WD Cleveland Log 30 (Harper Morin)

-----[[Session 30: Harper Morin, October 15, 2009]]-----
Antioch|GM
You're in pain. Bruises all over your body, you sit up and every part of you moans in protest. Rubbing gingerly at your collarbone, you swear you can feel the hairline fracture from where a baton struck you.
You look around at the white, featureless room around you, and the dingy, metal sink and toilet in the corner. Oh, great. A holding cell.
Your memories prior to being knocked out are a blur, but you smile grimly, looking at your palms, remembering the sensation of calling those small balls of light into them.
Hah, that's right. You have superpowers now. Superpowers that didn't stop you from getting thrown into the lockup, apparently, a bitter voice complains at the back of your head.
But man, was it satisfying to see - bursts of light shattering next to the officers, sending them bleeding and reeling, giving them a taste of their own medicine.
You indulge in some nostalgia for a moment, sitting on the cold bench. You have nothing better to do. ||
deluge
Some peaceful protest. I suppose triggering is evidence enough that I was treated unfairly, but.. Shit, did I kill anyone?
deluge
Maybe I can call it self-defense but the police is sure to hire a better lawyer than I ever could...
I don't want to be in here.
Any doors, vents, anything at all that might help me in getting out?
deluge
||
Antioch|GM
Hmm. You don't see much - the door is right there, easily eight by eight feet if not larger. Knowing your powers, you doubt the law enforcement would put you in some place that you could easily break out of.
Someone should be in to speak to you at some point, though. At least, you hope they are. You're getting thirsty, and that sink doesn't look very clean. ||
deluge
At this rate, I'm probably missing my second shift at work. Should have stuck my ass at home today. Trouble with the cops is going to spill over into my worklife. "Sorry, I was arrested for assaulting a police officer," is sure to go over famously with my manager.
That is assuming I get out.
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deluge
My mind keeps racing with the thought that maybe I really did kill someone. It's hard to focus on much else at this point. Hopefully someone can come in and explain things soon. Or perhaps another policeman will come in and beat the shit out of me again. ||
Antioch|GM
After an hour or so, the door opens. A woman in a suit enters, clipboard and stern expression.
Antioch|GM
"Alina Marquez, Columbus PRT. I'm here to explain some things to you."
"You have the right to remain silent. If you do say anything, it can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have a lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you so desire."
"That being said, parahuman law is lenient on the recently triggered - before I begin questioning, is there any clarification on your situation that you require?" ||
deluge
My tongue refused to make words for a few tense moments, but I finally manage, "What exactly happened? My memory is hazy."
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deluge
Bleakly I note that even though this seemed far better than a police beating off-camera, this lady still looks like she could kick my ass.
Well, in the state I'm in, anyone could kick my ass. ||
Antioch|GM
"You triggered, surrounded by policemen armed with nonlethal weapons, and reacted by using your new power to disable them, though they were able to subdue you with reinforcements."
Antioch|GM
"The most significant injuries were four type IIIb concussions, three with no noted lasting brain damage, one still unconscious."
Antioch|GM
"You were taken to the Columbus police station - improper conduct, by the way, you should have been taken to the PRT division as a recent triggeree. I was fortunate enough to receive a call from, presumably, one of your friends, informing the PRT of a recent trigger at the protest, and I was able to strongarm my way through the pain-in-the-ass bureaucratic procedures they have here."
She glances at her watch. "It's been about five hours since your incarceration, by the way. It's 4:42 in the afternoon." ||
deluge
Something about hearing a government official curse relaxes me a little.. She feels a little more human after that but I still feel apprehensive. The whole government official part kind of stands in the way of me trusting her anytime soon.
deluge
I don't have a lawyer and waiting around for them to appoint me one will waste even more time. I shift uncomfortably and ask, "What sort of questions do you have for me?"
Maybe if I'm vague and polite, I can get out of here quickly. ||
Antioch|GM
"First things first - I've gotten vague, secondhand reports from the protesters and the officers alike about your power, but could you explain exactly what you're capable of?" ||
deluge
Now that's.. a good question. Furrowing my brow, I turn to my outstretched palms, now smooth and unassuming.
“I remember getting really scared. I wanted them to be away from me and to be somewhere safe. One got really close and pointed his weapon at me and naturally, I held up my hands to shield myself with. Defense, you know?”
“There seemed to be almost a pulling from the inside of my palm, like someone was drawing out a string or something. There was light from the middle of it, then a small ball. I was afraid and threw it away from me. I guess it exploded? I’m not sure at that point. I was hit and things got fuzzy.”||
Antioch|GM
She's scribbling notes down on her clipboard as you speak, but finishes writing nearly the same time you finish speaking. "Alright. What about personal information? Name, age, SSN, home, et cetera." ||
deluge
“Uh, right,” I felt that I was telling too much. Now that the nervousness was starting to subside, a strange mix of dull anger and amusement overtook me. It’s their fault that I’m here, but it’s also their fault that I triggered, I suppose.
“Harper Morin. I’m 19. My social security is 714433212. I’m from Cleveland, I live there." ||
Antioch|GM
Again taking down the information you give her with a practiced hand, Marquez gives nods slightly.
"Are you in high school? College? Employed?" ||
deluge
"I graduated from high school last year. No college, not yet, but I am employed. I have two jobs, one at Carmike Theatre, close to the mall and, uh,"
deluge
My face always burns a little when I tell people this, "I also work at Popeye's." ||
Antioch|GM
Still taking down the information, Marquez nods.
"Like I said, there's a lot of leniency regarding people who unintentionally commit crime in the midst of their trigger events."
Antioch|GM
"I'm sure you're familiar with the Protectorate," she explains, "I'm certain we could come to terms here. A clean criminal record, in exchange for your joining them."
Antioch|GM
"You work quite a lot of hours, hmm? Saving up for college, supporting your family, that sort of thing?" ||
deluge
In the realm of things I want to do, acting as a guard dog to enforce the very laws that disadvantage the poor is at the very end of the line. ..but a criminal record means under the table and underpaid jobs. I tried to stay focused on home, on my ailing mother and the long, long hours dad works to support them both.
“They pay? Even if I die?” ||
Antioch|GM
She nods, smiling near-imperceptibly.
Glancing at the wall behind you, as if reciting from rote, she begins to speak.
"Membership in the Protectorate program involves one year of junior membership, with a base salary of $78,780 USD a year.  Additional salary may be allowed by the department, typically to accommodate housing costs for a particular area or in response to other skills the junior member brings to the table, as appreciation for the value it brings to the team or as a competitive offer."
"Junior members are effectively probationary members, cannot lead a team, and have restricted permissions for confidential data and sensitive material."
"True probationary members are members with probationary status under the law and a proven history of illegal conduct.  An individual must vouch for them, and an in-house tribunal is convened to discuss and debate the merits of their inclusion. When probationary member status ends, typically after a five to fifteen year term, the individual in question becomes a junior member."
"Full membership involves a base salary of $112,810 USD a year, plus additional salary as allowed by the department, as described above."
"The PRT may dock or garnish wages as the situation demands, to defray offending and unexpected costs, such as property damage, lawsuits or fines, or as punitive measures.  Any protectorate cape of any membership status can contact a higher office to dispute these fines."
"I'm glossing over the health and life insurance here, but given the nature of the profession, you can expect benefits that a lot of industries can't hope to match."
"I trust I have your attention?" ||
deluge
“Considering it’s just you and me in here, there’s not much else I could pay attention to,” I gave a small sigh of resignation, “I’m interested, of course, being that the alternative is possible jail time.”
“I guess I’ll have to work in Cleveland, though?” I didn’t try to hide the dismay in my voice. I’ve been there 6 months now. I know what it’s like. ||
Antioch|GM
She nods. "You don't have to sound so upset, dear. Think of it as keeping your family safe, for one." ||
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deluge
“My family lives outside of town, so they’ll be okay, unless, well, the gangs take a sudden interest in yellow perch fishing.”
“What happens now? Can I go home?” ||
Antioch|GM
"Almost, almost. I'll need you to fill out some forms, of course, but we can do that in the PRT offices. If you're not feeling so well, I can arrange for one of my men to drop you off at your home. Anything that you'd need to fill out you could do at the Cleveland office, after all."
||
deluge
"I'd definitely like to go home and rest on this a bit. My head is pounding and this.."
“This has been a lot to take in.”
“I’m fine with your people taking me back, wait,” I paused, “by your people, you don’t mean the Columbus PD, do you?”
deluge
||
Antioch|GM
Marquez looks affronted. "Hell no," she says, rolling her eyes. "You think I'm giving them an excuse to pull any more shit? You're in my hands now, don't worry."
She leads you out of the holding cell, and you see two PRT squaddies standing in the lobby at attention, clearly at odds with the police department.
One of them hands you a plastic tub, your belongings contained within.
"Let's go, men. Our business here is done." She gestures for you to follow her. One of the officers standing at the exit shoots her a dirty look, which she returns with interest. ||
Antioch|GM
-||
Antioch|GM
You follow them, equal parts hope and trepidation. You might be able to stomach this, if the rest of the PRT acts similarly to Marquez. The mention of a salary eases the blow a lot - doing some quick mental math, you estimate a 35-dollar hourly rate, which is a little hard to comprehend.
Who knows, you muse to yourself. Maybe you'll get the chance to be a /real/ hero. ||||