Director Piggot would be the first to admit she hated her job. Getting up every day to deal with the neverending list of problems capes caused in her city was probably killing her faster than her liver at this point. But she did it anyway. Because if she didn’t, then lunatics like the one in front of her would have free reign.
On the other side of the one-way mirror, Piggot stared down the object of recent interest. Calling her a young woman would be a stretch, but she was far from a child both in the way she carried herself and, apparently, fought.
As if sensing the stare, the girl’s head turned, golden eyes locking onto a position just above Piggot’s left shoulder. The Director frowned.
“What can you tell me about her?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the girl. To her right, Armsmaster cleared his throat.
“Very little,” he admitted. “She crawled out of the Bay a week or so ago according to witness testimony. Her fingerprints aren’t on record so no criminal history, at least in the United States.”
“But she had no problem disfiguring several adult men at the slightest provocation,” Piggot said dryly. “That level of violence doesn’t just pop out of nowhere, even in fresh triggers.”
He nodded grimly, “She has some level of higher combat experience or training. By the time I arrived at the scene, she had taken down four men, mostly unarmed.”
“Mostly?”
“She used her power to blind one of them. As far as I could tell, it was the only instance of her using her power during the fight. I wasn’t able to gather any data as she surrendered soon after I arrived.”
He seemed displeased by the missed opportunity, but whether or not he would have preferred she try to fight him just for the opportunity to examine her power was anybody’s guess. Though personally, Piggot wouldn’t put it past the man.
“Lovely.” While Piggot didn’t exactly feel bad that one of a hundred gangbangers had been blinded, the casual violence the girl displayed in doing so was a cause for concern. For the tenth time, she wondered if she was about to make a mistake, but then her mind went to the updated casualty statistics that crossed her desk just that morning, and her resolve hardened.
“Lets go meet our new recruit.”
~~~
Regret wasn’t a feeling that Azula was well acquainted with, but she was certainly starting to wonder if she had made a mistake, allowing herself to be taken peacefully.
It was ostensibly the correct choice, of course. Here in this world, she had no outstanding bounty and from everything she had gathered, the laws themselves were remarkably fair. Fighting a member of the local law enforcement would be nothing but a net negative, win or lose. Better to go without a fight for the option of preferential treatment rather than acquire an entirely new bounty in this new lease on life.
The manacles dug into her wrist and she longed to adjust them. Bolted to the table as they were, the only thing she could do was maneuver her hands so the cold iron didn’t dig into her delicate skin as much. Her eyes roved over the sterile white walls of the cell she had been placed in so unceremoniously, and her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t finished her dinner. How much longer would they leave her alone, she wondered.
As if on que, the metal door just opposite her groaned open, admitting two unfamiliar figures. The first was a familiar figure. Statuesque and adorned in the same armor as yesterday when he admitted her here, Armsmaster filed to one side of the door, seemingly staring off into space, though Azula knew better than to assume a man like him wasn’t actively paying attention.
The second figure was much less impressive: a rather portly woman who didn’t so much walk as she did waddle in after her colleague. Her waxy skin was yellowed and soaked with sweat and her hair was the color of dried straw and stuck fast to her sweaty forehead. She seemed at death’s door, yet the moment that they locked eyes, Azula knew that the woman was far from the grave.
“So, you’ve finally decided to give me some attention. I must say, when I agreed to submit myself to your care, this wasn’t exactly the welcome I had in mind.” Azula shook her hands for emphasis, the shackles bumping against the table. “Do you treat all your guests like this?”
“Only the ones willing and able to melt a man’s flesh to his clothes with a wave of her hand,” the pudgy woman replied. She took a seat across from Azula, staring at her with sunken eyes. “I’m Director Piggot, head of this branch of the Protectorate. Do you know what that means?”
“Enlighten me.”
The woman frowned. “It means that I’m in charge of dealing with any and all dangerous parahumans that decide to cause trouble in my city. That includes teenagers who decide it’s okay to go around maiming people in broad daylight.”
Azula met the woman’s gaze without flinching. “I was under the impression that self-defense was widely permitted in this country.”
“Self-defense is permitted and even encouraged when it’s warranted, and in your situation, most would say it was. But,” Piggot’s voice lowered. “Several of the men you fought won’t be able to reintegrate into society with reconstructive surgery. Around here, we call that excessive force.”
“They laid hands on me first. I just made sure they wouldn’t try again” Azula smiled, eyes challenging. “If your concern is safety, perhaps you should focus on the bands of criminals that have openly claimed parts of your city. I can’t imagine every citizen is quite as... capable as I am. One can only wonder what would have happened to them in my place”
Piggot’s eyes narrowed but she didn’t comment. Well-composed, this one. Azula would have to try harder if she wanted to get under her skin.
Azula leaned back as much as the restraints would allow, crossing one leg over the other under the table. “Now, would you do me the courtesy of telling me what I’m doing here? I can’t imagine the head of the heroes herself has a habit of seeing to every prisoner that finds themselves in my position.”
Piggot’s lips thinned, but again, didn’t outwardly react to Azula’s words. She folded her hands on the table, leaning forward despite the pain the gesture seemed to cause her.
“I’ll be frank with you, Lin,” Piggot said, her voice taking on a harder edge. “You’re a special case. The background you provided us is wonderfully vague. Undocumented migrant, washed up in the states with no family, no records, no paper trail. As far as we can tell, you popped out of thin air.”
She was clearly probing for a reaction but Azula had been on the end of far harsher interrogations at dinner. Azula sighed, forcing a bit of exasperation into her tone. “I already told your people everything I’m able to. I grew up moving from place to place in the east, and my family didn’t exactly prioritize documentation.”
“So you’ve said. It’s quite convenient.” Piggot noted. “You have no history, no records, no way to verify a single word you’ve said. You could spin us any story you’d like and we’d have to take you at your word.”
Azula’s eyes narrowed with false annoyance. “I’m sorry that my circumstances are less than stellar for your bookkeeping, but it almost sounds like you’re calling me a liar.”
“What I’m saying is that you should be glad we don’t have the resources on hand to verify your little tale,” Piggot said, her sunken eyes boring into Azula’s golden ones. “Because I have a feeling that if we dug deep enough, we’d find something a lot more interesting than a tragic orphan story.”
Azula held the woman’s gaze, her expression unchanged. Internally, she was a bit impressed at the woman’s intuition. She truly didn’t believe a word of the story she’d been given.
“As it stands,” Piggot continued, “We don’t have the resources, or the time. I’m here to offer you a choice.”
“Oh?”
“Five men were hospitalized because of you. Two of them will need extensive reconstructive surgery. One may never see again.” Piggot ticked off. “The DA’s office is more than happy to try you as an adult. Given the severity of the injuries and your apparent lack of remorse, they’re pushing for the maximum sentence.”
The woman let her words hang to really drive home the severity of her statement. Azula remained unimpressed, raising a delicate brow. “I assume since you’re here, you’re offering an alternative?”
“The Wards.”
Azula eyed the woman. “Your little team of junior heroes?”
“The Wards program is a government sponsored program catering to underage parahumans, like yourself,” Piggot stated frankly. “It provides training, oversight, and education to young capes while utilizing their abilities in a controlled environment.”
“Let see if I understand correctly,” Azula said slowly, leaning forward as much as her restraints would allow. “You’re offering me a position in your organization despite being charged with… Armsmaster, remind me again. I’m afraid my attention slipped when you were reading my charges. There were quite a few of them.”
Armsmaster opened his mouth but before he could get a word out, Piggot preempted him.
“It is a provisional membership. You’ll be a member of a program designed for young parahumans who’ve made mistakes but show potential for rehabilitation. It offers a chance to contribute to society before they ruin their lives and end up behind bars.”
Interesting… so they had no problem allowing criminals into their ranks. Piggot certainly knew how to frame it in a pretty way, but at the end of the day, that was what it was. They must have been foolish or inordinately desperate.
“How magnanimous of you.” Azula’s lips curled with interest. “Though I notice you say ‘provisional.’ I assume that comes with certain restrictions?”
“Supervised probationary period, mandatory counseling, restricted patrol privileges until you’ve proven yourself trustworthy, just to name a few.” Piggot listed. “Standard procedure for Wards with prior offenses. Once you’ve shown you can be trusted, some of these might be lifted”
Azula let out a soft laugh, the sound dry and humorless in the sterile room. “How delightfully framed. YOu certainly know how to make conscription sound pretty.”
To her surprise, Piggot didn’t deny it. “Call it what you like,” she said flatly. “But that’s the only deal you’re going to get.”
Azula held the woman’s gaze for a long moment, something like respect flickering in her chest. At least this one didn’t bother with pretenses. It was a refreshing change from the sycophants and schemers she had dealt with in the Fire Nation court.
“Out of curiosity,” Azula said, her voice taking on a lighter tone, “what are my other options?”
Piggot’s expression didn’t change. “Prison.”
Azula let out a dry laugh. “That’s not much of a choice at all, then.”
“No,” Piggot agreed. “It isn’t.”
Azula smiled thinly. “Very well. I agree. But I have some conditions...”
~~~
The ride back to Maya’s shop was spent in silence. Azula sat in the back of the sterile vehicle, her hands finally freed from the manacles that had chafed her wrists raw. The Protectorate had been kind enough to clean her clothes before returning them to her, no doubt going through her pockets while they were at her.
The vehicle pulled up to the curb outside Chen’s Herbal Remedies just as the sun was beginning to set. Azula stepped out, accompanied by a uniformed officer who handed her a thin packet of papers and told her to read them over. Someone would be by in the morning to collect both them and her.
Azula took the packet without acknowledgment, watching as the vehicle pulled away. She stood on the sidewalk for a long moment, studying the facade of the shop. The windows were dark, but everything seemed the same as it had been when she left just yesterday. Azula felt a small modicum of relief that her temporary home hadn’t been destroyed while she was gone.
She pushed through the door. The bell chimed overhead, and something was dropped in another room. Azula found Maya in the kitchen, watching the doorway with a guarded expression until she recognized Azula striding through it. The kitchen was immaculately clean, as if the woman had spent hours in here alone, tidying up. It was a nervous habit that Azula had picked up on. Maya had been worried.
Azula placed the packet on the kitchen table, breaking the tenuous silence. Maya flinched, then turned to face her fully, her hands wringing together just underneath her cleaning apron.
“You’re back,” she said.
“Obviously.” Azula scoffed. “I see the place hasn’t been burned down in my absence.”
“Nobody’s bothered me since you were taken yesterday,” Maya said, walking to the table. She cautiously picked up the papers. “What happened? What are these?”
“As it turns out, burning a group of men for trying to assault you is a crime in this country,” Azula sat down, resting her chin on her hand. “Those are the terms of my probation if I want to remain a free woman.”
Maya’s eyes rolled over the papers, expression tightening as she read the terms of the contract. After a moment of rifling through the papers, she set them down, her features drawn with tension. Azula nearly rolled her eyes as the woman looked at her, regret painted all over her face.
“If you’re going to offer some apology for causing this situation, please spare me.”
“If I hadn’t brought you here---”
“I am more than capable of taking responsibility for my own actions,” Azula interrupted, annoyance sparking in her expression. Maya flinched, still looking guilty, and this time Azula did roll her eyes. “Honestly. If you must blame someone, then blame the state of this city. With the way things are here, something like this was bound to happen sooner rather than later. I’m not one to suffer fools and they are everywhere.”
Azula had no idea why she was trying to comfort the woman; letting her stew in her ill-conceived guilt would have been far less hassle and may have even worked in Azula’s favor in the long run. There was just something about the woman’s expression that annoyed her. It was so pathetic, like the whimpers of a half-drowned puppy.
Maya opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked down at the papers again, her fingers tracing the official seal at the top of the first page. When she spoke, her voice was quiet.
“Thank you.”
Azula blinked. “For what?”
“For standing up to those men. I couldn’t handle another payment and if you weren’t here...”
She trailed off, her gaze dropping to the table. Azula watched her, unsure what to make of the emotion bleeding into the woman’s words. Gratitude was not something she was accustomed to receiving, and it sat uneasily on her shoulders.
“Don’t assume I did it for you. I only did it because if you were forced out of house and home, then I would be too.”
“I know.” Maya wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “But you still did it. And now you’re the one paying the price.”
Azula waved a dismissive hand. “The only price I’ve had to pay is in regards to my patience. Spending the night in custody was rather uncomfortable.”
Maya looked up, her brow furrowing. “So you’re fine with being a Ward?”
“It beats the alternative. I’ve spent enough time behind bars to last a lifetime,” Azula turned to where a pot of water was boiling on the stove. “Now I’m feeling rather peckish. I don’t suppose you’re boiling that water for something more filling than tea.”
“I was sterilizing jars for medicine, but I’m more than happy to make you something if you’re hungry.” Maya stood and walked over to the stove. She flipped the rear burner and moved the pot to it to free up the front for another. She then reached into the cupboard and pulled out a small bag of rice and some spices.
“I’m worried about what the ABB will do when they hear about what you did. They aren’t going to take the insult lying down. They might send more men.”
Azula considered the woman’s words as she watched Maya move around the kitchen, her movements jittery with residual anxiety. The smell of heating oil and toasting spices began to fill the small space, and Azula’s stomach growled in anticipation.
“They might,” Azula acknowledged. “Or they might decide that a business protected by a parahuman is more trouble than it’s worth. Fear is a powerful deterrent. Those men I burned will talk, and their stories will spread. The ABB preys on the weak. When the weak are no longer easy prey, they tend to look elsewhere.”
Maya’s expression was troubled. “That’s not how gangs work, Lin. They can’t afford to look weak. If word gets around that some girl fought off four of their men and got away with it, they’ll have to respond. It’s about face.”
Azula tilted her head, genuinely intrigued despite herself. “You seem to know a lot about how these criminals operate.”
“I’ve lived here for fifteen years,” Maya said quietly, turning back to the stove. “You learn how things work. Trust me, Lung won’t let this go.”
The name meant little to Azula, but she knew enough to know that out of all the parahumans that called this city home, Lung was not a man to be trifled with. He was the sort of man who ruled through fear rather than loyalty, the kind who maintained control through sheer force of personality and the threat of overwhelming violence.
In other words, they had quite a bit in common.
“Let him do as he pleases,” Azula hummed. “One man is not a nation, and I’ve faced far worse than him.”
Maya turned to look at her, frustration bleeding through her fear. “You don’t understand. Lung is the ABB. He fought the entire Protectorate to a standstill once. On his own. What do you think he’ll do to one girl?”
“Who could say. As long as they don't show up again, we won't have to find out.”
“Lin…”
“Yes, yes, I'll be careful,” Azula sighed, just to get the woman to calm down. Honestly, how the woman could worry so much about a girl she'd known for less than two weeks was beyond her.
Though it was quite refreshing to have a loyal retainer again. Now if only she could do something about the woman's cooking...