Chapter 33: Panic at the Disco (Patreon)

HeroWatch Entry

(last updated Year 57:2:8 16:07 local time)

Maxwell Porter <Dancer>

Summary

Maxwell Porter (chosen super moniker: Dancer <formerly Disco>), is an S-ranked Visionary (confirmed). He is a part of the designated <Originals> that first accepted <the Call> in Year 0 (1982 in the pre-super era calendar) and is considered by many to be the first S-ranked super. His age is uncertain, but estimates suggest he was born around the Year -77 (1905) though the exact date is unknown, making him the oldest living human on record (needs citation).

After returning from his <Capstone Quest> in Year 13, he changed his super name from Disco to Dancer. Shortly after his return, <Tempest> announced her return and tensions began to rise between the supporters of each S-ranked super. After <Tempest> used her powers to destroy Washington D.C. in Year 18, the <Second American Civil War> officially began.

The death of <Tempest> led to the dissolution of the <United States> into individual regions ruled locally by resident S- and A-rank supers, deemed <The Splintering>. Dancer currently resides over the <Supers for Peaceful Cohesion> as President and has often served as mediator when other super groups have clashed (needs citation).

Powerset

Believed to be a single-class super, evidence suggests that Dancer has remained a Visionary since answering <the Call>. He is the first S-ranked super and considered by many in the super community to be the most powerful super in the western hemisphere, if not the world (needs citation).

Despite his modern popularity and critical role as leader of the anti-Tempest coalition during the <Second American Civil War>, very little is known about his powerset. Like other Visionary-Class supers, it is suspected that his powers center around influencing his surroundings. More than that is pure speculation.

+ Visionary (F to C)

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+ Visionary (C to S)

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Affiliation

Upon returning from his <Capstone Quest> in Year 13, Dancer remained relatively under the radar, despite his popularity as the first recognized S-ranker. It was only after <Tempest> proclaimed that the American west coast was seceding from the <United States> did Dancer take the public stage.

He formed the <Supers for Peaceful Cohesion> which united most of the American east coast, as well as formed an alliance with the super communities of the Midwest, extending as far as the former state of Texas. Only the former state of Florida maintains no ties with the <Supers for Peaceful Cohesion> as of Year 57, remaining under the control of <The Swarm>.

With the death of <Tempest>, it was expected for Dancer and the <Supers for Peaceful Cohesion> to assert dominion of the west and re-establish the United States of America. To the surprise of many, he stayed true to his claims that the SPC was not an expansionist organization and would only accept other communities of their own free will.

Many isolated cities spread throughout North America have pledged allegiance or alliance to the <Supers for Peaceful Cohesion>, enjoying the protection of the continent’s largest super group and most powerful super (needs citation), despite hundreds or even thousands of miles separating them from the SPC’s home base on the east coast.

Speculation among the super community suggests that Dancer and the existence of the <Supers for Peaceful Cohesion> are the sole reasons the other large super blocs of the world haven’t invaded North America (needs citation).

Supers for Peaceful Cohesion Members

•            New York City

•            Philadelphia

•            Washington D.C.

•            Boston

•            Richmond

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In Media

•            Dancer Saves America — Documentary

•            Disco: the story of Dancer’s Rise to Fame — Mini-Series (1 Season)

•            Heroes Never Lose — Ongoing Series (6 Seasons — 26 appearances)

•            Dancing in a Tempest: the Splintering of America — Documentary

•            My Greatest Triumphs: the Dancer Story — Documentary

<13 Entries. Click to expand>

Humanitarian Efforts and Contributions

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Personal Life

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Notable Exploits

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***

The last time Terry had seen this many people together at one time had been for his mother’s funeral procession. Despite what should have been a more festive occasion, the crowd seemed wilted, almost more morose than that day six months back.

He stood on a parade float stylized to look like grasping skeletal hands held him propped up above the ground. His grandfather’s spectral mount pulled the float—a blue-white spirit that fuzzed in his vision when he looked directly at it. This appeared to be the same spirit beast he’d seen in the feeds of his grandfather rescuing him from Savage, but he had no memory of seeing the spirit before then or since. He supposed it was a great honor to be escorted by what was probably a limited time Summons of the Emperor.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t let himself feel any gravitas in the moment due to the melancholic crowd lining the boulevard. When his mother’s casket had been carried down this same street, the crowd had thrown white roses and chanted her name. Now, they watched his passage with gloomy expressions, their eyes sunken, their postures defeated.

A hundred ghouls roamed with the float, forming a ring around him as if they expected the crowd to swarm any moment. Terry had begged his father to call them off when he’d first noticed them, but now…

Now, he wasn’t so sure they wouldn’t be needed.

As the float moved to the front of the palace, the promenade came into view high above. The exact same promenade he’d watched from as his mother’s funeral procession passed. When he came into view, a cheer went up from there, filling him with a bit of hope that this entire event wouldn’t pass in awkward silence.

He looked up to see Tania at the balcony railing, hollering encouragement. Next to her, Whipvine put his fingers to his lips and let out a series of whistles to cheer him on. His father was beside him, clapping and offering him a thumbs up in support.

Terry waved back awkwardly, feeling the restless energy from the crowd on the other side of him.

A shout rang out from the crowd, pulling his attention away from the promenade.

“Prince Terry! Prince Terry!” He turned back, scanning the mass of people but not spotting the person. He waved in response, then faltered at the man’s next words. “Where’s the food! We’re hungry!” A small chorus of agreement rang out from the nearby people. “Where’s the food, Prince Terry?”

His hand dropped and he cast a furtive look toward the promenade. He opened his mouth to reply, but what could he say?

“I…”

Another voice cried out. “My daughter’s been missing for three weeks! Who’s gonna stop those bloodsuckers from stealing our babies!”

Terry’s eyes went wide, his mouth hanging in shock.

More shouts called out, anger, frustration, desperation all mingled into a melting pot of noise. The people in the back pushed forward, shoving those in the front forward. Panicked expressions formed as those trapped in the middle were squeezed between the bodies.

“Don’t push!” Terry called out, raising his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture. “Don’t push!”

His voice was lost against the crowd as cries of panic joined the cries of anger.

When the first people were shoved off the sidewalk and into the boulevard, Terry noticed the ghouls’ auras flare as they began to communicate silently with each other. Those nearest to the crowd approached and began shoving back, their superhuman strength sending bodies stumbling back into the wall of people.

Terry felt his stomach flip, bile rising in his throat. Without thinking, he leaped from the float, landing from the ten foot jump with incredible ease. But there was no time to marvel in his newfound body—the crowd was beginning to turn into a stampede, fueled by their fear of the encroaching undead.

He pushed past the ghouls, flaring his aura as wide as he could, demanding their attention. He couldn’t remember the aura shape for stand down, but his lungs were working fine.

“Stand down! Stand down! Don’t create a pani—”

Something shoved into his back and he stumbled forward into a ghoul’s arms. Clacking ghoulish rang out, filled with violent purpose. Terry felt his heart thrumming in his throat as he whirled around to stop them.

A sound cut through the panic and mayhem like a knife, accompanied by a blast of aura that rolled over Terry, the ghouls, and the people, freezing everyone in place like a tableau.

“ENOUGH!”

He recovered a moment later, feeling his own aura fight against the hold on his body. When he turned toward the origin of the sound, he spotted the Emperor at the promenade railing, his blackwood scythe in his hand, his burning ivory-mask covering his face.

Below the promenade, his father was running toward him—clearly having jumped off to the street below. Whipvine appeared from nowhere as if by magic, the wind of his arrival ruffling Terry’s hair.

He looked at the crowd, seeing the panic and terror in their frozen expressions as they stood helpless. Some of them began to blink and come out of the daze, while others were slower to recover.

“Is this how you treat your prince!” Whipvine barked, his voice cutting across the crowd like one of his whips, snapping everyone out of their aura daze at the same time.

James appeared at his side a moment later, gripping him by his shoulders.

“You okay, son?”

Terry nodded, his own daze lingering—not from the Emperor, but from the adrenaline dump.

“Let’s get you inside,” his father said. He turned his eyes up to the crowd, fire burning in his gaze. But Terry pulled him back.

“It’s not their fault,” he said softly. “They’re just scared and hungry.”

The fire in his father’s eyes softened, the anger smoothing out as he pursed his lips.

“Disperse now,” James called out, his voice echoing. “Parade’s over.”

The crowd was slow to react, lost, aimless. They ambled about, trying to find their bearings as they filtered away. Whipvine stayed with the ghouls as James led him toward the palace.

His Quest loomed in his mind and he pulled it up with a thought.

---

Quest Given: [Feed Wichita]

Grow enough food to supplement Topeka’s inflows.

Deadline: 275 days remaining until famine riots

Reward: Variable

---

275 days, nearly an entire year…yet, they’re already shouting out that they’re hungry. Which means things are are only going to get worse in the coming months. And that woman said her daughter was missing. There was no way the sanguine were actually stealing Wichitan citizens…right?

But then Terry remembered that his own grandfather had placed that deranged draugr at the gates knowing—expecting—there would be a body toll. Inviting blood-hungry vampires and letting them range among the citizens wasn’t completely unrealistic.

As his father escorted him back to the palace, his mind reeled from the near-violence and the foreboding Quest hovering in his vision.

“Dad?”

James cast him a quick glance, a harried expression in his eyes. “You okay, Terry?”

“I’m fine.” He hesitated, unable to reveal the details of his Quest, but also, longing for answers. “The situation with the food seems to be getting worse…”

James pursed his lips, his brow furrowed. It was a moment before he responded.

“It’s not great, I’ll admit. Topeka is supplementing as much as it can but…” He trailed off with a shrug.

“What’s the Emperor doing about it?” Terry feared his father’s reaction at the mention of his own father—the memory of the hate rolling off his aura before Terry’s Awakening stood fresh in his mind. But James didn’t lash out or curse his father. Instead, he sighed wearily.

“Invading Topeka was his one and only move, Terry. There’s nothing else to be done.”

Terry stopped and his father turned to regard him with raised eyebrows.

“He could…let people leave,” he ventured. “Reduce the strain on the food supply.”

James closed his eyes, rubbing a hand across his face. Despite being freshly shaved and dressed for the party, his father had never looked more tired.

“You’ve probably noticed, but your grandfather and I haven’t been on the same page for a while now. It’s only been exacerbated by the…death of your mother and the invasion of Topeka.”

Terry bit his lip, wondering how much to say. After a moment, he decided just to dive in.

“I felt your aura—before my Awakening, I mean. In the throne room. It felt like…you hated your father.”

James looked off, scanning the nearly-dispersed crowd, the teams of ghouls escorting them away. Then his eyes trailed up to the promenade where Tania still lingered over the side, looking down at them. Terry cast her a distracted wave, then pointed to the palace to indicate they were coming before turning back to his father.

“Terry.” His father’s voice was hesitant, almost sounding…scared. He tried to parse the man’s aura to understand what was causing that fear, but James had pulled it in tight. “The past few hours with you have been the best hours of my life since the attack.”

Terry’s throat tightened, but he forced the words through anyway. “Me, too, dad.”

James nodded, a sad smile touching his lips. “I…know I’ve been a shit father these past few months. As much as it sounds like an excuse, I think I needed the time away to…work on myself, maybe. But now that I’m back, I don’t want to leave.”

Terry felt his stomach drop as his thoughts followed the natural direction of those words.

“But your father is making you return to Topeka, isn’t he?”

James’ aura flickered at that, breaking past his tight control for a split second. But Terry saw the pain, the anger written in that single moment of vulnerability. His father’s eyes lit up, his gaze hardening as he stared at Terry.

“I’ll tell him no. Our relationship is more important.”

Terry thought of those people shouting out their hunger; the Quest promising greater strife and violence.

“More important than feeding Wichita?” Terry asked quietly.

His father faltered, words dying on his lips. Then, “He can send someone else, dammit. You need me here.”

Terry wanted to agree, was desperate to have his father nearby now that they’d begun to rebuild their relationship…

But not at the expense of people’s lives.

Before he could say as much, he caught Whipvine approaching from where the crowds had finally dispersed.

“We’ll talk after the party,” his father whispered, turning to face the revenant.

Whipvine shook his head as he joined them. “Well, that was a shit show.”

James scoffed, but he had a distracted look. Terry felt the same, his thoughts conflicted.

Is it selfish to want my dad with me? I’m still a kid, even if I do have super powers now.

It is if it means people starving to death. It is if it means you fail your Quest and Wichita falls into chaos…

“Come on,” Whip continued, putting an arm around Terry and James. “Let’s get inside. This fog stinks.”

***

Later that day, Terry was standing outside the doors of the ballroom he’d almost never had any occasion to enter. Two familiar patches stood guard outside the tall doors, pulled from the Evolution Chamber for the event.

“Tom. Jerry,” he said with a nod. He’d taken to calling them that and they hadn’t protested, so the names had stuck. He flared his aura out in greeting and was pleased that they acknowledged his presence with the return gesture. There was no series of images like when he’d linked up with Hoping Tree, but there was no sense of malaise or hate there either, which he counted as a win.

At his side, he felt Mesmer regard him with an inquisitive look and he shrugged in reply.

“I like humanizing them and they don’t seem to mind.”

The older revenant tilted his head in thought, then shrugged. “I’m told Team Dallas and the Council’s representatives have already arrived.” A subtle frown shifted across his lips. “Dancer is tardy.”

A thrill filled him, offset by his nervousness. He’d never enjoyed being the center of attention and the fiasco that was the parade only solidified that reluctance inside him. But he was excited to meet Team Dallas and whoever the Council sent.

Dancer arriving later was just the cherry on top.

“Who’d the Council send?” he asked.

Please be Lady. Please be Lady. He couldn’t deny that there were a bevy of reasons he was hoping for Lady—one of those being, she was incredibly beautiful. There’d been a phase where it was her on his wall rather than the Siren. He’d rotated them out as his obsession with the Knights of Sol had intensified. But he’d always loved Lady, for boyish reasons, as well as for her Class—she was one of the only A-rank Amplifiers in the region.

“Tinker’s come representing their S-ranks,” Mesmer replied.

That didn’t completely disappoint Terry, but it also didn’t wow him. Tinker had a fascinating powerset as an S-ranked Artificer. But his reputation was that he enjoyed his gadgets more than people. Terry couldn’t blame him, but he doubted the powerful super would make for very interesting conversation.

“For the As—” Terry didn’t quite hold his breath, but Mesmer’s eyes narrowed as he picked up Terry’s obvious attention. “—they sent Lady.”

An involuntary smile split his face and he bit his lip to try and reign it in. Mesmer’s eyebrows rose, but he had the grace not to embarrass Terry.

“For the Bs, they sent Surf.”

That surprised Terry a bit. The B-ranked Elementalist was new to the Council—perhaps they were using this as an opportunity to introduce him to the region’s powerful supers?

“Team Dallas sent Hopper for the S-ranks—” Terry’s eyes widened at that. Hopper was the only S-ranked Traveler categorized on HeroWatch—a rarity among an already rare Class. He found himself forgetting all about Lady as his excitement to ask Hopper about her Class replaced the childish infatuation for the A-ranked Amplifier. Plus, he knew Tania would be dying to grill the super who stood at the pinnacle of the Class she hoped to Awaken to.

 “Rocket for the As,” Mesmer continued. “And the Portent for the Bs.”

Terry nodded at the inclusion of Rocket. His grandfather had a history with the A-ranked Duelist, so that had been expected. Sending the Portent was…an interesting choice. She had a reputation as a bit eccentric—though, most of the Seer Class did.

Still, the news of the powerful and interesting supers attending his Awakening party did much to buoy his spirits after the disaster of the parade earlier.

“Wow, it’s crazy to think I’ve had some of these people on my wall,” he said with a grin.

“Let’s hope they live up to your expectations. They say you should never meet your heroes.”

Terry snorted. “Yeah, or they might try and kidnap you.”

Mesmer chuckled, shaking his head at the macabre humor. After a moment, he schooled his expression and turned to face Terry with an appraising look. The revenant looked him over, scuffing some unseen dust off his shoulders and running his hand down the front of Terry’s shirt to smooth out a wrinkle.

When he was done, he gave Terry a nod.

“How do I look?” Terry asked with a grin. “Presentable enough to go meet my heroes?”

Mesmer shook his head, his lips turning up in a matching grin. “No. You look ready to go join your heroes.”

With that, Mesmer gave a signal and the two patches heaved the ballroom doors open. The revenant stepped through first, his aura flaring out wide to encompass the ballroom.

“Attention, please.” His voice boomed to match his aura. Terry glanced past the man, his eyes catching on the powerful supers and non-supers in attendance. His stomach flipped at the sight, and he forced himself to take a steadying breath. “It is my honor to present, Prince Terrence Fairway, second of his name, third in line for the throne of the Wichita-Topeka Protectorate, and a newly-Awakened Alterant-Class super!”

Polite claps rang out and a moment later, a line began to form at the door. Mesmer stepped to the side, and Terry found himself face-to-face with an intimidating line of adults—many of them A- or even S-ranked. He gulped, straightened his posture, and strode forward to meet them.

***

The line of greeters went by in a daze. Blue-costumed Surf. The Portent in head-to-toe black like she were in mourning. Lady in her skin-tight spandex that had his palms sweating. Tinker with his bionic eyes and distracted gaze—though he did compliment Terry on his outfit briefly. Hopper with a whimsical smile and heartfelt words of encouragement.

His father, shaking his hand with a sheen in his eyes.

Tania, somehow eclipsing even Lady with her more subdued beauty—right up until she punched him in the shoulder and snorted humorously as he rubbed at the spot.

A bevy of important Wichitan officials that were too numerous for him to remember them all.

And last, his grandfather, decked out in full bone armor—though his scythe and mask were nowhere to be seen. As they clasped hands—for the first time in Terry’s life, he realized—he felt the man’s aura up close and personal. It radiated out more powerfully than any other super in attendance. Towering, dense, impenetrable to his senses. To the Waker, it was as dim as a candle. But compared to his father or Mesmer, it was as bright as the sun.

As they shook hands, the Emperor eyed Terry’s Artificed clothes with pursed lips, before turning his gaze up.

“Your father’s doing?” his grandfather asked.

Terry glanced down at his buttoned-up shirt, then nodded hesitantly. Was he mad? Terry wondered.

“Hm, it suits you. So, does Awakened life live up to your—”

The air shuddered, energy condensing, pulled to the center of the room like there was a black hole. Every eye in the room turned as one to regard the elderly man who hadn’t been there a second earlier. He stood bent at the back, like age weighed him down, but he nonetheless possessed a gravity and power about him that belied his posture. In Terry’s vision, he almost glowed, like a spotlight shone on him while the rest of the stage hung heavy with darkness.

The old man cast a beaming smile around him, holding his hands up as if to say his sudden arrival had been an accident. At his side, a diminutive, previously-unnoticed man stood in the older man’s shadow.

No, Terry realized, the smaller man wasn’t actually smaller. It was just that he appeared that way next to the beacon that was his companion.

The older, slightly hunched man whispered something to the second man, and a flash of power flared for an instant and the second man disappeared.

A Traveler! He arrived via Traveler!

“Apologies for my tardiness,” the older man said, addressing the room. “My old brain gets confused with the time zone differences.” The easygoing smile on his face eased any tension at his unexpected magical arrival.

“Dancer,” the Emperor replied, his tone flat. “Of course, we understand. We half-expected you’d broken a hip on the way over.”

Terry’s breath caught at the casual insult, but Dancer simply laughed, his aura reacting with each beat, suffusing the room, then contracting.

In a moment of sheer awe, he realized that Dancer’s aura was orders of magnitude greater than his grandfather’s. It encompassed everything and everyone in the large ballroom, like they were bathing in an ocean of Dancer’s power.

“Terry, good to see you’ve maintained your deadly wit.” Terry flinched, then realized the old super had been addressing his grandfather. “It’s so sad when age addles the brain. Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

Terry glanced over to see his grandfather’s jaw clenched, but Dancer didn’t give the Emperor time to respond. With a shift of his gaze, the weight of the world seemed to fall upon Terry’s shoulders. The first S-ranked super regarded him with both his eyes and his aura, a gentle—almost senile—smile on his face.

“Ah, and this must be the star of the show! Welcome to the fight, young Terry.”

Terry’s feet seemed to move of their own accord, as if Dancer were reeling him in with a magnetic gaze. Before he realized it, he was standing before the grey-haired super, his skin wrinkled, yet full of vitality. Terry stared into the man’s eyes, noticing the pure violet that reminded him of Mesmer when his powers flared.

“You’re looking hale,” Dancer said with an appreciative nod, his eyes trailing up and down Terry. His aura encompassed Terry at the same time, seeming to see all of Terry at once. “Duelist?” Dancer asked with an inquisitive tone, his voice low.

Terry hesitated for a moment, then realized the question was directed toward him. “Uh, Alterant, sir.”

Dancer’s eyes suddenly narrowed, his aura pressing in tighter, practically suffocating. The world around Terry dimmed, time slowing, everything going black except for the old man now seeming to stare directly into his soul.

“You’ve been body tempering, young lad. Don’t lie to me.”

The gentle, grandfatherly facade shattered in an instant, replaced with a piercing gaze and a sharp tone.

Terry’s throat tightened, his heart suddenly pounding in his throat.

“I-I’m not, sir. I’m a-an Alterant.”

Dancer’s lips turned down in a frown. “Show me your Skills.”

Terry gulped, trying to turn his head, look for help from his father or Whipvine or Mesmer. But he couldn’t move—could barely breathe. His vision tunneled down to a pinprick, flashing black at the edges in beat with the pounding of his heart.

He mentally summoned his chat with his father, but the System interface felt sluggish, like there was resistance between his thoughts and reality.

Dad…help. He tried to type the words with his thoughts, but there was no feedback or visual to indicate success.

Dancer’s face seemed to soften, a sad pursing of his lips as he regarded Terry’s struggle.

“Don’t fight me, lad. I wouldn’t want to crush you accid—”

A sensation touched Terry—physically and metaphysically—like a cool sea breeze against his skin. Pressure settled on his shoulder, anchoring his aura, extracting him from Dancer’s suffocating grip. His vision irised out, his surroundings reclaimed from the void of that terrible compartmentalization. The sad, sympathetic expression on Dancer’s face melted away, replaced by wide-eyed surprise, then a scowl.

Terry turned to see who had extricated him from Dancer’s grip, expecting his grandfather or maybe his father. His breath caught as he recognized his savior; silver hair pulled tight into a bun, his eyes twinkling with obvious pleasure.

Silver looked down at Terry, the corner of one lip turning up in a smirk.

“Sorry I’m late, kid. My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”