- Location
- romania
Best Ward intensifies. I'm sure there's some sabaton lyrics that could go well with this.
I noticed that Weld is well liked in the fandom which is GOOD . He deserves everything good to happen to him.
Best Ward intensifies. I'm sure there's some sabaton lyrics that could go well with this.
Somebody should make a tragic backstory count. It would be so high by now.
Poor everyone.
Ok, I'll try my hand. Taylor, Rachel, Brian, Aisha, Alec, Lisa (she ran away from home), Sophia (I think she have past issues), Elle, Gregor, Newter, Krouse (if Noelle is someone really close to him), Noelle, Genesis (if she have a handicap), Dennis, Amy (not close to her family), Weld, Angelica, Hannah, Uber and Leet (because they're the clowns of this story and its so DAMN TRAGIC). 19 people and a dog. Curiosity satisfied ?
So you did, missed that while readingI said already. Slaughterhouse 9. Now I'm sure 100% about these fuckers.
Well, I talked about smart and stupid tinkers and look how this chapter started. With Kid Win's POV. Super-awesome. Time to learn more about the only Ward that I still know next to nothing , besides that he's no way as stupid as he sees himself.I'm a tinker. I'm supposed to be smart.
So how can I have been so stupid?
Ballistic raised one hand and pointed at Kid Win. He waited until Kid Win moved before kicking at the uneven, rubble-strewn ground, sending a spray of concrete and wood fragments flying like a hail of bullets. It only grazed the teenage hero mid-leap, lacerating the side of his stomach, hip and thigh, chipping his armor. It still hit hard enough that it twisted him in midair. He landed on his back atop the rubble that covered the ground, grunted.
"Hey!" Ballistic bellowed, "Little girl!"
Kid Win saw Ballistic pointing at Vista. The villain, between his build and armor, had the frame of a football player, a dramatic contrast to the young heroine.
He pointed at her, paused long enough for her to bend the ground into a semblance of cover, then launched a chunk of concrete at her.
The concrete flew at an angle that wouldn't have hit the girl anyways, struck the barrier and shattered, sending debris careening onto and into the girl. Vista screamed and fell backwards, part of her barrier crumbling to land on top of her.
He's telling us exactly where he's going to attack next.
Kid Win looked up, saw Sundancer with her orb hovering a good fifteen feet off the ground, keeping it away from the walls of the building and the corpses that were hung above them. Even though it was fifteen feet up and thirty feet away, he could feel the heat of it prickle his exposed skin. He knew from the
Endbringer fight that she could make it bigger, move it faster.
As the burning sphere drifted forward, staying at roughly the same height, Flechette and Glory Girl were forced to scramble away. Shadow Stalker leaped off of the top of the wall and into the alleyway next to the building to get away from the heat. Only Vista remained where she was, caught under debris that she was striving to shrink down and push away.
It dawned on Kid Win. Sundancer and Ballistic, at the very least, were holding back. Because they were strong enough that going all out would leave corpses.
The revelation didn't make him feel any better. In fact, it was just the opposite. If these guys got desperate or panicked, they might stop being so polite about it.
Trickster and Genesis were tangling with Weld and Clockblocker – Clockblocker was putting paper in the air, freezing it to give himself footholds to go after his flying opponent. Any time Genesis moved to attack, Clockblocker set paper in her way, edge towards her, or he tried to duck in close enough to touch her.
Giving up on more physical means, she exhaled a cloud of the choking smoke. Clockblocker and Weld both worked together to minimize the spread of the cloud, using paper and plywood, freezing it in place with Clockblocker's power.
Kid Win decided they had a handle on that. It was up to him to help against Ballistic and Sundancer.
As he climbed to his feet, breaking into a run before he was even standing straight, he raised his spark pistol and fired off a series of oversized blue sparks at Ballistic.
Trickster managed to teleport him again, swapping his position with Ballistic's. The forward momentum of his sprint was enough to get him out of the way of his own gunfire.
His spark pistol sported a small power core that used spatial warping technology to magnify and then reabsorb a steady electrical current. The barrel was wired with a helix-shaped electromagnetic rail, based on some of Armsmaster's old data on the 'hard' light Purity and Dauntless created. Nanomolecular, ionically charged rifling on the barrel's interior was arranged to guide the fired charges into a rough elliptical shape, which sustained their shape and consistency the longest.
In laymen's terminology, it was not unlike a power bar that was plugged into itself, with a small addition that made each revolution of the current larger than the one before. An attached battery kept the current going. The shots themselves were 'hard' electricity condensed into balls, which meant they had a physical impact to them, due to how they carried and transferred kinetic energy. Given how the weapon charged, waiting a few seconds between shots meant the next shot hit harder, up to a limit.
He let himself fall, simultaneously realizing he had been leaning against Genesis, in her gargoyle-like form. Weld slammed into the villainess, his left hand in the form of a heavy miner's pick. It did a surprising amount of damage, but she didn't seem to care. She gripped Weld around the face with a claw, raked his chest twice with criss-crossing slashes of her other hand, leaving deep gouges in the metal. The same noxious black smoke that she had been breathing began to billow out of the hole the pick had made in her chest.
Clockblocker charged, but Genesis shoved Weld so the two heroes stumbled into one another, delaying them long enough for her to leap into the air. She beat her wings to keep herself aloft and out of reach.
Kid Win unslung his laser rifle and fired at the villainess. His first shot grazed her, as one flap of her wings carried her higher into the air, but the next two hit the mark. One struck her in the shoulder, leaving a hole large enough to fit his hand through, the other struck her in the side of the head, doing a similar amount of damage.
Genesis dropped from the sky, exploded into a mess of dark smoke and pebbles as she struck the ground.
Feeling a moment's panic, he checked the settings on his gun. Normal levels, no anomalies. It could heat metal and other inorganic materials, cut through more fragile materials, but against a person, it wouldn't do more than hurt and maybe leave the mildest kind of burn.
That's her power, he reminded himself, you didn't kill her.
But his gun had done a surprising amount of damage. Was it some interaction with how she pulled her new shapes together? A specific wavelength, a weakness to lasers?
He wasn't about to complain. He wheeled around, fired on the other villains.
An injured Ballistic opened fire on Vista, discharging a series of pieces of rubble at an angle. It struck the ground just in front of the girl and fallout from the impacts showered her. Each shot drove her back further, buying him a chance to limp to Sundancer's side. He touched the darts that were fixing her to the wall, sending them flying into Weld's face.
"Fuck!" Weld cursed, the metal spikes of the darts jutting out of his jaw, cheekbone, eyebrow and forehead, "Takes forever to get my face right after something like this!"
Trickster's teleportations had placed the enemy's group in the interior of the building, with the Wards surrounding them.
Surrounding one's enemy wasn't quite an advantage when the enemy could teleport, but for a moment, they all paused where they were, various weapons at the ready. It was the kind of momentary peace that fell when everyone was waiting to react to what the others were doing.
A wind blew past them, and Kid Win blinked as a fat droplet of water spattered against his visor. It was starting to drizzle. He glanced up at the corpses where they hung on the walls of the building.
"The water's going to wash away the evidence if you don't let us go and hurry to check on the bodies," Trickster spoke.
"Crime scene techs can't get here in time with the roads like they are," Weld spoke. "And we're not allowed to touch the evidence anyways. Rules."
"Rules? You shouldn't sweat those things so much," Trickster chuckled, "Here, I'll help you out."
Weld disappeared, and the burned corpse flopped to the ground.
"Shit!" Clockblocker shouted, running forward.
Weld dropped from the wall for the second time in a matter of minutes as the restraints intended for the woman's corpse tore free of the concrete. Vista
reshaped the wall to ease his descent. Kid Win raised his laser rifle to fire at Trickster.
Dumb. He regretted it the second his finger left the trigger.
As he predicted, he found himself somewhere else in the blink of an eye, and the impact of his own gunfire slammed into his back, intensely hot. He threw himself to the ground at the base of the building, where water pooled, rolling so his back was submerged.
It's not lethal, can't do any permanent harm, you had it vetted, tested on pig meat.
The balance of the fight had abruptly shifted. Clockblocker, Flechette and Vista were where the three Travelers had been, and vice versa.
"Nuh uh uh, kiddo," Trickster spoke, as the gap in the wall began closing behind his group, "Up you go."
The flayed corpse appeared in Vista's position.
No! Kid Win turned, saw Vista on the wall. She'd gotten tangled in the loops of wire that had been holding the corpse up. The metal wire was coiled around a shattered part of the wall, and more than one wire had caught around her neck. Another looping of wire bound her body, one of her arms caught against her side. She struggled to pull at the wire on her neck with her free hand, but it was little help. The wire pulled so tightly against her throat that Kid Win feared it would cut her skin.
"Trickster!" Sundancer cried out, horrified.
"Just run!" was the villain's only reply. The three villains started running, leaving the building behind, their footsteps sloshing and splashing.
Kid Win raised his laser pistol, aimed carefully, then fired, landing the shot a half-foot to the right of Vista's throat. The wires heated and split, freeing her,
and she dropped a foot before catching on more wires. Nothing dangerous, this time, but it was a fair distance to fall and one slip could see her getting cut on the wire, strangled or cracking her head open as she fell.
Shadow Stalker materialized behind Trickster, catching him around the throat in a headlock. She used one foot to kick his feet out from under him, and then forced him face first into the water.
Kid Win hesitated. Help her or help Vista?
Vista. Shadow Stalker would say she could handle herself. Made a point of trying to.
He fired more shots to free Vista, missing the wires one or two times. The heroine, for her part, focused on angling the wall beneath her to allow herself to slide down instead of falling the full distance.
Ballistic shot Shadow Stalker, driving her back. The attack had left a gaping hole just below her heart, the edges wispy. The gap closed, but the attack had separated her from Trickster, and hurt her badly enough that she crumpled to the ground, a hand to her chest.
Kid Win fired a salvo at the retreating villains, grazed Ballistic. Sundancer turned, directing her orb between their groups. She dropped it into the water.
Massive clouds of heated steam rose where the orb met water, obscuring the battlefield.
By the time it cleared, the villains were gone.
It took a minute to check that none of them had suffered any permanent damage. After some debate, they moved the bodies to a more secure, dry spot, inside the building. Glory Girl managed to make her way back two minutes after the Travelers were gone, helped with the last body that still hung on the wall. By the time they were done, the rain was pouring down.
Kid Win stared down at the corpses, an ugly feeling in his gut.
He was dumb, easily distracted, prone to leaving his projects unfinished, and it was moments like this that this knowledge hit him particularly hard. His dad had made him get tested, and the doctors had labeled him with ADD and dyscalculia. He held to the opinion that the ADD diagnosis was way overused – he liked to think that he was just a daydreamer, prone to getting lost in his thoughts.
The dyscalculia was something concrete that he couldn't deny or explain away. He couldn't keep numbers in his head, couldn't make the most basic intuitive leaps or connections with them.
All of that had been before he got his powers. Nothing had changed, except that now he could visualize something, instinctively know how he could put it together. His disability or disabilities put him a step behind the rest. His daydreaming was worse, because his thoughts were so damn interesting, now. He couldn't take reliable measurements without using computers to do it. Couldn't finish half his projects without feeling compelled to move on to something else.
The PRT staff insisted he was exceptional with antigrav and guns, had it even marked in his file, but he knew it wasn't so true. He finished his guns because they were simple, in their own way. It was easy enough to take three half-finished gun projects and mash them together. Create something with multiple settings, even. As far as he was aware, he was the only Tinker in the PRT's records that didn't have a defined specialty, gimmick or trick. He was increasingly worried that his special talent as a tinker was being able to occasionally make something despite his learning disability. Which would suck, if it were true.
There were exceptions. He'd finished bigger projects. His hoverboard, driven by the idea of how awesome it would be to fly. Even then, it had been a chore. Monumentally stupid of him to dismantle it. The idea and motivation driving the action had been good: he was graduating the Wards in a little while, he'd be expected to change his name and adjust his methods, because an adult calling himself Kid Win was lame. He'd had an idea about a harness with a floating array of turrets that could fire different munitions depending on what gun he holstered in the main slot. Self adjusting and adaptive the way his Alternator Cannon was. Except he'd gotten frustrated at a snag in the testing, put it down to take a break and hadn't picked it up again in six days. His hoverboard had effectively been destroyed for no reason, when it might have made the difference in getting the Travelers into custody.
Now I think that Armmaster have Asperger, he have great troubles with social interactions, he can't communicate with anyone about anything else besides things related to his job and powers, he's obsessed with building stuff, thinking that by making more and more awesome weapons and using them in battles, he'll be admired and respected by everyone. He doesn't even dream that he might become famous by just trying to be more popular and friendly and less of a jerk, all he cares about is showing his badassery in fight, no matter the sacrifices he'd made. He's completely fixated over what he thinks that might be the best ways to success, and he doesn't understand where he did wrong when everything falls apart around him. Yep, its clear that Armmaster have his own issues. Maybe not exactly Asperger, but something is obviously wrong there. Still, he's a JERK. Now I feel sorry for liking Miss Piggy at first, I'm more and more convinced that she's heartless woman. She knows about Kid Win's issues, yet she tormented him with the threat that his Alternator Cannon will be destroyed. Fucking bitch, this kid is doing his best to help protecting the city, despite his problems and you....you're so mean with him. I'm positive that Miss Piggy is quite hostile around parahumans, even when she tries to act "friendly". Why? Maybe she's jealous that she doesn't have powers like them. Anyway, don't lost your hopes, Kid, I'm sure you'll do something even more brilliant than the Alternator Cannon in the next future. Trust your skills. As best as you can .His Alternator Cannon was the real gem. It had been the result of a medication the PRT's doctor had prescribed, which he'd been forced to stop after two weeks when he began to get increasingly dizzy, anxious and nauseous. While he'd been taking the pills, he'd been focused, had a glimpse, maybe, of what he could do if it weren't for his distractibility and daydreaming. When Piggy had spoken of destroying the thing, the mere thought had been crushing. Then Leviathan had destroyed it for real, maybe the only truly brilliant thing he'd be able to make. He harbored fears it might even the only brilliant thing he'd ever be able to make.
I agree that this story is GREAT from so many points of view: storyline, characters, action, fights, suspense, powers, teenage drama, realistic situations, and everything else you can ask for. But this doesn't stop me from having Chapters that I love more than other Chapters, Arcs that I love more than other Arcs, Battles that I love more than other Battles and Characters that I love more than other Characters. In my opinion, there are better Arcs and less better Arcs and so on. But I respect your opinion .You mentioned that this is your favorite arc so far. Hold on to that thought as you go on, in my opinion every arc is the best one (compliment to the author), this story is so well done and enjoyable and just keeps getting better. I'm curious if you agree as you progress.
Ballistic used his power to launch her away by her costume. She spent the entire fight flying back.And where the hell you're all this time, Glory Girl? You have super-strength, you can fly and project an emotional forcefield around you. Why didn't you fucked at least one Traveler? Don't tell me you flew away in fear , because your little cowardly heart couldn't face this fight.
Now this is just embarassing.Ballistic used his power to launch her away by her costume. She spent the entire fight flying back.
I can make something like this, which is brilliant, then I go and dismantle my fricking hoverboard to get parts for a project I never even finish. Idiot.
Ballistic marched towards Vista, who was trying to climb to her feet. He was intercepted by Glory Girl, who slammed him into a wall. She punched him, drove her knee into his gut, then slammed him against the wall again, to keep him off-balance and hurting.
Ballistic slumped against her and grabbed at the collar of her costume for support. A second later, Glory Girl was a blur, disappearing into the skyline. His attacker gone, Ballistic fell onto his hands and knees with a grunt.
Flechette threw a handful of darts at Sundancer, pinning the girl against the wall. Somehow Flechette had avoided Trickster's attention. How? Kid Win turned to look, saw that she was standing so her body blocked Trickster's line of sight to both the darts and his teammate.
So he can only teleport what he sees?
Kid Win moved to mimic Flechette's technique, running to a position where he would be between the injured Ballistic and Trickster. He cocked his spark pistol.
He was nearly lined up for his shot when his gun disappeared from his hand, an awkwardly sized piece of wood taking its place. A second later, his mask and visor cracked against a hard surface. He had to grip the wall to steady himself and keep from falling. He'd been teleported.
Then the wall moved beneath his hand, and he heard Clockblocker shout, "Get down, Kid!"
He wasn't the worst hero ever, he knew that. He had things he could do. He could let the worries and the dozens of unfinished projects alone, most days.
That changed when his team got thrashed. Thoughts like that had been plaguing him since the Endbringer event a week ago. He couldn't shake the notion that he was in the running for the weakest member of the team. The notion that he was dumb, second-rate. That this loss, here, was his fault, because he had dropped the ball. The people of this city deserve a better hero, a more focused one.
Weld spoke, disturbing him from his thoughts, "I just got a message. PRT is on their way. We head back now."
Hearing the unenthusiastic replies of his teammates, Kid Win realized that the rest of the team wasn't in any better of a mood than he was. Losing had a way of doing that.
Strangely comforting.
Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay, my theory about Slaughterhouse 9 (I'm gonna call them S9, shorter this way; sorry, but I feel pretty lazy tonight ) is right: they're the murderers. Those fuckers killed 9 innocent people for shit and giggles. You know what? I can't wait to actually get to know them. I know that they're absolute monsters (real ones or people who behave like ones) and that everyone seem to be scared by them, given Tattletale's words and Clockblocker's reaction, and I'm 1000% sure that I'm going to be scared shirtless by them too, but my stupid curiosity is more powerful than anything so...bring it on. Show me who those S9 are and what they're capable of doing. As for you, Kid Win, I'm going to slap you so HARD over your head next time when you'll call yourself stupid or dumb or not hero enough. You're the smartest Ward out of everyone, you have a natural born hero soul and you made the connection when everyone else (except for me, of course ) failed to make, despite having troubles with numbers. You're AWESOME, Kid Win, more awesome than you yourself can see! And I have to apologize to Glory Girl for judging her too harsh (I was under impression that she flew away from the fight, because I didn't payed enough attention to her scene). Now I know that Ballistic threw her right in the next country and she had to fly back for a good couples of minutes, arriving only after the battle was over (I think the battle lasted around 10-15 minutes). So, sorry, Glory Girl, my mistake. You tried to help Wards."Got word from the Protectorate. They're handling the case with the bodies, we're not to touch it or get involved in any way," Weld spoke, folding his arms. He had what looked like acne – blisters of extra-shiny metal on his face where the remainder of the darts hadn't yet been fully integrated into his 'skin'. He reclined in an expensive, custom-made office chair, capable of supporting his dense, heavy body. Everyone else had found seats in the central room of their headquarters. Everyone, that was, except for Glory Girl, who had gone home. She wasn't yet an official member of the team.
"No word on what's going on?" Clockblocker asked.
"They're staying quiet on the subject," Weld spoke.
Vista leaned forward, "Maybe a serial killer?"
"We should focus on what we do know," Weld shook his head. "As far as tonight's patrols-"
"Actually," Kid Win cut in, "Sorry. But I have one theory."
"What?" Clockblocker asked.
Kid Win glanced at Weld, checking to see if their leader was ok with it. Weld didn't say anything, which he took as assent to continue.
"There were two other crime scenes, right? Any idea if there were the same number of bodies at each crime scene?"
"Same number-" Weld raised an eyebrow, "Why… Oh. Shit. I think I follow."
Smarter than you'd think, given his brute-force power and his appearance, Kid Win realized. Or I'm just that bad with numbers. The connection took me twenty minutes to make.
"Three crime scenes with three bodies each. So it'd be nine bodies?" Clockblocker asked, "Each killed in some different way? I don't see what killer that would fit with."
"Not one killer," Kid Win answered, "Nine bodies, each for different killers."
"The Slaughterhouse Nine," Clockblocker leaned back in his seat, groaning, "Fuck, that'd be all we needed."
"Wouldn't be the first time they've arrived at a location in the wake of an Endbringer event," Flechette pointed out.
"Maybe it's them," Weld conceded, "And maybe the Protectorate figured that much out, with the clues they have from the other two scenes. It could be
someone or something else. Either way, it's not our case, not even in our league, and we should stay as hands off as we can manage. We need to talk about patrols and tonight's duties."
Awww, Clockblocker and Weld patrolling together and becoming friends. Cute . Also, Flechette and Vista patrolling together and becoming friends. Even more cute . I know that Flechette and Parian are teenagers and Vista have a family of her own, but I think its going to be ADORABLE if Flechette and Parian will make a couple and adopt Vista as their daughter. Or more realistic, their younger sister. I'm starting to melt in a muddle of goo at the adorableness of this scenario. Ok, back to less delightful things. I have an ominous feeling about this Tinker Chariot that Kid Win will try to recruit. He made his powers known EXACTLY in the same time when S9 made their presence known in The City of World's Horrors. Coincidence, eh? I think NOT. What if this Chariot is actually a member of S9, who also act like a bait to attract heroes in their trap? What if something very bad will happen to Kid Win when he'll go to Chariot's (a possible serial murderer) home? Should I trust this Chariot? Nope, I choose to not trust him."The grunt work," Flechette offered a literal grunt to punctuate the statement. Kid Win and Clockblocker chuckled.
"Vista's due for a patrol, and as a young member, she has to go with someone. Lily?"
Flechette smiled a little, "Quick to make me pay for the snark, huh? No, it's cool, I've been wanting a chance to shoot the shit with Vista." She extended her fist, with index finger and thumb extended to form a gun, mock fired it at her junior teammate. Vista rolled her eyes.
"Clockblocker, you and I will handle the night's shifts after that. Your call if you want to patrol with me or not, we can cover different routes and go for a wider area if you'd rather."
"Alright. We'll figure it out."
"Leaving Shadow Stalker. You okay with the late-night, Sophia?"
"Yeah, fine," Sophia didn't look up from her laptop.
"And me?" Kid Win asked.
"Special duty, tonight," Weld smiled, "You're recruiting."
"Recruiting?"
"There's a kid calling himself Chariot. Been racing around the city with a powered suit that lets him move a hundred miles an hour. Assault finally caught up with him last night, brought him into custody. Wound up calling the kid's mom, got him to agree to talk to our recruiter. You. You'll be meeting the kid in his home."
"Shared interests. You're both tinkers. You have the best idea of how he thinks."
Kid Win nodded. He couldn't quite put his finger on what he was feeling. A measure of excitement at the idea of getting to talk to another tinker that wasn't Armsmaster? Sure. Fear? Would he be replaced by a new tinker? It was an immature thing to be spooked about, he knew that, but that didn't make it any less real.
"Cool," he spoke, by way of agreement.
"You convince him, it'll look good to the guys upstairs," Weld informed him.
Right. Great. Pressure.
"Now, onto a more serious topic. I'm seeing that this team is really disorganized, these days. I have no problem handling the brunt of the paperwork, it gives me a degree of insight into what's going on that the files don't. I don't even mind cleaning up the kitchen and showers here when the janitors are off duty. But we really need to communicate. Last night Flechette went on patrol and ran into a situation with Parian she should have been briefed on. It could have turned hostile."
Gosh, I hope that you'll not send Kid Win right into the wolf's den. I'm not going to blame you if something will happen to Kid, its not your fault and I can understand that the big bosses put a lot of pressure on you to work even harder than you're already working and to convince your team to work harder as well. Which sucks but you all have no choice. You're a GOOD leader, Weld, you have all my appreciation and trust in whatever you're doing, I'll never doubt your abilities and good intentions. But the bureaucracy is the worst, even in this world . ALWAYS the worst. Alright, let's see if Kid Win will survive to this recruitment mission (at least I hope that he's not going to die before I'll get to know his name ). Btw, this fan arc with Weld is ADORABLE <3 <3 <3 Weld. Kid Win looks great as well, like he's coming straight from every SF movie possible Kid Win"Sorry," Vista muttered.
"It turned out okay," Flechette smiled a little.
"Right. It's okay, it's understandable, given all we're trying to handle," Weld reassured her, "But we can't miss out on details and updates on the overall situation. The Protectorate have their hands full with the gang wars between Fenrir's Chosen, Purity's group and Coil, they're now dealing with this serial killer or serial killers, and they're still updating the records. So here's what we're going to do, I've checked it with Piggot, she agrees. I'm picking up an extra patrol shift, and I'll be adjusting your patrol shifts down by twenty minutes each, moving them around slightly. With the downtime that creates, we're going to have meetings like this, every day."
Pausing, Weld glanced at Clockblocker, as if expecting a response. When Clockblocker only nodded assent, Weld's eyebrows rose a fraction in surprise. He continued, "Gives us a chance to talk about our recent patrols, fears, concerns, ideas. Or hell, just talk, because I'm seeing this trend where we only see each other in passing, while patrolling or in class, and some of you are going out of your way to spend time together and hash stuff out, even at the detriment of stuff like school."
"You're talking about class, earlier," Clockblocker said.
"More or less. Not saying it's a bad thing, but we can restructure our schedules, make time for it, instead of detracting from an area we need to pay attention to."
"Sure," Clockblocker agreed. Was there a note of irritation in his voice? Kid Win couldn't tell. Dennis was playing along, at least.
"Now, about the paperwork you guys have been submitting, there's been a few recurring problems…"
Kid Win sighed and settled into his seat. This was going to be a little while.
The building was ugly, had trash piled up on either side of the front door, a sour smell wafting out from it. The water level wasn't so bad here, and the building was almost entirely intact. The only sign of damage was the boarded up windows on the first and second floors where the glass had been knocked out of the window frames. Red brick, it seemed like the usual sort of tenement building one would find in the Docks.
He stepped inside. A Hispanic boy in the front hall whistled sharply as Kid Win stepped inside, while a group of Asian-American boys and girls in dirty clothing ran around him, screaming at a ear-piercing volume as they continued a game, some pointing and hooting at the superhero. Occupants aside, it was dark, with only two dingy lightbulbs and no open windows.
It's nine o'clock at night. Don't these kids have a bedtime?
He checked the folded paper he had in his hand, found the room number, and headed up the stairs. A morbidly obese, older man sat halfway up the stairs, maybe a babysitter for the kids. Kid Win hoped the man was a babysitter, because the man was white and the kids weren't, meaning he probably wasn't family. If he wasn't getting paid, there was only one uncomfortable explanation for why the man would be willing to tolerate that yelling and squealing.
Or maybe he's deaf. Let's go with that.
Chariot lives in a very poor part of Savagery Bay. Good thing that Kid Win PAYS attention to all details around him, he might discover possible traps in this way. However, I'm not sure how he'll be able to protect himself if he'll be attacked, maybe he have his weapons hidden somewhere in his costume (he must be in costume, of course) and he's prepared for everything. Chariot is hispanic and lives with his mother, apparently. Its going to be REALLY fucked up if both he and his mother will turn to be S9 members. Or maybe, his "mother" is actually a hostage forced to play her role. She rushed to clean up the apartment, she's either a diligent woman or she did that in order for Kid Win to not "smell" the trap. There's something really off regarding to this meeting.The fat old man didn't budge an inch as Kid Win approached, forcing the boy to squeeze by. He made his way up, ignored a gang of fit twenty-something Asian guys who were standing guard in the hallway on the second floor. On the third floor, he headed past people who were sleeping on blankets in the hallway, found apartment 306.
The door opened a second after he knocked. A tired looking Hispanic woman greeted him, "You're the superhero, I take it?"
"Yes. Kid Win," he extended his hand. She shook it firmly.
"Ashley Medina. My son's back through here."
There was a sense of pride in the narrow apartment, Kid Win saw. An undercurrent of aesthetic taste, matching knick-knacks and furniture. There were marks of a vacuum cleaner's recent run over the carpet and both kitchen counters and dining room table were immaculately clean in a way that suggested she'd gone to some effort to clean up. In a building like this, though, there was only so much you could do. There was a water stain on the ceiling, dark brown marks on the carpet under a small rug, maybe from a previous occupant.
"If you'll wait here, I'll get him."
Kid Win sat on the sofa. He noticed the cathode ray tube television was missing its screen, had been gutted. Quite likely for parts. The toaster was a goner, too. Only the wireless modem in the corner of the kitchen had survived, green lights blinking.
He has priorities, at least, Kid Win thought, with mild amusement. Gotta have an internet connection.
When Chariot arrived, Kid Win stood, offered a hand. There was a delay before the kid shook it. He was lanky, with big ears and close shorn hair that made him look slightly goofy, but he had a wary look in his eye. He wore a t-shirt and jeans that were stained with grease, had lots of little cuts and stains on his fingers, hands and forearms.
Been there. Substandard tools, not enough parts. I can use that.
"Please sit," Chariot's mother said.
Kid Win obliged. Chariot was the last to take a seat. Was he reluctant, something else?
"Chariot, is it?" Kid Win ventured. God, hope I don't fuck this up.
"Mm," was the noncommital reply.
"Just to give me an idea, on a scale of one to ten, how interested are you, in maybe joining the Wards?"
"Ten's high?"
"Ten's a lot of interest."
"Four."
"Trevor!" Chariot's mom admonished, "They offer funding, education-"
"We do," Kid Win interrupted. If mom pushes, this guy's only going to get less interested. Shit, a four is low. Maybe if I do the talking… "It's good money,
with room for better money. Especially for a tinker like you or me."
"How's that?"
........Hey, look, they're talking about technology, my favorite subject, along with math . Very interesting stuff, boys, but I prefer to talk about LESS interesting stuff. For example, Kid Win's recruiting skills . He's very convincing when he wants to be, he even puts himself in Chariot's shoes and relive his own experiences, opening a parallel between his own life and the hispanic boy's life. This method helps him to be so convincing, he noticed that the kid isn't interested as much in money as he's in keeping his techno stuff for himself and not letting others take it, and he tries other ways to make him join Wards. If this apparently initial refusal is not Chariot's little game, then I'm sure that Kid Win will be successful in no time to attract him by his side, showing how useful his Tinker skills will be for him, for heroes and people who'll benefit from them, assuring him of a bright future if he'll pursue the Ward path. Kid Win's efforts will not be in vain, he can be successful in whatever he wants if he puts his mind to. And if he's lucky enough that Chariot is not a S9 member."The guys in charge want tinkers. They really want tinkers, both because they want us in a position where we won't be making trouble for them, and because and they want the kind of stuff we can create."
"I'm not giving up my stuff."
Kid Win paused. This is like looking into a mirror to a year and a half ago. "Look, I can see your TV, your toaster. Chances are you've gone to the Trainyard or a scrapyard to find some stuff. Old batteries, car parts, chains, good metal, whatever."
"He wanted to go to the Trainyard," Chariot's mother cut in, "I told him no, caught him trying to sneak out."
Chariot scowled a little, looked away.
This would be easier without her here. "I get it. Been there. You're hungry to use your power, but more than any other kind of cape, you're facing a hurdle
in terms of the entry-level resources you need. This is where the team would support you. You get funding, a lot of funding, to put your stuff together."
Kid Win reached into his belt, retrieved a compact disc. He placed it on the glass coffee table, then withdrew a set of small tools from the other side of his belt. He dismantled the object and began laying out the components one by one.
Chariot reached for the nearest component, and Kid Win moved to block the boy's hand. "Don't touch, please. Look only. Trace oils and static charge could damage something."
The boy gave him an annoyed glance, bent over the table to look closer at the chips.
"What's this crystal?" Chariot asked.
"3D computer chip. Uses light instead of electrical current. They're made by this Protectorate tinker down in Texas. She gets funding to produce a set number every month, in addition to her regular pay. So long as you're in the program, you can put in an order for her stuff, with the specs you want."
"Gold, for maximum conductibility."
"That's a camera, this would be the power source, that part does something with wavelengths, and this reads energy… but I'm not getting it. What does this do?"
Kid Win quickly slipped the pieces back together, turned the compact device over, then pulled out his smartphone. Touching the screen, he activated the compact device. It floated above the coffee table. He turned his smartphone around to show them the image it was streaming from the device's camera.
"So much effort, for a video camera?" Chariot's mother commented, "My tax dollars are going towards this?"
The dumbfounded look Chariot gave his mother put Kid Win in the awkward spot of having to suppress a smile. This is a point for me. If I asked him again, what would he say? Five, six?
"You join the Wards, you get exactly what you need to reach your full potential as a Tinker." A small lie there. Not like I've reached my full potential. "And anything you make, the PRT buys the rights from you. If you're willing to give up that much, you can do well for yourself."
Chariot (Trevor on his real name, a detail that I should not forget) mother is even worse than me when it comes to understanding technology and its usefulness. Madame Medina, Kid Win just create a floating camera controlled through his smartphone. This is incredible useful, he can use the camera to film every bad things that are happening in this Abominable Town, to keep the track of villains and to discover all their secrets and plans. Just create more similar floating cameras and put them strategically in every hot point of the city and VOILA. Awesome idea, Kid Win, don't listen to peasants, continue being awesome . And he's right about the fact that a life as Ward and later Protectorate member would be BETTER for Chariot than a life in the hands of villains who'll use his skills for their nefarious purposes. If he's not already in the hands of those villains who're using his skills for their nefarious purposes."You're talking money?" That had piqued Chariot's interest. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"I maybe shouldn't, but I'm going to tell you what I'm getting out of it, because it's almost definitely going to be the exact same for you. I get paid, but the money goes straight into a trust. I've made enough to pay for my college education, and every dollar I earn beyond that is going to be waiting for me as a cash award, if and when I graduate from a four-year postsecondary program. I'm getting four hundred dollars in allowance each month, just to mess around in my workshop, all my materials are paid for, and I currently have about two thousand dollars sitting in the bank, right now, from that. Once I turn eighteen? I make more. It automatically transitions to a job with good pay, working with the Protectorate, and the hours will be totally flexible around any classes I take."
"But he's risking his life," Chariot's mother spoke. Chariot frowned.
"He is. There are responsibilities. But honestly? There's zero way he's going to be able to go out and try out any of the stuff he's made without running into trouble. People are going to pick fights, just because he has powers. If he tries to hang out in a workshop he establishes on his own, they're going to find him, strong-arm him into putting something together for them. Not just villains, either. Heroes too. Being a tinker doesn't just make you a target. It makes you a resource. It's why pretty much every tinker out there is a member of a larger, more powerful team."
"Sure," Kid Win folded his arms, leaning back against the back of the couch. "What do you think, Chariot? You think you could keep from using that power of yours? Be normal?"
Chariot frowned, looked down at his scratched-up hands, "No."
Kid Win nodded in agreement, "It's a part of you, Chariot, a part of how you think, now. I'm telling you this is the best option. The safest. Having a team means you're protected, free to do what you need to do."
Chariot's expression indicated clear interest. Then he frowned, "I don't want to give up my stuff to others. It's mine."
Something struck Kid Win as off about the reply. What was it? It was out of tune with the flow of the conversation, didn't quite match up with Kid Win's own experiences being recruited. Maybe it sounded forced? But why would Chariot fake reluctance?
He pushed forward, anyways, "I get that, really. But it's only given away in name. You still get to use it, you just can't give it away or sell it to others. The benefit is that you gain access to all the stuff and plans other PRT tinkers have made. I can't show you any more of that than I have, but the fact is, you'd be able to look at my blueprints as easily as I could look up yours, get inspiration…
I WAS FUCKING RIGHT IN ALL WAYS POSSIBLE. KID WIN IS ONE OF THE SMARTEST AND HARD TO BE TRICKED CHARACTERS. THE FLOATING CAMERAS ARE THE BEST AT SPYING ENEMIES. CHARIOT IS ALREADY A S9 MEMBER USED BY THEM PROBABLY TO SPY ON WARDS. S9 ARE SOME SMART MOTHERFUCKERS. AND THEY'RE NOT REAL MONSTERS, JUST SMART MOTHERFUCKERS BEHAVING LIKE MONSTERS."…Or you could look at the sort of stuff Dragon makes."
Chariot's eyes lit up.
"Tell me you're not interested, now."
"I'm… kind of interested."
Again, that vibe. Pretending he's not as interested as he is.
"They can't force you to join, but they do want you on the team. There's no negotiating. You'd get the same I get, pretty much, so if you're holding back or trying to fake like you don't want to join when you do, you're just wasting your time and mine."
"I'm not," Chariot replied, defensive. "It's only… this is a big deal."
"It is. So take my card. Call me if you have any questions, or if you want me to pass on word that you're joining the team."
Kid Win fished in his belt and then handed his card to the boy. Black with white lettering and his starburst-gun emblem on the back.
"Okay," Chariot replied.
"Talk it over with your mom. Get back to us."
"Thank you," Chariot's mother spoke, standing. Kid Win stood as well. He shook her hand again.
"Not a problem," Kid Win replied. He punched the boy lightly on the shoulder as he stood, "Join. It'd be good to talk shop with someone else that gets this stuff."
Chariot nodded.
The mother led Kid Win to the door, and he headed out the building – the fat man from the stairwell was gone, and only the Hispanic boy by the front door was still in the hallway. Kid Win stepped outside.
Something's off with this scenario.
He tapped his foot a second, then stepped around the building and into the alleyway. He retrieved his smartphone, and used it to send the hovering camera up to the third floor, checked in the windows where the apartment would be. The boy was leaving the bathroom, going into his room. Kid Win moved the camera to the next window over, the boy was sitting down at his computer, turning it on.
Straight to the computer. Hm. Kid Win pocketed the hovering camera, then turned his attention to the smartphone. According to the phone, there were
three wireless modems in the building. One was named with a string of violent swear words, the other was on its default settings. Both were unlocked. He chose the third, locked connection, clicked a button on the screen to have his phone decrypt the password.
Fifteen seconds later, he could see someone online. Kid Win watched the white text scroll by with details on the connection's activity.
Google docs – pages of technical stuff, the boy was adding notes on gold wiring, shortform notes on antigravity, 3D crystals. The next page the boy visited, five minutes later, was an email account.
Twenty seconds later, an email was sent.
To: C1298475739@cryptmail.com
Guy from wards came. I'm in.
Kid Win stared at the screen for a long while. Cryptmail. That wouldn't be an agreement with the PRT.
"So someone got to you before we did," he muttered to himself. He tapped the armor over his ear twice to open a communications channel, "Console?"
"Weld here, manning the console."
"Do me a favor, call everyone back to the base for a quick meeting? And maybe call Piggot?"
Little young for them to be acquiring children... wait till they're Protectorate.Vista as their daughter. Or more realistic, their younger sister.
The 9 in S9 implies 9 members. Their infamy is big enough you've heard of it. Chariot is a newbie tinker. From the information you know, Chariot is probably not S9. If only there were some other shadowy organization recruiting in the bay that it could be...
Well, Sabah is 19 (Protectorate age) and Lily 17, so just give them a year or two.Little young for them to be acquiring children... wait till they're Protectorate.
"Right," Vista agreed, "I got the message the last time I came this way."
Flechette leaned forward, found a string, beaded with water from the rain. She plucked it twice.
Parian sloshed out from a nearby alley. A nine-foot tall rabbit with an eyepatch and boxing gloves followed a few feet behind her, moving on two legs, swaggering forward like it had a chip on its shoulder.
"It's cute!" Vista smiled.
"Hi Vista," Parian greeted her. "Hi Flechette."
"Hey," Flechette smiled, "We come bearing gifts."
Awww, the meeting of the CUTIES. Please, girls, don't give me diabetes, ok? So, I was right about Vista's POV. Interesting way to use your power, Vista. I'm not sure I understand exactly what she did (if you understood better, please explain me, I'm always happy to receive explanations when I don't get it) but I think that she considerably reduced the size of water, food and first aid supplies so that they all can fit into the bag. With her power, Vista can fit an entire supermarket in just a couple of bags, right? She's exactly like Jade from Homestuck, able to shrink objects around her- because they belong to "space" and she can make the laws of space her bitches. But still I have a question. How she's able to carry the shrunken things? Does she also reduce their mass, making them very light to be carried around? She can shrink a car along with its mass and play with it like its a toy car? I think she can. If she wasn't already a hero, Vista could have become the best thief ever. Wow, the possibilities of her powers are endless. Imagine Vista without being limited by Manton Effect. She'd be even more SCARY than Scion. Also, its so cute how protective Parian is toward people from her territory . I don't want to think what will happen if someone will DARE to hurt them or worse to kill them. Her army of stuffed animals will DESTROY the criminals.Vista stepped forward and held out a shopping bag, "A dozen gallons of water, some rice, some tins of beans, multivitamins and first aid supplies. My power will wear off pretty soon, so get the bag somewhere safe before then."
"It's basic stuff," Flechette said, "But it'll hold you for a little while."
"Thank you," Parian spoke, reaching over the makeshift yellow line for the bag. She held it behind her back with both hands. Just over her right shoulder, cloth formed into a rough shape, a trio of needles with attached spools of thread weaving in and around it, a razor cutting at pieces of it.
"How are you managing?" Flechette asked.
"Some kids came through around noon, roughed up the mother of one of my friends."
"I told you to call me if there was trouble!"
"I handled it. Kind of. They ran when they saw my rabbit. According to my friend's mom, they were trying to get someone to tell them where they could get food, and she was afraid they'd take everything if she told them where we have our stuff. I think they were more hungry than dangerous. Not enough food going around." The cloth took on a rough shape with arms and legs. "Erm, that makes it sound like I'm blaming you guys-"
"You're right," Flechette interrupted. "We're not doing a good job of getting supplies to everyone. We can't. Any time we try to distribute it, a group like Hookwolf's gang or the Merchants try to seize it. Even if the heroes on duty fend them off, the citizens get scared away."
"I suppose we're lucky to have this haven, here. So far. I dunno how long before someone I can't scare off comes through."
"You have my number."
Vista turned away as a third voice sounded in her ear. She stepped away from the conversation, shook her head a little to shake off the water that the steady rain was depositing on her.
Vista squeezed the earbud, "Sorry? I didn't catch that?"
"Weld here. Kid Win has something to report, asked everyone to come in. Can you make it back here quickly?"
"Okay."
She hurried back to Flechette's side and waited a few seconds for a break in the conversation. When none was forthcoming, she put a hand on Flechette's arm.
"What's up?"
"Weld wants us back asap."
A look of disappointment crossed Flechette's face.
"I'll see you later?" Parian asked.
"I'll stop by later, unless I'm done with patrols for the night," Flechette shrugged.
Awww, this is such a kind gesture you made by offering Vista this cute gift, Parian. Bless your lovely soul (I'm gonna be so MAD if something bad will happen to Parian. She's not a child but she's my adorable Rogue and I'm going to mentally cut off the hands of anyone who'll touch her). Vista, I'm much older than you and I still ADORE those irresistible stuff toys, my room is full with them (I have around 322) and I'm still buying them (I don't have Barbies because they looks kind of like mannequins and they creep me out. I don't want anything even slightly similar with a mannequin in my house. I'm sure you'll laugh your ass off while reading my confession, you rascals, but I'm also sure that you have your own fears as well and I'm more than sure you don't like when someone else laugh at your expense ). But at least I'm glad that Vista took the gift without complaining. A gift should be accepted, no matter how small or ill-timed is. And no, Flechette, Vista is not just powerful, she's INSANELY powerful. I think Vista, Trickster, Sundancer, Legend, Eidolon, Dragon, Armmaster, Weld, Night, Hookwolf, Lung, Labyrinth, Coil and Tattletale are the MOST POWERFUL human characters in this story so far. I can't see someone else stronger than them (Endbringers and Scion are not humans so they aren't counting). Skitter is not nearly as strong as those mentioned, but she compensate through her amazing intelligence and cunningness. And no, Flechette, Dauntless is not dead, stop saying that he died, he's just frozen in time. Find a Tinker capable to pull him out from the time bomb and he'll be fine. Bakuda can't be the only Tinker with bombs knowledge in the entire world. I'm still surprised that they didn't found one yet. Dragon is the best Tinker in the world, meaning that she's good with any type of technology. Why she doesn't help Dauntless? Don't tell me that bombs are the only domain where she sucks because that would be ridiculous."I'll look forward to it," Parian replied. She turned to Vista, "Here."
Vista accepted her gift. A stuffed rabbit, made in the last-minute or so. It was finely detailed, wearing a fancy dress with lace trim. The fur had a softness that indicated high quality material, despite being wet. She would have been delighted with the gift, were she four years younger.
It was still a really nice gesture.
She suppressed her annoyance at the child's gift and offered a smile instead, "Thank you, Parian."
"Let's go," Flechette spoke, "Back to headquarters?"
"Back to headquarters. Come on, we'll take my shortcut."
They walked two blocks east to reach Lord street. Beneath the water's surface, they could see a fissure that ran down the center of the road, zig-zagging from one lane to the other.
Vista stepped out into the middle of the road at the edge of the fissure, then concentrated. She felt her power extend to every solid object in front of her, formed a map in her head. There was nobody out there, which made it easier. Slowly, carefully, she began adjusting. She truncated the length of Lord street, then did it again, repeating the process to make the four lane road shorter and shorter. The fissure down the center of the road squeezed against itself like a compressed spring.
"This is disorienting," Flechette spoke, as she gazed at the scene. "My power gives me a grasp of angles… and I'm worried I might have a seizure if I try to use it to get a sense of what's happening here."
"It's not that complicated. Everything's like wet clay, and I'm smudging it around."
Vista deemed her work done, started walking forward. Flechette followed, eyeing the distorted sidewalk at the edges of the effect.
"You're powerful, kiddo," Flechette said.
"Kinda."
"You could be one of the top dogs in the Protectorate, in five or six more years."
Vista frowned, "They said the same thing about Dauntless."
"One of the Protectorate members who got killed, if I remember right?"
Vista nodded.
Flechette frowned, "That's… unexpectedly dark, coming from you. Where did that come from?"
"What we do is dangerous. Sometimes we die. I don't see why I should worry about what happens five years from now when I might not even be here."
"Are you having second thoughts about being on the team?"
Vista gave Flechette a look, "No. Not in the slightest."
"But if you're concerned about risking your life…"
"I didn't say I was concerned," Vista said, a note of exasperation in her voice, "Just that, hey, it might happen. I'm being realistic."
"I can't tell if you're being amazingly mature about the topic of death or if I should be really concerned about you."
Poor Gallant, he had such an awful and total undeserving death. Vista is the most MATURE Ward comparable with everyone else and I love her. No, I'm not worried for her, its normal to stop being so optimistic when people that you liked died around you and become more pragmatic and "dark" "hugs Vista". I have a feeling that something really horrible is going to happen to her, she's also kind of fatalistic, it looks like she accepted her future, no matter how gloomy and sinister might turn to be. But, on a more positive note, maybe she'll survive and become even more strong and wise than she's already ."Amazingly mature?"
They had reached the PRT building. A trip that had taken them thirty minutes on the way out had taken them four on the way back, with the aid of Vista's power. Flechette held the bulletproof glass door open, raised a hand in greeting to the PRT uniform who stood alert on the other side. "You know what I mean."
Vista had to bite her tongue. Pointing out that people were being condescending had a way of making her look petulant, which only compounded the problem. Yes. Because any maturity on my part is something special. Doesn't matter that I have nine months of seniority over Kid Win, being thirteen means everyone expects me to be squealing over Justin Beiber or the Maggie Holt books, or dressing in pink or-
Her train of thought stopped dead when her eye fell on the portraits on the wall above the front desk.
Three feet high and two feet wide, the two pictures were black and white, bordered by foot-wide black frames. The pictures themselves were head-and-shoulders shots of Aegis and Gallant, both in costume, masks on. She knew from her own experience that the pictures would have been taken in their first week on the team. Gallant looked so young. He had still been so young when the tidal wave had smashed into him and caved in his chest. Only seventeen.
She looked at her own picture. In contrast to the boys', it was vibrant, filled with color. Her eyes, costume and the frame of the picture were a high-saturation blue-green, the background of the image a sunset orange to highlight her blonde hair. Vista was young in that picture too. Her photo had a missing fang tooth on the bottom row, which created a small, dark gap in her awkward smile. She'd been just a month shy of turning eleven, then.
She hated that picture.
She hated it all the more because she couldn't help but wonder if the time would come when that picture would be hanging over the front desk in black and white, smiling that guileless goofy smile that was everything she didn't want people to remember about her.
So, Vista is still afraid of the possibility that she might die one day but she hides that fear very well, and not only from others but also from herself too. She's lying herself that she's ready for everything that the future might throw at her when the truth is different. Alright, back to Miss Piggy and Coil's moles. She and Kid Win believe that Chariot is another mole, just like the employees discovered as being mercenaries working for Coil. Hnmm, possible, but you have to take in consideration Merchants too. They're not racists and they have all the resources to pay Chariot to do their biding. Its funny how they have no idea about Coil/Undersiders/Travelers Alliance (I'm going to call it C.U.T.A because....I don't have any explanation, I just feel like using as many abbreviations as possible everytime when I'm too lazy to type long words ).Hell, were they even doing Gallant justice? The guy who'd set out to be the literal knight in shining armor, lived his life with more chivalry than any five people you plucked off the street? All he got was a photo and a name on a memorial.
"You okay?" Flechette asked.
Vista tore her eyes from the portraits, "I'm fine. Let's go, Weld's waiting."
Without waiting for Flechette, she marched for the elevator. Flechette fell in step behind her.
Everyone else was sitting in the meeting room, except for Director Piggot, who stood with her arms folded.
"Thank you for being prompt," Piggot spoke, "Would you please have a seat?"
Vista obediently sat in the chair closest to her. Flechette found a chair beside Weld.
"Kid Win?" Piggot prompted.
"Here's the deal, guys. I went out to talk to Chariot, and there's a bit of a complication." He tapped the screen of his smartphone, and the computer screen at one end of the table changed to show text from a series of emails. "Chariot hasn't yet agreed to join the team, but there's evidence that he fully intends to join as a mole for an unknown party."
"This evidence was assumed using legal methods, of course," Piggot spoke.
"Of course," Kid Win grinned in a way that left no doubt for anyone present that he was lying through his teeth. "We believe this unknown party is Coil.
There's no other criminals in town that would really do this. Fenrir's Chosen aren't that subtle, and they're too racist to work with Chariot. Purity's group is, again, too racist. The Undersiders aren't well-funded enough. It doesn't fit the Travelers' MO."
"That," Piggot spoke, "And there are prior cases of Coil using undercover operatives."
"Prior cases?" Weld asked.
"This doesn't leave this room," Piggot spoke. Vista nodded alongside everyone else. "We know there are three agents employed in this very building who are working for Coil."
"Seriously?" Clockblocker asked. "As in, right now?"
"Yes," Piggot nodded, "We might have gone entirely unaware, but Dragon found that one face on our security camera footage matched up with that of a known soldier of fortune. On investigation, we found two more. Capable gunmen, each with a wide array of skills ranging from facility with computers to multiple languages. Very much the type Coil would employ. We might have arrested them, but I spoke with people with higher credentials and clearance than myself, and we came to the unanimous agreement that it would be ideal to keep those mercenaries employed here. It allows us to keep a close eye on them for knowledge we could use, and we occasionally feed them bad or misleading information, obviously with a great deal of consideration each time.
"Which brings me to the primary subject of this meeting," Piggot informed them. "I would like to do the very same thing here, with Chariot. He would work alongside you, quite likely see you unmasked. You would socialize with him, and you would pretend not to know that he is passing on information to his employer. For that, for the risks you would be undertaking, I require your express permission."
Kid Win whistled.
"Dealing with the relationships between team members is difficult enough to begin with," Weld spoke, "And you want to add this into the mix?"
"I wouldn't ask you to do it if I didn't think you could handle it."
"What if we say no?" Clockblocker asked.
"If only one or two of you disagreed, out of fear of your civilian identities being used against you, I would propose splitting up your team's schedules so you did not share any shifts with Chariot. Ideally this would coincide with each of you returning to school, so your busy schedules could serve as sufficient excuse for why you do not cross paths with the boy. Given how complicated this becomes, I would much prefer that all of you were onboard."
"I have no problem with it," Weld spoke, "But I have no secret identity, no friends or family here to watch out for. I totally, one hundred percent understand if anyone else has objections."
"Not a local or a long term member of the team, here," Flechette said, "My vote probably shouldn't count, but I'm okay with it, if it's what the PRT needs to do."
"Good," Piggot spoke, "And the rest of you?"
Shadow Stalker was next to agree, followed by Kid Win, Vista and then a reluctant Clockblocker.
SPYCEPTION. Chariot is spying on Wards and Wards are spying on Chariot. Good thinking this time to keep an eye on the possible C.U.T.A or Merchants' spy, Miss Piggy. I'm surprised as well as Dennis regarding her human side. Indeed she's creepy, young man, I fully agree with you. She even asked them for their accord on this mission, which is more than impressive coming from the same woman who offended Weld's boss, demanded Kid Win's Cannon to be destroyed and ordered Weld to work for parahumans' good image instead of having his team doing more training, a thing more useful than keeping an image. Guys, are you sure that this new Miss Piggy is not actually a Changer who shifted into her?Piggot offered them a rare smile, "Good. For your information, the earpiece communication channel, the computers at this console, the spare laptops and the spare smartphones will all be continually monitored by a team upstairs. Your own laptops and smartphones will be free of this prying. This makes it doubly important that you do not lose these possessions or let him gain access to them."
"He's a tinker," Kid Win pointed out, "He might be able to figure out he's being watched."
"Admittedly true, but I have assurances from Dragon that the programs and devices she has put together are sufficiently discreet." She clasped her hands together, "Thank you, Wards, for your cooperation. Your service since the start of the Endbringer event has been exemplary. Trust me when I say I will find some way to make it up to you."
She moved to leave, stopped, "And Kid Win? Good work."
Kid Win smiled broadly.
The Wards watched in silence until the moment the elevator door closed.
"It's really freaking creepy when Piggy acts human," Clockblocker commented. There were chuckles from the rest of the group. Vista's own titter was tinged with relief. The crack was a sign that Dennis was putting out an effort, acting more like his old self.
"Alright guys," Weld spoke, clapping his hands together once, generating a muted clink, "We needed to be ready with a response in case Chariot replied, I'm sorry about interrupting your nights. Lily, could I have a word with you before you head out again?"
Flechette nodded and followed Weld to the far corner of the room.
Vista went to get a sports drink from the kitchen in one of the alcoves. Kid Win was sketching in a notebook. If he was feeling inspired, it would be best to leave him alone.
She stood behind him at enough of a distance to avoid distracting him, and watched the comedy on the TV, sipping her drink. She felt a hand on her shoulder, turned to see Weld.
Weld spoke quietly, "You look like you could use a shower. Go warm up, then get yourself dry and in comfortable clothes. Clockblocker is replacing you on your patrol, you can come with me in a few hours."
She nodded.
"Come see me when you're done. I want to have a chat. Nothing bad."
She nodded again. So Flechette said something.
She headed into the bathrooms, detoured into the adjacent girl's bathroom with accompanying showers. She kicked off her boots, removed her body armor, and hung the armor on one of the drying dummies. She removed the dress and peeled off the stockings, and hung the clothes on a second dummy, where they would be subjected to a steady, gentle flow of warm air. Her boots were placed upside down on the heating vent below the dummies, propped up against the wall. She removed her underwear last, putting it in a basket with the rabbit Parian had made, and grabbed a towel.
First....FUCK YOU, HOOKWOLF AND FUCK YOU, TRICKSTER, I hope that you two will get injured one day worse than you hurt Missy. Alright, I appreciate how strong Missy wants to be in front of everyone, including herself, despite being so young. She's very similar with Taylor here. Both of them HATE their vulnerabilities, don't want to admit that they need someone else's help and they suffer in silence, without telling anyone about their problems. Taylor lies her dad, suffers after her dead mom and finds her "escape" into a hybrid of a villainous-heroic life, Missy is emotionally drained after the divorce of her parents and she finds her own "escape" into the world of heroes. Missy is like a mirror for Taylor and Taylor is like a mirror for Missy. I wish these girls to meet one day on a neutral ground and have an open and honest conversation. They'd be surprised to find out how much they have in common.It felt strange, removing her costume. It was like she wasn't herself. When had she started seeing herself more as Vista than as Missy Biron? When her parents divorced, and she started taking extra shifts to get away from the oppressive atmosphere? After one year on the team, two?
She hung the towel up and stood under the spray of hot water, rinsing off the dirt and the grime that had come with the damp, dirty water that was everywhere outside, now. It didn't take long to soap up and rinse off, but she spent a long few minutes leaning there with her hands against one wall of the stall, letting the water run over her, not thinking about anything in particular.
She cranked the water off and walked over to the sink to look at herself in the mirror, her towel around her shoulders.
The water had removed most of it, but there was a line of dried blood flecks on her throat from where the wire had pulled against it. She had another, similar, mark on her left arm, by her elbow. She picked the flecks away with one fingernail, then rinsed her finger clean with a spray of water from the faucet. Only a pink line remained. Neither serious enough to warrant worrying about. There was bruising on one of her knees, the thigh and around the side of her pelvis where the bone was closest to the skin, from where rubble had fallen on her, green-yellow in color.
There were older injuries too. Small scars on her hands, tiny cuts on her legs, the bump of a dime-sized keloid scar on the top of one foot. The one that caught her eye was on the right side of her chest, an inch and a half down from her collarbone. An inch wide, the scar puckered inward a bit. It had been the result of an altercation with Hookwolf as the villain escaped the scene of a grisly attack on a grocer, a year ago. A blade on the villain's arm had punctured her armor as he'd knocked her aside. She'd felt the pain of her skin being penetrated and she'd kept quiet about it out of a desperate need to shake the label of being the team baby. She didn't want to be seen as the one always in need of help and protection. It would have been embarrassing to ask for medical attention, only for it to be a scratch.
It had only been later that she'd seen how serious it was, how much it had been bleeding into the fabric of her costume, underneath her breastplate. She'd stitched it up herself, here, in the showers. She'd done as best as she was able, worked with a kind of grim determination. Not the most competent job, in the end.
She kind of regretted that series of decisions, now. She was a late bloomer, looked younger than she was, but when she did eventually have the sort of cleavage she could show off, the scar would be there, plain as day. It might even be worse, when that time came, depending on how the scar stretched as her chest grew.
Vista might have tried asking Panacea to fix it, but hadn't been able to summon up the courage. Now, as she thought about it, she thought maybe she didn't really want to get rid of it. A part of her took a perverse kind of pride in the fact that she had a scar, as though it was some kind of proof to herself that she was a good soldier. It was a sort of validation of the philosophy she'd been outlining to Flechette. Why stress about a scar on her chest when some villain could kill her before it became an issue?
"SPITS AT SOPHIA" Shut up, you damn WHORE. Maybe Missy doesn't have such a great body like you, but she's infinitely smarter and a better person than you'll ever be "quickly hugs Missy, growling at Sophia with fire in her eyes". I swear, I'm ready to agree with anyone, ANYONE who'll hurt Sophia, no matter how bad. Even S9, if they'll ever try to capture or kill her, they're my guests . Such a horrible piece of shit. Isn't enough for her to be a bully at school, but she feels the need to be a bully around people she works with. I wonder what Papa of the Team is going to tell to Missy . Even if Weld is a young man, I feel like he can play a father figure for Missy, especially since she probably misses her father . And I like Kid Win's name, Chris, btw. Glad to finally know it.A toilet flushed in one of the bathroom stalls, and Vista hurried to pull her towel from around her shoulders and wrap it around herself, hiking it up to cover the scar on her chest.
Sophia strolled over to the sink next to Vista. She gave the younger girl a cool look, "Don't freak out, midget. It's not like you have anything worth hiding."
Bristling at the midget comment and the crack about her chest, Vista just stared at herself in the mirror, ignoring the girl.
Sophia finished washing her hands, then got her toothbrush and brushed her teeth. She took her time, while Vista stood there, clutching the towel around herself with both hands.
Finishing, Sophia put her toothbrush away, and, as she'd been doing recently, put a hand on Vista's head as she passed by. Only this time, she mussed up the younger girl's hair, with more roughness than was necessary. "Carry on, kid."
Great, Vista thought. Dennis might be acting more like his old self, but Sophia is too.
She combed out her hair, sorting out the tangles that Sophia's attention had given her, dried off, and then went to her locker to get a change of clothes: A t-shirt, sweatshirt and flannel pyjama pants. Comfortable clothes. She pulled on slippers and went to find Weld.
Sophia was manning the console, browsing Facebook. Kid Win was testing out the armor – four guns with the size and shape of large pears were floating around the shoulders in a loose formation.
Rather than distract Chris or have to deal with Sophia again, Vista left the headquarters and headed into the elevator. Weld's room was in the hallways one floor up, opposite Kid Win's workshop.
The door was open, and he was there, reclining on the a heavy-duty chair of the same model as the one he had in the conference room. He had headphones on, his feet on a granite counter where his computer sat. She'd never been in his room. Looking around, she saw rack upon rack of CDs, DVDs and vinyl records. There was no bed, but he didn't really need to sleep, so that made some sense. It was easily possible that he slept in the chair.
His head was bobbing with the music until he spotted her. He gave her a quick nod, pulled off his headphones and turned off the speaker system.
"You wanted to talk to me?" she asked.
"I sent Flechette on patrol with you because she's got an objective perspective on the team, and I wanted to see if her thoughts on you echoed my own. True enough, you were only out for a short while, and she's already expressed concerns."
"Okay."
"Tell me straight up, are you doing okay?"
"People keep asking me that. I'm fine."
"Flechette said you were sounding pretty fatalistic when you were on patrol, a little while ago. I know you were fond of Gallant, that you were pretty inconsolable when you were in the hospital, at his bedside."
I'm really crying right now and I'm not joking at all. Such an EMOTIONAL moment between the BEST HERO OF THE ENTIRE STORY, Weld (sorry, Hannah, Dragon, Legend, I know you're good people too, but Weld...he's an absolute ANGEL IN SHINING ARMOR) and the MOST MATURE AND SENSIBLE WARD, Missy. Weld gives her such good advises, telling her that is not a weakness to cry in front of people and is not a weakness to let others help you and is not a weakness to share your personal issues with another soul. He sees her exactly as she's, a wonderful, caring girl that everyone likes. Wow, Weld, why aren't you REAL? Wait, I know why, you're too perfect and perfection doesn't exist in real life . I'm glad that they're going to see a therapist, they need one. All of them. Except for Sophia. The therapist will lose their minds if they'll try to help her.Vista looked away.
"And now you're acting like nothing fazes you, even the idea of you maybe dying in the near future. I have to know, Missy. Do you have a death wish? Are you going to be putting yourself in unnecessary danger?"
"No," she said. When his expression didn't change, she repeated herself, louder, "No. You saw me against the Travelers. I don't think I did anything stupid there."
"You didn't."
"I just want to do a good job as a member of this team. Carry on their memory. Act like they would want me to act. I can work twice as hard, be twice as tough, twice as strong, if it means making up for them being gone."
"That's a pretty crazy burden to be shouldering."
"It's fine."
"And it could go somewhere problematic, if you get frustrated, let it consume you, alongside this blasé attitude towards death you seem to be adopting."
"I can deal."
Weld sighed. "Maybe. Maybe not. You know what I think?"
Vista shrugged.
"I think you should let your teammates take some of the responsibility there. Trust them to help carry on the legacy."
She shook her head, "Nobody else seems to care as much-"
Weld raised a hand, "Stop. Let me finish. Remember that your teammates have their individual strengths to their personalities. I don't know enough about Aegis or Gallant to say for sure, but I think maybe Clockblocker is stepping up to become more of a leader, in Aegis's absence. It could be part of why there's friction between him and me, even if he doesn't fully realize it."
"Gallant was sort of preparing to be the team leader, for when Aegis graduated," Vista said, her voice quiet.
Weld nodded. "The impression I've picked up, and forgive me if I'm off target, is that Aegis was the head of the team, the leader, strategist and manager. Gallant, maybe, was the heart. The guy who tied you all together, kept the interpersonal stuff running smoothly. Would I be wrong in assuming he was the one who handled Sophia best?"
Vista shook her head. A lump was growing in her throat.
"Okay. With all this in mind, I have one suggestion and two orders. My suggestion? Stop trying to be everything they were. Be what you're good at, a caring, sweet young woman who everyone on the team likes. My professional opinion is that you have it in you to fill some of that void Gallant left. Use that empathic nature of yours to help others with their own struggles. Be the team's heart."
Her eyes started watering. She blinked the tears away.
"And my orders?"
"Order number one is that you go see the PRT's therapist. If I can clear it with Director Piggot, figure out a way to make the patrol schedules work, I'm going to try to get everyone to go. I'm honestly kind of flabbergasted that nobody higher up than me has mandated it already."
"Okay." In a way, she was relieved, at that instruction.
"Order number two is to let yourself cry, damn it. Stop holding it back."
Just the mention of crying made her eyes water again. Vista wiped it away once more, "I've cried enough."
"If your body wants to cry, then you should listen to it. It doesn't make you any weaker if you let it happen. You think I've never cried? Looking like I do, facing the disappointments and frustrations I have? Maybe it's self-serving to think so, but I think it takes a kind of strength to let yourself face your emotions like that."
The tears were rolling down her cheeks, now. She let her head hang, her damp hair a curtain between her and her team leader. He stood, pulled her into a hug. She pressed her face against his shirt. It was soft, but the body beneath was hard, unyielding. It was still very gentle.
When she pulled away, a few minutes later, his shirt was damp. She sniffled, taking the offered tissue to wipe at her eyes and nose, Weld spoke, gently, "I'm always here to talk, and the therapist will be there too."
Vista nodded.
"If you need a break from the team, just say the word. I'll talk to Piggot."
She shook her head, "No. I want to work. I want to help."
"Okay. Then we've got patrol in… two hours and fifteen minutes. Go relax, watch some TV, maybe take a nap."
"Alright. Don't you dare let me sleep through patrol."
"I wouldn't."
She made her way back to the elevator, noting the lights were on in Kid Win's workshop. Heading back down to the base, she walked toward her cubicle-room.
"Holy crap, you've been crying again? I thought you were over that." Sophia commented from the console. She was on her laptop, sitting just to the right of the main console. Nobody else was present in the headquarters. Again, the two of them were alone. Was Sophia's nice act only for when others were around?
........................................Alright, its too late for my RAGE OVER SOPHIA and an analyze of her absolute INHUMAN behavior around everyone, but I'll do it in the next chapter, which will be told from her POV. I agree with Missy here. I pity her as well because she's the worst character in this story. And not only the worst one because she have a soul as dark as the night without moon and stars (there are a lot of utterly evil characters) but also because she's stupid, she's a fucking coward when she's out of her costume, she behave most of the time like a feral animal, not like a human being, she doesn't have a single redeeming quality.Vista turned, irritated. "I was venting a little with Weld, what's your issue?"
"I just really hate crybabies," Sophia turned back to the computer.
Crybaby. Whatever else someone could say about Sophia, there was no denying that she was very, very good at finding someone's weak points, be it during a brawl or in an argument. Vista couldn't think of an insult that would have needled her more.
"Bitch," Vista muttered, moving toward her room.
She thought she spoke quietly enough that Sophia didn't hear, but the girl did, because she had a response. "You annoyed him, you know."
Vista stopped in her tracks, stayed where she was, her back to Sophia. She replied without turning around "Weld? You don't know-"
"Gallant. Twelve year old following him around all the time, brimming with prepubescent lust and lovesick infatuation? And he can feel all of her emotions? You know how gross that would be? How disturbing and awkward?"
Vista clenched her fists.
Sophia went on, "Think about it, every time you got just a little turned on while you looked at him? Every time you crushed on him? He felt it, forced himself to smile and play nice even as you totally repulsed him, because he was that kind of guy. You know he was that kind of guy."
"I loved him," Vista spoke. The first time she'd spoken the words aloud. Why did it have to be to Sophia? Why couldn't she have said it to Gallant, before he passed? "There's nothing gross about love."
"You don't know what love is, little one," Sophia's condescending tone rang across the room, "It was a first crush, a little infatuation. Real love is what he had with Glory Girl… that long-term bond that survived through a dozen really nasty fights, and brought them back together again and again. A schoolgirl crush is easy. Real love is hard, something tempered and enduring."
Vista turned to look at the older girl.
Sophia was reclining in her chair. She smiled a little, "I know it sucks to hear now, but it's better to hear it straight than to look back and realize how horribly stupid you sounded, five or ten years down the road."
"I am not going to feel stupid for how I feel now."
Sophia shrugged, "Kids." She turned her attention to Facebook.
Vista unclenched her fist. She could tip Sophia out of her chair, bend the computer screen, carry out any number of petty revenges. But Weld's advice stuck in her head.
"What happened to you, Sophia?"
Sophia looked over her shoulder. "You're still here?"
"What kind of situation led to you becoming like this? So casually cruel, so lacking in basic human decency?"
"My advice is for your own benefit, little tyke. I'm not the bad guy."
"You're the only one who doesn't have any friends on the team, you keep yourself at a distance, you talk only with your friend or friends from your civilian life. Even there, you're always in trouble. Getting suspended, picking fights. It's like you want to break your probation and go to some juvenile detention facility for the next few years."
"Not your business."
"Out in costume, you're scary. You hurt people like you're hungry for it. I just want to know why. Where did you come from? What situation led to you being like this?"
"Drop the fucking subject. You're irritating me."
Vista sighed. Feeling the traces of anger and the hurt from Sophia's words, she still tried to soften her parting words as she turned to go back to her room, "If you ever do want to talk about it, I'm willing to listen."
"I'm not about to talk about it with you. Fix your own shit before you start worrying about me, crybaby."
Frustrated, disappointed in herself for failing in her first genuine effort at taking Weld's advice, trying to reach out to a team member that needed it, Vista shook her head, muttered, "I pity you."
The sound of a laptop crashing to the ground made Vista turn. She saw Sophia in her shadow state, wispy, her skeleton visible beneath her skin, warped. The girl's eyes were too reflective, her entire body seemed to bend and distort, not completely solid as she leaped towards Vista.
Sophia dropped out of her shadow state in time to push Vista flat onto her back, hard, one fist gripping the collar of the younger girl's t-shirt. She shook her.
"Pity?"
Feeling strangely calm despite the pain that radiated through the back of her head, where it had struck the ground, Vista spoke, "Weld said it takes a kind of strength to face your emotions. Are you really that scared, Sophia, that you'd attack me instead of talk to me?"
Sophia raised a clenched fist. Vista screwed one eye shut, anticipating the hit. It would almost be worth it if she hit me and violate the conditions of her membership on the team, to have her gone. But we need all the help we can get, right now. "The security cameras are watching us right now."
Sophia dropped her hand, stood, and stalked over to the far side of the room. She gathered her costume in her arms. "I'm going on patrol."
"It's not your shift," Vista spoke, sitting up.
"Don't fucking care. If Weld asks, I'm doing a double shift."
And then Sophia was gone, having used her shadow state to disappear through the elevator door.
"Okay," Vista spoke, pulling herself to her feet. "Guess I'm manning the console."
Little young for them to be acquiring children... wait till they're Protectorate.
The 9 in S9 implies 9 members. Their infamy is big enough you've heard of it. Chariot is a newbie tinker. From the information you know, Chariot is probably not S9. If only there were some other shadowy organization recruiting in the bay that it could be...
The merchants are kinda the opposite of subtle.
ExNihilo, maybe let Blackarrow speculate in peace without arguing for or against it? the correctness or lack thereof of her theories are sure to be revealed as she reads along, and that's part of the fun.
Shadow Stalker paused in her patrol when she arrived at the roof of the Hillside Mall, downtown. She'd hoped to run into some looters, had had some luck earlier in the week at this spot, but it seemed that police forces were stationed at the entrances, now. Annoyed, she walked over to the corner of the roof, so the toes of her boots were just at the brink.
She got her smartphone and dialed Emma. The phone automatically made the wireless connection to her earbud.
"Hey, superhero," Emma answered.
"How's Portland?"
"Good food, good shopping, boring as hell. I wish I could come back, hang out."
"I wish you to come back, too," Shadow Stalker admitted, "These morons are fucking pissing me off, and I'm not getting enough breaks from it. I don't have the patience for this."
"Which morons? The Wards?"
"The Wards," Shadow Stalker confirmed. She sat down on the ledge. "They're children."
"Yeah," Emma replied. She didn't prod for more information or clarification. Shadow Stalker had gone over this before enough times, in one variation or another.
That didn't stop her from returning to the subject, "Sure, some of them are older. Some have more time in the field than me. Maybe. But they're still children, living in their comfortable, cozy little worlds. I dunno if you've seen what the city's like now-"
"-I saw some on the news." Emma interjected.
"Right. Damaged, destroyed, fucked up. This is a place those kids visit, and they're still convinced they can fix it. I've lived with this all my life. Waded through this shit from the beginning. I know they're deluding themselves. So yeah, they're immature, new to this, and I don't know how long I can fucking put up with them."
"Two and a half more years, right?" Emma asked, "Then you're off probation, free to do your thing."
"God, don't remind me. Makes me realize I'm not even halfway through it. I can't believe it's already been this long, constantly hearing them bitch about dating, or clothes, or allowances, and every time I hear it it's like, I want to scream in their face, fuck you, you little shit, shut the fuck up. I've killed people, and then I washed the blood off my hands and went to school and acted normal the next day!"
Silence hung on the line for a few long moments.
"I remember," Emma spoke, a touch subdued.
Shadow Stalker chewed on her lower lip, watched a butch policewoman pull into the parking lot, then hand out coffees to the others on duty.
"If it weren't for all the crying and the complaining, I would almost be glad Leviathan had attacked the city. Tear away that fucking ridiculous veneer that covers everything. Get rid of those fucking fake smiles and social niceties and daily routines that everyone hides behind."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Shadow Stalker didn't elaborate too much further on the subject. Leviathan had revealed the desperate, needy animal at the core of everyone in this city. He'd made things honest.
Most were victims, sheep huddling together for security in numbers, or rats hiding in the shadows, avoiding attention. Others were predators, going on the offensive, taking what they needed through violence or manipulation.
She didn't care what category people fell into, so long as they didn't get in her way, like Grue had a habit of doing. Worse yet were those who seemed intent on irritating her by being lame and depressing, like Taylor or like Vista had been this past week.
They weren't all bad. The victim personality did have a habit of pissing her off, but she could let them be so long as the person or people in question stayed out of sight and out of mind, accepting their place without fight or fanfare. There were some 'predators', she could admit, that were even useful. Emma came to mind, the girl went a long way towards making life out of costume tolerable, and there was Director Piggot, who had kept her out of jail thus far, because she fit into the woman's overarching agenda of PR and the illusionof a working system.
There was a need for that kind of person in society, someone willing to step on others to get to the top, do what was necessary, so they could keep the wheels spinning. Not all of them were so useful or tolerable, of course, but there were enough out there that she couldn't say everyone with that kind of aggressive, manipulative psychology was a blight on society. She could respect the Piggots and Emmas of the world, if only because they served as facilitators that allowed her to do what she did best, in costume and out, respectively.
She was a 'predator', whether she was Shadow Stalker or Sophia. Few would deny that, even among her own teammates.
A convoy of trucks on the road below caught her attention. Each vehicle was painted dark, and two had the look of army vehicles, with gray-black mottled cloth or canvas covering the cargo or personnel at the rear. They had their headlights off to avoid drawing attention. There were two good possibilities for who they might be. The first was that it was a shipment of supplies. Food, water, first aid and tools, which would mean there was a small contingent of capes inside one of the trucks or in the immediate area. The second option was that it was Coil and his troops.
She realized she was still holding the phone, and the noise of a television or music told her Emma was still on the other line. "Something's going on. Going to see if it leads to anything interesting."
"Call back when you're done, give me the recap."
"Right." She hung up.
Leaping into the air, she entered her shadow state, every part of her body shifting gears in the span of a half-second. Her lungs automatically stopped taking in air and her heart stopped beating. She was suddenly hyperaware of changes in the atmosphere, movements of air as it passed through her body. She had enough solidity for her body to seize the air molecules as they passed through her, and in this manner, each of her cells nourished itself.
It was strange, to feel so still. She lacked even the most basic processes and routines that normally kept the body going, things people rarely gave a second thought to. There was no near-silent roar of blood in her ears, no need to blink, no production of saliva in her mouth or movement of food and water in her gut. She just existed.
But the movement of air through her body made her feel just as alive, morealive, in a very different way. The material and gravel of the rooftop were still warm from the day's sunlight, even submerged beneath a thin layer of water from the rain. This rising, heated air from this surface offered her an almost imperceptible added buoyance. The rest of her ascent was carried out by the momentum from her leap and the fact that she was nearly weightless. Jumping fifteen feet in the air to a rooftop one story above her was almost effortless.
She turned solid long enough to land. Changing back brought a sudden, thunderous restarting of her heart, a shudder running through her entire body as her bloodstream jerked back into motion. It only lasted the briefest of moments as she bent her knees and threw herself forward. The moment her feet left the ground, she entered the shadow state once again, sailing across the rooftop. She used one wispy foot to push herself out further as she reached the roof's edge, so she could glide just above one rooftop without even touching ground.
In this fashion, she kept pace with the trucks, which weren't moving slowly but weren't going full-bore either, likely because of the condition of the roads.
It was five minutes before trouble arrived.
It was Menja that made the first move, stampeding out of a nearby alleyway, standing at a height of twenty feet tall. She drove her spear into the engine block of the lead truck, stepped in front of the vehicle and wrenched her weapon to tip the truck over and arrest its forward momentum.
The truck immediately behind tried to stop, but the flooded pavement made it impossible to get enough traction. It skidded and collided into the back of the foremost truck.
Miss Militia was climbing up out of the lead truck's passenger door in an instant, hefting a grenade launcher to blast Menja three times in quick succession.
The giantess stumbled back, raised her shield – her sister's shield – to block a fourth shot. Hookwolf, Stormtiger, and Cricket all joined the fray, followed by their foot soldiers. On the PRT's side, the trucks emptied of PRT troops and one more cape, Assault. They mobilized to defend, and the noise of gunfire rang through the night air.
Shadow Stalker crouched at the corner of the roof, loaded her crossbow and fired a shot at Cricket. It passed a half-foot behind the woman. Her second shot was on target, and Cricket dropped a few seconds later, tranquilized. Good – The woman's radar might find Shadow Stalker if she wasn't in her shadow state, and Shadow Stalker could be far more effective if the enemy didn't see where she was attacking from.
Who else? Menja was classified as a breaker, the spatial-warping effect that surrounded her made incoming attacks smaller even as she simultaneously made herself bigger. The darts wouldn't even be noticeable to her. Stormtiger could deflect projectiles by sensing and adjusting air currents. With the right timing, so her shots came out of the shadow state as they arrived to make contact with him? Maybe. But he was engaged in a fist fight with Assault, and she'd be risking tagging the hero. Hookwolf? No point. He was currently in the shape of a gigantic wolf made of whirring metal blades. Even if the dart did penetrate something approximating flesh, which it wouldn't, his entire biology was so different that she doubted he would be affected.
Instead, she settled for targeting the clusters of Hookwolf's troops. 'Fenrir's Chosen'. Each of the thugs had white face-paint extending from forehead to cheekbone to chin, in a crude approximation of a wolf's face. She began dropping them at a steady rate, aiming for the biggest, the most aggressive and the ones who looked like they were in charge of lesser troops, the captains. As the troops began falling, Hookwolf's forces became unsettled, hesitating to advance. Hookwolf reared up on two legs, pointing and howling orders, likely demanding they attack. His words were incomprehensible from the rooftop where Shadow Stalker crouched, but the tone left no mistake that he was threatening them to drive them back into the fight.
The distraction afforded Miss Militia time to prepare and fire a mortar straight into Hookwolf's chest. As he collapsed backward, his chest cavity gaping open, her gun shimmered, split and transformed into a pair of assault rifles. She unloaded clip after clip into the enemy ranks; rubber bullets, most likely. The innate issues of the nonlethal ammunition were almost negligible in Miss Militia's case. She could reform the gun in a second if a gun jammed.
Shadow Stalker watched a crowd of Hookwolf's Chosen move to flank, moving along the sidewalk, where the crashed truck blocked the view of the PRT forces. Shadow Stalker raised her crossbow, hesitated. She could jump down, take them down in close quarters combat. It had been her entire reason for going out, after having to deal with the irritation of Vista. She craved that catharsis.
She holstered her crossbow, prepared to dive into their midst, and then paused as she saw the Chosen stagger back, lashing out with their hands. One shouted something, which was odd given how they had been trying to be stealthy only a moment ago.
What?
Then another figure stepped out of the alleyway closest to them. A girl, skinny, but not in the attractive way you saw in magazines.
Spindly. Was that the right word? The girl was hard to make out in the gloom – there were no lights on the street, and the only light was what filtered from the moon and through the rain clouds. The girl glanced left, around the back of the truck, then glanced right, where she might have seen Shadow Stalker if she looked up just a little. The lenses of her mask caught the moonlight, flashing a pale yellow.
Skitter.
A feral smile spread across Shadow Stalker's face, beneath her mask.
Shadow Stalker resisted the urge to jump down, watched as the shadow of the bug girl's swarm moved over the Chosen, almost obscuring them from view.
The bug girl drew her combat stick, whipped it out to full length, and dispatched the Chosen one by one. Shadow Stalker couldn't see the hits, between the darkness and the obscuring mass of the swarm, but she saw the splashes and movements of the Chosen as they fell to the ground, clutching their faces, knees, and hands.
Some of the bugs flowed out to pass over the PRT forces and the Chosen. The thugs started recoiling and slapping at themselves, but Shadow Stalker couldn't see much reaction from the PRT forces. They were made of sterner stuff, in a way, and their uniforms covered them thoroughly enough that the bugs wouldn't do nearly as much damage, if they were even attacking.
Skitter emerged from the center mass of the swarm, carrying a bag of supplies from the truck. It was green canvas, large, not dissimilar to a gym bag. Pulling the strap over one shoulder, she briskly retreated back into the alley, the bugs trailing after her like the tail of a slow moving comet, or the steady trail of smoke from a candle.
"Hungry, are you?" Shadow Stalker murmured to herself. She shifted into her shadow state, moved along the rooftop to follow the girl. Shadow Stalker was almost entirely silent in this state, virtually impossible to see, especially in this light, unless someone was actively looking for her. She was a gray shadow against a background of black and shades of gray.
You saw my face. Shadow Stalker thought, Records say you've got no team, now. Operating alone between the old Boardwalk and the east end of Downtown.
She leaped to the next rooftop, and the movement carried her a little ahead of her target, helped by the fact that the bug girl was moving a little slower with her burden. Shadow Stalker paused and reached up beneath her cloak and between her shoulder blades. She withdrew a cartridge for her crossbow, each bolt loaded in at a slight angle, so the aluminum 'feathers' at the tail of each bolt stuck out. She popped out one bolt to examine it, then turned it around so the barbed, razor sharp arrowhead caught the moonlight. As Skitter passed beneath her, she turned the bolt's point so her perspective made it appear to be at the girl's throat.
Operating solo means there's nobody to miss you.
She entered her shadow state and moved further along the rooftop, only to feel a group of flying insects pass through her body. A fraction of a second later, Skitter was running, abandoning the bag, disappearing around a corner, not even turning to look Shadow Stalker's way.
"You want to run? I don't mind a bit of a chase," Shadow Stalker smiled behind her mask, loading the cartridge into her right-hand crossbow. She leaped after the girl, gliding down to street level, rebounding off a wall to turn the corner and give pursuit.
Skitter had turned around, was waiting as she rounded the corner. The bug girl sent a mass of insects out to attack.
The bugs passed through Shadow Stalker's body, slowing her momentum. She suspected that if there were enough of them, they could even carry her aloft, push her back. But there weren't – the swarm wasn't quite big enough. As the stream of insects passed through her, reoriented in preparation to flow through her again, she pounced.
The residual bugs threw her off, slowing down her power. Her body had to push them out of the space it wanted to occupy, delayed the change back to her normal self by a half-second. Her hand passed through Skitter's throat, but she caught her balance, drew her rearmost foot up and back in a half-spin. Her heel collided with Skitter's mask.
Skitter went down, and Shadow Stalker turned her crossbow on her fallen opponent. She was about to fire when the combat stick lashed out. She lifted the crossbow up just in time – had she been a second slower, the stick might have broken her weapon. Acutely aware of the bugs clustering on her, she dropped into her shadow state before they could crawl beneath her mask.
The stick passed through her head, once. She resisted the urge to snap back to her normal form and retaliate. The girl was powerless here. Shadow Stalker could afford to hound her, drive her to the brink of desperation, wear her down.
The bug girl switched to a one-handed grip on her baton, flying insects clustering around her to mask her movements as she backed away a step. She used her free hand to push the wet hair out of her face. Then she adjusted her costume, reaching to tug her shoulderpad forward a bit, then reached behind her back to do much the same with the armor there.
"You really want to fight me?" Shadow Stalker asked her opponent, a note of incredulity in her voice. She raised her right crossbow. The one with the lethal ammunition.
Skitter didn't reply.
Whatever else Shadow Stalker might think of the bug girl, how the girl was creepy, a freak, she had to admit Skitter had demonstrated enough viciousness to date that she could almost respect the girl as a fellow predator. An idiot, for wanting to fight her, but kindred, in a fashion. "Alright, fine."
Skitter gripped her weapon two-handed again. The grip was strange. Something in her left hand?
Shadow Stalker realized what it was. She simultaneously moved back, gripped her cloak with her left hand and shifted to her solid state to raise the fabric as a barrier. The pepper spray spattered her cloak.
When she was sure the spray had dissipated, she threw her cloak back over one shoulder and shifted to her shadow state to escape the bugs that were crawling on her, taking advantage of her solidity. She lunged after Skitter, who was running, already turning a corner at the other side of the alley.
Good runner, but I'm faster.
Shadow Stalker didn't need to slosh through the water, but she knew she would be faster than the other girl even if she did. It wasn't just her shadow state eliminating wind resistance, or the lightness of her body. She was a trained runner.
She bounded from one wall of the alley to the one opposite, staying above the water, pursuing her target.
Skitter was going up the steps of a fire escape. Shadow Stalker aimed and fired a bolt – the girl ducked, and the shot clipped a railing instead.
Good reflexes. Shadow Stalker brushed away at the bugs massing around her. Or do your bugs help you watch what I'm doing? Disturbing little freak.
Apparently deciding the fire escape wasn't a great option, Skitter climbed over the railing and leaped a half-story down to the pavement, putting a chain link fence and some accumulated trash bags between herself and Shadow Stalker.
Moron. I can walk through that fence. She loaded her crossbow, aimed, and fired through the fence at the girl.
A flash and spray of sparks erupted as the shot made contact with the fence. Skitter stumbled as the bolt hit her, but Shadow Stalker couldn't see if it had done any damage.
No, what concerned her was the flash. She ignored the fact that Skitter was disappearing, entered her solid state and touched the side of her mask.
Lenses snapped into place, showing a blurry image of the alley in shades of dark green and black. The chain link fence, however, was lit up in a very light gray. Similarly glowing, a wire was stapled to the brick of the building next to the fence, leading to a large, pale blob inside the building. A generator.
The fence was electrified.
Shadow Stalker snarled at what had almost been a grave mistake, entered her shadow state and leaped up and over the fence, being careful not to touch it.
One of the reasons she couldn't move through walls at will, beyond the huge break in her forward momentum and the excruciating pain that came with stalling in the midst of a wall, was wiring. She remained just as vulnerable, maybe even more vulnerable, to electrocution. The people in the PRT labs couldn't tell her if she could be killed by electrocution – traditional organs were barely present in her shadow state – but it was one of those things that couldn't be properly tested without risking killing the subject.
End result? She had to be careful where she went, had received tinker-made lenses to help her spot such threats.
Skitter had known the fence was electrified, judging by the route she'd taken through the fire escape. The area here didn't have any power, so the question was whether it something this area's inhabitants had set up to protect themselves… or was it a trap Skitter had put in place well in advance? No. More likely the girl had studied this area before carrying out any crimes.
Still, it troubled her that the girl had thought to use the fence like she had. Shereally didn't like the idea that the villain had not only seen her face, but that she might have figured out one of her weaknesses. Two, if she counted the pepper spray. Being permeable was a problem when she absorbed gases, vapors and aerosols directly into her body. It wouldn't affect her if she was in her shadow state, and it would eventually filter out, but if she were forced to change back, she'd suffer as badly as anyone, if not worse.
Shadow Stalker caught up to the girl yet again, saw Skitter running with her swarm clustered tightly around her. Was the girl wanting to make herself a harder target?
Hardly mattered – Shadow Stalker loaded and fired another bolt.
At the same instant the bolt fired, the swarm parted in two. Two swarm-wreathed figures covered in bugs, each turning at a right angle to round a corner.
The bolt sailed between them. One was a decoy, just a swarm in a vaguely human shape.
She checked the sides of the alley and the recessed doors. Could they both be decoys? She couldn't see any obvious hiding spots that Skitter could have used at a moment's notice.
Shadow Stalker closed the distance, placing herself at the intersection between the two bug-shrouded figures. Holding each crossbow out in an opposite direction, she fired at both targets at once, snapping her attention from one to the next in an attempt to see which reacted to the hit.
One slowed, began to topple. She lunged after, in pursuit, loaded her crossbow and fired two more shots into the center mass of Skitter's body while airborne, then kicked downward with both feet as she landed, to shove the girl into the ground.
Her body weight dissolved the blurry silhouette into a mess of bugs. A trick.
Snarling, Shadow Stalker wheeled around, ran in the direction the other half of the swarm had gone Had the girl's armor taken the bolt? Had the crossbow shot missed?
More bugs were flowing from the area to join the swarm, bolstering its number enough for it to split again. She wasn't close enough to be sure of a hit, and she didn't want to waste her good arrows, so she delayed, leaped forward to close the gap.
The swarm split once more, making for four vaguely human figures in total, each cloaked in a cloud of flying insects.
Shadow Stalker snarled a curse word.
One figure turned on the spot, moved as if to slide past Shadow Stalker. She lashed out, striking it in the throat, failed to hit anything solid.
She loaded her crossbows, fired at the figure on the far left and the far right of the trio. No reaction. She dove after the remaining one.
She made contact, drove the bug girl's face down into the water. She shifted into her shadow state, straddling Skitter. The girl turned over of her own volition – easy enough, as Shadow Stalker was barely solid, but when Skitter tried to stand, Shadow Stalker resumed her normal form for a second – just long enough to force the girl back down.
Picking one of her non-tranquilizer bolts from the cartridge, she held the point of the ammunition to Skitter's throat like a knife, "Game over, you little freak."
Skitter cocked her head a little, as if analyzing Shadow Stalker from a different perspective.
"What are you looking at?" Shadow Stalker spat the word, "Nothing to say? No last words? No begging? No fucking apologies?"
Skitter went limp, letting her head rest against the ground, the water lapping over most of her mask. Dark curls fanned out in the water around her, swaying as the water rippled.
"Guess I don't need to worry about the villain who saw my face, now." Shadow Stalker went solid and drew the razor-sharp tip of her bolt across Skitter's throat.
The fabric didn't cut.
Skitter struggled to get free, but Shadow Stalker's body weight was too much for her to slide free. She gripped the girl's wrists with her hands, pinned them to the ground.
"Irritating," she spat the word. She could always go into her shadow state, stick the arrow inside the girl and then return to normal. The problem with going that route was that it left a very characteristic imprint in the victim. She would need a way of covering up the evidence. Something she could hit Skitter with afterward that would make the wound too messy to analyze for evidence.
While she craned her head to one side to the next to search for something useful, her surroundings were plunged into darkness.
It took her only a moment to realize what that meant. She climbed off Skitter, moved to run. The darkness was oppressive, sluggish in moving through her, unlike ordinary air. She was slower, wasn't taking in enough oxygen. Against her will, her power instinctively adjusted, shifted her into a middle ground between her regular self and her shadow state. It left her slower, heavier.
She baited me.
A massive shape tore through her, dissipated her entire body. She pulled back together, but it was hard, painful and uncomfortable on an unspecific, fundamental level. It left her breathing hard, feeling like she'd just put her body through five hours of the hardest exercise of her life. Enervating, was that the right word? Bugs were gathering inside and around her body, making it a little harder and a little more time-consuming to pull together.
Then, before she had succeeded in pulling herself all the way together, it happened again, another large form striking from another direction, passing through her lower body.
She sagged. Gasped out in pain as another shape passed through her head and shoulders. The darkness absorbed her cry so it barely reached her own ears.
It was only seconds later that the darkness dissipated. She was on her hands and knees, barely had the strength to move, let alone fight. She tried to raise her right crossbow, but her hand seized up, no longer under her own control as it bent to a pain like a bad Charlie horse. Her fingers curled back, and the crossbow tumbled from her fingers. She still had one in her left hand, but she was using the heel of that hand to prop herself up.
Her opponents were revealed as the shadows passed, arranged in a rough ring around her. Hellhound and her dogs took up half the clearing, in front of Shadow Stalker. She held a metal ring in each hand, with two chains extending out from each ring. The chains, in turn, were connected to harnesses around the heads and snouts of the 'dogs', each animal only a little smaller than a refrigerator. They were monstrous, with scaly, horned exteriors and exposed muscle. Not as big or ugly as they could get, Shadow Stalker knew. The smallest one was barking incessantly. Three of the four were pulling on the chains, hungry to get at Shadow Stalker, clearly intent on tearing her apart. Hellhound's sharp pulls on the chains contracted the bindings around their snouts, which made them stop before they could get too close.
Grue stood to her left, arms folded, almost indistinguishable from the darkness behind him. After her first humiliating loss to him, she'd made it a mission to drive him out of this city. He'd stubbornly refused. A girl Shadow Stalker didn't recognize stood just behind him, wearing a black scarf and a pale gray mask with pointed horns arching over the top of her head. The eyes of the mask had lenses that were black from corner to corner, stylized to look fierce, more animal than human.
Rounding out the group were Tattletale, Regent and Skitter. Tattletale smiled, her hands clasped behind her back, while Regent twirled his scepter in his fingers. Skitter stood between the two of them. The bug girl bent, then crouched until she was almost at eye level with Shadow Stalker.
A laugh escaped Shadow Stalker's lips, building until she couldn't balance her upper body on her weakened arm. She bent so one shoulder hit the ground, rolled onto her back, arms at her sides. She looked up at Skitter, "All that drama, all that fucking nonsense about allegiances, betraying your team, was it a trick, some joke?"
Skitter shook her head slowly.
Shadow Stalker tried to rise, but the growling of one of the dogs intensified. It was the only one that wasn't pulling on its chain – the largest and most monstrous of the four, with one empty eye socket. Between the threat of the dog and the lack of strength in the arm that Regent wasn't fucking up, Shadow Stalker gave up and let herself slump down.
"Well," she spoke, her tone sarcastic, "How wonderfully fucking nice for you, that you guys patched things up. You even have a new member, congratulations. I guess everything's back to normal for you freaks."
"No…" Skitter spoke, and the bugs around her chirped, buzzed and droned to match the pitch and tone of her words. The villain hadn't done that when the Undersiders attacked the fundraiser, she remembered. Her voice was quiet, which only made it more eerie. The girl held out her hand, and Regent passed his scepter to her.
"…Things are different now," Skitter finished.
Skitter drove the scepter into Shadow Stalker's body. It was everything Shadow Stalker could do to stay solid as she felt the tines of the crowned stick biting through the fabric of her costume and into her stomach. She resisted the instincts that two and a half years of exercising her powers had lent her, because she knew what came next. It'll be worse if I'm in my shadow state,maybe lethal.
Being tased didn't hurt as much as she'd expected. It was like being doused in ice water, her entire body seizing, straining, and refusing to cooperate, the pain almost secondary. What hurt most was the way she involuntarily clenched of her jaw. The strength with which her teeth pressed together made her worry she might crack a tooth.
It only lasted a moment, but her body wasn't any more cooperative after the current subsided. She lay there, huffing small breaths, every limb unresponsive.
A deep, furious rage grew inside her chest, but she was impotent to do anything to release it.
A pair of hands seized her, sat her up. Her arm dangled limp to her side.
Grue spoke from behind her. "Skitter, lift her legs. Regent, support her midsection. Imp? Give me a hand with her upper body, take the other shoulder. We lift on three, alright?"
"Right," someone said.
"One, two, three!"
You can't have a quarter of the characters be 'most powerful,' that's cheating!
The merchants are kinda the opposite of subtle.