ACL: 6.5. Parahuman Response Team (Patreon)

Chapter 6.5: Parahuman Response Team

Brockton Bay, NH, USA
Monday, January 17, 2011
Type: ???

The Bay was a shithole. Everyone knew that. If there was something she, Kaiser, Lung, and Skidmark could agree on, it would be this one immutable truth. The Bay was a shithole and it wasn’t likely to get any better.

The reason was simple: Capes.

Capes never made anything better. Without their capes, half her troubles would evaporate overnight. The Nazis would never have the power to hold most of the business district hostage. The ABB’s “farms” could be raided with impunity and the scumbags who supplied them locked up in the darkest pit she could find. The Merchants would be far easier to find without fucking invisible supply trucks!

Capes… Capes solved nothing. The average citizen was too enamored by the glitz and glamor, dazzled by the prestige and power of the modern hero to understand this fact. Every single cape, even those who she nominally oversaw, were nutcases. One. And. All.

‘And here I am, promoting this idiotic masquerade,’ Emily Piggot thought bitterly.

Some days, she felt like Sisyphus, doomed to push boulders uphill. Or, truthfully, most days. And then there were days like today, days that were, not good, but better.

Personally, she loved Mondays. Most didn’t, seeing it as the herald of a workweek, a return to the grind. But her? She saw it as the beginning of yet another five-day moratorium on the city’s imminent destruction.

It was a truism that capes typically died young. Even among heroes, few were they who lived long enough to retire. One could only tempt the universe with their kind of risk-taking behavior for so long. Sooner or later, the universe took that bravado as a personal challenge.

It was also a truism that triggers tended to happen young or not at all. It was a rare occurrence when someone past their physical prime triggered with a power.

Combined, these two truisms meant that capes tended to be overwhelmingly young. Armsmaster was just entering his mid-thirties and he was considered among the most experienced capes in the country. Those like the Triumvirate, who had been around since the dawn of the era, were an extreme rarity.

All that to say, most capes, unless they had the basic sense to make capedom their career by joining the Protectorate, had a nine to five job. Or they were students. It was a statistically provable fact that by virtue of having other shit to do, most capes tended to be less active during the weekdays. Not every villain could make their mask their entire life after all.

And so Piggot loved Mondays, for they heralded five days of relative peace before every idiot in the city decided donning a mask was a good idea.

She finished her dialysis. Her muscles weren’t aching like she was in her eighties. The sky was a clear blue, unmarred by clouds. The new intern finally learned to make decent coffee even. Today was as good as days could get in the Bay.

She opened the window in her office by the shore and smiled as a cool breeze brushed her blonde locks. The cool sea breeze was just about the only good thing about this city that capes hadn’t managed to ruin yet.

Then she turned back to her desk and froze.

Her head twisted on a swivel back to the seaside view and she felt a pit form in her stomach. Ulcers she’d almost forgotten about cried out in chorus as if to remind her that she wasn’t allowed happiness.

“Where is the tanker…?”

X

Chaos. Utter. Fucking. Chaos.

Apparently, whatever god existed decided her life wasn’t shitty enough so some new indie had moved the tanker. The entire day was spent dealing with the aftermath of a single masked idiot’s actions.

Not five minutes after she noticed the missing ship, she received a call from the mayor and the city council demanding to know what was going on. She was on the phone with various idiots who thought they were the political movers and shakers of the Bay until lunchtime, telling them again and again that she didn’t know. They were that infuriating mix of “too important to make someone else’s problem” and “too stupid to know a damn thing about capes.”

Just about the only thing she got done before lunch was sending Armsmaster to investigate the disappearance of the tanker and the sign that this Menagerie had left behind. He had, with her permission, included a few sensors he’d been working on in conjunction with Dragon.

Lunch came and went in a blitz of emails and a sandwich some intern ran down the street to buy off a shady food truck. As dominating as this was in today’s news, the PRT-ENE did have other duties beyond responding to the actions of one cape.

Then lunch passed and Menagerie dominated her life:

Economic analysis of what the tanker’s disappearance might mean for the Bay from her finance people…

Preliminary analysis of public perception on PHO from the department’s media liaison…

Estimated power rating from the eggheads…

An accumulated report on the activities of Menagerie from their analytics team…

Theoretical psychological profile compiled from past activities and the sign from a contracted shrink...

It. Just. Didn’t. End.

4:30PM found her hosting a meeting in the largest conference room she could find, just the latest of three today. Tonight promised to be a long night like so many others.

At her side was Renick, her deputy director. To her other side was Armsmaster, followed by the rest of the Protectorate in order of seniority. Aegis, as leader of the Wards, was permitted to attend. He was a calm, disciplined kid; it wasn’t likely, but perhaps he heard something at school that might shed some light on public perception. If nothing else, this would be a learning experience for him.

“Menagerie,” she began, showing a bare-bones PowerPoint some intern worked on while she had other things to do. “Sometime last night, he moved the entire tanker and left this mocking message.”

The first picture was also the image trending on PHO. It showed a wave of concrete that had seemingly been rolled up like a scroll to create a vertical writing surface. There, with thick slash marks as though from supernaturally sharp claws, was the following message:

"Menagerie was here. You wouldn't let me build an ice rink for children, so I decided to clean up my bathtub a bit. Hope you don't mind."

“Heh, you gotta admit, the… spheal? It’s kinda cute,” Assault grinned. He was Clockblocker, but somehow even more irreverent. If she didn’t know for a fact that it wouldn’t hurt him, she might have been tempted to chuck the computer mouse at his head.

“Not the time for humor,” she snapped, settling for glowering at him instead. “We’re here to go over Menagerie and figure out how we want to approach him in the future. Renick?”

The man stood and cleared his throat. “Thank you, director. Menagerie has, as far as we know, only been active for one week. He first appeared on Tuesday in the hospital, where he interacted with a security guard. He took the form of a piece of sentient, floating pottery before claiming to be an independent hero seeking Panacea and Glory Girl’s counsel. From there, he managed to encounter and speak to both, though what they said is unclear.”

“Actually, deputy director,” Aegis cut in, “Dean said he asked Glory Girl for advice on what was and was not considered excessive force. He asked Panacea if she could validate his healing ability. Oh, and he turned into a baby blue elephant… an elephant that is both small and blue, not baby-blue the color… Though maybe the color…?”

“Yes, thank you, Aegis. Menagerie then showed up again two days later as a massive owl to call on Panacea to validate his healing abilities. He spent a few hours Thursday evening healing people in the trauma ward. We could not demand exact copies of patient records thanks to HIPAA, not without a court subpoena or warrant for an outstanding arrest. However, several doctors and nurses on call were able to verify that he healed a wide range of injuries ranging from ruptured organs and broken bones to concussions. He also healed a cancer patient who enthusiastically posted on PHO about the ‘magic, pink bunny.’”

As per usual, Armsmaster was the first to zero in on significant details. “A concussion. He does not have Panacea’s limitation on brains?” he asked sharply.

“Not as we can tell. We did question Ms. Dallon and it seems he has other limits, namely that he can run out of time on his transformations. He also could not cure genetic anomalies, only the symptoms. They found this out when he tried to purge cancer and succeeded, but failed to resolve the underlying cause thereof.”

“That is still an exceptionally potent ability. Do all of his transformations have similar levels of power?”

“We do not know. We know that he is capable of high-speed flight. He took her home at the end of the night on a raptor with a wingspan easily surpassing eight feet at speeds most airplanes would be hard pressed to match.”

“Wait, wouldn’t she be… you know… a smear?” Assault asked. “I mean, happy she’s alive and all, but that kind of speed’s not a joke.”

“It is thought that he has some kind of kinetic manipulation similar to you or Velocity,” Renick said. “We do not know how, but he seems to possess an exceptional degree of control over these transformations.”

“Huh, so you might say he’s no bird-brain?”

“Shut up, husband dear,” Battery sniped, jabbing her partner with a pointed elbow.

Renick proved why he was her favorite and ignored them all with practiced professionalism. “His next appearance was at the Boardwalk, when he asked Parian if he could commission a costume. She rejected the request as she prefers to keep her neutrality, even with heroes. She apparently recommended the university fashion department however and he visited them the next day.

“There, he scared some of the students as a wolf then turned into a t-rex with a white mane before allowing a student to pry scales from his hide. These scales were shown to grow back with each transformation. He also showed that he has approximately a minute between transformations.

“Here, Laserdream of New Wave found him and after confirming that he was not harming any students, assisted in… descaling the dinosaur… That too is on PHO.”

“Wait, she just… sat down and helped?” Triumph, their newest member, asked. “Isn’t it illegal?”

“What about it would be illegal?”

“I… I don’t know. It just sounds like something that would be on the books somewhere…”

“Unfortunately, the law has never had to account for the descaling of a consenting dinosaur,” he replied with a wry smile. “His last appearance was as this ‘spheal’ creature. After making a mockery of the Boardwalk’s enforcers, he was confronted by Kid Win and Vista. After confirming that he would not be able to build an ice rink on the waterfront, he dove into the sea and disappeared. Then… the tanker.”

Piggot sighed. Just hearing about all the shit this one cape had managed to do in a single week was giving her a headache. “Now for the crux of the matter: Why? What is he looking to accomplish?”

“He could just be a nice guy?” Assault tried. Everyone in the room leveled him with disbelieving looks. “What? Not everything has a higher purpose.”

Miss Militia spoke, gamely ignoring him through hard-earned experience. “He is a new cape, heroic intentions at least. He’s been smart enough to avoid active conflict but could it be that he has a compulsive need to be seen doing good? Making a difference? New triggers often exhibit behavioral compulsions to offset the circumstances of their trigger. Revenge. Vigilante justice.”

“So you think he’s… an attention whore?”

“Not perhaps in such negative terms, but… perhaps? His behavior suggests that he wants to be seen doing good, to make a name for himself as a positive force in this city. That in itself is not wrong.”

It was sometimes hard to remember because Militia was such a yes-woman, but she was among the most educated capes in the city. As a noctis cape, she spent most of her extra hours either picking up extra shifts or improving herself. She also seemed extremely interested in trigger theory.

“That’s not a bad theory,” Piggot admitted grudgingly. “But then why not spend his time healing constantly? Be the next Panacea?”

“He cannot,” Armsmaster said definitively. He always had a habit of placing undue weight on his theories. “I suspect that as with Eidolon, he cannot specify the exact nature of his transformations. He likely suggests a certain set of parameters that his power then fulfills. Along with his transformation timer, it is a significant limitation.”

Assault let out a low whistle. “Changer-Eidolon? So what do we do about him? I mean, we’re going to try to recruit him, right?”

“Yes,” Piggot said. “Initial reports from Glory Girl stated that he chose her over us because he didn’t want a recruitment pitch. I was content to let sleeping dogs lie, but not after the tanker. He has not only proven to be an invaluable support cape, but also a cape with enough power to move the tanker on his own. The gangs will not sit by and watch any longer so we can’t afford to either.”

“Yeah, boss-lady, but what does that mean? Are we really going to try to detain a guy who could do that?” He waved to the conspicuously clear Bay skyline.

“No,” Armsmaster said firmly. “It is our conclusion that forcing a potential battle would be unwise at this time. We lack far too much information to risk an engagement. Instead, our priority is to get him in for testing as soon as possible.”

“Soft sell then,” Battery nodded approvingly. “We can do that. Maybe me and Assault? He has the reputation for being the most laid back.”

“Yes. I would suggest the Wards, but Kid Win and Vista seemingly poisoned the water as it were. Your goal will be to get him to come in. If not, you are to get him to accept a PRT emergency communicator in the eventuality that other gangs make a push for him.”

“Can do, boss-man,” Assault grinned. “I think we’ll get along fine.”

“So… We just wait for the gangs to make a push for him?” Velocity asked. He was former army; sitting on his thumbs didn’t sit well with him.

“Yes. If he is as reticent as he appears, a fight is inevitable. It will force him to show more of his powers and validate our concerns. If he damages public property, we can bring him in and use it as leverage for a harder push,” Piggot said.

“Then what about the fashion department? That Sabah girl is getting real famous on PHO for being his tailor.”

“We can’t stop them from making a costume, no matter how exotic the materials. However, that Sabah girl may now be in danger. Velocity, you are to present her with a communicator of her own, just in case. You are also to try to dissuade her from working with him, highlighting the risk of her being taken by a gang.”

Militia frowned. “Is he really close enough with her for the gangs to take her hostage?”

“Unlikely,” Armsmaster said, “but he has shown heroic inclinations. Even if she is not a friend nor family, someone who threatens her for associating with him will likely be able to force an encounter in their favor.”

“Hence you will try to dissuade her,” Piggot said firmly. “He wasn’t much of a problem when he was the goofy dino getting skinned alive. Now, he’s made his power clear.”

“Yes ma’am,” Velocity said, almost snapping a salute. “But don’t we have better tailors? I mean, our costume guys have to be better than a fashion student, right? Can’t we offer a custom-made costume as an incentive to come in?”

“Do so, Battery, Assault. But I don’t think that will be a good enough lure on its own. In any case, we will watch this Sabah girl and Menagerie to take advantage of any opportunity that presents itself. He cannot be allowed to remain independent forever.”

Just then, three sharp knocks sounded through the room before her secretary ran in. “Director, Menagerie’s surfaced again.”

“Excuse me?”

“He is at the hospital!”