Chapter 34
UnwelcomeStorm
BARK! BARK! BARK!
- Location
- United States
34
The employee cafeteria on the Rig was not a morgue, but in the predawn hours of November 2nd one could be forgiven for mistaking it as such. Bodies slumped over tables and on benches, the air was disturbed equally by clinking silverware and the weary groans of the damned, and the other employees up and about at such an hour avoided the corner of costumed heroes like they had the plague. Triumph rested his lion-helmed head on the table in front of him and stared longingly at the carafe of coffee, sitting just out of reach.
"That's it. No more. We're canceling Halloween forever." He wished, dearly, that his voice could pull objects as well as push them away. "Who do you think we'll have to call for that? The President? Chief Director? Batman?"
"Start a petition," Assault offered, the hero actually laying on a bench with his head pillowed in Battery's lap. "There must be a way to stop Christmas from coming."
Battery ceased attempting to comb sand and saltwater out of her hair long enough to tap Assault's forehead in rebuke. "Scrooge."
"No, that's the Grinch, how do you not know this."
"Unlike some people I don't pay attention to children's cartoons."
"They're not just cartoons, they're classics. Next you'll tell me you don't know who Snow Miser is."
"Who?"
"Oh my god, woman."
Triumph tuned the pair out and made another attempt to reach the coffee. Mercy was granted in the form of Miss Militia, who reached across the table and used her power, shaped as a golf club, to shove the carafe closer. Triumph thanked her and started casting about for a cup. At the next table over, Dauntless groaned and rolled his stiff shoulder. "This is crazy. It wasn't this bad last year, was it?"
"No," Militia scoffed. "Not even close. Uber and Leet caused a ruckus, but nothing like this."
"Ha… oh yeah. I remember that— Uber walking around wearing that giant burlap sack." Assault sat up, then promptly used the advantage of locomotion to steal the carafe away from Triumph. He poured a cup for himself and Battery, then relented and poured another for the near-immobile Triumph. "Seriously though. I kinda lost track of the Console after that giant bird shoved Puppy in the Bay. What was happening on your ends?"
"Giant bird? Really?"
"I ran into a spate of arson," Dauntless grimaced. "Nothing huge, but it was like every time I turned around there'd be something else on fire. Some pyro cape getting their kicks, I think— not sure how else a parking meter lights up."
"I ended up chasing after one of Hellhound's beasts for an hour or so, unless there's a different dog-themed villain wandering around." Militia sighed, and pinched at the bridge of her nose. "Big, black furry thing, glowing eyes. Not like her usual, I'll admit."
Triumph chimed in, then Assault, with a litany of petty crimes and criminal mischief. Everyone had an odd occurrence or six to add, with the possible exception of Chessman, who was face-down and asleep next to a stack of long-cold pancakes. The minion master was the oldest hero on the team, and he was sure to have complaints against the energy of whippersnappers once he regained consciousness. Everyone was wrung out by pulling triple shifts to keep up with the holiday's unexpected wrath; even Miss Militia had a few bags under her eyes.
The exception to the rule strode into the cafeteria at 5:06, freshly groomed and alert, eyes focused on a tablet. Armsmaster collected a light breakfast to take back to his lab, then walked right back out again, tossing a curt "Briefing in 20, don't be late," over his shoulder as he did. The collective withering stare from the rest of the Protectorate killed three houseplants that decorated the far wall of the cafeteria.
"I literally do not sleep, and I'm not that awake," Miss Militia ground out between her teeth.
"He cheats somehow," Dauntless yawned, "And he's going to be quietly smug about it all day."
"Okay, new plan— we petition the Director to ban holidays, and get Halbeard tossed into M/S confinement while we're at it." Assault smacked a fist into his palm. "No one is allowed to be energetic today. No one."
"Morning guys! How was your Halloween?"
The other exception to the rule zipped in and over to the foreboding corner of the cafeteria, already munching a bagel, and cheerfully ignoring his co-workers' murderous stares. "Mine was great. Brushstroke's get-together was actually a block party. Street vendors and everything, you guys missed out. No worries, I picked you up some souvenirs, I'll hand 'em out later. My whole patrol route was pretty quiet, too, nice change of pace." Velocity hummed to himself, and spread cream cheese over his snack. After a moment he blinked, and looked up at the circle of incredulous faces around the table. "Oh, and I think I have a girlfriend now. Or maybe I'm engaged? The Baachans weren't really clear on that point, heh."
Triumph stared at the speedster for a moment more, then turned to the others and raised a hand. "All in favor of tanking Velocity too, say aye."
"AYE."
* * *
Yuuta trudged up the unmarked sidewalk towards the stately old house. It wasn't in the Heights or one of the real upper-class areas of the city, but maybe it had been before the money moved. The properties around here were showing signs of age creeping up on them, so maybe it was only a matter of time before they settled into the aching mold of poverty, too, but for now it seemed a decent enough place to live, all things considered. Sort of in between gang-claimed areas, so probably not much violence got around, and there were some well-used bus stops, which made this whole errand easier.
He trudged along the sidewalk, dragged his feet past the rows of hedges and small fences, and took his sweet time passing the black mailbox with the embossed letters spelling out 'Barnes.'
Yuuta rang the doorbell twice before he heard a chain slide out of a lock, and the door opened to frame the less-than-imposing figure of Mr. Barnes. The man startled a bit in recognition.
"Hello, sir," Yuuta carefully did not sigh, "Is Emma awake? Grandmother sent me with melon bread."
"Right— you're that boy. Ah, I'll… go check." And he shut the door, leaving Yuuta on the front step. Ingrate. Now Yuuta did sigh. Checking in on the Crazy Chick was not his idea of a good use of a Saturday morning, and Crazy Chick was also not his idea of a worthy recipient of Baachan's secret family recipe melon bread, but Baachan Said So, and thus, here he was. He really, really hoped this wasn't the start of a trend.
Mr. Barnes came back to the door and let him in, with a stern warning about being on his best behavior. As though Yuuta's grandmother wouldn't divine any such misconduct and take appropriate measures. Yuuta muttered some platitude to assuage him, and headed up the indicated stairs, towards the 'third door on the right,' as he'd been told. And damn, maybe he'd have to re-think his dismissal of this house as not being real upper-class now that he'd seen the inside. Someone here had good taste.
Yuuta knocked on Emma's door, heard a wordless reply from inside, and took that as permission to enter. The girl herself was seated on her bed, with a plush comforter dragged up around her head and shoulders to form a safe cave of goose down. Her hair was unkempt, there were dark bags under her eyes, and her nails had been bitten ragged from stress. So all in all, she looked much the same as she had when Yuuta had brought her home with him a week ago, only without all the spiderwebs. At least her eyes were only haunted, instead of the glassy emptiness they'd been while Baachan had fussed and combed cobwebs out of her hair. Yuuta had preferred to let the old woman take charge of that, since she'd have way better judgment for dealing with shellshocked girls than he would. He'd been right, of course, but it seemed even that was going to find a way to bite him in the ass:
("Who put such things in your head, silly girl? Tsk tsk. No matter. Baachan set you straight.")
Because the odds that his dearest grandmother had not found a new project were currently zero to zilch.
"What do you want?" the Crazy Chick muttered from the safety of the Blanketcave.
"To leave. But I gotta deliver this first." Yuuta tossed the ziploc bag of bread rolls onto the girl's bed. She stared at them, apparently dumbfounded. Yuuta sighed. "It's melon bread— you had some at my place, remember? Basically rolls with cookie dough stuff on them. Grandmother wanted me to check in on you, see if you're feeling better."
Emma picked at one corner of the bag, testing to see if it would bite her. "Why?"
"I told her you hadn't come back to school yet. She doesn't approve, by the way."
At the mention of school, the girl flinched and drew back further into her nest. "Not going." Ugh. If Yuuta reported back that the Crazy Chick still wasn't coming to school, he was sure that Baachan would find a way to make it his responsibility until she did. Best to nip this in the bud.
"Look—Crazy Chick—I get it, okay? You almost got eaten by a spider and that sucks. It happens." Oh gods, was this his life now? No, no don't think about it, just act like you know what you're doing. "And you're scared, because that's a fucking scary thing to have happen. But you're not getting any less scared hiding in here."
"I'm not scared!"
Yuuta scoffed. "Yeah you are. You're crazy, but not that crazy. Anybody'd be scared of a spider."
"And I'm not crazy!" The girl abruptly flung her blanket down with the outburst. "I know what I saw! You saw it too, it was there, it was real, and— and my parents, they— they don't—"
Ah, shit. Now she was crying. Yuuta felt a small trickle of guilt for his word choice. He sighed, and decided to risk the Wrath of Baachan by sitting on the foot of the girl's bed, uninvited. "Yeah, I know. It was real. Baachan called it a jorogumo, a spider demon. Sorry about your folks, I know most people wouldn't understand."
"It—it was real. She was real." He heard her breath hitch. "I— I trusted her."
Yuuta thought back to the youkai's illusion of 'Karen.' Blonde hair that, in hindsight, seemed inclined to curls, and a slightly too-wide mouth. A tall, thin body. The spider's veil had been unsettlingly familiar, and Yuuta had to wonder exactly why it had chosen such a guise. Wonder, but not touch with a 10-foot pole if he could avoid it.
"Yeah, youkai do that. Trick people, then stab 'em in the back. Real bitches. But yeah, you didn't make that up, it happened." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Anyway, I got more charms from the Miko and slapped 'em up around the school, so it's looking pretty safe there."
Not all of the ofuda, of course. He wasn't stupid. Yuuta was keeping a few of them on his person at all times, because if Baachan's old tales were actually maybe true, then like hell was he letting them take him by surprise. Sure, the guys all ribbed him for it, but they weren't quite as mocking about it now that they'd had to help clean up the greasy smear that had been 'Karen.' Getting to boss people around on threat of the Oni being upset was pretty great.
Emma grimaced, and pulled the comforter back up to form her cave. "I can't—not if it's her that's—I can't let her protect me."
Yuuta revised his opinion to a 20-foot pole, and gave the Crazy Chick a sideways glance. "What makes you think she's doing it for you? The Miko made some more charms because I asked her to. I didn't even mention what happened. Hell, I don't even think I've ever even heard her say your name, I had to ask your dad. I dunno what twisted nemesis thing you've got going on, but it's one-sided, I can tell you that much, Crazy Chick."
Emma stared at him from her sanctuary, jaw dropped and eyes wide. Yuuta waved one hand lazily through the air, because that was the kind of thing Souta did, and he always made it look cool. "Look— I don't really care, either. Stay here, go to school, whatever. Do what you want. I gave you the bread, so I'm outta here."
"Just— yeah, go! And tell Ba-whoever to leave me alone, too!" Oh, hell no.
Yuuta turned and gave the girl a swift poke to the forehead, pushing her back with a startled squeak. "Nu-huh. You listen here, Crazy Chick. I don't care what you do, but I do care what you say. Her name's not Ba-whatever. 'Baachan' is a term of endearment, from 'Obaasan.' It means Grandmother, and it's used by family." She started to scowl, and he poked again, silencing her. "If she wants to let you call her baachan, that's her business, but you will respect that privilege. Got it?"
When she nodded, Yuuta huffed, and stood. He walked to the door, but turned back to face her before leaving. "So. Baachan wants you to go to school. Am I gonna see you there?"
"...yeah. Sure."
"Cool. She'll be happy to hear it. See you later, Crazy Chick."
The employee cafeteria on the Rig was not a morgue, but in the predawn hours of November 2nd one could be forgiven for mistaking it as such. Bodies slumped over tables and on benches, the air was disturbed equally by clinking silverware and the weary groans of the damned, and the other employees up and about at such an hour avoided the corner of costumed heroes like they had the plague. Triumph rested his lion-helmed head on the table in front of him and stared longingly at the carafe of coffee, sitting just out of reach.
"That's it. No more. We're canceling Halloween forever." He wished, dearly, that his voice could pull objects as well as push them away. "Who do you think we'll have to call for that? The President? Chief Director? Batman?"
"Start a petition," Assault offered, the hero actually laying on a bench with his head pillowed in Battery's lap. "There must be a way to stop Christmas from coming."
Battery ceased attempting to comb sand and saltwater out of her hair long enough to tap Assault's forehead in rebuke. "Scrooge."
"No, that's the Grinch, how do you not know this."
"Unlike some people I don't pay attention to children's cartoons."
"They're not just cartoons, they're classics. Next you'll tell me you don't know who Snow Miser is."
"Who?"
"Oh my god, woman."
Triumph tuned the pair out and made another attempt to reach the coffee. Mercy was granted in the form of Miss Militia, who reached across the table and used her power, shaped as a golf club, to shove the carafe closer. Triumph thanked her and started casting about for a cup. At the next table over, Dauntless groaned and rolled his stiff shoulder. "This is crazy. It wasn't this bad last year, was it?"
"No," Militia scoffed. "Not even close. Uber and Leet caused a ruckus, but nothing like this."
"Ha… oh yeah. I remember that— Uber walking around wearing that giant burlap sack." Assault sat up, then promptly used the advantage of locomotion to steal the carafe away from Triumph. He poured a cup for himself and Battery, then relented and poured another for the near-immobile Triumph. "Seriously though. I kinda lost track of the Console after that giant bird shoved Puppy in the Bay. What was happening on your ends?"
"Giant bird? Really?"
"I ran into a spate of arson," Dauntless grimaced. "Nothing huge, but it was like every time I turned around there'd be something else on fire. Some pyro cape getting their kicks, I think— not sure how else a parking meter lights up."
"I ended up chasing after one of Hellhound's beasts for an hour or so, unless there's a different dog-themed villain wandering around." Militia sighed, and pinched at the bridge of her nose. "Big, black furry thing, glowing eyes. Not like her usual, I'll admit."
Triumph chimed in, then Assault, with a litany of petty crimes and criminal mischief. Everyone had an odd occurrence or six to add, with the possible exception of Chessman, who was face-down and asleep next to a stack of long-cold pancakes. The minion master was the oldest hero on the team, and he was sure to have complaints against the energy of whippersnappers once he regained consciousness. Everyone was wrung out by pulling triple shifts to keep up with the holiday's unexpected wrath; even Miss Militia had a few bags under her eyes.
The exception to the rule strode into the cafeteria at 5:06, freshly groomed and alert, eyes focused on a tablet. Armsmaster collected a light breakfast to take back to his lab, then walked right back out again, tossing a curt "Briefing in 20, don't be late," over his shoulder as he did. The collective withering stare from the rest of the Protectorate killed three houseplants that decorated the far wall of the cafeteria.
"I literally do not sleep, and I'm not that awake," Miss Militia ground out between her teeth.
"He cheats somehow," Dauntless yawned, "And he's going to be quietly smug about it all day."
"Okay, new plan— we petition the Director to ban holidays, and get Halbeard tossed into M/S confinement while we're at it." Assault smacked a fist into his palm. "No one is allowed to be energetic today. No one."
"Morning guys! How was your Halloween?"
The other exception to the rule zipped in and over to the foreboding corner of the cafeteria, already munching a bagel, and cheerfully ignoring his co-workers' murderous stares. "Mine was great. Brushstroke's get-together was actually a block party. Street vendors and everything, you guys missed out. No worries, I picked you up some souvenirs, I'll hand 'em out later. My whole patrol route was pretty quiet, too, nice change of pace." Velocity hummed to himself, and spread cream cheese over his snack. After a moment he blinked, and looked up at the circle of incredulous faces around the table. "Oh, and I think I have a girlfriend now. Or maybe I'm engaged? The Baachans weren't really clear on that point, heh."
Triumph stared at the speedster for a moment more, then turned to the others and raised a hand. "All in favor of tanking Velocity too, say aye."
"AYE."
* * *
Yuuta trudged up the unmarked sidewalk towards the stately old house. It wasn't in the Heights or one of the real upper-class areas of the city, but maybe it had been before the money moved. The properties around here were showing signs of age creeping up on them, so maybe it was only a matter of time before they settled into the aching mold of poverty, too, but for now it seemed a decent enough place to live, all things considered. Sort of in between gang-claimed areas, so probably not much violence got around, and there were some well-used bus stops, which made this whole errand easier.
He trudged along the sidewalk, dragged his feet past the rows of hedges and small fences, and took his sweet time passing the black mailbox with the embossed letters spelling out 'Barnes.'
Yuuta rang the doorbell twice before he heard a chain slide out of a lock, and the door opened to frame the less-than-imposing figure of Mr. Barnes. The man startled a bit in recognition.
"Hello, sir," Yuuta carefully did not sigh, "Is Emma awake? Grandmother sent me with melon bread."
"Right— you're that boy. Ah, I'll… go check." And he shut the door, leaving Yuuta on the front step. Ingrate. Now Yuuta did sigh. Checking in on the Crazy Chick was not his idea of a good use of a Saturday morning, and Crazy Chick was also not his idea of a worthy recipient of Baachan's secret family recipe melon bread, but Baachan Said So, and thus, here he was. He really, really hoped this wasn't the start of a trend.
Mr. Barnes came back to the door and let him in, with a stern warning about being on his best behavior. As though Yuuta's grandmother wouldn't divine any such misconduct and take appropriate measures. Yuuta muttered some platitude to assuage him, and headed up the indicated stairs, towards the 'third door on the right,' as he'd been told. And damn, maybe he'd have to re-think his dismissal of this house as not being real upper-class now that he'd seen the inside. Someone here had good taste.
Yuuta knocked on Emma's door, heard a wordless reply from inside, and took that as permission to enter. The girl herself was seated on her bed, with a plush comforter dragged up around her head and shoulders to form a safe cave of goose down. Her hair was unkempt, there were dark bags under her eyes, and her nails had been bitten ragged from stress. So all in all, she looked much the same as she had when Yuuta had brought her home with him a week ago, only without all the spiderwebs. At least her eyes were only haunted, instead of the glassy emptiness they'd been while Baachan had fussed and combed cobwebs out of her hair. Yuuta had preferred to let the old woman take charge of that, since she'd have way better judgment for dealing with shellshocked girls than he would. He'd been right, of course, but it seemed even that was going to find a way to bite him in the ass:
("Who put such things in your head, silly girl? Tsk tsk. No matter. Baachan set you straight.")
Because the odds that his dearest grandmother had not found a new project were currently zero to zilch.
"What do you want?" the Crazy Chick muttered from the safety of the Blanketcave.
"To leave. But I gotta deliver this first." Yuuta tossed the ziploc bag of bread rolls onto the girl's bed. She stared at them, apparently dumbfounded. Yuuta sighed. "It's melon bread— you had some at my place, remember? Basically rolls with cookie dough stuff on them. Grandmother wanted me to check in on you, see if you're feeling better."
Emma picked at one corner of the bag, testing to see if it would bite her. "Why?"
"I told her you hadn't come back to school yet. She doesn't approve, by the way."
At the mention of school, the girl flinched and drew back further into her nest. "Not going." Ugh. If Yuuta reported back that the Crazy Chick still wasn't coming to school, he was sure that Baachan would find a way to make it his responsibility until she did. Best to nip this in the bud.
"Look—Crazy Chick—I get it, okay? You almost got eaten by a spider and that sucks. It happens." Oh gods, was this his life now? No, no don't think about it, just act like you know what you're doing. "And you're scared, because that's a fucking scary thing to have happen. But you're not getting any less scared hiding in here."
"I'm not scared!"
Yuuta scoffed. "Yeah you are. You're crazy, but not that crazy. Anybody'd be scared of a spider."
"And I'm not crazy!" The girl abruptly flung her blanket down with the outburst. "I know what I saw! You saw it too, it was there, it was real, and— and my parents, they— they don't—"
Ah, shit. Now she was crying. Yuuta felt a small trickle of guilt for his word choice. He sighed, and decided to risk the Wrath of Baachan by sitting on the foot of the girl's bed, uninvited. "Yeah, I know. It was real. Baachan called it a jorogumo, a spider demon. Sorry about your folks, I know most people wouldn't understand."
"It—it was real. She was real." He heard her breath hitch. "I— I trusted her."
Yuuta thought back to the youkai's illusion of 'Karen.' Blonde hair that, in hindsight, seemed inclined to curls, and a slightly too-wide mouth. A tall, thin body. The spider's veil had been unsettlingly familiar, and Yuuta had to wonder exactly why it had chosen such a guise. Wonder, but not touch with a 10-foot pole if he could avoid it.
"Yeah, youkai do that. Trick people, then stab 'em in the back. Real bitches. But yeah, you didn't make that up, it happened." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Anyway, I got more charms from the Miko and slapped 'em up around the school, so it's looking pretty safe there."
Not all of the ofuda, of course. He wasn't stupid. Yuuta was keeping a few of them on his person at all times, because if Baachan's old tales were actually maybe true, then like hell was he letting them take him by surprise. Sure, the guys all ribbed him for it, but they weren't quite as mocking about it now that they'd had to help clean up the greasy smear that had been 'Karen.' Getting to boss people around on threat of the Oni being upset was pretty great.
Emma grimaced, and pulled the comforter back up to form her cave. "I can't—not if it's her that's—I can't let her protect me."
Yuuta revised his opinion to a 20-foot pole, and gave the Crazy Chick a sideways glance. "What makes you think she's doing it for you? The Miko made some more charms because I asked her to. I didn't even mention what happened. Hell, I don't even think I've ever even heard her say your name, I had to ask your dad. I dunno what twisted nemesis thing you've got going on, but it's one-sided, I can tell you that much, Crazy Chick."
Emma stared at him from her sanctuary, jaw dropped and eyes wide. Yuuta waved one hand lazily through the air, because that was the kind of thing Souta did, and he always made it look cool. "Look— I don't really care, either. Stay here, go to school, whatever. Do what you want. I gave you the bread, so I'm outta here."
"Just— yeah, go! And tell Ba-whoever to leave me alone, too!" Oh, hell no.
Yuuta turned and gave the girl a swift poke to the forehead, pushing her back with a startled squeak. "Nu-huh. You listen here, Crazy Chick. I don't care what you do, but I do care what you say. Her name's not Ba-whatever. 'Baachan' is a term of endearment, from 'Obaasan.' It means Grandmother, and it's used by family." She started to scowl, and he poked again, silencing her. "If she wants to let you call her baachan, that's her business, but you will respect that privilege. Got it?"
When she nodded, Yuuta huffed, and stood. He walked to the door, but turned back to face her before leaving. "So. Baachan wants you to go to school. Am I gonna see you there?"
"...yeah. Sure."
"Cool. She'll be happy to hear it. See you later, Crazy Chick."
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