collab between @shylarah, @Zoey Boey, and @HitmanHero Three If Backup was being totally honest, she was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. TJ had never gone in for evaluation, therapy wasn’t really her thing. She didn’t need it. HERO work
was her therapy. It was pretty much the best thing that had ever happened to her. If she needed to suck up to some ICOSA pencil pushers to keep her dream job, she’d do it. She was taking up an entire couch to herself, arms behind her head, shaking her foot back and forth over a crossed leg.
Amune, the wispy little girl they called Oracle, offered to go first. Wiseman was doing some eye-rolling tough guy act over the internet, and Riley was playing the bratty teen.
”I do mind, actually. I’m going to blow my brains out if I have to spend any longer in this room.” She stood up, slapping her thighs. She was still in her superhero costume after a day of patrolling. She smelled like warm concrete and leather. Peeling her superhero mask off her face and shoving it into her pocket, she treated the therapist and british guy to a crooked smile.
”I get cabin fever real easy.” She said, brushing some hair behind her ear.
Amuné sighed internally. She hadn’t actually expected anyone to protest. “It was a rhetorical question. If you wanted to be first, perhaps you should be a little quicker on the uptake,” she said, voice mild.
”What a rotten thing to say. Just lying for no reason! You should be nicer, kid, I just told you I’m suffering, here.” Backup said with a pout.
"Now, now," Randolph said as he looked between the two.
"Let’s not get into a tizzy over here, everyone will have time for this interview. In fact, to speed it up, we’ll do split duties. Does that sound alright?" Randolph glanced over at his psychologist associate, who gave a conciliatory half-shrug, half-nod.
"Let’s have Ms. Jennings come with me.. I wouldn’t want her to ‘blow her brains out,’ or ‘get cabin fever,’" he said, with a clear and pronounced mocking tone of voice.
"Conveniently, there’s a spare office here for us to have our conversation. And then after I’m done with Ms. Jennings, I would love to speak to you, Mr…Lindell," the British inspector added, pronouncing Stray’s name with a certain degree of indignation or, perhaps, incredulity. Perhaps Lindell was a rotten name in England or something.
"Then Ms. Ris can join our lovely Dr. Reininger, and afterwards the good doctor can speak to…how about Mr. Basilov first, since he seems particularly unhappy to be here as well?" Randolph gave a good chuckle.
"Oh, now that’s efficiency! Anyway, come with me, Ms. Jennings. We have much to discuss." ”Sounds good to me.” She said, rolling her shoulders. TJ left, glancing back at Amune with a smile before she left them alone.
The psychologist escorted the younger heroine back into the office space that she had seized for the purpose of these interviews. As a result, it certainly lacked the aesthetic that your average psychologist would have available to them. There were no bookshelves, no long couches, none of that. Instead, there was just a sterile office with bland, khaki-colored walls, two chairs, an office desk that looked like it had just been purchased from IKEA, and a harsh, overpowering light above head.
Dr. Reininger gestured to one of the two chairs (the less comfy one, noticeably) before taking the cushioned chair for herself. She was a woman that looked way too tired for this job. Her brunette hair was lazily done into a bun with several strands sticking out, her eyes had dark circles beneath them, and her weak smile betrayed the fact that she looked like she was not at all happy to be there. Yet she
was here, of course, and she had a job to do. She picked up her clipboard and pen from her desk, lounging back slightly in the office chair as she looked up at the young girl from behind her glasses.
“Amuné Ris, A.K.A. Oracle. Age 16, superpower limited clairvoyance, identity still largely obscured. Do I have that right?” the woman asked, her tone clearly attempting to be charitable and pleasant but with overtones of the steeliness and unyielding professionalism that had largely characterized ICOSA since their arrival.
Amuné followed Dr. Reininger to the office. It was nothing like her therapist’s office, which was cozy and inviting. This was almost a clinical feel. She was privately glad that Mr. Randolph was
not going to be part of the interview. The less she had to deal with him, the better. She settled into the uncushioned chair offered, sitting with her back straight and her hands clasped in her lap.
“That’s right,” she said. Unlike with her therapist, she probably shouldn’t volunteer information that hadn’t been asked for.
The psychologist nodded, taking a note down on her clipboard. “Now, I want to be clear about something. This isn’t a therapy session, this is only a little chat to make sure that you’re, well, psychologically fit to be a hero. This line of work can be very taxing for people, especially young people, so we want to make sure that you’re capable of dealing with it.” She looked up from the board at Amuné. “I’m going to delve into some uncomfortable territory, so let me know if you want me to stop at any point, alright? Now, it’s true that you were in the…custody, we’ll call it, of several villains for a number of years, correct?”
Amuné sighed. She’d expected to have to talk about her past, but the doctor really wasn’t wasting any time, was she? Still, there was no helping it.
“Yes, for roughly four years.” Even now she occasionally still had bad dreams about the Ring, and what they’d done. Therapy had helped immensely, but she’d probably never be truly over the experience. She could cope, but the memories would always be there.
Dr. Reininger nodded, making another note on her clipboard. “And it says here you’re still attending therapy as a result of that incident…perfectly reasonable and healthy, of course.” She nodded, seemingly to herself. “How much would you say that those memories, and the trauma they’ve instilled, affect you day-to-day?”
“Honestly?” Amuné shook her head.
“Very little. There’s certain things that remind me, but...for the most part, I’ve come to terms with what happened, and moved forward with my life. Ongoing therapy is currently more because I feel it does me good to talk to someone in that capacity than because I’m actively dealing with significant trauma on a regular basis. And, as you said, hero work can be taxing. I want to make sure I’m in a good state of mind.”Once again, the woman nodded and scribbled something down with her pen, as if she were a robot and that was her programmed response to any answer. “That’s very good,” she said. “I’m glad to hear that progress has been made. A couple more things, if you don’t mind. First, your identity. It’s generally common for heroes, at least in this part of the world, to have fairly public hero identities, something you have not opted for. Could you explain this decision? Does it stem from fear of re-identification? Or is there something else at play here?”
Amuné looked thoughtful.
“In part, it’s fear that the Ring or those like them will come for me again.” She looked away uncomfortably.
“People hear ‘Seer’ and think I have some sort of...great power to predict the future. It’s nowhere near that simple. And I don’t want to be used the way I was as a child. I also worry about what might happen to my family and those I care about outside the hero world, if my identity is known. But beyond that...I don’t need the fame and recognition when I’m going about my everyday life. It’s simpler to be a nobody.”“I’m glad you brought up the subject of family,” the doctor noted, her eyes peering at the teenage girl from behind her glasses like she was examining a particularly interesting specimen. “You have…an adoptive brother of sorts, let’s call him. Also in HERO. Terraformer. Can you elaborate on your relationship with him? I’m seeing here that he actually put off joining HERO in order to be able to register at the same time, is that accurate? And what do you think the reasoning for that is?” The woman’s voice was calm, steady, and cool, but the way she asked questions somehow had a more sinister undertone, as she prodded away at these personal questions with near-wanton disregard.
“He’s my best friend. As for why he waited...we never discussed it outright, but I suspect it was his way of looking out for me.” Amuné smiled slightly.
“He’s like that. But you’d have to ask him to know for sure.” On the inside she wondered why her relationship with Jareth was such an issue. Surely it wasn’t odd for people to have best friends. Or did they think the two of them were something more? The thought made her nose wrinkle.
The woman had no smile in response. “We
were going to ask him, Oracle, but given the injuries he’s just sustained, I don’t think that’s going to be a possibility,” she said, with only the slightest hint of emotion ringing through her steely facade. “Terrazard attack. Brutal way to go.” She pursed her lips in a moment of contemplation, before speaking again. “Of course, having friendships within the organization is perfectly acceptable, but there’s also the possibility of danger that we’re concerned with.” The woman looked up, her face unmoving. “Speaking of which, I’ll imagine you’ll want to visit him soon. We should probably wrap this up soon, then. I wouldn’t want to stop you from visiting him in the infirmary; I’m aware they operate on limited hours.”
Of course, the woman felt a little bit bad about spinning a dreadful lie, but she wasn’t just a psychologist, she was a [i]meta-/i]psychologist, who had to deal with
meta-humans. This was just how you had to handle people with supreme abilities. With supreme measures.
Amuné sat very still for a moment, then shook her head.
“If Jareth was in serious trouble...I think I’d know. I’ve known every time someone close to me was in danger in the past. This would be a first, for me to be caught unawares.” When he’d fallen off his bike and broken his wrist, she hadn’t been outside, but she’d known. When her mother died, she knew. When her adoptive mother had been rear-ended, she’d had a feeling. The closer she was connected to a person, the more likely she’d be aware of imminent threat and danger to that person.
“In fact, if I try...” She touched her earpiece, the one that held her mask, the one Jareth had made for her.
“He’s just outside the Fixeon Municipal Recycling Plant, I believe. That’s where their current mission is, isn’t it?” Amuné narrowed her eyes at Dr. Reininger.
“If you want to know how I’d react to his death, ask me. But please don’t lie.”If the good doctor showed regret, she did a damn good job of hiding it. Instead of speaking, she made another jot on her notepad. “I apologize for the deception-” (she certainly didn’t seem all too sorry, but regardless) “-but sometimes, it’s necessary to see an authentic reaction. Especially in circumstances where it could have dire consequences.” She paused, thinking for a moment. “I study something called Sudden Onset Metahuman Psychosis. Individuals, such as yourself, with metahuman capabilities are particularly vulnerable to rapid and irreversible mental breakdowns. Usually, they’re associated with some type of trigger event, and they’re also associated with near-total loss of control of your abilities.” She looked the girl up and down. “It’s customary for organizations such as HERO to screen to make sure that there aren’t any major risks for this condition, and to limit possible ‘triggers’ for the indisposition.”
She seemed to be mincing her words a bit. She coughed into her sleeve. “What I’m trying to say is that my reason for requesting a sitdown with you is to, well, consider whether or not that’s a risk here. Frankly, with pre-existing traumatic experiences and close personal ties within the organization, you check a lot of the boxes,” she said bluntly as she leaned back in her chair, adjusting her glasses on her nose. “I was hoping to get a more genuine reaction with my misleading story, but a simple verbal response will suffice in this case. If something were to happen to Terraformer- God forbid he were to lose his life- how badly would that affect you?” She paused for a moment, allowing to harshness of the question to settle in. “I don’t want you to imagine what the incident looks like, just how it would feel. I know this is tough, but you have to understand that this is necessary in this field of work.”
“I’d be upset. Distraught, even. I was when Kel died.” Amuné frowned, remembering the death of the only friend she’d had while in the Ring’s hold, another Seer who’d done her best to protect the young girl.
“And angry, if Jareth had been killed by someone. I -- I have tools now to deal with grief and anger, but...I don’t know how well they’d work in the moment. I don’t think I’d lose control of my powers -- they do have some basis in emotion, but it’s more emotional connection than emotive control. But I suppose I can’t be certain.” She sighed, then ventured a question of her own.
“Is my friendship with Jareth a problem for him, too?”“Possibly, though not likely. He doesn’t have the same temperament that makes him as…vulnerable,” she explained. “And while I appreciate the efforts to work on healthy coping, you also need to keep in mind that your powers are, well, not fully-developed yet. Not even close, in fact. In reality, none of us
can know what the upper limits of your powers are like.” The shrink jotted something else down on her notepad. “I appreciate you having this discussion, though. While it’s sensitive, we’re brushing up on important issues here.”
“Mm.” Amuné’s response was noncommittal. She didn’t want to be a liability, but she also didn’t want to give up on the profession she’d worked towards. She wanted to be able to help people, the way she had been helped. The idea that the very past that had inspired her to become a hero might now keep her from being one was upsetting.
At least the interview was over, it seemed. Dr. Reininger rose to her feet, and Amuné followed suit, following the doctor back to the staff room where the others waited.
