Paragon City Stories: Meanwhile at the Superbase
Hosted by UNINVENTIVEHEART
Chapter II, Scene 4
Damian Bellerose
NARRATOR: uninventiveheart
Place: Downtown Music, Talos Island
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NARRATOR
This is Damian Bellerose’s first appearance.
As you walk to the address on the card, you find yourself in Talos Island heading to a two story music store on New Thebes. The front of the building only shows the one story at the floor, where the upstairs is illegal loft housing for the store owner. There’s also a downstairs to the basement, but both sets of stairs are behind the counter, as you approach the clerk with the Business Card that will gain access.
A tall, skinny black man descends the stairs, wearing a set of blue slacks, a black oxford shirt, and an unfastened bowtie. His narrow and skinny head is peppered with gray and black facial hair left in a two-day old stubble, gentle brown eyes, and short cropped hair partially hidden by a matching blue fedora.
Damian Bellerose
“Oh, this better be good…” Damian climbs gently down the stairs as he reaches the floor level of the storefront behind the counter.
“I’ve got no time for girl scout cookies or petitions, whoever you are, make it quick.” He descends the Bannister with a Trumpet in hand and a soft cloth in the other to polish it.
Paige Pirillo
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir. A friend of mine told me to find Damian Bellerose here–”
Damian Bellerose
“–and you’re looking at him. Who’s this friend?” He asks, “I ain’t got a lot of those lately, and most of my acquaintances aren’t on speaking terms these days, so think carefully who you name, child.”
Paige Pirillo
“She goes by the name of Linuial. She gave me this card.” Paige hands the business card face down on the counter top.
Damian Bellerose
Damian pauses on the last step, then step down and put his Trumpet down on bench to walk up and lift the card. A sharp tone punctuates every syllable of what he says next, “Is that so? And you think Linuial and I are friends? Mighty big assumption on your part…” His stern face eyes her, causing Paige to shrink in fear that she made a mistake.
Then a thin smile stretches across his teeth, “And your assumption would be right. How is Goldilocks doing these days?” Damian lights up with a much more calmer and cheerful voice.
Paige Pirillo
Nervously laughing, she takes a breath, “She’s fine. I’ve teamed up with her on missions, and she thinks I could use your help training my powers.”
“Am… am I in the right place?”
Damian Bellerose
Chuckling, he walks to the back wall towards a water cooler, “Of course you are, child.”
“I haven’t made a profit selling sheet music or albums for almost a decade. This whole music store is a relic of a forgotten time. I do make the occasional windfall during the holidays, but most of my stock winds up being stolen… by The Warriors… or my own staff.”
The clerk turns his head incredulously at Damian, as he continues, “God damn right, I’m watching you, Robbie. We’re closing up early. Count your till twice before you leave.”
“In any case, this store’s real reason for existence… is the same reason this very building was constructed in the 1960s pretty damn close to when I was in tiny shoes and a bib. It was made for music.” He returns from the water cooler with two plastic cups full of cold water, “… for you. Drink.”
Paige Pirillo
“…uh, thanks?” Paige takes the man’s offered drink and sips it gently, “Aren’t you kind of hard on him? He looks like a teenager.”
Damian Bellerose
“Shit, girl, you look like a teenager. Either you are and you’ve started gaining experience at far too young of an age, or you’ve found the fountain of youth and are stupid tryin’ to clear the streets when you could be sellin’ your own miracle from the fountain yourself.” Damian laughs.
“And Robbie? He’s my sister’s kid. Caught tagging in Talos Island Central High School. I gave him this job as a favor. This is her idea of ‘rehabilitation’. Lousy kid hasn’t lifted a finger and gets everything he wants, he sees this as a punishment, not an opportunity.”
“So, finish your drink, sweetheart, and when you’re ready, head downstairs. It’s alright, you can come behind the counter. I’ll meet you there after I lock up the shop.”
Paige Pirillo
“Uh… alright. But first, your card says you’re a registered trainer. I don’t mean to be a pain, but can I see some ID?” Paige asked. “I have no idea who you really are, and if I’m wrong, a young girl like me entering a basement in a locked up building with someone she’s never met before. You can understand my reservations, right?”
Damian Bellerose
“Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Damian says, as he opens a billfold from his pocket and draws out his FBSA Photo ID Card, showing that he is a registered trainer, along with his Rhode Island State ID Card. “In fact, you are smarter than you look. Most teenagers who learn that I train powered folks second guess me from this place and leave. You’re the first hero in a while who asked for ID. I like that.”
Paige Pirillo
“Do you want mine?” Paige asks, fishing through her purse.
Damian Bellerose
“I didn’t say I would take you on as a student yet. Slow your roll. We’ll get to that when we’re ready. Now, down the stairs. I’ll be there in a minute.” Damian said, walking past the counter door to head to the storefront to close the security grate across the back of the window of the storefront and set a Dog-Lock bar to the front entrance doors.
NARRATOR
Downstairs, the cold-green hue of the fluorescent lighting and the musty old smell of a 1970’s music studio fills the senses.
The room is cleared out, and clean for what otherwise would be seen as dingy and old. Along the walls, there are a small gathering of old 45s with either original pressings of a master of songs from the past, as well as a couple of Gold Records for his work on a few jazz albums in the 1980s before he got married.
The soundproofing baffles, the rug in the center of the floor, and the ceiling tiles show various stains, water marks, and a healthy amount of dust… not enough that the place has been abandoned, but enough that it is clear that the whole building isn’t cleaned nightly.
Paige Pirillo
After surveying the old studio for about 10 minutes, Paige finds a piano bench to rest herself upon. She looks at the old music instruments in the room: a xylophone, a couple of organs (with what later she would learn are a Clavinet and a Rhodes Piano), and a baby grand in the corner of the room. A series of mic stands pepper the corners around the window of the recording booth as she looks through the window to see a very old looking console full of lights, knobs and sliders she couldn’t possibly understand.
Damian Bellerose
“Admiring my control booth, I take it?” he says sharply behind her, setting her nerves on edge. Both by accident as he didn’t intend to scare her out of curiosity, but also on purpose as the right amount of pressure makes a student uneasy, which makes them anxious to make a good impression.
“That’s the genius of this building. It was made for music, like I said. It was a Civil Defense structure. The bricks you see in this basement are all a facade. This floor is cement, lined with 1/2 foot of steel, lined again with cement. It would take 2,785 pounds of force to dent these walls, which is past ANY Sonic hero’s capability to damage…” Damian redoubles his claim to prevent Paige from giving her powers a shot, “… except I would ask of you NOT to do ANYTHING in here, this room is part of the fallout shelter, but it is full of sensitive instruments. Expensive ones.”
Damian opens a double door at the center wall to reveal the second half of the stage. “Here, we’ll do most of our work in the Drum Room.”
Paige Pirillo
“You can play all of these?” Paige asked, taking it all in.
Damian Bellerose
“My band can. But I’m a specialist of the wind and woodwind variety. I’m not much for tickling the ivories, but on occasion, a good piano is excellent for working out a melody, even if you’re not all that good at playing one.” Damian said, waving Paige into the Drum Room, “Last stop on the tour, I promise. After this, I’m all out of rooms worth showing to you.”
Paige Pirillo
Paige notices a Shadow Box on the wall with a old suspension mic held from a shock housing on springs, like an old radio mic from the 1940s and 1950s Radio Shows. Below, on the Shadow Box rim is a brass plate, “Patience, My Lost Virtue, My Broken Heart. 1983-2006.”
Damian Bellerose
“Among the many things I would ask you not to touch in this room, that would be the most important out of all of them. That mic belongs to her, and I’ll be damned if I let either a clumsy new student or useless nephew break it on accident. Please, this way.” Damian asked Paige to walk through the doors, “Your first lesson is about to begin.”
Paige Pirillo
Paige said out loud, “Sorry! I didn’t know.” She is beginning to wonder if coming here was a mistake. That if this was a waste of his time and she is annoying him rather than eager and waiting to learn from him.
“What did Linuial get me into?” She asks herself.
Damian Bellerose
“Now, you will notice, there are four tables in this room. Two of them on each side. Each of these tables have a pyramid of 20 bottles, made of glass, arranged with grey bottles on the outsides and one red bottle, clear and full of water on the inside.”
“Why am I being so descriptive? Because I want to know the kind of precision you bring to the table so I know what to work with. Now, without disturbing the grey bottles…” He points to a left-side table from his right hand, “I want you to use your sonic powers to smash the red bottle without affecting the others.”
Paige Pirillo
“What? I can’t do that.” Paige says matter-of-factually. “I can smash all of them, on both tables, at once, but I can’t target like that.” She said back.
Damian Bellerose
“Then you know where the door is.” Damian said, pointing to the exit out of the Drum Room. “After heading upstairs, the side exit into the back alley is unlocked. You’ll find the door next to the staircase on your right. Sorry to waste your time.”
Paige Pirillo
“What? That’s it?” Paige said, flustered.
Damian Bellerose
“That’s the shape of it, child. Either smash ONE of the red bottles, or get out of my sight. You pick.” Damian said, turning away from Paige to walk to the wall next to the doors leading them out. He sees her walk toward the doors in frustration, then adds…
“Paige Pirillo, age 15, student at Paragon City University, ward of the state, biological parents killed in a car accident, frequent target of unspeakable abuses growing up, adoptive mother who died in prison… and yet with all of that, a registered hero with two completed missions. One of which ended with a gun shot to your right leg.” Damian said out loud, stopping her in her tracks.
Paige Pirillo
“I… didn’t tell you my name yet! How do you know all of that?” Paige asked in shock.
Damian Bellerose
That same thin smile creeps across Damian’s lips, “Because Linuial and I spoke on the phone earlier today before you arrived. I knew it was you the whole time.”
“You have questions. TONS of them. Any new hero would. And I don’t have the answers to all of them. For example, your Psionic powers are beyond my Kin, I have no frame of reference to help you with those, only a referral to another trainer. BUT when it comes to your sonic powers, I can promise you that gun shot that you went through could have been easily prevented. That is, if I trained you before you went on your escapade. But it all starts with the fundamentals, the basics, the rudiments. And from what I hear, you’re a natural talent, but you have no discipline.”
“With all due respect, dear, you are a bull in china shop. A cute, diminutive bull, but a bull nonetheless. So show me what I have to work with. Break the damn bottle.”
Paige Pirillo
“Alright, here it goes…” She draws up her fingertips and her arm, until…
Damian Bellerose
“NOT WITH YOUR HANDS.” Damian cowed at the young girl. “Use your voice.”
He saw Paige’s expression turn back into frustration, then continued, “Your most powerful asset is your voice. Your hands and arms have limitations… SEVERE ones that any well-positioned enemy can take advantage of. But it takes a concentrated effort to mute you. Even taping your mouth shut would be stupid when you realize your full potential.”
“Your somatic motions are what you think are the root of your powers, but they’re really a crutch. Don’t get me wrong, your hands and arms are your ‘trick shot’, useful for parlour tricks or when the enemy isn’t expecting it, but they will never equal in power.”
“Surprised? You’re not the first mutant sonic I’ve trained, but heroes like yourself never realize their best attack potential using only skin contact. So, again, use your voice only and break the red bottle.”
Paige Pirillo
“Alright…” Paige sighed. “If this building cracks, I’m not responsible.”
She drew in a breath, then looked at the bottles sand turned her mouth toward the stack. She trilled her voice to try to shorten the soundwave into something that would hit only one bottle…
… but managed to topple the entire stack of bottles on the left hand table over, save for the bottom row.
Damian Bellerose
“Not bad, child. Not bad.” Damian said.
“I would have been impressed if you did manage to break the bottle, but I was expecting you to make good on your promise to level both tables.” Damian laughed, then continued, “But more importantly, I was testing to see if you could try to follow seeming impossible directions to the best of your ability instead of moaning about how hard it is and giving up. You resisted, but eventually, you didn’t let the experience have you, you had the experience. That’s all I ask of my students.”
Paige Pirillo
“So, if you knew I was going to fail, why put me through such an exercise?” Paige asked, curious. “Is there a point?”
Damian Bellerose
“Is there a point?!!” Damian said loudly, then laughed deeply and broadly into the otherwise empty room. “Is there a point?” he asked again is a lightened voice that found contempt in her question but was still able to laugh at it.
“The point is, my dear girl, that you are ill-suited to be a hero in my standards. You have amplitude, that’s for certain, and it is your only talent. Your breath control, your timber, your pitch, are ALL off. When you resonate, you do so discordantly, and your resultant sound waves are ill formed and are akin to using dynamite to kill an ant-hole.”
He removes two foam ear plugs that have been protecting his ears all along.
“But with practice, you can develop your abilities. With practice, you can find the discipline to refine your form. With practice, everything from your stance, your approach, even your energy used will change. And you’ll know what to do for each of the four stages of emitting sound on your prolonged attacks… for the Attack, Sustain, Decay and Release, not just as ‘screaming’. You’ll know what notes form which kinds of soundwaves, and what attributes each waveform has for both combat as well as support. You’ll know the range and extent of each kind of volume you can offer from your voice, and how to twist or curl a waveform when you need something in between. Instead of doing everything by instinct, you’ll understand every nuance to your power and wield it like a master. You don’t need any more power, child. You need… control. Accuracy. SURGICAL precision.” He walked to the Drum Room exit doors and shuffled in the next room to find an instrument.
“In short, stick with me and when I’m through with you…”
Damian came back with a “Pocket Trumpet” in his hand, then loaded it in his hands, turned his head and fired a sharp report into the mouthpiece, resulting in a twisting soundwave the likes Paige has never seen before. The waveform, spiralling out of his instrument, struck the red bottle from the stack leaving the others intact as the red one bypassed the table and shattered on the wall behind it.
“… you’ll be the smartest bull in the china shop. Lesson over.”
NARRATOR
And thus began the tutelage of Paige Pirillo, under the careful and precise hands of Damian T. Bellerose. His strict, uncompromising, and confrontational form left her flustered at many times, but when she was close to giving up, she found him to be warm, inviting, and generous once more, only to find him cold and callow once he saw her to become too comfortable.
It was a dance that left her on edge during most of the initial sessions… and yet, it also left her craving for more.
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