This short fic is something that has been bouncing around in my head for a while now. Mainly it was due to wondering what having super-powers would do to the
rest of a persons life, when they aren't showing the villian of the week the error of their ways.
-----------------------------
Gamma Emission:
Unintended Side-effects
If someone told me I would be punching freakshow in the jimmies while dressed like a streetwalker six months ago, I would have them sent to the psych ward. Now
I just hope that I don't get fined for indecent exposure in another six months.
I came to Paragon City because they needed nurses, and the pay wasn't anything to scoff at either.
Sure I knew there where risks, but you follow procedures and make sure to wear protective gear and you'll be fine. At least that was the plan. The army has
a saying about plans and enemy contact that is fits the ER just as well.
Ideally each heros powers, gear, and whatnot is kept on file. That way when they are teleported in we know if they should be sent to the mages on level 3, the
surgeons on level 4, or the mechanics on level 5. More often then not it doesn't matter what floor someone is sent to, someone from another floor is called
in to take a look at things. Mutants fighting Circle of thorns, Battlesuited normals being hit with an energy ray of some sort, the lines end up blurring real
fast. And we just try to keep them alive and get them back on their feet.
I don't know how many times I ripped my gloves reaching into some jagged metal hole in someone's side, or how many times strangely glowing goo was
spattered on my clothes. Sure, we are supposed to go through decontamination before changing levels if there is anything on us that we can't name. But with
the recent Rikti aggression there are times when I don't have 4 minutes to spare.
It doesn't really matter what the cause of was any more, just that it happened. I got exposed to one too many weird combinations of chemicals, spells, and
otherworldly energies. The end result of which is that I can beat the xray machine when it comes to millirad output.
The first few days I was a mess, convicted that I had somehow gotten exposed to enough radiation that I became 'hot' enough to trigger the sensors in
the mech lab. I calmed down three days later when I was a) still alive, and b) not suffering any of the classical symptoms of radiation sickness.
Over the past few months I have learned to control my abilities. On a good day I can keep my output below the dosage you get from handling a smoke alarm.
I'm not going to mention the bad days. The more calm and collected I can be, the less I emit.
But the ER is hardly a calm and collected place. It was strongly 'suggested' that find another avenue of employment. Hero Corps was quick to offer
alternative income. Some people may criticize them for being mercenary or profiting from a bad situation, but all I know is that they helped me get back on my
feet.
New housing (installing lead shielding in my old apartment wasn't an option); a new job (bombarding people with high energy particles for fun and profit);
and, most importantly, I feel like I am helping people people again (the doctors always did say preventive care is best).
But life isn't all roses now that spend my days (and sometimes my nights as well) introducing various malcontents to my particular take on high energy
physics.
Sure I can modulate the type of radiation I put out. Everything from low power doses that stimulate healing, to heavy particle bombardment that leaves the
person wondering which way is up. But it doesn't change the fact that I'm still outputting radiation of one form or another. And it does have a
cumulative affect on anything near me for long periods of time. More specifically anything I'm wearing. Depending on how hard I have to work, a shirt can
last three to five incidents before it starts to put out more radiation that I do when relaxed. Pants tend to last a week. Gloves and shoes can hold out for
two too three weeks. I spend most of my time fighting evils of one kind or another, but what do I worry about when I get home? If I have enough saved up to pay
for clothing this month.
When I first started out it was long pants, t-shirt, sweater, heavy boots, jacket.
Now it's short skirts, cutoff t-shirts, converses, and a long jacket that more often than not gets left at the door. The less cloth there is to absorb
radiation, the longer it lasts. Any distractions this may cause are purely unintentional.
The only thing worse than my clothing situation is my dating prospects. My current style of dress may get me plenty of inquiries at the bar, but those quickly
dry up once they learn what happens when I get 'excited'. As much as people laugh at my jokes about 'healing energies' and 'ensuring the
next generation of mutants' on missions, I have yet to meet a guy willing to expose his family jewels my tender mercies. The only guy I can think of that
wouldn't mind would be Positron, but there is no way that I'd date someone who seems to get that much enjoyment out of sending new heroes on a
glorified scavenger hunt.
I'm starting to wonder if I'll have to switch sides to get any.
-Terry
-----
"so listen up boy, or pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing to happen to you today"
TF2: Spy
rest of a persons life, when they aren't showing the villian of the week the error of their ways.
-----------------------------
Gamma Emission:
Unintended Side-effects
If someone told me I would be punching freakshow in the jimmies while dressed like a streetwalker six months ago, I would have them sent to the psych ward. Now
I just hope that I don't get fined for indecent exposure in another six months.
I came to Paragon City because they needed nurses, and the pay wasn't anything to scoff at either.
Sure I knew there where risks, but you follow procedures and make sure to wear protective gear and you'll be fine. At least that was the plan. The army has
a saying about plans and enemy contact that is fits the ER just as well.
Ideally each heros powers, gear, and whatnot is kept on file. That way when they are teleported in we know if they should be sent to the mages on level 3, the
surgeons on level 4, or the mechanics on level 5. More often then not it doesn't matter what floor someone is sent to, someone from another floor is called
in to take a look at things. Mutants fighting Circle of thorns, Battlesuited normals being hit with an energy ray of some sort, the lines end up blurring real
fast. And we just try to keep them alive and get them back on their feet.
I don't know how many times I ripped my gloves reaching into some jagged metal hole in someone's side, or how many times strangely glowing goo was
spattered on my clothes. Sure, we are supposed to go through decontamination before changing levels if there is anything on us that we can't name. But with
the recent Rikti aggression there are times when I don't have 4 minutes to spare.
It doesn't really matter what the cause of was any more, just that it happened. I got exposed to one too many weird combinations of chemicals, spells, and
otherworldly energies. The end result of which is that I can beat the xray machine when it comes to millirad output.
The first few days I was a mess, convicted that I had somehow gotten exposed to enough radiation that I became 'hot' enough to trigger the sensors in
the mech lab. I calmed down three days later when I was a) still alive, and b) not suffering any of the classical symptoms of radiation sickness.
Over the past few months I have learned to control my abilities. On a good day I can keep my output below the dosage you get from handling a smoke alarm.
I'm not going to mention the bad days. The more calm and collected I can be, the less I emit.
But the ER is hardly a calm and collected place. It was strongly 'suggested' that find another avenue of employment. Hero Corps was quick to offer
alternative income. Some people may criticize them for being mercenary or profiting from a bad situation, but all I know is that they helped me get back on my
feet.
New housing (installing lead shielding in my old apartment wasn't an option); a new job (bombarding people with high energy particles for fun and profit);
and, most importantly, I feel like I am helping people people again (the doctors always did say preventive care is best).
But life isn't all roses now that spend my days (and sometimes my nights as well) introducing various malcontents to my particular take on high energy
physics.
Sure I can modulate the type of radiation I put out. Everything from low power doses that stimulate healing, to heavy particle bombardment that leaves the
person wondering which way is up. But it doesn't change the fact that I'm still outputting radiation of one form or another. And it does have a
cumulative affect on anything near me for long periods of time. More specifically anything I'm wearing. Depending on how hard I have to work, a shirt can
last three to five incidents before it starts to put out more radiation that I do when relaxed. Pants tend to last a week. Gloves and shoes can hold out for
two too three weeks. I spend most of my time fighting evils of one kind or another, but what do I worry about when I get home? If I have enough saved up to pay
for clothing this month.
When I first started out it was long pants, t-shirt, sweater, heavy boots, jacket.
Now it's short skirts, cutoff t-shirts, converses, and a long jacket that more often than not gets left at the door. The less cloth there is to absorb
radiation, the longer it lasts. Any distractions this may cause are purely unintentional.
The only thing worse than my clothing situation is my dating prospects. My current style of dress may get me plenty of inquiries at the bar, but those quickly
dry up once they learn what happens when I get 'excited'. As much as people laugh at my jokes about 'healing energies' and 'ensuring the
next generation of mutants' on missions, I have yet to meet a guy willing to expose his family jewels my tender mercies. The only guy I can think of that
wouldn't mind would be Positron, but there is no way that I'd date someone who seems to get that much enjoyment out of sending new heroes on a
glorified scavenger hunt.
I'm starting to wonder if I'll have to switch sides to get any.
-Terry
-----
"so listen up boy, or pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing to happen to you today"
TF2: Spy