Chapter Two: Weekness
Brockton Bay - One week later
Today was turning out to be a shitty day and it wasn't even 7 o'clock yet.
Firstly, today was the day my phone finally died.
I'd tried to save the battery, keeping it turned off as much as I could and only turning it on periodically to check if something might have changed.
This morning my hopes had proved in vain when I saw a black screen after I thumbed the power button. There was no matching charger for it in this universe after all, I'd checked. Somehow the dark screen of my phone had a sense of finality to it. I was stuck here, there were no lifelines, no 'phone a friend', no going back. I hid the phone somewhere it wouldn't be found, in case I needed it for some reason.
Secondly, I was going to be late to work.
Not because my phone had died though… I had a watch already and I'd brought a cheap 'burner' phone on my second day on this Earth. They were devilishly useful things after all, and while Earth Bet's technology definitely lacked some of the refinements of 2024, it was serviceable and easy enough to learn.
Phone internet was painfully slow and expensive though, like Earth in around 2005 so I tried to keep my research limited to the local library. The results of that research had seemingly confirmed that I was living in a version of Earth Bet which closely resembled 'canon' insofar as I could remember. Lung hadn't been arrested yet, which meant that I was somewhere before the start of the story.
I'd also found out that neither of the connected Earths had any version of Dragon Ball Z or any of its spin offs. I found a few stories which were close, but they were all based on the much older "Journey to the West". Unfortunately none of them had given me any hints on how to unlock my Ki.
So far my physical progress was impressive but not incredible. I was getting stronger faster than ever, but still found myself sore and limping after a hard workout. I suspected the difference was the energy which pretty much every DBZ character harnessed; Ki or life energy. Without it I was just a guy with a monkey tail and good genes.
Frustratingly there was no obvious difference in my body. No 'second sense' or 'well of power' to tap into, despite the many hours I tried meditating or centering myself. I quickly exhausted my pretty limited repertoire of meditation and breathing exercises without even a spark of the elusive power.
But I digress. The reason I was going to be late was because my bus was also late.
As I stood at the bus stop and grew increasingly frustrated I failed to notice a group of rather unsavory individuals making their way towards me purposefully.
"Hey!"
The sudden shout surprised me. Reeling around I was greeted by a fist colliding with my face.
I'd like to say that sudden ninja-like reflexes allowed me to dodge the punch. Instead I ate it like a fat man eating a pork chop sandwich and stumbled backwards, nearly falling over backwards across the bus stop bench. A riot of laughter broke out as half a dozen or so people in front of me formed a wall, penning me into the enclosed shelter behind me.
They were obviously ABB members given their races and attire, bright red and green scarves and jackets. The one who punched me was laughing and rubbing his fist while another patted his back, the one next to him said something I couldn't make out past his accent and bandanna.
They were young, probably all under 20, filled with piss and vinegar like all wannabe tough guys. I'd seen plenty of shady people in the city, but this was the first time seeing one of the major gangs out in force.
6 on 1. Enclosed space and I'm already hurt and tired from yesterday's late night workout.
De-escalate.
Humor.
"Nice punch" I tried to sound sincere and got a round of laughs.
"This is our territory gaijin, can't you see the signs?" said one, gesturing towards the fresh tag on the brick wall behind me. Like an idiot I turned my head, prompting him to instantly spring forward for another sucker punch. This one only clipped me, but it still hurt like a bitch.
"Fucker!" I shoved his arm away as the others drew closer, hyenas smelling blood, laughing the whole time. The biggest of them wound up a haymaker while one on my left tried to grab at me. I ducked towards the one on my left. Putting a foot behind his leg and pushing to trip him. He slid back, catching himself on the edge of the shelter and I made a break for it.
Ducking past the guy who hit me the first time I felt a hand latch onto my shirt collar, the material straining and not breaking as I was wrenched back, awkwardly leaning backwards as more hands grabbed at me.
I threw a wild elbow backwards but they were already on top of me. A punch to the top of my head probably hurt whoever threw it more than me but the next few blows found my sides and nose. Screaming out I curled up as I was thrown to the ground. I tucked my head between my arms and tried to cover my vitals. More hits rained down on me. Kicks and punches, somebody was pulling at my wrist to expose my face. Their laughter gave way to grunts of exertion as they worked over every inch of me.
Holy shit I'm actually going to die.
This is it. I'm fucked. These guys are going to beat me to death.
Well, bravo ROB, you got me good. Gave me all the power in the universe and I died in my first fight to a bunch of kids.
I suddenly howled as a stomp hit my concealed tail, the pain was way, way worse than anything I'd ever felt before. A white hot blinding pain, brighter than the sun washed over me as everything faded to noise.
Unlike all the other pain this one only grew, spreading along my tail and up into my body. It felt like the entire thing had been dipped in boiling liquid nitrogen. I choked, spitting up blood and writing in agony. It felt like I was being electrocuted. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't even scream…
I was suffocating, I felt my heart stop… then it started again. All of the pain which had been seizing my body suddenly burst.
I felt energy pouring through me, hot and insistent like flowing blood. I took a breath and it was like ice cold air flooding my entire body, soothing my bruises and washing away my confusion.
Opening my eyes I could see one of my assailants was rifling through my pockets, the rest were catching their breath and mingling with each other. High fiving and reenacting exaggerated punches and kicks. Behind them I saw my bus roll by, not even slowing for the stop.
For some reason the absurdity made me unbelievably angry.
More angry than I'd been in my life.
I ride your shitty bus every fucking day and you don't even slow down to help me when I'm bleeding on the ground.
There was no stopping the anger once it appeared.
How dare you. You shortsighted idiots. I'm working my ass off in this shitty city to help you people and this is how you repay me?
Before I realized it I had reached out and wrapped broken fingers around the wrist of the guy looting me. It was the guy who sucker punched me, up close he looked very young, maybe seventeen years old.
He seemed surprised to find my hand grasping him, and he looked at me with a half formed question on his lips, still smiling.
I grinned at him through bloody teeth… and squeezed. I felt a moment of resistance as his wrist bones ground together before one of them snapped.
The rest of the gang startled as their friend suddenly screamed.
"What the fuck PJ?" the big one yelled, turning around. I let go of PJ's arm and stood. All my injuries were noise compared to the anger, there was something wrong with my left leg so I launched myself forward with my right.
I reached the big one just as he finished turning to face me. He wound up another ridiculous haymaker and I swung at his face with a half closed fist. Hitting him as hard as I could felt like fluffing a pillow. He dropped like a sack of shit and I turned to the next closest—the one who had grabbed my collar. Predictably he tried to grab my shirt again so I hopped towards him, grabbing him by the head and then pushing him into two of his buddies.
They stumbled together and I rounded on 'Smartass', he managed to land a punch on my shoulder but it felt like a child play fighting. Grabbing the front of his shirt I yanked him off his feet and caught his fall with my knee. Whatever he had been about to say turned into a pained wheeze. Stepping over him I found the remaining two were helping the 'Grabby' stand back up.
They were afraid now.
"Holy shit he's a cape!" One cried out, eyes moving between me and Smartass' prone body.
Another began "Hey man, hey listen, we don't want any trouble…"
"Leave" I commanded, my voice raw.
"Hey man fuck you! We're ABB! Lung is going to rip off your head and shit down your throat!" the bravest of them replied, brandishing a knife. The remaining thug reached for something in his waistband. A gun?
Feelings of invincible anger were infiltrated by a cold sliver of fear. I knew I could beat these guys and they couldn't hurt me back, but I wasn't sure about a bullet.
I quickly bent down and grabbed Smartass by the back of his belt, testing his weight. He felt solid but manageable, like a travel bag full of clothes. Before they could react I hefted him straight at the group, right into the knife wielding 'hero' and closed on the other two.
A moment's hesitation cost them as I stomped down on a foot and felt bones break, immediately following up with a blow to the chin would have lifted him off his feet if I wasn't already pinning him to the ground. He fell like a ragdoll and I stepped towards the last thug and lashed out at his stomach, he folded immediately with a shout. He did have a gun after all and I kicked it away, nearly losing my balance from my busted ankle. I stomped on his hand for good measure.
The remaining thugs apparently thought discretion was the better part of valor as they ran, abandoning their fallen comrades. The young one was cradling his wrist and the other had apparently lost his knife.
Even with my limp, I quickly caught up with them. I punched the 'knife guy' in the small of the back and he tumbled shrieking. The younger one stopped, torn between helping his friend and getting the fuck away from me. He was obviously terrified. I stepped towards him and he stepped backward, tripping on a manhole cover and sprawling onto his back, crying out and cradling his broken wrist even closer.
I looked down on him. I wanted to hurt him so badly. I could smell his fear.
I wanted to beat him into the cracks in the pavement. In that moment nothing would be more satisfying.
The sound of sirens broke my focus. Of course now the cops arrive… shit! I've gotta go.
With a final look at the gimp with the broken wrist I hobbled away from the bus stop and the scattered gang members. Cutting through an ally and making my way back to my apartment in a few minutes. The usual back alley folk, addicts and the homeless gave me a sensibly wide berth and before long I was limping back up the stairs to my room. A pair of older Asian women in the stairwell took one look at me and disappeared into one of the apartments. Fuck.
I practically fell into my apartment, stumbled to the bathroom and stripped out of my blood stained clothes. My phone and watch were broken, but my wallet was still there.
I scrambled into the shower and spun the handles, feeling the perpetually cold water sting my cuts and soothe my bruises, washing away the blood and the last of my strength. Shutting off the water I crawled out onto the tiled floor and collapsed.
—
I awoke sometime later with a pained groan. Every part of me ached.
Senzu beans. I suddenly remembered.
Saiyans don't regenerate, they used magical fucking beans to recover.
I groaned and tried to stand, muscles cramping and protesting. When I finally made it to my feet the sight that greeted me in the bathroom mirror was gruesome. Bloodshot eyes rimmed with bruises, a swollen, a broken nose, various cuts and scrapes and bloody gums, a couple of my teeth felt loose.
The rest of my body was in equally bad shape. The entire left side of my body was painted with dark angry bruises from when I had tried to cover myself on the ground. My left ankle and hand were a poisonous looking purple color and I suspected that a few of my fingers and ribs on that side were broken. My right side looked slightly better and I could at least still use that hand. Even my tail hurt, the last quarter of it stiff and throbbing.
Stuffing my bloodied clothes into my towel I half limped, half crawled back to my room and shut the door. Collapsing onto my bed I took stock of my situation. I was hurt, very badly but something told me that I wasn't dying. That didn't matter though, I didn't have time to lick my wounds. Before long the thugs who attacked me would be giving my description to the police or their ABB buddies or both, it wouldn't take a genius investigator to find me holed up here.
Before I threw myself at the PRT for protection and some painkillers I had one last thing to try. Painfully crossing my legs I closed my eyes and turned my senses inwards. I immediately found my Ki.
It was a thing of beauty and contradictions. A fire which was not a fire. A pool which was not a pool. A light that is not light. I could feel its center, somewhere near my stomach, but also it was formless and shapeless, filling my entire body with each breath and then dispersing into the air around me with each exhale.
No wonder so many DBZ characters just sat around meditating for years, Ki is an perfect enigma.
Strangely I could feel my Ki reacting to my thoughts and emotions, as my curiosity and excitement built I could feel it shifting and growing closer. As an experiment I tried to remember the feeling of rage from the fight and it instantly started growing brighter, smoldering with tired anger. Am I looking at my soul? I could also feel my body much more sharply in this state, with the Ki seemingly moving sluggishly through my injuries.
I noticed that my angry 'flames' were depleting my energy so I turned my thoughts placid and took some deep breaths, concentrating on what I wanted to accomplish.
I experimented with various emotions and mental states, trying to find the "healing" Ki from the show. Eventually I found that by forcing the 'flow' of Ki through my injuries while staying in a focused state the abnormal 'colors' of the damage started to fade and the Ki started to flow through those parts more easily.
It was tiring work, both mentally and spiritually. While meditating my mind wanted to get lost in the flow of energy or distracted by the pain. It was constant effort, my Ki didn't 'like' being forced to move through my injuries, preferring to take the path of least resistance. Eventually I was unable to continue. Completely spent. When I opened my eyes I was drenched in dank sweat and busting for a pee.
Hobbling to the toilet I was surprised how much my short meditation session had helped, I'd tried to focus on my busted leg and hand, which felt much better, but as I relieved myself in front of the mirror I noticed that much of the swelling and bruises on my face were looking better, although overall I still looked like shit. I'd gone from car crash victim to boxer after a fight maybe.
I wondered why more DBZ characters never learned such a useful ability but then remembered that they'd have no reason to with access to Senzu beans.
Also many of them were kind of idiots. Although even without magic healing beans most seemed to recover unreasonably quickly…
After another quick shower and demolishing every scrap of food in the fridge I gathered all my shit and got ready to leave. It was too dangerous to stay here, dozens of people had seen me come home bloody and beaten, before long I'd be getting a knock on my door from an interested party and I wasn't going to hang around to find out if it would be the PRT, the ABB or Coil's mercenaries. Recovering my hidden phone and ID I threw on a hoodie and pulled the hood as far forward as it could go.
As I ducked out of my apartment I could feel invisible eyes watching me. Were the voices down the stairwell a posse of gang bangers coming to pop a cap in my beautiful butt?
Better to not find out. Instead I ascended the stairwell and made my way to the 5th floor lobby. From there I crossed to the opposite side of the building and descended the stairs there. Every person I passed on the stairwell was an ABB member or a police informant in disguise. Even the young freckled kid playing with a slinky.
I'm onto you slinky kid.
Eventually I made it to the ground floor and absconded out through the laundry, casual as you like. From there I hit the streets, it was late afternoon by now and I let my feet take me away from my once home and into the downtown jungle. There would be more snakes and Nazis there, but less Dragons too.
Today has proven to be a very shitty day indeed. I'd lost my home, my job and got my ass beat like a bongo drum. Despite all that, or perhaps because of it. I'd gained something priceless.
Power.
I was strong now, and I'd be even stronger once I finished healing. Now the thought of tangling with the powers of the city, both heroic and villainous, wasn't so daunting. The thought of growing stronger, of facing more challenges and overcoming them had ignited something inside of me.
I felt… inevitable. Like a rock starting to roll down a mountain.
I made my way towards the docks, planning to hide myself amongst the forgotten buildings and people, all the while burning with an invisible fire.
Chapter 3: Collateral Damage
Brockton Bay - One Hour Later
When I first appeared in this world I'd been expecting to be running into parahumans everywhere.
That was the way this kind of story was supposed to go after all.
In my mind I thought I might bump into Panacea on the bus on the first day and befriend her or run into her sister during a fight with a villain. Or maybe I'd stumble upon Taylor at the library or Tattletale at the boardwalk (like I could afford to go to the boardwalk). Instead the only heroes I'd seen were printed on merchandise, T-shirts and backpacks worn by kids or promotional photos online during my research at the library.
Instead I saw my first parahuman in person as I made my way north towards the docks after recovering somewhat from getting my ass beaten by some unpowered ABB thugs (and giving out a lot of pain in return).
I was trying to make my way inconspicuously when a sudden buzz among a group of people startled me. For a second, I thought I'd somehow been recognised.
I turned towards the dozen or so young adults sitting on a broad concrete staircase outside the Brockton Bay Community College who had startled me.
"Look!" a girl with dreadlocks said, pointing to the sky at a tiny person shaped speck flying high above the streets.
"That's Dauntless," a young man with curly hair exclaimed.
Before long the figure resolved into a hero I recognised as Dauntless, dressed in his golden hoplite armor, barely visible against the gray clouds.
One of the college kids took out their phone to take photos while most simply looked once and went back to chatting with their friends.
I wondered if he was just passing by or if he was looking for me.
Brockton Bay might be the "Cape Capital" of the USA but a new parahuman was surely going to provoke a reaction from the local powers. Pulling my hood forwards I crossed the street and turned east, towards the coast, skirting areas I guessed were ABB and Coil territory.
Apart from the public library, I'd never been further north than the college but I knew roughly where I wanted to go.
The Docks were more than just literal ship docks, they included a sprawling area of mostly abandoned industrial estates spreading westwards from the bay until they met the trainyard. The Merchants were the only gang known to frequent the area and I judged it the perfect place to gather my strength and test out my new abilities.
My gut said that Taylor lived somewhere around here but I hadn't resolved the issue around reaching out to anybody from 'canon' yet. There were a number of moral and practical concerns.
Obviously just telling the truth wouldn't be well received, "Hey I'm a person who read about your life in a story and some godlike entity thought it would be funny to dump me in your universe as an alien monkey martial artist… want to be friends?". Haha no.
There were other options of course, but I'd decided to take a wait and see approach until I was strong enough to headbutt my way through any complications. I'd seen the truth of this world and I knew it was a place which worked on the brute economy of violence and power.
The walk was helping work out the remaining stiffness in my ankle, the city thinned out and eventually I reached the infamous "Archer's St Bridge", namesake of the "Archers Bridge Merchants'' gang.
Nowadays they were just called The Merchants for short and also because they had been driven out from the territory around the bridge.
The bridge was a plain trussed steel and concrete affair only 30 meters long across a concrete canal with sloped edges. At the far end was an odd building, shaped and painted like a lighthouse. It looked completely abandoned and I briefly considered using it as a potential hideout.
After thinking about it for a moment I decided it was too close to ABB territory for my liking. So instead I climbed down into the trash strewn spillway and kept heading north. I increased my pace, hoping to find a place to hole up before the scattered rains turned into a downpour.
The rain was starting and my body was starting to feel oddly light, almost restless. rummaging through my bag and retrieving a plain black domino mask I'd picked up for a couple of bucks.
Now with my identity 'hidden' I started to jog along the canal and gradually pushed faster, trying to focus on using Ki to increase my speed.
The next moment I was airborne, launched up by a superhuman stride. As I reached the apex of my arc, maybe 3 meters in the air, I had just enough time to contemplate the meaning of the word "idiot" and then I was falling, down, down, crashing and rolling through a shallow puddle of rainwater.
As I rose I found myself surprisingly unhurt considering how fast I hit the ground. Another feature of Ki perhaps? Increased toughness… or a reflexive barrier... both?
"Just great" I grumbled, fruitlessly attempting to brush the worst of the water and grit off my clothes with my hands.
I was startled by a sudden roar.
"What the fuck?"
I could hear the sounds of a loud motor, a muscle car or a motorbike engine, echoing down the artificial riverbed. The noise grew louder and louder. I turned to look over my shoulder, perhaps the walls are messing with the sound…
As the motorized cacophony reached nearly painful levels there was no sign of its source except…
There was a vague blur in the drizzling rain which suddenly turned into a speeding vehicle barreling straight towards me. On instinct I leapt to the side, dashing up a sloped concrete wall. I saw a flash of what looked like a monster truck swerving towards me, missing by inches. I caught a few beats of some extremely loud music before the thing, one of Squealer's tinkertech vehicles, swerved violently in the opposite direction, over-correcting and ramping up and over the side of the canal.
I stood for a moment in stunned silence before the sound of crashing metal and car alarms filled the air.
Following Skidmark's fresh… skid-marks I found the metal monstrosity had ripped through the thin fence containing the canal and smashed through a street, scattering cars like bowling pins. An expensive looking pickup truck had its entire front flattened while a dark green hatchback was rolled over onto its roof, leaning against a power pole with smoke rising from its front.
Shit… time to be a hero.
—
I moved to the overturned car, inside I could see a woman with short brown hair struggling with her seatbelt while suspended upside down. Trying the crumpled door's handle I found it wouldn't budge. This is either going to be awesome or hurt like a bitch… I stiffened the fingers of my right hand and drew it back then slammed it forwards towards the edge of the door. There was a satisfying crunch as metal met flesh and lost. It was easy enough to wrench the door open once I had a hand gripping the edge, once it was open I saw blood dripping from my fingers. There wasn't any pain though, I felt like a God.
The woman finally managed to release her seatbelt, just in time for me to catch her and drag her from the cabin as gracefully as I could manage. Which was not very graceful.
The woman was babbling incoherently.
"I'm here to help, I'm a hero", I said to reassure her.
It felt very weird to say. Like I was pretending to pretend to be somebody I wasn't.
The woman nodded at me, her face stricken and then pointed towards the overturned car, inside I could see the other passenger, a man whose arms were hanging limply below his head. I tried to pull the car away from the pole blocking the other front door but it didn't move at all. I crouched down at the torn open door and contorted myself into the front cabin.
"Hey buddy! Dude! Wake up!" I yelled to the man in the passenger seat. He didn't respond.
I reached out and grabbed his arm, shaking lightly. I couldn't see his face clearly but he had a heavy build and sunglasses hanging from the top of his head. I could see blood dripping freely down from his head, onto the glasses then onto the roof of the car.
I was torn between trying to drag him out of the car or leaving him there for more qualified people when the distinctive 'whoosh' sound of some part of the engine catching fire made the decision for me. Reaching for his seatbelt and finding the release I tried to catch the unconscious man as he fell. He was an unwieldy dead weight but I managed to cradle his upper body and gently drag him while crawling backwards through broken glass.
Crunching through the broken glass I managed to get far enough out of the car that I could crouch and drag him properly, careful to cradle his head the entire time. I laid him down gently and started what first aid I could remember from a course taken years ago. Surprisingly a good amount of information came to mind, a testament to the shillelagh wielding Irishman who had taught me.
It didn't take long to determine that the fellow was in bad shape. Completely unresponsive, bleeding from multiple cuts, the right side of his body battered from the crash. His breathing came in sporadic, wheezing gasps, bright red foam sputtering from his lips with each exhale.
Very bad shape. Not good.
Glancing around I could see that nobody else was in immediate danger. Most of the vehicles involved had bumped into each other while swerving to avoid the sudden Tinkertech monster truck and their occupants were keeping a healthy distance, some talking on phones, presumably to 911.
The driver of the wrecked pickup seemed ok as well.
Turning my attention back to the injured—dying man lying in front of me I held out my hands, palm out.
OK, let's try healing somebody else. How hard can it be?
Finding the right state of mind to harness my Ki proved impossible. My exhaustion, stress and frustration made it come apart and mill around inside of me instead of flowing properly.
I growled in frustration as a voice broke my focus "Excuse me sir, He needs a hospital".
The pickup driver, an older, gray haired man with what looked to me like a 'cowboy' outfit had approached and called out.
"Do I look like a fucking ambulance to you?" I snapped out, "I'm trying to heal this guy and your inane comments aren't helping!
Cowboy Hat was taken aback and looked like he was about to start yelling as well, but a serious expression filled his features.
"Well sir, what do you need?"
That broke me out of my sudden fit of pique... I considered the question.
"Get her out of here" I said pointing to the woman who was now crying hysterically, "I need focus, if you can do anything about the car alarms that would be great." He nodded and a second later I added "also get these other cars to clear a path — for when the ambulance gets here."
Cowboy hat gave me a curt nod and set about doing as I had instructed. Dying Man didn't seem to be breathing anymore. Shit.
"Ok let's do this, calm calm calm, even flow, easy peasy" I murmured to myself, closing my eyes and drawing on my Ki.
I forced myself to focus on my breathing. My ki was still chaotic and unstable.
Breathe in.
One of the honking car alarms shut off with a distinctive *beep beep* sound.
Breathe out.
The gently falling rain misted on my face.
Breathe in.
Another car alarm shut off, and the ringing of a shopfront alarm suddenly became much quieter.
Breathe out.
I felt my KI responding to my intent. Instead of pushing it through my body I gathered it up into my hands. It felt thick and stretchy, like pizza dough. Grasping it was tricky, pushing it out into the man in front of me was even tricker.
I could feel it filling the air before me and then suddenly I could feel the body infront of me.
Somebody nearby gasped.
PAIN. BLEEDING. DYING.
I could feel my KI flowing into his body and see/feel the colors of his energy.
His body was a painting of angry red, black and cold grey. Everywhere my energy touched I got a sense of the damage, I could easily envision ruptured blood vessels, ruptured tissues and broken bones from the crash, all painted out in the strange energy of my power.
Forcing my Ki through his body was like trying to push a heavy rope with just my pinky finger.
I felt my energy draining extremely quickly as I tried to fix what I guessed were the most dangerous injuries, a bright red gash inside his neck and the growing black/grey along one side of his torso.
A few minutes or hours later I was shaking from exertion. I couldn't tell if I was even making a difference.
My entire world was the flow of Ki.
When I breathed in it would gather in my body and as I breathed out I pushed it through my hands into the worst of the damage. Wherever my bluish white Ki went, the colors of injury and death faded, but even as I struggled more of his body continued to color and darken. Eventually my flow faltered and then cut off, my energy completely spent.
Reality faded back into focus. A familiar siren, flashing lights through eyelids. I opened eyelids weighed down by lead and saw the man I'd been healing looking… still terrible, but still breathing.
It was all I could do to not fall on him.
A pair of paramedics were walking towards us. The one in the lead looked at me expectantly and then glanced at the victim.
"I've done everything I can. He's still busted up, his throat and liver especially. Both are still bleeding internally I think. A bunch of bones on his right side are broken. His spine isn't though. His brain... I don't know, I can't tell."
The paramedic nodded as his partner rolled forwards with the stretcher, "Is there anything we need to know about your power?" He asked cautiously with a head tilt towards the injured man.
"No… I don't think so. He might need more food and water maybe. I'm not sure, I used my own energy but I think of it some came from him"
The paramedic nodded and then set about his business quickly. I stood and watched. I had reached that strange state of consciousness beyond exhaustion where the mind began to turn in alien ways. The entire scene had taken a surreal quality. The rain had become a hazy drizzle and the flashing lights of the ambulance and police car bathed the entire street in alternate blues and reds.
I heard a strange sound, like a power drill and saw a figure clad in dark blue armor riding a futuristic motorcycle, picking his way down the street.
Armsmaster.
Chapter 4: Heliacal Rising
Armsmaster - Colin Wallis
The parahuman seemed calm and relaxed as Colin approached. That was a good start.
As he dismounted he checked the road behind him, mentally mapping out potential approaches for the PRT vehicles waiting just out of sight.
Turning back he studied the figure in front of him. A freshly triggered parahuman with unknown capabilities. Statistically one of the most dangerous encounters a hero will ever experience.
Colin wasn't afraid. He knew his own capabilities. He trusted his equipment and training. There was a van with a squad of PRT agents just around the corner. Colin lived for these moments, putting everything on the line—including his own life—to get the job done. This was a problem well within his abilities to solve.
As he approached, Colin sized up the recently reported cape. Their clothing was ordinary, dark blue jeans and a faded gray hoodie, dirty and bloodstained… Unremarkable attire in this part of the city — except for the black domino mask. Height and build matched the description of the victim from this morning, approximately 187 cm with unusually spiky black hair, medium build.
Colin breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. A small measure of tension dissipated. Earlier today he had arrived late to an apartment building and found Oni Lee and a dozen ABB members turning over the fresh trigger's apartment. Since then he had anticipated being too late once more.
-Feed?- he subvocalized, sensors in his suit reading muscle movements in his throat and translating them into text.
-Five by five- Dragon responded, watching and listening through micro-cameras in his suit and monitoring his prototype lie detector's output.
He walked forward until he was close enough to be heard clearly. The cape gave a half wave and a crooked smile. Colin smiled back and introduced himself with a nod.
"Good evening. I'm Armsmaster, the leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate team." He said,
"I don't have a cape name, but I have a feeling you know who I am by now anyway," the trigger replied, sounding tired with a distinct Australian accent
Colin had a pretty good idea—the unwritten rules gave some semblance of anonymity for capes, but public triggers were complicated—it had become clear that the ABB were already hunting the new cape's civilian identity. Naturally the director ordered the PRT to coordinate with the BBPD and start digging, unwritten rules be damned. A few hours later they had a name, home address and workplace to match to the fresh trigger. 'Ross Moore', an Australian working at a restaurant named The Mast. Database searches turned up nothing, an assumed name possibly.
Colin believed that given the recent Endbringer attack in Canberra, administrative failure and expatriate trigger events were both highly likely.
"We're not in the business of outing people as parahumans. In fact I can promise you that the Protectorate takes secret identities very seriously." Armsmaster said.
"But you know who I am anyway." The cape said firmly.
"You're a person who stepped into a dangerous situation to help strangers, that's all that matters."
The cape nodded blandly and Colin mirrored him. Dragon recited statistics as she always did when she grew nervous, it was her measure of control when she was far away from the action. - Five point two percent of unknown parahuman interactions with Protectorate personnel result in fatal violence… -
"For the sake of your privacy do you have an alias we can call you, a hero name?"
"I don't really have anything picked out. How about Echo?"
"Why Echo?" Colin asked automatically as Dragon reported: - Echo is an independent hero in Delaware, sound based blaster/mover/thinker, active for 3 years… -
"It's from a song," the cape said after a short pause.
Colin relayed Dragon's information almost word for word. The cape 'almost known as Echo but it was already taken' thought for a moment before suggesting:
"Polaris. Like the star."
-"Records show it's not taken, although there is a rogue called North Star active in California."-
"Polaris is a good name." Colin said, "Short, distinctive, evocative. Can you tell me what happened here, for the record?"
"I was passing by randomly. There was a tinkertech truck, it was invisible or something, I couldn't see it until it came close." he said pointing towards the aqueduct wall. Colin didn't turn to look, he knew better than to take his eyes off a potential threat.
The cape, Polaris, continued to give a brief statement starting from his intervention. Colin listened intently and was quietly impressed, he began to suspect that Polaris might have a background in law or policing due to some particular word choices; 'vehicle' instead of 'car', 'casualty' instead of 'victim'. When he revealed his healing power Colin's eyebrows raised behind his helmet. Healers were rare. Colin knew that even without Dragon impassionately listing the statistics. But already his mind was working over Polaris' abilities.
Much stronger than an average person but unable to shift the wrecked car, Brute 3. Regeneration might edge him up to Brute 4 unless had to actively heal himself. The rest of the ratings were marginal. Mover 2 for enhanced speed and reflexes displayed in the fight this morning. Thinker 1 for being able to sense injuries via his healing ability. His healing abilities were much harder to quantify, typically healers were Strikers or Blasters, but Shakers and Trumps were possible as well. From Polaris' report, it seemed that healing took his undivided attention and tired him quickly, only time would tell how effective it was.
There was always the danger of potential drawbacks. "Pure" healers like Panacea were vanishingly rare, most healer powers were inherently selfish, typically incurring some cost, usually paid by the person receiving healing.
Master effects were sadly par for the course. Colin knew of one particularly gruesome case where an acclaimed healer in Vietnam was secretly infecting people, slowly transforming them into biological monsters. It had only been revealed when a recently 'healed' victim was struck by a bus and their body was shown to be incubating a deadly chitinous monster. The worst part was that the infected didn't even know they had been turned—pleading and crying even as barbed claws tore out from their bodies. Ever since then healing powers had been given an extremely high level of scrutiny.
As if reading Colin's mind Polaris spoke up. "If you can, please get Panacea to check out the guy I healed. I've never used my powers to heal somebody else before… I'm pretty sure it's safe, but it's possible I accidentally gave them super cancer."
"Super cancer? Is that part of your power?" Armsmaster asked seriously.
"No. I mean—Probably not—No, almost certainly not, but it won't hurt to check."
Dragon confirmed that he was seemingly truthful as Colin replied "I'll give you some advice, come in for power testing. You don't have to reveal anything you don't want to, but we can help you understand your powers better. No strings attached."
Polaris seemed interested. Colin could practically see the gears turning in his head.
"If you want to use your healing powers more efficiently then there's a lot the Protectorate can help you with; support, training, legal issues, payment."
"I'm interested, but I have some conditions…"
—
Polaris - The next morning
I'd been half delirious from exhaustion and adrenaline when I'd agreed to doing the power testing. I could vaguely remember making some strange requests in an attempt to prevent Coil from getting information about me but in hindsight I probably came off as weirdly paranoid. After I passed out in the hotel that the Protectorate heroically paid for, there were no surprise attacks by Coil's mercenaries or the ABB looking to settle the score, so maybe I did good spycraft, but probably not.
I'd been at least conscious enough to make Armsmaster promise that they would foot the bill for my room service in the morning. Which I took full advantage of.
Two full english breakfasts, twelve pancakes with syrup and ice cream, a carton of milk and one of almond milk, three bowls of oatmeal with nuts, berries and honey plus one extra large coffee and six extremely overpriced "snack" bars (taken from the hotel room's mini fridge while waiting for breakfast to arrive). The Saiyan appetite wasn't just for laughs apparently.
After I finished eating I felt flushed with energy. Like I was ready to run a marathon. Hell I probably was. My sense of smell seemed leagues better than the day before, I didn't remember that as a power the Saiyan race possessed. But I wasn't too surprised given their other animalistic traits.
I briefly considered leaving and not doing the power testing. I even stuck my head out the bathroom window to judge the distance, I had no real idea how durable I was after waking up… I felt stronger, and the sight of the three story drop made me feel nothing, when a week ago it would have flooded me with vertigo.
Ultimately the allure of properly testing my new abilities was too tempting. I wanted to know how strong I was after my awakening. There was a part of me which was desperate to find out how I measured up against the top parahumans like Alexandria.
I didn't consider myself overly competitive before crossing over, I like to win, who doesn't? But with Saiyan blood in my veins, it was like there was an animal inside of me which needed to know where I stood.
I wasn't sure what to make of it. Presumably evolution does weird shit with psychology when individuals are capable of blowing up mountains. The best way I could rationalize my newfound desperation to gauge my own strength was this; for a Saiyan, knowing who's stronger than who is literally life or death. A skinny old lady could be 100 times stronger than you. So if you fucked around, your 'finding out' might involve getting vaporised by a supernova powered beam of energy.
In that case the invention of the "Scouter", a device that could measure power levels, must have caused a societal revolution for the spiky haired bastards. Food for thought.
In quiet moments I wondered if the Dragon Ball universe was really out there somewhere or if ROB had simply twisted me into a facsimile of a purely fictional being. I decided not to think about it too much. Impossible to find out, maddening to contemplate.
Miss Militia, the flag bedecked heroine knocked on my door at precisely 9 pm. She was polite and respectful as could be.
The Protectorate's charm offensive was on full display. A swanky ride to The Rig complete with PRT escorts and Miss Militia as guide. Do you remember? She had asked, and I feigned ignorance.
A couple of the Wards were strategically placed on the boardwalk near the light-bridge with adoring crowds queued up neatly for autographs and photos. There was even a flyover by Dauntless. All they needed was a bald eagle squawking out the USA's national anthem and they'd be the picture of wholesome, American heroism.
As a complete outsider, it was oddly surreal. Especially since I knew that this entire culture was a fabrication made to keep parahumans in a holding pattern till judgment day. I was impressed, but couldn't completely hide my disillusionment.
They must have picked up on my impatience, and pushed me through to actual testing quickly after showing me the Rig's lobby and reception area.
—
Power testing turned out to be fun. Incredibly unbelievably fun.
It started with some fairly straightforward questions about what I thought I could do, which I answered mostly truthfully, telling them that I had an internal 'energy' which I used for my various powers. After about 20 minutes of being questioned we got into actual tests.
The first thing they did was some memory games, various lab coats showing me random playing cards and reciting some poetry which I would presumably be tested on throughout the day. Thinker stuff surely.
After that I was brought into a large gymnasium with some impressively advanced and dangerous looking machinery. Waiting for me was Armsmaster, Assault and a younger man who I identified as Clockblocker by his somewhat cheesy, clock based costume.
I had to respect their choice of reception. Armsmaster for his authority and expertise with the machinery. Assault for his charisma and kinetic manipulation. And Clockblocker, who immediately broke the ice with a terrible joke. I could relate to all three for various reasons and all three would be hard counters for a brute like myself in a fight if things got out of hand. I had to give it to the Protectorate, they weren't stupid when dealing with an unknown agent.
—
The physical testing took about two and a half hours and was about what I had expected.
Lifting weights, running on a treadmill, squeezing, pushing and punching all sorts of clever devices and gizmos. Overall the various technicians and gathered heroes seemed fairly whelmed with my performance. I'd landed about middle of the pack for most "Brute" powers, around a 4 or 5 on the bafflingly useless "Parahuman Threat Scale'' with a complementary Mover 2 due to me throwing myself around with various jumps and performing better than any normal human on the treadmill.
It was the more 'arcane' tests which stood out to me. They had me trying to twist a handle without moving the rest of my body. Which apparently showed that my body produced paradoxical "force" without relying on the trappings of physics like leverage or mechanical advantage. It didn't come as a surprise to me, since I knew I'd eventually by flying around unaided as a giant middle finger to old mate Isaac Newton.
Later I was attempting to catch an egg launched at high speeds without breaking it, a messy task which I quickly mastered, which confirmed my Mover rating and apparently proved that my power had a form of "tactile telekinesis" where things I touched would have my influence affect them in various ways. More ki weirdness.
My favorite test by far was getting blasted with a "kinetic displacement device" which was basically a tinkertech foam hammer which sent me flying across the room crying with laughter. Eventually Armsmaster had to step in and forced the researchers to begin the next phase of tests.
There was a short break, where I got some food and got quizzed on the poems and card games from earlier. I think I did well for a baseline human… but assuredly bombed out of any concrete Thinker rating. Oh well, Saiyans weren't known for their academic abilities after all.
There was a second round of testing. Repeating some tests I'd already done with some new variations and limit testing things like strength and speed. By this point it seemed that the nerds had me pegged and were just dialing in on the fine details. I noticed that Assault gradually relaxed throughout the course of the testing, presumably deciding that he'd be able to clear me if it came to a fight. It pissed me off but I was having too much fun to be annoyed by it. Plus he was probably right, the guy made a career knocking over armored cars and prison transports before serving as a hero for years.
Eventually I was even frozen by Clockblocker, which wasn't an "official test" and was a "waste of everybody's time" according to the power testing coordinator. But I had insisted and Clock hadn't refused. It was jarring to say the least. One moment he was reaching out the next he was sitting off to the side mid conversation. I think I might have felt… 'something' in the time I was frozen, but maybe not.
Eventually we broke for lunch. I wasn't invited to the legendary 'Rig Cafeteria' of fanfiction fame, instead I was given abundant food in a small interview room with two of the three heroes for company. Assault and Clock tried to draw me into conversation and I let them, they were likable and I didn't get the sense they were fishing for information.
The researchers keeping track of how much I ate calculated that I was probably running on 20,000 calories a day while training and recovering. Which was an unusually huge amount of food, not impossible, but much more than the diet of an extremely high end strongmen.
After lunch, some repeat testing and one more round with the puzzles and cards, I was ushered off to testing the other aspect of my power. Healing.
Chapter 5: Eris
The Rig - One and a half hours Later
After a full hour of questions about how I thought my healing abilities worked, I spent nearly another half an hour waiting around for Panacea to arrive. I spent the time pensively considering what I knew about her.
She had an incredible power and was using it to great effect. Wiping away deadly injuries and diseases with a touch of her hand. But I was privy to the uncomfortable knowledge that she was a deeply, deeply, troubled young woman, holding on by a thread while fighting a mountain of family issues, crushing societal pressure and a pissed off alien supercomputer in her head constantly goading her to abuse or misuse her powers.
There was also the small issue that if she touched me, her shard might immediately realize what I was. Which could have a huge range of outcomes, ranging from the two of us abusing her power and my physiology to transform me into a god, all the way to the great golden jerk Scion snapping out of his funk years early and using his full power to take me apart atom by atom to see how I tick.
I shuddered to imagine what the universe might look like if the Entities actually succeeded in their quest for infinite energy by reverse engineering Saiyan physiology… A billion worlds of a trillion treadmills being churned by trillions of clones, all wearing my face; industrialized suffering for eternity across thousands of universes.
I jerked up, breaking away from that chain of thought as a door swung open to reveal a PRT officer guiding a mousy looking teenage girl in a white robe. Amy Dallon was taller than I had expected, fine featured with frizzy brown hair and a saturation bombardment of freckles. Her costume was vaguely reminiscent of a fantasy cleric's robes, sparkling white with a red cross emblazoned on the front.
"Polaris, I presume?" she said, her voice carrying a hint of weariness, her eyes sharply scanned over me before putting on a fixed smile, "I was told you have a healing power you're having tested?"
I stood, trying to keep my nervousness from showing. "That's right. It's an honor to meet you, Panacea. Your work is incredible."
She gave a small nod, her eyes fixing on my bruised knuckles "You're hurt," she said matter-of-factly, reaching out a hand. "May I?"
I took an instinctive step back, raising my hands slightly. "Oh, that's not necessary. It's just a scratch, really."
Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment. "It's no trouble. Besides, we're here to compare healing abilities, right? It makes sense to start with a demonstration."
I could feel the tension in the room ratcheting up. The PRT officer who had escorted Panacea in, the same guy who'd watched the power testing I realised, was watching our exchange with growing interest.
"Sorry but I'll have to decline," I said apologetically, "It's nothing personal. I'm just not comfortable with being touched."
Amy's eyes narrowed, her expression shifting from confusion to something harder to read. A mix of suspicion and... hurt? The room fell into an uncomfortable silence for a moment.
"I see," she finally said.
We stared at each other like strange cats for a moment before the PRT officer cleared his throat, efficiently cutting the tension. "Perhaps we should move on to the planned demonstrations?"
Amy nodded curtly, but her eyes never left me. "Yes, let's do that. Polaris, why don't you show me what you can do?"
A dozen or so cots were set up with PRT medics and a few medical staff watching over the various people who had volunteered to play lab rat for an unknown parahuman. Apart from a few cameras and heart monitors there were basically no frills. Panacea's power would serve better than a hospital's worth of diagnostic equipment.
The procedure was simple.
We were shown to an injured or sick person. Panacea would touch them to confirm their condition. Then I would use my power to try and examine their injuries. Then I was told to try and heal them. After Panacea would come in and check my work.
With simple injuries like broken bones or cuts, it was easy, I simply poured flows of energy into the injuries until they washed away. Diseases and long term illness was more like a discoloration which infected the entire body. I could fix any glaring problems and give them a short term boost, but fixing the root cause seemed to require understanding and control that I currently lacked.
Other patients were completely beyond me, notably cancers and brain damage. Cancers showed as paradoxical flows in the patients Ki, places where the normally steady flow rushed and churned like white-water rapids or turned in on itself like a whirlpool. Those I didn't dare try to unsnarl, my instincts told me that my usual methods would make things a lot worse. Permanent injuries seemed to deaden flow of Ki, a wheelchair bound PRT agent had a seemingly normal upper body but 'dead' legs. Meanwhile a brain dead woman was almost completely dark, with the flow of Ki beyond glacially slow.
I was once again astonished by the intense complexities of Ki. I felt I could spend a lifetime studying it without scratching the surface. The other revelation was how much easier healing was compared to yesterday. I felt like my reserves of energy were larger and my control over my Ki was more delicate. Did Sayians really progress so quickly?
Panacea acted her part with brusque efficiency. Throughout the process I noticed that she was keeping an eye on me even while conferring with the PRT staff or reassuring a patient. I couldn't tell if her constant surveillance was born out of curiosity or caution.
She was perfectly unreadable. Her family circumstances meant she had never gotten the chance to distance her powers from her identity, so she had turned her own face into a mask.
My natural reaction to tense situations like these was to make jokes, but I barely managed to restrain myself. Amy Dallon didn't seem the type to enjoy 'Dad joke energy' and had probably heard every possible medical related pun before she turned 15.
As the testing was winding down the security door suddenly buzzed and a blond haired goddess entered, loudly shushing a harried looking PRT agent tailing her.
The sudden entrance of the young woman drew everyone's attention. I recognized her immediately: Victoria Dallon, aka Glory Girl, Amy's adopted sister. She was almost painfully perfect. Beautiful, symmetrical and flawless like an airbrushed model, almost unreal, a teenage dream made manifest.
Victoria's eyes scanned the room, quickly finding her sister. A bright smile lit up her face as she made her way towards Amy, seemingly oblivious to the disruption her arrival had caused.
"Amy! There you are," Victoria called out cheerfully. "I thought I'd swing by and see how power testing was going."
Amy's posture stiffened slightly at her sister's approach, but her face remained impassive. "Vicky, this isn't really a good time. We're in the middle of—"
"Oh, come on," Victoria interrupted playfully, "I'm sure they won't mind if I stick around for a bit. Besides, I'm dying to meet the new cape everyone's been talking about."
Her gaze shifted to me, and I felt a surge of awe. The lights around her seemed to dim as she became more vibrant and sharp. I found myself tracing the lines of her face, trying to drink in the colors of her costume and curves of her body. Intellectually, I knew what her aura did, but feeling it, I felt like a lizard in the sun, grateful just to bask in its warmth.
Deep within me, something stirred—clawing its way to the surface. I tried to push it back down, but the stupor of Victoria's aura weakened my will. Anger took its place.
In an instant, I was on my feet, closing the distance between us in a blur. Before anybody could react, I was eye to eye with the heroine.
Victoria didn't flinch. Instead, she raised an eyebrow incredulously. A beat passed, and a corner of her mouth twitched upwards slightly; she thought my reaction was funny.
I warred with the sudden rage and my own indignity, fists clenched. Panacea shouted "Victoria!" and a wave of cold dread washed over me as the enforced awe and sudden inexplicable rage receded.
Victoria's amusement vanished as quickly as her aura, replaced by a look of startled concern. "Whoa, hey, I didn't mean to..." She raised her hands in a placating gesture, taking a step back.
I stood there, fist still clenched, breathing heavily as I tried to regain control of my emotions. The rage was gone, but the memory of it lingered, a bitter taste in the back of my throat. Beneath the fading anger, I could almost hear a distant roar, my heart thundered like giant fists pounding the ground.
"What the hell was that?" I demanded, my voice rough.
Before Victoria could respond, Armsmaster appeared, placing himself between us. "Glory Girl. Leave now," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Panacea hurried to her sister's side, shooting me a wary look. "Are you okay?" she asked Victoria, voice tight.
Victoria nodded, her eyes never leaving mine. "I'm fine. I just... I didn't expect him to react like that." With a final glance in my direction, Victoria turned and leapt, crossing the ten meters to the door in a single flight-assisted bound. Panacea scurried after her, casting a concerned look over her shoulder before the door buzzed shut behind them.
In the sudden silence, I became acutely aware of the PRT agents eyeing me warily, tasers and foam grenades held almost out of sight.
Armsmaster surveyed the room, his eyes lingering on the PRT agents still hovering nearby. "Let's continue this conversation somewhere more private," he said, gesturing for me to follow him.
—
The short walk gave me a moment to collect myself. I felt irrational guilt, like a little kid being sent to the school principal. I ran through the encounter over and over. I had been seconds away from lashing out at Glory Girl and I wasn't even sure why. Was it her aura? Something else?
Armsmaster stopped in front of a nondescript door, tapping a code into the keypad beside it. The lock disengaged with a soft click, and he motioned for me to enter. Inside was a small table and several chairs. A single camera blinked in the corner, reminding me we were not entirely alone.
"Polaris, I apologize for what happened. Glory Girl should not have been there, and I take full responsibility for that breach in protocol."
"What happened?" I said flatly.
"Glory Girl escorted Panacea to the testing and was scheduled to escort her home afterwards. In deference to her heroic career and good standing she was given leave to roam the facility. The security outside the infirmary verified her identity according to protocol and authorized her entry." he reported.
I leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "So, was it just a coincidence that Glory Girl happened to be here today? Not some kind of surprise test?"
Armsmaster met my gaze unflinchingly. "The PRT takes the integrity of power testing extremely seriously. Glory Girl's presence was an unfortunate oversight, not a deliberate attempt to create a situation."
I studied his helmeted face, searching for any hint of deception. But it was impossible to read from only the bottom half of his face.
"Let's say I believe you, where do we go from here?" I asked tensely.
"Your reaction to Glory Girl's aura is noteworthy. The Thinkers who were analyzing your testing all failed to produce meaningful results, suggesting a Trump or Stranger aspect to your powers," said Armsmaster, "I can personally only recall a handful of capes who counteract Thinkers. Your contribution to the Protectorate's efforts, particularly in thwarting Thinkers could prove to be considerable."
"Furthermore the reaction you displayed to Glory Girl's aura may indicate some level of defense against… emotion affecting powers." He added.
"You mean Masters," I said flatly.
"Glory Girl's aura is a Shaker effect." Armsmaster said curtly.
"Is it?" I asked, my tone deliberate. "Seems to me that any power that can directly influence emotions and behavior falls pretty squarely into the Master category."
Armsmaster didn't react visibly "The PRT's classifications are based on a careful evaluation of parahuman abilities and their potential impact on the battlefield. Glory Girl's aura has been determined to be a Shaker effect, not a Master power."
I leaned back in my chair, "I'm not here to argue semantics, but 'Glory Girl is a Shaker because we have determined her to be one' is a piss poor argument."
"I understand your frustration," Armsmaster said, "But that is not the issue at hand. Let's focus on you and your power."
"Fair enough," I shrugged.
Armsmaster nodded tensely, his posture relaxing slightly. "Agreed. Which is why I believe it would be prudent to conduct further testing, to better understand the extent and nature of your apparent resistance to… certain abilities."
"What did you have in mind?"
"One of our Wards, Gallant, possesses technology to generate and project emotional states," Armsmaster explained. "With your consent, I would like to arrange a controlled exposure, to see how your powers interact with his technology."
It seemed Armsmaster could bullshit with the best of them. If I didn't already know Gallant was a Master/Blaster I'd have believed him fully. Since I had no interest in spending time with an empath with ties to Cauldron I decided to use the excuse I'd been given as an out
I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral. "I appreciate your efforts, Armsmaster, and I hope you can forgive my reluctance. Today's events have left me feeling a bit... unsettled. I think I need some time to process everything, to figure out where I stand."
Armsmaster's expression turned grave, his voice taking on a more urgent tone. "I understand your hesitation, Polaris. But there's something more you should know."
"Lay it on me."
"The ABB knows your civilian identity and are looking for you. They even searched your apartment."
"I see," I said sagely. It wasn't unexpected, but still the gangs moved fast. It makes sense to be efficient when your boss is a dragon.
I leaned forwards, a sudden thrill urging me. "They're lucky I wasn't there."
Armsmaster's eyes narrowed, his voice taking on a sharp edge. "This isn't a game, Polaris. The ABB, the Empire... they're dangerous. And they'll stop at nothing to get their hands on someone with your abilities."
I leaned back in my chair. "Let them try."
Interlude 1: Threat Assessment
PRT East North East Headquarters - Threat Assessment Meeting "Polaris"
Miss Militia was reviewing the testing footage when Assault arrived, boots squeaking against the freshly waxed floor. He dropped into a chair with theatrical weariness.
"Sooooo… the new cape's interesting." He drawled.
The corner of her bandanna twitched - a smile, probably. On the screen, the new cape named Polaris carefully lifted a barbell, obviously marveling at his own strength.
"Very," she agreed, not looking up from her notes.
"Think the boss'll show up in person for this one?" Assault spun on his chair slightly. "Given the whole Thinker-null thing?"
"She will." Armsmaster entered swiftly, pulled his chair out and sitting in a single motion, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. "Though I suspect she's more interested in adding a healer to our roster."
Clockblocker and Gallant arrived next, seating themselves at the far end of the conference table, Clockblocker spoke up. "Don't worry everyone, if the meeting gets too boring I can freeze you till it's over. It's a mercy, really."
"Clock." Miss Militia's tone carried warning, but the slight crinkle around her eyes betrayed amusement.
"What? I'm just offering," He dropped into a chair, then turned to Gallant. "Give me the signal if you want out."
Gallant, his usually gleaming armor seeming somehow lackluster under the fluorescent lights, didn't respond beyond a slight head shake.
Dauntless appeared next, his hair and costume slightly disheveled from patrolling, a small leaf stuck in his hair. He took the seat at the far end of the table, directly opposite Armsmaster.
The rest of the Wards filed in, filling a row of chairs between Miss Militia and Dauntless. The low murmur of conversation died as Director Piggot entered, manila folder in hand. She took in the room with a single glance - Assault's teetering chair legs, Gallant's obvious discomfort, Dauntless's disheveled state.
"Let's begin the assessment of the Parahuman named Polaris," Director Piggot said, scanning the assembled heroes. "Armsmaster, your findings?"
"Preliminary testing indicates Brute 4, potentially 5," Armsmaster replied, bringing up footage of carefully controlled strength tests. "Upper limits uncertain but output was consistent throughout testing. Mover 2; enhanced movement and reflexes. Striker 3 for powerful but limited healing abilities. Finally Trump Null for partial immunity to Thinker abilities." Clockblocker whistled at the last part.
Director Piggot glared at him warningly, "Watchdog's report?"
"Inconclusive," Armsmaster brought up a new display. "Various failures across the board. After the initial screening Watchdog attempted an all hands on deck analysis. Producing more inconclusive results and numerous false negatives."
"False negatives?" asked Aegis.
"Eleventh Hour reported his first ever 'zero' and other Thinkers concluded that Polaris is either not a parahuman or does not exist" Armsmaster explained. "Most of the thinkers concluded that 'Polaris' is a manufactured test of their reliability."
Vista sat up straighter. "Doesn't exist… is he a Stranger?"
A collective groan went around the room.
"Please don't say Stranger," Clockblocker slumped in his chair. "Do you know how much paperwork-"
"The protocols are in place for a reason," Miss Militia cut in, though without much enthusiasm.
"Before we implement Stranger contingencies," Piggot raised her voice slightly, "let's consider the evidence. Armsmaster?"
"My lie detector seemed to indicate truthfulness when Polaris denied any Stranger or Master powers," said Armsmaster, "We can take the ABB's reaction and continued attempts to find Polaris as independent confirmation of Polaris' continuous identity post trigger. Furthermore the mundane investigation didn't raise any red flags, and it's been sieved and checked by two other branches. A record of this meeting is being sent to Dragon to review our discussion for any anomalous behavior."
"Thorough as always, thank you Armsmaster. We will table Stranger discussions for now." said the Director with a small nod, she turned her head to address Vista, "Good work."
The young cape sat up slightly straighter, her face still barely above the table's edge, even with her chair raised up as high as it could go.
"You said partial immunity?" Piggot asked.
"Yes. Per the testing protocol, Gallant was observing Polaris throughout the testing while disguised as a PRT trooper. He reported being able to sense Polaris' emotions as normal. It's possible that Polaris' Trump power has a minimum range, or only extends to indirect observations. We won't know for sure without more data." Armsmaster explained. Gallant nodded slightly when he was mentioned.
"Other observations? What's your gut tell you?" She asked.
"He was cooperative. Eager to show off his powers and willing to follow instructions. Scored well in cognitive tests and managed to correctly guess the rationale behind some of the more abstract testing." said Armsmaster.
"He's good with people," Clockblocker chimed in, "Like, he'd match people's energy. Professional with the docs, relaxed with us capes, focused during the actual tests."
"Easy to work with, very well put together" Assault concluded. "Which is rare for fresh triggers."
"There was one notable exception. An incident occurred during the demonstration of his healing abilities with Panacea. The testing was interrupted by Glory Girl, who came to 'check in' on her sister" Armsmaster recited, pointedly not looking Gallant. "Polaris displayed a dramatic negative reaction to Glory Girl's Shaker aura."
The hero tapped his tablet and the screens in the room showed Polaris leaping up and aggressively confronting Glory Girl.
"Gallant, your report?", asked Piggot tersely.
Gallant shifted in his seat, armored fingers tapping the table. "I observed the testing incognito as ordered. Most of what I sensed was positive. Lots of happiness during the testing, pride and satisfaction too. But periodically..." He paused, searching for the right comparison. "You know how someone acts when they're enjoying themselves but know they have an important appointment later? That sudden 'check the watch' moment?"
"Like they're on a schedule?" Assault asked.
"Sort of, he was completely present and engaged, then suddenly..." Gallant made a vague gesture, "A spike of awareness. And everything else gets pushed aside for a while."
Gallant looked around, gauging the assembly's faces and emotions before continuing, "Apart from that his reaction to the capes he saw was… off."
"Hostile?" Piggot asked sharply.
"No, nothing bad- like that. But when he met Clock and Assault, there was a flash of recognition, but instead of nervousness or excitement, he was... amused? Not mockingly, just... like they were… quaint. Then it turned into something I'm having trouble putting into words."
Gallant paused, his frustration evident. "It was strange, off-color, like nostalgia mixed with fascination. Appreciative, maybe?"
"The same happened when he was talking to Armsmaster," he added, glancing at the Tinker. "Though tinged with something like... sympathy?"
Armsmaster frowned slightly.
"But when he met Am- Panacea, he was scared and nervous. During the healing demonstration I mean. He was feeling clear concern and sharp spikes of fear whenever Amy stepped in to check his work. Not out of control though. I think he was anxious to prove himself and scared something was going to go wrong. Throughout the demonstration he was really happy after he healed somebody and really down when he couldn't. Which is good I guess."
"Gallant. Keep your reports free from value judgements and stick to the facts. We don't know for sure if his reactions are good or not." Piggot said sternly. "What happened next?"
"Glory Girl came to… well she arrived and saw Polaris." Gallant slumped in his seat. "Her aura leaked out and Polaris was affected, he felt the usual 'awe and admiration' for a moment and then the next second his whole cloud of emotions was completely drowned out by rage and pressure. I've never seen somebody so fully overtaken by an emotion, unless they were on drugs or something."
"Was he?" Dauntless leaned forward slightly.
"Maybe… I don't think so. I don't know what it was. I only saw it for a second or two," he shifted awkwardly, clearly embarrassed. "I was focused on Vicky—I mean Victoria, making sure she was okay. By the time I looked back at Polaris... it was gone, completely. Whatever it was."
"Good work, Gallant, you performed acceptably, next time strive to remain focused on your task," Piggot said, before addressing the room. "Thoughts?"
"Polaris described his powers as being affected by his emotional states. Gaining access to more strength when excited or enraged. It's likely he has some sense of his own Sechen ranges," Armsmaster said before continuing with obvious reluctance, "But… it is possible there is another aspect of his power. Emotion affecting powers often come with resistance or immunity to other emotional powers."
"They also tend to encourage destructive and violent behavior. His power might push him to become a berserker," said Piggot. A few eyes around the table narrowed at her statement, but nobody said anything to deny it.
"Maybe he has a Breaker power with the other powers as manifestations?" Dauntless offered. "That could tie together the Thinker immunity and his abnormal reaction to Glory Girl's aura."
"The suggestion of a Breaker power is not supported by the evidence. No energy emissions, no state change, no measurable phenomena." Armsmaster stated flatly. "It's likely that the 'internal energy' Polaris described is a sense of his own metabolism."
"There are a few facts which point towards a biological underpinning for his power." He continued, "heightened caloric needs, physical enhancements, the similarities between the subjective 'flow' of his internal energy and the internal energy of the people he heals. Furthermore he believes that his power will grow stronger with physical training, which—if true—is likely a function of his physical state affecting his power."
Dauntless looked like he wanted to say something further, but the moment passed.
"The timing could be relevant," said Miss Militia. "Thinker immunity manifesting so soon after a Simurgh attack in his homeland fits as a trigger stress."
Her suggestion was met with mixed responses. Parapsychology; trying to link power expression to trigger conditions was considered quackery by many.
"Moving on to background investigation," Piggot reviewed her notes. "Initial report indicates a public trigger event downtown, yesterday morning at approximately o'seven-hundred. Two witnesses described an altercation with suspected ABB members where Polaris, in his civilian identity, was attacked, followed by a sudden display of enhanced strength and durability. Polaris quickly dispatched his assailants, putting two in the hospital and fled the scene."
She laid a thin folder open on the table, police reports and photographs appeared on the various displays. "Given the public nature of his trigger and risk of ABB retaliation, we conducted an investigation into his civilian identity. 'Polaris' began working at a restaurant Downtown, last week on the 10th. Took up residence in an apartment with a co-worker on the 11th. Claimed to be 25 years old and born in Australia. No known relatives, no matching missing persons, no records in PRT or police databases. Given the current state of emergency in Australia, waiting for verification of his identity through official channels could take months, possibly years."
Possibly forever remained unspoken.
"At this point we are treating his civilian identity as compromised due to ABB ransacking his apartment. But since he has not publicly unmasked and hasn't been outed, our stance is to treat him as anonymous until the situation changes. Last night at approximately 17 hundred hours, he appeared in costume as 'Polaris" and rendered aid to civilians after a Tinkerteck vehicle, possibly made by the villain named Squealer, tore through an intersection on Hayes avenue."
"That's a quick turnaround," noted Triumph.
"Our investigators found inconsistencies in his background," Armsmaster added. "His coworkers reported different stories about his personal history."
"Could be an assumed identity?" offered Assault, "He's an Aussie, might be here without papers—after the Simurgh hit Canberra he's stranded in the Bay, forced to find work off the books, gets jumped, Triggers."
"If we're speculating; is there a chance he was already a cape and the attack forced him to reveal himself in public?" said Triumph, "It could explain his vague past if he's a wandering parahuman?"
"Doesn't fit the timeline," Armsmaster said, "Polaris showed a powerful drive to demonstrate his power. If he had triggered earlier he would have debuted sooner."
"Combat and containment contingencies," said Piggot, closing the folder.
The room's atmosphere shifted subtly. The squeak of a dozen office chairs as the capes suddenly became slightly more aware.
"Standard Brute protocol, flashbangs and foam," Armsmaster stated. "His testing indicated no complicating factors. It's possible he could attack with his Striker ability, he admitted as much. However he could just as easily cause fatal injuries with Brute strength. Typical to Brutes, Polaris demonstrated the ability to throw objects with potentially lethal force. Any object heavier than a kilogram should be considered a deadly weapon within typical engagement range. His Trump ability negates Thinkers, but his relative inexperience renders Thinker oversight superfluous."
"He did claim his strength varies with emotional state," Miss Militia noted. "Combat conditions might exceed testing parameters."
"Then we adjust accordingly," Armsmaster replied confidently. "Dauntless and Velocity for mobility control, ranged support from Miss Militia. Wards are strictly no engagement without a full Protectorate member present."
That earned him some frustrated and defeated looks from the assembled Wards.
"This isn't about combat capabilities," Armsmaster added reassuringly. "I'd bet on any of you in a straight fight with Polaris." He gestured to the testing footage. "But there are too many unknowns. Until we have a better grasp of his capabilities, we maintain a doctrine of caution and overwhelming strength."
Miss Militia nodded slightly. "We've seen too many cases of seemingly straightforward powers having hidden aspects."
"At least his healing checks out," said Assault brightly, "Usually there's a catch; personality bleed, life draining, nasty stuff..."
"According to Panacea's report Polaris' healing is both benign and powerful, if limited in scope," Armsmaster brought up new data. "Recent injuries heal in minutes rather than days. Broken bones, tissue damage, blood loss - anything the body could eventually heal on its own recovers with negligible scarring. He can temporarily boost a patient's condition, useful for illness recovery, but can't remove the underlying disease. No effect on chronic conditions, missing limbs and organs, or cancer either."
"The process requires close physical proximity as well as his full concentration and drains his stamina in proportion to the scope of the healing," he continued, "As well as incurring a small metabolic debt on the recipient, which Panacea has deemed acceptable."
"So then. That brings us to the core of the matter." Piggot held her hands together, fingers laced, "Polaris represents a significant asset—versatile healing abilities, combat capability, and apparent immunity to certain parahuman powers."
"A new cape is always a potential opportunity and a potential problem. The local gangs will take action if they get the chance, either to recruit him or remove him from the board. Our posture going forwards is to maintain friendly contact, with an eye towards recruitment. However, we cannot forget that there are significant unknowns in play: Polaris appeared out of nowhere with no personal history and powers that block our usual verification methods. For now we are going to stay friendly and stay alert. Dismissed."
Piggot was up and walking out the door before anybody else had begun to stand, already talking on her phone.
"You know what's great about Polaris?" Clockblocker gathered his papers with unusual care. "He actually appreciates a good pun."
"Oh no, not another one," Vista groaned as she glanced at Gallant, looking for a sympathetic reaction.
Gallant was seemingly absorbed in his thoughts however and moved past her avoiding eye contact.
The room gradually emptied. Only Assault remained, watching the footage loop. Polaris moved through the tests with easy confidence, smiling and joking. But between each demonstration his eyes would find the observation cameras, just for a moment.
Something about those glances nagged at him, though he couldn't say why. He switched off the display before the thought could fully form.