Antecedent 0.5
WARNING. POSSIBLE CANON DIVERGENCE INCOMING. PLEASE ADVISE FOR FUTURE CHAPTERS. AND MAYBE POTENTIAL REWRITES.
"So, question five, what are your powers exactly? I have enough information about you, but you've been quite vague about what they are." My character enthusiastically claps my hands.
"I don't know too much about them yet, but from what I've seen so far, I've been able to use the characteristics of animals for myself, like the shell of a crab for example." I flick my hand out and tense it to demonstrate. She nods and jots something down on her clipboard.
"Fascinating. Does it have limits?" I shrug exaggeratedly.
"Haven't found any yet, no. If I was part of the Wards, I'd probably be able to explore them a bit more." The undersides of her eyes crease. She's smiling.
"Noted. Question six: why do you want to join in the first place?" I manufacture a breath to give out exaggeration, nervousness, and friendly snark. It's difficult to do with a mask over my mouth, but Miss Militia herself deserves my best performance.
"Other than wanting to help the city, I really want to be able to keep people safe." My smile is precisely a combination of mischievousness and excitement. "I've always admired how the Wards have done it, and for most of my life I've wanted to be part of them. I only recently got my powers, so now that I have them, my dream can be realized." She nods and writes something on her clipboard.
"Question seven, and the last one, other than the Wards, is there another person you look up to?" My character's smile deepens as I let out a small chuckle. I quickly search for the first thing that comes to mind.
"...There's a man who, while not having a job as important as yours, was one of the most passionate people I've ever met. When I met him, he wanted to change the world." My character feels a laugh coming up as I continue. "I still remember something he said to me. 'We have to end apartheid for one. And slow down the nuclear arms race, stop terrorism and world hunger. We have to provide food and shelter for the homeless, and oppose racial discrimination and promote civil rights, while also promoting equal rights for women.'" Her eyebrows arch quizzically.
"He seems to be quite the man. Who was he?" I almost can't keep my character from having a fit of laughter.
"I call him Mr. Bateman. He works as a lawyer in Manhattan." Good movie. I watched it a night or two ago and found it mildly relatable. No clue why it's the first thing on my mind, though. It seems to have worked, since Miss Militia is all smiles from the parts of her face I can see.
"Hm. I think we have everything we need for today. We'll look over this, but try not to get your hopes up too much. The last Ward who joined was Shadow Stalker and it was mostly in lieu of a criminal record, so…" This piqued my interest. I switch my character's smile to a mildly inquisitive smirk.
"How do you pick Wards? Is it through comparison, preference? I've always wanted to know." Miss Militia blew some air out of her nose.
"Sorry, but I can't tell you too much. Applications go through a certain group of people, yes, but that's all I can say. It'll be reviewed tonight, and tomorrow, you can ask the receptionist if you were accepted." My mind flashes with annoyance and grim acceptance. After begrudgingly answering almost twenty questions, I had hoped that I'd get more of a confirmation on my membership. At least I know my time limit. I nod and hold out my character's hand.
"Alright. I'll be seeing you soon then." Miss Militia hummed amusedly as she accepted the shake.
"As I said, you'll be meeting with the receptionist first. You will only see me again if you've been accepted." My character lets out a short laugh.
"I know. As I said, I'll be seeing you soon." I hold the grip for a moment longer, just to keep her hand in mine for a second more, before letting go. My father, who is next to me on the couch, does the same, with a half-fake smile.
As we walk out of the building, my father turns to me with a confused face.
"Taylor, what's going on?" I turn my head to him, mask on, and my character responds sunnily.
"What do you mean, Dad?" He stops. The security guards are less than a meter away.
"Before the meeting, you asked me to stay quiet." I keep moving without him, mask on, and turn away.
"Come on, I'm hungry. You promised lunch after this!" The sound of faintly angry footsteps follow behind me.
"I thought you were just taking initiative, but that meeting…you just kept ly-" I turn on my heel and my character interrupts him, a joyous tone coming from my throat.
"Dad, we can talk in the car. We'd be sitting, and be able to talk easier, and I reeeeeally wanna go home soon." My eyes gain a glint of firmness as my character looks over to him. He doesn't move for a moment, unsure what to do. Eventually, he sighs and follows me as we walk to the car.
I sit in the copilot seat as my father turns the keys in the ignition. My character smirks. In a year or two, I'd be eligible to drive. A faint image of me driving in a Chevrolet appears in my mind. One from the sixties. I once saw one in a documentary for something related to astrology, I think. It mentioned zodiacs at some point.
I snap out of this thought when I see we are away from the PRT building. I slide off my mask. My character disappears along with it. I look over to my father.
"Father, you nearly gave me away back there." I see a crease form on his forehead.
"Why did you lie? I know I'm not their biggest fan, but I still try to tolerate them at least…" Contempt floods me. I sigh lightly.
"Tell me, father. You see how I am now, yes?" I stare at him, mask off, with dead eyes. "Would the Wards really accept someone like me?" I look off through the windshield at the surrounding area. "I am most probably a psychopath of a sort, considering the lies, the emotional dullness, the disregard for others' emotions especially." I pause. "They would not even consider me if they knew." I look back at him, his crease gone. "I intend to find my way in either way. A good psychopath would do wonders for their PR, wouldn't it?" He tries to hide it, but I see the crease return. I disregard it.
The night air is crisp and damp, and I am having my evening stroll, though this time not on the Boardwalk.
The city streets is not the ideal place for this in normal circumstances. There are usually thugs of all sorts looking to steal someone's money, drug dealers looking for customers, Empire Eighty-Eight flunkies looking for potential new recruits or minorities to hassle. I do not have to worry about any of these groups; I am white, I don't need drugs, and I can defend myself with the revolver hidden in my overcoat. It doesn't seem like there is anyone on the street tonight, so I fortunately do not have to waste my remaining four bullets.
I bring my hand out of my pocket and tense it. It seems to harden almost instantly, taking a few seconds at most. The streetlamps above me give it a sheen as it reflects the light off, making it look almost plastic. I stop tensing and the plasticky sheen disappears. An idea comes to my mind and I start paying more attention to the walls. If I can find what I'm looking for…here we are.
My eyes focus on the entrance of an alleyway, where a spiderweb hangs from wall-to-wall. A faint spring of hope rises in my stomach. I search the web intently for that which spun it, at one point getting on the tips of my toes; it was quite a height from the ground. I eventually give up with my eyes and close them, searching for it mentally. A few seconds pass as my sphere of control expands. Some flies, a few ants, a cockroach or two under the loose bricks, and…there it is. I command it to move to where I am and open my eyes. Slowly, from the top of the web, a black spider crawled down. It had a little red marking on its abdomen, signifying it as a black widow. Perfect for me. It keeps moving until we are at eye level with each other. I stare into its eight eyes and see myself. I look vile. I feel satisfied and dismiss the spider.
I continue to walk to my destination. Unlike my previously aimless walks, I have a purpose this time. Statistically, and realistically, there is a very low chance that I would be picked to join the Wards, and I needed the membership. They probably got hundreds of applications and candidates, and even if they didn't, I currently have a very underdeveloped power. I'm sure there are always others that they would have more effective use for. It's lucky I don't care about effectiveness at the moment.
My journey comes to an end as I see my destination in the near distance. My lower lip twitches. I reach into my overcoat and pull out my mask, making sure to check my surroundings. No one is here. My lip twitch is harder this time. I pull it over my head, fitting it into place. Satisfied, I look up at the back of the PRT building. I tense my fingers and they tingle. It feels different to the beetleskin tingle I've grown accustomed to. I press the tips of my thumb and index finger together and try to pull them apart. It feels sticky. I do the same with the wall. Still sticky. The lip twitch comes back a final time, almost making me smirk. I place both hands on the building and start to climb.