Infiltration of the Compassionate: Chapter 1 – Taking More Responsibility

Chapter 1 – Taking More Responsibility

This is probably the fiftieth time I’ve checked my appearance in a mirror, but I have to do it for the crowd. I make sure my dressy police hero uniform is in order, that nothing is on the dark blue shirt, the tie is straight, the skirt is not wrinkled, there are no rips in my pantyhose, my hat is on properly, and my heels are shined. While combing through my red hair again, I look at my red eyes and examine my face for any blemishes or imperfections. This is ridiculous, but it’s the nature of politics, and this is what I have to do. Seeing that everything is in order, again, I walk out from the backstage and onto the stage where the other mayoral candidates are. We’re in a public park with hundreds of people waiting and cheering for us.

Once everyone is quiet, the questions begin. The first one is simple, and how we’ll change the city. Everyone is given a maximum of two minutes to answer each.

When it’s my turn, I say, “I’m going to start with building opportunities for the poor by giving businesses and companies financial incentives to hire more people and raise the minimum wage in Meridian, especially for non-superhumans and those who don’t work with hero associations, who are struggling the most.”

One of the other mayoral candidates interrupts me and says, “Right. You’re going to make all those people work for you, the Dominion, and Coronamento Corporation. That’s all you’ve been doing ever since you joined them.”

“I’ve worked with others outside of my own businesses to increase their profits and reach.”

“They all became subsidiaries of the Coronamento Corporation, and aren’t independent in any way. You only support them because they profit you at the same time,” another mayoral candidate says.

Before I can respond, we’re told to stop debating and given another question. This one is about protecting the city and continuing to build its good reputation.

My turn rolls around, so I say, “My mentor, L’Obscurité, turned this city from one of the most dangerous to now being one of the safest to live in, and I will continue his legacy by continuing to promote and financially support our police, leading the Dominion to do what it was made to do, and personally being on the front lines as I always have.”

“What you’ve done has led to the death of the mayor, the deputy mayor, and many others in the festival that happened months ago, and why we’re holding an emergency election,” one of the mayoral candidates points out. “The city is directionless without its leaders, and the people who killed all those people are working for you and were supposed to be helped by your organization and those you allied yourselves with.”

“They weren’t in their right state of mind and were being manipulated by a woman who wasn’t herself.”

“Despite what they did, you gave most of them a slap on the wrist, and even gave them a job offer at the Dominion or Coronamento Corporation,” another rival candidate says.

“I gave them a second chance when they honestly repented. Let’s not forget that I’ve personally killed and arrested the others who continued to resist arrest, and the people who repented cleaned up after their mess and continue to serve the city they hurt.”

“You and the Dominion were there to protect the mayor and everyone at the festival, and you failed many of them.”

The crowds are getting rowdy, and the moderators are struggling to keep them quiet. I can hear screaming about how it’s unfair that I’m being targeted by everyone, and opposing screams about how it is, and I should be made to pay for my mistake.

“I’m doing what I can to make up for that mistake.”

“By running for mayor and gaining more power for your constantly expanding organization?”

The moderators don’t help too much by going to their next question about what to do about the increasing dependence on superhumans.

My rivals don’t bother answering the question as they start pointing at me about it, with one of them saying, “Polina will probably give them all a job, especially if they’re criminals or villains. You have a new subsidiary at the Dominion called the Compassionate, don’t you? What an ironic name, since two of its members were responsible for the massacre at the festival.”

“What’s ironic about being merciful?” I ask.

“That you’re too merciful to people that should’ve been killed on the spot,” another candidate says.

“The mercy I give is justice. They still pay for their crimes, but it depends on their state of mind and who they are. My powers allow me to see that. Why would I kick someone who is already down and isn’t acting like they normally would? Would you like to be held accountable for every odd word you unintentionally said or action that you did in ignorance?” Using my powers, I look into the souls around me and continue, “What about the time when you blew your wedding money on expensive trips and vain decorations for a house you had to have your parents buy for you?”

“Well…”

“What about you?” I point at another candidate. “You spent more time sleeping with people than helping them on the streets to gain support.”

“Hey, that’s not-”

I keep pointing out the sins of others, saying, “You killed people in an accident, you almost killed a loved one, while trying to kill yourself, and you used to sell drugs to kids and are still struggling to kick the addiction. Do you want me to dig deeper into all of you? I can, but I won’t, so let’s be civil in this debate and focus on the questions and not be at each other’s throats, trying to make our rivals look bad to make ourselves look better.”

What I say quiets down the mayoral candidates more than what the moderators say. Fortunately, the rest of the time is spent in civil and calm answering and debating, with no more personal attacks or targeting me in particular. Instead, we focus on what we’re going to do to help the city and share our reasons why our solutions are better than our opponents’. In the end, we all shake hands, go our separate ways, and when I leave the stage and get in my police car, I immediately want to wash my hands. My fellow apprentice of L’Obscurité, Kane Mundr, wasn’t lying when he said that politicians are worse than actual criminals. Calling another fellow apprentice and close friend, Raziel Emundato, I tell him what happened and what I was just thinking.

“I get it,” he says. “Even though we protect them, it’s another thing to be there debating and talking to them when you prove to be a threat to their power. I’m surprised the moderators didn’t say anything about you using your powers on them.”

“There’s no law against that yet. I probably shouldn’t have done it, since I did it because I was beyond aggravated at them, and it could give others the idea they can do the same,” I say.

“We’ll deal with that when it comes around. Are you heading over to me now? Everything is ready, and everyone is waiting for you.”

“Yeah. Just calming down in my car before I get there. I don’t want to be angry at people who don’t deserve it.”

“I’ll take you out to dinner today after work to make you feel better. How does that sound?”

“Assuming no one bothers us while we’re out, it sounds like a great idea.”

“We’ll go to one of the upper-end restaurants then, the kind that have a good view of the city.”

“Let’s do it.”

After hanging up the phone, I wonder for a few seconds about Raziel’s relationship with me. Ever since L’Obscurité, or rather, Timeo Severe, left the city in our care, he’s been by my side through it all. We’ve never acknowledged each other as anything more than close friends, and I’m okay with that…but…I don’t know. There could be something more, so I pray that one of us gets the courage or an answer from God as to whether or not we’re more than friends. I drive to the charity center that Timeo’s family owns and see Raziel and the other two members of the Compassionate there, Zahara and Penelope.

Zahara is a dark-skinned woman with black and pink hair, has purple crosshairs for eyes and eye makeup, is wearing a black hoodie and pink shirt, a black skirt, pink stockings, and black boots, has a synthetic left arm, while Penelope is fair-skinned and wearing one of her usual handmade purple dresses. Penelope’s blonde hair is tied into a bun, her right eye is purple, and her left eye is a black spiral. These three people and I are the Compassionate, a subsidiary of the Dominion, who are more than superheroes. We’re charity workers and community service members who help our neighbors by feeding the poor and giving to the needy, just as much as we punish evil and the misguided. Today, we help this soup kitchen make food for the poor and give out needed clothes and medical supplies to those who can’t afford them.

While working, Penelope and Zahara stand around me. I tell them about how the debate went and if Raziel told them. They say he did and laugh a bit.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“How long are you going to deny it? You have the hots for him,” Zahara says.

“Why else would he constantly care for you and be by your side all the time?” Penelope asks. “You two are so aloof to one another’s feelings that it’s so cute, like a slice-of-life romance story that goes on forever.”

“Come on, it’s not…It’s not exactly like that. We’re just good friends.”

“Don’t tell a half-truth. I don’t need psychological powers like you and Penelope do to see how you really feel. Girl, I’ll pull you over there and tell him how you really feel.”

“Polina, it’ll be easier if you get this out of the way now rather than later.”

I feel like I’ve lost my touch when it comes to communicating with people because no one listens to what I’m saying, except for Raziel, of course. Ignoring Penelope’s and Zahara’s constant chatter, I focus on helping people around the soup kitchen until I hear a sudden gunshot. I go to the source and find a man with a gunshot wound to his side and a homeless woman holding a smoking, makeshift gun. The woman rambles on about not meaning to shoot anyone, saying she acted in desperation because of her hunger and broken nerves, as she’s recovering from alcohol and drug addictions. She betrays the people she was causing a scene for, and the people stealing food and supplies from the back are quickly caught.

With all the begging poor, criminals in front of me and hearing all their excuses for their actions, I look at their souls, and decide that “Go with the man who got shot to the hospital and spend time working here, feeding and giving to others.”

“What about us?” a shaking woman says. “We can’t do anything. We’re as hungry and needy as they are!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to get more than they do and get what you need first, ahead of them. I see what you really want, and when you get it, you’ll only want more. If you’re truly sorry and want to drop your addictions, do something charitable for others, and you will break it in time and be able to live a more comforting and virtuous life.”

The addicted criminals argue among themselves, and only one goes with the ambulance to the hospital with the injured man. I wait for the ambulance to leave before using my psychological powers to knock out the remaining addicts, then call the police to have them taken in and locked up. I’ll ensure the injured man doesn’t have to pay any hospital bills, and the woman who shot him, who went with him to the hospital, doesn’t face any legal repercussions. I go back inside the soup kitchen, see people clap for me, and tell them we should get back to business as the blood from the unfortunate scene is cleaned up. This day is so exhausting, and it’s barely over, so I sit down to catch my breath again.

Raziel sits with me, dressed like a blonde knight in crimson armor, like he usually is. Some say his orange, yellow, and red eyes are intimidating, but I find comfort in seeing them, and I only see a strong protector when I look at his eyes.

“Are you alright, Polina? Penelope and Zahara said they can handle the rest here while we go out,” Raziel says.

Looking over at the two girls, I see them signaling to me. I don’t need my powers to see that they want me to kiss him, or at least go out with him.

“I’m fine. It’s just that God is definitely testing my patience and capacity for mercy today,” I say.

“My guardian angel says you’re doing well against temptations.”

“What about you? What do you say?”

“I think you’re doing better than I ever could. In your situation, I’d probably beg my angel to burn something or someone with its supernatural flames. I also think we could head out now. You’ve helped out more than enough people today.”

“There’s no such thing as helping out more than enough.”

“The poor will always be with us. You, on the other hand, need some time to breathe so you can help them better tomorrow when we have to do things like this all over again, and God only knows the challenges ahead of us, so we might as well take every break we’re given, right?”

I sigh, admit that Raziel is right, and head out with him. He takes me to a nice place where we joke and talk without being bothered by anyone, and nothing happens, which may be the right thing to do at the moment. I’m fine with staying friends with him. All I needed for today was a brief escape from the chaos of running for mayor and my daily duties, and I got that. Perhaps when the city’s chaos calms down, we can spend more time together, and God will reveal what we should be to one another. For now, I thank God for everything I have, both big and small, and pray for the strength to finish the mayoral race and be okay with the results, even if I lose.