Vell Harlan and the Doomsday Dorms

Samson wandered across campus, looking for more messes to clean up. An Einstein-Odinson student had tried to replicate the magic/tech shutdown field their opponents had used during the paintball war, but thanks to an overzealous attitude and a lack of concern for safety features, they’d ended up shutting down everything on campus without warning. The sudden failure of a hundred experiments had made for dozens of different micro-disasters rather than their one usual large incident. Samson headed for his own computer engineering department to make sure his friends were alright.

“Samson!”

At the sound of Helena’s voice, Samson whipped around and went on guard. He snatched the rune that summoned his crossbow and activated it, readying the weapon to fire. He did a quick spin and aimed his crossbow down the various halls of the crossroads he had found himself at, but saw nothing.

“Helena?”

“Yes, Samson, very canny observation.”

“Where are you?’ Samson demanded. “Are you invisible and just trying to mess with me?”

“No, you moron, I’m on the floor.”

Samson looked down. Helena was flat on the ground, her cheek smushed against the tiles, waving a few fingers in Samson’s directions.

“Hi, yes, down here,” Helena said. “Some kind of EMP today, apparently?”

“Some kind, yeah,” Samson said. He looked over Helena’s prone body, and the inactive brace that went up her arms and down her spine and legs. “So, let me guess, with no power, that thing’s mostly dead weight, right?”

“Precisely,” Helena said.

“And?”

“And I need help,” Helena mumbled. Since she was already on the floor, Helena didn’t have much pride to swallow at the moment.

“Good luck with that,” Samson said.

“Samson! I’m not going to bother asking you to haul me around campus, but I’m hoping your annoying morality at least compels you to pick me up and prop me against the wall.”

Samson looked down at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Would it help if I mentioned that the longer I stay like this, the more likely it is my lungs will collapse?”

Samson raised his other eyebrow. Helena let out a grunting sigh.

“Please?”

“There we go,” Samson said. “So, anything I should know about how and where I grab you?”

“If you just grab the brace on my spine there you can sort of use it as a handle,” Helena said. “I can’t guarantee it won’t hurt me, but if it does, it isn’t your fault.”

Getting dragged around hurt a lot, in fact, but Helena kept it to herself. Most things hurt a lot. Once Samson got her in place, Helena took a deep breath and shifted her body as much as she could to get comfortable.

“Perfect,” Helena said. “Now, let’s see…”

She tried to raise one arm in the hopes of undoing the latches that held her into the brace. Her hand shook and trembled as it moved a few inches, but ultimately collapsed short of the goal. Helena was disappointed but not at all surprised. Her DNA didn’t know how to put any part of her body together right, arm muscles included.

“Alright then, that’s not happening,” Helena said. “I guess I’m just going to sit here for a while.”

The angel and devil on Samson’s shoulders got into an intense but brief argument. The angel won. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Samson rolled his eyes, bent down, and undid the latches on Helena’s arms. She winced visibly as each one came undone, and Samson saw the red welts underneath each one.

“Does this thing hurt you?”

“Only most of the time,” Helena said. “It’s not that much worse than the crutches.”

“Why don’t you get a wheelchair, or something?”

“Oh, so people can look down on me literally on top of metaphorically?” Helena said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wonderful idea, Samson.”

Samson undid the last latch holding the brace to Helena’s legs, and took a seat next to her, much to Helena’s chagrin.

“If I stood you up, could you walk somewhere?”

“Not without you supporting me the whole way,” Helena said. “Which I know you won’t do.”

“I would.”

“Oh, fuck you, Samson.”

“Why do you do that?” Samson asked. “You get mad at people who are just trying to help you, you hang out with bastards like Kraid, you hate Vell for what, being a good person?”

“I don’t hate him for being a good person,” Helena spat. “I hate him because there’s no such thing as a good person.”

It didn’t take much for Helena to get red in the face, but it was especially red now. She glared at Samson with an entire lifetime’s worth of hatred in her eyes.

“Do you think you people invented kindness? That no one ever tried to help me, ever tried to be my friend?” Helena snapped. “I’ve had friends before, I’ve had saviors before, and every single one of them let me down.”

She averted her gaze and looked down at her own mismatched legs.

“People are my friend right up until they get sick of having to wait while I limp after them, or get scared when I keep having seizures at their parties,” Helena said. “Doctors try to save me right up until the budget gets too high or the work gets too hard. At some point everyone decides I’m not worth the effort.”

Had she been able to, Helena might have cried. Her tear ducts were just one entry on the long list of her broken parts.

“I had one person. One. I thought Joan would do whatever it took, for as long as it took,” Helena said. “And then she met Vell fucking Harlan. Now suddenly there’s lines she can’t cross, things she can’t do. Now she’s just as useless as the rest of them.”

“Helena, Joan was doing some fucked up shit-”

“It was necessary.”

“It was fucked up, and it made her life miserable,” Samson concluded. That wiped any anger off of Helena’s face. “She lost her friends, her relationships, her chance to go to her dream school, all because of what you wanted her to do.”

“Excuse me if I don’t feel bad,” Helena said. “Considering what I’ve had to deal with-”

“Oh fuck off with that attitude,” Samson snapped. “Yeah, Helena, your life sucks, and you have every right to be mad about that, but you have no right to take that anger out on innocent people.”

“Am I not allowed to complain?”

“You can complain all you fucking want,” Samson said. “Hell, I’d even be okay with you doing some evil shit if you aimed it at the people who deserve it. I’m talking about you working with a homicidal maniac to ruin all our lives! And that one time you killed me with a bomb, which, by the way: still mad about. Everything you’ve done to Joan, to Vell, to me, it’s not some righteous anger, it’s just you throwing a tantrum.”

Samson stood up, turned around, and pointed a finger at Helena.

“You’re so worried about looking pathetic because you’re sick, or in a wheelchair, or whatever else,” Samson said. “But the most pathetic thing about is your attitude.”

After waiting a few seconds, Helena offered no rebuttal, so Samson turned his back on her and walked away.

“Samson!”

He didn’t stop walking. Helena rolled her eyes and raised her voice.

“Thanks for the help.”

“Any time,” Samson said. Much to his chagrin, he meant it.

“So I kind of get where she’s coming from but it’s still a little fucked up,” Samson said. He had recapped the conversation to Vell and Joan, after waiting for the second loop so Joan would actually remember it.

“It’s not really surprising,” Joan sighed. “She’s been burned a lot.”

“So she’s never giving herself the chance to be disappointed again,” Vell said. It explained why Helena was so willing to work with Kraid. He was already at the rock-bottom of morality, so he had no room to disappoint her. “How do we get her to listen to us if she’s already decided she doesn’t trust any of us?”

“If she won’t listen to anyone good, maybe she’ll listen to someone evil,” Samson suggested. “Maybe we can get Alex to start acting like a bitch again”

Joan and Vell made two entirely different but equally scathing expressions at Samson.

“Okay, not helpful,” Samson said. “Then I guess our only option is proving her wrong. Give her the answer she’s been looking for without doing evil shit.”

“All comes back to the rune in the end, doesn’t it?”

“It is literally the meaning of life, brother,” Samson said. “I think it’s the biggest possible deal of all big deals.”

“It sucks we have to play this kind of game,” Joan said. “But at least we’re going to win.”

Vell didn’t say anything. Joan directed her scathing expression at him this time.

“Yeah, of course,” Vell said.

“More confidence, Vell.”

“You’re damn right we’re going to win!”

“Too far the other direction,” Joan said. “You turned into a youth pastor trying too hard to be cool for a second.”

“That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Didn’t I kill you once?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t insult me while you did it.”