Kirunax
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Dysfunctional (Chapter 6)
🕑 Added 2025-03-16 20:10:35 +0000 UTCFinishing my morning routine, I looked at myself in the mirror one last time.
Yesterday didn’t go as well as it could have, but overall, I did everything I could to create a favorable first impression. Aegis made his expectations clear, and I intended to deliver. Thankfully, I was an old hand at that by this point. I did it as Salaryman, I did it as Tanya von Degurechaff, and now I would do it as Tanya Danvers.
Now, if only Shirou would stop sabotaging us. I understood that it was his first time in an environment with a rigid chain of command, so, like any fresh recruit, he struggled to grasp what exactly was expected of him. I was sure the PRT had systems to address those kinds of teething issues, but it would be much better to avoid them entirely.
Satisfied with my grooming, I left my assigned room and went into the Wards quarters proper. I knew where to find my brother at this hour of the day.
Entering the main room, I spotted him at the kitchenette, hard at work preparing breakfast.
Shirou had always been an early riser, waking up around 5:00 AM to start his workout regimen. Quite commendable and I would have to join him from now on, if I wanted to return to military level of fitness. After that, he always went straight for the stove to make breakfast and lunch.
“Good morning, brother.”
“Good morning,” he greeted me back.
Judging by the smell, it was bacon and an omelet today. Shirou usually went for Japanese cuisine in the mornings, but I could guess that Wards kitchen wasn’t stuffed with the right ingredients.
“It strikes me that I owe you an apology, sister,” he told me without turning.
“Oh? What exactly would you be apologizing for?” Did he finally understand out situation?
“I was needlessly cranky with you yesterday.”
That’s a no, then. Still, it was progress. He at least understood that I was displeased with him.
I gathered my thoughts, silent for a brief moment.
“Brother, the problem isn’t your poor mood. That is quite understandable, given the circumstances. The problem is the needlessly bad first impression you’ve created for our colleagues. Like it or not, we are part of a unit now. Team cohesion is highly important.”
“I’m going to be honest with you, I’ve never been much of a team player.”
“Well, you’d better learn fast. These people are supposed to watch your back on the battlefield. You don’t want to give them a reason to dislike you.”
He hummed. “Don’t want me to embarrass you in front of your new friends?”
“If that’s how you want to put it, then yes.” I also didn’t want them to conveniently look the other way if they saw someone with guns pointed at our backs. Such things would never fly in the 201st but I wasn’t yet sure about discipline under Aegis’ command.
Before I could continue my lecture, another person entered the room.
“What are you doing here so early? It’s barely past six in the morning,” Missy asked, stifling a yawn.
“My apologies for disturbing you, Missy,” I said to the young girl.
“’s alright,” she mumbled.
Shirou placed a plate in front of her.
“Uh, thanks,” Missy said, surprised.
I was slightly surprised too. I had been under the impression that Shirou did not take my words to heart yet. Perhaps I had given him too little credit. Maturity aside, no one could deny him being intelligent. Outlining the situation in rational terms had clearly gotten through to him.
“This is really good!” Missy exclaimed.
Yes, Shirou was quite the chef. Hm, now that our food budget was covered by the government, perhaps he would have more ingredients to stretch his wings with? If he struggled to win others with his words, then he could easily do that with his cooking. We weren’t on the frontlines, living off of rations, and yet one should not underestimate the impact of a good meal. And every soldier is keenly aware of the hand that feeds them.
Something to consider.
Still, if Shirou was putting in effort, then so should I. A shared meal is a good time to better relationships and talk shop.
“How long have you been a Ward, Missy?”
“More than two years,” she proudly answers, “That’s longer than Kid Win and Shadow Stalker have been here.”
“I am not really knowledgeable of the local crime situation. Could you explain it to me?”
“Sure!” Missy beamed, “First, there are the Merchants. Small time druggies. They don’t do anything big, just push their stuff. They only have three capes, fairly weak, and recruit from homeless. I can’t say the they hold territory exactly, but they hang out around the Trainyard, and sell in the Docks.”
“So, their combat potential is minimal?”
“Pretty much. In case I didn’t make it clear, they are all druggies. Capes included,” Missy said, taking a bite of the omelet, “Their main danger comes from their Tinker. Squealer’s specialization is vehicles and usually builds armored buses and monster trucks with turrets. If there is a big fight, Merchants just get their guys into those.”
So, drug dealers with access to heavy armor. Missy made light of them, but I had to wonder. Sure, one well placed artillery spell should take care of it, but that’s assuming a lot. Tinkers created very advanced technology, so the chances were I wouldn’t be dealing with mundane tanks and APCs.
“Then there’s Faultline Crew,” Missy continued, ”Mercenaries. They don’t really hold any territory and operate from the Palanquin club. Pretty solid team, from what I’ve heard. Low priority.”
“How so? If their base of operations is known, why not bring them in?”
“Not enough resources. Faultline keeps her nose clean and mostly operates outside the city.”
I frowned. It didn’t sound good that the Protectorate was apparently so stretched that they just decided to leave known criminals be. Unless the PRT held special policy on mercenaries? They could act as reinforcements in a pinch, so it made sense to allow them to operate as long as they took jobs from the PRT itself, and didn’t cause too much trouble. But the fact that it was needed at all was concerning.
“Next, we have Undersiders, a four-villain team. Mainly smalltime thieves, though one of their members is a known murderer. They don’t really fight, just hit jewelry stores and bail before PRT arrives. Pretty good at escaping. Hellhound, the murderer, can turn dogs into big monsters, and Undersiders just ride on top of the roofs with them. Difficult to pursue.” Missy said, chewing her food.
Petty criminals, then. Given my mobility, I could easily keep up with their mounts, so perhaps they would make a good target for my first workplace achievement? Even if they are just thieves, neutralizing them so soon after induction into the Wards would be great optics!
“ABB is one of Brockton’s big players. They hold a big part of the Docks and Asian communities,” Missy glanced at Shirou, “Lung, their leader, basically forces anyone Asian into the gang.”
“What are their forces?”
“Well, they actually only have two capes. But Lung fought every Protectorate cape at once when he arrived. And Oni Lee is a psycho. He’s a teleporter who leaves behind copies of himself and uses them to suicide bomb people.”
That sounded extremely dangerous. Depending on his range, my aerial advantage could be significantly negated. Shirou couldn’t fly, period. He had his shield, but against a teleporter with functionally unlimited number of bombs?
No, the only answer here would be to shoot first.
And the gang leader was strong enough to hold off the entire Protectorate team?
That sounded very bad.
“Who is the other big player?” I asked. For now, all I could do was to gather intelligence.
“The Empire 88. They are Nazis. The biggest gang in town, numbers-wise. Fifteen capes, tons of unpowered mooks, connections with Europe. Everything south of Captain’s Hill is their territory, except Downtown and Boardwalk.”
Something wasn’t right.
“What is the size of the PRT’s parahuman forces?” I asked.
Missy thought for a moment.
“Well, we have seven heroes in the Protectorate, six in the Wards – eight now, counting you two,” she replied, happily chewing on bacon.
In other words, the largest gang had numerical parity with the Protectorate. The second-largest gang had a member who could stand up to thirteen parahumans at once, and his partner was a one-man army. And then there was a dozen other parahuman criminals on top of that. One of whom could build futuristic tanks and the other could turn dogs into large monsters.
Suddenly, those missile batteries on the Protectorate HQ did not seem that excessive.
“Do we receive reinforcements from other cities often?” I asked, desperately hoping Missy would alleviate my concerns.
“Nah,” she crushed my hope, chewing her food, “Piggot always grumbles that her requests for more capes are always denied. I’m surprised we’ve got you two, to be honest.”
The heroes were outnumbered two to one, and no one could spare the forces to send help. Brockton Bay was a relatively small city, how bad was it in other places? I could have sworn things weren’t that bad in New York, but if they were, would I hear about it? It wasn’t unusual for governments to avoid airing hard numbers on TV, and doubly so if those numbers threw shade on said governments.
The ‘victories’ over Endbringers were an excellent example.
But if my own experience counted for anything, then one of the only times I and Shirou went out, we found a massacre.
And that’s in Legend’s city.
“Oh yeah, there’s also this guy in Downtown. Coil,” Missy pointed at me with her fork, “Smalltime. We aren’t even sure he’s a cape, but he has squads of mercs running around.”
“Parahuman mercs?” I asked.
“No, unpowered ones. I saw them a few times. Look real professional, straight from the movies. Callsigns, military gear, squad tactics, those crouching movements you do to reduce gun recoil,” Missy waived her hand uncertainly.
“What kind of military gear do they have?” I frowned.
“Full kit. Sidearms, assault rifles, SMGs, grenades. The reports say they even have sniper teams.”
“And he is considered a small-time?” I asked in disbelief.
“He never does anything,” Missy shrugged.
I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t know much about parahuman combat, but a professional private army, trained in small unit tactics, with modern equipment and sniper teams? What did other gangs have if that was small-time?
My mind was running a mile an hour, when Shirou suddenly approached and joined the conversation.
“Who handles the groceries?” he asked Missy.
“Huh?” Missy hastily swallowed, clearly not expecting my brother to start a conversation with her after yesterday showing.
“Who handles the groceries here?” He asked impatiently. “The kitchen is stuffed with peanut butter, frozen pizza and instant noodles. Aside from bread, eggs and bacon there is nothing in the fridge. There is no fresh produce, no staples and barely any spices. There is no milk, no tea, only soda and overpriced coffee beans,” Shirou grumbled with displeasure. “There is also only one frying pan, one pot, no cutting board, no colander, no pressure cooker. The knives haven’t been sharpened once.”
“Erm, the coffee beans are Dean’s…” Missy tried to say.
“The oven is missing parts. There is only three spoons and two forks,” Shirou leaned in and leveled Missy with hard stare. “Who do I talk to in order fix this?”
“I think you have to file a request with Aegis, who will send it up the chain,” Missy squeaked uncertainly.
Shirou grumbled and went back to the kitchen counter to grind those overpriced coffee beans. I would like to tell him to be a little friendlier with other children and mind personal space, but right now I was more interested in what he could achieve with some quality beans.
***
In the afternoon, Missy received a message that Shirou and I had an appointment with the PR department to discuss our image. The young girl graciously showed us the way through the PRT HQ.
“See, Shirou?” I explained to him, “This is what good relationships with your coworkers afford you. Missy may be young, but she has been doing this for a long time. Make sure to get along with her and she can teach you a lot about how to be a proper hero. Making her breakfast was a good start, but try to also spend more time with her. She’s the closest to your age, after all.”
He clearly didn’t appreciate my impromptu lecture, but too bad for him. This wasn’t a school but a proper employment. I’ll be damned if I allowed him to tank his career before it properly started.
Upon arriving, we were greeted by a woman in a colorful outfit. A navy-blue suit with pink tie. Personally, I found it garish, especially with strands of green hair. I wouldn’t be caught dead looking like that at a workplace.
“Shirou, Tanya, welcome. I’m Casey Williams, head of PR at PRT ENE,” she gave us a smile, “Today we are going to discuss your costumes and names.”
Ah yes, the staples of any superhero. I couldn’t say I was particularly thrilled about that, but in all honesty, Imperial military had its own fair share of pageantry. Tanya could appreciate the significance of a proper image from an army perspective, and Salaryman keenly understood the importance of branding. There was, after all, a whole industry revolving around hero merchandising.
And not just merchandising. Advertisement, talk shows, movies. Heroes that stood out wielded a lot of popularity and influence.
I remembered watching a show starring a metal man that could shapeshift his limbs into weapons. I had to stop because of Shirou’s snide remarks about my reasons for watching the show since there sure was a lot scenes where metal man was topless. I was interested to gleam more about parahuman powers and how they can apparently change the whole body composition, not interested in however many love triangles he was involved in!
Williams turned on a projector. On a screen I could see what would be my image going forward.
Blue and silver were the primary colors. White bodysuit underneath what looked like a deep blue summer dress with silver accents. Blue thigh-high boots and elbow-high silver bracers over blue gloves. Finishing the look were silver breastplate, blue visor and belt with pouches. The last one somehow felt tackled in at the last minute.
Why bother with bodysuit at all if practically all of it was hidden by other pieces? At least it covered everything under the skirt. I really didn’t want to show skin.
Still, “Is the dress necessary? Personally, I would prefer pants.”
“It’s necessary to emphasize you being a young girl and differentiate your look from your brother’s. Older Wards could get away with pants but in your case, it was completely necessary.”
What is she talking about?
“Overall, the general policy regarding young heroines’ image is to create an impression of friendly and approachable yet suitably heroic disposition. Doubly so, with what we are going for with you two,” Williams continued. “With how cute you are, I’m sure Argent’s figurines will fly off the shelves.”
So that’s to be my hero name, huh? Well, if that’s the name to follow after me from my last life, then it’s better than The Devil.
“It is very cute, sister. So fitting for an adorable young girl, unlike your usual boyish choice of attire. Aren’t you just glad?” Shirou smirked at me from the side.
I ignored his unneeded commentary. Skirt or not, it was still miles better than being dolled up for propaganda shoots back in the Imperial military. At least I won’t have to wear makeup. And rising objections now would only weaken my position if I would have to force him to shut up and accept whatever costume they plan to foist on him.
“I’m glad you like it, Armiger,” the image on the screen changed, “Here’s yours.”
Hm, nothing excessive there. A blue jumpsuit covered in silver lines, silver pauldrons, steel-toed boots, and futuristic open jawed helmet with jagged pieces protruding backwards from the top and the sides to create and impression of a crest.
Blue and silver are to be our shared theme, then? I thought Argent was a coincidence, but with those colors I guess at least one of us would be named Silver. Shirou should be glad they hadn’t decided to call him The Blue or Ultramarine or some such.
“I’m not wearing that,” he immediately denied.
I suppressed the urge to groan into my hands.
“I assure you, Armiger, this is one of our best designs. Focus group suggests it’s simplistic and elegant look will be very popular. Not to mention it’s based on…”
“The colors are very important to you, right?” my brother pressed.
Williams blinked, “Well yes. In fact, our whole approach to your image is to use color scheme to connect you two with…”
“Then it’s not going to work.” Glowing green lights started to spread over his T-shirt. “The most basic use of my power is to use Reinforcement in order to increase my durability. Reinforcement scales off the base durability of affected material. Reinforcing my body works to a degree in that regard, but it’s best used in conjunction with body armor, since it can be reinforced to a higher degree.”
He was unusually animated for once.
I looked back at the screen. I couldn’t see anything objectionable with his costume. It was just a blue jumpsuit with silver armor pieces. Why was he acting like that? Did he hate the color blue?
“You are talking about reinforcing your costume instead of your body, correct?” Williams asked.
“I am talking about reinforcing both. However,” he pointed at his glowing T-shirt, “Whatever costume you will provide, will suffer from… this visual effect. Unless…”
He focused for a moment. Sitting close to him, I heard him quietly intone “Trace on” in a ‘deep’ voice, with an intentional pause between words.
…Was he a chuunibyou? Was he trying to look cool? I remembered him roaring something when he deployed his forcefield in the mall and later, when he demonstrated it in power testing. I thought that was a one-time thing, but was he going to use “technique names” every time now?
I frankly wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing in hero culture. They used that in manga for a reason, right? If you look at it though marketing standpoint, it was suitably flashy.
Was I supposed to do the same? It was embarrassing, but if PRT put such emphasis on image and PR, wouldn’t that mean it was expected of me now?
Meanwhile, my brother was now wearing close-fitting black carapace body armor with silver highlights outlining abs he absolutely did not possess. Shirou was very athletic for his age, but the armor implied he was ridiculously shredded.
Brother…
His hands were covered by red sleeves with decorative silver plates at the back of his palms, and there also was a… cloak hanging from his hips? Half-skirt?
“Unless I use something created by me,” Shirou continued. “I am reinforcing this armor right now.”
Did he have his superhero costume ready to go?
From what I understood about his power, he had to imagine something in vivid detail in order to “project” it. From the looks of it, he was imagining this costume vividly indeed.
“That is a very good costume,” Williams said, taking a closer look. ”Somewhat elaborate, but elegant and functional. But the color scheme is a no go. Blue and silver, was a deliberate choice on our part. Not to mention that a combination of red and black in Brockton Bay has connotations with Empire.”
“I can extend silver highlights over the whole piece,” Shirou countered, “That way, you only have to provide the helmet, and a cloth of your choice to replace the Shroud. You also won’t have to replace it, since when it’s damaged, I can project it again. Not to mention that this armor’s material provides better protection that whatever alternative you could find that would allow the same range of movement without sacrificing durability.”
The Shroud?
Williams thought for a minute, studying my brother’s costume.
“There are some allowances for image when comes for Tinkers. I don’t know your power classification yet, but I think I could swing it either way. I’ll submit your costume but the decision will be with the Head of Image. Now, let’s take your measurements.”
On one hand I was annoyed that Shirou had successfully got the look he wanted. On the other hand, I was proud of him for arguing his point this well. It boded well for him to skillfully handle negotiations with other departments.
Oh well, that’s my brother, I guess.
