Agrippa
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Wake-up Call – Chapter 91
🕑 Added 2023-07-20 01:54:41 +0000 UTCI would like to say that the engine of my baby roars as I cut through the night streets of Brockton Bay.
I want to say that I race faster than anybody without any kind of enhanced reflexes or precognitive powers ever could.
That I push my abilities to the utmost limit, going fast enough to leave behind the past few days.
I don’t.
Because my head is pounding, not even Power’s most recent care and worry for my wellbeing able to stave off my current Thinker headache.
And because, even if that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t.
I am… A part of me will always be Sarah Livsey, as Piggot so gleefully reminded me. And Sarah Livsey ran.
She ran from her problems, from a life that never quite fit, from a family that had been pared down.
From herself.
And then there was Lisa, and…
And I don’t want to run anymore.
So I don’t flee the intrusive thoughts about what I just did. About the so-called lesser evil I inflicted on two young women and one that defies qualification.
I don’t flee from my choices.
I… I know Taylor may have, not that long ago. That she would’ve stubbornly reframed every single one of her mistakes as something justified.
Necessary.
And, as much as I love her, I’m glad that’s no longer the case.
That she can realize her mistakes. That she can grow from them.
I just hope she doesn’t ever come to think I’m one of them.
So I drive slowly through cool streets, the Dallon house finally far behind me after my chat with Vicky, with the vapid blonde with an all-too-easy trigger that didn’t make up for everything she went through before and after.
She’s… I didn’t focus overly much on her when planning the kidnapping. Just enough to understand that her love for Amy was genuine enough, strong enough, that she would play her part.
She was just a piece in the plan.
And I hate myself just a bit more for it.
Lisa Wilbourn’s self-deprecation—
I’m a depressed teenager who has done some objectively disgustingly cruel things. I’m allowed to feel a therapeutic amount of self-hatred.
Lisa Wilbourn’s goals—
The ends justify the means? Is that what you’re going for, Power?
False dilemma—
All right. Yes, you have a point. It’s not quite… It’s not that easy, is it? Knowing when something is a step too far, when not taking that step is the worst evil you could commit, even if by omission…
Lisa Wilbourn’s conversation with Victoria Dallon—
Yeah.
Yeah, I… I like that. Her. I like that she can… can just do the simple stuff. The ‘save those in front of me’ part of heroics. As much as I would’ve mocked her for it just a few weeks ago, that has value.
Kantian ethics—
Really? That’s what you’re going for? That the world would be a better place if everybody did what she does?
Lisa Wilbourn—
Oh, heck, no. No. That would be a nightmare. Can you imagine? Millions of Lisas running around, fixing each others’ messes because they all knew best? We would all be planning genocide in less than a day.
Lisa Wilbourn’s self-deprecation—
Are you… angry? At me?
Lisa Wilbourn’s self-deprecation inconsistent with available data. Lisa Wilbourn’s contributions to Lisa Wilbourn’s associates objectively proven to have positive impact on emotional wellbeing and projected stability. Lisa Wilbourn’s empathy and—
Stop! Stop, I am blushing! I am driving down an empty street with very poor lighting, and I can’t afford to be distracted by sheer embarrassment!
Lisa Wilbourn’s sense of ethics—
Are incredibly faulty! Self-serving! I’m selfish, and I can barely focus on anyone other than the people I am still able to recognize as persons rather than tools! I would commit literal atrocities if anyone I love was—
Lisa Wilbourn’s capacity for emotional attachment—
That is not a positive trait! It just means I’m clingy, broken, and damaged. It just means I hold onto Tay, and Alec, and Rachel, and Dragon, and…
…
Power… Am I really… I want to be a good person. I really want to.
Next intersection—
What?
Decelerate. Lean right. Bike’s wheels acting as gyroscopes and stabilizing trajectory, next street—
Okay, okay, I know how to drive my baby. No need for the handholding.
Lisa Wilbourn’s irrational attachment to inanimate objects—
My baby’s wheels act as gyroscopes. They are not unanimated, so, there.
… Lisa Wilbourn’s puerile—
***
Following Power’s driving directions leads me to…
The Boat Graveyard.
Which isn’t precisely the most scenic view of the city.
Nor the safest.
So, yes, I kick back my bike’s stand, but I don’t dismount nor take my helmet away. I don’t even get my keys out of the ignition, not with how quickly I want to be able to get out of here at the first sign of trouble.
I wouldn’t even be here at this time if I didn’t have the superpower of literally guessing when things are about to get ugly.
Uglier than the Graveyard already is, I mean.
“So, what did you want to show me?” I ask out loud of the voice in my head, in a doomed attempt to feel slightly less insane than when our arguing is fully self-contained.
Look, lots of people talk to themselves. It’s even proven to have some noticeable positive effects when it comes to problem-solving or even emotional regulation.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
Lack of witnesses—
Well, yeah, that also plays a part in how willing I am to look completely crazy. After all, when in Rome…
Lisa Wilbourn’s lack of passport—
Rub it in, why don’t you?
Lisa Wilbourn’s lack of verbalization—
Oh, crap—
“I mean, oh, crap. Huh. This feels weirder than I thought. You know, I think the usual benefits of doing this don’t include having another participant in the process.”
Lisa Wilbourn’s anthropomorphizing of—
“Fuck you. No, seriously, fuck you, Power. After all that you have—after everything we have gone through together? I… I know it’s a joke. I know that’s your way of ‘innocently whistling,’ but… But I don’t like it. You are you, and… And I care about you, all right? As weird as that sounds, you’re like a… No, screw that; you are my brother. My little, know-it-all, motormouth of a brother, and I’m not going to let you pretend that you aren’t a person.”
Sherlock self-designation—
“… Don’t push it.”
Lisa Wilbourn’s hypocrisy—
“Okay, fine! Do you want me to call you something that utterly pretentious? Do you want to go through whatever is your equivalent of puberty, get to a point of maturity analog to your early twenties, and look back on the day when you decided that ‘Sherlock’ sounded like a very cool name and not something absolutely everybody you’ll ever meet will poke fun at? Be my guest! See if I care when you keep cringing at each and every traumatic memory until you want to hide under metaphysical bed covers and never come back out!”
… Likelihood of directly interacting with anyone other than Lisa Wilbourn—
“Never say never,” I whisper.
And then I lean forward.
My arms rest on my handlebars as I take a pose that’s just uncomfortably similar to what Emily adopted when we had our own talk while looking over Brockton’s sea, except that was in a nicer part of town.
There, on the boardwalk, the night breeze carried the heavy smell of seawater, and the black waves lazily went back and forth over white sands, disappearing in hissing foam each time they receded.
I needed Power to help me catch it all. Not to enhance my senses, because that isn’t what he does, but to give me enough hints that I could rebuild the scene in my mind as it happened.
It’s… something new. Something we just learned to do.
Soothing.
And it helped keep me calm until I pushed too far and was overwhelmed by the things I dredged up so I could be more persuasive, and I…
And I lost control of my emotions. Of my grief.
Because he’s still not there, dead in all but legalities. He hasn’t been saved despite all the work I’ve put in, and I keep missing him. I keep thinking about things I could call him about, about jokes to annoy him or let him pretend to be annoyed.
I keep thinking about a man who was there only for a short time, but… But it was enough.
Enough for him to carve out a piece of my heart and make himself comfortable there. For my life to have a Colin-shaped piece that I’ll forever treasure. For him to…
I’m crying.
Again, I’m crying.
It’s… It’s not harsh. Not like when I had to bite back my sobs while talking to Emily. It stings in my eyes and burns the back of my throat, yes, but the tears flow out slowly, and I don’t…
I keep breathing.
Like he does.
Like he keeps breathing, steady and strong, while lying on that hospital bed of his. While waiting for a true love’s kiss to wake him up, except he’s already had plenty of those, both from Hannah and Dragon, and he’s still…
There.
So I…
Empty surroundings—
Thank you.
So I take off my helmet, and the cold hits me, my tears on my cheeks caressed by frigid air that doesn’t smell like the beach does.
No, it…
There’s still the sea, yes, but that only makes it worse when so much spilled fuel taints the strong smells, turning nature into something just shy of revulsive that my tears don’t shield me from.
I wipe my eyes with my jacket’s sleeve, but it’s a futile gesture because the tears are renewed almost immediately.
Because I’m not stopping them.
“I… I don’t know why I feel this way, Power. I don’t miss Dad. Not really. Not like I sometimes missed Mom, even if I covered that up with anger and resentment. But Dad… he’s someone I just don’t want to exist. I don’t want him in my life, or in Mom’s, and I don’t care if he’s happy, or miserable, or even dead. I just want him gone. No, not even that. I want… I don’t. I don’t want anything from him, not even…
“Not even his absence.
“So I don’t know why I feel like this with Colin. Why… Why I’ve adopted him so readily and quickly. Why I’ve let him fill a role that I never needed in my life.
“I don’t know why he’s so…
“Important.”
I look over the ruined docks spread in front of me. The hulking, rusted ships that will never sail again. The broken concrete, shattered by the initial strike and the years without maintenance.
There are no streetlights here. At least, none that still work.
And I still don’t know why Power has brought me here.
Daniel Hebert’s—
Yeah. He’s obsessed with this, the broken moron.
Idealistic pursuit of—
No. No, that’s… I can see the attempt at nobility, but this isn’t going to work. Repairing this? What would it accomplish when all the industry has relocated to other ports? What incentive would there be to come back to Brockton Bay, cape crime capital of North America—
Lisa Wilbourn’s—
… What?
Long-term impact of recent events—
No.
Lisa Wilbourn’s self-doubt regarding ethical actions and positive impact on—
I… I am not… That wasn’t the plan. I never aimed for this; I just… I just…
Lisa Wilbourn’s regard of Victoria Dallon’s—
“I just helped those in front of me,” I whisper.
And…
And I’m still crying.
Haven’t stopped.
But now… Now there’s also a note of incredulity in there. Surprise.
Surprised joy.
Because I…
I have done good, haven’t I? And… And maybe that’s all it takes. Even when you don’t mean it. When you don’t plan for it. You just… You just do your best and deal with the things in your grasp, and then one day, you realize that…
That you aren’t alone. That we aren’t alone.
That everything we do impacts another person. That what you carelessly did without even realizing it years ago helped somebody else. And that may not have been important to you, but it was for them.
So it becomes important to you.
Lisa Wilbourn’s relevance to Taylor Hebert—
I—
Alec—
Power, I—
Rachel Lindt—
Stop. I get it, really—
Dragon—
“Power, seriously, stop pushing; I am already—”
Sherlock—
“You little shit,” I say before letting out a surprised bark of laughter.
Colin Wallis—
And the laughter dies.
Colin Wallis’ emotional attachment to Lisa Wilbourn—
“I… I know. I know he loved—loves me. I know he cares in his own clumsy, blundering way. I know he…”
Lisa Wilbourn’s plan—
“Do you… Do you really think it will work? That Panacea’ll be able to do it?” I say, my voice trembling.
Anthropomorphizing of parahuman abilities—
“I will hurt you—”
Lisa Wilbourn’s plan’s high likelihood of success—
“I… Really? Are you sure?”
Lisa Wilbourn’s intelligence, determination, motivation, and allies imply either success or future alternative approach to—
“Yeah,” I say.
Because…
Because if it’s about doing what’s within your reach? Helping those in front of you?
That’s an imperfect good.
But, maybe, its faults can be solved just by…
By moving forward.
By reaching farther.
So I take a last look around me, at the ruined place that was irrelevant until everything else was dealt with. Until somebody did what she could do with what was right in front of her.
At a place that can now be somebody else’s thing to grasp and solve.
And I put my helmet on and ride my bike toward where the daughter of that stupid moron who stubbornly persisted through the years waits for me.
Because, at the very least, she got his persistence.
And I couldn’t be more grateful for that.
Comments
Agrippa
It *may* have influenced the whole arc, seeing as it was one of the first ideas I came up with when trying to see if there was anything at all to say in this story other than the smutty one-shot that was the first chapter. Oh, how innocent I used to be...
jordan
Lol, I just realized the title also works for Lisa's plan to cure Armsmaster of his coma, clever if intentional.
