Chapter Text
Tomorrow was the deadline for submitting my name suggestions, but I already knew them; I was just gathering the courage to tell him of them, to finalize it, to make it so that there is no way to take them back.
"I've got my name suggestions ready."
"I see you've brought no list; you must have thought a lot about it then."
"I just managed to whittle it down enough that I can easily just keep it in mind. Okay, here it comes: Connor Robert, and as far as a last name goes, I just want something that isn't so painfully generic."
I didn't pick these two for no reason: Connor, while not my own, was a name I liked, one that made me picture a man full of confidence and vigor; how I would like to appear to all those who didn't call me Robert; a name which defined me before and one that I was still attached to.
"I see no reason to argue with the suggestion; I'm positive it will accepted. Since you seem to be in the mood for important decisions, I've got another for you: your public image as a Case 53."
It's been a good couple days since I first met Chris, and by now I could tell the slight infection in his tone meant that the following exchange of words would be more important than the exact shade of blue I wanted my coat to be.
"Your unique disposition makes it possible for us to conceal the fact that you are not a natural trigger, should you wish. This would make your popularity, on average, higher, due to Case 53s on average being less popular, though it's mostly for their appearance. On the other hand, I wouldn't advocate for it, as it creates a false images even for other heroes, whom could find it highly insulting that you hid your origins in such a way."
I disliked making choices rashly, but this I unconsciously decided far in advance: I could imagine, going to a Wards meeting, seeing Weld, going there and being all like 'hello fellow Case53s' while looking completely normal and human. It would be a breeding ground for misunderstandings and accusations of impersonation, all of which are things I'd rather avoid.
"No, I'd rather have it be public. Make sure that there aren't any misunderstandings."
"I'd been reasonably sure that your answer would be such, but in the interest of thoroughness I had to inform you of the option."
And with that we were back to discussing things that were in the grand scheme of things, inconsequential.
-
I didn't have much to do in the afternoon. These last days I've mostly been lazing around, without being allowed to leave the base and without the others being here I mostly occupied myself by reading books and playing games, particularly the ones I already knew but were significantly different.
The only breaks in this monotony so far were the training sessions with Corrosive, though even they failed to liven up my days, as we spent the time covering the fundamentals of fighting, like a proper stance, how to throw a punch, and other boring shit like that.
But after that, it was back to the monotony of media, just like that afternoon, when I began reading a Maggie Holt book I found lying around. It proudly wore the Number 1 bestseller sticker on it's front, proclaiming it to be the first of its series of over a dozen books, written by the man himself. I was surprised he had such a self-insert, but then again, he wrote down so little of a world as large as this; how could it be filled out, if not by his figments of imagination?
The book itself was splendid, really. The first chapter was a bit odd, a bit tame, it's edges 'rounded out', but after that it began in earnest, the unmistakable taste of its magic system, the break-neck pace, it truly struck me how successful he could have been if only he had such a publishing agency in the real world.
As engrossed I was in reading and hero worship, my attention immediately turned towards the door the second I heard steps from the staircase. Steps meant somebody was coming, and my mind instantly began working on it.
Not Chris, we already chatted enough for today. Not the costume expert, they would have told me about it. Maybe Corrosive? I thought he'd have told me about it. Wards . . . are likely.
Just then, Theo entered. He was alone, wearing a light yellow shirt and long cargo shorts, with a small messenger at his side. His brown hair was messy, uncombed, and there were faint dark circles under his eyes.
"Mornin'." greeted Theo.
"Hello." responded I.
"I just thought it'd be pretty boring being stuck in the building without anyone here, so I came to hang out."
"Thanks for the thought."
"No need for thanks. With the others away, I was bored to death myself."
"Where are they?" I asked, the parroting question coming almost reflexively.
"On vacation, most of them. Michael's somewhere in Europe, Anne and Elliot are visiting their grandmothers and Kimiko went to the Kyushu memorial."
"When will they be back?" I asked, without thinking. I didn't dislike Theo, but I didn't get the impression that he was a sociable fellow; and as I wasn't one either; I was slightly apprehensive of how the two of us would manage.
"By Wednesday, except for Michael. I don't think he'll get back before the end of the month."
"What about you?" I was good at this. Being the listener in a conversation.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Nothing much. You?"
"Wards preparations. Image coaching, costume design, fight training; that sort of stuff."
"That sounds stifling."
It was my turn to shrug. I had no point of comparison. Memories of my past life weren't anything comparable to that of my new one. They were more like the events of a book I read; just words on a page. Normality was just an image I saw in a photobook of memories.
"You've been reading?" It was half a question, half a statement, more of a question about the book in my hand. I'd forgotten to put it down.
"It's pretty good. I like it; the wordplay is entertaining."
"There's a series, if you're interested."
"I mean, isn't the book better? Plus, I don't want the plot spoiled; I'd like to finish this." I had little patience for animation. Long, drawn out frames rarely held my attention.
With books, I could rush through lines, skip long descriptions, just sate my hunger for new anything.
"It's more of a spin-off, really. The original writer took this opportunity to try out an alternative protagonist he first planned on having. There are common points, but it's another story entirely."
"Sounds like you like it a lot."
"I admit I prefer it over the original."
He said, taking out a remote that I previously hadn't found. The large TV turned on, through the menus of which Theo was already navigating in order to find the aptly named "Pact".
We started watching it, and I was hooked by the end of the first episode. The only pause we took was for Theo to make a popcorn imitation out of mushrooms, and we didn't even notice when it became dark outside.
-
I witness a great beast.
It is impossible large, yet, it is tiny. It is above, yet it is around me. A dark liquid stretching endlessly.
It is rising, enveloping me. I look up.
It is an Eye that looks down on me, seeing me and seeing what it is to come.
A piece of the beast brakes off. It is not a part of the liquid, not even the body. It is a part of the beast itself, its very core crystallized.
I drown in the ocean it brings down upon me.
-
"Ri-"
I opened my eyes, the world seemingly slowing down. The bellowing voice coming from behind me, I attempted to jump off the couch, only managing to awkwardly roll off of it.
"-se and shine!" Looking up, I saw Corrosive's bearded face looking down on us.
"You're worse than Elliott." groaned Theo.
"He learned from the best." responded Corrosive smoothly, acting like he had the moral high ground.
I stood up, still not happy with having been woken up so suddenly. I wasn't sure when we fell asleep; a faint memory of dawn made me think it was later than it should have been.
"I was supposed to have individual training with each of you today, but it seems like the schedule got mangled up a bit. Well, maybe it'll be better this way: a bit of sparring may well liven up the melee training I've planned for the both of you. But before it, I think lunch is in order; no point doing it on an empty stomach."
Theo moved with lethargy, but I quickly gathered myself, easily pushing the last remnants of sleep out from my system. All my discomfort vanished; it wasn't due to the lack of sleep, since even these few hours were more than what I needed at a minimum.
Theo and I followed Corrosive, and with one of the PRT cars, we moved to the PRT building, and shuffled into the cafeteria.
As we ate, Corrosive started talking.
"Dreadnought, I heard you picked your name!"
"He did?" asked Theo.
"It's customary for 53s to choose a civilian name." explained Corrosive "You went ahead and got two!"
It was embarrassing.
"Well, you know, one for personal use, one when it's just, other people. I mean, Chris talked a lot about it: how important it is to have secret identities, but, at the same time, this name is my, how should I say this, 'Case 53 relax mode' name at the same time. So I picked a name for each: Connor is for people not in the know, and I guess Robert is for you guys."
"It's a good name." responded Theo.
"I quite agree." continued Corrosive. "This reminds me: I found a brilliant opportunity for you; You may not know, but PRT agents are trained up in scrub camps, where they're trained both in general law enforcement and problems specific to stopping parahumans. Which means that they have some simulated exercises, and I managed to book a spot for you. Together with the Boston Wards, you'll have a training exercise next weekend."
There wasn't much time until then. I tried to reign in my anxiety. I wasn't one the being tested; it was still the agents. It was just a convenient way for me to acquire some combat experience with minimal risks.
"What kind of exercise?"
"Something that simulates a real field-day. Some capes cast as heroes and others as villains. I don't know the specifics, they usually aren't given out ahead of time."
Accepting his answer, I continued eating. I don't know if the silence at the table was tense or not. I wasn't used to more conversation, even though I felt the need for it.
We went back to the base, and we moved down into the training area in order to spar.
Theo changed into his costume. It was a pale white, like a hardened shell, with armor coverings in the shape of mushrooms. His helmet was also a larger mushroom, shielding his eyes. It looked like a witch's hat, though not as wide.
In contrast, I only sported a more casual look: a short jacket, similar to the one I woke up in, along with a dark button-up shirt (having informed Chris that I had no fondness for t-shirts nor polos), along with some pants and boots that could have belonged to a trooper. The first prototype of my costume was supposed to arrive next week.
"Dreadnought: physically, you're much more powerful. Don't transform: try to use the moves I taught you, while putting that extra punch behind them."
"Fungus: you're not focused on offense, especially in melee, so use this opportunity to test you're new idea for that. Restrict yourself from other uses of your power. Begin!"
We stood across from each other, a good ten meter separating us. From Theo's arms, little mushrooms immediately began growing, covering them entirely. In a second, I could see the shells covering each other, his two arms becoming wide-encompassing organic shields.
I ran forward, bringing my right arm forward, in what was an obviously telegraphed move.
Theo didn't fail to dodge, but I didn't expect the strength of his block: the convergence of shells fully absorbed my hit, even starting to quickly grow along my arm.
I pushed with my leg, jumping backwards.
My mind immediately jumped to creating a sword. A blade, to cut through such a defense, point-blank would be much more effective.
Both Chris and Corrosive emphasized how foolish that course of action was: I would have had to be extremely careful not to cut anything vital, and with how, initiative, my power could be, putting any amount of liquid inside someone else was a risk.
The entire point of teaching me to fight without my power was to make sure some poor sod didn't accidentally end up that way.
We began circling each other. I didn't have many options without my powers, and most of them boiled down to different variations of a simple frontal assault. I've seen how well that worked.
Though, what was exactly so bad about those mushrooms? Sure, they would tie me down, but as long as they didn't get farther up than my elbow, I could just, discard, that hand, and grow another one.
With my new plan in mind, I charged again, and just like last time, the shield completely absorbed my hit, and began to grow on my arms.
I let go of my arm, cracking at the elbow and disconnecting. Before he had time, I moved over his side, and grabbing his back I pushed him down, putting my foot on his fallen form.
"Good work!" shouted Corrosive from the sidelines "But there's still room for improvement!"