Call 1.7

2000, May 15: Phoenix, AZ, USA

Five days after I submitted the two elixirs and health potion for testing, I got called into the director's office. Despite being a building of only middling height, her office managed to get a decent view overlooking the Gammage Memorial Auditorium in the Tempe section of the Phoenix Metropolitan Area. The interior of the office was well-furnished, with comfortable furniture, posters of the local Protectorate, a map of Phoenix, and Director Lyons' diplomas. A flag of the Phoenix Suns basketball team hung in one corner as the lone splash of non-work related color.

I sat in my brand-spanking new costume, fresh from the sewing machine and approved only a few days before. I wore a large, red domino mask that covered the upper half of my face snugly and contoured itself to imply a different facial structure. The eye holes were tinted so it was impossible to see my glass eyes. As far as the public knew, Rubedo wasn't blind.

The robes were done in two layers. The thin and airy inner layer was an unfortunately eye-searing yellow instead of the dull white or black I'd wanted originally. According to Ms. Youngston, the PRT wanted to avoid implying a religiosity that did not exist by wearing too much white. The sleeves were long, but easily pinned with a notch on the elbows if I wanted to roll them back for work. They also came with pockets like a monk's robes so I could hide my phone, wallet, or other knickknack inside.

Thankfully, most of the inner robes were covered by the outer, which draped itself like a traveler's overcoat. The fabric was thicker, with a visible mesh pattern that I was told would reflect sunlight and provide some protection if worst came to worst. The coat was a dull red, with a thick hood that looked like it could be worn to completely shroud the face in shadow. It couldn't; the hood was literally sewn tight to the back of my coat. Ms. Youngston had again put her foot down, saying that heroes who showed their faces appeared more approachable. On the plus side, that did make my costume much more breathable.

The ensemble was completed with burgundy boots that were mostly hidden by my robes and a thick, leather belt that went around my midriff. The belt was lined with a multitude of slots for glass vials and a thermos filled with Oracle's Elixir stylized to look like a medieval waterskin. A pair of sturdy leather gloves were hooked onto a belt loop to complete the image of a hard-working hero.

My personal sigil was stitched over my heart and both shoulders. It was an octagonal patch depicting a stylized potion bottle in white with a red "R" inside over a black background with yellow borders. When I first saw it, I couldn't stop myself from making a Team Rocket joke, not that anyone else got the reference.

All told, even though I had no intention of keeping the persona, I had to admit that the PRT did good work. It looked professional, wasn't difficult to move in, and got my aesthetic across. As a Ward, that was probably the best I could expect of them.

"Thank you for being punctual, Rubedo," Director Lyons said. Director Amelia Lyons was a tall woman in her forties with red hair and brown eyes. She looked like she'd let herself go a bit, but had been very athletic in her youth.

I gave her a polite bow in greeting. "Afternoon, director. What's this about?"

"I wanted to let you know that your debut will be this Saturday on the twentieth and to see you in your full costume."

I did a little twirl. "Well, how is it? Do I look like a proper wizard?"

"Or maybe a candle," she said with a faint smile.

"That's me, Rubedo the Wonder-Candle."

"Don't tempt me. I'm sure I could get Ms. Youngston to make some Rubedo-brand scented candles."

"Or, here's an idea, you could be truly ironic and make some Rubedo-brand sunglasses," I shot back with a cheeky grin. I got a small snort from her so I counted that a win. "Actually, could you? I want to wear my own branded sunglasses to school. I can just say I'm wearing them because I don't like people staring at my scar."

"I'll think about it. Now, although you're a part of the Wards, we're not entirely comfortable putting you on patrols quite yet."

"I figured. Even if I can temporarily gain a thinker power, it's just that: temporary. It's a pretty big risk so I always knew I'd probably be kept inside to tinker and only brought out for publicity stunts."

"Not necessarily. While we don't feel comfortable letting you patrol, we think you could do a lot of good with your potions. How would you like to make rounds at hospitals?"

I shrugged. "That's fine, but I'd prefer to tinker. And like I said, publicity stunts. You could just as easily have a PRT agent carry a crate of health potions over and distribute them out in the trauma ward. My presence is more about aesthetics than any actual expertise on my end."

"And… you're okay with that?" Director Lyons asked cautiously.

"Should I not be? I think I'm being sensible."

"No, that's… that's great. I thought you'd want something more exciting."

'No doubt because the parahuman conflict drive has already been heavily documented,' I mused knowingly. "Well, I don't. I know what I'm good at and fighting isn't one of them. Even if I could do well enough by drinking both elixirs, I'd rather give them to Stingray so she can punch people for me."

"I'm glad you understand. Now, about your lab…"

"Yes?"

"The centrifuge and electrolysis machines will arrive by the nineteenth. If we bought you an industrial mixer, do you think you could mass produce your potions?" She had a hungry glint in her eye that almost scared me with its intensity. And, honestly, I understood. In more than two decades since Scion's appearance, I was one of less than fifty capes capable of healing. In twenty-two years.

Sure, it was impossible to get a proper census of all capes in the US, never mind the world, but that there were so few healing capes on record amplified my worth a great deal. Any PRT branch that hosted me would by default rise in prestige, especially since I could temporarily grant powers as well as heal.

In a world without Panacea, even a relatively minor healing power like my potion was a godsend.

I happily took her dreams and crushed them to dust. "No. It takes a lot of concentration for me to make a Mana Crystal so even if you get me enough ingredients, I'd still hit a bottleneck. Twenty or so bottles of various kinds is probably my soft limit," I said. "I also want to experiment with things on my own so I'd need to put aside some crystals for that as well."

"Well, we'll at least make sure you never run out of the more mundane ingredients."

I heard what she was saying loud and clear: I was their heal-slave and they'd milk me for everything I had. It worked out for me so I didn't complain. I expected I'd be able to channel more mana and create more potent Mana Crystals as my connection to the World Rune improved, but I didn't mention that. The rest of the meeting passed quickly with some questions on her end about what I might need for my lab and how I was faring in school.

X

2000, May 20: Phoenix, AZ, USA

The reveal of a new Ward was always a bit of a spectacle. Ms. Youngston started a PR campaign the moment my signature was on the contract. Talking heads had been trying to guess everything from my exact powerset to my favorite food for weeks. This meant that my debut was a long-anticipated event that had been curated since before I myself first knew anything about it.

The minor press conference was set to be held at the Scottsdale Fashion Square, the largest mall in the Phoenix Metro Area. The interior had a climate-controlled lobby with a glass ceiling where a stage had been set up for our use. Even the location was intentional. We could have rented out the Gammage Auditorium, but Ms. Youngston said that would send the image of a hero who was separated from the people, a stage production rather than the genuine article. I did my best to not point out the irony in that statement.

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A second venue that was considered was a local middle school, but that too was scrapped. Though the unwritten rules were more or less established, hinting at my identity by implying I attended a certain school was a big no-no, especially since that wasn't my school.

Holding my debut at the mall would both make the event accessible to the public and make me seem more approachable and childlike. She'd called it "youthful candor," whatever the hell that meant. It didn't hurt that a major hospital was so close to the mall.

'Honestly,' I thought, suppressing a sneeze as some lady powdered my nose, 'I think she's just happy to have a Ward that doesn't zone off to la la land the moment she starts talking about the nuances of her job.'

"There, all done," the lady powdering my face chirped. She looked like an intern of some sort, no older than her mid-twenties. "You look positively dashing, Rubedo."

"Thanks, Miss Noda," I said, grateful for the pericognition granted by the Oracle's Elixir; I didn't need to look down to read her name tag. "I appreciate it. How much time until we're on?"

She checked her watch. "Eight minutes, hon. Sit tight. Do you remember everything?"

"Yes, I do. When I walk up, I should shake Director Lyons' hand, then Royalle's, then Stingray's, and then read the lines on the podium. Then I should bow and sit down next to Stingray."

"Good, you'll do great."

I waited behind the stage for another seven minutes. The owner of the mall, some fat cat named Mr. Briggs, wrapped up whatever attempt he was making at kissing ass and Director Lyons took the mic. I was almost ready to zone out when she raised her voice slightly.

"Without further ado, please welcome Rubedo to the Wards family!" she said to polite applause.

Miss Noda gave me a gentle push. I thanked the celestials for the Oracle's Elixir again as camera lights flashed with every step I took. 'Oh the benefits of being blind,' I chuckled and did my best to give the crowd a "winning" smile. I'm pretty sure I just ended up looking a little constipated.

Still, I did as I was bid and shook hands with each of my superiors. Royalle, the leader of Protectorate Team One and nominally my ultimate superior in the Protectorate, was an interesting character. I'd met him briefly when I first signed on to be a Ward, but he'd seemed impatient and rather detached at the time. Now, he was all smiles.

He was a handsome man with black hair, hazel eyes, and teeth so straight and shiny that he could have starred in an Oral-B commercial. He wore a domino mask that I thought was dangerously thin, doing the bare minimum to nod towards the unwritten rules. He wore a metallic breastplate paired with a detachable cape of royal-blue. The cape had a white fur trim emblazoned with the golden crown that was his symbol. Hell, he even wore a crown on his head.

"Welcome aboard, kid, officially," he said in a deep, rich baritone.

"Thank you, sir," I replied, no reason to antagonize the man, even if I thought the crown was pretty tacky.

Stingray had a far more laidback response. She gave me a small, genuine smile and ruffled my hair, setting the crowd to laughter at my exaggerated umbrage. I stepped onto a small stool that had been prepped for me so I could "see" the podium. That earned me another few chuckles. The speech itself was mercifully short.

"Hello, everyone, my name is Rubedo," I began. "I am the newest Ward of Wards Team One under Wards Leader Stingray and Protectorate Leader Royalle. I have the honor of being the youngest Ward, not just in Phoenix, but also in the entire Southwest."

I made a show of holding up the paper to "read," then promptly threw it away to some surprised gasps. This too was something Ms. Youngston planned for my persona when she found out about my pericognition.

"Yeah, I'm not reading that. Sorry, let me be candid for a few minutes," I said, still reading the script lying on the floor. "I'm young. I could be as great as Hero, but that wouldn't change my age. Can you imagine someone like me fighting villains? Would you let your children fight people who can throw around cars or shoot lightning from their hands? Of course not. The truth is, I may be a Ward, but I can't be called a hero. Not yet.

"I'm incredibly fortunate that my powers complement my age. I'm a tinker, just like Hero, Armsmaster, and Gyroscope. Unlike them though, I can't make mechanical wonders. I can't make a teleporter or a hovercar or a giant laser," I lied through my teeth and held up a glass vial filled with crimson liquid. "Instead, I can make these. I am the first alchemical tinker and this is a health potion. It can stabilize and close wounds, replenish blood cells, and accelerate cellular mitosis. I'm fortunate, because I won't be on the front line. Instead, my patrol is in the hospitals and emergency clinics, where I'll be working with doctors and paramedics to save lives.

"The truth? The truth is that I'm not a hero. I don't deserve to be called that, not yet," I said, looking into the camera. "I'm just a kid who got lucky. But I will be. One day, 'Rubedo' will be a name you remember alongside Hero and Armsmaster and Gyroscope as a tinker worth respecting. And I am honored to start that journey serving the people of Phoenix."

Speech recited, I walked over and sat down next to Stingray, releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding. I shuddered a little. The crowd was silent; that kind of brutal honesty taking them from left field, especially coming from a child. Then, a single applause started an cascade.

"You did great," she encouraged, "better than my own debut."

"Thanks," I said honestly, maybe the first truly honest thing I'd said on stage.

That whole stunt was an attempt to kickstart my cape persona. According to the PRT, I had a "wallflower" power, one that wouldn't stand out because they were intent on keeping me out of conflicts. That meant that for me to be a noticeable public presence, I had to supplement my power with sheer force of personality, something normally impossible to expect of a child still in elementary school. Instead of being a meek healer who the PRT was keeping back from the frontlines, I would be a "fiercely independent, determined young man dedicated to filling some very large shoes." It was why Director Lyons allowed the little bit of scripted rebellion, a bit of "youthful candor."

I shrugged. 'Anything to sell more merch, I guess.'

"That was unexpected," Director Lyons said, "though not unwelcome. Thank you, Rubedo, for that sincerity. We will now open ourselves to questions."

She pointed at a young woman in a sharp pantsuit. "Melissa Hawthorne, Phoenix Gazette. Rubedo, can you go more in-depth about your powers?"

The mic was passed back to me so I didn't have to get up again. "Of course, Miss Hawthorne," I said with a polite smile. "As I said before, I am a tinker. My power seems to take inspiration from alchemy, hence the name. For now, I can create potions that promote healing or grant temporary effects. To be completely honest, I am still exploring the limits of my powers, so you'll know more even as I do."

"Carter McCullough, The Arizona Republic. If you don't know your power's limits, how can you be sure that there are no side effects to drinking your potion?"

Director Lyons fielded that one. "As you know, Rubedo's presence in the Wards was a highly anticipated affair. In fact, he joined the Wards months ago but we felt that any parahuman-made medicine deserved the utmost scrutiny. That is why his debut was such a long time coming. We have thoroughly tested his potions and feel that all side effects are manageable or miniscule." It was a lie, I'd only shown her the potion last week and the eggheads had rushed through testing as much as they could, but it sure sounded nice.

"So there are side effects?"

"All pharmaceuticals have side effects. For example, because Rubedo's potion accelerates cellular mitosis, it is not recommended that current or at-risk cancer patients take the potion. The potion is for physical wounds only, not diseases. That said, I assure you that the doctors have been briefed and any patient prescribed one of Rubedo's potions will be able to take them safely."

The next journalist could barely be called that, more of a gossip columnist than anything. "Kyle Stuckey, Cape Colors. Rubedo, you said your power seems to be based on alchemy. Any chance you can turn lead into gold?"

I shot the director a grateful smile for the deflection. "Not that I'm aware. If I could, I'd be a hero in Hawaii," I joked to polite laughter.

"What does your name mean?" some other journalist asked. Their names started to blend together.

"My name is a reference to alchemy. Medieval alchemists believed that the alchemical process could be described in three stages. Nigredo, the blackness, represented the impure and unrefined state of matter. Albedo, the whiteness, represented the purification process. Rubedo, the redness, was the final stage and the perfection of matter, whether that be to gold or a panacea. That is my namesake. It's also why my costume is mostly red."

"That's very interesting. Do you have an interest in medieval alchemy?"

"No, or at least, nothing specific. I have an interest in mythology as a whole."

"What's your favorite story?"

I thought about it and decided to answer honestly. "Surprisingly, my favorite myth isn't European, despite my cape name. It's the story of the Jade Rabbit. Once, the emperor of heaven decided to walk among the earth disguised as a poor traveler. He sat in the forest and was hungry. Three animals came to help him: the fox, the monkey, and the rabbit. The fox, thinking that this starving man needed it more, stole a chicken from a nearby farmer. The monkey knocked down fruit from the branches. But the rabbit, the rabbit saw that he could neither hunt nor gather. So, he threw himself into the fire.

"The self-sacrifice touched the emperor's heart and he revealed himself, taking the rabbit out of the fire and blessing him with the title of the Jade Rabbit. He gave him a home on the moon and tasked him with the creation of the Elixir of Life. That is how the moon bunny came to be."

The rest of the debut went off without a hitch. I couldn't be certain, but I thought I'd managed to build a reputation for myself as a serious, determined, and well-spoken cape who could be expected to act with a maturity beyond his years. That maturity bit was important considering I'd have doctors taking cues from me in the future. As I walked away, I couldn't help but think that Vista would have been jealous of me. Instead of downplaying my maturity as Director Piggot had, Director Lyons was going out of her way to point it out.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.