Chapter 52 (Patreon)

“So… let me get this straight!” Cassie squeaked, her hands flapping frantically by her sides as she floated through the sky, miles above the ground. “Your ‘perks’, or- or powers… are actually magical abilities. No ‘Trigger’ theory, no cape crap… Just, like, all magic?” 

Lazily floating after my flailing girlfriend, reclined back on thin-air like I was floating atop the surface of a pool, I nodded my head.

“Yup,” I yawned into my hand, feeling the tips of my ears twitch as the warm afternoon breeze flowed past. 

Up here, above the humdrum of the city, where the crisp wind was louder than the sound of cars and screaming and gunshots, Azyr reigned supreme. I was able to fly easily due to Soar, but Wings of Heaven was a spell that would allow me to soar above the Blue Winds - a spell that I had used to grant Cassie temporary flight. She didn’t have the ability to harness the Winds of Magic, something I wasn’t planning on giving out anytime soon, but the illusion of control was still there. 

I willed her towards me, and the Aethyr made it so. As simple as that.

“And. AND!” she continued, pointing directly at my bemused face. “You’re actually going to teach me everything you know, right?! Like how you’re making me frickin’ fly?!”

“Kinda. It’s… a lot of experimenting.”

I floated her closer, close enough to where her waggling finger was inches away from face. Cassie grunted, sticking her tongue out the corner of her mouth as she stretched out her arm and poked me lightly on the nose. “Boop.”

… What an idiot.

“Magic,” I continued, a smirk cracking my cooled expression, “Is all about experimentation. The spell I used on you, it’s called Wings of Heaven, and usually, it’s used to make the caster fly. Buuut… when you get good enough with your magic, you can start switching shit around. Movin’ certain parts out, replacing it with other pieces. It’s all about  just building off of the fundamentals. Here-”

I leaned forward, legs dangling in the sky, and raised my right hand. I wasn’t as familiar or attuned to the magicka of the Aetherius as I was the Winds of the Aethyr, but magic was magic and I felt like I was becoming experienced enough to fuck around with the mystical building blocks of reality whenever I damn well pleased. 

Even hundreds of feet above ground.

Sparks crackled to life over my fingertips and palm, quietly chirping with arcing snaps of blue electricity, and I waved the magicka-shrouded appendage around to show it off. “Sparks is what I like to call a ‘Novice’ level spell. It’s one of the simplest spells I know, and for someone like you, probably the easiest to get down.”

Cassie’s face scrunched itself into that cute little glare she got whenever her big, sexy hacker brain was working. She stared at my Sparks-laden hand like it owed her money, her lips parting in unmistakable intrigue as she did so. “Sparks because I’m a tech nerd? Sounds a little presumptuous, Jay. N-not that I’m complaining. Siths are fuckin’ baller.”

“No,” I grinned, flexing my magicka and sending arcs of crackling blue energy flying through the air. “Sparks because you, of all people, know about the inner workings of electricity-powered doo-dads more than any normal, cool person. Like me.” 

Azyr kept our voices from being drowned out by the wind, but it did nothing to stop the cry of electricity as it streamed from the tips of my finger like I was Emperor Palpatine. 

“Okay, I can admit that the Sith Lightning bit was cool. Ten outta ten,” Cassie gaped, her brow smoothing over as she watched the electric spectacle. The moment passed quickly, though, and a derisive and vaguely grossed out expression took over her face. “You’re the last person I’d call cool, though. ‘Doo-dads’? Really? Frickin’ sixteen but you sound like you’re sixty.”

I nodded sagely. “Mmhm. Quite, yes. Want me to drop your ass like a hydrogen bomb?”

“Zippin’ it up, daddy-o.”

“Good girl,” I dryly retorted, lowering my hand back down to chest-level. “Now, to segway off the electricity doo-hickey thingamabob-“

Snort.

“Spellcasting, at its most base form, is literally using your magical energy to impose a… change onto reality. There’s a certain logic and a science to it, because humanity can’t fuckin’ avoid school even when dealing with the arcane, but for the most part - yeah, we’re sorta just makin’ reality our bitch in very small doses when we use magic.” 

I paused for a second, taking a moment to catch my breath and recenter my thoughts. Teaching wasn’t something I was experienced with, and neither did I consider myself a natural talent at it, but Infinite Potential wasn’t a perk that utilized so much of my inner charge for no reason. I wasn’t completely sure, but I felt like I was getting better, slowly but surely, as I took on the role of half-assed wizard sensei. 

The words were coming out easier, at least, and Hidden Intuition prodded me to change course when I ventured down the wrong path, allowing me to recognize when I started to lose Cassie.

“Channeling the energy in a certain way, envisioning the change… hell, emoting your hands a certain way, or saying certain words. These are the focal components that makes the difference between being a Myrddin and being an actual fucking Mage. Parahumans are limited to their powers. We’re only limited by our imagination, our willpower, our focus, and how much mana we got. You pickin’ up what I’m putting down?” 

Cassie nodded her head vigorously, the focused look having returned after it was made clear that I was back in ‘lecture mode’. “Okay, so magic is basically like… writing a really complex program for the first time, then, right?”

I opened my mouth to reply, closed it, and then blinked. Slowly.

“... Huh?”

“Think about it!” Her face brightening with some nerdy ass revelation, Cass went to sit down, realized that she was, in fact, still floating miles in the air, and paled considerably. That didn’t stop her from activating her CodeLink, however, muttering the activation phrase beneath her breath and smiling as the holographic visor took over her upper face.

She began swiping and typing at the air with deft, confident motions, even as she began speaking to me out the corner of her mouth. “Let’s assume that ‘imposing a change on reality’ - really fucking dramatic phrasing, bee tee dubs - is actually what casting with magic is, like you said. These components - verbal, like that wacky language you mutter in sometimes when you cast spells-”

“Anoqeyån,” I corrected, an intrigued furrow to my brow, “But continue.”

Cassie waggled her fingers dismissively at me for my interruption, but otherwise didn’t comment. “Somatic, like the flashy gestures you mentioned, annnd if we’re bringing up some real hardcore fantasy nerd shit, there’s things like Dungeons & Dragons where material components are important as well.”

I was following along, although I wasn’t really sure where she was going with this, or what the hell she was doing on her CodeLink. “Okay...”

Her eyes flashed away from whatever data she was fucking with in her HUD, pinning me with a glare that was both unimpressed and amazed that I wasn’t picking up whatever shit she was apparently throwing into my lap. 

“It’s all just functions and variables, babe! If I ‘Leviosaaa’ and flick and swish correctly, I, uh- just have to understand the principles behind levitation and how my magic would actually cause the feather to float, and then figure out the correct way to power it with my mana, right? Else everything goes kabloomey and I have to fix friggin’ arcane syntax errors - and then rinse and repeat! Input the command, define the parameters, and execute.”

“... When the fuck did we start talking about Harry Potter?”

Cassie glowered through her holographic visor. “Shush, Mr. ADHD! Am I- Did I get it right? I just wrote so many friggin’ notes during that brain blast, and if I’m just completely off I’m gonna break my headset.”

It was a fair and earnest question, and as I stopped fucking around and actually thought harder about her highly autistic way of understanding magic…

I couldn’t find much flaw in it?

I, personally, wasn’t the most well-versed in programming, but I knew what an If-Else conditional statement was, and once you tore through all of the mysterious and mythical mumbo jumbo, casting spells really was similar to running some sort of coding program. There was a definite science behind it that I mostly brute forced with natural talent, a large heaping of celestial hax, and an undying will to one day hold godlike power over the omniverse. If this was how Cassie’s brain worked through it… then who was I to dissuade that?

Maybe she was onto something I hadn’t thought of.

Still, though…

“I think you have a better scientific understanding of the principles than I do,” I responded honestly, reaching forward and tugging her into my arms. “But you’re missin’ some things in your, uh, magical IDE.”

Cassie’s yelp quickly choked off into a gasp as I abruptly increased the speed of my flight, now that I had her safely secured in a bridal carry. The Blue Winds surrounding us grew thicker as a result of my acceleration, blocking the roaring breeze from overshadowing our voices and blowing our eardrums out with its volume. We’d been flying for about fifteen minutes, and I could see Amy’s gated suburb down in the distance.

We were almost there.

“Shit, Jay - warn me next time,” Cass huffed, burrowing deeper into my Aqshy-powered warmth. Her visor was still activated, and her eyes gleamed as she started wiggling her fingers at unseen screens. “Now, what am I missing? I wanna try casting a spell.”

“You know about verbal and somatic components, which is good - though the magic I’m going to be teaching you don’t really require much of either-”

“... So why the heck-”

“Foundation,” I cut her off, a fond grin pulling at my lips. “The simpler spells of this magic may not need ‘em, but other forms of magic probably will. Anyways, you’re missing another key variable: willpower. It’s one thing to get the gestures, words, and mana expenditure correct. It’s another thing to have an understanding of the force you’re trying to hack into reality. Electricity, or fire, or whatever the hell you attempt. But, it’s another thing to push your very being into bringing it to life.”

That was probably my greatest advantage when it came to spellcasting - the fact that it required your will to actually invoke the magic. My technical knowledge was middling at best, but Heroic Aptitude made it so that I wasn’t lacking in the slightest when it came to pure fucking will. 

Sometimes I scared myself with how hard I believed that certain things would happen, because I didn’t just put my mind to it, I put my whole fucking foot in that bitch too.

“Hmmm… okay. Somatic, verbal, understanding of desired change and the principles behind them, focus, mana expenditure, and then willpower. Holy crap.” Cassie breathed, staring wide-eyed at another invisible screen. “Those are a lot of frickin’ steps.”

“All magic is different, and so are all spells. You may not even use half of that shit for some, and you may have to figure more shit out for others.” I warned, slowing my speed down even further. “But that’s just magic, baby. You’ll be writin’ spell tomes in no time.”

The Dallon House was right below us, as mid-ranged and country home clean as it was the last time we were there. As Cassie mumbled about ‘too many variables’ beneath her breath, I came to a steady and complete halt directly above the front welcome mat, where I slowly began floating down to ground level.

“Heads up,” I murmured, a burst of anticipation shooting through my stomach. “We’re here. Save the magic for the Graveyard, yeah?”

“Shit- yeah. I’m here. I’m ready!” Cassie jolted, clicking her catlike earpieces and powering her CodeLink down. There was a nervous but resolute tightness to her face as she glared down at the house we were steadily getting closer to, and I could feel her fists clench against my coat. “I take Glory Girl, you take Brandish?”

“... Babe, we’re not fighting New Wave.” I deadpanned, shooting her a dry smirk. “Plus Vicky would kick your ass.”

“Fuck you!”

“But yeah - just let me do the talking at first.”

In a lurch of speed, I cleared the remaining twenty feet drop, alighting down on the brown mat with nary a sound. Cassie wiggled out of my arms and fell to her feet, smoothing out her pink and white jacket and making sure that her hair wasn’t all windswept from the flight.

It was, but the messy crackhead style looked cute on her.

“Ready?” I muttered, glancing down at the anxious girl.

She clenched her gloved fists, a chagrined glare forming on her face. “Ready. I’m cool. I’m calm.”

Cassie is not calm.

“... Bet.”

Giving her one last wary glance, I looked back at the front door…

And knocked three times. Loudly.

__________________________________________________________________

Amy

The house had been damn near completely silent since the… argument, the uncomfortable stillness only broken by Dean having stopped by to sneak up into Vicky’s room. They all knew, of course - this was a home of capes, and Dean wasn’t the sneakiest boy - but Carol was locked in her office and Amy… well, Amy wasn’t feeling much of anything at the moment.

So Dean moseyed on in on the shitshow. And then the silence came back, weaker than before, but stifling and loud all the same

Amy had heard them in the next room over, whispering. At first, she’d been anxious, tensing her ears and pressing her head against the wall in order to see if Vicky would tell him about the fight, but then there was the sound of kissing and Any felt that disgust rear itself in her stomach - more disgust than jealousy now, thank God. She had done what she usually did when Dean came over to get his dick wet; play music to distract her mind, and do her best to ignore the world.

But, of course, life was never that simple, and as Amy damn well knew from aggressive experience…

Her mind was, quite possibly, her biggest freaking enemy.

What if you’re like this because of him?

Why did he curse you with powers like these?

Is he evil? Isn’t that why he’s in the Birdcage?

Is she going to be evil, now?

The thoughts wouldn’t stop coming. 

Idina Menzel’s Let It Go helped… for about fifteen minutes, and then the sinking realization that she was not, in fact, Elsa and couldn’t just Let It Go filled her stomach with an embarrassingly childish  amount of shame and sadness and Amy had to turn the mp3 off. Even more than anytime before this, she had felt completely and utterly lost, stuck in a house that felt more like a prison every time she blinked her eyes. Every minute spent there ushered her closer to what felt like a mounting panic attack, and it had gotten to the point where she was hyperventilating.

Amy had to leave. She had to go. So… she had started packing her suitcase. Clothes, mainly, and shoes. A couple packs of Newport that she had some bum grab outside of a gas station grab for her. A few plushies that ultimately didn’t mean anything but would illogically make her feel better once she was actually out and walking the streets.

Maybe she wasn’t being logical. Maybe she was overreacting, and things would feel better. 

Maybe she would feel better about the fact that the Marquis, famous supervillain and former Brockton Bay resident, was her birth father, and that Carol only took her in because Aun- because Sarah told her that bad people would end up using her powers for bad things. That her adopted mother didn’t actually love her, and, in fact, actively distrusted and disliked her because she reminded her too much of her evil dad. 

Who, by the way, was evil and bad and the man New Wave hated the most.

… Hah. Right.

She had to leave. And maybe, just maybe, a certain couple would have pity on her and take her in, despite the fact that they weren’t even toge-

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Amy jerked up from her half-stuffed suitcase, her heart nearly beating out of her chest as someone slammed their fist against the front door three times. Whoever it was, they clearly didn’t know their own strength, because their ‘knocking’ damn near shook the fucking house. 

“Fuck. Who…”

Hands scrambling to grab her phone, Amy crawled to her feet and swiped up on her home screen, quickly traversing to the Neighbors app that was connected to the front door. It was active, meaning that there were people already looking on it, but what she saw when she clicked on the ‘Live’ feed…

Butterflies.

Fear.

Joy. Overwhelming joy.

Carol had already gotten to the door, probably incensed and annoyed by the aggressive knocking, but it wasn’t the sight of that woman that filled her body with endorphins. No, it was the tall and apathetic form of one Jason Black - or, Avalon, going off of his costume - that she could barely see over the blonde woman’s shoulder. Carol wasn’t short, but she wasn’t big either, and Jason, while leaning his arm against the side of the wall and leering down at her, was still much taller.

“Yo, Carol Dallon right? I’m here to pick up your daughter, Amy.”

His voice was as chocolatey and smooth as the last time she’d heard it, right before Lung was sent crashing through the front of Fugly Bob’s. The relief she felt when his deep baritone came through the speakers of her phone… it was almost scary, just how much more secure and grounded her heart became with his presence. 

And he was there for her. 

‘For me.’

After popping her phone up on her dresser so that she could see everything happening, Amy began packing again, a fevered and excited hurry to her movements that wasn’t there before.

“Why, exactly, are you here to pick her up? I don’t know if you realize this or not, Avalon, but you are wanted. Maybe not by the PRT, but do you honestly believe that the villains are going to just sit back and watch you stomp on their one layer of security? You’re putting everything at risk by-”

“I didn’t come here for a lecture, ma’am,” Jason interrupted, sounding extremely bored by what he was hearing. “Don’t really need or want your blessing, either.”

Carol crossed her arms over her chest, taking a step forward and craning her head back to glare at the taller young man directly in the eyeholes of his mask. “This isn’t a good look. For you, or Invictus. You came here in costume, meaning you are representing the hero team that you are actively trying to build here in Brockton Bay. Do you really want to alienate New Wave this early in your career?”

“I don’t got beef with New Wave, Miss Carol - just you. ‘Cause you made a girl I really like cry. So if you wanna make this about our ‘hero teams’ and establish me and Invictus as New Waves’ rivals, then we can do that. Iris-”

Cassie’s voice, out of sight of the camera, piped up immediately. “I’ve got Lady Photon’s number, PHO account, and official business email pulled up right here! She’s on patrol right now, actually - Overdrive just took a selfie with her. I like her hair!”

“We might needa hit her up then, let the leader of New Wave know that Carol Dallon is makin’ the decision to alienate Invictus all on her own. She deserves to know shit like this, right?”

“Yup, makes sense to me! I’ll call-”

“Stop! Just… stop. Threatening me at my own home is a disgusting low, and while I know that I am not the best mother, or even a good one… I can’t just let you-”

She didn’t need to hear anymore.

What little amount of clothes Amy actually wanted to bring with her was packed up and stored in her suitcase. Everything wasn’t folded neatly, but neatness was probably the last thing on her mind at that moment. She had a bit of money - around four hundred dollars saved up in her checking, and a bit over a grand stored in her savings. Getting new clothes, and panties that didn’t look like they belonged to Carol, was pretty high on her list of ‘things to do to separate from the Dallon Family’. 

At the top of that list, though, was getting the fuck away. 

So she did.

Amy grabbed her phone, closing out of the app and stuffing it into the pockets of her jeans. She hadn’t changed clothes since the date - she hadn’t slept in damn near twenty-four hours - so, despite the self-disgust at wearing the same stuff two days in a row, she was already dressed to leave. There were a lot of things still left in her bedroom, the same bedroom that she had slept in for damn near seventeen years of her life, but… 

This wasn’t really her bedroom. It wasn’t really her home. It was just a space that she was allowed to live because Carol and Sarah were scared that she’d end up becoming fucking Lady Blasto or the new Goblin Queen of the East.

She could always buy new things.

But love? 

It had left this home a long time ago, and no matter how hard she may have wanted it, Amy knew that she would not get it here. Ever.

SLAM!

… She may have shut her door a little too hard when she left her bedroom.

Amy turned to head down the stairs, lugging her depressingly light suitcase beside her as she went, but the door beside her former bedroom slammed open, and a yellow blur surged forward.

“Vicky, don’t-“

“Amy, wait!” 

A soft hand gripped her wrist hard enough to bruise, skin and muscle grinding against bone, and-

Victoria Dallon. Bruising along the side of the neck, micro-tears along inner vaginal canal, perspiration. High levels of cortisol and epinephrine.

Amy hissed in pain, but as she instinctively tried to pull away, her eyes widened in horror as-

Anxiety.

Loneliness.

Fear.

So much fucking fear.

The three emotions she’d been struggling with all night - the same three emotions that had taken a backseat to the relief and joy she felt at seeing her saviors come to rescue her - came crashing into her chest with all the rampaging force of an angry bull. Everything that she had tried to bottle up and bury. Everything that threatened to overwhelm her already fragile psyche. It all came flooding in at once, and something - some sort of small, hairtrigger pin in her exhausted, sleep-deprived brain - snapped.

She needed to leave. Now.

“No!” Amy screamed, wrenching her hand away from Victoria and stumbling away from the wide-eyed blonde. She felt like she was suffocating, her heart beating too fucking fast inside of her ribcage. Sweat dripped down her skin, falling into her eyes and stinging her retinas, but Amy couldn’t think to wipe it away - because she was too busy trying to get a god damned breath in. Dully, behind her back, she heard the sound of hard plastic banging against wood as her suitcase fell down the stairs. 

Dean jumped forward, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend and yanking her back, but the damage was already done.

“Your freaking aura, Vicky! You just- she’s having a panic attack. Amy, calm down - no one’s going to hurt you. Breathe.” Dean alternated between pulling at Vicky and making pacifying gestures at Amy, but it was clear that the boy was completely out of his depths.

“I didn’t-... I just wanted to talk to her! I didn’t mean to-”

Vicky shrugged Dean off, sending the boy stumbling back into the doorframe of her bedroom. “Ames. I’m not- … please. I’m sorry. I pulled in my aura!” Desperately, she dropped to her knees, crawling forward and holding her hand out.

Amy hadn’t even realized that she’d fell on her ass. All she knew was that she didn’t want to be anywhere near her sister at the moment.

And she still couldn’t fucking breathe.

“L-leave me alone.”

Victoria’s eyes welled up with tears, and even as Dean tried to grab her shoulders and pull her away, she inched closer. “Amy, we can-”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Woosh.

There was a sudden gust of wind, and a familiar, sandalwood-like scent invaded Amy’s nostrils. She choked on her own saliva, the tightness in her throat and in her chest restricting her from uttering the name of one of the only two people she wanted near her in that moment… but words were never necessary. Strong arms wrapped around her shivering body, a familiar warmth encapsulating her form in its toasty embrace, and Amy felt Jason effortlessly lift her into a bridal carry.

His large hand slid beneath the back of her shirt, a gentle caress that would have flustered her under any other circumstance. Instead, that same warmth grew hot - only, this heat was comforting, like a hot shower that lingered just beneath the point of scalding. Amy felt herself drifting, the uncomfortable and scary lightheadedness that she’d been feeling fading away entirely.

She could feel his lips, then, pressing gently against the shell of her ear as his deep voice murmured, “I got you, Amy. We’re here. I’m sorry for takin’ so long… but sleep for now, alright?”

“I did not give you permission to just barge into my house, Avalon! Victoria, what the hell happened?”

“M-mom, I didn’t- I scared Amy, and-”

The voices were getting more distant now, but wrapped in the strong, safe arms of Jason Black, lulled into the comforting depths of must-needed unconsciousness by the warmth of his power and the silkiness of his voice, Amy couldn’t find it in her to care.

She didn’t even care about her suitcase. Her clothes were trash, anyway.

No… all Amy knew, in that moment, as Jason’s voice grew stronger, cutting through Carol’s bite and Victoria’s babbling…

Was that she was finally safe and sound, in the embrace of someone who truly cared for her.

She didn’t fight it when sleep beckoned.

__________________________________________

A/N:

The first half of the Dallon Confrontation, ladies and gents!

Now, how will Jason handle the aftermath of just barging into Carol's home? Guess we'll have to see!

Earlier in the chapter we catch a pretty in-depth look of how Cassie's autistic brain handles understanding magic, and sure enough, she compares it to programming. Question is: Will that actually be helpful to her during her magical discovery journey, or will it bite her in the ass? Magic, at its core, does have a lot of technical shit to it once you get beneath the hood. And with Pod's Runes... who knows? Maybe she can figure out a different way to use her mana that even Jason wasn't aware of.

We did roll a perk this chapter, during Amy's part. You'll be seeing that in the next chapter, as we switch to Jason's POV!