Sunday, April 11, 2010

Oran walked into the kitchen, hoping to get there before Tetyana. She had been distressed when they got home from the hospital the evening before. It seems that Eric had come home while they were out, bringing his "friend" Nikolai with him. The housekeeper said they simply packed a few things for Eric then went back out. But Oran had smelled both of them on her. He was worried they had molested her in some way. But she refused to say anything more.

Carl had stayed the night. He had hinted to Oran that he was going to come out to Kirstin, as Mariela already knew about his other identity. "It should make it easier for me to get you away for training."

As Oran looked out over Central Park through the kitchen windows the morning sun climbed into the eastern sky. The view was partially obscured by the buildings on the other side of the park, but was still worth seeing. He had coffee ready for his mother and grandfather, and tea for himself and Tetyana. He knew Kirstin cared for neither, though she often bought the sweetest, most chocolaty caffeine confection the school coffee shop sold, just to fit in with her friends. He had ordered fresh bagels and fixings delivered and set them out on a serving platter on the breakfast bar. He was not hungry, though he had eaten nothing the day before, and wanted to see how long he could comfortably go without food.

He was seeing how long he could hold a one armed handstand on the balcony when Carl came out to join him. "If you can manage to drink your coffee that way, I'll give you a dollar."

"It's tea," Oran said, flipping back to his feet. "And no bet." He gave the old man a one-armed hug. "How are you this fine morning?"

"Just surviving, which I must say beats the alternative. You ready for registration today?"

"I have to be. They won't let me into school tomorrow without it."

"Would that be so terrible?' Carl's grin was wicked.

"I honestly don't know. Mom would be unhappy and Kirstin would have to face her harassers alone, so it's best if I just get this over with."

"Well, your costume should be ready before your appointment downtown. We can pick it up on the way, if you'd like. Probably better to register in costume or they'll have too many questions left blank. And that would defeat the purpose of this, eh? As our Canadian friends would say."

"Do you have any Canadian friends?" Oran asked.

"Of course. Not sure their still alive, but I worked several cross-border cases with the Northern Lights back in the 1960's." Carl rambled into an anecdote that lasted until Mariela joined them.

They both stood up and offered her kisses. She sat and wrapped herself around her steaming mug. "I was just telling Oran about the case with Kodiak and Fleur di Lis back in '67."

"That was before I was born, Dad." She looked at Oran. "And while I know you need to train him, that doesn't mean I want you to fill his head with silly ideas of the glorious past and how cool heroing is. Friday night was enough of that, if you ask me."

"He's not trying to convince me or anything, Mom. It's just ... I like to hear about his glory days. It sort of makes me feel like I'm not alone, you know. Less of a freak."

"There's nothing freakish about super powers," she snapped. "But neither is there anything inherent good or special about them either. Once you're trained, you don't ever have to use them if you don't want to. They don't have to shape your life."

Oran remembered Carl saying Mariela was a partial super with minor energy absorption powers. She had obviously chosen not to acknowledge them, much less use them actively. He had no desire to let her know he was aware of her abilities.

"They don't have to ruin your life either." Carl's voice said this was an old argument. "There's nothing wrong with heroing, just like there's nothing wrong with being a teacher or a doctor or a businessman. It's all about who you are and what you want to do."

They glared at each other for a minute then turned away, looking out over the park. Not long afterwards Tetyana and Kirstin came out. The housekeeper carried the bagel platter out and set in on the table. She snagged one and went back inside. Kirstin carried a glass of juice and was already nibbling on a doughy round.

"While we are alone, I wanted to show you all something," Carl said, looking mostly at Kirstin. "This may be something of a surprise, but don't get scared."

"You going to show us your false teeth gramps?" Oran said, his eyes open wide in wonder.

"You little shit!" Carl cursed.

"Dad!"

"Sorry," Oran and Carl said at the same time, both to Mariela.

"Kirstin, don't freak out," Oran took her hand as Carl retrieved his little detonator device. It provided the energy he need to jumpstart the transformation. A moment later Cobalt was standing on the balcony. At twenty-tree stories up on the Park-facing side of the building, there was no danger that someone else would see the change. "Ta-da!"

"You've got to be kidding me," Kirstin goggled.

One quick explanation later, illustrated with archival news footage on Oran's tablet, and they discussed how Cobalt would train Oran to use his powers safely. This might include the teen staying with Carl on occasion. The veteran hero would also register as Fenrir's official coach, making it easier for him to avoid being forced into a super academy by DEMA.

"Speaking of which, we have to get moving," Carl said. "I got Hector, my contact at DEMA to get them to push the registration to this morning rather than descending on the hospital yesterday. But they are waiting. We can't be late."

"Right," Oran agreed. "Mom, I think it would be best if you weren't there. I don't know if word that I'll be at the DEMA office might have gotten out and more people might be after me."

"I'll make sure he's ok. I can play bodyguard as well as coach." Cobalt reassured his daughter.

"Just be safe." Mariela said, with Kirstin nodding agreement.

Carl, back in his normal form, took Oran by taxi to the garment district. There they met with the Couturier. She was an older woman, tall and thin, with a tape measure around her neck wearing a sharply tailored woman's suit and a small domino mask as her only disguise.

"Elinor, this is my other new protégé – Fenrir. He's ready for his final fitting."

"You know how I dislike being rushed, Warren." She sounded most put out. "This will not be my best work."

"He's not going pro, just needs it for DEMA and such."

"Yes, well ..." She turned to Oran and smiled, suddenly friendly and mothering. "Don't worry dear. Not my best is still better by far than those other hacks."

She looked him over, occasionally taking up various color swatches and holding them against his arm, face, or hair; all the while making "hmmm" and "tsk" sounds. "Yes, I think this will work." She sent him into a changing room with a package she took from a shelf.

He came out in a sleeveless two-toned singlet that came down to his thighs. A stylized wolf head adorned the chest. He had tabi-style boots with leather shin guards and leather bracers on his wrists. She looked at him and nodded.

"Not quite there." She touched the chest and the kevlex fabric started rippling. It redistributed itself for a better fit. The colors shifted subtly to better match his skin tones. She handed him a slightly fringed leather jacket that contrasted and complimented the rest of the outfit. "I know you did not ask for a mask, but I have included one, just in case you want to complete the more classic look."

He donned the mask, a layered leather construction which suggested a vulpine visage rather than directly depicting a wolf, and looked in the mirror. It covered his nose and eyes leaving the rest of his face and hair free. "Yeah, that definitely makes the look."

The costumed duo left through the roof exit, Cobalt carrying Fenrir. They made their way downtown to Battery Park City where the Manhattan DEMA offices were located. The tourists in the nearby park were pointing at them as they flew over. An older Hispanic man, balding with a close-trimmed beard and a broad smile met them at the door, his hand out in welcome.

"Cobalt, it's good to see you." He turned to Fenrir. "So, this is your new trainee?"

"One of them. There's another new kid I'm trying to convince to work with me. Another blue skinned flier." His white smile stood out in his blue metallic face. "Not much luck bringing him in yet. But I'll keep trying." Carl and Oran had decided that it was likely Cobalt will be seen with Pulsar at some point and they wanted to plant an explanation.

Carl turned to Oran. "Fenrir, this is Héctor Elizondo, founding director of DEMA."

"That was quite a few years ago," Hector said with a modest smile. "I've been retired for years. Now they're waiting for us. Let's get this done. I've got Sunday dinner with the family at 2:00."

I've always said having a flag officer on your side, even a retired one, can really smooth the way. Pope thought as the former director, and his guests, were treated with like VIPs and the registration process went without a hitch, save for two.

"I'm sorry," the DEMA drone said, confused, when Cobalt admitted he did not have a registration number to put down next to his name as Fenrir's trainer. "You're not registered? But that's illegal."

"Don't blow a gasket," Hector chided. "He's one of the legacy heroes grandfathered in under the original DEMA Authorization Act of 1977. You can look it up, if you need to."

"No, sir. That won't be necessary."

The second awkward moment was when the drone realized Oran was the stepson of the man responsible for providing electricity to most of New York and half of New Jersey and New England. "Does Mr. Colman know you are registering? I mean ..."

"You just said, not ten minutes ago, that it's illegal not to register," Oran said reasonably. "Why should he have anything to do with this?"

"But, he's ..."

"Immaterial to this registration?" Hector cut in. "Need I remind you, minors do not need parental permission to register."

"I have a certificate of permission for registration and training from Oran's mother, who is his sole legal guardian." Cobalt produced the document and handed it to Hector. The former director looked it over carefully, then handed it to the drone.

"Er..." after glancing at the certificate, the bureaucrat continued, "I guess everything is in order."

"Let's go over this quickly. Public Alias: Fenrir, Powers: Level I enhanced strength, agility, speed, endurance, durability, regeneration, and senses. Age: 15. Underage Trainer: Cobalt. Legal ID, address, etcetera. Everything seems to be in order."

"If you want to take advantage of DEMA's support services or our Brighter Future programs for young supers you will have to undergo a more thorough application and assessment process. Here is some information about those opportunities. Do you have any questions?"

Pope had a lot of experience dealing with this sort of functionary and was able to parse his verbal boilerplate. "Thank you for your help in this. I'll look at these carefully and get back to you if I need more information."

"My card is there in the folder."

"Yes, thank you." Oran concluded. He gathered the two older men with his eyes and indicated the door. They nodded and stated taking their leave from the DEMA employee.

Outside Oran made sure to thank the former director. Hector accepted handshakes from both then got into his car. He was waving when the driver pulled away.

"Nice guy," Fenrir said.

"Yeah, a real peach. Back in the day he was a solid cop. It's a shame he got mixed up with these jerks, but he meant well." Cobalt shook his head.

"So, what now?"

"Now it's training time, bucko, Cobalt smiled. "Let's start at the HQ. I think we need to AAR Friday's fight, then go from there."

They spent several hours going over the videos of the fights, identifying what went well and where the problems were. "I couldn't get the power level right to fight the three supers." Oran said. "Physically they were too much for me, but my energy powers were too dangerous for them. I was having to hold aback so much that I wasn't really hurting them."

"That's always a problem for the big guns fighting street level punks. What can we do about it?"

"I was able to use the gravity well to hold them."

"Yeah. But they were still conscious and could have gotten away or started fighting again if they got free. You need something to take them out of the fight for at least five minutes."

"I was thinking about a stun gun. I got hit with one a couple of times by the kidnappers." Oran held up his hand and sent sparks from his fingers. Of course he turned blue. "I remember how it felt. I think I might be able to develop something like that to disrupt people's systems without actually damaging them."

"Sounds good. Let's give it a try. I've got a few testing dummies I got from a friend, but they will only get us so far. We'll need to find a live target to practice on after that."

"What about you?" Oran smiled wickedly.

"You're welcome to try, but I doubt it'll work out for you. Energy absorption remember?"

"Worth a shot."

By the end of the day they had worked on two stunning attacks, one electrical and one light based. Carl drank both in like a double espresso. They called it quits in time to adjourn to Oran's apartment for a great dinner prepared by Tetyana. Oran spent the evening checking his homework and preparing for what he suspected would be another difficult day in high school.

The next morning Kirstin and Oran walked silently, almost crackling with tension. Each was preoccupied with their thoughts. Oran's were mostly Oh crap, Oh crap, Oh crap. When he saw Hester, bouncing like she really had to go potty, followed by Alex, looking like someone had run over his favorite computer.

"Oran!" Hester threw herself onto the teen. If he had been much taller, she would have hung off him by his neck. "You're a super! That's sooo ..."

Oran picked her up by her waist, ducked under her arms, and gently set her on her feet. When she felt him lift her like she was weightless, she stopped talking and her eyes got big. "I'm not A Super," he said. "I may have a few superpowers, but I'm the same I guy I was last week. I'm your friend. That's all. So, don't go all fangirl."

"Ok ..." she squeaked.

"You may be the same as you were last week," Alex snarled. "Because you changed before Spring Break."

"Alex?" Hester reached a hand to him but stopped before touching.

"No! He was already smarter, richer, and better looking. Now this. How can anyone compete? It's just too much!" Alex turned away. "Just too much ..."

Hester looked between the two boys.

"Go with him," Oran said. "He needs to know he hasn't lost you. He shouldn't be alone."

"But what about you?"

"Sometimes changes break things," Oran said quietly. Hester sniffed, but ran after Alex.

"You think it's broken with Alex?" Kirstin asked.

"I think he likes Hester and she likes me. She's a fan of supers, so this is just another thing in my favor as far as he is concerned."

"Do you like Hester?"

"As a friend. I don't think I like anyone romantically. Not right now."

"A lot of girls are starting to notice you, even Noreen, if you're interested."

"I've got too many changes going on. I'm really not ready to dive into the deep end of the dating pool. I think I'll stay dry a while longer." Kirstin smiled and nodded her acceptance.

When they got to school, everyone was staring at him. No, no one noticed, and there are no rumors. He cursed inwardly while doing his best to ignore the other students. Once inside he realized it was not jus the students. Dr. Lau, the physics teacher, in particular was watching him like an experiment in progress when he passed her lab.

After I&S, a call on Mr. J's phone summoned Oran to the office of Dr. Jolliet, the school psychologist. Upon arrival he found his mother and Ms. Navarro, the security specialist, were also waiting at a conference table.

"Mr. Bry," Dr. Jolliet intoned, his face serious. "Please take a seat."

Oran's mother smiled at him and he chose to sit next to her.

"We are here to discuss the implications of your recent emergence on your educational journey." Dr. Jolliet spoke like that. He was almost an academic stereotype. "As you may know there are certain limitations placed on metahumans in primarily human educational establishments. This is one reason many metahumans choose to pursue further learning in specialized institutions. The first question we have to address is whether you wish to continue matriculation at Westminster Academy."

Mariela looked at Oran who nodded once. "Oran will continue at Westminster."

"You sound a little uncertain?" Dr. Jolliet offered.

What do you mean? That was a pretty clear statement? Oran thought. He looked at the older man and noticed that he was sweating in the air-conditioned room. A subtle sniff brought the scent he was coming to associate with fear or anxiety. What is up with this guy? Even Ms. Navarro was giving him a side-glance.

"Not at all, Doctor. We are adamant that he will finish his schooling at this institution. Unless there is an issue of which we are unaware?" Oran's mother voice dared the administrator to present an issue.

"Very well," Jolliet sounded a bit disappointed. "Then you will need to be aware of several restrictions required by law or Westminster policy."

As if the two were the same thing, Oran mentally snickered.

"The primary restrictions are curricular and co-curricular. No metahuman is allowed to participate in physical educational classes or any physically-related sports, club, or activities." Jolliet's voice was flat.

"Does that include the Parkour Club, which I started?" Oran asked, oddly upset. Pope had no attachment to the activity and no real desire to shepherd kids through it. But old Oran's connection to the club seemed to be sparking a niggling regret at its loss.

"Of course!" The Doctor sounded shocked he would ask. "Your leadership of that activity is the very reason it is particularly dangerous. Your enhanced agility and durability might allow you to demonstrate moves that could cause injury to a human should they attempt to emulate you. Boxing is also completely inappropriate, for obvious reasons."

I don't think I like the way this prick keeps stressing "humans", as if I were no longer human. Oran fumed. Dickhead!

"There are certain security considerations," added Ms. Navarro with a calm smile. "Though I am certain they'll not prove a problem."

Now there's a woman I could enjoy negotiating with, Oran mentally catcalled. Pope was again a little shocked at the path his thought were taking. Damned puberty...