The Owl in the Abyss

Chapter 3

The day that followed was an uneventful procession of time. I had still felt no need for any sleep whatsoever and I had confirmed to myself that I was pretty much a ‘noctis cape’. It meant I really needed to find something productive to fill that sudden extra time with. I was pretty sure I would be using it for the near future to get my schooling up to snuff for getting the GED, but that would have to wait until I was back home and signed up for it.

In the meantime, in the hospital I contented myself with reading the books Elizabeth brought me, browsing the internet for anything interesting, occasionally channel surfing on the TV and spending time turning my gaze inward to explore and tweak my own body very carefully.

I didn’t want to do big things, as that would be energy intensive and push forward my sex schedule but with the relative abundance of energy I got from the Hendrickson twins, I began improving my own cardiovascular performance. Sure my mist form could have me keeping pace with cars, but what if I needed to stay out of that form for some reason or couldn’t afford to burn the energy for the transformation.

I also looked into what could be done to improve my own reflexes. The medical research I could find online was quite extensive on the nervous system, but just what could be done that would improve it was quite out of my wheelhouse. It was one thing to structurally improve muscles, but this was messing with the organic chemistry of what made nerves function and I’d need a lot of research before I could even begin to mess with it.

In the end I was happy with getting the beginnings of a constitution and stamina that marathon runners would find impressive.

The only other highlight of the day was from the national news, which told of a man who had been arrested attempting to attack a gathering being held by a congressman. It was only later that it was revealed the assailant was a parahuman who’d been fired from his job, not because he was a parahuman, but because he’d somehow been using his power to aid the company somehow. The report wasn’t big on specifics of just how or what power had been used, but the company had had no choice, otherwise they would’ve had to pay a ton of fines and endure extreme scrutiny from the FTC.

The congressman in question had been a strong backer of the NEPEA Act, which was essentially a legislative firewall that prevented parahumans from using their powers to influence or upset the economic system.

After all, it didn’t help if you had a parahuman, like a Tinker, who invented a gadget which made industries or products obsolete, but only that Tinker could really build or improve on that technology. One car accident kills him and suddenly you’ve got an entire industry or company of people built around that technology finding themselves out of work.

Of course, like all laws passed in a rush the Act had gone a little too far and the interpretations judges had come to over the years with it left a lot to be desired. It also prevented any parahuman from leveraging their power to ‘unfairly’ earn money. A Thinker playing the stock market, for example. That was fine and well, but in the same breath it severely limited the ability of a parahuman to create even a niche market for themselves with their power.

Panacea, for example, would be severely limited in the ability to monetize her services even when she turned eighteen. All in the impression that it would harm the medical industry. Never mind that she was just one person, who could empty out entire cancer wards with an afternoon of work. She did that already, but without monetary compensation and the big pharma companies couldn’t exactly protest her healing people without looking like major cash hungry corporate douchebags, who profited from the suffering of dying people.

The instant though, that she could charge money for any of her healing services, NEPEA would fall on her like a ton of bricks.

It made me wonder though how NEPEA could possibly apply to me.

My powers made me a Brute, Mover, Stranger, Changer and Master, all of it fueled by sex. I could potentially be the best sexual partner for somebody on the planet, the best… urgh… prostitute and pornstar. As long as I debuted with my full look and kept to that, using none of my powers on screen, no one could really throw me under the NEPEA bus.

I would have to be careful.

I had given up on the TV and turned to Internet video sharing sites and directed searches to keep me more entertained to my own interests. The hospital had a robust, high-bandwidth connection and I luxuriated in being able to watch in high quality. We didn’t have that at home, having to be content with a cheap, capped hard line that dad had needed for work purposes. It was restrictive enough that I didn’t bother with it and had always just settled for reading from the home library for a pastime.

The time until visiting hours creeped by steadily in this manner until the sun dipped below the horizon and the general din of the hospital increased as people arrived to visit their loved ones.

I tidied up the room, put away the notebook and laptop in the bedside table, made up the bed, propped up the pillows and sat down, crossed my legs at the ankles and finally put on the TV.

It would be pointless to really ‘hide’ anything from the police officer, but I wanted to at least project a calm and polite demeanor. My pussy wasn’t really hidden like this, with the top part of the vulva and critoral hood still poking out, and the landing strip pubic hair was quite prominent, but it would have to do.

Finally, there was a knock on the door.

“Taylor?” came dad’s voice through the door.

“Come in, dad.”

He was dressed like he had come from work, still in smart casual business attire, but with his tie off. His job as Head of Hiring and HR at the Dockworker’s Union, meant by its nature that it wasn’t the most formal place you can imagine, but the place was still professional and had to earn its money.

Following him was a man slightly shorter but with more packed muscle on his broader frame. He was actually dressed in more casual clothes, with jeans, running shoes, a nice button up shirt with a light jacket. The only thing that indicated this wasn’t just an ordinary thirty-something guy dad had picked up off the street, was a golden badge mounted on his belt and a shoulder holster for a police service pistol, visible under his jacket.

Dad gave me a hug, “Everything okay?” I nodded. “Good, Taylor, this is Detective Gabriel Fisher, Brockton Police.”

Dad retreated and it allowed me to examine the detective for his reaction to me.

He had quite a poker face and his cool gray blue eyes, while kind, were studying me like I was under a microscope and had me tingling with nerves.

“Miss Hebert, good to meet you,” he held out his hand, which I nervously shook.

His rough calloused hand didn’t try to crush my smaller hand, but I sensed the strength and potential there. He could try, but my own strength wouldn’t allow it. I think he could tell as well, by the slight way his eyes widened and I saw the way his aura was flaring.

From Fisher’s aura, I could immediately determine that he was straight as an arrow, he was naturally aroused by the sight of me, but had the self-control and strength to suppress it. The ring on his hand showed he was married and as I had that thought, I could tell he was happy in it, though things weren’t rosy and sunshine every day.

As a police detective working in a small to mid sized city with an average of four violent crimes per day and was placed in the top ten of parahuman population proportion in the country, the working hours and stress would put a strain on any marriage.

“A pleasure to meet you too, detective.”

He let go of my hand.

“I want to thank you for agreeing to this interview. It’ll really help the case going forward and given certain… facts, I think it has the potential to be beneficial for not only you and me, but will have further ramifications that you’ll see as we go on.”

I was a bit confused at this point, as he quickly went outside, and returned with a briefcase.

He opened it and produced a digital pocket dictaphone, a number of very official looking forms and files and pens.

“Before we go on, to clear the air, I’m aware you are a parahuman. Your father had to unfortunately come clear with that fact to explain why you would be without any clothing at all. When we shook hands it was also apparent.” I took a deep breath, glanced at dad, who looked apologetic. “It’s both fortunate and unfortunate, it strengthens our case but will make things much more difficult, now let’s get the red tape sorted out,” Fisher sighed and began to use the bed table to fill out the various forms, asking me questions to sort out the usual bureaucratic stuff, full name, exact age, birth date, social security and identity number and so on.

That done he pressed a few buttons on the dictaphone and began speaking into it, “This is Detective Gabriel Fisher, Brockton Bay Police Department, badge number 33495-234-2. Conducting the witness statement of Taylor Anne Hebert, age 18, resident of Brockton Bay, Commonwealth of Massachusetts.” He put it down on the table closer to me. “Miss Hebert, do you consent to this interview and to deliver a witness statement for the record?”

I swallowed and said nervously, “I do.”

“Good, then in your own words describe for me the events of January 5th, 2011.”

I took a deep breath and began to recount the day. A day that had seemingly just been yet another day in the hellhole that my life had become. Fisher only occasionally paused me to ask a clarifying question, but I quickly realized he was doing it to help unmuddy my recollection and make it clear to any neutral listener what my meaning was.

When I was done describing passing out in the locker, he abruptly stopped the recording. Then stared at me with a serious and grim expression, “That’s where it happened?”

I looked him in the eyes and realized with astonishment he definitely showed understanding of it.

“Yes,” I croaked, “How do you know?”

“Miss Hebert, I’ve been doing this job for twenty years. I’ve seen what the professionals and the cape community calls a ‘Trigger event’, quite a few times. Once it happened to a perp I had arrested in the back of my squad car, three times while in pursuit of suspects and once even during an interview with a criminal at the state lockup. I’m lucky to have survived quite a few of them.” Dad looked at the detective with an air of realization but didn’t elaborate.

Fisher continued, “We’re given training to recognize the signs and police procedures have been quietly amended to help minimize inducing stress in the apprehension of criminals and suspects. It’s both to save our own skins and to stop the villain population from getting even worse.”

“Makes sense in retrospect,” I mumbled.

“Trigger events are when people are at their lowest point and driven beyond. The knowledge is not widely spread around for obvious reasons. Capes know, but will not speak of it. The normals who know are those who need to know, like law enforcement or somehow come across it in their professions, such as therapists and psychiatrists and we all have a vested interest in keeping that knowledge under wraps. That you were driven to the point of triggering, Miss Hebert, is going to unofficially add a level of greater severity to the crime committed against you. It’s unfortunately going to bring the PRT and Protectorate into the case.”

I could tell from his aura and even through his supreme poker face that he didn’t think much of the government sponsored hero division and its watchdog civilian federal task force. “Don’t like them, detective?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“They make cases which should be straightforward into convoluted messes at the best of times” he replied blandly. “I can tell you right now, there’s a case of kidnapping and assault against your person, just in what happened on that day and criminal harassment for the combined two years of what was done to you beforehand.”

I blinked in astonishment, “Kidnapping? How does that work?”

“The popular idea of kidnapping is quite flawed, Miss Hebert. We have Hollywood to thank for that. You don’t need to grab someone and confine them for some purpose of ransom. The law is, and I quote, ‘Whoever, without lawful authority, forcibly or secretly confines or imprisons another person within this commonwealth against his will.’”

“I see.”

“As for the criminal harassment, it’s generally quite difficult to prove concretely if it stays verbal, but luckily for us, your friends left quite an electronic trail for me to follow up on.”

“I have a journal in which I recorded what they did, also printouts of the emails which I managed to sneak out in computer class,” I mumbled.

“That will help greatly with establishing due cause for me to get a judge’s subpoena, Miss Hebert. Can you get me that as soon as possible?”

I turned to dad, “It’s in my left closet at home, you’ll see a loose bottom, it’s in there.”

“I’ll follow your father home and collect that this evening, thank you,” Fisher nodded. He fiddled with the dictaphone and switched it on again. “Miss Hebert, can you please describe in your own words the harassment you’ve experienced the past two years and who in your view are the primary culprits.”

I took a deep breath and began talking about how two years ago, after coming back from summer camp, my then best friend turned on me. Seemingly having replaced me with a new friend named Sophia Hess that had transferred in. At first, it was the typical bullying you’d expect from teens and kids, little things; insults, bumps, pushes and so on. Then it slowly escalated with every month that passed. Other students who I’d been able to talk to or at least were acquaintances of, would shun me or outright avoid me. The bumps turned into full pushes where I lost my balance. My bags and schoolwork were sabotaged. No amount of explanation or complaining to the teachers worked.

Then it escalated further where I was outright framed for things they had done wrong on purpose. The bullying campaign was further pushed into cyberspace, with emails and the small social media account I had, being bombarded with hate and insults, forcing me to just delete it and avoid social media altogether. I had also at one point in a fit of rage destroyed my own cellphone and just never asked dad to replace it, after I had received what felt like the dozenth threatening call or message on it.

As I looked back on it and finally spoke out loud to a relative stranger, giving voice to the pain, the grief, anger and heartache… it felt awful but also like I was pushing off some heavy weight from my shoulders that I had grown so used to. Here was someone from the ‘authorities’ finally just listening and not just dismissing it out of hand.

I had cried about these things with dad, but it seemed I wasn’t done as I was forced to clear away tears from my face.

Finally Detective Fisher said formally, “Thank you, Miss Hebert. This concludes the interview.” He switched the dictaphone off and took a deep breath. “All I can say is that you’re amazingly unique Miss Hebert. I’ve studied and heard of cases where teens have come to school with assault weapons and have endured far less than what you’ve just outlined. It’s a credit to your parents and your own fortitude of character that it has not happened.”

I balked at the notion and even dad looked like he was very angry as Fisher mentioned that, but I would be lying if the thought of going Carrie on Winslow High didn’t have a dark appeal. It was always the memory of my mother that was the solid impenetrable wall that always stopped that dark impulse cold. The realization that it would solve nothing and just spread misery to families that most likely didn’t deserve it at all. It would only be a physical temporary victory, but would in the end be an utter defeat of the mind and spirit.

I looked up at Fisher with… I don’t know if I could even give the emotion a single name, it was all just jumbled up anger, indignation, determination and others.

He nodded at me. “You’ve convinced me, Miss Hebert. I’ll do everything in my power to see justice done. If that fails somehow and it could, then I will aid you in civil court to see that school and the city education board pay for every cent they can give. Now I can guess you probably don’t like the idea of your suffering being given a monetary value, but it’s not so much that as delivering a real blow to the people responsible to teach them a lesson. With the value of settlement you’d be looking at, it’s going to cause a hole in the budget you could drive a truck through and the consequences of that are going to reach far. Understand?”

I gave a look to dad, who nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I do,” I said reluctantly.

“Good,” he began packing up his papers into his suitcase and locked it. “I thank you both for your time. I’ll be waiting outside for you, Mr Hebert.”

When the door closed, dad said, “I’ve asked around about him. He’s a solid cop, gets things done. I think we can take him on his word but I think taking a wait and see approach is best.”

“I just want to put this behind me,” I said eventually. “The school can rot and be demolished for all I care. I can’t go back and I can only live in the now and look forward to the GED and getting my dietary and cape situation sorted out.”

“Your mother would be proud of you.” Dad’s voice was rather strained as he said that and it was only as I glanced at his aura that I understood.

“Even with a cape for a daughter with the sluttiest power on the planet?” I joked wryly.

He coughed, “Yes, even with your power as it is.”

I jumped off the bed and just hugged him.

We both sucked at the words and feelings business anyway.

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The weekend dawned and with it a distinct sense of cabin fever at being stuck for so long in my hospital room.

For a while I wondered just what I could do to alleviate it but just as quickly facepalmed to no one but myself. So to just feel the open sky and sun above my head again, at around eleven in the morning I grabbed a pillow, book and towel and misted, moving up through the ceiling and paused above the flat surface of the hospital building’s roof.

The flat tarred surface was hot and there were no bird droppings thankfully due to the reflective strips of gel that lined the roof, so I rematerialized at the cleanest spot I could find between the strips, laid out the towel and pillow, and gave a nervous glance around the roof.

The only possible way onto the roof was a distant little block hut with a staircase inside. The door to that was visibly closed and there were no nearby tall buildings that could look down on me either.

So I laid down and got comfortable. The towel quickly became hot under me but it didn’t get to the level of burning hot. I picked up my copy of The Lord of the Rings and began reading, making sure to turn myself around every five minutes so I would hopefully develop an even tan from this.

I was on my second turn with the sun hitting my front and Frodo was captured by the Barrow Wight when an alien sound for my relatively still and solitary environment reached my ears.

My brain finally parsed it as a youngish male human clearing their throat.

“Excuse me Miss, are you sure you’re supposed to be up here?”

The voice came from above me and I barely managed to stop my reflexive action of hiding my breasts with the book. Stupid power would probably decide to make my skin allergic to my favorite fantasy novel.

Out of the east and passing into my view from above, a parahuman came floating down feet first, coming to a stop a foot above the roof tarmac. He wore a professionally made costume that consisted of a red body glove that followed his very toned form, but wasn’t totally skintight and gave the impression of a level of thickness and padding. His chest and arms were covered in a conformal red armor, with a helmet encasing his head and perfectly merging with his costume. The only part you could really see of the person underneath was tanned bits of a face surrounding dark brown eyes from a narrow gap in the helmet.

All this plus his flight ability was enough for me to narrow down who this was.

Aegis.

The current leader of the Wards - the youth sub-division of the Protectorate.

The sight of his aura, however, interrupted my first reflexive response to his question and overwhelmed any feeling of embarrassment at being caught nude outside.

At first, he had the standard aura of any man, though the expression of it, the flares, motes, barbs and patterns were lesser or not as pronounced… maybe due to his young age?

He was straight and naturally aroused at the sight of me, but his control was also naturally not as developed and I could see from the slight uncomfortable twitching he probably wasn’t even conscious of doing, that he had the beginnings of an erection, even though his costume did an admirable job of hiding it.

The big elephant in the room was the aura around his head. Something that no one else I’ve seen thus far had, and if this was what parahumans looked like… then I’d never ever be surprised by them appearing in a civilian outfit.

If humans were a painting in a certain style, motif, using specific paints and brush strokes, parahumans were that, with the addition of someone shoving a giant metaphysical power cord into their head, which made the painting light up and do all sorts of things. I could see how his power was keeping him in the air… it was wrapping him in a field that I had no idea what it was achieving, but his power was also emitting a propulsive effect downwards that just seemed to appear out of nowhere. The end result was a teen floating in mid air.

I shook my head to refocus on him, there would be time later to ponder everything about Aegis’s aura.

“Technically speaking, no,” I declared, crossing my ankles to moderate the show I was giving. “I am a patient here though, that’s been stuck indoors for nearly four days now and need some Vitamin D. I can’t exactly get that in designated patient outdoor areas,” I pointedly gestured to myself.

Aegis coughed a bit to clear his throat again, “Yes, well that’s generally what bathing suits are for, miss.”

“If you can find any piece of clothing that would work on me, I’d give you a medal.”

I could see his eyes blink in confusion, “What?”

I sighed and put my placeholder into the book, before sitting up and supporting myself with my elbows. “The only reason I’m bothering to answer you, is that you’re an on-the-job law enforcement trainee. I have a medical condition that is making me allergic to various textiles.”

“Oh, I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Well, Mr Aegis, neither did I, until it happened to me. As you can imagine, it’s made life in general somewhat problematic,” I declared wryly.

“Yeah,” he nodded awkwardly.

“So, unless you’re going to push the issue and waste both our time and my doctor’s time in explanations, I will say it was a pleasure to meet you and you can continue on with your patrol.”

Before he could reply, the general noise around us was briefly and weirdly distorted. Then a footstep to my left drew attention and suddenly standing on the edge of the building roof, remaining nicely balanced was another parahuman.

Her costume was an armored green top that immediately fell into a mid-thigh skirt decorated with white and green wavy lines and patterns. On her legs were a cool white skin tight material that merged into green armored boots that reached to her knees, which also had an articulated pad. Unlike her partner, she didn’t wear a helmet but rather a green visor device that wrapped around her head and left her neck length wavy dark blonde hair to wave freely.

Her appearance screamed ‘I’m young’ and combined with her similar aura, gave me the irrational feeling that made me just want to hug the stuffing out of her and squee cuteness. Just like her parahuman partner, the giant metaphysical power plug was in her head, also covering her in a field that I couldn’t guess the function of.

“Aegis, why have you stopped?” Vista of the Wards asked. She was visibly startled when she spotted me though. “Oh?! What… why? You can’t…”

“Easy Vista,” he raised his hands to halt what looked to be an explosion of youthful indignation. “She’s a patient here. Getting looked at for a skin condition.”

“Oh yeah? How sure are you about that?” she asked, her whole body expression glaring daggers at her partner.

“I was going to politely ask for her name, so I could ask console to verify by looking at the hospital admission record,” he retorted, crossing his arms in an authoritative manner. His eyes narrowed, “Then you showed up. We’ve barely had time for any conversation.”

“Well, get on with it then,” Vista snapped.

Aegis sighed and with a polite professional tone, “Please, Miss, as I indicated to my partner, may I have your name?”

Well, since I was technically a civilian being asked by a nominal law enforcement officer…

“Taylor Hebert, no ‘r’ after ‘h-e’ in the surname, patient number 132 39 236.”

Aegis pressed what I noticed was a hidden button on his wrist, “You get that Clock?”

Oh, so they had integrated radios in their costumes. I could vaguely just hear the tinny sound of a voice coming from Aegis’ helmet.

“Don’t be a smart ass, less talk more checking.”

More chattering followed with Aegis only giving single word replies before finally nodding and looking to Vista. “It’s confirmed.”

The girl went from serious mode to being very awkward but managed to stay professional, it was rather impressively cute, “Oh, uh, sorry Miss Hebert. It’s not just something that happens every day to us.”

“Catching a teen sunbathing naked on the roof of a hospital?” I asked rhetorically. “Yes, I can see that.”

“Let’s go Vista, again, apologies for disturbing you Miss Hebert.”

I nodded and waved them off.

Aegis flew off with a burst of air displacement and Vista waved awkwardly to me before looking into the distance, took a step and vanished with the light briefly distorting around her form.

My mind pondered the young heroine and her power. She was a Shaker that could warp space around her. That was the public soundbite version, but there was obviously a ton more aspects to it than just that. The way her aura moved when she had done her trick to move very fast, it sort of hurt to think about. It was like I was looking at an Escher painting.

The implications of her power now that I thought of it were actually frightening and made me wonder why Vista hadn’t cleared out the city of villains and criminals. Put any weapon in her hand, non-lethal, lethal, and the biggest factor in using such things - distance and less so accuracy, was utterly irrelevant. Combine that with her preferred capture trick I’d read about on PHO, turning space into a pretzel, becoming an effective treadmill for a bad guy caught in it, then she thoroughly deserved that Shaker 9 rating.

Of course, the problem came with villains that had Brute ratings that could generally tank any weapon she could carry. I struggled to imagine her hefting an anti-tank gun, nevermind an assault weapon - unless you started venturing into the realm of weapons made by Tinkers. Though the PRT did use specialized launchers for a foam that hardened on contact with air that was made to counter Brutes in general. I don’t know how big or heavy those things were, but again struggled to imagine the diminutive Vista being able to carry them.

I returned to my book for another half an hour of reading and tanning before I grabbed all my stuff and misted to return to my hospital room.

The day that followed was boring and uneventful. Dad wouldn’t be coming during visiting hours today because of some last minute, work related social gathering that he had phoned in earlier this morning. I knew he was compensating quite a bit for our estrangement in the last two years, but I was a ‘big girl’ now and he still had the full right to have some fun.

So it was with some surprise when during visiting hours I was reading about the heart-rending, brave death of Boromir, when Elizabeth announced that I had a visitor. The expression on her face and aura was cause for some worry.

“Who is it?”

“An Agent Helena Riley of the PRT,” Elizabeth wrung her hands worriedly.

I closed my book and ordered my thoughts. Did I somehow out myself already? Did I do something that caused Aegis and Vista to suspect me of being a parahuman? I couldn’t honestly think of a single thing I did.

“Did she say why she wanted to see me?”

“The PRT does this from time to time,” Elizabeth explained. “From what I gather, they do have various direct links to the BBPD. Then they visit patients who have suffered from extraordinary forms of trauma.”

I sighed and stared out of the window thoughtfully. My research into parahuman specific law had not really gone beyond more than basics, but I knew one thing… I was under no obligation to disclose that to the PRT or the Protectorate that I was a parahuman. On the other hand, unreasonably outright refusing to see the agent might as well be waving a sign, I’m a parahuman to the PRT and would be enough cause in this day and age for them to at least begin a very light surveillance of me. They were, after all, mandated to protect the general population from parahumans who abuse their powers.

“I’ll speak to her.”

Elizabeth nodded and exited the room.

A few moments later the knock came and in walked what anyone would at first glance think was a high power businesswoman, at home in any boardroom of a major company. She wore a slick dark blue suit, with pants that accentuated her figure, but didn’t shove it in your face. Her jacket’s cut left her striped smart shirt’s collar open and airy. In contrast to the business attire were leather shoes that while smart as well, were clearly also made to run in.

Her face was distinctly average, framed with styled dark blonde hair that only reached to her mid-neck but with the make-up she had it pushed her looks into attractiveness nicely. The lines on her face spoke of a long history of frowns and her resting face didn’t really endear her to anyone. Her cool blue eyes surveyed the room before widening slightly in shock at seeing me.

Her aura reminded me somewhat of Elizabeth’s not only in the fact that she was a woman, but the nurse was clearly bisexual to my senses. Agent Helena Riley it seemed was full on lesbian as her aura spiked with arousal at the sight of me.

“Oh so sorry, I thought… I’ll just… sorry, I’ll let you get dressed…” she turned around to leave again.

“Stop please, Agent Riley, you can come in.” I leaned back on the bed cushions and folded my hands on my lap casually to hide my pussy from immediate view. Riley paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I can’t get dressed because of my condition.”

The agent turned her head to look in confusion at me. “I’m sorry. Your condition?”

“Yes, I am unable to wear clothing. I get something similar to poison ivy or bed sores when I try,” I gestured to the visitor’s chair. “Please, have a seat.”

She frowned at me for a moment but eventually accepted and took a seat, before reaching into her jacket pocket and producing her badge for me to see. I looked at it, nodded in acceptance and she promptly put it away.

Her aura flexed, roiled and then tightened itself around her body. Her body language was perfectly composed, but I could spot her arousal slowly and steadily building in the background.

“Miss Hebert, my name is Agent Riley of the PRT, I want to begin this by saying that you are under no suspicion of anything. This is merely a courtesy and investigative visit and if things go that far, make you aware of your options. Understand?”

Her tone was neutral even bordering on kind. I simply nodded in response, trying to keep my own poker face.

“Good, the Parahuman Taskforce is mandated to investigate events that could give rise to parahuman phenomena and your name popped up in our system. At this point I must inform you that you have the full right to stop me and ask me to leave and there will be no further negative legal consequences. Will you exercise that right?”

There was the nice hook they had for anyone who popped up on their radar. I exercise this right and then there would be questions, such as, ‘Why would she not tell us whether she’s a parahuman? Is she hiding something?’ Nevermind that it was bullshit in terms of the law and the presumption of innocence. The PRT had, by the nature of the threat they faced daily, extraordinary discretionary powers to investigate with speed - all in the name of keeping people safe. After all, the next parahuman could literally cause a city to be wiped out or require an absolute quarantine.

“No, you can stay. Whether or not I’m a parahuman or just someone who developed an extremely weird allergy after being exposed to…” It took every ounce of willpower I had to keep talking steadily, “... all the crap in that locker, that will have to remain a mystery.”

“Very well,” she eventually nodded in acceptance. “I will speak to you of the PRT and Protectorate and things you should keep in mind, in the event you theoretically are a parahuman. These things can be non-obvious and some powers could take time to manifest properly.”

She then proceeded to give a very well practiced almost masterful sales pitch for why it would be beneficial for me to theoretically join the Protectorate. It was almost a dream job if you looked at the benefits in isolation.

As I was over 18, I would go to what was effectively a hero bootcamp in LA, and in six months would train and learn all the procedures and knowledge that Wards are generally given part-time in bite sized chunks over the years of their primary and secondary schooling. It would also be here where I would develop and learn about my own power with the PRT Parascience division and its potential applications in various fields of law enforcement or disaster management. The results of that would also be informing my hero persona’s name, image management and perhaps even which Protectorate division I would be assigned to.

“Though a large preference is given to your own choice where you want to go,” Riley emphasized. “Generally, Protectorate heroes' personal choice on the city where they’re based is respected, but if reassignments must happen due to short staffing elsewhere or emergencies, a lot will be done to compensate you. If for example, you wish to be deployed to Brockton Bay, I can in an informal capacity tell you it will probably happen. The Protectorate division here is short staffed at the moment.”

“Speaking of compensation,” I began, “what salary and benefits are we talking about?”

“Here you’re generally looking at 75k per year right off the bat, which is actually equivalent to what a police helicopter pilot would get. However, there comes other benefits which could potentially push your real income into the high six figures. Royalties from marketing your hero persona and if there are any patents derived from studying your power, all would go to you. If you take part in any A and S class events, such as extreme threat response to Endbringers or a high threat parahuman, hazard pay benefits are awarded. If you are personally responsible for bringing in a parahuman with a bounty on their head, you’ll be awarded two-thirds of the bounty, while the rest goes to the Protectorate.”

I was slightly dizzy at that. The most money I’d worked with in my life was pocket money from mom and dad. The income that dad got these days was something I tried my best not to think about, only knowing it was enough to keep the house’s utilities on, put food on the table, gas in his tank and my general school expenses. The only very tiny good that had come from mom’s death, was the life insurance payout which had immediately gone to paying off the house, the remainder had gone on to bolster my college fund, so I now had the potential to pick even the most expensive Ivy League college if I qualified for it academically - which was definitely not happening anymore.

“College?” I questioned her next.

“Arrangements can be made,” she nodded. “If you already have a college fund or not, the Protectorate only benefits from their heroes investing in further training and learning. Depending on where you want to study and what, a study grant is generally available.”

Something occurred to me at this point and it was something that I really didn’t relish talking about at all, but the thought of dad…

“If I die in the line of duty?”

Riley’s aura spiked somewhat then drooped - was that sadness I just saw?

“You do contribute to a life insurance with your salary and are required to record a will before you are certified to attend A and S class responses. I don’t have the precise details on hand, but in the event of your death, your nominated beneficiary will receive about 1.5 million, you can elect for higher up to ten million, but naturally your monthly contribution needs to go up the higher you go.”

I nodded in understanding and looked out the window, a slight awkward silence developed at this point.

She coughed slightly to bring my attention back to her, “Do you have any further questions, Miss Hebert?”

“No, I think. This has been quite interesting. I’ve never thought that so much work and bureaucracy went into being a hero.”

“It can seem daunting, but you’ll find it’s the nature of the adult working world in general, even in the private sector.” She reached into a pocket and produced a business card that she placed on the food table. “This is my card, full contact details and I don’t want you to hesitate in calling me if you need help. I’m now on record as your person of first contact with the PRT. There are no strings attached.” I only nodded in understanding. “Excellent. It’s been a pleasure meeting you Miss Hebert.”

She extended a hand and we shook briefly.

Agent Riley left and my gaze returned to stare out of the window.

I had a lot of thinking to do it seemed.

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