Chapter Text
“Are you at Rock Maple Village?” she asked immediately.
I blinked. “Uh, yes. How did you know that?”
“We’ve already received several calls about an incident in the area.”
“Oh,” I responded, numb. That made sense. I had, after all, ruined an entire apartment building.
“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, her voice oddly gentle.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came to mind. I stared out over the bizarrely ordinary apartments across from my own, though there were a few tall trees blocking the view. People were shouting and pointing, some of them seeming to gesture toward me. An idea kept circling my mind -spinning round and round like bubbles circling a drain- I wondered what would happen if I just laid down and didn’t move or speak or do anything.
I’d be put somewhere eventually, I thought, maybe one of those parahuman asylums. No doubt horribly underfunded and poorly managed at best, or abusive and dangerous at worst. And with a chill, I realized that no asylum would be able to safely contain me; my power would be able to twist it into a nightmare at any moment, and I had no illusions about how long I’d stay in control while being trapped in one of the least pleasant places I could imagine. Given all that, catatonia should probably stay as Plan F.
“-still there, sir?” the woman on the other end was saying.
“Ma’am,” I corrected automatically. How long had she been talking? Fuck. “You uh, you wanted to know what happened? I’m sorry, I sort of zoned out for a bit.”
“My apologies, ma’am,” she said, sounding refreshingly sincere, “and you’re doing just fine. Can you tell me what you were doing this morning?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I gave a halting summary of the events leading up to everything that happened. How I completely zeroed out of college and ended up in a nearby apartment with some former dormmates. I talked about how it started with little things, like them being upset about lights being left on and me being more stubborn about it than I probably should have been. But they’d kept finding things to be upset about, and they’d kept escalating their responses. It got to the point where I was afraid of leaving my room, knowing with complete certainty that no matter what I did they’d find some reason to yell at me. I tried washing dishes and then putting them directly into the cupboard and got a sarcastic rant about my stupidity that made me cry. They cut off my access to the internet by changing the WiFi password.
“And that was when… ” I took a few deep, fortifying breaths. “That was when Ray burst into my room. He refused my repeated requests for him to leave, so I eventually tried pushing him out.” An abrupt, humorless laugh pushed its way out of my throat. “It didn’t work. He, um, he pushed back. That was, that was when it happened.”
I trailed off, keeping myself together by the thinnest of threads. I wasn’t sure if I could actually make myself continue. The problem with that was that I had to keep going, the state of the apartment was vital information for the emergency responders I knew were on their way. If they didn’t know what was going on they wouldn’t be able to help the people with injuries still inside, and I wouldn’t -couldn’t- fail again.
“I saw something, and then my brain got completely flooded with information. For uhm, maybe a couple minutes? I was on the ground screaming, convinced I was having some kind of stroke. Eventually it reduced or I got used to it or something, but when I came to the entire apartment was twisted. It got warped into some kind of death labyrinth filled with deadly traps.”
My voice continued mechanically, recounting everything that happened as best as I could remember it. I was reminded of all the times I’d heard how unreliable witness testimony was as I struggled to recall the details of events that happened only a few minutes ago. A strange thought to have, but it was better than thinking about the way the blood had tasted in the air, remembering the awful smell when I’d retched in reaction. A woman’s accusing eyes as she held the body of a man I’d failed to save. A man I’d as good as killed. Despite all of this I still felt something approaching calm.
The numbness I was feeling was a defense mechanism, long practiced. It was called dissociation, the way I somehow cut myself off from my own emotions and sense of my body. The feelings were still there, still affected my behavior, but I didn’t truly feel them. It was a very brittle calm, something inherently temporary.
I blinked. When had I stopped talking? Right, the last apartment. I took a few fortifying breaths.
“Ma’am?” the woman asked, sounding concerned. Just that, just that little bit of sympathy, nearly shattered my calm facade.
Just a little longer, I thought, not sure whether it was true. Just finish your report and you can rest.
“Sorry, thinking,” I said, some of my shame leaking through my voice. “I got to the second last apartment, and, um.” I took a few more breaths, slowly rocking myself. “There was, uh, a guy. He’d uh, he’d fallen into a spike trap and I could tell he’d lost a lot of blood because of how pale he was, and,” I trailed off, unable to continue. “He didn’t, I.” A sob escaped my throat. Another.
I pulled in a few desperate gasps of breath, knowing I’d never be able to finish if I didn’t get it out now. “And.” A breath. “He.” Another. “Didn’t.” I wheezed out. “Make it.” My voice was almost a whisper.
The dam broke, and I freely wept, eager to find some release for my pain and confusion. On the phone the poor woman tried making consoling noises, but I didn’t think there was a force on earth that could have stopped me from wailing my heart out. Each time it felt like I was starting to calm down a new facet of how fucked up everything was presented itself to me and I started crying even harder. I was a failure. Far worse, I was a killer, a murderer. It was all so horribly horribly wrong. Weren’t powers supposed to be a good thing?
Why, then, did it feel like I’d become some kind of monster? What if I were the sort of parahuman that had to be kept away from people, the kind that was dangerous just to be near? Even knowing it was for the best, would I be willing to be contained, kept from society? I turned the thought over in my head again and again, and felt a chill creep up my spine as I came to a disturbing realization. I wouldn’t.
Things had gotten dark suddenly. I stood up in alarm, and immediately banged my head into a ceiling that hadn’t been there a second ago. My power protected me, shaping the stone to safely and gently disperse the force. I tore out of the wall in a rush, frantically checking to make certain there weren’t any traps where people could wander into them. As far as I could tell it had only affected a small part of the roof, encasing me in a tiny shelter bristling with spikes and surrounded by several spring-loaded mantraps.
Why had that happened? Did my power react to my emotions? It certainly seemed plausible, the times it had gone out of control had been moments of blind panic or abject despair. Perhaps that meant it was something I could control, or at least predict. It was one of the very few comforting thoughts I’d had recently, so I tried to cling to it. After that outburst and crying for a few minutes I felt a little more centered, a little more like myself, so I turned my thoughts back to the things I could do something about.
My glasses were all gross and smeared from getting scratched up and cried on. I hadn’t shaved properly, and I was… I was still covered in blood. My nightgown clung to me uncomfortably, and the unsettling sticking sensation was made worse by the knowledge of how it had gotten in that state. So the first thing I needed to do was clean myself up.
The knowledge that help was on the way -which would no doubt include the local Protectorate capes Snap and Judgement- only made it feel more urgent. It might have been irrational but I just couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing me like this, let alone two women I genuinely respected. It felt like I’d already made a rather poor impression on that 911 responder -blubbering instead of giving accurate information- and that really wasn’t the sort of precedent I wanted to set for my future cape career. My head snapped up, and I realized that when I’d accidentally sepulchered myself my phone had dropped the call with the poor woman. It would probably be a good idea to call her back and let her know I hadn’t gone on a killing spree.
I stared at the phone in silence, the wind whipping at my hair, repeatedly blowing it in my face. It wasn’t really quiet. Aside from the wind there were general cries of alarm and exclamations of surprise, no doubt because of the massive fucking death fortress that just appeared in the middle of an apartment complex next to the Evergreen State College. How many of those exclamations were pointing at me? Did I have any hope of maintaining a secret identity after something like this? In truth, I wanted to run away. I wanted none of this to be happening. I wanted to bury my head in the sand and wait for all the badness to go away.
That wasn’t an option, and I knew it wasn’t an option. So, with painful slowness, I managed to talk myself into calling her back. Someone picked up, and a short explanation got me transferred back to the woman I was talking to before.
“Sorry about that,” I started. “My power flared up and I temporarily lost the signal.”
“You’re fine,” she replied. “Emergency services should be arriving in just a few minutes, can you make sure there’s easy access to the people trapped in the apartment?”
“Uh,” I said, frantically racking my brain for how I’d accomplish such a thing, “Yeah, yeah I can do that. Would some stairs work? For like, the second story I mean.”
“Stairs should be fine,” She said slowly, sounding somewhat dubious, “But be careful.”
“I will.” I said, with utter sincerity. I wasn’t going to let my carelessness get someone hurt ever ever again. “What’s your name?”
“Jeannine,”
“Thank you Jeannine, you’ve been very helpful. I’m Carmilla.”
“Good luck Carmilla, please take care of yourself.”
“I will,” I said, nodding sharply. It was time to get to work.
I crossed the top of the building with a determined stride, a plan beginning to form in my mind. Something about how I thought had changed, had improved somehow. Humans were very good at remembering locations, could navigate familiar areas after being away for decades, and could learn new locations after only a few encounters with one. My power was something else entirely. As easily as seeing my own hand in front of my face, I could visualize the entire building’s layout from the foundations to the peak. Everything I’d observed was included, whether it was with my eyes or my power. With that kind of information available to me, figuring out where my apartment was was beyond trivial.
The ceiling above my room opened up, and I landed soundlessly on the lumpy floor. The impromptu skylight gave me a good view of the damage. And damage was a good word for it with how mangled my shelf was. I shook my head, tromping to the closet with a forlorn expression dragging down my face. With some effort I managed to extract a dress and jacket from the new architecture, and eagerly stripped off my bloodstained clothing.
I took a few moments to gently rock in place, arms wrapped tightly around my rib cage. I hated how wide it was -it made me feel like some kind of reverse orangutan, especially with my relatively short arms- but even that old frustration felt petty next to everything that had just happened. Things were calm at the moment but I knew, knew to my bones, that this shit show of a day would be seared into my brain forever. My teeth were grinding, I noted. I made them stop.
Slow, deep, breaths. Just in through the nose and slowly whistle it out. My hand was twitching, and before I quite realized what was happening a scream tore itself out of my throat. As if to accompany it a ring of iron spikes sprouted around me with a sound of tearing metal, several stabbing straight through the futon I’d been sleeping on for the last five months or so. I growled savagely, unable to think past the need to express months of bottled anger and self loathing. I tore chunks out of the wall as if it were wet clay, mangled what was left of my futon beyond recognition, kicked furrows in the floor as easily as most people kicked sand around at the beach, created abstract sculptures and tore them apart.
Minutes later I stood in the ruins of the ruins of my apartment. I was breathing heavily, and as I started to calm down I was ashamed to realize how much time I’d wasted on what amounted to a temper tantrum. The clothes I’d gotten out were still fine, so I put them on. The jacket was a royal purple that was more distinctive than I’d have preferred, but given everything that had happened I doubted I had much hope of maintaining a secret identity. I supposed the Protectorate might be able to arrange something anyway; my understanding was that this was exactly the sort of situation they were around for. With that thought, I finished tying up my sneakers and prepared for the most difficult part of my plan: actually making myself leave my room.
People need help, I thought, If I just hide in my room they might die before the paramedics can get to them.
That was enough. I visualized the hall beyond my door, the challenges I might face, imagined the sets of stairs I needed to build. The images brought a sense of clarity and focus, every step I needed to take laid out in front of me; it was all a lot less daunting when I knew what to do. The heavy door opened with a miserable creak and I stepped into the cold stone hallway, every muscle on my back taut with anxiety. My roommates were quietly discussing something in what used to be our living room -too quiet for me to make out the exact words- but the cold anger in their voices was unmistakable.
I fretted for a moment or two, then went into the bathroom across the hall. The entry had two sinks facing each other, each with its own mirror. I went to the one on the left, and took a couple minutes to wash and shave my face. I grimaced at the bumps on my skin, the consequences of my haste. There was no helping it, so I drew myself up and walked into the light just in front of the hole in the floor. It was hard, but I managed not to shrink under my roommates’ scrutiny. I started filling the hole back up with the wood my power made, more as an excuse to look away from them than anything else.
“So,” said Ray, dashing my hope that they’d just silently watch me leave. “Just when are you planning on fixing this?”
When he said ‘this’ he made a gesture encompassing the whole room, as if he thought I wouldn’t have fixed it already if I could have. I knew it was pointless, but I couldn’t help but correct him.
“I can’t,” I said, my voice coming out as cold and flat as a tombstone. I hadn’t intended to sound that harsh, but the flicker of uncertainty on their faces was satisfying enough to keep me from retracting it.
My roommates exchanged a silent look, apparently hoping that one of the others was up to confronting the newly minted parahuman. I shook my head.
“Look, I’m not up to dealing with your bullshit right now. I need to make sure the paramedics can get to the people that need help, so just get out of my way and soon enough you’ll never have to see me again.”
Bill drew himself up, jaw tensing, but his girlfriend laid a hand on his arm and he swallowed whatever it was he had to say. They contented themselves with glaring as they moved back into the living room proper. I let out a quiet breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and walked out onto our tiny porch, closing the door behind me with a thump.
Assholes, I thought. A few deep breaths let me move my focus back onto the task at hand, the clarity of seeing each step laid out in front of me. The apartment complex I’d lived in for the last five or six months was more of a grouping of large houses divided into different living spaces than it was one big building. My own building had about eight separate apartments in it, two floors with four each. The ground floor was more or less accessible after I’d removed the traps, but the stairs leading up had been warped to be treacherous and narrow. Definitely not safe for rescue workers, let alone the people they’d come to help.
I walked out onto the stairwell, enduring stares from what had turned into a rather large crowd of people. The only thing seeming to hold them back from crowding right up to the building itself was a thin line of black vans and black uniforms. The Parahuman Response Team had finally arrived, and I really hoped they weren’t here to arrest me.
Fixing the stairs, or at least bringing them up to OSHA compliance, turned out to be far easier than I’d feared. Underneath the augmentations my power had added the original architecture was largely unchanged, and all I needed to do was command it to slough off and gather in front of me. Shaping things with my power was practically effortless, somewhere between moving my own muscles and molding wet clay. The stone was gathered into an out of the way pile on the ground floor and I moved to the next set.
The other stairways were more of the same, though practice made each attempt a little smoother. When I finished I stood awkwardly in front of the building with no idea of what to do with myself. After a moment I half-fell, half-sat on the ground, my feelings a chaotic mess I had no hope of unpacking. A few minutes later I heard sirens, which meant the rest of the emergency services had finally arrived. I stared at the ground, unable to summon the energy to think about what happened or what was going to happen. It was too much.
Time passed. The injured -and the dead- were extracted from their tombs and loaded into ambulances, and the crowd started slowly drifting away. Snap was snaking in and out of the different apartments to make sure they didn’t have any more nasty surprises. She moved with a lithe grace that attracted my attention even through the fugue I was in, her scaled armor giving her a distinctly reptilian cast. There were a hundred things I wasn’t up to asking her right now, not while I was this… discombobulated.
Discombobulated is a good word, I thought, smirking dully.
Someone was talking to me but I just couldn’t bring myself to focus on the words. It was too much. They tugged my hand, and I stumbled to my feet. We started walking, and eventually I got led to a cheap armchair patterned with an appropriately cliched floral print. I would know, I was wearing a dress with one. I dropped unceremoniously in the chair, realizing for the first time that someone had put one of those emergency blankets around my shoulders. It looked a little odd over my jacket but I appreciated the gesture anyway.
I came to, just a little, and finally registered that there were other people around me. There was a man taking a seat across from me, wearing a light blue costume with a simple rounded triangle on his chest pointing toward his left arm. A play button maybe? Standing behind him was a broadly built man wearing a distinctly combat-ready costume in stark black and white, all hard planes and utility pouches. He had a gun at his side, I noted with some discomfort. Were they the ones who’d led me here?
Someone put a hand on my shoulder and I shrieked, practically jumping out of my skin. My power was faster on the draw, the floor underneath my seat shifting me to the side and erecting a wall where I’d just been sitting fast enough to make my head spin. I quivered with tension, suddenly unable to keep still, my eyes darting around for an escape route. A moment later it melted into utter mortification when I realized just who had startled me in the first place. It was Snap, probably here to check on me.
“I am very sorry for startling you,” she said, speaking with deliberate slowness. “It is a terrible habit of mine, and was not meant in malice.”
“It’s okay.” I said, taking a deep breath. I thought about that for a moment. “Actually, none of this is okay. Not even a little bit. But it’s not your fault, and I accept your apology.”
She smiled under her mask and suddenly my embarrassment didn’t seem so important. It was a very nice smile.
“Thank you,” she said, giving a small bow. “I simply wished to make certain you were well before leaving on my patrol.”
“Leaving?” I asked, trying not to sound as disappointed as I felt.
“I am afraid so,” She said, her smile turning wry, “The work of a hero… it is never done. But I leave you in capable hands; Playback and Hard Reset are among the kindest, most capable individuals I know.” She punctuated that last statement with a hard look toward the men in question, as if daring them to contradict her in word or deed.
“I’m glad you noticed,” the man in blue -Playback?- said dryly. “After five years at Watchdog without so much as a commemorative statue I was starting to think no one appreciated us. And HR? You might want to take care of that wall before the landlady yells at us again.”
The man in armor -presumably Hard Reset- walked up to the stone wall my power had summoned and gave it a swift kick. The next instant it was gone, the floor exactly as it was before I’d messed with it. I frowned. Why hadn’t my chair been affected? He gave Playback a sharp nod and returned to his spot with deliberate casualness.
Guess he’s not much of a talker, I thought. I could understand that, though I had trouble keeping my mouth shut at times. Even when I really really should.
“Thank you Hard Reset,” Snap said, turning to me. “I must be going now, but I implore you to keep in touch.” With that, she put a small card on a table next to her and turned on her heel.
“Wait,” I said before I thought better of it. “Uhm, could I have a hug?” I shut my mouth before I could blurt anything else out.
Snap looked thrown for a moment, but quickly recovered with one of her winning smiles. “Of course you can have a hug. But only if you’re certain.”
I got up, but before I could take more than a couple steps she was there with her arms wide open. Her armor was cold and a little pokey, but it was still a damn good hug. Strangely, the knowledge that she could snap my spine like a toothpick at any moment didn’t detract from it at all. A few moments later I stepped back, and I realized with some embarrassment that I was actually tearing up a little. I never thought I’d actually get to meet -let alone hug- one of my childhood heroes, even if it was under horrible circumstances. It was just really nice.
“You are very brave you know,” she said quietly.
I blinked. I hadn’t expected her to say that. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you could have run away and hid. But you didn’t. Had you not acted, many more would have died this day.”
“If I hadn’t been there at all no one would have died.”
She gave me a wan smile. “I know how you feel,” She said, her voice serious, “It is a terrible thing for someone to die when you know you could have saved them. But please, please remember that you are not responsible for that man’s death, no matter how it might feel. You did not choose to manifest powers when you did, you did not choose to harm anyone, and you took every effort to preserve life and health in terrible circumstances. You are a hero Carmilla. Don’t forget that.”
Giving me a sharp nod, she turned and walked away, leaving me with my thoughts and two capes I didn’t know. Not that I knew Snap but… honestly I was mostly uncomfortable because they were both men. Perhaps it was unfair, but as they said ‘Once bitten, twice shy’ and I’d been metaphorically bitten more times than I could easily count.