Introductions 1.7.2
Sheaman3773
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Introductions 1.7.2
Nine runes. That wouldn't be bad for a morning's work, and it's not noon yet. But rather than continuing with your exploration of shamanism, or even working on something else, you decided last night that you want to finish your talk with Blake. If Emma's betrayal taught you anything, it's that you need to continually work to ensure that the people on your side stay on your side. You leave them alone for too long, and who knows what would happen?
It also taught you that anybody could be a psychopath in waiting, but that was hardly germane to this situation in particular.
"Well, that was fun," Blake says easily, a light smile still on his face. "What'd you have in mind for the next part of our day?"
You take a deep breath, eyeing him closely. "I'd like to continue our talk from yesterday," you say. "Not necessarily the same topics," you amend hastily, "but there were things that I wanted to talk about yesterday but we…didn't get to them."
Blake slowly settles in to your desk chair in the mirror. "Okay," he says after a few seconds. "Yeah, there is stuff we ought to talk about still." He fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves a bit. "Where did you want to start?"
"I think," you begin, "that the most important thing I wanted to bring up was about I want to do with my powers, now."
"Oh?" Blake says, tilting his head. "What did you have in mind?"
You take another deep breath. "I want to be a rogue."
Blake's eyes narrow. "A rogue? Using your powers for money? That's…not what I expected you to say."
"Yeah," you say, a little awkward but resolute. "I got the impression for our conversations that you were also of a more heroic bent yourself, right?"
Blake shrugs uncomfortably. "I wouldn't call myself heroic," he says, eyes roving around the room, his voice falling. "I certainly haven't always acted that way. I buckled when the chips were down, even." Shame crosses his face, slow and heavy, with a tinge of remembered fear. "But I always wanted to leave this world a better place than it was before I'd come into it." He straightens up, sitting upright instead of hunched over the desk, something you didn't even notice him doing. "And I don't see how putting our power up for sale will make the world a better place."
You nod at him, undeterred. "How much do you know about poverty?"
Blake gives you a look, glancing around your room again. "Rather more than you, judging from what I've seen so far. I was homeless for a little while."
You stare at him for a moment, spots of heat beginning to burn in your cheeks. "That wasn't precisely what I meant," you say quietly, suppressing your embarrassment. It's hardly your fault you didn't know that when he hadn't shared that about himself. "I meant more about the reasons behind poverty existing at different scales, and the links between poverty and crime."
Anger flashes across Blake's face, but you forestall it with a raised hand.
"I'm not trying to say that the poor are all criminals, or anything of the sort," you continue, your voice still quiet, placing your hand back down on the desk. "My father is a part of the Dockworkers Association, and almost all of his friends are from there. Dockworkers aren't exactly known to be rich, for all that there is a batch on the West Coast still doing well for itself." A light scowl starts to cross your face before you banish it with an impatient shake of your head. It's not important at the moment. "So I'm not holding any prejudices towards low-income people."
"But it's a simple fact that people who can no longer support themselves legally will find other ways to keep them and their family alive," you continue. "I know for a fact that it happens—Dad tells me about desperate dockworkers joining gangs often enough. That's where the government is supposed to step in," you say, giving a heavier scowl this time, "but surprise surprise, they've been falling down on the job. There are a lot of reasons for that too, like the money spent on dealing with supervillains, and on Endbringer recovery efforts, but still, they're not doing what they should. It's not like there isn't international aid for Endbringer recovery, for instance.
"Anyway," you drag yourself back to the topic at hand, "I spent a lot of time thinking about it, both before and after I got my powers. I looked some things up, and I think that if I want to help people, going out and punching crime in the face is only going to do so much. We already have capes doing that—hell, we have that independent hero team, New Wave, to help out the Protectorate," you say, referring to the government capes. "But Brockton Bay is still a hellhole."
Blake looks a bit uncomfortable, but just waits for you to continue.
"It didn't always used to be. But 'globalization' as a concept has died, just about, and it killed shipping. The fact that one of the Endbringers, Leviathan, only targets places adjacent to the water certainly doesn't help, since it means so many places hit are ports. The other two hit port cities too, sometimes, so overwater shipping dried up everywhere. Not long afterwards, there was a strike here in the Lord's Port, and well, things got out of hand. There were fights, complete with gunfire, and a protester ended up sinking a container ship to block off the harbor.
"That was the death knell of our local shipping industry. The richest people, the ones who already had a lot of resources, they spearheaded a shift, turning the town towards the banking and technology industries. And those parts of town are doing pretty well for themselves. But we had a huge population of people who worked here in shipping, with jobs that wouldn't translate over that easily.
"That, in turn, attracted supervillains. We have very profitable parts of town, which is very enticing for people who chose money over decency, and we have very unprofitable parts of town, with people desperate enough to hench for villains if it means their families don't starve. And then that attracted the thriving tourism industry that we have right now, at least after the 'Bad Old Days' calmed down some. Though the fact that we're relatively warm year-round helps."
Blake is looking at you strangely. "How do you know all of this?"
You shuffle a bit, feeling a little embarrassed at how you were going on so. "A lot of this is common knowledge, here in the bay," you say. "Most of the rest is because of my dad's job, what's left I picked up from research."
"Huh," Blake says, looking at you appraisingly, a new sense of respect in his eyes. You flush a bit, looking down. "Sorry to interrupt you; go ahead."
"Yes, well," you try to find your place for a moment. "Right. There's more I could cover, but the short version is that the money here in concentrated in the wealthy, even more so than is typical, and as the poor get poorer, things just keep getting worse. Even the heroes aren't treating everywhere equally: official patrol routes aren't posted, but plenty of people on PHO have strung together hero sightings to show rough patterns, and they stick to the better parts of the city far more than they go to the areas that seriously need it. I also found a site for tracking gang territories, and it's pretty clear that they're still expanding; hell, they've even been speeding up the acquisition lately. So what I want to do is hit the criminals where it hurts—not just the money, but in their manpower."
Blake nods. "How do you plan to do that by being a rogue?" he asks, honestly inquisitive.
A great deal depends on the details of how my shamanism works," you say with a grimace, "especially with how easy it is to make new runes, and their limits. But there are a lot of possibilities. The simplest, if not necessarily the easiest, would be to start up a business with this that I can use to employ a large number of people. If that doesn't work, then I could get rich and invest the money in urban renewal projects myself. That, or make very public donations to the city, under conditions that require it being used on those kind of projects." You're familiar with conditional donations, remembering how you had fumed at earmarked money going to sports programs rather than improving the academic materials or getting decent school computers, and you already know damn well that an institution won't do what it should if it doesn't feel pressure to do so. "I could use my power directly to fix up parts of the city, preferably under contract. Keeping property damage down, for instance, with the use of the Durability rune, or fixing the damaged portions myself. That depends a lot on how long runes will last, and how quickly I can regain my power."
"The latter idea seems like it would be very difficult to implement—you're still just one person, and even if you count me, I can't leverage shamanism anymore. As for the former idea…there comes the actual problem of getting rich, first, or even wealthy enough to hire a lot of people."
"I know," you agree, "it's a flaw in the plan. But that's why plans can be revised. As for how I can get rich, there are still more options. I will be offering a service that people can't get elsewhere at any price—that allows for a certain level of price-setting on my part. I can open a shop, and temporarily modify whatever they need into whatever they need, more or less. I wouldn't be surprised if the Durability or Protection rune was in pretty high demand, just to preserve valuables. Or I could contract with businesses to do the same. I also couldn't help but notice how many of your runes would be useful in a fight."
"True," Blake says. "I was rather concerned with survival while I was learning them, after all."
You nod at him. "And I'm sure that the government would really appreciate such boosts being applied to their cape-fighting forces, regardless of whether they're the normal PRT officers or the Protectorate capes themselves. Or the police, actually." For that matter, you're pretty sure that firefighters would really appreciate that Extinguish rune Blake mentioned. "That may be the best option, since it strikes directly against the gangs while making more money that I could invest in broader attempts to improve the situation."
"That…could be really useful," Blake says, a hint of excitement in his voice. "But I'm a little fuzzy on some of the rules with rogues. Will the gangs consider that just business, or does that put you on the side of the law?"
You grimace. "I don't know," you admit. "The rogues I can think of off of the top of my head stay out of it entirely, but that doesn't mean anything. Especially if the rogues who sell to the hero side deliberately stay under the radar."
"I suppose there are some possibilities," Blake muses. "But what about me? What would I be doing while you're doing all of this?"
You suppress your reaction, barely. Most of this plan had been made before your talks, and you only now realize that your previous plans had completely taken him for granted.
"That's a good question," you say, avoiding a long pause by the skin of your teeth. "That depends on a lot of factors that we haven't had a chance to test, yet. Does the Stranger effect that keeps others from seeing and hearing you work on everyone, and can you turn it off? Would that way of getting your attention," you touch the mirror briefly, "work with everyone? We already know it doesn't have to be the n'kisi to work. Do you have any other powers? Because let's face it, if your abilities worked that simply, it would be the first part of my powers that did."
Blake doesn't look pleased, but he doesn't seem very upset, either. "Something more to experiment with, definitely."
"If we discover some way for you to affect the world from inside of the mirrors," you say, tentatively reaching for a better compromise, "it's possible you could be an independent hero on your own, if you really wanted to."
Blake locks eyes with you, and he looks…you have no idea, there's such a mixture of emotions that you can hardly decipher it all. Hope and fear and desire and shame and more.
"That's an idea," he says, looking away, letting you catch your breath a bit.
"Not to mention, I'm sure that there are plenty of other ways to be a rogue that I haven't thought of yet." Your breath levels off. "But there are other aspects of being a cape that need to be taken care of, too. Like my costume."
Blake looks at you again, his emotions on a much more even keel. "The little I've seen so far honestly looks rather silly. It's straight out of comic books, isn't it? Where do they even get it?"
You frown a little. "I don't think they look silly," you pause, "for the most part." You do have to admit that some of the costumes can look a bit goofy. "As for where they get it, I'm honestly not certain," you sigh. "Wherever it is, it's not available to newbie capes without an organization, judging from the cape debuts I've seen. The first costume will have to be done out of, well, crappy everyday clothes, almost certainly, since I don't have the money for more. Which doesn't mean that we can't pick out a specific kind of style to build onto later."
"It's about the kind of image that you want to project, right? The message you convey before you even say a word. I can get that." Blake nods to himself. "What else?"
You frown. "Something that would matter regardless of what kind of cape I want to be. How much I want people to know."
Blake tilts his head inquisitively.
"It's not uncommon for capes to be, shall we say, less than completely forthcoming about their powers," you explain. "Even heroes, but especially the villains. It gives you an edge, if they don't know the mechanics, and believe something that's not true. It's common enough that there are lists comparing how long capes manage to keep things under wraps." You flash him a quick smile. "And who knows how many times it's never revealed at all."
"Yeah, I understand the value of secrets, surprises, and uncertainty." Blake nods. "Definitely could be useful."
"So we need to figure out what we want to tell people about my power. Everything with details left out, pretend that shamanism is my only power, or somewhere in-between. There's the added complication that I'm a rogue, rather than a hero or villain—I don't know how that will affect people's reactions if or when it comes out I was lying about my power."
"I'll add it to the list of things we still need to look into," he says, his voice wry.
You give him a small smile. "Do you have any other questions about any of this that I brought up?"
"No, not right now," he says.
"In that case, I think it's your turn," you say. "I've been dominating the conversation, and that's not right. Do you have something you want to talk about?"
"Yeah, a couple of things," Blake replies after a moment, visibly putting his current thoughts away.
"Go ahead."
"I suppose we should go to a relatively lighter topic first," he says, inciting a tiny frisson of nervousness from you at the thought of what the heavier topics could be. "What's your issue with magic?"
You blink at him a moment, at a loss for words. "What?"
"Magic. Every time it comes up, you just get this look on your face, and your tone becomes…disdainful. You already live in a world where the fantastical is seen every day, what's so bad about calling things magic?"
"Oh," you say. You sit in silence for a bit, trying to articulate something that seems so obvious to you. "It's obviously not magic, because there's no such thing?" Even as the words leave your mouth, you know you messed it up.
"But why can't powers be seen as magic? Seriously, I don't get it," Blake says. "Magic, on some level, just means things happening that appear to break the laws of physics, or the rules of how the world works. That fits parahuman powers very well, from what I've seen."
"No," you counter, feeling surer now. "Magic is something inexplicable happening, following no rationale. Powers aren't magic—even if they break the laws of physics as we know them, it just means we need to update the laws. They still follow rules, they still make sense, they're just weird compared to what humans are used to. So what? The bottom of the ocean and outer space are also really weird from the typical human experience."
Blake waits a second before responding. "But there are rules with magic as well. They can be irritatingly fuzzy, yes, but they are there. Like that goblins are hurt by elementally charged metal, or that faeries are less affected by things that have been worked or made. There are rules. It's not like we're just waving our hands around and explaining that something happened 'because magic.' How is that less valid than what you've been saying?"
"Because we know there's no such thing as magic. Yes, there used to be no such thing as powers, but just because that changed doesn't mean everything we know is wrong, just some of it. Powers are just science that we didn't know before, not some mystical force from beyond the stars or something."
"Hold up," he replies, raising a hand to stop you. "I think we just really are having some kind of term confusion. It could be that our disagreement is basically nothing more than misusing the terms, or at least having a different understanding of the words we're using."
You look at Blake with doubt in your eyes. "How do you mean?"
"Well, you think of 'magic' as a catchall term for when people can't explain things, or something only the deluded or charlatans use, right?"
"Right…"
"But the magic I've been telling you about all had rules, didn't it? The lines got blurry, I'm not denying that at all, but they were there. And your own power seems to be running along similar lines, doesn't it?"
"Yes…" you say even more reluctantly.
"So can we just say that when I say 'magic,' I mean a very specific set of powers that multiple people could tap into? Without all of the derision I hear from you now?"
"I suppose," you grumble softly. "But don't go thinking I'll be fine with labeling myself a magic cape, now."
"Okay, no problem," Blake says placatingly, a small smile on his face. You squint suspiciously, but it doesn't look malicious.
Not that this will affect your opinion of other people who call their powers magic. They didn't have powers explicitly telling them they were magic, and they still went with the laziest or craziest explanation
Actually, what if some of them did have their powers telling them it was magic?
"That's one of the issues I wanted to discuss with you," Blake has been continuing. "What's one thing you wanted to talk with me about?"
"Well, something that was bothering me was…" You hesitate, but press on, despite your reluctance. "I really, really didn't like you not telling me that I needed a power source to make the magic work, on Friday," you say. "I know it wasn't your intention, but it felt like you were taking advantage of your knowledge, once I found that out. I was just wasting time and looking like an idiot."
He starts to speak, then cuts himself off. When he starts again, the words come more slowly. "You know that I was just trying to check to see if you needed a power source. To make sure you could check without having your confidence damaged."
"But it still led to my confidence being damaged," you try to point out reasonably. "I spent hours working on it and it amounted to nothing."
"I didn't know that that would happen."
"I'm not saying that you did," you say, struggling to find the words you're looking for. "But do you see what I'm saying? You had two paths in front of you, without any way of knowing which one was correct: you could have told me I might need a power source, and then have my confidence weaker when I try without, or you could have kept that from me, and had my confidence weaker when trying without a power source didn't work. Either way could have worked or backfired, either way could have my confidence damaged; but you chose the option that left me in the dark."
Blake starts looking pensive. "I see what you're saying," he says after obvious thought. "I…that does sound kind of familiar to something I've heard before."
"Okay," you say, trying to placate him now that you got him to see your point of view. "So the next time something like this comes up, would you please choose the option that involves actually telling me?"
Your companion fidgets in place for a time. "I want to promise that I won't make this kind of mistake again," he says, "but it's been pointed out that I can be impulsive, and I do have vague memories about this kind of behavior before. I'm really not interested in seeing what happens when I break an oath like this, so I'll just say that I promise that I'll try to keep you informed in the future."
You rather wish for a more binding promise, but his reasoning makes sense. Most people in your experience are utterly terrible about holding to their promises, anyway.
"Thank you," you say. You take a moment to make sure that you still have your composure. "So that makes it your turn, then?"
"Yeah." Blake pauses in thought for a minute. "Alright," he says. "I did get the feeling that you were just playing around, but on the first run, you jerked the mirror that I was in. Do you remember?"
You blink. "I guess so?"
"Yeah, it was a really minor point, but doing that was really disorienting. The entire world I was in shifted, and that nothingness I described to you was suddenly under my feet. I'm pretty sure I can't actually step into it and fall forever, but it certainly gives that impression. I'd appreciate you not doing that again."
You purse your lips. He sounds a little melodramatic, and you're not sure how far he can stretch that no lies thing—though many of your fantasy stories would say "a lot"—but you're inclined to take him at face value. Besides, you've have far too many complaints brushed aside as being exaggerations to do that to Blake.
Anyway, you have a similar comment in return.
"Okay, that does sound terrifying," you say, nodding to him. "That's definitely a fair complaint. I'll do my best to remember never to do that again. Since you brought that up, I do have something like that myself that I considered mentioning."
"Go ahead," Blake says, looking a bit distracted for a moment but still clearly giving you his attention.
"I really don't appreciate you abusing your Stranger effect, or whatever it is that keeps other people from hearing you, when we have disagreements," you say, firm on this point. "Especially since we don't know if it actually applies to everyone, or just on the ones that you tested it on thus far. We haven't really spent much time figuring out how you work. But it's not just sloppy, it's a shitty tactic, just talking louder than the other person. I really don't like it at all."
Blake's mouth slowly opens and closes as you talk. "Have I really been doing it that much?"
You shrug a little, noticing how tense your shoulders are as you do. Huh, maybe some of the firmness was actually anger. "At least twice," you say aloud, deliberately moderating your tone. "In the library and yesterday morning."
"I see," he replies, his words slow as he considers. "I hadn't really realized that I was doing that, precisely. I'll try not to do so again. Please remind me if I start to."
"Will do," you say, some of the tightness sliding from your shoulders. You both fall silent for a few minutes, letting the tension in the room fade.
Funny, how the small things can cause so many problems.
"So what was the big thing you wanted to talk about?" you finally ask, after the tension has mostly subsided.
Blake takes another deep, unnecessary breath. "Yeah. There's something…I suppose it started pretty soon after I first got here, but I didn't really notice it until, well, until after the library."
The tightness slid right back into your shoulders, and it brought friends. The way he's talking, drawing it out like this, is making you nervous as hell.
"It's something that was affecting me back on my world, from what I can remember. It was gone when I first arrived, so I thought I was free of it, but it looks like it was just a temporary reprieve."
"What is it?" you ask quietly, dread coiling its way into your stomach.
Blake fiddles with his cuffs again. "Would you look away from the mirror again? Please?"
You lick suddenly dry lips. "Okay." You turn away while your mind churns through dozens of possibilities for what could be the matter. Without enough information, it's all baseless speculation, so you just spend your time hoping it was something you could deal with.
The only noises you hear are rustlings, and they end soon enough. "Okay, you can look." You turn, a question on your lips, only for it to die stillborn.
Blake's sweater is off, for the first time since you met him. This would be a minor detail, hardly worth mentioning, if it hadn't revealed so much of his arms. And that only matters because of his tattoos.
You remember his tattoos. Little birds, sitting amongst tree branches, lots of light colors contrasting against a predominantly red background. The same pattern as the back of the n'kisi, if in more pronounced colors. That first night, you saw that they were on his forearms, with clearly defined edges.
They aren't like that now. They wrap all the way around his arms, something you vaguely recall seeing before, and extend upwards, high enough that they disappear under his shirt by his shoulder. You can't even say that they are solely on his arms.
Arms, you only realize just now, that you haven't seen since…Friday? He kept his sweater sleeves rolled up at first, but he rolled them down at some point and you didn't even notice. Now, with his sweater off and his shirt sleeves drawn up onto his shoulder, you can see more of his skin than you ever have.
Which is when you notice that the tattoo is moving. The birds are staring out at you, it seems, with eyes that track your movement when you shift from side to side. More disquieting are the waves of blinks that ripple throughout them, all slightly out of time with each other and, you see after a minute, a new wave starting every time Blake blinks his own eyes. The birds don't move positions, but they do shift in place, wings flapping at times, and the branches they are perched on bounce slightly with their movement.
You stare at Blake, words having fled you entirely.
"The movement isn't too worrisome, I think," the vestige says, his quiet words working to fill the silence. "They moved when I first became a practitioner, I remember, and at least one other time later. People get little personal touches of weirdness as practitioners. It's just a thing that happens."
You continue to stare, eyes traveling over the unnatural tattoos endlessly.
"The way that they're spreading is what's worrisome," he says, voice still low. "I had a…connection, of some sort, to a place or thing called the Abyss. I still can't remember a lot of details about what happened to me," he says, rubbing a hand over his face wearily, "but I still remember the knowledge that I gathered, and I picked up a lot on the Abyss. Trying to keep it brief, the Abyss is a sort of cosmic recycling bin that actively looks to gather more things to break down and change. For a while there, it was giving me power, in exchange for, well…" he raises one arm in demonstration. "In exchange for changing me. I became stronger, faster, just plain better at fighting, but I also became less me."
Blake locks eyes with you, and the mélange of emotions in there utterly dwarfs the mix you saw earlier.
"I thought that I had escaped it, but it looks like I was wrong."
You have to cough to whisper past your dry throat. "What are we going to do?"
Blake's response, just as quiet, hangs in the silent room. "I don't know."
Basic Info
· Status
· Big Three
Vote for one option per underlined section unless otherwise stated. Feel free to customize your votes with up to 60 words of additional description if the option is listed; if you are using someone else's plan and wish to add something to it, please bold the new portions.
What do you want to do with the rest of your day? (Pick two.)
[] Figure out more about this awesome Sight power, like what that strange sensation right after you got it was.
- -[] Customization
[] Try to figure out more about your shamanism in general (with Blake's assistance, of course).
- -[] Customization
[] Take another look at the inside of your head, particularly at the parts changed with getting your pen.
- -[] Customization
[] You spent plenty of time getting information on all of the local capes. Now it's time to really go through it all in-depth. There are a ton of capes in the Bay, you need to see who's who.
- -[] Customization
[] You decided to become a rogue. You have some basic information on the ones in your city, but you really ought to find out more about how they work. And aren't there other rogues here in Brockton Bay?
- -[] Customization
[] Back when all of this started, you decided you needed to look into the older fairy tales, but you haven't yet. Perhaps now is the time. Who knows what insight into your powers it will open?
- -[] Customization
[] You know, Blake was your first real use of your power, but you haven't explored his capabilities too much. It's time to fix that. Especially since it might lead to you finding out if he has other powers, or figuring out what the hell is going on with his tattoos.
- -[] Customization
[] Start working to master the runes Blake already taught you.
(Currently selected runes are as follows)
- -[X] Protection
- -[X] Alarm (notice: Living Being Detection)
- -[X] Imbuement: Wind
[] Blake has a number of runes that he thinks he can figure out and teach you more easily than he can help you train the spirits totally new runes. Help him figure out what they are and learn them.
(Currently selected runes are as follows)
- -[X] Escher connection
- -[X] Metal (pseudo-transmutation)
- -[X] Exile (prevents spirit tampering, mutes effects)
[] Write-in.
- -[] Customization
A/N:
Please remember that while your metaknowledge is helpful, it is not perfect.
If you feel that Taylor's economics argument is in error, then 1) she's a teenager, with an internet that's shittier than ours, and 2) I'd like to hear what you have to say anyway, particularly with citations and sources. I do find that kind of thing interesting
Nine runes. That wouldn't be bad for a morning's work, and it's not noon yet. But rather than continuing with your exploration of shamanism, or even working on something else, you decided last night that you want to finish your talk with Blake. If Emma's betrayal taught you anything, it's that you need to continually work to ensure that the people on your side stay on your side. You leave them alone for too long, and who knows what would happen?
It also taught you that anybody could be a psychopath in waiting, but that was hardly germane to this situation in particular.
"Well, that was fun," Blake says easily, a light smile still on his face. "What'd you have in mind for the next part of our day?"
You take a deep breath, eyeing him closely. "I'd like to continue our talk from yesterday," you say. "Not necessarily the same topics," you amend hastily, "but there were things that I wanted to talk about yesterday but we…didn't get to them."
Blake slowly settles in to your desk chair in the mirror. "Okay," he says after a few seconds. "Yeah, there is stuff we ought to talk about still." He fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves a bit. "Where did you want to start?"
"I think," you begin, "that the most important thing I wanted to bring up was about I want to do with my powers, now."
"Oh?" Blake says, tilting his head. "What did you have in mind?"
You take another deep breath. "I want to be a rogue."
Blake's eyes narrow. "A rogue? Using your powers for money? That's…not what I expected you to say."
"Yeah," you say, a little awkward but resolute. "I got the impression for our conversations that you were also of a more heroic bent yourself, right?"
Blake shrugs uncomfortably. "I wouldn't call myself heroic," he says, eyes roving around the room, his voice falling. "I certainly haven't always acted that way. I buckled when the chips were down, even." Shame crosses his face, slow and heavy, with a tinge of remembered fear. "But I always wanted to leave this world a better place than it was before I'd come into it." He straightens up, sitting upright instead of hunched over the desk, something you didn't even notice him doing. "And I don't see how putting our power up for sale will make the world a better place."
You nod at him, undeterred. "How much do you know about poverty?"
Blake gives you a look, glancing around your room again. "Rather more than you, judging from what I've seen so far. I was homeless for a little while."
You stare at him for a moment, spots of heat beginning to burn in your cheeks. "That wasn't precisely what I meant," you say quietly, suppressing your embarrassment. It's hardly your fault you didn't know that when he hadn't shared that about himself. "I meant more about the reasons behind poverty existing at different scales, and the links between poverty and crime."
Anger flashes across Blake's face, but you forestall it with a raised hand.
"I'm not trying to say that the poor are all criminals, or anything of the sort," you continue, your voice still quiet, placing your hand back down on the desk. "My father is a part of the Dockworkers Association, and almost all of his friends are from there. Dockworkers aren't exactly known to be rich, for all that there is a batch on the West Coast still doing well for itself." A light scowl starts to cross your face before you banish it with an impatient shake of your head. It's not important at the moment. "So I'm not holding any prejudices towards low-income people."
"But it's a simple fact that people who can no longer support themselves legally will find other ways to keep them and their family alive," you continue. "I know for a fact that it happens—Dad tells me about desperate dockworkers joining gangs often enough. That's where the government is supposed to step in," you say, giving a heavier scowl this time, "but surprise surprise, they've been falling down on the job. There are a lot of reasons for that too, like the money spent on dealing with supervillains, and on Endbringer recovery efforts, but still, they're not doing what they should. It's not like there isn't international aid for Endbringer recovery, for instance.
"Anyway," you drag yourself back to the topic at hand, "I spent a lot of time thinking about it, both before and after I got my powers. I looked some things up, and I think that if I want to help people, going out and punching crime in the face is only going to do so much. We already have capes doing that—hell, we have that independent hero team, New Wave, to help out the Protectorate," you say, referring to the government capes. "But Brockton Bay is still a hellhole."
Blake looks a bit uncomfortable, but just waits for you to continue.
"It didn't always used to be. But 'globalization' as a concept has died, just about, and it killed shipping. The fact that one of the Endbringers, Leviathan, only targets places adjacent to the water certainly doesn't help, since it means so many places hit are ports. The other two hit port cities too, sometimes, so overwater shipping dried up everywhere. Not long afterwards, there was a strike here in the Lord's Port, and well, things got out of hand. There were fights, complete with gunfire, and a protester ended up sinking a container ship to block off the harbor.
"That was the death knell of our local shipping industry. The richest people, the ones who already had a lot of resources, they spearheaded a shift, turning the town towards the banking and technology industries. And those parts of town are doing pretty well for themselves. But we had a huge population of people who worked here in shipping, with jobs that wouldn't translate over that easily.
"That, in turn, attracted supervillains. We have very profitable parts of town, which is very enticing for people who chose money over decency, and we have very unprofitable parts of town, with people desperate enough to hench for villains if it means their families don't starve. And then that attracted the thriving tourism industry that we have right now, at least after the 'Bad Old Days' calmed down some. Though the fact that we're relatively warm year-round helps."
Blake is looking at you strangely. "How do you know all of this?"
You shuffle a bit, feeling a little embarrassed at how you were going on so. "A lot of this is common knowledge, here in the bay," you say. "Most of the rest is because of my dad's job, what's left I picked up from research."
"Huh," Blake says, looking at you appraisingly, a new sense of respect in his eyes. You flush a bit, looking down. "Sorry to interrupt you; go ahead."
"Yes, well," you try to find your place for a moment. "Right. There's more I could cover, but the short version is that the money here in concentrated in the wealthy, even more so than is typical, and as the poor get poorer, things just keep getting worse. Even the heroes aren't treating everywhere equally: official patrol routes aren't posted, but plenty of people on PHO have strung together hero sightings to show rough patterns, and they stick to the better parts of the city far more than they go to the areas that seriously need it. I also found a site for tracking gang territories, and it's pretty clear that they're still expanding; hell, they've even been speeding up the acquisition lately. So what I want to do is hit the criminals where it hurts—not just the money, but in their manpower."
Blake nods. "How do you plan to do that by being a rogue?" he asks, honestly inquisitive.
A great deal depends on the details of how my shamanism works," you say with a grimace, "especially with how easy it is to make new runes, and their limits. But there are a lot of possibilities. The simplest, if not necessarily the easiest, would be to start up a business with this that I can use to employ a large number of people. If that doesn't work, then I could get rich and invest the money in urban renewal projects myself. That, or make very public donations to the city, under conditions that require it being used on those kind of projects." You're familiar with conditional donations, remembering how you had fumed at earmarked money going to sports programs rather than improving the academic materials or getting decent school computers, and you already know damn well that an institution won't do what it should if it doesn't feel pressure to do so. "I could use my power directly to fix up parts of the city, preferably under contract. Keeping property damage down, for instance, with the use of the Durability rune, or fixing the damaged portions myself. That depends a lot on how long runes will last, and how quickly I can regain my power."
"The latter idea seems like it would be very difficult to implement—you're still just one person, and even if you count me, I can't leverage shamanism anymore. As for the former idea…there comes the actual problem of getting rich, first, or even wealthy enough to hire a lot of people."
"I know," you agree, "it's a flaw in the plan. But that's why plans can be revised. As for how I can get rich, there are still more options. I will be offering a service that people can't get elsewhere at any price—that allows for a certain level of price-setting on my part. I can open a shop, and temporarily modify whatever they need into whatever they need, more or less. I wouldn't be surprised if the Durability or Protection rune was in pretty high demand, just to preserve valuables. Or I could contract with businesses to do the same. I also couldn't help but notice how many of your runes would be useful in a fight."
"True," Blake says. "I was rather concerned with survival while I was learning them, after all."
You nod at him. "And I'm sure that the government would really appreciate such boosts being applied to their cape-fighting forces, regardless of whether they're the normal PRT officers or the Protectorate capes themselves. Or the police, actually." For that matter, you're pretty sure that firefighters would really appreciate that Extinguish rune Blake mentioned. "That may be the best option, since it strikes directly against the gangs while making more money that I could invest in broader attempts to improve the situation."
"That…could be really useful," Blake says, a hint of excitement in his voice. "But I'm a little fuzzy on some of the rules with rogues. Will the gangs consider that just business, or does that put you on the side of the law?"
You grimace. "I don't know," you admit. "The rogues I can think of off of the top of my head stay out of it entirely, but that doesn't mean anything. Especially if the rogues who sell to the hero side deliberately stay under the radar."
"I suppose there are some possibilities," Blake muses. "But what about me? What would I be doing while you're doing all of this?"
You suppress your reaction, barely. Most of this plan had been made before your talks, and you only now realize that your previous plans had completely taken him for granted.
"That's a good question," you say, avoiding a long pause by the skin of your teeth. "That depends on a lot of factors that we haven't had a chance to test, yet. Does the Stranger effect that keeps others from seeing and hearing you work on everyone, and can you turn it off? Would that way of getting your attention," you touch the mirror briefly, "work with everyone? We already know it doesn't have to be the n'kisi to work. Do you have any other powers? Because let's face it, if your abilities worked that simply, it would be the first part of my powers that did."
Blake doesn't look pleased, but he doesn't seem very upset, either. "Something more to experiment with, definitely."
"If we discover some way for you to affect the world from inside of the mirrors," you say, tentatively reaching for a better compromise, "it's possible you could be an independent hero on your own, if you really wanted to."
Blake locks eyes with you, and he looks…you have no idea, there's such a mixture of emotions that you can hardly decipher it all. Hope and fear and desire and shame and more.
"That's an idea," he says, looking away, letting you catch your breath a bit.
"Not to mention, I'm sure that there are plenty of other ways to be a rogue that I haven't thought of yet." Your breath levels off. "But there are other aspects of being a cape that need to be taken care of, too. Like my costume."
Blake looks at you again, his emotions on a much more even keel. "The little I've seen so far honestly looks rather silly. It's straight out of comic books, isn't it? Where do they even get it?"
You frown a little. "I don't think they look silly," you pause, "for the most part." You do have to admit that some of the costumes can look a bit goofy. "As for where they get it, I'm honestly not certain," you sigh. "Wherever it is, it's not available to newbie capes without an organization, judging from the cape debuts I've seen. The first costume will have to be done out of, well, crappy everyday clothes, almost certainly, since I don't have the money for more. Which doesn't mean that we can't pick out a specific kind of style to build onto later."
"It's about the kind of image that you want to project, right? The message you convey before you even say a word. I can get that." Blake nods to himself. "What else?"
You frown. "Something that would matter regardless of what kind of cape I want to be. How much I want people to know."
Blake tilts his head inquisitively.
"It's not uncommon for capes to be, shall we say, less than completely forthcoming about their powers," you explain. "Even heroes, but especially the villains. It gives you an edge, if they don't know the mechanics, and believe something that's not true. It's common enough that there are lists comparing how long capes manage to keep things under wraps." You flash him a quick smile. "And who knows how many times it's never revealed at all."
"Yeah, I understand the value of secrets, surprises, and uncertainty." Blake nods. "Definitely could be useful."
"So we need to figure out what we want to tell people about my power. Everything with details left out, pretend that shamanism is my only power, or somewhere in-between. There's the added complication that I'm a rogue, rather than a hero or villain—I don't know how that will affect people's reactions if or when it comes out I was lying about my power."
"I'll add it to the list of things we still need to look into," he says, his voice wry.
You give him a small smile. "Do you have any other questions about any of this that I brought up?"
"No, not right now," he says.
"In that case, I think it's your turn," you say. "I've been dominating the conversation, and that's not right. Do you have something you want to talk about?"
"Yeah, a couple of things," Blake replies after a moment, visibly putting his current thoughts away.
"Go ahead."
"I suppose we should go to a relatively lighter topic first," he says, inciting a tiny frisson of nervousness from you at the thought of what the heavier topics could be. "What's your issue with magic?"
You blink at him a moment, at a loss for words. "What?"
"Magic. Every time it comes up, you just get this look on your face, and your tone becomes…disdainful. You already live in a world where the fantastical is seen every day, what's so bad about calling things magic?"
"Oh," you say. You sit in silence for a bit, trying to articulate something that seems so obvious to you. "It's obviously not magic, because there's no such thing?" Even as the words leave your mouth, you know you messed it up.
"But why can't powers be seen as magic? Seriously, I don't get it," Blake says. "Magic, on some level, just means things happening that appear to break the laws of physics, or the rules of how the world works. That fits parahuman powers very well, from what I've seen."
"No," you counter, feeling surer now. "Magic is something inexplicable happening, following no rationale. Powers aren't magic—even if they break the laws of physics as we know them, it just means we need to update the laws. They still follow rules, they still make sense, they're just weird compared to what humans are used to. So what? The bottom of the ocean and outer space are also really weird from the typical human experience."
Blake waits a second before responding. "But there are rules with magic as well. They can be irritatingly fuzzy, yes, but they are there. Like that goblins are hurt by elementally charged metal, or that faeries are less affected by things that have been worked or made. There are rules. It's not like we're just waving our hands around and explaining that something happened 'because magic.' How is that less valid than what you've been saying?"
"Because we know there's no such thing as magic. Yes, there used to be no such thing as powers, but just because that changed doesn't mean everything we know is wrong, just some of it. Powers are just science that we didn't know before, not some mystical force from beyond the stars or something."
"Hold up," he replies, raising a hand to stop you. "I think we just really are having some kind of term confusion. It could be that our disagreement is basically nothing more than misusing the terms, or at least having a different understanding of the words we're using."
You look at Blake with doubt in your eyes. "How do you mean?"
"Well, you think of 'magic' as a catchall term for when people can't explain things, or something only the deluded or charlatans use, right?"
"Right…"
"But the magic I've been telling you about all had rules, didn't it? The lines got blurry, I'm not denying that at all, but they were there. And your own power seems to be running along similar lines, doesn't it?"
"Yes…" you say even more reluctantly.
"So can we just say that when I say 'magic,' I mean a very specific set of powers that multiple people could tap into? Without all of the derision I hear from you now?"
"I suppose," you grumble softly. "But don't go thinking I'll be fine with labeling myself a magic cape, now."
"Okay, no problem," Blake says placatingly, a small smile on his face. You squint suspiciously, but it doesn't look malicious.
Not that this will affect your opinion of other people who call their powers magic. They didn't have powers explicitly telling them they were magic, and they still went with the laziest or craziest explanation
Actually, what if some of them did have their powers telling them it was magic?
"That's one of the issues I wanted to discuss with you," Blake has been continuing. "What's one thing you wanted to talk with me about?"
"Well, something that was bothering me was…" You hesitate, but press on, despite your reluctance. "I really, really didn't like you not telling me that I needed a power source to make the magic work, on Friday," you say. "I know it wasn't your intention, but it felt like you were taking advantage of your knowledge, once I found that out. I was just wasting time and looking like an idiot."
He starts to speak, then cuts himself off. When he starts again, the words come more slowly. "You know that I was just trying to check to see if you needed a power source. To make sure you could check without having your confidence damaged."
"But it still led to my confidence being damaged," you try to point out reasonably. "I spent hours working on it and it amounted to nothing."
"I didn't know that that would happen."
"I'm not saying that you did," you say, struggling to find the words you're looking for. "But do you see what I'm saying? You had two paths in front of you, without any way of knowing which one was correct: you could have told me I might need a power source, and then have my confidence weaker when I try without, or you could have kept that from me, and had my confidence weaker when trying without a power source didn't work. Either way could have worked or backfired, either way could have my confidence damaged; but you chose the option that left me in the dark."
Blake starts looking pensive. "I see what you're saying," he says after obvious thought. "I…that does sound kind of familiar to something I've heard before."
"Okay," you say, trying to placate him now that you got him to see your point of view. "So the next time something like this comes up, would you please choose the option that involves actually telling me?"
Your companion fidgets in place for a time. "I want to promise that I won't make this kind of mistake again," he says, "but it's been pointed out that I can be impulsive, and I do have vague memories about this kind of behavior before. I'm really not interested in seeing what happens when I break an oath like this, so I'll just say that I promise that I'll try to keep you informed in the future."
You rather wish for a more binding promise, but his reasoning makes sense. Most people in your experience are utterly terrible about holding to their promises, anyway.
"Thank you," you say. You take a moment to make sure that you still have your composure. "So that makes it your turn, then?"
"Yeah." Blake pauses in thought for a minute. "Alright," he says. "I did get the feeling that you were just playing around, but on the first run, you jerked the mirror that I was in. Do you remember?"
You blink. "I guess so?"
"Yeah, it was a really minor point, but doing that was really disorienting. The entire world I was in shifted, and that nothingness I described to you was suddenly under my feet. I'm pretty sure I can't actually step into it and fall forever, but it certainly gives that impression. I'd appreciate you not doing that again."
You purse your lips. He sounds a little melodramatic, and you're not sure how far he can stretch that no lies thing—though many of your fantasy stories would say "a lot"—but you're inclined to take him at face value. Besides, you've have far too many complaints brushed aside as being exaggerations to do that to Blake.
Anyway, you have a similar comment in return.
"Okay, that does sound terrifying," you say, nodding to him. "That's definitely a fair complaint. I'll do my best to remember never to do that again. Since you brought that up, I do have something like that myself that I considered mentioning."
"Go ahead," Blake says, looking a bit distracted for a moment but still clearly giving you his attention.
"I really don't appreciate you abusing your Stranger effect, or whatever it is that keeps other people from hearing you, when we have disagreements," you say, firm on this point. "Especially since we don't know if it actually applies to everyone, or just on the ones that you tested it on thus far. We haven't really spent much time figuring out how you work. But it's not just sloppy, it's a shitty tactic, just talking louder than the other person. I really don't like it at all."
Blake's mouth slowly opens and closes as you talk. "Have I really been doing it that much?"
You shrug a little, noticing how tense your shoulders are as you do. Huh, maybe some of the firmness was actually anger. "At least twice," you say aloud, deliberately moderating your tone. "In the library and yesterday morning."
"I see," he replies, his words slow as he considers. "I hadn't really realized that I was doing that, precisely. I'll try not to do so again. Please remind me if I start to."
"Will do," you say, some of the tightness sliding from your shoulders. You both fall silent for a few minutes, letting the tension in the room fade.
Funny, how the small things can cause so many problems.
"So what was the big thing you wanted to talk about?" you finally ask, after the tension has mostly subsided.
Blake takes another deep, unnecessary breath. "Yeah. There's something…I suppose it started pretty soon after I first got here, but I didn't really notice it until, well, until after the library."
The tightness slid right back into your shoulders, and it brought friends. The way he's talking, drawing it out like this, is making you nervous as hell.
"It's something that was affecting me back on my world, from what I can remember. It was gone when I first arrived, so I thought I was free of it, but it looks like it was just a temporary reprieve."
"What is it?" you ask quietly, dread coiling its way into your stomach.
Blake fiddles with his cuffs again. "Would you look away from the mirror again? Please?"
You lick suddenly dry lips. "Okay." You turn away while your mind churns through dozens of possibilities for what could be the matter. Without enough information, it's all baseless speculation, so you just spend your time hoping it was something you could deal with.
The only noises you hear are rustlings, and they end soon enough. "Okay, you can look." You turn, a question on your lips, only for it to die stillborn.
Blake's sweater is off, for the first time since you met him. This would be a minor detail, hardly worth mentioning, if it hadn't revealed so much of his arms. And that only matters because of his tattoos.
You remember his tattoos. Little birds, sitting amongst tree branches, lots of light colors contrasting against a predominantly red background. The same pattern as the back of the n'kisi, if in more pronounced colors. That first night, you saw that they were on his forearms, with clearly defined edges.
They aren't like that now. They wrap all the way around his arms, something you vaguely recall seeing before, and extend upwards, high enough that they disappear under his shirt by his shoulder. You can't even say that they are solely on his arms.
Arms, you only realize just now, that you haven't seen since…Friday? He kept his sweater sleeves rolled up at first, but he rolled them down at some point and you didn't even notice. Now, with his sweater off and his shirt sleeves drawn up onto his shoulder, you can see more of his skin than you ever have.
Which is when you notice that the tattoo is moving. The birds are staring out at you, it seems, with eyes that track your movement when you shift from side to side. More disquieting are the waves of blinks that ripple throughout them, all slightly out of time with each other and, you see after a minute, a new wave starting every time Blake blinks his own eyes. The birds don't move positions, but they do shift in place, wings flapping at times, and the branches they are perched on bounce slightly with their movement.
You stare at Blake, words having fled you entirely.
"The movement isn't too worrisome, I think," the vestige says, his quiet words working to fill the silence. "They moved when I first became a practitioner, I remember, and at least one other time later. People get little personal touches of weirdness as practitioners. It's just a thing that happens."
You continue to stare, eyes traveling over the unnatural tattoos endlessly.
"The way that they're spreading is what's worrisome," he says, voice still low. "I had a…connection, of some sort, to a place or thing called the Abyss. I still can't remember a lot of details about what happened to me," he says, rubbing a hand over his face wearily, "but I still remember the knowledge that I gathered, and I picked up a lot on the Abyss. Trying to keep it brief, the Abyss is a sort of cosmic recycling bin that actively looks to gather more things to break down and change. For a while there, it was giving me power, in exchange for, well…" he raises one arm in demonstration. "In exchange for changing me. I became stronger, faster, just plain better at fighting, but I also became less me."
Blake locks eyes with you, and the mélange of emotions in there utterly dwarfs the mix you saw earlier.
"I thought that I had escaped it, but it looks like I was wrong."
You have to cough to whisper past your dry throat. "What are we going to do?"
Blake's response, just as quiet, hangs in the silent room. "I don't know."
Basic Info
· Status
o Normal
o Very worried
o Little mirrors on hand: 17
o Very worried
o Little mirrors on hand: 17
· Big Three
o Central Pool ( (?-1)/? )
§ FAMILIAR
· Blake
§ demesneo Normal
·· Locker
§ implemento ???
·· Pen (Shamanism)
o Normal
··
· Alarm (hamper: Stationary)
· Alarm (notice: Living Being Detection)
· Durability (inanimate/inorganic)
· Imbuement (Wind: a little lighter, pushes a little harder)
· Orient: Heart (trigger: finger)
· Protection
· Push (trigger: gesture) [27/30 to mastered]
· Quiet
· Unlock
· Alarm (notice: Living Being Detection)
· Durability (inanimate/inorganic)
· Imbuement (Wind: a little lighter, pushes a little harder)
· Orient: Heart (trigger: finger)
· Protection
· Push (trigger: gesture) [27/30 to mastered]
· Quiet
· Unlock
· Alarm (punish: Y)
· Banishment (incorporeal/projection)
· Defense (inanimate/inorganic, effect: temporary acid-touch)
· Electricity/Lightning
· Exile (prevents spirit tampering, mutes effects)
· Extinguish
· Fire
· Metal (pseudo-transmutation)
· Physical stasis (inanimate/inorganic)
· Reaching out (sensory, detection, no significant locomotion)
· Smell-be-gone
· Escher connection
· Banishment (incorporeal/projection)
· Defense (inanimate/inorganic, effect: temporary acid-touch)
· Electricity/Lightning
· Exile (prevents spirit tampering, mutes effects)
· Extinguish
· Fire
· Metal (pseudo-transmutation)
· Physical stasis (inanimate/inorganic)
· Reaching out (sensory, detection, no significant locomotion)
o Fire (senses warmth, explodes)
o Air (senses breath, moves faster)
o Earth (tracks footsteps, hits harder)
o Metal (transmits signals, moves slowly)
o Water (senses magic/powers, insta-charges)
· Secures lockso Air (senses breath, moves faster)
o Earth (tracks footsteps, hits harder)
o Metal (transmits signals, moves slowly)
o Water (senses magic/powers, insta-charges)
· Smell-be-gone
· Escher connection
· Copy (document)
· Anything you can See.
Vote for one option per underlined section unless otherwise stated. Feel free to customize your votes with up to 60 words of additional description if the option is listed; if you are using someone else's plan and wish to add something to it, please bold the new portions.
What do you want to do with the rest of your day? (Pick two.)
[] Figure out more about this awesome Sight power, like what that strange sensation right after you got it was.
- -[] Customization
[] Try to figure out more about your shamanism in general (with Blake's assistance, of course).
- -[] Customization
[] Take another look at the inside of your head, particularly at the parts changed with getting your pen.
- -[] Customization
[] You spent plenty of time getting information on all of the local capes. Now it's time to really go through it all in-depth. There are a ton of capes in the Bay, you need to see who's who.
- -[] Customization
[] You decided to become a rogue. You have some basic information on the ones in your city, but you really ought to find out more about how they work. And aren't there other rogues here in Brockton Bay?
- -[] Customization
[] Back when all of this started, you decided you needed to look into the older fairy tales, but you haven't yet. Perhaps now is the time. Who knows what insight into your powers it will open?
- -[] Customization
[] You know, Blake was your first real use of your power, but you haven't explored his capabilities too much. It's time to fix that. Especially since it might lead to you finding out if he has other powers, or figuring out what the hell is going on with his tattoos.
- -[] Customization
[] Start working to master the runes Blake already taught you.
(Currently selected runes are as follows)
- -[X] Protection
- -[X] Alarm (notice: Living Being Detection)
- -[X] Imbuement: Wind
[] Blake has a number of runes that he thinks he can figure out and teach you more easily than he can help you train the spirits totally new runes. Help him figure out what they are and learn them.
(Currently selected runes are as follows)
- -[X] Escher connection
- -[X] Metal (pseudo-transmutation)
- -[X] Exile (prevents spirit tampering, mutes effects)
[] Write-in.
- -[] Customization
A/N:
Please remember that while your metaknowledge is helpful, it is not perfect.
If you feel that Taylor's economics argument is in error, then 1) she's a teenager, with an internet that's shittier than ours, and 2) I'd like to hear what you have to say anyway, particularly with citations and sources. I do find that kind of thing interesting
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