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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.
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But it appears that only his comm did.
He even manages the packing of food and supplies. He keeps it relatively light. Tim's right that a bulky bag sticks out. Two mostly filled bookbags easily registers as "college kids" though.
He puts the baseball cap on his head.
"Okay, I went through your kitchen and gathered up some stuff, and some cash your parents had hidden in a toolbox. I also have cash of my own. A few grand. We bribed a criminal contact for info on Mutagenia and then just...recovered the money. I think this is the best we can do."
He looks down at himself.
"Do I look...normal? I, uh, don't really get out much."
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He gives Guardian a once-over. The clothes are okay. Plain, but that was the idea. They fit well enough to not noticeably baggy or tight where they aren’t meant to be so.
(But um. Kinda no hiding how broad those shoulders and chest are.)
(He should not be looking at his dad’s clothes this way.)
Clearing his throat, Tim shakes his head and explains the logic of clothes. “You need to untuck your shirts if you’re going to layer flannel. It’s the difference between looking like a middle-aged exec on his day off or like a young, hot guy going somewhere cool. People will still look at you, but you don’t want them wondering why you’re incongruously nerdy. They’ll look more. At least do a French tuck.”
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[He looks confused but untucks his shirt.]
Do the French tuck their shirts different?
[He has quite a bit of programmed knowledge, including a little bit of the first Guardian's residual memories of pop culture. But the OG Jim Harper wasn't big on fashion, the techs at the Cadmus Project hadn't prioritized the knowledge when creating him, and Walpert has made sure he's been somewhat isolated in the FREAK Force. Even in his time off, he usually goes around base in fatigue pants and tucked-in t-shirt.]
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[ He’s not aware where the term came from - French fries aren’t necessarily French, and he’s sure that neither the kids or tuck started in France.
Tim tucks the front of his shirt in, loosely and incompletely. ]
Like this. And then you’re clear to go out more often.
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I think I'll just leave it out.
[He nods, satisfied. Yes, he is now performing the part of Normal Guy.]
Okay, you ready? We don't have much time left.
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I don't-
I don't...have...one? Everyone that doesn't call me Guardian just calls me Thirteen.
[Which is really more of a code name.]
[(Very very not normal.)]
You can just...make one up for me.
[He can probably pick something that sounds very normal.]
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They need to get through this mess. Tim needs to be able to come home for real, and then… he can make sure that Guardian’s okay. For now, he needs Guardian to be a guardian, so he’s not going to derail him with a dissection about a guy has no name.
Some of the delay is leading through a lifetime of appropriate names.
Jim. It’s got the right solid, American vibe. You know Jim. You trust Jim. Jim… is not this young.
Dallas. Again, solid Americana. Scrappy. Noble. Maybe a little rebellious. You’d read everything Dallas did as wild. Too memorable.
He needs something no one bats an eye at. Common, but not so historically common to be obviously fake. Anglo-Saxon or Irish, because German names aren’t popular after the world wars. ]
Conner? You’re Conner. And from now on, I’m Rob.
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[It feels right. It feels completely right. It feels like it should've been his name all along.]
[Except... if they're both normal unassuming teenagers, using nicknames, he'd have one, too, right?]
[Just like Rob is short for something.]
We can pretend my nickname is Con. Like, that's what my friends call me.
[And Rob is...it feels weird. It feels like Tim was always a Rob and Thirteen has somehow known him that way for a long time.]
[A lot of things about him are familiar. He doesn't know why.]
Okay, Rob. You ready?
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[ He’s right, a nickname just fits so much better. Which is why Tim went with Rob instead of whatever it would be short for. Robert, obviously, but Robert sounds laughably wrong.
Rob works. Con fits nicely at the end of teasing questions. It’s short and has the right feel. Tim’s pleased at having solved it on the first try. ]
I’m ready. Abduct me again before I decide this is crazy.
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I think we're getting there.
[He picks up him again. It feels different this time, after "abduct me again."]
[It's likely taking a lot trust. And he plans to deserve it, by keeping him safe until he can fix all this.]
An old friend told me about a place to lay low. It's here in Central. I guess she figured I might need it someday.
[Roxy had always been a handful, even though she'd kept it together long enough to earn her freedom from the squad.]
[There's another whoosh and the sensation of movement.]
[He places him down in a seedy looking alley with a door nearby.]
This is the place.
Shady as hell but the kind of motel where they don't have cameras and don't ask questions.
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(But do it again.)
But then they’re there, somewhere new yet again, and Tim’s hand clutches at Con’s jacket before he’s set down. It’s pulled away like the jacket burned when Tim’s feet hit the ground. ]
We’re renting a motel room?
[ He hasn’t thought about what hiding while Con fixed things. Exposed a corrupt agency. God, it’s such a huge concept that Tim wouldn’t know where to begin tackling it. He knows that his whole life is overturned - and at risk - but that’s too daunting to think about. He … doesn’t think he’d do as well if he let himself acknowledge that his life is burning to the ground as he’s starting to like being carried around.
So he’ll pick at the details. ]
Rob and Con at the shady motel? Seriously?
[ Something pricks at his memory, but he’s never stayed anywhere this lowbrow. Some book he read? ]
I’m not seedy enough for this.
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And they probably won't bat an eye about you being here. There's plenty of reasons someone like you would sneak into a place like this. Drug deals. Secret boyfriend mom and dad wouldn't approve of. Paying for a callboy like a big rich weirdo.
[He gestures for him to follow him in.]
I'll handle the talking. Or lack of it. We can probably just pay them without a word.
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It’s not really a consideration. They’re just talking about what other people might assume, but Tim can feel the warmth creeping up his neck.
Then he gets hit with rich weirdo hiring a callboy, and he’s fully embarrassed at how salacious and exploitative he’d be in people’s minds, if they cared.
Tim bites his tongue and follows Con inside without protesting that he’d never do that to him. They’re just possible perceptions. It doesn’t matter.
But it matters very much to Tim, and so he chooses to portray boyfriend. Standing close but not pressed close. Eyes on the floor and pink-faced, he doesn’t have to reach at all for nervous.
Con can do the talking. Tim will hook an index finger in one of his belt loops and try to pretend this is tryst if that’s normal. ]
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One night for now. Preferably a room without a window.
[There is a silent exchange of money and a key.]
[As they walk through the halls, it's clear that every room has a white noise maker just inside the door. It blocks a lot of sounds, though the particularly loud sounds of certain trysts and arguments can be heard slightly over.]
[They find the room and slip inside. Con locks the door behind them and turns on the white noise machine there.]
[The bed is less than clean looking but not as bad as it could be. Not because the place is good about cleaning linens often but they'd just managed some good luck in getting a room that's had them done recently.]
[They'd be best off not touching that bedspread, though.]
[Sometimes telescopic vision wasn't pleasant.]
Okay, we are nooot touching that. [He picks it off the bed pinched between two fingers and tosses it into the corner of the room, cringing.]
We should use the hair dye. And...I'll explain things.
And take some time to think.
I'm sure you probably have a million questions.
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There’s a few doors that he feels deeply conflicted walking past, like the one with some guy just standing outside next to the door. No good reason for that. But what is he supposed to do, call the cops? ]
Why do you want a room without a window? There’s only one egress.
[ The question is immediate, but he cringe when he realizes why they can’t use the bedspread overtakes it. ]
I am never going to a motel with anyone again. Black hair is hard to dye without bleach. Why is there only one bed? And there’s a million more questions, but I haven’t figured out how to ask them yet because I keep getting stuck on why the government is killing 19 year old civilian witnesses they could use to put away criminals?!
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[Just so he feels reassured they can leave without a window. As for the rest...]
I think we should start with the murder thing first.
[He sits on the floor, one knee drawn up.]
Our team is called the FREAK Force. The First Regiment Elite AttacK Force. The K part of it's pretty stupid.
[It's a dumb name.]
It's a team mostly made up of people who have criminal records. Draft dodgers, unaligned vigilantes that got caught at it, people who got arrested for accidentally hurting people by losing control of their powers...
You serve for a little while, it's considered time served, you go free. You even get your criminal record wiped. It counts as your military service, or you have to follow up and pick a guild after, but you get a fresh start.
Assholes like King Snake aside, a lot of decent people have gone through the program and been released. And while the missions are dangerous, we've never lost any members. At least as long as I've been there.
It's not really...ideal. But it's also let people learn to control their powers, learn some discipline, and make up for things they feel guilty for, especially if they accidentally hurt people. And we've done some real good. Even if nobody else knows about it, since the program's kept secret.
I think since the team's made up of convicts, they're worried about, you know...optics.
Even with it being secret, until recently, we hadn't gotten many orders that seemed suspect. But...that's changed. Samantha Walpert, our program director, has gotten more secretive. More strict. More...cold.
A few of us have been worried that something's gone wrong behind the scenes. A change in her superiors that went corrupt in the government itself. Or maybe she's lost it and the program's gone rogue, following its own agenda.
This...this confirms it. That something's seriously wrong. I don't why she wouldn't want a civilian witness other than she really, really wants to hide something about Mutagenia's experiments and the tech we recovered.
And if she does, that means said tech is probably going to be used for something bad. Which means she wanted to make sure no one found about it that she didn't have at least some control over.
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He listens with out interrupting and tries to take it all in. Tim doesn’t know what’s important, but he’ll figure it out. Guardian (Conner) moves so fast that they have to have time before the FREAK Force finds them. Days even. It’s a big world when you move that fast. ]
It’s a really stupid name.
[ He smiles. Mostly because of the big question he has, because it’s invasive, but Tim has only his word on so much of this. He’s trusting Con on his testimony and one other person talking about killing Tim. With his life.
He’s allowed a question. The little ones can wait. ]
Which one are you? Did you dodge the draft?
[ He’s not a murderer.
(Anyone can be a murderer.)
(Not him though. He’d never hurt Tim.) ]
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No, I'm different from the others. I didn't break any laws.
[He thinks about just lying. But he hesitated too much. Slipped. When he told him what he was called. When he was unable to think up a name for himself.]
[Cards on the table, he guesses.]
There used to be...this guy named Jim Harper. A soldier. Distinguished service medals left and right. Famous in some circles for being this incredible spy after he stopped being a normal soldier. But he did hero stuff. Fought terrorists, like the crazy costumed kind trying to blow the world up with death lasers. Nobody outside of clandestine circles knew it, but he saved the world more than once.
He was a legend, for all the people that were allowed to know.
And then he died. Saving the world. Most of the world has no idea. It's like he never existed at all to them.
One government project, the Cadmus Project, decided he was a good subject for their work. Because he was just...exceptional in basically every way. Physically, mentally. Now, they did go rogue. Decided to do mad science crap. So they got a hold of his body, shortly after he died, did some brain scans of what was left of his brain - which at least copied his skills and some basic knowledge, took some cell samples...
They were messing with stuff they weren't supposed to.
[He finally looks up, his brows furrowed, knowing that he might face instant rejection. That Tim might assume the worst, that he might fear him, that he might decide he's best off trying to survive alone.]
Illegal cloning.
[He shrugs one shoulder self-consciously.]
Walpert may be an asshole but when the Cadmus Project was discovered and liquidated, she saw an asset. There were other people that wanted to lock me away in some dark hole somewhere because they were scared I had some latent mental programming.
Or...wanted to do worse.
I've been part of the squad my whole life. All six years of it anyway.
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He wants to make it known that he has nothing against clones. That’s important.
Maybe that he thought of the name Jim first. He’ll leave out the part about James Dean and Rebel Without a Cause, but Con might not want to hear that he was almost a Jim.
It all falls to the wayside. ]
I’ve been flirting with a six-year-old?!
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Flirting, you say?
[Do ho ho. Intriguing.]
Don't worry. They were trying to flash age me to adulthood in the space of a week. Fortunately, they were feeding me mental programming the whole time, at the same rate I was physically aging.
Since the process was stopped early by Walpert's raid, I came out half-baked, but I was mentally a teenager to match my age. A deeply confused, slightly naive teenager. But I had enough to go on.
I won't pretend I'm much like other people the same age, but that's a lot more due to really weird life experience than mental and emotional maturity.
no subject
Light flirting. Flitting.
[ The worst of it was in Tim’s head, and Con doesn’t need to know but Tim could swear that he’s been inappropriate. He certainly had his finger’s in Con’s belt loop in the lobby. ]
Half-baked is the best ice cream flavor.
[ There. Now he’s flirting, but Tim’s really just trying to smooth things out with jokes. ]
It’s probably for the best they got you out when you were still mixed up like the rest of us. If they baked you any more, you’d be whatever they were dumping into your head. I don’t think I could afford you being different so. Thanks for enduring another really weird life experience for me.
no subject
[He smiles at "flitting" and the continued flirting.]
You're probably right about what I'd have been like if they finished the job. Walpert definitely tried her best to mold me into the perfect little soldier. But I had this trainer, Clark...until he passed away. And different people I was around in the squad that just...gave me another angle.
It wasn't all bad. It's nice having...direction, you know? Purpose. Knowing you're doing something good? But it's not worth it if you're hurting someone that doesn't deserve it.
[He gives him a crooked smile.]
So I don't regret it. The really weird life experience. I need to figure out how to get us out of this mess, but I'm glad I got us into it if it means there's at least a shot of getting you through this alive. What Walpert asked us to do was unforgivable.
And you've been really brave so far. And pretty chill about the clone thing, which I appreciate. A lot of people have... preconceptions.
no subject
[ Direction. Purpose. Knowing you’re doing something good. Tim wants that, too. He has direction and purpose, but sports never changed anyone else’s life.
Maybe he’s okay with staying hidden long enough for that kind of end game. (Maybe if the next hidey hole has blankets.) ]
It’s not being brave. It’s being distracted. If you have something to focus on, then you don’t notice it what you’re scared of. The crowds, the chance of failure, the government agent who’d definitely eat you. Not you, King Snake.
I’m not a lot of people. You crashed through a wall and stopped me from getting zapped. You blew up your weird life to save mine. You really think I’d turn around and care that you’re a clone? Or that I’d care anyway? You can’t tell by looking at you, and I doubt you can tell at all, if you stop tucking in your shirt.
no subject
We can take a breath now, though. I think.
[He hopes. No one's come crashing in so far.]
You should rest. The sheets aren't as grody as the rest of the place. I'll keep watch for a while with my X-ray vision.
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