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HOUSE OF M(ETA)
HOUSE OF M
A DREAM IS A WISH…
In dreams you will lose your heartaches,
whatever you wish for,
you keep.
Anti-Meta sentiments are on the rise. This is no secret. Check the news and you see it, politicians arguing about the dangers that superhumans pose to the world. What if they go rogue? What if they stage a mutiny? How can they tell that heroes are really the good guys, when so many of them have secret identities. In the last week, multiple protests against metahumans potentially moving to their cities have broken out across the United States. Some cities have proposed legislation that would make it illegal for metahumans to live within their borders.
Excelsior is leading the charge, politicians are looking to ban any metahuman whose abilities are not technical in origin from living there.
It is little wonder, then, that so many go to bed dreaming of a better world. One without the hardships of this one, or of the one they endured before.
Meanwhile, across the country, Sunset Falls is in a state of change. Mayor West finally has candidates willing to take the position of Mayor from him. This shift in the city's attention prevents anyone from paying much mind to the odd and potent energies taking shape. Sure, there are strange occurrences happening. A young woman walks by the school and immediately forgets her name, her job, and where she lives. Others report a strange feeling of being watched. Those sensitive to it may feel something otherworldly and strange hanging in the air. Bearing down on them with oppressive force.
And, dear heroes, as you know - two forms of surging energies create what is known as a Confluence.
In dreams you will lose your heartaches,
whatever you wish for,
you keep.
Anti-Meta sentiments are on the rise. This is no secret. Check the news and you see it, politicians arguing about the dangers that superhumans pose to the world. What if they go rogue? What if they stage a mutiny? How can they tell that heroes are really the good guys, when so many of them have secret identities. In the last week, multiple protests against metahumans potentially moving to their cities have broken out across the United States. Some cities have proposed legislation that would make it illegal for metahumans to live within their borders.
Excelsior is leading the charge, politicians are looking to ban any metahuman whose abilities are not technical in origin from living there.
It is little wonder, then, that so many go to bed dreaming of a better world. One without the hardships of this one, or of the one they endured before.
Meanwhile, across the country, Sunset Falls is in a state of change. Mayor West finally has candidates willing to take the position of Mayor from him. This shift in the city's attention prevents anyone from paying much mind to the odd and potent energies taking shape. Sure, there are strange occurrences happening. A young woman walks by the school and immediately forgets her name, her job, and where she lives. Others report a strange feeling of being watched. Those sensitive to it may feel something otherworldly and strange hanging in the air. Bearing down on them with oppressive force.
And, dear heroes, as you know - two forms of surging energies create what is known as a Confluence.
THOSE LEFT BEHIND
You wake to pandemonium.
An emergency broadcast is blaring across any transmissible signal. A Confluence of unprecedented size has struck. Half of the country has been consumed by it.
By noon, there is a quarantine in place - not that anyone seems to be trying to leave the affected area. No, this quarantine is to prevent people from trying to go in. Unauthorized access is not permitted, not until the capes in charge have a better idea of what is going on. Once again, the Godfall Protocols are enacted. All able-bodied metahumans are recruited to the task, and once again, the Starfallen will find themselves standing shoulder to shoulder with those far weaker than them.
This time there is no giant monster to fight. Just a barrier, invisible to the naked eye, that seems to alter anyone who enters into it. The early metahuman scouts report themselves to be unaffected for the first few hours, but any normal humans who enter this space quickly find themselves… no longer themselves.
Atomight, Frances Starling and Mechanima are all at the Alliance HQ. For once, the three faction leaders seem to be in perfect harmony. This is a bad idea, they cannot send their people into this No Man’s Land… but they have no choice. The Godfall Protocols are what they are, they were created for this very reason. Though they are not arguing with each other, the government agents suddenly standing in HQ are telling a very different story. The three of them are not hiding the fact that they are all too aware that their “freedom” comes with a price, and their resentment is reaching a boiling point.
At some point during these early hours, Atomight finds himself temporarily locked out of his office. While the three leaders are distracted trying to regain entry, Fantastic takes center stage and begins issuing the most scripted heart-felt speech you have ever heard. Unlike the other three, he doesn’t seem to care much for what he could be sending people into. This is not a speech meant to inspire confidence that all will work out in the end, that the weakest among them will be taken care of, it is a speech to inspire soldiers.
By the end of this first day, they have gathered enough information to make a determination. The Starfallen seem to be more resilient to whatever effects are occurring than the rest of the population. They are called to a unique, private meeting - one in which all three leaders attend.
“We don’t know what you will be facing there,” they state plainly. “But we know you have the best chance of making it out with your minds intact.”
The choice is yours. You can help secure the area, you can retreat to Little Love and hope that this expands no further, or you can step into the unknown.
You can engage with the leaders here.
HOUSE OF (M)ETA.
Inside the quarantine zone, all is well.
Your alarm rings a little late and you find yourself groggy and briefly disoriented, as though waking from a very long dream. One that you find yourself considering to be unpleasant, and not worth thinking about. You stretch and slide out of bed, perhaps kiss your partner good morning and prepare yourself to wrangle your children and get them prepared for school, but today is like any other day. The world is as it always has been, and you find yourself oddly comforted to know that things are not as bad as they could be.
And then your day begins.
If you are a card carrying member of the Guardian Alliance, then you report to work before most of the world is up and running. Atomight appears to be busy in Central City, as he is not present and is not answering any calls, but you know what to do. The Guardian Alliance is all about finding ways to be useful, without enrolling in any of the government run Metahuman departments. It pays less, and you have to have frequent check-ins with actual government approved heroes, but you find a measure of freedom in it… though the pressure is immense. One wrong move and you may find yourself imprisoned for “irresponsible” use of your powers, branded as the reason why metahumans should stay under the thumb of the government after their service ends, and not allowed to organize themselves in fear they may take over the world.
If you took the darker path, then you will find yourself reporting to an ordinary office building in whatever city you live in, for a boring job that you do not have. Villainy is not a safe passtime, but those who band together tend to stay alive a little longer. The Society of Villainous Reformation exists to provide the community that most villains lack. Villainy comes in many shapes and sizes, and the Society has all sorts. The only uniting factor in this faction is the fact that you do not want to be used the way heroes are. You want to use your powers as you see fit, whether that means you get an edge on tests or rob banks to your heart's content is up to you.
Or are you a vigilante? A complete wildcard, answering to nothing and no one but your own personal sense of justice? Vigilantes have a reputation for being brutal and efficient, needing none of the teamwork and oversight that the guilds use. They are also generally less accountable, unless The Society or the Guardian Alliance steps in.
Starfall, formerly Starstruck. He was one of the first heroes to enroll in the government's War Hero project, which has now become a mandatory military service for all young metahumans upon reaching 18.
The most concerning thing right now in the world is the cult, the Battlements of the Shining God. They are known to sacrifice people to their fearsome God, stating that it will give them the power to put things right. But… you have never seen them in person. Only heard of the wreckage they leave. But disturbingly, if you tune in to the nightly broadcast that the Dreamers of the Willow Maiden put out to help lull you to sleep, you will note they seem… off. Warning of a war that is coming. You are fairly certain you can handle a confrontation with them, though. After all, nothing you couldn’t handle has ever happened.
And as you fall asleep at night in this perfect world, in your perfect life, you swear you hear The Lady herself whispering in your ear. Wake up, wake up, this dream is not yours to live.
Yet when you try to hold on to those words, they slip from your thoughts. And when you awaken, all remains as it should be.
SNAP BACK TO REALITY
For those who agree to go into the quarantined zone, you find yourself given the best gadgets both the Alliance and The Society can offer. They are unsure how to prepare you for this, though the scouts that made it back say that things seem… fine. Peaceful, even. Everyone seemed so happy, but they did not recognize them.
Contact will be difficult to maintain. The radios were functioning while they were inside, but it seems that the further they went into these zones, the worse communication got.
When removed from the quarantine zone, those who were affected regained themselves bit by bit. Some held on stubbornly to their illusionary life, but when presented with undeniable evidence of the life they had before, and reminders of any joy they found within it, they came back to themselves.
“Are you saying that they have to befriend them to remind them of their sanity?” Mechanima asks, torn between incredulity and amusement.
“What he’s saying,” Frances cuts in, “is that they need a reminder that they have a life worth living outside of whatever the hell is going on in there.”
Atomight nods. “This appears to be a shared delusion manifested by magic. So, a mass psychic relay would be the best way to break the hold. However, it will take time to do safely.” He turns to the gathered volunteers. “Your job is to start cracks, so the whole thing shatters when we deliver the final punch… and no one soul is left bearing the brunt of that psychic backlash.”
There’s a moment of silence. You find yourself being handed resources for your trip inside - no weapons, just first-aid kits and any items you may have told people to gather that could remind your lost friends of who they are.
"This is going to change everything," Atomight continues. "Even if all this goes to plan, the fact that it happened at all means things won’t stay like they’ve been."
He doesn’t elaborate. Mechanima’s mask turns to troubled static, and Frances throws a glance back towards the Alliance’s tents. Many of the native metahumans are gathered, and Fantastic is posing for photos with them. The hashtag #METASTOTHERESCUE has been trending for hours, and were you to believe social media, Fantastic is the one leading the charge.
You turn, take a deep breath, and walk through the invisible threshold into another world. The teleportation devices you have been given will take you directly to the city of your choosing.
IN SUMMARY...
- The unrest in Excelsior and the upcoming election in Sunset Falls has caused a massive confluence, which has affected a great portion of the country.
- Anyone within the border of these affected areas finds themselves thrust into an alternate universe, wherein they lived a very different life as a native citizen of this world. In this version of the world, the Godfall Incident never happened.
- All metahumans - regardless of if they belong to Society, the Alliance, and the Unaligned - find that the Godfall Protocols are being enacted, meaning that metahumans will be conscripted into assisting. Knowing most metahumans do not stand a chance against whatever metaenergies are causing this, the leaders of these groups are asking the Starfallen to enter willingly.
- Being in the alternate universe for more than 72 hours will make you start to believe that you are part of it. It is very keen to assimilate you into it, and you may find yourself slowly developing false memories the longer you are in there.
- Exiting isn't an immediate cure, but the longer you are out, the faster you will come back to yourself.
- You can bring your AU-affected friends back to reality by reminding them of who they are, and that the life they have outside of the bubble is equally good as the one inside.
- Anyone who wants to sit this one out can kick back, relax, and enjoy some Kansas hospitality. Little Love is a safe area and will protect any citizens who do not feel capable or are unwilling to jump into the unknown.
Please direct any questions regarding this log HERE.
no subject
He’s not exactly sure when he wakes up. After strong hands pick him up, before experiment… and Tim’s not stupid. He knew it wasn’t cops who yanked him off the street, and experiment seals it as a supervillain. Probably seals his fate. News reporters don’t often say “all of the civilians were released without injury.” They don’t say anything like that. They start with warnings like “the following story contains graphic content that viewers may find disturbing.”
There is no successful fighting back, but Tim struggles against the holds anyway - and with increasing panic as he sees more, and more, and more of these extreme metahuman mutations. He’s seen physically changed metahumans before, but these are grotesque. Unnatural. Terrifying and heartbreaking, and Tim’s only thought is to get away because there is something wrong here.
If he could just get loose, he could run. Strong metahumans aren’t always fast, and there has to be a window or a door or something. He doesn’t want to be fed to them or forced to fight them. Whatever the “experiment” is. He wants -
He wants to breathe. Why is he hyperventilating like this when he isn’t even the one running? How’s he going to escape when he’s already panting?
They throw him onto an operating gurney with unnecessary force that knocks the wind out of him. Clamps hold down each limb, and the whole thing is cranked up to bring his body 30 degrees off vertical.
(Why? What disgusting procedure is easier to do at this angle? It hardly seems ergonomic.)
(Please don’t let his last thought be about ergonomics.)
(Or about how badass the ten foot long robotic arm looks ending in a gigantic ray gun.)
“Where’s the mouth guard? You know she gets pissed if teeth break.”
A wide strap of heavy duty vulcanized rubber is brought out. The molded mouthpiece makes it look like electroshock headgear. It’s grungy and chewed up from previous use.
“No, no!” He tries to pull his head away, like there’s anywhere to go.
A hand grips him painfully by the jaw and holds his head steady. “C’mon, kid, don’t make this more painful than it has to be. It’s not like you’re gonna die.”
Tim almost believes him. He doesn’t open his mouth until the hand squeezes and forces him to choose between clenched teeth and a broken jaw, but something sounded honest about it.
As the strap’s shoved into his mouth and cranked tight, the rings on the ray gun begin to light up in sequence. Tim shuts his eyes. ‘Not gonna die’ covers a wide range of outcomes. He doesn’t want to see it.
no subject
Mutagenia looks quite excited.
"He's a champion gymnast. I think his musculature will make it so this experiment has less...mildly flawed results."
The last ring lights up and a light flickers to life at the point of the ray gun. There's a loud crackling sound and then -
There's a loud crash as a wall caves in. The person responsible is moving at superspeed and that means he can take in the tableau in a moment nearly frozen in time. There's Mutagenia, as they suspected. The device is there too, integrated into some kind of ray gun.
But there's a civilian hostage.
The device can't be destroyed when its recovery is the mission, but it doesn't need to be for the hostage to be saved. There is thundering crack and Tim will feel a huge gust of wind and a burst of dizzying movement. The zap just barely misses him, ozone crackling in the space he just was. When it stops, Tim's facing a different direction.
His rescuer ripped the table he was strapped to right off the foundation where it was bolted, breaking the concrete itself. He turns it around to face him.
The person who freed him is wearing an uniform in blue and gold, with a golden shield strapped to his forearm. A half-face helmet still reveals a strong chin and bright blue eyes are visible through the helmet's eyeholes. A blue glow spreads from his hands, breaking the strap of the biteguard and shattering all the shackles. He wraps an arm around Tim's waist then there's another burst of speed and they're behind some crates. Tim is gently lowered to the ground.
A hand reaches up and gently removes the biteguard (as long as he unclenches.)
"Stay here and stay down." Chaos is erupting behind them, as Thirteen's teammates flood into the abandoned warehouse and engage Mutagenia and her goons.
no subject
He’s pulled in close - hoisted, more like, as his feet don’t even touch the ground anymore - but Tim doesn’t try to fight the way he had the henchmen. Everything about him says hero. Tall and broad, awash in bold color blocks of primary colors. Handsome, like Atomight and Fantastic. When he saw news footage of dramatic rescues, Tim always thought they looked over dramatic. Princess carries or tight one arm embraces straight off a bodice ripper, and the person being rescued fawning.
But, no. He gets it. In the flash of time between being picked up and set down, there isn’t enough space for anything but wow. If he’s wide-eyed and breathless when the strap’s taken away, no one can blame him. The guy has to be used to it. To have a rescue come at superspeed in the proverbial nick of time, overwhelming. Awe-inspiring. Kinda overrides the fear, which means that Tim isn’t so frozen. He ducks down behind the crates as directed.
“Thank you.” For saving his life. The ray gun is currently smiting the floor, instead of Tim, so gratitude is necessary. Especially since he’s still caught in the middle of a metahuman fight, holy shit. The instruction was to stay, but there’s a giant hole in the wall that he could run through instead of being a spectator. “You’re going to come back and do that again, right?”
Please get him out of here.
no subject
While it would handle the bullets just fine, he's not sure his TTK will protect Tim from the ray beams.
"Once we get this under control, it'll be safe to move you out of here. Don't worry." He gives him a curt nod, and the sincerity is palpable. "We'll get you home."
The confidence in that is fairly unshakeable.
"Just stay down, and stay quiet and out of sight."
He touches the crates and the blue light appears again, spreading over them. They move to create slightly more of a curve so Tim is covered from multiple angles. He keeps the back open just in case something unpredictable happens where he has to move. (Or he has to instruct him to move.)
As he bounds away, it'll be obvious why, even if Tim doesn't peek through the slight slight hole in between two of the crates. Because Mutagenia's goons yell in pain as Thirteen flies around the room in bursts of superspeed. There are loud metallic noises as he slams them with his shield.
The group is a little rough and tumble but...effective. After all, they're trying to get time off their sentences and not all of them were guilty of villainy. Some were vigilantes that got caught at it. Others just struggled to control their powers. Still, there is a hissing noise and a scream at one point.
"King Snake, we have our orders!" Thirteen calls out. "Less than lethal force only!"
"Fine! God, a guy can't even have a little ssnack, I guesss."
no subject
So Tim nods back and puts a finger to his lips. He’ll be quiet as a mouse behind the crates and try to be forgotten. Both the bad guys and the rescuers know he’s here, but he can see that they’re occupied. He almost wishes he hadn’t peeked through the slight gap. That’s a significant amount of blood for less than lethal force.
… he’s going to stay very far away from King Snake. He would’ve thought he’d be more queasy after that, but he hasn’t had anything to eat or drink in hours.
Captain Blue-and-Gold seems a more respectable, safer cape, but Tim has trouble tracking him. Superspeed. Energy something. Super strength. He might be better than Atomight.
One of the lieutenants is brought down next to the improvised lean-to. Their outstretched hand, still clutching a small ray gun, is so close. Tim stares at it. Glances through the crates at the fight. The fight’s not under control, but if they wake up, he’s sitting right there with a giant target on him.
Tim darts halfway out from behind his blind to wrench the gun free, intending to pocket it in his hoodie and slide back out of sight.
no subject
He does down. There's no blood so apparently that much force was necessary because it concussed him but didn't even cause a cut.
One of his teammates, a woman in black and red robes with lameller armor, slices through Mutagenia with a psionic energy blade in the shape of a dao. It leaves no injury and no bloodshed, but definitely stuns her. She's left groaning and still on the ground.
"Alright, everyone, follow protocol." Thirteen starts barking out orders at a good clip. "We need to secure these idiots for arrest, and start on equipment recovery."
A giant muscle-babe Thirteen didn't name and a man wielding yellow energy constructs start work on placing power dampeners on everyone who's down, clearly already pre-coached on their role.
Thirteen turns to a clearly tech-themed hero, with cyber locks that look like actual plugs.
"Wirez, after securing the device, focus on copying all her data before we move anything. It's too important to risk any data loss. There's gotta be something in there that can be used to un-mutate her victims. They managed some progress with that victim back at base, so it might be possible."
He turns to two other heroes, with costumes in solid bright colors like him. One of them has an outfit in red, blue, and white, with a really stupid-looking metal helmet. The other has metallic looking skin, with tights in red and yellow.
"Peacekeeper, Nucleon, go check out the cages we saw on infrared and assess the other victims for transport. Hopefully, most of them are still conscious enough to cooperate, or at least easy to sedate."
He turns to the sword lady and his tone gets a bit dryer.
"Dao, stab King Snake if he tries to eat anybody."
"Gladly. My favorite past-time," she says.
"Fuck you," says the man with the giant snake head, as he also puts power restraints on everyone. Dao just follows him around, a hand on the hilt of her sword, just itching for a chance to stab him.
This is what the reality alteration gave Kon, the thing that he felt like he'd lost. That had been given away to someone else.
Clarity. Purpose. A well-defined role. He knows his place in the world, he knows what he's supposed to be doing. He has direction.
Even if it's one that's been decided for him.
"I'll go take care of the civilian." Thirteen finally turns and walks back towards where Tim has sheltered. Tim will find he mirrors his position, either standing to face him or kneeling next to him. Whatever won't cause him to tower over him. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
There's a spark of white light in his eyes as he looks Tim over for any broken bones with X-ray vision.
"I don't see anything broken."
no subject
And an appreciation for superheroes, particularly those that are noble (a trait he’s assigned to his collective rescuers). When the leader comes back over, Tim is still crouched behind the crates and watching them. Peacekeeper, Nucleon, Wires, Dao. King Snake. He looks over at the question with a dazed expression.
“I’m not hurt.” It’s true - he’s not in any physical pain. Confused, yes, but not debilitated by it. More… detached, but he won’t understand that until it passes. Tim pushes his hair back to hide dried blood in it from the fall in his cell before anyone can clock it and he winds up in a hospital. He just wants to go home.
“So it’s a pretty cool debut for you.” Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? He was lucky enough to get kidnapped when someone, the army or a guild, had a new team waiting in the wings for a big, splashy debut. There’ll be news vans to catch the perp walks and Tim will end up on the news with a blanket over his shoulders. It beats dying though, and he is a bit cold.
“And you can take care of others first…“ Other victims. Tim is a … victim. He doesn’t like the idea and so avoids saying the word. Sitting down cross legged, he puts on a wobbly smile to prove that he’s okay and not going to be a bother. The superhero can focus on the important details. “…Mister Shield?”
no subject
"I'm Guardian." He gestures towards the others. "We've actually been around for a while but we're not the most public. Military."
Which is at least just as legitimate as the Guilds.
Or legitimate-sounding at least.
And it's not that wild that they might have to handle something on the homefront if it was a problem that started elsewhere and migrated to US soil.
The military meta teams were like the Guild teams in their legitimacy, just with slightly less autonomy. (Usually.)
"I can't say much more than that. Speaking of which, we'll need you to keep quiet about anything you saw here. It will be handled and we'll try to help these people, but there's some classified stuff involved."
Also, not the most shocking if Mutagenia was doing something that had interfered with military operations. Who knows if something else was going on, like if she'd been funded by terrorists or something.
It's not a wholly unreasonable ask.
no subject
The immediate secrecy underlined how much of a huge deal this is, and the small answering smile shrinks into what might be shock.
“I didn’t see anything. I can close my eyes if you want to lead me out.” They do that, don’t they? To keep civilians from seeing casualties. He’s seen police do it during school shootings on the news. “But what I’m going to tell my parents?”
They likely won’t notice, but the Drakes always seem to notice the few times Tim’s out of line. Suddenly, that is the pressing concern, instead of the tech that was about to melt him alive. It’s a more manageable worry that he can work on.
no subject
The specifics are the problem.
"It's okay that they know this happened, just not the details of who did it, what they were doing, and the specifics of what else you saw. Like you could say you saw other hurt victims but not what was done to them. There are a lot of security concerns about her involvement and the technology she was using so that's what we need you to not disclose to anybody."
no subject
He remembers, and he doesn’t know how to make himself forget. He’s never had a national security secret before. His secrets are getting home after curfew and skipping club meetings to play Warlocks and Warriors.
“Oh, crap.” He takes the Small ray gun out of his pocket and tries to get Guardian to take it. “I only picked it up because they were right next to me, and I didn’t want them to pop up and shoot me like in the movies. I wasn’t trying to steal for proof!”
no subject
Guardian takes the ray gun away from him.
"It's okay. Arming yourself in case you needed to defend yourself wasn't a bad idea. Just wait here for a little bit, okay? Then we'll work on getting you home."
Guardian gets up and goes to put the gun with the rest of the equipment they're salvaging, then holds a hand to his ear and starts talking in a low voice to someone.
Tim will catch it even if it's quiet.
"Yes, ma'am. It's under control. We're recovering the tech now and will secure the mutated victims for transport. There's also a civilian survivor that needs to be debriefed and taken home."
He listens. His face contorts in a frown.
"I don't know if that's necessary. It's handled." He listens, his expression getting more concerned. "Why are we - no, I'm not -"
His eyes cast downward.
"No, ma'am. Yes, ma'am." He looks at his team member. "No, I can handle it."
There is now a tension in the room, as the others stare at him. The one with energy constructs looks angry.
"This is getting out of control," he says. "I didn't sign up for this. I'd rather rot in a brig somewhere than -"
Guardian holds up a hand.
"Don't. Don't challenge her, you know how she is. I'll handle it, okay?"
There is obvious relief in the body language of his teammates.
He walks back over to Tim, slowly.
"I need you to come with me."
no subject
Tim doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. He’s just present in the room, trying to be patient and brave. He thinks being quiet and still is passable for both. He’s waiting here for a bit, and then Guardian will take him home.
Mutated victims. Mutagenia. He can’t ignore the obvious anymore: the other things in the cells. They weren’t things. They were victims. People.
As the call continues, Tim amends that. He’s waiting here for a bit, and then Guardian will debrief him and take him home. That’s still very reasonable, and they give you coffee and vending machine food in interview rooms. On the crime dramas and re-enactments, anyway.
But Guardian’s face falls. Tim sees it. He has been watching the hero - it’s more comforting than looking over destruction, and Guardian is nicer than the rest (an arbitrary decision if there ever was one).
No, his face definitely falls and he takes the others with him. Tim thinks he’s a good judge of people, and so I’d rather rot in a brig is just confirming that they’ve been told something that they really object to. It’s like watching Coach dress someone down in the middle of practice.
“Time to take me home before I turn into a pumpkin?” It’s a nervous joke. An especially bad one that he immediately cringes at, because Mutagenia could have turned him into a pumpkin.
But he doesn’t know what to say as he takes a step forward to go with Guardian, and there’s a tremendous urge to fill the space after the caller sucked all the oxygen out of the room. “My name’s Tim. If you’re going to carry me off, you should at least know my name.”
(The crime shows also say to tell your abductors your name, repeatedly, to make them see you as a human being.)
(Weird time to think about that.)
no subject
Guardian places a large hand around his forearm. The grip isn't painful but it's vicelike. There is no fighting it. It may as well be made of steel.
He starts walking Tim along but not in the direction of the hole in the wall.
No, he brings him to a nearby room. One with only windows, no door.
Then he stares at him, as if making a decision.
There is something...strange about him. Familiar. Feelings stir in his chest that he doesn't know the source of. Protectiveness.
There are more of those vague whispers in his ear about how everything is all wrong.
And the truth is...it is all wrong. Walpert has been asking them to get more and more violent, has cared less and less for civilian casualties, has been collecting all kinds of dangerous tech.
He and a few of the others have been suspecting that something has changed, that maybe the project has gone rogue.
But the problem is it's only three of them out of the whole group. Dao, Constructor, and himself.
He reaches into his ear and pulls out a device there, wrapping it in his teke to block the sound for a moment.
"If you want to live, I need you to do everything I say. Do you understand?"
no subject
And it’s not necessary, but Guardian’s a superhero. Tim follows willingly. His feet drag a bit when they go past the whole in the wall.
“Bu-“ But why aren’t they going out the way the heroes came in? Is it not safe? Is that what that conversation was?
He doesn’t want to ask questions - if he’s not supposed to know things for national security reasons, then Tim shouldn’t be too nosy. He only needs to know what he sees, and he’s supposed to forget that too.
The dead-end room though. Tim realizes there isn’t a second door pretty quickly, and panic claws up his throat. He can’t quite put together why. He has no reason to think the good guys are questionable. Not here, not ever.
But then… Guardian says that, and Tim has burning questions that he can’t fix in the appropriate priority queue.
“No,” he says in the softest whisper, with a terrified glance over his shoulder. “I don’t understand.”
They saved him. They beat up the bad guys. He watched them do it. Why is he still at risk of not living? “I’ve been doing what you say - I won’t tell anyone about this. I’ll tell them I got drunk and woke up in a dumpster, okay? I won’t give away secrets, I promise. I want to live, but you saved me already. And then you said you’re debriefing me and taking me home. Is that what you mean by understanding?”
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"Okay, one? Stop. Talking."
He is talking too much.
There is a spark of red in his eyes. He isn't going to hurt him, but it's not like he knows how to handle this with nuance.
He can be kind. It's instinct. It's a base level of being that he was lucky enough to be programmed with. He was lucky the mental template was based on someone good and the partial brain scans left him with some of that morality.
Jim Harper was a good man.
And he was lucky that his earliest handler, KIA in a mission a year ago, was also good man. That he taught him to be a good man, despite everything. In his short life, Clark Kent was one of the best people Thirteen has ever known.
He treated him like a person, taught him things Walpert probably wouldn't have wanted him to know. In all honesty, that makes his death - combined with everything Walpert's been doing - seem awfully suspicious.
But despite that he still usually handles conflict like the weapon he is. With aggression.
Still, Tim's already afraid. He takes a deep breath, and the spark in his eyes dies down.
"Sorry. I'm not going to hurt you."
He needs to be made aware of what's going on. Maybe then the babbling for his life will stop.
"We just got orders to kill you since you're the only witness coherent enough to tell anyone what happened here. I don't know why. It's not necessary. And it's not - it's not how we used to operate. Civilians weren't just collateral before."
He shakes his head.
"But the person in charge of us has been giving orders that are more violent lately. Everything she's been doing has been shadier. Something's wrong."
He looks a the small earbud in his left hand, muffled by his teke.
"Three of us suspect the government project we're apart of has gone rogue."
He seems to make a decision at last, the teke dismantling the comm unit into its components. Then he takes off his helmet, casting it to the floor, smoothing a hand through black hair.
Even slightly mussy sweaty hair does not detract from the initial brickjaw impression Tim got at all. There is no secret acne or a Lima bean shaped head.
"If I don't follow orders and kill you, one of the others probably will. Most of them aren't bad people but their freedom is on the line. You need to come with me. We need to run."
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Tim shuts up. He doesn’t know what glowing, red eyes mean to Guardian, but his brain snaps to glowing means metahuman abilities and red means danger, so he will stay very shut up.
He’s scared - was already, but the relief of I’m saved, thank you handsome hero wilts when the handsome hero starts explaining that he’s been ordered to kill Tim. Tim wants to believe him, but he just explained that the rescuers think that murdering a civilian (murdering him) is collateral damage.
(That’s not even what colllateral damage means.)
Tim takes exactly one step back, eyes swinging wildly around the room for a second. There has to be somewhere to run or hide. (There isn’t.)
Some choice other than Guardian or death. (There isn’t.)
Guardian could change his mind at any minute. This isn’t a sci-fi fairytale with the stormtrooper whipping his helmet off I’m Luke Skywalker I’m here to rescue you.
(He kinda looks like Skywalker. Great big blue eyes, bit of a tan, great jawline - no, stop, can the focus stay on glowing red eyes and death threats and how he gets out of here.)
If what Guardian says is true, going with Guardian is the only choice that delays Tim’s death. There are half a dozen other heroes -
(Agents. Heroes don’t kill.)
- that will follow orders and kill him, and there’s nothing he can do to stop them.
Once they’re away from others, he’ll get away as soon as he can. Until then, he’ll keep as quiet as he can, follow instructions, and take any natural chance to remind Guardian to remind him that Tim is only 19 and would very much like to live forever.
“If that’s all true, then why are you trapping us in here?” That is necessary not being quiet. Guardian’s plan to hide in the room that everyone saw them enter sucks if he’s not killing Tim. “I’ll do anything you say. Just - I thought you saved me.”
So please, save him.
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He holds a hand against the outer wall and dismantles the entire thing, brick by brick, all of them radiating out. The shift is somehow incredibly quiet compared to just punching his way through a wall. He piles them quietly and neatly in the alley outside.
"I am saving you."
A few extra seconds while they're confused at the door and breaking in, is a lot of distance at superspeed.
"I know it's a lot, to ask you to trust me, but you don't really have any other choice." Still, he lets him decide whether to come with him or whether to take his chances on his own. "It'll take time, but they'll be able to track your abduction backwards until they get video footage of you and then run facial recognition. They will find you."
He holds out a hand.
"If you come with me, you at least have a chance."
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(Lord Kuruku was the bad guy.)
Guardian… might not be. Tim only has his word that he’s been marked for death, but there was that other agent. The one who objected and said he’d rather be in the brig. It takes a lot to convince someone that prison is preferable. “Mutagenia said ideal because I was a gymnast. They … knew who I was.”
Meaning that he was selected on purpose. Anyone trying to hunt down a witness wouldn’t need to wait for facial recognition across the whole city. If they picked him, he has to be identified somewhere in their records. An address. The school name. Something.
Tim looks back at the door again. It’s not a choice, but he makes it anyway. He reached blindly for Guardian’s hand and finds it easily through good spatial awareness. “Let’s go.”
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"I'm gonna carry you, okay? That way I can fly at superspeed."
And with that, he scoops him up into his arms, easily.
King Snake's voice comes from behind the door.
"Hey, freak, you kill that kid yet?"
Well, there's Tim's confirmation.
"He's been eliminated. I just need to vaporize his body. Tell the others I'll be back inside in a few."
"Sure, whatever." Sniff. Sniff. "Wait a sec, why don't I smell blood or burning flesh, though?"
Guardian launches at superspeed but Tim is protected from the pressure wave and from any of the inertial forces by the field of teke wrapped around him. And Thirteen flies fast. Very fast. Until they're on the entirely different side of the city.
He hides them in an abandoned office building, puts him down, looks through a wall with eyes glowing blue with X-ray vision, making sure they're not being followed.
"I think we should stay in the city. Once Walpert figures things out, her first assumption is going to be that I booked it as far as possible. And Central's huge. The best place to hide is somewhere we can disappear into crowds when we need to. We can change our clothes and our hair. Maybe do something to screw with the facial recognition, like putting on glasses. Until I can figure out what to do next."
Because the problem isn't just hiding, it's somehow ending this.
"I have no idea where to start on taking the fight to her, but I do know how she operates. All the team's SOPs. I can keep us one step ahead until I figure something out."
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But Guardian lies smoothly, as if suggesting that he “eliminated” Tim is nothing to him. He’s so calm that Tim can’t believe it when the agent knows that there’s something amiss. Cra-
The thought bubble is left hanging in the air, because Guardian doesn’t wait around to spin out the falsehood, and the world melts into a streak that Tim’s eyes can’t track at all. To compare it to what happens when you’re tumbling - they’re not on the same plane.
I think we should stay in the city…
Is it odd that his brain isn’t scrambled like an egg? If he been warned, he would’ve expected nausea, but he’s fine. Confused, but he’s nodding along with Guardian’s plan like this isn’t madness.
“SOP - standard operating procedures. Nevermind.” Cop shows again? Tim’s not sure, but he knows it’s right. He has very little to contribute. “I know how to use hair dye? Um - how long do you think they’ll look for me - us?”
They are apparently an us now. “We could go to my parents house to get food, if you think we can beat them there. I know we can’t stay there. But there are hair clippers and clothes there.”
He waves a hand at Guardian’s brightly coloured, tight uniform.
“It’s going to take more than glasses to hide you. You’re the kind of person people doubletake.”
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"They won't give up looking. You didn't just witness something Walpert didn't want you to, with whatever was going on with Mutagenia. They'll probably figure out that because I saved you, that you found out we were ordered to kill you, too. That's another reason to make sure you're dead. No, this ends when I can figure out someone to give you to that won't fold under government pressure to hand you over, or when I figure out how to take the fight to them."
He looks down at his clothes. Tim's right about fitting in, though.
He's not exactly ready to pass as a civilian.
"Going to your place might be a good idea. We've got maybe about an hour for the digital forensics guys to do their work. They'll have to work backwards from the site. Do you have any family we have to worry about at home? Someone that needs to be protected, too?"
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For medical supplies, but still. Tim knows they know people. When it comes to government, knowing people is what counts. “They’re in South America right now.”
Tim recites the address, including the zip code, which he then has to correct. “I mean, four eight, not zero eight. I don’t know how I got that mixed up, I lived there my whole life.”
There aren’t any 08XXX zip codes in Mighigan that Tim can recall. This must be shock, right? Shock is supposed to be strange.
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He could've gone for something like Butch and Sundance, but no, he went for the couple as a reference instead.
But Thirteen doesn't belabor that point. Tim's too rattled for him to flirt. And they have to figure this out.
(08XXX is New Jersey. He's got enough dumb programmed field knowledge to know that. Weird mistake to make. Must be nerves.)
"South America's a long way to go for a hostage so your folks are probably safe for now. And you're right, Walpert will probably will tell the guilds some cover story about you being a criminal. Or mind controlled in a way only they can fix. Whatever makes people not listen to us and hand you over. So until I solve this and you can go home, I guess you're stuck with me."
He wants to make it very, very clear he won't just ditch him.
One last scan of his X-Ray and telescopic vision shows the team is still occupied far off on the other side of the city. Tim's address takes them even farther away from them.
"Okay, they're not following us yet. They're probably thrown because they don't actually know what happened yet."
There are lots of reasons they could have disappeared from Tim mind controlling Thirteen and making him take him away, or some third party dismantling the wall and grabbing them.
He holds out his hand again and takes Tim's.
"I'm gonna carry you again. Ready?"
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His parents will be fine. The Drakes live unassuming lives. Tim’s day is a fluke. It doesn’t disprove 19 years of refined dullness.
“How do you know that? You did something to your earpiece. I - sorry. Shutting up again.” Tim just gives Guardian’s hand a squeeze. More of a grip, because it doesn’t loosen up immediately as a squeeze would. “Ready when you are, Bonnie.”
He gives him the smirk that the hero was afraid to offer. Everything is fine. They’ll get clothes, money, and sleeping bags. A couple days of urban cooking, and Guardian will get this sorted. He has so many powers. It’ll be a snap.
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