Chương 33: Chapter 32

The Department of Metahuman Affairs wasn't the tallest building in Downtown Los Angeles. It wasn't the fanciest, didn't have the most famous architecture, and it wasn't even the oldest. But after being attacked, blown up, or otherwise reduced to rubble more times than was reasonable for a government building, it was the most robust. And after the 1984 incident, it was rebuilt from the ground up into a modern-day fortress. Maximum-security prisons for Metahumans had fewer defensive capabilities. Or so Mr.

Hendricks explained to the group as they were sitting in the bus, waiting to disembark, staring up at the drab, grey walls in front of them. Tiff peered out of the window she was sitting next to and took it all in. She had to admit, it was impressive. It was also surprisingly hard to describe, even when she was staring right at it.

"What you're seeing is an Escher-Illusion," Melissa explained. She was actually two seats ahead of Tiff and Candice, leaning over the seat between them and making the single dad-chaperone look very nervous. But what could he do? Tell her to move? Tiff wished him good luck with that.

"What does that mean?" Candice asked. Tiff was wondering the same thing.

"You've heard of the artist, right? M. C. Escher? He was a math-Meta most famous for representing mathematical impossibilities in art. You've probably seen the famous picture of the never-ending staircase, right? Well, some of his work is truly impossible."

"Like, it's not provable in a function or equation?" Candice asked, having a newfound appreciation for the subject.

"No," Melissa shook her head.

"I mean they're impossible. They can't be reproduced, not even by computers. But we're getting off track. It's called the Escher-Illusion, but it doesn't actually have much to do with the man himself. It was coined by a scientist, Hofstadter."

"So," Tiff asked, scrunching up her face.

"What does that actually mean for the building?"

"It means it's hard to understand," Melissa laughed.

"No, seriously. Part of the building's defense is that, unless people are looking at the blueprints, it's extremely difficult to tell what the building is. Even how tall it is and its footprint are hard to judge… and you can forget about trying to memorize the layout." After staring at the building, Tiff thoroughly agreed. The DMA at 611 West 6th Street was a 42-story, 620-foot skyscraper. It had a square base rising from the ground to the 12th floor, and a multi-tiered tower arrangement rising the rest of the way.

Tiff was hesitant to say whether it was 4 separate towers or 2. It could have even been 6. Looking at the vertical cleft columns from the bottom made it look like there could be 6 long rectangles squished together to form a thick spire, while looking at the roof made it appear to be 2 rectangles that weren't actually touching but were sitting diagonally and connected only at the corner. Tiff's brain started to hurt, so she tore her eyes away.

"There's two landing pads on the roof," Melissa continued, pointing up.

"One for helicopters and other vehicles, and the other for Fliers." Eventually, the class was cleared to unload, and everybody was more than eager to escape the sardine-can trap that was a yellow school bus. Even at 9am on an October morning, it was still 80 degrees outside, meaning that the bus, which relied on crappy windows for ventilation, felt like a sweaty gym sock. A full-body, choke-you-out with stankness, sweaty gym sock. No force in the world could keep those kids on board.

Fortunately, there were enough teachers, chaperones, and Melissa to keep the students in line. In fact, there was enough Melissa that, just by standing there, she felt like 4 people. 90% of Tiff's class instinctively lined up next to her, while the other 10% were those helpless few who'd get lost walking in a straight line. As the other buses spilled their kids, most people ended up crowding around the token Super, which Tiff felt was fairly understandable.

Her mom did stand out, and adding her reflective safety vest to the mix was like showcasing a variety of camping lanterns to a group of moths. She even got plenty of looks from everyday people walking down the street, and that was with the occasional Meta dressed in costume entering the building. And speaking of entering, there were two, and only two, entrances. Tiff might have guessed that having two ways to enter such an important building was a great way to create a bottleneck and slow things down…

but that was before she saw how many doors each "entrance" had. And how big they were. But looking up at the large graphic facade above the respective entrances, she could understand why. On the right, it simply said "Department of Metahuman Affairs: Citizen Entrance." Beneath it, stretching for at least a hundred feet, was a multitude of doors. Some were manual, most were automatic.

There was even one of those gigantic swirly-do, carousel-style rotary doors that never stopped moving and Tiff legitimately feared she'd enter and get stuck in permanently, always forced to walk slowly counter-clockwise until she perished. And then there was the Meta Entrance. While the sign above it was technically just as mundane as its Citizen counterpart, a few key things made it feel a whole lot more threatening. For one, it didn't have any of the same variety of doors leading into it.

Instead, it had a single, long shutter that ran the entirety of the remainder of the building. That was the first line of defense (for what, Tiff couldn't guess), and behind that shutter were numerous extra shutters. These seemed able to shrink or expand the intake capacity at will, and there were currently three bays open. The rest looked like industrial-strength prison bars or a lattice for growing tomatoes from hell.

Once inside, the process was roughly the same for both entrances, though it varied greatly in execution. There was a slew of mundane security checks, including metal detectors and luggage scanners, and one of those big machines you had to stand inside while raising your hands, hoping desperately that your pants didn't fall down because they made you remove your belt. And then there were the… extra precautions. Tiff now knew some of them were psi-inhibitors and power-detectors…

but there was also a straight-up gun bunker. Several beefy dudes wearing full-body armor and wielding hefty guns stood around frowning like they got paid more the grumpier they looked, but the guns themselves were "non-lethal." Tiff had an opinion on that, as somebody with a D in Might; she was fairly certain that if she got clobbered by a high-speed, dense beanbag or a rubber bullet… she'd perish. … there seemed to be a lot of ways to make Tiff perish, and she hadn't even entered the building yet.

She was also under no illusion that the security force employed by the DMA didn't also have real guns stashed away somewhere. For all she knew, these people were actual military. So, first things first, Tiff spotted a problem.

"How come there's two different lines?" She asked quietly.

"I keep hearing people say it doesn't matter what your stats or Affinity is, and that you never have to reveal it unless compelled to by law…but then there's this. Doesn't that defeat the point?" A couple of kids around her nodded, and Mr. Hendricks took the opportunity to teach.

"It's yet another illusion," he said wryly.

"Both sides lead to the same place and have the same guidelines. No matter what side you're on, you go through the same process. It just depends on how you want to be seen… or how you want to feel." Tiff didn't know if she agreed with that. But, upon reflection… she could see a world in which somebody had a fragile ego and walked through the Meta side just to make themselves feel better. But was this really a defensive measure? Or just a waste of money.

She supposed, if she was spending so much time thinking about it, it had to be working. Whatever it did. Today, to get the real feel of being a Super, the class all lined up in front of the Meta section. The school had made an appointment for this field trip months in advance, so not only was the checkpoint well staffed with multiple active stations… they had a token Cape present to greet them.

"Welcome!" The tall, broad-chested man boomed, "To the Department of Metahuman Affairs!" Tiff squinted. She'd seen this dude before on TV… this was that guy from [Glory Days]! Touchdown, that was his name, and he still had the same sparkling teeth and slicked-back hair! If anything, he somehow added to his bombastic flair… since his cape was waving behind him despite the lack of a breeze. She suppressed a groan and tried desperately to think of a way to maybe sit the entire field trip out.

Maybe she could pretend to be sick and stay on the bus? No, obviously that wouldn't work, because she couldn't lie about it. To make things infinitely worse, she received a System notice.

[New Quest: Hiding in Plain Sight] Don't get caught.

Oh, that was great. Thank you, System, for the least helpful piece of advice ever! There wasn't even a time limit or a reward to try and lure her into a false sense of security! Wasn't this what she was always living with on a daily basis? So why bring it up now? Instead, she tried to make herself seem as small as possible, which was pretty small to begin with, and shuffled inside. To Tiff's surprise, there were a few incidents she didn't see coming. And the first… went to her mom.

Melissa, as a registered Super wearing her costume, followed a slightly different procedure. Tiff supposed that not everybody who came to the DMA had the luxury of removing all their gear right there and then, so the agency had contingencies in place. Two of those beefy dudes wielding death-by-beanbag marched over ominously, but stood professionally still at parade rest. Meanwhile, a science-nerd with a billowing white lab coat came out with the same Jetsons-gun Doctor Waters had used on Tiff to scan her powers.

After woowoowooowoo-ing her mom for several seconds, all while Melissa raised her arms theatrically for the show, another screening guard came out to pat her down. Amusingly, he also brought out a stool. Melissa did her best to keep a straight face, but Tiff could hear a few muffled giggles from the class. After proving her compliance, she stepped aside and let the kids funnel through. That's where the second surprise came in. Tiff knew she was going to get flagged by the security checkpoint.

As soon as she raised her arms in the embarrassment booth, a noise chimed, a red light flashed twice, and she was escorted to the side. She got woowooed by a grumpy-looking guy who looked like he sat on a stool and ate donuts professionally. He even had a walrus mustache that quivered ominously whenever he frumped. But… they couldn't find anything to charge Tiff with and she wasn't going to give them anything, so they let her through. Candice, also, got flagged by the checkpoint.

Tiff expected it after hearing she got upgraded to B status, and the cheerleader herself likely knew it was coming. It didn't stop her from clamming up and nearly freaking out, all while a much more suave individual gently explained the whole scenario to her. Was it just her, or did the pretty girl get the gentlemanly dude? Surely it was Tiff's imagination. Now, what wasn't expected, hence the surprise, were four other kids getting flagged by security.

None of them were in Tiff's class, but after running the numbers (and checking them with Candice, the living calculator), the math checked out. Roughly 3% of the kids were in the Meta range. Tiff didn't know any of the others, and honestly wasn't too interested in Candice's descriptions of them to commit them to memory. She knew she was being a little crass, since she was trying to become slightly more outgoing, but Tiff was under a fair amount of stress.

Once everyone had gotten through the line, they divided back up into their respective class groups and marched into the depths of the DMA. Since there were so many kids and comparatively little space, the four groups would essentially be taking 4 separate tours before meeting up at the end in a large conference hall. The other three went off to do their own things, and, as fate would have it, her class got stuck with the walking toothpaste commercial.

"Welcome to the DMA!" Touchdown said again, launching into a canned speech.

"Where Meta-minds improve everyday lives!" Tiff rolled her eyes and wondered if that line worked on anyone. Glancing at the starry eyes of her classmates, it probably did. She clumped up with Candice, hovering near her mom for that added bonus protection. If all else failed, hiding behind Melissa was as effective as a brick wall.

"Today, we're going to explore all the ways Metaphysics can improve all walks of life, not just the Super or Empowered. While the Department handles all cases of Metahuman involvement, this section of the tour focuses on how we can use the System to enrich our lives." A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Ah. So this was the propaganda portion of the tour. Tiff figured there'd be one of these, and it was her misfortune to draw it first.

Or, who knows? Maybe she was being pessimistic and it would be eye-opening and exciting. The rest was surely boring as all get out, so at least she gets to see what the DMA is really trying to sell. As they walked, Touchdown explained the floor they were on and where they were heading. Naturally, the first floor was reception. It had greeting desks, meeting rooms, and some offices. It also had a lot of elevators.

One of the oddities of the building was a giant concrete slab that seemed to run up the entire length of the building, and was essentially an elevator block. Tiff counted 16 elevators, but the funny part was how not all of them went straight up. Some of them didn't travel up at all, and apparently went sideways. Their first stop was actually underground, in the basement.

"Research and Development," was all Touchdown said, and that was enough to send the kids into a frenzy. Now, elevators, even in a Metahuman facility, still had a maximum capacity. These were high-rated machines, but they weren't built for cargo. That meant, even with a rating of 5, 000 pounds, they could only take a handful of students per trip. As a special privilege of being Melissa's daughter, Tiff squeezed her way into an elevator that only had 4 people. Unfortunately, Touchdown was one of them.

While Candice was sending the man discreet glances, Tiff cursed her luck.

"Brickhouse," the man said in a chummy voice as soon as the lift door closed.

"It's been a while since I've seen you here." Thankfully, he didn't seem to have any desire to peer into Tiff's secrets. Though…if he was trying to hit on her mom, that would open up an entirely different can of worms.

"Touchdown," Melissa replied coolly but professionally.

"I've got a family to take care of. Some things take priority in life." Melissa patted Tiff gently on the shoulder and she wanted to scream. On second thought, go back to flirting. Please. Touchdown's eyes slid over Tiff, but whatever they saw, he wasn't impressed. His eyes quickly traveled back up to Melissa's.

"You know, that sounds exactly like something you'd say, Grandma." Melissa groaned and her hand tightened ever so slightly on Tiff's shoulder. Not enough to hurt her, not by a long shot, but enough to let Tiff know her mom was annoyed.

"Travis, is this how it's always going to be?" Melissa asked in a tired voice.

"You're 32. Get a grip." The man's smile slid off his face like mud and he scowled.

"Unlike some people, I can still do my job."

"I bet you can," Melissa replied calmly, unperturbed.

"Which is great. And entirely missing the point. In case you haven't noticed, I have a full-time job. I'm a trucker. I drive a truck. You know, big things that haul crap? And that's on top of having a family. Are you still butthurt you couldn't go pro?"

"Oh," Candice gasped sweetly. Her eyes were wide, but Tiff knew the girl well enough to know she was mocking.

"Is that what [Glory Days] stands for?" She blinked innocently at Melissa, who took the baton.

"You betcha," she grinned.

"Gotta live in the past when your future's not so bright. Who knows? Maybe he makes a better armchair quarterback."

"You leave my skills out of this-" Touchdown looked like he was about to cuss Melissa out, but that was also the time when the elevator decided to reach its destination. The chime dinged, the door opened with a woosh, and they were suddenly introduced to an audience of about 20 kids who were all looking at them expectantly.

"This ain't over," Touchdown ground out through his perfectly smiling teeth.

"Hate to break it to you, bud," Melissa chuckled, ushering Tiff and Candace past him.

"But it ain't ever over. Nobody gets the last laugh in this business."

Once again in front of a crowd, Touchdown adopted his camera face. His used car salesman face? His infomercial face! Tiff and Candace had a fun little time making up different positions suitable for his face until they got told off for laughing in the back. And, once they started listening, Tiff found it interesting.

"This…is the Hall of Heroes!" Touchdown boomed. While it looked like a perfectly ordinary hallway with a single door at the end, it had a multitude of plaques and portraits hanging on the walls. Tiff was fascinated, but she noticed something peculiar.

"There's no recent heroes…?"

"That's right," Melissa said, having heard her.

"You'll only find old heroes here, or those that have passed before their time."

"So essentially…only if they're dead?" Tiff asked.

"It's to preserve the sanctity of their legacy," Touchdown cut back in.

"And also to prevent any possible links to any secret identities."

"More like to prevent any lawsuits," Melissa muttered. Tiff grinned and looked again. She recognized a few from TV shows and history books, but a majority were unknown to her. It also explained why she didn't see The Big Three. Big Time was slightly more reclusive, which was interesting given how famous they were, but Wrecking Crew had a very… loud personality. Jazz Sands was up there. She was a musician in the 20s who could manipulate the earth. Tiff recognized Cliffhanger, too.

He had pretty decent Stats in the Might department and a whole bunch of random, extreme-sports-focused skills. He was an adrenaline junky and movie star in the 70s, and apparently acted in all of his own stunts. Last, there was Benjamin Tanklin. Tiff thought it was poor form to name oneself after a legendary inventor simply for the sake of a name-pun… but apparently, he was one of the man's contemporaries and used it with his blessing.

As strange as it might sound, the concept of a tank wasn't an entirely modern one, even if the final evolutions certainly were. Then, there was a whole host of people Tiff had no idea existed before today. Part of her felt bad, because if they were well known enough to be put up on this wall, they had to have been impactful, right? For instance, there was a guy called Ground Zero. He was one of the rare few who got superpowers after Awakening.

His name didn't have anything to do with his power, but instead the fact that he survived getting too close to one of the first tests of an atomic bomb. Tiff listened to some of his achievements, and it sounded like he made a lot of contributions in the war… for food preservation. And then things got bizarre. Elvis was up there too… because, in the end, nobody could ever prove he wasn't an alien who didn't just go back home.

He was a known Meta; his influence was well established, and Tiff had once watched an entire late-night documentary that brought to light all the conspiracies surrounding his "death." And finally, there were some that left Tiff plain confused. There were people like… The Defoliator. Tiff was certain she didn't want to know.

They took their time in the Hall, likely to warm all the kids up to an eventual sales pitch at the end. But they weren't done, not yet. They'd buttered them up, yes, but now…it was time to spread the jelly? Tiff didn't know where this analogy was going, especially since it featured her as a piece of bread.

"Next up, we have… The Armory!" Every single head snapped up, even Tiff's. The Armory was legendary, making its way into comic books, movies, and all sorts of make-believe nonsense. Even if it was only half as cool as fiction made it out to be, this would still likely be the highlight of the trip. And, as the door slid open and the class stepped inside… Tiff gasped. Honestly, it lived up to all the hype and then some. They didn't enter The Armory straight away, and instead were in another hall.

But this one was very wide and very long, featuring glass walls. They could see countless testing chambers, research labs, and development programs. Touchdown led them to several windows, where they were allowed to bunch up against the glass like a kid drooling over a donut, but they weren't allowed inside. For the few scientists that noticed their presence or recognized Touchdown, they stopped to wave or sometimes hold up a sign, but as a whole, they were busy with their work.

Tiff had to constantly shove away System notifications trying to tempt her with Quests… each containing a variation of sabotage. No, thank you. They saw all sorts of things in development. Things like non-lethal weaponry, body armor, or support mechanics. Most of them seemed related to the flashier side of Heroics, but Tiff could understand that this was a government facility and they weren't likely to fund obscure projects like that sock-probability finder.

Or, on a slightly darker note, it was also possible people who had something really crazy to develop wanted to keep it to themselves. Whether that was due to their own personal genius, or if they contracted out to a private team… or if their creation wasn't exactly legal. Home-bound teleportation, for example. It sounded great in theory, but what was to stop somebody from teleporting into your bathroom instead of theirs?

While most of the kids were disappointed that they couldn't get their grubby little hands on any cool toys, there was one door at the end they were allowed to enter. In fact, Touchdown held the door open and ushered everyone inside.

"This…is the Proving Grounds!" Much like her classmates, Tiff's eyes were wide with wonder. But…if she was asked to describe at a glance what its purpose was, she'd be hard-pressed. The room looked like a combination of a weight room, firing range, and doctor's office. In fact, it sort of reminded her of….

"Technically, that's not its real name," Touchdown laughed as if he'd pulled a sweet prank. He flexed his arms dramatically…and Tiff was a little bit dismayed. Maybe she was too used to her own mom.

"Just what we in the business like to call showing off."

"You're what we call full of hot air," Tiff heard her mom mutter, "And I'm not even in the business." If Touchdown heard, he ignored Melissa splendidly.

"This is an Awakening Chamber. We've asked some of our doctors to come by today, so anybody who wants to be tested by a professional can be." Tiff wrinkled her nose at the way he said professional. There was nothing wrong with the doctor she went to, and as Victoria assured her, there were plenty of fully qualified individuals who didn't work for the DMA. Candice, for instance, went to a private practice. Tiff was certain Candice's mom paid an exorbitant amount to try to coax every little advantage she could…

even if that's not how it worked. Two doctors, a man and a woman, stepped up to the front. They both had clipboards, and to the side, there were discreet little setups featuring pull-around screens. Tiff let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't like they were pressuring kids to reveal their Stats to everyone right out there in the open. A few kids did step forward, and Tiff wondered if they knew what they were getting into.

One girl simply looked curious, while a boy was stealthily flexing his muscles by testing his grip. It could very well be that some people leave here more disappointed than they came. Tiff knew she wasn't going to be checked, no matter how much anybody pressed. And by the looks of things, about a third of the class was in the same boat. So, while everyone else was off waiting for their turn, Melissa was standing around, studiously ignoring Touchdown, while Mr. Hendricks explained some of the machines to the class.

As Tiff had learned previously, they had tests for everything. The targets, for example, were used for more than just shooting. Yes, if somebody had a skill that let them be amazing with a gun, they could fully explore their powers down here. But bullets weren't the only things that could be launched at targets. She wasn't going to bring it up, but Tiff was forcibly reminded of Vinny, the thug that tried to punch Victoria from a distance.

She had a sudden, morbid curiosity to know exactly how much oomph that fist was packin'. And, as it turned out, there were things Tiff would never think to throw at a target. Mainly? Footballs.

"Heh, wanna see a demonstration?" Touchdown asked, walking up to the firing line. Of course, no kid in their right mind would say no, and they all shouted over themselves in their eagerness to see. Touchdown punched some commands into a computer, and a little helper drone wheeled out with a basket full of balls. He picked one up, tested it, and put it back. Eventually he found one he liked the feel of, because he got serious.

"You know? Fair," Melissa admitted from beside Tiff.

"There's a reason he's called Touchdown. As far as skills go, he's not half bad." Touchdown closed the rest of the world out. He was in the zone. He rested the ball on the counter with his hand on top of it while taking several steadying breaths. Then, as if receiving a hike, he backed up quickly, brought it to his shoulder, pumped his legs a little, juked, and… absolutely launched that ball!

It fired in a perfect spiral, as if laser-guided, all the way to the very last target, which was designed for long-range firearms. The target, which Tiff assumed was made of ceramic… shattered. Touchdown huffed, rolled a shoulder and cracked his neck, and smiled.

"Eh?" He smirked, tossing a thumb over his shoulder.

"Whaddya think?" Other than the fact that he was impressing a bunch of high schoolers, Tiff had to agree with her mom. Not half bad. Of course, her starry-eyed peers didn't see it that way.

"Wow!"

"So cool!"

"Bro, join the team…." Despite the fact that he's double our age, dude-bros will dude-bro, Tiff sighed to herself. And then, funnily, somebody asked… the question.

"What are your Stats?!" Obviously, Touchdown had no obligation to answer. But, basking under the light of teenage adulation, Tiff could see his resolve melting. Eventually, he hiked up that patented smile and caved.

"I'm Might-based," he said nonchalantly.

"A rank all around. A for strength, A for endurance, and B for durability." Wow. Tiff almost felt bad. This guy was a Hero? Her mom had more impressive stats. Then, as if by fate, a random classmate had to equal the scales. It was one of the ones Tiff was…still learning the name of. Not Mr. Steponme and not Mario Agrusa. This one was…Charlie? She thought? She'd check with Candice later.

"Mrs. VanDyne, you're registered, aren't you? What are your Stats?" The question was so innocent and disarming, yet Touchdown's face turned rancid like butter and her mom looked like the cat who broke into the cream shop. Melissa smiled at the kid, winked at Touchdown, and motioned over to the weight set.

"Oh, I'm an A, too," she said playfully. She walked past the common machines like the bench press or free weights. Instead, she stopped on top of a machine that looked like a cross between a scale and a practical exhibit on the usefulness of pulleys. There was a small platform with a bench for a person to sit on and a large digital scale beside her. Behind her, attached to all those pulleys, was an ungodly amount of weight.

Much like Touchdown had done, Melissa typed some controls into the machine, and several little robots rolled out. Four of them approached a large plate bearing a big 1. 0 and heaved it into position. Though they were built for exactly this purpose, Tiff could see them strain under the weight. They put on one plate. They put on a second.

"Uhh," asked a second kid, who was failing at taking stealthy glances at Tiff's mom, "Those are, what, 100 pounds?"

"No," Candice answered, slightly in awe.

"Those are 1000." The robots didn't stop until they stacked 5. Melissa sat on the bench, tested her grip…and pulled on the cable. The whole thing moved silently, but as the plates went up and came back down, Tiff could feel the floor shake. Melissa easily rattled off ten repetitions before feeling like she'd proved her point.

"But the thing is," she smirked while Touchdown gnashed his teeth, "Not all As are created equal."