Wave 2.3

2010, September 30: Brockton Bay, NH, USA

Just like when I first made the helmet for the Essentia model Expansion Suit, it took far longer to finish the software side of things than it took to finish the rest of the outfit. The helmet's UI was already programmed, with much of it being copied from the one in my own helmet. It made making the rest of the helmet a breeze.

Even so, the clasp I'd used for Labyrinth's fitting had been a placeholder. Developing the shielding tech required some of the rare earth metals I'd sourced in trace amounts from household appliances and various electronics. Despite the large quantities of electronics I'd stolen, a singular shield and cloaking module ate through almost a quarter of my lanthanum and dysprosium supplies.

Lanthanum was found in hard drives for data storage and dysprosium was common, relatively speaking, as a fire starter in lighters. I made a note to remember that in the event I ran low. By now, a four hour tinkering session was customary and I saw no reason to stop.

I made good progress on her shawl. The shawl's design had been programmed into the sewing machine and the machine had been hooked up to my supply of reinforced Kevlar. The fabric portion could be relegated to the background. Meanwhile, I finished the structure of her helmet and installed the visor containing the UI. The cloaking function of the clasp was mostly finished, imported from the Expansion Suit's texturing module, but the shield was slow going. I hoped to finish the project by Friday so I could get to work on my own suit.

X

My Thursday school schedule mirrored Tuesday's, so I took into account PE with Coach Miller and went a bit light on my morning jog. It wasn't like he would give me a detention if he thought I was slacking or anything, but Mrs. Currie definitely would if she caught me dozing off in world issues because I went a bit too hard. With the sewing machine automatically weaving the shawl for me, SAINT had nothing to do at the lab so he'd decided to accompany me again.

I jogged along my way to school, a set of earphones in and tuned to the Foghorn.

According to my late father, the Foghorn began as a group of town criers who shouted the day's tide tables using the local almanac way back when Brockton Bay was a small city that made most of its wealth on trade and fishing. Criers were eventually replaced with paperboys and paperboys with radio hosts. The almanac eventually took a back seat to other news and entertainment. They still kept their name and the sound of three tooting foghorns, heavily muted, was the station trademark.

These days, they had a habit of regurgitating the most relevant cape news. I remembered a few months back when they went under fire for ripping off Bagrat's PHO posts almost verbatim. They may not be very original, but they were still a decent source of cape news, assuming you were willing to take their words with a grain of salt and couldn't be bothered to trawl through PHO on your own.

"Hello, Brockton!" Kevin Hartley, the host of the Foghorn, shouted in his usual, bombastic voice. "We've got a treat for you law abiding citizens this fine morning. Remember that gas station blowing up near the Boardwalk a few weeks back? Well, I have it on good authority that Circus, the independent villain, has been captured by our very own Velocity last night."

I paused at that. The botched heist that led to a gas station fire was a month ago, and possibly the first time after my trigger that I truly felt the pressing need to grow stronger.

'My life isn't an anime,' I thought sardonically. 'There isn't some narrative force that says Circus has to be my first act antagonist.' On some level, of course I knew that this world was filled with actors besides me. People weren't props after all; they had their own agency, their own dreams and ambitions. I hadn't even given her much thought beyond a general, 'Oh, even the low-tier villain is much better than me.'

It was a strange feeling. It was completely unjustified, but I couldn't help the small part of me that wanted a go at her, that felt a bit cheated at the anticlimactic nature of real life. Was this my power's conflict drive pushing me forward?

'Nah, I'm just being an idiot.'

By the time I remembered to start jogging towards school again, it was PRT Representative Jake Xavier speaking. I must have missed Hartley introducing the man. All things considered, it was a bog standard official statement and I wouldn't have been surprised if the PRT had politely insisted on a chance to announce their win through every medium possible. 'God knows they need every little "w" they can get.'

I jogged through the school gates just five minutes before class, almost too late to grab a shower. I managed a quick rinse and hurried into the gym just as the bell rang, hair still damp. I shuffled next to Eric, Steve, Joe, and Ryan, our team for the month.

"Yo," I greeted.

"Sup, nerd," Steve sneered.

"Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?"

Before he could snarl something back, Coach Miller jogged into the gym and blew a shrill whistle. "Ladies, gentlemen, today will be the final day of basketball. Teams A and B, C and D, E and F, pair off," he shouted. No one was about to tell a three hundred pound vet "no," so we hopped to it. The girls had their own teams ranged A to F for a total of sixty freshmen in the class.

After a jump ball that we lost, I let Steve and Eric take up positions at the center of the court and hung back beneath our team's net to guard it. "You shouldn't goad him," Ryan, short Hispanic kid, said.

"Hmm?"

"Steve, he's going to get worse."

"That sounds like a him problem."

"Well it'll be your problem too if he decides to make you a target."

"Ehh, not terribly worried. Although, do you know why he hates me?"

"Does it matter?"

"He just doesn't like the quiet kid sitting with Vicky's court," Joe cut in.

I stared incredulously. "Are you serious? That's it? And do you really call our table Vicky's court?"

He completely ignored my second question. "Yeah, I mean, you're not a bad dude, Bryce, but…"

"You're a loner," Ryan finished for his friend. "You've always been like this even in middle school and Steve's always been a jock so I guess he doesn't like seeing the quiet kid get more popular."

"How am I popular?" I asked in honest confusion. "I literally have less than ten friends in the entire school. Hell, I'm not sure I can name ten acquaintances."

"Doesn't matter, dude," Joe shrugged. He caught the ball then immediately passed it to Steve in a smooth underhand that sent the ball almost rolling between some other kid's feet. "It's not about how many friends you have; it's about who they are."

"Fucking high school. You guys spend so much time putting the Dallons on a pedestal that I think you forget they're just normal girls. Hell, I don't see you guys treat Eric the same way."

"Yeah, but we grew up with Eric," Ryan whined. "He's just a dork who loves tabletop games and fantasy, but with some powers. Glory Girl and Panacea are… them."

I thought about the train wreck that was their family and audibly scoffed. "They're really a lot more relatable than you'd think. Besides, I wasn't the one who approached them. I just kind of got dragged into their circle before I knew it." And it was true. I could have left at any time and Chelsea would have eventually given up, but I got to bickering with Amy and laughing with Carlos and before I knew it, I was a part of the circle.

"Doesn't matter," Joe said. "No matter how it happened, guys like Steve think you're a social leech, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it. It's a bit of a pain in the ass, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop hanging out with my friends to soothe his bruised ego."

A shrill whistle pierced the air. "Gentlemen, let's see some hustle!" Coach Miller shouted at us.

"Yes, sir!" I shouted back and gestured for Eric to pass me the ball. 'I wonder how much magnets practice I could get in by pretending I've got some hops?' I mused.

I'd yet to do so in PE even though I did sometimes spin pens by their nibs in class because using Magnet Rise while mobile was taxing. Having gotten much better at suppressing the light of aura, I caught Joe's pass to me and jumped to take the three-pointer. I made sure to rise barely three inches higher than I normally would, but getting past my blocker's guard meant nothing because I had all the aim of a headless chicken.

"You can't aim for shit," Steve jeered.

"I know," I laughed back.

I kept Magnet Rise around my person after that. It'd taken a lot of work to be able to lift myself without wearing any metal on me and though I couldn't extend this to other nonmetallic things, it might well save my life someday.

The activation itself took no effort; by now it was practically second nature, but the rhythm of the bouncing ball took a bit of time to get used to. I was effectively thinking two thoughts at once. I stood there a moment, trying to sync the bouncing motion with the electromagnetic current flowing around me.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"You gonna play or what, Kiley?" Sean, the captain of the other team, called.

"Yeah, sorry, spaced out there."

With that, I started to dribble forward, slowly at first, but progressively faster as I got used to the rhythm. By the end of class, I'd gotten decently good at manipulating the ball. I couldn't score a single point, but that was never my goal anyway.

X

I was on my way home when my phone rang. I checked the caller ID and quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. 'Now what does the ugly duckling want with me?'

"Yes, grumpy? What's up? It's not like you to call."

"Fuck you, I'm not grumpy," Amy's gruff voice rang through my earphones.

"The school and sum total of Brockton's medical staff begs to differ," I teased.

"Yeah, well, they can all go eat a bag of dicks."

"So? What's up? Isn't today one of your ICU days? Wanna ditch?"

"No. My work is important," she snapped.

"Alright, geez, I was kidding, mostly."

"I know… sorry. It sucks."

"Hang in there, Ames. If you get bored, you can hide a pimple on every patient's butt cheeks in the shape of your face."

"Eww! Why the hell would I do that? I'm not some deviant like you," she huffed. I didn't think she even noticed that she hadn't denied her ability to do so, only her willingness. I took that as a sign of her opening up, albeit subconsciously.

"Just offering a suggestion to relieve your boredom," I said. "So, did you just call to hear my silky, suave voice or was there a reason?"

"You wish. Your voice cracks like a strangled chicken."

"Ouch, but true. Was that a masturbation joke?"

"Fuck you." The line went silent and I had to check to make sure she hadn't hung up on me. A minute later, I heard Amy swallow thickly before speaking. "Hey, Bryce?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm… We're friends, right?"

"Yes. No jokes, no snark. We're friends, Ames."

"Can we… Can we hang out?"

"You know, a guy could take this the wrong way."

"You know what I mean. Yes or no?"

I held out a hand in surrender even though I knew she couldn't see it. "Alright, Ms. Thistles, when?"

"Thistles? Really? You're not doing anything on Saturday, right?"

"Nada."

"Meet me at the Hillside at eleven?"

"Sure, that'll work. I've been craving Devil's Bakery."

"And… You'd tell me or Vicky if something weird happened to you, right?"

"Err… depends? I mean, no offense, but I'm not going to tell you about that dream I had," I joked.

"Bryce, I'm serious!" The urgency in her tone made me pause.

"Ames, yes. If something big happens and I need a superheroine or two to come save my ass, I promise you'll be the first I call. Or your sister. No offense, but she's a lot less… squishy."

I heard her sigh with relief. "Okay. It's a promise."

"Alright, Saturday, eleven."

"Yeah, see you then, Bryce."

"Take care. And try to work in the pediatric wing for a few hours tonight," I said. "You could use some ankle biters to cheer you up."

"I like my costume not covered in drool, thanks," she snorted, but I could hear the smile.

"I mean it. I'm giving you homework. You need to make at least three kids laugh today, got it?"

"What kind of homework is that?"

"The kind designed to rehabilitate a perpetual grump."

"Bye, Bryce."

"Homework!"

The line went dead and I pondered what she'd told me.

Amy had the opposite problem as most teenagers. Most teenagers longed to be relied on, to be seen as responsible. Amy, she had the world on her shoulders; the last thing she wanted was for yet another person to dump their troubles at her feet.

'She wants me to go to her if something weird happens, but she really hates responsibility. That must mean she thinks she's the only one who can help me with "weird" things. Does she think I'm being bullied or something?' I shook my head. 'No, then she'd just point Carlos my way and wash her hands of it. It must be cape business. Since I'm not supposed to know who the Wards are, she must think that she's obligated to help me as one of the only two capes in my life. Why would she think I'd need parahuman help? I'm not sick, am I? No, then telling Vicky would be pointless.'

Then it struck me like a bolt from the blue.

"Fuck," I swore. I was certain of it. Somehow, she knew I'd triggered.

'How?'

The more I thought about it, the clearer the situation became.

At some point, Amy had gotten a full scan of my brain and seen an active corona. The question was, what did I do? This framed Saturday's hangout in a whole different way.

'She likely plans on confronting me. How much does she know? She picked Hillside. Is she being ironic because she knows I was the one who robbed the place? No, calm down, Bryce. That's impossible even for the Shaper. She knows I'm a cape, but not what powers I have or when I triggered. She sounded sincere so this must be her attempt to explain the unwritten rules to me.'

I got home and gave a cursory greeting to my mom before heading upstairs to lock myself in my room before dinner. After some thought, I decided to approach the meeting at Hillside with the assumption that she intended for it to be a gesture of goodwill. This Amy wasn't the monster she could become, not yet, and I would be spitting on everything she'd done until now if I didn't extend that modicum of trust.

That left me with the million dollar question: Amy knew I was a cape, so how did I respond?

The most obvious course of action, and my gut instinct, was to deny, deny, deny. She would know the truth of course, but she couldn't reveal that information unless I went full Bakuda levels of insane. It would keep her from nosing into my cape life, but that in itself was the trouble. She very likely would see it as me slapping away her outstretched hand, a betrayal that would reopen the gap between us I'd worked so hard to bridge over the past month.

'No, that's not acceptable,' I resolved. I still wasn't entirely sure about the kind of cape I wanted to be beyond an independent, but one of the few things I wanted to do in this life was to help Amy.

The second option was to come clean, fully admit that I was the cape who conducted the Hillside Heist. I could pass it away as the urges of a new tinker, but then she'd use that as an excuse to force the Wards on me. If nothing else, I would be "villainous" in her mind, associated with every part of herself she'd worked so hard to reject.

I didn't think that would make her my nemesis or anything, but it still damaged our relationship.

The third option was to pretend to be a cape with a non-tinker powerset. That would be easy enough to accomplish with the TMs in my arsenal. Magnet Rise and Thunder Wave could be a stand-alone power in their own right. Add in Protect, Agility, and Recover and I was already a cape with top-tier potential. Nor did my costume look much like tinkertech at first glance. At first glance, it was just highly customized bike leathers. I could credibly fool Amy, and the rest of Brockton Bay.

She would likely insist on me becoming a hero. It would mean an end to robbing shops for materials, but I wasn't counting on doing much more of that anyway.

"Mrrrggghhhhh," I groaned into my pillow.

"Pory?" SAINT looked at me with his big, soulful eyes

"I don't know what to do," I admitted. "Amy knows I'm a cape and she's going to try to 'guide me on the right path' or something. I'm definitely a villain right now though. If I push her away, I lose her friendship. If I don't, she's going to try to 'fix me,' maybe even go as far as out me to the Wards."

My trusty friend nuzzled his pastel-colored head into my side. "Reee," he trilled and sent an image through our bond. It was hazy, but I could just make out what appeared to be a lightning bolt striking a figure.

"SAINT," I gasped, appalled. "I'm not going to zap Amy!"

He stared at me pointedly. The bond wavered, this time not with the strain of an image but an emotion: warmth. It was how SAINT felt when I first held him, first fed him, first played music with him on my lap. It was the feeling of belonging and attachment. Suddenly, I understood.

"Yeah," I slumped. "That's the trouble. I care about her too much to just push her out of my life."

"Gon?"

"I guess that's the question. Do I care more about my freedom or my friend?" Then, I realized something. Despite all the time I'd spent with SAINT, I'd never asked him his opinion on my actions. "SAINT, I just realized, I never asked you what you thought I should do."

"Pooreee… Gon?"

"Should I be a hero? Should I be a villain? Or should I do what I'm doing now and just do whatever I feel like doing?"

He made some strange beeping, trilling noises that reminded me of a digital remix of a teakettle. I felt a nudge in our bond, a feeling of inquisitiveness. It wasn't as though he did not understand the idea of a hero, or concepts of morality; his was a simple question: Why should he care?

And… That was a fair question. Some pokémon were inclined towards good, or at least as humans defined it. The ralts line were drawn to positive emotions, literally gaining strength by proximity, and so were incentivized to make people happy. So were togepi, chansey, etc. On the other hand, other pokémon tended to have problematic personalities, a devil may care attitude that made them seem selfish or violent.

Porygon were smack dab in the middle of that. They were blank slates and their personalities depended entirely on their humans, first their programmers, then their trainers. I was both and… I couldn't honestly say that I'd proved to be a good example of morals for him. I couldn't blame him for reflecting that back at me.

As far as he was concerned, he had exactly one person he cared about: me. He cared about Sierra and mom, to a degree, but only in the abstract, only because I cared.

"Why do I care about Amy?"

"Pory," he nodded.

"She's a friend. She's someone with nearly boundless potential and an iron discipline that impresses me. More than that, I guess I just like talking with her," I said honestly. "What do I do, SAINT?"

I could see SAINT consider my question. It was odd seeing a pensive, pastel-colored, blocky duck, but I gave him his moment of silence. Slowly, his desires made themselves known through the bond. Above all else, I felt concern. He started with my very first outing. His memories reflected my experiences back at me.

At Good Neighbor, I had been filled with guilt at robbing a charity. I had told myself that was necessary, only for the very next specialization to give me a raid suit that blew the Essentia outfit out of the water.

Then, I scavenged for parts at the junkyard. I remembered feeling the fear and trepidation of being discovered, the relief that it was only Newter who found me. Then, my dealings with Faultline and how I'd justified my actions. I still held that Faultline's Crew weren't that bad, more independents than villains.

Lastly, he showed me my own actions at Hillside. I'd felt completely comfortable robbing so many stores, I realized. My only concerns had been purely pragmatic, not moral. As much as I told myself that I wasn't a good person, I hadn't considered myself the kind of person who could commit grand larceny with no hesitation.

'Is this what they mean by a slippery slope?' I mused. I'd barely interacted with other capes and somehow, in the span of a month, I'd gone from feeling guilt over stealing a few outfits to stealing literal tons of materials worth who knew how much.

A part of me wanted to blame Faultline, but she wasn't a bad role model as a cape.

Another part of me blamed my power. Surely, it was my Shard that had been pressing me to go out?

And yet, I wasn't even sure if my Shard was the same as everyone else's. I couldn't truly be sure that I had a conflict drive in the first place. Even if I did, all it was, was a nudge to use my powers more frequently. At the end of the day, the one who decided how my power should be used was me. No one else was responsible for my actions but me.

And with that, I understood.

Initially, I'd thought that SAINT's concern was for how Amy might react to my actions. It wasn't. He didn't care. SAINT was ultimately concerned for me.

Whatever Amy could do, even outing me to the PRT, would be nothing compared to what I was doing to myself. I'd chosen the name Creed because it implied a code of ethics, a standard. Without even knowing it, I'd compromised that standard in the span of a single month. Without SAINT to call me on it, who knew how far I'd have fallen?

I understood Earth-Bet in the abstract. I could analyze Taylor's story and point to individual places and events, crossroads, where she might have walked a different path. But it seemed I was blind when I myself stood at the same crossroads.

I sighed. "You're right, SAINT. Someone named Creed should have some fucking standards."

Author's Note

I don't think many people will be happy with Bryce's conclusions.

Normally in fiction, things like larceny aren't considered "that bad." And, to be fair, compared to the likes of Kaiser or Lung, that's true. But comparing yourself to a Nazi and saying "At least I'm not that bad" is a damn low bar to set. Bryce's conclusion is that he needs to be held accountable, for better and for worse.

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.