Magnetic Attraction 23a: Interlude - Kid Win (Patreon)

Commissioned by Kejmur

Magnetic Attraction
Interlude: 23a

-VB-

1: Kid Win

^!@#$!@#%.

… Right, well, he’ll need it for that. Rummaging through his pile of components to his left, he pulled out a “reader.” He placed the reader on top of the number and then pressed down on the green button once. There was a click.

“Four.”

Four? Four.

He grabbed four wires and connected each of them to the ports out of the sixteen ports on the PCB block. The block was next to a connector that was supposed to be outside according to his mental blueprint, but he knew that Armsmaster would frown upon it. He would have to cover it up later.

This was a trend among his tinkertech: unconnected and vestigial components and exposed connection ports.

He would always have to cover them up because they were weaknesses.

Just like his dyscalculia.

He grimaced as he set his tools down.

He was a failure. Oh, no one said it out loud but he was a failure. He was always a burden on the team because they had to constantly deal with his never-developing tinkertech while they … while they kept on improving on their combat prowess with powers.

Kid Win was nothing but a burden.

PRT only ever brought him out when they needed him to do PR. He knew that PR was important, but it didn’t take away from his failures. The PHO was particularly cruel about it, but netizens weren’t wrong about it either.

He let his head fall listlessly on top of the workbench with a thud. He lifted it back up and then dropped it again.

Sometimes, he wished he didn’t get powers. Sure, he would be jealous. Surely, however, he wouldn’t be the one holding back the team.

“Kid!”

He looked up, meeting Vista’s eyes as she entered his lab.

“Huh? Why are you here right now?”

“It’s been nine hours!”

He blinked. Already? Straightening his back, he looked down at what he made and grimaced when he saw the same weakness and problems.

‘Imbecile,’ he berated himself as he got up. He grabbed the device - the Mid-Disruptor (mid what?) - and set it aside, putting it on the shelf where two dozen other failures were; they would be broken apart for components when he had the time. It’s not like they were useful.

Then he began taking off what little costume he wore right now.

It was time to go home.

Another day wasted.

Did he even deserve to be called a Ward, a hero, if all he could do was this?

Just before he left his lab, he glanced at the shelf filled with his failures and tried to not grimace.

---

“So, how was your day, Chris?” dad asked him.

His bearded and bald dad gave him a lot of attention even before he became a Ward. He was the one who took his time off of his job to make sure he got what he needed by spending time helping him with his studies.

Studies that never went anywhere because he had to be a hero now.

“It was okay,” he replied honestly. It wasn’t fine but it was okay. He didn’t get punched around by thugs and villains but he didn’t do anything well either.

His blonde haired mom didn’t say anything, though she did glance towards him and dad.

The three of them sat around the dinner table.

Chris’s older sister wasn’t here; she was in her room studying for her college mid-term.

Chris took a moment to look at the medium well done cubic piece of steak on his fork and no more than half a foot from his face.

Even though mom didn’t say anything, she helped him a lot, too. Unlike dad, she tried to get him to look elsewhere other than studies.

Of course, that endeavor too failed when he Triggered under stress from his own mental disorder and became a Ward. Suffice to say, she was very miffed about it. Not at him, no. Just his power, which was a part of him.

Though dad was the better cook, mom took it as her duty to make the daily meals for the family; dad only cooked during certain holidays and celebrations.

And because of what he was involved in, the dinner table was … it had a lot of cape talk.

“So what do you think about Eisenfeld, Chris?” mom asked.

Kid Win grimaced. Eisenfeld was a topic that was hot everywhere. He was without a doubt one of the strongest capes in Brockton Bay, if not New England. Chris actually almost pissed himself when he saw Eisenfeld’s “iron dust marionette.” To his visor’s sensors, it was a monstrous thing that swallowed all of his then vision into a magnetic hellscape.

“He’s strong. He’s probably as strong as Lung, but Lung needs a build-up; he doesn’t.”

Dad looked interested in that. “Good thing he’s a hero, right?”

“He’s not a hero,” mom huffed. “You saw what he did to the thugs.”

“Honey, those were the Teeth. They deserved it and more.”

Chris rolled his eyes. Mom and dad argued again, but it was friendly and not at all like what he saw from Vista’s parents.

… He should be thankful that he had a wonderful family. Yeah, his mental disorder sucked, but his life could be worse.

His fork clacked on the plate.

He looked down and his eyes narrowed. Where did the rest of his beef steak go?