Donjon (Worm OC, Seattle)

woermhoele · Apr 8, 2019

Silverstrings said:
thinking about what was going to happen - what the consequences of my failure would be-

Astrid intensifies.

Though this is the peak of it, I think. The failure-specific beats fade more into a general sense self loathing and shame from here on out.

Silverstrings said:
Didn’t I consider myself a rationalist?

Oh, honey, no...

Silverstrings said:
I was so goddamn tired of failure, so fucking done with treading water and hoping for the best.

Well, quickly crescendo and then lead to a sense of resolve is type of fading?

Mood, tho. I have this thought every few weeks. Doesn't actually lead to much in the way of changes, but that's depression and poor executive function for you.

Silverstrings said:
looked strong - strong enough to easily overpower me- confident

Oh. Oh, wow. Yikes, Carmin. But yeah.

Silverstrings said:
Each source seemed to contradict the others, and

Pfft. She knows our pain!

Silverstrings said:
This time I managed to stop the spikes before they grew more than a few feet tall.

This is a nice beat, like, losing control but quicker to get it back. Problem isn't magically solved, but she's starting to get a hang.

Silverstrings said:
I got the impression this was a conversation they’d had many times.

Same, which speaks to the writing. Playback and Hard Reset are one of those "seemingly unlikely until you get to know them" duos that are very fun to watch together.

Silverstrings said:
I forced a grin onto my face. If it looked a little sickly neither of them saw fit to comment. “Nope, all of that stuff was past Carmin. I’m present Carmin. Therefore, I take no responsibility.”

Hahaha. This got a chuckle out of me, too. Had I not read a draft of this prior, I would still be confused about the diminutive now as I was then. It's just not one I'm familiar with, and would require a Google encountered in the wild.

Silverstrings said:
“Sounds like solid logic to me.” Hard Reset piped in. Well, tuba-ed in anyway. He had a pretty deep voice.

Carmin has a fun sense of humor, when she's not drowning in self hatred or mortal terror.

Silverstrings said:
“That’s wrong.” Hard Reset snapped, making it a judgement. His jaw looked carved from stone as he said, “I can kick ‘em back in time too.”

And Hard Reset is an unexpected delight.

Silverstrings said:
My hand was already in place to catch it as the coin reached its apex, right up until it landed and everything went wrong.

Enhanced senses != enhanced reflexes. Noted.

Silverstrings said:
Something to do with trajectories, maybe?”

Jeez, this guy is a perceptive fellow. Almost like he's an extremely competent professional or something.

Silverstrings said:
I’m ruined. I’ve become a-” A freak. A monster. A killer.

Oof. See, this is where having a faith to fall back on seems attractive (though I don't, just speaking as an outsider). Like, for example, depending on tradition, you can take comfort from the fact that you were ruined before you were ever born! So this event just didn't unruin you, like... 99% of everything else that happens to you.

Silverstrings said:
visualizing the finished product with my thinker power and patiently iterating until the stone in front of me broadly matched what I’d had in mind

I really like the sculpting sequence. And that it's raw, lacking in finesse and polish because duh, it's not the power of "overnight artist".

Silverstrings said:
I paused, but eventually nodded. It really had helped to get some of my feelings out there. Was that what he’d been intending?

Nah, total freakin' coincidence.

Silverstrings said:
Hard Reset chuckled at my weak attempt at humor, for which I awarded him twelve Carmin points.

These two are bound to be fast friends one day. Or like, maybe HR is the unlikely mentor figure? Since Snap is the celebrity crush and would be more awkward in that role.

Or am I misreading, and the script is flipped? Tell me, oh tell me, where to point my ships!

Silverstrings said:
There was always more stuff that was somehow my responsibility to deal with right now or I’d be a terrible roommate.

Which, yeah, we get bits of early on, but for everyone who was all "grr, she's a shitty person" in chapter one - FACE!

Silverstrings said:
Come on Carmin, Some part of me thought, Just a little further, you can do this. Then you can rest, for real this time.

Lying to yourself is the first step to meeting your development goals. One more lift, one more block, 100 more words. You can never actually rest, but you need some way to push through in the moment.

Silverstrings said:
What I didn’t add was that before I’d left, I’d started being able to sense the body with my power. And I never forgot anything I sensed with my power. Not that I wanted to, really. I didn’t deserve to.

Ooooooffff. This isn't the stuff of nightmares or anything.

Silverstrings said:
“I’m sorry,” Playback said, turning off the recording device. He curled his lips down in a way I didn’t recognize. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”

I was seriously googling facial expression directories until...

Silverstrings said:
A sympathetic look, that was all. What…?

Oooh, now isn't that a fun twist. Deeply comforting hyperrational headspace comes at the price of empathy. Can't see that rearing it's ugly head again in the future.

Silverstrings said:
Hard Reset snorted, giving me a small smile. “Smart girl.” Despite everything, I felt a small thrill at being gendered correctly.

It's always the little things, in the end, isn't it?

Silverstrings said:
“Alright, I’m willing to hear you out. But I’ll wanna see some statistics.”

And this is just plain regular, calmed down, as close to normal as we have seen her so far Carmin. Hey there, nice to meet ya!

Silverstrings said:
“What’s the health insurance like?”

I'm always surprised how few people ask this. I'm maxing the dental on day one yo.

Silverstrings said:
Not that I would have anyway, that would be horribly rude.

Pfft. Propriety will see us though, when civilization falls apart!

Silverstrings said:
the call came in I felt that HR and I had relevant skill sets for the situation.

Heh. As an HR adjacent professional, I was wondering if they'd abbreviate this way, and already spinning up the relevant jokes.

Silverstrings said:
I was curious about what could have possibly been happening here that was worthy of his time,

Surely nothing that will become plot relevant in an arc or so.

Silverstrings said:
“His name was John Powell. He was studying to be an environmental biologist, and from what I can tell he was a kind person loved by his friends.

RIP, John. Gone but never, ever, forgotten no matter how much Carmin may eventually want to.

Silverstrings said:
I’m going to be a superhero.

Yes!

ompoms: Seriously nice to see, after all that, a little momentary win for our girl.

T0PH4T said:
Simply put getting powers is supposed to hurt, and I think Carmilla here is genuinely hurt.

Yes, but you're a fun(yun) hating monster. ;P Being totally right a lot of the time doesn't make your opinions any less suspect.

Mondrae205 said:
I think interspacing it with flashbacks and her thoughts did a great job of doing that.

Ye. Tho we have three chapters covering the events of a few hours, it hasn't dragged. Gotta wait and see what the pacing is like longer term tho.

Silverstrings said:
To be entirely honest, I kind of forgot about it while rewriting. I'll add a line or two somewhere.

TBH, so did I, and it makes sense that Carmin might too, given all that's happened.

Silverstrings said:
“Oh right,” he said, turning my way. “And I’ll make sure to get your laptop back.”

This resolves it neatly and is another me point for Playback.

----

And from here on I haven't been spoiled at all. Second star to the right, and straight on til morning!

Mondrae205 · Apr 8, 2019

I just noticed how specific your titles are. No confusion on what happens there.

woermhoele · Apr 9, 2019

Caught up! Editor lost my first few attempts, so, just to make clear in the rush job below doesn't convey it well: liked this a lot, and the only things that should be read as critique are the ones where I explicit phrase them that way. There's a lil' snark but it's entirely tongue-in-cheek and directed at the characters, not the author, who has done a lovely job.

Silverstrings said:
I paced... I thought.

I'm a total amateur myself, so, don't know if this'll mean much, but this is a really beautifully constructed paragraph. I just love it to bits. I mean, I like this story generally, but sometimes individual little things pop up that deserve extra attention.

I paced. I thought. Is all we really need to know, and would work by themselves. But the sentences between set the tone for much of the chapter, help us get into Carmin's headspace -- analytical, a bit detached in some ways and hyperfocused in others, prone to getting lost in loopy little tangents -- and the "I thought" ending beat is a great punchline to the preceding sentence, as well as neatly bracketing the opening "I paced."

So, yeah, well done here!

Silverstrings said:
It was imperfect -the parts of the carpet my power compressed had fused together in a way I didn’t know how to pick apart- but I tried getting it as close as I could manage.

The continuing thread of her power's little downsides - it's easier to break than fix, it tries to overreach, it angles for destruction, it responds faster to her subconscious impulses than her conscious ones - is fascinating and ominous. Even knowing these things doesn't really allow her to overcome them. Time will tell if it's something that can be overcome.

Silverstrings said:
The thought of my power hurting one of the cats -or worse, one of the people I cared about-

Okay, almost dropped this story right here. ;p That she prioritizes people over the cats? She truly has become monstrous.

Silverstrings said:
I could almost envision it, the world that could be , the world where no one had to die scared and alone, where-

Woah, there. Maybe start a bit smaller scale, yeah?

Silverstrings said:
“That’s awesome!” he said, giving me a wide smile. His enthusiasm warmed me, and I reciprocated as best as I could manage. Apparently the best I could manage wasn’t very good, because he immediately sobered up. “What happened?”

I like Ajay. Like, supportive, nerdy, enthusiastic, perceptive... seems like an amazing friend to have!

Silverstrings said:
At the same time, being able to talk to Ajay and know for sure that my powers hadn’t changed anything between us was a huge weight off my back.

Shoulders, maybe? Vs back, I mean. Word choice thing, YMMV. But whew, sigh of relief, friend is still friend, however you word it, I get it.

Silverstrings said:
What I want more than anything is to fight back against all the evil and pain in the world, with every tool and trick I’ve got. That’s why I want to be a superhero.”

There's that capey-ness creeping in. Powers don't tend to go to people who would be satisfied to sit on the sidelines making prefab housing. You can easily imagine her hooking up with Habitat for Humanity, only for every construction to start sporting little deathtraps she knows she didn't put in there, creating a horrible downward spiral.

Then again, hanging out in war-torn or post-disaster areas might provide enough opportunities for exercising the power 'properly' that she could get away with it anyway. She'd just find that, over time, she was less able to find the spare moments to create. Probably won't come up in the story, but it's interesting to think about!

All that mused, I really like what this impulse says about Carmin. It's enough in line with how I think I'd react in these circumstances to really feel a connection with her.

Silverstrings said:
“Well.” I looked over at the statue I made earlier. “I just don’t like the idea of being beholden to like, a completely profit driven organization. Their nature incentivizes them to focus on what ends up getting them wealth or fame instead of what does the most good.”

This whole part is interesting. Like, it neatly lays everything out, it shows us a lot about Carmin - how she thinks, what she values, what she knows - though it's also a bit drawn out? Over-thought? Which, I get, is totally in character for Carmin as I'm reading her here. But, also, longish to read. Not sure I have a constructive alternative to share. But something to consider going forward - one of the advantages of fanfic is you can let the reader's knowledge of the world fill in a lot of blanks.

Then again, even if you spell everything out in excruciating detail, you're gonna get some "why doesn't she...?" questions, so I get the impulse.

Silverstrings said:
I gave him a short, fierce hug. “So wanna see what I can do?”
“Hell yeah!”

Ajay speaks for us all!

Silverstrings said:
It was like having floaters in my eye that were specifically designed to block my vision of obstacles.

Of course, you could tune out the alien senses and just use your, yanno, eyes. But what's the fun in that?

Fucking Thinkers.

Silverstrings said:
Unfortunately several of them had gotten pulped when the ground had risen up.

Poor little plants. Just minding their own business, photosynthesizing, and bam, here's hurricane Carmin.

Earlier I noted that the discussion of her options was maybe a bit drawn out? But I don't have anything like that reaction to their casual walk-and-talk here. Sure, it doesn't do much, but it's really fun to establish their relationship further. It showcases how they function under relatively normal circumstances and is very wholesome and enjoyable.

Silverstrings said:
Ajay stared at me for several long seconds. “That was fucking awesome!” He said, all breathless enthusiasm.

I was super happy the next line was her saying "you haven't seen nothin' yet", because yeah, boy, you're in for some treats!

Silverstrings said:
My power was more than happy to oblige. A slow wave of crushing, inevitable force rippled through the ground at my command, overturning the earth and pushing the offending flora well outside of my range.

Her occasionally overwrought and theatrical internal monologue is awesome.

Silverstrings said:
After only a few bounces I was in danger of smacking directly into the canopy overhead, wind slicing past my ears, caught between terror and excitement so intense I couldn’t even scream.

Wheeeeeeee! Worm stories tend to be so focused on the action that we just don't get enough moments like this. The fun parts of having powers, like toasting sandwiches with lasers and stuff. I savor every one we get.

Silverstrings said:
it looked like some kind of giant, incredibly metal birdcage.

:metal: Just when I thought I couldn't appreciate Carmin any more than I already did.

Silverstrings said:
The primary effect was that I flopped down like a fish on a hook, the secondary effect was that my dress fell down onto my face.

Pfft. Physical comedy, in small doses, is also delightful.

Silverstrings said:
Did that have something to do with my power?

Please, Carmin, pay no attention to insidious re-writing of your mind. Surely, it is of no concern.

Silverstrings said:
Once that was done, I tugged on the whole assembly experimentally. It seemed sound enough, so I unceremoniously flopped down into the seat I made. I immediately started swinging;

I'm so deeply pleased that her first impulse was to go all "bluebird of happiness". Despite my earlier misgivings, perhaps Carmin is a woman of taste and good character after all.

Silverstrings said:
Ajay laughed and waved at me, and I grinned and waved back. Maybe my power wasn’t so bad. It let me make things, change things, and now no one could trap me ever again. Then Ajay moved, there was a rustling of leaves, and I heard a cry of alarm.

Ooofff, that emotional whiplash.

Carmin: "Finally, I shall never be trapped by subtle forces beyond my control!"
Power: "Wanna bet on that?"

Silverstrings said:
I shot forth like an arrow from a bow, impacting the ground next to Ajay with enough force to make it ripple like the surface of a pond before it settled back down to something like its former shape.

Talk about metal, though. She hella stronk, yo. For the best she's leaning Protectorate, or the recruiting calls would be coming in hard and heavy soon enough.

Once again, pay no attention to the subtle sabotaging of your peaceful intentions wrought by the alien brain parasite...

Silverstrings said:
“...If we ever see each other again.” With each word, he seemed to sink lower into himself.

Oh, Ajay, honey... I mean, you should be so lucky as to have your personal tragedy wind up as, "I lost my best friend due to the perfectly mundane causes of distance and time." Displaying a distinct lack of genre-awareness there, bucko.

Silverstrings said:
“I’m gonna be a superhero Ajay, that means I can actually have the money for vacations and shit. Even if you can’t move back, I can still visit you.”

I do like that he's not lampreying, and that they're both realistic enough not to suggest him moving with her, at this point.

Silverstrings said:
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if I’d be this close to someone on the Seattle Protectorate someday.

Ouch. Shit, what just hit me? Oh... why would someone write "foreshadowing" on a brick, and toss it through my window like that?

Silverstrings said:
“The truth.” I said, a little miserably. Judging by my attempt to stay in the closet with them, trying to hide something this big would probably backfire.

That's a really mature and self-aware set of thoughts to have. Good jo...

Silverstrings said:
“Good luck,” he said, giving me another hug. I really hoped I wouldn’t need it.

...b? Well, she'll get the hang of it eventually.

AnotherSetOfEyes said:
You sure you don't want to call it a Depression? Or was that implied.

Sometimes, leaving the obvious thing unsaid is the real power move.

Juff · Apr 11, 2019

+1 on the titles thing. Don't need a summary or a recap if your threadmarks will serve. Also great potential for messing with the reader's expectations.

btw, there's a couple of typos, if you're interested.

1.1
dazzles and overwhelms > dazzled and overwhelmed
aerobics > acrobatics
over, the > over; the

1.2
“Jeannine,” > “Jeannine.”
feel,” She > feel,” she

Silverstrings · Apr 12, 2019

Audience, I want you to know that I love each and every one of you. But I love the ones that leave detailed comments even more.

-||-

My eyes fluttered open, sunlight filtered through the blinds playing across my face. I shot bolt upright, some animal part of my mind certain of impending attack. I sat on the unfamiliar bed and fumbled desperately for my bearings, trying to get my breathing under control. In a few moments the panic had passed, leaving me to try and remember what I was doing here.

The memories fell into place as I woke up, each one weighing me down further. Right, my roommates, my power, the… other things. All of that happened, it wasn’t a dream or a fleeting nightmare. The weight of it all made me want to lay back down, but trying to sleep right now would probably be futile. I’d locked the door last night, and then barred it when that hadn’t felt like enough. Now it seemed terribly inadequate- anyone could get through the plaster walls with nothing but a pickaxe and determination.

The temptation to start fortifying my room warred with the basic fact that I wasn’t going to be sleeping another night here and the PRT would probably like to use it for other things. Eventually I settled on a compromise, reinforcing the door but otherwise leaving the room be. I needed to get ready anyway.

I’d taken a quick shower last night, but I desperately needed to find some way to relax before going to Seattle. A luxurious bath seemed like just the ticket. Before too long I’d managed to find where they kept the towels and spare toiletries, which were better stocked than I’d have dared to hope. The towels were fluffy and soft and delightful. It was nice having the place all to myself, not worrying about stepping on someone’s toes or getting harassed about some bullshit. Not to mention getting to see a new place instead of wearing a groove in the floor. Though come to think of it, I didn’t need to be in a place for very long to do that now.

I headed to the bathroom, eyes still leaden as I waited for the bathtub to fill up. It was obviously going to take a bit, so I set my phone up to play music. While I waited, I took the time to thoroughly floss and brush my teeth. It was nice to exert some control over my life and presentation, even if only a little.

Soon enough, I was ever so carefully lowering myself into the just-this-side-of-hot water. It took a few attempts before I was able to get a whole leg in without recoiling from the heat, but the feeling of being enveloped in the water like a warm, comfy blanket was well worth the effort. I let my head loll back, closing my eyes and just floating. I focused on my breathing, letting all my concerns and pains go for a little while.

Not touching anything except the water wasn’t like standing on one of the big roots in the forest or being in the air. I could still sense it, still sense the bathtub and a bit of the floor, but it was blurry and vague. As an experiment, I tried making a small spike sprout from the lip of the tub. Nothing happened. I tried shaping part of it upward, but all that accomplished was splashing the water around a little. My arm brushed against the side, and my awareness of the surroundings snapped into focus. Just like that, I could affect the tub again.

I deliberately pulled away, happy to reduce the burden on my poor, overworked brain. I let myself drift for a few more minutes, but I didn’t have all day to lay around soaking. I washed and conditioned my hair, steeling myself for my most difficult challenge yet: shaving.

I lathered my face with conditioner and shaving cream, letting it soak for a bit. At that point I recalled I’d left my razor back at the apartment and very nearly smacked my forehead. Before I could start castigating myself over it I realized I could just make a new razor with my power, easy as breathing. It was funny how natural it felt to just reach into the wall next to me and pull out a classic folding straight razor with a wooden handle. This time I was slow and careful enough to avoid getting any new cuts on my face. First impressions were important, and I wanted to put my best foot forward for my new team.

Speaking of feet, I thought, looking down. I should really shave my legs.

-||-

Back in my room with a towel wrapped around me, I basked in the feeling of cleanliness. After yesterday I’d seriously wondered if I’d ever feel clean again, and not just metaphorically either. Turns out that doing improvised first aid on a half dozen bleeding and screaming people in quick succession was dirty work, who’d have thought?

I gently ran a few fingers over my chin, reassuring myself there wasn’t any stubble long enough to be noticeable. If I’d had my way there wouldn’t be even the tiniest hint of facial hair, but there was just no way to get that close a shave without slicing half my face off. I sighed, letting my hand drop.

There was no point in obsessing over something I couldn’t control. I deliberately directed my attention to the meager collection of clothing I’d managed to rescue from the old apartment. Not that there’d been much before, really. Now I was down to a grand total of one dress, two pairs of pants, and my purple jacket.

How could I possibly decide what to wear? I thought drily.

I pulled on my clothes, going over my mental checklist for this morning. I’d washed up, taken some time to relax, so all I had left before getting driven to Seattle was doing some serious research on the cape scene in general and my future city’s in particular. The safe house had WiFi, thankfully, so I just pulled up my laptop and logged onto Parahumans Online.

The first thing I saw when I went to the Seattle area subforum was a thread speculating on the romantic relationships of various local capes. Not only was it a mind-numbing sixty pages long, it was apparently the eighth such thread judging by the title. I’d always found sincerely shipping celebrities with each other vaguely creepy. Did they forget there were actual living human beings under those masks, with their own hopes and desires?

The second thing I noticed was a thread titled ‘Villain attack on Evergreen!?’. I hemmed and hawed for a bit about whether there was anything to gain from reading about something that literally happened yesterday, but eventually I gave into my curiosity and clicked it. Apparently someone had already posted a video of my apartment building’s transformation, starting from when it was about a third of the way through.

It happened so much faster than I’d remembered. That moment when my powers manifested had felt like an eternity, but if this video was anything to go by the whole episode couldn’t have lasted more than a couple measly minutes. How the hell had my power worked so quickly? I’d never been able to make more than one thing at a time every few seconds when experimenting, and that rate only got slower as I tried affecting surfaces further away from me.

Eventually I scrolled on, promising myself I’d investigate the apparent contradiction later. It took about two pages of baseless speculation before any kind of official information was posted, a brief message from Snap explaining that the ‘attack’ was in fact a new trigger that temporarily lost control of her powers. There was no longer any danger, she explained, the cape in question was cooperative and managed to gain control of her power fast enough to prevent the situation from becoming a disaster.

I almost laughed. My hand clenched, tight enough that the fingernails dug into the flesh of my palm. Tight enough that it started shaking ever so slightly from the tension. How the fuck was that not a disaster? Who did she think she was, acting like it was no big deal? Part of me was tempted to tell people what it had really been like, how close I’d been to just giving up and running away from the maimed, screaming people. The way I could still feel the tacky sensation of blood on my hands, blood in my hair, blood fucking everywhere .

My eyes screwed shut against the phantom images, as though I could somehow shut out my own mind. I forced myself to count, to breathe, to rock in place, anything to keep my powers under control. Inch by bloody inch, I pulled myself out of the spiral of thoughts that always led to the same destination. There was no reason to be angry at Snap when I was only really angry with myself and my power. Besides, I’d need to make a new account for my cape identity and go through the whole rigamarole of getting it verified. If I made some kind of public acknowledgement of what happened I’d need to think through exactly how to phrase it, how to pay my dues to the people I’d hurt without getting bogged down in self-recrimination.

Alright, Carmin, let’s move on, I thought. You know this isn’t productive. Or healthy.

With deliberate slowness, I opened my eyes and started moving the cursor toward the new tab button. It would probably be a good idea to stick with the parahumans online wiki for now. For one thing, it had a much higher density of useful information; simply reading the first few paragraphs of the article on Seattle was enlightening. There were over two hundred capes in the Seattle Metropolitan area at any given time. It was mind numbing. Now that I had some idea of what having powers actually meant the numbers had stopped being a fun little factoid and started being completely fucking terrifying, to put it bluntly. How the hell hadn’t society collapsed already?

That, at least, I knew the answer to. Systems, both formal and informal, kept the phenomena of powers from turning into a total war of all against all. The PRT and Protectorate, the masks and costumes, the Birdcage. A lot of it was imperfect, even horrific, but I had to admit that even that black hole of human rights violations served a vital function in keeping things running. Maybe -once I’d had some time to understand the cape scene in its current form- I’d be able to find a better way.

Most of the capes in and around Seattle stuck to the outskirts and nearby towns, not powerful or influential enough to take territory in the city proper. That was locked down by a handful of major factions and a few particularly potent individuals. The heroes were outnumbered two to one, but they were organized and coordinated enough to keep things more or less stable. The enormity of the challenge they faced made me respect them even more, and made me equally determined to do what I could to help them.

The biggest criminal organization in the city, counting both capes and the unpowered, was probably the Westlake Bastards. They had a strong grip on the lower income areas, but the real secret to their success was a cape named Menagerie. He could give people the ability to temporarily take on traits and natural weapons from animals, with the catch or bonus (depending on one’s perspective) being that repeatedly making use of the power causes the changes to slowly become permanent. Having permanent and visible animal traits was a sign of status to them, and even their leader -Brimstone- had a set of goat horns sprouting from her head. I wasn’t too proud to admit it looked really badass on her. More importantly his power meant that even their basic unpowered thugs had a noticeable edge in a fight, and its effects were varied enough that you wouldn’t necessarily know what that edge was going to be just by looking at them.

The faction with the most capes aside from the Protectorate itself was the League of Insidious Villainry, founded by none other than Professor Silica, the self-proclaimed greatest supervillain in the world. She, and by extension her League, was all about embodying the classic idea of villains from before there even were people with actual powers. They had a code of sorts, holding back more when fighting heroes or other villains with a similar modus operandi, but they were capable of being utterly ruthless against those that truly raised their ire. They had a feud with the Bastards going back years, even before Silica offed their last leader -and the second Space Needle- in her own inimitable fashion.

There were some up and comers I hadn’t heard of: an eco-terrorist neopagan cult called the Wildflower Coven, a handful of powered thugs that styled themselves as ‘Hospital Pass’, a guy that made fear lasers, an actual giant troll, a mysterious drone tinker, the list went on and on. Unfortunately most of the wiki articles were sparse on vital information like the details of their powers and motivations. The PRT databases had to be more extensive than this, right? Getting into a fight with an honest-to-god supervillain without at least having a decent idea of how their powers worked struck me as a bit like suicide with extra steps. Well, not necessarily that bad. Some villains preferred not to kill, and would instead gently maim me in whatever manner suited their fancy.

Before I could start reviewing the publicly available information on the heroes, I heard a sharp knock on the safe house’s front door. I flinched, but I didn’t jump out of my seat or yelp especially loudly. Hopping to my feet, I literally walked through the door to my room rather than bothering to undo all the bars and locks and then pulled the front door open normally.

It was a sharply dressed blonde woman holding a briefcase, standing straight enough to give off a military air. She smiled, offering her free hand to shake. The briefcase was in her right, so there was an awkward moment of reaching forward and then having to switch hands at the last second. The woman took it in stride, her grip firm and smile unwavering. Her skin was softer than I’d expected, and I couldn’t help noticing how small her hands were compared to mine. Her fingers were even shaped differently, tapering in a way mine didn’t.

“Hey!” I said, voice bright. She was just the sort of driver person I’d been hoping for. “You’re here early.”

“Sure am! Guess who gets to do a shitton of paperwork before they can even get in the van.”

“Ah gee, let me take a wild guess. Is it you? Did you decide to bring your tax returns?”

She rolled her eyes, “God save us, another one with a sense of humor. Presto’s gonna love you.”

I perked up at that. “Really? What do you mean?”

The woman chuckled, “You’ll see. Let’s just say she likes surprising people and leave it at that.”

“Vague, but alright.” My eyes flicked to the briefcase. “What’s the damage? If my repetitive strain injury comes back because of this I’m gonna be mighty peeved.”

“If a little thing like this scares you you better put in an order for a wrist brace, because I swear on my ass they were making up new forms just for me after Efface got her claws in me.”

“What? What happened, are you okay?”

She waved away my concern, setting her burden on the bare coffee table in the middle of the living room and unceremoniously flipping it open. There was a depressingly thick stack of papers inside.

I sighed, pulling up the most comfortable looking chair I could find and using my power to create an improvised lap desk.

“Damn,” she said, eyeing my work. “Wish I could do that.”

I smiled. “You want one? Not that hard to make, really. It’s a pretty simple shape.”

She looked at me for a few moments with an unreadable expression. Whatever she saw on my face seemed to pass muster, since she nodded and let her body language relax a little. I had the lap desk sprout from a spot right next to her on the couch, and she hesitantly made use of it.

I smiled, getting to work on yet another non-disclosure agreement, relieved to have someone to go through all of this with.

-||-

Laura -the PRT’s liaison/escort/driver person- was a woman of many surprises. We’d both gotten into our seats after putting away my luggage, and she asked -all pleasant professionalism- if it were alright if she put on some music. ‘Of course,’ I’d said, and then there was noise. The drums pounded out through the speakers and reverberated through the car, crisscrossing themselves and compounding and combining until everything washed together into an incomprehensible wall of sound. I reflexively covered my ears with both hands, but that didn’t do anything for my overloaded tremor sense. I fumbled clumsily against the car’s stereo system, trying to find- there. As the volume finally -finally!- turned down to a reasonable level, I registered a new soreness in my jaw. I hadn’t realized I’d been clenching it.

“Shit! I am so sorry about that, I can barely tell how loud it is anymore. Didn’t even think about it.”

Her sincere distress mollified me a little, but I was getting really fucking tired of this whole sensory overload thing. Still, I took the time to take a few calming breaths and think through my words. “I’m not mad at you or anything, but loud noises have always bothered me. I would really appreciate it if we could keep it at a lower volume.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t even worry about it. Won’t happen again, I promise.”

“I appreciate it, thank you.”

The next couple hours were spent scribbling out notes and ideas at a furious pace, intermittently looking up information on my phone and asking Laura for her perspective. With her help, I was able to compile a list of Seattle’s major publicly known capes along with what was known about their powers. I was pretty confident it was already more useful than the wiki, not that that was saying much. I couldn’t wait to start filling it out once I had access to the PRT’s databases.

Designing a cape persona, or at least a name and the broad strokes of a costume, still took up the largest chunk of my time. I’d heard somewhere that the most important part of character design was having a distinct silhouette, and I picked out the primary features of my costume with that in mind. A hooded cloak with a sort of poncho shape, covering the arms and angling down on both sides to a point just below the knees. The mask was full face, a lopsided smile and permanently quirked eyebrow giving it a quizzical air. More practically, I sketched out a few armor designs that I definitely needed to run by some actual experts before wearing to a fight.

My visualization abilities had improved so dramatically that drawing designs from imagination was barely any different from tracing an image. With the paper in front of me, I could imagine the exact structure and shape of a mechanism and know exactly how it should look projected onto the page. My power didn’t provide any help with the actual muscle movements, but having it as a guide meant that as long as I doggedly kept at it long enough the drawing would eventually start to look right.

Before I got past the preliminary sketches on my first set of non-lethal, non-maimy traps, I noticed a change in the passing scenery. Tighter packed and taller buildings had started appearing, slowly crowding out the seemingly endless forests between towns.

“Are we almost there?” I asked, keeping my voice calm with an effort.

“Someone’s keen. Yeah, we’re almost there. You can tell because the traffic starts out shitty and then gets worse.”

“God, you sound like my mom. Though admittedly with a lot more swearing.”

“I’ll try and take that as a compliment.”

Sadly she wasn’t wrong about the traffic. It took another twenty minutes before we finally pulled into one of the squat parking complexes serving the Space Needle and some surrounding businesses.

“Whelp, this is our stop,” Laura said, putting the car into park. “You think you’ll need any help with the luggage?”

“No, I should be fine,” I said, most of my attention on the route I’d take out of the parking garage. “Thanks for taking the time to-”

There was a stranger where Laura had been a second ago, feet idly propped up against the dashboard like she’d been relaxing there for hours. She was wearing a tux, and that was about all I had time to register before my body caught up with my brain and launched me screaming through the car door without even bothering to open it. The second I was clear I leapt over ten feet in the air, colliding with the concrete ceiling in a mutual embrace. I trusted my power to support me, a spear forming in my hands even as I turned to face whoever the hell had just teleported Laura. At least I hoped it was teleportation, I didn’t really want to think about what else it could be.

My dress hadn’t flopped down onto my face this time, I’d buttoned up my jacket and cinched it tight, so I could see she wasn’t anywhere near the car. I spun around as suddenly as I could manage, but there wasn’t anyone behind me. What the hell was going on?

“Damn,” said a voice from directly behind me, and even expecting something like it I still nearly jumped out of my skin a second time. It was, unsurprisingly, the masked tuxedo wearing woman from the car. Her skin was a dark tan, and her full lips curved up in a smile that was mischievous without being mocking. “I have to admit, that was pretty impressive.”

I blinked owlishly at her, a low wall hanging between us like a blocky stalactite. I was still holding the spear. “What was?”

She laughed -and she had a very nice laugh- like I’d just made a hilarious joke. “What do you mean, ‘what was?’. I’m talking about you walking through a closed door and flipping onto the ceiling like a fucking ninja!”

“Oh,” I said, taking a moment to kick my brain back into gear. “Thank you, but that stuff is easy with my power. It’s not really that- wait, you’re on the ceiling! How are you on the ceiling?”

The moment the question was out of my mouth I realized the answer. The tuxedo, the pranks, the casual and varied defiance of the laws of physics.

“You’re Presto!” I said barely a second after the question left my mouth. “Holy shit, you’re Presto. What the fuck was that for? Where did Laura go?”

“The one and only,” she said with a grin, sitting on the bottom edge of the wall in casual defiance of gravity. Her mask had an operatic look to it, covering the top half of her face and somehow mimicking her expressions in a startlingly lifelike way. “Laura’s fine, she’d been complaining about missing Donut Thursday anyways. I promise it wasn’t just for my own amusement, I wanted to know how you’d react to getting blindsided.”

I glowered at her, still not entirely mollified. “Did I pass your little test at least?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Ain’t no pass or fail, I just wanted to see what your first instinct was.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, digesting her words. “What did you learn from your little experiment, then?”

“That you’re defensive. That your first, second, and third responses were reactionary, and that you didn’t do anything to keep me from getting the drop on you again.”

I flushed, and then wondered why the blood hadn’t rushed to my head already. “What would you have done differently in my position, then?”

She shrugged exaggeratedly, hands off to the side. “I’d have hidden, but I ain’t got your powers. Just keep it in mind, yeah?”

I nodded, but to my horror the gesture caused my poor battered glasses to slip off my face and fall toward the concrete surface below/above us. Before I could so much as cry out Presto gestured, and the next thing I knew my glasses were in her hand. Falling in their place was a colorful blur I was about eighty percent sure was a rose.

Presto walked up and gently placed the glasses back on my face before I could even think of protesting, taking the time to make sure they were sitting securely. “Uhm,” I said, my flush this time having very little to do with embarrassment. “Thank you, but you could have just handed them to me.”

“I could’ve done lots of things. I could’ve given you this.” She handed me a generic cloth mask emblazoned with the PRT’s logo. “Welcome to the Seattle Protectorate. Got a name yet?”

“My actual name is Carmilla, but you seem like the type of person that already knows that somehow.”

She snorted, but didn’t say anything as I fit the mask on over my glasses. “But I think as a cape, I’m gonna go by Sepulcher.”

“Sepulcher, huh? Kinda grim, but I like it. Good sound.”

“It’s kind of a grim power, figured I’d roll with it.”

Her response was interrupted by the sound of someone jogging through the echoey confines of the concrete parking complex. I put the spear into the ceiling point first, letting it meld into the surrounding material until no sign of it remained. A few moments later Laura turned the corner at a brisk jog, holding a white paper bag in her hand.

“You,” She huffed. “Goat-fucking,” Huff. “Inconsiderate,” Huff. “Piece of shit. Do you have any idea how far I just had to run because of your stupid prank?”

Presto grinned, opening her arms wide. “Laura! I see you brought us donuts, that’s so considerate of you.”

“Oh, no,” Said Laura, wagging her finger at her. “Don’t even think about it. I brought an extra donut for her, not you.”

Neither of them seemed the least bit put off by having a conversation upside down, but I was honestly getting a crick in my neck from looking up/down at her. I gently lowered myself, dropping the last few feet.

“Thank you so much.” I said once my feet touched the ground, genuinely touched by her thoughtfulness. “What flavor did you get me?”

“Chocolate with chocolate frosting, I figured everybody likes chocolate.”

“My brother doesn’t like chocolate,” I countered, taking it from her. “But thankfully I do.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “To each their own. You ready for the grand tour? Figured I’d show you around the publicly accessible areas while we wait for your meeting with the director.”

I nodded, taking a fortifying breath. “I’m ready.”

“Either of you mind if I tag along? I wanted to get to know the newest member of the team,” Presto cut in, having made her way back onto the floor at some point.

“I doubt we could stop you,” said Laura, deadpan.

“I don’t mind at all, I was actually hoping you could answer some questions for me.”

Presto grinned, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Haven’t had enough of me yet? Ask away, I know practically everything there is to know about the Seattle cape scene.”

“Guess I’ve just got a masochistic streak. Here’s something I’ve been confused about, how does the whole secret identity thing work when there are capes like you that can figure them out without breaking a sweat?”

“Ah, that one’s kinda complicated. Basically how things work is that if word gets out about you going after someone’s civilian identity you get rendered persona non grata as far as other capes are concerned. And even if you don’t give a shit about other people, doing it is usually a big enough hassle that it’s not worth it.”

I nodded, taking that in. “There’s something else I need to know.”

“What is it?” She asked, voice sobering at my serious tone.

“Did you and Bullrush really used to date?”

For the first time in the entire conversation, it was Presto that was rendered speechless. That was lovely enough, but what really made it was Laura’s breathless laughter.

Mind_Controlled_Raisin · Apr 12, 2019

Silverstrings said:
a thread speculating on the romantic relationships of various local capes. Not only was it a mind-numbing sixty pages long, it was apparently the eighth such thread judging by the title.

Knowing the internet, these are BY FAR some of the less weird speculations going on.

Silverstrings said:
I could imagine the exact structure and shape of a mechanism and know exactly how it should look projected onto the page.

Interesting. I don't think we saw this aspect of her thinker power when it was discussed in 1-3, although it makes sense looking back. She should inspect some of Accord's work if the PRT has any documented, that'd probably give her some inspiration if nothing else...

Silverstrings said:
I think as a cape, I’m gonna go by Sepulcher.

Badass.

Silverstrings said:
“Did you and Bullrush really used to date?”

For the first time in the entire conversation, it was Presto that was rendered speechless.

And here we see the advantages of keeping up with the shipping speculations. Think of the combat applications!

FieryTheAngelsFell · Apr 13, 2019

This story is such a treat! Loving all the OCs.

Mondrae205 · Apr 13, 2019

That ninja move was pretty cool. She has a bright future ahead of her.

CTrees · Apr 13, 2019

So Presto seems pretty similar to Trickster, including in costume. Maybe not a line of sight requirement? But still seems to have a requirement for swapping similar volume or mass objects.

BlueNine · Apr 14, 2019

Hello and thank you for the latest chapter! I'm enjoying this story very much and I'm happy to see a well written wormfic with a pure OC cast. I moved to the Seattle area a couple years ago, so I'm having fun seeing some of the landmarks and neighborhoods referenced here.

Other stuff I like:
-Carmilla seems to be processing her issues in a realistic way. In a lot of stories, I see characters who go through a traumatic event either a) soldier on without any sort of problem or b) wallow in angst and flashbacks. I appreciate seeing that past events have impacted her, but she's slowly working through them. Her emotional state is conveyed very effectively
-Dialog is snappy and fluid
-Characters all seem unique and have their own personalities/motivations
-PRT actually seems relatively competent and willing to help our protagonist out, which is a nice change of pace
-Carmilla's status as a trans person is handled pretty matter-of-fact'ly. It bugs me when I see LGBT protagonists where they're just hamfistedly propped up as helpless victims of oppression or pristine paragons of virtue. Here, our protag is a unique individual who just happens to be trans.
-Your grammar and spelling is solid and I don't see any of the typical "to/too" or "their/they're/there" bloopers I see a lot in fanfiction. I appreciate this more than you know.

Random stuff:

As CTrees mentioned, I felt a little Trickster vibe coming off of Presto. Since Trickster is always such a piece of crap, I found myself ready to hate the woman as soon as we met her. But she seems cool and helpful so far so I'll suppress my object-swapping parahuman prejudice.

Ajay is great and I hope he doesn't get horribly murdered for dramatic tension.

Laura currently has best girl status for the use of "goat fucking inconsiderate piece of shit" as an insult. Also she brought our MC a donut.

Anyways, thanks again for posting. I look forward to seeing more of the story.

woermhoele · Apr 17, 2019

Silverstrings said:
Audience, I want you to know that I love each and every one of you. But I love the ones that leave detailed comments even more.

Well, then... *cracks knuckles*

Silverstrings said:
In a few moments the panic had passed, leaving me to try and remember what I was doing here.

Not long before reading this, I had wrapped my one-shot for the PCT "Friends with Enemies" trade, and I had just written a wake-in-unfamiliar-surroundings-and-not-immediately-remembering-why jump cut for the very first time. Yours is better.

I think it might have been easier in first person? But with two POVs first person would've been net harder for me.

Silverstrings said:
I’d locked the door last night, and then barred it when that hadn’t felt like enough. Now it seemed terribly inadequate- anyone could get through the plaster walls with nothing but a pickaxe and determination.

What's the saying? $1000 lock, $10 door? Something like that.

Still, the insurance people prefer we make a token attempt. Something about how even a mild deterrent is marginally more effective than none at all? A psychology thing. Plus, pickaxes are harder to drag around town without questions than you might think!

As I read this bit I was actually thinking, "Wait, she went back?"

Silverstrings said:
The temptation to start fortifying my room warred with the basic fact that I wasn’t going to be sleeping another night here and the PRT would probably like to use it for other things.

When all you have is the power to mold and shape all physical matter you touch into whatever you can imagine, everything starts to look like a fortification repleat with cunning deathtraps.

Also, maybe safe house, I realized here.

Silverstrings said:
The towels were fluffy and soft and delightful. It was nice having the place all to myself, not worrying about stepping on someone’s toes or getting harassed about some bullshit.

Okay, deffo PRT safe house, and wow, figured they'd just put her up at the HoJo or something, but these is nice digs!

Silverstrings said:
Soon enough, I was ever so carefully lowering myself into the just-this-side-of-hot water. It took a few attempts before I was able to get a whole leg in without recoiling from the heat, but the feeling of being enveloped in the water like a warm, comfy blanket was well worth the effort.

The way this is written seems to imply a higher-than-average heat sensitivity? Like, unless just-this-side-of-hot should be read as just-this-side-of-too-hot? I suppose "this side" is ambiguous as to which side you're on. I read it as "barely hot", but "still too hot for me", hence the sensitivity. As a fairly heat-sensitive person myself, I'mma read this as representation until told otherwise.

Silverstrings said:
Not touching anything except the water wasn’t like standing on one of the big roots in the forest or being in the air. I could still sense it, still sense the bathtub and a bit of the floor, but it was blurry and vague. As an experiment, I tried making a small spike sprout from the lip of the tub. Nothing happened.

So, life blocks, liquids (or at least water) buffer? This is a neat detail, and of course this is her (and our) first opportunity to notice it. "Playing with my new powers" as exposition is pretty much a trope by now, but how else would you do it?

Silverstrings said:
It was funny how natural it felt to just reach into the wall next to me and pull out a classic folding straight razor with a wooden handle. This time I was slow and careful enough to avoid getting any new cuts on my face. First impressions were important, and I wanted to put my best foot forward for my new team.

That's hella useful. Can she just make like, anything that's relatively simple (mechanically speaking) from anything else? She just transmuted plastic or ceramic tile (or drywall) into wood and steel! Or did she pull those from like, piping and joists within the structure, since they're all connected? Forget what I said about exposition, more questions than answers have been raised here!

Though uh, she oughta stretch herself and try for a Bic or something. Straight razors intimidate me: how do you even do that?

-||-

Silverstrings said:
I gently ran a few fingers over my chin, reassuring myself there wasn’t any stubble long enough to be noticeable. If I’d had my way there wouldn’t be even the tiniest hint of facial hair, but there was just no way to get that close a shave without slicing half my face off.

This beat confused me, as I have always heard straight razor shaves held up as the closest possible shaves (and the few I've gotten from professionals bear that out). Maybe it's her skills with the razor that are the issue?

Silverstrings said:
Now I was down to a grand total of one dress, two pairs of pants, and my purple jacket.

At least the jacket survived. Gotta have at least one nice thing to build your wardrobe around!

Silverstrings said:
How could I possibly decide what to wear? I thought drily.

I enjoy Carmin's sense of humor. None of this is really stuff that'd be funny if you tried to execute it as a joke performatively? But in the safety of your own head, those little private amusements and distractions? This is life! I do much the same.

Silverstrings said:
The safe house had WiFi, thankfully, so I just pulled up my laptop and logged onto Parahumans Online.

Neeeeeerrrrrrrd!

Silverstrings said:
The first thing I saw when I went to the Seattle area subforum was a thread speculating on the romantic relationships of various local capes. Not only was it a mind-numbing sixty pages long, it was apparently the eighth such thread judging by the title. I’d always found sincerely shipping celebrities with each other vaguely creepy. Did they forget there were actual living human beings under those masks, with their own hopes and desires?

Hear that Knockoff? That's the sound of someone being a decent human being and having an appropriate reaction to this mess. ;p For reals, tho, RPF is barf. This is still a funny beat. Because of course that's the top thread. Also, fun forum nonsense call-out. Yay metahumor!

Silverstrings said:
It happened so much faster than I’d remembered. That moment when my powers manifested had felt like an eternity, but if this video was anything to go by the whole episode couldn’t have lasted more than a couple measly minutes.

So, not sure if you ever played White Wolf's Mage: The Ascension? But Mages come into their power through an 'awakening', which, depending on the GM, the player, and various other factors, has some mild thematic similarities to Worm's triggers. There's one that's written up for a Cultist of Ecstasy mage (not sure if it was in the Trad book or a main rulebook or what, it's been like 20 years), via um... well, let's say the circumstances were a bit lewd? And her reaction to this is "howmst the fuck did the complete shattering of my entire worldview and sense of the universe, not to speak of the physical aspects, take less than ten minutes?!?!?"

And that, for whatever reason, is what came to mind here. My brain is an odd place, sometimes.

Silverstrings said:
How the hell had my power worked so quickly? I’d never been able to make more than one thing at a time every few seconds when experimenting, and that rate only got slower as I tried affecting surfaces further away from me.

This is such a great question! I actually really hope you never get the answer, since it requires you to go through some ugly shit.

But she think so good!

Silverstrings said:
The way I could still feel the tacky sensation of blood on my hands, blood in my hair, blood fucking everywhere .

Yikes. I think technically it's still too soon after to call this PTSD? Like, it's a in-traumatic stress. Oof.

Silverstrings said:
Alright, Carmin, let’s move on, I thought. You know this isn’t productive. Or healthy.

And just when I thought we were going to get down to a good ol' fashion wallow! Shucks.

It's kinda neat she can... pull herself up, instead of just spiraling totally down? Like... probably some days she can't, but so far, so good?

Silverstrings said:
There were over two hundred capes in the Seattle Metropolitan area at any given time. It was mind numbing. Now that I had some idea of what having powers actually meant the numbers had stopped being a fun little factoid and started being completely fucking terrifying, to put it bluntly. How the hell hadn’t society collapsed already?

That seems a little low, if anything? 450ish more like... oh, maybe, 80-90 at average city density (750K/8K) and ~120-130 at average non-city density (3M/24K)? That adds up. I mean, I was actually shocked Seattle proper's numbers were so low, but it also seems to be a finer delineation than some metros. The metro area numbers are around what I was expecting.

Of course, this is another great, insightful, far-reaching question, the answer to which involves globe-spanning conspiracies, alien brain parasites, and--

Silverstrings said:
The PRT and Protectorate, the masks and costumes, the Birdcage.

Orrrr that, sure.

Silverstrings said:
Most of the capes in and around Seattle stuck to the outskirts and nearby towns, not powerful or influential enough to take territory in the city proper.

This answers my earlier question a bit. And oh, do we get some really fun world-building during the ride! I feel like this is running on too long, and line-by-line prolly gets a little old when I don't have a lot to say other than "whee" and "yay"?

But the Bastards sound interesting! Menagerie is like, Bastard Son but with animals and gross mutations instead of ego death for a downside. And I really wanna know what Brimstone's power is. Guessing it's not emitting sulfur clouds that slowly envelope an area?

Professor Silica sounds like a scholar and gentlewoman, and even though horns are bad-ass, hefty academic credentials are all the more so. I loooove a hammy villain who plays it straight, and it sounds like we're going to get some of that sweet glazed action here! Excited! Plus, there's:

Silverstrings said:
even before Silica offed their last leader -and the second Space Needle- in her own inimitable fashion.

Squeee! Wait, which one are they on now? Three is maybe implied, but could it be like, more? "The year was 20-something. The name of the place, was Space Needle Five."

Hospital Pass sounds like they have the right attitude, anyway, but probably don't live up to the hype. I bet the troll is well-liked on PHO. I feel like there was a fic where a drone tinker/master/something from the PNW was used/mentioned. Any relation?

Silverstrings said:
Some villains preferred not to kill, and would instead gently maim me in whatever manner suited their fancy.

At least none of them are going to anything gross like filling your orifices with bugs or gouging out your eyes, right?

Silverstrings said:
I flinched, but I didn’t jump out of my seat or yelp especially loudly. Hopping to my feet, I literally walked through the door to my room rather than bothering to undo all the bars and locks and then pulled the front door open normally.

Okay, 1) pffft.

, and 2) that bolded part... let's come back to that in a bit, shall we?

The whole introduction / interaction with Laura, from awkward handshake, to witty repartee over paperwork, to nervousness about accepting a lap desk produced by literal Dungeon Keeper(tm) power, to... well, all of it, is just fun. We get a good sense of Laura (or do we?), and Carmin gets some more time to be a little bit normal, which I think she really needs.

The dysphoric thoughts inspired by fingers, of all things, are little less lovely, but was a neat touch. I have literally never noticed any sort of 'feminine' or 'masculine' qualities to hands, other than in the ways they are or are not scarred/painted/moisturized/beringed/etc, and so would never have thought of this as a potential issue!

Unless the fingers a clue that Laura is secretly an Elf or something? 'Cause if that's the case I totally missed it. ;p

Silverstrings said:
The drums pounded out through the speakers and reverberated through the car, crisscrossing themselves and compounding and combining until everything washed together into an incomprehensible wall of sound.

:METAL:

Poor Carmin and her incredible sensitivity to vibrations, but Laura is cool.

More fun stuff occurs on the drive, which I will spare you some quotes from. Suffice to say, some fun cape design, general nerdery, cape nerdery, and insights into Carmin's powers, ensue.

Silverstrings said:
A hooded cloak with a sort of poncho shape, covering the arms and angling down on both sides to a point just below the knees. The mask was full face, a lopsided smile and permanently quirked eyebrow giving it a quizzical air. More practically, I sketched out a few armor designs that I definitely needed to run by some actual experts before wearing to a fight.

This sounds like it's gonna look so cool!

Also, less-lethal death-traps! That should... work out, exactly as planned, with no surprises, I'm sure. Yeah.

Silverstrings said:
I trusted my power to support me, a spear forming in my hands even as I turned to face whoever the hell had just teleported Laura. At least I hoped it was teleportation, I didn’t really want to think about what else it could be...My dress hadn’t flopped down onto my face this time, I’d buttoned up my jacket and cinched it tight, so I could see she wasn’t anywhere near the car.

All I can think about is what else it could be, though! That aside, Carmin is learning quickly, not repeating past mistakes, at least? Weapons up, gets to a defensible position, shirt doesn't flop in her eyes...

Silverstrings said:
She laughed -and she had a very nice laugh- like I’d just made a hilarious joke. “What do you mean, ‘what was?’. I’m talking about you walking through a closed door and flipping onto the ceiling like a fucking ninja!”

Okay, so remember I bolded a little thing earlier, and said we should review it later? Now is later. The logical part of me says, "oh, yeah, weird word choice, but aside from it being more 'leapt' than 'walked' she literally did just do this. Prolly nothing."

The much larger crazy over-reading fan-theory speculating part of me says, "holy shit, she walked through the door in her apartment, not here! how the fuck does Presto know about that? Is Presto actually Laura, and this is all some elaborate smokescreen where the Trickster-esque power isn't even her power? But wait... even Laura didn't see that! Was Presto with Laura, hiding the whole time? What's her range on the ol' switcheroo? Does she have invisibility too? Is Presto a funky projection? WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?"

Or something like that. Just know, Ms. fancy-pants writer, that if you think you can pull one over on us, you have another thing coming! ;p

Like, for example, the bit I bolded in this quote. Let's come back to that, shall we?

Silverstrings said:
The moment the question was out of my mouth I realized the answer. The tuxedo, the pranks, the casual and varied defiance of the laws of physics.

A bit too varied. You know who else casually and variably defied the laws of physics and had a killer sense of style? Yeah, I thought you might remember.

Silverstrings said:
“You’re Presto!” I said barely a second after the question left my mouth. “Holy shit, you’re Presto. What the fuck was that for? Where did Laura go?”

Yes, where did she go, Presto? Since you might be her, or her projection, or she might be yours... and don't give me any of that:

Silverstrings said:
she’d been complaining about missing Donut Thursday anyways.

business either! After all, we've never seen the two of you in the same room together!

Silverstrings said:
“That you’re defensive. That your first, second, and third responses were reactionary, and that you didn’t do anything to keep me from getting the drop on you again.”

Here I am praising all these things as major improvements, and then Presto.

Silverstrings said:
She shrugged exaggeratedly, hands off to the side. “I’d have hidden, but I ain’t got your powers. Just keep it in mind, yeah?”

I'm mainly quoting this so I can reference it in a moment. Hidden, you say?

Silverstrings said:
Falling in their place was a colorful blur I was about eighty percent sure was a rose.

Wait, what? Pfft. Is she literally Tuxedo Mask?

Silverstrings said:
She snorted, but didn’t say anything as I fit the mask on over my glasses. “But I think as a cape, I’m gonna go by Sepulcher.”

Take that, you Donjon!

Silverstrings said:
“You,” She huffed. “Goat-fucking,” Huff. “Inconsiderate,” Huff. “Piece of shit. Do you have any idea how far I just had to run because of your stupid prank?”

I mean... technically, a parking structure isn't a 'room', but the projection/master theory is losing a little ground. Invisi-Trickster it is, then!

Silverstrings said:
“My brother doesn’t like chocolate,” I countered, taking it from her. “But thankfully I do.”

Every time I start to think you've got your head on straight, Carmin... le sigh. You were seriously prioritizing a chocolate hater over cats?

Silverstrings said:
“Ah, that one’s kinda complicated. Basically how things work is that if word gets out about you going after someone’s civilian identity you get rendered persona non grata as far as other capes are concerned. And even if you don’t give a shit about other people, doing it is usually a big enough hassle that it’s not worth it.”

I mean, sure, you could explain it all sensibly and all. But you could also just link her to the rules and be done with it.

Silverstrings said:
For the first time in the entire conversation, it was Presto that was rendered speechless. That was lovely enough, but what really made it was Laura’s breathless laughter.

So, remember the time I bolded part of a quote and then said let's come back to it later? No, the other time I did that? Yeah, let's talk about Carmin and her adorable fascination with lady-laughs. I have never before encountered a kink so wholesome! This is lovely, and pure, and, as Aisha might say, “Gaaaaaaayyyyyyy."

Silverstrings · Apr 19, 2019

Thank you for your comments everyone! I hope you Donjon's first multi-part chapter, please let me know what you think.

-||-

My whole life had been spent waiting for something. I’d always hoped that someone would come along and reveal that I was destined for something greater, like being a secret wizard or the heir to a fae bloodline. Or even a superhero. There were so many times when I’d just stopped whatever I was doing and wrestled with the idea that this was my one life, that I actually was who I was. A lot of that had been because I was trans, knowing something was terribly wrong but not being able to describe or point to it.

A lot, but not all. As we entered the diffuse light of late autumn, eyes blinking against cloud cover that seemed to glow with an inner light, I saw the vast bulk of the Space Needle rising above us like a glistening giant. After the second Space Needle had been destroyed, it had become a matter of civic pride for practically everyone in the state to keep it from ever happening again. All sorts of solutions were proposed, but ultimately it was decided that the newly rebuilt and redesigned Space Needle would become the headquarters of the Seattle Protectorate. Even though it was still a tourist trap, knowing that it now served such a vital function in keeping the city running gave it a gravitas it hadn’t had before. It meant something now, and that meaning elevated it from an architectural gimmick from the sixties into something I could be proud to be a part of.

Laura chuckled. “It really is something, isn’t it? Even after four years it still takes my breath away.”

I nodded, a big grin on under my mask. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s dull,” Presto cut in, in a tone of voice you’d normally reserve for someone saying sand was good to drink. “Give it time, you won’t be so excited once you see most of what’s happening in there is pencil-pushers pushing pencils.”

“Well, sure, it is probably mostly cubicles. But not being interesting isn’t necessarily the same thing as not being important. Society can’t function unless someone does all the dull-but-vital stuff that keeps everything running.”

“Thank you!” said Laura, giving Presto a look of mock judgement. “It’s good to know at least one hero in this city appreciates us.”

“Of course I appreciate you guys,” Presto responded, sounding genuinely hurt. Then she grinned. “Without the PRT, who’d be there to get us coffee? No one, that’s who. It’d be a damn tragedy.”

“That’s so good to hear!” said Laura, giving her an apparently gormless smile.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. If that’s all you need us for, I can just let the director know we won’t have to renew your budget for next year. Not sure how familiar you are with the logistics of tinkering, Sepulcher, but it’s probably not a surprise that nanotech super materials and specialized microprocessors are a hell of a lot harder on our budget than a little coffee. Or a big head.”

“Don’t listen to her, Presto.” I chimed in. “If anything your head is noticeably smaller than average.”

“The nerve!” Presto gasped in a perfect haughty noblewoman voice, holding a gloved hand to her breast in mock offense. “Whatever happened to cape solidarity?” I met her stern expression with one of my own, looking into amber eyes sparkling with hidden amusement. She broke first, a few giggles becoming full blown snorting laughter as I visibly struggled to control my face. I laughed too, relieved in a way I couldn’t quite articulate that they didn’t think I was annoying.

We made it to the front entrance, where Laura’s badge let us completely bypass the lines and security the public had to deal with. Perks. Once we got checked in I received a plastic guest pass with ‘Sepulcher’ printed on it. I put the lanyard around my neck, feeling a little tingly at the prospect of literally hanging my cape name over my chest. It reminded me a bit of how it felt to start going by Carmilla last year. This time, though, the new name was supplemental rather than replacing one that no longer fit. I’d goddamn earned being Carmilla, and no one could ever take it from me.

“Alright, Sepulcher,” said Laura, putting extra emphasis on the name. Reminding herself? “Where do you wanna go first? We’ve got like an hour and a half before the director’s available.”

“Hmm…” There were a lot of different places I wanted to see, but none of it struck me as particularly more urgent than anything else. “What about the gift shop? I haven’t been here since it got rebuilt, I’m kind of curious what’s changed.”

“Excited to get your hands on an official Presto action figure?” the woman herself asked, smirking at me. “Or are you just really raring for a mug?”

“I already have your action figure,” I corrected. A second later my brain caught up with my mouth and suddenly my entire face felt like I'd just opened an oven and shoved it right in. The unrestrained delight lighting up Presto's face emphatically did not help. This was going to be a thing, wasn't it? Fuck.

I cleared my throat with all the grace and subtlety of a bird breaking through a window, its broken, twitching body scattering everything on the dinner table. “Anyway. Shopping isn't really on the agenda, I've got approximately none money until whenever I start getting paid.”

“And if it were, there would be absolutely nothing wrong with that. To be completely honest, I’ve got more than a few action figures myself. They’re neat,” Laura said, narrowing her eyes at the smirking magician in preemptive disapproval. Presto adopted such a look of cherubic innocence that I almost bought it myself, despite having endured one of her tricks already. Laura rolled her eyes at Presto’s antics. “Assuming everything goes well, you should be getting an advance on your pay either tonight or early tomorrow. That’ll be enough to take care of all the basics.”

“Is there a chance of it not going well?” I asked, suddenly nervous.

“Hypothetically,” Laura responded. “But-”

Presto interrupted with a laughing snort. “Ha! The Protectorate is absolutely desperate for capes, you’d basically have to be a serial killer to get turned down. I mean shit, how do you think I haven’t gotten kicked out yet?”

“Not quite how I’d have put it, but she’s basically right. Especially the last part,” Laura said. If she was upset at being interrupted there wasn’t any sign of it.

“Huh.” I said eloquently, processing all that. “Good to know. Though I have to wonder what that says about my future teammates.”

“They’re good people,” Laura reassured me. “I’ve worked with most of them for years, long enough to know who I can count on when the chips are down. With a couple exceptions, that’s all of them.”

“I wonder who those exceptions might be,” I said speculatively, giving Presto a significant look.

“She’s saved my life, actually,” Laura said seriously.

For the first time I’d seen her, Presto seemed out of sorts. She’d taken off her top hat, running her hand over dark hair slicked back with something that emphasized the curliness rather than hiding it. It was in a butch, modern sort of style, the sides and back shaved short. She noticed me looking at her and smiled, idly spinning the hat on her finger. “Like what you see?” she asked, putting a hand on her hip and twisting her body just so.

I wrenched my gaze toward the floor, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Laura playfully punched Presto in the shoulder. “Leave the poor girl alone. We were supposed to be giving her a tour, remember?”

“You’re just jealous that she doesn’t have your action figure.” She threw back, holding her arm like she’d just been grievously wounded.

“I don’t have an action figure.”

“Exactly.”

The entrance to the gift shop was as impressive as the rest of the building, fancy-looking automatic doors leading into an artfully designed storefront. The products were mostly the sorts of things you’d find at any gift shop or major store that licensed Protectorate merchandise, but every effort imaginable had been made to attract the eye or present them in an unconventional way. A detailed statue of one of Dragon’s mechs guarded a pile of collectibles like a hoard of gold, a plastic ‘stone’ platform holding the classic Protectorate lineup was seemingly held up by an Alexandria action figure below it, and Armsmaster stood guard over the video game section. Before we were more than a few steps inside a crowd of tourists materialized from thin air in front of us, voices overlapping each other as they clamored for autographs or pictures or just attention.

I froze, brain struggling to keep up with the separate actions of over a dozen excited people. Before I could start well and truly panicking, Presto was there among them shaking hands and flashing that smile of hers. She signed autographs and took pictures, doing her best to direct the crowd’s attention away from us. The second they were distracted Laura took my arm, leading me off to the side.

“Not a fan of crowds, I take it?” Laura asked quietly.

I shook my head. “It’s just too much for me, you know? I can handle public speaking or performing, but being surrounded by that much noise drives me up the fucking wall. No pun intended.”

“I get it, we can’t all be social dynamos. What did you want to look at? This place is pretty big, we could probably spend the whole hour here if we wanted. I’ve gotten lost in here like three times.”

“That definitely won’t be a problem. I wanted to see the stuff dedicated to local heroes, you can get Legend bed sheets or whatever anywhere.”

Laura smiled, turning to lead me on a meandering journey through the oversized gift shop. Shelves rising twice as tall as me blocked our view at each turn, a consumerist labyrinth pulling my attention from every angle on every wall. It took a few detours to make it, despite the section dedicated to the local cape scene being by far the largest and most lavishly presented. A huge grin split my face as I took it all in, dozens of heroes and a smattering of defeated foes arranged in a sort of diorama at the center of the largest open space in the store. Shelves radiated out from the central point in a pleasingly geometric arrangement, each focused on one of the power categories the PRT used.

I brushed my fingers over each piece of memorabilia as we passed them, making absolutely sure that they stuck in my power’s memory. Not just because I wanted to mentally come back here without the people or annoying music, but also because I figured it’d be a lot easier to remember all these capes and their powers if I could visualize their places on the shelves. Unfortunately there were plenty of ambiguities when it came to what categories a given power was in, and that had required them to make clear distinctions where there hadn’t necessarily been any. Like, for instance, whether I’d be considered a shaker or a striker. My power required physical contact -the basic definition of a striker power- but its effects could be applied in a large radius around me, which was very much a shaker thing. Where would I fit in here?

To my surprise, a number of local hero teams with only loose Protectorate affiliations at best were represented. The Mercer Island Pioneers had their own display, a poster with all six of them arranged together prominently posted on the side of one of the aisles. Voxel and Flicker -the leader and heavy hitter, respectively- stood in the center with heads held high. I knew the armored tinker beside them was Amalgam, and the human-shaped window to space floating above them had to be Vagary, but I didn’t recognize the cocky looking woman in a comparatively casual costume or the dark haired girl all but hiding behind the others. Were they new additions or had I just not been paying enough attention?

The Protectorate’s display was the largest by far, no surprise considering the sheer number of capes they had. Not to mention it was literally their own gift shop. A life-sized statue of the local team’s leader Mesh loomed over it, brandishing twin hard-light tomahawks represented in translucent plastic. He was a tinker specialized in cybernetics, his whole body a carefully honed instrument that represented literal decades of fighting and self-improvement. Presto and Bullrush lead a stealth focused sub-team that already had a few prominent captures under its metaphorical belt. They’d worked together since before they graduated the Wards two years ago, often enough that it was no surprise rumors had started spreading about the two of them. False ones, if Presto was to be believed.

I very purposefully didn’t pick up any Presto action figures, knowing in my bones that the second I touched one she’d appear out of nowhere and smirk at me. I grabbed one of Monster Mash’s instead, noting how it disappeared from my power’s awareness the second it wasn’t touching the rest of the shelf. I read the blurb on the back of the box, hungry to learn everything I could about this new part of my life. He was a tinker with a classic mad scientist look that made creatures instead of technological tools. Stitched together monsters were his forte, but over his and Mesh’s decades long cape career he’d made everything from giant cybernetic dogs to specialized bacterial colonies that safely ate fire. As capes went he was practically ancient, and they’d somehow stayed together through the whole thing. There was so much I wanted to ask them.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Laura asked, leaning on the shaker aisle. “You’ve been quiet.”

“Are they worth so little to you?” I quipped, flashing a grin at her. Then I sighed, looking for the right words to express what I was feeling. “It’s just that I’m worried. I have a history of being given promising opportunities and letting them fall apart. What’s gonna happen when I mess up again?”

Laura gave me a sad smile. “You’re being too hard on yourself. And anyway, it’s not like you fuck up once and then get sent home. There’s an adjustment period, tutors, teammates to support you. You’ll have room to make a few mistakes.”

“I’m mostly worried about someone getting hurt because I fucked up.”

“Sepulcher, relax. You’re not going into a life-or-death situation on the first day, or even the first few weeks. And besides, your team is gonna have your back no matter what. Trust them.”

I nodded, taking the words in. It was too easy to fall into a pit of self loathing and hopelessness that kept me from improving myself or making any forward progress. This was the best opportunity I’d ever had to finally be free from all the baggage I’d accumulated over my life, a way to forge a new self that I could be truly happy with. I just had to take it one step at a time.

With that thought I put him back on the shelf, flashing Laura a smile.

“Want to go find Presto?” I asked. “I think we’ve seen about everything there is to see here.”

“Were you gonna get anything?”

I shook my head. “No money.”

“Right, sorry,” she said, rubbing her chin. “Say, how about I get you one of these things? Consider it a welcome present.”

I blinked. “Are you sure? You really don’t have to.”

“Don’t even worry about it, this has been a hell of a lot more fun than filing incident reports. Which one did you want?”

“Well, thank you then. I’ve been meaning to get Flicker for a while, her power is so fucking cool. She sees into other dimensions and shit.”

Laura nodded, grabbing one of the Flickers off the shelf. “Sees into them, pulls stuff from them, and on top of that she can fly. Damn shame she never joined up with us.”

I nodded absentmindedly. “Fuck. Strange to think I’ll probably be meeting her at some point.”

Laura nodded. “Where are we headed after we grab Presto?”

“Up.” I said simply.

-||-

I patted my bag as we entered the large, crowded elevator, reassuring myself Flicker was still there. The elevator was tinker stuff -smoother, faster and more expensive than it had any right to be- and it gave a perfect view of the city despite being in the middle of the building. I could feel the walls passing rapidly outside the elevator, noting exact distances in my mental map of the building as the city spread further and further before us. Fifty feet, two hundred feet, four hundred feet, eight hundred, and before I knew it we’d stopped right at the observation deck nine hundred and fifty six feet in the air.

“You’re fogging up the glass,” Presto noted cheerfully.

I glowered at her, moving my hands and face from where I was leaning against the wall-spanning ‘window’. The crowd of people we’d had to share it with were finally thinning out, making their way to the observation deck or the restaurant or the publicly available parts of the Wards and Protectorate headquarters. Crowds always, always put me on edge.

The elevator lead out directly onto the outer ring, which was completely open to the public and contained the aforementioned restaurant and observation deck. The floor looked like some kind of structural glass, letting us see all the way down to the parking lot we’d come in from half an hour ago. With my power, however, I could tell it was the same technology that was on the inside of the elevator. Laura looked a little green in the gills, grumbling to herself as she stepped onto the surprisingly grippy surface and marched mechanically to one of the benches opposite her.

“Are you not a fan of heights?” I asked as she sat down, tentative. “We can go somewhere else if you really want.”

“I’ll be fine as long as I don’t try looking around and moving at the same time. I’m just gonna sit here and make a few calls. You two have fun, yeah?”

“If you’re sure.”

“She literally works here, Sepulcher.” Presto said drily, a slight smile on her lips. “I’m pretty sure she can handle it.”

“It’s called being polite. Not that you’d know anything about that, oh great and powerful Presto. Or should I say… Pest -o?”

Laura and Presto met each other’s eyes in silence, then looked back at me. There was a pregnant pause as the flow of people parted around us. After a seeming eternity, it was Laura that let out the first giggle. Soon all three of us were laughing, presumably more at the ridiculousness of the situation than my lame joke.

“You’re alright, Sepulcher.” Presto said, giving me a little poke in the side. “But don’t think you’re getting away with that pun scot-free.”

“Oh? You planning to punish me?” I grinned at her, eager to see her reaction.

“Alright, I was asking for that one.” She stabbed a finger at me. “But no more freebies, you hear me? New girl only gets so much slack.”

“God, get a room already.” Laura said, not bothering to look up from her phone.

“We’re already in a room, technically.” I noted.

Presto rolled her eyes violently and all but dragged me away from the bench.

“Where are we going?” I asked, letting myself be pulled along. People were staring at us as we passed by, but that was probably just because we were obviously both capes and had nothing to do with my appearance. Could they tell I was trans? Would they have a problem with it if they did?

“The observation deck. It’s got this view of downtown that’ll knock your socks off.” Presto responded, flashing me another smile.

There were large windows regularly spaced along the outside edge, letting us catch glimpses of the Seattle skyline we’d come up here to see. They weren’t glass, however. As we approached I could see that they were forcefields being projected from the wall, and though they felt solid and slightly tingly to the touch I couldn’t affect them with my power at all. Like solidified air.

“Come on already,” Presto said testily, pulling me away from the window. “We’re basically here, all we need to do is wait for the telescopes to open up.”

“If we still need to wait, why did you drag me from the window? It was neat.”

She rolled her eyes. “We need to get in line, duh.”

I raised a finger in protest, before slowly lowering it as I failed to think of a rebuttal. “Alright, you got me. You’re right.”

Presto didn’t bother hiding her smug grin as she pulled me along, full lips pushing back her cheeks and making her eyes sparkle with amusement. She seemed so at ease in her own skin, the smooth movement of her shoulders and hips reminding me of the way a cheetah’s shoulder blades languidly shift up and down as they walk. She navigated a course through the sea of bodies, pulling me along in her wake. Tourists looking to ask questions or get autographs from her were diverted with a few carefully chosen words and a smile, never drawing her into a long conversation.

I almost groaned aloud when we finally made it to the southern observation deck’s entrance. The line extended well past the area marked off for it, the area dense with people making use of the tables and chairs. We took our place at the back of the line and I concentrated on my breathing, trying to ignore the bubbling babble of noise smacking against my ears and the floor. My foot started tapping, and I let it.

Should have brought my headphones, I thought.

Presto was saying something, but I was only half paying attention. My eyes tracked each person in turn, but there were enough people to make following all of them an exercise in futility. What if one of them wanted to hurt me? How would I be able to tell or prepare against it? You never knew who’d take a dislike to you and decide to make something of it, couldn’t tell where resentment lurked beneath the surface. Something moved in front of my face, and I squawked.

“You alright Sepulcher?” Presto asked, lowering her hand. “You seem kinda tense.”

I was tempted to deflect, but her concern gave me pause. I sighed. “Hate crowds, always have. I think my power makes it worse.”

She gave me a searching look. “This feels like more than that. It’s okay if you wanna do something else, you know.”

I looked up, a thought occurring to me. “Are there any forcefields between the ceiling and the roof?”

“Don’t think so, why?”

In lieu of answering, I walked up the side of the internal wall and unceremoniously pulled myself into the ceiling. Since I could control it and didn’t need to see to know where I was, the metal encasing me from head to toe was comforting rather than confining. It buoyed me, carrying me skyward like a strong current. After a few moments of silence I crested the surface of the roof, immediately feeling a cold wind whipping at my hair as I did so. I slowly rose the rest of the way, wishing fiercely that my peacoat had survived the apartment’s destruction. My feet were still covered with concrete, a precaution against getting knocked off the building.

I quietly gasped as I took in the entire city from nearly a thousand feet in the air. Downtown Seattle was to the south, glass and steel skyscrapers stabbing up from the hilly ground like a patch of crystal. Surrounding it on all sides were a chaotic mix of trees and buildings spreading out past the horizon. Mount Rainier towered in the distance, more occluded by atmosphere than not.

This is my home now. I thought, plopping down on the edge of the sloped, circular roof.

None of it felt real. Not my roommates attacking me, not John dying, not being here, and especially not my powers. If I wanted to, I could just jump off this thousand-foot building and be fine. I’d be able to feel the wind in my hair again, that sense of freedom I had when I’d soared all too briefly in the forest. It was so tempting to just run away and hope things would eventually start making sense again.

I took my glasses off, and the world blurred to the point that I couldn’t pick out individual buildings on the skyline any more. They went in my bag, which I hugged close to protect it from the wind. I shut my eyes tight, focusing my attention on my sense of the surrounding material. The roof was mostly concrete and metal, which were both of a higher quality than what my power was capable of making. There was an elegant latticework of steel just under the surface, and imagining how it might extend throughout the rest of the structure helped calm me down and ground me.

“Hey,” Presto said just loud enough to hear, standing a comfortable thirty three and a half feet behind me. “Room for one more?”

I nodded, wary.

She approached with surprising carefulness, sitting down a few feet to my right without making any sudden movements. Probably trying not to startle the dangerous, unstable parahuman.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked, apparently casual.

I thought for a moment, body tensed against the wind. Eventually, I nodded.

Presto produced a card from somewhere and positioned it directly between us. When she let go it remained, somehow suspended in thin air. My ears popped as the air pressure shifted, wind dying down to almost nothing and making the cold much easier to manage.

“What is that ?” I asked, realizing too late that I didn’t need to raise my voice any more.

“The four of diamonds, obviously.”

“Could you not be a smartass for five seconds? I was just curious.”

She raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. It uses specialized telekinetic projectors to normalize air currents around it. I made the thing to keep people from hearing anything in its area of effect. The wind stilling was just a happy accident.”

“And floating in the air? Is that also the telekinetic projectors?”

She nodded. “If it can move that much air, it can lift itself. Just a matter of tuning the vectors.”

I nodded, promising myself I’d get all the details about her tech I could later. “So when you asked me if I wanted to talk, what were you referring to exactly?”

“I was referring to how you almost got everyone in the lobby doused with containment foam.”

“Oh fuck,” I said, scrambling onto my feet. “I’m an idiot. I didn’t even think of that! Did anyone get hurt?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Presto said, waving me back down with gentle motions. “Nothing happened. The security systems in the public areas aren’t sensitive enough to detect your power. Please, sit, I promise everyone is okay.”

I reluctantly gave way to her prodding, lowering myself back onto the cold roof next to her.

“Do you know?” I asked after a moment.

“Know what?”

“My- my trigger event. What happened after. Do you know?”

“Only what’s publicly available,” she said. “Incident at Evergreen State College, powers going out of control, new cape joining the Protectorate. Playback didn’t deign to share his notes with anyone but the director, and she’s onto me by now. Can’t hack info that’s only in her brain.”

I hugged my bag tight, sinking further into the roof. My body felt cold in a way that had nothing to do with the chill. “So you know I’m a killer.”

“Putting aside the debate about who’s responsible for what, I’d say there’s a pretty fucking big difference between someone that’s killed and a killer.”

I hesitantly nodded. “I’m worried I don’t belong here. You know I’m a mess, right? For fuck’s sake, I couldn’t even make it through college. How am I supposed to keep up?”

She shook her head, amused and sad at the same time. “We all are, Sepulcher. You don’t get powers if you aren’t at least a little messed up. I say stop thinking of why you can’t do this, and start thinking of all the reasons you can. You’ll be surprised how much longer the second list is.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” After a moment’s hesitation, I took off my mask and put my glasses back on. “Can we just sit and talk for a bit? I don’t think I’m ready to face the crowds yet.”

Presto took off her mask, flashing me another brilliant smile. She held out a gloved hand to shake. “Liang. Glad to officially meet you, Carmilla.”

Mondrae205 · Apr 22, 2019

She got a bit too friendly a bit too fast for my liking. They were grinning and joking like they didn't just meet each other and I didn't peg Camilia as the type.

Mind_Controlled_Raisin · Apr 23, 2019

Silverstrings said:
you’d basically have to be a serial killer to get turned down

*cough* exceptionally useful serial killers may still be considered for membership *cough*

Silverstrings said:
To my surprise, a number of local hero teams with only loose Protectorate affiliations at best were represented. The Mercer Island Pioneers had their own display, a poster with all six of them arranged together prominently posted on the side of one of the aisles. Voxel and Flicker -the leader and heavy hitter, respectively- stood in the center with heads held high. I knew the armored tinker beside them was Amalgam, and the human-shaped window to space floating above them had to be Vagary, but I didn’t recognize the cocky looking woman in a comparatively casual costume or the dark haired girl all but hiding behind the others. Were they new additions or had I just not been paying enough attention?

The Protectorate’s display was the largest by far, no surprise considering the sheer number of capes they had. Not to mention it was literally their own gift shop. A life-sized statue of the local team’s leader Mesh loomed over it, brandishing twin hard-light tomahawks represented in translucent plastic. He was a tinker specialized in cybernetics, his whole body a carefully honed instrument that represented literal decades of fighting and self-improvement. Presto and Bullrush lead a stealth focused sub-team that already had a few prominent captures under its metaphorical belt. They’d worked together since before they graduated the Wards two years ago, often enough that it was no surprise rumors had started spreading about the two of them. False ones, if Presto was to be believed.

It makes sense in a city the size of Seattle / Greater Seattle that there would be tons of capes on various teams, I like that. The idea of 'Sub-teams' is neat as well. Probably quite a few corporate teams as well? Interesting how the independent hero teams have their section in the government cape gift shop. Consumer money is consumer money I suppose.

Silverstrings said:
it gave a perfect view of the city despite being in the middle of the building

This is such a WEIRD mental image for some reason.

Silverstrings said:
In lieu of answering, I walked up the side of the internal wall and unceremoniously pulled myself into the ceiling.

"Peace out, bitches"

Silverstrings said:
The roof was mostly concrete and metal, which were both of a higher quality than what my power was capable of making.

Interesting. Does she just have one kind of concrete, one kind of steel, one kind of wood, etc. that she uses for all her constructions / modifications / deathtraps? Or can she change material properties in what she uses to a degree? Given that there hasn't been much experimentation on her part I suppose this hasn't come up yet.

Silverstrings said:
standing a comfortable thirty three and a half feet behind me

I like this off-handed mention of the detail afforded to her by her thinker power. Helps convey the way she sees the world.

Mondrae205 said:
She got a bit too friendly a bit too fast for my liking. They were grinning and joking like they didn't just meet each other and I didn't peg Camilia as the type.

My impression of her was more being uncomfortable with groups of strangers more so than just one-on-one interaction. In this case she met Laura and they got along well for a few hours, then she met Presto with Laura to back her up. Her interactions with Presto seem pretty in line with her demeanour in 1-5 to me. We also haven't seen much of her interacting with strangers in a not-dealing-with-immediate-trauma scenario, so... time will tell I suppose.

Silverstrings · Apr 23, 2019

Mind_Controlled_Raisin said:
Interesting. Does she just have one kind of concrete, one kind of steel, one kind of wood, etc. that she uses for all her constructions / modifications / deathtraps? Or can she change material properties in what she uses to a degree? Given that there hasn't been much experimentation on her part I suppose this hasn't come up yet.

Your first guess is the right one, she can create one kind of wood, stone, and metal. The wood is akin to oak, the stone is primarily basalt, and the metal is always low quality wrought iron

Silverstrings · Apr 26, 2019

Flicker soared through open air faster than the eye could track, held aloft by forces unknown. A shock of red hair poked through the open top of her mask, blowing freely in the wind. She went into a dive to put falcons to shame, air roaring past her ears as she readied an earth-shattering flying kick. The action figure poked Liang -Presto now, she’d put her mask back on- in the cheek, prompting her to look up from the card trick she’d been practicing and give me a thoroughly unimpressed look. Undeterred, I brandished Flicker’s fist and booped her lightly on the nose.

Presto scrunched her nose up and pushed the much cooler superhero away, but she couldn’t hide her smile completely. “Am I gonna have to take that thing away from you?” She asked, trying very hard to sound serious and threatening.

“You’re just jealous that she can fly,” I taunted, holding up the miniaturized brute to demonstrate.

“Three things to keep in mind out there, tunnel girl. One: teleporting is way better than flying, anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to sell you something. Two: being jealous of another cape’s powers is a waste of time, not least because they always have a catch.”

“Weren’t there supposed to be three?”

“People aren’t just going to tell you everything they know if they can help it, kid. Knowledge is power.”

“Is that the third thing or are you just messing with me?” I didn’t bother protesting that I was a year older than her at twenty-one, it would be a waste of breath.

“The third thing is that your little taunt doesn’t really work when you can’t fly either.”

“Never claimed that I wasn’t jealous, just that you were . All my best taunts bring people down to my level.”

She paused for a second, then rolled her eyes. We were sitting in the lobby outside the director’s office/meeting room in chairs that were more floral print than they were cushion. The secretary guarding the entrance had politely but firmly asked me to stop pacing, so I’d gotten Flicker out to pass the time and distract myself from my nervousness. The quality was better than I’d have expected, every detail of her black and grey armored bodysuit faithfully represented. The icon on her chest was crisp and clear, a simplified outline of her mask overlapping itself. Her mouth was set in a determined line under her visor.

“The director will see you now,” the secretary said, voice harsh over the intercom.

I scrambled to put Flicker back in my bag, my mind flipping through a hundred disaster scenarios like a fucked-up viewmaster. Laura gave me an encouraging smile as I settled my canvas book bag on one shoulder, patiently waiting for me to finish. I followed her past the secretary’s desk, twin panes of frosted glass looming like the broad side of a glacier. Presto hesitated before going in, hat held lightly in her hands.

“You ready?” she asked after a moment.

I nodded.

“Knock ‘em dead, Sepulcher,” she said with a grin and a wink.

I stared at her blankly for several seconds, caught between the half-formed thoughts and feelings that phrasing brought up and the idea that someone I’d had a crush on since high school just winked at me. The memories welling up nearly brought me to my knees, threatening to shatter the frail calm I’d managed to cobble together in the aftermath of my trigger. I shook my head vigorously, tapping into my thinker power for some perspective. Every sense seemed to sharpen, relevant details snapping into focus with uncanny speed and precision.

I noted the physical characteristics and estimated threat levels of every individual in the area, keeping in mind that I could walk through the walls of the building more or less freely. The tinker was the most dangerous, her teleportation abilities could prevent me from escaping before other assets were brought to bear. The soldier had no chance of catching me, but I was still vulnerable to the gun strapped to her hip. As a just-in-case measure, I sketched out their cones of vision by tracking their eye movements and extrapolating from my own, mentally collating potential escape routes based on my incomplete knowledge of the building and more limited knowledge of the greater area. There was no way to plan further without more information, so I reluctantly let go of my power.

Images of faces snarled in rage and hatred immediately started intruding on me, but this time I had the tools to temporarily wrestle them into submission and focus on the present. Laura lightly punched Presto in the shoulder, leaning in to whisper something in a harsh tone. The levity drained out of Liang’s face like it had never been, leaving her looking pensive and uncertain. Her hat was held loosely in her right hand, while her left rubbed the back of her neck.

“Aw shit, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just trying to riff off your name,” she said, sounding sincerely upset. She seemed to struggle with herself for a few moments before letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. Sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain, especially when I’m trying to be clever.”

“The apology is very much appreciated,” I said, honestly finding the situation more surreal than upsetting. “But it’s a pretty common phrasing, and I’ve been guilty of the very same sort of thing in the past. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that we’re good.”

“Glad to hear it. Since we’re good and all, may I add that you’re drop-dead gorgeous?”

I stared at her incredulously for a few seconds before blushing furiously and breaking into laughter in that order.

“Quit screwing around you two, the Director is waiting on us,” said Laura, exasperated without being really upset. With that she slid the frosted doors of the office aside, giving us a full view of the interior. Most of the light was provided by a single large window replacing what would normally be the back wall, backlighting a solidly built -and currently unoccupied- wooden desk stacked with papers. The room was dominated by a compact conference table set on a slightly lower level, no less than five nationally famous individuals sitting around it.

The two sitting closest to me were Snubnose and Gasconade, the former actually outside of her trademark powered armor for once. Gasconade sort of hurt to look at, his body was a vaguely human-shaped collage of two-dimensional abstract drawings. The costume he wore over it was simple and could have passed as normal clothes on someone else, a take on the classic private eye outfit in earthy colors. At the head of the table directly opposite me was Director Kiyana Moore. She was black, her hair coiled into braids tied back into a loose ponytail, and something about the way she held herself gave her a presence to match anyone else in the room. Sitting at her right was Mesh, visor focused on his laptop as he typed something out. On her left was Bullrush, her costume an interesting mixture of sleek aerodynamic combat armor and geometric paneling that gave her an almost low-poly look. She wore a full face mask with a build and profile reminiscent of a motorcycle helmet, molded on the sides to suggest horns. I’d almost missed the sharply dressed blonde man standing behind the director, clipboard in hand.

Mesh was the first to notice us, turning to give a small smile nearly the instant the door started opening. Bullrush was inscrutable, her helmeted face locking on me just a second longer than the others. The director surprised me by getting up from her chair with a broad smile and coming right to me.

“Sepulcher,” she said, offering a hand. “It’s good to finally meet you. Playback had a lot to say in his report.”

“Good things, I hope,” I joked feebly, taking it. She gave Presto a curious look, but her handshake was textbook and her attention was back on me a second later.

“Mostly,” Bullrush cut in, her conversational tone at odds with the terse statement. I could practically feel Presto’s hackles rising behind me. Over the last hour I’d gotten used to the minuscule shifts in positioning and how she held her weight that characterized her, making her sudden stillness as notable as it was alarming. I resisted the urge to keep my eye on her, instead turning to address the source of her ire.

“Could you elaborate on that?” I asked, unable to hide my nervousness. Was she upset with me? Was I in trouble? Did I do something wrong? The director hadn’t seemed angry, but maybe she just didn’t know whatever it was and I’d just been thrown under the bus.

“Let’s table that for now,” the Director said, her voice calm but firm. “Why don’t we all introduce ourselves? My name is Kiyana Moore, I’m the director of the Seattle branch of the PRT.” She turned to the blonde man with the clipboard who’d followed behind her. “This is Assistant Director Matthews, among other duties he’ll be acting as the PRT’s primary representative during missions.”

“They call me Snubnose, heroine extraordinaire!” said Snubnose loudly, standing up and letting out a few antigravity sparks from her fingertips. At full height the top of her head would just barely reach my chin. It bothered me, but it was a bother I’d gotten used to. She elbowed Mesh, prompting an indecipherable look from him. To my shock, he pressed something on the side of his visor to make it retract. With his full face visible I could tell he was Native American, and that his entire face was etched with what looked like tron lines leading to various augmentations in his eyes and other senses.

“I’m Kiyiya,” he said simply, giving me a small smile. I returned it, relieved somewhat by the show of trust.

“It’s good to meet you, Kiyiya. I’m Carmilla,” I said, stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables of his name. I’d need to figure out how to pronounce it correctly.

“Oh, you meant our actual names,” Snubnose said, taking off her mask. She was Asian, with a broad face to match her stocky build. “It’s Zoe. Carmilla’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks!” I said, “I picked it myself.”

I heard Presto snort behind me.

“Jaager Charles,” Gasconade spoke up, voice surprisingly normal and surprisingly hesitant. I tried to meet his gaze. “It’s my name, or at least it used to be. Glad to have you aboard.”

I offered a hand to shake, but he actually backed away from it. I gave him a perplexed look.

“Careful,” he said, head turned towards me. “My power affects anything I interact with, can’t turn it off.”

“Is it harmful?” I asked, a little disturbed.

He was silent for a few seconds. “Nah, just inconvenient. You get reset to how you were before I touched you after thirty seconds.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad. Do memories get reset?”

He shook his head.

“Neat. That offer of a handshake is still open, if you’re interested.”

He was. We were both hesitant, and his hand felt strangely smooth and cold, but he seemed to appreciate the gesture. I didn’t feel anything to suggest the power taking hold, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

“Please, take a seat,” the Director said, gesturing to the chair next to me as she returned to her own. I did so, setting down my bag and taking off my mask with the reasoning that they’d figure out I was trans soon enough if they hadn’t already. I noted the way Bullrush held herself as she kept her gaze on me and occasionally on Presto. There was a tension in her shoulders, a distinctly stubborn cast to how her arms were folded. Presto sat down on my left, very deliberately meeting her stare for stare. Laura put a hand on her shoulder, briefly whispering something before sitting on my right and beginning a quiet conversation with Gasconade. Or, no, Jaager.

“Now that everyone’s settled,” Bullrush said, leaning forward with her hands on the table. Her voice was quiet, but each word was delivered with the sharpness and finality of nails being driven into a coffin. “Would you mind explaining what the fuck you were thinking, Sepulcher? You used dangerous, completely untested powers on delicate equipment in full view of the public. What if you’d lost control again? What if there’d been an adverse reaction with one of our security systems?”

I wanted to argue, to push back, but I’d already come to a similar conclusion. The realization was a leaden weight in my stomach, bringing me down until it took deliberate, conscious effort not to literally sink into the floor. She might have thought I was mocking her or something and I’d fucked this up enough already. What could I say to convince her it won’t happen again?

“Well?” she asked, when I didn’t answer immediately.

I found myself paralyzed, every possible response too risky. My mouth opened up, but no words came out. The next thing I knew, I was standing up again and had my arm out as if shaking hands with the air.

“What the fuck?” I practically squeaked, prompting a tension-breaking chorus of chuckles from the room. A second later I realized the obvious, Gasconade’s power had just reset me to the moment before I’d touched him. It still took me a bit to get my bearings, and by the time I made my way back to my chair I’d flushed all the way to my hairline. Presto surprised me by pulling it out as I approached, smiling encouragingly despite her obviously foul mood.

My eyes searched the oblong table as I sat down, and when that failed I leaned toward her and whispered. “Have you seen my mask?”

Her face softened a little with amusement. “You’re wearing it, dingus.”

“Oh, right.” I took it off again, feeling less certain of that decision as I faced down Bullrush again.

“You gonna answer the question?” she asked, impatient.

I gave an annoyed huff. “I was thinking . I’m just trying to figure out how to articulate my response, okay? Could you quit with the pushiness? It’s really not helping.”

For a moment it seemed like Bullrush was gonna get into it again, but a look from the Director made her swallow whatever she had to say and sit back again with her arms folded.

Presto piped up, apparently unable to hold herself back any longer. “Could you stop being-” she cut herself off, calming down with visible effort. “Bullrush, could you just drop it? I talked to her about it, she gets why it was risky and she knows not to do it again. What else is there to say?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that she’s demonstrated the ability to twist this entire building into a deathtrap in minutes?” Bullrush countered, gesturing at me.

Presto leaned forward in her chair, looking about five seconds from climbing onto the table and punching her partner in crime-fighting in the face.“Could you have some tact for once in your fucking life? She’s been through a lot. And this is coming from me, of all people. That should have you worried.”

I really didn’t like where this was going. “Hey guys, could we take it down a notch? I don’t think this is worth getting into a big fight over. Bullrush, I’m sorry I messed with the building. It was just the first idea that occurred to me to get away from the crowds, and I knew from practicing with my power that as long as I don’t change anything it puts stuff back exactly how it was before I passed through. Although I admit I do sometimes change stuff unintentionally. Anyway, I promise I won’t do something like that again, at least outside of an emergency or testing or whatever.”

Bullrush regarded me silently for a few moments, thoughts completely concealed by her costume. Then she reached up and pulled off her helmet, shaking a blonde bob cut back into place. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t seem as stern as before either. “Beth Rawling. Welcome to the team, Carmilla. I look forward to seeing what you can do.”

I nodded sharply, mirroring her terse demeanor. Presto was uncharacteristically silent, her expression unreadable. I wanted to help her out of the funk the argument had put her in, but it was hard to judge the right action having only known her a couple of hours. After a few moments thought I took out my notebook, flipped to my initial designs for armor and costume and placed it between us. She quirked an eyebrow at me, looking briefly amused at the rough drawings before suddenly leaning in with more interest. The Director cleared her throat, instantly getting the attention of everyone in the room save Presto.

“Let’s get down to business,” she said, prompting a chorus of nods from the room. “Mesh, I’ve approved your proposal for a series of patrols deeper into Westlake territory.”

He nodded, not seeming surprised or relieved in the least. “I’m open to suggestions on team composition. We’ll need to be mobile if we want to avoid getting penned in.”

A fast-paced discussion opened up, terms and jargon I struggled to keep up with casually thrown back and forth. Everyone -with the surprising exception of Presto- seemed to have something to say on the matter, and I found myself with a sinking pit in my stomach as I realized just how much I had to learn. I took a pencil from my bag and retrieved my notebook. Presto had torn out and arranged a number of pages around her, and was furiously scribbling notes in the margins.

I did my best to follow along, writing down terms and names I wasn’t familiar with so I could look them up later. There was an undercurrent of worry behind the professionalism and experience they were trying to convey. The Bastards had been around for a long time, and they only seemed to get more entrenched each year. How effective would this new effort really be? Their new leader Brimstone was, if anything, even more of a pain in the ass than Moondancer had been. She’d started having her unpowered enforcers trained in firearms and small squad tactics, making them that much harder to deal with.

Eventually the consensus fell on Mesh bringing Halcyon and Bolster along with him and he took his leave. There were a few more discussions on the specifics of patrol assignments, but it didn’t take long before the only ones left in the room besides the Director and her assistant were Laura, Presto, and I.

“Presto,” said Director Moore, in a tone not entirely unlike a disappointed parent. “I seem to recall that you were going to be investigating the latest reports on ‘Dr. Mantis’ today, not bothering our newest recruit.”

“Someone’s in trooouble,” taunted Laura. The Director only looked at her, but she instantly became formal and contrite. “I’ll be quiet, ma’am.”

“I had Music Box cover for me,” Presto drawled, seemingly unconcerned with her boss’ ire.

“She killed six people in a public rampage, including a former lover. You can’t just blow this off for the sake of one of your pranks,” the Director said, meeting her stare for stare.

“If it’s okay,” I said hesitantly, addressing the Director. “Presto’s actually been really helpful. I’m glad she decided to greet me and Laura.”

“Your input is always welcome, Sepulcher,” she responded, voice gentle. “But Presto is our only cape with the full set of skills needed to address this case, at least if we want to catch the individual responsible before she kills again.”

I nodded.

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” Presto said, rolling her eyes. “But for the record, Music Box is perfectly capable of handling it on his own. I trust him.”

She pushed the papers she’d written all over back to me with an encouraging smile. Then she winked and disappeared in a puff of smoke. I leaned in to see what the damage was, half expecting an elaborate joke at my expense or unflattering drawings of everyone in the room. The primary idea behind my costume was ‘plate armor, but more’, larger plates transitioning to finer plates at the joints; no weak-points that had to be shored up with chain mail or thick layers of cloth. Presto had expanded on the basic concept, sketching out designs for fine mechanisms in the gauntlets that could hug my fingers as closely as thin leather gloves and still open up if I needed to use my hands. There were less developed drawings outlining an elegant temperature regulating system and suggestions for the overall aesthetic. There was a longer note on the back of the page with my initial costume designs on it.

’PR should be fine with name and costume once they’ve talked to you and realize you ain’t going for the edgy anti-hero persona. Purple/gold fits, don’t go too crazy on the maze thing. Remember people need to draw you for the games and comics or whatever. They’ll like the mystical aesthetic, they’ve been pushing for it recently to contrast with all the futuristic tinker teams. They won’t like the spikes and scary death labyrinths, sorry to say. The armor’s great, it’ll look properly heroic once it’s all polished up. Keep being you Sepulcher, I think you’re gonna be one of the good ones.’

The Director cleared her throat again and I jumped a little in my seat, scrambling to push the papers away and look like I was paying attention. My face felt like it was on fire, but she only smiled genially at me.

She took a paper from her assistant, reading off it in a practiced way. “You’ve got a full day ahead of you, Sepulcher. First you’ll need to visit security to get keyed into the system, then you’ll have your initial psychological and medical examinations to guide the process from there. Generally that’s followed up with an assessment of your physical fitness and coordination, and after that we’ll start the process of power testing. If we’re able to complete the testing before the day is over you’ll have a combat readiness assessment to determine what sort of training you’ll need to get up to par. Whatever time is left over will be spent on your first meeting with PR, which should at least get you a few ideas to think over for your costume and tactics. Any questions?”

I stared at her, not even sure where to begin. That was a lot, and a lot of it was hard stuff like meeting a bunch of new people in quick succession or performing a task while people in lab coats were watching me and writing stuff down. “Could I get that list written down? If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” she said, getting up from her seat and handing me the paper she was reading off of. Then after a moment’s thought she pulled a fancy looking cellphone out of her pocket, handing it over to me too. “Might as well give you this, since I’m already standing up.”

“Oooh,” cooed Laura, leaning over to take a look. “Those are tinkertech, you know. Us PRT grunts don’t get to play around with toys that fancy.”

The Director ignored her, continuing to talk. “When you first turn it on, all you need to do is place your thumb on the box to get your print scanned in. After that you just need to touch the screen to log in.”

I did so, turning the screen so she could see.

“Good,” she said, nodding and starting to make her way back to her chair. “Any concerns about the scheduling or testing? We’re happy to accommodate any special needs you might have.”

I thought about it. “It’s only one day, right? I think I’ll be fine.”

-||-

My face collided with the unfamiliar bed with a satisfying thump, followed up by a quiet but passionately miserable groan. Six hours after the meeting with the Director I’d finally -finally!- gotten a chance to see my new room. Although ‘see’ wasn’t really the right term, more ‘briefly glimpse before collapsing on the bed without even taking off my jacket.’

An indeterminable amount of time later I was roused from my slumber by a crystal clear knock on the door. Grumbling profusely, I stumbled out of bed and snatched my glasses from off of the floor. Then I used my power to remove the heavy bar keeping the door closed, undid the latches near the top and bottom, unchained it, and finally unlocked the perfectly ordinary doorknob. There was a steady tapping on the floor outside the door that stopped as soon as I opened it. It was Presto, striving to look relaxed as she greeted me with a smile and wave.

“You know I could just teleport in there, right?” she observed, eyeing the hasty protections I’d added before conking out.

I glowered at her, just barely stopping myself from growling. “My room is off limits. If I get so much as a hint of someone breaking in I’m gonna start hiding traps in it. I’m dead fucking serious about this, Liang.”

She blinked, looking a little taken aback. “I ain’t gonna mess with your room Carmilla, that was supposed to be a joke. I swear I’m not trying to be an asshole, I ain’t got much practice at...” She gestured vaguely.

“Apologizing?” I suggested.

Liang chuckled. “I was gonna say being nice, but that works too. The therapists would probably say I got issues with feeling vulnerable or something. Anyway. I’m sorry for the scare earlier, by the way. Laura made it clear how stupid I was being afterwards.”

“She worried about setting off the unstable parahuman?” I asked, shooting for a joking tone and landing somewhere bitter and cold instead. I sighed, shaking my head to try and banish that train of thought. “That came out wrong. I accept your apology under the condition that you don’t jump scare me again, in person or otherwise. And that you tell me what you want already. I have some very important sleeping to do.”

She grinned, holding up her hands in surrender. “I accept your terms, oh Lady of Traps and Tunnels. Your domain shall henceforth be sacrosanct, your person unfrightened, and if you let me know something I’m doing is bothering you I’ll stop. I promise.”

“Dorky, but acceptable to her ladyship. Although you haven’t answered my question yet.”

She cleared her throat, looking more out of sorts than I’d ever seen her. “I came here because I wanted to invite you on an off the books patrol slash scouting mission. It’s not obligatory or anything, I was just thinking I could show you around town and later we maybe possibly bag a few low-level crooks. Or we could just practice rooftop running if you wanted, your power seems good for that sort of thing. And like I said you don’t have to go if you don’t feel like it. Yeah.”

“Uh,” I said eloquently, eyes searching the small lounge behind her. “What time is it?”

Presto looked amused, but she answered promptly. “Eight fifty-four. You’ll probably be able to sleep in tomorrow, depending on whether they need to redo any of the tests or get more medical scans.”

I made a face like I’d bitten into an unripe fruit. “More tests. I better not have to do anymore shuttle runs, they’re hell on my knees. Although I guess my new fitness training thing is gonna have a lot of running anyway, so… fuck I guess.”

She snorted. “It’s not so bad, once you get into a routine.”

I nodded reluctantly. “I hope so. Could I think about the thing you asked? I’d need some time to get ready anyway.”

Presto smiled. “Of course, but you only got like twenty minutes before I need to run. I’ll be waiting on the couch when you’re ready.”

“Twenty minutes, got it. I’ll see what I can do.” I smiled back before closing the door and flipping the lights on, surveying my available resources. I’d been asleep for over two hours and I hadn’t exactly been in a state of mind to tidy up before my impromptu nap, so things were a bit of a mess. It didn’t help that there was no furniture aside from the bed and a barebones writing desk. I sighed, rummaging through the pile of assorted costume pieces PR had given me, looking for something protective but suitably -heh- feminine.

I went through what must have been a dozen different sets of tights before finding a decently armored bodysuit. It was padded to reduce impacts -and emphasize a heroine’s most cherished qualities- without interfering with movement. Pulling it on was more of a struggle than I’d anticipated, but after some improvised aerobics I managed to zip the back the rest of the way up. It covered everything up to the neck except for the feet and hands, but it was surprisingly breathable.

Pairs of gloves and boots were selected based on their sturdiness and fit, easy to extrapolate with my power. Once I was suited up I closed my eyes, trying to focus every fiber of my attention on my power. Tendrils emerged from the floor around me, snaking around to encase me in rough edged grey-black metal from the toes of my boots upward. Each piece connected to the one below, supporting each other and partially transferring their weight to the ground. The design was simpler than the armor I’d planned, there wasn’t enough time to make all the fine mechanisms it would require. I focused on functionality, protecting my most vital areas, and trying to compensate for the low quality of the iron my power created. I added a mask to my helmet like the one I’d drawn out, a smiling woman’s face in polished metal.

As a final touch I tossed on a generic purple cloak, the right shape but with no patterns or colors besides the base. I looked in the bathroom mirror, briefly struggling to connect the person I saw with me. The overall effect was way edgier than I’d initially intended, but for the first time I was starting to feel like a real, actual cape.

You can do this Sepulcher, I thought. I opened the door.

AnotherSetOfEyes · Apr 27, 2019

This was fun, I'm glad most of the team seem level-headed and friendly. Also I'm glad to see some faces from PRT Quest!

Going on an unauthorized patrol with the known prankster before even having an official introduction or getting intel on the target seems like a pretty reckless decision. Probably an effect of sleep deprivation.

Silverstrings said:
I took a pencil from my bag and retrieved my notebook.

Carmilla already had her notebook out from a few sentences before.

Silverstrings said:
Tendrils emerged from the floor around me, snaking around to encase me in rough edged grey-black metal from the toes of my boots upward.
[...]
The overall effect was way edgier than I’d initially intended

I don't quite know how that could have been anything but edgy. A side effect of her power, like Taylor not finding bugs repulsive?

OrkKaptin · Apr 27, 2019

This has a lot of promise. Curious to see where it's going next.

woermhoele · May 2, 2019

Very much belatedly...

Silverstrings said:
I’d always hoped that someone would come along and reveal that I was destined for something greater, like being a secret wizard or the heir to a fae bloodline. Or even a superhero. There were so many times when I’d just stopped whatever I was doing and wrestled with the idea that this was my one life, that I actually was who I was.

Big, big oofy energy here. There have been times in my life I'd've gratefully killed or died for that someone to come along. Fortunately, in the end, it wasn't quite so drastic as that, but... totes feel this, anyhow.

Silverstrings said:
“Of course I appreciate you guys,” Presto responded, sounding genuinely hurt. Then she grinned. “Without the PRT, who’d be there to get us coffee? No one, that’s who. It’d be a damn tragedy.”

The interplay between each pair and the trio as a whole is great, throughout. Laura and Presto have an established dynamic, but it's new to us and fun to watch, and the new dynamics forming between each of them and Carmilla are fun as well. They feel real.

Silverstrings said:
“Yup. If that’s all you need us for, I can just let the director know we won’t have to renew your budget for next year. Not sure how familiar you are with the logistics of tinkering, Sepulcher, but it’s probably not a surprise that nanotech super materials and specialized microprocessors are a hell of a lot harder on our budget than a little coffee. Or a big head.”

If I had realized Presto was a Tinker here, I would've felt moderately silly. Instead, well... I'll tell you later on where I did clue in, and just how silly I felt!

Silverstrings said:
“Don’t listen to her, Presto.” I chimed in. “If anything your head is noticeably smaller than average.”

Pfft.

Silverstrings said:
I laughed too, relieved in a way I couldn’t quite articulate that they didn’t think I was annoying.

You tolerate me! You really tolerate me!

Silverstrings said:
Reminding herself?

There are these little beats throughout, that I'm coming to recognize as very Carmilla. It's interesting, because one moment she'll note how distracted she is, not paying full attention, the next she'll be overanalyzing minute details to death.

Silverstrings said:
This was going to be a thing, wasn't it? Fuck.

I mean, as awkward things your co-workers can remind you of to wind you up go, this isn't so bad!

Silverstrings said:
“Anyway. Shopping isn't really on the agenda, I've got approximately none money until whenever I start getting paid.”

None money with left broke. But will they deliver it in 30 minutes or less?

Silverstrings said:
“Not quite how I’d have put it, but she’s basically right. Especially the last part,” Laura said. If she was upset at being interrupted there wasn’t any sign of it.

Entirely used to Presto's antics by now, I'm sure. Carmilla spends a lot of time reflecting on the internal life of Laura here. She doesn't do the same with Presto (or at least not to the same degree). Interesting.

Silverstrings said:
“I wonder who those exceptions might be,” I said speculatively, giving Presto a significant look.
“She’s saved my life, actually,” Laura said seriously.
For the first time I’d seen her, Presto seemed out of sorts.

Presto - totes uncomfortable with real feelings, or at least her own? Nice save though, avoiding awkward moments of sincerity through lasciviousness is a time-honored tradition.

Silverstrings said:
...statue of one of Dragon’s mechs guarded a pile of collectibles like a hoard of gold, a plastic ‘stone’ platform holding the classic Protectorate lineup was seemingly held up by an Alexandria action figure below it...

Can I just say, I really love the attention to detail, and the specific choices you made to set the scene? These are sooo cool and fun.

Silverstrings said:
“Not a fan of crowds, I take it?” Laura asked quietly.

Presto, hero that she is, jumps on that fan'd grenade for her new teammate, and Laura sweeps in for the extraction. Nicely done!

Silverstrings said:
I wanted to see the stuff dedicated to local heroes, you can get Legend bed sheets or whatever anywhere.”

I would totes buy Legend bed sheets. Sadly, neither Walmart or Target carry them. What's up with that?

Also, the world-building beats accomplished via conspicuous consumerism are a nice little treat.

Silverstrings said:
I grabbed one of Monster Mash’s instead, noting how it disappeared from my power’s awareness the second it wasn’t touching the rest of the shelf.

This part confused me, actually, and no one else has called it out. She's using her power to feel things through the shelves, so I get that removing from the shelf would feel like a disconnect. Her range is pretty crazy wide as long as the things are connected and there's no air or water gap. But she's... holding it, so why wouldn't her power still be aware? Did I miss something?

Silverstrings said:
The elevator was tinker stuff -smoother, faster and more expensive than it had any right to be- and it gave a perfect view of the city despite being in the middle of the building.

Silverstrings said:
“You’re fogging up the glass,” Presto noted cheerfully.

Presto is a joy. Though they all are.

Silverstrings said:
“It’s called being polite. Not that you’d know anything about that, oh great and powerful Presto. Or should I say… Pest -o?”

This joke, and the puns later, are bad, and she should feel bad, and so should you. Keep 'em coming.

Silverstrings said:
People were staring at us as we passed by, but that was probably just because we were obviously both capes and had nothing to do with my appearance. Could they tell I was trans? Would they have a problem with it if they did?

This is another Carmilla beat, like the earlier one, I think? Like the one about questioning Laura's reasons for repeating her name earlier.

Silverstrings said:
...You never knew who’d take a dislike to you and decide to make something of it, couldn’t tell where resentment lurked beneath the surface. Something moved in front of my face, and I squawked.

Which, finally, explains why she hates crowds so much. There are a million reasons, of course, but the inability to truly set aside the knowledge that anyone, at any minute, could decide to say "fuck it" to the social contract and jam a pencil in your eye, or stir up a mob of angry villagers... makes for a tense, unpleasant existence. Hopefully the whole powers thing means she'll be able to just confidently ignore these thoughts in the future, eventually. After all, there's lots she can do about it now .

Silverstrings said:
In lieu of answering, I walked up the side of the internal wall and unceremoniously pulled myself into the ceiling.

Just carelessly yeeting herself to the roof through a few dozen feet of solid matter. As one does.

Silverstrings said:
Since I could control it and didn’t need to see to know where I was, the metal encasing me from head to toe was comforting rather than confining. It buoyed me, carrying me skyward like a strong current. After a few moments of silence I crested the surface of the roof, immediately feeling a cold wind whipping at my hair as I did so.

The imagery here is fun.

Silverstrings said:
I slowly rose the rest of the way, wishing fiercely that my peacoat had survived the apartment’s destruction. My feet were still covered with concrete, a precaution against getting knocked off the building.

It's almost like attention to detail is important to either Carmilla or the story, or both, or something.

Silverstrings said:
Presto produced a card from somewhere and positioned it directly between us. When she let go it remained, somehow suspended in thin air. My ears popped as the air pressure shifted, wind dying down to almost nothing and making the cold much easier to manage.

How many powers does this lady ha--

Silverstrings said:
She raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. It uses specialized telekinetic projectors to normalize air currents around it. I made the thing to keep people from hearing anything in its area of effect. The wind stilling was just a happy accident.”

Here, okay? It was right here, and I feel exactly as silly as you might expect as a result.

Silverstrings said:
“Putting aside the debate about who’s responsible for what, I’d say there’s a pretty fucking big difference between someone that’s killed and a killer.”

Excellent point, Presto! I feel like a couple of other people have said similar things to Carmilla, or meant to, but hopefully yours will stick.

Silverstrings said:
Presto took off her mask, flashing me another brilliant smile. She held out a gloved hand to shake. “Liang. Glad to officially meet you, Carmilla.”

And we have a name! Sweet.

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

Mind_Controlled_Raisin said:
I like this off-handed mention of the detail afforded to her by her thinker power. Helps convey the way she sees the world.

I wanted to call this out. ;p Git gud, me.

Silverstrings said:
Your first guess is the right one, she can create one kind of wood, stone, and metal. The wood is akin to oak, the stone is primarily basalt, and the metal is always low quality wrought iron

Ah, juicy details at last!

Silverstrings · May 2, 2019

woermhoele said:
This part confused me, actually, and no one else has called it out. She's using her power to feel things through the shelves, so I get that removing from the shelf would feel like a disconnect. Her range is pretty crazy wide as long as the things are connected and there's no air or water gap. But she's... holding it, so why wouldn't her power still be aware? Did I miss something?

It's a bit complicated. Her 'tremorsense' extends six to ten feet out through any non-living surface she's touching, but there's a minimum mass requirement before she's able to channel her power through them. Which is why she can effect a boulder or the ground but not her clothes or small items she's holding.

woermhoele · May 2, 2019

Silverstrings said:
Which is why she can effect a boulder or the ground but not her clothes or small items she's holding.

Ohhh! Duh, of course. How did I never notice her not affecting her clothes? So, things like the little lap desk, or the razor, are those special cases cause she made them?

Silverstrings · May 2, 2019

woermhoele said:
Ohhh! Duh, of course. How did I never notice her not affecting her clothes? So, things like the little lap desk, or the razor, are those special cases cause she made them?

She can create small things just fine, it's just that she can't sense or reshape them except while they're physically connected with something sufficiently massive. Similarly she can create things outside of her tremorsense's range with difficulty but can't reshape them and doesn't get any feedback, being limited to the few patterns provided by her power.

Mind_Controlled_Raisin · May 2, 2019

Silverstrings said:
Similarly she can create things outside of her tremorsense's range with difficulty but can't reshape them and doesn't get any feedback

Not getting any feedback from your widespread concealed deathtraps has the potential to go quite badly. Hmm... where have we seen this occur earlier...

Silverstrings said:
being limited to the few patterns provided by her power

Bear traps, angled spike pits, and concealed arrow traps if I recall correctly? Quite few in number and all very lethal, unfortunately.

I'm interested to see where her power's subconscious expressions pop up again - so far we've only seen it when it tried to quietly murder her friend in the woods while she wasn't paying attention. It's the kind of thing that might not have come up in power testing, either.

Silverstrings · May 3, 2019

Presto examined me through a frame of thumbs and pointer fingers. Her head tilted, lips pursed, and one eye closed as though she were a connoisseur judging a sculpture. I shifted awkwardly under her scrutiny. Would she judge my look and find it wanting? Was there some critical weakness her tinker abilities let her discover? Had she decided that I wouldn’t be able to go?

“You look badass,” she declared. “Can’t wait to see it once you’ve got it all polished up and shit.”

I clenched hands sheathed in grey-black metal, feeling the poor quality iron creak ever so slightly. Each finger came to a sharp point, the ends curving inward like talons. “I’ll need some better materials before I even think about shining it up. The shit my power makes is, well, shit. No sense in polishing a turd.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I consider that kinda stuff included under ‘and shit’. Could I see it without the cloak?”

It was starting to feel like we were cutting close to the deadline she’d set. “Sure,” I said, taking it off and handing it to her. She draped it over an arm, giving me that speculative look again.

Her face broke out into a smile. “You look great. Love the feminine touches, all the curves faithfully represented.”

“I may have exaggerated them a little,” I admitted, twisting to look down at the metal skin encasing my hips. It was a relatively subtle effect, or so I’d hoped, pushing the part of the breastplate raised to deflect blows up a bit to let everyone know I had boobs without resorting to boobplate. It tapered down toward the waist before flaring out to cover the hips in an exaggerated skirt of plates.

Presto shrugged. “I figure everybody should get to choose how to present themselves. What costume to wear.”

I sighed. “Wish more people felt that way. Like my parents, to name a totally random example.”

“Parents can be hell,” Liang said slowly, voice strangely small. She cleared her throat. “You ready to go? Moonlight’s burning.”

I hesitated. “Would we get in trouble if we’re caught? Do you have some fancy tinker bullshit to hide us?”

She snorted. “We’re not prisoners, we can just go out if we want. You’d be surprised how often supposedly straight-laced heroes get in a little off the book patrol time. The thing is to maintain a veneer of plausible deniability. If someone sees us while we’re out we can just tell them we were practicing mobility techniques or whatever the fuck.”

I sighed. “You’ve got a talent for making me feel worse and better at the same time. I’m not very good at lying.”

Presto patted me on the helmet with an indulgent smile, somehow managing to look down at me while being three inches shorter. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, I can do enough lying for four of us. Besides, we’ve got my ‘fancy tinker bullshit’.”

“You really think I’m pretty?” I asked in an exaggeratedly simpering voice, covering the cheeks of my mask with my gauntlets like I was trying to hide a blush. That I was in fact blushing was neither here nor there.

She grinned, stepping ever so slightly closer. Her eyes caught the bright lights of the lounge for a brief moment, giving them an amber shine that made me think of a cat on the prowl. “Did I stutter? You’ve got nice hair too, even if I can’t see it right now.”

“I’ve always loved your hair,” I blurted out, my brain apparently too distracted to do its damn job and keep my mouth shut. I paused several seconds too long. “Oh, right. Thank you. I mean for the compliment.”

Liang smiled, fondly shaking her head. “You’re too damn nice to be in this line of work. You really think you’re ready for what cape life has to throw at you?”

I puffed up, drawing myself to my full height. “You’d be surprised what nice is capable of. I’m ready.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” she said, putting a hand on my arm.

The next ten or fifteen seconds was a dizzying series of shifts, each lasting only a brief moment. I caught glimpses of unused stairwells and obscure supply closets, eventually finding myself next to Presto on the roof of a nearby building.

My knees crumpled as my stomach violently protested the experience. For a few moments I laid curled up on the roof, all of my effort spent on not throwing up with a full face mask on, a task I clawed a hard-won victory from. Eventually I stumbled back onto my feet, only needing a little assistance from the rooftop.

“What the fuck was that?” I asked, voice coming closer to a whine than I’d have preferred.

She slumped, actually looking a little ashamed. “I can’t do one big teleport. Not in the cards for me. Gotta do a bunch of little ones in quick succession. I kinda forgot how disorienting it could be if you’re not used to it.”

I made an annoyed sound in the back of my throat. “Okay, new rule. Warn me what you’re doing next time instead of trying to make it some dramatic gesture.”

She gave a small bow, sweeping off her hat. “Your wish is my command.”

I rolled my eyes, making sure to exaggerate the head movement so she could tell what I was doing. “Where are we headed? I think this building is a couple blocks southwest of the Space Needle, but I don’t know the city very well yet.”

“No, you’re right. I was thinking we’d head a bit closer to downtown. It’s safe, has lots of densely packed buildings, and there’s this really great Thai place I wanted to show you.”

I perked up at that last one. “I love Thai food, but first things first. Return my cloak posthaste, or face the wrath of Sepulcher!”

“Please spare me frightful sorceress,” Presto said, voice shaking with mock fear. She held the cloak in front of her as if warding off an evil presence. I snatched it from her hands.

Once it was properly settled on top of my armor I faced her again, striving to look stern. “You are forgiven for your transgressions this day, but be forewarned! Sepulcher may at times forgive, but she does not forget.”

“And you called me a dork.”

I generously elected to ignore her comment, instead clanking towards the edge of the building we were on. Downtown Seattle loomed in the distance, a loose mountain of glass and steel sliced through with irregularly spaced rivers of light. Streetlights, cars, lit windows and signs bathed everything in a perpetual twilight that didn’t quite touch the rooftops making up our path. I’d always loved the feeling of a city at night, that hinted sense of mystery and adventure glimpsed through the window of a car and given life in my imagination. There were horrors out there, I knew, things I could potentially put a stop to.

Presto leaped off the edge with a running start, turning around to give me another wink. The next instant she teleported up and forward, reappearing halfway to the building facing me. Her fall was slower than it should have been, making what should have been a deadly plummet into a graceful glide. The toes of her wing-tipped dress shoes alighted on the edge of the building’s rooftop as though she were light as a feather. She turned around, beckoning me over with a grin I could see all the way across the street.

I took a deep breath. Then another. The rooftop beneath my feet began to ripple and warp, a spring slowly being pulled taut. It snapped back into its proper shape, launching me into the air far faster than I’d intended. I flailed as I completely overshot the building Presto was on, foregoing screaming entirely in favor of a sort of panicked gurgle. My face smacked directly into the next building over, and without even looking I could tell the impact had created a fucking Looney Toons crater right where anybody could see. Right in front of Presto.

At least I didn’t land on someone’s car, I thought.

Once I’d taken a few moments for self pity, I extracted myself from the apartment’s facade and started making my way up to the roof, making sure to repair the damage as best I could. Here my talons and the spiky bits at the ends of my boots proved their worth, making the climb just a little bit easier. Presto was there by the time I reached the top, surprising exactly no one. I gingerly accepted a hand from her, constantly careful of the rough-edged iron clinging to my fingers. She pulled me up with surprising ease, helping me get my feet firmly on the roof.

Presto looked at me, expression unreadable. Her lips twitched, and what started as a chuckle quickly devolved into graceless snorting laughter. “The fucking sound you made! And then with the you-shaped crater, oh my god. That was perfect.”

“Thanks coach, I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” I deadpanned.

“I can hear you smiling,” she taunted in a singsong voice. “What advice am I supposed to give except keep practicing? It’s your power.”

She had a point, much as it galled me to admit it. I walked to a side of the building adjacent to an apartment of similar size, this time using my thinker power to visualize the arc of the jump I’d need to take. As my thoughts clarified it became easier to parse my tremorsense, and this time I carefully tuned the amount of force stored in the twisting coils of concrete under my feet.

Again, it snapped back into its proper shape and flung me toward my destination. Again, I flailed through the air with my cloak in my face. This time, though, I was actually on the right trajectory. My foot clipped the short wall topping the apartment building I’d been aiming for; I landed face first, carving a small furrow in the concrete rooftop as I slowed to a stop. The material surrounding me rose up and set me back upright, flowing to repair the bumps and grooves my sloppy landing had created.

“Nice one!” Presto said, suddenly sitting on the wall next to me. “That was definitely an improvement.”

“Not that high a bar but I’ll take it. I guess I’ll just have to learn on the way.”

“There’s the spirit!” Presto announced, grinning and giving a little air punch. “Being a cape is all about adapting to what life throws at you. Think you can keep up with me?”

“Nope. Still gonna try, though.”

With that an impromptu ‘race’ began, though it mostly consisted of her staying just ahead of me and offering her unique blend of encouragement and mockery. Whatever else I might have said about Presto’s methods, she was definitely good at making me want to catch up with her and wipe the smug grin off her face. It took almost half an hour to reach downtown, though the majority of that time was spent getting my jumps to land where I actually wanted to go. The way I moved my body also took practice, over time I learned that turning my side toward the direction I was moving reduced air resistance and the risk of spinning out. The buildings started getting taller, and I eventually started running around the sides and jumping off rather than going through the trouble of reaching the top.

They got shorter again as Presto lead me to a slightly more out of the way area, mostly squat apartments and a few strip malls. I recognized a sandwich shop from my hometown, feeling a strange sort of melancholy as I was reminded of a place I didn’t miss but wished I had reason to. Presto pointed, and I saw a place with Ayutthaya printed on the cloth overhang above the entrance. Under that were the words ‘Thai Cuisine’, presumably making this the place she’d been referring to. I was pleased to see a rainbow flag prominently displayed in the window.

“So are we both going in?” I asked breathlessly, both more and less winded than I’d have expected. More winded because my power did most of the work of moving me around, and less winded because my chubbiness and general lack of interest in physical activity made me pessimistic about my athletic ability. My armor had never really felt heavy per se, but over time I’d started to feel the extra weight slowly sapping my energy. A detriment now, but hopefully over time wearing it would help build up my endurance.

Presto shook her head. “Nah, just me. PR would wipe us both off the face of the earth if I let someone leak pictures of you in an unapproved costume. I was thinking we’d eat while we did our stakeout thing. What did you want?”

I gave a thumbs up, plopping onto the ground. “Could I get vegetarian Pad Thai with some spicy curry sauce?”

“You mean white people spicy or actual spicy?”

I snorted. “Actual spicy, if you please.”

She grinned and returned the thumbs up, strutting out onto empty air and gently gliding out of sight.

-||-

I landed dead center on the darkened office building, stumbling slightly as I made impact. Presto followed shortly behind, sticking the landing as casually as most people walked down the street. She leaned over the guard rail, pointing toward an ostensibly abandoned warehouse with a suspiciously large number of street toughs hanging around it. Really I was just assuming they were street toughs; they were too far away for me to make out much detail.

“Do you have binoculars?” I asked, but before I even finished the question a pair had appeared in my gauntleted hand. “Oh, thank you.”

With the binoculars I could see that more than a few of them sported horns, claws or inhumanly muscled physiques. The Westlake Bastards.

“This is supposed to be one of the Bastards’ minor warehouses,” Presto explained, watching them with a quiet intensity behind her eyes. “Probably gonna be a little bit of cash, drugs, or weapons stored here at any given time, but far as I can tell it's mostly used in human trafficking operations.”

I didn’t bother hiding my shudder. “That’s fucking horrible. Are there people in there right now? Like, ones they kidnapped or plan to sell off?”

“Not sure,” she said, voice hard. “It’s probably just used as a brief pit stop. If there are people there would only be a handful; they don’t want to risk losing too much ‘merchandise’ at once.”

“So what are we going to do?” I asked, anxious but determined.

She casually sat down on the gravel rooftop, her back against the short wall separating us from open air. “Stakeout, like I said. We wait and watch, trying to pick up as much information about their operations as we possibly can. If something happens while we’re watching we might, I repeat might , intervene.”

I tapped my chin in thought, jumping slightly in surprise when it made a loud clink. “Depending on what?”

She answered with a distracted air, most of her attention on an array of small holographic screens floating in front of her. “How dangerous it is, mostly. If I got you killed on your first day out I’d never hear the end of it.”

“You’re all heart,” I said, sitting down next to her. I leaned over to peek at whatever it was she was working on. The screens showed a live feed of the warehouse, security cameras she’d presumably hacked mixed in with indecipherable readouts I assumed were from whatever tracking or scanning devices she’d planted inside. With time and patience, I’d probably be able to use my power to correlate the changing spatial states of the screens with each other and eventually start to infer what they were tracking. Or…

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to a screen that was covered with a mass of rhythmically blinking dots.

She raised an eyebrow at the offending digit but otherwise ignored it. “Biometric sensors I snuck inside the place a few nights back. The dots follow people’s hearts. Best person tracking thing I’ve got, at close range it can get a readout of their entire cardiovascular system. Surprisingly useful to have when you’re fighting someone.”

I took a few moments to process that information. “It’s a little creepy, but on the other hand it’s a lot useful. And these guys are human traffickers? Fuck them.”

She smirked. “Don’t get too excited now, party hasn’t even started yet. How about we eat night lunch and I tell you what all this crazy tinker nonsense is supposed to be?”

I fumbled with my mask for a few moments, pulling it off to give her a look of purest incredulity. “Seriously? Not a late dinner, a fucking night lunch? No way I’d say no to eating and learning things, but I’m never going to let you live ‘night lunch’ down. Not in a million years, not even if the world ends.”

“Good enough for me,” Presto said, pulling off her hat and pressing her other hand flush with the inner brim. She lifted it up, revealing two cardboard to-go containers with drinks balancing on top that were both too wide and too tall to have fit inside the undersized top hat. I felt the heat through my gauntlet as I took my box of noodles, which was remarkable given that the trip from the Thai place had taken nearly an hour. Something to do with how they’d been stored, maybe?

Finishing night lunch was something of a task with my gauntlets and the spiciness of the food, I ended up taking big gulps of water between bites while Liang laughed uproariously at my expense. When she wasn’t getting a kick out of my reactions she explained the various sensors she used and how they covered for each other’s weaknesses. Much like her teleporters, they were strictly limited in scope, narrowly focused, or both. The graphs were pretty intuitive once I knew what they were supposed to be, maps of electrical circuits or air currents.

We finished with our food and cleaned up, quickly getting back to business. After a few minutes without conversation I started talking about my power, partly to fill the silence and partly because I just wanted to talk to someone about it. She listened while we watched the feeds, nodding at appropriate points as I rambled. She noticed something on them that I didn’t see, springing to her feet in the blink of an eye. I was a second behind, eyes roving for whatever had drawn her attention.

My tremorsense picked up the sound of vehicles a minute or two before my ears did, and with my thinker power it was relatively easy to figure out approximately where they were relative to me. We ducked down as a trio of featureless black vans came into sight and smoothly pulled into the building. I nearly dropped my mask in my haste to get it back on, taking deep calming breaths to try and keep my cool. This was absolutely not the time to panic.

“What’s going on in there?” I asked, looking over to Presto.

Her brows furrowed in concentration as she paged through a dozen screens showing nothing but static, trying fix after fix that failed to pierce through. Eventually she dismissed them all with an angry gesture. “Fuck! I don’t even know who these bastards are. The new bastards, I mean.”

“What if we got in close?” I asked, not quite realizing what I was suggesting until the words were out of my mouth.

She grunted. “How good are you at being sneaky?”

“Not very,” I admitted, anxiously recounting the minions on guard. There were six pairs of them forming a loose perimeter around the warehouse, casually talking or playing cards while acting as lookouts for a human trafficking ring. Plausible deniability, I remembered. “Especially since I’m wearing full plate right now. Although I could lurk underground, landshark style. Bet they won’t expect that.”

She got a sort of pinched look on her face, staring at nothing in particular for long moments. Before I could work up the courage to prod her she spoke. “Closest backup is ten minutes out. We’re gonna very carefully sneak up and check out what’s going down.” A card appeared in her hand, and she handed it to me. The four of diamonds. “Put this under your armor or something, it’ll keep you quiet.”

I fumbled around for a few moments before finding somewhere to slide it under my breastplate. The building we were on wasn’t nearly as tall as the Space Needle, so there was no sudden change in pressure.

Presto stepped a little closer, her professional demeanor betraying a hint of worry. “You know what to do if we’re separated?”

I shook my head, too nervous to respond.

“You hide and wait for Bullrush. You got me? No going off half-cocked and getting yourself killed.”

I nodded.

She fixed me with a glare. “So, one more time. What do you do if we’re separated?”

I placed a hand on my chest as though reciting a solemn oath. “If we get separated, I will completely disengage and hide until Bullrush arrives. No getting killed, promise.”

Presto responded with a sharp nod, making her way to the side of the building opposite the warehouse and starting to slide down. I did my best to follow suit, the grooves my talons made in the side of the building akin to the wake left behind by a boat. The wall was as much a part of me as one of my legs or hands, but moreso, my tremorsense vastly more precise than any merely human sense of touch and proprioception. With it I controlled my body’s descent to match speeds with Presto, impacting the ground with a small ripple just a heartbeat after her.

The moment she’d confirmed I was there she teleported to a slightly closer building, gesturing for me to follow. I took a deep breath, sinking beneath the ground until I was confident there wouldn’t be any noticeable ripples. Navigating underground was no trouble with my tremorsense and thinker power to guide me, so it only took a few brief moments before I popped up next to Presto. Her head turned my way and she actually jumped a little in surprise. I felt a flash of satisfaction that dissipated like a drop of water on a hot pan when I reminded myself where I was.

She recovered an instant later, blinking to the next bit of cover and indicating for me to follow. We made our way toward the warehouse with painful slowness, the anticipation thrumming through my body making the short journey seem to take hours. Incongruously I was reminded of my time in high school theatre, that strange calm I’d always felt in the moments before I went on stage. For a brief time I’d had a place and a role, and knew exactly what I had to do down to the word and gesture.

Presto stopped abruptly a couple buildings away from the warehouse, holding up a hand. I’d gotten so used to the rhythm of moving from cover to cover that I almost kept going anyway, just barely managing to stop myself before walking into her. We stood there in complete silence for a few tense seconds, just long enough for me to start wondering if it was another false alarm. Presto’s eyes widened, giving me a small shove before vanishing.

I froze, losing precious seconds as I struggled to get my brain back in gear. The ground beneath me began moving too late, and I screamed as something reached from above and picked me up by the leg. My view shifted and I screamed even harder as I got a good look at just what had grabbed me.

It was like a deer taken straight from the depths of hell. Antlers sprouted from a head that was too predatory and streamlined, with teeth far too sharp. Worst of all were the legs, long and spidery and tipped with wickedly curved claws. I thrashed with all my might, but its grip in one limb was more than enough to overpower my entire body. Soon I was level with its face, some primal part of me convinced I was about to be made a meal.

It sniffed me. Then, in a surprisingly normal woman’s voice said, “You’re new, aren’t you?”

I didn’t know how to respond and she wouldn’t have been able to hear me anyway, so I kept my peace. There was someone on the roof with her, either a rat-themed changer or the most thoroughly Menageried individual I’d ever seen. They were short, the tips of their ears not even reaching up to the deer lady’s knees.

The next thing I knew I was in cover again, by the building we were at before I got grabbed. This time I walked into the nearest wall immediately, hiding myself behind the brickwork. Through a small window I saw that Presto had swapped herself in my place, apparently unconcerned at the prospect of being in the claws of a giant horror-monster.

“Shrike, Ratking! I was wondering what that smell was.” Presto said, just barely audible with my tremorsense.

Shrike snarled, leaning forward until she was nearly nose to nose with her. “Where did your little friend go? I have her scent, trying to hide her is a waste of time.”

“Back to the Space Needle,” Presto lied flawlessly, somehow managing to give a casual shrug upside down. “She wasn’t quite ready for prime-time, so I figured I’d tag myself in. Newbies, what can you do?”

“You’re gonna regret fucking with the Bastards,” said the rat boy, his voice cracking halfway through the sentence.

Presto held up her hands as though in surrender, but I could imagine her grin. “Guess I’m beaten. But before you kill me, how about a quick game of 52 card pickup?”

That was all the warning I got before the night briefly lit up brighter than a summer day. I instinctively withdrew further into the abandoned building, taking the time to get my bearings and blink the spots out of my vision. I heard shouts of alarm and sounds of struggle through the wall I leaned on, further fueling my worry. Paranoia drove me to climb up a few floors in case they decided to start searching buildings and then form a little peephole in the wall to check if Presto was okay.

The dim light made it hard to sort out details, but with my binoculars I could see that Ratking was tied up in something brightly colored I was pretty sure was a really long chain of ribbons tied together. That would fit the magician theme, at least. Shrike was on what passed for her feet, tatters of the probable ribbons hanging off of her like garish ornaments. She struggled to make headway, a wasted strike on a hologram giving Presto the perfect opening to trip her up with more ribbon. Before she had a chance to capitalize on the opportunity Ratking managed to slip out of his bonds, turning toward Presto and projectile vomiting an impossibly large amount of bright green fluid at her.

She blinked away easily, but her distraction gave Shrike enough time to get her bearings and start scuttling after her. Ratking followed, slipping into the closest edge of the puddle he’d just made and immediately reappearing from a stray bit of the spray that hit the building Presto teleported to. As the chase continued, something that had been niggling at me came to the forefront of my mind. Presto could travel much, much faster than she was acting like she could.

Mind_Controlled_Raisin · May 3, 2019

Silverstrings said:
I clenched hands sheathed in grey-black metal, feeling the poor quality iron creak ever so slightly. Each finger came to a sharp point, the ends curving inward like talons.

...Did she basically make Sauron's armour?

Silverstrings said:
I took a deep breath. Then another. The rooftop beneath my feet began to ripple and warp, a spring slowly being pulled taut. It snapped back into its proper shape, launching me into the air far faster than I’d intended. I flailed as I completely overshot the building Presto was on, foregoing screaming entirely in favor of a sort of panicked gurgle. My face smacked directly into the next building over, and without even looking I could tell the impact had created a fucking Looney Toons crater right where anybody could see. Right in front of Presto.

[...]

Once I’d taken a few moments for self pity, I extracted myself from the apartment’s facade and started making my way up to the roof, making sure to repair the damage as best I could.

I wouldn't worry too much about about hiding the evidence, I'm sure Presto was recording that whole thing.

Silverstrings said:
Again, I flailed through the air with my cloak in my face.

Heroes take many forms.

Silverstrings said:
night lunch

This... is actually a great way of phrasing it. I may use this in the future.

Silverstrings said:
I froze, losing precious seconds as I struggled to get my brain back in gear. The ground beneath me began moving too late, and I screamed as something reached from above and picked me up by the leg.

Yep, that's what happens when you bring someone on their first night out...

Silverstrings said:
As the chase continued, something that had been niggling at me came to the forefront of my mind. Presto could travel much, much faster than she was acting like she could.

She must be injured! Jump back into the fight without warning and tackle someone! Be a hero!

Donjon (Worm OC, Seattle)

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