Summary:
This AU diverges from canon by changing Taylor's trigger event. What if Taylor's...
This AU diverges from canon by changing Taylor's trigger event. What if Taylor's...
Fragmentation (Worm AU, Changer!Taylor)
- Thread starter Kadath
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Index
Kadath
Sinnamon Roll
- Location
- Somewhere
Summary:
This AU diverges from canon by changing Taylor's trigger event. What if Taylor's trigger event had caused the administrator shard to grant her changer powers?
Howdy, first post on SV, I welcome constructive feedback and reaction pics, yadda yadda. Let's get to the fanfic.
Index
Disappointingly empty!
*****************************
Fragmentation 0.1
Sophia Hess was not having a good day. Emma had been moody and boring for days, not even taking Sophia up on her offer to go shopping last Friday. It had been a quiet week without much gang activity, so Sophia didn't even have many opportunities to let loose on the streets. To make matters worse, she had left her mic on while she was kicking an ABB goon's teeth in and Kid Win had heard her. It was dangerously close to her violating her parole and he knew it. He didn't say anything, but the looks he was giving her had her on guard.
"Hel-lo? Earth to Hess?"
Sophia startled briefly before forcing the reaction down. Even predators can be caught off guard, she reminded herself. She tore her eyes from the pink spaghetti strap of the dress she was holding and turned to face Madison and Brianna, who were peering over the racks at her. She placed the dress and hanger back on the rack with a click.
"What?"
"I said, do you think that leg warmers are going to be back in style this fall?" Madison's accent evoked California, but Sophia knew for a fact she was from Minnesota. Still, it seemed to help give her just enough social capital to make it with Emma and Sophia. She brushed at an itch on her neck before answering.
"Are you sure you want to look like those fucking Immaculata dykes? I bet we can find you a nice plaid mini skirt too." She sneered.
"Jeez, sorry I asked. What crawled up your ass?"
"Nothing. Whatever. Shitty night at work."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Hell no." Sophia brushed a hair away from her face and saw a fly land on Madison's shoulder. She allowed her revulsion to spread openly over her face. She hated bugs. They were the lowest thing on the food chain and they had the audacity to exist in her presence. This store sucked. She said as much.
"They probably just came in from outside. It's been warm for the last few weeks." Briana said quietly before lapsing into silence under Sophia's withering stare. Sophia continued as though the girl hadn't spoken.
"I'm not seeing anything here I like." The unsaid second meaning was obvious. "I'll meet you at the food court. Send me a text when you're done."
She set her Orange Julius on the sticky surface of the table. It was the only free table that she could see, the rest occupied with the usual sheep that liked to mill around the mall on a Saturday. She took a sip and rubbed her forehead.
There was a momentary change in the background noise of the crowd, a gap in the steady hissing sound. Hissing sound? Sophia turned to look around her suspiciously and saw a pimply-faced teenager approaching. He gave her an expression that he must have thought was charming before wiping down her table with a damp rag. In exchange for spreading the sweet and sour sauce more thinly across the table, Sophia favored him with an icy stare.
The moment his eyes dropped and he scurried away did much to lift her spirits.
She waved away a fruit fly that had come to investigate the smells newly liberated from the table as she sipped her drink and browsed her phone. She was interrupted from her reverie by Madison plunking her bags down on the bench opposite Sophia. She was alone.
"You're a real bitch." Madison quipped with a smile.
"The biggest bitch." Sophia answered.
"The baller bitch." Madison continued, falling into rhythm.
" 'Cause I's the big, bad bitch gonna blow ya house down!"
They finished the joke by singing the hook from Canary's newest single at the same time and at the same volume, laughing as much at themselves as at the glares that nearby parents were shooting their way.
Sophia made eye contact with several of them just to hammer home how little their opinions mattered. One man was there with a brat in a stroller and slapped at a gnat on his neck instead of meeting her gaze.
Sophia had a moment of confusion as she realized she was dizzier than could be explained by her earlier mirth. She swiped at the fruit fly distractedly.
There was something about the way sound was echoing in the food court that was starting to give her a headache. She would try to move, but there were still no other seats available. The entire space was occupied by filthy pigs stuffing their faces.
Madison had been yammering on, but had stopped. Sophia focused her attention back on her. It looked like she was expecting a response.
"I wasn't listening."
"Ugh. You're the worst." Madison threw a balled up napkin at her. "I was saying, it sounds like Briana didn't make the cut."
"Too spineless. She's moderately attractive, but she's not, like, rich rich. Plus she's already got a boyfriend so that cuts out how much she can disrupt things at the top." Sophia finished by taking another sip of her drink and giving Madison a thumbs down with her other hand.
"Ah, the judgment of Queen Sophia." Madison snarked, sticking her tongue out.
A housefly touched down on it. Madison's surprised gasp brought it into her mouth and she gagged, spitting furiously into a napkin.
Sophia was about to crack up when she picked up a particular word from the sounds echoing in the food court.
"ssssssssssssSSSSSSSssssophia."
She looked around, but didn't see anyone who might know her. She suppressed a shiver. Something about the voice had run a finger down the spine of a primordial fear that she wasn't exactly willing to admit she had.
She left Madison at the table and strode purposefully through the crowds towards the entrance. She shoved past a pair of guys in green coveralls at the doors and pulled out her cell phone to call her handler for pickup.
*****************************
A few hours later, she was in her costume and feeling much more at ease. A mask really did wonders. Security, anonymity, plausible deniability. The whole package was meant to be used by a predator, and at the moment she was feeling like she was back on the top of the food chain.
"Shadow Stalker, anything on the next street over? I saw a couple of lookouts go running when we caught up to these guys."
She sighed. Top of the food chain and she was still at the beck and call of a wannabe wind-up soldier. She keyed the mic, then answered Aegis.
"I'm almost on top of them. They've got nowhere to run."
She hoped that had made him wince. He had talked her ear off enough about responsibility and image that she wanted him to know he didn't have any effect on her.
Silent as death, she leaped from the ledge and glided down to the corner of the alley in her shadow state. She heard a scrape of gravel from further in as she resolidified.
Rather than leaning around the corner where her silhouette might be seen, she returned to her shadow state and edged her way through the wall. She peeked her head out, but saw only darkness.
That's not right.
In her shadow state, darkness had no effect on her vision and she could see as well as day. Looking out at this expanse made her uneasy.
"Ok, now. You're going to tell us where that shipment is headed or else I'm going to let Brutus here use your leg as a chew toy."
She still couldn't see anything, and the sound seemed to be coming from a few inches away from her face. Then she heard a different voice, though it was barely audible.
"Okay! Don't—just don't do anything to my legs. I'll tell you. It's going to the old meat packing plant-"
"Wrong!" A third voice called out in a sing-song tone, though it was weirdly muted like the second had been.
"It's the truth!"
"No, they wouldn't tell you, but you saw something. Something real, which they were guarding very carefully, but not so carefully you think it'll come back that it was you who squealed. Too big to keep the lid on, and we know Lung's been hanging around the place a lot. This might be an even better score."
There was a heavy thud, and Shadow Stalker's vision began to clear, revealing two figures rising out of the gloom. She only cared about one though. She slid one of her less P.C. bolts out from her boot and placed it in its notch in the crossbow.
The larger figure whipped around suddenly.
"Heads up! We're-"
She brought the crossbow up, aimed, and fired in a smooth motion. Her prey staggered, then fell to one knee. She slid back through the wall before his answering tide of darkness could reach her.
She crept through the brickwork until she was on the far side of the building, then rematerialized on the outside. Moths cast crazy shadows on the ground from where they were swarming the street lamps. She paused, straightened her collar, and then took off at an easy jog to where Aegis was waiting with tonight's catch of unlucky ABB dealers for a squadcar to come by to pick them up. On her way there she broke radio silence.
"Aegis, I've got the Undersiders on my tail and I don't know if I've lost them! I'm headed to you."
"…to you."
There was that echo again, along with the hissing that had been driving her nuts all day.
"Copy that Shadow Stalker." A pause. "Miss Militia, we've sighted the Undersiders at the intersection of 28th and Henkel. Should we engage?"
The response was almost immediate.
"Do not engage. There are only two of you in the area and the Undersiders are known to use hit-and-run tactics. I repeat: leave your suspects for the boys in blue to pick up and report back at HQ for debriefing. Copy?"
"Copy that. We'll stay out of their way." His voice was resigned, but steady.
"You're just gonna let them go? They stole my p- my suspects! I could take down Grue and the telepath bitch at least." Shadow Stalker shouted into her mic.
"Negative. You are to report to HQ immediately. Am I understood?" Miss Militia's tone was icy.
"Yes ma'am. We're on our way." Aegis confirmed, looking meaningfully at Shadow Stalker.
Shadow Stalker huffed and folded her arms. She turned to look behind her and froze as she saw that the streetlamps were almost completely covered with moths and gnats. She turned to Aegis and her words were more casual than she felt.
"Let's go."
"…go."
*****************************
By the time Shadow Stalker and Aegis made it back to the PRT headquarters, it was clear to both of them that something was amiss.
"We're here, HQ. You're sure there aren't any known parahumans in the Bay who control sound?"
"We're here…"
Clockblocker sighed and answered Aegis.
"Negative. Unless Screamer decided to stop by for a vacation."
"Don't joke about that kind of shit." Shadow Stalker snapped.
"Relax, we'll get you both checked out for master/stranger tampering for the next few hours in a nice padded cell. We've already contacted the 'rents so you're clear to spend the night."
A pair of PRT officers approached from the side entrance, then stopped a respectful distance away. One cleared her throat.
"Passphrases?"
Aegis straightened up.
"Four-One-Three-Birthday." He recited.
"Alpha-Five-Three-Skittish." She growled.
*****************************
Shadow Stalker rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and fixed her mask back on her face. It was pretty uncomfortable, but she was willing to admit to herself that there was a certain something to sleeping in one's costume. It was like falling deeper into character, becoming indistinguishable from her strength. Then she remembered why she had slept here last night in the first place. She and Aegis had been hearing voices and were being monitored under master/stranger protocols to ensure they weren't being subverted by an unknown parahuman.
That meant increased scrutiny for at least the next few days after she got out of lock-up. She'd probably have to stay under the radar if she wanted to have the same level of freedom to cut loose again. She smiled. She had tagged Grue last night, and making the fucker bleed was worth the coming inconvenience. Scum like him needed to be taught their place.
She buzzed her way through the cell door without incident, and the timer had unlocked it three hours ago in any case. Any mastering that would affect their thoughts was likely to be weak or short-lived, provided the Simurgh wasn't in town. If that were a case, everyone was equally fucked, so there was no point worrying.
Brooding. She was brooding, not worrying. Prey worry when they know a predator is about. It's the role of a predator to-
"…kill…"
Shadow Stalker heard the material in her gloves creak as her hands clenched. Her eyes took in finer details in the hall, including the profusion of insects swirling in the air currents and alighting on peoples' clothes. A number of PRT officers and staff looked around as well, on edge from hearing the latest utterance. Various words were being whispered, whined, and droned out by the swelling population of bugs that had been creeping into headquarters for hours.
This was the first time that the things had said something on their own, however. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Kid Win, who was on monitor duty.
"Shadow Stalker, did you hear-"
"Yeah. I'm on my way."
She turned the corner briskly, bulling her way past a PRT intern carrying a stack of papers. In defiance of fate and the universe, they did not scatter everywhere and he did not block the hall trying to pick them up. The flies and moths which had been sitting on the stack chose that moment to speak up.
"You…"
Were they addressing her? She felt her spine turn to ice at the thought.
"Shadow Stalker, get to the wards commons on the double." Miss Militia ordered over her headset.
Fighting back a wave of nausea, Shadow Stalker jogged the rest of the way. She wasn't even bothering to brush the bugs off of her legs and torso, instead focusing on swatting at anything that dared land on her arms and face. She realized belatedly that this wasn't exactly the most dignified sight, but, she reminded herself, she didn't give a damn what anyone else thought.
She reached the last intersection and the bottom of her stomach seemed to drop out. Her head whipped behind her and confirmed her fear. A steadily thickening tide of bugs was advancing on her from three directions.
She raced to the interlock, stripping her right glove and mask off. She slammed her hand into the palm scanner, looked directly into the iris scanner, and struggled to keep from squinting as flies began to alight on her naked skin.
"Come on, come on…" She muttered.
The buzzing was almost deafening now, but she saw the light above the palm scanner turn green right as she heard the iris scanner beep. The door clanked as various interlocks slid out of place. If she were thinking straight at the time she would be forced to admit she was panicking. She slammed the door with her fists.
"…me."
"Let me—pfth" She gagged and coughed on a gnat that had flown into her open mouth. She grit her teeth. "Open the fucking-"
The last bolt slid away and she heaved the door open. As she did so she was carried bodily into the room beyond by the tide of insects. She slammed into a couch but with the adrenalin coursing through her she barely felt it.
She ended up on her back, chest heaving as she stared up at the swarm that had flooded into the space and was hovering above her. She shuddered as the voice came again, seeming to leap from the walls.
"Sophia Hess."
"Shadow Stalker!" Miss Militia's exclamation came at the same time as the swarm's. "Clockblocker, get to her. You've got a full-face helmet. Vista, see if you can increase the distance between her and the swarm." A pause. She must have gotten on comms. "Armsmaster, I want the containment foam sprayers running yesterday!" The voice of Miss Militia seemed like an insect whining in her ear next to the sound of the swarm.
"You killed me!"
The swarm descended.
This AU diverges from canon by changing Taylor's trigger event. What if Taylor's trigger event had caused the administrator shard to grant her changer powers?
Howdy, first post on SV, I welcome constructive feedback and reaction pics, yadda yadda. Let's get to the fanfic.
Index
Disappointingly empty!
*****************************
Fragmentation 0.1
Sophia Hess was not having a good day. Emma had been moody and boring for days, not even taking Sophia up on her offer to go shopping last Friday. It had been a quiet week without much gang activity, so Sophia didn't even have many opportunities to let loose on the streets. To make matters worse, she had left her mic on while she was kicking an ABB goon's teeth in and Kid Win had heard her. It was dangerously close to her violating her parole and he knew it. He didn't say anything, but the looks he was giving her had her on guard.
"Hel-lo? Earth to Hess?"
Sophia startled briefly before forcing the reaction down. Even predators can be caught off guard, she reminded herself. She tore her eyes from the pink spaghetti strap of the dress she was holding and turned to face Madison and Brianna, who were peering over the racks at her. She placed the dress and hanger back on the rack with a click.
"What?"
"I said, do you think that leg warmers are going to be back in style this fall?" Madison's accent evoked California, but Sophia knew for a fact she was from Minnesota. Still, it seemed to help give her just enough social capital to make it with Emma and Sophia. She brushed at an itch on her neck before answering.
"Are you sure you want to look like those fucking Immaculata dykes? I bet we can find you a nice plaid mini skirt too." She sneered.
"Jeez, sorry I asked. What crawled up your ass?"
"Nothing. Whatever. Shitty night at work."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Hell no." Sophia brushed a hair away from her face and saw a fly land on Madison's shoulder. She allowed her revulsion to spread openly over her face. She hated bugs. They were the lowest thing on the food chain and they had the audacity to exist in her presence. This store sucked. She said as much.
"They probably just came in from outside. It's been warm for the last few weeks." Briana said quietly before lapsing into silence under Sophia's withering stare. Sophia continued as though the girl hadn't spoken.
"I'm not seeing anything here I like." The unsaid second meaning was obvious. "I'll meet you at the food court. Send me a text when you're done."
She set her Orange Julius on the sticky surface of the table. It was the only free table that she could see, the rest occupied with the usual sheep that liked to mill around the mall on a Saturday. She took a sip and rubbed her forehead.
There was a momentary change in the background noise of the crowd, a gap in the steady hissing sound. Hissing sound? Sophia turned to look around her suspiciously and saw a pimply-faced teenager approaching. He gave her an expression that he must have thought was charming before wiping down her table with a damp rag. In exchange for spreading the sweet and sour sauce more thinly across the table, Sophia favored him with an icy stare.
The moment his eyes dropped and he scurried away did much to lift her spirits.
She waved away a fruit fly that had come to investigate the smells newly liberated from the table as she sipped her drink and browsed her phone. She was interrupted from her reverie by Madison plunking her bags down on the bench opposite Sophia. She was alone.
"You're a real bitch." Madison quipped with a smile.
"The biggest bitch." Sophia answered.
"The baller bitch." Madison continued, falling into rhythm.
" 'Cause I's the big, bad bitch gonna blow ya house down!"
They finished the joke by singing the hook from Canary's newest single at the same time and at the same volume, laughing as much at themselves as at the glares that nearby parents were shooting their way.
Sophia made eye contact with several of them just to hammer home how little their opinions mattered. One man was there with a brat in a stroller and slapped at a gnat on his neck instead of meeting her gaze.
Sophia had a moment of confusion as she realized she was dizzier than could be explained by her earlier mirth. She swiped at the fruit fly distractedly.
There was something about the way sound was echoing in the food court that was starting to give her a headache. She would try to move, but there were still no other seats available. The entire space was occupied by filthy pigs stuffing their faces.
Madison had been yammering on, but had stopped. Sophia focused her attention back on her. It looked like she was expecting a response.
"I wasn't listening."
"Ugh. You're the worst." Madison threw a balled up napkin at her. "I was saying, it sounds like Briana didn't make the cut."
"Too spineless. She's moderately attractive, but she's not, like, rich rich. Plus she's already got a boyfriend so that cuts out how much she can disrupt things at the top." Sophia finished by taking another sip of her drink and giving Madison a thumbs down with her other hand.
"Ah, the judgment of Queen Sophia." Madison snarked, sticking her tongue out.
A housefly touched down on it. Madison's surprised gasp brought it into her mouth and she gagged, spitting furiously into a napkin.
Sophia was about to crack up when she picked up a particular word from the sounds echoing in the food court.
"ssssssssssssSSSSSSSssssophia."
She looked around, but didn't see anyone who might know her. She suppressed a shiver. Something about the voice had run a finger down the spine of a primordial fear that she wasn't exactly willing to admit she had.
She left Madison at the table and strode purposefully through the crowds towards the entrance. She shoved past a pair of guys in green coveralls at the doors and pulled out her cell phone to call her handler for pickup.
*****************************
A few hours later, she was in her costume and feeling much more at ease. A mask really did wonders. Security, anonymity, plausible deniability. The whole package was meant to be used by a predator, and at the moment she was feeling like she was back on the top of the food chain.
"Shadow Stalker, anything on the next street over? I saw a couple of lookouts go running when we caught up to these guys."
She sighed. Top of the food chain and she was still at the beck and call of a wannabe wind-up soldier. She keyed the mic, then answered Aegis.
"I'm almost on top of them. They've got nowhere to run."
She hoped that had made him wince. He had talked her ear off enough about responsibility and image that she wanted him to know he didn't have any effect on her.
Silent as death, she leaped from the ledge and glided down to the corner of the alley in her shadow state. She heard a scrape of gravel from further in as she resolidified.
Rather than leaning around the corner where her silhouette might be seen, she returned to her shadow state and edged her way through the wall. She peeked her head out, but saw only darkness.
That's not right.
In her shadow state, darkness had no effect on her vision and she could see as well as day. Looking out at this expanse made her uneasy.
"Ok, now. You're going to tell us where that shipment is headed or else I'm going to let Brutus here use your leg as a chew toy."
She still couldn't see anything, and the sound seemed to be coming from a few inches away from her face. Then she heard a different voice, though it was barely audible.
"Okay! Don't—just don't do anything to my legs. I'll tell you. It's going to the old meat packing plant-"
"Wrong!" A third voice called out in a sing-song tone, though it was weirdly muted like the second had been.
"It's the truth!"
"No, they wouldn't tell you, but you saw something. Something real, which they were guarding very carefully, but not so carefully you think it'll come back that it was you who squealed. Too big to keep the lid on, and we know Lung's been hanging around the place a lot. This might be an even better score."
There was a heavy thud, and Shadow Stalker's vision began to clear, revealing two figures rising out of the gloom. She only cared about one though. She slid one of her less P.C. bolts out from her boot and placed it in its notch in the crossbow.
The larger figure whipped around suddenly.
"Heads up! We're-"
She brought the crossbow up, aimed, and fired in a smooth motion. Her prey staggered, then fell to one knee. She slid back through the wall before his answering tide of darkness could reach her.
She crept through the brickwork until she was on the far side of the building, then rematerialized on the outside. Moths cast crazy shadows on the ground from where they were swarming the street lamps. She paused, straightened her collar, and then took off at an easy jog to where Aegis was waiting with tonight's catch of unlucky ABB dealers for a squadcar to come by to pick them up. On her way there she broke radio silence.
"Aegis, I've got the Undersiders on my tail and I don't know if I've lost them! I'm headed to you."
"…to you."
There was that echo again, along with the hissing that had been driving her nuts all day.
"Copy that Shadow Stalker." A pause. "Miss Militia, we've sighted the Undersiders at the intersection of 28th and Henkel. Should we engage?"
The response was almost immediate.
"Do not engage. There are only two of you in the area and the Undersiders are known to use hit-and-run tactics. I repeat: leave your suspects for the boys in blue to pick up and report back at HQ for debriefing. Copy?"
"Copy that. We'll stay out of their way." His voice was resigned, but steady.
"You're just gonna let them go? They stole my p- my suspects! I could take down Grue and the telepath bitch at least." Shadow Stalker shouted into her mic.
"Negative. You are to report to HQ immediately. Am I understood?" Miss Militia's tone was icy.
"Yes ma'am. We're on our way." Aegis confirmed, looking meaningfully at Shadow Stalker.
Shadow Stalker huffed and folded her arms. She turned to look behind her and froze as she saw that the streetlamps were almost completely covered with moths and gnats. She turned to Aegis and her words were more casual than she felt.
"Let's go."
"…go."
*****************************
By the time Shadow Stalker and Aegis made it back to the PRT headquarters, it was clear to both of them that something was amiss.
"We're here, HQ. You're sure there aren't any known parahumans in the Bay who control sound?"
"We're here…"
Clockblocker sighed and answered Aegis.
"Negative. Unless Screamer decided to stop by for a vacation."
"Don't joke about that kind of shit." Shadow Stalker snapped.
"Relax, we'll get you both checked out for master/stranger tampering for the next few hours in a nice padded cell. We've already contacted the 'rents so you're clear to spend the night."
A pair of PRT officers approached from the side entrance, then stopped a respectful distance away. One cleared her throat.
"Passphrases?"
Aegis straightened up.
"Four-One-Three-Birthday." He recited.
"Alpha-Five-Three-Skittish." She growled.
*****************************
Shadow Stalker rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and fixed her mask back on her face. It was pretty uncomfortable, but she was willing to admit to herself that there was a certain something to sleeping in one's costume. It was like falling deeper into character, becoming indistinguishable from her strength. Then she remembered why she had slept here last night in the first place. She and Aegis had been hearing voices and were being monitored under master/stranger protocols to ensure they weren't being subverted by an unknown parahuman.
That meant increased scrutiny for at least the next few days after she got out of lock-up. She'd probably have to stay under the radar if she wanted to have the same level of freedom to cut loose again. She smiled. She had tagged Grue last night, and making the fucker bleed was worth the coming inconvenience. Scum like him needed to be taught their place.
She buzzed her way through the cell door without incident, and the timer had unlocked it three hours ago in any case. Any mastering that would affect their thoughts was likely to be weak or short-lived, provided the Simurgh wasn't in town. If that were a case, everyone was equally fucked, so there was no point worrying.
Brooding. She was brooding, not worrying. Prey worry when they know a predator is about. It's the role of a predator to-
"…kill…"
Shadow Stalker heard the material in her gloves creak as her hands clenched. Her eyes took in finer details in the hall, including the profusion of insects swirling in the air currents and alighting on peoples' clothes. A number of PRT officers and staff looked around as well, on edge from hearing the latest utterance. Various words were being whispered, whined, and droned out by the swelling population of bugs that had been creeping into headquarters for hours.
This was the first time that the things had said something on their own, however. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Kid Win, who was on monitor duty.
"Shadow Stalker, did you hear-"
"Yeah. I'm on my way."
She turned the corner briskly, bulling her way past a PRT intern carrying a stack of papers. In defiance of fate and the universe, they did not scatter everywhere and he did not block the hall trying to pick them up. The flies and moths which had been sitting on the stack chose that moment to speak up.
"You…"
Were they addressing her? She felt her spine turn to ice at the thought.
"Shadow Stalker, get to the wards commons on the double." Miss Militia ordered over her headset.
Fighting back a wave of nausea, Shadow Stalker jogged the rest of the way. She wasn't even bothering to brush the bugs off of her legs and torso, instead focusing on swatting at anything that dared land on her arms and face. She realized belatedly that this wasn't exactly the most dignified sight, but, she reminded herself, she didn't give a damn what anyone else thought.
She reached the last intersection and the bottom of her stomach seemed to drop out. Her head whipped behind her and confirmed her fear. A steadily thickening tide of bugs was advancing on her from three directions.
She raced to the interlock, stripping her right glove and mask off. She slammed her hand into the palm scanner, looked directly into the iris scanner, and struggled to keep from squinting as flies began to alight on her naked skin.
"Come on, come on…" She muttered.
The buzzing was almost deafening now, but she saw the light above the palm scanner turn green right as she heard the iris scanner beep. The door clanked as various interlocks slid out of place. If she were thinking straight at the time she would be forced to admit she was panicking. She slammed the door with her fists.
"…me."
"Let me—pfth" She gagged and coughed on a gnat that had flown into her open mouth. She grit her teeth. "Open the fucking-"
The last bolt slid away and she heaved the door open. As she did so she was carried bodily into the room beyond by the tide of insects. She slammed into a couch but with the adrenalin coursing through her she barely felt it.
She ended up on her back, chest heaving as she stared up at the swarm that had flooded into the space and was hovering above her. She shuddered as the voice came again, seeming to leap from the walls.
"Sophia Hess."
"Shadow Stalker!" Miss Militia's exclamation came at the same time as the swarm's. "Clockblocker, get to her. You've got a full-face helmet. Vista, see if you can increase the distance between her and the swarm." A pause. She must have gotten on comms. "Armsmaster, I want the containment foam sprayers running yesterday!" The voice of Miss Militia seemed like an insect whining in her ear next to the sound of the swarm.
"You killed me!"
The swarm descended.
- Location
- CA, United States
Hmm, interesting idea. I like it so far.
So like Ack's AU where Taylor becomes the swarm, with extra vengeful murder?
Kadath
Sinnamon Roll
- Location
- Somewhere
Everything's better with extra vengeful murder.
Chapter 1.0
Kadath
Sinnamon Roll
- Location
- Somewhere
Fragmentation 1.0
It was the first day after winter break. I had long ago learned not to react to the whispered comments or the stares from the rest of the student body. If I did, the trio would hear about it. So, I hunched my shoulders and stared straight ahead as I made the trek from the main entrance to my locker.
What luck, Sophia's spotted me already.
I set my jaw as I felt her gaze on the back of my neck.
"Wow, she must be cold. Why else would she be bundled up like that?"
And Madison. And unless I miss my guess…
"It's probably because she's so flat and ugly. She can't bear to look at herself. Why should we have to look at her too?" The group laughed spitefully.
And Emma's here too. Were they waiting for me?
I put aside my darker thoughts before they could lead down the path of whether I was safe from them at home. I kept walking.
An eternity later, I reached my locker. I'd caught a cold over break so my nose was stuffed up, but I could smell something odd. My early sighting of the trio had reignited a healthy dose of paranoia, so I fumbled my way hurriedly through my locker combination.
What I saw inside was, frankly, not surprising anymore. My notebooks, textbooks, and other school supplies were gone. The act of opening the locker stirred the drifts of fine gray powder into motion. I coughed a couple of times, blinking rapidly to clear my eyes of grit. No points for guessing what had become of my books.
I heard footsteps approaching, but before I could turn around I felt my head slam into the door of one of the neighboring lockers. I tried to remain standing, but I felt my legs get kicked out from under me and I couldn't help but let out a cry of pain as I landed on my hip and elbow. I was still blinking away tears when I heard Emma's voice.
"You know what? I think she needs a makeover!"
I felt a pair of hands roughly tear my backpack away from me.
"Let's start with the foundation."
I barely had a chance to look around blearily before I went blind again. I dimly realized a half second later that someone had slapped me, and that they had had a handful of the fine ashes in their hands when they did so. I coughed furiously, trying to clear my airways. I wouldn't call for help. I already knew nobody would come.
"And next some product for that rat's nest!"
I felt a cold trickle pour down my scalp and face, burning my eyes and the scrapes I had already received. I shivered and tried to crawl away on my belly. A foot slammed down on the small of my back, followed by a pair of knees on my shoulders, forcing me to the ground.
"And now for the flattening iron. Careful girls, we wouldn't want to burn anybody!"
I heard a flicking sound and a sudden, intense heat. Even through the ash coating my nose and throat I could make out a smell which was terribly distinctive. Burning hair.
The pressure was lifted from my back suddenly, and I was irrationally grateful that I had room to start hyperventilating.
I scrambled to my knees, then to my feet, slapping at my hair as I went. Through a single blurry eye I could see the fluid that was burning on my hair also adhering to my hands. I bolted for the nearest bathroom, and for the first time that I could remember, nobody got in my way.
I wasn't really thinking of stopping, so I slammed into the door with a groan. I hauled it open and nearly slipped twice hurrying to the sink. By this point most of the fuel had burned off and all that was left was my hair, acting as a dry wick. The acrid smell seared my nostrils as I ran the water desperately through my hair. I finally resorted to shoving my entire head under the faucet and letting my hair dangle into the sink.
A few seconds later, after I had managed to convince myself that I wasn't going to reignite, I lifted my head again. I couldn't avoid looking at my reflection, cold and dripping as I was. What I saw shattered my self control.
Where the fuel had pooled on my skin there were angry red patches of skin, siblings to the bald patches where my hair had burned down to the root. The left side of my face looked like one big bruise.
My ears were ringing.
And nobody had come. Why would they?
I let out a shuddering breath, then a hiccup.
The last thing I had left from my mom was gone.
I blinked back tears and tried to stifle the whimper from my sigh. Making a sound was just asking for trouble.
The last few months I had watched myself drifting further apart from my dad. I had no friends, and nobody would talk to me besides Greg. I supposed that I should be thankful Emma hadn't seen fit to heap abuse on my flat chest this time.
Maybe if I was prettier people would actually care.
No chance of that now, I thought bitterly.
I turned my head gingerly to survey the damage. My hair was about a foot at its longest so I estimated it would only take about a year and a half to recover. A year and a half of looking like a freak. It wasn't rational to think that I'd just go around with different hair lengths the whole time without going for a shorter hairstyle but-
Hold on.
The ringing was definitely not just in my head. I realized after a moment that I had probably set off the fire alarm. Or somebody pulled it themselves.
I'd have to go outside. And be seen. The mere thought had my heart racing. I felt the burns intensely now that my blood was pumping.
I'd have to go out the back door.
I turned toward the bathroom door a bit unsteadily. Pain radiated down from my hip and my knee wobbled. I tried to take a step and suddenly I was falling.
I realized a few moments later that I was on the ground. I pieced things together muzzily. From the cold that was seeping into my back and the knot of pain at the back of my skull, I surmised that I had slipped in the water that had been dripping around my feet and hit my head off the sink.
I still smelled smoke. My eyes itched. I opened them and couldn't help but cry out.
My clothes were smoldering. I beat at them frantically, cursing myself for not checking whether they had gotten any fuel on them.
My actions succeeded only in providing enough oxygen to allow the flames to burst forth.
I screamed.
*****************************
Killedmekilledmeshekilledmeimdeadshesdeadillkillherlikeshekilledme-
A moment of clarity.
Confusion.
Discomfort.
I could feel something, like an itch that I couldn't quite reach. There was a sensation of heaviness, but also lightness and dizziness. A whole host of sensations blossomed forth in my mind. I could hear thousands of angry, frightened voices, but when I focused on the sound further, it was like I was hearing it from many different angles and distances. My vision was a patchwork of shifting blurry shapes and dark patches. My head was swimming, but my body wasn't responding the way I wanted it to.
It was like I had too many joints, I decided. Everything felt so free and loose. I couldn't even feel my hands or face.
The itch squirmed into my attention again. I tried to move my head and my entire perspective lurched around before coming to a halt. The sights and sounds swam into view.
I was looking down on, up from, into, and out of a large room. Three people were running around and swiping at the air frantically.
Heroes. Those are heroes.
I cleared my throat.
"ZzzzzzZZzzzzuuzzzzz."
That didn't come out right.
I knew how to form the words, but the way they were going to sound was so different from my normal speaking tone. I figured I didn't have anything to lose, so I gave it a try.
"M-misssszzz Militia?"
My voice sounded strange. It blended together and echoed wrong. It sounded a lot louder for some reason too. One of the figures whipped her head up, then back and forth, scanning the room.
"Who are you? Stop what you're doing immediately!" The voice was harsh and authoritative.
I was growing frantic, especially since I couldn't feel my face.
"What?" A buzzing drone. "What am I doing? What's happening?"
"Are you a recent trigger? Where are you controlling the bugs from?" She didn't answer either of my questions.
"Bugssssssszz?"
My vision refocused. The same way your brain filters out the sides of your nose or the frames of your glasses, I had filtered out the bugs.
A huge, black swarm hovered menacingly over the heroes' heads.
"They stopped?" A new voice muttered. I identified who was speaking because of the fly on his exposed chin. That had to be Kid Win.
"I'll ask you again, is this your body? Are you a changer, or are you mastering these bugs from a remote location?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Where's your body right now?"
"My body? I can't feel anything!"
"A case 53?" The third person was shorter and female. Based on those facts I was hearing Vista addressing Miss Militia. The older woman turned to face her.
"We can ask." Miss Militia straightened up and addressed the thickest part of the swarm. "Do you have any memories of your life before today? Your name perhaps?"
I couldn't feel my gut or my skin so it was distressing not to feel the former clench and the latter start to sweat.
"I was just at Winslow. It was the first day of school. Then something… something bad happened." I absently noticed the swarm's ambient drone rack up a few more decibels. "My name is Taylor. Taylor Hebert. What happened to me?"
I felt a shudder and heard a gagging sound from near the floor. A fourth figure staggered into motion and a fifth figure began to writhe on the ground. They were both coated almost completely in bugs. The standing figure was scraping frantically at his face and I was able to make out a white-visored helmet.
"G-get them off of me!" Clockblocker yelled, panic in his voice.
I realized suddenly that I could feel him moving without even seeing him. More specifically, I could feel all the bugs moving. Their absolute position in space was clear to me, and I could make out where each one was in relation to the others, like how you can close your eyes and walk by putting one foot in front of the other.
Most worryingly, I tried to move myself again and I felt the bugs move instead. I hadn't been paralyzed earlier. I just couldn't reconcile the sensations with the body map I'd had. I considered blandly that I should be a lot more grossed out than I felt. It felt different, sure, but I couldn't summon the revulsion or panic that I intellectually knew I should be experiencing.
My momentary reverie was interrupted by Clockblocker, who had nearly tripped over a couch in his frantic struggle.
I pulled the bugs away from Clockblocker like I was recoiling from a hot stove. With a bit of effort, I pulled them up to the swarm that had collected on the ceiling.
A new sound brought my attention back to the figure on the floor, who had been slapping at its face and head and quivering. Process of elimination and an absurdly precise mapping of its body shape identified it as Shadow Stalker. If I'd had a face I would have blanched as I realized where some of the bugs were. At some point before this group had returned to my awareness, they had crawled under her clothes and into her mouth, nose, and ears. There were even a few rapidly fading signals from inside her.
I tried to move the bugs away, but this only prompted a new bout of thrashing.
"Stop. I will not stand by while you continue to assault one of my wards." If there was ice in Miss Militia's voice before, there was steel in it now. She was clutching a flamethrower in both hands.
"I'm just trying to get them off her!" I replied, trying to make my voice carry the nervousness and impatience I felt.
Miss Militia pinched the bridge of her nose. The flamethrower morphed into a pistol in a shoulder holster.
"Okay Taylor. I'm going to believe you." She walked gingerly to Shadow Stalker's side. "He's going to pull the bugs away now, Shadow Stalker. Try to stay as still as you can."
"I'm a girl."
"Oh our bad, we should have realized the terror swarm was a girl." Clockblocker muttered.
Kid Win snorted.
I tried to pull the bugs away as quickly as I could, but Shadow Stalker still writhed at the feeling of thousands of legs crawling across her skin. The ones that couldn't fly because they were wet with various fluids simply crawled to the floor, but the remainder rose to merge with the rest of the swarm.
I realized she wasn't wearing her mask.
Then I got a look at her face.
I remembered what I had been saying. Screaming, really. I repeated it one more time.
"Sophia. You killed me."
There was silence in the room for ten seconds, broken only by the steady drone of my swarm.
"Shadow Stalker." She flinched at Miss Militia's voice, which had taken on a dangerous inflection. "What did you do."
It was the first day after winter break. I had long ago learned not to react to the whispered comments or the stares from the rest of the student body. If I did, the trio would hear about it. So, I hunched my shoulders and stared straight ahead as I made the trek from the main entrance to my locker.
What luck, Sophia's spotted me already.
I set my jaw as I felt her gaze on the back of my neck.
"Wow, she must be cold. Why else would she be bundled up like that?"
And Madison. And unless I miss my guess…
"It's probably because she's so flat and ugly. She can't bear to look at herself. Why should we have to look at her too?" The group laughed spitefully.
And Emma's here too. Were they waiting for me?
I put aside my darker thoughts before they could lead down the path of whether I was safe from them at home. I kept walking.
An eternity later, I reached my locker. I'd caught a cold over break so my nose was stuffed up, but I could smell something odd. My early sighting of the trio had reignited a healthy dose of paranoia, so I fumbled my way hurriedly through my locker combination.
What I saw inside was, frankly, not surprising anymore. My notebooks, textbooks, and other school supplies were gone. The act of opening the locker stirred the drifts of fine gray powder into motion. I coughed a couple of times, blinking rapidly to clear my eyes of grit. No points for guessing what had become of my books.
I heard footsteps approaching, but before I could turn around I felt my head slam into the door of one of the neighboring lockers. I tried to remain standing, but I felt my legs get kicked out from under me and I couldn't help but let out a cry of pain as I landed on my hip and elbow. I was still blinking away tears when I heard Emma's voice.
"You know what? I think she needs a makeover!"
I felt a pair of hands roughly tear my backpack away from me.
"Let's start with the foundation."
I barely had a chance to look around blearily before I went blind again. I dimly realized a half second later that someone had slapped me, and that they had had a handful of the fine ashes in their hands when they did so. I coughed furiously, trying to clear my airways. I wouldn't call for help. I already knew nobody would come.
"And next some product for that rat's nest!"
I felt a cold trickle pour down my scalp and face, burning my eyes and the scrapes I had already received. I shivered and tried to crawl away on my belly. A foot slammed down on the small of my back, followed by a pair of knees on my shoulders, forcing me to the ground.
"And now for the flattening iron. Careful girls, we wouldn't want to burn anybody!"
I heard a flicking sound and a sudden, intense heat. Even through the ash coating my nose and throat I could make out a smell which was terribly distinctive. Burning hair.
The pressure was lifted from my back suddenly, and I was irrationally grateful that I had room to start hyperventilating.
I scrambled to my knees, then to my feet, slapping at my hair as I went. Through a single blurry eye I could see the fluid that was burning on my hair also adhering to my hands. I bolted for the nearest bathroom, and for the first time that I could remember, nobody got in my way.
I wasn't really thinking of stopping, so I slammed into the door with a groan. I hauled it open and nearly slipped twice hurrying to the sink. By this point most of the fuel had burned off and all that was left was my hair, acting as a dry wick. The acrid smell seared my nostrils as I ran the water desperately through my hair. I finally resorted to shoving my entire head under the faucet and letting my hair dangle into the sink.
A few seconds later, after I had managed to convince myself that I wasn't going to reignite, I lifted my head again. I couldn't avoid looking at my reflection, cold and dripping as I was. What I saw shattered my self control.
Where the fuel had pooled on my skin there were angry red patches of skin, siblings to the bald patches where my hair had burned down to the root. The left side of my face looked like one big bruise.
My ears were ringing.
And nobody had come. Why would they?
I let out a shuddering breath, then a hiccup.
The last thing I had left from my mom was gone.
I blinked back tears and tried to stifle the whimper from my sigh. Making a sound was just asking for trouble.
The last few months I had watched myself drifting further apart from my dad. I had no friends, and nobody would talk to me besides Greg. I supposed that I should be thankful Emma hadn't seen fit to heap abuse on my flat chest this time.
Maybe if I was prettier people would actually care.
No chance of that now, I thought bitterly.
I turned my head gingerly to survey the damage. My hair was about a foot at its longest so I estimated it would only take about a year and a half to recover. A year and a half of looking like a freak. It wasn't rational to think that I'd just go around with different hair lengths the whole time without going for a shorter hairstyle but-
Hold on.
The ringing was definitely not just in my head. I realized after a moment that I had probably set off the fire alarm. Or somebody pulled it themselves.
I'd have to go outside. And be seen. The mere thought had my heart racing. I felt the burns intensely now that my blood was pumping.
I'd have to go out the back door.
I turned toward the bathroom door a bit unsteadily. Pain radiated down from my hip and my knee wobbled. I tried to take a step and suddenly I was falling.
I realized a few moments later that I was on the ground. I pieced things together muzzily. From the cold that was seeping into my back and the knot of pain at the back of my skull, I surmised that I had slipped in the water that had been dripping around my feet and hit my head off the sink.
I still smelled smoke. My eyes itched. I opened them and couldn't help but cry out.
My clothes were smoldering. I beat at them frantically, cursing myself for not checking whether they had gotten any fuel on them.
My actions succeeded only in providing enough oxygen to allow the flames to burst forth.
I screamed.
*****************************
Killedmekilledmeshekilledmeimdeadshesdeadillkillherlikeshekilledme-
A moment of clarity.
Confusion.
Discomfort.
I could feel something, like an itch that I couldn't quite reach. There was a sensation of heaviness, but also lightness and dizziness. A whole host of sensations blossomed forth in my mind. I could hear thousands of angry, frightened voices, but when I focused on the sound further, it was like I was hearing it from many different angles and distances. My vision was a patchwork of shifting blurry shapes and dark patches. My head was swimming, but my body wasn't responding the way I wanted it to.
It was like I had too many joints, I decided. Everything felt so free and loose. I couldn't even feel my hands or face.
The itch squirmed into my attention again. I tried to move my head and my entire perspective lurched around before coming to a halt. The sights and sounds swam into view.
I was looking down on, up from, into, and out of a large room. Three people were running around and swiping at the air frantically.
Heroes. Those are heroes.
I cleared my throat.
"ZzzzzzZZzzzzuuzzzzz."
That didn't come out right.
I knew how to form the words, but the way they were going to sound was so different from my normal speaking tone. I figured I didn't have anything to lose, so I gave it a try.
"M-misssszzz Militia?"
My voice sounded strange. It blended together and echoed wrong. It sounded a lot louder for some reason too. One of the figures whipped her head up, then back and forth, scanning the room.
"Who are you? Stop what you're doing immediately!" The voice was harsh and authoritative.
I was growing frantic, especially since I couldn't feel my face.
"What?" A buzzing drone. "What am I doing? What's happening?"
"Are you a recent trigger? Where are you controlling the bugs from?" She didn't answer either of my questions.
"Bugssssssszz?"
My vision refocused. The same way your brain filters out the sides of your nose or the frames of your glasses, I had filtered out the bugs.
A huge, black swarm hovered menacingly over the heroes' heads.
"They stopped?" A new voice muttered. I identified who was speaking because of the fly on his exposed chin. That had to be Kid Win.
"I'll ask you again, is this your body? Are you a changer, or are you mastering these bugs from a remote location?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Where's your body right now?"
"My body? I can't feel anything!"
"A case 53?" The third person was shorter and female. Based on those facts I was hearing Vista addressing Miss Militia. The older woman turned to face her.
"We can ask." Miss Militia straightened up and addressed the thickest part of the swarm. "Do you have any memories of your life before today? Your name perhaps?"
I couldn't feel my gut or my skin so it was distressing not to feel the former clench and the latter start to sweat.
"I was just at Winslow. It was the first day of school. Then something… something bad happened." I absently noticed the swarm's ambient drone rack up a few more decibels. "My name is Taylor. Taylor Hebert. What happened to me?"
I felt a shudder and heard a gagging sound from near the floor. A fourth figure staggered into motion and a fifth figure began to writhe on the ground. They were both coated almost completely in bugs. The standing figure was scraping frantically at his face and I was able to make out a white-visored helmet.
"G-get them off of me!" Clockblocker yelled, panic in his voice.
I realized suddenly that I could feel him moving without even seeing him. More specifically, I could feel all the bugs moving. Their absolute position in space was clear to me, and I could make out where each one was in relation to the others, like how you can close your eyes and walk by putting one foot in front of the other.
Most worryingly, I tried to move myself again and I felt the bugs move instead. I hadn't been paralyzed earlier. I just couldn't reconcile the sensations with the body map I'd had. I considered blandly that I should be a lot more grossed out than I felt. It felt different, sure, but I couldn't summon the revulsion or panic that I intellectually knew I should be experiencing.
My momentary reverie was interrupted by Clockblocker, who had nearly tripped over a couch in his frantic struggle.
I pulled the bugs away from Clockblocker like I was recoiling from a hot stove. With a bit of effort, I pulled them up to the swarm that had collected on the ceiling.
A new sound brought my attention back to the figure on the floor, who had been slapping at its face and head and quivering. Process of elimination and an absurdly precise mapping of its body shape identified it as Shadow Stalker. If I'd had a face I would have blanched as I realized where some of the bugs were. At some point before this group had returned to my awareness, they had crawled under her clothes and into her mouth, nose, and ears. There were even a few rapidly fading signals from inside her.
I tried to move the bugs away, but this only prompted a new bout of thrashing.
"Stop. I will not stand by while you continue to assault one of my wards." If there was ice in Miss Militia's voice before, there was steel in it now. She was clutching a flamethrower in both hands.
"I'm just trying to get them off her!" I replied, trying to make my voice carry the nervousness and impatience I felt.
Miss Militia pinched the bridge of her nose. The flamethrower morphed into a pistol in a shoulder holster.
"Okay Taylor. I'm going to believe you." She walked gingerly to Shadow Stalker's side. "He's going to pull the bugs away now, Shadow Stalker. Try to stay as still as you can."
"I'm a girl."
"Oh our bad, we should have realized the terror swarm was a girl." Clockblocker muttered.
Kid Win snorted.
I tried to pull the bugs away as quickly as I could, but Shadow Stalker still writhed at the feeling of thousands of legs crawling across her skin. The ones that couldn't fly because they were wet with various fluids simply crawled to the floor, but the remainder rose to merge with the rest of the swarm.
I realized she wasn't wearing her mask.
Then I got a look at her face.
I remembered what I had been saying. Screaming, really. I repeated it one more time.
"Sophia. You killed me."
There was silence in the room for ten seconds, broken only by the steady drone of my swarm.
"Shadow Stalker." She flinched at Miss Militia's voice, which had taken on a dangerous inflection. "What did you do."
Dermonster
The Shittiest Wizard
Your threadmark goes backwards.
Kadath
Sinnamon Roll
- Location
- Somewhere
Damnit.
- Location
- Somewhere!
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Huh. Second chapter is much less murderous than the first made it seem.
I thought she was deliberately following Sophia around for a while to gaslight her with the echoes, and was kind of assuming it would be another Taylor goes Carrie thing, but this is honestly more interesting.
I thought she was deliberately following Sophia around for a while to gaslight her with the echoes, and was kind of assuming it would be another Taylor goes Carrie thing, but this is honestly more interesting.
- Location
- It's a whole new world we live in
Mexican stand-offs are more interesting than mindless murder-escalation-fests
- Location
- The North
A changer story? Interesting. A hero story? Okay. A ward story? ... Okay? Watched for now I guess... If this is another, let's just slap Sophia's wrist, IMA facepalm.
consequences
Not A Nice Person At All
- Location
- Jerkville
I'm not saying I want to see a fic where Miss Militia or Director Piggot shoots her in the head as soon as her guilt is confirmed, but such a plot development wouldn't exactly make me run screaming from a fic either.
Zeuseus
KNEEL BEFORE YOUR GOD!!
My preferences for Sophia vary depending on what character path the author has taken:
For overly vindictive, violent psychopath Sophia: Die Screaming from Physical and Psychological Torture.
For traumatised sexual abuse victim Sophia: Therapy and a Teddy Bear alongside a transfer to a different state.
For Middle of the road, mostly canon Sophia: Send her to a cell with electro-cuffs never to be seen again unless plot demands it.
For overly vindictive, violent psychopath Sophia: Die Screaming from Physical and Psychological Torture.
For traumatised sexual abuse victim Sophia: Therapy and a Teddy Bear alongside a transfer to a different state.
For Middle of the road, mostly canon Sophia: Send her to a cell with electro-cuffs never to be seen again unless plot demands it.
GameDragon
Too Hot To Handle
- Location
- Challenger Deep
How did you come to that conclusion?
outwrangle
Postmaster General
- Location
- Iowa
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Her bugs can be crushed and burned without killing her, so presumably as long as a certain number of bugs are alive then she is alive as well. The main questions are "where do the bugs come from?", "how many bugs does her swarm need to reform?", and "do eggs layed by her swarm become part of her swarm?". Her power could work a lot of ways, and depending on the answers to these questions she is either functionally immortal, really hard to kill, or dead already and this story is very short.
Kadath
Sinnamon Roll
- Location
- Somewhere
All will be revealed. I need to wait for my beta reader to wake up but you can expect the next chapter soon*.
Chapter 1.1
Kadath
Sinnamon Roll
- Location
- Somewhere
Fragmentation 1.1
"She killed her, apparently. Wasn't anybody listening?" Clockblocker drawled.
Kid Win whapped him on the back of the helmet.
Miss Militia was visibly seething. If the rapid changes to the weapon in her hand were any indication of her mental state, she was only barely keeping it together.
For that matter, I was only barely keeping it together. Emotion choked my words, turning a quarter of them into meaningless buzzing, but I made myself heard.
"You're telling me that thissszzz bzzzzzzzzzzhas been a Ward for years. Oh my god. Szzzzzzshe's been getting to do whatever the fzzzzzzzzshe wants to me because she's a Ward!" I could feel my swarm moving around more rapidly, a visible indicator of how agitated I was. "You've been covering up everyth-"
I was cut off by a voice on the room's intercom.
"You are to cease and desist speaking of this matter entirely. You have assaulted a Ward and infiltrated a secure PRT compound, both of which are felonies. Don't make this harder on yourself than it needs to be." It was Armsmaster, though I wasn't sure where he was. He must have been watching through a security camera.
I fumed. Actually, I was past fuming. This was Armsmaster. I used to have Armsmaster-branded underwear when I was little. And now he was siding with my bullies.
"No, you zzzzzzzzzz- no, you fuckers, have been trying to keep me quiet for months!"
"There's no evidence-"
I bulled through his words.
"I've been trying to get someone to lissszzzzten to me about her fucking assaulting me every day at ssssszzzschool, but it's been you." I wasn't sure, but I thought I put literal venom into the last word.
"If you don't stop, I'll be forced to-"
"You're the ones who told Blackwell to hush it all up!"
"Miss Militia, the containment foam sprayers have been disabled."
I was ranting now, but I didn't care.
"I thought I was fucking crazzzzzzy when I saw that secretary shredding my application to Arcadia."
"Miss Militia, stall until I get there. If you can, disable whatever device she's using-"
Miss Militia keyed her mic viciously.
"Shut up, Armsmaster."
There was relative silence. I even managed to make my swarm drone quietly. She looked up at, well, I guess at me. Or where she thought I was. Her voice was surprisingly soothing.
"Please, Taylor. I've gotten reports from our officers stationed outside that your words are audible for many blocks away. Until you have enough control to keep your voice down, I'd like to ask you not to talk about sensitive topics like a cape's civilian identity."
This would have floored me if I were standing, or capable of standing.
How far is my radius?
There were plenty of bugs out on the streets around the PRT headquarters. I noted in passing that it took up a whole city block on a side and extended much further than that underground. We were actually almost a city block's distance underground ourselves. I considered trying to "turn my head" again, but I remembered how disorienting it had been and thought better of it. Instead I focused on the signals I was getting from outside the room. What I got was even more confusing.
If the bugs I had in this room were like a giant eye looking in every direction, then the other bugs around me were like dappled spots of light and shadow in my peripheral vision. I surmised that a bug's eyes aren't really suited for distance reading on their own. I wasn't going to be able to see very well without a sizeable swarm.
Miss Militia addressed Armsmaster again, cold anger radiating from her words.
"You're going to drive the rest of the way back over here with some proper cuffs for Shadow Stalker. You're not going to further antagonize Taylor, and you're definitely not going to turn on that bug zapper you were talking about. Do I make myself clear?"
"Holy shit." Clockblocker breathed.
"You can't just-" Shadow Stalker began.
"You have the right to remain silent, Shadow Stalker. I expect you to exercise that right." Miss Militia's tone brooked no argument.
The silence stretched on. After an agonizing wait, Armsmaster's voice, now sounding even more terse than before, crackled through the intercom.
"Roger, Miss Militia. My orders, as protectorate team leader, are to hold her and Shadow Stalker for questioning and prevent any further leaks. Armsmaster out."
If it weren't for the bugs I had on her I wouldn't have noticed the relaxation in Miss Militia's posture. The awkward pause that followed was interrupted by the sound of tramping boots.
Two squads of PRT officers filed through the doors, and I could see the tanks of foam launchers on the backs of several of them. The first squad rushed around the edge of the room to surround the Wards, pointing their weapons at the swarm on the ceiling uncertainly. The second squad hovered at the entrance, and I felt one in the hall gesturing to a couple others.
"Stand down, sergeant. See to Shadow Stalker and Clockblocker, but don't threaten Taylor. She's been through enough today." Miss Militia spoke softly but authoritatively.
The first and second squads didn't budge.
"Sergeant Ritter?"
There was a click and one of the troopers responded.
"Miss Militia, be advised we are under Master/Stranger Protocols. We have orders to maintain Eyes-On Protocol and to close our headsets to all communication from individuals who may have had compromising contact with this unknown cape. It is Armsmaster's strict order to hold all of you in this room until we can verify that you have not been mastered and the tinkertech that has been controlling this swarm has been neutralized."
Miss Militia clenched her fists at this. Her head whipped toward the door.
I tried to get a feel for what was going on in the hall, but I realized with shock that I couldn't feel any bugs there. Uncertainly, I flew a dozen flies down to investigate and I both felt and heard a set of pops that matched the flies going dark to my senses. I had registered a snap of pain from each, and then nothing.
"What is that? What are they bringing in here? It hurts!"
Miss Militia and the Wards jumped at my hiss of pain, possibly due to the volume. Miss Militia started jogging to the entrance of the room, waving her hands in a series of negating gestures.
"Stop! She's cooperating!" She shouted. There was no indication they heard, though several PRT troopers pointed their foam sprayers at her as she approached.
As the device being wheeled in on a cart reached the intersection I finally got a good look at it with my swarm's vision. It looked like a tesla coil and was emitting an angry hum. This time I got to watch the blue sparks as individuals from my swarm were incinerated. I felt a cold fear at the sight.
They brought it to a halt at the doorway and pain lanced through my mind.
I screamed.
It was like I was burning. I remembered the bathroom at Winslow. I babbled something incoherent in the instants before I felt the heat touch a very special bug. I recoiled immediately.
Suddenly, I was out in the cold.
It had been unseasonably warm, but it was still probably January, given the chill in the air. Not comfortable for most insects.
I had moved.
I was at the center of a growing swarm in a park about a block away from the PRT headquarters. I could still feel my swarm dying there, but it was a more distant pain. I could block it out. Compartmentalize it.
I took in my surroundings. A woman was dashing away with a toddler in her arms, probably at the sight of me. I spied a pair of BBPD officers standing by their squadcar. One was talking hurriedly into the radio clipped to his vest.
I tried to approach, but the mass movement of the swarm caused both men to stiffen, their hands going to their holsters. I absently noted a commotion in the Wards' common room but I was too distracted to pay attention.
My swarm thickened as I tried to focus. Thin streams of bugs flowed into my radius and I felt a commensurate strengthening of my control. I read street signs on the outer edges of my control. The park was at the corner of 12th street and I could make out signs for 15th street and 9th street.
I also noticed the crowds.
Closer to the thickest patches of bugs, I saw people ducking away and running with jackets over their heads and handkerchiefs over their mouths. I made an effort to swap out the cockroaches on them for smaller fruit flies or house flies.
Towards the edges of my swarms, there were people chattering and taking pictures on their phones. I noticed that the two PRT officers on duty at the front doors of PRT HQ were manhandling a news crew back to a van that had "WBBB" painted on the side. I guessed that the PRT didn't have much patience for the Brockton Bay Bugle, which had broadcasted numerous unflattering stories about them.
The crowds were getting thicker, I noticed with despair. My feelings of claustrophobia were only mounting as I felt ever more sets of eyes on me.
Just as suddenly as before, I was in the dark.
It took me a second to reorient myself, but I realized I was underground. There were a few bugs with me in the storm drain, but there were other cavities around that were teeming with life. I felt a little nauseous at realizing that the appetizing smells my bugs were sending me corresponded to the sewers.
Far above, separated from my center by an expanse of dirt filled with worms and other tiny creatures, I heard a voice on a megaphone.
They were addressing my swarm, which was now forming a menacing-looking cloud over the merry-go-round and swingset. Mostly I was just huddling together for warmth, but they obviously didn't know that.
"We have you surrounded." It was an armored PRT Humvee. The foam launcher on its roof tracked the movement of my swarm. There were four others which had pulled onto the sidewalk.
There weren't any vehicles above me, so I moved the swarm up.
Five streams of foam cut through my swarm, immobilizing and crushing the bugs that were struck. I spread the swarm out, despite the discomfort of the cold.
It was clear in moments that the sprayers were no longer having an appreciable effect, and the streams cut off.
Far below, I saw Armsmaster striding past the PRT cordon.
"It's over. Your established zones of control have allowed me to pinpoint your location. If you come quietly the court may show leniency."
"My location? I don't even know if I'm alive in this swarm anymore!"
"I have no reason to believe that you're telling the truth."
"You attacked me!"
"If you were a changer, then you would have changed back to your human shape when my device entered the room. The Manton effect would not have allowed you to remain as the swarm."
"You were trying to kill me! Like Shadow Stalker!"
"This is neither the time nor place for witch hunts. Any secondary investigation will be conducted separately when this situation has quieted down."
His posture went rigid. I picked up his furious whispering from the bugs that had alighted on his armor.
"What? Keep looking, they have to be there."
If I had eyelids I would have blinked. While a moment ago Armsmaster was standing alone, now Velocity was standing beside him. He placed a hand on Armsmaster's shoulder and spoke quickly and quietly.
"There was nobody in the area and no evidence of a tinkertech relay of any kind. I think she's telling the truth."
If I had a stomach I would have had butterflies doing backflips in it. As it stood, it was a bit early in the year for butterflies. I also didn't want to think about my bugs' stomach contents.
"There could have been a cloaking device. Or something miniaturized." Armsmaster frowned, scratching his chin.
"You need to let this go. The media's going to have a field day with this fiasco already, and we don't need to give them any more ammunition." Velocity whispered so softly I almost didn't hear.
"She could be lying."
"Listen to her, she's a scared kid. She's not doing any of this on purpose. We'll get the story sorted out if we all just calm down and deescalate."
"I was so sure…" Armsmaster trailed off, uncertainly.
"Her story checks out. A girl by the name of Taylor Hebert has active records at Winslow Public High School and had a missing persons report filed weeks ago."
"Weeks?" I murmured. It came out as a scratchy hum.
"She killed her, apparently. Wasn't anybody listening?" Clockblocker drawled.
Kid Win whapped him on the back of the helmet.
Miss Militia was visibly seething. If the rapid changes to the weapon in her hand were any indication of her mental state, she was only barely keeping it together.
For that matter, I was only barely keeping it together. Emotion choked my words, turning a quarter of them into meaningless buzzing, but I made myself heard.
"You're telling me that thissszzz bzzzzzzzzzzhas been a Ward for years. Oh my god. Szzzzzzshe's been getting to do whatever the fzzzzzzzzshe wants to me because she's a Ward!" I could feel my swarm moving around more rapidly, a visible indicator of how agitated I was. "You've been covering up everyth-"
I was cut off by a voice on the room's intercom.
"You are to cease and desist speaking of this matter entirely. You have assaulted a Ward and infiltrated a secure PRT compound, both of which are felonies. Don't make this harder on yourself than it needs to be." It was Armsmaster, though I wasn't sure where he was. He must have been watching through a security camera.
I fumed. Actually, I was past fuming. This was Armsmaster. I used to have Armsmaster-branded underwear when I was little. And now he was siding with my bullies.
"No, you zzzzzzzzzz- no, you fuckers, have been trying to keep me quiet for months!"
"There's no evidence-"
I bulled through his words.
"I've been trying to get someone to lissszzzzten to me about her fucking assaulting me every day at ssssszzzschool, but it's been you." I wasn't sure, but I thought I put literal venom into the last word.
"If you don't stop, I'll be forced to-"
"You're the ones who told Blackwell to hush it all up!"
"Miss Militia, the containment foam sprayers have been disabled."
I was ranting now, but I didn't care.
"I thought I was fucking crazzzzzzy when I saw that secretary shredding my application to Arcadia."
"Miss Militia, stall until I get there. If you can, disable whatever device she's using-"
Miss Militia keyed her mic viciously.
"Shut up, Armsmaster."
There was relative silence. I even managed to make my swarm drone quietly. She looked up at, well, I guess at me. Or where she thought I was. Her voice was surprisingly soothing.
"Please, Taylor. I've gotten reports from our officers stationed outside that your words are audible for many blocks away. Until you have enough control to keep your voice down, I'd like to ask you not to talk about sensitive topics like a cape's civilian identity."
This would have floored me if I were standing, or capable of standing.
How far is my radius?
There were plenty of bugs out on the streets around the PRT headquarters. I noted in passing that it took up a whole city block on a side and extended much further than that underground. We were actually almost a city block's distance underground ourselves. I considered trying to "turn my head" again, but I remembered how disorienting it had been and thought better of it. Instead I focused on the signals I was getting from outside the room. What I got was even more confusing.
If the bugs I had in this room were like a giant eye looking in every direction, then the other bugs around me were like dappled spots of light and shadow in my peripheral vision. I surmised that a bug's eyes aren't really suited for distance reading on their own. I wasn't going to be able to see very well without a sizeable swarm.
Miss Militia addressed Armsmaster again, cold anger radiating from her words.
"You're going to drive the rest of the way back over here with some proper cuffs for Shadow Stalker. You're not going to further antagonize Taylor, and you're definitely not going to turn on that bug zapper you were talking about. Do I make myself clear?"
"Holy shit." Clockblocker breathed.
"You can't just-" Shadow Stalker began.
"You have the right to remain silent, Shadow Stalker. I expect you to exercise that right." Miss Militia's tone brooked no argument.
The silence stretched on. After an agonizing wait, Armsmaster's voice, now sounding even more terse than before, crackled through the intercom.
"Roger, Miss Militia. My orders, as protectorate team leader, are to hold her and Shadow Stalker for questioning and prevent any further leaks. Armsmaster out."
If it weren't for the bugs I had on her I wouldn't have noticed the relaxation in Miss Militia's posture. The awkward pause that followed was interrupted by the sound of tramping boots.
Two squads of PRT officers filed through the doors, and I could see the tanks of foam launchers on the backs of several of them. The first squad rushed around the edge of the room to surround the Wards, pointing their weapons at the swarm on the ceiling uncertainly. The second squad hovered at the entrance, and I felt one in the hall gesturing to a couple others.
"Stand down, sergeant. See to Shadow Stalker and Clockblocker, but don't threaten Taylor. She's been through enough today." Miss Militia spoke softly but authoritatively.
The first and second squads didn't budge.
"Sergeant Ritter?"
There was a click and one of the troopers responded.
"Miss Militia, be advised we are under Master/Stranger Protocols. We have orders to maintain Eyes-On Protocol and to close our headsets to all communication from individuals who may have had compromising contact with this unknown cape. It is Armsmaster's strict order to hold all of you in this room until we can verify that you have not been mastered and the tinkertech that has been controlling this swarm has been neutralized."
Miss Militia clenched her fists at this. Her head whipped toward the door.
I tried to get a feel for what was going on in the hall, but I realized with shock that I couldn't feel any bugs there. Uncertainly, I flew a dozen flies down to investigate and I both felt and heard a set of pops that matched the flies going dark to my senses. I had registered a snap of pain from each, and then nothing.
"What is that? What are they bringing in here? It hurts!"
Miss Militia and the Wards jumped at my hiss of pain, possibly due to the volume. Miss Militia started jogging to the entrance of the room, waving her hands in a series of negating gestures.
"Stop! She's cooperating!" She shouted. There was no indication they heard, though several PRT troopers pointed their foam sprayers at her as she approached.
As the device being wheeled in on a cart reached the intersection I finally got a good look at it with my swarm's vision. It looked like a tesla coil and was emitting an angry hum. This time I got to watch the blue sparks as individuals from my swarm were incinerated. I felt a cold fear at the sight.
They brought it to a halt at the doorway and pain lanced through my mind.
I screamed.
It was like I was burning. I remembered the bathroom at Winslow. I babbled something incoherent in the instants before I felt the heat touch a very special bug. I recoiled immediately.
Suddenly, I was out in the cold.
It had been unseasonably warm, but it was still probably January, given the chill in the air. Not comfortable for most insects.
I had moved.
I was at the center of a growing swarm in a park about a block away from the PRT headquarters. I could still feel my swarm dying there, but it was a more distant pain. I could block it out. Compartmentalize it.
I took in my surroundings. A woman was dashing away with a toddler in her arms, probably at the sight of me. I spied a pair of BBPD officers standing by their squadcar. One was talking hurriedly into the radio clipped to his vest.
I tried to approach, but the mass movement of the swarm caused both men to stiffen, their hands going to their holsters. I absently noted a commotion in the Wards' common room but I was too distracted to pay attention.
My swarm thickened as I tried to focus. Thin streams of bugs flowed into my radius and I felt a commensurate strengthening of my control. I read street signs on the outer edges of my control. The park was at the corner of 12th street and I could make out signs for 15th street and 9th street.
I also noticed the crowds.
Closer to the thickest patches of bugs, I saw people ducking away and running with jackets over their heads and handkerchiefs over their mouths. I made an effort to swap out the cockroaches on them for smaller fruit flies or house flies.
Towards the edges of my swarms, there were people chattering and taking pictures on their phones. I noticed that the two PRT officers on duty at the front doors of PRT HQ were manhandling a news crew back to a van that had "WBBB" painted on the side. I guessed that the PRT didn't have much patience for the Brockton Bay Bugle, which had broadcasted numerous unflattering stories about them.
The crowds were getting thicker, I noticed with despair. My feelings of claustrophobia were only mounting as I felt ever more sets of eyes on me.
Just as suddenly as before, I was in the dark.
It took me a second to reorient myself, but I realized I was underground. There were a few bugs with me in the storm drain, but there were other cavities around that were teeming with life. I felt a little nauseous at realizing that the appetizing smells my bugs were sending me corresponded to the sewers.
Far above, separated from my center by an expanse of dirt filled with worms and other tiny creatures, I heard a voice on a megaphone.
They were addressing my swarm, which was now forming a menacing-looking cloud over the merry-go-round and swingset. Mostly I was just huddling together for warmth, but they obviously didn't know that.
"We have you surrounded." It was an armored PRT Humvee. The foam launcher on its roof tracked the movement of my swarm. There were four others which had pulled onto the sidewalk.
There weren't any vehicles above me, so I moved the swarm up.
Five streams of foam cut through my swarm, immobilizing and crushing the bugs that were struck. I spread the swarm out, despite the discomfort of the cold.
It was clear in moments that the sprayers were no longer having an appreciable effect, and the streams cut off.
Far below, I saw Armsmaster striding past the PRT cordon.
"It's over. Your established zones of control have allowed me to pinpoint your location. If you come quietly the court may show leniency."
"My location? I don't even know if I'm alive in this swarm anymore!"
"I have no reason to believe that you're telling the truth."
"You attacked me!"
"If you were a changer, then you would have changed back to your human shape when my device entered the room. The Manton effect would not have allowed you to remain as the swarm."
"You were trying to kill me! Like Shadow Stalker!"
"This is neither the time nor place for witch hunts. Any secondary investigation will be conducted separately when this situation has quieted down."
His posture went rigid. I picked up his furious whispering from the bugs that had alighted on his armor.
"What? Keep looking, they have to be there."
If I had eyelids I would have blinked. While a moment ago Armsmaster was standing alone, now Velocity was standing beside him. He placed a hand on Armsmaster's shoulder and spoke quickly and quietly.
"There was nobody in the area and no evidence of a tinkertech relay of any kind. I think she's telling the truth."
If I had a stomach I would have had butterflies doing backflips in it. As it stood, it was a bit early in the year for butterflies. I also didn't want to think about my bugs' stomach contents.
"There could have been a cloaking device. Or something miniaturized." Armsmaster frowned, scratching his chin.
"You need to let this go. The media's going to have a field day with this fiasco already, and we don't need to give them any more ammunition." Velocity whispered so softly I almost didn't hear.
"She could be lying."
"Listen to her, she's a scared kid. She's not doing any of this on purpose. We'll get the story sorted out if we all just calm down and deescalate."
"I was so sure…" Armsmaster trailed off, uncertainly.
"Her story checks out. A girl by the name of Taylor Hebert has active records at Winslow Public High School and had a missing persons report filed weeks ago."
"Weeks?" I murmured. It came out as a scratchy hum.
GameDragon
Too Hot To Handle
- Location
- Challenger Deep
Well F*ck.
James D. Fawkes
Court Scribe
- Location
- Avalon (Isle of Mists)
That's what happens when you're so certain you're right; when you're wrong, you're often very wrong. Armsmaster, maybe you should just quit now, while you're ahead. I can't imagine your boot tastes very good.
globalwarmth
ruining the weather.
- Location
- Polar ice caps
on the news today: shadow stalker tries to kill a girl and armsmaster tries to end the job, more at six