Tcr 29) Dress Up Time

As an official member of the Royals, I had a free standing offer to get my own uniform instead of some recycled tactical gear right from the start. But since I hadn’t seen a reason for me to go out in the field on my own I hadn’t bothered.

Not only did I have to get something to wear, but it had to be distinctively something for me, in the flesh so to speak.

Once again it was the girls with me, the boys were not interested in going shopping, they were off for a day at the beach, somewhere in Florida.

Not that this shopping trip involved going from store to store, it was going to be a one stop shop to make my super suit.

In a room at the Academy wing of the Palace with Wardrobe inscribed on the door plate, I found myself looking at a full sized fairly transparent image of myself slowly rotating on a pedestal. Since it was mirroring the expression on my face, the two teens had to know how I felt about the skin tight black suit with a white harp symbol in the middle of the chest that my image was wearing.

“No. I’m not wearing spandex, and putting something right over my heart is like making sure people know where to target me. That’s a good way to get killed. Been there, did that.”

Fable had finally gotten used to me well enough that she only looked uncomfortable for a moment at that remark before she started in on me. “You look good though, I thought it was the cut of the work shirts you like that made you look that built, but that's all muscle. The perfect health you get from being a Regenerator doesn't do that. That's all farm work."

She poked at my chest with her index finger while speaking in a monotone. “So firm, so fully packed.”

I gave her a look which made her giggle, “In case you haven’t heard, I’m Scorn’s man. Hands off the goods toots.”

Looking up, I asked the Palace intelligence, "Pal, could you please show me in one of the Orpheus uniforms, then replace everything that's crap with Core Commando gear."

Shimmer looked at the results for a moment, then shook her head. "It's too bulky, you're more than strong enough to haul it around, but the overlapping armor on your thighs will slow you down, and you won't be able to lift your arms up all the way."

Before I could answer the team leader, Fable jumped in. “And it’s got to be awkward to sit in all of that, not to mention it makes you look like a support person. You’re a hero and you should look like it.”

I crossed my arms and saw my holographic clones fall short of being able to fold its arms due to the sheer amount of armor. “I’m not concerned about my look, I’m concerned with getting shot with something that can kill me permanently. If nothing else Commando armor will keep my pieces together so they can reattach.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Realizing I had forgotten we weren't exactly alone, I looked up and took a second to say. “Thanks Pal.”

Shimmer crossed her arms, "Pal, could you please show him what he would look like in the smallest available Commando armor instead of scaling it to his size." then she pointed at the hologram whose chin wasn't quite clearing the top of the neck guard. "I will not have you representing the team looking like you're wearing an older brother's hand me downs."

There was a ca-click sound from Fable taking a picture, I shot her a glare but she just grinned. “Don’t worry, your face will be altered beyond recognition before I post it.”

I sighed, I was going to have to go on a nature hike after this, far, far away from other people.

Fable called out, “Pal? Could you please show him in any good tactical gear we got in storage from people the Circle captured that are in his size, but in his colors.”

As the Palace intelligence began showing me a series of outfits that ran from sinister in black to just mostly shades of white. Without prompting a small image showing the original owner wearing the same outfits with their Super name and current status listed below.

It was a little sobering how many of them had died while being captured.

And possibly convenient. “Shimmer…”

She gave me a tentative look. “Yes…”

I pointed at the image of a woman simply called Pain. “What happened to these people’s bodies.”

She blinked a few times, then got an intrigued look on her face. "Pal? How many dead bad guys do we have access to."

The Intelligence made the current image of me vanish, which I appreciated. I did not look good in boob armor. Instead, it began generating images of bad guys with their names and the dates of death before shrinking them into the background.

While most of their remains had been released to their families or buried in a graveyard called Twilight Fields up in Montana. Some of them were listed as being in Cold Storage.

Wherever this Cold Storage was, it wasn't in or under the Palace. Or at least nowhere I could feel a lot of dead people within my range.

Shimmer waved a hand at the names. “I will look into that, today we got something else to finish.”

I had Pal bring up all the armor available to us again, then we began to mix and match.

And argue. "I like the arm guards, but I don't want to wear women's clothing."

Fable threw up her hands, “What’s womanish about them? They’re arm guards.”

I sighed. "They're made of pink metal, and they will get scratched at some point. The color will show through.”

Shimmer shook her head at me in confusion, “They’re not pink, they’re fuchsia.”

I looked at the hot pink armor, then stared at the two of them before stating in my sternest voice. “Pink. Adjacent.”

In the end, I had a suit of all black high tech layered metal and ceramic with full body coverage, some convenient spots to add some storage pouches, and space for the straps of a backpack I could both wear and get off.

It looked good, but… "It looks a little... Imperial March. Especially the helmet."

Fable nodded slowly. “Pal, please switch the colors.”

Whatever Pal knew to be available to recolor the various pieces of gear, it made the suit an immaculate white color with my harp symbol in black on the right breast and left shoulder, and the five pointed gold crown of Team Royal on the right shoulder.

Still intimidating, especially since Pal had added my typical load out of the Tazer gun, shock rod, handcuffs, pepper spray, and various grenades to the image. But in white, I looked like I was there to be seen rather than lurking around the edges of the fight picking people off with weapons that could take down a Brute 2, or at least give a Brute 3 a bad day.

“I hate it, but it’s perfect for court.”

I look from Fable to Shimmer. “I get to take all the weapons into court with me right? It’s part of my official uniform, they got to allow it?”

The answer was a definite no.