Denial
2.5
After the debacle with Lung's escape, the Wards were kept on base overnight for our own protection. I did get a chance to call Dad, and Armsmaster said I could invite him to stay at PHQ if he wanted to, but Dad turned the offer down out of concern it might reveal us to the gangs. They were bound to be watching after this and someone like him coming over would draw attention. Instead, I assured him I was okay, no, I hadn't fought Lung, despite what the news reports were saying, and yes, I would be careful and not let any of those `hormonal teenage boys` in the Wards convince me to do anything I didn't want to.
Chris had been close enough to overhear that and gone bright red at the suggestion. Dennis hadn't let him forget it.
The night had been somewhat tense, but Dennis helped to cheer everyone up and once Carlos realised what he was doing, he joined in as best he could. He wasn't quite as carefree as Dennis, but the fact he tried – and failed embarrassingly – had Missy and Dinah smothering their laughter regardless. It was a shame I'd not been able to formally unmask to Shadow Stalker, but she apparently had to finish her M/S regardless of the fact she'd helped in the defence.
As Dean explained, M/S wasn't a punishment, so she wasn't in any trouble. It was a safety precaution and it had to be maintained no matter what. She'd reacted well in coming to the defence of the staff where required, but she still had to go back in. Rules were rules. I was able to relax after that, and if I dared to admit it, I enjoyed what was probably my first sleepover since Emma's betrayal.
Of course, it couldn't last, and work resumed in the morning, where I'd been called in to meet with Miss Militia for a formal debriefing.
"You're not in any trouble," Miss Militia assured, accurately reading my tension and smiling. Again, she did it with her eyes rather than her mouth, the latter covered.
I wondered if that was a skill I'd be expected to pick up. I had a feeling it would involve a lot of standing in front of a mirror, scrunching my face up and having someone – probably Glenn – say `no` and `try again` repeatedly.
"After every action, no matter how small, there needs to be a debriefing and an AAR – an After-Action Report – filed. Luckily for you, since this was an attack on PHQ, you can skip that. The last thing the Director needs is an AAR from every single person involved." She laughed, and I did so as well, more because it was expected than anything else.
"Why is all of that needed?" I asked after she was done. "It just seems like a lot. Wouldn't it be better if Capes were out saving people?"
"There are multiple reasons really, Taylor. Do you mind if I call you that?" I shook my head no and she continued, "For one thing, it may just be the inevitable bureaucracy of the Government. We receive funding, and as such we need to show where it is all utilised, thus forcing paperwork down our throats. But more than that, it's so we can show accountability for our actions. There are a lot of people who are uncertain about having parahumans running around doing what they want, and this shows people that we're not like the villains."
"It's also just good practice for life in general, not to mention it lets me – or whomever debriefs you in future – fill you in on any missing information, answer questions and see if you need further support, training or assistance."
All good reasons. It didn't mean I liked them but understanding why I had to do it helped. At least it would be worth more than Mr Gladly's homework. Thinking about that reminded me that I'd missed quite a few days of school. Obviously, Dad wasn't worried, but I wondered if excuses had been made for me and what those were.
"Right. We'll begin with what happened after I saw you in the corridor up until your altercation with Lung. Just recount it in as much detail as you can, and don't worry," she said, smiling again, "This isn't a court case or anything. You won't be in any trouble for forgetting a few details and I'll interrupt and ask if I need more detail, okay? Great. Feel free to start."
Permission granted, I started to talk, piecing the story together and answering the occasional question Miss Militia asked, usually just her asking for a little more detail on bits that I skimmed over, or asking why I'd done a certain thing against Oni Lee – terror and panic in all cases. Miss Militia nodded each time, jotted the occasional thing down and otherwise let me speak until it was all done.
"Hm. Most of that corroborates with Calvert's story. It's a shame you were forced into a fight so early. Believe me when I say it's the last thing we wanted." I did believe her, since Armsmaster, Dennis, Carlos and Mr Calvert had all tried to get me away from said fight. In the end, it was just pure dumb luck which threw me in there head first. I was upset about it obviously, but I could hardly blame them for the ABB's actions. Aegis, Shadow Stalker and Armsmaster had all rushed to my defence and tried to help me escape.
Which made me realise I had no idea what was going to happen to them as a result.
"Are we going to be punished for what happened?"
"What?" Miss Militia seemed surprised. "No, of course not. Why would-? Oh, have they been telling you horror stories about being put on scut duty?" She laughed softly. "While you can be punished for disobeying orders or breaking procedure, it's typically required that there be some intent or negligence involved. Either that you intentionally did something wrong or failed to follow orders for some reason. Everyone involved, yourself included, tried to follow Armsmaster's orders to the letter, only for one of Oni Lee's explosions to interfere. So, no, there won't be any consequences from this."
That was a relief. If this were Winslow, I had a feeling everyone would have suffered, me especially. It was nice to see not everyone was like that. As much as I still wasn't sure what to make of Dennis and Carlos – they were just so nice, and I still doubted the sincerity of that – I didn't want them to get in trouble with their boss for what happened.
"It seems like everything is in order here. I heard you handled yourself well on PHO last night," Miss Militia said. "I was told how it ended. Don't worry, they can be difficult to put up with even for older and more experienced Capes. Most of us do our best to ignore it, though I know the younger generation tend to get held up on things like public perception and image."
"Yeah." Like people chasing popularity. That wasn't for me. "I can see why you ignore it." It seemed like the kind of thing Dennis or Vista would like, but I couldn't say the constant chatter was for me. It had been fun to read it when it wasn't about me but, well, not so much now. "I was kind of surprised about how much they knew to be honest."
"You can think some of the PR teams for that. We have a few people whose sole job is to monitor and subtly comment on PHO to sway opinion or `leak` details ahead of time."
My mouth fell open. "That's allowed?"
"Of course. For better or worse, PHO is here to stay, and public opinion is important. Left to their own devices, the people there will fly into the wildest conspiracy theories. They'd label Eidolon a villain within a week if we left them to it. It's not anything heavy-handed," she explained, "More along the lines of chipping in with comments, some clearly marked as from the PRT, some from anonymous accounts, to push people in the right direction or release details as needed."
"Were any of my details leaked like that?" I asked, not sure if I appreciated such a thing. It had my gut clenching up wondering just what they'd said and why I wasn't consulted or told ahead of time.
"Nothing without your permission, no. And we would have to ask it if we chose to. It was mostly damage control with you. Some people started to suggest master powers – and those can be controversial – so our agent subtly stepped in to point out the holes in that theory and direct them towards safer waters. We've done that before with Gallant, pushing people to believe he is a tinker rather than a master."
That didn't sound so bad. I felt myself relax a little. As long as people weren't lying or spreading my details around, I was fine with it. Not being seen as the next Heartbreaker definitely helped. "Nothing personal, then?"
"We try to keep such things out of it. It's not always possible, so I can't promise that won't happen, but such would only occur if you made it personal. That's normally for scandals, however," she explained. "Nothing I hope you'll ever have to deal with."
"Y-Yeah. I hope not."
Definitely no scandal in the making here. Nope. No way.
Fuck my life…
"There was one other thing I wanted to talk about," Miss Militia said. "I've spoken to Shadow Stalker, who gave me a rundown of your brief scuffle with Oni Lee. Or as much of it as she could perceive." There was an odd note to how she said that. "I've also checked the security footage, but that seems patchy at best, perhaps due to all the shaking and smoke from the explosions. Can you tell me in detail what happened when you engaged him?"
"I wouldn't really call it me engaging him," I mumbled. When Miss Militia said nothing, I winced and spoke, "Uh, well. I was running along with Shadow Stalker trying to get back to the main building, since those were my orders and all. Then Oni Lee teleported in front of me. There was no warning and I ran straight into him."
"Tackling him to the floor, yes?"
"Well, knocking him down, sure. But I fell on him, too." Tackling just sounded so intentional. I'd have liked to be able to claim that was what I was doing, but it would be a lie, and everyone would know it. Or at least I hoped they did.
"I see. Shadow Stalker says you displaced his mask for a moment. Is that true?"
"Displaced?" I recalled the fight as best I could. "Oh, I hit his mask with my hand." I winced, more from having missed it off the initial report than anything.
Miss Miltia leaned forward. "How did you know to do that?"
I blinked. "Know what?"
"Oni Lee's teleportation is limited by line of sight. By pushing his mask up over his eyes, even if only for an instant, you effectively neutralised his ability to escape – or even to self-detonate as he normally would have. That small thing saved your life."
"It did? I was just flailing randomly."
"I don't think there is much random about that, Taylor. What made you go for his mask specifically, instead of his arms, I mean?"
"I don't know. It just seemed like a good idea."
"I see." Miss Militia wrote something down again and tapped her pen on the pad. "Would you call your action instinctive?"
Panicked flailing? "Definitely instinctive."
"Hmm. Well, instinct or not, it saved your life there. After that, I believe Shadow Stalker claimed that you pinned Oni Lee's weapons to his chest, preventing him for reaching his explosives, and then drove a knee into his groin. Again, is that correct?"
"I… I think so?" It was hard to remember everything, which felt odd given that it was only last night, and I'd nearly died. Maybe it was the adrenaline wearing off. "I was laid out flat on top of him and my armour," I gestured towards the outward sloping armour where my breasts weren't, "Must have stopped him reaching them. As for the knee? Well…." I shrugged weakly.
"Instinct?"
"Yeah, I guess. I didn't really have any plan in mind."
"Possible combat thinker…"
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, sorry," Miss Militia said, eye-smiling once more. "We're still trying to get a handle on your powers and there are a few theories flying around. One is that you might be a combat thinker who specialises in instinctive actions."
"A what?"
"Basically, someone who fights effectively and intellectually, but without ever realising it." I opened my mouth to deny it – as expected – but Miss Militia cut me off. "Let me explain. A combat thinker is someone who has no physical enhancements or abilities above those of a normal person, but who makes up for it with mental abilities. Have you heard of Uber?"
I rolled my eyes. "Who hasn't?"
"Well, he's a rather powerful Thinker, despite the way he uses his skills. He has no intrinsic strength, special attacks or powers, but can learn and master any skill he puts his mind to. At least to a degree. In a sense, he can fight at a level of a skilled martial artist, despite never having formally trained as one."
"I don't think anyone could call me a martial artist."
"No, but that's why it might be instinctual combat thinking. You took Lung down – in your own words – in a panic-induced attack involving a can of pepper spray and a trash lid. You then defeated Rune, and you claim you did so by biting her in terror. Hookwolf, you say, fell because you – through no planning of your own – reached out and pulled Rune off her disc, and she `just so happened` to fall off at a moment where it was angled perfectly to fly off and hit Hookwolf centre-mass." Miss Militia waved both hands, now into her theory, "And finally, you bested Oni Lee, despite not knowing his abilities in detail, by pushing his mask up a mere fraction of an inch, preventing both his escape and his usual method of attack via self-detonation."
I stared at the woman opposite me.
"You did all of this without once thinking of the reasons why, but each time being afraid for your life and acting on instinct. That's why I believe you are a combat thinker, Taylor. And possibly a powerful one at that. I think we could up your ratings to Thinker 4, Stranger 3. It could even be higher, depending on what steps your instinctive power takes to ensure your safety, to let you snatch victory from the jaws of defeat."
"Are you saying that I'm a Cape because I flail at people good?"
Miss Militia shrugged. "In a manner of speaking. That's rather crudely put, but-"
"And you're claiming that I don't know this because that would somehow stop it being instinctual? So, I've been a parahuman all along, but I never knew it because I can't consciously access my powers?"
"In essence."
"That's… That's…" I trailed off.
"Versatile?" Miss Militia offered. "Potentially game changing?"
Actually, I had been about to go with `utter bullshit` but was trying to think of a polite way to phrase it. I'd have asked what she was smoking to come up with that if I didn't think it would get me told off. Forget Denial, they should have just called me Flailmaster.
"We also think there's a Stranger element to your powers that causes people – perhaps even yourself – to perceive your meditated actions as random or wild swings. Of course, these are just early theories based on your power testing and the few conflicts you've been in. Neither Lung nor Shadow Stalker could accurately remember seeing your power in use, and you yourself remain unconvinced, believing your actions blind luck."
"Because I have no powers," I said.
"Someone without powers who instinctively bested three of the most powerful capes in Brockton Bay. And Rune," she added, in what I felt would be a crushing blow to the girl's ego.
"My power testing found I had no powers."
"Your power testing didn't find any powers," Miss Militia corrected. "That doesn't mean there are none. It only ticks the boxes of powers you don't have. It doesn't determine everything, nor is it a sure thing. It should be noted that there have before been parahumans who did not realise they were such, and yet more who know they are but lack any instinctive understanding of how their powers work. Some grab bags even discover new powers they never realised they held. Not all powers are instinctive, tinkers and their specialisations often being a good example."
"But I'd have noticed!"
"Would you? How many fights – life-threatening fights – have you been in?"
"W-Well, not many," I admitted.
"Would you say they mostly involved your fights with the parahumans recently?"
"I guess." Sure, Sophia was a bitch, but I wouldn't have called many of our scuffles life-threatening.
"That would make Lung, Rune, Oni Lee, Hookwolf and the armed men sent to apprehend you and Dinah, all of which you defeated by instinctive and unconscious actions."
"I didn't fight those armed men, though."
"You instinctively chose to duck into an alleyway that brought you face-to-face with the Undersiders, who had reason to fear you and thus avoided conflict, dealing with the threat themselves so that you could escape. You also, in your words, pushed Dinah flat to the floor and covered her with your own body, which – I will add – conveniently led to the two of you not being hit by any gunfire or attacks."
"I… well…"
That did sound convenient now that I thought about-- No. No, no, no. I shook my head. No way was I going to start buying into this nonsense as well. No way in hell! Even if the odds of me beating Lung were astronomically small and I'd somehow done it anyway- No. Bad Taylor, bad! No doubting. Full denial.
"I'm not a parahuman!"
"That may be what your power wants you to think."
Argh! What kind of circular answer nonsense was that? How was I supposed to disprove something that couldn't be disproved because if it was, then it was just my power disproving it so that I wouldn't be able to prove it?
Fuck. Even thinking that gave me a headache.
"What about the MRI scan?" I asked desperately, latching onto my last hope. "Did that at least come back in? Don't tell me it got destroyed in the attack…"
"If it had, we'd just retake it. And yes, we received the results back last night. I've got a copy here."
Oh, thank god. That, at least, would prove once and for all how crazy they were being with all the wild theories. I mean really, a combat thinker? Me? I could barely combat think my way through school without Sophia pushing me into a locker. No way was I using it to disarm some of Brockton Bay's most dangerous criminals. When Miss Militia brought out the manilla folder and took a sheet of paper from it, I leaned forward excitedly, ready to shout `I told you so` at the top of my lungs.
"Here it is."
"I told you--"
"And here's your Corona Pollentia."
"So..."
I blinked.
"What?"
Denial
2.6
I was still in shock, and so missed Miss Militia speaking into a communicator and bringing Armsmaster into the room. I only realised he was there when he drew back a chair, the metal legs scraping against the floor.
"I see Miss Militia has taken you through your MRI results."
"And our latest thoughts on her power," Miss Militia added.
Armsmaster nodded. "Good. That should save time."
They were talking like everything was all said and done, which I wanted to remind them was otherwise – except that I couldn't. My voice wasn't working. I had a Corona Pollentia? Did that mean I had powers? Were they right?
No. I was sure there was something I was missing, something I'd read on PHO and just couldn't recall at this time. There were two parts of the brain that did powers, I recalled. One was the Corona – what I apparently had – and the other was something else. Corona Pollentia controlled the ability to trigger, the potential. The clue was in the name.
"Aren't there two parts to the brain for powers?" I asked.
"Hm? There is," Armsmaster said. "I'm surprised you know that. The Corona Pollentia is considered the foundations for a power, while the Gemma – which often grows on the Pollentia – dictates the usage of such."
"But the MRI scan only showed I had a Corona. Not a Gemma."
"The Gemma is notoriously difficult to find, particularly because it changes for every person and, some theorise, for types of powers, too. Masters, for instance, tend to have more development towards the frontal lobes of the brain. As for yours, it's difficult enough to tell where the Pollentia begins and the Gemma ends as it is, even without your Stranger powers coming into it."
"Before you leap into denying that you're a Parahuman," he said, holding a hand up and indeed interrupting just that. "Let me tell you a little more about how a parahuman is formed in the first place. Are you aware of something known as a trigger event?"
"I've heard the phrase thrown around online. No one would tell us what it was, though."
"With good reason. A trigger event is a very personal and difficult thing for any parahuman, and there are those who might misuse – maliciously or foolishly – the knowledge of what one is. Simply put, a trigger event is an incident of such physical or psychological trauma that it causes the Corona Pollentia to begin growth of the Gemma, creating a parahuman."
"Triggers vary from person to person," Miss Militia cut in, "But they're always deeply personal, and are often considered the worst day of our life. Many come on the verge of death. Anyone with a Corona Pollentia who experiences a trigger event will trigger. Armsmaster and I…" She sighed. "It's a part of our duty towards Wards to provide medical cover and treatment. As such, we were granted access to your medical records."
I tensed immediately. How dare they?
"It's automatic, Taylor," Armsmaster said, reading my anxiety. "We did not go snooping if that's what you believe. We both have better things to do than that. But when our medical teams received the reports, they had to bring it to our attention."
"Bring what, exactly?" I asked, still upset.
"An incident in January. One where you had to spend time in the hospital for quite the serious wounds." Miss Militia shared a look with Armsmaster. "Would you tell us about this event, Taylor? If you truly wish to convince us you're no parahuman, we should know."
"Don't you know already? You have my records."
"They're suspiciously void of details," Armsmaster said, voice clipped.
That didn't surprise me in the slightest. Winslow must have paid off someone at the hospital, or maybe destroying the details was a part of the agreement Dad signed for medical costs. I'd long since lost faith in Winslow to do things properly.
"I was locked in a school locker," I said slowly. "It was… filled with waste. Contaminated waste – used feminine hygiene waste from the girl's toilets." Armsmaster seemed to know that was bad and grimaced, but Miss Militia – far more experienced in such things – paled drastically. "I was shoved and locked in and left there for hours. The janitor found me later, when he noticed the stench, and let me out. Apparently, it was pretty bad."
"Pretty bad doesn't begin to describe what we have here," Miss Militia said. "Shock, infection, a few wounds and what looks to have been damage from insects eating your skin." I shivered a little and she noticed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be bringing it back up like that."
"That's a trigger event if I've ever heard of one," Armsmaster said. "I've personally met capes with easier triggers."
"But I didn't trigger," I said.
"Taylor, after such an event I can't imagine someone not triggering." Miss Militia leaned forward. "I assume those responsible were punished for their actions? Expelled at the very least!"
From Winslow? Yeah, right.
I shrugged. "I guess…"
I didn't want them coming to Winslow. Not on account of me, and not to make a bad situation even worse. I couldn't even begin to imagine how much shit I'd get into if Sophia, Emma and Madison realised I'd sicced the Protectorate on them. And in the end, Alan Barnes would just get them out of trouble, if Blackwell didn't just lie her way through it on her own.
It just wasn't worth the hassle to tell them…
"If you wish it, we can remove you from Winslow," Armsmaster offered. "We've moved many of the existing Wards to Arcadia already. It wouldn't be hard to move you there, too."
Arcadia? Did I want that…? A part of me said yes, but a bigger part of me knew it was a bad idea. I already knew who the Wards were. If I became their classmates in Arcadia, then it would just make it all the harder to keep living a normal life once they realised I wasn't a parahuman.
"No, it's fine. I've got things under control." I shrugged. "Can we not talk about this?"
"Of course. With all the formalities out of the way and PHO going wild after Lung's attack, the Director wants to move up your announcement ceremony. That will be taking place tomorrow."
My mouth fell open. "What!?"
"I know it's not much time, but Miss Militia has offered to help write your speech."
I eyed Armsmaster warily. "Is that to control what goes in?"
"No. It's to help you." I had the distinct impression he was rolling his eyes again. "You can turn down the offer if you like, but that'll leave you to write it alone. It will have to be proofed through to the Director, of course, but we don't censor our Wards, Taylor."
"Oh…" A little fire left me. "That's not going to give me much time to learn it, though. I've got no ability whatsoever at public speaking."
"The Director has given us permission to bend the rules on that a little," Miss Militia said. "You have a speaker in your mouth-piece. We'll have you record your speech tonight and you can just play that tomorrow. You'll have to answer the questions yourself, but it'll save you memorising the speech. Don't tell the other Wards," she added with a wink. "They'll be upset they all had to learn it."
"But they got more time," Armsmaster added. "A week at least, and some training in speaking to a crowd. Your reveal during Lung's attack has robbed us of that opportunity."
"Sorry?"
"It's not your fault. Regardless, tomorrow is a big day and you'll need to be prepared. Once that is out of the way, we can begin your formal training as a Ward. Much of that will be done with the other Wards, though you'll have some personal classes to help you learn things they already know."
"And when are my actual classes – i.e. school – going to fit into that?"
"After this weekend," Miss Militia answered. "The current excuse given is that you suffered food poisoning in takeout, and that it's had you bedridden ever since. Winslow's head, on the other hand, has been made aware of your new circumstances."
"About me being a Ward…?"
"Yes. Principal Black well seemed… surprised at the news." Miss Militia cocked her head. "Very surprised. I suppose hearing you were in danger must have frightened her, for she went very pale."
Okay, I could admit to a little vindictive glee there. Oh, she's gone pale, had she? Yeah, I bet Blackwell was practically desperate to have me back. Back in her office, where she could try and convince me not to tell the Protectorate how shit a principal she was, and how a Ward's trigger event – or what Armsmaster and Miss Militia thought had caused me to trigger – was a result of her negligence.
I was actually looking forward to that. It almost made what I'd have to do first worth it.
Of course, that would all collapse once the truth was out, but it didn't look like that was happening right now. The PRT had my MRI, which against all odds had me down as a sodding parahuman. Great. It was doubly ironic because all my protests now were because of necessity. I'd wanted to be a cape. I'd wanted this.
I wasn't sure if I still did, after what I'd experienced, but it sucked that I had the potential to be a parahuman, but I'd not become one, even after the locker.
Then again, that was probably to be expected. If someone needed to be in a traumatic situation to trigger, then they had to be desperately afraid for their own life. I had been when I was pushed in and when I felt the cloying, wet sensation of all that shit. I'd panicked instantly, started crying out for help and thrashing about.
It had all the hallmarks of a trigger event, I'd admit.
Except that my thrashing – my flailing – had sort of taken that out of my hand. All I could remember was the smell, the panic, my body trying to slam the door open – and then a loud bang, an impact on the back of my head…
And waking up in hospital.
Maybe I was lucky. I got to skip a one-way ticket to a psychotic break because I'd knocked myself out. In doing so, there was a good chance I'd dodged the trigger event Miss Militia and Armsmaster thought I'd been through. Not that they would believe me if I said so. It would be my Stranger power making me forget, or maybe the fact I'd knocked myself out, saved myself further injury and then been discovered – all because of my wild flailing – was proof of Miss Militia's latest theory.
Flailmaster strikes again! Now comes in `flail at self` variety.
I could have argued more. I knew I could, and probably should – but I wasn't sure it would be safe for me to do so. A realisation I'd come to, not during my interviews on PHO but after, was just how many people believed I was a cape. It wasn't just the PRT, nor these two sat opposite me. The public believed it, the journalists believed it, Miss Blackwell believed it, the Wards believed it, the Undersiders believed it.
The Empire believed it…
Lung might too if his running away was genuine. That and the Empire were what finally made me realise I was in a bad spot. One far worse than I'd initially thought. Because the Empire had already tried to kidnap me once, and that wasn't likely to suddenly not happen if the PRT dropped me. I had a feeling they'd not own up to their mistakes if they did. Winslow had taught me that. So, what would happen if I suddenly lost the protection of the PRT and went home not a week after humiliating Hookwolf and - allegedly - defeating Lung not once, but twice?
Nice, normal, fun times? Or another kidnapping and recruitment attempt?
Yeah. I didn't need Dinah to tell me the odds on that working out. I'd embarrassed Hookwolf, and through him, the Empire. I'd forced Lung into custody, and then into retreat. The Undersiders also had reason to not like me. Hell, about the only villains I hadn't pissed off were Uber and Leet. It was like Dinah said; I needed to be in the Wards. It was the only place I'd be safe. At least with the PRT, I was fairly sure I wouldn't be executed once they realised I didn't have any powers. The Empire would probably do that and worse.
Which meant that I might just have to play along with this... charade...
At least until I could convince the people that really mattered – the villains of Brockton Bay – that I wasn't a threat. Once they were pacified, I could work on the PRT and then go home and be safe. But not a moment earlier.
Was I really going to try and do this? Did I have a choice...?
It's just temporary, I told myself. It's just until things calm down with the Empire and the ABB. I only have to bite my tongue until that's done. I'd give it a week. Two, tops. My performance in the field would make everything clear and as soon as bad guys stopped dropping unconscious all around me, the hype would die down. Actions spoke louder than words, and if they wouldn't believe I was useless, I'd show them.
"So," I said, trying for a smile. I managed a grimace. "About helping me with that speech?"
Miss Militia smiled. "As soon as you're ready, Denial."
Ugh...
I had a feeling this was going to get worse before it got better.
Denial
Interlude
Armsmaster
Colin – or Armsmaster at the moment - stood to attention as was expected of him, his halberd out on display but the butt resting against the ground, his body relaxed. There weren't any problems expected today and rumours from the ABB – almost certainly intentional leaks on Lung's part – suggested that he had taken Bakuda to task over the explosions in Brockton Bay and put a stop to any more. It wouldn't save Bakuda their attention, of course. If anything, it was just Lung covering himself from a Kill Order. Bakuda was going to get one either way, that much was all but certain, but this way Lung would make it clear she'd not acted on his orders.
It did mean today would, or should, be free of interruptions. If Lung did otherwise, he'd only counter the message he was sending. If the Empire attacked, they'd be seen as sending a message in support of the ABB. Not something they'd want.
The initial speeches were out of the way, including a passionate address from Director Piggot to honour the loss of so many brave PRT servicemen and promise justice, espousing how they sacrificed their lives to protect the people of the Bay. It was well said, but Colin expected that most of the reporters only clapped because they were expected to. It was callous, but the news about those deaths was already out and the newspapers had run with it. Today, they were after fresh meat, and had their eyes set on Brockton Bay's newest Ward.
"You're frowning," Hannah warned, sliding up to stand beside him. Colin quickly reacted and forced his mouth into something more akin to a neutral smile. He didn't expect it to fool Hannah, but then it wasn't for her. "What has you so worried? We have Assault, Battery and Velocity scouting the area. They'll see any Capes long before they arrive."
"It's not that," he replied softly, voice barely above a whisper. Denial had started to speak, or rather to play her pre-recorded speech. The cameras were flashing. "Look at them. They're like wolves surrounding a deer."
Hannah chuckled, though she didn't deny it. "You're not normally so dismissive of the press."
"Perhaps I'm just upset at the disregard for those who fell."
"I don't think it's that, either," Hannah said. She sounded coy, and Colin glanced over at her through his helmet's visor. She wore a small, amused smile.
"What do you think it is, then?"
"I think you're worried about her."
"I don't deny it. She isn't ready for this. Every Ward before her has had more time, more preparation, more lessons. The Director is pushing her out early, and I understand the necessity, but that does not make me any less concerned. As I would be for any Ward in her position."
"I think your concern for her goes a little deeper than that."
"Are you implying something, Miss Militia?" Out in public, the usage of real names was naturally out of the question.
"I'm not suggesting anything unprofessional or untoward. You care about her. Or you show concern for her. It's unexpected, but – if I might say it – a little heart-warming. More than any of the Wards, you've taken a shine to her. You're… protective of her. More than you were with Kid Win, Dauntless or any other Ward. Old or new. I think you like her."
Colin huffed. "You're reading into things."
"I can see why you might. You were the first to meet her and she made a strong impression on you. A good one, which is rare for kids her age."
"She's very mature."
"She is," Hannah agreed, "But she's still a teenager. She's prone to making poor decisions, as we all – or most of us – were at that age."
"She is," Armsmaster agreed, frowning again.
"You're--"
"I know." He forced the smile back. Denial was doing well, but the questions had not yet begun. Her posture was firm, if a little stiff and obviously nervous. His visor pointed out the details that suggested anxiety and a little fear.
"She lied about things at her school, didn't she?"
"You noticed?"
"I don't need a lie detector to notice the hesitation. She clammed up pretty fast."
"Winslow is an under-performing school reporting high levels of gang activity despite our attempts to control it." Coded phrase for Sophia's presence. They could never be too careful saying such things out loud, even when they were sure no one was listening. Strangers existed, as did powers with enhanced senses. "It would be easy to imagine Denial having issues there, especially if the incident she mentioned is indicative of the situation."
"We can't help her if she won't allow us."
"I know." Colin let out a frustrated sigh but managed to maintain his smile. "I know. She already exhibits some degree of mistrust towards authority. Her reaction to the hospital suggested she was angry but unsurprised that they would share her information without her consent. I didn't notice it at the time, but Dragon said she noticed Denial's facial features tense up at the mention of Arcadia."
"I think she wanted to say yes, but something stopped her," Hannah said. "She got awfully combative when we mentioned her medical records, too. It's the first time I've seen her look like that. She's normally so calm, skittish even. If that's how she's going to react to simple procedure, I'm not sure how we can broach the issue of Winslow without inviting disaster."
Though he didn't say it, Colin had already made a note to speak with Shadow Stalker later about the matter. Denial didn't yet know her identity, so Shadow Stalker could watch from afar and report on any mistreatment towards their newest Ward. If necessary, she could also step in, and he'd demand daily reports on the matter. It was going behind Taylor's back and he was convinced she would not thank him for it, but Colin had not become a hero to sit back and do nothing, and Taylor had too much potential to see squandered over something as banal as gang violence or bullying in high school.
It was the correct course of action. He was sure of it.
"I don't like that look," Hannah remarked. "You're not planning anything, are you?"
"No. Of course not. Look, the questions are starting."
Successfully deflected, Hannah and Colin looked back towards the reporters. The first few questions were rather easy as expected. They liked to do that, make the interviewee relax and then pounce once they let their guards down. He'd warned Taylor as much. He hoped she remembered. Taylor breezed through them easily, only refusing to answer a question as to why she continued to deny being a parahuman. Or, well, she answered it – but only to say, "because it's true".
"What are your intentions towards Lung and the ABB?" a female journalist called.
"I cannot comment on PRT operations or current, planned or future actions." Taylor's response was automatic, pre-planned. She had a good memory and had taken to some of the stock answers well. Colin felt a little pride but stamped it down.
Hannah wasn't right about him taking an unfair interest in Taylor, was she?
"How are you finding your time on the Wards thus far?"
"It's been an interesting experience," Taylor answered. "I've never been through anything like this before. It's… nice, I guess." She shrugged. Shrugs weren't very heroic, and Colin knew he'd have to point that out to her later. Body movements were often read with context given by the face, mouth and eyes. Being masked, she would need to exaggerate some to convey her intent. "I don't know how to explain it better, but it's been an overall positive experience."
"Do you have eyes on any of the other Wards?"
Taylor's eyes widened. "N-No comment."
Hannah tutted and rolled her eyes. Some questions were so common as to be ridiculous. He'd lost count of the number of female – and male – Protectorate members (and even sometimes villains) he'd allegedly had romantic encounters with. Most he ignored. Mouse Protector, he had vehemently denied. Typically, Mouse Protector had gone on to wax poetic about their break-up, only adding fuel to the fire.
"A question here," a reporter, middle-aged and male, called out. "The current toll of Bakuda's bombing spree to create a diversion to free Lung, a capture you aided in, stands at over sixty-three civilian deaths. Do you have anything to say to Bakuda and the ABB in light of this?"
Colin's muscles tensed, and he made to take a step forward. Hannah stopped him, though she too stared at the man responsible with narrowed eyes. Director Piggot whispered something to the man next to her, who nodded and moved away. The Director moved forward, no doubt to criticise the question and inform Taylor she did not need to answer it.
But to their surprise, she did, "I think it's horrible. I think Lung should, and maybe is, ashamed of what his gang has done in his absence. I hope Bakuda is brought to justice quickly."
A good answer, Colin thought. He smiled at her.
"Do you feel at all responsible for the deaths, seeing as how they only happened because you took on Lung?"
This time, Hannah made no motion to stop Colin. He strode to the side, caught the man who the Director has spoken to and hissed into his ear, "Remove that man. Get him out. Now."
The agent nodded, "Yes sir."
He missed Taylor's response to the question as a result, but her posture had slackened somewhat. Colin made another note on his armour's system, this time to corner her later and explain that such was not her fault. His instincts had been correct after all, the reporters were out for blood today. Luckily, the man in question was being led away by two PRT agents. Some cameras flashed as people watched, but few moved to his defence.
"Such questions are highly inappropriate," Director Piggot said, having borrowed the microphone space from Taylor. "Please keep your questions on topic and related to Denial, or we shall be forced to end the Q&A early." She stepped back, gesturing for Taylor to take centre stage again.
The remainder of the questions went by without incident. It was hard to tell if the reporters were cowed or just sated, already having their story. He doubted it would reflect badly on her. While the tabloids enjoyed scandal, focusing one on an underage girl who had clearly only been doing the right thing was sure to invite scorn from any readers. The public would rally around her.
One girl raised a hand. Colin watched her and considered her thoughtfully. It was her age that made her stand out, for she couldn't have been much older than Taylor. Perhaps she was a journalism student, intern or from a school newspaper. She had dark blonde hair tied in a bun, freckles and bright green eyes. Taylor noticed her after a moment and nodded in her direction.
"You're fairly new to the Wards. Are you able to say how long it'll be before you're out patrolling?"
Odd question, Colin thought. Perhaps the girl wanted to see Denial in action or take pictures. It was an interesting enough question that the other journalists quietened, waiting for an answer.
"I'm still new," Taylor replied, both accurately and evasively. "I think it will be the PRT and Armsmaster's decision on when I'm sent out."
The blonde girl watched Denial intently and seemed to be whispering something under her breath. Eventually, she smiled and nodded.
"Thank you."
Tattletale
This was the last place Lisa wanted to be, but she didn't get much choice in matters nowadays. The suit she wore was simple but tidy, suggesting a decent attempt to look smart but not much means. Perfect for a small-time or up-and-coming reporter looking for their big scoop. She'd worn a little make-up, smiled and done her hair up in a bun.
Most of that was to disguise herself from the girl up on the stage. If Denial recognised her… No, she wouldn't. Lisa and Tattletale looked nothing alike right now, and they'd barely met for more than fifteen seconds before she'd had Brian blanket the area in shadow and Bitch carry them away.
As the questions were asked, Lisa watched Denial and focused.
Clean outfit, undamaged; new.
Doesn't wear it well. Isn't used to it. Only got it a few days ago and hasn't had a chance to properly use it. Shoulders stiff and posture rigid. Isn't used to being on a stage; might be shy or unused to speaking to people. Voice earlier was too even, too structured. Recording played through her mask. Is speaking normally now, but wasn't before.
Her power didn't always provide useful information, but question and answer sessions like these weren't a bad source of information. Lisa could find more in a non-answer than most could.
"I cannot comment on PRT operations or current, planned or future actions."
Can't comment-
Lisa rolled her eyes. Thanks, power.
Stock answer. Eyes flicked to Armsmaster. Uncertainty. Can't answer because doesn't know future plans for ABB. Isn't sure if she'll be expected to fight or not.
Lisa glanced to Armsmaster. Most of his face was covered, but she figured it was worth a shot.
Smile too rigid. Unnatural. Hiding a frown or scowl. Frustrated. Frustrated about questions, or ABB? Is talking to Miss Militia despite supposed to be quiet. Is worried about something. Gang violence or Bakuda. Impatient and doesn't want to be here. Would rather be working.
She pulled her eyes away before her power could keep going. She didn't always get what she was looking for and Armsmaster's irritation could have been for any one of a hundred things. If she let her mind wander, she'd pick something wrong and run away with it. That way led to headaches, and Armsmaster wasn't important anyway.
"Do you feel at all responsible for the deaths, seeing as how they only happened because you took on Lung?"
That question prompted a response from Lisa, and the crowd. Without really meaning to, she looked to the one who asked it, as plenty of others did. Compared to the other questions, it was downright savage.
Pleasant smile is too easy. Muscles in face twitching. Amused, looking for reaction. Question was planned ahead of time. Has recorder in hand but thumb not on record button. Tape not rolling. Isn't recording. Isn't journalist. Right hand on hip, thumb in belt, fingers near pocket. Reaching for gun. Doesn't have a gun.
Denial gave an answer against it and the Director said something else; Lisa didn't really hear any of it. She noticed two agents pushing through the crowd.
Intend to throw man out.
She watched as they reached the `journalist`. He resisted a little, but not overmuch. Most of it was just him complaining as the two escorted him out of the crowd and toward one of the exits.
Body rigid, right hand keeps twitching to waist. Looking for gun. Instinctive movement. Isn't journalist. Member of a gang. Not Asian, no Empire markings. Spoke against Denial for challenging Bakuda; Empire would applaud it despite Hookwolf. Not Empire. Not ABB. Too well-dressed and trained for Merchants. Reliance on gun suggests no powers. Military training. Mercenary.
Coil? Lisa wondered. Her power didn't answer, for which she was grateful. Seeing a chance in the silence that had opened up, Lisa raised her hand and waited to be noticed. When Denial's eyes fell on her, Lisa flinched.
Defeated Lung. Powerful. No indications of power, no involuntary movements. Looks nervous, but more nervous of speaking on a stage. Not afraid of me. Not afraid of me at all. Dangerous…
Swallowing, Lisa managed her question. She was quite proud she got it out. Luckily, anyone who thought she sounded nervous would probably just write it off as her being such. She was a young girl talking to a new Ward, after all.
"I'm still new to the Wards at the moment. I think it will be the PRT and Armsmaster's decision on when I'm sent out."
Evasive answer, didn't flinch. Eyes moved to Armsmaster again, telling the truth. Doesn't know when she'll be deployed. Nervous about patrol? No. Defeated Lung, Rune and Hookwolf. Unlikely to be intimidated by patrols. Nervous at public speaking. Skilled and powerful; will be on patrols soon. Will be active within month.
Lisa winced, but nodded and gave a quick, "Thank you."
A month, huh? Or less than by the looks of it. That was bad. The Wards getting any new member was a problem, but one who took down Lung and Hookwolf, and who had reason to hate the Undersiders? Doubly bad.
But what made it worse was Coil's latest orders.
"Find out everything you can about Denial."
Voice clipped, tense. He's angry, frustrated. A plan isn't going his way. Nervous of Denial. Has interacted with Denial. Unable to ascertain powers of Denial. Wants – needs – to know more. Thinks she may be threat. Willing to do whatever it takes to get information on her powers.
That wasn't good. Lisa grimaced but had little idea what to do with the knowledge. Not all information was useful, especially when you couldn't act on it. Still, she was surprised that not even Coil knew what her powers were yet.
Plans to use Undersiders to bait out Denial's power. Would not want to sacrifice asset in vain. Already tried. Failed. Empire assaulted Denial in civilian identity. Empire was tipped off. Coil tipped off Empire, created conflict to draw out Denial's power. Intended to `rescue` Denial from Empire. Failed. Hookwolf captured. Denial must be strong. Coil wants Denial dead or controlled.
"Not good," Lisa whispered.
Willing to sacrifice Undersiders to get Denial.
Well, shit…