Main Content
Archive of Our OwnArchive of Our OwnHi, TheBrimmedHat!PostLog Out
FandomsBrowseSearchAboutWork Search
tip: words:100
Actions
Entire Work ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter → Chapter Index Bookmark Mark for Later Comments Share Download
Work Header
Rating:
Mature
Archive Warning:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category:
Gen
Fandoms:
Parahumans Series - Wildbow亜人 - 三浦追儺 & 桜井画門 | Ajin - Miura Tsuina & Sakurai Gamon (Anime & Manga)
Characters:
Taylor Hebert | Skitter | WeaverDanny HebertBrockton Bay WardsLisa Wilbourn | Tattletale
Additional Tags:
Canon-Typical ViolenceCanon-Typical Body Horrorshard-altered psychologytags to be added as we go
Language:
English
Collections:
Timballisto's Curated Works
Stats:
Published:2019-05-24Updated:2020-03-11Words:99,568Chapters:29/?Comments:226Kudos:730Bookmarks:266Hits:29,366
(Restricted) The Shadow Over Brockton Bay
Temeritous
Chapter 2: Draugr 1.2
Notes:
This fic is also posted on Spacebattles under the same name.
Chapter Text
Nine o'clock the next morning found us being showed into a conference room on the second floor of the PRT building. I could hear the noise of an early tour beginning under my feet on the first floor, an owl mask and an octahedron following them around. There were other sensory pairs browsing the building, slipping in overhead every time someone opened a new door. I was building a neat little map in my head.
"Nervous?" Dad asked, trying to disguise his own nerves.
I smiled encouragingly at him. "Not really. I've thought about the outcomes and decided what to do with all of them, and I'm okay with whatever happens. The worst thing is that I don't join the Wards and I become an independent hero."
"That's a good way of thinking, I guess," he seemed to be calming down. "What's the best-case scenario?"
"I join the Wards, get sent to Arcadia, make a ton of new friends and earn the adulation of the people," I joked. "Well, two out of four are on the table. We'll see about the friends."
The conference room seemed to be built around the long, thirty-person table in the center of it, with just enough room between the chairs and the walls to walk comfortably between them. There were two domino masks on the table, mottled black and white and made of something harder than the dollar-store plastic masks you could buy almost anywhere. We had both seen them, but neither commented nor picked one up. I had looked closer with Coryn, but that was it.
The outside wall of the room was floor-to-ceiling windows, tinted enough to indicate that they were one-way while still allowing the room to feel less cramped. The interior walls were a bland beige. It could have been a conference room in any hotel in the States, instead of being in one of the most fortified buildings in Brockton Bay. I bet the glass was bulletproof.
There was a knock on the door, and dad and I both froze. Were we supposed to call out for whoever it was to come in?
The pause drew on long enough that dad cleared his throat and was about to say something, when the door finally opened. On the other side was a woman, and I got a glance at clear gray eyes, dark skin, and a serious, impassive face before her head dropped.
"The masks are for you to put on," she said to the floor, shuffling her clipboard and folder to one arm so she could gesture to the table. "Please, we take identities very seriously here. Your names and faces have not been recorded."
Dad and I looked at each other, shrugged, and picked up the masks. It was a one-size-fits-all, so it sat strangely over my nose, and then my glasses going on over it were sat too far away from my face. I felt, and looked, ridiculous.
"Okay, they're on," I said, giving up on trying to get my hair to sit comfortably over and under the stretchy head strap.
The woman looked up, already with a faint look of amusement. "I have told them they should put instructions in with the masks, but they don't listen. Good morning, my name is Hannah, and this is James behind me." She stepped in, moving to the side to let the man in behind her.
Dad was surprised to see James, but one of my sensor pairs was watching the hall outside. James was a short white man, with a steep widow's peak just barely avoiding the idea of balding and a paunch. He looked like the definition of a desk jockey, and I smothered a strange, superior feeling in myself. I knew nothing about him, I had no reason to look down on him, and yet the feeling rose unbidden. Troubling.
"Let's sit down," Hannah said. She sat with her back against the long inside wall, inviting us to sit across the table from her and James. "I understand that you contacted us about joining the Wards program?" her eyes glittered with some humor as she looked at dad. "I hope you know you're too old for that."
The simple joke broke through his silence. Dad laughed, not really because it was funny but because it was better than staying silent. "No, it's for my daughter. T - "
"Please, no names yet," Hannah held up a hand. "Unless you were going to say a parahuman name?"
I exchanged a look with dad and shook my head at him. We'd discussed names last night, after getting off the phone call that set up this meeting. Lazarus felt like it might be giving too much of my power away, the names of the immortals from mom's favorite book series were all pretty pretentious, and Coryn's name was based on her owl-like body so it wouldn't make sense for my human one.
"Nothing concrete yet," I told Hannah. "Still batting around some ideas. Are names always power-themed?"
"Generally, yes... a lot of being an active cape is about branding and reputation. A fitting name is vital for that. Before we continue, I have some papers for us to all sign." She opened her manila folder and passed out a packet to James, dad, and me, keeping a fourth for herself. "This is a mutual non-disclosure agreement. You can read it, but basically, nothing that's said in this room is recorded and can't be repeated to anyone outside of it. Even if you don't join the Wards."
"Sounds like a good deal," dad commented, flipping onto the second page. He tapped his right foot on the ground, shifting the Dust I had coating his shoe. That was our signal for 'good'.
I took the pen James offered and signed, then handed it to my dad to do the same. Hannah collected the contracts and returned them to her folder. She folded her hands in front of her and smiled at us.
"Now, if you're comfortable you may remove the masks, but don't feel pressured - "
I whipped my glasses and then mask off, took a second to massage my eyeballs and put my glasses back on. "Sorry, having my glasses on like that was giving me a headache. Um, you were saying?"
Her smile had grown bigger and turned a bit more honest. While I was occupied, my dad had also removed his mask and replaced his glasses.
"I was going to say, please tell us about your powers."
"There's two parts," I began, and ran them through a similar explanation to the one I'd given dad the evening before. "I can see and hear through the Dust if I have it in a high enough concentration and a specific shape. Like, right now I have eyes behind you two watching myself." I didn't mention the eyes and ears I still had floating through the PRT. They probably wouldn't be happy to know I'd mapped most of their base, including several probably secret locations.
"The most concentrated I've gotten the Dust is Coryn, she's strong enough to lift the front of our truck. I don't know how heavy that is." I'd already gone over Coryn, using the same sheet to demonstrate her shape again. I'd left her further down the table, again with the sheet draped over her shoulders.
"Well, that's certainly a versatile power," Hannah said, sounding a bit stunned. "If you decide to join the Wards, we can provide power testing and training - "
I stretched out a hand slightly and tapped the table, trying to regain her attention without raising my hand like a schoolchild. She broke off. "That was just the first part of my powers. The utility aspect."
Her brows went up, and I heard unspoken, there's more?
"Yeah, I can't stay dead." I let that sink in for a moment. "That's not phrased badly, I mean that if I take fatal damage my body resets to perfect health. I could demonstrate for you, but I think you might prefer if I didn't."
"Yes... please don't." I could tell that she doubted me, and that was a bit irritating. She might have thought that I was like Alabaster of the Empire, resetting every few seconds. "It sounds like you have a pretty good handle on your powers, but there's almost always room for improvement. Now, James has more information on the Wards program and its benefits...."
James, as an assistant director of the Ward program, was able to tell us that all of my requests could be easily met. I could transfer to Arcadia, starting in February, and there was a modest pay for Wards as well as a much larger sum put into a trust fund for college or other future plans. I smiled through James' presentation, wondering to myself why I wasn't feeling more... of anything. There was only a vague sense of relief.
The meeting ended with another contract signing, this time to make me a provisional Ward. It was the first time Hannah and James learned our names, as I drew in too-careful cursive and my dad scrawled a well-practiced signature.
"It was nice to meet you, Mr. Hebert, Taylor. I think you'll get along well with the rest of the Wards." Hannah and James stood and shook our hands by the door.
James said, "The papers will get processed today, we'll call you tomorrow with the next step. Sometime tonight or early tomorrow you should get an introductory email with more information and a copy of everything you signed today." He ducked out the door, hurrying off down the hall with his folders.
Hannah tilted her head at us. "Mr. Hebert, I got the impression that your daughter was having trouble at school...?" At our nod, she continued, "If she isn't going back to class today - " It was only eleven-thirty, I saw through one of my masks - "Then, if you want, we can go to the Protectorate building for some preliminary power testing. Maybe introduce you to some heroes? The Wards are still in school, of course, but I know Armsmaster at least is there right now."
"Yes!" I exclaimed, finally feeling the excitement I'd been waiting for. Then I remembered that dad had only taken a half-day from work, calling this a doctor's appointment. "Um, I mean..."
"Do I need to go with her?" Dad asked, "I should really get back to work, but if she's allowed to go alone...."
"Of course she is," Hannah looked at me. "Ready to go? Do you need anything?"
"Ah, just," I reached over and took the folded sheet from Coryn, handing it to dad. "That's all. Let's go!"
"Oh, right," Hannah considered the spot she thought Coryn was in. Coryn was a bit more to the left. "Make sure you keep her close, alright? There are some restricted areas, both here and at the Protectorate Headquarters."
"Of course," I agreed, already satisfied that I'd explored every part of the PRT base. My Dust was already gathering back to its usual orbit around me, waiting to be deployed again.
We took an elevator to an underground parking structure, and from there got into a black SUV that screamed 'government work' even to me. Hannah tried to maintain a conversation, but I'll admit that my skills were rusty; I missed a few queues, and I couldn't think of anything of my own to say so it sounded more like she was awkwardly interrogating me. I was happy to see the end of the hardlight bridge to the PHQ, and not just because I didn't trust the bridge and didn't want to have to die and escape a sinking car.
Hannah took me up from the PHQ's parking garage to what seemed like a public lobby, despite the lack of a tour group here. I had heard they did a few rare tours a year, and now I'd be getting a private one.
"I actually should get back to work myself," Hannah said, and gestured toward some of the low modernist couches and armchairs clustered around. "Please, take a seat, I'll have someone who works here come out and give you the tour."
Oh. I kept my face blank and blandly pleasant; I'd just gotten used to Hannah, and now I'd need to adapt to a whole new person. For a moment I felt like nothing but an exposed nerve, every slight irritation blown out of proportion. "Okay, thanks, see you around I guess."
"Sure will," she promised, and left through the same door we'd come from.
I stood, looking around for a moment, and then sat. My dust formed sensor pairs, and I made guiding them slightly easier on myself by attaching the eye-masks to the octahedrons. The looked like strange, blocky disembodied heads, and I was doubly glad that no one could see them.
I set them to exploring, this time utilizing air vents instead of conveniently opened doors. A fully-formed sensor couldn't fit through the grating, but individual Dust motes slipped through with ease, and then I reformed the sensor on the other side.
Before my sensors got far, the door opened again and revealed Miss Militia. I was on my feet without even thinking about it, and wondering if I should be saluting her? Her gray eyes were crinkled at the corners like she was smiling at me, and her dark skin and short black hair were now pretty familiar.
"H - " I started to say, and she put one finger up to her flag bandanna to shush me, then pulled it down to show me she was grinning.
She winked. "It's Miss Militia, actually. If a cape is in costume, you use the cape name even if you know the real one. It helps to separate things."
"Seems like there's a lot of stuff I don't know about being a cape."
"It's a learning curve, but you came to the right place to learn. For one thing, the Protectorate doesn't kill you for making a mistake. Come, I'll show you around. Armsmaster is probably in his lab but we might be able to catch him on his lunch break, and Velocity, Challenger, and Dauntless are on shift right now as well. Only Challenger is in the building, the other two are out on patrol."
Challenger, I vaguely recalled, was a melee fighter who wore red and carried around a battleaxe as big as herself. She hadn't been seen much recently, according to the Brockton Bay PHO boards.
"I didn't ask, but I assume you don't want to wear a domino mask? You didn't seem to like wearing one, and we don't have any other kind on hand."
"No thank you, I don't like the feeling."
As Miss Militia started us down another hall, following signs for the cafeteria, I noted how empty the base was. There were conference rooms, offices, and a whole stretch of what looked like unused dorm rooms. I wondered about it, but couldn't ask; I shouldn't be looking anyway.
"There are some unwritten rules to being a cape," Miss Militia explained along the way. "It will not make sense to you at first - it didn't make sense to me - but the rules stand for a good reason. They protect heroes, villains, and the civilian families of both, and they keep order for when the big threats arrive...."
Miss Militia had listed out her unwritten rules, and was on to explaining examples in detail by the time she pushed open the institutional double doors to a cafeteria. It was as silent as a library to me, being used to the screaming noise of Winslow.
One half of the room was bolted-down tables and swivel chairs, like something you'd see at a fast food place, and the other half was a self-service buffet.
"This is a capes-only section of the PHQ," Miss Militia explained, "If you're wondering why it's so empty. It was constructed to be able to hold many more than the usual roster, so that we don't run out of space if we get visitors from other Protectorate zones or need to take in refugees. And there's Armsmaster."
Armsmaster was in a corner, half-hidden behind one of the low privacy walls and hidden more behind the plastic fern on top of it. He didn't seem to have heard Militia; he was staring at something on the table in front of him, and it wasn't the sandwich he was eating.
"We'll get food and then go join him."
I didn't say that he didn't look like he was interested in conversation.
We collected plates from the buffet, two chili dogs for Miss Militia and a salad with ham toppings for me. I hung back as she approached Armsmaster's table, flashing back to the first day of high school when I had stood with my lunch tray and tried to find somewhere to sit while also ignoring Emma's piercing sneer.
I shook the memory away. All of that is behind and beneath me now. I sat next to Miss Militia, trying to summon a sense of confidence or failing that at least indifference.
I got my first close-up look at one of my childhood heroes. There was the short brown beard, the same as it had been since he first came into the public eye in the early days of the Protectorate. Short, dark brown hair at a uniform length all over his head, like he just took a trimmer to it every few weeks. His eyebrows were raised at Miss Militia as we sat down, eyes flicking over to me and then back to her. I got the feeling he might not have spoken even if his mouth weren't full.
"This is our new Ward," Miss Militia said. "She doesn't have a cape name yet."
I realized that she wasn't going to introduce me, and that her head was tilted slightly my way. Right, secret identities. It was rude to reveal someone else's. "Hi, I'm Taylor Hebert." Should I tell him that he's one of my favorite heroes? Would that be weird?
"Powers?" Armsmaster asked, finally putting down the tablet he'd been glancing at this whole time. He must have realized Miss Militia was going to force social interaction on him whether he wanted it or not; I could sympathize, having been through similar with Emma back in middle school.
I took a deep breath, ready to get into the whole thing again. Miss Militia waved to cut me off.
"She hasn't been rated officially yet, but I'd say Master four, with Stranger, Mover, and Brute subratings for the minion. It's invisible. She can see and hear through the invisible matter that creates her minion, so at least a Thinker 1. And she mentioned a possible Brute power for herself, although that's untested."
"Versatile," Armsmaster commented. He was down to only a few bites of his sandwich left, and I figured he'd be leaving the second he was finished. I searched for something to say.
"How did you decide on Armsmaster for your cape name?" I blurted. Good one, Taylor. Maybe next you can ask him if there's anyone special in his life and really round out that interview-vibe. "Um, it's just that I've been trying to think of one for my power but nothing really clicks. Did you know right away that you found the right name?"
"Thought my power was just about creating weapons at first." Armsmaster said, his tone still gruff and reserved. That sounded like the end of what he had to say, and then he seemed to change his mind about something. "People pick names that refer to their powers because powers don't change. If you pick a random name that you think sounds cool, you could hate it in a few years. A name that fits your power always fits."
I nodded along, feeling satisfied and settled. Armsmaster finished his sandwich.
"Thanks, Armsmaster. It was nice to meet you," I stood up when he did, acting more on instinct than thinking about what I was doing. I put my hand out to shake his unprompted, for probably the first time in my life. It felt very adult-y. "I've decided, you can call me Lazarus."
Militia was quiet during lunch, affording me the time to think things over. Dad and I had gone over a dozen potential names last night, but as I'd told Armsmaster nothing had really clicked with me. The one I did like, Lazarus, was one that made my dad flinch, and I hadn't liked it well enough to throw my death in his face.
Still, it was the best fit for my powers. More than the Dust and Coryn, the most important thing about me is that I cannot be killed. That can't be a secret. I want people to know.
"Let's go see Challenger on the console," Miss Militia said after we put our trays on a little dumbwaiter. I sent a sensor pair in after them, figuring that it was a part of the base I hadn't yet mapped out. I'd also already found the console and Challenger, but it would be different to have a real introduction.
As Miss Militia took me toward an elevator, she said conversationally, "So, tell me more about your regeneration powers? We were running out of time in the meeting, so I think I cut you off a bit."
"There's not much more to tell," I replied. "I can't die. I found out a couple weeks ago, when I first got my powers."
I saw Miss Militia was giving me a strange look. Then she asked, "How did you die?"
Ah, she thought it might be a suicide thing. That was going to get annoying. I shrugged, trying to play it off. "I died when I first got my powers. Some bullies at school shoved me into a locker, my head hit the coat hook at the back, and next thing I know I'm standing in the hall looking at my locker again, while the girls who locked me in are laughing and walking away. Took me a second to figure out that I was actually a big, invisible black creature. I was confused, but I kind of remembered enough to check in the locker, and there was my body. Got myself out, walked my body out of school... I didn't go back for a few days, but eventually I did." I laughed, finding a little humor in it. "Why not, right? They already killed me, it's not like they can top that."
"You had what's called a trigger event," Miss Militia explained. "They're fairly well-known among parahumans and people who study them, usually caused by extreme stress or trauma. Tell me, the girls who caused your trigger, do you know who they are?"
"Yeah," I wondered if this would be the moment I got justice. If I told her, would she be the first person to listen, to finally do something? "I know their names. I know where the worst one lives, because she used to be my best friend." Ask me. Ask me for their names.
Miss Militia seemed to be watching me as closely as I was currently watching her. She smiled slightly. "It impresses me that they still live, then," she said, "I know that when I triggered, the first thing I did was hunt down and kill the men who had taken me hostage. It was a dark time in my life, and I'm glad you resisted such impulses."
"I thought about it," I admitted. "But I don't want to go to jail or the Birdcage, and I'm sure it would be pretty easy to trace it back to me. Eventually I decided that they were too pathetic to even bother with. They're ants." Fragile, short-lived, worthless.
I noted that she didn't ask me their names. It felt like something being written on my soul, and a door sliding closed between us.
"There are other parahumans known to have resurrection powers, but all of them seem to have some drawback," Militia continued. "For example, one Protectorate cape who loses more of his mind with every death. Have you noticed any effects like that?"
I gave this thought the consideration it deserved. Was I different? Definitely. Was it brought on by my resets?
Indirectly, I supposed. I could trace every change in myself back to the realization that death can't keep me. But none of them felt forced upon me, and I believe that every one of them was for the better. I'm better now than I was before. I wouldn't go back to the person I was, given the option. Who would?
"I'm definitely different," I told her. We reached a door at the end of the hall, marked with a sign advising that we were entering non-secured space. "But that's because I know I can't die now. I think that would change anybody. I didn't lose any part of myself, I just cut away the fear."
"Fear can be a good tool sometimes," Militia leaned into the pressbar on the door, holding it open for me. "Keeps you sharp. And you should still be careful, often powers come with drawbacks or unexpected weaknesses. Just because one thing didn't kill you doesn't mean something else can't."
"If it does, at least I'll die surprised," I said. "Nothing I could think of did the trick."
Militia stopped in her tracks. "Taylor, how many times have you died?"
I figured I'd get this reaction, and I wanted to get it out of the way as quickly as possible. Trying for flippant, I said, "Somewhere around a hundred times by now. I was trying to figure some stuff out, doing some experiments. That's how I know it takes a few seconds to come back from having my neck broken, but about five minutes from burning to death. Also, would not recommend dying like that if you can avoid it."
Miss Militia just looked at me for a long second, something sad around her eyes. "Were you looking for a way to die, Taylor?"
"No?" Hadn't she been listening this entire time? "I can't die. I was just testing to see what happens when I do. That's important to know."
I wasn't entirely clear on why - I'd justified a lot of it in the beginning, telling myself that it was important to know in case it ever changed, or there was ever a time I didn't come back but remained as a conscious cloud of Dust, but I came up with those after I started experimenting. When I looked underneath them for the real reason I just found a driving need to know .
"Part of the onboarding process for the Wards program is a psychological evaluation," Miss Militia said. "I honestly don't know what they'll do about yours, Taylor."
I just shrugged in response. It didn't seem like a problem to me, but if people were going to get that worked up over it I could start lying.
Meeting Challenger was less amazing than meeting Armsmaster, although I did learn that she was on console because she was laid up from an eye injury, and at the same time was waiting for her transfer out of Brockton Bay. I got the feeling the injury and the transfer weren't unrelated, but also that I shouldn't ask about it. She wasn't a very open or talkative person.
"The Wards used to be out here with us," Militia said as she finished taking me around the training floors. "They still have practice times here on the weekends and sometimes after school. They were moved over to the PRT base a few weeks ago. They seem to be settling in nicely, and I've heard from Aegis that the commute is better."
"Why did they move?" I asked, figuring that would be a safe topic to land on. I really needed to start holding up my end of conversations more.
Miss Militia cleared her throat. "There was an... incident, which resolved in several injuries, some light insubordination, and bad calls all around. Don't mention it around Armsmaster, Challenger, or Vista. It was - " She stopped to search for the words.
"You don't have to tell me," I interrupted. As interesting as it sounded, I knew I could earn points with her by letting it slide, and I was satisfied to see her thankful nod.
"It's really not important. Suffice to say, follow commands from the console even when they don't seem to make much sense. On that note, the last stop on our tour is the infirmary level. This way."
Later, after I was dropped off at home and after dinner with dad, I booted up our old desktop to check my email for the promised packet of information. My nose crinkled in irritation as I deleted three abusive emails from my bullies, and then some more harmless spam. Finally, I was left with only two new messages: one from [email protected], and one from [email protected].
I checked, and the one from the PRT was pretty much exactly as expected, telling me what to do and what would happen over the next week. The other one was something completely unfamiliar. My bullies had never used that domain, and the subject line caught my eye.
There's something you should know about the Wards.
Actions
↑ Top ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter → Bookmark Comments (6)
Kudos
Apathy_Incarnate, PettyBop, Abaivonin, CinderedShadow, ApollosRaven, Hansledane, arturus, Notzyx, Trason, Starkiller666, Ruffus36, Yarkimp, Pear399, Sherpano, Minny123, Detro, Kharosian, Uru_el, peperlizia, KRIKEY26, Whynotmeforonce, Aeviterna, creaky_crow, Kazeshii, Itisn1tmyname, dizzyspe11, pekarekmatthew, DeannaLatte, jaded_blade, onecentwonder, The_Watcher_With_1000_Eyes, Basil_Terry, L_C_F_R, Jesienny, Wolfmadmax, Narshalla, Reddaemon, TankerOfTheEast, Yuri_Dhjeeyn, Taryth, Laicosnu, AbyssVale, PhenomenalDaisy, ProSkrub, bradztag, leftwards, Kwlll19, whod99, Blockhead30, SwagBro420, and 404 more users as well as 276 guests left kudos on this work!
Comments
Post Comment
Comment as TheBrimmedHat
Plain text with limited HTML ?
Comment
10000 characters left
Footer
Customize
Default
Low Vision Default
Reversi
Snow Blue
About the Archive
Site Map
Diversity Statement
Terms of Service
Content Policy
Privacy Policy
DMCA & TIDA Policies
Site Status
Contact Us
Policy Questions & Abuse Reports
Technical Support & Feedback
Development
otwarchive v1.5.0.1
Known Issues
GPL-2.0-or-later by the OTW