Shawn looked through the one way glass, and couldn’t help but wince. He understood very well why they were being so careful, why they’d even asked Dean to fill him in on the boy’s emotions beforehand, but he didn’t understand why they’d asked him to talk with the kid.

  They’d picked him to speak with Isaac because the logic was there, and it honestly made sense. He was a pretty popular hero - which was always a good start with kids - and he was a dad, with Addison being older, sure, but Shawn could still remember when his son was Isaac’s age. It made sense. The logic was there.

  But the fact that a young boy was relying on him to deal with one of the worst triggers Shawn had ever heard of was still one of the most stressful things Shawn had ever tried, so far as he was concerned.

  Normally, Miss Militia greeted recent triggers, but given the evidence of what the boy’s mom had tried to do to him, and accounts his family history by the officer who found him, they thought an older male figure would be a safer pick.

  Again, it made sense. So, he supposed he’d just have to square his shoulders and manage as best he could.

  He turned to look at Dean, dressed mostly in his civilian outfit, with a domino mask for the sake of formality. The older boy looked greatly concerned, as his eyes were locked on Isaac, flitting around just the slightest bit to look at the different parts of the “cloud” surrounding Isaac.

  “So,” Shawn said, breaking the tense silence, “How is he?”

  Dean slowly shook his head, like he was trying to shake himself out of it, but was too busy focusing on what he was staring at to do it properly.

  “To be honest? A mess.” Dean said, a note of horror in his voice. “Actually, that wasn’t honest, because if the boy is anything, he’s a tragedy. I’ve never… I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone like this before. Especially not anyone this young…”

  Dean said trailing off as he kept staring, before he finally drew in a deep breath, and started speaking, trying to make it sound like he was a soldier making a report.

  “The most surface level emotion he has feels like a silvery grey of curiosity,”

  Shawn believed him, given the way Isaac looked around the room. Probably trying to figure out what everything was, given just how isolated he was from anything newer than his mother’s TV.

  “However, compared to the deep, festering, maroon of self-loathing, stormy grey guilt, or the deep inky blue of sadness, it is barely present. It honestly looks like the silver lining of a dark, horrid cloud. Barely there, and only on the surface edges of the emotional core, so to speak.”

  That? That Shawn could also believe.

  “Which isn’t even mentioning the fact that every so often, whenever he looks down at his own clothes, or at the art supplies gtten for when he woke up, or just at the duvet, he gets a little spark of relief, like bright sunlight trying to break through the cloud, which is then immediately smothered by the angry writhing of all the negative emotions.”

  He also hadn’t touched the drawing pad or coloring books, which might be fine, but given the sheer amount of art stuffed in boxes found in his old house, he clearly loved drawing… even if some of the art and things written on the art were more than a bit disturbing for an eight year old.

  But there was nothing else to do, really, than head in and try his best.

  “Good work, Dean. I’ll see what I can do. And remember to warn me if anything suddenly happens with him, alright?” Shawn said, tapping the side of his helmet in reminder as he went to swing open the door and walk inside.

  Isaac looked up when he walked inside, Seeming curious, which was a strange sight with the tears still streaming down his cheeks. The tears themselves looked strange, too. They were streams about as wide as Shawn’s thumb, if not as tall, which collected into drops at the boy’s jawline. Those drops then dripped off his jaw, immediately evaporating into thin air as another drop started to collect. A strange sight indeed.

  It also probably had something to do with the boy’s power, but more importantly at the moment, it would make it very difficult to let Isaac have any sort of civilian identity.

  But, for now, he should focus on getting off on the right foot.

  So he reached up, and took off his helmet, his hands only stilling in hesitation for a moment.

  “Hello, Isaac. A lot of people call me Dauntless, but please, call me Shawn. You’re with the heroes, now, and no one can hurt you,” he said, giving his warmest smile to the boy.

  Isaac only looked up at him in mild surprise, whether out of emotional exhaustion or just the fact that he was isolated enough to not really know much about heroes.

  Isaac’s mouth opened and closed a few times, before finally, he spoke in a soft voice.

  “Thank you, mr. Dauntless. I… this is a nice house. I like your…” the boy looked around the room, before his eyes finally settled on the curtains, and he turned his attention back to Shawn.

  “I like your view. It’s good.”

  Shawn almost snorted. Seemed the kid had been taught to compliment a host’s house, but couldn’t find anything in the sterile hospital room to compliment.

  “Thanks, Isaac. The Rig does have a great view of Brockton Bay, doesn’t it?”

  Isaac nodded, but said nothing else.

  Shawn sighed. Here came the uncomfortable part, when he had to ask questions and explain things.

  “Isaac? Before anything, I want to ask if you know a bit about what your powers are? Doesn’t have to be anything big. Just so we can be sure you have everything you need.”

  “I…” Isaac seemed to hesitate, before continuing his line of thought.

  “The tears don’t have to disappear. I can send them to hit things I’m looking at. I don’t know how hard.” A pretty standard blaster power, then, if with a strange and fittingly tragic bend. That didn’t, of course, explain how Isaac had sent his mother’s knife cleanly through her. So, he waited for him to finish.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “And… and when I look at things, some things, I get ideas…” A tinker power too? That was… strange. But Isaac was shrinking in on himself, looking down into his lap, and Shawn had a sinking suspicion that it was something terribly different. He hummed in interest, and waited for Isaac to speak.

  Isaac looked up at him his face distressed and nearly panicked. “I-If I take the items, then my tears get stronger. B-But some of them are sins, or bad things. D-Does god hate me? Did Scion give me this power because I deserve it?” Isaac looked at Shawn, pleading with his eyes, even as horror crept into his voice, as though he was already sure what he said was true.

  Gallant was panicking in his earpiece, and Shawn couldn’t even hear what he said about Isaac’s emotions as he stared down at the kid as he finished his questions, sounding more sure of his own guilt with every syllable.

  “S-Should I have let mom kill me? Did I… I killed mom. Oh god I was supposed to die and I killed the lord’s servant, I will burn in hell and-“

  Shawn finally snapped out of it, cursing himself for being stunned when Isaac needed him as he reseated himself beside Isaac, wrapped an arm around him, and tried to softly tell him he wasn’t evil as the boy cried and rocked back and forth. He wasn’t sure at first if touching him was a good idea, but Dean said it was a good choice, so he stuck with it.

  Before too long, the boy fell asleep again.

  He’d barely started asking questions, and yet he now knew something he hoped he never would.

  Seems even eight-year-olds could be convinced they should have died to burn in hell, with enough abuse

  Shawn could already tell it would be a long, exhausting week to get Isaac even started on getting better.

  They were going to need a child therapist if they wanted even a shot at helping Isaac.

  Shawn listened as Colin finished reporting on what was happening this week in the city at large. He paid more attention than he normally would, because more often than not, he’d hear most of it through troopers, his own eyes, or the rest of the team. Still, the reason they had these things were for situations like this, where helping with Isaac had taken enough of his time that he wasn’t quite caught up.

  Nothing major had happened, luckily, but nothing really good either. A warehouse busted, a brothel shut down and the women rescued, and a few other things here or there. Nothing major, but a good week’s work.

  Then it was Shawn’s turn, and he had to work hard not to sigh as he got up to present everything they’d managed to learn about Isaac. He almost pitied his coworkers, and if not for the fact that they all worked as general first responders in a city with Nazis and a Dragon, he would be a lot less sure they could take it.

  He did pity the Wards, and had suggested Vista should be pulled aside for this portion, but Piggot had rejected the idea. They needed to know if they were going to be on a team with him, after all.

  He turned his PowerPoint and started to speak.

  “This is Isaac. Eight years old, orphan, and a fresh trigger.” The Wards looked surprised at how freely he was giving out personal information, but given Isaac’s current status as a ward of the state, and his… fragile mental health, it was necessary. Couldn’t have Dennis make an accidental joke and ruin the kid. Dennis might still make the joke, of course, but maybe he’d learn something from it if it wasn’t an accident.

  The picture of Isaac was recent, tears very much present as they always were, and a short buzz cut on his head.

  “Currently, he is, in his base form without items, assigned ratings of Trump 5, Blaster 2. The Blaster 2 is pretty solid, but the Trump rating is still tentative, given how… reluctant we are with testing.”

  “The reason for our reluctance is that the items in question seem directly related to his past.” The presentation shifted to a photo of Isaac’s family before… everything.

  “Mainly that his mother, Magdalene, grew more and more fanatic after her divorce. Her fanaticism, as recorded in her journal though in a much more positive light of course, led her to depriving her son of many basic luxuries such as clothes, art supplies, and a healthy room, while also beginning to physically abuse Isaac.”

  A picture of their living room, with it’s air of rapturous devotion, and Magdalene’s drawer with pill bottles were next.

  “This was also combined with her taking more and more of her prescribed medications, as she grew convinced she was hearing the voice of God or Scion, and regularly berated Isaac through the medium of religion, alongside more ‘standard’ psychological abuse.”

  The next slide were of the crime scene in Isaac’s dilapidated room, just after Magdalene’s corpse was removed, but with everything else still present. Thankfully not of the inside of Isaac’s chest, though. He wouldn’t foist that on the Wards, a few of whom were already looking shaken up.

  He sighed, before explaining the crescendo of the terrible story. He envied anyone who would never have to hear it.

  “This all reached a boiling point as Isaac’s mother attempted to murder Isaac with a kitchen knife, presumably on the orders of the voice she heard. She didn’t exactly have time to write that in her journal, though, given that, as Isaac was being stabbed through his heart, he Triggered. Which was when he absorbed his fist item, the knife stabbing him, and accidentally killed his mother right after, with the increase the item granted to his new powers. He then crawled to hide in his chest, where he was found a few days later by local police, and has since been a ward of the state.”

  The room was silent, and Shawn could only look on with grim sympathy as everyone but Dean, who had already known, had the story settle in. Most only grimaced or frowned in sympathy, too used to Brockton Bay to be truly horrified, and even Colin frowned at him - in a different way then usual, that is.

  The Wards were more affected, of course, to the point that Chris had stopped fidgeting, just staring at the picture of the room, whereas Carlos had started fidgeting, like he wanted to get up and do something, even though he was usually calm and attentive in meetings, trying to prepare for becoming the Wards leader in a month or two, when Rory joined them in the protectorate.

  Vista especially looked queasy as she stared at the room, blood on the floor and the knife, and cobwebs in the corners of the room.

  Strangely though, their newest Ward Sophia seemed… reluctantly impressed? He’d have to tell Colin later, so the man could talk with her about it.

  It was, surprisingly, Ethan who broke the silence, which would normally be expected, but the tone he spoke with was what set it apart from his usual quips when they discussed new villains or the like. He sounded grim. Like he was expecting that the worst was yet to come. He was, arguably, right.

  “You said his power - the items he could use to boost himself - were related to his past. Howso?”

  Dauntless sighed as he pulled up the final picture. It showed Isaac in a hospital bed, wearing a belt around his waist, with marks on his arms. Long, straight marks.

  “The only test so far performed was giving Isaac a belt, as it was immediately available. It granted him, after reviewing the footage, a mover rating around a one, which isn’t bad at all for an eight year old, and especially not when he can probably use multiple items at once. The issue is, of course, that the markings seen on his arms are ones he later admits remembering from when he was beaten with a belt, trying to protect his head.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth as he spoke them. He still remembered that test. Isaac hadn’t even seemed distraught. Only… sad.

  “The negative psychological effect of his power is obvious, and it has been decided to suspend further testing until after he has settled in with the Wards, and gained a support structure. We do hope this makes it obvious why you should avoid bringing up both his power and his past, and that you will all do your best to welcome Isaac as best you can,” Shawn said, the last part directed at the Wards specifically, even as the room was steeped in silence once more, one far more deafening than the previous one.

  Abuse to such a degree was hard to conceptualize. The idea that your own power would remind you of your prolonged trigger event every time you used it? That was a far closer fear.

  Dennis finally broke the silence, and Shawn wasn’t sure why he expected anything else. Dennis never was good at heavy silence, or silence at all for that matter.

  “I guess we have a winner. The worst power in Brockton Bay, no contest, coming in with winning points through a whole new category of ‘sucks’. Not because it’s weak, but because it’d be like if everyone I froze also looked like they had leukemia while frozen.” Dennis said. It was in poor taste, but the end and the shake in his voice made it clear that it came from a place of horror, rather than callousness.

  Shawn could relate. What if he had to reach inside his own stomach to pull out the charges for his equipment?

  He shuttered at the thought, and the memory it brought.

  The meeting wrapped up, then. Far more stilted after Isaac’s story.

  Now, all that was left was to introduce Isaac to the Wards.

  He really hoped it went well.

  A few things this time:

  First of all, should Isaac have some sort of limits on his items, and what should they be? Like, duplicate items are really tough to find in game, but like, you can buy a bag of safety needles for ten bucks or something.