes back her cap and wears it with a confident stride. Standing up, she once again dons her title.
As one of the holders of the Pioneer of the Stars skill, Francis Drake would prove yet again that even something as fleeting as human life can brightly blaze in glory despite what overwhelming odds were cast against it. If she could triumph with that faith both in herself and in her crew, then others can too.
Even Ryan.
Drake then offers her hand.
"Come on now, First Mate. Prove to me that my faith in you ain't misplaced." She teased him as he took her hand without any doubts this time.
"Yes, ma'am!" he innocently said with a cute little salute that she reacted with a bellow loud and encompassing laugh that Ryan joined in. He started following her again with faith this time in his ability to make that dream of his mother to be realized and faith in his guardian for showing him the way.
"I don't want you to drink later tonight still…" he teased her as she cursed despite firmly holding his hand along the way.
Having faith felt good Ryan mused, as he instinctually squeezed his guardian's hand.
It's funny, in many situations in his life, both when it still made sense with Becca's presence and the hate-filled existence he had now after that, he never thought of the Church and their hanged corpse of a god's existence to be functionally appealing in any remarkable sense.
Anyone with a rational brain in this day and age could practically see the stupidity and reality that religion is just a whole lot of horseshit wrapped into an institution that both started and created conflicts throughout human history. All because of people arguing about whichever bastard governs the clouds or that there's a convenient place for people to go to once they're six feet into the ground.
And those that didn't believe it, didn't subscribe to a particular brand of bullshit, would be thrown into whatever creative and spooky enough hell those bastards come up with. Both in a vain attempt to scare those in compliance to conform to a certain dogma's rules, but also to denounce those that didn't as 'evil'.
It's that same type of shit that's gotten countries to get destabilized. Cultures were overturned, raped, or burned to the ground, and lives ended callously and disdainfully all because they picked the wrong color and symbol to follow into 'paradise'.
Even before his hate-filled journey against Supes and everything they stood for, his views on 'faith' were down in the gutter, never to rise again from the piss-stained grave it came from. He saw what the world was in this sense. He saw the ugliness of it all, even if most said religions relied on the promise of good 'morals', 'ethics', and 'conduct'.
It was all bullshit of course. That's certainly not how the world worked. With how cultures, ideologies, and politics clashed with each other, personalities and what is assumed to be 'correct' and 'moral' aren't universal in nature.
And even then, the good front that religions often championed tends to be easily abused by those who channel their misdeeds through dabbing in part with the iconography, ideas, and concepts of faith for their own needs. A facet that Vought played well against most of the masses.
Or at the very least, those who still believed in the bloody naked man who pinned himself on the cross because he apparently 'loved' humanity. That Homelander, is his second coming. His new 'son', and a gift to the plebs that still believed in 'salvation'.
The same salvation that pedophiles use to sexually assault children under priestly robes. The same salvation that gets people radicalized to blow themselves up and so on, and so forth…
William Butcher saw religion for what it was, which is a coping mechanism imagined by people to keep them comfortable that there's something more outside of death. That the universe meant something in a grander, more refined, personal sense. That their lives were not just instances of biological processes hinting at the existence of thought…
And would cease to exist after cessation of those same biological processes failing simultaneously whether by artificial means or natural causes.
Life was just that… a start of something and an end of something.
There was nothing else beyond that. Nothing important, necessarily, that gets the world's panties in a twist just because collectively people fear the unknown. The reality, that there is no such thing as 'fate' in a traditional sense. That living is a state of being perpetually useless and pointless to the greater annals of the universe.
Now… all of those hardened beliefs were now put into question by the most stupid justification for an argument. That argument being aliens.
"I can't fucking believe those nutjobs on the internet or on TV can be anywhere considered correct," MM said beside him as he looked at the disturbing, bloody photos before him. "But no… I guess rationality died the moment someone shot lasers out of their eyes huh?"
Aliens and Gods existing. Jesus fucking Christ.
"Yeah, I bloody well don't buy it for an instant! Because Christ… can you not see how fucking stupid this all is, right? Compound V, the Compound V comes from goddamn gods that were actually aliens and that same stupid shit is now affecting everyone, turning them into what… aliens as well? Can Supes be called aliens? Can the bloody mailman and Martha Steward be reptilians that blend with humans so that they can eat them?"
There was no question why his tirade was heating up both in frustration and anger at this subject. Given that apparently the most powerful man in the world subscribes to this bullshit because-
"And what specifically would convince you, Mr. Butcher, that my words aren't something that one conspiracy theorist in their basement just conjured up in thin air?" Wodime interrupted as he looked at him with his neutral face now replaced by something more… inquisitive. One that made Butcher's skin crawl. "You asked me earlier why I would waste your time by acknowledging this… 'drivel', yet you don't seem to consider why I would waste my time with you people when I can easily just get what I want out of your government without hassle or fear of any consequence?"
The tension in the air once again turned chilly. Even more disturbing was the fact that Wodime maintained a very commanding yet light aura and tone despite the subtle threat in his words.
That same tension easily evaporated as his smile returned, which greatly perplexed and made Butcher all the more scared by the unpredictability of it all when it came to him.
He was both genuine and subtly manipulative at the same time. A master at words, conversation, and human interaction that even those with experience were left gaping in shock. Including Butcher himself, for all his rough edges when it came to human interaction, he always had an ace on his sleeve that got even the most pompous and egotistic bastards to talk and take him seriously through his 'methods'.
Mr. Wodime had none of that. What vulnerabilities he showed, were shored up by truths and half-truths alike and what lack of physically imposing traits he had was trumped by an air of confidence so thick and impenetrable that there was no question that if a fight would break out, Supe or not, Wodime would come out unscathed and no worse for wear.
This was a dangerous man. A man who made Butcher uneasy, unlike anyone he had ever met.
Not even Homelander could match this unease, not even close.
"Again, I am here showcasing to you all a level of trust that I have not given yet to any person on this good earth. One that concerns an issue that you all should be made aware of, and another that dictates what would happen to humanity as a whole… after."
"After?" Grace asked, her voice now dipping into pure fear and concern for him even trying to humor that question with an explanation.
"Yes, but before I get to that… just know that on that data slate I gave you is information and research that while your team might take days to disseminate, all have the proof and concept that you wish to see validated in this conversation of ours. And yes, these pictures of the Valkyrie cut and twisted into the abominations that fuel compound V research… don't belong to me. It belongs to Vought. Courtesy of Stan Edgar."
"It could all be bullshit for all we know… its Vought for crying out loud!" Butcher argued.
"Yes. That's certainly true, but do you deny the experts who volunteered to have the same questions you ask now, to be validated personally?" Wodime said as he looked at the data slate again in Grace's fingers. "You can contact those experts if you want, see their opinion individually. In fact, I'm even sure that they would be happy to do so if only to alleviate their newfound fears."
"That doesn't make us feel comfortable, Mr. Wodime," Susan said.
"And I'm just as discomforted as you Mrs. Raynor. But understand that the threat is real and ignoring it would only prove to doom us all unless we collectively help ourselves in steps that would at the very least make us prepared."
"But… aliens?" Grace asked, pleading at least that this wasn't a joke even with some of the convincing proof now in their hands for starters.
An exasperated chuckle was let loose from the man's lips. A genuine chuckle of exhaustion, as if from a memory that was so old, so potent, and so filled with grief and disappointment that it was there Butcher realized that the concept itself to him did in fact sound ridiculous, but at the same time he was burned in some way for not realizing too late of its authenticity.
At least that's how the man sounded to them in the room. Maybe with exceptions on his entourage who looked at him with wary and concerned faces, but did not deny the emotion in his strained laugh.
Wodime's fit of laughter then slowly ended with him wiping a few solemn tears, their nature, and context completely unknown to Butcher and the rest as he slowly wiped them in a small show of vulnerability. It was one of those laughs that made most people remember the good times when they were drunk before spiraling into a lamentation of the past that allowed tears to settle in.
Even with him recovering his footing, Butcher felt as if there was a lingering sense of PTSD there. Deep inside that glamorous, proper, and strong front the man held, there was a lingering loneliness that shined intensely.
"I apologize…" he said as he gathered himself. "You remind me of the very first time I discussed this same thing with a group of friends when we discovered what we were dealing with. And that was with their own beliefs rather skewed already and it still made them feel shocked."
Friends. He said that word with such care and love that Butcher, MM, Grace, and even Susan seemed to relate to that small little detail in his words. With how he described it in a past tense, Butcher figured that something must have happened for him to erupt in these forms of emotions that he didn't bother nor mind that strangers were right in front of him to witness it.
"… but yes, the subject and concept in itself, to a rational mind, is absurd beyond reason. But… in reality, it's actually far more unique or in this case, complex compared to how typically entertaining and hilarious media tend to portray it as."
It was left unsaid that the man who was trying to explain to them about Aliens and Gods had indirectly insulted the conspiracists with how emphasized his words were upon the subject of those same media and publications that propagated it. If anything, Butcher expected the man to finally let out a curse word like a good British man would in that sentence, but given his nature he pulled it back a bit. While at the same time being genuinely and truly 'entertained' by said things in a manner like how an adult watched the absurdity of the more batshit kid's shows.
"And no… frankly speaking, I am not an advocate of the overall theme of revisionist history that most of those stories tell. Since at the end of the day, humanity is humanity, masters of their own overall fate, whether for the good of all or for its own self-destruction."
Wodime then pulled out a relatively long, cylindrical object from his pocket and as if on command, it turned into a futuristic scepter or walking cane with all its ornate and unique characteristics. Interestingly, the moment he did that Butcher felt something change in the air. It's like breathing became subtly harder with each huff and beads of sweat started to form at their sides.
Even without the environment changing or for it to be blatantly obvious that the man was a Supe, there was a gut feeling deep within Butcher and everyone else in the room that seemed to encroach and creep ominously on their individual existences.
"In the grand calculus of possibilities and endings… humanity in a sense always has a straight pendulum or path that it forces itself onto. Many, driven by guides as those I imply, and others strictly because of changes off-world and by circumstances that bely those that are beyond our comprehension."
Wodime then tapped the butt of his cane onto the floor and whether just by feeling or actual experience, the world around them hummed in a small but noticeable enough tremor.
"But yes, for the most part, we are the masters of our own fate. Whose legacy is followed by those who call themselves as… gods. Or Deities. They are a reflection of ourselves. A reflection of human thought given form that's given meaning and purpose. All because of the underlying imprint that our collective species have upon the Earth that anyone who visits it, or at least takes part of our history is also shaped by that fundamental concept."
The words seemed to jump loosely within Butcher's mind, and despite the intensive and clear way the man said those words, the meaning was lost to him. Like the truth was being dumped in his head but the complexity of the 'truth' was too much for his mind to handle.
Actually, Wodime's words when he thought about it again were much more precise, few, and to the point as it would appear on their hidden cameras on their individual suits, but whatever he did seemingly produced a 'truth' that their minds could not feasibly comprehend and instead it came out as philosophical word vomit.
Either that or Butcher was going insane, not that he wasn't already.
"What the hell is happening?" MM said as he nearly stood up in worry."
"Mr. Wodime… it doesn't surprise me that you are one of them as I thought, but please explain to me what that feeling was, and why we're still feeling its echoes now," Grace said with a firm but clearly fearful state as they all looked at Wodime. Raynor was even close to drawing on her gun but Wodime like some damn sorcerer, or magician, whatever, had the feeling disappear as their normal breaths returned. An apologetic smile appeared on his face as he stood up, offering a hand to Grace as the Japanese Supe started cleaning the utensils they used as if nothing happened.
In fact, none of the Supes in the room that Wodime had looked as if nothing had happened in stark contrast to how disheveled and pale they felt for a moment there.
"It's the basis of that truth, madame Mallory. One that I cannot fully explain without context and a bit of experience first-hand." He said as Mallory gingerly but acceptedly took his hand as all of them in the room knew that they were far too deep in it already to go back. "It was never meant to harm you, only to… figuratively make you feel this hidden concept of the world with your own senses."
"Mr. Wodime… I dare not ask if this is-
Wodime placed a supportive, understanding emotion on his face as he looked at them all individually. "It's harmless, I promise you and I have been very honest and forthcoming so far. I merely ask that you take my hand, and you will understand."
They expected answers, and as batshit as everything seemed to be, they all realized that they were already too deep in this and there was nowhere to go but to go down, in this proverbial circle of hell. Even Butcher, skeptical as he was, started to acknowledge that there was something pulling him in that direction, especially after Wodime had let loose that 'truth' in a literal sense.
Eventually, Grace did take his hand as the Japanese Supe and the blonde girl bowed at Wodime before leaving the room in some haste. The trench coat-wearing Frenchman stayed with his boss as he eyed them like one of those spooks that could care less if they were ordered to take out everyone that Butcher cared for in this very room.
"God… didn't think that my life would get to a point that I'd be fucking humoring a goddamn red pill, blue pill nonsense," MM said as Wodime perked up at his words.
"Oh, do you wish to ask about the healthcare drug that Caster and I are still developing, Mr. Milk?" he asked much to the now abrupt awkward atmosphere that just manifested.
"W-What? Oh… no, was just thinking about a movie." MM replied.
"A film? What do pills have to do with it, if I may ask?"
"Uh, Mr. Wodime sir, he's talking about that film…" Susan tried saying, to get them to return to the original point.
"What film?" Wodime asked in innocent curiosity. Like it was a mystery that he really wanted to know and see.
"Jesus, how sheltered are you that you don't know about the Matrix?" Butcher blurted out much to the glare of Grace and Susan, who didn't want him to understandably anger their already dangerous host and his followers. Even the Frenchman who was very quiet had aimed glares at him every time he so much as tried insulting his stupidly forthcoming boss.
"The Matrix, huh? That's quite an interesting name. I'll take note of that… but no, much as I don't understand the concept of what you're saying Mr. Milk, I do have some pills prepared, if you manage to get ill from any issues your time with me might possibly cause. That is… if you're willing?"
Let it not be left unsaid that him being clueless about this specifically well-known bit of pop culture and how he segued it into something else was both funny and sad at the same time. Either he truly lived under a rock, or he was actually unaware of the more 'normal' things in life.
Could be both, really, and as much as Butcher wanted to tease him about it to get under his skin, the glares of his comrades and that of self-preservation instinct stopped him from even trying that.
They eventually followed the man through the modest and cozy Midwestern home that looked very uncharacteristic of Wodime's charm, demeanor, and personality but given how little they knew of the man's unpredictable existence, this might be in character for all they knew.
Before anyone started to question where they were exactly going, Butcher noticed that through the windows that overlooked the backyard of the property, they all saw a peculiar-looking setup that beguiled and confused them all.
"The spot is not typically where I would host some of the procedures, I use for Astromancy, but it will do, and it is quite more comfortable and 'homey' in a sense to you Americans," Wodime said in a light jest with a small smile, but due to how awkward it sounded nobody reciprocated it.
"It's fine Mr. Wodime." Grace instead said, all of them noticing that it was still high noon outside. The sun was still at its zenith within the day while the clear blue sky and budding clouds made everything feel and seem peaceful.
"Very well then…" he said, as if unbothered or didn't at all feel that his attempt at humor fell flat. But moving past that, Butcher looked intrigued at the setup that Wodime mentioned.
"Do note that despite what will happen, the procedure I will enact will not put you in harm's way. It might seem like it, but I guarantee your safety as the utmost priority." He explained as they looked confused.
Mostly due to the mesmerizing-looking, futuristic circles that resembled abstract mandalas. They were on a platform that was raised partially from the ground as objects, or crystals in this case, were placed on strategic locations on the mandalas as Grace and the others stepped onto the empty space that was allotted for them. Wodime on the other hand was in a much smaller space opposite of them on the other end while on the side of their setup lay a much more specialized space removed from the mandala where the young blonde woman stood, holding a scale in one hand while staring at them.
If not for their trust in Wodime to make them do this strange charade, they would have all dismissed it as stupid voodoo nonsense born out of superstition. But given the sci-looking elements on display, a bit of spiritualism, and the fact that they were wary of the possibility of disagreeing with their host, they kept their mouths shut.
Especially Butcher's. Who wondered why the crop-circle-looking mandalas seemed to subtly hum in the same sensation that he and everyone else felt earlier. Suddenly a dark feeling coursed through his veins as the skeptical part in him slowly started to ebb away when Wodime looked at them while nobody noticed that the young blonde woman manifested a blindfold covering her eyes, and a glowing, apparition-like sword in her free hand close to the scale.
"Do you recall what I said earlier about the nature of the entities that the Valkyrie substance belonged to? Do you recall that despite the admittedly simple moniker of calling them aliens… they are quite more complex than what the moniker dictates them as." Wodime said as his face turned into concentration before he slightly raised his cane upward and there was a shift in the air far more pronounced than what they experienced inside the house.
"Extraterrestrial in origin they may be, but their fate was sealed the very moment their ilk touched the surface of this world, and when humanity and belief shaped what we considered as 'faith' and 'deities' to overwrite their existence."
Butcher and everyone else's eyes widened in pure, mortal awe and terror as suddenly the impossible happened in front of their very eyes.
The sky shifted dramatically. The once bright and peaceful sight of the sun and the clouds was abruptly changed by darkness against the moon and stars. Heavenly bodies raced against the black void at speeds that looked like blurs of light. Even at distances that would prove impossible for the naked eye to see…
"The cosmos is a vast place. Vast than human comprehension. So much so that through four-point-five billion years of planetary formation and biological evolution, that a race as young as ours can barely, if at all understand it at its deepest core."
…they could see nebulae, the colors of the gasses that amassed them swirling against stars that formed in their wake. How rings of leftover material swirl around a gravitational mass before forming into planets and how stars of various colors, kinds, and sizes bloomed into existence and ceased to exist in splotches of fire and destructive gas.
It all blurred within seconds. Like a video put on fast forward as the awe and mass of information being processed by their minds caused them to feel how utterly small, they were to the greater extent of things. A feeling that humans always mostly hated to dabble into or ask as it was those same philosophical, deep questions that caused curiosity about science, the fear and elation of comfort in religion, and the deep, dangerous, and blissful ignorance of the realization that human lives mattered little or nothing at all.
Black Holes, cosmic structures, and unrealized truths were hinted at bit by bit until it was peaceful suddenly again. But instead of the time and day that they once started on, it was now night. The moon was now high above them against the twinkling of stars as blurs of meteorites and hints of comets passed by amidst the black, unfeeling but relatively peaceful, black void.
He felt Susan Raynor grab onto his arm in fear as even he was scared shitless.
Even Grace Mallory that stood resolutely at both Soldier Boy and Homelander's bullshit, was left gasping as she leaned onto MM's form.
MM, similarly, still blinked his eyes, trying to rationalize everything that had occurred thus far.
It was different being told about things just through a series of words. Words and the like contained complexities and quirks that left everything to the conversationalist's limits of imagination and rationality. Subsequently, it was also different just seeing it through pictures, to the research and words of others, for while they had weight, they weren't there directly to see and experience it.
Which was strange, in some objective sense.
Because through the history of the world being used to Supes, nobody would have imagined nor even conceptualized in a broad, convincing sense, power of this scale that Wodime was expressing. More so when he just stood there looking at the stars like them as he held his staff while the heavens seemingly rearranged and moved in command of his will.
In a rational sense, before the world of capes and Supes, people didn't believe a man could fly, be strong enough to crumple buildings with their fists, or shoot lasers out of their eyes. The most extreme of Supes had powers that were wild and dangerous sure…
Especially Olympia's lot, but never… never to this extent.
A surreal, mortally fearful chill ran down Butcher's spine as he looked at the man.
Butcher looked at Wodime as the man sighed. "It took our very first ancestors, those born out of the fruit of natural selection to stare upon the heavens for their very first complex thought and belief to form. Their captured imaginations forming on the majesty of the universe beyond that of natural instinct were the first steps that allowed the human consciousness to be the powerful tool that it exists as now…"
Were he and Olympia, holding back on everything that they could do?
Did… did gods truly exist?
Was he looking at one now?
"Faith and Belief. Before I tell you the origins of said beings. You all need to understand that in the world that we walk and live on… nothing is as powerful as belief and faith." Wodime said as his serene face, his demeanor, and his entire act sparked a primal sort of realization within Butcher.
A self-realized, rational, albeit cynical man like Butcher who dared not dabble in the beliefs and affairs of men and women across the world, was suddenly looking at Wodime in a new, scared shitless sort of way.
"…And I mean that in both a figurative and literal way, given the nature of how the collective human consciousness works." The man said as he wistfully looked up the sky that he had manipulated as if it was the most casual, and easiest thing that mattered in what they were currently experiencing.
Butcher for the very first time in his life felt fear unlike any other. A mortal sense of fear, like when a person suddenly contemplates the cessation of being, or death in a more clinical sense. It was a sensation unlike any other, one born from instinct of self-preservation and another because 'life' as many dictated it to be, was precious, at least one's own life to others.
Butcher, in his many years as a cynical grunt looked at humanity and the abyss that existed and only saw indifference against the horrors and the pain both he felt personally and those of others. His cynical nature was hardened by the acceptance that humanity was very much like a wild animal still, even with 'civilization' dictating it as not. Fear became non-existent to a large extent.
And death, for all the reasons that scared people of it, was something that he actually embraced and wanted to occur, to end his own miserable existence. Because at least then, there was nothing more to feel. Nothing more to experience after dipping into the void.
Now? With the sort of power being exposed to him, and the people that he in part, cared about? There was this fear that finally a crude sense of 'karma' (even if he didn't believe in it) had now arrived for him. That consequences, deeper and more dangerous than ever had finally reached him.
He looked at the blonde young woman on the corner of the primordial display.
Blindfolded, similarly serene and unbothered with the gulf of power that Wodime exhibited, held a scale that had pure and bright rainbow-colored gems on one side, and floating wisps of light on the other. Butcher felt his heart darken as that sensation from earlier in the living room, those wisps might be their… t-their…
"Belief is what shapes the world in a broader sense and faith whether by a direct spiritual or metaphorical and personal sense is a governing concept that reigns in human souls."
Those words caught everyone's attention as Butcher found himself consciously putting a hand on his chest before looking again at the blindfolded woman's scales.
There were five wisps.
It could mean anything. Terribly anything at all!
One thing was for certain, as the deadly thought started to form like a puzzle piece in his mind. For Butcher could count how many they were in attendance and the piece started to shift in…
But who was the fifth?
"Faith and belief are what binds humanity even now. Even in a world where it no longer traditionally believes in Gods, we all still believe in figures. Figures that represent our opinions, our likes, our dislikes, our favors, our love, our inspirations, and many more. For they are all too many and complex to list, but it's all simply distilled by what a collective or group follows. Both in complete dogma and loosely based conceptions."
Every sentence held weight from this man. Every… idea seemed to ring in their heads like it was the inconceivable truth.
Regardless, Butcher could not help but look at the scales once more, their slight sway from side to side as if a judgment had not been called bothered him extremely as the indifferent, neutral face of the arbitrator now would permanently be a staple of his nightmares.
It scared him to even contemplate the existence of something spiritual. Of something divine.
The man before him, he dismissed mostly in part due to the lunacy of aliens and gods started to make him philosophically debate the nature of the latter.
Looking at his comrades, it seemed like that puzzle was also similarly forming in their heads. With each tense sway and swing of the scales, a picture started to form and it was… disturbing. At least to their own beliefs and preconceptions.
But it made sense considering everything that Wodime did and how he acted.
Benevolence...
Charity…
Justice…
Kindliness…
A sense of genuine glee and innocence…
A righteous sort of perspective…
A broader mindset that took heed not just the suffering and actions of America but all of the world…
And a frightening sense of genuine judgment, insight, and understanding of humans in nearly all (perhaps every) category. He talked like an impartial observer. One who wished to be close to people despite his stature and size of influence upon the world.
"For in faith, we find the best and worst in humanity. Like how a collective sort of empathy powers the hope of others to see how better they can be, or like how violence justified or not is a solution that both vindicates good people and bad people alike."
One that acted human despite his air being something beyond that.
It nagged at him recalling his old man, who was the nastiest person alive, still read that damn book. He still remembered, even in small doses, the descriptions of the Son of God.
And the many, many people that believed in him as they looped that rhetoric like the dumb cunts that they were over and over.
Butcher fearfully looked at the swaying scales again as he consciously gulped.
It scared him that all of those people were somehow right.
That, even if this wasn't… Christian or at all, there was still a…
"…and to our ancestors, with limited understandings compared to our own, inevitably would hail anything supernatural, or anything they could not explain or understand as work of the beyond. Of divinity. Of Gods."
… and he was now humoring that impossibility of rationalizing what they were seeing now.
God (ironically), he was actually scared shitless of this.
But what… explanation was there? Even as his rational mind tried to argue, vehemently and violently that this could just be an illusion, a veil to scare them because some powers can do it…
He just couldn't. There was this primordial feeling encroaching on his heart.
There was a deep, instinctual nagging of overwhelming awe and fear that wished for him to tuck his tail and run. This wasn't Supe bullshit. There was something actually in play here.
"And belief is what made them that way to Man." Wodime finished as the beautiful canvas of stars and heavenly bodies stopped moving, instead returning to the calm night sky that minutes ago was a brightly, warm sunny noon. It was then that Wodime slowly returned his focus back to him. It was then that his brightened expression of peacefully explaining as best as he could to the uninitiated mind the broader reaches of their problem at hand suddenly stopped.
It was then that his softened, insightful expression turned into awkward shock and surprise at his guests who were looking at him in pure, unadulterated fear. The same expression that reminded him of the very first time he, Kirschtaria Wodime, scared the living daylights out of Ritsuka Fujimaru and their crew of servants in Atlantis.
The silence against the cosmic landscape was only broken by the quiet swings of Astraea's scales of Order.
"Um… I-I'm afraid we have a misunderstanding here." Wodime awkwardly and shamefully admitted as he now realized quickly what his mistake was. Yet his guests still never wavered with that gaze.
Particularly Butcher…
William Butcher always answered to a religious cunt, gladly, what he'd say if he was given, somehow, the ability to ask and talk to God personally; various colorful, wonderful things that his creative mouth could spew given his frustrations and stress on reality.
Faced with an apparent opportunity now, he's never felt so small in his life.
And ironically, he could never muster any of that bluster and arrogance anymore, faced with something that actually fit that moniker through and through.
"W-Wait… I can explain." Wodime said as everyone flinched and collectively felt as if they needed to back away from him, but were frozen on the spot due to Astraea's ministrations.
Helplessly, Wodime then finally remembered, that because of years of living in a mage family, years of being embroiled in politics, and his entire air and reputation being as larger-than-life than what it currently was…
The Night Before…
"Master… have you ever considered that this might… probably make explaining things to them, harder?" Astraea said as she looked over the neatly drawn itinerary-like guide Wodime had written for himself in his little notepad. Which nearly took half of the pages of said notepad.
"Hm? Is this Astraea I'm talking to, or Ms. Edefelt right now?" he asked innocently, like a young boy who was inexperienced on how normal people worked. Not that they could blame him. Outside of his friends in Team A, the only 'normal' person Wodime had ever interacted deeply with was an incognito Solomon, a talentless final master of Chaldea, and the child that had changed his perspective on life for the better. Even for Astraea's host, who was as rich and high in status in society and in the world of Magi, Wodime's interpersonal skills when he wasn't meeting with people politically in an official status was… lacking.
But not in a malicious way. He just… never experienced what it was like, closely and on a broader aspect, what it meant to be normal like most of society was. Those examples of people he confided in, were admittedly, far… far away from being 'normal' as individuals for they possessed quirks, perspectives, and mindsets that were far removed enough from what people may call normal.
So, in other words… Kirschtaria Wodime was a bit clueless about this department despite being the smartest person between them both at that moment.
"Master… as comprehensive and amazing as this would be on paper, I don't really see them being as… receptive to this, I think. Building trust oftentimes needs a more human touch to make both sides accept such a connection."
"But I made it as easy and as insightful as I could? Is it still insufficient?" Wodime said as he looked over his notepad.
"No Master, that's not the point. I'm simply saying that perhaps you approach them less as the style you do when with people on an official status, and more as a… person."
Wodime frowns helplessly, as he looks at his notepad.
"How do I do that though?" he innocently asked her.
… he was left to understand what Astraea, and by courtesy, Ms. Edefelt meant.
Even with all the alterations suggested by his fellow comrades last night, even Caenis', he still failed. Because of how used he was to acting like the way he naturally did to both close friends and official business, he slipped.
And now the wrong message had been cast. Much to his blush of shame.
"Oh dear." He whispered to himself.
Even Astraea, who was supposed to be an impartial arbitrator slipped as she released a sigh.
AN: For as good as Wodime is both in canon and this story when it comes to being a leader and functional important figure that people can flock to, his usual demeanor and aura of authority, especially to people who don't know him, is overwhelming.
It's only when you look into him more, as you talk to him and become his friend that you realize he's a very wholesome guy, at least in terms of how he interacts with people he cares about. But outside of that? He does fit in with the Olympians on a surface-level basis.
A far, out-of-reach figure that people can only look up to, rather than see, on their level.
Which we will get to see his own development in the next few chapters as he similarly tries to leave, temporarily, the world of the corporate, and have a vacation to see what he's fighting for in a more intimate and deeper sort of light. And because his servants want him to due to being overworked.
The next chapter is gonna be pretty big, shoring up the perspectives of Wodime trying to fix the misunderstanding, introducing the Olympians, Sefar, HL, and Zeus and their little chat about fatherhood, and Artoria making a statement.
As for more interesting points of the current chapter's creation, the whole concept of Drake's little lesson was of my readings on the topic of Pirate/Privateer/Admiral dynamics in the time period they were in. It's very interesting that despite their otherwise rebellious attitude to the governments that they were against, they were democratic.
So, in order to get the loyalty and trust of the crew and the overall fleet (without being thrown overboard or assassinated) they would have to earn that. Of course, this is just a gross oversimplification of that subject, and politically there are those who do other things to become captain/admiral. But yeah the concept was primarily based on that.
Some readings if you're all interested:
- Leeson, P. T. (2007). An-arrgh-chy: The law and economics of pirate organization. Journal of Political Economy, 115(6), 1049–1094. /10.1086/526403
- Land, I. (2007). Tidal waves: The new cultural history of pirates. Historian, 69(3), 436–453. /10.1111/j.1540-6563.2007.00193.x
- Rediker, M. (1987). Between the devil and the deep blue sea: Merchant seamen, pirates, and the Anglo-American maritime world, 1700-1750. Cambridge University Press.
As for the whole creation of the exposition that Wodime tried to convey, it was in essence 'What if an Atheist somehow met and felt God's presence face to face?'. A more, I guess ironic recreation of the Moses and the Burning Bush moment in Exodus.
When you think about it, broadly speaking, Comic or TV show. Nobody has expressed power or the like that reaches the things that the servants, especially the stronger ones (at their highest ends), can actively do in The Boys. Nor even special individuals like Aoko, Zel, Daybit, even Shirou if he can activate UBW, or even Ritsuka at full Shadow Servant potential.
Much less Wodime, that without his injury, the main constraint that stopped him from getting to his full potential (and because of environmental factors in PHH), could effectively look as overwhelming and shockingly 'Divine' to people whose understanding of powers ends at Homelander.
(Also he did not actually change the day from noon to night)
So, while the presentation, to Wodime, might seem casual or insightful, entertaining, and awe-inspiring, he never truly grasped enough that his small little bit of Astromancy would cause such a mortally, instinctual reaction.
Under the hood, the main reason why it was more visceral to the CIA group was because of the origin of the current humanity that lives in this world, a small feedback of energy between Wodime and the group was shared. Like a Bluetooth device being turned on and pairable devices detecting its presence.
And of course, Astraea's scales of judgment.