ACL: 4. One might say I am a grounded man... Please laugh... (Patreon)

Chapter 4: One might say I am a grounded man… Please laugh…

Brockton Bay, NH, USA
Friday, January 14, 2011
Type: Ground

I felt my power slide back towards ground for the second time this week. Not impossible, there were only so many types available, but unusual. I wondered if that meant something, a nudge from the Alpaca Almighty telling me I'd need the ground type perhaps?

Or maybe it was just luck.

I shrugged and got out of bed, ready to begin the day with a three mile run to school. I felt good today. Like, really good.

I felt my aura respond more easily. The constant use of my power, dedicated exercise, and my own mental shift towards putting in more effort were all contributing towards my growth. I again regretted letting myself deteriorate so much.

"Luca would probably have kicked my ass by now," I grumbled.

As I ran, I thought about what I wanted to do after school today. I didn't owe time at the Camacho Clinic, so that meant I was free from 1 pm onwards.

'Let's see… after school, the library will be open so I guess I could do more research on capes for an hour or two before wandering around,' I thought. 'Then… dinner and… I guess I really should see about trying to get a handle on aura again. Fuck, I hate meditation…'

I arrived at school and headed to algebra-2. Not a clue why I'd ever need this, but here I was.

I was among the last to arrive so I had only one seat available next to the class dunce.

No, that wasn't right. It wasn't that Chris was dumb, but he really sucked at math. Because Mr. Carlson liked to teach for only twenty minutes then assign homework we could finish in class, most of my classmates liked to pair up with either friends or people they could work with, leaving Chris.

"Hey," I greeted. Kid was short, about 5' 4" and had a bit of an absentminded air around him. Already, I could see him staring at his textbook like it'd grow teeth, not that I was much better.

Mr. Carlson began his lecture on quadratics and… and… I got it!

My eyes had been opened. My mind was exposed to the truth. Enlightenment beckoned and the secrets of the universe were promised to me…

Okay, perhaps not quite that dramatic, but I understood the lesson, which was more than could be said of Chris. When it came time to do our homework in class, I tried to help him out a bit, only to get a series of increasingly frustrated grunts for my trouble.

"Look, Blake, I appreciate you trying to help, but this just isn't how I learn," he said.

"I don't understand."

"Do you know what dyscalculia is?"

"Umm…"

"Dyslexia?"

"Yes, kind of…?"

"That, but for numbers. I just don't process numbers well." He gave me a weak smile. "I appreciate you trying though."

"Wait, how have you been passing the class?"

"I wouldn't call a D passing."

"Still…"

"Good at guessing, I guess. Most tests are multiple choice."

He looked a little uncomfortable at the question so I let the conversation die.

The rest of my classes passed quickly enough. Our report on one of Kurt Vonnegut's books was due today, so I talked about Slaughterhouse Five.

The book wasn't as popular on Earth-Bet as it was on Aleph, I hear.

When the bell rang for lunch, I was about to sneak off on my own, but Dean caught me.

"Hey, Blake, want to come eat with us?" he asked.

Why the guy wanted to hang out with me so much was beyond me. I looked at him. He had big, expressive blue eyes that reminded me of growlithe. I found it hard to say no to such an earnest face.

'No wonder girls like this guy,' I thought. Outwardly, I gave him a nonchalant shrug. "Sure, why not. I have no plans."

The two of us managed to stay a step ahead of the crowds and got in line at the canteen. Friday was pizza day, though I really wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a good thing or not. There were these little diced pieces of SPAM inside that made me wonder which monster designed the menu.

It still somehow beat lunch at Winslow from what Mark told me.

The two of us settled into Vicky's court. I'd say it was also Dean's but the dude had a far more approachable air than Victoria. Her aura said, "Stand in awe of me." Dean's posture said, "I just want to help."

"Hey, Vicky," he greeted, planting a quick peck on her lips. Half the table fell into a tittering mess and I wondered how these two could stand being around them all the time.

"Hey, boo, guess what? Ames met Menagerie again."

"Who?"

"That changer cape who said he had a thousand forms."

"Really? What happened?"

Dean looked a lot more interested than I'd ever seen him. He was always friendly, but he had a bit of subtle distance he put between himself and most things. If I had to compare him to someone, he reminded me of Steven Stone, Champion of Hoenn.

Both of them were heirs to megacorps, the Stansfield Real Estate Investment Trust and Devon Corp respectively.

Steven was friendly, approachable, and had that smile that said he wasn't above getting his hands dirty to help the less fortunate. He also had a bit of an unspoken aloofness that really only vanished when he was talking about something he was passionate about, namely rocks. Dean reminded me of that, sans the super-powerful mega metagross of course.

Surprisingly, it was Amy who took over the conversation. "He can heal. Like, really well. I worked with him in the trauma ward for a few hours, made sure he wasn't giving everyone cancer on accident and stuff. He turned into this pink bunny-thing."

"That sounds excellent," he said honestly. "Do you think he's going to join the Protectorate? Wards?"

"No. Definitely not. The whole reason he approached me and Vicky was because he didn't want a recruitment pitch. I think he's a hero, but not someone who's going to sign up anytime soon. I don't even know his age actually, though it’s probably close to ours.”

"Yeah, sounds about right," Vicky said. "Who knows? Maybe if we ever patrol together, I can call in a Ward and we can all hang out. You know, get him used to the idea."

'I doubt it,' I snorted mentally. There must have been something on my face because Dean looked at me with an inquisitive glance.

"You don't think that's a good idea, Blake?"

I was caught flat-footed. I didn't expect him to be quite so perceptive. "No," I told him, choosing my words carefully. I took a bite of my pizza to gather my thoughts. "I just think if a new hero wants to remain indie, you should let him, Vicky. Respect his space."

Dean frowned. "I'd normally agree, but the problem is that he's not safe. Dad showed me a lot of statistics about new capes before. I mean sure, it was in the context of real estate and safe investments and stuff, but… new capes who don't join up with a group don't do well. If Victoria doesn't reach out, the gangs will, and they won't be so polite."

That… That was a worryingly good point. It was worth considering at least. I knew that my power could land on a dud because it'd happened before. Or I could be caught out of transformation.

Sure, as I was now, I could steamroll the majority of threats I'd read about last night; I'd love to see Krieg try to stop a stampeding mamoswine, but that didn't mean I'd have this power forever. Randomness was my weakness just as sure as versatility was my strength. Some pokemon seemed liable to get “stuck” sometimes, allowing me to turn into them regardless of the daily type, like litwick, but I didn’t know how that worked exactly or how I might go about getting more permanent forms. A team could help mitigate the risks.

"Maybe," I hummed noncommittally. "That's not a bad point, but think of it from this Menagerie guy's point of view. He said he didn't want to join and went out of his way to find Vicky and Amy so he didn't have to deal with the Wards, right? What would he think if he showed up one day and Aegis or Armsmaster was waiting for him? If that happened to me, I'd feel pretty annoyed. It's about trust, you know?"

"Well…" I could see Vicky waffling. She wasn't a bad girl, just a bit impulsive. I knew she wasn't trying to insult me and here and now, in my civilian guise, was probably the best time to try and influence her.

"Dean does make a good point, but I wonder if there's a reason he doesn't want to join a team. Do you think he doesn't know that there is safety in numbers? Of course he does, right? So… why not…?" I leaned forward. By this point, I'd drawn the eyes of the whole table, though it was a bit late to stop talking. "From what Amy said, he's a changer. That means he's not going to need support from the PRT in the form of equipment, right? If he gets into a fight, he probably won't even spend any time as a human. Unless the guy's secretly homeless, he's not going to benefit much from any money the PRT can offer him."

"Point, but it's not about money, it's about safety," Dean argued. "No matter how strong this guy is, one ambush is all it takes. And besides, the PRT offers more than just money. They give lessons on acceptable force, what to do in emergency situations, even CPR certification training. I know because I'm CPR certified, got it from a summer thing they held. They give a lot more than just backup and a fancy costume."

"Well could it be that he had a bad experience with a pro hero? There's got to be a reason behind him stressing independence so much. What are the downsides of joining up then?"

Vicky's brows furrowed cutely. She'd given up on eating her pizza in favor of the debate between me and her boyfriend. "Time commitments for sure," she said. "All the Wards are great, but it's a lot of time you need to invest into being a hero. And you don't get to choose who you patrol with. I'm sure you can have your say, but in the end, it's Aegis' decision as Wards Leader so if you don't get along with someone, you don't get to just leave."

All fair points…

I allowed the conversation to turn to something else. In the end, my opinion hadn't changed. Joining up meant restrictions and if I didn't join the Sinnoh League after I handed Cynthia her ass, I sure as hell wouldn't be joining the Wards.

X

As I promised myself, I headed straight to the library after school. I was one of the few there, not many wanted to spend their Friday afternoon studying, so I got to claim a computer in the far corner.

The first thing I did was try to figure out a heatmap of the city. As far as I could tell, the Empire had a stranglehold in the south. That made some sense. Their turf contained most of the wealthier neighborhoods, which were predominantly white. It also contained a large chunk of the commercial district, including big name companies like Medhall, Stansfield REIT, and a few others.

It was a bit strange that the Empire could act openly in such a high-profile area, but I doubted Kaiser was beating up the CEO of Medhall for protection money so I paid it no mind.

On the other hand, the ABB held sections of the Docks, Trainyard, and some middle-income neighborhoods to the north. The heart of their turf was obviously the Chinatown area that made up a few square blocks just north of the Boardwalk. Really, it was more like a pan-Asian neighborhood with a ton of immigrants.

The Merchants… They took the fringes, whatever the two bigger gangs didn't want. They nominally had control over the Trainyard and the Boat Graveyard, but they tended to step lightly whenever the ABB stepped on by. They weren’t terribly bright, but my outing had proved they weren’t completely stupid either.

Sandwiched between the two big gangs was the Boardwalk, university, Forsberg Gallery, City Hall, and other important locales. These were protected by either the Protectorate directly or New Wave by proxy. I knew for a fact that the university was considered neutral ground by all involved, not least of which because Laserdream attended it. You didn't want to start a fight where a flying artillery piece was always available.

My own orphanage was southwest of Winslow. It wasn't in a good neighborhood, but it wasn't bad either. There was a bit of an understanding between the Merchants, ABB, and cops that the area was a no man's ground. I didn't doubt they wouldn't care if push came to shove, but none of the low-level mooks made much of a fuss beyond pushing drugs on corners and behind 7-Elevens.

I tried to do my research on Coil, but came up empty. By marking every sighting of armed mercenaries, I identified a few blocks bordering Empire turf that Coil presumably held, but that was just a guess.

The less said about the Undersiders the better. Because they held no territory, they were effectively smoke upon the wind.

No, if there was a group I was interested in, it was Faultline's Crew.

They were a group of four capes who held a single nightclub and the hill it sat on. Nominally, it bordered ABB turf and the Boardwalk, but they hadn't had any problems as far as I knew. That told me that either Lung respected Faultline enough to not fuck with her little slice of the city, or that Faultline had negotiated her independence from the dragon. Either way, both options were impressive for different reasons.

That wasn’t all. The most interesting thing I learned about them was that before they arrived, they were in Philadelphia for a job. It was also just after they recruited Labyrinth, so she was likely from around those parts.

I found an old PHO post that led to a series of news articles covering their job, or at least the climax. They must have done something big because they somehow managed to draw the attention of both Chevalier, the local Protectorate leader, and Myrddin, the Chicago leader. What the mage was doing out in Phili was anyone’s guess, but the two heroes worked together to capture Faultline’s Crew and failed. There was even a video on PHO of the encounter and… it was embarrassing for the heroes.

Labyrinth, in her first debut, managed to make fools of both heroes by changing the entire downtown Phili into a world of her own making. Pillars rose from the earth like Regirock had a boner. Earthquakes wracked the area until Chevalier could do nothing but jam his sword into the ground and hang on for dear life. Entire temple structures sprouted up in seconds to shield her team from Myrddin.

All while Faultline's Crew seemingly passed through the obstacles like they didn't exist.

Shaker-twelve, or so her wiki claimed. It was a title well-earned. It was a truly impressive showing; I wondered what kind of person she was.

I leaned back in my chair and stretched, letting out a series of satisfying pops from my spine. I still had a few hours before I had to head back home for dinner, so I decided to walk around a bit, as a civilian, not as Menagerie.

On second thought, I remembered the state of my "costume." It could charitably be called "hobo-chic" and I really did need better. I had nearly four grand weighing in my pocket. I thought about what I could reasonably acquire without getting on a watchlist somewhere.

The military surplus store was the obvious choice, but that ease of access came with risks. It was pretty damn clear that I wouldn't have any interest in camo or body armor unless something big in my life changed. I imagined it'd be as obvious as a new tinker visiting the junkyard.

I paused. "Then again… if that's the best I can cobble together, can I just… make my own costume?"

After all, I knew a lot of pokemon with incredibly durable hides. Scales, fur, and silken threads could all be used for crafting. Back during my tour of Johto, I heard from a friend in Violet City that they used to make swords out of skarmory feathers in the olden days. Surely I could do the same…?

I laughed.

No. No I fucking could not. I wasn't awful with a needle, but that was just me sewing on some patches to clothes as I backpacked through the regions. I wasn't anywhere near "make a full, combat-ready costume" good, just decent enough to not embarrass myself.

I thought back to the different capes in the city I knew about. There was that new cape; Parian was her name. She wasn't a part of any faction so I barely paid her any mind, a rogue who made some money on the side by holding puppet shows for children and tourists on the Boardwalk.

Would she be available?

I grabbed my helmet. if she was, I wanted to greet her as Menagerie so I could get to negotiations immediately.

Welp, Boardwalk it was.

X

Finding her was a simple affair. As it turned out, she conducted a puppet show outside the toy store every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Hell, she even had a website that advertised her shows. It probably helped that the toy store sold those same puppets.

I wondered how she could be so bold as to regularly show up to a predetermined place, then I realized she was relying heavily on the unwritten rules, a vaguely defined code of ethics. I supposed it didn't hurt that it was a place frequented by children. No one wanted the optics of being the one to pick a fight around kids.

Despite being "in costume," I faded into the back of the audience easily enough. After all, my costume at the moment was just a jacket and a motorcycle helmet.

I clapped along when a puppet dressed uncannily like Legend stopped a rampaging monster. Parian made creative use of flashlights colored lenses embedded into her puppets to simulate lasers.

When the monster was vanquished and the day was saved, Parian stood side by side with her dolls and dropped into a flourishing curtsey. "That's the show everyone, thank you for coming.”

I noticed that she had two puppets flanking her at all times that didn't participate in the show, a lamb and a lion. 'Bodyguards, probably,' I thought. Others might dismiss them as props, but Phoebe's banette had given me a healthy respect for dolls that could hand me my ass.

The sun began to set and she'd deflated most of her puppets when I coughed to get her attention.

"Yes? Can I help you, sir?" she asked. Now that we were alone, she shrank in on herself a little, as though she wasn't used to conversations outside of a set script. There was a healthy dose of caution here too. She'd clearly seen that my helmet hid too much of my face.

"Yes, yes you can. I would love to commission work from you. A costume for money and material."

She looked me up and down before she clicked her tongue judgingly. "I can certainly see why you'd be interested, but no. Sorry, I try to stay away from the cape scene as much as possible. I especially don't take commissions from random capes I've never met before."

"Wait, can you at least hear me out?"

"Look, it's not just your… It's not just you, it's a security thing. If I make costumes for capes, that's as good as me saying I'm available to approach. Not just for commissions. Recruitment. Pressganging. I like my neutrality, Mr…"

"Menagerie. My name's Menagerie and I'm an independent hero."

"Right… I'm sure you'll be just fine as a hero without my help. I'm sorry, but I make it a policy to not accept commissions from people I don't trust. It's not just good business for me; it's a matter of survival."

Her shoulders were set. Tense, like she was expecting a confrontation. That wasn't what I wanted and I could see that getting her to hear me out would be out of the question right now. Stubborn, but not an unreasonable stance from her view. There wasn’t anything I could do about it now.

"Right, I understand. Thanks for hearing me out. Do you by any chance know any tailors I can contact? I'm willing to provide all the materials and pay them well for it."

"If you're really that desperate for a better costume, you could try reaching out to the fashion department at the university. They might decide that you're too much trouble, but there might be at least one person interested just to be able to say they made a hero's outfit."

"Thanks, I appreciate it,” I said with a grateful nod.

She waved me off. "Oh, and as an aside, don't approach capes in public. You're almost certainly going to receive a negative response."

With that, she walked off. I considered following her for a moment, but decided against it.

X

I got chewed out a bit from Mrs. Wells because I ended up late for dinner, but it wasn't too bad. In the end, I was seventeen; she wasn't going to keep harping on sharing a meal with me so long as I did my chores around the orphanage.

After that disappointing meeting with Parian, I found myself seeking some peace and quiet so I decided to give this whole meditation thing a try. Who knew? If I could grab hold of my aura, maybe I could increase the duration of my shifts.

I settled down into bed and let my mind drift away. I tried to do everything Titania used to do. I breathed in, then out, until my breathing stilled and my chest barely moved.

My mind wandered, but I did my best to leash it back.

Aura… It was different for everyone. Hell, even fighting type pokemon focused in different ways. A conkeldurr had very different habits than a medicham.

After an hour or two of this, I realized the problem: I was trying to be too much like Titania. I wasn't a gardevoir so I shouldn't try to think like one.

That realization helped me more than any meditation "technique." After all, at its most basic, aura was the physical expression of one’s inward reality. I was rewarded with the barest wisp of blue floating in my hand. It was tiny, barely there, but… but it was mine.