by wildbow
“No, this isn’t right.” Flechette pulled her arm free of Shadow Stalker’s grasp, then grabbed the woman’s wrist, stopping her as the lid was brought back behind her head. Not entirely to the woman, she spoke, “You’re better than this. You have to be.”
The woman resisted, tried to pull free to make another swing. When Flechette maintained her grip, the woman used her free hand to throw the lid down on top of the man.
“Stop,” Flechette spoke. As the woman struggled, she turned to bark a command to Shadow Stalker, “Help!”
“I’m on her side, to be honest,” Shadow Stalker didn’t move.
“So am I,” Flechette grunted as the woman shifted her weight towards her, knocking her off balance. “Which means stopping her from doing anything she’ll regret!”
“Let me go!” the woman shouted at her, “Fuckers like this hurt my daughter!”
“Is she here? Your daughter?” Flechette asked.
“She’s home, it—it happened last week! Let me at him! Fuckers!”
“Stop attacking him and I will!”
The woman didn’t have a response, beyond continued struggles. Though Flechette kept to an exercise regimen, spent four nights a week in the gym, she was still only seventeen, and the woman had a good fifty or more pounds of weight advantage. The woman pulled free and staggered back, gave her an angry look.
When the lady stepped forward, toward the fallen, bloodied man, Flechette stepped in her way. The woman didn’t back off, so Flechette raised her arbalest a fraction.
That was apparently enough. The woman scowled further, then turned and fled the scene, half-running, half-limping.
“Thanks for the backup,” Flechette spat the words to Shadow Stalker.
“Told you, I don’t do the backup thing,” Shadow Stalker bent over the unconscious man, turning his head to investigate his injuries. “He’ll live. Him and his buddies deserve what they got.”
“That’s not your call to make.”
“Sure it is,” Shadow Stalker retrieved another restraint device and quickly strung the man up beneath a metal frame meant for an air conditioning unit. “Times like this, we’re cop, judge, jury and if it really comes down to it, executioner. We’re the ones with the power.”
“No. That’s wrong.”
“Suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree,” Shadow Stalker turned her back, preparing another restraint device.
Flechette huffed, angry. She didn’t want to get into a shouting match, wasn’t sure what to say to convince the girl. “You can finish your patrol alone.”
“Whatever,” Shadow Stalker replied without looking back, “If you want to be like that. I’m only on the team because I have to be, so you’re doing me a favor. Prefer to fly solo.”
Three strikes, Flechette thought, as she strode away. Nearly being shot for saying hello, the way Shadow Stalker had delayed helping the woman, and now this.
She’d give the other girl the benefit of a doubt. Maybe Shadow Stalker had some unresolved issues, maybe it had been a rough week. But for now, she needed to calm down and wait long enough to think more objectively about what had happened. Then she’d decide whether to deal or to tell her new team leader.
Fuck. She felt profoundly disappointed. She wanted to like the other heroine, but this was too much.
She had one other thing she had wanted to do tonight, before she finished her patrol, went back, showered, ate and unpacked.
She squeezed the bud in her ear twice, “Console?”
A brief pause, then a voice in her ear, “Kid Win on the console. Hi, Flechette. Deal with those guys okay?”
“Guys are dealt with but… I’m going to do the rest of my night’s patrol alone.”
“Sorry. I should’ve warned you. Tends to be easier to work around her.”
So she’s always like that.
“This is unfamiliar territory for me. I might need you to brief me if I run into a cape, so I know what I’m potentially running into.”
“Of course, I’m not going anywhere.”
“And on that subject, I remember meeting someone when I was in town for the attack. What can you tell me about the cape with the stuffed animals? Pariah, par—”
“Parian,” Kid Win replied. “A parian doll was a kind of doll about a hundred and fifty years ago. Though Parian’s costume is actually closer to a more classical Victorian style porcelain doll, from the same era.”
“Oh.” That was random. What kind of guy knew that much about dolls?
He went on, “She’s a rogue. Fashion student with the costume and stuffed animals as a gimmick to help her build up a professional reputation and stand out. Tentative rating of master six, but we haven’t really seen her fight, outside of the Leviathan encounter.”
“Student. So she’ll be near a college?”
“College is gone. Kaput. Um, let me see. Last we heard, she was situated between the spot where the college was and the lake downtown. If I remember right, there’s going to be a fairly thin strip of places there that are intact enough to live in. Vista ran into her the other night, but she’s asleep right now and we’re behind on paperwork so…”
“So you don’t know exactly what happened, and I’d be going in blind. She’s harmless though? This Parian?”
“Nobody’s harmless at a time like this, Flechette,” Kid Win replied.
“Right.” Flechette thought of the middle-aged woman beating her attacker bloody.
“Listen, easiest way to get to that area, you’ll find the lake to the northwest, walk the perimeter of it to reach the north end. The area she could be staying at should only be a block or two wide. If she’s even awake. I’ve got Clockblocker buzzing in, probably to check in for the night and give me the cliff notes on his nightly patrol, so I’m going silent until you need me, ’kay?”
“Sure.”
Flechette gauged the direction of the ocean, deemed that east, and then headed northwest as Kid Win had suggested. She traveled at ground level, wading through the water, to make faster progress. Nothing to prove, now that she had stopped patrolling with Shadow Stalker.
It didn’t take long to find the ‘lake’ Leviathan had made in the downtown area. Given that the streets were flooded with water anyways, the crater itself was distinguishable only by the barrier around it, and a dark shadow beneath the water where there was nothing beneath to reflect light. Hulks of fallen buildings sat in the center of the water. The orange light of a fire on the top floor of one of the buildings suggested that someone had swum to one of the buildings and was staying there. Maybe one of the safer places to be.
The crater was surrounded by orange striped barriers with flashing lights and portable chain link fences that were chained together. The fencing formed a solid barrier around the hole. She walked with the fence to her left, which roughly halved the area she had to keep an eye on, in case of approaching trouble. Her right index finger was just below the trigger of her arbalest, and her left hand clutched a handful of darts.
The massive sinkhole Leviathan had made was roughly circular, but it was large enough that she couldn’t say for sure when she had turned and started moving more west than north.
Fresh graffiti stained buildings, some warning people to stay away, others were the crude pictographs of hobo signs. One neighborhood had used the debris of fallen buildings to form makeshift barricades in alleys and in front of doorways. There wasn’t much intact housing here—the sinkhole sat to her left, and two blocks to her right, from what she could make out in the moonlight, the buildings were too damaged to serve as living accommodations.
At one intersection there were two parallel, vertical lines spray painted in yellow on opposite walls. Traffic cones, some broken, an orange striped barrier and the remains of one yellow raincoat sat in the water, much of it weighed down by rubble. Together, the organized debris formed a brightly colored line joining the marks that had been spray painted on the wall.
She stepped over the line, and immediately
felt a resistance. It took her a second to figure out what it was—a thread caught the moonlight.
There was a muffled splashing sound, and a twelve-foot tall gorilla leaped from the nearest rooftop to land directly in front of her. It swung its arms wildly in front of it, missing her, then slammed both knuckles down in the water, crushing one side of the orange striped barrier. Flechette raised her arbalest to shoot, then stopped.
It wasn’t real. Damp cloth, stitched together. And it was blind. It wasn’t acting as though it could see her.
She dropped the arbalest, backed over the line, and then waited.
Parian arrived at a run, feet splashing in the water. She spotted Flechette, and the gorilla moved to place itself between the two of them.
Her creations can only see what she sees. They’re puppets.
“Stay back,” Parian warned. She peeked out from behind the gorilla. Her mask, a doll’s face, was smudged, and a crack ran from the corner of one eye to the ear. She wore a frock, different than the one she had worn for the Leviathan fight, but it was wet, dirty, and some of the lace had torn. There was a wood chip in the damp golden curls that were otherwise too perfectly coiled to be real hair.
“I’m staying back,” Flechette assured the girl. “Remember me?”
“Yes. You talked to me before the fight, pulled me away from that horrible little girl.”
“Yeah,” Flechette smiled, shrugging. She stepped forward.
“Back!” Parian called out. The Gorilla slammed its knuckles against the ground again, then lurched forward, one fist raising as if to deliver a massive punch.
Flechette obeyed, backing up another two steps, hands raised. The gorilla’s fist stayed where it was.
“I’m a hero. Member of the Wards. I’m in town for a little while.”
“Doesn’t matter. I made a deal. Me, my friends and my family get a place to stay here, a fair share of the food and water. In exchange, I keep people from entering.”
“I’m a hero,” Flechette stressed the word. “I’m not going to cause trouble.”
“I don’t know you’re telling the truth. Nothing saying you couldn’t be lying.”
“I have ID.”
Parian shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anyways.”
The frocked rogue climbed up to stand on top of the gorilla’s shoulders. She added, “I made a deal. I’m keeping to it. One hundred percent neutrality. You trespass, I fight you.”
And I’d almost definitely win, Flechette thought. You may even know that, but you’d fight me anyways.
“Okay,” Flechette replied, trying to sound reassuring, “I won’t step over the line. I heard you were around here, you’re one of the only recognizable faces for me here, I thought I’d stop by, see how you were doing.”
“Coping,” Parian answered.
“Good, good,” Flechette sheathed her arbalest, hoping the rogue would feel safer. “Look, I’m here if you need anything. If people make trouble and you’re not strong enough to protect that neighborhood there, or if you need resources that you couldn’t get otherwise, like names or medical services, call me. Can I give you my card?”
The gorilla lowered his raised fist, reached forward with palm upturned, and Flechette fished in her belt for her cards. Slightly damp, but readable. She placed it in the center of a sopping wet hand crafted out of black denim. The gorilla’s palm was surprisingly firm. Hard. Its shape was a little too humanlike, in comparison to a real gorilla, maybe. Not that it mattered.
“Okay,” Parian spoke, as the gorilla handed her the card. Her voice was a little softer. “Phone lines are down, but cell phones work around here.”
“You guys need anything here? I don’t know what the situation is with supplies, just got into the city a few hours ago. Don’t know how that stuff is being distributed, but I could see about making sure you guys have something.”
Parian sat down cross-legged on the gorilla’s shoulders. “Yeah. We’re low on fresh water. This stuff we’re wading in has too much salt content, and you couldn’t even boil it clean if you wanted to, I don’t think.”
“Okay. Fresh water.”
The doll girl shifted her weight to put the card in the front pocket of her lacy apron, fumbled with it. Flechette spotted a tremor as the girl put the card away and moved to clasp her hands in her lap.
She’s shaking.
“Hey?” Flechette asked.
“What?”
“Seriously, are you okay? You holding up?”
Parian turned, looked behind her, as if checking anyone was listening.
“I hate fighting. Hate confrontation. Even this, being here, having just thought I might have to fight you, fight anyone, it makes me feel edgy. My teeth are chattering and I’m not even cold.”
“You faced down Leviathan. You did better than a lot of people.”
“Do you know how long it took me to get my head together? To actually step up and help?”
“But you did. You stepped up. Give yourself credit. You’re strong.”
“I want this to be over. I’m so, so scared that someone’s going to come and try to loot this place and I won’t be able to do anything.”
“You’ve got my card. I can’t promise I’ll arrive immediately, but I’ll be staying at the Wards headquarters, which isn’t too far.”
Parian nodded. Quietly, she spoke, “That helps a lot. More than you know.”
“And I can come by on my patrols, if you want. Check everything is okay, give you an update on what I can do about supplies.”
Parian hesitated, “Please do. If you pluck the strings twice, I’ll know it’s you. I’m using my telekinesis on the strings, I’ll feel it.”
“Deal. I’m Flechette, by the way, in case you didn’t know.”
“Oh. Um. I didn’t. My name’s Sab—” Parian stopped, made a barely audible groan.
“It’s okay,” Flechette suppressed the urge to smile. Sabrina? Maybe. Sable? No, the b pronunciation was different.
“I’m an idiot,” Parian spoke.
Flechette paused, then removed her visor. “Lily.”
I need people I can trust, she tried to convince herself, even as she knew she had other reasons. Stuff like this could get her in serious trouble with the Wards.
Parian hesitated, then reached up and removed her mask. Though her clothing style was western, her wig all blonde curls, her face was dark, middle eastern. There were bands of metal extending from the edges of her face to the middle of her cheekbones, her chin and her forehead. Mounts to keep her mask in position? She had full lips and large, dark eyes. “Sabah.”
Cute, the thought struck Flechette. Funny to think she’s older than me.
“Nice to meet you, Sabah.”
“I’m still not letting you over the line,” Sabah warned. She looked so small, up on the gorilla’s broad shoulders, the threat held little gravity. Maybe, Flechette considered, it was intended more for Sabah than for her.
“Okay,” Flechette donned her visor once more, “But maybe you want to walk with me? Do a patrol of the perimeter of your territory? I’ll stay on this side.”
Sabah put her mask back on, and for a second, Flechette thought she would say no.
“Okay. Thank you.” Parian dropped her legs down to either side of the gorilla’s neck as it moved forward. To stay decent, the girl pressed her hands down on the lap of her dress, leaning forward a little. It was a little thing, that bashful modesty, but Flechette felt as much of a rush watching that as she did running across her chain/tightrope with a five-story drop below her.
She didn’t let it show. Instead, she smiled and started walking, hands clasped behind her back, darts clasped in one hand in case of trouble or ambush. The gorilla crossed the yellow line and sort of half-ran, half-loped to catch up, move beside her. It slowed to a plodding, gentle walk.
Flechette was secretly relieved. She knew she’d manage for the duration of her stay, now. She’d made a connection, even if it wasn’t with someone on
her team. She wasn’t in this alone.
“So, you’re a fashion student?” she asked.
Sentinel 9.3
“Welcome to Parahumans 103: Theories and Patterns. I see we have a packed auditorium, and according to the enrollment list, we have no less than three hundred students taking the TV course. A bump up from the last two trimesters, so I must be doing something right.”
Clockblocker looked around the room. Six PRT uniforms sat in the front row, helmets off, three with notebooks open on the desks in front of them. Weld and Flechette sat in the desks closest to the door, exchanging murmured words as the professor on the screen began going over the course syllabus.
Glory Girl sat just in front of him, wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt, arms folded on her desk, chin resting on the back of one hand. Vista, odd as it was, sat beside the other heroine, had been the only one to offer any conversation. When Glory Girl hadn’t seemed interested in talking, Vista had instead offered her silent company. Clockblocker wasn’t exactly sure how Glory Girl had gotten into the Wards headquarters to attend the screening, but she was here, uncharacteristically quiet, much in the same way that Vista had been this past week.
Kid Win sat to Clockblocker’s right, fidgeting by taking apart his pen and putting it back together, his eyes not leaving the screen. Shadow Stalker was sitting as far away from everyone else as she could manage, at the back corner of the room. She sat sideways in her seat, back to the wall, her feet resting on the seat next to her. Her attention was directed entirely at the keys and screen of her cell phone, rather than the projector screen at the front of the room.
Only thirteen people present, altogether.
“…for disability and pregnancy accommodations, the course syllabus gives you all the details you need on who to contact. If you aren’t already, you’re going to be sick of hearing all that by the time you graduate. We’re required to go over it in the first class of every class we teach.
“So. Let me start off by addressing and banishing some assumptions you may have. This is not an easy class, and anyone who took Parahumans: History and Society or Parahumans: Case Studies and Powers will be aware of this. Even for those of you who emerged triumphant from the previous two semesters should know that PARA-103 may be something of a shock to you if this is your first year of University. Here, primarily, I will be looking for creativity, problem solving and research abilities. Skills and abilities that, frankly, aren’t stressed enough in high school.
