[RFC] Going Native. (With Edits)

[Dartz]

And More:

------------

Worm was a story. This was a World.

From day zero I knew, I had to be here for a reason. It sounds almost ridiculous – bordering on solipsism, but it made the most sense. It explained everything.

I am the external force to the system.

People do not simply wake up as their younger, pointy-bearded self without a bloody good reason. With the shit I knew and the whole train of coincidences that led to me here, through Leviathan to getting off the Amtrak in Brockton Bay.

There had to be a fucking reason for it, right? For something like this to happen.



Something, somewhere wanted me here. The only reason it could want me here with what I knew, was to save the world. It falls to me to right the wrongs and make the right shit happen when it needs to. I'm special. This is my reason for being here. It seemed logical. It made for a bloody handy crutch. Something to keep me going, in spite of this place.

I sat down, and worked at it. I worked out my own plan to save the world. – to do everything right first time.

I knew I'd forget things.

Not being a moron, I wrote it all down on my computer, straight off the top of my head. All the little details, the triggers, the dates, the pivotal moments. If you-know-who ever showed up, I'd even planned for that. I must've put down over a megabyte of notes – maybe more. Stuff I'd glanced at in WoG threads that'd never made it to fiction. Even a few fanfics came with a good ideas to write down and think about. Hours upon hours were poured in to plotting the right course, the right things to say or do, the right moment to give just that little nudge.

Because I couldn't afford to fuck this up.

Approach it as an engineering project, rather than a heroic one. Man, Materials, Method, Machine, Environment all done up in Herringbone diagram charting my own personal path to victory, all the little causes aiming towards each effect I wanted.

But Worm was a story. This was a World.

And a million words couldn’t compare to the breadth and depth of an entire planet.

Something came up on the news. An anniversary in Boston. Remember Damsel of Distress? A one-note character who served just to suffer at the hands of the Nine? Not in reality.

She killed a fucking honest to Christ Kaiju in Boston.

So try a new plan. A different idea? Maybe try the You Know Who route for protection?

A young, upcoming hero given the name Teastailí triggered with the ability to move between doorframes, brought in a rogue, amnesiac Case 53 named Cichoil. Na Fianna had already welcomed him with open arms.

I recognised the pattern.  My biggest asset stopped being an asset the moment I use it. After that, another nobody who just knows too much. One more nemesis to make a new hero look good.

I knew so little, because none of it mattered to the story of Taylor Hebert.

And what I had to do changed with everything I found out. What if I do this? What if I do that? Be careful, one slipup and the world ends. Try a new route. Same roadblock.

Or that one cape I didn’t think of.

Again.

Again.

Hammering my head against a brick wall. I know enough to know where I start. But what next? Try to befriend Taylor. Save her from the Locker. What now? What happens to the whole of the 20th century if someone trips Gavrilo Princip on his way to have a sandwich and stops some damn foolish thing in the Balkans?

How much inertia does history really have? Only time travellers know the truth for sure but I stared the question in the face. History is nothing but the unlikely sum of infinite coincidence, someone once said. I couldn't disagree. Reality is so unlikely.

Try again. What if I try this?

Watch it all fall apart. Again. The same problems – the same uncertainties. I stared at the future.

It all seemed so inevitable.

One more go.

Then shatter when the drive I had it all stored on hit the wall with a scream.

I staggered to my feet. Months of work and sleepless nightmares crash to a head. I feel the break, hot like capsule filled with liquid had broken in the back my head. The string I'd hung my sanity to finally snapped. I stood, dazed for a moment, like my mind missed a gear. My thoughts caught up.

I ran from the apartment in a haze of a panic. One thought rang clear.

I'm done here. More an impulse, than a solid phrase. It clanged around in the back of my mind. I'm leaving now. I took the lift to the top of the building, glaring at a scrawled swastika with the 14 words beneath it.

Another reminder. Another reason to go. Even if the fuckin eejit who drew it did it backwards.

If I'm lucky, maybe I'll finally wake from the nightmare.

The roof was cold. The autumn rain bit. I paced around on the gravel, shivering. I stepped up once. Then talked myself down. Again, I stepped up. I talked myself down. In the back of my mind, it whispered and whirled around, spoken almost by the people I knew more than myself.

He jumped. He killed himself. He just hit the ground. Why. He jumped. He's after committing suicide. He just killed himself.

I caught the intruders. Alarmed, I walked towards the door. It felt inevitable. Irresistible. I stopped, before pacing again.

My whole body wrung itself taught, trying to tear itself apart. In the back of my head, a pulse threatened to become a headache. The busy sound of city traffic rose up from below, calling. I stepped up to the parapet for the third time and looked over.

Fifteen stories. Straight down.

It'd take 2.1 seconds to hit the ground. Give-or-take. I could do the sums in my head.

Fuck me, I remember thinking.

Above, the sickly yellow cloud broke, the stars above watching me. For some broken reason, I found myself thinking about Taylor and the final line. We're all so small.

He just jumped. He's falling. He killed himself. He's dead. He ended his life. He fell. He's gone. I could hear everyone say it. I could see it through their eyes.

The void called and I answered. My feet moved. I felt the wind scream through my mind. Hard concrete rushed up to meet. Windows flashed by. I tumbled.

I looked up. I reached back for the parapet

I'm going to die.

It rang clear as a church bell.

I've just killed myself.

I really don't want to die.

I Panic. I Scream. I reach out to try grab anything. Nothing but thin air find my fingers. Because I know – even if I couldn't save the world – I could've saved myself. I could've made it through everything. I could've been okay.

If only I...

Bang.

It hits. Mid-thought, like lightning through the skull, shattering my mind and I see it as a train of cat-scan images, discrete slivers in 3 dimensions of something that dwarved time and space itself, making a full-on scream-through bombing run over the solar-system spalling shattered world-sized missiles off in glittering rain. One missile aims towards me, laser guided, zooming in like the last few seconds of a wartime missile-eye newscast and I could see myself looking up at the incoming hellfire like one of so many hapless feckers broadcast live to the world on CNN.

I know what's happening. I try to run. Too late.

Hey you, you poor dumb fuck, I choose you.

And then...

I'm back on the roof, stepping up to the parapet, feeling like I woke up from a nightmare. I stepped down, dazed and dizzy, my head ringing like a bell. Maybe I didn't...

My Power slammed home, alien energies bolting through my brain, filling my body and confirming everything I wished I didn't know. It didn't fade like a dream – it lingered like the worst nightmares, chiselled in the back of my mind.

I can still remember it.

Congratulations! You've just had your very own genuine Trigger Event.

Bet won without ever getting close to showing half of its worst. And Bet rewarded me with one final insult. It welcomed me as its own child in the most complete way imaginable. It did it just to spite me. The one in ten-thousand roll that came up just for me.

That's what you earn for being arrogant enough to think it's all about you being the one. I'm sorry if you were expecting a badass story, making deals for vials of awesome Power, or something deliciously disgusting. Like I said, I did it to myself.

Beaten, empty, exhausted, with nothing else to do, I stumbled back towards the lift. The same Swastika waited for me. A hot flash of anger and hard punch left a dent in the metal wall. I couldn't take it out on the universe, but I could annoy some Nazi somewhere.

I made it back to a cold and empty apartment.

The wreckage of the drive made its way to the bin, along with everything on it. The backups still lived on another drive.

The idea to try again came to the front. The newborn Power simmering in my mind warned of the consequences.

I looked at what I’d have to do, and realised why each and every attempt would fail.  I couldn’t bring myself to be that much of a heartless scumbag – to make the hard, cold blooded choices.

My finger found the delete key

My Power brought it all back again, more to prove that it could, than anything.

I deleted it all for the second time. Erased. Gone. Overwritten with zeroes then formatted clean.

I had time.

Time to make a start on being okay.

Time to make a good few months, a good two years and do what I wanted, rather than getting to the end of it with a massive ball of stressful, terrified regrets Skitter-style.

I went to school. I made friends.

--

“Thanks,” Taylor said.

Both of us waited for different shoes to drop. After a few moments without mysterious fedora-wearing visitors or a terrible threesome to give chase, we both assumed we’d get away with it.

The world continued to turn.

I gave her the usual run-through I gave all passengers on how not to get us both killed by gimballing around corners, and how to communicate over the noise of the engine. I waited for her to squelch into place on the slab of a passenger seat before booting the engine back to life.

She gripped tight as the bike lurched, steadied herself, then clung-on to the tail.

That's all it took. Nobody stopped me. Nobody stopped her.

The pair of us passed out of the school gates, took a right turn, and left the pages of the story for something new.

The idea shot through me like a bullet, turning up the heat on the idea simmering at the back of my mind. Tonight, the girl on the back of my bike would don the Cape for the first time, go bug a dragon, meet some new friends and be back home in time for breakfast.

Or something like that.

A tap on my shoulder told me to take the next right.

A quick detour to avoid a bollicking from the cops caused her to tense, expecting the worst for a few minutes, before we turned back to the main streets.

Another left. Another right. Riding like I carried a statue of glass on the back.

Back on track, she relaxed. The future sat on my pillion seat. Try not to Crash. Try not to get her arrested. The weight of the world hung of the back of my bike, clinging to my every thought and action. Every twist of the throttle could turn an apocalypse into a total annihilation.

Both of us sat on edge.

My fingers blanched white.

Another tap, another left onto Lord Street then a short sharp jerk on the throttle, followed by two rapid pats.

Stop.

Outside an old house that I knew probably had one gammy step, and which looked a lot more comfortable than our apartment. Her costume sat in the coal chute, waiting for tonight.

She stepped off the bike, taking a moment to fix her hair and glasses.

“Thanks,”Taylor said.“But I won't join your group.”

“I don't remember asking,”

“That's what everyone like you wants,” she said. Bug powers or what, I couldn't escape the fact that those eyes seemed to bore through my mind, like she could read my soul. Her eyes just seemed that much bigger than they should’ve been.  “That's the only reason people like you help anyone.”

“And what's that?”

“Because there's something in it for you.”

She stood and stared, letting the accusation bed in. A little gratitude wouldn't go amiss, I mean, I did just potentially enter the fucking firing line for you.

I clenched my hand on the handlebar, grounding the thought to earth.

“Y'know, maybe I was just trying not to be a complete shitehawk.” It came out with far more of a snap then a I wanted, but I didn't care. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Maybe you should head back to school before they start looking for you,”

“They won't give two wet shites,” I shrugged. “Probably glad to be rid of me.”

“That's nothing to be proud of.”

My Power fizzled in the back of my mind, offering me a way out.

I took it, took a breath and felt her step off the back of the bike.

“Thanks,”Taylor said, again. “But I won't join your group.”

What could I say, when she's already made her mind up about me.

“The least I could do after yesterday, that's all,”

Let's go with that. Let's leave it at that.

Again, her eyes studied, staring through me. I stared back, daring her to disagree.

“I'll see you around, so,” I said, throttling the bike before she had a chance.

My effort gained me a stained pillion seat, sticky leathers, the knowledge that Taylor probably didn't like me anyway, and the afternoon off school.

So not a complete bloody waste.

Honestly, what could I have done to make that go better? Even with my Power, I can't really manipulate people – I just don't have the skill.. And what sort of sick fuck would I be to use what I knew about her to fuck with her head?

Who the fuck would do that, honestly?

Would you?

Maybe I could've gone all out, to make her like me, but honestly, that'd make me no better than fucking Emma. Just using private shite I know to really fuck with her.

Yeah. I'm done.

--

This is the point where normally we'd get some sort of an interlude or something spoken in Taylor's voice that gave the second part of the Rashomon puzzle and told what she made of the whole experience, and what disastrous little breezes have or haven't been whipped up by my butterfly wings.

I guess you'll just have to live in the same suspense I did.

She didn't like me. Well, it's not like I expected anyone to fall madly in love over one random act of kindness.

At least now, I wouldn't get dragged into the whirlwind. My conscience had been soothed. My few moments of interaction with the plot had ended. I'd added maybe a footnote to Chapter one and maybe a new name to the taglist.

If I even deserved one.

My phone chimed in my pocket, bringing me back to the real world

Damo: Wher u at?

Me: Lord Street

Damo: Whatre u doing there?

Me: Gave a friend a lift home

Damo: Weve Lisas stuff Its fuckin gonzo

Me: Really

Damo: mailed u Aki is all WTF

Me: Grand. Will grab it in library.

Damo: Tell Aki, she wants to talk

Me: This might be too much trouble.

Damo: Too late

Fuck.

Me: Will talk later when I see it.

It rang before I could put it back in my jacket pocket. Mam's number.

“Yeah, what do you want?”

“Ian, where are you?”

“At School?”

With surprisingly heavy traffic in the hallway.

“Then why did they call wondering where you are?”

Bollocks. I used my Power to turn my phone off before taking the call, rather than worry about dealing with that.

Why do I have to be the only student Winslow gives a shit about?

--

What started as a well-intentioned visit to the library to catch up on schoolwork in peace and quiet quickly devolved into a load of bollocksing around on the internet about North American capes and their tendency to appropriate cape-names from European mythology – and then complain and branding when EU capes dipped into the same well.

In another window, I had the rest of the Mill in chat with the final answer to the Lisa question.

Akiko; She has our next quiz.

Damo; Yep

Me: Shit.
Me; Did she say what she wanted with it?

Akiko; Told me to figure it out myself. I could take the deal or leave it.

Andy; What I want to know is how she got it?

Akiko: Not on netwrok

Andy; And if we can make money out of it.
Andy; Just cos I wont work for free.

Roberta; Not worth much?

Akiko; Not worth anything. Most people in class passing fine. Just us nerds.

So. What's her game? Why would she want to pass a class she didn't even take? Tattletale I amn't. I couldn't see the wood for the trees.

Me; Do we still want to work with her?
Me; Ive a veryu bad feeling about this.

Akiko;. Me too.
Akiko; But I really need Gym credit. And cheer will do it.

Andy; What happened to not wanting to work with her?

Akiko; I think I figured out how to handle her
Akiko; I walked away. Told her No. She threatened me.
Akiko;  I handled it.

Damo; Cool. Mind me asking how?

Akiko; Why?

Damo; Dont want to piss the entire cheer off.

Akiko; No No nothing like that. Just reminded her of some new facts she didnt know.

Damo; Im intrigued

Me; AOL!

Roberta; ?? AOL?

Me; Obscure meme, you wouldn't remember

Akiko; Ive changed in a year. Thats all.
Akiko;  I have this

Me; If you want to do it. But this feels wrongness

Stupid autocomplete.

Roberta; Your decision Akiko

Akiko: I will be careful.

Roberta: Good enough for me

Damo: Your call Aki.

Andy; Go for it.

That decided that.

Damo; Bells ringing here, time to go.

Me: Righto. Ill have everyones schedules before you get home.

Roberta: Member. Im busy Thursday.

They ran back to class. I sat back in my chair. Having a Power helped me become a sane and well-adjusted human being.

The thought brought a smile to my face as I wiled the last school hour away, browsing the list of traders at the Market today and what they sold. I found a new headlight,  a fresh set of contact points and two lightweight batteries – nothing that broke the bank, but useful nonetheless. All things that'd make the Honda a little bit happier.

All things that let me feel in control of my life again, like an adult.

I picked up my phone to give the trader a call, only to find I'd turned it off a few hours earlier. The phone took its time rebooting, with a half dozen voicemail messages waiting

All came from the same number. Bollocks. Back to being sixteen again. Biting the bullet, I called the Mammy. The phone didn't even ring once.

“Oh Jesus Ian, you're alright,”

Oops.

“Yeah, ran out of battery. Sorry”

“I was in the horrors trying to call you.” Just so I knew how much being so careless made her suffer. “God help me the school called and told me you never showed up and you left this morning and after last night I was almost ready to start calling the police have you any idea...”

It actually brought a guilty smile to my face.

“Mam, mam... I gave a friend a lift home. Some bullies doused her with minerals. I gave her a lift. That's all.

It had the virtue of being true. Except the friend part.

“You should've told me!”

“Yeah mam. I'll be going to the Market to find some bike parts before work.”

“Fine,” she sighed, making it clear again just how much extra suffering I'd caused. “Be back before six. Or your dinner will be in the dog.”

No matter what you do, an Irish mammy will always find a way to make you feel guilty for it.

------


The sun began to slip behind Captain's Hill, pulling a long shadow across the city. Only the tops of the tallest buildings were still picked out by the burning sunset. A metaphor for the world at large? Something about it seemed familiar, like I'd heard it before.

I parked around the back of a single story concrete building that’d optimistically been named the Brockton Bay Brewing Company– a ripping backfire through a rusted exhaust disturbing the beer garden. I had the key for the cellar door on my keyring. It'd begun life as a Cold War bomb shelter, even with both hands, lifting it open could be tricky. Getting several centimetres of steel to shut without losing fingers -even with the help of some gas-sprung assistance - was an art.

Creaking wooden stairs lead me down into a harshly lit bunker filled with steaming stainless steel machinery. I couldn't help but feel a little spark of pride seeing it all gleaming in there under flourescent light.

“I'm here!” I called out, dropping my jacket on an old wooden stool.

“I heard,” the oulfella answered from the bar. “You're ten minutes late,”

“Had to go around a gang war.”

“Again?”

“Up at Sycamore. The Empire's fighting the Asians again.”

“So long as it stays over there.”

I climbed up the concrete stairs into the bar proper, the low humm of conversation and the scent of cool beer enveloping me, mingled with polished pine and stale farts. At six on a Wednesday evening, only a few were sipping away on a quiet pint after work. Otherwise, the bar was mostly empty.

The decor mixed Irish and American in almost equal parts, a few of the usual ornaments of an Irish pub mingling with that warm, almost wooden-cabin feel that the best American bars offered. Memories of home hung on the walls along with the usual neon tat every local bar had to rely on to set the mood. Less Cape-stuff than everywhere else in the Bay, which some people appreciated. A pool table earned me easy money for a few months before people got wise.

The decorations from the annual Reinforcin' O' T'stereotypes had finally been taken down, save for one Leprechaun that'd hurl insults at people when given a 25 cent coin.  He sat at the end of the bar, handling tips.  A deerslayer shotgun and a box of cartridges lived beneath it in easy reach in case something happened.

Like I said, equal parts Irish and America.

The oulfella stood beside the taps, more focused on achieving 'The Perfect Pour' than the fact that I'd come up from the cellar.  While sober or not watching the rugby, he was the quiet man, shorter than me but somehow managing to seem bigger, starting to get a little bit on the overweight side and with the hair greying. Not quite over the hill, but getting closer to the top with every Day. He still wore a scar under his eye from a hurling accident when he'd been my age.

“There's a problem with one of the controllers and the system went into alarm If it's not fixed in an hour, we lose the whole brew.“

I'll bet you thought I served drinks. Yeah. No. That would be illegal, for a start.

“What sort of problem?”

“I don't know. It just shut down after giving a warning on one of the flowrates through the lower kieve. The system really needs better failure messages.”

He'd latched over into manager mode. That made me tech-support.

“I'm sorry it's not Aspentech,” I deadpanned.

“I didn't mean it like that,” he said, his tone softening as he looked at me for the first time. “Try fix it. Or at least get the beer moving. We lose a lot of money if you don't.”

I'll be honest, I loved doing this sort of thing. Problem solving. Not the silly sort of philosophical problems like saving a potential Hitler from the Titanic, but practical problems. I loved making shit work.

At the apparent age of fifteen, I designed and built the entire fucking control system for the microbrewery. Guess what? In another life, control systems and datalogging and renewable energies had been my profession.  It provided stainless steel proof that everything I knew had been real and that this had all really happened to me. It'd probably all be gone in a month's time....

That hit me like a brick. Take a deep breath.

I took ten minutes outside getting some evening air to clear my mind, sitting on the open cellar door. Everywhere else had closed down for the night, save for some of the other bar. A nightclub nearby vibrated the ground.

An airliner cruised overhead.

Beyond, the city lights washed out the majority of the stars, except for one brilliant point sailing high above. Not a shooting star or a space station, but something else.

A cold chill ran its fingers along my spine. I wondered if it watched me. I decided not to care.

I went back inside and fixed the problem – nothing more than a stuck valve asking for a system reset. No big deal. The beer must flow. Back upstairs to report my extreme success, I noticed Mr. Quinlan from Winslow had taken up his usual station propping up the bar.

The oulfella discussed the vagaries of the brewing process with a dockworker who dabbled in homebrew while Van Morrison played quietly on the stereo to provide background ambience.

All normal.

Until Two men entered. I felt the hair on the back of my neck bristle, recognising both of them immediately; Ryan and Armin. A pair of fucking white skinheads in red-lace boots and leather jackets, grinning like they owned the place. Armin, with a face like a gammon ham, threatened to burst from his black jacket. Ryan had his skin drawn taught across his bones, like he hadn’t eaten in a month, stubble extruding from his chin under pressure.

Fucking stereotype nazis.

“Hey! Hey! It's that time of the month,” Ryan announced. Everyone's eyes went to him as Armin took up lookout by the door.

My eyes immediately went to the shotgun.

One of these days, BAM! Right in the face. I'd have a few seconds to enjoy it just before stepping back, and all they'd ever know of it would be the stupid grin I was wearing.

Because I fucking hated Nazi's.

I hated the studded leather jackets they wore. I hated the Sig runes. I hated the Totenkopf tattoos that flashed up from under their sleeves. I hated their Fourteen Words and I hated how the oulfella just sighed and reached for the envelope he'd prepared earlier.

“A thousand dollars, all there,”

Ryan whipped it out of his hand, grinning like a farmer surveying some particularly fat livestock. I stood there like a boiler with a stuck safety valve, pressure building into the red.

“The Empire sends its thanks.”

The oulfella said nothing, just nodding submissively. Ryan looked at me.

“So, you're the boy who built that shiny stuff downstairs huh?  You some sort of tinker?”

Fuck. I felt myself step back. A footstep. Honestly, I didn't know. The idea of getting swallowed up by the Empire machinery sent an electric jolt of fear up my back. Yeah, I wouldn't go willingly, but that wouldn't stop them, would it? They'd just put the screws on people I might've cared about until I finally signed on the dotted line. And once they did that, they had me. Because nobody else would want anything to do with another fucking Nazi, would they?

That's how it worked. I might not be the sharpest, but I knew enough to know that giving them any idea of me having a power would end in a swastika-daubed hell for everyone.

So I said nothing. I just stared right through him, breathing through my nostrils.

“Kaiser said to look out for any tinkers, didn't he, Armin?”

“He did, Ryan. So, what's your power boy?”

His hand slipped inside his jacket, the threat implicit. Again, I thought about the shotgun. It seemed the fast way out.  The oulfella looked at me, fear in his eyes. Just like a year ago. The safety valve in my mind finally popped, and I knew exactly what I had to say.

“Yeah, I have a tinker power,” I said, forcing myself to breath. “It's a rare one too. It's called reading the fuckin' manuals and not being a gobshite.”

They both looked at each other, weighing that up. The whole bar went quiet. The oulfella shrank back, wringing both of his hands together. Yeah, that was exactly what he didn't want me to do. I didn't give a shit. If it went south, I could just undo it again. It'd hurt like hell, but I could do it. Let the steam out, but avoid the consequences. Come up with something smarter.

“I like you boy,” said Ryan, his grin broadening into something that almost savage. “That's why we ain't going to kick the shit out of you this time. C'mon Armin.”

“Right man, more cows to milk.”

The oulfella deflated audibly. I think the whole bar just let out the breath they'd been holding when the door closed behind them.

If they'd discovered my power, I'd've been fucked. Yet another reason not to get involved with anything, if I needed one. Chances were I wouldn't get the luxury of a group as 'pleasant' as the Undersiders if I did.

I glanced at the oulfella for a moment, before retreating downstairs to safety. Footsteps followed me

“Fighting in school is one thing. But for Christ's sakes Ian don't fuck with people who have guns.”

His voice rang of the walls, and I knew I'd hurt him bad. I'd frightened him, left him standing there powerless with the certain knowledge that I was about to get my head kicked in with nothing he could do about it.

“I just..... It's....”

I stepped back out of there rather than try explain it. Back up to the bar, right as the door closed and everyone was breathing their sigh of relief. I stood at the end of the bar, watching the oulfella stew, wanting to say something to me, but not wanting to do it in front of people.

He couldn't know I had a power.

He watched me, waiting for his chance, right up until someone asked him for another beer and it had to be pushed aside.

“I'm going home.” I said. “I have homework to finish,”

A cowardly white lie, but I didn’t care. He waved me off, more concerned with doing his job right than chasing after me to give me a howler. It'd be morning at least before I saw him again if I got out of there fast enough.

The Honda took four hard kicks before it finally fired up, spitting fire and rattling bones.

Still, riding back to the apartment through the 'bay gave peace. In a lot of ways, it wasn't that different from home.  Different gangs generated bomb threats that came with a little more destructive potential maybe, and the buildings downtown reached higher while the urban blight had a different cause, but both cities shared most of the same basic elements.

Gangs, drugs, a homeless problem and a good burger place that existed nowhere else.

One the worst of days, it mocked. On the best, it could almost be home.

Right now, it sat somewhere in between.

I thought it’d been a good day.

Aside from the Nazis.

---
The radio woke me up in the morning, painfully early. Is there anything more frustrating that forgetting to unset your alarm for the weekend?

You're listening to Marty in the Morning, Brockton Bay Radio Nova on Saturday morning and it's the top of the hour and time for the news.

This morning's headline. Landslide in California. Heavy rain in the Los Angeles valley triggers a mudslide. Dozens still missing. Emergency services and California National Guard responding. Parahuman teams en-route. More information as we get it.

The Dockworkers Association backing Mayor Christner's Project 2013 to rejuvenate the
Docks promising tax breaks and city support to any new businesses setting up shop in the new renovations.

Medhall Pharmaceuticals announces fifty jobs in an expansion of it's Brockton manufacturing facility, the news welcomed by the City Council. Chief Executive Max Anders affirmed his commitment to Brockton Bay's future in a public statement yesterday evening.

And now with Today's weather, Amy Wallis. And how does it look out there Amy?

Click. The radio went silent.

Oops.

What more can you say when you've just doomed the world?

Maybe I worried about nothing. Maybe I got the date wrong. Maybe a single random act of kindness just fucked the world. Maybe if I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and said 'Bloody Contessa' three times, the answer would appear. Or a path to something. How about a trade? Not for Power, or money or influence, but blissful ignorance.

Now what?

Fuck.

A morning shower cleared my head.  Maybe, in the last few months, I'd gotten stronger. Or something. I hope. I didn't spiral. I didn't crash. I stared it in the face and let myself understand. Grey eyes stared back at me through the mirror, framed by clammy strands of dark hair.

My fingers drummed on white porcelain. Only one idea came to mind.

“Easier said than done,” I said to myself.

A thump on the door snapped me out of it.

“Ian! Don't take all day in there.”

Back to the real world. The Mammy insisted.  Alright. Mam. I have a Power. I thought about it. Mam, I'm a Parahuman.  Hey, you'll never guess who got Powers...

They aren’t my real family and I still can't be that cruel to them.

Another hard thump shook the door. “I'm going to throw up!”

“You better hurry up,” the oulfella added, sounding more amused than concerned.

“Alright!”

I could go a couple of days without shaving. A quick axe-bath and a towel around the waist  saw me ready to face the world.

I slid the door open. A woman half my size shouldered me out of the way with enough force that I had to catch myself on the outside wall. The door slammed shut behind, biting at my heel

The sound of early morning prayers before the white porcelain altar filled the apartment. The oulfella looked at me over the top of his tea mug.

“Your cooking?”

He calmly set his mug on the table, placing his glasses on top of his copy of The Sun.“You might say that.” The sly expression on his face said far more than that.

One. Two. Three. Plink! The penny hit the floor so hard it bounced a caught me on the nose.

“FUCK!”

The dog barked an answer, before hiding under the table.

“Basically,” the oulfella said in a flat voice. I stood there watching the second head grow on his shoulder. “Well, we thought it was time we started looking to the future again,”      

My mouth outdragged a stalled brain. “Jesus Christ, in this town? With all the shit that's going to happen?”

How could anybody be so cruel to a child?

He looked through me, looking at another man and not a child. “It's time to move forward.   We thought about the future, when we had you and your brother.” He took a breath, placing his hands flat on the table. “We still want to try for that. Even here. Even knowing the risks.”

“Even if you knew it would happen again?” It hissed through my teeth

“We thought about it.” He smiled at me, then nodded, confirming the worst.“Even if I knew, I'd still want to try.”

A brick to the face would've been more welcome. My power sparked, leaving it all to deadtime, dumping my back outside the bathroom door with the mammy puking last night's dinner down the jacks and me standing there struggling to get a hold of myself.

They thought it all through. They didn’t know. I wouldn’t ruin it by telling them.

“Yes?” the oulfella said, placing his copy of The Sun on the table.

“Snapper?” I said.

“It was going to be a surprise.” He chuckled. “I'll have to talk with the bank during the week and maybe you might have to share a little of what you're earning, but it's about time.”

“Congratulations,”

What else could I say?  Of all the little things. That child deserved so much better than it'd ever get. The weight of the universe crushed until I thought my eyes would burst and my brains pop through my ears.

They didn't know. They wouldn't care if they did. They'd try anyway.

I needed space to think. With my braces snapped on beneath a pair of jeans, a cheap t-shirt that barely fit and a good pair of boots, I knew exactly where to find it.

“I'm going out,”

The Mammy didn't even look up at me from her bowl of cereal.

“Don't forget, physio appointment at 1.”

As if I could, having to wear those poxy braces all the time.

The world might’ve been doomed – but life carried on in the meantime.

--

A year ago, I wandered in a daze of disbelief as everything familiar disintegrated around me, replaced by cruel imitations and terrible reality. I stumbled through life, looking for something to hold on to, something to give me being here a purpose beyond Hah! Fuck You! You poor dumb fuck!

I found one.

That kept me going. It kept the aspidistra flying.

For a while.

Until I crash-landed.

At my lowest, face down in the dirt after the hardest of hard landings, I reached out. I found friends. I found a life.

When you get right down to it, I think that's the real difference between me and Taylor. Nobody kept me down. Nobody stopped me from crawling back out. People even offered a hand.

A shallow swell lapped at the pilings for the boardwalk as I stared out over the water. Behind me, the first of the evening neon flickered to life, some shops closing for the day, other bars still just opening. The day shift of tourists gave way to the night shift of clubbers.

In a months' time, it would all be gone. All of it washed away. Now, it vibrated with life. Tourists snapped photographs of Protectorate headquarters as it shone against the darkness, searchlights on the derrick illuminating the bottoms of the clouds.

Damien nudged me on the shoulder “Jesus man, don't look so serious.”

“Just thinking,” I said, folding my arms and leaning down onto the wooden railing.

“About what?” He propped himself up with his elbow, looking at me. His denim jacket hung open to reveal a gaudy Miss Militia t-shirt.

“It's all going away, eventually.” I said, staring out into the night. “Endbringers, end of the world. It'll all come to an end.”

A punch to the shoulder stung. “We come out for a drink on a Saturday and you have to be so goddamn morbid again.”

“Nah, Not morbid,” I said with smile. “Just a reminder to enjoy it while it lasts, because it's never going to come again.”

“Man. You need this more than I do.”

I swallowed a mouthful and it warmed my body to the core, spreading to my fingertips. Warm sake on on cool evening, watching the night roll in off the bay with friends, that sounds almost suspiciously like an ideal of heaven to me.

Time to be courageous. Time to trust my friends. Take a deep breath. My Power warmed itself up, acting as backstop to my fuckups, letting me know I could abort if I had to.

“I have a secret,” I said, before swallowing another mouthful of sake. “And it's a really fucked up one.”

Damien didn't miss a beat.“You secretly like Star Trek.”

“Fuck you! Everyone likes Star Trek.”

A hard knuckle to the shoulder made him wince.

“Ow.”

Akiko giggled.

The world may have been doomed, but I didn't want to be anywhere else.

I didn’t want it to go away.

--

The one thing nobody tells you about Leviathan is the sound. A thousand jet engines blowing through a thousand waterfalls all at once. The thunder, the screams, the collapse of a nearby building, even the sound of my own heartbeat in the dark sloshing through water rushing for the emergency door, all of it lost.

Even my mind washed away in a tidal wave of white noise.

Mindless. Thoughtless. Blank with Terror, a tide of pushing bodies carried me up the ramp against the force of rushing water, washing me up onto the kerb.

A gloved hand hauled me to my feet, drawing me to eye level with a black, visored mask. The hand pointed to the shelter's steel blast-door, a flood of water pushing it closed onto the crowd.

“Hold that door! Das ist Ein Befehl!”

His order rang in my mind as clear as a church bell on Sunday. So I did. I held it against the force of the water, locking my knees against a concrete kerb. I held the door long after the shelter flooded, drowning anyone still trapped inside in churning murk. I held until my knees buckled then gave out and still my mind screamed at me to swim back and hang on, despite the agony. The door slammed shut, breaking the spell, leaving me thrashing for something solid to hang onto as the current grabbed hold.

My world turned to pain, noise,shit, salt and aching cold. Tumbling, scrambling, screaming, gasping, drowning. Naked bloody pain and nothing else kept me awake, sucked feet first through a portal into darkness.

Something hard caught my jacket, pinning my body in place as the water rushed up over my face. Dead after three days, killed by Endbringer.

This is how I die.

Luck took over before this became a short story. My jacket tore. The current carried me through darkened corridors, bashing my body against furniture, doors and railings. Hard edges jabbed, punching the air from my lungs. A gasp for air found only bitter black water, burning my lungs. My body wretched, convulsing, puking, then gasping again.

My arm wrapped around a railing, hauling me over onto my back, cracking my skull off hard concrete stairs. Two clear breaths on my back gave me a flash of hope. Trying to stand up on two ruined legs stole it again.

Agony screamed, leaving me on my back. Black water boiled up, rising past my waist.  carrying shards of debris. Papers. Staplers. Photographs. A cape figurine. A body of a man, face down with his shirt and shoes missing.

That's me in a few minutes.

One single clear impulse filled my mind.

No. No way. I don't want to die. Not here. Not after three days. Not without even knowing why this happened. Why I'm here in a place with Endbringers and Capes and Bad Canary on the radio that, three days ago, had been nothing more than words on a page.

Stairs stretched away up to another landing.  If you want to know why this happened. If you want to see tomorrow morning. If you want to take just one more breath. That's what you have to do, if you want to live. Either grit your teeth and crawl, or drown.

I did.

Hand over fucking hand I did it, chased all the way by a rising tide, jamming ice-picks into my knees the entire way up. I crawled it, sick and screaming through four stories until the building hit an outcrop of bedrock and settled.

Over a year later, my legs still ached. They'd never be normal. But I survived.

The noise came back at night, rushing through the pipes in the building, filling the silence and flooding into my mind. The same terror echoed in my thoughts to the racing drumbeat of my heart.

In the darkness, hard edges on furniture mutating into concrete, the shine on the floor turning to liquid water, my skin soaked wet and cold. A glass of water from the kitchen tap didn't quench the pressure in my mind.

It crushed down, every muscle in my body pulling itself tight, screaming to run nowhere. My jaw clench, panting breaths hissing through my teeth. My fists crushed onto the kitchen table edge, grounding out the panic.

My body's charge drained away, leaving me standing with my head pulsing, Power running  at full throttle with nothing to do.

My breathing slowed as I took control, easing back down, feeling more like I'd run for my life, than run to the kitchen.

Energy faded away, leaving me standing sick and empty. Outside, a fire-engine's siren moaned through the street, pulling me back to Brockton Bay. It sounded so different from home.

I slumped onto a sofa.

Only a month to go before I went through it all again. That inexorable force of un-nature would roll in off the sea, and it'd destroy everything familiar all over again. Curling into a ball wouldn't make it go away. Nothing will make it go away. You might aswell try and stop a hurricane.

I could only leave.

And still lose everything I had. For the third time.

My phone buzzed on my desk, lighting the room up a flaming orange from the sceen. I felt a smile cross my  lips. Only one person would message me this late.

Akiko: “You awake?”

Me: “Weather,”

Akiko: “Me too ^_^;”

It was that kind of night out.

Me: ”Heavy isn’t it?”

Akiko; “Yeah,”
Akiko; “I’m tired.”

Me; “Me too”

Akiko; “Staying up?”

Me; “Until it stops.”

Both of us wanted to talk about the same thing, but neither of us wanted to be the first, just in case the other didn’t. The Leviathan sat in the room with us, rattling the windows with every gust of wind.

Misery loved company. I glanced back at my reflection in the window, being washed down by the rain. Another message buzzed in from Aki… my thumbs typed a quick response.

The wind drummed on the glass. The sound rolled around the room and I found myself feeling damp all over, looking up at the ceiling and expecting the water to cascade in once more.

I couldn’t go down into a shelter when it came back. I didn’t have to go down into a shelter.

I didn’t want to leave the city. I didn’t have to leave the city.

The idea came on strong. Still buzzing like a charged battery at 1am, with nothing better to do, I tried on my school project for the first time in months.

It took an hour to untangle the harness, rewind one of the cable spools and realise the batteries had drained themselves. Five month's neglect allowed spots of corrosion to sprout on the frame, dragline cables and relay box. The spool bearings still spun freely, as did the cable runners. Nothing had seized. Both batteries had been drained, one of the relayu  had stuck open and the latch on the storage compartment in the right 'blade'-rack had jammed.

All hard technology, built in a month at school. The battery-packs and van-der-waals clamps had been inspired by Hero, before being researched, analysed, sanitised, diluted then bottled up to be sold through Radioshack a decade after being invented. All the rest, you could build yourself if I gave you the plans.

I am no 'Fucking Tinker'. I am an Engineer. I cannot break the laws of physics, but I do  have the Power.

It felt good to wear it.

Powerful.

Heavy.

I stood infront of my bedroom window, legs apart in the traditional pose. A pair of boxes for carrying tools and equipment hung at my side, cantilevered off the harness on my back to sit level. Heavy springs stolen from an attic staircase creaked and squeaked as they kept it all some in some semblance of balance. I took hold of both triggers, trying the buttons with my fingers. Both of them had converted from old 1911 lowers, switches wired up to the grip-safety and trigger, adding another thumbswitch to act as a brake/rewind control, then welding on a brake lever from a bicycle to act as a quick release for whatever attached to where the slide and barrel normally sat. I tried the triggers, being answered by the 'ting' of relays latching behind my back. Both ammeters on my wrists twitched, before centering at zero. Voltmeters twitched before dropping to offscale-low.

A smile scrawled its way across my lips. Reflected in the glass, I saw who I could've been. Maybe if I hadn't read the story, if I'd been a real native, or just that little spark more reckless, I could've done it.
I should’ve done it sooner.

The dog stared at me, thinking, tail tic-tocking

“You think I'm a gobshite, right?”

He scratched himself. Basically, Yes. Maybe, I thought, swallowing a sick lump in my throat.

The dog turned and padded away, nuzzling himself through the bedroom door, I watched his tail disappear, his shadow lingering behind before the door creaked shut, leaving me alone with my own reflection.

Another message from Aki lit my phone up again, setting the reflection on fire. I glanced at it - time to go to bed.

The rain had eased off.

This is my life. It's messy. It's scrappy. It's fucked up and broken at times. But on some deep level below the spark of my Power and beginning of rationalisation it felt right.

My life here felt like something worth fighting for. Maybe I had gone mad. You're free to offer your own theory.

With over a month to go, three out of Four didn’t seem like bad odds.

--

My good deed on Friday earned me a note from the mammy, excusing me for the day, due to an obvious injury. The cut on my arm itched, even after the bandages had been replaced.

“Ani, Hunter, Sparky and Karen.” Andrew handed me a jump drive. “Also have stuff on it from Julia for Cho.”

I checked the running totals on my locker door. “Grand. We're ahead. That leaves Cho in the red.”

“I'll remind her she needs to actually do stuff for people too.” Andrew nudged me in the shoulder. “Look at that. What do you think Sophia's done to her now? Lighter torture?”

I looked over my shoulder. Taylor walked by, scorched and singed around the edges.

“That's fucked up,” I said, trying to hide the smile.

Everything would be okay.

“Unh. And the peckerwoods kicked the shit out of some someone up on the third floor on Friday afternoon – some debt thing. At least the Asians won't be dicking around for a while since Lung got nailed.”

I looked at him, remembering a painful lesson I'd gotten months before on American slang.  A pale scar cut between my lip and chin, reminding me of the time I thought 'Peckerwood' was somebody's name.

Pro-tip – it’s not.

“Nah. It just means his Lieutenants go buggo and try break him out. The cycle continues”

He put a finger to his lips. “Maybe Bakuda will blow up the school?”

I looked around. Paint peeled from walls. One of the tiles on the floor had cracked and lifted, revealing the concrete beneath. Metal cages shielded the lights overhead. Even the windows on ground level had been fitted with bars.

One of the posters opposite my locker, in five languages, advised Asian students who to go to for help when the ABB came knocking for tribute.

“Where else would they go for recruits?” I said.

“Good point. Catch you later?”

“Detention. Again. Remember?”

“Shit.”

“No sympathy for the devil,” I breathed.

“I’ll catch you later.”

With a few moments to myself in the crowd, I marked May 15th off on my calendar. A Sunday. Five weeks to go. Enough time to get cold feet again. Enough time to think it through. Time to be sure. Yeah, this is what I want to do. This is how I want to do it.

By rights, I should've started this months ago.

Sophia made her arrival with a bang, trying to catch me off guard with a fist to the door. It worked well enough to pull a smile across her lips, right up until my Power dropped her into deadtime.

“So, you're the one who runs this Mill thing?”

For a moment, she back-footed me, a little tense fizzle running through my body. Getting surprised in Winslow never meant anything good. One moment, bustling corridor, the next a dark-skinned girl half my size had filled my personal space completely.

In one heartbeat, my eyes tracked her from foot to eye. Her eyes really did have that predator intensity to them. I know 'Black Panther' has different connotations in the States than what I really mean – guess how I found that out too - but honestly, that's the first thought that came to mind. Hess had a cat-like leanness to her, the same intensity in her eyes, the same tension right before pouncing.

Right. Time to take control. I stepped back, consigning the last Fifteen seconds to deadtime. It made for just enough time to get myself into the right space for dealing with her.

I picked my moment. I tried to force myself to be cheerful. I'd worked sales before. This was no different.

“Morning,”

She blinked, caught off guard with her hand in the air, ready to knock the door shut. It took her less the a heartbeat to gather herself. Good. It kept us both on equal footing.

The flash of irritation in her eyes drew a thin grin to my lips.

“I want to know what you were doing with her.”

She hissed that word through her teeth.

“Who the fuck is Her?”

I already knew. But I wanted to make her to say it.

“Hebert.” Sophia leaned in towards me, trying to dominate my space.

I shrugged, consciously not looking at her. “I gave her a lift home.”

She folded her arms.

“You're trying to get her to join, aren't you?”

“I don't have time for this bollocks.” I said, slamming the door shut. “You know how we work. If you don't like it, that's not my problem.”

She leant back against the locker door, looking down at the floor in front of her, matching me.

“Maybe it's Akiko's,” she said, her voice quiet enough that I had to strain to hear her over the bustle of the corridor. “It'd be a shame if someone found out. That'd ruin her future.”

Fuck's sake.

“Somehow, I don't think Princeton will give two dry shites about a week's detention and a slap on the wrist.”

“But a juvie record?”

That caught my attention.

“What do you mean by that?”

She smiled at me. It wasn't a nice smile, more a smug, sneer than anything happy. “You're the smart one, you figure it out.”

Her eyes went to a poster on the noticeboard opposite my locker.

Sophia let the insinuation hang in the air as she turned and left. Bitch, I thought, clenching my fist. Sophia or one of her cronies touts to the authorities, accusing Akiko of being ABB. The story gets backed up by a helpful Ward named Shadow Stalker?  By the time the mess gets sorted out, if at all, her life would be ruined

I'd known her for six months. Akiko didn't get involved in things like that.

That set my mind.

--

Being a teenager is like spending your whole life in that moment in the party where everyone's on a buzz and having a good time and someone decides to say 'Hold my pint and watch this'.

You know it's stupid. But you can't help yourself.

The idea takes hold. It carries you along, and the next thing you know you wake up the next morning to a broken leg and a dozen text messages calling you a fucking moron for trying to jump a bicycle over the canal.

Not that I'd ever done that.

Adding a shard of Scion to the mix had the same effect as adding Red Bull to Vodka.

Beating Taylor to World Affairs meant a full-bore sprint across the school, down a flight of stairs, then back through the crowd bustling around their lockers getting ready. My Power carried me through the crowds, saving me from another broken leg, but not from the thrumming pain in my knees.

My own fault for doing exactly what my physio had told me not to do but it got me there in time to catch her coming down the corridor. She slipped through the crowd, keeping tight clutch on her backpack. A cackle of laughter from a group of girls snapped her head around, ready for the worst. It didn't come – the girls came from another year.

Now, don't take this the wrong way because I don't mean it like that at all, but she looked like prey. She broadcast that edge to the world, like a deer moving in long grass expecting the wolves to jump at any moment. Glancing, verifying, dodging, scanning for where the next attack might come from.

I stepped forward.

“Taylor. We need to talk.”

She stopped. Her eyes stared through me. My skin crawled. Maybe whatever lived on my skin crawled, all in the same direction.

“I hope you don't think I owe you anything for the ride on Friday,”

“No,” I said, forcing myself to smile, stepping in front of her. In hindsight, probably not the best way of forcing her attention.“We talked it through and decided to ask you to join.”

“Why?”

Option One. The usual pitch.

“Because you're pretty good.”

She took a breath.

“You're working with them.”

Just a flicker of anger around the word 'them'. A stress on her lips. Otherwise, Taylor kept her calm, her voice steady and even. No prizes for guessing who she meant. I’d done assignment’s with Emma Barnes name on them.

“We work with anyone.”

That's the rule.

She stepped forward. “And that's your problem.”

“I don't see how,”

“People like you are why people like Sophia, Emma and Madison are able to skate through school. So long as you don't understand that, we have nothing to talk about.”    

On the back foot, my mouth moved first. “You've got it wrong!”

Completely. Her expression darkened.

“No, I don't think....”

To hell with this. Bang. Gone to deadtime. I think I might've preferred the bugs than trying to argue with her. The world folded over itself, dumping me right back to the start.

“Why?” asked Taylor.

A little later than I wanted. Time to run with argument number two; Appeal to cooperation. Gathering my thoughts took a moment, damping down on the lingering simmer of anger.

“Humans are cooperative animals. We're better when we work together. It lets us cover our weaknesses.”

She stopped. Considering? I pushed.

“Like, I'm good at STEM things, but bad at US History or English,” I said, forcing a salesman's smile.“So we all trade the subjects we're good at, for ones we aren't.”

“You're all cheating together.” Her voice remained even, more a statement than an accusation.

“Collaborating,” I corrected.

“So how does she fit into it?”

Fuck. I saw the spiral coming. My Power recharged and I triggered it. Back to the start. Alright. If Sophia's the point of pain, why can't I turn that around?

“Why?” Taylor asked, again.

I took a breath.

“Because Sophia got in a strop after seeing me give you a lift yesterday and tried to tell me not to talk to you, because she thought I was asking you to join.”

This time, I had the advantage of telling the truth.

“That sounds pretty dumb.”

Was that a spark of amusement I saw in her eyes?

“Well, yeah. But I don't respond well to being being blackmailed.”

She seemed to listen. Her hands went to her jacket pockets. She took them out a moment later, then looked right through me.

“So. I do this, and she just makes it worse on me,” she said, her voice hardening just a little. “I'm the one who'll pay for it, for standing up to her.”

“That's a fair point.”   

My Power latched into place, reminding me that I could restart.

“Girls don't work like guys. You can't just oppose them,” she said.“And you can't just beat her half to death and hope to get out of it.”

Yeah, I carried a reputation. You put one arsehole in hospital. Her eyes went to the bandages around my arm, making the obvious conclusion.

“He came at me with a knife.”

I tried not to laugh, but my face betrayed me.

“What's so funny?”

Getting lectured by the queen of escalation herself on using too much force. Oh, she'll learn soon enough, sure she will.

“I panicked,” I diverted the question. “And I'll never live that down, will I?”

A genuine smile came to my lips.

“No,” she shook her head. She paused, seeming to realise something as the edges of her lips turned slightly up. “And No. I'm out. One thing I promised my dad I'd never do was cheat at school.”

A firm tone told me I had no chance of changing her mind.

“Alright,” I breathed, grasping at the back of my head. “Your call.”

Now, here's the part where I could've gone full arsehole. I could've been the person who said. I could've put on my best Thinker's Grin and oozed out the possibility that Sophia's only causing a problem because of Taylor herself or something to that effect. It might even have worked. I preferred the valiant defeat, with a little mutual respect, over being a complete shitehawk, but getting what I wanted.

Enough had been done to shut the voice in the back of my head up. The pressure eased. That's all the mattered.

The school bell rang, ordering us to class. Taylor ran at a steady jog. I followed with a limp, adjusting the brace on my leg to take more of the weight.

I followed her through the door, only a few seconds beh

“Taylor, Ian,” Gladly looked at us both with the closest thing that amounted to a stern glance he could ever manage. “Any later and I'd have you both written up for a tardy. Take a group.”

Only one remained with two spare seats. Taylor gave me a glance out the side of her eyes, almost accusing me of setting it up.

Honestly, No. Do I look that clever?

The whispers began, rising up from Madison's group.

“Ooh, maybe they were doing it?”

“Of course not, what could anybody see in a complete beanpole like her? He must be blind.”

Sophia gave me a glare that could strip lead paint. I smirked back at her. Greg's backpack snuck up and tripped me.

“See,” Julia giggled as I caught my fall on the desk.

My Power made sure that never happened.

Damo and Akiko waited at a table, with two spare seats. I sat first, slinging my backpack underneath. Taylor glanced at all three of us in turn, then around the room looking for alternatives.

Between Greg, Sparky and Julia – and us – she chose us.

No really, I didn't plan that at all. Do I look like Contessa?

Akiko and Damien looked to me for an explanation. I shrugged. It'd have to wait.

Damien placed a folder on his desk. “So, stuff we talked about last night. What've we got?”

“What a world without Capes would be like,” I said, placing a sheaf of handrwitten pages on the table. “ I did the AU history, so we could contrast.”

Basically, home. So I cheated. Sue me. I help run a cheating syndicate.

Akiko skimmed the bullet points. “This is Aleph.”

“Well, yeah, but without any influence from here,”I said. “Like that hurricane in New Orleans or the Japan earthquake. Or the technology differences.”

Taylor sat and listened, marking through her own papers, scratching with a pen.

“That nuclear accident would be a lot worse,” added Akiko, shifting like she sat on a thorn.     “Like I said yesterday, I looked at disaster management. We are better at handling crisis than they are...”

She offered a folder, filled with photographs from Japan. One of a blasted power plant reminded me where I came from.

“But that's not really a cape thing, is it?” asked Damien, leafing through a few of the pictures.

“Aleph does not have them. I think it is a Cape thing,” said Akiko, offering sheaves of printed notes. “Even without them. Powers work much better in disasters. Look at
Panacea?”

Bad example, I thought, with a cringe.

“Wouldn't you hate to be her?” said Damien  “Anyway I looked at Military, like how wars and weapons work.” He added photographs of predator drones, F-22's and other hardware long cancelled or mothballed on Bet. He had missiles. “They'd still have all their nuclear weapons and all their cold war stuff pointed at each other.”     

“And most of it still works,” I added. For a value of 'works'.

“They all go on about the attacks and capes and stuff, but they're the ones still one lazy operator away from global thermonuclear war. And they can't prepare for it because they don't think it's possible. At least we're aware of our threats so we can deal with them.”

Except for the big one, I didn't say. I glanced at Taylor, recalling everything. There sat the person responsible. Skitter. Weaver. Taylor. Khepri. She looked more like a librarian, than anything I'd read about. Last night, she rotted Lungs balls off.

Funny that. A little mouse of fear nipped in the back of my mind. Maybe this time, I'd ruined it all somehow. But, I reminded myself, I decided not to worry about that anymore.

“Law enforcement,” said Taylor, taking it as a cue to speak “With qualified capes handling some of the workload, real cops can train better, and be a lot more versatile .” Taylor offered a thick folder to the desk, easily doubling our pagecount. “I did more, on the tinkertech boom, fashion, cape celebrities.” She looked at myself, and Akiko. “And maybe immigration too.”

All annotated and supported by actual newspaper clippings pinned alongside each paragraph. She even went into detail about how Star Trek VIII differed in each timeline.

“This is good,” said Damien. He turned a page. His eyebrows raised. “Really good.”

She frowned. “I already said I won't join.”

Damien and Akiko looked to me for an explanation.

“Doesn't matter,” I tried to deflect it. “We need to get this yoke together.”

So now, turn it into something that'd win a bar of chocolate. Jump, puppies, jump!

We huddled. We hustled. We bounced ideas off each other. Taylor slipped into the group, rapidly finding her feet in a way that almost felt natural. She chipped in, she countered. We argued. We battered it all together into something truly mighty. We kept going long after we agreed everyone else would've given up.

Not for chocolate. Not for token treats like dogs, but to prove that we could fucking do it regardless. We'd do it with middle fingers raised. Any cabbage could do a shite job and call it a protest. It took real skill to show up the teacher and go places Gladly would never think of.

Maybe Taylor took it as her chance to show the terrible trio up along the way. A little nip in return for the hell they gave her.

When the time came, Greg stumbled and mumbled through his own presentation, before going off on a long tangent about various the differences in the Star Wars prequels and the differences in the origin of the force.

Madison made a better hash of the same presentation.

A quick game of Jan-Ken-Pon elected Taylor to be our unwilling representative. My Power helped me win quick. Hers didn't. She lost fair and square. Unfortunately.

The whispers began as Taylor stepped up.

“Oh they probably just stole ours anyway.” A girl named Shiori giggled.

Well, the fox smells her own hole.

“Quiet please,” said Gladly, his voice barely rising above the chorus.

Sophia simmered. The whispering continued, tickling at the edge of our hearing. Akiko looked at me, blaming me.

Taylor spoke. And kept speaking for a good two minutes longer than any other group had managed.

She stopped. She thanked everyone for listening. She sat down.

“Hasegawa, Hebert, Miller, Sullivan, that was....” Gladly began, stopping to go on a hunt for the right word. Fucking awesome, I didn't say. “...Comprehensive.”

That little flutter of embarrassment made it all worthwhile.

Next group. They took half the time to hit a quarter of the points.

Gladly, for all the fandom and the student body hated him, kept to his word. Really, we just wanted to make him spend his own money. Not like dogs begging for treats.

Not at all.

They have these things in America called Reese's Pieces that're like crack in orange packets. Don't try them unless you like selling your soul to a higher power for a little ball of peanut butter in a shell. All while being congratulated on a job well done.

What?

Quinlan wouldn't be as kind about us showing up late, so I left everyone getting theirs

“Ian,” Taylor's voice said, behind me.

“Yeah,” I stopped, waiting for her to catch up.

She stopped, less than a foot away from me. The scent of coconut shampoo tickled my nostrils, mingling with the unmistakeable ashy smell of singed hair.

Did I put too much bodyspray on this morning, I wondered? Where did that come from?

“I won't have anything to do with you assholes. The answer's No.” She stared right through me, almost making me believe it. “So leave me alone before I tell Gladly how you do it.”

Standing two doors way, Sophia's eyes went wide. I caught the plan immediately.

“Well, fuck you very much then!”

And I said it with a smile. Thanks.

I think.

--

My right knee throbbed, the pain following me to the school canteen. It crawled up the bone, pulsing with each step. Trying to walk straight-kneed numbed the worst of it, but not all.

Thanks, Leviathan. I could've done without the reminder, thank you.

It slowed me up getting to the queue. It hamstrung me, trying to cross the canteen floor.

He slapped his tray down beside be me.

“You actually asked Taylor to join?”

“Sophia saw me give her a lift yesterday and jumped to conclusions. I showed her I wouldn't be blackmailed.”

No big deal.

He took a breath, sitting back in “Man, you keep doing things like that you'll have problems.”

“You told me...”

“Yeah well,” he caught it. “You got to balance it. Some people you stand up to, just so everyone knows you're not a complete pushover.” He paused.“ But some people are just too dangerous to fuck with.”

“I can handle Sophia,” I said, before sipping from a carton of Froot Joose.

He gave me a dubious look, thinking about it as he twirled a spork in his 'mash potato'. “I don't know. She has something on the school. You got suspended for a month for self-defense. She got a slap on the wrist for the locker thing. And that was sickening. I could smell it on the second floor.”.

“I can handle her,” I said again. My Power rose in the back of my mind.

He took a breath – looking away for a moment. My mind’s hand clasped my Power tight, ready to make it all dissolve to dead time if it had to.

“Look, man,, so I'll say this. You can’t keep doing this shit,” He stared, right through me. “The only reason the ABB didn't retaliate over the guy you broke, is because he wasn't a full member yet.” He paused, just letting it sink in. “They would've fucking hurt you for a stunt like that.”    

I sat back, feeling a prickling unease crawl up my spine. My eyes glanced around.  Some of the gangs stood out – the ones who wanted you to know. The rest dissolved into a thousand bodies, trying to have what passed for a meal.

To the point where I started second guessing myself, even about some people I knew. Maybe?

“You've been here long enough to think you know it, but you really don't. Not yet. It took Aki' years to find her way.”

I couldn't disagree. I sat forward, resting my face in my hands for a moment, waiting for my head to clear.

“This place is fucked up,” I managed to say.

“Well, You keep picking fights with people it’ll fuck you up. You’ll end up lying in a pool of your own blood.”

That nearly happened to us both. I saw the worry in his eyes - probably that I’d drasg him down with me.

“I know Sophia.” I said, with as much assurance as I could muster. “I know what her thing is.”

He blinked. “What,”

I breathed, trying to suppress the Vulpine Grin that had to be common to anyone with a Power that let them know. “I figured it out last Thursday,”

“Fuck!” His hands slammed on the table, drawingevery set of eyes in

“Yeah,” I breathed, feeling just a little quiver of unease.

He leant right over, the both of us suddenly aware that everyone could hear. My Power begged me to imake it go away - to never happen. To never take the risk in the first place.

“You know what happens if people even talk about knowing that?” he hissed, skin turning white. “I mean, how?”  He took a moment to gather himself    “How’d you find out.”

My Power loomed in the back of my mind. I swallowed the fear and I told him the truth, pushing through it despite the pressure in the back of my mind.

“The same way, I knew if we tried to run away, those lads would’ve chased us.” He sat back, giving me space.”Or the fella I put in the hospital with the extinguisher - how I knew he had the knife….”

“What…”

I saw the look on his face and I had to stop. Fear. Like i’d grow a second head that would loom over the table and eat him whole.

At the last instant, I chickened out. I used my Power to undo the whole goddamned lot, leaving me still sitting there with that strange sense of lingering guilt an unease, and him looking through me with that same fear.

He blinked, again. “What,”

Fuck.

I should’ve followed through. My Power danced in the back of my mind, relieved it hadn’t been revealed. I hated it for it.

But I could also try again.

I gathed my thoughts, filling the silence.  “I can handle meself,,” I said, calmly. “I really can.”

That’s how I pronounced it, ‘Meself’.

He looked right through me, almost looking disappointed that I hadn’t figured it out. Another one doomed to die in a pool of their own blood “You think you can…”

My hand found a coin in my pocket, I turned.  Time to try again.

“Can I show you something?”

“Your knife?”

“Just give me a minute.” I held up my mand, feeling that  thrill of anxiety, my Power pulsing in time with my heart“You wanted to know how I always know,”

I showed him the coin - a shiny quarter dollar.

“Call it? Heads or tales.”

His mouth opened. His breath caught.

“Just trust me,””

“Alright,” he breathed, not looking convinced. “Heads,”

In the back of my mind, I realised I’d already gone too far. I couldn’t just wipe this away - without things being even worse.

I flipped the coin. Tails.

His arms folded. He didn’t look impressed.

On my second try, It came up heads.

He watched that coin come up heads or tails as he called it, time and time again. I must’ve hit thirteen straight calls. I think I made a total of twenty attempts, but I didn’t bother counting.

The penny dropped at thirteen. I watched the realisation wash across his face and let the coin hit the table, a rush of excitement racing up through me.

“That’s how I knew if we tried to run away, those lads would’ve chased us. Or the fella I put in the hospital with the extinguisher - how I knew he had the knife, because he stabbed me…. Or every other fight.”

I amn’t being a fucking moron mate.

“You’re…”  The words died in his mouth.

“Yeah.” I nodded “I’m one of the tomatoes.”

“Holy shit.” he breathed, settling back into his chair.

He looked at me. He looked at the ceiling. He looked around, as if he expected a

“Yeah,” I smirked.

“Holy shit,”  he said again.

“Yeah,” I said again. “Don’t tell anyone,” I added, with a chuckle in my throat.

Meanwhile, the cafeteria passed us by, completely oblivious.

--

The first time my phone rang, I ignored it. Both my hands were full trying to regenerate the Gramme filters. Yes, that Gramme. The filters formed part of the wastewater recovery and purification system, something the law required us to have.

The phone rang again, five minutes later. I glanced at it.

Akiko.

Why would she call me at work?

I caught it on the last ring.

“Yeah.”

“What did she say?”

If she could've grabbed me through the phone, she would've.

“Nothing much,” I tried to deflect it.

“What. Did. She. Say?”

Her voice pulled tight, a twinge of fear biting at my ear. I went with the truth, expecting an angry denial.

“She'd go to the cops and frame you for being in the ABB.”

Silence. The worst answer she could've given me. The pieces slipped into place and I knew without her telling me. I bet you're fucking smiling for figuring it out before me. You can even give me that golfclap, if it makes you feel better.

“I see,” she finally said, all the colour gone from her voice.

The phone line went dead. I stared down at the green screen, grasped my Power and triggered it, letting time fold back around me. Nothing else seemed appropriate.

“She told me she'd blow the entire Mill out of the water. So I called her bluff.”

“That's Okay.” I heard the relief. I heard the smile and it stabbed. “If she does that, She will make enemies.”

“Yeah. She's just blowing steam.”

“Fine. We'll talk to morrow. Ja ne,”

“Later”

Click. The phone went back into my pocket and I swallowed the urge to break something expensive.

I lied. Shoot me. I felt like a shitehawk for it. But I couldn't let her go through with telling that. I can't change it. I can't unlearn it. I can't forget. But I can let her live without ever having to tell me.

My best friend thinks I'm going to get hurt. My other friend has been a member of the fucking ABB all along. And I have five weeks to get ready before it all gets washed away anyway.

The oulfella noticed the expression on my face immediately.

“Bad news?”

“Just learned something about a friend of mine that I wish I didn't know.”

“Whatever it is, I'm sure it doesn't change who they are.”

I think he expected something else entirely - the usual teenage shite and not this.

“Yeah,” I breathed, not looking up at him. “It doesn't.”

It just meant a friend of mine could either get frozen in time, dissolved like the wicked witch, warped into grotesque fucking monster of a thing or worse at the whim of some mad yoke who's just been pissed off. But it didn't change who she was. Not at all.

That's not fucking right. How in the name of God did she end up in a gang? Someone like that?

“Well, get back to work. We're short for the week.”

Not now John, we gotta get on with this. It kept me from thinking about it. Not really. But I managed.


--


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■

♦Topic: My Friend Just came out to me
In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Brockton Bay ► Help

BBThrowaway95 (Original Poster)
Posted on April 12, 2011:

Throwaway because I know how sensitive some people can be about these things.

A friend of mine came out to me today. Just seemed to force himself to say it out of nowhere. Like, Bam. I have a Power

It makes a lot of stuff make sense. I'd been thinking something was a little strange. He never really seems to get caught out by shit, dodging at the last minute or slipping out. I mean, there's things you just can't get out of I know but he always seemed to know it was coming.

How the fuck are you supposed to talk about shit like this?

That scares the shit out of me because he's always getting into fucking fights with people. Some guys snuck up on him at school and he put the one with a knife in hospital. The school just assumed he'd seen him draw it and called it self defense. A coupla nights ago someone tried to mug us on the street and he knew it before it happened. He drew a knife and managed to put one of them down before Shadow Stalker showered up and ended it.


On the one hand, it's kinda cool that I've met someone who has a power and on the other I'm sitting here wondering if he's been using it on my the entire time. There's something about it that feels a little skeevy, like I've been lied to the entire time I knew him.

I just want to know what the fuck do do. I don't want to see another friend getting in way over their heads making a bad decision. And I don't really want to loose a friendship either. But if I do nothing, it's only a matter of time before he gets caught by the wrong person and then it gets messy.  Either he goes to far too quick or one of the local heavy hitters takes an interest,

Any advice?

[Note from Judge:  Okay. Given the likely subject matter I'm placing all your posts in this thread on moderated for the time being. I know you mean well. It will just give me time to edit anything that might potentially out our young friend's identity and keep everyone safe.]


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[INDENT]
► The Fake Kid Win
Replied on April 12, 2011:
One of Us! One of Us! One of Us!

We don't bite.

Let Him know he's welcome at Boards ► America ► Brockton Bay ► Teams ► W-ENE

► Laser Augment
Replied on April 12, 2011:
I'm going to assume you're probably a teenager. And if 'some guys' snuck up on you with a knife I can guess what school you go to too. You have my sympathies, kiddo.

He's placed a lot of trust in you by talking to you. He wouldn't do that if he thought you would do wrong by him. It sounds like you might even be the first person he's been able to work up the courage to talk to.

► Judge
Replied on April 12, 2011:
Sounds like your friend has a solid Thinker Power. Maybe precog?

Young people especially are vulnerable to being negatively influenced or used by others as their Powers emerge.

The best thing you can do, is tell him to go to the local PRT office were he can be assessed for suitability for the Wards, Or just meet people trained in giving guidance to young people in living with their powers, if he isn't interested in donning the cape. They can protect young Parahumans, even ones who don't want to join.  They provide Codenames. Records. Backup. Protection.

Even counselling if needs be.

It's the best deal out there.

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