Poem: "The Native Metal of a Man"
Sep. 26th, 2021 10:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem was written outside the regular prompt calls. It fills the "Respect Limits" square in my 9-1-21 card for the Platonic Love Fest Bingo. It has been sponsored by Anthony & Shirley Barrette. This poem belongs to the Shiv thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. It immediately follows my poems "At Certain Crucial Moments" and "In Untried Emergencies," and the story "Responding to Emergencies" by dialecticdreamer, so read those first or this won't make much sense.
Warning: This poem contains intense topics and the aftermath of canon-atypical violence. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes damage and chaos caused by a disintegration beam, Shiv feeling hopelessly out of his depth, reluctant leadership, seriously badass combat knives, descriptions of damaged areas and rescue activities, insecurity with official status, unease with approval, and other challenges. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward. This is part of an ongoing arc, so skipping it would leave a gap.
"The Native Metal of a Man"
[Monday, May 18, 2015]
Working fast, Shiv set up
his "Coordinator" station,
such as it was. He didn't know
if anyone other than the Finns
would take it seriously, but he
was going to give it a try.
He hadn't done anything
quite like this before, but
Mrs. Dr. G believed he could.
If he thought of it as bouncer work,
then he could just about wrap
his mind around it for now.
His phone was -- Shiv wasn't
even sure what Mrs. Dr. G
had done to it, but suddenly
it was almost a super-gizmo.
He could see where all the Finns
were, where the worst damage
was, and the various aid stations
that people were setting up.
As he watched, another icon
blinked from amber to green,
meaning Billy Frogg's Grill and Bar
had shut down regular service so
they could support rescue workers.
Shiv had met Billy, who looked froglike.
The bartender was a gruff fucker, so
they got on just great, and Billy didn't
put up with shenanigans in his joint.
Maybe Shiv would take some of
the guys out for a good slosh in
a month or so. Billy had nice booze,
some of that even locally produced.
People hurried past the station,
some running, others limping.
Several asked about the gear
that Shiv was holding, but he
refused to let anyone near that.
After hearing three different people
talking about M-FYN and other sites
that tracked safety after disasters,
Shiv scribbled a note on some paper
and taped it to the wall of the store:
Have you logged your status on
all of your safety services?
Shiv had already logged in.
He wasn't keen on the idea, but
the Finns had asked, pestered, and
finally bribed him to join M-FYN.
What the fuck ever, as long
as it would shut them up.
Then a bouncy guy in a big hat
bounded out of Go Outdoors.
"Hey, man, I'm looking for
someone in charge," he said.
"Do you need anything that
my store might have in stock?"
"Start with first aid supplies,
bring those outside," Shiv said.
"Climbing gear, gloves, ropes --
anything useful for rescue work,
list that. Some folks might
need clean clothes, too."
"I'll get right on that,"
said the shopkeeper.
"I'm Kaede Oakley. If
you need anything else,
just stick your head inside
the door and holler for me."
"Can do," Shiv said. "Thanks."
Then a rattling sound made
him look around to find it.
Someone had cracked open
the tornado shelter underneath
the 10th & Douglas SW bus stop
to haul out its emergency equipment.
A beefy black woman dressed in
a Hilton janitor uniform hauled
two big upright bins marked for
search-and-rescue equipment.
She also wore a yellow backpack
that read, Emergency -- Command.
Behind her came a smaller black man
dressed as a garbage collector. He
towed a rolling cart with two red bags
marked, First Aid and he carried
a black duffle that read, Triage.
"My punk-ass hotel won't help,
so I quit and came on my own,
she said. "I'm Lashaunta Sims.
Would you folks mind if I set up
a search-and-rescue station here?"
"Go ahead, there's room," said Shiv.
"Shopkeeper has outdoor stuff like
rope and harnesses indoors, told me
to holler for him if we need anything."
"That'll do," Lashaunta said, and
then started unpacking her gear.
"I'm Quarren Gibson," the man said.
"I need to set up a triage station --"
Shiv shook his head. "Not here,"
he said, pointing north. "Go up
the block to that parklet -- that's
by the Advanced Surgery Center.
They can handle injuries that
don't need a whole hospital."
"Ah," Quarren said, brightening.
"I'll get right on it, sir." He trotted
away, red cart rumbling behind him.
Shiv wasn't a sir, but he wasn't
about to argue over it, either.
An odd sliding sound brought
Heron and Mallory in the company
of two heavily armored Italians.
Heron wore some sort of bird mask
that should have looked ridiculous
but didn't, and had a subtle bit of
energy boosting the usual tendency
to overlook a familiar person in a mask.
Of course, Shiv knew the feel of
Heron's superpower, so the deflection
just didn't have much effect on him.
Mallory was wearing ... well, not quite
her former Farce outfit but close to it.
The green-and-orange supersuit
was looser and the tragicomic mask
had a fancy Italian flair to it now.
The bodyguard was in black and white
touched with red, heavily armored, and
he stood with legs braced and arms crossed
in a way that Shiv would rather not mess with.
The combat teleporter was a tiny little thing
whose arms barely went far enough to touch
her various passengers. Her leathers were
mostly black and green with rigid armor plates.
"I'm Da Paura, combat teleporter," she said.
With me are Ostinato, combat bodyguard;
Cicogna, healer; and Feroce, fateworker."
"I'm Shiv, coordinator," he replied. Well,
these Italians were looking after his family.
"Anybody need a blade fixed so's it can
cut through anything? No charge."
Ostinato reached behind himself
and produced something shaped
like a survival knife but sized
like a freaking short sword,
black with a long belly and
two saws along the back.
Shiv whistled, but took the time
to treat the whole thing so it was
unbreakable, super-sharp, and
set to the correct angle of edge.
Ostinato smiled as he reclaimed
the blade, clearly able to feel
some sort of difference in it.
He shrugged off his jacket,
undid the sheath harness, and
somehow reconfigured it to hang
along the outside of his right leg.
Da Paura flicked her hand and
produced a long stiletto as
beautiful as it was deadly,
with an exquisite green hilt.
This was a fully automatic,
out-the-front knife, so Shiv had
to concentrate on the moving parts
to make sure everything would
work smoothly once souped up.
Da Paura grinned at him, then
tested it by flinging it at the pavement,
where the knife sank in to the hilt.
She had to wiggle it a bit to get it
back out, but it was perfectly intact.
"Thank you," she said in lilting English.
"This is a fine gift. I will use it well."
"Where can you use us today?"
Cicogna asked, waving a hand.
Shiv handed him a backpack --
Zipper had restocked after Tolli
had taken the first one earlier.
"This is from your mother," he said.
"The uh, the mobile program for
family disaster deployment is active
so you can see where everything is."
Cicogna checked his phone. "Good,
we brought some supplies, but more
is better," he said. "I will head over
to the Advanced Surgery Center
and fix whatever I can there."
"Where's, uh, your little shadow?"
Shiv wondered. They wouldn't
bring a baby into a mess like this,
but Dairinne couldn't be fobbed off
on just anyone -- and a lot of
the family was here today.
"Shadowing housemates,"
Cicogna explained. "Safe."
"Yeah, okay," said Shiv.
"Feroce, what about you?"
"I'll be feeling out where things
could go wrong, and directing
them to do so in ways that won't
make even more trouble," she said.
Shiv knew just enough about
search-and-rescue to understand
how dangerous it could be, and
that gave him an idea for her.
"Go help Tolli," he said, pointing.
"There's a team clearing rubble
at the Greenhouse Apartments."
Feroce turned to look. "Shit,"
she said. "Yeah, that's my gig."
"Latch on," Da Paura said. "I'll
drop off Cicogna and Ostinato
first, then Feroce after that."
She pushed off with her foot,
and then they all slid away.
Kaede came out with tables,
some employees, and not just
first aid kits but samples of
some other outdoor stuff too.
They set up those tables
with a big banner that read,
FREE EMERGENCY GEAR.
There were ropes, harnesses,
helmets, hatchets, gloves, and
all kinds of useful equipment.
Lashaunta stopped organizing
her volunteer team long enough
to give Kaede a list of requests.
He actually had most of that.
Then Climaco showed up.
"Brown sent me," he said.
"I can lift a bit if you need it."
Shiv looked up at what was
left of Greenhouse Apartments
and wondered if anyone might
be trapped up in the broken part.
"Oh hell yes," he said, pointing.
"Go find Tolli and offer to help
him with the aerial search."
"I dunno if I can levitate anyone
else just yet," Climaco hedged.
"If you can't, that's fine, you
can still spot for the searchers,"
Shiv said. "Can you carry gear?"
"That I can do," said Climaco.
"Take some rope, a harness,
and a first aid kit," said Shiv.
"That ought to get you started."
Lashaunta gave a shrill whistle.
"Hey, if he's on SAR, he's mine,"
she said. "Come get a vest, kid,
you can't run out there bareback
or someone will try to chase you off."
"Uh ..." Climaco said, looking at Shiv.
"Put the vest on," Shiv said with a sigh,
fingering the one Mrs. Dr. G gave him.
"At least it'll keep people off your case."
Lashaunta used a marker to write
SAR -- ENHANCED on a label,
then passed the vest to Climaco,
who muttered but put it on.
Shiv couldn't blame him
for not wanting to attract
that much attention -- since
it practically glowed in the dark --
but people did need to see Climaco
through the lingering clouds of dust,
so they wouldn't crash into him.
Climaco trotted off toward
the wrecked apartment.
Shiv's smartphone chirped,
reminding him to stop
and eat something.
Oh yeah, Halley had
definitely programmed
that reminder into the app.
Looking around for inspiration,
Shiv saw that Kaede had put out
some New Millennium bars, so he
grabbed an orange one to munch.
Shiv watched his smartphone
as he ate. He saw Dr. G's marker
blink from green to orange, then
amber. The tag for it changed
from On Duty to On Break.
Yeah, it was a shitty day
out there for everyone,
but at least now they had
enough people to tag out
if somebody got dinged up.
"Hey, Lashaunta, my ETC guy
just went on break," Shiv called.
"If you spot anyone for that,
pass them my way, okay?"
"Can do," she said, nodding.
"You're doing a fine job there."
That just felt bizarre, because
he wasn't used to ... approval.
Shiv thought about what Rosie
had said about emergencies
testing the native metal of a man.
Shiv might not be a superhero,
but he was made of good steel
forged in fire and quenched in sweat.
He could cut through just about anything.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character, setting, and content notes will appear separately. See also the response notes for this incident. Compare the Omaha incident with other events.
dialecticdreamer, so read those first or this won't make much sense. Warning: This poem contains intense topics and the aftermath of canon-atypical violence. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes damage and chaos caused by a disintegration beam, Shiv feeling hopelessly out of his depth, reluctant leadership, seriously badass combat knives, descriptions of damaged areas and rescue activities, insecurity with official status, unease with approval, and other challenges. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward. This is part of an ongoing arc, so skipping it would leave a gap.
"The Native Metal of a Man"
[Monday, May 18, 2015]
Working fast, Shiv set up
his "Coordinator" station,
such as it was. He didn't know
if anyone other than the Finns
would take it seriously, but he
was going to give it a try.
He hadn't done anything
quite like this before, but
Mrs. Dr. G believed he could.
If he thought of it as bouncer work,
then he could just about wrap
his mind around it for now.
His phone was -- Shiv wasn't
even sure what Mrs. Dr. G
had done to it, but suddenly
it was almost a super-gizmo.
He could see where all the Finns
were, where the worst damage
was, and the various aid stations
that people were setting up.
As he watched, another icon
blinked from amber to green,
meaning Billy Frogg's Grill and Bar
had shut down regular service so
they could support rescue workers.
Shiv had met Billy, who looked froglike.
The bartender was a gruff fucker, so
they got on just great, and Billy didn't
put up with shenanigans in his joint.
Maybe Shiv would take some of
the guys out for a good slosh in
a month or so. Billy had nice booze,
some of that even locally produced.
People hurried past the station,
some running, others limping.
Several asked about the gear
that Shiv was holding, but he
refused to let anyone near that.
After hearing three different people
talking about M-FYN and other sites
that tracked safety after disasters,
Shiv scribbled a note on some paper
and taped it to the wall of the store:
Have you logged your status on
all of your safety services?
Shiv had already logged in.
He wasn't keen on the idea, but
the Finns had asked, pestered, and
finally bribed him to join M-FYN.
What the fuck ever, as long
as it would shut them up.
Then a bouncy guy in a big hat
bounded out of Go Outdoors.
"Hey, man, I'm looking for
someone in charge," he said.
"Do you need anything that
my store might have in stock?"
"Start with first aid supplies,
bring those outside," Shiv said.
"Climbing gear, gloves, ropes --
anything useful for rescue work,
list that. Some folks might
need clean clothes, too."
"I'll get right on that,"
said the shopkeeper.
"I'm Kaede Oakley. If
you need anything else,
just stick your head inside
the door and holler for me."
"Can do," Shiv said. "Thanks."
Then a rattling sound made
him look around to find it.
Someone had cracked open
the tornado shelter underneath
the 10th & Douglas SW bus stop
to haul out its emergency equipment.
A beefy black woman dressed in
a Hilton janitor uniform hauled
two big upright bins marked for
search-and-rescue equipment.
She also wore a yellow backpack
that read, Emergency -- Command.
Behind her came a smaller black man
dressed as a garbage collector. He
towed a rolling cart with two red bags
marked, First Aid and he carried
a black duffle that read, Triage.
"My punk-ass hotel won't help,
so I quit and came on my own,
she said. "I'm Lashaunta Sims.
Would you folks mind if I set up
a search-and-rescue station here?"
"Go ahead, there's room," said Shiv.
"Shopkeeper has outdoor stuff like
rope and harnesses indoors, told me
to holler for him if we need anything."
"That'll do," Lashaunta said, and
then started unpacking her gear.
"I'm Quarren Gibson," the man said.
"I need to set up a triage station --"
Shiv shook his head. "Not here,"
he said, pointing north. "Go up
the block to that parklet -- that's
by the Advanced Surgery Center.
They can handle injuries that
don't need a whole hospital."
"Ah," Quarren said, brightening.
"I'll get right on it, sir." He trotted
away, red cart rumbling behind him.
Shiv wasn't a sir, but he wasn't
about to argue over it, either.
An odd sliding sound brought
Heron and Mallory in the company
of two heavily armored Italians.
Heron wore some sort of bird mask
that should have looked ridiculous
but didn't, and had a subtle bit of
energy boosting the usual tendency
to overlook a familiar person in a mask.
Of course, Shiv knew the feel of
Heron's superpower, so the deflection
just didn't have much effect on him.
Mallory was wearing ... well, not quite
her former Farce outfit but close to it.
The green-and-orange supersuit
was looser and the tragicomic mask
had a fancy Italian flair to it now.
The bodyguard was in black and white
touched with red, heavily armored, and
he stood with legs braced and arms crossed
in a way that Shiv would rather not mess with.
The combat teleporter was a tiny little thing
whose arms barely went far enough to touch
her various passengers. Her leathers were
mostly black and green with rigid armor plates.
"I'm Da Paura, combat teleporter," she said.
With me are Ostinato, combat bodyguard;
Cicogna, healer; and Feroce, fateworker."
"I'm Shiv, coordinator," he replied. Well,
these Italians were looking after his family.
"Anybody need a blade fixed so's it can
cut through anything? No charge."
Ostinato reached behind himself
and produced something shaped
like a survival knife but sized
like a freaking short sword,
black with a long belly and
two saws along the back.
Shiv whistled, but took the time
to treat the whole thing so it was
unbreakable, super-sharp, and
set to the correct angle of edge.
Ostinato smiled as he reclaimed
the blade, clearly able to feel
some sort of difference in it.
He shrugged off his jacket,
undid the sheath harness, and
somehow reconfigured it to hang
along the outside of his right leg.
Da Paura flicked her hand and
produced a long stiletto as
beautiful as it was deadly,
with an exquisite green hilt.
This was a fully automatic,
out-the-front knife, so Shiv had
to concentrate on the moving parts
to make sure everything would
work smoothly once souped up.
Da Paura grinned at him, then
tested it by flinging it at the pavement,
where the knife sank in to the hilt.
She had to wiggle it a bit to get it
back out, but it was perfectly intact.
"Thank you," she said in lilting English.
"This is a fine gift. I will use it well."
"Where can you use us today?"
Cicogna asked, waving a hand.
Shiv handed him a backpack --
Zipper had restocked after Tolli
had taken the first one earlier.
"This is from your mother," he said.
"The uh, the mobile program for
family disaster deployment is active
so you can see where everything is."
Cicogna checked his phone. "Good,
we brought some supplies, but more
is better," he said. "I will head over
to the Advanced Surgery Center
and fix whatever I can there."
"Where's, uh, your little shadow?"
Shiv wondered. They wouldn't
bring a baby into a mess like this,
but Dairinne couldn't be fobbed off
on just anyone -- and a lot of
the family was here today.
"Shadowing housemates,"
Cicogna explained. "Safe."
"Yeah, okay," said Shiv.
"Feroce, what about you?"
"I'll be feeling out where things
could go wrong, and directing
them to do so in ways that won't
make even more trouble," she said.
Shiv knew just enough about
search-and-rescue to understand
how dangerous it could be, and
that gave him an idea for her.
"Go help Tolli," he said, pointing.
"There's a team clearing rubble
at the Greenhouse Apartments."
Feroce turned to look. "Shit,"
she said. "Yeah, that's my gig."
"Latch on," Da Paura said. "I'll
drop off Cicogna and Ostinato
first, then Feroce after that."
She pushed off with her foot,
and then they all slid away.
Kaede came out with tables,
some employees, and not just
first aid kits but samples of
some other outdoor stuff too.
They set up those tables
with a big banner that read,
FREE EMERGENCY GEAR.
There were ropes, harnesses,
helmets, hatchets, gloves, and
all kinds of useful equipment.
Lashaunta stopped organizing
her volunteer team long enough
to give Kaede a list of requests.
He actually had most of that.
Then Climaco showed up.
"Brown sent me," he said.
"I can lift a bit if you need it."
Shiv looked up at what was
left of Greenhouse Apartments
and wondered if anyone might
be trapped up in the broken part.
"Oh hell yes," he said, pointing.
"Go find Tolli and offer to help
him with the aerial search."
"I dunno if I can levitate anyone
else just yet," Climaco hedged.
"If you can't, that's fine, you
can still spot for the searchers,"
Shiv said. "Can you carry gear?"
"That I can do," said Climaco.
"Take some rope, a harness,
and a first aid kit," said Shiv.
"That ought to get you started."
Lashaunta gave a shrill whistle.
"Hey, if he's on SAR, he's mine,"
she said. "Come get a vest, kid,
you can't run out there bareback
or someone will try to chase you off."
"Uh ..." Climaco said, looking at Shiv.
"Put the vest on," Shiv said with a sigh,
fingering the one Mrs. Dr. G gave him.
"At least it'll keep people off your case."
Lashaunta used a marker to write
SAR -- ENHANCED on a label,
then passed the vest to Climaco,
who muttered but put it on.
Shiv couldn't blame him
for not wanting to attract
that much attention -- since
it practically glowed in the dark --
but people did need to see Climaco
through the lingering clouds of dust,
so they wouldn't crash into him.
Climaco trotted off toward
the wrecked apartment.
Shiv's smartphone chirped,
reminding him to stop
and eat something.
Oh yeah, Halley had
definitely programmed
that reminder into the app.
Looking around for inspiration,
Shiv saw that Kaede had put out
some New Millennium bars, so he
grabbed an orange one to munch.
Shiv watched his smartphone
as he ate. He saw Dr. G's marker
blink from green to orange, then
amber. The tag for it changed
from On Duty to On Break.
Yeah, it was a shitty day
out there for everyone,
but at least now they had
enough people to tag out
if somebody got dinged up.
"Hey, Lashaunta, my ETC guy
just went on break," Shiv called.
"If you spot anyone for that,
pass them my way, okay?"
"Can do," she said, nodding.
"You're doing a fine job there."
That just felt bizarre, because
he wasn't used to ... approval.
Shiv thought about what Rosie
had said about emergencies
testing the native metal of a man.
Shiv might not be a superhero,
but he was made of good steel
forged in fire and quenched in sweat.
He could cut through just about anything.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character, setting, and content notes will appear separately. See also the response notes for this incident. Compare the Omaha incident with other events.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-09-27 08:48 am (UTC)(Actually no, thinking about all this too hard would probably freak him out >_>)
Yes ...
Date: 2021-09-27 09:01 am (UTC)He has come a long way.
>> (Actually no, thinking about all this too hard would probably freak him out >_>) <<
That's why he is freaking out. I think Shiv is more disoriented by people caring about him and looking up to him than by smashed buildings.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-09-27 10:21 am (UTC)Well ...
Date: 2021-09-27 10:29 am (UTC)I think you've got a point, though.
Re: Well ...
Date: 2021-09-27 10:39 am (UTC)Re: Well ...
Date: 2021-09-27 10:58 am (UTC)Imagine a pufferfish expanding into a little porcupine-balloon.
>> Then I'd figure out a way to offer him some food. I'd like to teach him a little of my cooking skill - I know he'd be good at it. And the easiest way to calm a feral animal is to offer it food! <<
But yeah ... feed a cat, gain a cat! Shiv can absolutely be enticed with fish, or many other foods.
Re: Well ...
Date: 2021-09-27 11:46 am (UTC)I've noticed that Shiv is very fond of seafood, but he also likes sweets, and he's a neophile - he's attracted to anything he's not familiar with. What's that funny pink vegetable over there?
Re: Well ...
Date: 2021-09-28 10:10 am (UTC)Re: Well ...
Date: 2021-09-28 11:40 am (UTC)I wish he could endure more of Alicia's mind-repair.
Re: Well ...
Date: 2021-09-28 07:36 pm (UTC)Because he's done this head-bro-what-am-in-charge at least twice now, once at the club and once here...
Re: Well ...
Date: 2021-09-29 02:14 am (UTC)Re: Well ...
Date: 2021-09-29 02:29 am (UTC)Part of that was because he had it all done at once, and it was overwhelming. Doing a section at a time would've been safer, but Shiv is a rip-it-quick guy.
>> His personality is somewhat childlike, so he and Alicia sort of understand each other. <<
True. Shiv's history impaired his development, and so is Alicia's for different reasons. They're close enough to get along.
Re: Well ...
Date: 2021-09-29 03:59 am (UTC)And it pleased Shiv to use his power to create special scalpel blades for Alicia, because she'd know who needs them the most.
Re: Well ...
Date: 2021-09-27 11:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-09-27 10:47 am (UTC)Thank you!
Date: 2021-09-27 11:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-09-27 07:52 pm (UTC)I agree with![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fuzzyred - this is awesome. The last two stanzas in particular.
"reminding him to stop and eat something" -- I think that was one of Colleen's superpowers.
Thank you!
Date: 2021-09-27 08:08 pm (UTC)Yay! :D
>> "reminding him to stop and eat something" -- I think that was one of Colleen's superpowers. <<
Many people are good at spotting when someone needs to refuel or otherwise take a break.
Halley's program is a work of genius. It's basically a combination of map and live-action database, so all the responders can show what they're doing and where resources are available. Based on examples, I suspect Dr. G has the kind of fancy vidwatch that tracks some basic health functions, so if stress gets too high then the "take a break" alarm will sound. If the triage personnel have clickers, they can keep an active count of casualties in and out. And so on.