No Respect

Summary: OR: Vista's done with the Protectorate, PRT and Youth Guard's bullshit, and a newly triggered Trump provides an easy out.

"You're too young, Missy... I'm sorry."

Bah.

What a load of crap.

I'm too young. Too small. Too little. Too cute. Too weak. Too pathetic.

Everyone thinks I'm some fragile crystal flower, that they can break me by sneezing too hard.

I swear, if I have to just stand there and take crap from Sophia one more time, I'm going to find a way to ventilate her with her own crossbow!

It's not my fault that PR doesn't allow me to fight! It doesn't matter how effective I'd be with any weapon to offset my size, I'm just here to be cute apparently. If any of these people got a peek under my costume, they'd probably crap themselves. Maybe it'd get them to look at me like the warrior I am instead of a cute little girl that needs to be protected.

I'm the one who stared down Hookwolf, and I've got the scar to prove it!

I almost winced from kicking a slightly larger stone that was far heavier than it looked at first glance. Huh. I wasn't paying attention, and it seems like I've wandered off. I was doing some window shopping, the first step to getting taken seriously is dressing the part after all, and certainly all these cutesy kiddy clothes don't help at all.

Then again, when I look at what clothes older teens wear, I'm not entirely sure I want that either. My eyes almost bug out at a girl probably two years older than me. That skirt could be confused for a belt, and if she bends forward slightly, I'm sure I would be looking at her underwear! I'm fairly confident you're supposed to wear tights or shorts under that!

But then again...

Most adult women wear tight clothes with no problem. Maybe it's because part of adulting is losing your shame?

I feel a chuckle bubble up from my chest. I chuckle, because only little girls giggle!

Seeing that, I'm not entirely sure I want to be seen as an adult, if it means everyone's gonna see my underwear if I take a long step or something.

Still, this area's more of an entertainment sector, much lighter on the shops that sell actually useful stuff. Shiny and eye catching though. Hm... I don't recognize that shop, and I'm here plenty - the Wards tend to stick to areas like this. Usually the Enforcers know to scram when we drop by, they're hardly ever trouble, and the place is just too 'safe' for the patrols to be at all entertaining.

Hm... it's a little asian-themed store, it seems. Not common in the Boardwalk or immediate surroundings. Most of the asian store owners moved to the unofficial 'chinatown' district, well known to be crawling with the ABB. They're 'safe' away from the Empire, but that 'safety' is probably a protection racket more than anything else.

The idea of the gangs acting freely without me being able to do anything about it kind of leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Like that time Joey Strada put ash on candy and then handed them out.

Jerk.

It's a quaint, I think that's the right word, place. Nice and cozy. Small but not really cramped-looking. It's all done in wood, or at least painted to look like it's wood, kind of mahogany-y, maybe.

"Hello there," the shopkeeper said.

She's kind of pretty actually. Strange, in a way. Her hair is long, incredibly long. If she weren't sitting, I'm sure it'd reach the back of her knees, but as she is, it hangs behind her like a deep, dark brown curtain. She's wearing a patterned kimono thing, not sure what it's called, I'm just assuming it's a kimono thing. Flowers in red, orange, white and yellow, on a white base. It's really pretty, and if Brockton Bay wasn't the capital of racism, I might actually want to get one of these.

It's just so pretty and it really gives the shopkeep an air of maturity. It took me until now to notice that she's probably not that much older than me. It's in her features.

"Ah, uhm, ehm-"

Dammit tongue work properly dammit! I know she's pretty but I like boys!

She smiled, and I could almost feel my heart grow wings and go aflutter. Not the time to be cheesy now!

"Welcome to my humble store. What may I help you with, miss..?"

"Missy," I blurted out, "I mean, ah, my name's Missy," I explained.

"I see. It suits you, Miss Missy," she said, almost as if testing the words on her mouth, and her smile told me she found them satisfactory. "And as I said, how may I help you today?"

"I, ugh," I frowned, "I'll be honest," because though I wanted to avoid an awkward situation, I think it's better to come clean. "I'm just kind of window shopping? I saw the store and it looked interesting."

I looked around. On the walls to my right and left there were shelves, all holding knick knacks of one kind or another. A lot of them looked like toys. You know, the ancient kind. Wooden horses, lead soldiers. There were figurines I barely recognized from cartoons, like that cat thing that moves its paw.

"I'm not really sure if there's anything you could help me with," I admitted.

"Worry not, Missy," she said, "if you could find my store, there's something I can help you with. Maybe an ear would serve you well."

A roundabout way of telling me to spill.

She's a stranger and... I doubt I'll be meeting her again. Might as well. "It's... uh... It's just..."

It's kind of pathetic, now that I think about it.

"It's just so silly, and I don't want to bother you with something that's really not worth your time," I explained.

I'd imagine that a girl this young running a store all on her own's probably working pretty hard.

She shook her head and offered me a bland smile. "Please, do," she said. "No problem is too small or unimportant. If it matters to you, then it's important. Speak," she told me, though despite the phrasing, I can tell it's more of a request than anything else.

I suppose I might as well. It's not like I'm losing anything here.

"Well... it's just... I'm tired of not being taken seriously," I said, frowning and looking down at my feet. "It's always "Oh Missy, you're too young" or "you'll understand soon" or "maybe when you're older", and I'm sick and tired of it, all the time. It's like nobody ever sees me, they just look at me and see a little girl!"

My breathing was hard, and I realized that the volume had climbed until I was screaming by the end, but I'm not done.

"It's awful, you know? I get no respect! It doesn't matter that I've been doing this longer than some adults, or that I've got the most experience and training out of all of us, I'm just the littlest Ward to them, who cares if I've got more fights with Hookwolf and Oni Lee than most of the Protectorate? I'm just me, the Wards' mascot. Who cares if I'm the only 9 anything in the city, I'm just the girl who's not actually allowed to fight anyone, I'm just supposed to use my powers to keep people away from me!"

I fell.

I don't know when, but I was on the ground, and I could feel tears prickling at the back of my eyes and you know what?

Fuck it.

"I hate it! I hate it hate it hate it hate it! I hate Shadow Stalker, always talking down to me and making fun of me because I'm not allowed to just grab a taser or a stick to beat people up with! I hate Chris because he can make all sorts of weapons and use them while I'm stuck looking cute! I hate Dennis and his stupid sense of humor and how he gets away with everything while I can't even be angry in public! I hate Carlos and that stick up his ass and that he got the position of leader that should've been mine! But most of all I hate Dean and his constant condescencion, just because I'm three years younger than he is, I'm just a dumb little kid he's humoring! I HATE THEM! I HATE THEM ALL!"

I don't think I noticed when her arms enveloped me, but I certainly did notice when she started rubbing my back.

"There, there," she said, "let it all out. It's all rotten and festering inside you, let it all out, it's the only way to be healthy again."

Before I could continue, I had to cough out a few sobs, before recomposing myself. "I hate Assault, he's just like a grown up Dennis, and I hate Battery and her condescending attitude, and I hate Dauntless because he gets stronger with no added effort..."

My sniffles got too bad, and I felt horrible about staining her beautiful kimono, but it seemed like she was prepared, as she presented me with a tissue to blow my nose on.

"I hate Piggot and her ugly bigoted face, I hate the PR department and I hate the Youth Guard, all they're doing is telling me how fragile and weak I am and I'm not! I'm NOT! I'm STRONG! I'm tough! I can handle it! Why... why does everybody," I was interrupted by hiccups, "I just want them to acknowledge me. I don't want to be a cute little girl... I'm a hero! Why... why does nobody respect me!?"

"I respect you, Missy," she said, leaning back slightly and pulling me until I was seated on her lap.

I don't think I need to say that I didn't struggle very hard when she kept me from moving away from her hug. "I don't believe you... look at me, I'm here crying and blubbering and making a mess because I'm just a stupid little girl and-"

"Shush," she said, pressing me against her soft chest. "Even the strongest under the heavens cry, Missy. Even the men who could move mountains and reshape the world, know tears of pain, sorrow and anger."

"But... but," once more I was interrupted by my throat seizing my words before they came out, "I'm just here crying because I feel bad about myself! I'm an idiot, I'm not strong, I'm just a dumb little girl playing hero and-"

"Shush," she said, more insistently this time. "Missy, I won't mince my words and I won't lie to you. There are those who have suffered worse than you, who keep suffering day after day. Men, women and children who struggle daily for so much as a meal, who live under constant fear of death, who suffer unimaginable pain every waking moment of their lives, and who long and beg for a death that is much too distant."

It's horrible! Here I am, blubbering because people around me want to protect me, while others live like that! I'm such a fool, a self centered and selfish idiot!

"But that doesn't matter," she continued. "You hurt, Missy. It doesn't matter how much others hurt. Another's pain does not diminish your own. You're hurting inside, and it's unhealthy to think your pain meaningless just because another suffers worse!"

"H-How... how can you say that?" I asked, blinking away the tears that were making my vision blurry. "How does me feeling a little down compare to someone who doesn't know if they'll be alive tomorrow?"

"It doesn't, Missy," she explained. "But it doesn't have to."

I blinked. "W-What... what do you mean?"

She smiled.

Her smile really is beautiful.

It's strange to think that I've been returning to the shop practically every day since then.

I wasn't surprised, however, to discover the shop's owner to be a parahuman. Honestly, I don't think she even tried to hide it after the first time. Then again, she had explained that on some level, it was because I was no longer trying to put her in a box - that I was no longer seeing what I wanted to see instead of what was.

But I'm not sure if she was having fun at my expense.

As soon as I'd worked out the nerve to step into the shop again, there she was, sitting on a cushion. Her hair was as beautiful as ever, but for a moment I thought it much more voluminous than usual.

Then it began gently swaying behind her and I realized that what I was looking at was a deep dark brown curtain of hair... and fur. Nine big, incredibly fluffy and soft tails were waving behind the shopkeeper, and when I looked up, I saw her ears twitch.

Dark, nearly black, fur that matched her hair and tails, pointy and soft looking.

I nearly squeed.

She was gracious enough to allow me to pet her tails... every day. It's not like she's asking for much in terms of payment. Honestly brushing her tails is almost a reward at this point, it's just so very relaxing.

I was a bit startled when a customer actually walked into the shop while I was in the middle of grooming one of her tails, but it seemed like he didn't see what I was doing. Strange.

The man was asian, looking to be in his late fifties. It took ten minutes of him chatting about random, inane topics until he got around to describing the kind of object he wanted. Apparently an anniversary gift for his wife, made to the specifications of an object that they'd lost when the island they'd lived on sank.

Kyushu refugees, it seemed.

The shopkeeper seemed to reach into a cupboard, I couldn't quite see, and removed from it a small package.

"I think this should be the closest you'll find," she said.

The man took the offered object and opened the package. He seemed pleased. He bowed. He said something I couldn't understand.

The shopkeeper smiled. "You owe me nothing but your kindness. Take this to your wife, and if she is happy, then we will discuss a payment. Far be it from me to charge for a gift found unworthy."

The man said something more, bowing more deeply. Then he took a deep breath and seemed to steel himself. "Thank you for your aid," he said in stilted and accented English, "Great Spirit," he said.

I blinked.

The shopkeeper laughed. "Thank you very much for the effort," she said. "I shall eagerly await your return. Until then, I bid you farewell."

The man said something else in his language and then left.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"That? Hm..." she seemed pensive. "He had a fight with his wife," she explained, "and is trying to make up with her by giving her a gift. In this case, a painting made by her grandfather, the original of which was thought destroyed."

"But you gave him a package that was like, this big," I said, holding my hands about ten inches apart.

"It was rolled up," she explained, smiling. "Are you feeling better today?"

"I... yes, actually. It's very relaxing," I admitted, running the brush over her fur once more.

"How are things at your, shall we say... day job?"

I winced. I really should not have revealed as much as I did. I guess in some ways I've still got a long ways to go.

"More of the same," I admitted. "I just... don't think talking to people would really do anything. I'm just a kid to them."

"Maybe," she said. "Have you considered taking more drastic measures?"

What could she possibly mean? "Uhm... what do you mean?"

"When workers feel their rights are threatened, when they feel disrespected, do they not strike back at their masters the only way they can? If they refuse to give you the respect you feel you deserve, then why not refuse to give them the work they feel entitled to?"

"You mean go on strike?" I asked. Huh. I hadn't thought about that actually.

"Precisely," she said. "If they do not listen when you try words, then..."

She smiled.

"That's when you begin escalating."

Her smile really is beautiful.

That... went worse than I was expecting.

But it honestly went a long ways to show me just how little the Protectorate thinks of me in general.

When I refused to work at all until I was given what I think I deserve - namely, authorization to train with at least a baton so I can take people down on my own - I think I saw what everyone really thinks of me.

I'm not shocked at all that Carlos is offended that I'm looking to be more than what the Protectorate wants me to be. Boy's got a stick up his ass about following all the rules and regulations. It's no wonder that he felt threatened when I defied them.

At least he still carried my complaints all the way to Armsmaster and Piggot.

And what a fucking shitshow that was. Forgive me my vulgarity, but it's the only way I can describe that conversation.

From the beginning, Armsmaster seemed to not care in the slightest. It seemed like he was outright offended that he had to come out of his lab to deal with me and my complaints. I know he gets obsessive about his tinkering, but geez, you'd think the guy would at least act in his capacity as Protectorate Leader at least a little.

Especially with how much I've seen people grumble that the only thing Armsmaster cares about is his career.

Piggot, however, took the cake. She started condescending and dismissive, and only got worse from there. Apparently, to her I'm little more than an entitled brat who wants to be pampered. Well, after like half an hour of yelling, we came to a mutual disagreement.

So I told them to get stuffed and left. I left my Vista costume at the base. I don't think I'm gonna be needing it for a while at least. They outright refuse to consider the idea of giving me the ability to fight without backup, they refuse to consider me for leadership despite my experience and they refuse to allow me to move my image beyond 'the littlest Ward'.

So I'm done. I'm done with all of them.

The wind chimes, well, chimed. "Good afternoon, Missy."

I still have no idea what the shopkeep's powers actually are, but it seems like she always knows who I am. "Good afternoon," I replied. "I... think I kind of quit today."

She seemed surprised. "Hm... well then. That's rather extreme, but if you feel that there was no other recourse..."

I shook my head. "They didn't want to negotiate. I don't think I could've changed their minds. Even if my parents don't want to withdraw me from the Wards... I'm done. I'm never going back there."

"But, forgive me if I'm presumptuous, do you not enjoy being a hero?" she asked.

"If I'm being honest, yeah," I admitted. "Helping people? I love doing it. I loved being Vista, in a sense. I loved being the one everyone looked up to, and giving everyone hope when I showed up in a bad situation... but I don't need the Protectorate. I don't know how, but... I'll find some way to still be a hero!"

She went pensive for a few moments, then gave me a wonderful smile. I think the right word for this is 'beatific', but I haven't had to look up synonyms for 'pretty' in a while.

"I'm glad to hear that. I believe, Missy, that I can help you with that."

I blinked.

"How?"

"Would you like to learn how to learn Witchcraft, Missy?"

And that's all folks.

A few deets: if written longer, it would've eventually revealed that the shop has an effect on it that basically makes people relax and more susceptible, as well as a natural stranger effect on the Shopkeep that makes her look more trustworthy - essentially, though its actual purpose is to keep the law away.

It's just amazing how little respect Missy gets... from the fanbase, actually.

People reduce her to a punchline a lot. She's usually just a cheerful and cute little girl, frequently begging to have more girls in the Wards.

Everyone always forgets that Missy is Little Miss Badass, and that she certainly doesn't want any more girls in the Wards when she's already struggling to catch Dean's attention as it is.

It doesn't help that we don't really get a look at the Wards pre-Leviathan. Ultimately, I decided to have Missy be struggling with the fact that I imagine her situation pre-Leviathan was pretty much like her situation in fanfic - everyone thinks she's a cute little fragile girl that needs to be protected and kept away from danger, and is under lots of pressure because everyone wants her to be cute and cuddly and she wants to break kneecaps.

The end result is this.

Incidentally, this is an AU where Danny Hebert's mother was Japanese and lived in an old house deep in ABB territory. Two guesses who the Nine Tailed Fox is and the first doesn't count.

Incidentally, I'd have stolen her powers from Tamamo's powerlist from the Fate series. Well, 1-tail Tamamo anyway. Not exactly strong, but her utility abilities are versatile and useful enough to make up for it. Also Taylor doesn't know that she doesn't have a shard from Zion, she has a tiny little chunk of Amaterasu in her.

The plot of the fic would be basically everyone attempting to recruit Missy as she grows in strength. Once she learns how to make charms that explode, she uses her power to stick them on things from very far distances - essentially she's got sticky elemental mines AND the ability to hack reality so everything's in touching range. Plus more esoteric effects as she learns more powerful and varied charms and curses.

Kaiser tries because she's the Aryan ideal, Lung tries because Missy's learning from what basically amounts to a little piece of a Shinto deity, the Protectorate tries to reconcile, the Merchants jump on the bandwagon because Skidmark is an idiot, Lisa tries because Coil puts her up to it (and we get fake fox to real fox combat between her and Taylor. Alec ships it.) and Faultline's crew makes a token attempt as a joke.

Point is, the entire fic would basically detail Missy's transformation from "the littlest/cutest Ward" to "By the time you see her, you're already exploded".