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Who Do You Think You Are? (IC)


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"Nobody's stopping me from wearing the uniform," said Ashley with a shrug. "I think some of those people are too hard on cops but yeah, more cops should take off their uniform when they're off the clock. It's the same with superheroes needing a civilian identity. If you start to think you're different than the people you're protecting, you start to think you're better than them." She hesitated, then said, "No, it's..." She took a moment to drink from her beer, knowing it was a tell, not really caring. "I don't want to be the damn queer Patriot, Keith!" She threw up her hand, having gathered the strength to say the words, then said, "All my life, I have done everything I can to make sure nobody thought I was in the room because of who I was. I almost stayed out of DC because it meant disclosing I have the meta-gene. So if I'm out there actually in that parade, it feels like I'm being less than I should be." 

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"Probably should have gone self-employed, then," LaMarr remarked mildly, folding his arms and leaning back against the counter in the posture Ashley had come to recognize as his 'real talk guidance councillor' body language. "If being the Patriot is just a job title then damn right better than half the turkeys out there don't think you deserve it and charitably, half of those, you're never going to change their minds. 'Cause you are the damn queer Patriot. And you're the lady Patriot. And the Vietnamese Patriot - alright, Vietnamese American, Louisianan, you know what I mean - and the meta Patriot and the short Patriot and whatever else and there's always going to be some joker who couldn't do the job for ten seconds who thinks one of those is the only reason you got the nod." He raised both hands in a broad shrug. "@#$% that guy. Which you already know. You're just hung up on the queer thing for the same reason you don't like using your powers where people can see: you got real good for a long time at ignoring those parts of you and passing 'cause you had enough visible stuff to deal with and that taught you to be ashamed. Not judging, that doesn't go away overnight, from experience. Just don't give me this 'less than' bull."

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"...short!?" said Ashley in that loud tone that meant she wasn't actually angry. She had never had a great relationship with guidance counselors when she was in high school. She sighed and swirled her beer. "I don't give a #)#) about what racist and sexist #)$)ers say. It's the people who say 'look at her, she only got there because of who she is.', they're the ones that get under my damn skin." She closed her eyes for a moment. "Keeps me strong on maintaining a secret identity, anyway." Her lips curled sharply and she looked at Wail. "All right. I'd be a real $((# if I showed up in Little Saigon on April 30 and didn't do something for Pride too. Just...strange to be there in costume. But if they can be there for me, I can be there for them." She hesitated, then said, "It is a job, and sometimes it's a pain in the ass. But it's just a job I can't quit, if I don't want it handed off to somebody who'll #($( it up. That's the deal I made myself. Even if there's a price to be paid." 

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