I never wanted to be special.
All right, I take that back. As a child I probably wanted to be special. Don't all little girls want a shining prince on a white horse to take them away to a fantasy land, free of hunger, disease, and Devouring Earth? That would be special, right?
After the Incident, I desperately wished to be normal.
I put emphasis on the occurrence, but really, that night was no different from most before it, and hardly different from a great deal after: I went to bed, slept, and woke. I didn't even realize I was *different* until I came to the breakfast table and my mother's eyes widened in surprise. As it was the first emotion I had seen her express since the disappearance of my father, it got my attention.
Well, as much as anything did those days. You see, I was fourteen years old, living and going to school in Topeka. My parents were both scientists, for a given definition of 'scientist'. My mother had wanted to go to some amazing science academe when she was younger, but the advent of the Hamidon crushed those plans. My father was of a more mystic bent, and devoted his life (and, quite possibly, his death) to the search for some magical 'Well' of sorts. He left on his self given quest when I was eight years old.
After that, my mother just really... gave up living. Oh, she still took care of me, still put roof overhead and food on the table. I just think now that first the crushing blow of losing her life's dream to a mad, mad scientist, then being abandoned by the only other thing she could depend on... Well. I don't know. Topeka was struggling along in those days. Mostly we didn't have electricity even. I realized that it might be hard to believe, given the method of this record, but its different out there, where every day brought the threat of new attacks by the Devoured, more land that had been swallowed by the eternal forest, more people who had fled to the one, shining beacon of safety and security.
I wonder what Marauder, that is, Praetor White, would say if he could see what had become of the land that he defended and befriended so many years ago.
Ah, no. I got off on a tangent. Where was I? Oh yeah. Mother was basically just going through the motions by that day, so her showing surprise scared me to my bones. She immediately got up, took my arm and dragged me into the bathroom, where the mirror showed what I had become.
Oh, what a difference! To that land, where the abnormal was looked upon as heralds of the Earth, I would have been dragged into the street and lynched, then burned, then my ashes scattered to the winds. Mother went to the school, told them that I was horribly sick, and that was that. She put the excuse forward that I was now being home-schooled, a not terribly uncommon occurrence for those whose parents worked out of their home, and I did not leave that house for the next three years.
Mother died shortly after I turned seventeen. I went to the funeral covered head to toe in black, loose clothes. I told the Padre that I would have my things out of the house, and he could turn it over to other residents, or do whatever he wished. That was normal, in those days. Houses were for families, after all. There were apartments and dorms for singles. Its strange that, when I try to recall, I believe I only shed a single tear for the woman who gave birth to me and took care of me for seventeen years. I know, however, that the heat of the funeral pyre dried that tear before it fell from my face.
I moved into a small, two room apartment the next day. I continued my mother's job, referencing and refiling news reports into archive. Every Monday they were delivered and picked up from my door. I only left the apartment to get food once a week, and then I covered myself up completely, complaining of sensitive skin. I don't think anyone saw my face for the next six years.
Then came The Request.
Emperor Cole made The Request to all individuals across the globe that any superpowered person was to come to the City. By 'Superpowered' they meant *anyone* who was not 'normal'. Whether a genetic Mutant, a Scientific change, a person reliant on Technology, some Magic user, or even those who possessed capabilities above those Natural, all were 'requested' to come to Praetoria City for some, unknown purpose.
I'd heard of it, of course. One doesn't handle most of the news for a province without learning something of that magnitude. I payed it no mind, though, for I had never shown anyone my unusual form. As well, the... abilities I possessed, I... didn't use. Not consciously, not even unconsciously, as far as I knew. Not since mother had a fit at me, when experimenting, years ago.
But when there was a knock on my door midday Thursday, I knew my time of anonymity was up.
I went to open the door, not caring that I was only wearing shorts and a t-shirt. After all, I spent nearly all of my time alone, and whenever I went outside I was swaddled completely. There were three men standing there. Two of them were wearing the uniform and badge of the City's Police force. The last was... well. I was not sure that he was a man at first, since his head was like a shark's, the skintight covering he sported showed clearly the bulging bloodvessels of his arms and legs, and he had a *tail*. The shark-man looked me up and down, and I could see him taking stock of me.
I realize at this point I have not yet told of my appearance, always hinting around it as abnormal. I give a brief description now, then. I stand about just a hair over five feet tall. My skin is a very light violet, fading to a darker shade around my hands and feet. My hair... ah, Heavens, my hair. Blue, if that is believable. A startling deep blue, with highlights of violet shocked through, long and ragged, since I took a knife to it when I felt it had grown too long. Tall, pointed ears, and deep violet eyes. Oh yes, before I forget. The incident took place when I was fourteen. Looking at me, one could say that it happened yesterday. I have not aged in the near decade since. That is me.
Anyway, the shark-man looked me over, then said my name questioningly. I nodded. “Well then,” he began again. “By the order of the Emperor, you are hereby drafted into the Powers Division. Do you have anything to say?” I shook my head negatively. The shark-man frowned then, and I wondered at how his face, so alien to human, still expressed itself so well. “Very well. You are able to pack one bag not to exceed twenty-five pounds for personal effects. Don't worry about clothing unless it has some sentimental value. All your possessions will undergo inspection when we reach the City. Anything you leave here will be repossessed by the provincial authorities.”
It didn't take more than five minutes to pack. I won't list what I took with me, only note that they were artifacts of my parent's interest, and were returned to me unharmed later. My bag was handed over to one of the policemen, and I was escorted to a helicopter parked on the roof of the town hall. There we were met by another man I assumed to be from Powers Division: a hulking brute covered in bulky red armor. He had with him a young man of about sixteen, if I were to guess, who's ears were large. So large, in fact, that they hung down below his armpits, and flapped out to the side beyond his shoulders. His eyes were dull and unintelligent. He was humming some repetitive tune and occasionally sang about 'tie them in a bow' or some such.
We all boarded the helicopter and took off. It is rather frightening to look down upon the world and see not the mark of humanity, but the eternal forest of the Devoured. There were ruins here and there, but they were all overtaken by the Earth and its champions.
During the flight I learned that my recruiter's name was Riptide and the red giant was Stern. They were mid-level Powers Division, and were, like now, occasionally tasked to go out and bring in those Supers who had not registered. From what I could discern, they had been out of the City almost constantly since the Request, bringing in Supers from their hiding spots across the globe. People who, like me, had hidden away their abnormality in hopes of living their lives out in peace. Unfortunately for myself and these others, someone who they referred to as 'Mother' had long since ferreted out their identities and hiding spots, and was just waiting for someone to ask for the list of all the Supers who were not in the Powers Division.
Some hours of traversing Devoured countryside later, dusk approached and I spotted a gleaming reflection on the clouds. It only took a few minutes for the twin towers of the City to come into view in all their glory. Riptide leaned over to me, and told me, “The whole Empire is Praetoria, and they call this place the City, but to the people who live here, and now you, this place *is* Praetoria, both heart and soul of the Empire and the Emperor. Take a good look here. There are few who can enjoy the view from this height.” He then leaned up to the pilot and conversed for a moment.
The helicopter, which had been aiming almost straight for the western edge of the City swung about, and proceeded to circle the golden jewel of the City. I will admit, that first sight, with all the gleaming metal and glass structures took my breath away. If *this* were what the whole world was like, then it would be Eden come again.
It seemed no time at all later that we had landed, the four of us shuffled off to a waiting car. The windows were darkened and neither Riptide nor Stern spoke during the drive. Eventually we stopped, and were escorted into a white building. Stern and the big eared man parted ways from Riptide and myself. He led me to a stark white room with only one fixture: a small, uncomfortable looking chair in the middle of the room. Riptide gestured for me to sit, and I did, uneasily. I suppose that I expected some sort of manacles, or locks to hold me there, but nothing happened.
Indeed, nothing happened for quite some time. Riptide just stood to one side of the door at ease, arms crossed over his chest, relaxed. It was sudden when the door opened, a sharp crack sounded as it bounced off the wall. The woman that strode in was tall and imposing, with dark skin and black hair. *She* was wearing a sleeved leotard with a silver belt, and tall boots with cutouts. *She* had a smile on *her* face as *she* looked at me, but it didn't reach *her* eyes at all. Eyes, which anyone who has seen *her* can tell you, bore no little bit of insanity in them.
*She* kept smiling for quite a few minutes too, until *she* suddenly snarled and turned to Riptide. “She's Psi-deaf. She can't hear anything unless its loud enough to HURT.” At that last word, I had a spike of pain crash through my skull, and I screamed in pain that *lasted*.
When I came to, Riptide was kneeling in front of me, holding me in the chair. The woman was gone, the door shut again. I looked at Riptide beseechingly. “Who was that woman?” I had asked.
“That was the Minister of Heath, Praetor Tilman.” He had replied. “She's also in charge of the Seer Program, which was what she was testing you for.” He grimaced briefly. “Be glad, kid, that you didn't pass. Be very glad.” He then got up and went to the door, opening it and speaking to someone on the other side. “Now we get to test what kind of powers you have and where they came from.”
“What if my powers aren't useful?” I had asked.
He shook his head as technicians started bringing equipment into the room. “They'll find something for you to do, let me tell you, kid. There's precious few that can bow out and go back to their old lives with just a PD registration. Trust me. They find jobs for everybody. I knew a guy who had the power to change the color of things. Wore off after about an hour, but he's still kicking around here setting up color schemes for events and whatnot. Even if you can't do much, you'll still get a F-Class registry.”
Not much is made of the Powers Classification Registry. Most people recognized as Powers Division are D-Class or above. F-Class are those who have minor physical or mental enhancements. The large eared man I traveled with would be considered such – if he had no other powers. E-Class have a few minor powers that are only temporary, like the color-changer Riptide mentioned. D-Class are the first level that leave permanent changes. For most of recognized Powers Division, these changes are injuries done to criminals. C-Class are two or three orders of magnitude more powerful, able to effect large-scale changes in an immediate area. B-Class and A-Class merely bump up the area affected. It difficult to impossible to tell what sort of powers a person has by just looking at them. There's a long and boring series of test that must be performed to pin down exactly what a person can do, and how they do it.
Origin is quite a bit easier to pin down. Any suspicious changes in the DNA, and the classification is Mutant. Records of experimentation or whatnot, Science. Reliant on machines of some sort, Technology. Magic is the odd one out, as it can take many forms, but pretty much all of them rely on the manipulation of some mystic force called Mana. Natural is, well... The catch-all. If they can't find anything else odd about you, then you must have obviously developed it on your own, with no outside influence. The problem is, that my powers *cannot* have occurred through hard work and excellence.
“Temperature control.” One of the techs had said after their testing was done. “Extreme temperature control. She can influence temperatures from about 50 Kelvin to above 1500 Kelvin. We can't test any higher in this situation.” This was not news to me of course. Well, the extremes were. I already knew that I could change the temperature around me. After that I was taken to a slightly larger room with several people occupying it. Three of them looked like they worked there; one was measuring a woman and making sketches on a pad, one was discussing with a different patron about a design on a screen, and the last was looking at me.
Riptide spoke up, “This is where I leave you, kid. These guys will get you outfitted with a Division outfit. Don't worry about fitting in, or being conservative. The first outfit's on us. They'll also take down your Registry name, the one that people outside Powers Division will call you.” He slapped me on the back and left me to the tailor's tender mercies.
Speaking not so endearingly about my trials in the tailor's hands, I merely make note that I am still rather cowardly about my appearance, and requested that all my recognizable features be concealed. Upon hearing this, all three tailors glared at me, and the one assigned to me told me quite succinctly that I had to have *some* distinguishable feature available for viewing, to prevent anyone from parading around as me. My hair, he said, would be quite enough of a marker to prevent a doppelganger from attempting anything. I agreed, and he drew up a set of armor that would cover almost all of me. Face, ears, all except my hair, which he said he could style into a pair of simple ponytails.
Then he tricked me.
“What is your name?” He asked. I, my head spinning from everything that had happened since the knock on my door that morning, merely answered the truth. He just nodded and marked something down.
My Registry name, if you can't guess, is my actual last name, with of course my mother's appellation. I had asked them to hide my face, and he decided to show my name to the world.
The rest of that day was rather short. I was taken to the training dorms, and introduced to the woman who would teach me more aggressive uses for my abilities. I went to sleep in a bunk, with four other women ages seven to thirty-one. The next morn I was woken early, given a few sets of a simple uniform to wear during training, and then myself and the other women I shared the dorm with were given over to our trainer.
She was not sadistic, I could tell, but she was quite obviously tired of dealing with raw recruits, and it showed in her manner. I will say that I learned much from her, even though I made it clear that I did not wish to have any part in Powers Division. She didn't care, and I still learned what she taught.
Let me say that I am still, now, afraid of these powers that I possess. They have no explanation, yet they are powerful. I am currently rated at C-Class, with the proviso that as I get stronger I will certainly go up in Classification. However... I *hate* these capabilities. I hate the ice sword that screams as I make it. I hate the burning circles that entrap my foes and sear their flesh. I hate impaling them on shards of ice I have thrown. I hate that I can burn and sear, freeze and chill.
Enough. Though I am twenty-three years old, I am still a scared little girl inside.
I took me twelve days to complete the required training. I did well enough that they granted me a few devices to aid me in the City. Then my first day. The call to Precinct Five, the meeting with Wrencher, and my induction to the Resistance.
So that's almost everything that's happened. After I did her a favor, Splice set up a 'blackbox' for me that would send short messages out into the Static with no destination, just to drift there forever. Or maybe not forever, if this is being read. I never really intended it to be seen by anyone else. I only really intended it to be my catharsis from all of... this, I guess I could say.
Oh! One last thing!
They say Twilight never falls on Praetoria. Well, that's my new crusade. This place deemed it had to rip me away from my comfortable, quite, anonymous life. Well, I should return the favor, shouldn't I?
All right, I take that back. As a child I probably wanted to be special. Don't all little girls want a shining prince on a white horse to take them away to a fantasy land, free of hunger, disease, and Devouring Earth? That would be special, right?
After the Incident, I desperately wished to be normal.
I put emphasis on the occurrence, but really, that night was no different from most before it, and hardly different from a great deal after: I went to bed, slept, and woke. I didn't even realize I was *different* until I came to the breakfast table and my mother's eyes widened in surprise. As it was the first emotion I had seen her express since the disappearance of my father, it got my attention.
Well, as much as anything did those days. You see, I was fourteen years old, living and going to school in Topeka. My parents were both scientists, for a given definition of 'scientist'. My mother had wanted to go to some amazing science academe when she was younger, but the advent of the Hamidon crushed those plans. My father was of a more mystic bent, and devoted his life (and, quite possibly, his death) to the search for some magical 'Well' of sorts. He left on his self given quest when I was eight years old.
After that, my mother just really... gave up living. Oh, she still took care of me, still put roof overhead and food on the table. I just think now that first the crushing blow of losing her life's dream to a mad, mad scientist, then being abandoned by the only other thing she could depend on... Well. I don't know. Topeka was struggling along in those days. Mostly we didn't have electricity even. I realized that it might be hard to believe, given the method of this record, but its different out there, where every day brought the threat of new attacks by the Devoured, more land that had been swallowed by the eternal forest, more people who had fled to the one, shining beacon of safety and security.
I wonder what Marauder, that is, Praetor White, would say if he could see what had become of the land that he defended and befriended so many years ago.
Ah, no. I got off on a tangent. Where was I? Oh yeah. Mother was basically just going through the motions by that day, so her showing surprise scared me to my bones. She immediately got up, took my arm and dragged me into the bathroom, where the mirror showed what I had become.
Oh, what a difference! To that land, where the abnormal was looked upon as heralds of the Earth, I would have been dragged into the street and lynched, then burned, then my ashes scattered to the winds. Mother went to the school, told them that I was horribly sick, and that was that. She put the excuse forward that I was now being home-schooled, a not terribly uncommon occurrence for those whose parents worked out of their home, and I did not leave that house for the next three years.
Mother died shortly after I turned seventeen. I went to the funeral covered head to toe in black, loose clothes. I told the Padre that I would have my things out of the house, and he could turn it over to other residents, or do whatever he wished. That was normal, in those days. Houses were for families, after all. There were apartments and dorms for singles. Its strange that, when I try to recall, I believe I only shed a single tear for the woman who gave birth to me and took care of me for seventeen years. I know, however, that the heat of the funeral pyre dried that tear before it fell from my face.
I moved into a small, two room apartment the next day. I continued my mother's job, referencing and refiling news reports into archive. Every Monday they were delivered and picked up from my door. I only left the apartment to get food once a week, and then I covered myself up completely, complaining of sensitive skin. I don't think anyone saw my face for the next six years.
Then came The Request.
Emperor Cole made The Request to all individuals across the globe that any superpowered person was to come to the City. By 'Superpowered' they meant *anyone* who was not 'normal'. Whether a genetic Mutant, a Scientific change, a person reliant on Technology, some Magic user, or even those who possessed capabilities above those Natural, all were 'requested' to come to Praetoria City for some, unknown purpose.
I'd heard of it, of course. One doesn't handle most of the news for a province without learning something of that magnitude. I payed it no mind, though, for I had never shown anyone my unusual form. As well, the... abilities I possessed, I... didn't use. Not consciously, not even unconsciously, as far as I knew. Not since mother had a fit at me, when experimenting, years ago.
But when there was a knock on my door midday Thursday, I knew my time of anonymity was up.
I went to open the door, not caring that I was only wearing shorts and a t-shirt. After all, I spent nearly all of my time alone, and whenever I went outside I was swaddled completely. There were three men standing there. Two of them were wearing the uniform and badge of the City's Police force. The last was... well. I was not sure that he was a man at first, since his head was like a shark's, the skintight covering he sported showed clearly the bulging bloodvessels of his arms and legs, and he had a *tail*. The shark-man looked me up and down, and I could see him taking stock of me.
I realize at this point I have not yet told of my appearance, always hinting around it as abnormal. I give a brief description now, then. I stand about just a hair over five feet tall. My skin is a very light violet, fading to a darker shade around my hands and feet. My hair... ah, Heavens, my hair. Blue, if that is believable. A startling deep blue, with highlights of violet shocked through, long and ragged, since I took a knife to it when I felt it had grown too long. Tall, pointed ears, and deep violet eyes. Oh yes, before I forget. The incident took place when I was fourteen. Looking at me, one could say that it happened yesterday. I have not aged in the near decade since. That is me.
Anyway, the shark-man looked me over, then said my name questioningly. I nodded. “Well then,” he began again. “By the order of the Emperor, you are hereby drafted into the Powers Division. Do you have anything to say?” I shook my head negatively. The shark-man frowned then, and I wondered at how his face, so alien to human, still expressed itself so well. “Very well. You are able to pack one bag not to exceed twenty-five pounds for personal effects. Don't worry about clothing unless it has some sentimental value. All your possessions will undergo inspection when we reach the City. Anything you leave here will be repossessed by the provincial authorities.”
It didn't take more than five minutes to pack. I won't list what I took with me, only note that they were artifacts of my parent's interest, and were returned to me unharmed later. My bag was handed over to one of the policemen, and I was escorted to a helicopter parked on the roof of the town hall. There we were met by another man I assumed to be from Powers Division: a hulking brute covered in bulky red armor. He had with him a young man of about sixteen, if I were to guess, who's ears were large. So large, in fact, that they hung down below his armpits, and flapped out to the side beyond his shoulders. His eyes were dull and unintelligent. He was humming some repetitive tune and occasionally sang about 'tie them in a bow' or some such.
We all boarded the helicopter and took off. It is rather frightening to look down upon the world and see not the mark of humanity, but the eternal forest of the Devoured. There were ruins here and there, but they were all overtaken by the Earth and its champions.
During the flight I learned that my recruiter's name was Riptide and the red giant was Stern. They were mid-level Powers Division, and were, like now, occasionally tasked to go out and bring in those Supers who had not registered. From what I could discern, they had been out of the City almost constantly since the Request, bringing in Supers from their hiding spots across the globe. People who, like me, had hidden away their abnormality in hopes of living their lives out in peace. Unfortunately for myself and these others, someone who they referred to as 'Mother' had long since ferreted out their identities and hiding spots, and was just waiting for someone to ask for the list of all the Supers who were not in the Powers Division.
Some hours of traversing Devoured countryside later, dusk approached and I spotted a gleaming reflection on the clouds. It only took a few minutes for the twin towers of the City to come into view in all their glory. Riptide leaned over to me, and told me, “The whole Empire is Praetoria, and they call this place the City, but to the people who live here, and now you, this place *is* Praetoria, both heart and soul of the Empire and the Emperor. Take a good look here. There are few who can enjoy the view from this height.” He then leaned up to the pilot and conversed for a moment.
The helicopter, which had been aiming almost straight for the western edge of the City swung about, and proceeded to circle the golden jewel of the City. I will admit, that first sight, with all the gleaming metal and glass structures took my breath away. If *this* were what the whole world was like, then it would be Eden come again.
It seemed no time at all later that we had landed, the four of us shuffled off to a waiting car. The windows were darkened and neither Riptide nor Stern spoke during the drive. Eventually we stopped, and were escorted into a white building. Stern and the big eared man parted ways from Riptide and myself. He led me to a stark white room with only one fixture: a small, uncomfortable looking chair in the middle of the room. Riptide gestured for me to sit, and I did, uneasily. I suppose that I expected some sort of manacles, or locks to hold me there, but nothing happened.
Indeed, nothing happened for quite some time. Riptide just stood to one side of the door at ease, arms crossed over his chest, relaxed. It was sudden when the door opened, a sharp crack sounded as it bounced off the wall. The woman that strode in was tall and imposing, with dark skin and black hair. *She* was wearing a sleeved leotard with a silver belt, and tall boots with cutouts. *She* had a smile on *her* face as *she* looked at me, but it didn't reach *her* eyes at all. Eyes, which anyone who has seen *her* can tell you, bore no little bit of insanity in them.
*She* kept smiling for quite a few minutes too, until *she* suddenly snarled and turned to Riptide. “She's Psi-deaf. She can't hear anything unless its loud enough to HURT.” At that last word, I had a spike of pain crash through my skull, and I screamed in pain that *lasted*.
When I came to, Riptide was kneeling in front of me, holding me in the chair. The woman was gone, the door shut again. I looked at Riptide beseechingly. “Who was that woman?” I had asked.
“That was the Minister of Heath, Praetor Tilman.” He had replied. “She's also in charge of the Seer Program, which was what she was testing you for.” He grimaced briefly. “Be glad, kid, that you didn't pass. Be very glad.” He then got up and went to the door, opening it and speaking to someone on the other side. “Now we get to test what kind of powers you have and where they came from.”
“What if my powers aren't useful?” I had asked.
He shook his head as technicians started bringing equipment into the room. “They'll find something for you to do, let me tell you, kid. There's precious few that can bow out and go back to their old lives with just a PD registration. Trust me. They find jobs for everybody. I knew a guy who had the power to change the color of things. Wore off after about an hour, but he's still kicking around here setting up color schemes for events and whatnot. Even if you can't do much, you'll still get a F-Class registry.”
Not much is made of the Powers Classification Registry. Most people recognized as Powers Division are D-Class or above. F-Class are those who have minor physical or mental enhancements. The large eared man I traveled with would be considered such – if he had no other powers. E-Class have a few minor powers that are only temporary, like the color-changer Riptide mentioned. D-Class are the first level that leave permanent changes. For most of recognized Powers Division, these changes are injuries done to criminals. C-Class are two or three orders of magnitude more powerful, able to effect large-scale changes in an immediate area. B-Class and A-Class merely bump up the area affected. It difficult to impossible to tell what sort of powers a person has by just looking at them. There's a long and boring series of test that must be performed to pin down exactly what a person can do, and how they do it.
Origin is quite a bit easier to pin down. Any suspicious changes in the DNA, and the classification is Mutant. Records of experimentation or whatnot, Science. Reliant on machines of some sort, Technology. Magic is the odd one out, as it can take many forms, but pretty much all of them rely on the manipulation of some mystic force called Mana. Natural is, well... The catch-all. If they can't find anything else odd about you, then you must have obviously developed it on your own, with no outside influence. The problem is, that my powers *cannot* have occurred through hard work and excellence.
“Temperature control.” One of the techs had said after their testing was done. “Extreme temperature control. She can influence temperatures from about 50 Kelvin to above 1500 Kelvin. We can't test any higher in this situation.” This was not news to me of course. Well, the extremes were. I already knew that I could change the temperature around me. After that I was taken to a slightly larger room with several people occupying it. Three of them looked like they worked there; one was measuring a woman and making sketches on a pad, one was discussing with a different patron about a design on a screen, and the last was looking at me.
Riptide spoke up, “This is where I leave you, kid. These guys will get you outfitted with a Division outfit. Don't worry about fitting in, or being conservative. The first outfit's on us. They'll also take down your Registry name, the one that people outside Powers Division will call you.” He slapped me on the back and left me to the tailor's tender mercies.
Speaking not so endearingly about my trials in the tailor's hands, I merely make note that I am still rather cowardly about my appearance, and requested that all my recognizable features be concealed. Upon hearing this, all three tailors glared at me, and the one assigned to me told me quite succinctly that I had to have *some* distinguishable feature available for viewing, to prevent anyone from parading around as me. My hair, he said, would be quite enough of a marker to prevent a doppelganger from attempting anything. I agreed, and he drew up a set of armor that would cover almost all of me. Face, ears, all except my hair, which he said he could style into a pair of simple ponytails.
Then he tricked me.
“What is your name?” He asked. I, my head spinning from everything that had happened since the knock on my door that morning, merely answered the truth. He just nodded and marked something down.
My Registry name, if you can't guess, is my actual last name, with of course my mother's appellation. I had asked them to hide my face, and he decided to show my name to the world.
The rest of that day was rather short. I was taken to the training dorms, and introduced to the woman who would teach me more aggressive uses for my abilities. I went to sleep in a bunk, with four other women ages seven to thirty-one. The next morn I was woken early, given a few sets of a simple uniform to wear during training, and then myself and the other women I shared the dorm with were given over to our trainer.
She was not sadistic, I could tell, but she was quite obviously tired of dealing with raw recruits, and it showed in her manner. I will say that I learned much from her, even though I made it clear that I did not wish to have any part in Powers Division. She didn't care, and I still learned what she taught.
Let me say that I am still, now, afraid of these powers that I possess. They have no explanation, yet they are powerful. I am currently rated at C-Class, with the proviso that as I get stronger I will certainly go up in Classification. However... I *hate* these capabilities. I hate the ice sword that screams as I make it. I hate the burning circles that entrap my foes and sear their flesh. I hate impaling them on shards of ice I have thrown. I hate that I can burn and sear, freeze and chill.
Enough. Though I am twenty-three years old, I am still a scared little girl inside.
I took me twelve days to complete the required training. I did well enough that they granted me a few devices to aid me in the City. Then my first day. The call to Precinct Five, the meeting with Wrencher, and my induction to the Resistance.
So that's almost everything that's happened. After I did her a favor, Splice set up a 'blackbox' for me that would send short messages out into the Static with no destination, just to drift there forever. Or maybe not forever, if this is being read. I never really intended it to be seen by anyone else. I only really intended it to be my catharsis from all of... this, I guess I could say.
Oh! One last thing!
They say Twilight never falls on Praetoria. Well, that's my new crusade. This place deemed it had to rip me away from my comfortable, quite, anonymous life. Well, I should return the favor, shouldn't I?