Carol Dallon was…quite the person. She had an air about her sort of like one of those super strict teachers, the ones who don’t really like kids very much and you can never quite understand why they decided elementary school was for them. Just looking at her I never would have guessed she was actually a superhero with more than a decade of experience, even if from the sound of things she’d been focusing more heavily on her civilian career in the past few years.
She was in the dining room waiting for us when we arrived, sitting at the head of the table in a well-fitted charcoal suit. Her short, golden-blonde hair was perfectly styled without a single strand out of place and she had a very stereotypical-looking briefcase open on the table beside her. If not for the family photos and other minor signs of habitation, I would have thought I’d walked into the boardroom at some hoity-toity company and not a house.
She made us wait for nearly a minute as she finished filling out a document, signing it with a flourish before tucking it away into her briefcase and snapping it closed. Victoria introduced me, and I couldn’t help but notice how her body language shifted in her mother’s presence. She instantly went from friendly teenager to stern and closed off. At the same time, her sister almost seemed to hunch in on herself further and quickly vacated the room, scurrying up the stairs and out of sight without so much as greeting her mother.
I did my best to make a good first impression––Crystal had quietly given me a heads-up about how seriously her aunt took everything while I’d dried us off with my powers––but I’m really not sure how well I succeeded. She had a great poker face. It probably came with the whole ‘being a lawyer’ thing.
We shook hands, exchanged what I was pretty sure could be classified as polite greetings even if hers sounded rather more passive-aggressive than what I would have hoped for, and then she got right down to business.
“So my daughter tells me you claim to be a Case-22, is that correct?”
A what? “Umm…”
“A dimension traveler, I mean. The PRT classifies such people as Case-22s, though I believe the term has not disseminated into the public consciousness the same way it has for Case-53s.”
“Oh. Then yes. I am. Or at least that's the best explanation I’ve been able to come up with.”
She nodded slowly, “Reasonable. Victoria mentioned some of the evidence that you presented. I can’t say for certain that it is necessarily compelling, but I believe the PRT likely has further tests they could use to confirm such things.”
Pausing, Carol picked up a thin stack of documents lying on the table beside her, tapped them on the table to straighten them, then set them down on top of the stack in front of her. “I took the liberty of referencing the PRT’s public documents concerning such cases. Policy is to immediately present any potential Case-22s to the nearest office, but I can not fault you for seeking out a legal professional beforehand.”
“It seemed like a good idea.”
She actually smiled at that, though it was a very narrow, joyless smile. I wasn’t sure her face even could make a proper smile. She looked way too adult-y for that. “Good. I just wish more capes had that much sense. How you present yourself to both the public and before government entities has an oversized impact on future outcomes for new heroes.”
She paused again, then continued. “Now then, before I can tentatively agree to assist you, I do have a number of concerns. Firstly, the PRT documents stress the dangers of interdimensional diseases and potential long-term connections. Would you consent to an examination from my daughter Panacea and do you have any more information about how you arrived here?”
“Uh, yeah sure, that first thing sounds fine. My power makes me really resistant to diseases so I don’t think it will be a problem anyway. For the second bit, I’m really not sure. It was a pretty rough trip though, so I doubt anyone less durable than me could have survived it. I can probably find the spot I came through, but that's probably more something for the PRT to worry about.”
“That seems reasonable to me. As long as you agree to cooperate with the PRT’s investigation into such things, I am willing to work with you.” She turned to Vicky, who was standing off to the side watching the two of us talk. “Victoria, could you please fetch your sister for me? Crystal, I’m afraid I will have to ask you to leave for the time being, or at least step out of the room so I can speak privately with Mr. Jackson as his attorney.”
“Yeah, sure Aunt Carol. Percy, if you need somewhere to stay tonight, there is an open guest room at my house and I’m sure mom wouldn’t mind. We live just down the street.”
“That would be great, thanks Crystal!”
She smiled at me, then left the room just as Vicky came back with a frumpled looking Panacea wearing half of her distinctive costume.
“I see you’re getting ready to head to the hospital. Good timing then, Victoria can take you in her car once you’re done here.”
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I turned to Panacea and offered my hand. “Thanks for coming out earlier, I realize we were never really introduced. I’m Percy.”
“Panacea. Do I have your permission to heal you?” Well that was kind of abrupt. “Just yes or no, I need your verbal consent.”
“Yeah, sure. Go for it.”
She grabbed my bare hand, her face an image of boredom that quickly transformed into an interested frown, then confusion.
We stood in silence for several seconds and I could see Carol starting to stand up out of the corner of my eyes, a frown on her face.
“There’s something wrong with your DNA,” Panacea said suddenly, “I…I can’t see all of it? Like, half of it. It's weird. And I can’t affect you, like at all. I can look, but I can’t touch. If you get hurt, I don’t think I could fix you. It’s…”
“Does he have any unfamiliar diseases we should be worried about?” Carol asked sharply.
Panacea shook her head quickly. “No, no, I don’t think so? Nothing he could spread anyway. I can see the remnants of some stuff, but nothing contagious or recent.”
“Good. Then you and Victoria can go. I may need you again tomorrow when we go to speak with the PRT, be sure to be free.”
“Yes Carol.” Her voice sounded almost mechanical as she said it, and it seemed to take her a great deal of effort to let go of my hand. Vicky smiled, waved goodbye, and then the two of them were gone, leaving me alone with the scary lawyer lady. Lovely, just my favorite.
The next forty-five minutes faded into a blur. Carol said a lot of words, asked a lot of questions, and none of it really seemed to amount to much. I did remember telling her that if she was worried about compensation, I could probably go find some sunken treasure for her. That devolved into a whole thing about NEPA-5, legal claims, and responsible uses of parahuman powers that I did my best to listen to but still barely understood.
She did eventually ask for more details about my powers. As I’d decided before, I told her about most things, but not quite everything. I told her about all the stuff I mentioned to Vicky and Crystal––durability, water control, and mini earthquakes––then also added a few of the other minor powers that being a son of Poseidon gave me like talking to fish and horses, controlling boats, and always knowing where I was on the sea.
I deliberately didn’t say anything about the curse of Achilles, just saying that I was invulnerable, nor did I mention being able to summon water and the way seawater made me stronger, faster, and let me regenerate. Those were cards that I wanted to keep to my chest, at least for now. I wasn’t sure how much I trusted the heroes around here yet.
I also said nothing about the Mist. I was not sure how I felt about parahumans repelling the Mist. That seemed…bad. The Mist also sounded a lot like a master or stranger power, and people around here had a big bias against those.
She seemed both impressed and a little confused, calling me the strongest grab-bag cape she’d ever heard of. I mentioned that having a mix of different abilities wasn’t uncommon back home and she metaphorically threw her hands up in the air and moved on.
Eventually we hammered out all the technicalities, I signed a paper saying that Carol was representing me in this one specific case and related issues, and then we started to figure out our plans going forward. The agreement did include some language about how Carol was going to get paid in the end, but I both didn’t mind that and ultimately I didn’t really expect a lawyer, even a superhero lawyer, to work for free. If someone was paying me, it could come out of that. Otherwise, I’d go like, find some gold or rare fish or something. I’d make it work.
Sometime in the middle of everything, Carol had ordered us both takeout from a nearby restaurant. It was pretty good and Carol finally seemed to relax a tiny bit after we ate, so maybe part of her grouchy exterior had just been hunger. Probably not, but I could hope. She seemed like a good woman, very principled, though I’d seen too many times how such things could go very wrong very quickly.
She really hadn’t liked it when I mentioned letting the Undersiders go after I fought them the other night, but she also approved of my decision to not escalate and risk property damage since I hadn’t been willing to contact the PRT at the time anyway. She really didn’t like villains, even when I mentioned some of their motivations for why they did what they did. Actually, that might have made things worse.
What we eventually decided on was pretty simple. We’d go meet with the PRT tomorrow––Carol had a good enough relationship with them that we could figure something out even with it being the weekend––and then we’d go from there. She mentioned a bunch of maybes and contingencies, but it really did mostly just depend on what the PRT came up with.
She told me I would probably have to subject myself to power testing, that was fine. I’d also need to answer a bunch of questions about my world and stuff, figure out my new identity, and take care of a bunch of stupid bureaucracy (my words, not hers).
Apparently it really helped that I ‘was’ eighteen. I also didn’t have any government documents on me that listed my actual birthday, so they didn’t really have any way to prove otherwise. People had been telling me all year that I looked older than I was and Carol hadn’t questioned it when I’d told her I turned eighteen in August, so hopefully it wouldn’t even come up.
Worst case scenario, I would do my best to bust out of whatever cage they tried to put me in. If it really came down to it, they had a giant, very expensive looking base out in the middle of the bay. I could smack it around a bit as a distraction and then flee into the ocean. That would kind of suck, but I could do it.
Hopefully it didn’t come down to that. Vicky and Crystal both seemed nice and they’d probably get caught up in things. That would be sad.
Eventually everything that needed my input out was taken care of and Carol shooed me out of the house with directions to the Pelhams, instructions to get some sleep, and a firm demand not to get into any trouble before tomorrow. I was honestly impressed that she had to add that last bit––most people had to know me for at least a week before they figured out I could cause three major disasters in two blocks.