My Chemical Romance (Patreon)

.01

“This is Parahuman Interview 3725-B.  Interviewing Protectorate Officers are Miss Militia and the Arresting Officer Assault of Protectorate Branch ENE,” the aforementioned woman spoke into a microphone, then spared another long look at the pair of us on the other side of the table.

“Individuals being interviewed are villainous capes known as 'Donkey Girl' and 'Elephant Boy,' arrested for petty theft, public mischief, and destruction of private property.  Individuals appearto be minors, though have declined to confirm or deny their apparent ages; as such, a representative from the Youth Guard is not present, but shall be called at the earliest confirmation that the capes in question are indeed under the age of majority.”

I grinned under my mask as I raised a fist to my sister, who did likewise and bumped our knuckles together lightly.

Assault snorted, then posed himself innocently as Militia glared at him.

“Ahem,” the camo-clad hero went on pointedly.  “The villains in question were apprehended at the Decker St. Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream Parlor after using their powers to extort free ice cream for themselves and the other patrons present.  As code-name 'Donkey Girl' and code-name 'Elephant Boy' encouraged the staff to call the local PRT/PRO office and assented to come quietly they were not restrained beyond simple hand-cuffs and expressed remorse for their crimes as well as an interest in joining the ENE Protectorate or Wards, depending on their respective ages.”

There was a slight pause as I, my sister, and Assault all looked at the female hero with the universal body language common to those who wanted to know, 'are we done yet?'

Miss Militia rolled her eyes in a way that clearly signaled exasperation.  “Please keep in mind anything you can will be kept on record and, as this is merely and informal interview to establish a line of communication, you may refuse to answer any question at any time.”

My sibling and I exchanged a glance and nod, and I cleared my throat to begin, still somewhat uncomfortable with the teenage girl's voice which emerged from my mouth.  “Thanks.  So... can I get a trash can, real quick?”

Assault and Miss Militia exchanged a glance before reaching behind them, towards the door, and handing over a plain plastic bin.

“Gotta' warn you two, no funny business with powers, please.  The guys around here take that stuff seriously,” Assault said pointedly as he rested the trash can on the desk.

“That's fine, I'm just tired of my voice sounding like this...” I stated, bending over the can and-hack-hack-guck- a blob of purple gunk oozed out of my mouth, and when I spoke, it was several tones lower.  “ugh, that was actually worsecoming up than going down.”

“You're a boy?”  Miss Militia asked, visibly startled before her eyes dropped to my chest, “but-”

I sighed and did an awkward maneuver to pull free the bra and globules of fake-boob which occupied the cups, laying them on the table.

From the bandanna shifting, I could guess that Miss Militia's jaw was working silently.

Assault's body language seemed to indicate that Christmas had come early for him.

“Okay, wait,” the senior hero paused, holding up her hands, “wait.  Does that mean that you're-”  Her finger pointed towards the young 'boy' at my side.

“Cough it out, just like I showed you,” I stated, holding the bin out.  A series of disgusting noises later and another blob of purple goo rested at the bottom.

“That was absolutely disgusting,” my sister's now-tinny voice stated crossly, her mask glaring at me.  “Extraordinarily and completely gross!  I almost projectile vomited!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I waved her off, “I'll make you some brownies later on, extra gooey just like you like them.  Now take off the extra fat, okay?”

'Elephant Boy,' sniffed at my obvious attempt at bribery, but pulled her shirt up slightly to grasp of her rolls of pudge and began to pull off the fat-substitute.

“Oh, wow,” Assault chuckled as the youngest cape in the room lost what looked like fifty pounds.  “Ow holy sh-er, cow.  I'm gonna' have this month's weird story bragging rights in the bag.  You two are awesome!”

Miss Militia palmed her face.  “Assault, call in a disposal team for possible tinker-tech.  While you're doing that, I'm going to pretend all of this makes sense for a moment... please explain what you two were trying to accomplish?”

“Elephant Boy, what is the chance we succeed in getting into the Wards without deception plan theta?  Two decimal places.”  I asked tiredly.

The visible portion of her face screwed up into a frown, “68.45%.”

At that, both Miss Militia and Assault's focus on us sharpened.

“Chance with deception plan theta?  Two decimal places again.”  I asked, leaning back.

“95.29%.”  My sister responded dutifully.

There was a long moment of silence.

“So here's the deal, cards on the table,” I stated, crossing my arms and leaning forward onto the table.  “My sister is a thinker, obviously.  A powerful one.  Too many questions, though, and she gets debilitating headaches.  Certain... individuals with significant say in how we structure our lives didn't believe... or didn't want to believe she had powers and basically shot down any attempts we made to discuss becoming Wards.”

I sighed and brought a hand to rub at my face, before stopping when I remembered the cheap plastic mask.  “I... triggered about two weeks later.  I'm a tinker, near as I can figure my specialty is chemicals...” my eyes shot nervously left and right for a moment.  “...and in the interests of complete honesty, I can work wet just as well as dry.”

Miss Militia inhaled sharply, the glowing green orb of her power cycling through a series of weapons too fast for me to follow.

“...and, just like 'Elephant Boy,'” who shot me a displeased look at the name. “My powers have certain... side effects.  I've always been... a little off,” I stated uncomfortably, gesturing vaguely at my head.  “Our... well, I never got tested because... hypothetically speaking, it would be bad publicity if someone in high society had a kid with Aspergers or Autism or something.”

My voice might have been a littleresentful, my sister's hand coming up to clasp mind on the table with a reassuring squeeze.

“My powers made it worse... a lot worse,” I conceded tightly, my free hand's fingers tapping nervously on the table.  “Like...” I waved a hand uncomfortably and swallowed.  “Serial Killer bad.”

If anything, the tension in the room got thicker.

“Complete loss of empathy, shades of narcissism and excessive egotism, pathological desire to... kill,” I explain, trying to ignore the anxiety clenching in my gut even as I was thankful it was there.  I didn't make eye contact with either hero.  “Mom and dad thought I was exaggerating, punished me and sis for lying.”

I took a deep breath.  “So... I made something.  I call it 'Jiminy,'” I snorted, “like the cricket.  It's basically a small blue pill that gives me a conscience for about... six hours or so.  Fixes my neuro-chemistry, makes the urges controllable.  Little blue pill and I'm a socially-conscious person again instead of a teething murderhobo.”  I shrug, flipping the grip on my sister's hand and squeezing back.  “Just like she needs a little red pill to make it so she doesn't feel like her head's coming apart at the seams.”

Then I looked up, right into their eyes, and I was happy they flinched at the seriousness in my gaze.  “Problem is, tinkering is expensive.  So, our options are to become villains or join the Wards.  If you let our parents take us back home, my sister and I are going to end up joining a gang or worse.  We dressed up and robbed an ice cream store so that you'd be able to charge us with a crime and force us into the Wards like you did Shadow Stalker.”

“How do you know-” Miss Militia asked, an automatic response overriding her shock.

I pulled my mask off, “because Triumph reallyneeds to learn not to run his mouth when his cousins are spending the night, even if he thinks they've already gone to bed.”

Despite the situation, Assualt snickered, and Miss Militia reflexively slapped him upside the head.

Then she sighed.  “Assault, stay with Alex and Dinah, please.  I need to go speak with the director... and Triumph.”

.02

“-not while you interrogated my children without the presence of legal counsel!”

I sighed as Dinah cringed.  Rory, on the other side of the table, winced as we all cut a glance towards the hallway.

“That's not a bad sign at all,” I muttered, taking a sip of the water in front of me as I idly considered the sketchpad before me, tapping a pencil with my free hand.

“Alex...” Rory began, hesitantly.

I didn't look up, not wanting to see whatever hang-dog expression he was giving me.  “Not your fault, Rory.”

“I didn't even notice, though,” he stated bitterly.  “That is my fault.”

The pencil began tapping faster, my agitation leaking through as my head shot up and I stared my cousin straight in the eyes.  “Fine, it's your fucking fault.  Let's all feel bad for Rory, okay?  His life sucks and he should be the center of attention, right!?”

Rory flinched as if struck and I sneered darkly, pleasure at the mincing little weakling's fear-

“Alex,” Dinah whispered, touching my forearm, and I stilled.

Deep breath...

“I apologize,” I stated, closing my eyes and forcing the demon in me back where it came from.  “That was uncalled for.”

“I'm sorry too,” Rory sighed.  “I didn't mean... I just feel guilty.”

We all sat silently for a long moment.

Then the door slammed open, my father stepping into the room, his eyes locking on us immediately as displeasure and anger coursed through him.

“Get your things, we're leaving,” he bit off, his face flushed with emotion.

“No,” I replied, placing my hand on top of Dinah's as I felt her fight the urge to obey the authority figure.  My own inner-fourteen year old twisted in anxiety as I looked at him.

“I don't have time for this nonsense Alex.  You and your sister's shenanigans have cost me a great deal of time and money today and I am in no mood to tolerate more of it.”  He stated bluntly.

“I do not believe you have our best interests at heart any longer, Mr. Alcott,” I replied, allowing my face to slack into a blank and uncomprehending wall.  “Your services are no longer required.  I believe you can show yourself out.”

The escalating fountain of rage my father had become stalked forward as Rory finally got it into his head to stand and intervene, though I couldn't have thathappening.

“Uncle Douglas, please, we can sit down and talk about this-”

“I'm done talking,” I stated coolly, “to people who won't listen.  He's actively preventing my sister and I from getting the psychological help we need.  That's neglect bordering on abuse.”

“I will not be talked down toby my own disobedient son!”  My father snarled grabbing at my shirt and pulling me to my feet.

...almost there.

“That's because you're an idiotwho can't handle his own ki-”

I saw the punch coming.  I could have blocked it, dodged it, slammed my foot between his legs, or even punched him in the throat.  Instead, I let it hit.  It wouldn't hurt too badly, given the few subtle reinforcements I'd made in preparation for this moment, and besides... it needed to happen.

My shirt ripped as my father's strike flung me from his grasp-

“Alex!”  Two voices.

-and I landed on the cold floor a few feet away, rolled once, and groaned.  My sister and cousin were next to me in an instant while the door swung open only moments later, Miss Militia holding what looked like a stun gun and my mother tailing behind her.

My father was standing, stock still, in the middle of the room, looking at his own hand as if he'd never seen it before.

Miss Militia took the scene in at a glance before pushing my father against a wall.  “Douglas Alcott, I'm hereby placing you under arrest for assault and battery of Alex Alcott.  You have the right to remain silent-”

I sighed, wincing from the twinge of pain and the no-doubt forming bruise as my father was read his Miranda Rights, my mother looking on in stunned horror.

“Triumph... take Alex and Dinah to the medical ward.  I want both of them looked at,” Miss Militia stated as she began to frog march my still-stunned father out the door.

“Y-yes ma'am!”  My cousin stated, saluting messily.

My mother's eyes swapped between her children and her husband, before she shook her head and followed my father and the elder hero out.

As soon as the room was empty save we three, Triumph slumped in exhaustion.

Dinah sniffled.

I merely rubbed my jaw, allowing my hand to conceal the slight smirk I was wearing even as I wrapped my other arm around my sister.

“Well, let's get you two checked out, shall we?”  Triumph asked, a faux-cheer coating his voice.