[SLTS]—❈—13:: You're A Ward, Aiden [II]

“So, what’s with the name? Musa?” Missy asks when we’ve settled down.

“Yeah, there’s clearly a story there,” Chris says.

“There is,” I agree. “It’s my name. I changed it to Aiden when my family moved to Brockton Bay less than two years ago.” I pause for a moment; the pain never really goes away, does it?

“My Dad got a job here,” I continue. “At Medhall. It was a good job, came with a house, a car…” I shrug. “Anyway, we moved here. And my parents thought it would be better if their son didn’t have a name like Musa al-Farag in the Nazi capital of the US.”

I shrug again. “So, we all changed our names… not that it did my Dad much good in the end.”

I see their looks and I elaborate.

“My Dad was killed. Bumped into some Empire jerk in the grocery isle and was shot four times in the chest for not apologizing fast enough.”

Grimaces and looks of sympathy greet those words.

“I’m sorry, Aiden,” Missy says.

I shrug again. “It’s okay, it’s been sixteen months; the pain isn’t gone, but it’s… easier. Familiar.”

The looks of sympathy morph now into confusion.

“Wait,” Chris asks. “How long have you been a cape?”

I blink. “A few weeks. Why?”

“Oh. No, I… I just thought your Dad was your… your trigger event,” he says.

“Oh, no, that wasn’t it. You would think so, but it isn’t. My trigger event is kind of silly actually. My Mom was late one night, like really late. And when I called she didn’t pick up.

“The I heard on the news that The Empire was it again near where she works, and well… I assumed the worst.

“Turned out she was fine though. Simply lost her phone.”

My fellow wards give me dubious looks.

“What?” I ask.

“Dude, The Empire killed your father and you triggered because you thought they killed your mother too, that’s not silly,” Dennis says. “That’s actually pretty fucked up.”

I open a mouth to argue, then close it.

“I suppose you’re right,” I admit. “But then the few capes who talk about their triggers, it’s always these… horror stories. I guess mine just felt… silly compared to that.”

“I get that, I guess,” Missy says. “My trigger event doesn’t feel that impressive either. It’s worse than yours even, because I didn’t lose anybody, my parents are just idiots who will fight over which 1 should come first in the number 11.”

I snort, unable to help it. “I’m sorry,” I apologize.

Missy smirks at me. “Don’t be,” she says.

“I wonder what Shadow Stalker’s was,” Chris muses idly.

Dennis snorts. “Probably got caught trying to drown a puppy or something,” he says.

“Don’t do that,” Dean says. “Don’t make light of trigger events; no one deserves them.”

“I don’t know, man. I think some people deserve them,” he says, then frowns after a moment: “Not the powers that come with them though.”

Dean’s only response to that is an ambiguous shrug.

“You never talk about your trigger,” Missy says softly to Dean. “Was it that bad?”

A complicated expression crosses Dean’s face, and I’m halfway to sniffing him before I stop myself.

Can’t make a habit of that.

Not with these people.

Finally, Dean says; “I don’t remember it. I don’t know if my brain simply blocked off the trauma or what, but sometimes, it’s like I went to bed one day and woke up with powers.

“I don’t talk about it, because there’s nothing to talk about.”

“I wish I could forget mine,” Chris says.

Carlos sighs. “Me too,” he says. “Getting beaten to within an inch of your life is not a nice memory to have.”

I grimace. “And you fight the way you do?” I ask, unable to help the surprise, and slight respect in my voice.

Anyone who’s ever seen Aegis fight would understand why; the guy has zero concern for his physical well-being.

It’s so bad, people on PHO call him Sir Bleeds-a-lot.

Carlos makes a face. “I guess it’s my way of dealing with my trauma?” he says, sounding so unsure it’s practically a question.

“Bullshit,” Missy says. “You’re just careless.”

“True that,” Dennis agrees.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you two, Mr. I-thought-I-could-freeze-fire, and Miss I-just-wanted-to-punch-a-bad-guy-in-the-face-once,” Carlos says.

“Okay, there is clearly a story there, and I need to know what it is. Right now. For science,” I say.

Carlos gladly tells me.

The next few minutes are spent listening to the wards share embarrassing stories about each other, but eventually, the conversation returns back to me.

“You haven’t met the Lady PR yet, right?” Chris asks.

“Lady PR?” I ask.

“Estelle, Head of the Image Department,” Carlos explains. “She handles costume design, merchandise, public appearances, and all of that stuff for all of us, Wards and Protectorate.”

“Oh, right, I know her,” I say. “Short lady? Blonde hair? Different coloured eyes?”

“That’s her,” Dennis says.

“I met her. She kept interrupting her interrogation to ask me questions like what my favourite colour is,” I say.

“Yeah, she does that,” Chris says.

“Only to then completely ignore it because ‘green is a better look for you, Vista’,” Missy says in a pretty good impression of the woman’s high, sort of bubbly voice.

“She’s right though,” Dennis says. “Green is a good look for you.”

The younger blonde shoots the older redhead a dark look.

Dennis looks back at her like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

“My costume looks like something a junkie threw up and you know it,” she says.

Dennis smirks. “If you say so,” he says.

Realizing that the older boy just manipulated her into insulting herself, Missy goes red.

“You know,” I say, “your costume isn’t the best, Missy, but I think I’ll take it over Clockblocker’s any day. I mean, dude, we get it, your power is stopping time. You don’t have to cover yourself in clocks to remind us.”

“You bet I do,” Dennis says. “I even asked for one big golden clock to put on a chain around my neck, but Lady PR turned me down.”

“Thank God,” Missy mutters.

We laugh.

Fifteen minutes later, just as scheduled, Armsmaster shows up to take me for my first (as a ward, but second overall) power testing session, and when he does, I ask my new teammates if they’ll like to come along.

They agree eagerly.