Chapter 1.6 Coronation
On Sunday, Sam didn't have time to worry about the possible loss of her new friend. Instead she was up at the crack of dawn and bundled down to the PRT Headquarters.
On her way from the Van to the building's entrance she looked out at the horizon and barely noticed the first rays of the sun. Her attention was brought back to her surroundings when a tall woman in a dark business suit walked up to her and shoved a small stack of note cards into her hands.
"Those contain your speech and the PR approved answers to various questions. Memorize them and don't lose them. We've vetted the reporters and they know the allowed questions. If anyone goes wildly off script Piggot or Miss Militia will step in. If the cards don't cover it and they haven't that means they trust you not to embarrass yourself with the answer so stay calm and stick with your established persona." The woman told her. "Any questions?"
"Just one, ma'am," Sam tried to stay respectful, "I don't think we've been introduced..."
"Grace Volti, Wards Public Relations, Senior Event Management North-East. That means I organize most shindigs like this east of Minnesota and north of the Carolinas. I've introduced a lot of wards. Stick to the cards, smile whenever possible and I guarantee you'll make a great first impression," Grace rattled off as they walked. "Now, we need to get you to make-up. The morning will be a photo shoot for the press release and your first wave of promotionals. After that you'll get a break for lunch then your team will arrive and we'll start the dress rehearsals."
Sam was ushered off to a room with gym equipment lining one side, and the acrid scent of stale sweat barely detectable beneath the pungent odors of cleaning alcohols and too many perfumes. They'd apparently set up some sort of portable salon station in the middle of the room and were taking advantage of the mirrors coating the back wall. Oddly though it didn't have a seat, well less oddly when she realized it was entirely meant for her.
As the make-up artist led her over she dropped the note cards into her inventory for safe keeping. Instead of simply sitting in a slot, though, they disappeared and a new hud box with text from the cards that she could flip through appeared. 'Well that's convenient,' she thought to herself.
"Ugh, let's not go too heavy but a bit of blue around the eyes. Hazel is too plain for a princess, make those sapphire flecks dominate, and don't forget the top ones the audience certainly won't! Georgie, do something with that hair. It's adorable, love, but we're going for confident princess not lost little girl." The apparently senior stylist directed their team as they worked. She almost jumped at the hand that unexpectedly pressed into her abdomen. "The fur is lovely, so well maintained. Give her a basic brush down anyways, the camera always loves a bit of extra care."
After about an hour of everything from lipstick to hairspray to skin creme to an almost full body fur brushing she couldn't help but admit she looked devastatingly pretty in her reflection. She also felt manhandled, abused and ready to start mind-spanking the next person to hold an open bottle of chemical solution within three feet of her face. As it was she almost had to resort to that in order to get the alone time necessary to put on her dress.
Finally fully equipped she was marched into a darkly walled room with a few large sections of white canvas hanging down from the ceiling, one so long it rolled out across the floor creating an entirely separate aesthetic space within the room. The photographer was a reedy man with bags under his overly intense eyes, and again he seemed to have a whole team of people at his beck and call.
"Remember, you're a princess. You have the power to break everyone you look at, and the class not to. When you smile it is a gift to the masses, and when you deign to show your displeasure an emotionless snub is more cutting than any sneer. Feel that confidence and project it with everything you can give me." The photographer demanded.
The photo shoot was long and hot. Only Gamer's Body kept Sam from devolving into a living swamp of sweat. Six bottles of water had been sacrificed to slaking her thirst and Gamer's Body was again proving its worth just in keeping her from having to disappear into a bathroom for the next hour.
"They been working you hard?" Battery, or rather her 'civilian' ID of Agent Rebecca Barker, said as she walked up with a bag of heavenly smelling Chinese food.
"Yeah, but I can handle it," Sam replied, "That lunch?"
"Yep," Rebecca replied, "Let's get somewhere we can sit and eat. You know, I remember my introduction. I didn't handle it nearly as well. They actually had to get Legend himself to come down and explain to me what all this had to do with fighting crime... I had a bit of a one track mind back then."
"Wait, Legend was brought in to talk to a brand new Ward?" Sam asked.
"Oh yeah. Legend's big on the Wards program. He's personally mentored a number of the Wards in New York. I was fortunate to catch his attention like that. He's backed off a bit for the last couple years but I hear he's worked with a few that caught his interest," Rebecca told her as they quickly found a break room to eat in.
Sam started into her meal but soon found a moment between bites to bring up her thoughts, "So, I saw Ethan yesterday."
"You did? And let me guess he wants you to put in a good word with me?" Rebecca asked suspiciously.
Sam just shrugged, "Well, to at least tell you he's forgiven in my books. Which honestly was never really a problem, his timing sucked but he wasn't wrong. Triumph got me the PR reports on my costume. If the Protectorate needs me to be a mascot for a new generation... I don't necessarily like it, but I'll give it my best anyways."
"Look, you're not a mascot. That's not... The Wards are supposed to face less violence, and hopefully you'll get to the Protectorate level without running into anything too terrible. Fact is, though, we're Parahumans. If you don't look for a fight, a fight is still going to come looking for you. And you're going to have it worse. Anyone looking to embarrass the Protectorate or just ruin a good thing is going to come gunning for you. But that's true for Vista, and everyone else too. You're part of a team now and you'll be watching each other's backs. Trust me, in the eyes of your teammates, you'll never be just a mascot," She replied. Sam actually found herself misting up at the woman's show of support. "As for Ethan... He came to the Protectorate from... Another angle. He doesn't always get the sense of camaraderie a few years on the same team builds."
"But in that case it clearly isn't his fault he wouldn't understand, unless you explained it to him..." Sam pointed out.
Rebecca sighed, "Yeah, it isn't... I just... So often he makes me want to scream. Then there are those times where he's just so... And then the next day he's back to making me want to tear my hair out." She poked her food a bit.
"Sounds rough. But at least know that I never held it against him. So you can't be mad at him on my behalf anymore! Now you need your own reason," Sam declared.
Rebecca chuckled, "Alright. I'll keep that in mind."
A few minutes later Vista appeared to drag Sam out of the room and off to Rehearsals. Rebecca followed them out into the hall and watched them go. Finally she took out her phone and dialed a number from memory.
"Hey! Yeah, I know it's been a while. No... No... Look, Gabs, I need some advice. You were always the one who got relationships... Ugh... Yes. Yes, I'm calling you about men. Well if you'll stop squealing for a few seconds I'd tell you..."
---
"And now to our main order of business tonight. It's my honor to introduce Brockton Bay's newest Ward, Octette," Miss Militia announced giving Octette her cue. With a deep breath she put on a regal smile and did her best approximation of a gliding step out onto the stage. The supportive smiles of the other Wards helped her get the last bit of mettle into her spine and she made the rest of the trip flawlessly.
"Thank you for your introduction, Miss Militia. However I must insist that it is my honor to be here and to be accepted as part of the Wards," Octette stated graciously. "I arrived in this city without even the memories one should hold most safe. Nevertheless I have been, from the first moment, accepted as a friend. Almost every day I am delighted to find even more friends and allies, more acceptance. This city has quickly grown to become somewhere I will cherish. That I hold gifts that may yet help keep her citizens safe is a blessing most dear."
"And what gifts do you bring to the team exactly?" Miss Militia asked for the sake of the audience.
"Well, I can somewhat unsurprisingly climb any vertical surface without worrying about falling. I also have the gift of telekinesis, that is the capacity to move objects with my mind, though the weight limit on that is dreadfully low. Recently we've also discovered an interesting twist. It seems that with a touch I can charge an object small enough to move with my powers and cause it to multiply as I cast it about. The copies are temporary though and even the original item is consumed," Octette replied.
"Hmm, that last one sounds a bit hard to wrap the mind around. Could you give us a demonstration?" Miss Militia asked.
"Certainly," Octette agreed. She held out her hand and a wine glass from one of the server's lifted and sailed smoothly into her hand. The young heroine dipped a finger in the glass and a slight green sheen momentarily enveloped the liquid. Then she quickly flicked the glass upwards causing the liquid inside to spray out. Instead of the red liquid splashing down on the ground between two tables it instead lifted up as a galaxy of floating droplets. She'd discovered on accident that liquid droplets rounded down to 0 programming to control allowing her to game the system and control a technically infinite number so long as she could break them up in the first place. The galaxy multiplied as it ascended until a dozen liquid galaxies orbited the first.
The lights from overhead hit the wine and sparkled while creating a dappled effect on the crowd below as they watched, many in awe. Finally the droplets faded from existence, including the glass' original contents.
"That was quite a beautiful demonstration," Miss Militia praised.
"I believe that bringing beauty into the world and into the hearts of others is a high and worthy calling. If I can do so with my gifts as well as talents, then all the better," Octette replied.
"An excellent philosophy, Octette." Miss Militia said then turned to the audience. "Now if you'll all join me in giving Octette a round of applause and our warm welcome to the Brockton Bay Wards!"
The crowd roared with applause, as did the stage behind her.
