Scrap Metal Philosophy 9 (Patreon)

Scrap Metal Philosophy

Chapter 9

-VB-

“Stay at your place?” he asked with a frown.

Taylor nodded.

See, she had done some thinking and planning. She knew that if dad ever found out about her power, then he would really push her into the Wards, especially after Techscav’s Rampage. However, she also didn’t want to be part of an organization that was so easily infiltrated by one of the major villains of the city. She also did not want to deal with people her age and did not want to get involved in teenage drama.

She knew for a fact that Glory Girl hung out with the Wards. Everyone knew that. And that girl was teenage drama made into an unfairly hot blue-eyed, blonde sexy teenager.

No, Taylor knew a different path.

Get Alan, or Techscav, to support her.

Sure, it was a little weird inviting a fully grown man into her house, but she needed him to convince dad if anything happened…

“Did you tell your dad?”

She froze as he asked a question she didn’t even think that he’d ask.

“...”

“Why didn’t you tell your dad? This is not a decision you can make on your own.”

She wanted to glare at him, though she actually wondered why she did. “Why not?”

“It’s not your house legally.”

She paused. Right, Techscav didn’t mince words.

“Okay, so if I got dad’s permission…”

“And your dad, a seasoned resident of Brockton Bay, would be okay with his teenage daughter asking him to house a homeless guy?” Alan asked. “That’s assuming I want that.”

“But you promised to help.”

And he had. A month after she found him, she got him to promise to help her in her heroics, whether she became a government hero or an independent.

‘Whether it's your brand or someone else’s, I’ll help you at least a little.’

Those were the exact words he said.

“And how does moving into your house help?”

“I … my dad’s house has a basement.”

“And electricity associated with usual tinkertech? Moving of materials? The obvious signs of a new car in the neighborhood?”

She wilted a little at every question he threw her way.

“What do you really want?” he asked her as he went back to fixing something. She wasn’t sure what he was working on right now.

“What?”

“Getting me in your house is a byproduct of something else you want. What is it that you want?”

She stared at him from across the small work area before she found her usual foldable chair and sat down on it.

“I don’t want to join the Wards.”

“Why?”

“Personal.”

“Hmm.”

“... Teenage drama. I triggered because of it and I don’t want to deal with it again, and I know I’ll have to because there is no-”

“Bias.”

“Huh?”

“You have bias. Did you give the Wards a chance?”

“No, but I don’t want to experience even an iota of it in the first place!”

“Then why don’t you go jump off a cliff and die? Adult drama is worse than teenage drama,” he replied. “Ask your dad. Ask your late mom’s colleagues. Ask the local politicians. Ask a hero when they aren’t surrounded by glory hounds, paparazzi, and recording devices. All of them will, when they reply honestly, tell you that adult life is more drama… more hardship than teenage life. There is a reason why adults are the ones who dream of becoming young again.”

She glared at him.

“Then what? Have someone backs-.”

“Yes.”

“... What?”

He stopped and looked up.

She flinched at how dull he looked. How lifeless his eyes were.

“Did you know that I was bullied?”

She paused in her assessment and looked at him in the eyes again.

“You?”

“Yes. A tall, thin boy with very few friends. My bullies were girls who hid my things, stole and broke them, and tried to get me expelled. Because I was easy pickings. It wasn’t until I got help from my dad right as I was about to be expelled that I was able to get the situation fixed properly, even if my dad yelled at me for being stupid the entire way. ‘If you can’t do it yourself, then go fucking ask someone for help!’ he shouted at me in at least five different variations. He was just worried and didn’t know jackshit about expressing that better than yelling. He did get better but both of us were young then.”

She stared at him. “Then how did you …?” she asked him.

“For one,” he grunted. “I didn’t get a power that constantly reminded me of that bullying like you. Like how all powers seem to.”

She stared at him and then at her bugs.

“Aside from not having a literal reminder of the worst day of my teenage years, I got help. I didn’t know jackshit, so I bent my head, bowed, and asked for help.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he replied. “What is pride? What is dignity? Neither feed you, cloth you, or shelter you. They are measures of self-worth, but who are others to tell you how worthy of something you are? No one but you, your hands, your talents, and your skills. So I bowed and scrapped until I got better. Not that it fucking mattered because I got dropped into a whole different world. God, the licenses, certifications, businesses, and people I left behind…” he sighed toward the end. He took a deep breath and looked back up. “I’ll be here to help when you ask, but if you are asking me to do stupid shit, then I will tell you that you are stupid. Go ask your dad for help. If you can’t get it from him, then you come to me, understood? If you need backup to argue with him, then you come to me so I can talk to him, adult to adult, a caretaker to father. Got it?”

She nodded mutely. His story wasn’t exactly like hers but … it sounded similar.

“And before you go, let me tell you what happened to those bullies. Even if one of the girls’ dad was the chief engineer for a big construction firm, the girls eventually ended up becoming nothing. One got knocked up at 17 and popped out half a dozen kids. The other, engineer daddy one, did drugs and died after she got expelled for trying the same shit at college. On the other hand, I graduated from college, got my bachelor's, managed two businesses, loved my girlfriend, and loved my family. Remember that the moment you are in right now is transient. It comes and goes. Don’t let that animal think tank in your head tell you what to do. You are human. You are better than a mere fight or flight response to … teenage drama.”

She glared at him. “Now, you’re being condescending.”

He stopped. He contemplated for a bit before nodding. “Sorry.”

They fell into a pensive silence before she got up.

“Okay. I’ll go talk to dad. But if it fails…”

“I’ll help.”

Why did it feel good to have him say that?