The Amazing Adventures of Aisha: 1

Aisha stared at her nemesis. He stared back at her over his desk, then frowned. “I’m sorry, but Shade is a entirely inoffensive name, and it reflects your powers.” He gestured at Number 1.

Aisha could keep track of ‘em, but she couldn’t make more than four. So, Number 1 to 4. She’d come up with a different name later. Maybe.

Right now, the other three were in the building, and she could see from them. Two and three were playing basketball with some PRT troopers, and number four was…

Studying.

That was Armsmaster, and he could pull the fun out of anything. He’d wanted her to just sit and juggle, until she told him that the best way to see what she was gonna be able to do was to totally destroy those PRT guys who thought they could play basketball.

Aisha hadn’t played much basketball, and the PRT guys were kicking her ass.

Still was cool. She could, like see from a bunch of places, she could hear, and she could… sort of taste? It was… kinda dull, which sucked, but she’d been able to eat all kinds of stuff, comparing what it tasted like when she ate it, and when Numbers ate it. And her Numbers didn’t gain weight, which was all sorts of weird.

“So… Shade?”

“Yes,” The PRT guy said. Kyle was his name. “It reflects your powers—“

“Hey Bro, that’s cool! I can be Shade, and you can be Jungle Bunny! Or Spear Chucker!”

“Wait, what, no, that’s…”

Aisha held her hand up in front of her face, and nodded. “Yep, I can totally be Shade, the enemy of Alabaster, gonna kick the shit out of him for being my white clone.”

“No, I—Wards aren’t—.”

“I think what Ms. Laborn is mentioning,” the old guy from Youth Guard said, “is that maybe we shouldn’t come up with yet another branding for an African-American member of the Wards that refers to skin color?”

“Well, shade’s more…” Kyle deflated. “Okay, do you have some ideas?”

“Yes,” Aisha said, leaning forward, ignoring the way Bro sighed. Hey, it wasn’t her fault his name was, like, totally boring. Since Taylor knew who she was, and she knew who Taylor was, she’d asked her and… had gotten some suggestions.

“How about… Loa,” she said.

“What?”

“You know, our family came from New Orleans, so Loa, I could be named um… Èrzulie Dantòr, since I’m a protector—“

“Wait, that’s a Loa—no, no, no, no, no, we are not branding you after a real religious figure, are you—“

Kyle stopped and stared at Aisha. Looked at Number 1. Shook his head. “Fine, let me guess, you have another idea.”

“Yep!” Aisha said, kicking back. “Krewe. They weren’t just about fighting, but community and shi—stuff, as well as hosting kickass parties.”

Kyle frowned, looked at his computer, and typed away. “Krewes go back a long way, and while they’re associated with Louisiana, there are many multiracial…” he read it. “Okay… Why?”

“What?” Aisha asked.

“Your uniform, your identity is about more than showing up on a stage. You had the idea of Krewe when you walked in here.”

“Yeah,” Aisha said. “Wanted to see how you’d look.” Actually, Taylor had told her to lead with something stupid, then hit ‘em with what she really wanted. “But see, Krewes are about partying, right? Everyone has fun. But they’re also, like, the community, protecting it, being part of it. So if I’m Krewe, sure, I got my Numbers, but I’m also part of the Bay. My Krewe.”

“If you’re open…” Kyle stared at her. “Are you still insisting on that?”

“Yep. Ain’t gonna run. Ain’t gonna hide.”

Aisha couldn’t quite hear what he whispered, something about Piggot and stroke. But then he nodded. “Here’s the problem you might not have thought of. Most heroes have a civilian ID, not just because of crooks, but because it gives them time to be… themselves. If you’re open, everyone is going to be looking at you as Krewe. Even if you’re officially on your downtime.”

“So?”

“So people will try to get a rise out of you. You’re not the Slaughterhouse, nobody is going to be afraid you’ll hurt them, and people can be stupid—and some of those people will be Empire sympathizers. They’ll want to get a rise out of you, so they can talk about Aisha Laborn, otherwise known as Krewe, the black girl who lost her shit because someone did something that, with the right video cut, looks completely innocuous.”

“And if the pressure got to you,” the Youth Guard guy said, “the only way to solve that would be a complete rebrand and likely leaving the Bay.”

Aisha glanced at them and took a deep breath. She felt the memory rise, those assholes pushing her down until she couldn’t hold her breath anymore and laughing as she choked, so fucking close to air.

Nope. Not gonna get upset here. She’d already had that time when she’d accidentally choked on the water in her glass and freaked Bro out.

And he was already practically camped out in front of the door to her room in the rig. They weren’t sending her back to Mom yet.

“Not gonna hide,” Aisha finally said. “Fuckers know who I am, at least the ones that count, so I’m not gonna let ‘em think I’m hiding. Besides, if they know who I am, they can’t say they didn’t if someone shoots me, right?” And if nobody liked it, fuck them.

“Right,” Kyle said. “Now we’re talking about your uniform. We’ve got some leeway here, but just to go over the basics. Nothing sexually suggestive, given your age, nothing that looks too military.”

“No big-ass gun?” Aisha asked. “Damn, knew I should have gone with Firing Squad.”

Kyle sighed. “No, nothing like that. You’ll be armored, but it’s going to be subtle—and of course, we can’t put anything on your projections.”

That’s what you think. Nothing said Aisha couldn’t kick the Numbers out before she went on patrol, and she was gonna go store-diving with Taylor. If Taylor was a super detective, she could help her find cool deals—without letting anyone know she was a super detective. They’d already told her that she shouldn’t tell anyone that, not even anyone else in the PRT.

As if. Taylor was a friend, and Aisha wasn’t going to squeal on her.

*****

“Four projections—independent projections indicating that she has a good deal of multi-tasking ability,” Armsmaster said to Emily and the rest of the Protectorate. He gestured at one screen where two shadowy forms were playing basketball—and losing. “Full coordination, independent action, both physical and…” Another screen displayed, a shadowform grumbling to itself as it read a history book. “Mental, although that form of concentration seems harder for her. She can read and retain information from one form—more than that, and her abilities degrade swiftly, unlike her physical skills. There’s also some sign they respond to her subconscious needs.”

“Ms. Laborn is not the most academically inclined individual I’ve ever seen,” Emily said. “Could it be a mental block?”

“I… don’t believe so,” Armsmaster said. “But that is not the most unusual aspect of her powers. Her shadow forms can be called at any point within 30 feet of where Ms. Laborn is, and must move normally from then on—but they can move over five-hundred meters from her position—if she forces them to move beyond that, they dissipate, unless another clone in is the position to form a daisy chain. It’s more difficult for her, and losing any link causes the chain to collapse, but she could, theoretically, have a clone as far as 2,000 meters from her position. Communication was not impeded, and she could teleport to that clone. Her main weakness is the fact that when spawned, they must be close to her.”

Velocity whistled. “That’s some pretty good coverage. How tough are they?”

“Roughly equal to Ms. Laborn. The clones don’t get tired, and she has shown…” Another image appeared, a shadow form dueling another one with what looked like sabers. “A limited ability to shape them, but our tests indicate that they are fairly easily damaged—although Ms. Laborn feels nothing more than the fact that the clone was destroyed.”

“Lastly,” and this time, Armsmaster shook his head. “When she teleports, she can stop her velocity.”

“How’d you find that out?” Assault said. “Youth Guard would freak if we threw Wards off the roof.”

“I didn’t. She did.” The view was from his helmet cam, someone shouting off camera and pointing as a shadowy form jumped from the second-floor viewing gallery at the gym. Seconds before it hit the ground, it dissolved, revealing Aisha, who gently fell the last few inches.

“Screw you, Gravity!” her shout rang through the room.

Armsmaster’s sigh was audible, both recorded and live.

“Given her clones’ advantages, I have suggested that we prioritize Search, Rescue, and Paramedic training.

“Maybe,” Emily said. “I want a psych clearance first.”

“Of course.”

“Now for the elephant in the room. She’s determined to go open. What does that mean?” Emily gestured for answers.

“Short term?” Miss Militia shook her head. “Not much. The Empire is suffering now, and even the confession and suicide really isn’t fooling anyone. It might have kept the worst from hitting, but they’ve suffered a blow they won’t soon recover from. If they turned around and attacked an open Ward…”

Emily nodded. “What about the rest of the Wards?”

“I am developing some plans to ensure that Ms. Laborn doesn’t unduly impact the rest of the Wards”

“Have them on my desk.”

“Yes, Director.”

Emily nodded. “The Empire is on the back foot. We’ve broken no less than three dog fighting rings, made nearly sixty arrests, and they are laying low. But we have to remember, this has happened to them before, and they have always bounced back.” Because we never have the resources to get them, and their rank and file have all those strange bits of luck when it comes to learning about raids in advance. She snorted. The kind of luck that comes from people in the PD. “More importantly, the Empire doesn’t recruit for high IQs. So, for the foreseeable future, any Ward’s events or patrols will have at least one Protectorate supervisor and a PRT team for backup. Ms. Laborn is to have that, and every one with her is to be on high alert for any E88 members or sympathizers who may try to provoke a reaction.”

Which meant more people she didn’t have being handed duties, and she was almost maxed out on allowable overtime for the quarter… Emily shook her head. Maybe she could do a swap with Armstrong. The Bay might be a shithole, but the hazard pay was attractive to some. Get some troopers who weren’t burned out, and let some of her people take a vacation.

Another few hands would be good for the bucket brigade that was the Bay.

And now we have a Ward who is pissed off at the E88, and is going to do everything she can to make their lives miserable. Hopefully, she won’t go too far over the line.

If only they’d taken the offer of a transfer to LA.

But Aisha had principles. Which would be admirable if it wasn’t another pain in the ass for Emily.

With that, they got to the rest of the meeting, including yet another Youth Guard complaint about Vista’s home situation and a mandatory notice to anyone partnered with her to keep an ear out for any more problems.

Emily sighed. Maybe one day her Christmas wish would come true, to have the Triumvirate take up residence in the city and half the city government keel over dead.

But until then, she’d just keep plugging along.

****

and so the first Sidestory appears as Aisha begins the process of joining the Wards! As the first chapter, this one starts out unlocked.