Teambuilding
"You're beginning to test my patience, Rooster," Director Bertrum Benett of the newly formed Brockton Bay PRT said.
Director Bennet was a large, broad-shouldered man in the late stages of balding. His hair was auburn, with touches of gray coloring it, and he had a goatee that looked like it must require regular maintenance.
The Rooster narrowed his eyes. So he was going to be difficult?
"You just have to trust me on this one, Bert. We both know I can stop more villains, fight more crime, and do more. And besides, being cooped up all day is making me go a little stir-crazy. I have to get out there."
“It’s Director Benett to you, Rooster. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that you and I are friends, or even friendly. I told you no more patrols, and my decision is final. You’ve been made team leader here in the Bay, and that comes with responsibilities beyond bringing in gangbangers, drug dealers, and the occasional villain. You’ve got a team, not to mention the Wards, to look after. If you can’t do that, you will be replaced.”
The Rooster practically sank into his seat, ashamed. It creaked slightly underneath him.
“Get out of my office, Rooster. You’ve got piles of paperwork that needed doing days ago. How about you deal with that instead of begging for more faces to punch?”
The Rooster quietly shuffled out of Director Benett’s office, disheartened.
Shuffling out of the PRT Headquarters, the Rooster set aside his negative mood to prepare to face the public. Director Benett had a point, after all. He had faltered in his duties to be a proper leader for the Protectorate East-North-East. He would have to fix that. And finish that pile of paperwork waiting for him at the Protectorate HQ, only a thirty minute walk away. He could make it in much less time, of course, but then the people in the streets wouldn’t see The Rooster, the hero of Brockton Bay. They would just see an off-white blur soaring through the streets. Speed Freak might be happy being seen that way, but not The Rooster, no sir-ee. That would be his official reasoning for walking instead of running to base, at least. Personally, he was dreading having to file all those papers.
On his way to PHQ, a little boy asked for an autograph. Just as The Rooster pulled a pen out of his shorts to sign the boy’s presented toy, his mother ran over and pulled the boy away, scowling. Not everyone was keen on the idea of heroes, it seemed. Or, maybe, they just didn’t like him.
The rest of the walk was mostly uneventful. It meant there was plenty of time to think. What could he do, to start being a proper team leader? Team Building exercises? Karaoke night? It was becoming increasingly clear to The Rooster that he may not actually be good at this “Team Leader” thing.
Getting to HQ, the Rooster let his metaphorical mask fall, just a little. His real one stayed on, obviously, but here he could be a little more himself, a little more John, and a little less Rooster. He said hello to the secretary and a couple of security guards on his way to his office, always pays to be kind, and made his way to the gym. Maybe working his muscles could get his brain moving a little bit, too.
The PHQ gym was top-notch, state-of-the-art stuff. Couldn’t have some flabby couch-sitter running around in spandex, could you? It also had specialized equipment, specifically for the likes of him, powered folk for whom regular equipment just couldn’t match up to their needs. ‘Course, the weights were just a tad light for him, and no treadmills they had installed could stand up to Speed Freak, but it was certainly better than nothing.
In the gym, on one of those aforementioned special machines, was one of his co-workers. Or, he supposed, subordinates. Nikkita Arete, known publicly as Triumph, was on the squat rack. She was out of costume, wearing gym shorts and a tank top with a black, standard issue domino mask covering the top part of her face. It looked like she was in the zone.
The Rooster preferred to exercise in costume, but to each their own.
Maybe I should talk to her, The Rooster thought. Is that what team leaders did? Check in? Well, cluck it. Might as well try.
“Miss Arete,” he boomed from behind her, startling the poor woman slightly in the middle of her squat, “you’re up with the chickens, I see. At base this early and already putting the work in! I like that kind of work ethic, Nikki.”
“Oh,” she replied, “Mr. Rooster, hi, I didn’t see you come in!”
“You can call me John, Nikki. Just wanted to stop in and say hi, do the rounds. How are you settling in here?”
“It’s great, everyone is super nice. Undertow is just such a sweetheart. Though, I’d love to get the opportunity to know everyone a little better.”
“Is that so? Well, you just might get your wish! They have you on patrols yet?”
“Well, sir, I’m actually still waiting on your approval for that.”
“Oh, well, uh,” The Rooster scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I was just trying to figure out proper pairings! For joint patrols, yeah. That way, we can all get to know each other a little better!”
“Really? That sounds great, who would I be paired with?”
“It’s, uh, a work in progress,” The Rooster replied, shuffling slowly towards the door, “and something I should get back to! Enjoy your workout, and keep up the good work!”
With that, he quickly left the gym, having completely forgotten about his workout. He’d really clucked up now, coming up with that joint patrol idea. Now he’d actually have to figure out how to get that set up. Well, he supposed, it was a good excuse to start getting through his paperwork…
Hours later, having gone through four cups of lobby vending machine coffee, The Rooster left his office, a pile of paperwork greatly diminished. He wanted more than anything to go home and conk out on the couch, but he knew he should probably check on his apprentice. The HQ was labyrinthine, a design choice which was intended to deter potential spies and villainous infiltrators. It had a side-effect of making it incredibly arduous for one to make their way to any one location efficiently without having working knowledge of the layout. It was wholly because of this, and not because of any sort of lack of sense of direction, that it took The Rooster nearly twenty minutes to find the R&D department where his apprentice was working. At least, that’s what he would claim if questioned.
The Rooster knocked on the door and stepped inside before a reply could come. His apprentice was wearing the lower half of his, now signature, golden armor, as he poked around in an open panel on his helmet, which laid on a worktable in front of him.
Jed Steele, known publicly as Golden Boy, was a blonde haired, blue eyed, red white and blue blooded American. He was young, still growing into his body, but a few weeks as a hero had set up on a good track, physically. His hands and face were currently covered in some sort of oil.
“Jed, my boy! How are you doing here? Working on some upgrades?” Rooster said, clapping him on the back, very lightly. Didn’t want to jostle the boy while he worked.
“Ah, Rooster, hey. No, not upgrades, uh, that Nemian lady helped me add some stuff to my armor; you see I can actually understand some of the stuff she makes, and uh, vice versa, which as far as I know and as far as she knows is kinda rare, so of course we started to work together a little and, well, I put together a little doohickey - this lens here - but now it’s malfunctioning a little earlier than I thought it would and so -”
“Alright, alright, Jed, I just wanted to check in. But since you’re working with Nemian, could I ask you a favor? I’ve hatched an idea, and I need you to pass a message on. See, I need you to tell her about…”
“A picnic!” The Rooster shouted to his patrol partner.
He was currently patrolling the Bay’s Boardwalk with Undertow. She was a nice girl, mutated by her powers into looking like a mix between a killer whale and a woman. PR liked to pair the two of them for patrols, on account of the animal theming. Some of the team also wasn’t fully comfortable with her, on account of a scuffle that happened when she first appeared, and so The Rooster was made to patrol with her while she “acclimated”.
"O-oh, that sounds fun, I guess. Would we be, uh, outside?"
"Of course," The Rooster said, patting her back. His hand came away wet. Making a face, he said, "I was thinking Captains Hill. Puts us on parade for the civvies, but I think seeing the whole team hanging out like any group of pals will be good!"
Undertow looked conflicted, at least to The Rooster's eyes. He knew she didn't like being in public, but he thought that if anyone was up for a picnic, it'd be her. In any case, he needed a win, and he'd thought to get it here. Especially after Undertaker had been avoiding him at base.
"I- I don't know, Rooster. I'm really sorry, it's just - I don't think I would enjoy being outside for that long, in front of all those people…"
She looked devastated. The Rooster sighed, "It's alright, Undertow, don't fret. Let's finish this patrol and get back to base. Hey, though, we're still on for a movie tomorrow, right?"
"Oh, yes! I was thinking we could watch Night of the Living Dead, I just got it on tape."
They chit-chatted about movies for the rest of a mostly uneventful patrol. A purse-napper was caught by The Rooster, but other than that, the Boardwalk was quiet.
As Undertow and The Rooster started to return to base, their radios buzzed with an alert.
"This is PRT dispatch controller Reynes PD6651 on duty, do you hear me?"
"Loud and clear, dispatch. You've got The Rooster and Undertow on duty."
"Receiving you, Rooster. We've got reports of a Parahuman incident on the corner Meyers Road and Lord Avenue. Reports indicate masses of honey."
That was downtown. And honey… it must be Murder Bee again, the villain.
"Received, dispatch. I can be there in a minute, two with Undertow. Please advise."
"Undertow isn't cleared to use her power outside of extreme circumstances. Advising to have her remain outside of hostilities as backup. We'll dispatch on-call heroes to assist. Keep us updated, Rooster."
"Affirmative."
The Rooster had begun to move towards the location as soon as it was given to him. Undertow was lagging behind a little, so he stopped his jog and let her catch up.
"I can't help," she said, "just go on ahead without me."
"Don't be ridiculous, Undertow. You're a hero. You can always help. Now get on!" he said, squatting slightly and presenting his back in a piggyback position.
"O-oh! Are you sure? What if someone sees us, and won't it be uncomfortable for you, and-"
"It'll be fine, c'mon. We have to stop Murder Bee, before anyone gets hurt!"
The Rooster was covered in honey.
Fighting Murder Bee had been going pretty much exactly as it had last time. He arrived at the location, set Undertow down and had her watching for civilians, and tried to ambush him.
Murder Bee seemed to have robbed a jewelry store, and had three bags filled with money and jewelry in his arms. He was looking around frantically as he ran through the streets, his ridiculous bee mascot outfit flopping around sluggishly.
He wasn't looking up, though, and The Rooster dropped down from above dramatically, hoping to take him out before he could even react.
That was the plan, anyways. He ended up plastered against a barrier, and Murder Bee only reacted a second or two after he had impacted it, flinching back in surprise.
The Rooster recovered quickly, but after the initial ambush attempt they seemed to be at a stalemate. He could dodge the lightning and energy projectiles that the swarm of bees now flitting about around Murder Bee fired, and they did little more than throw off his balance even when they did hit, but nothing he could do could get past that barrier. Murder Bee advanced very slowly within an impenetrable dome.
It was when he walked past a car and The Rooster saw that it hadn't been pushed away that he got an idea. Maybe if he wasn't moving, the barrier would harmlessly pass over him.
He darted around unpredictably from building to building, between streetcars and parked cars, and finally landed and stopped just barely an inch from the forcefully, arresting his momentum in an instant. The field began to pass over him.
"You're a bad egg, Murder Bee. But I won't let you turn this town into a hive of-"
He was interrupted by a geyser of honey, filling his orifices and knocking him off balance from the surprise. He lunged at Murder Bee, grabbing and holding him in a bear hug before any more attacks could come. He also had to screw his eyes and mouth shut, as hundreds of bees tried to fill his open orifices.
He tried to get his handcuffs, but his honey-filled pockets made it difficult while he was also trying to hold someone down.
"Let me go, Rooster! You won't bee-lieve the things I can do! My sting will-"
The Rooster delivered a swift knee to his midsection with a little more force than necessary. Murder Bee wheezed and coughed in pain.
His radio buzzed to life, "Rooster, this is dispatch. Undertaker is on his way to your location with a squad car, eta ten minutes."
Now he just had to wait here, on the ground and covered in honey, for ten minutes. At least the bees had settled down.
The first thing Undertaker had done when he saw them was laugh.
Undertow looked mortified at the fact that he was laughing. The Rooster could understand the humor in the situation.
"Alright, alright, yuck it up. Do you have any idea how hard cleaning this outfit up is going to be? Get in here and help me out."
Undertaker walked through the barrier easily. His power let him pass harmlessly through inanimate objects, and it seemed to apply here.
"Yeah, sure, boss, sure. But I do wish I could have a picture of this. I mean, this joker beats you twice in a month?" Undertaker laughed.
"Joker?!" Murder Bee screeched, thrashing in The Rooster's grip. As he did so, his swarm buzzed to life around him, and lightning flashed, striking Undertaker suddenly, who flew around twenty feet before hitting a car and dropping like a sack of bricks.
“Undertaker!” The Rooster shouted, “Undertow, go make sure he’s alright!”
“No more games, Murder Bee. You’re going to stay nice and calm while I deliver you personally into lockup. Undertow, how’s he doing?”
“He’s uh, I’m not sure, sir! I can smell that he’s burnt but I can’t see his flesh, what do I do?”
“Do whatever you can, and then get him in the squad car and evac now!” The Rooster commanded, “I’ll take Murder Bee from here, just go!”
Murder Bee laughed. He knew that no prison could hold him for long. Even if he was captured now, he would get out, and he had dealt a blow to the heroes.
Undertaker was in the hospital. They had their best doctors on his case, but without being able to see his skin, things were complicated.
The Rooster knocked meekly on Undertaker’s room door. He had a room all to himself, a special privilege usually reserved for those with secret identities, but even though he didn’t have anything to protect it was still extended as a courtesy.
“Come in, bossman.” The Rooster heard from inside. He stepped in.
“How did you know it was me?” The Rooster said, placing a bouquet of flowers on Undertaker’s bedside table.
“You always knock the same.”
“Oh, alright,” The Rooster sat in a small hospital chair.
“I wanted to say-” The Rooster said just as Undertaker began to say “So why’re you-”
“You go first,” Undertaker said.
“I just wanted to apologize. For letting you get hurt out there. I should have... I’m your team leader. I’m supposed to keep you safe. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, Rooster. John. It’s fine, I’m fine. Look,” he said, raising his arms, “I’m okay. Doc said it’s a little burn, that’s all. I’m getting dispatched tonight, don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“But you got hurt, you could have died! I’ve utterly failed in my role!” The Rooster said, somehow looking even more dejected.
“I used my power right before it hit me, that bug never coulda killed me. Besides, even if it was bad, it wouldn’t mean you’re a bad team leader. I mean, you’re here now, right? That means something.”
“I- I suppose you’re right, Undertaker. I shouldn’t be acting so emotional in front of you anyways it’s - it’s unprofessional. I apologize for that.”
“Get the stick out of your ass, John. And call me Matt when we’re off work.”
“I’m never really off work. But sure, Matt. Say, if you’re out of here tonight... how do you feel about a movie night? Undertow would be happy to include another member of the team.”
“Long as we can drink, that sounds fine to me, John.”
A picnic could wait, John decided. Relationships like this couldn't be forced with a day out on the town.
He would be a good leader for this team. Whatever it took.