Homeless 1.4

The ride in the back of the van would have been boring, except I'm in a great deal of turmoil. Two people, who I'm assuming are PRT officers (since I still can't see) are in the back with me, with orders from Armsmaster explicitly stating I was to be foamed if I so much as hummed. Dissolved foam from the alley is soaked into my clothes and fur, everything I had in my pockets was evidence bagged including my money, the uneaten hash browns, and broken umbrella. Also, these seats were not designed for someone with a tail. I manage to arrange my tail so the seat is merely uncomfortable and not excruciating.

I knew that the PRT and ENE Protectorate in general are a bunch of jerks, but Armsmaster being involved in my clearly unfair arrest is complete bullshit. Also, I have confirmation that being captured isn't enough to trigger a new power.

By the time the van has come to a complete stop, I've cooled off enough that I don't immediately utter a string of obscenities at being roughly lugged out of the vehicle. I'm carried a ways, through multiple turns and an elevator, until I'm carted into a room with a single collapsible metal chair and a long table. The blindfold is removed. There's a large mirror on the left long wall, opposite the chair. As soon as I'm inside, the PRT officers who escorted me here leave the room, and the door behind me clicks, whirs, and gives a solid, loud clunk. A voice issues from overhead and my eyes flick upwards. Ahh. Speaker in the ceiling. "Take a seat and do not speak until you are told to do so."

There are foam turrets in all four corners of the room; I don't want to guess what other surprises they have in store for me that I don't see. I sit down, running my claws through the fur of my neck to try and get some of the gummy remnants of the foam out. "Put your hands on the table, and do not move them," says the disembodied voice.

I have to restrain the urge to give the ceiling the finger. But I comply.

More waiting. The appearance of the room doesn't seem familiar compared to what I read about in Worm, but I could be misremembering. Either that, or else this room was unavailable or unused in the story. They're pulling out all the stops on me. I suspect that something bad happened with Clockblocker while I was out, or else my mentioning Skitter set off Armsmaster. Possibly a combination of the two, and other factors besides.

After an indeterminate but extremely boring and tense period of time, the door opens, and Armsmaster enters, along with a sturdy looking woman with more weight than her frame deserves and a presence that makes her weight or appearance seem almost superfluous. Her jacket and skirt are navy blue, and immaculate, and her gray eyes feel like she could set me on fire just by looking at me. Her blonde hair is at odds with her dark eyebrows, and her lips are set in a tight, pinched line. Armsmaster's halberd is slung along his back, and he's carrying two folding chairs under one arm that look a hell of a lot more comfortable than the one I'm sitting in.

She waits for Armsmaster to pull out her chair, then sits down slowly with a groan I can hear but Armsmaster unaided probably couldn't. Armsmaster sets down his own chair, following by setting a folder he'd been holding out of my line of sight on the table. The woman takes the folder, opens it, and looks at it for several seconds while Armsmaster stands behind the chair he set down. Cute. No good cop here?

The woman closes the folder and looks at me. "I'm the Director of PRT East Northeast. Depending on whether you turn informant on your team, you could be spending as little as ten years in jail."

I almost snap at her, but hold my temper in check. Instead, I clench my jaw and remain silent.

"Or, if you don't, then the district attorney will be encouraged to make an example of you. Aegis was severely injured in the course of the fighting. There was concern for his life. The rest of the wards on scene also received injuries, although none so severe as Aegis. Currently, the casual estimate on property damage from the fighting is in the range of a hundred fifty thousand dollars." Emily Piggot looks at me, closing the folder. "And still nothing to say for yourself."

Emily looks at Armsmaster, who finally says something. "Let's start with the date. Do you know the date?"

I nod. "April fourteenth."

"The year?"

"Two thousand eleven," I answer. I want to protest my innocence but I don't want to give them an excuse to drop the hammer on me.

Armsmaster nods. "Do you know the name of the city you're in?"

"Brockton Bay."

"How old are you?"

That's a sticky question. And an insulting one, but there's clearly no politeness being expended here. "Thirty… three." I almost say thirty eight, but this is early 2011, not late 2015.

Armsmaster grunts. "Birthday?"

"August second, seventy seven."

"Highest level of education?"

Oh, now that's some shit right there. I almost answer some college, but then I realize I have no records to show for it. But they shouldn't be asking me civilian questions, it's a clear breach of the unwritten rules. "I… decline to answer."

Armsmaster grunts again, and nods. "Baseline established. You may proceed, director."

Oh. Right. His suit lie detector. Wait, is it even operational yet? I thought it was something he was still working on at the stage. Wasn't it? Or am I misremembering?

The Director leans forward in her chair. "We've got you dead to rights. We know you're working with the Undersiders. We have enough on you that, with the right spin we can Birdcage you without anyone batting an eye."

"For what?" I demand.

"I'm glad you asked," she replies with a grim expression that stops short of being a smile. She pulls out a stack of photos. A torn right arm, through a white material with scattered clocks over it. "Aegis received twelve distinct bite wounds." A raggedly wounded chest, through the same costume. Then, the most horrible one, the leg nearly bitten through. "He was disguised as Clockblocker, whose parahuman power is not superhuman durability. This alone qualifies as attempted murder, to which you are an accessory." Another bare leg, clearly broken, this one a young female. "Vista, hit by stray masonry from the bank front." What appears to be dozens, perhaps hundreds of insect stings and bites on a tanned throat. "This was Clockblocker, disguised as Aegis. A foolish tactic on their part. The doctors are still pulling insects from inside of his nose and his eyelids."

"Is there a point to the badgering, Director?" I ask, finally. "I'm being railroaded, you both know damn well I'm not an Undersider, and the point of this whole thing is to pump me for any information I may or may not have."

Armsmaster grunts yet again. I'm starting to think he's part Uchiha. Piggot's mouth tightens further, and she says, "We know nothing of the sort. Point of fact, we know the exact opposite. And do you know HOW we know this?"

I'm confused, before she continues, "Because Tattletale and Grue specifically checked to see if you could be evacuated, before the Undersiders made their getaway."

You've got to be kidding me. And there's nothing I can say because if I do, I'll be trampling all over the unwritten rules. Tattletale and Grue WERE at the bar, and I'm betting she remembered me. I sigh. "I'm not an Undersider. I've never been an Undersider. And joining up with them is the last thing I want." I direct a look at Armsmaster. "Your lie detector should inform you that I'm telling the truth."

Armsmaster and Emily Piggot exchange another look, and I sigh. "Come ON, you say 'baseline established' what the hell else would you be talking about? It's not a thinker power, it's god damn common sense."

I see Emily's mouth relax ever so slightly, as she comments, "Among capes, common sense DOES qualify as a thinker power."

I stop, a little startled. Piggot cracks jokes? "Okay, seriously, though, those aren't evasive statements, their categorical black and white declarations. I'm not using word trickery to dodge the question. I'm not part of the Undersiders, or any other gang in this city, I'm not involved in illegal activities, and I was trying to help the Wards when Clockblocker froze me." I sit back in the chair.

Armsmaster clears his throat. "Alright. According to Clockblocker, you started out by saying something about the bug using cape. He wasn't clear on the information and dismissed it as misdirection."

"I was trying to give him a run down on what they were up against but the fighting started and he froze me." I'm still pissed about that. I don't care if it's physically harmless to me, it was an asshole move.

"He claimed you tried to hold him in place."

"I tried to get him to stop before he went in without all the facts he needed. In retrospect, not the best move."

"No, it wasn't." Armsmaster shifts slightly. "Aside from the physical changes, your power is a thinker power, then?"

Oh, man. How the hell do I answer that without triggering his lie detector? "I decline to answer the question."

"And if I were to say declining to answer any questions in this interview were obstruction of justice?"

"I'd clam up, demand a lawyer, and you'd get nothing from me."

Piggot interjects, "At which point, we go back to plan A: prosecution as an Undersider."

I stare at her. "You can't be serious. You know damn well I'm not."

Piggot shrugs. "You've yet to provide any evidence to the contrary."

"I don't NEED to provide evidence. Innocent until proven guilty. Evidence is the prosecution's job." I answer.

Piggot opens her mouth, then pauses. "I think the prosecution will have no trouble with that."

"The prosecution has nothing but circumstance, bad judgement calls, and a PRT that's desperately pushing for a kangaroo trial so they can eke out a cheap PR victory to cover up that their Wards got their asses kicked!" Okay. Temper lost. Right now, I don't care. "I was trying to help, I was cooperating, then you guys pulled a dick move because you jumped the gun and you jumped to conclusions and one of your Wards dropped the fucking ball! So fuck you and your prosecution. Give me my god damn phone call."

Silence rules the room for about thirty seconds. My arms are folded and I'm so tense that one of my claws is actually digging through my gummed up trench coat and fur, and into my skin. Piggot stares at me with an unreadable expression. Finally, she says, "Alright then. Let's say that you're right, and we have nothing. Let's say that errors were made on our part. Let's even say that a catastrophically bad judgement call was made by myself and Armsmaster." Piggot snaps out a forestalling hand out to cut off Armsmaster's protest. "Given these circumstances, what would you consider reasonable recompense? What would you consider to be adequate compensation for your trouble, and good to get you on board with us?"

I think about this a moment. "You don't even know what my power is."

"A fairly strong thinker power, in addition to what I'm assuming is a changer power."

"No. This is me. No changing involved. And I don't have a thinker power." Technically true, for now. "I'm homeless. People walk past the homeless all the time without even noticing they're there, because they WANT to forget us. People will talk in an abandoned alley without checking the bags of trash I'm using as a blanket."

Armsmaster frowns, the motion making his beard scrunch a little. "Then everything you say you know is unreliable. Hearsay."

I feel like screaming. Inside, I grind out, "You're fishing for excuses. There is no upper hand to be had here. You both know it. Drop it and walk away."

Armsmaster and Piggot look at one another, then Piggot gets to her feet with a bit of pained effort. "Very well, then. You're free to go."

Armsmaster picks up the folder and the two chairs, looking towards the director. She looks at me. "Well? Are you coming?"

I get up, belatedly. What just happened?

Director Piggot and Armsmaster lead the way, as I follow them, confused. All resistance gone out of nowh-

Convinced Inevitability. Oh. It looks like I unlocked a new power. And they'll probably figure it out five minutes after I walk out the door, if they don't twig to it on the way to the front door. "Director."

She stops, and Armsmaster along with her, both of them looking at me like I've ruined THEIR day. "Well?" She snaps impatiently. "What now?"

If I'm going to be wanted for mastering the heads of the local PRT and Protectorate, I'm going to make it sting. "You do realize that, with your mistakes and attempts to railroad me, in the end it's going to work out better for everyone just admitting to your parts in all this as soon as possible. You KNOW this. You may as well get the inevitable press conference out of the way at the first opportunity."

Piggot looks like she's swallowed a lemon, and Armsmaster grits his teeth before nodding. "You're probably right."

I sigh, my tail flicking back and forth. "Well, let's go already. I've got to find an alley to sleep in."

End 1.4