A Lewd Cultivator in Brockton Bay 10: Fault (Patreon)

A Lewd Cultivator in Brockton Bay
Chapter 10: Fault

-VB-

A moment of silence reigned in the meeting room as everyone but Piggot and I looked uneasily between the two of us. 

The thick tension broke when I spoke up.

“My fault?” I drawled lazily but I made it clear that it was anything but disinterest as I popped my finger joints with a gruesome crack-p-p-pop. “It’s apparently my fault that the gangsters assaulted me and Amelia, right?” Honestly, I just wanted to punch Piggot right now for insinuating that. But that wouldn’t be adult of me, right? “If you have something other than bla-”

Piggot cut me off. “You think we’re bla-”

I stood up abruptly, pushing the chair off and tossing it behind me with the force of my standing, and at the same time, slammed my open palms on the table.

“One more chance. Say something useful before I walk out,” I growled. “My girlfriend got shot, I ripped my flesh to get to her to emergency service in time, and I woke up with exploded gunks of gore of my own body from a side effect of my power. I don’t give a shit about what you and your goddamn inefficient bureaucracy want, Piggot!” I snapped angrily. 

“There are laws and proce-”

“You are untrained, uneducated, and dangerous. I cannot allow you to roam free, not after Panacea has been wounded under your own inadequate protection,” Piggot spat right back.

I glared at her. “Protection that was needed in the first place because America lacks a competent fucking law enforcement!” I countered on the spot. “How long has the PRT been in Brockton Bay? How long does it fucking take to remove Nazis from the city, huh?!”

Piggot slammed her hands on the table and shot up. “We’ve been dying every day! Don’t you dare belittle the PRT’s sacrifice!” she spat. “When the government goes to war, then the majority of the casualties are never the combatants; it’s the goddamn people who die!”

Oppressive silence reigned in the meeting room as the truth regarding the status quo was revealed not just to me but everyone. 

In war, the bystanders always lost more. 

I hadn’t stopped to consider it. I would like nothing more than for myself to rush out there and crush all of the fucking Nazis but … 

Would Amy approve of that? Nevermind the fact that my personal crusade would result in numerous deaths but also numerous injuries not just from the Nazis I might spare out of ignorance of their living condition but everyone else nearby. 

It wasn’t a woman’s fault that her son and husband were white supremacists, though she definitely should have chosen better.

It wasn’t a father’s fault that his children are white supremacists, though he definitely should have taught them better.

It wasn’t a child’s fault that their parents are white supremacists, because they can’t choose which parents they are born to.

Whatever their coworkers, ignorant or aware? Their bosses?

“Ambushed,” I asserted. “Outnumbered.” I looked at Lady Photon. “In her civilian identity.” I looked back at Piggot as I sat down. “Is it my goddamn fault that they pulled out weapons on Amy?” I asked, stressing my girlfriend’s name. “No one should have known about my being an unknown cape. That’s the thing about being unknown. This is completely the fault of the Empire Eighty-Eight. If you can’t simply attack them because of consequences, then fucking use this chance to demand their goddamn heads before the rest of the world comes screeching in, calling for blood.”

Because that’s what was about to happen. 

Amy’s position and role were often glossed over in the Worm, but when you are here to see her work, then that’s when true appreciation comes in.

For the simplest of explanations, Panacea, Amelia Lavere Dallon, had been involved in thirteen Endbringer Battles, and on ParaHuman Online forum alone, she received favors of the capes she’d saved. 

It wouldn’t be long before social media would leak that Panacea got attacked by white supremacists, and capes of all shapes and sizes would come roaring in to wreak vengeance on behalf of Amy. 

Nevermind what I was going to do.

“You want to pin the blame on me to prevent an outbreak of violence,” I hissed in realization. “You can’t have the fucking world come down on your city, because it’ll be war you can’t afford-”

“That is not what the PRT wants,” Armsmaster interceded, getting the rest of our attention. “Director Piggot is correct in saying that you are indeed uneducated in regards to policing acts, take down procedures, and laws surrounding all of the mentioned subjects and more. If you want to be an independent hero like New Wave are and not a law-breaking vigilante or worse villain in your pursuit of revenge, then I highly suggest that you take sessions with the PRT in proper and lawful procedures.”

Admittedly, I didn’t expect this from Armsmaster, but I also noted that he wasn’t strictly recruiting me. In fact, if I took what I knew about him and applied it to his words now, then it was clear to me that he didn’t want to waste time with other capes nor did he want more competition for recognition. 

I gritted my teeth at the thought of being this hero’s use, but it would work out in my favor. Piggot would push for integration into the Protectorate citing my “recklessness” and need for oversight to keep me under control, but Armsmaster’s current stance would hopefully deter Piggot from pushing her own agenda too far.

Her agenda being “dragging unruly parahumans under control with bureaucracy.”

Because that’s what the PRT really was: a bureaucracy. 

“... I can agree that I may need a bit more education in law enforcement,” I replied. “But by no means was I in fault for anything that has happened.”

“Then we are in agreement,” Armsmaster nodded to Piggot’s barely perceptible chagrin. “I shall send you some information and classes you can take to your email.”

Talk after this was bland, and the meeting ended quickly. After giving Armsmaster a throwaway email, I went home.

I wanted to go out there and rip the Empire a new asshole, but that would mean that I was being irresponsible to Amy. What would she prefer? That I go out and kick ass or that I be there when she woke up?

The answer was obvious, wasn’t it?