Royal/Voice of a Royal
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
Contents |
Voice of a Royal
The story up to date happenings of young Susan Fisher, also known as Royal, who three years prior was diagnosed with a mutation that enabled her to command others to her will with her voice. Her power unfortuneately seemed to manifest when her young boyfriend was fooling around and she commanded him to stop, to which he did, forever. Scarred by her past and afraid of herself, she has become something of an introvert. Note that these chapters cover spans of time which might be confusing, only because between them there is usually some form of RP from The Artful Dodgers that inspires the chapter.
Chapter 1: Queen of Kings Row
Clouds roiled overhead threatening to rain at any moment, which would only be fitting for her since she couldn’t duck back into her own home. She had been back to her house a couple of days before in hopes that she could regain some semblance of a normal life, and before that it had been three years since Kings Row had lay under her feet. It was hard to believe that HeroCorps had taken Susan from her family when she was only thirteen; it was even harder to believe that they had spent those three years teaching her eloquence, self defense, and acrobatics, all in hopes that she would have enough discipline not to hurt those around her with her power. They were just as scared as she had been; the only difference was that she had reason to be scared.
Clenching her fists to stop the memories from consuming her, Susan walked down the ramp of the tram into the gish, hollowed faces and broken spirits walking past her while the Skulls kept to the back alleys pulling in unsuspecting victims for their daily muggings. Three years ago she wouldn’t dare stray near those alleyways and back roads; even now she wasn’t particularly fond of the idea. Not that she had any reason to be afraid of the thugs anymore, more that she was hesitant to even approach them. There were two sides to every coin however, the Skulls might have inspired fear, but they weren’t all corrupt. Skulls protected the gish from the advances of the Vahz, fetid zombies, and like it or not they kept many of the homeless safe from Hellions and Circle of Thorns.
Why should she make it her mission to hold a grudge against something that was integral to the way her home functioned?
Above her were the countless clothes lines, old ratty clothing hanging out to dry in the dirty air, some families just couldn’t afford a dryer. Some couldn’t even afford a place to stay in the Row, but it had always been like that, survival of the fittest seemed to be more prevalent in the Row then the ideal of human compassion. In three years, none of that had changed, she still saw the faces of the downtrodden and still didn’t care to soothe their hearts out of fear that they might turn her over to a group of Skulls in place of their own hide. HeroCorps, even the various prodigious heroes of the city were fighting losing battles, content with the idea that they weren’t losing any ground in the fight for Paragon City.
But not losing ground was just as bad as not gaining any.
Brushing back the bangs of her slick hair from her eyes, Susan stared upward toward the roiling sky at the building which she had known from childhood. There was nothing that set it apart from the others around the gish, rusted fire escapes on the side of the building, chipped brick foundation and doors that could use more than one fresh coat of paint. It was the subtleties however that made the six story building home, that made the dreary backdrop of the Row into a home. That was the way of the Row though; everyone who had lived there looked for the subtle silver linings in the blackest most polluted clouds that anyone might ever see.
Mrs. Schwartz’s potted herbs on the third floor had supplied taste to many a bland dinner from her mother, Mr. Johnson always had a cat in his window watching down to the street even though pets weren’t aloud in the building. Henry who was only a couple years older than her would always play his guitar on the lip of the roof from eight in the evening to midnight, an audience of the younger children playing around the rickety pigeon coop that Mr. Madinsky kept. Susan could hear the gentle strings of Henry’s guitar as she approached the side of the building making sure that there was no activity in the alley. The sultry strings were winding down as the night threatened to turn into morning, and she could only imagine Henry had grown into the long haired dirty musician that he was destined to be in the time that she had been gone. Three years ago, the whole building had been her home; she had been the princess, a ray of sunshine in the darkness, making sure that her kingdom remained hopeful.
However the princess had lost her voice and a monster had taken up her throne.
Susan had never liked having her room next to the fire escape, if there had been a fire that meant the whole fourth floor would come trudging through her room to get onto the fire escape, and she had heard stories of thugs sneaking in through the windows of an apartment. However now that she was the one sneaking into her own house in order to get some of her clothing back, she couldn’t help but to think that having her room next to the rusted fire escape was a blessing. Quietly, she climbed onto the rusted steel steps, trying desperately to avoid countless metallic screeches and whines as she stealthily climbed up, her brown bangs her obscuring her eyes as she kept watch on her window.
There was no light on in her room, though she could see from the outside that nothing had changed. Her bed was still unmade from the day that she had been taken from her home in the morning by two HeroCorps grunts. Posters on the walls from three years ago depicted preteen idols that had long since fallen from grace as preteen idols often do. Pictures of friends that had gone on to high school scattered the top of her cabinets which held her countless books and sundries. Moreover toys and books were strewn about the floor, untouched by anyone for three long years.
It was like looking into someone else’s life. Susan hefting the window open slowly so she could silently climb into the darkness of her room, the scent of cigarette smoke dancing, escaping through the window and against her nose. Down the hall her mother slept with all the weight of the world on her shoulders, tossing and turning on her squeaky bed. Susan would have liked to see her, but she only inspired fear in her mother, and she didn’t want to have to keep inspiring fear. Instead she sat on her bed for a moment and pulled back her mattress reaching down and retrieving her hidden treasure.
In her hands she held the golden pendant, in which her father’s picture had been stored. Susan remembered that her mother had held it previously, never touching or looking at it, when asked she would become upset about it. So silently Susan liberated the treasure from her mother and kept it under her mattress to look at when no one else was looking. She couldn’t help to look at it now, the picture of a man she never knew brown hair like hers, piercing blue eyes, and an aura of confidence. A scant three years ago Susan would have wished him to ride in on a white horse and carry her away from the Row, now she came to terms with the fact that life didn’t work that way.
Closing the locket, she went to work stuffing clothing into an old knapsack that she had always had. She was glad puberty had already run most of its course by the time she had turned thirteen, and that most of her clothing still fit though it was hard to find old clothing that fit her current fashion tastes. At thirteen Susan had been bubbly, hopeful, a ray of sunshine for those around her. Three years had been enough to turn her into a realist, scared of her own shadow, scared of hurting everyone just by saying something she didn’t mean. Still she couldn’t linger and worry about which clothing might fit her better, so she stuffed whatever she came across into the bag making sure to hide the stopwatch away at the bottom before escaping out the same window she had come in.
At first Susan didn’t close it, she realized that when she did her old life would end and the next would begin. Her old life at least she knew what was going to happen in her future, that she would be a citizen going to school and trying to make something of herself. However in her new life she wouldn’t have to worry as much about hurting others since she had surrounded herself with people who could defend themselves against her. Solemnly she finally slid the window closed and made her way back down the fire escape to the street. Perhaps she would never lead a normal life again, but she vowed to at least live her own life unused by others.
“Hey there girly…” A group of Skulls had been waiting down at the bottom of the fire escape. “Wanna go for a ride?”
Susan employed her old tactic and ignored them, brushing back her hair to glare at them before walking toward the street. It didn’t make the thugs happy however and one grabbed her arm spinning her back toward them, a lopsided smile on his face. It was then she realized what they really wanted from her, the low giggling of the two other thugs doing nothing to sate her imagination. Before they could do anything though, Susan balled up her free hand which was weighted down by her knapsack and delivered a punch to the groin of her assailant. They all backed down, the struck one staggering a bit and looking at her with an almost enraged look under his mask.
“I would like to warn you gentlemen that tampering with me might result in personal injury.” Royal said levelly. “So wouldn’t it be prudent to leave me be?”
“No bitch! You shouldn’t have messed with us!” It was the one who had been struck, it seemed as though he had taken it personally.
Before she could react to his anger however the other two pulled their guns from the waistbands of their pants aiming them at Royal with a precision that could only come from years of drinking, and bloating ones ego. HeroCorps might have wanted to use her for various hero related agendas, but they were still to be thanked for helping her to control her powers, and moreover to be thanked for training her to handle the threats of the city with bravery and presence of mind.
“Put your guns away.” Susan told them simply.
They listened, against their will putting the guns back in the waistbands of their pants and bearing their fists to attack her. One advanced on her, throwing out a punch that would have knocked her out had she not sidestepped. Kneeing him in the chest, Susan turned to the others as her recent attacker doubled over and hit the ground gasping for air. Her face didn’t change, she wasn’t angry, emotion was what had gotten her in trouble three years ago. Eloquence would only carry her so far, the rest of her control came from logic over emotion, though it was extremely hard for her to switch to that style of being.
“Would you two care to take your comrade and leave before I embarrass you further?” Susan asked pointedly.
“Like hell!” This time both of the thugs charged her, hoping to overpower her. Stupidity was often the core of bravery after all, and the various gangs of the city had to be noted for their extreme bravery to take heroes head on.
“Fall over.” Susan commanded.
Without hesitation both of the thugs fell on their backs as though their legs had become liquid, and even though she couldn’t see their eyes through the skull masks she could tell that they were quite distressed.
“Wh- What did you do?!” One asked trying to push himself to his feet to no avail. “Who are you freak?!
“I would like to remind you that I warned you not to approach me. The effects should wear off within an hour or so. But my next command… Will not.” Susan turned away heaving her knapsack over her other shoulder. “I would suggest you remember my name and fear it, I am the Queen of Kings Row… Remember the name Royal.”
Susan was no more; instead her new life had lead to her rebirth as the fearful hero Royal. For only a Queen could command such acts out of her people to such effect, only a Queen could inspire that much fear.
It was a shame the Queen was afraid of her own powers.
Chapter 2: Use and Abuse
Royal pinched the bridge of her nose as she stepped out of the derelict building, police dragging out the limp bodies of a cell of Skulls while a crowd of citizens gathered around the door to see what hero had done what. She absolutely hated herself, but at the same time she couldn’t deny that there was a visceral part of her that saw the action of arresting criminals as a step toward making Kings Row a better place to live. It had only been three days since her declaration to the thugs that had tried to have their way with her that she could not be touched by the likes of them because she was the Queen of Kings Row. In three days that one declaration had bloomed into a threat to the Skulls and she was confronted at every turn of the corner.
Pushing through the semicircle of people before reporters arrived to plant her face on newspapers across the whole city, Royal ducked into an alleyway that was refreshingly absent of Skulls or Vahzilok. Unfortunately even without the offending groups it still had a lingering decay about it, cracked pavement, trash and the stench of rotting flesh and smoke. Royal had been desensitized to the horrors of Kings Row, but that was not license for her to be comfortable with her surroundings. It hardly mattered if she was or not though, she was just glad to be away from the crowd before she became the hero of the day.
“I’m doing HeroCorps work without even meaning too…” She sighed and pushed her back against the wall of the building she had just cleared out.
To her dismay the call out from the Skulls was leading to bigger things, a boon for a hero yet to a girl that wanted desperately to be normal again it was quite the opposite. With the public outcry of the Skulls about a hero who could take them on with just her voice came the attention of the Vahzilok who had decided that her body might be worth harvesting. As well the Hellions, a rival gang to the Skulls based out of Atlas Park, were starting to ambush her to prove that they were superior to the Skulls. It was just a mess that one little event could cause such a landslide; it was tiring to have to continue to act like some hero just to defend herself.
Of course, Royal couldn’t deny that getting the thugs off the street wasn’t helpful in the overall scheme of things, though she still committed to the theory that the Heroes were fighting a losing battle. For a while she just sat there hoping that she wouldn’t be bothered, watching the crowd disperse, walking away without looking down the alleyway as they were trained by nature to do. If she had to clear up another Skull infested building he was going to scream, she just wanted to be left alone.
“Susan? Susan Fisher?”
“My name is Royal.” She had her eyes closed, the mans voice unfamiliar to her even though he used her old name.
“Susan, it’s me, Henry.”
“Henry.” Royal rolled the name on her tongue for a moment before letting her eyes open. “Henry! It’s a pleasure to see you again!”
Henry had definitely embraced the destiny of a penniless guitarist, long mussed up blond hair, a dirty goatee and a guitar case held in his left hand. “Yea I thought maybe you moved away with your mom. I didn’t think you’d still be around the Row with an opportunity to move to New York.”
“Henry, my mom is still living in her apartment, she kicked me out.” Royal quirked her eyebrow looking at the boy she had known well three years ago.
“Kinda hard to live in an empty apartment, she just up and moved on outta there with barely a word to anyone.” Henry scratched the back of his head, un-phased by the news that she had been kicked out. It happened all the time in the Row, parents kicking their delinquent children out on the streets. “To tell the truth I’m a bit jealous.”
Royal couldn’t help but to feel as though something grievous had just happened right under her nose. Both she and her mother had been on welfare due to the fact that her mother supposedly couldn’t hold a job, three years was a long time but with checks of only five hundred or so dollars coming in every month was it even possible to move to New York on that much. It was usually barely enough for food, barely enough for fake food even. Now Henry was telling her that the apartment was empty and that she had moved so suddenly, it had only been about three days since she had snuck into the apartment. Even though she had only been in her own room she remembered distinctly hearing her mom on her bed.
“That is certainly weird.” She showed no emotion about it, but internally she could feel a maelstrom brewing.
“Yea.” Henry said trying to break the silence. “So you’re a hero now then?”
“I’m afraid not, Skulls have just been assaulting me...” Royal crossed her arms. “I’m still me.”
“Seem like a hero to me, you even talk like one, all flowery like.” Henry noted. “An the name Royal, sounds like a hero name to me too.”
“I can’t be Susan anymore.” She said sullenly. “That life is over Henry.”
Henry nodded silently. “Ah, I see… Well if you ever need help Royal, you know where to find me. Lord knows I won’t be moving to New York anytime soon, less some rock band decides they need me as their guitarist.”
“Yea...” Royal feigned a smile while her thoughts roiled in dark places. “I hope to see you around Henry, it really was a pleasure to see you again.”
They parted ways and Royal found herself walking aimlessly around the Gish for a long time, long enough for day to turn into night. As the sun sank gracefully below the horizon of the distant war wall she found herself staring up at the apartment she grew up in. No lights came on; only the sounds of Henry’s guitar met her ears. Again she climbed the fire escape, not so stealthily this time, unsure why she was even doing it if her mother was gone. Prying her window open she was in an empty room, the indentations of her furniture still in the dirty carpets, bits of crayon and other forgotten toys strewn about floor. The rest of the house was much the same, every blasted room was empty only bits of trash littered across an already dirt covered carpet.
Emotional training had made her cold, afraid to use her powers and open up to others, but cold nonetheless. However even with all the training in the world Royal wasn’t able to stop the flood from spilling over, clenching her fists she sank to her knees and beat the floor wildly while crying openly. For once in a long time the music on the roof didn’t sooth her, didn’t slowly put her to sleep as she crawled under her ratty blankets in hope that the next day would be better. It was a brand new life, a brand new world filled with creatures that wanted to hurt her at every turn, none of which scared her as much as the person that would allow her mother to move away from her.
“Bastards…” Royal began to puzzle something together. “Who?! Who are you?! What do you want from me?!”
Her commands fell on no ear, only her thoughts were left to supply her with a theory a dark and twisted idea. It was true that her mother had been scared of her, and wouldn’t let her back into the house, but what if that hadn’t been the extent of it? It was entirely possible that information about Royal’s powers had gotten out to some source that wanted to use her for their own advantage. If that were the case, then they would need to keep a extensively close eye on her, what better way then to force her into the realm of the public eye with the heroes? Royal loved her mother, but she understood that her mother also had a flaw, a greed for money, for security. Was it at all possible that she would take a bribe to annex her daughter onto the streets where she would be forced to throw her lot in with a group of heroes?
Royal clenched the carpet and stared across the floor while silent tears streamed down her face, muttering silent curses and slowly coming back into a level emotional state. It wasn’t easy but she was finally able to calm down enough to decide what she needed to do. In actuality it wasn’t much of a decision more than it was an affirmation of what had to be done rather than what she wanted to do. What had to be done was she needed to find information about who had handed the money to her mother, but she needed to do it in such a way that her new adversary did not know she was playing his game. Looking over her shoulder she expected to see someone there, a watcher in the darkness.
“Alright… We’ll play the Hero Game for them then.” Royal pulled herself up off the floor. “And when I find you, I’m going to take every praise I get out of your hide.”
In the game of chess, the queen is considered the powerful piece, but in the end its just another pawn. A piece guided by an invisible hand that either sends her to her death, or leads her to victory. Under those strong fingers was it at all possible for the Queen to take a hold of her own destiny, or would politics always win out against personal freedom?
Chapter 3: Meeting
One of the most powerful people in the world, able to make anyone do anything with a simple command and she was running for her life. It would have been ironic if she was brave enough to do this kind of work in the first place. However Royal hadn’t been brave enough to handle the supernatural threats of Paragon City before, and she certainly wasn’t up to the challenge at the moment. She did have admit however that she was getting bolder, her search for the people that had bribed her mother had sent her to many places. Even into the mouth of an Arachnos raid on a derelict office in Faultline.
A shot of energy struck the wall next to her as she ran causing bits of dirty burning plaster to fly every which direction while the wall smoldered and smoked. Eyes widening she stumbled and tripped twisting her body so she fell on her back to see who was assailing her. Two Arachnos soldiers and a Drone rushed down the hallway after her. Looking menacing in their black and red uniforms they held their weapons with as much proficiency as a Council soldier, which was a frightful sight. Anyone that could match the Council in military proficiency should have been scary enough, however the Arachnos had a whole kingdom, a hierarchy at the top of which Lord Recluse sat at his throne with a piercing gaze.
It didn’t take them long to take advantage of the situation, pointing their weapons down at her while their scowls melted away into a victorious smirk. Royal was glad she couldn’t see their eyes; it dehumanized them enough that she was able to sneak around the raid and make commands when she got in trouble without it nagging at her self conscious. She opened her mouth to speak but a sudden shot from each of their mace cannons to either side of her caused her to shut her trap quickly enough to catch a mouse on crack. They certainly weren’t playing around, and the presence of the drone made it just that much harder since it didn’t follow verbal commands. The whole office had been filled with them and she had been using the soldiers to attack the robots then taking down the robots.
‘This would have been easier if these things were clockwork.’ Royal found herself thinking as she eyed the drone. For some reason the Clockwork were able to hear her commands, though they didn’t react the same way that a sentient being did she was able to adjust her commands enough to get them to stop attacking at least.
“Don’t you dare speak girl!” Yelled one as the other got a rather dirty rag and proceeded to gag her with it.
Royal was getting bolder, she was still scared out of her head, but she didn’t shed a tear as each soldier grabbed an arm and yanked her to her feet. They began dragging her down the broken and battered halls of the old office building. Dust had settled over most of it but the recent raid of Arachnos had caused most of the dirt that had settled to fly in the air catching the light from various windows. If it hadn’t had been for those windows there wouldn’t have been any light in the office, the electricity hadn’t worked for years and the various desks had been stripped of everything but the occasional knickknack. It was hard to tell if they had been stripped by frantic office workers escaping the destruction of Faultline, or the scavengers coming in later and picking at anything that might be of value.
All she knew was she was being dragged down dim corridors past a veritable legion of Arachnos soldiers, Drones and spider like robots. If there ever were a time to develop arachnophobia, that was it. Windows started to come more sparsely and until there were none at all, the four of them plunging into a dark room where she was forcibly sat down on something, her hands bound behind her and feet bound together. She was getting the Paragon City Citizen treatment at least, which was a pleasant change from being shot at constantly. Truth was she was rather harmless while the dirty gag was assaulting her taste buds with the pungent flavor of sweat.
What seemed like hours passed, and Royal had to wonder just how long she had been tied to that chair silent while she felt the piercing gaze of soldiers through the darkness. If they were trying to break her it was working, she was squirming but she resolved to keep herself as emotionally level as possible. Emotional training was amazingly useful, keeping her from killing everyone she loved or hated with her voice, and now keeping her from breaking under the psychological turmoil that the Arachnos was causing her. Lights suddenly flooded the room and she cringed, so much for emotional training, Arachnos grunts at each corner of the room and Arbiter Sands standing before her adjusting his glasses with a lopsided smile.
“Miss Fisher, I must admit, you’ve been causing me quite a bit of trouble.” He grabbed the dirty gag and yanked it away.
She should have bit him. “The feeling is mutual I’m sure. Why are your goons here Arbiter?”
“Why else would they be here Miss Fisher? I had need to capture you and certainly couldn’t have done it alone. Now, it’s my turn to ask a question young Royal. Why is it you have not found Cheapjack yet?”
“I’ve been looking, but he’s nowhere to be found.” Royal said levelly. “I don’t suppose you tied me up to ask a question me about Cheapjack.”
“Listen here Miss Fisher.” Sands began pacing. “Cheapjack is an information peddler, already he knows that you look for him, already he knows that I told you to go see him. However what he does not know is why I have sent you to him, when I could have told you the information myself.”
“And why is that Sands? Feel a special kinship to swindlers?” She let out a small smirk.
“No Miss Fisher… I need you to flush him out into the open.” Sands said without seeming to catch the sarcasm in Royals voice. “Information is a powerful weapon and he knows it as much as I do. I was in hopes that you would allow me the honor of working together in this little mission of mine. Seeing as I am trying to help you in your own petty little mission.”
Royal glared. “And why would I so freely help an Arachnos Arbiter? If I remember correctly you’re soldiers tried to kill me.”
“Miss Fisher…” The older man turned back to her and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I know of your abilities, and they would be of great use to me, I’m trying to save you the dignity of being used so outright and letting you come to the conclusion yourself that you could get whatever you want.”
“You’re trying to tempt me to use my power?” Royal glared up at him. “What makes you think that I couldn’t just use it now to walk out of here?”
“I’m not a stupid child Miss Fisher. My men are trained to pick up on the way you speak, it is rather redundant after all. We can catch the command words before you can finish them, and at that point your life is forfeit.” Sands brushed back her hair. “Such a pretty face, fit for a queen, it would be a shame for her rule to go to waste.”
Royal struggled at her bonds once before pulling her face away from his gaze. “I do not use my powers on others without reason, and even then the only reason should be self defense.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to need to use those powers my dear if you intend to find out who paid your dear sweet mother to leave Paragon City.” Sands turned away as well motioning to two of the men in the corners. “And I’m going to need your power as well my dear. However I am not going to be so inhuman as to coax them out of you myself… Not yet at least.”
The other soldiers sprang to life, the ones behind her leaving the room while the two in front untied her from the chair. Royal didn’t stand until Arbiter Sands offered her a hand, which she took while watching the other two grunts leave her alone with Sands. They stared at each other for a moment, neither showing their true emotions though it could easily be surmised what either was thinking, and then sands turned his cape billowing dramatically around his left shoulder as he moved to leave the room.
“Talk to Cheapjack like I told you to do before Royal.” Sands said. “Then I shall contact you again.”
“Hopefully not the same way you did today.” Royal said flatly.
Sands smirked. “We shall see.”
Light left the room again and she was plunged into darkness as the Arbiter left, however this time she did not feel the piercing gazes of soldiers, only the lonely cold feeling of having been given news about the death of a relative. Her hand went up to the tarnished locket around her neck and she got the feeling that despite her best efforts she was ending up as a chess piece of some kind in Sands twisted game. She didn’t even know if it was he who had paid her mother in the first place, it could have easily been his hand that had made her leave for New York.
“Just stop.” Royal said into the darkness hoping that she could command herself, of course it didn’t work just like the countless other times she had tried to make herself stop. “Just stop it. Stop it now. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.”
She turned to leave, Cheapjack was waiting after all.
Chapter 4: Cheapjack
“Beville.”
“Beville?” Royal asked through the obnoxious beats of Pocket D, eyebrow raised as she looked scrupulously at the man before her.
With a name like Cheapjack there was no need to trust the guy beyond his name, however much of his appearance didn’t inspire trust either. A thin lanky body that looked more prone to slithering than walking around like a man wrapped in a brown trench coat. Under it he wore modest clothing, a tight orange and black shirt with a symbol of a Spade, though considering the spade usually meant death it was hard to take the symbol lightly. Black leather pants were worn over thick black hiking boots, splayed across the pants was a faded pattern that seemed to be the legs of a bug reaching down to sickly points on each outer leg. Long red hair hung in loose curls around a black mask that showed the majority of his face, and a small goatee of the same color was worn proudly on his chin under a deviously charming smile.
It was those blank milky white eyes though that made her feel the most uncomfortable even though she was standing around a plethora of people that would not hesitate to bring him down even with their powers suppressed by the D. Granted the other heroes were cavorting and otherwise living it up with little to no notice on the dealings that were happening right under their noses. If they had been paying attention she doubted the conversation to point would have gone the same. She doubted as well that they would have noticed anything happening between the two even if they were naked; it seemed a commonality to see naked meta-humans as it were anyhow.
Cheapjack smirked and swirled his Jack Daniels in the Styrofoam cup he had been supplied. “Ah’m quite offended miss Royal, ‘spected you might be a tad less questionin bout what I had to say.”
“I’m afraid I’m not one to trust easily these days.” Royal said levelly, she could tell he was trying to prod her into an emotional outburst like Martial often did. “So I’d ask you to please forgive me for seeming scrupulous about your information.”
“Tch, it be your funeral either way miss.” Cheapjack took a swig of his drink. “Ah’m tellin you that you need Beville, he be the one with the real information. Find him an you got yourself a right good chance at findin your poor lost mother. Or at least, a step toward it.”
Royal was tired of these ‘steps’ she wanted a conformation. “Always another step it seems.”
“Better ‘an a step back I ‘spose.” He flashed another one of those inviting but at the same time creepy smiles. “Now, about mah payment…”
“What about it?”
“Fair ‘change miss, you got your information, now I be wantin mine.” Cheapjack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Equal ‘change… Ah got it! Now miss, it be true you had dealins with HeroCorps before right?”
Royal nodded, three years of her life she had been living with HeroCorps, training and otherwise being subjugated to any information that they had available, which was quite a bit more than anyone seemed to realize at first. Being a mercenary faction nobody really took them for much more then a bunch of super powered entities feeding off the economy of the city in order to make it ‘safer.’ It was that money that made it possible for HeroCorps to grab research into certain developmental projects around Paragon, War Walls, and Portals among other things.
Cheapjack leaned forward in his stool, blank eyes staring directly into Royal’s. “Ah want the files on their top level heroes. Ahm sure you could oblige this old Southern Boy, can’t ya?”
Royal thought for a moment, she didn’t have any of the files on hand, but she was still technically aligned with HeroCorps, even though it would take a bit of maneuvering to get to the files. More importantly was it morally alright to hand over the files on HeroCorps most valued heroes over to someone else, a villain who specialized in outsourcing information no less? She really couldn’t be aquitted to having any moral fiber anymore, not since the incident in the basement, not since she had used her powers to make both Juvie and Kaijikoro settle down. It had only spiraled downward from there; she had only gotten to Cheapjack through use of her powers, ordering people to lead her to him. Royal was in no position to ask the question of moral grounds, when she had already torn down all that she stood on.
“I can acquire them for you.” Royal said turning to go.
“Hold yer horses miss.” Cheapjack said. “Two free bits o’ information for you leave. One watch on your friend Dustin, eyes following the boy, wouldn’t be noble of me to not tell ya.”
“Your honor among thieves amazes me; I’ll keep that in consideration Cheapjack.” Royal rolled her eyes. “What else?”
Cheapjack held up his free hand, palm aimed skyward, the air around it seemed to shimmer for a moment before it caught fire. “Don’t jip me girl, aint got no call to kill ya yet, but I spent my time an assassin once, aint afraid to do it once more. Hear?”
“I understand…” Royal turned apparently unimpressed by the show of power even in the D, moving toward the ramp that would take her back to Paragon City.
It was funny, Portal Corporation made a big deal of being able to transport heroes to a multitude of different dimensions, a new frontier of sorts. It was a painful process that involved scattering and reassembling the physical structure that was transported. It was an extremely painful experience she had been told, which was why only the most experienced or at least a hero with the guidance of an experienced hero dared tread through the portals. However on the flipside was Pocket D, a painless transport to another dimension where the entrance and exit was a simple door rather than an elaborate gate straight out of Star Gate. She contemplated going to the basement and getting some rest, but the looming threat of being burned to a crisp by Cheapjack fueled her to take the tram to Galaxy City.
It wasn’t uncommon for the heroes of the city to take the tram to get through the impenetrable War Walls into another area of the city, but she still felt like a freak sitting next to Joe Nobody on one side and Super Amazing Man on the other trying to maintain a respectable balance between both of them by saving the city in casual attire. It seemed that everyone around her wanted to fess up to being a hero, or to stop whining about being normal at very least. She wasn’t quite ready yet herself, being a hero was not something to be taken lightly, heroes didn’t just beat up bad guys, they did things for the people around them, protected and served. And while the heroes of the city could be admired for protecting their fellow man, when it came to service many of them just faded into the background while their ‘role model’ heroes did all the grunt work in community service and such.
Royal introduced herself as a Good Samaritan rather than a hero, she had never served the community, but she did protect her fellow man on occasion. If she had wanted to be a hero she didn’t show it, selfishly chasing the people who had backed her into a corner by paying her mother to abandon her instead of trying to clean up the Row one piece of trash at a time or visiting hospitals and fascinating sick and dying children with her tails of bravery and heroism if only to brighten up their days while she was around them. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t do these things given the chance, more that she was just way too preoccupied with herself to really do anything other than focus on the case at hand.
Thinking about helping others brought her hand unconsciously to the tarnished locket that hung from a chain around her neck. Inside it was nestled a wallet sized picture cut to fit in the old heart shaped locket, of a man unremarkable in all ways except for the aura of confidence that seemed to glow around him, her very own father. When she had been with HeroCorps she had chanced a search on him to see if her lineage had anything to do with her powers, she didn’t find anything except a record of community service in Kings Row, a long list. Her father had been labeled a community leader, but at the end of it all a news story had noted that he had disappeared without a trace after his daughters second birthday. If anything the stories had made her respect her father more, she only wished she could have known him.
Stepping off the regulated air of the tram into the cool sea air of Galaxy City was always one way to make anybody feel smaller than dirt, as though the world were a colossal place with lots of room for human expansion. Unfortunately the cramped buildings and masses of people just trying to survive the mean streets of Paragon were enough to make one feel cramped as though elbows were an inconvenience of the highest caliber. Royal didn’t seem to notice as much as the new heroes that had gotten off with her, eyes wide with the promise of fame and fortune they ran and lept of the balcony to get to the HeroCorps building while she walked down the ramps watching them hoot and holler as they took on thugs in the alleys on the trek to their respective missions.
“Ah the subculture…” Royal sighed to herself as she walked toward the HeroCorps building ignoring everyone around her.
HeroCorps had never been an ominous structure by any means, well lit with friendly faces going in and out at all times, but it might as well have been an impenetrable fortress of evil for what she had resolved to do within its walls. Pushing through the doors, Royal did her best to look as though she belonged as she moved through the thralls of suited civilians and costumed benefactors to society. In the hustle and bustle of the building she was able to slip into the back halls of the building unnoticed, not that she needed to be unnoticed she had practically spent her adolescent life within the walls. Moving down into the sub-basement where the files were kept she took a deep breath as she looked around for anyone that might stop her. Satisfied she snuck through the various cabinets looking around for anything that might give her a clue as to where everything was located.
Being a reader by nature, Royal was never one to shy away from a library; she had even helped Kid Crey find schematics on Crey Armor that he could upgrade. Now she was admits thousands of old files, without a clue as to where she was going to find the files CheapJack had wanted. Moving to a computer she scanned it before starting to search around the database, quickly finding where the files on heroes of the cities, and more importantly, heroes important to HeroCorps were kept. Royal had to admit that she was fond of missions where everything was organized neatly into a place to be picked up without trouble and taken without trouble, it was a lot different than trekking through an old cave filled with people who wanted to kill her to get some diamond or something equally stupid.
“What are you doing there?” Somebody asked as she was grabbing the file from the cabinet.
Of course, there always had to be some sort of hindrance. “Just going through some research.”
“This area is restricted, you should know that.” The HeroCorps officer said with a nonsensical tone.
Royal turned and stared at him for a moment. “I’m sorry, I’m in need of this file, I’m going to have to ask that you allow me to ascertain the contents.”
“No can do, no one is allowed to have this information but officers. Now kindly hand it over and I’ll escort you out of here.”
Royal breathed deeply for a moment; clearly diplomacy wasn’t going to work, or at least not the natural kind of Diplomacy. She decided to at least give it one more try. “I’m afraid you don’t understand, these files are very important to me, and from the collective dust I gather that they aren’t to HeroCorps, perhaps you could just let me borrow them for a while?
He crossed his arms, proving that he wasn’t going to budge.
Hating herself already, she climbed down the ladder she had been on to get to the file and looked up into his eyes, face straight. “Let me take this file.”
The effect was almost instantaneous, his eyes glazing over as he seemed to lose consciousness for a moment before they regained the trained sharpness of someone who had seen a lot of action in the city. “Please take the file.”
“I believe I will thank you. Don’t send anyone after me.” Royal commanded as she left the room stuffing the file under her arms.
Escape from the HeroCorps headquarters was as bittersweet as she expected it to be, the waft of sea air against her causing an illness to build up in the pit of her stomach. Behind the bangs of her hair she could see the heroes that she had gotten off the tram with ragged and warn with bullet holes, stab holes and other assorted holes and burns in their costumes talking to the disapproving mammoth Back Alley Brawler. The older hero was quite audibly giving them tips and training about planning out attacks before charging in head long so that they didn’t get those stab, burn, shots that were always an inconvenience. Royal had gone through the same training, though her powers were such that she didn’t bother to worry about being hurt much when she could keep everyone around her placate. The thought of her powers made her even more ill and she moved away from the new heroes being instructed by the veteran to move quickly back to the tram.
In the waft of the sea breeze she wasn’t able to smell the coming storm, only see the dark clouds roiling angrily overhead, it rarely rained in Paragon city, but when it did it was always a storm to be noticed.
Chapter 5: Rogue Isles Rose
Beville was the kind of man who would be much more suited for Southern life on a pre-Industrial American plantation. Even with his impressive arbiter armor on it was easy to imagine him wearing a suit and smoking a pipe while sitting on a large chair in front of a roaring fireplace with leather bound book in hand. It didn’t help that he had the face to match, signs of age behind a well trimmed white hair and beard. Even his office had the appeal of a man who liked to spend his money, apparent from the oak furniture. As she was lead into the room by two Arachnos grunts, Royal couldn’t help but to feel as though she made a mistake. Only hours ago she had had the complete trust of Jack Travers while taking down a demon under Cap Au Diable. However, she had turned her back on her friends, used her powers to betray them and was now sitting in the office of the real demon on the island.
Where Sands had been a snake, sneaky and poisonous Beville seemed to have the qualities of a badger. It wasn’t that he wasn’t as sly as a snake, he just wasn’t as sly as Sands. Rather his power of persuasion came from reaction, it was obvious that he was an Arbiter and that his only business in the world was to be an Arbiter, but when he wasn’t striking out at others he seemed at peace with himself. It was only when he was angry or being affronted by others that he actually showed why he had became an arbiter in the first place. Arbiters were never common thugs, and Beville proved that by knowing how and where to strike quickly and efficiently with an unmatched vindictive rage.
“Cheapjack told me you might be coming.” Arbiter Beville said after pouring himself a glass of red wine, taking off his gloves to pick up the glass. “Do you know what your friends have just cost me child? What you have just cost me?”
“I do not know what you mean.” Royal held her gaze high.
“Do not play coy with me child.” Beville rolled around the wine in the glass holding it to his nose before taking a sip. “I had Jack Travers right under my nose, I was counting on the Thorns to keep her powers out of commission long enough for me to deliver her and that Bradley Williams to Hartman.”
“So why didn’t you? We were here for quite a while, I’m certain that you could have sent a large troop to capture us.”
Beville was silent for a long time, seemingly enjoying his wine and stroking his beard. He seemed to stare past Royal for a while, before finally speaking up. “Travers is Sand’s pet. Arachnos isn’t as efficient as it’s made out to be, there’s more infighting than work getting done I’m afraid. Sands made sure that I couldn’t pinpoint Travers arrival or departure time. Now he’s gloating that it was his work that stabilized the PTS, as I obviously didn’t do anything to the effect. But I don’t suppose someone like you would care… No you’re here for an entirely different reason. Could it be? That you want something from me?”
“Desert Prime, do you know that name?” Royal asked straight out.
Beville narrowed his eyes. “I’ve heard of it. There is no connection to who it might be though.”
“Desert Prime has been paying my mother to stay away from me, to leave me in a position to use my powers.” Royal fished some papers out of her pockets and unfolded them on the desk. “These are copies of the Bank Notices, all under the name of Desert Prime. I was told by our mutual acquaintance Cheapjack that you would know where and who he is.”
“I can tell you now child that the Desert Prime that paid these statements was not the same Desert Prime whom I am concerned with. Somebody else is trying to set up a fall for Desert Prime it seems.” Beville took a sip of his wine again before putting down the glass, stroking his beard he considered Royal for a moment.
“Why is it not the same Desert Prime?” Royal asked flatly.
“Prime would not put his name on such important things, he would pay under hundreds of different unknown aliases. As it were we don’t even know one of those aliases. To have all the transactions lead to the same name raises quite a few red flags as someone trying to set Desert Prime for some kind of fall… Or to cover their bases so they won’t easily fall.” Scanning the bank notices on the paper, Beville snapped his fingers and the Arachnos grunts standing at either side of the door came to his desk. “Take these and scan them.”
“Yes sir.” They both said and one grabbed the papers disappearing from the room while the other took his post by the door again.
“I can do you one better than telling you who Desert Prime is dear Royal.” Beville said stroking his beard turning his attention. “I can tell you who has actually been paying off your mother and why. However, I will need something from you first, something that I’m afraid only you can do.”
Royal was starting to suspect that trading services was a universal constant in the Rogue Isles, she was annoyed although she didn’t show it. “And what might that be Arbiter?”
“All in good time my dear. All in good time.” Beville stood and took a long look at Royal. “First I need assurance that you are going to remain in my service long enough to do what I ask you to do. Walk with me, we have much to discuss.”
_______________________________________________________________________
“Can I help you miss? I’m afraid visiting hours are over.”
“I’m afraid I must see Dustin Travers.”
“The gates closed miss.”
“Open it.”
Obeying her, the man’s fingers slid over the console behind the six inch thick bullet proof glass and began the sequence that opened the gate behind her. He seemed distressed by it as if he hadn’t meant to do it, but he equally couldn’t deny that he had wanted too. Fearfully the guard’s eyes shot up to her darting over her attire trying to figure out who she was. Royal couldn’t say she felt all that comfortable wearing clothing that showed off her cleavage, especially the white leather bodice over which she wore the sleeveless purple flack jacket. In fact she couldn’t say she much liked the feeling of any of the leather on her body, including the white leather pants with the purple slashes down the sides. Beville had thought her filthy in her original clothing though and had had some of his female underlings go and get some clothing for Royal on measurements alone while she was made to take a long bath with exotic soaps, shampoos, and even more oddly body oils.
“Go to sleep.” Royal said to the guard as he reached for his walky-talky.
It used to be long ago that she wouldn’t have used her power this way at all, this was morally wrong, she was a good person. Yet here she was in the Joshua R. Gerring Meta-Human Correctional facility ordering everyone who saw her to do something. Royal should have been crying, raging inside at the fact that she was toying with others lives like when she had toyed with Juvie and Kaijikoro. However she just felt numb, her eyes unchanged behind the dark sunglasses that she had been given. Already she had left four other gaurds behind slumped against the wall in a deep slumber, in only one minute she had gotten from the entrance of the prison to where the cells were.
She was doing what she needed to do.
“Stop right there!”
Two Longbow agents lowered their weapons toward her, rather impressive looking assault rifles, faces contorted into angry snarls behind their skin tight red and white uniforms. She stopped, raising her hands slightly to show that she was unarmed so they could get closer to her, it was better not to use the concussive energy modules in her bracelets that she had had installed by HeroCorps before she had left for the isles. Outright violence would always lose to the subtle control that Royal exuded over others.
“Who are you?!” One of the agents asked shoving the barrel of his gun into her side.
“Tell me where Dustin Travers is being held.” Royal commanded softly.
“He is being held in the D block, in a special isolated cell.” The same one that had shoved his gun into her side now retreated a step, face contorted in a mixture of feelings. Once again he yelled, “Who are you?!”
“Put your weapons down.”
A clatter of metal against pavement rang through the dim halls and both Longbow agents stared at their hands. Royal put her own arms at her sides beginning to walk down the halls, as expected she was grabbed. It was obvious at this point that she was just trying to get some sort of feeling out of her powers, instead of the deafening numb feeling that she was dealing with. Anything that would make her feel sad, or angry, or confused, or afraid, or even happy, content, and powerful. She would have taken anything, she didn’t just want to live with her powers, she didn’t want to just succumb to the idea that she was powerful and thus needed to use her abilities to survive. Still she couldn’t feel anything as she turned her gaze to either side of her.
“Let me go.”
“You can’t do this.” Both of the agents dropped their grip on her.
“I’m afraid I can.” Royal said flatly. “Tell me if you can open the door to Dustin Travers cell.”
“No we can’t, there are two guards stationed in the D block that will be able to.”
“Good.” Royal began walking with. “Go to sleep now.”
Walking down the dim hallways, Royal felt as though she were being watched, as if she were walking down the middle of a funeral procession. Beville’s agents had told her that there would be cameras watching her and that she was not to harm them or shut them off. It seemed like a bad idea logistically, but it was what she was told to do by Beville’s own, she was under his power, she was being used like she had vowed not to be. In the end that was what was making her feel horrible, the very fact that she was going back on everything she had sworn not to become in order to find out who was trying to use her in the first place. It felt as though she were just a chess piece, but instead of being black or white she felt like she was just unpainted, free for anyone that would grab her.
Eyes were indeed upon her, through the slots of the doors that she passed she could see them, some of them glowed other seemed to watch without eyes. Prisoners that weren’t exactly thugs or villains, but dangerous enough to society to need a special prison were sent to Gerring. Beville had told her that it was usually people who had had a record of killing hundreds of people accidentally, boys who could suck air out of a room, girls who could disintegrate matter with a thought. Royal felt as a kinship to them as she passed, frowning and thinking of the boy that she had killed three years before, the command that she had given herself a thousand times afterward. All the eyes on her seemed to say that she should be in one of those cells, that she shouldn’t have been treated as a hero, or had the chance to go to the Rogue Isles and fall under the service of Beville.
One guard came out of the shadows as she entered D block, she could see the other in the distance. This one, a woman held an assault rifle at her head as she stepped into Royals view. For a moment neither of them said anything, Royal studying the woman’s reaction and the woman wondering whether to shoot or bark an question of some kind. Longbow were brave, a necessary part of Paragon city, and of the world in general. But they were just as powerful as regular cops when it came down to it, with only a slightly better grasp on the Meta-Human community.
“Go to sleep.” Royal watched her slump over dropping her weapon and falling into deep slumber.
Walking over to the next guard she got the drop on him before he was able to raise his weapon. “Lead me to Dustin Travers cell.”
“Yes.” He kept his weapon lowered as he began walking down the hall, a very short distance to a Cell with a much heavier looking door than the others. As they came to the door, Royal noted that the man was looking considerably distressed hands groping at his gun ineffectively.
“Open it.”
With both hands he typed on the console beside door before putting his gloved hand over a scanner, causing the door to slide open. As it did he started to grab at his gun and turn, finger on the trigger to begin to shoot Royal into a bloody mess. Had she not promised that she would bring Dustin back she would have let him, breaking into prison was wreaking havoc with her thoughts.
“Go to sleep.” She said for hopefully the last time that night before entering the cell, nearly losing face when she saw Dustin. “Hello Dusty, enjoying the books I gave you?”
Dusty had been lying in the bed supplied in the room staring at the open doorway waiting for someone to come through. As he looked at Royals face he seemed confused for a moment, at least that’s what she thought he looked like. Royal was noting what he himself looked like in terms of health, his body was starting to become toned and limber, and he was feeling out his prison uniform much better than the last time she had saw him. His face looked much better as well, no longer were his features sunken in or gaunt, and his hair wasn’t matted and bristled from malnourishment.
“Royal?” He said with mouth agape. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Wouldn’t you like to leave Dusty?” Royal asked, not really wanting him to say yes, though at the same time she did want him to say yes. If he followed her willingly she did not have to use her powers to make him follow her. He was the last person she wanted to use her powers on in this prison; he was also the last person he had wanted to see.
“I don’t know…” Dusty rubbed his chin. “Aren’t I going to get in trouble if I leave?”
Royal tightened a little bit. “I doubt that there will be any trouble Dusty. Please, just come along?”
“Well I mean… Like… Why are you doing this Royal?”
“I- I have to do this Dusty. Its important to me that you come along.”
Dusty flushed slightly turning on the bed so he was sitting on it. “Why?”
She probably should have been honest with him, then at least she would have been honest with somebody during this whole ordeal. Something inside her told her that she needed to do it this way though, to protect herself. “The reason is not important, I’m offering you a safe place to go Dusty where you don’t have to worry about the law, or your sister. Would you like to break out or not?”
“Yea! I mean sure… This place is boring. Where are we going again?” Dusty asked jumping off his bed.
“Somewhere safe Dusty.” Royal said flatly before making her way out of the cell. “I would advise that you please stick close to me and do not make any loud noises.”
As he followed behind her, much like a puppy following a person that might give it a treat if it looked cute enough, he looked as though he wanted to say something, face flushed. “You look… I mean… I like… Er… Thanks for coming to get me Royal.”
Royal didn’t say anything back, she couldn’t say anything back, she didn’t want to be thanked, she wanted Dusty to stay and do this legally. His thanks only made her that much more a hypocrite, a dirty scum ridden bitch who deserved everything she got. Royal’s face finally fell in the darkness and silent tears streamed her face as she silently lead Dusty to the van that would lead them to the harbor outside, all the while not showing her face to him.
Off with her head.
