6.28 Rubicon
16th of May, 2011
Emma didn't get it.
She thought she had for a while after stumbling upon what she thought was the parasite Jacky's secret, only to learn later on that she had been mistaken misled, and realizing that the Blue Devil was merely one aspect of her younger cousin's power; something a girl four years younger than her apparently made, and not just a Master projection.
Her cousin was a Tinker, and not a lame one like that loser Leet, or that disappointment – according to Sophia – Kid Win; no, Jacky was the scary kind of Tinker, like Hero had been before the Siberian got to him, or like Armsmaster, maybe even like freaking Bonesaw, if her physical appearance was anything to go by. Someone confident in her own skill, at least enough to pick a fight with the Nine and easily come out on top.
Emma had been five when the Siberian had killed the most famous Tinker the world over, and she still remembers it like it was yesterday. It was everyone could talk about for weeks afterward, the country had even held public funerals for the guy and the victims of the infamous Brute's first rampage!
Yet the morning after, her cousin had looked blasé, bored even, by the entire thing, like going alone after hardened serial killers ever had only one foregone conclusion, and showing more excitement at the idea of going to some lame ass birthday party for the Ward's Little Miss Try-too-hard.
Emma didn't get it.
She doesn't understand how someone so strong – because pretending otherwise at this point would be lying, even if it rankles – could allow herself to be pushed around by her mother, keep her cool against the paparazzi camping on the family's lawn despite openly displaying both her annoyance and reticence in private, willingly – and happily – go to school like nothing ever happened, or even allow herself to cry in front of others.
The world was divided into two; those who take, and those who can't find the spine to do something about it. Her dad can rant about family this and that all he wants at home, the only law out there is the one of the jungle, and how you behave determines your place in the food chain.
In life, you're either a predator, or a prey.
And Emma can't wrap her head around the fact that her cousin keeps openly displaying a prey-like behavior despite apparently being one of the most dangerous capes around, and it is fucking with her something fierce.
It also doesn't help that the Slaughterhouse Nine having gotten their shit kicked in by a preteen during the weekend is on the tip of everyone's tongue at Clarendon today, and everyone keeps pestering her about it!
"For the last time, Julia," she answers through gritted teeth across the cafeteria table, "No, I had no idea my cousin was a cape," the lie falls easily from her lips, "It took the entire family by surprise last Friday. Now, can we change the subject already?"
"But it's the goss of the year!" stupid, cutesy, and currently in slapping distance Madison gasps aloud, "You can't just not say anything about it!"
"Jacqueline and I aren't that close," she scoffs while swiping her hair back behind her shoulder with a little flick of her hand, "She's always holed up in her room either reading or painting while burning incense outside of meal time."
"...Maybe she's a little introverted?" Julia muses out loud, and Emma wishes she would take the hint already and drop it, the blonde locking eyes with her with a little frown, "You could have made an effort and tried to coax her out of her shell a little more, you know?"
Except Emma hadn't, because she had told herself wrongly assumed that the brat hadn't been worth her time or her parents' attention. And now her cousin can't stand her and made it known quite vocally, dissing her best friend and her own values in passing.
…It stinks to admit it to herself, even if it is just in the privacy of her mind, but she has probably fucked up somewhere; her cousin's side gig as the Blue Devil alone firmly placed her near the top of the food chain!
Yet, yet seeing the same girl clinging to her mother in her sleep like a lifeline kept clashing, over and over again, with Emma's own grip on reality.
She doesn't get it, and it is slowly driving her spare.
"Or maybe she was tinkering all along!" Madison says while making a little 'oh' of realization, "Maybe painting stuff is how she does it!"
Emma narrowly manages not to wince at her hanger-on hitting the nail by pure happenstance, even if she knows for a fact that Jacky's art is partly responsible for her success.
"Mads, don't be silly," she chides the brunette-shaped pain in her rear while rolling her eyes, "There's no such thing as a paint Tinker. Besides, I know for a fact that she had a workshop hidden somewhere."
"You're saying that, but Tinkers are bullshit," the cutesy girl clips back, before blushing a little, "A-At least that's what they say on the internet!"
Cute defense, but Emma already knows the other girl spends way too much time rotting on PHO for it to take.
Nonetheless, it gives her an opportunity to wrangle the conversation away from a potentially thorny subject. She may have her issues with Jacky, but the Blue Devil is something she can easily get behind. She'd rather the apparently-not-a-Master-projection keep handing Darwin Awards to the scum of the Bay than it suddenly stop because she let something slip.
Maybe I could…, she starts fantasizing, before brushing the thought away, no, this is a bad idea. I'm still not sure if she was in command when she threatened me, but I'd rather not test her patience any further.
She mentally grimaces at the thought.
Dichotomy of behavior aside, the truth remains that her cousin is scary as hell; one only needs to take one look at her favored mode of transportation to see that something fucky is going on.
Emma let the discussion around the table wash over her as it finally steps away from her cousin, leaving her alone with her own thoughts.
And, no matter how many times she turns the issue in her head, she still doesn't get it.
Which means she only has one avenue left to truly understand what's going on in her cousin's mind.
***
Contrary to my outwardly composed appearance and my friendly smile as I idly chatter with my friends around our cafeteria table, the incessant stares and whispers were starting to get to me.
Don't get me wrong, I could probably keep the unbothered act for months on end courtesy of my Callidus' skillset, yet it doesn't make an unpleasant experience any more tolerable.
Blessedly, the girls had caught on really, really fast that I wasn't exactly comfortable with the amount of attention directed my way, and have done their best since then to shield me from the bulk of it.
Now, this may seem like whining, and one might even comment on the fact that I chose to turn Somerset's outcome toward this particular result, and they wouldn't exactly be wrong.
The truth is, this is extremely important to me and my future. I know, intimately, how my mental state had steadily declined while I was alone back in the future-that-never-was, and have since come to the realization that I don't exactly deal very well with solitude.
But 'it is lonely at the top' is a truism for a reason, and one thing overwhelming power is very good at is isolating its wielder.
And I don't want that. I'd rather people look at me and tell themselves 'you know, besides the tech and her looks, she's just a normal girl'.
Sure, keeping my identities separate would've accomplished it, and I'd probably be fine with it in the short term. But five years from now? Ten? Twenty? I'm not convinced that I wouldn't have crashed out in a rather spectacular way.
Being transparent about what and who I am will also give me a lot of leeway in the future. For now, I'm famous for having the ovaries to do an impromptu press conference right in front of Brockton Bay's PRT building, and taking out USA's most infamous gang of murderhobos shortly after. But what will happen once I take down an Endbringer? What happens once a random guy with a degree in physics starts churning at the numbers the feat required, and promptly starts talking everyone's ears off about it on the internet?
Simply put, I can deal with people being apprehensive about my capabilities, but I don't think I'd take it well if people start being actively afraid of Nictiméne once I'm done bailing their collective asses; fiction depicted at length how well that could potentially go, and reality is oftentimes stranger than it.
It only takes one look at the Triumvirate to see the issue. Eidolon, Alexandria, those two aren't symbols of hope like a Superman can be; they wear their power like a mantle, an unsung testament to humanity's resilience when faced with the reality of its encroaching end. On the other side of the coin, Legend, the nominal public face of the trio, and regularly ahead of his colleagues in the popularity polls, has a secret identity so thin everyone knows about his private life.
And I thought about it, really thought about it, but I don't want to be seen as the next Eidolon or Alexandria; I'd rather be approachable like Legend, or Hero before his death. And not bothering with a mask is a part of it; everyone in the Bay knows what Victoria Dallon – and now the rest of the Wards – is able to do, but they aren't afraid of her, unless they have a very good reason to.
And this? This is what I want for myself. Like I told aunt Zoey, I made my peace with the fact that I am not exactly 'fated', but definitely the one with the best odds at dealing with Bet's list of Very Big Issues, and I'd rather it not define me in the eyes of others.
I randomly won the power lottery, true, but that's not all I am, and that is not all I ever want to be.
"–fine, Jacky?" Louise calls from the other side of the table while giving me a sightly hesitant smile, before quickly adding, "You've been oddly quiet so far."
I blink, before smiling her way while slowly shaking my head.
"Sorry, I got caught in my own thoughts," I apologize, before locking eyes with Missy, "I have to admit, this is getting to me a little."
My fellow parahuman takes a hot second to visibly chew on my words while Louise blushes a little for some reason – though I recall the cafeteria running a little hot at times, so this must be it – and eventually makes an 'ah' of realization.
"Riiight, you're not exactly used to the attention," Missy muses out loud while making a show of taking a look at our surroundings, more than one child quickly turning away as she stares their way, "Could've fooled me, you know?"
The rather pointed way she says that as well as the stink eye directed my way wrenches a giggle out of me.
Methink she has yet to forgive me for my stunt on the Boardwalk.
"This and that are completely different things," I sniff while crossing my arms over my chest, "Being the center of the attention while playing a role isn't the same thing as when I'm in civvies."
"Well, I hate to break it to you, dark elf girl, but you don't exactly go unseen." Adelaide quips with a lazy drawl, the brunette punctuating her sentence by miming my ears with two of her fingers.
I pout scowl her way, triggering a round of titters around the table.
"You probably shouldn't say that," Caroline chides the brunette, complete with finger-wagging, "We could get in trouble."
"In trouble for what?" Adelaide looks back at her, visibly confused.
"Not for what, with whom," she answers seriously, "What if the other dark elves hear about it? Did you think about that?"
A pause, then the brunette starts howling with laughter, and my cheeks puff out in outrage.
"Missy," I call to the heroine who looks incredibly entertained all of a sudden, "This is racism! They're being racist!"
"Oh, so you do acknowledge the fact–"
"I am not a dark elf!"
"But how could they be racist if–"
"Not. A. Dark elf!"
And as Missy and I promptly sink into the most outlandish 'uh-huh' vs 'nu-huh' debate Bet has ever seen, I find myself relaxing a little.
After all, if my friends can still mess with me when in public, then that means I'm on the right path.
[AN: some introspection2. :3
Hope you enjoy, xoxo!]