At least she seemed aware of how weird that was to say. "Sort of, but that's just because I'm impervious. People only use lethal force on capes that can survive it, mostly. The PRT doesn't like us getting in the way of real harm."
And that somehow upset her? Never mind how that seemed to rely a lot on the criminals holding back to not suddenly be grievously harmed or killed.
But a hero was someone ready to leap into danger for others…
Every word made my resolution to keep my distance from this violence ring more sensible.
"You hero types are made of different stuff than me."
"Maybe just in upbringing? Don't sell yourself short. You've been doing great this whole time."
I shook my head weakly. "No, I've just been trying to get through all of this so I can rest without it over my head." Never mind how it kept the big questions like long term livelihood, safety, and all I'd lost from being on the forefront of my mind. I deserved to kick that down the road for a few days. Or until I had some alone time to start chipping away at it all.
And speak of- there was another lab coat approaching, all bright eyed with anticipation for their next benchmark.
Another plastic block was slowly turned to dust, shaving by shaving.
Victoria spoke up while I slumped through the motions. "We could put this on pause."
She didn't even sound sure of that. I shrugged. "Maybe. But I'd really rather just have it done."
Then a box of meal worms was brought out.
Meal worms that burst into black smoke with silent fanfare upon Shadow's touch.
I breathed long disappointment.
Even in the somehow comfortable cold of my soul pool state I felt chilled by the confirmation.
That was that. Victoria was quick to encourage but I was running out of the energy it took to earnestly engage.
We continued.
Knowing what I'd likely see I seized one of the forms now in my mind.
With a press to my soul pond I sent forth a destructive burst of Shadow with a loud punch of echoing noise. An almost otherworldly sound reverberated around the test chamber.
The block was gone. The floor gouged for meters upon meters.
I vaguely noticed Shadow snap back to form beneath me. That whole burst had been her, but swelled up, vaster than I thought she could get.
The techs were jubilant.
My stomach really began to churn.
My only solace was how complex these works were; the way I had to twist my soul pond to produce the effects couldn't really happen by accident or impulse.
But it was still there. Death on hand. Always.
The lab rats paid no mind to my growing unsettlement but Victoria convinced them to back off some while I pulled myself up onto a chair.
Feet in the air, I rest my head on the back rest, lost myself in the ceiling, and waited for the sickly unease to pass.
How quickly they sought to make use of my break. They see me snapping in and out of a powered state and they only see parameters to be measured.
Saturation therapy kinda worked. At least I now felt reasonably sure I had two layers of safety for this instant decay power. Like having a flamethrower in my car trunk. That could be blasting from Shadow in the blink of an eye.
Leaving my pond disconnected would have to be distance enough.
"Just- don't get it in the fur, okay?"
My voice being shrill was entirely reasonable. The gloved bastard got to keep that squirming thing in forceps. He got to keep some distance while I would be getting into close quarters. With no guarantee of a shower! I could be left feeling dirty and gross for days.
"Of course," and he said that with a tone I was getting increasingly annoyed with. One that let me know his benevolent patience was running out. I was the person putting their time into this in the middle of a life altering cosmic fuckup but he's the person being put upon. Sure buddy.
At least he didn't get the worm on me.
But he was holding it close for far, far too long.
"No signs of corrosion. Can you crank up the power any?"
With great effort I did not shake my head. "No."
None of the firm spell forms I had at hand would make more luminous smoke spew from my ears. That was only a sign my power was keyed up and available. That the wire was live, essentially. There wasn't a smidge of strain on my soul pool for me to be a one girl smoke show.
At last the wiggling creature was retracted. My shoulders sagged in relief.
The lab rat turned his forceps this way and that beneath his eye. "Item eighteen is unharmed. Though prolonged exposure will be necessary to be certain that bodily emissions don't cause long term effects."
Another worm was brought out.
"I don't see how we could have made much worse of an initial impression."
"Indeed," agreed Piggot. "But that's the deceptive comfort of hindsight. Between blindly accepting the suggestion of a brand new interdimentional trigger phenomena or potential foul play we had to be reasonable."
"I understand, the troops are either less ready for the lurking threats or alienate a fresh trigger. But the damage is still done. And to a person who was at her most vulnerable where those impressions matter most. If more triggers like this are in the future we need to be prepared or we could end up driving those in need into other arms."
Miss Militia's displeasure wasn't unique. Piggot was displeased herself and for once this wasn't even an outright mistake or action of another party. Just as safety was written in blood, too many of their policies were dictated after incidents that showed what was lacking.
The pains of the bay were familiar to both of them. With all of the hell that had followed the weeks of destruction and brawling of course coincidence would turn best practices into a nearly fumbled first contact.
If this parahuman wasn't such an outlier in temperament things would have sloped nearer to disaster.
"We can adjust our handling of unforeseen extradimensional victims. Our report should help other departments avoid the same mistake."
Piggot refused to ease into her chair in rest, instead glancing over the numerous reports from all parties involved. Medical, Ward, Trooper, Interrogator, and now Testing.
Miss Militia waited. She wasn't here just to vent but in search of tangible amends to today's arrival.
"The false AI topic threw off our investigator and caused further duress. All we can do now is recuperate Void Cat's opinion of us. We've filed for the full assortment of case fifty-three related funding, including what can be squeezed from Miris." Miss Militia shifted to a more at ease rest. A minute tell of hers. Someone more readily attentive of hearts and minds leading the Protectorate was a help. With Defiant off chasing the headless scraps of the Nine they had a lot of internal cohesion to rebuild in the wake of his actions. She chose to focus on the success, for there were many. New capes, transfers, some actual support. Nothing good ever came without drawbacks sharing the air.
"An early sign on would make it easier to permanently house her at headquarters, but we've got secured visiting apartments within a few blocks of PRT HQ so that will have to do. She's too potent to ever allow her to slip into a negative stance towards the PRT thanks to anymore rough handling. We'll be slow rolling further analysis to avoid souring things further, which is just as well thanks to the overwhelming demand on manpower around the clock."
The results from the just repaired testing center had been explicit. High lethality. Immensely flexible. Various means to deliver her disintegrating effect by touch, range, or projection. They'd had to cut short because of work hours concluding. With so much to repair and overtime hours spent on the civilian needs throughout the Bay there was just no point in funding the research team to sweat things out faster. While food stuff was no longer scarce, reconstruction was still an exposed endeavor that had years of work ahead.
Void Cat had been fed twice throughout, at least. Some good heads used what sense god gave them. The parahuman had been ravenous, another unintentional abuse.
What a cascade of procedural failings. And adjusting what they could would be hundreds more sheets of paperwork. Using just one case to try and identify an entire spectrum of new potential triggers…
The Bay needed more heroes but they also needed capes on the street and Void Cat needed space to recuperate and adjust. Space she'd be able to thank the PRT for while the local heroes were busy. For once compromising on a cape recruitment was a win-win situation.
"Personal shielding. A potent highly mobile projection immune to harm. A potent terror effect. Even a weak form of stranger power," Miss Militia read off from memory. "She's already going to have a hard time living normally without all of the interest this will bring from the cape scene."
Piggot shared her concerns. The list was quite intimidating. Until you saw the quivering and sensible woman overwhelmed by the powers she'd been stuck with. Void Cat had refused to submit anyone to her fear effect after the initial contact. Even with assurances there was no lasting harm. Her gray skin had paled sickly green just at the idea right there on the video footage.
The staff had been entirely unprepared for how to coax someone to use their powers. Usually once a parahuman was given permission to blast away stopping them was the struggle.
Instead Void Cat had to be convinced to continue at each interval after a point. Like she'd rather be doing anything else.
"We keep the door open. Provide counseling and care and access to facilities while she's getting on her feet. Have some crosspollination with the Wards. Maybe she'll temper some of the more reckless Wards with some of that rare self-accountability while they soften her to the idea of heroics being the most sensible avenue for responsible power use. When she inevitably shifts towards becoming an active cape we will be the most welcome and familiar option." She strummed her fingers on the limited paperwork-free space she had. "In the mean time we can get her in contact with some of the case thirty-twos. Their similar physiological differences should put them on some common ground. Give her some connections and social support. Some people she has common ground with. And that should help sour her against unchecked villain activity as well."
The wayward golden child of the bay had unveiled a surprisingly thoughtful side and was largely responsible for counterbalancing the negative impressions. A wonder in its own. The first time she'd slowed in her crusade since trialing for the Senior Wards weeks prior. A person in need had made the difference. Something to encourage, if only to make sure Glory Girl didn't go do something reckless about her sister.
Piggot's brows tightened. There was the newest everpresent head throb.
Teams of sweepers hadn't found her yet and the pressure had to be kept on, lest that get the room to snowball. The last thing they needed was a distraught Chimera repeating her initial disaster.
Miss Militia continued to flip through the brief before voicing her thoughts.
"She seems entirely reluctant towards any kind of willing combat, regardless of purpose."
Piggot could sigh. Instead she stared out at the horizon where so much devastation had only begun to see repairs. Untold amounts of life unsettled by the fruits of powers. Leviathan had just flooded the cracks and hurried things along.
"I can't afford to hope things will stay that way."
In every way this was an outlier in a parahuman, and yet…
If only. She shook her head. Wishing for better distracted from wrestling the now.
"We'll need to get the rest of the staff and roster up to speed. With those extreme changes and her outstanding feature some might feel compelled to make comments. She's not the only one who will need time adjusting. PR is going to need to update their playbook."
Decades of spandex had acquainted their entire marketing branch with the woes of statistically significant sausage smuggling. And the difficulties of those with boundless breasts. With enough armor and tape anyone could be brought into a tidy image. Now a new horse had pulled up to the rodeo at visibly significant size even in grainy security footage beneath thick clothing. Whenever Void Cat wasn't hiding the thing. After the initial bomb scare, staff had done a good job of not stepping on that landmine.
But this was another consideration for Void Cat's future.
Any slip in decency brought endless media interest. An identity forged by years of service could be undone in a moment. Some capes could never shake that sort of attention and those were people who could be rebranded behind the anonymity of a mask.
Today's cape fanatics were far too scrupulous. And people who made the most of her inescapable sexual magnetism could be counted on one finger. And that was because she blatantly dressed herself in famously lethal power.
Thrusting an impossible to disguise Void Cat into the public eye?
Piggot was quite glad to leave that mess to public relations people who were paid to handle it.
They'd have to prepare the field before Void Cat even committed to the heroism track.
She never counted her eggs, but for once Piggot's mind leaned towards optimism. Void Cat's criminal inclination scores were as low as her willingness to harm others.
There was next to no future where she'd ever willingly associate with villains.
"Now, we need to get the troops up to speed and make sure they give Void Cat some space."
Walking without a looming escort was a relief. Even though this massive building was still daunting.
"Thanks. Those four-in-one bottles were horrible."
Just the smell alone had been repulsing. Never mind this sensitive skin.
Victoria nodded with knowing commiseration. "It's no trouble. I've been boarding here for the last month so I have all the toiletries on hand." That smile grew a bit dim. "Don't rush yourself, alright? You've got a lot that's changed and no one can ask you to just hurry through that."
Oh that's pretty real. I'd be anxious if I hadn't had every ounce of energy drained from me over the last seven or so hours. Even my Shadow had closed her eyes in mock rest and wobbled with every trudging step I took.
But this was consideration, for me. And she was managing it while surely going through a lot herself. Those ears and tail were not something I could figure with guess work but I wasn't going to ask either. I might as well kick her shins.
"Thanks. It is a lot. But, honestly? I'm a lot more worried about, you know, blasting people by accident, than I am looking different. This" I gestured at myself "isn't a big concern. For me."
Victoria blinked a few times in surprise. And digested. Probably thought I was weird but I didn't want to put on some complex mask about my feelings either.
When she replied it was while taking me in anew with a bit of a smile.
"People really are made of different stuff."
I clutched her designer bottle a bit before loosening back up. "I guess? Maybe I'd be more devastated if there wasn't so much else going on. Either way, I still feel like me."
Victoria lit up with a thought but visibly slowed.
"I'm happy you've got that, at least. We'll get some more food once you're done, okay? I won't be around as much tomorrow, had to sac a lot of extra patrol time from today."
We'd come to a stop inside a bulk locker room area. Secret identity concerns for the PRT capes meant I got to use the staff showers. A few women were moving with purpose in just gray towels. I felt awkward and worried that I'd pop wood at the worst time and make this even weirder.
With Victoria's admission some guilt for being a burden joined my emotional soup. My dick stayed cooperative beneath all of that slushing weight.
"Thanks for taking the hit for me."
"Don't worry about it. Piggot's been getting on my ass about slowing down anyway. So I had a productive break.
Who? Just another name for the later questions folder. Victoria was already floating away.
"The cafeteria is just down the hall and to the right, 'kay?"
"I remember." I did not voice my reluctance to eat in such a crowded space. Even though it was after dinner time the cafeteria seemed like the social gathering place for this massive governmental building.
Loads of people.
I shuddered.
Becoming a spectacle was not my idea of relaxation.
How about something equally uncertain but which was best addressed alone instead.
The showers were gendered, thank fuck. And I was perfectly used to seeing women naked. Years of still life drawing, baby.
Being naked myself around other people, though, was entirely outside my comfort zone.
Bottles and clothes in hand I grabbed a towel. It was massive. Or rather, I was small.
Thankfully it was that kind of fluffy that meant it was freshly cleaned. The idea of getting someone's towel second hand made my skin squirmy.
In a dark corner I wrapped myself in towel and shuffled out of my hoodie with an eye for any peepers.
Yes I waited whenever someone walked by. And said nothing while waiting for them to leave.
Even if they tried to make eye contact I made sure to pretend to be busy looking over the donated clothes.
I could only handle so much at a time.
All of those awkward locker room moments from high school were flooding back to me.
Not to mention other fears.
I was going to have to wash my feet thoroughly. Athletes foot would be the worst welcoming party for this other worldly adventure. I sighed while folding up my ratty hoodie, towel held tight by my chin to my collar bone. My hoodie and my change of clothes- some small adult sized sporty wear- went into a guest locker. I triple checked it before hurrying to a shower.
My ear fur still felt gross. Forceps fucker had slipped up on me. Or maybe it was all psychological.
And this towel was a lot less warm than my hoodie. A bit scratchy though, especially against the dick and tits.
There weren't many stalls. This was built for volume, not privacy. PRT troops probably didn't mind sharing three minutes at a faucet cluster. They had people
The few women here were washing with vigor, arms working at optimal business scrub.
We all paused to take each other in and I quickly broke eyes first and went for a vacant stall.
Cramped, if you were an adult. My size defeated a system of brutalist functionality by default.
Bottles up onto the eye level metal cubby. Now, where to put my towel?
There was only one option that wouldn't get it wet. I threw it. Then again, harder, and got it up over the edge of the stall near the wall. On the side with an empty stall, of course, instead of to the outside. No one would swipe it, probably, but better safe than naked and sorry.
Speaking of naked…
I turned the water on first. And eep'd .
Cold!
There hadn't been enough room to wait out the spray. Warmth came quickly, but I savored it for a moment, let it wash over my hair and ears. Wait, was water in my ears a problem? I'd have to try and handle my hair with care. Later.
This was just a time to savor the warmth.
After a far too long day I was finally alone. My ideal existence, for most of a given day anyway.
Alone meant I could take my new self in without the rush of a waiting doctor sharing the room.
My body was… a body. Just with a lot of extra in sexually provocative locations. Maxed stats, so to speak.
The tits were tidy and perky. The better to see the other mechanisms of the torso. People didn't really respect that there were some striking differences between male and female upper musculature structure, though I guess I could understand tits taking all of the attention. Mine sure appealed to my eyes, even as getting a good look took pressing my chin to my collar.
I rolled my shoulders and watched the water stream down my grave stone gray skin, trailing along my new forms.
Shoulders had so many muscles that tucked in and out. Groups that stood distinguished or melded into the chest depending on the position of my arms.
Dark fingers met light skin. Familiar. That's all I could really call it. Skin, but much softer and louder about what it was feeling. Sprinkled with little hairs even where the fur wasn't apparent. Less than peach fuzz and sleek from the water. Pushing a finger against the fur barely moved the hairs, they were that small.
Squishing a boob felt more silly than exciting. But how the fat and skin slid and pinched, how moving it this way or that revealed more of the pectoral mass, was interesting. More musculature would really help but working out sucked balls and years of healthy effort had just been evaporated by a forth dimensional hop so motivation was scarce.
I'd get back on that bike eventually, I guess.
The cold had struck my nipples fast and raised them to a tingling stiffness. They stuck out like fat switches atop matching black mounds. Strained to the utmost. Water was sliding over that flesh and the sensation was just more than the rest of me could feel. Not exclusively pleasurable, just rich. New. Like raw skin refamiliarizing itself with the world.
Hopefully time would make that easier to bear. Other places were cramming my nerves with similar floods of sensation.
If only the lighting wasn't so abysmal. The fluorescents weren't overhead and I was surrounded by heavy plastic stall walls. Everything was monotone and green tinted by those walls. Hardly form enhancing lighting. I wasn't getting any direct lighting to pop my shapes with alluring form shadows.
Still, objectively I was hot. I huddled closer to the spray because it was hotter.
Cradling that warmth with some wet self-hugging to pool water in my arms, I took in the gold mine at my fingertips.
No one had hips that swelled out from a tiny waist like this. I could twist this way and that and see the pelvic cradle push prominent through the skin, feel the bone and spine shift. Ass felt much as it always did just- more. A lot more. Seeing a hand almost disappear into one cheek by grabbing it was stimulating. Overlaps were the core of depth and both hands weren't enough for one cheek,
I had to learn this figure. This was a game changer.
Sparks of motivation popped my heart up a notch.
Even if it took getting disgustingly active I owed it to passion to work myself into a trim and firm shape.
Once I was sure I could even draw still.
Those motivation sparks dimmed.
There was also what I'd been resolutely leaving for last.
The star of the show, the random stroke of luck that aligned alarmingly well with my artistic interests, was front and center. Right between the tits, since I had no mirror and was just staring down my front.
That was a horse dick. For sure. Slapped right onto my tiny bod without a hint of being adjusted into the realm of reason. Nuts in their thick yet fuzzy soft sack held forward because there was just no world where they'd fit between my thighs. A curled and floppy cock above them.
I'd gotten a passing glimpse so this wasn't a surprise. But the reality was now firm. Real. Right before my eyes.
The biggest cock I'd ever seen and all mine to wield for whatever I pleased.
A roll of the hips swung my floppy penis through the shower spray. Dismal. I adjusted and caught more water, batting it into the stall wall.
There was a surprising amount of weigh to that equipment. Every movement made it tug in a way that mingled strain and satisfaction.
When I finally went hands on the cock was exceedingly squishy. The fat tube was more skin than meat. Which resounded with what I knew of the structure. Arousal would push the skin out with a huge rod of blood-packed meat and grow the whole into a tremendous rod.
Not something I wanted to see happen right now. Or at least right here.
Skin rolled and mooshed beneath my tiny fingers. Spongy and docile. I hadn't griped much since getting here. Just food, which disappeared quickly. Three fingers was less the problem. These hands were just oddly tiny. If I slowed down enough to think about how I was grabbing something it became a lot harder. Like here, trying to see how the skin folded in upon itself and what could roll it out. Getting a good grip on the penis tube with one small hand just wasn't-
Footsteps slapped by, a loud reminder of where I was.
I held still until they passed. Then a bit longer.
When I was breathing steadily again I felt my nuts over. Something a lot more difficult than it seemed. I could life them, with both hands. And they were startlingly heavy. But hold both with one hand while the other checked for lumps and just inspected the construction?
No. I could not manage that. These things were cantaloupe dwarfing when combined and my grippers were small. But Shadow could and she was just peering at my person with intent interest this whole time.
The inspection was fine. Cradled in Shadow's massive mitt I could pinch and roll the skin at my leisure. And there was a lot of it. A wealth of detail in fold and faint veins that would have to be mastered, how the scrotum tucked and strained.
But that was for another day. A day when I had a mirror and room to myself. And knew I could handle pencil and paper again.
Instead I let Shadow sink back into the tiles and kept twisting my hips and slapped the water around some more. With the right force and an eye for where this absurd shlong was mid torque I could really spray down the shower. Like slapping a hand through a sprinkler.
This was stupid. But this was my first chance to do something just for myself since getting here.
Since becoming this.
Choosing not to worry and just goof was a victory wasn't it? If only for a moment.
So I did.
Another flick of the hips. Another splash of water on plastic wall as my tube of shlong skin slapped spray sideways.
Yeah, the problems were not this body. If only this new car had been delivered back home.
A nut clapped especially loudly to my thigh. I froze. A smack, too clean and even a hit, to be anything but thunderous.
No one spoke but I could hear water splashing on tiles out there.
Like a lobster in the pot I felt myself steam with shame.
Before anyone could get more of a wrong idea I got to washing.
I felt like silk. What a conditioner. Putting some on my cheek fur had been a great idea. It wasn't much different from beard care, only cuter.
One last towel pass and my mossy green hair was fluffed up and curling further at the tips.
But that was where the glow up ended.
Getting dressed while staying beneath my towel had been a task and a half. For piss poor results too. As much as I could get out of ill-fitting sportswear cape merch.
The sportswear was ill-fitting. The merch shop tee was a dress and the men's basketball shorts had to be tied around the waist to not slide down to my crotch. The hips were straining and the junk even more so and the legs fell almost halfway down my calves. Actually, ass in mind, the whole bottom region was uncomfortably taut. That elastic had been a god send getting the waist line up over the back end, but this wasn't presentable.
So, I opted to put my hoodie back on and keep my fists shoved into the kangaroo pouch to obscure my bulge as much as possible. With Victoria's bottles it just looked like I was hauling instead of packing. The whites and reds clashed with the dark dirty purple of my worn out hoodie but what else was one to do?
Now if only they had shoes that weren't novelty hero merch. Whoever this green girl was I felt like a child walking in her likeness. Doubly so because they were too roomie. The feeling was mutual for this shirt. A kid's size tee might have been more my size, but my head didn't fit the neck. Getting these ears through had been a delicate process.
No underwear for obvious reasons.
A horrid mash of what was on hand.
But it was free. Surplus old merch that wasn't selling? That was still better than just free-balling it in my hoodie. Marginally. The pinch had already educated me that more nut meant more pain if a wedgie got going.
I was clean and I was covered enough to pull eyes for only unavoidable reasons. The offensive fashion would just have to be endured until some better colors could be donated. Or something. No one was making clothes for my sizes so shopping was going to be constrained. And just how far could a tailor even help?
Questions for when someone could give me real answers.
Victoria was waiting in the hall. Unlike the rest of the hall she managed to suppress the compulsion to stare, which I appreciated.
I finished finger combing my hair by the time she reached me from in front of the cafeteria.
"Looking a lot cleaner and prettier!" Victoria gave a thumbs up.
My face curdled. "Cleaner, yes. The shower felt great."
I had to air my fresh grievance.
"I changed my mind. This body sucks."
Victoria deflated some. "Oh, that bad?"
"Yeah! Look at this. Nothing fits. I'm wearing kiddie shoes yet they're too big and they don't even light up! And these shorts are one bad step away from castrating me with the seam."
"Oh! That's what you mean. I'm sorry to hear that its not wearing well." She got thoughtful. "The city has recovered in some places already. We could try shopping around sometime later this week? Oh, I have a desensitization day with the other thirty-twos. You could tag along!"
She was positively glowing. My first instinct was weary exhaustion. But I couldn't just duck away from every commitment because I hated scheduling things in. She said something that let me finally ask a couple questions at once naturally.
"Thirty-twos?"
She'd mentioned that number to the troops, along with another. Implied they were on the lookout for them. It gave no hint to why guns were in my face at the time so I'd not thought about it much. You know a flood of other concerns.
Still wasn't feeling sick, at least.
Victoria nodded, firmly but with a sudden mixture of realization and not quite hesitance? "Yeah people who… got changed. My family was some of the first hit the night it happened."
"Like, by a chemical spill or something?" Victoria's blink and confused stare revved up my self-consciousness. So this wasn't some 'Bang Baby' event. I crucified myself for ever bringing cartoon events into this. "It's a dumb comic trope. Man gets struck by lightning and then somehow runs fast. That kind of thing."
She shook her head with a conciliatory chuckle. "No. This was done by… a person. Is still being done by a person." Victoria's tone darkened, unfocused yet pained. She shook herself a bit and calmed her lashing tail. "Everyone who's been hit is dealing with sensory overload of some kind. And the dysphoria. To try and help people adjust the PRT is hosting and directing a spread of group therapy meetings and events. Not a lot of resources to spare but help today avoids trouble tomorrow. There's a group shopping one later this week to help people feel comfortable going outdoors while looking, you know."
She waved at her ears.
"I see." I swallowed a couple of times then stuck my toes over the line into foreign territory. "You're pushing through a lot too, huh."
It was an obvious thing to say but I spoke it anyway. I felt compelled to not try and circle around her struggles. She'd been helping me all day. My mind blazed with a hundred concerns about fumbling this attempt at support but Victoria deserved some effort. Any misstep could be apologized for, right?
"Like you're not," her smiled was at first bitterly humored but softened into something different. "A hero has to put other people first. Yet I still took days to get back on my feet. Weeks to get used to all of the sounds and stares. To get things in perspective. I've seen other people who are handling lot worse and now I've seen someone handle it better."
The ice washed out of me. There, one line hadn't blown up in my face!
But the weight of it all was still real. And I didn't have any wisdom that could really help. How did someone who couldn't be tickled explain it to the ticklish?
"I can try and talk about it some, but I don't think I'm good at it."
Victoria shook her head quickly.
"Some hero I'd be to lean on you the very day your life gets turned around. Don't worry about it. You want to get more to eat?"
So she didn't want to talk about it. I get it. Probably too much on her plate and I was basically a fresh acquaintance. Sometimes just letting someone know a door was open was support enough and they'd walk though in their own time.
I was also relieved, if a bit guilty, that I didn't have to talk more on that heavy topic right now. I could prepare some in the future. Somehow.
"Sure, and that shopping trip could be nice, too."
Could being the optimal phrase. A lot of people sounded like hell. But maybe it would make going outside easier if a bunch of other animal eared people are around soaking up attention. I'd still be an outlier but relatively less of one.
Being even further in debt to Victoria's kindness… I didn't want the one relation I had to be forged in complete dependency. But who knows when the gears of government would grind out their promised relief.
"Elastic will be our savior. Trust me. There's even a cape who does powered tailoring! But… well, she's not really available for that anymore."
My ears perked but then dipped as Victoria finished. I only said, "I see." The weight of whatever had been going on here was increasingly omnipresent. Thank fuck I'd missed the storm but the damage remained, huh.
This was a giant mess but consideration was a muscle I wanted to exercise more anyway.
I raised a hand for a supportive gesture but Glory Girl's costume was rather bare. A lot of bare thigh. Let's not look there. Shoulders were a good spot to pat supportingly- yet hers was out of reach.
And now my hand had been hanging midair for a while and she'd noticed. I rushed to say something while putting it down.
"You guys seem to be winning though, right? Putting things back together? "
"Slowly," a grime countenance took her for a moment before she glanced back at me and shook it off. "Brockton's never had it easy. But we're going to see things get better. They already are. Maybe better than they've ever been. We've got more heroes here than ever too. Things will be different, so you at least arrived at a good time."
"That's the feeling I got as well. Maybe it does mean things will start going right."
I was hardly superstitious but Victoria's smile lost some of that stage stiffness.
My appetite made itself known.
"Is there somewhere else we could eat? After we get food here, I mean."
Victoria seemed to appreciate the opportunity to move on.
"Yeah, the Wards base is pretty empty these days. And there's no tours at night."
With that plan set I could finally act on my stomach. Victoria must be hungry too.
"Do we have to pay?" They fed their power police here, but this was also America. Every cash flow was something some business twat would feel entitled to.
Victoria shook her head.
The sparse denizens of the cafeteria immediately found me the most interesting thing to murmur about. Between eves dropping their conversations for useful knowledge and narrowing in on the sizzle of fatty foods? My soul guided me.
"Cheese pizza please."
Talking sooner meant getting away from stares sooner. The lack of cashier didn't put my worry over potentially having to pay to rest. Having no cash in my pocket completely changed society for me.
Line cooks cleaning cutlery and plates stared. In turn, I distracted myself with food right below eye level. If I were more juvenile I'd put my nose right on the glass.
Or if there were no witnesses.
A plate was taken out and a slice was added. And then another. And a third. And a fourth after my encouragement. With this new nose waiting was almost too much. The aroma- I grabbed a large cup and filled it with water while waiting on Victoria. And asked for another slice.
Victoria was loaded down herself.
Two plates? She hadn't eaten anything while I had over the day, I think. That was a lot of those veggies but whatever. Cooked carrots were pretty awesome. I got some of those added next to my pizza tower.
I did not wait to sit to stuff my face but I did put care to avoid any grease dribble.
On my second bite of food I noticed her exhaustion.
"I guess you're not getting enough sleep with all that's going on?"
Victoria sagged in the air, ears and tail losing life to gravity.
"Not really. Haven't in weeks. But maybe soon."
She didn't seem sure of it.
"That's rough. I imagine you're not fond of sleeping pills? Stuff makes me feel like my body would be fucked forever once I depend on it." And I already said more than I should."
"It does." She spared me a wane smile. "And they're bad for preparedness. Let's go, I have someone I need to check on."
"Oh, sure." Just leaving the cafeteria was nice. Curious stares had only multiplied since I stopped at the counter.
Eating with tiny hands was not easy. Plates hadn't been this big since the last time I was this small.
But I had a solution, the one I made use of in the shower.
With a thought I now had a dark table that followed my every move. Shadow's huge eyes crossed as she made sure to balance my dinner across her massive head. With a conscious choice I could simply walk inside her mass, unimpeded, while allowing her to physically interact with the plate. Having little sight of the immediate floor was a bit unsettling, but somehow I got used to it quickly.
People stared. I kept my eyes ahead, split between my food and the floor.
Audacity was supposed to feel normal eventually, right?
"Gallant!"
They're dating. I had myself a small smile.
One look at Mr Shining Armor and Victoria's strain had melted away. Hardly a mystery. That hug confirmed it. As did the high tail. A welcoming friendly gesture, if I remembered right. A bit uncomfortable, now that I knew she hadn't always had those features. But the joy they broadcast was real.
I gave them some privacy for their moment. Pretty easy to do when I had three slices left to savor.
Even still it was hard to miss when Gallant's helm shifted in question and Victoria's joy slipped away with a small shake of her head.
Whatever that was about was something between them.
I munched my pizza while giving the room a look over. It had to be awkward to sleep in a base that had you likeness plastered on the walls, right? Glowing costume and firm, ready poses. The cropping was really well done. Large enough to impose yet not intimidate. The horizon line was just below eye level to give them a height that was dependable yet not overwhelming.
Everyone on these painted walls, or whatever was done to plaster an image ceiling to floor, was masked. Unlike Victoria.
Who didn't have her own art yet. What had she said, been with the Senior Wards for a month?
Putting up a new advertisement couldn't be near the top of the priority list.
Gallant's covert and questioning helmet gaze was still obvious. Maybe that was intentional, actually, and not intended to be covert. I was going to be a subject of interest for every person who saw me so maybe this was him being polite about it?
Who knew.
I gave a wave and an admirably even toned "Hey." I then stuffed my face with crust to pass the buck to him.
"It's nice to meet you." Damn, he sounded like a dream boat. That was the term, right?
I stared at his offered hand.
"Uh. I mean, I have pizza grease on my hands."
They chuckled. After some napkin action I accepted his grip. Firm. Everything made it clear he was media trained.
Victoria stepped in quickly.
"This is Erika, she's not a case fifty-three but she did get some dimensional fuckery that changed her appearance and we have no idea how she got to Bet."
"I'm very sorry to hear you're having to deal with all of that. I'll do my best to help out so just let me know if you need anything."
And gosh I believed him. Was it weird that on first contact I could see what Victoria liked about him? And obviously I could see what he liked about Victoria. I had hours of reference for that.
Hardly appropriate thoughts for two people dedicated to helping others. And who were spoken for.
"Thanks," I said rather absently. How rude of me, getting flustered. Probably because these were the only two people who had been fully concerned with my welfare since Doctor Lee. And even she had to compromise some for her dutie-
I titled my head, attention pulled from my thoughts.
His arm was off. The one he didn't shake with. Proportionally it was fine, yet it was off kilter with the wrist tilt of his dominant hand. Nor did it shift with his natural movement of breathing. It was almost as if it was just a single, solid mass-
Oh.
He chuckled, more tired than forced. "Yeah, it's not perfect but the prosthetic has helped a lot. I'm surprised you noticed so fast."
"Uh, yeah. Sorry for making you self-conscious. You'd think after today I'd be better about not staring."
Self-depreciation got some wane smiles. Victoria's concerned hand on her boyfriend's shoulder belied his easy attitude, at least somewhat. They had to be speaking about this a lot because this seemed like a recent thing.
"I'm an artist, or still am I hope. Could see how all the machinery is different, despite the same armor."
Victoria gave me a look of fresh concern. "You hope?"
I shrugged, antsy. I'd been putting this off all day. So easy to do with so many fresh worries in this crisis. "New body. New hands. Could take me a while to adjust or maybe it'll happen quickly. Art is as much knowledge as it is practice and familiar movements."
"I'm sure you've still got it! Come on let's get some paper." Victoria was aglow immediately.
I wrung my hands, gripped with a surge of anxieties, but followed. How did she not even hesitate to try?
Stress eating was new but the pizza went down fast despite my tiny mouth.
Out of mind was comfortable. But problems had to be confronted eventually.
And if I was going to make any money I needed to know.
Actually yeah, that was some motivation to draw. If my hands had degraded then I'd have to cash in on my body in the least disagreeable way possible. How nauseating. Every method that did so had to interact with people. Even gravure idols and pinup stars had to self-promote. And if the internet had been around here long enough then that was even more true.
My blood was chill at the idea of doing Onlyfans kinda shit. Not the nudity. I could adjust, eventually. Probably. If I ever had the balls to try. Or maybe even fucking some people for money. But the lack of escape for recuperation and rest. No going outside. Having to juggle people all the time? The thought alone was a drain on my soul.
I'd do what I'd have to but I'd really rather get by with art than be rich and stressed by a constant bombardment of horny, lonely, anonymous men. And probably some women. Anyone could be crazy but I knew most of any porn audience I got was going to be men.
Some paper was grabbed from a printer. And basic 2h pencil. I preferred hb or 2b, but this was fine. Lighter lines were alright.
A nearby bathroom was indicated when I asked. One that seemed intended for the Senior Wards. I washed quickly.
Outside I wiped my hands some more on a napkin. Jitters were working down my spine.
I sat at their table in the tallest chair, and then reflexively spread my legs for comfort. And had to raise my elbows rather high just to get them onto the surface. That was rather novel. And a touch unfamiliar. I'd mostly drawn at a slant for years thanks to my tank of a screen tablet being at a tilt. I had not, however, engaged flat surfaces from this low an angle since my childhood.
I shuffled my legs to sit on my feet and kept my thighs spread so my balls didn't get viced. That didn't provide much of a boost but it was better. Elbow and shoulder movement really mattered in drawing. Depending on just the wrist meant every line would curve around that singular joint. People who did that were more protractor than pencil.
My pencil had been hovering for ages. I put it to paper.
And things were fine. Circles, Rectangles. Point perspective. My grip had to be adjusted some. Three fingers and a thumb was a bit different, no pinky to rest on felt less uncanny than I expected it to, but the size of my hand was the main thing. The pencil felt huge. My arm was shorter. Covering the paper from edge to edge took more movement. On my old set up I'd have to lean a bit to reach the corner of the screen.
But the shapes were forming, I could put down what I needed next to enhance the depth.
I hashed out some boundary dots and sketched some torsos. Tucked knees. Wide stances. Feet implied with the usual doorstop wedge shape to ground the pose. Details were a waste when you were just shopping around ideas.
I pulled myself back from putting the usual assets on those ribs. And shaved down the curvature a bit.
I flushed. How quickly I'd forgotten my audience. The habits had just rushed back into me.
Damn I wanted to draw some dicks and butts. That would have to wait.
I felt a slight twang of loss that the cosmos hadn't given me mega milkers. A momentary longing easily shamed by the realization fat tits would eat up my desk space. Truly art was a field of dedication nand sacrifice.
For now, faces.
My drawings weren't perfect, but the problems were familiar ones. The latest challenges I'd been confronting before stepping onto my stairs and waking up in an alleyway.
"See! You're doing great."
The jostle from her hug threw off a line but these were just pointless doodles.
Victoria's smile made me realize I was smiling.
"Yeah," and I let a breath I'd been holding for hours slip free. "That's a relief."
Hm. Her lips were more tucked in. Not much cheek fat to hide the way her skin turned at the muscles and cheek bones. This shitty eraser on the pencil tip was no good so I'd just have to leave anything that went wrong.
Rule one of art, never point out mistakes. Your viewers won't notice them. Just put them in the back pocket as considerations for the next drawing.
"Wow, and you're doing that without having me pose."
Victoria had been leaning over half the time I'd been working on her portrait. She was mostly drawn out but I'd been delaying any rendering. This rooms lighting was all flattering and soft. In other words it was horrible and I'd have to wing it with something that better captured the form. In pencil.
I missed my digital workspace so bad.
Well, I'll just start with some cast shadow beneath the jaw. That always helped contour the neck. And maybe some convenient core shadow lightly hatched in. Hitting that apex where the form went out of direct light was the most direct way to imply form and bounce light.
"There's a lot that's off," I admitted, uncomfortable with the praise. "Doing this helps to learn by taking what you see and knowing it enough to draw it from a different angle. All of your features are still there. This just gets the brain more involved because you have to think about how the forms interact and present instead of just being an eye-to-hand printer."
Things had gotten kind of cozy. And quiet. Gallant and Victoria not talking and just watching me work was worse than them yammering away. Might as well slap me on a stage.
At least things were finally calm, with no demands for my time and participation. An outlier for the whole day. One that depended on me very intentionally ignoring the big questions.
My pizza had been filling. And yet the hunger was coming back already.
And my shorts had gotten tighter. Or rather, there was a tightness in that region. In the balls, so to speak. But who the fuck would do anything about that in a government building? Not me. So instead I made myself comfortable. I'd surrendered most of the chair to my ass and nuts, legs spread off either side.
If I didn't look down then I wasn't encouraging anyone to notice.
That's when some alarm blared and made me jump. An ugly line was gashed away from the ear I'd been fussing over. "Are you getting visitors?"
Monitors flashed.
Gallant looked up from his stack of paperwork. "We shouldn't be. But no patrols are supposed to be back yet."
And Victoria had explained at the door why we had to wait. Like an hour ago. Also about how her family had been an exception with public identities disclosed.
I couldn't imagine giving up normal willingly now that it was firmly outside of my reach. And I kinda didn't want to know any cape's name now, since I could bungle their identity with a slip of mind. Gallant not sharing his was a bit of a relief, though some dumb part of me wanted that kind of trust.
A short - by other people's standards – young woman walked in. Armored in green and with some battle skirt and visor.
Was that blood? Her armor was chaffed, paint scuffed and marked up. Especially around the knees and arm. A chunk of her vambrace was gouged, almost entirely through the metal. I could see red bandages beneath, soaked and glistening whenever the light caught it as she shifted.
Was this normal?
I waited to see if anyone would leap to help. And closed my mouth.
Victoria flying up with a sound of concern was a bit of a relief. This was not normal.
"Hookwolf again?" I winced, sort of normal? Victoria continued. "Even with MM?"
"Hook went for an ambush. Knows we have to protect the construction so he's trying to pick us off. Drive us out of the docks. Damn taser won't slowing him down any but I got his goons. He got my arm as I was getting space. MM laid into him pretty hard so he had to leave his mob behind." That last bit was said with vicious satisfaction. "Should show them just how much of that gladiator mentality is all convenience for their top dog."
A bandoleer of batteries was hoisted off while Victoria closed in.
I just blinked while the two worked to put her gear into the cubbies. Each battery into a charger. A drop of blood
She stank of some alcohol disinfectant. Should I say something?
They just kept going.
I wasn't going to piece this together on my own.
"Is- is this normal? Is she okay?" I asked as quietly as I could. Victoria's fluffy blonde ears twitched but she said nothing.
By some tilt of his helmet Gallant managed to convey some somber reluctance.
"Normal for the last couple months. Things used to be a matter of showing the flag and keeping gangs in check. After Leviathan we've been crawling our way out of street warfare. It's slowed down but some Villains are holding onto the hope of emerging on top. Inspired by the Undersiders, I imagine."
I looked back at my drawing. Where the hell had the cosmos abandoned me?
Gallant kept throwing looks between the green girl and me, and hurried to add. "This is a pretty bad run in. Hookwolf is one of the few murderous parahumans. Things have been more stable and that's why he's lashing out. His break off group have been getting the slim pickings for the last weeks. Without the unified Empire they don't have the funds or street enforcement they're accustomed to. But they still have powers"
"Hookie will get the heavy hand after this. He trucked a couple of civilians trying to get out of the way. And now we can't e-"
Greenie bit off that thought with a glance at Victoria, who had gone still and gloomy.
Another thing they didn't want to speak about in front of the civilian. I would be last in line to prod this mystery. That was their business. I had more prominent concerns.
Were people getting hurt this often? How lucky had I been to sit unbothered in an alley for hours?
"He's going to get the hammer for sure, trying to kill a ward and increasing his body count."
This- my blood ran chill, they were talking about deaths. An execution, even. Yet they were the picture of desensitization. Victoria threw a glance my way but she had just as much concern for Greenie whenever the Greenie wasn't looking.
Maybe this Ward was more of the outlier, but still. She seemed more focused on taking Hookwolf down than what was lost.
"Maybe."
Wearing her shoes made me feel like I should know her name. Other questions took my lips.
"Is the hammer hard to bring down? Or something?" I hastened to add "This is all very new to me."
How many lines had this Hook guy crossed? How many lines needed crossing before the PRT escalated things? Why did they even wait?
"The big guns are pulled in every direction," Victoria explained. "But there's an order of priorities to things. If this gets Hookwolf his kill order then all it will take is Miss Militia going lethal or Dragon swooping in and he's done on his next sighting. Fingers crossed."
I nodded in a bit of a daze, certain I'd remember the suggested system of punishment and restraint, if not the names.
Greenie looked at me and then my ears with a mix of appraisal and longing, like one had for a fluffy dog just out of reach. It was an oddly endearing earnest gaze, if not for the battle hardened everything else. And a reminder I was now split between hot or cute, depending on where people were looking.
She didn't reach for me. Instead, Greenie tilted her head Victoria's way. "New recruit?"
I almost choked and rapidly shook my head. "No, I'm- I'm not one for violence. I can't imagine doing half of what you've just talked about."
"Rushing you to consider it wouldn't be right. You just had your life upended today." I nodded unevenly along to Victoria's words, digesting them as my head slowed.
I purposefully said nothing but that phrasing confirmed the expectations I'd been picking up all day. Comfort weakened as anxiety crawled back in, the unease of not knowing what I could hope to expect from the PRT.
Victoria's assuring comment was at least a bit welcome. I didn't get the sensation she was trying to encourage me towards lining up for my swing at this Hookwolf or his assorted buddies or whatever the Undersiders were.
Greenie's eyes, barely visible through the visor, regarded me anew. "Fresh trigger? That's really rough."
I fidgeted and put my pencil down. Drawing was done. No matter how much I'd rather be doing that. For now I'd just talk about distracting topics. "Uhm, they don't really know. Apparently I'm setting precedent."
Victoria leapt in to fill in more.
"She's a dimensional trigger, something alike to but not a fifty-three. It's been a lot. The PRT was on her ass all day with questions and power testing. You've been really cooperative, though. In spite of everything."
She looked at me, as did Greenie, expectant. Gallant shrugged and said "I already read the file-" A file?! of course I had a file! "Can't do much but paperwork still, while still in therapy. But I'd rather hear it from you, in case we find anyone else."
He was being encouraging and it wasn't like I was reluctant, just tired. And hungry, though finally restrained compared to earlier. More of a snacking suggestion than ravenous need. At least I hadn't been asked to sign anything binding yet and now I was very wary the hour could come at any time.
And that I'd be thrown into the gang riddled city when I held my ground.
"There's not really much to say besides I have no idea. About pretty much anything. Imagine finding out the multiverse is real because you blinked at the right time to wake up in a different body on another Earth and that's about it. Life and family gone in an instant."
Adding that last bit felt like too much, slathering on a thick and cloying coating of guilt for people who didn't deserve it. But I couldn't bring myself to leave it out. Hedging my bets by making it clear how heavy my circumstances were.
Gallant and Greenie both looked aghast. There wasn't any satisfaction in that. Their sympathy was obvious. The relief in seeing it twisted me with indecision. The brew in my heart was well past discernible.
Victoria put her hand on my shoulder. It felt big, because of how small I was. "You might want to talk to Weld, when he gets back from patrol. He's our current team lead and a fifty-three. He's dealt with missing memories and similar straights rebuilding his life and being in a different body."
"Maybe, I guess. Is he also nice?" Connecting with someone over this? Even if our circumstances were different, I wasn't sure if I wanted to. Or at least not when I'd want to. If I even could connect. Frankly the fifty-threes seemed to have it worse than me.
Mostly I wanted enough stability to crash for a week and chew things over between lengthy stretches of not thinking about anything pertaining to my future.
'But that takes having the time to spare.'
Two weeks, maybe. I couldn't put it off forever. But big things needed time.
Greenie nodded smartly. "He's the hardest worker I've ever seen and an honest guy. He's also been through the crash course on the Bay's shit storm cascade so he can empathize with the shock."
Did that mean other places weren't this rough? A question for the internet.
"Then I'll ask him. If he's in soon? I'll probably fall asleep in an hour or so otherwise. It's been a day, for all of us I guess." They were definitely ready to flop onto their respective mattresses.
What a swamp of feelings I had. I'd been leaning on shoulders bruised by as much mess as I was dealing with. I didn't want to be dealing with more and yet these people had to live here and had about as much choice in it as I did. I was their more mess, from a pessimistic angle.
I'd like to think I was a companionable intermission mess from their main ever-expanding landfill.
It was a tough sell.
"Don't beat yourself up over it."
I blinked at Gallant's interjection.
He shrugged a bit guiltily. "Emotion perception. It's part of my power. I can see the color of how anyone is feeling. Its not something I can turn off so I try to give people their privacy when I can."
"Oh." A bit concerning, on that privacy level, but I glanced down. My Shadow was writhing in arm wringing, eye spiraling discomfort. "I'm kind of an open book already. I've never been too good at hiding how I'm feeling."
He smiled, but it was pinched. He could probably see I was still a bit uneasy with this open book status but said nothing.
It shouldn't matter. It's not like he could read my mind, right?
But I should probably ask something that had been on my mind.
"is your arm okay?"
Greenie lost a layer of her firm posture, slacking a bit. "Yeah, I guess I should get this taken care of. I'll be back in a bit."
And she just walked off. A driblet of blood splash to the linoleum, bandage seeping through. Had she just outright put it from mind? Was she on some adrenaline high still?
Victoria followed, a medical kit in hand. Already metal was clinking onto tile floor.
Gallant had turned back to his paper work but I had more questions. If he was dating Victoria then surely he'd give me as much of an honest answer as he could. And his power was one I could see in a lot of use cases.
"Do powers get use outside of fighting people? I haven't seen anyone really mention that so far."
Maybe this was part of how potential recruits were groomed. Get 'em to commit early, before they know what's going on. But that hypothetical didn't fit how I was being treated. Something else had to be up.
The silence was not encouraging. But eventually he spoke.
"Powers can do a lot, but they do trend towards confrontation. Even mine has a component to affect others with temporary feelings."
That helmet was friendly but there was an inescapable distance to a mask. Maybe Victoria would have been the better person to ask but my antsiness had gotten the better of me. The awareness of what could be expected of me.
"So there's no super genius making the world better or some crazy smart doctors solving cancer? No super crops?"
That helmet just shook back and forth weakly. "Some have tried. Powers do provide genius of a sort. But it's not something that can revolutionize society. Tinker Tech is limited, and takes constant upkeep. Mental powers are limited in scope to specific advantages like intuition or rare methods of foresight. I can't really see what people are thinking, only their emotions, and extrapolate what could be causing those feelings. It doesn't really extend itself into the labor market. And what Thinker powers can just tend to game the economy in their favor rather than helping mankind."
I blinked a few times.
"And there's no like, job, that someone can get for their powers?"
"They're not really uniform enough to have one. And good applications are scarce. Biotinkers who could work out cancer medications? There's probably a dozen of them on the planet. And they'd have to somehow mass produce the meticulous concoctions. If they somehow did then they'd have to get around legislation designed to keep powers from shattering markets."
I slumped back a bit on my chair, too worn to really digest it all. That seemed absurd, yet I knew too little about how this world ticked. Was this just my comics bias again? Too used to super powers taking convenient and exciting forms that let people Tony Stark their way to riches and flashy toys which will save mankind from having to change its bad habits?
A lot of men had cheated their billions just by pandering to that hope back on Earth Yod.
"So any hope of like getting hired as a quick and easy disposal specialist isn't likely? No chance I could just blast away toxic chemicals and make fat money?"
He said he had my file so he should know my power, right?
A moment of thoughtfulness passed. I knew because he went out of his way to lean his head.
"You'd probably get sued by waste management companies for endangering their livelihoods." And he said that with a heavy reluctance. "Not what your Earth dreamed of super powered living, I imagine. The old comics before powers began to manifest didn't conceive things would turn out like this either.
"Its not like the media comcis fixed real problems much. Only difference is in fiction tangible super solutions are less marketable plot lines than some acceptable evil baddie getting pummeled. Here its just people." I shrugged. "I guess it's just going to be up to the art career to keep things afloat."
I was a bit surprised that confirmation disappointed me. Sort of surprised.
That was fine. Manageable. As much as it would have been cool to just spend a few minutes Shadow blasting forever chemicals from existence for large lump sums. Art as a career was preferable. But art without worry about affording bills? Even better.
But that hope was probably dead. Unless I wanted to dump my first commission fees getting a few minutes to confirm that with a lawyer.
There was no doubt my power could do it - total atomization already confirmed - yet if it was an uphill fight against the law?
Artists hadn't won shit to do with law since Disney croaked. Largely due to being kept too damn poor to do fuck about assholes pocketing our earnings. I'd have to spend a sum that could keep me house for a decade just to squabble over rights.
And it would probably unemploy a lot of people if I won anyway.
"Its pretty understandable to not want to be a cape."
I had just thrown that out there. An admission that made me a bit nervous. But I'd prefer the PRT kick me out now than start building expectations.
"Seems kind of like the one track option, as far as I've been told,' I hedged. What color did that show up as? Gallant could be picking up on a lot of that.
"Parahumans do end up involved in capeing eventually. With how common it is, it's hard not to feel compelled to step in. But some people still make their lives beyond capeing. Plenty keep jobs or raise families. They can even be lawyers."
"But they all still cape."
He nodded.
That sounded insane. But maybe it was social pressure. Maybe it was something in the water.
Either way I would have to deal with violating that expectation.
We fell back into silence. Just as the other two returned. Greenie was in sweats but wearing her helmet, eyes pointed my way with a steady, observing gaze. Bandages had been applied and fresh antiseptic stink filled the air.
Greenie plopped down at the table. Victoria followed.
"Hey, I realized a bit slow but this is Vista. She's one of the best wards on the team."
I waved, still a bit staggered by her bloody appearance. Was this a break room or a triage tent?
"Only one of?" Vista struck an annoyed guise but that broke nearly immediately. "So, you draw?"
It was a bit of whiplash on my chilly determination but I preferred it to the silence. "Yeah, was a bit of a concern but I've still got it."
"That's cool," and that was said in that disinterested making conversation sort of way. Like she didn't know anything else to say.
My work was hardly flashy or a conversation starter. The sketches were a bit rough, the more I looked at them. Not in a concerning way, just bad practices. I'd gotten out of the habit of gestures, which was a part of why my poses had gotten a bit stiff.
The mood to draw had passed. Too much of what was on my mind was heavy. As if anything I wanted to sketch and study was feasible around other people either. Those would spur the wrong kind of conversations.
"So, what do you guys do to pass the time and not think about life?"
Video games was the answer. Some I didn't recognize, full of capes or chunky fantasy tropes. But some were just as I remembered them. As horrid as the Wii U Mario Party games were, they were still alright distractions.
We didn't finish a board before everyone had to rest, but it was profound in its calmness. Something I didn't think would slip from my mind any year soon.
These beds weren't so bad. A small room of my own in some communal stay-over area was more than I hoped for. Wasn't the first time where a touch bare bones sleeping arrangement was pleasantly comfortable. My best night in a hotel had been on a foldout bed.
That memory chained into others. A house crisp in my mind. A room I could remember clearer than ever.
Faces.
I gripped my sheets in pale gray fingers and held them close. The joy of having so much mattress spare and so much extra blanket to bundle myself waned.
After so much life, forgotten things were lingering clear and heavy. When nothing I could think or conclude would change anything.
I shifted. There wasn't much blanket left to be pulled into my crumpled burrito.
It was July and I was getting cold at night, somehow. A talent I'd always envied in my mother. Summer sleep had been the pits and now I had that step up.
No phone on hand anymore. Not that I had a clue what the fan fiction state was like on earth Bet. Or what video sharing was up to. Cat videos would really help right now. Or maybe lets plays were still in their heyday?
Alone in the night I stirred. Undid and rerolled my burrito better. Swaddled in comforting warmth. Sheets clean and inviting. The pillow was a bit limp but these great ears made use of all of it. Relax these new muscles and they just flopped onto the pillow.
I flicked them around some, for want of anything else to do. Each time a little whumph sounded when they hit pillows.
That weak joy didn't keep my eyes from finding more tears. Nor new worries from forming.
Sleep was so long to come.
AN: Look, look! I know what you're thinking! He's alive! But I've been thinking for literally weeks on this. Between Erika being a much more distraught Victoria's emotional crutch or something else that also involves the Dean Machine? Trust me. We'll see how this goes!
Also, this got really wordy. But we're almost to the first lewds. Finished editing that scene this morning and I'm very happy with it. Erika has been in the PRT HQ for a lot of words and she will escape soon to start making moves and experiencing consequences. Like ReplyReport Reactions:Kiriand505, einargs, buffog and 184 othersSantafireNov 6, 2025NewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 5 New View contentSantafire.Nov 8, 2025Add bookmark#73Waffles made things better. Two plates of them was better still. A lot less eating on the move friendly, though. Shadow's massive fingers couldn't quite keep the plates from shifting while I tried to cut through the squares.
With my stomach roaring I innovated.
And sat my plates on a bench to cut them up in an out of the way corner, doing my best to pay no mind to the bustle of the morning PRT HQ. I ate as I worked.
It was a lot compared to yesterday. I'd only been out and around after peak dining hours.
Mouthfuls of waffle made it easier to pretend indifference. Damn, strawberries are good. There was that slight difference that let you know the food wasn't the best, but it was still filling and tasty enough. Better than university catering. Unless the donors were in town with their fancy hors d'oeuvres. Students and professors both circled to pick those off quickly.
Something was even thunking, like concrete blocks. Maybe they had some construction going on? Some repair??
With enough waffle sliced to get back to my temporary room I got up and arranged my plates in Shadow's hands.
At least no one was trying to talk to me.
"Miss Erika?"
Suppressing a wince I turned back towards the cafeteria.
A metal man. Or more of a metal young man? He was bulky and his face handsome but he had a slight youth to him. Like someone starting their twenties. He even had thin twining wire cropped short like hair. With just enough variance to capture that shape necessary to feel like a style instead of a bunch of lines.
As ever now, making eye contact meant craning my neck, but he was at a comfortable distance.
I immediately wondered what this was for. I had been given a schedule and just had to talk to some higher up this morning before having the rest of the day to myself. They'd even pointed me towards a break room.
My insides curdled, prepared for an unwelcome surprise.
I swallowed half my mouthful and spoke around the rest well enough to not slur.
"Uh, yes? That's me?"
It was a dumb thing to say. No one could confuse me in a crowd.
"Making good use of your powers already huh?" A metal hand was gestured towards my Shadow. I had her raise a bit more, ensuring my package was thoroughly out of sight in the swirl of black and purple.
I gave a clumsy half shrug. "Why not, you know? These little hands can't carry much." I gave some limp jazz hands, still holding the cheap metal silverware.
He nodded.
"I'm Weld, the Senior Wards team leader. I wanted to apologize for not being in yesterday to help you adjust. I should have been in and able to cut short some of the overreaction."
During that a hand was extended. I shifted my knife and shook. He didn't squeeze much, which was good. I didn't either. I was too busy ogling at how my hand could probably fit in his palm. I'd only grabbed a couple of his fingers.
Then his words sunk in.
"Oh. Uh, well it's not the end of the world or anything." Really I'd like to just put that all behind me. The authorities realizing they messed up was nice, at least. "As long as none of it is going to happen again."
"I will make sure it won't. When I arrived the PRT was cooperative, helped me out and gave me all of the space I needed. This was an irresponsible outlier of an event and I'm sorry you had to go through it."
That was some meaningful eye contact there. As much as I appreciated the open heart I was painfully aware I had no idea how to best respond.
"I see. Thanks." I just woke up man. I haven't even finished my waffles. "I don't mean to sound distant. I'm just still a bit overwhelmed, I guess. I appreciate that you're taking some responsibility, even though you're not really responsible."
He nodded congenially. "It's the duty of every cape." And didn't that make the title feel more daunting. "I don't know where I'd have ended up without the patience and understanding of the Boston team. I'd like to extend the same to you."
"I'm fairly sure you had it worse than I did." I hedged. Just breathe some while he's talking. Get my brain into the socializing space.
"Not that way I'd like it to be seen," he smiled genially. He was pretty handsome. So far both capes I'd seen unmasked were attractive. The one thing that seemed to be in common with Hollywood. And Gallant sounded hot, beneath that helmet. "Everyone deserves help after a point and your troubles outpace most of the pack. The PRT was founded on the promise to help parahumans so I'd like to make sure that's done."
"I see," I bought myself some time. Then just said the obvious. "Then, thanks. If you can keep me out of another interrogation room that would be great."
"Sure thing. You will probably be asked to share more information on Earth Yod but that will be a friendly environment and with some wiggle room for your schedule."
I nodded steadily in relief.
A part of me tingled. Did the Senior Ward Leader have the kind of power to promise this? Or was this more what the whole PRT had already decided? Or a mix of both? He seemed genuine enough. But I was getting anime student council questions about just what college aged people were allowed to do. The Wards conceptually seemed like powered interns, with benefits.
And that meeting later this morning was supposed to clear up exactly what my future was like. No pressure.
Silence emerged. My fork hand yearned for my waffles.
It was when I had a bite in my mouth that I realized he might be waiting for me to ask any questions.
Thankfully he filled the silence, sparring me. "This isn't something you really need to accept, and it isn't any covert expectation or suggestion, but I do want to extend an invitation to attend some of the Senior Wards more lax training programs. It can show you a bit of what the Protectorate and Wards do, and give you a more tactile environment to familiarize yourself with your powers.
I chewed with growing concern. "That's not a right now sort of thing, is it?"
I noticed his wear seemed rather sporting more than heroic at the moment. Gym gear. Did metal sweat? Or was it just comfort? I didn't ask.
"Not at all. I'm talking about the training rooms," he hastened to say. "The testing team is all well and good but actual preparedness and familiarity takes a different kind of regular experimentation. And whatever you decide to do, you'll be better off if you know what you can do, no? Or at least that's my thinking on it. If it interests you, you can just ask to use the room whenever. Someone is usually in there but times for team exercises have been pretty scarce since I was transferred in. You'll only have one or two people on hand."
"That's probably for the best. If I choose to try this out, I mean."
I'd sit on it for a few days. Right now the whole idea of not only talking to more new people but also committing to some big training thing was just too much. I was dreading talking to the Director enough today.
"Doors open at any time, even if you're not staying in HQ. If yo-"
A fuzzy black and orange hand clapped onto Weld's shoulder. Wide and pawish.
My ears jammed upright. I hadn't heard a thing in the sea of boots and shoes streaming through in and from the cafeteria.
"Already dazzling the new trigger, huh? Better you than one of the Protectorate, I guess," she said with a penetrating yet feminine timber. Every word a bite away from a growl.
She was tall, too firm to be lithe. She wasn't black, so much as orange buried beneath a dense mesh of jagged, overlapping dark stripes. The tiger orange had become just negative space peeking through the black. Little bits of fire, bright and scattered. Her costume was dark as her fur and strapped with dark fletched bolts of synthetic fibers.
She was maskless. A tigress too obvious to obscure in her digitigrade paws and sweeping tail. In her glowing yellow eyes that speared me to the floor. A mane of black frizzy hair curls was pulled back into a high ponytail. Her features framed by orange fire that finally escaped the stripes below her eyes.
I swayed, almost frozen. A thirty-two could go this far? This was hardly the indecisive changes Victoria was dealing with. But some of the people I hadn't talked to in my common area got sorta close. Did that make this woman a more recent victim of Chimera?
I glanced to Weld. His metal frame had grown stiff.
"Erika, this is Shadow Stalker. A fellow Senior Ward."
Shadow Stalker chuffed out a concerningly deep rumble. "For as much as secret identities matter to me anymore."I didn't buy that bluster, not wholly.
"That's got to be a lot to deal with." I mean, I'd given that some thought myself. Same shoes and all, figuratively. In the hypothetical world where I did stick my neck into the fray.
Her easy poise tightened some, hand sliding from Weld's metal shoulder. Then she leaned back and breathed out long and hard. "Nothing I can't handle. Just took some adjustments and the PRT finally doing something useful."
Weld shifted a bit, floor clunking with his every step, and squared his shoulders more towards Shadow Stalker.
"I was just inviting Miss Erika to make use of the facilities. Get herself familiarized with her powers while she has the opportunity."
Shadow Stalker chuffed again. My neck hair rose as I realized her face was twisting with a disdain, for me. That expression was the most human thing about her face. Until she seemed to bite it down. "It's a good idea. Make the most of it, shrimp."
And she marched off, little rounded ears reaching above the height of most of the men she passed.
Damn, and she just had to be a bit of an asshole. Those expressions were just rich with intensity. She'd probably snap my hand off if I asked to do some studies.
Weld slacked with a sigh then pulled himself back together. "She's having a hard time and wasn't our best team player before that."
"It's…" and I didn't really know how I felt about that encounter. Some part of me was nettled and another part wanted to laugh at the shrimp comment. "Fine."
Attracted wasn't the word. Artistically intrigued, sure. But I also was leaning towards later rather than sooner on ever talking to her again.
That didn't feel like it was all it, either. I'd sort those thoughts later.
"Look, I'm still kinda swamped with it all. If I don't give you an answer soon its nothing, like, personal. I don't know how I feel about a lot of this stuff yet."
And that was true. I didn't know how I felt about capes and powers. I only knew I'd prefer to see any of the action on the evening news instead of in person.
"That's very understandable. And I don't want to hold you up any longer." He extended a laminated card of minimalist lines and a lot of sleek, exaggerated metallic sheen run through with a similar dark gray as his skin. It was heavy. "Get in touch if you need anything, alright?"
And there was the fear of being indebted to someone. Mostly because I wasn't sure I'd like what a cape might ask for. No, I had to be reasonable. Would a cop ask a bystander to run into a gun fight?
I probably shouldn't finish that thought.
"Thanks, but I don't really have a phone."
He smiled with a pinch of humor. "Don't worry, that should be resolved soon. Enjoy your morning, Miss Erika."
He walked off smartly and I watched him go
Buns of steel, huh… I sure hope he was at least packing something.
I chewed more of my now rather soggy waffles. I'd only syruped the one thankfully. The rest of my first breakfast should be safe. And more room temperature…
Hm. Was I getting hornier? Or did the constant awareness of horse nuts straining my shorts predisposition me to noting other peoples power derived appeals? Or did I just not get outside enough to notice people before the universe forced my hand?
Shelving that for now I turned back to happier things and ate my way back to my room. When I finally left the PRT HQ was when I'd be free to riddle out the particulars of this body's sex drive. No choice about it. Only a kinky freak or absolutely desperate woman would masturbate in a federal agency.
And I'd be getting an idea on that soon.