Loss - Family
Amy looks at her front door with new eyes. It's been a week since Taylor handed her an egg, and if she's honest with herself, she'd ask for it again knowing what she knows now. She smiles at the mental hug from Taylor as her mood drops slightly. She's not alone anymore, there are people that care about her and her wellbeing. In the case of the Director, because she doesn't trust parahumans as far as she can throw them, so the less of them that can go off the deep end the better. In the case of the hive, and that's what it is really, a hive, with Taylor as the queen, but in the sense of a Queen Ant rather than a Queen royalty, she's found something. Vivian's memories are amazing, and painful at the same time. She can't help but holding her up against her own mother, and finding her own mother wanting. Taking a deep breath, she pulls her key out of her pocket and walks up to the door. Softly opening the door, the click of the tumblers loud in her ears, she pads in silently and soon hears her mother on the phone.
"Sarah, what am I going to do?"
"Love her, she's still your daughter."
"I know, and I try, I really do. But she's so much like him."
"Carol, Amy is not, and never has been him. That's why you adopted her remember. So that she would grow up in a loving home where people wouldn't use her for her father."
"But she's different now, I can't talk about it."
"NDA?"
"Worse, laws."
"Carol, you need to talk to someone about this stuff. You can't keep bottling it up."
"I'm fine, I'm handling it."
Deciding that this was a conversation better left unheard, Amy pulls away from the living room and heads upstairs to her own bedroom. When she opens her door, she sees Victoria dozing halfway up the wall, a book open on her lap. For some reason the scene strikes her as funny and she giggles. Victoria starts awake and sends the book flying.
"Amy!" Victoria flies away from the wall to catch her in a hug, "You're back, how long were you standing there?"
Smiling, Amy ducks under Victorias hug, and jumps onto her bed, "Vicky, aura!"
"Oh, sorry. But still, how are you doing?"
"Fine."
"Freaking out, irrational, neurotic, emotional?"
Amy laughs "No, actually just fine. How about you?"
"Bored, I was all set to help with the clean-up after the bombs, and then Mum banned me from the PRT building, on pain of grounding."
"Did she say why?"
"No, and it's so unfair. I have to try and catch Dean out on patrol, and you know how hard that can be."
"Especially this last week yes?"
"Oh yes, they put him on search and rescue, except he doesn't stay at one location. Instead, he goes to a destroyed building, walks around and over it and then is driven to the next building."
"Any idea why?"
"Yeah, his emotion sensing is great for finding people that are close to the surface, if they're alive that is. Anyway, I've missed you."
"I've missed you too, Taylor's the only one there that's our age, and she's been a big baby all week after the bombings."
"What about Dinah?"
"She's 9, and well…"
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Dinah looks up at Director Piggot, who's holding her hand in the elevator. Her other hand is leaning heavily on a walking stick.
"Are Mummy and Daddy ok?"
"They're alive and stable, that's all I know."
"Why are you here then?"
"As an underage parahuman, I'm your temporary guardian until your parents recover or the courts decide otherwise. I'm a soldier, that makes me a hard ass by definition, but it also means that I care for every single person under my purview."
"What does purview mean?"
"The range of authority or responsibility."
The doors to the elevator open and the two of them walk out to find the ward her parents have been assigned to.
Piggot leads Dinah to a reception desk, "Director Piggot, and Miss Alcott here to visit her parents."
The nurse looks up and registers what was said, "Please, take a seat and a doctor will come and talk to you in a minute."
When the doctor arrives, he takes them into a side room, "Good morning, thank you for coming. The situation with the Alcott's is, complicated. They were both shot multiple times with tranquiliser darts. Specifically Sodium Thiopental, in a dosage that was close enough to the LD50 that your parents are lucky to be alive. However, they are both in a coma, and we don't know when or if they will come out."
Desperately Dinah says, "What about Panacea?"
Gently Piggot says, "You know why she can't do it."
"But it's not fair."
"It never is, it never is."
Later, Piggot holds Dinah as she cries when she sees her parents lying there with beeping machines and bags full of liquids.
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Vicky pulls her knees to her chest, "That's horrible. I can't imagine what it must be like."
Amy puts her hand on Vicky's knee, "Sure you can, look at Dad and remember what he used to be like. Now imagine it changing overnight. On the subject of Dad, I've been doing some research, and I think there are some things I can check for. Though, I'll want to talk to a doctor before we make any changes to his medicine."
"Woah, woah, what do you mean changes to his medicine?"
"Vicky, I can't do brains, you know that."
"I know, some Manton Limit."
"Something like that. That doesn't mean that I can't see the brain. I… I've been studying medicine while I've been cooped up at the PRT, and I'm fairly sure that I can see what his dopamine and serotonin levels are, as well as if there's anything wrong with the production of them. If I can work out how to translate what I can see to what doctors use, we can tailor his medication to his condition. Maybe even change it to a different SSRI if the current one has absorption issues."
Vicky punches her on the arm gently, "Hey, no technical discussions."
After they've just been sitting together for a while, Amy asks, "Vicky, do you think that Mum loves me?"
"Of course she does, why do you ask?"
"She was on the phone to Aunt Sarah when I came in, and I overheard them talking."
"Amy, adults like to vent sometimes, and they say things they don't mean when they do."
"Where did you learn that one? AP Psychology?"
Vicky laughs, "No silly, I just made it up. Of course AP, well paraphrased from it anyway."
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Danny walks up to the gates of the DWA (Dockworkers Association), the whole place looks different now. More, run down. He knows that it would only take a few, ok a lot of, clicks of his fingers, and the whole thing would be as good as new. But it doesn't change the underlying issues, the work just isn't there, and hasn't been for nearly 20 years.
He walks through the slowly rusting chain link gate and around the drop bar, shaking his head at the fact that Jordan is asleep on the job. Though he can't exactly blame him, most of the guys, and the odd girl, here have, other, sources of income. As he walks to the office, people wave and call his name, and stop what they're doing for a moment to have brief conversations.
Eventually he makes it to the Administration Building, where his office is.
"Hey Ruby, how's things?"
"Bad, but then you knew that. Works drying up because of your absence."
"Sorry about that, it was unavoidable."
"I know, PRT and legal shit. How did you get on?"
"There was a lot to come to terms with, and I need to talk to legal about NEPEA5."
"Oh, is there a problem with Sean?"
"No, I now fall under them."
"Seriously?"
Danny nods and clicks his fingers, the worn couch by the wall returning to pristine condition instantly.
"Sorry to hear that, are you ok?"
"Yeah, I'm ok. I just need to find out if we can afford to keep me employed here."
"What do you mean?"
"NEPEA-5 has disclosure requirements, and if you don't meet them there are rather hefty fines. Once you've made the disclosures, a government drone then checks to see if it would give you an unfair advantage in your career over a mundane person."
"But what about Parian?"
"Bespoke high fashion, dolls, and cape costumes. We looked into it when Sean joined. She gets away with it because her power doesn't help her with the design of her clothes, only the construction. If she was making high street clothes it would be different."
"What about Sean then?"
"We argued that a man with a laser tape measure could do the same thing just as easily in this job. Being able to tell the exact angle and distance to a target isn't exactly that useful when you're moving around containers."
"And you?"
"That's why I need to speak to legal. I'm sorry, there are issues around my powers that I can't talk about."
"I hope it works out. I swear that you're the only reason why we're not owned by the E88."
"I'll probably still be here in some capacity, even if I can't do negotiation anymore."
"You'd make a great Janitor."
"NEPEA-5"
Ruby looks at him sourly.
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"Colin, I'm leaving the Protectorate."
There's a tink as Armsmaster drops the screw he's trying to put back into his armour, "Hannah, why wasn't I told before?"
"Because the paperwork to create Watchdog ENE hadn't been confirmed yet."
"How long?"
"May 1
st. We're looking for an appropriate premises."
"Not the Rig?"
"We can't, it would be a conflict of interests. Though I'm sure we'll still see each other regularly."
"Why? What about our group?"
"Because I'm the only experienced parahuman that is suitable."
"What about Assault or Battery, or even Dauntless?"
"None of their powers are suitable for Watchdog."
"But I know you, I know your routines, and you know me. I can predict you, you make sense. What am I supposed to do without you? You know what I'm like with new situations."
"The same thing you did with Mouse Protector and myself when we were wards. Have your meltdowns, shut yourself away occasionally, and slowly get used to the new state of things."
"She always knew how to drive me batty."
"She did, but in a way that you could understand."
"What's going to change for you?"
"We're going to cover the whole of the ENE PRT region. Not just Brockton Bay."
"That's going to be a large area to cover."
"We have a high-level mover. That means that apart from long hours on the road for the first month or so while we visit all the regional offices, transport and coverage should be pretty much instant."
"What about Endbringers?"
"S&R and battlefield intelligence, for the adults."
"Why aren't they joining the Wards?"
"Security clearance. Everyone that's joining already needs a higher security clearance than the wards allows."
"I see. Why haven't I been notified about this?"
"You'll have to see Director Piggot if you want answers to that."
"Why's that?"
"It's classified."
Colin grunts, and finally picks the screw out of the case, "I hope you do well."
"Thank you, see you around."
"You too."
There's a faint pop behind him and he goes back to maintaining his armour.
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Rachel looks around her room with a bemused expression on her face, Angelica and Brutus have both clambered into their respective baskets. For some reason they shipped her to Philadelphia for evaluation, and she has an actual bedroom rather than a cell. There's a colourful book case with books on it, a desk and a couple of chairs.
There's a knock on the door behind her and a woman's voice calls out, "It's Dr Yamada, may I come in?"
Rachel grunts, then says, "Suit yourself."
The doctor comes in and sits on one of the chairs, "How are you?"
"Fine"
"And your room?"
"Fine."
"What about the book selection?"
"Can't read."
"What do you do for entertainment then?"
"Look after dogs."
"Where?"
"All over."
"Do you like any TV?"
"Cartoons can be fun."
"What about films?"
"They don't make sense."
"Why?"
"Because of questions like that."
"What? Like why?"
"Things are or they aren't. Doesn't matter why. Dogs understand that, same as lying."
"In what way?"
"People say one thing and mean another, or they say something and not mean it at all. Up is up and down is down. You're either fine or your not, why say you are when you're not?"
The doctor nods, "Yes, people are complicated, and I would imagine it's often frustrating not being able to understand them. Has it caused you many problems?"
"Yes."
"Is there anything you'd like while you're here?"
"Somewhere to walk my dogs."
"We have 2 acres of land here, as long as you don't try to leave the premises you can walk them where you want outside. Just be back for meals and your appointments."
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"Mr Laborn, as you can see, this is a closed court in order to protect your identity. We have heard the evidence, is there anything you would like to say in your own defence?"
Brian looks up at the white judge and thinks carefully before he replies, "Your honour, my sister lives with her mother. She's an alcoholic and druggie who makes ends meet with her pussy. Our hood ain't the best, and the men she brings back to the house are worse. Says they're her boyfriends, but they ain't no such thing. They stick around coupla weeks fore they're gone again. My sister's getting to the age where she's pulling their eyes."
"I see, and why not go to the Protectorate?"
"Social Services ain't done nothing, and I weren't old enough to join the protectorate."
The judge makes a couple of notes, "Why crime though, surely a boy like you has lots of prospects."
"There is no work round there, so you either work muscle or take stamps. Can't help my sister on stamps."
Brian looks over as the PRT lawyer approaches the bar where they have a whispered conversation. His shoulder blades start to itch, and he can't help looking behind him at the PRT Goon holding a containment foam sprayer.
"Mr Laborn, you would normally be looking at 20 months in a juvenile facility for Grand Larceny, along with multiple hours of community service, and a felony record. In light of the lack of violent crimes, Mr Simms here has asked that the court offers you 200 hours of community service, and 6 months as a probationary ward in New York. We will reconvene tomorrow for sentencing."
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Lisa looks around her new apartment in oh so sunny Burlington, Vermont. Easy commuting distance to her office in Brockton Bay, Maine. She'd objected, but her other option was even further north in Caribou, Maine. She hoped that Brian and Rachel were doing ok, as she'd bargained her computer hard drive for a promise they'd get fair treatment.
Walking over to the balcony, she looks out at Lake Champlain, which is visible over the tops of the near by buildings. A boring city where a brief bit of research tells her virtually nothing happens. No major gangs, no real parahuman presence. Plattsburgh just across the lake in New York State, being much larger, seems to syphon all of that away from this city.
Suddenly she smiles widely, of course, that doesn't mean she can't go shopping in Miami, or even visit the west coast once she's found a few discrete places to pop to. They probably wouldn't even notice if… Lisa cuts that thought off as Susan's questioning presence reminds her that she no longer has any expectation of privacy. None of them do, and it's somehow both better and worse than being with the Undersiders. Her power doesn't give her headaches around them, because there's no deeper motives than those she can already know. Worse, because she can't just hide away from everyone and pretend she's fine when she's not.
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PRT Commander Susan O'Donnell, for the next 3 days anyway, escorts Esme Watts through the back streets of the Market district in an unmarked car. Esme is a well to do black woman from Bangor Social Services, and one they had driven down especially, because there's no chance that she is affiliated with the E88. Something that a brief walk through the local Social Services department with Prospector, formally Tattletale, providing live commentary, showed a disturbing lack of. The only black people working there were the janitors.
Susan puts a reassuring hand on Esme's as they smoothly pull up in front of a ratty tenement building. After ensuring that her taser, handcuffs, baton, and confoam grenades are all in their correct places on her belt, Susan pulls on her helmet and gets out of the car, then walks around to Esme's side. Outside the car, Susan can already hear multiple people having sex in the area, and the smell of drugs is strong enough she wonders how other people can't smell them. Together they both walk into the foyer and pause at the graffiti and refuse strewn about. While Susan's trained eye quickly identifies Merchant tags, Esme pulls a notebook out of her shoulder bag. Then she starts scribbling furiously before taking a couple of photos with her phone. Spotting something on the floor, Susan pulls on a pair of gloves before moving some rubbish out of the way with her foot. When she bends down, she picks up a broken syringe with a needle still attached. A gasp has her looking back at Esme, only to see her taking a photo of her hand. Slowly, they make their way up 3 flights of stairs, as the elevator appears to be out of order. As they reach the second floor it becomes apparent that it isn't, someone's just using it as a bedroom. As they reach the 3
rd floor, Susan looks for a doorbell on apartment 3B, unable to find one, she pounds on the door with her fist and steps back. They hear the sound of a chain being put in place before the door opens a crack.
A young teenagers voice calls, "Yes?"
"Social Services."
"Mum's busy at the moment, come back later. Word o warning, she don't normally do girls."
Esme bristles at the insinuation, "I am not here as some customer for a slutern bitch, I'm here to check up on the living situation of one Aisha Laborn."
"You'd be the first, got any ID?"
Esme hands over her ID and the door closes. Susan can hear the girl use the phone and check that Esme is legit, soon there's the sound of the chain again, and the door opens to reveal a young teenager. The girl looks Susan up and down before looking back at Esme, "Why the goon?"
Susan smiles behind her helmet, "E88."
The girl looks Esme up and down again, "Fair enough. You're too comfortable to be local. Well, come on in."
After little more than a minute of looking around, Esme says, "Aisha?"
"Uh huh, took you long enough to ask."
"Are there any other minors here?"
"Nope, just lil old me."
"Commander, Aisha needs to be removed from this living situation immediately."
"Hey! I ain't got it that bad, at least we live in the Docks, better than the slums in the south."
Esme points at a dent in the wall, "That doesn't change the fact that this living situation isn't suitable for a teenage girl. What benefits does your mother receive?"
Aisha snorts, "What do you think we are, white? Ain't no way we get benefits around here."
"I see, not even child support?"
"If we do, she ain't spent it on me."
"Well, pack a bag, we need to get you into a safe environment. The Commander here will arrange that, won't you."
"I, er what?"
"The PRT does have guest suites, I'm sure that you can arrange for Aisha here to use one until a more permanent situation is found."
Aisha looks at Esme as though she's just sprouted horns and a tail, "Wait, you were serious?"
"Of course, I came here to evaluate your living situation, and I've spotted 3 used condoms, and a used tampon in 2 rooms, one of which was the kitchen. There's also the dent in the wall, and the discarded needles outside. Well, what are you waiting for?"
Aisha leaps and hugs Esme before turning to run to her room, Susan holds out her hand and says, "Wallet!"
Aisha stumbles and turns around before handing over Esme's purse, "And the cash."
"A girls got to keep in practice."
As Aisha packs up her stuff, Esme takes her purse back, "I guess I should have been more careful when she hugged me."
"No, the hug was genuine, she took it at the front door."
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Glumly, Brian uses his phone call to call his sister.
"Hello? Who's this?"
"Aisha, it's me."
"Brian? This ain't your number."
"I know, I messed up and I'm waiting for my sentencing."
"Ah fuck, what'cha go and do that for?"
"You, I wanted to get you away from Mum."
"Well, you'll never guess what happened to me today."
"You sound chipper, so you skipped school?"
"Nope. Some social services lady came down from Bangor and had a PRT escort to check on my living situation."
"Where are you?"
"I've got my own suite at the PRT building, Vista's just meeting a friend next door. How good's that? And I checked, looked up their number and the lady is legit, they're getting me out of there. Not only that, but she was black, you ever heard of a black social worker?"
Brian shakes his head, "Can't say I have."
A beep sounds in his ear, "Sorry sis, I gotta go, the phone's beeping at me."
"Take care of yourself Brian."
"I will, and I'm glad you're safe. Maybe come and visit me in New York at some point."
The line goes dead as his quarter falls through to the cash box.