Hi, Bonesaw's experiments (and other people), time to learn about the fates of Amy and Mark during Part 2 of 11.h | Worm. My predictions: Bonesaw will threaten Amy with hurting/killing Mark so she'll be forced to heal him. This will be Amy's first test, to face her fears and be stronger than them. S9 don't need coward members, they want unafraid people who can stand for themselves and accept any challenge, no matter how twisted it is, without complaining. Besides, Bonesaw have no reasons to be afraid by a healed Mark (no matter how powerful he's, Hatchet Lee will stop him from using his powers). As long as Hatchet Lee is around them, Amy and Mark are just normal people without any superpower. You're pretty good at making strategies, Bonesaw, I hate to admit this, but its very smart of you. Alright, before we'll start, I want to say something that is completely unrelated to the actual events in this Interlude but is connected to this story. People here convinced me to give Scion the benefit of the doubt. Yes, I'll never exclude the possibility that he might end up being the ultimate villain of the story, but I will give him the benefit of the doubt until then. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm right, but I'll keep a very close eye on him anyway, more than on anyone else, so I'll pay attention to whatever he's doing everytime when he's making an appearance (even if its very rare). I'm also worried now that Eidolon might not be an entirely heroic person as he makes people believe he is. I don't want to imagine Legend, Alexandria's expressions if Eildolon will turn out to be evil. They don't deserve this shit, they trust each other, they're like family and they'll be crushed if something like this will happen. Poor Legend, poor Alexandria, I'm going to feel a lot of sorry for them. Alright, let's start already.
"It's not a perfect mesh. I only just started doing these mash-ups. Still practicing. Hatchet's power isn't working as well anymore, and I'm worried about physical wear and tear as they teleport, but it's still one of my better works. Took me four whole hours." Bonesaw clasped her hands in front of her, shifting her weight from foot to foot, waiting expectantly.
Bonesaw smiled. "I thought you'd appreciate this more than anyone." "Appreciate this." "You're the only other person who works with meat. I mean, we're different in some ways, but we're also really similar, aren't we? You manipulate people's biology, and I tinker with it. The human body's only a really intricate, wet machine, isn't it?"
Hatchet Lee's immunity power doesn't work too well. GREAT to know because either Amy or a healed Mark can try a surprise attack against Bonesaw. Bonesaw seems to be very proud of her work, like an artist admiring his finished art. Maybe she considers her experiments as being her art. She seems to not realize that what she's doing is completely immoral and wicked, maybe she thinks (with her child mind) that is pretty normal for her to play with humans like they're her living dolls. Hmm, despite her super-intelligence and strategic mind, she might be emotionally immature and is unaware that she should not do what she's doing (yes, maybe I'm treating her like a child, but she's a child, I can't treat her like an adult ). So, she's an artist proud of her work, she's an emotionally immature genius and she also have mental problems. Gosh, I have a feeling that this little girl's backstory won't be exactly the happiest ones. Abusive parents, maybe? And she ended up killing them or giving them a fate worse than death and ran away, being found and recruited by Jack? Or Jack saved her from abusive parents (relatives), giving her a "better" life in his team? (maybe you'll going to say that I'm judging people without knowing them, my dear friends, but right now I'm not trying to judge Bonesaw's parents, I'm just making assumptions who may or not be true ).
Others were entering the room now. From the kitchen, a woman, the structure of her face altered into something that was more rat-like than human, conelike, ending in a squashed black nose that had staples around it. Bonesaw had added a second set of teeth, all canines, so that the woman would have enough as her jaw was stretched forward. Drool constantly leaked between her teeth in loops and tendrils. She was pale, except for her face and patches all down her body, where patches of ebon black skin were stapled in place. Her hair was long, dark, and unwashed, but most unnerving of all were her fingers, which had been replaced by what looked like machetes. The clawtips dragged on the hardwood as she stumped forward on feet that had been modified in a similar way, no longer fit for conventional walking.
The third was another Frankenstein hodgepodge of two individuals, emerging from the hallway where the amalgamation of Oni Lee and Hatchet Face -Hack Job- had exploded. The lower half was a man who must have been built like a gorilla in life, rippling with muscles, walking forward on his knuckles. His upper body grew up from the point the other body's neck should have begun, an emaciated man with greasy brown hair and beard, grown long. He was not unlike a centaur, but the lower half was a brutish man. Then there were the other things. They weren't alive. Spidery contraptions of scrap metal, they lacked heads, only consisting of a box half the size of a toaster and spindly legs that moved on hydraulics, each ending in a syringe or scalpel. A dozen of them, climbing onto the walls and floor.
"Murder Rat used to be a heroine, called herself the Mouse Protector. One of those capes who plays up the cheese, no pun intended. Camped it up, acted dorky, used bad puns, so her enemies would be embarrassed to lose to her. Ravager decided she'd had enough, asked the Nine to take Mouse Protector down. So we took the job. Beat Mouse Protector, and I took her to the operating table. The other Nine tracked down Ravager and collected her, too. Just to make it clear that we don't take orders. We aren't errand boys or errand girls either. Now Ravager gets to spend the rest of her life with the woman she hated, making up."
Oh, ok....more of Bonesaw's creations, and all of them are interesting to look at. You know, I have a pretty cold blood when it comes to fictional experiments, tortures, violence so I can stomach everything (of course, if I saw one of these experiments in REAL LIFE, I'd be really freaked out, but in fiction its a different situation). Of course, if one of the tortured people is an innocent person or a favorite character then I'm starting to CARE about the whole process (I'm very biased, I know, and I'm not afraid to admit it). But right now, I don't know these guys and I don't really care about them. However, I feel pity for Mouse Protector- she seemed to be like a sympathetic heroine (I instinctively feel pity for heroes, in general, so there's nothing new here) and she surely doesn't deserve this fate, to share the same body with a villain. Ravager deserved her fate for wanting to kill Mouse Protector and for being stu....not so bright since she asked for S9's help, when its clearly for anyone that they're not mercenaries. She did the same HUGE mistake as Teeth. She paid for it. Poor Mouse Protector however. As for the centaur composed of two different people (I didn't had an easy time to imagine it, I had to read two times to figure how they function), I'm not sure what to say. Maybe they're both villains who did some really non pretty things so...maybe they deserved it, ok? Bonesaw, please, capture Coil in such a way that he'll lose in both timelines and turn him into something even worse that these Frankenstein- centaurs, something so bad that he'll suffer from chronic pain 24/7. You'll teach him a lesson or two about how to treat a child. And get rid of a super-villain that might come after your team.
"The other, I'm trying to figure out a name. The one on the bottom was Carnal. Healer, tough, and healed more by bathing himself in blood. Thought he had a place on our team, failed the tests. The one on the top was Prophet. Convinced he was Jesus reborn. What do you call a mix of people like that? I've got a name in mind, but I can't quite figure it out."
"I don't know." "So you're bad at names too?" Bonesaw grinned. "I'm thinking something like shrine, temple… but one with multiple floors. Um." "Pagoda?" "Pagoda! Yes!" Bonesaw skipped over to her creation, wrapped her arms around one of his, "Pagoda! That's your name, now!" None of the three monsters moved or reacted. Each stared dumbly forward, Murder Rat drooling, the others appearing to be in a daze. "That's good!" Bonesaw smiled at Amy, "I knew we'd make a good team!" "Team?" What could she say or do to escape? Failing that, was there anything she could use to kill herself, so Bonesaw couldn't get her hands on them, turn them into something like those things? In the worst case scenario, she could use her power on Mark before finishing herself off. Except she wasn't sure it would matter. Amy was incapable, but there was nothing saying Bonesaw couldn't raise the recently dead. "Yes, team! I want you to be my teammate!" Bonesaw was almost gushing. "I don't-" Amy stopped herself, "Why?" "Because I always wanted a big sister," Bonesaw replied, as if that was answer enough.
It looks like Tinkers can do anything they put their brilliant mind to it. Bonesaw is a medical Tinker but she was very capable to build spider robots. But they still have their own specialty- what they like the best to do (or they're better at) So, Colin can also create biological beings but his specialty is more oriented towards weapons and gadgets. In the same manner Dragon created fetuses even if she have a different specialty. Interesting, they're very similar with Sparks from Girl Genius, scientists capable to do anything they want, but they still have their own specialty where they excel better than other Sparks. I think a better name for the Centaur villain Carnal+ the crazy parahuman Prophet would be the Prophecy of Carnage, more fitting than Pagoda, but I agree with Pagoda too. And....aww, Bonesaw wants Amy as her older sister. I'm not sure how to find this: adorable or horrible? Adorrible, I think. Sorry to disappoint you, Bonesaw, but Amy already have a sister and she doesn't want another one, especially one like you. Well, you can kill her sister when she'll return home, but you'll not solve anything in this way. Amy will hate you to guts.
Amy blinked. Sister. She thought of Victoria. "I make a pretty shitty sister."
"Language!" Bonesaw admonished, with surprising fierceness. "I'm sorry. I- I'm not a very good sister, I don't think." "You could learn." "I've tried, but… I've only gotten worse at it as time passed." Bonesaw pouted a little. "But think of the stuff we could do together. I do the kludge, the big stuff, you smooth it over. Imagine how Murder Rat would look without the scars and staples."
Amy looked at the onetime heroine, tried to picture it. It wasn't any better. Worse, if anything. "That's only the beginning. Can you even imagine the things we could make? There's no upper limit." There was a beep from the answering machine. It began playing a message. "Amy, pick up! We're looking at dealing with Hellhound, and there's injured. Call Aunt Sarah or Uncle Neil over to look after dad and get over to the-" The message cut off, and there was the sound of a clatter, a distant barking sound. "I don't think I have it in me to do stuff like that," Amy said. If nothing else, I can't disappoint Victoria any further. "Oh. Oh!" Bonesaw smiled. "That's okay. We can work through that." "I- I don't think we really can." "No, really," Bonesaw said. Then she snapped her fingers.
Bonesaw snapped her fingers, giggling. In the next moment, her robotic spiders brought her a table, chairs and a tea set. They assemble the table, chairs and tea set. Bonesaw was the first to sit down on a chair, inviting Amy, Murder Rat, Hatchet Lee and Pagoda to take a seat on the other chairs." Amy: What the f.... Bonesaw: Language, please. We're just serving tea, nothing to worry about. Told you, I'm going to be a good sister. Amy:.....
Aw, isn't Bonesaw cute? I seriously see her as someone cute, I almost want her to be my little sister.....NOPE "runs away to the other side of the world". Honestly, I can consider her already my favorite S9 member and the only S9 member that I LOVE to HATE. There's something appealing and absolute terrifying about someone being so innocent and adorable but at the same time so psychotic and happy to torture, maim and kill people just to play with science and turn it into her personal art. Bonesaw is a cute piece of work.
Hack Job flickered into existence just in front of Amy, and there was little she could do to escape. She cried out as the man's massive hand smashed her down onto her back, a few feet from Mark.
Mark struggled to stand, but Murder Rat darted across the room to light atop the back of the couch and press one of her three-foot long claws against his throat. Amy was pinned. She tried to use her power on Hack Job through the contact he was making with her chest and neck, only to find it wasn't available. She couldn't sense his body, the blood flowing in his veins, or any of that. Even her own skin felt quiet, where she normally felt the pinprick sensations of innumerable, microscopic airborne lifeforms touching her. She'd barely even realized that was happening until it stopped.
"Jack's taken me on as his protegé. Teaching me the finer points of being anartist. What he's been saying is that I'm too focused on the external. Skin, bone, flesh, bodies, the stuff we see and hear. He's told me to practice with the internal, and this seems like a great time to do that." "Internal?" Amy replied. "It's easy to break people's bodies. Easy to scar them and hurt them that way. But the true art is what you do inside their heads. Do you have a breaking point, Amy? Maybe if we find your limits and push past them, you'll find yourself in a place where you'll want to join us." A wide smile spread across Bonesaw's face as she settled into a cross-legged position on the floor, facing Amy. "I- no. Please." "You're a healer, but you can do so much more. Why don't you go out in costume?" Amy didn't respond. There was no right answer here. "Are you afraid to hurt someone? That could be our first exercise." Amy shook her head. "Murder rat, come here. Hack Job, back off."
So, Hatchet Lee can still block Amy's power, even if Bonesaw said that his power doesn't work properly. That's not good, that's not good at all. Amy is basically defenseless without her power and completely at the psychotic child's mercy. And now Bonesaw is forcing her to kill Murder Rat so she can become a killer, the perfect candidate for S9. Well, I'm not going to blame Amy at all, actually she'll do a great job if she'll kill Murder Rat. She'll put Mouse Protector out of her misery, which is much better than sharing the same body with her nemesis for the rest of her life. And what a body! So, Bonesaw is officially Jack's protege. This knowledge almost confirm what I said before, during Cherish's Interlude. That maybe Jack CARES (in his own way) for Bonesaw, having probably paternal feelings for her. Or maybe he's just very proud of her work and he's using her, creating the fake impression that he might care for her. Its possible that Bonesaw might believe, with the naivety of her age, that Jack acts like a father figure towards her, and she respects him like a daughter respects her father. Its very possible that Jack had a daughter who died and that was one of the reasons why he's so crazy. He probably took Bonesaw under his wing, seeing his dead daughter in her. Gosh, it looks like I'm trying to humanize some downright execrable monster here, but even if he honestly loves Bonesaw, this doesn't make him less of a monster. But I'd really like a relationship father/daughter between two monsters .
Hack Job let go of her, and she tried to scramble away, but Murder Rat pounced on her, pressing her down against the ground. The woman smelled rank, like a homeless person.
"So here's the lesson," Bonesaw said, "Hurt her, take her apart. If you go easy on her, or if you leave her in a state where she can move, she'll cut you, and then she'll cut a body part off that man on the couch there."
Murder Rat placed a blade against her cheek, scraped it down toward her chin, as if giving Amy a close shave. She reached up and touched the woman's chest. Without Hack Job touching her, her power was coming back quickly. She felt Murder Rat's biology snap into her consciousness, until she could see every cell, every fluid, every part of the woman. The two women. She could see Bonesaw's work, the integration of body parts, the transfusions of bone marrow from one woman to the other, the viruses with modified DNA inside them, skewing the balances and configurations until she couldn't tell for sure where one woman started and the other began. She could also see the metal frames inside the woman, interlacing with the largest bones of her skeletal system, the needles in her spine and brain. Bonesaw's control system. There was something around the heart, too. Metal, with lots of needles pointing inward. She was rigged to die if the control frame was ever disabled. The woman, no, the women, were awake in there. One and a half brains contained in a synthetic fluid in her skull. She targeted the ligaments at the woman's shoulders and hips. Cutting them was easier than putting the things back together again. Dissolve the cells, break them down. The woman collapsed onto a heap on top of her. "Excellent! Pick her up, H.J." Hack Job picked up the limp Murder Rat, put her down a short distance away from Amy. Bonesaw walked over to her creation and propped up Murder Rat so she had a view of the scene. "I'm surprised you didn't kill her. The healer, letting someone suffer like that. Or are you against mercy killing?" Again, there was no answer she could give that wouldn't worsen her situation. "Or are you against killing in general? We can work on that." "Please. No." "Pagoda. Your turn." Pagoda approached with an awkward lurch, and Amy managed to stand and run. She got halfway to the front door before Hack Job materialized in front of her, barring her way. He pushed her, and she fell. Pagoda lurched over to her and pressed her down. "I use my creations to collect material for other work. It's a circle, using them to get material for more creations. Having the Nine was essential to get things started, and to help get things going again if a hero managed to put down a few, but now I'm in good shape. I stick around because they're mostly fans, and they're kind of family. I want you in my family, Amy Dallon."
I'm torn between going -Awwwwwww, Bonesaw likes her messy, murderous family and she really, really wants a sister to complete it- and -Heavens, this little bit....psycho Tinker actually forces Amy to kill people in order to become an "artist" like her. At least Amy didn't killed Murder Rat, she only separated them, unfortunately making their fate even worse than it was already . Now she probably have to kill Pagoda. Try to separate them as you did with Murder Rat, Amy. Well, I'm aware that by separating they're going to suffer more but I don't want Amy to become what Bonesaw WANTS her to become, I want her to actively fight against the child in the only way she can do now, by resisting to all her tests. Bonesaw might even hurt her in a fit of rage, but at least Amy will prove her that she'll never be S9 material, neither her big sister.
"Now, I'm willing to make sacrifices to see that happen. Same thing as with Murder Rat. You don't stop Pagoda, I'll have him hurt the man on the couch." Amy used her power on Pagoda, felt his body, much the same as Murder Rat's in so many respects, though the metal frame with the needles in his spine was different. She reached for the ligaments at his shoulders and hips, separated them. The first had grown back before she'd started on the third. "He heals," Bonesaw informed her. "Two regenerators in one. There's only one good way to stop him. Try again." Pain. She inflicted pain on Pagoda. No reaction. She'd have to reach into his brain to make it so he really felt pain again. She tried atrophying his muscles, with no luck. Anything she did was undone nearly as fast as she could inflict it. "Five seconds," Bonesaw announced. "Four." Sending signals to his arms to get him to move. No. The metal frame overrode anything she could do with her power to control him. "Three." Amy used the only option available to her. She disconnected him from the metal frame that Bonesaw used to control her subjects. She could sense it as the metal shifted into motion around his heart. Not needles, as there had been for Murder Rat, but small canisters of fluid. "Two… one… zero point five… Ah, there we go." Pagoda lurched backward and broke contact with Amy, her power no longer giving her an insight into what was happening with him. He sat down, using one hand to prop himself up. A moment later he slumped over, his eyes shutting. His breathing stopped.
"A chemical trigger for something I already put in his DNA, when I was patching his regeneration abilities together. Reverses the regeneration so it does the opposite, starting with the heart." Amy looked at her hand. She'd just taken a life. A mercy, most probably, but she'd killed. Something she had promised herself she would never do. She shivered. It had been so easy. Was this what it was like for her father? Had she just taken one more step toward being like him? "Ready to join?" Bonesaw asked, looking for all the world like a puppy when her master had the leash out, ready for a walk. Eager, brimming with excitement. "No," Amy said. "There's no way." "Why? Whatever's holding you back, we can fix it. Or we can break it, depending." "It's not- don't you understand? I don't want to hurt people." "But we can change that! We're not so different. You know as well as I do that anything about anyone can be changed if you work hard enough." "Then why don't you change? You could be good." "I like the other members of the Nine. And I couldn't make anything really amazing if I was following rules. I want to make something even more amazing than Hack Job, Murder Rat or Pagoda. Something you and I could only make together. Can you imagine it? You could use your power, and then we could make one superperson out of a hundred capes, and all of the powers would be full strength because you helped and we could use it to stop one of the Endbringers, and the whole world would be like, 'Are we supposed to clap'? Can you picture it?" Bonesaw was getting so excited with her idea that she was almost breathless.
Stop blaming yourself, Amy, you're not a criminal. You just saved your stepfather and put two beings out of their misery. You're still a hero and you'll always be one. Even heroes kill people if its necessary. You can kill people who deserve to be killed or to protect your loved ones from them and still be one of the kindest persons. And stop saying that you're like your father. Your father is a more honorable man than you give him credit, despite committing murders. If only you could talk to him, you'd probably change your opinion about him (any chance for Amy and Marquis to ever MEET?) As for you, Bonesaw, it looks like you don't know that your "father" is planning the end of the world, because you're so eager to save the world from Endbringers. You seem pretty idealistic to me, despite.... everything. I'm starting to think that Bonesaw would be able to redeem herself, but only if she'll be free from Jack's influence. Jack is the one who probably made her like this -a little monster- and he's the one who keeps her from possible becoming a good person. If she'll ever find out that he's planning to end the world, maybe she'll become so disgusted because she'll see all her future plans being reduced to ashes and will turn against him, by either directly attacking him or helping his enemies. Anything is possible but a thing is sure: this little monster have potential to change in the future, the hope is not entirely dead for her. Or maybe is just me, hoping in vain that a S9 member might ever become human. Alright, no matter what, I'm ready to believe that Bonesaw can be that one member who can become human.
"No," Amy said. Then, just to make it clear, she added, "No, it's not going to happen. I won't join you."
"You will! You have to!" "No." "I have to do like Jack said. He said I won't be a true genius until I've figured out how to get inside people's heads." "Maybe- Maybe you won't be inside my head until you realize there's no way I'm going to join the Slaughterhouse Nine." Bonesaw frowned. "Maybe." Amy nodded. "Or maybe I need to figure out your breaking point. Your weak spot. Like that man there." Bonesaw pointed at Mark. "Cherish said you sleep here, and you've been around him for a while… so why haven't you healed him?"
Amy shivered. "Who is he?" "My dad." "Why not fix your dad?" "My power doesn't work on brains," Amy lied. "You're wrong," Bonesaw said, stepping closer. "No." "Yes. Your power can affect people's brains. You have to understand, I've taken twenty or thirty people apart to figure out how their power works so I can put them back together again the way I want them. I've learned almost everything about powers. I've induced stress of all kinds on people until they had a trigger event, while I had them on my table and wired to computers, so I could record all the details and study their brains and bodies as the powers took hold." Twenty or thirty people she's taken apart. However many others she's tortured to death. Bonesaw smiled, "And I know the secrets. I know where powers come from. I know how they work. I know how your power works. You have to understand, people like you and me? Who got our powers in moments of critical stress? The powers aren't meant for us. They're accidents. We're accidents. And I think you could see it if you were touching someone when they had their trigger event." "I don't understand." "You don't have to. What you need to know is that the subjects of our power, the stuff it can work on, like people? Like the fish lady in Asia? The boy who can talk to computers? Our powers weren't created to work with those things. With people or fish or computers. It's not intentional. It happens because the powers connect to us in the moments we have our trigger events, decrypt our brains and search for something in the world that they can connect to, that loosely correlate with how the powers were originally supposed to work. In those one to eight seconds it takes our powers to work, our power goes into overdrive, it picks up all the necessary details about those things, like people or fish or computers, sometimes reaching across the whole world to do it. Then it starts condensing down until there's a powerset, stripping away everything it doesn't need to make that power work."
Bonesaw is basically Tinker Tattletale. She discovered that the powers were given by aliens, but only when people have triggers. Then the powers become part of their hosts' brains, making them capable to use them how the powers are designed to work. Bonesaw is a medical Tinker, so her powers work the best on biology (even if she can build robots too), she became intelligent enough so she can interpret correctly and use the information provided by her power. Taylor can interpret the bugs's nervous system so she can control them. Amy can interpret biology so she can manipulate it. I'm 100% sure that Tinkers should become very intelligent in the first place so they can interpret all the scientific information provided to them by their power. Otherwise they won't understand and they won't be able to use their powers properly. Amy is not a Tinker that's the reason why she needed to learn about biology (she said she had a medical licence, unlike Bonesaw who's naturally a genius) so she'll have a better control of it. I'm starting to understand better how their powers work. Thank you, Bonesaw. You're precious, I want to hug you.....NOPE "runs away, without looking behind".
"And then, before it can destroy us, before we can hurt ourselves with our own power, before that spark of potential burns out, it changes gears. It figures out how to function with us. It protects us from all the ways our power might hurt us, that we can anticipate, because there's no point if it kills us. It connects with our emotional state at the time the powers came together, because that's the context it builds everything else in. It's so amazingly complicated and beautiful." Bonesaw looked down at Amy. "Your inability to affect brains? It's one of those protections. A mental block. I can help you break it."
Bonesaw seems to know more about Manton Effect than Manton himself. :lol She's putting him in a corner of shame with her knowledge (now depends if he's still alive or dead). What I'm worried the most about is not that Amy will start killing people around if she'll break her mental block, because she's not like Bonesaw and will never be, but she might hurt herself because there won't be any block left to protect her brains against her own power. But I believe that she have a great control over it and will not turn herself into a zombie. I believe in Amy, more than she believes in herself.
HATE to do that but I have to stop again. Its such a looooooooooong Interlude (maybe the longest one so far) and I think I have to split it in 3 parts. Sorry about. I promise that at the end of Part 3, I'll show you my list of favorite/least favorite S9 members, which ones are the most powerful/less powerful, and which one is the craziest/less crazy. Then I'll tell you what kind of action each candidate I think they'll take after the whole bulls....suspense they went through. Also, Bonesaw reminds me of a fictional character from a manga. Which one, you'll find out tomorrow .
Good night, Bonesaw's experiments (and other people), and TRY to sleep well, despite everything she did to you.
Hi, Bonesaw's experiments (and other people), time for the last part (hopefully the last one) of 11.h | Worm. Ok, before I'll start, I'd like to....but let's start already then we'll discuss. We don't have time to lose, damnit. Bonesaw: Language, please! Me: Oh, sorry, I'll not repeat my mistake again. Bonesaw: You better not, otherwise.... "smiles with an adorabloodthirsty innocence". Me: "mumbles to herself" Can't wait for her to leave. I miss saying "fuck" and.... Bonesaw: Excuse me, did you said something? Me: Nope "cries internally"
"I don't want to break it," Amy said, her voice hushed.
"Ahhh. Well, that just makes me more excited to see how you react when you do. See, all we have to do is get you to that point of peak stress. Your power will be stronger, and you'll be able to push past that mental block. Probably."
"Please," Amy said. "Don't."
Bonesaw reached into her apron and retrieved a remote control. She pointed it at Mark, where he sat on the couch. A red dot appeared on his forehead.
"No!"
One of Bonesaw's mechanical contraptions leaped across the room, its scalpel legs impaling the suede cushions on either side of Mark. One leg, tipped with a syringe, thrust into Mark's right nostril. He hollered incoherently, tried to pull away, only for two mechanical legs to clutch his head and hold him firm.
Amy's screams joined his.
"I'm doing you a favor, really!" Bonesaw raised her voice to be heard over the screams. "You'll thank me!"
Amy, for Heavens's sake, stop being a Scaredy Cat and become and Fearless Panther instead. HEAL YOUR FATHER, RIGHT NOW. I really don't care about your st...illogical reasons for not wanting to heal someone's brains, don't make me say cussing words because Bonesaw is still here and she's not going to forgive me if I cuss again. "sighs" If you don't heal Mark right now, I'm gonna hate you, seriously, I'm gonna hate you. Because you'll be a selfish person who care only about herself and her own interests rather than her own family. Don't make me hate you, Amy, please....
Amy rushed forward, hauled on the metal leg to pull it from Mark's nostril, pulled at the other legs to tear it from him and then hurled it away. Lighter than it looked.
"Now fix him or he'll probably die or be a vegetable," Bonesaw told her. "Unless you decide you're okay with that, in which case we're making progress."
Amy tried to shut out Bonesaw's voice, straddled Mark's lap and touched his face.
She'd healed him frequently in the previous weeks, enough to know that he was remarkably alert in a body that refused to cooperate or carry out the tasks he wanted it to. Not so different from Bonesaw's creations in that respect. She'd healed everything but his brain, had altered his digestive system and linked it to his circadian rhythms so he went to the bathroom on a strict schedule, to reduce the need for diapers. Other tune-ups she'd given him had been aimed at making him more comfortable, reducing stiffness and aches and pains. It was the least she could do.
Now she had to focus on his brain. The needle had drawn ragged cuts through the arachnid layer, had injected droplets of acid into the frontal lobes. More damage, in addition to what Leviathan had inflicted with the head wound, and it was swiftly spreading.
Everything else in the world seemed to drop away. She pressed her forehead to his. Everything biological was shaped in some way by what it had grown from and what had come before. Rebuilding the damaged parts was a matter of tracing everything backwards. Some of the brain was impossible to restore to what it had once been, in the most damaged areas or places where it was the newest growths that were gone, but she could check everything in the surrounding area, use process of elimination and context to figure out what the damaged areas had tied to.
She felt tears in her eyes. She had told herself she would heal him and then leave the Dallon household. Actually doing this, fixing him, taking that plunge, she knew she would probably never have found the courage if she hadn't been pushed into it.
It wasn't that she was afraid to get something wrong. No. Even as complicated as the mind was, she'd always known she could manage it. No, it was what came after that scared her more than anything. Just like finding out about Marquis, it was the opening of a door she desperately wanted to keep shut.
She restored his motor skills, penmanship, driving a car, even the little things, the little sequences of movements he used to turn the lock on the bathroom door as he closed it or turn a pencil around in one hand to use the eraser on the end. Everything he'd lost, she returned to him. He moved fractionally. She opened her eyes, and saw him staring into her eyes. Something about the gaze told her he was better.
"have tears in her eyes" She healed him....she indeed healed him and now Mark is normal again. See, Amy, it wasn't that hard. You didn't turned him into a zombie or a mindless creature or whatever you're afraid that is going to happen. You healed him for real. I believed this was going to happen, I wasn't afraid at all because I trusted Amy and how good she's at using her powers. It was just a stupid fear imprinted in your mind, a fear without any real base. Victoria will be proud of you, Carol will forgive you, the rest of your family will be thankfully to you. Wow, Bonesaw, you actually did something good by forcing Amy to be BRAVE. Well, you did this because you're planning to make her become a S9 member. But I'll advice you to look after another big sister. Because this one....this one have a family and her heart is in the right place. You failed, Bonesaw, you failed to get her, and maybe, one day, she'll come after you and use her powers on your own brain. Applying exactly what you taught her. Only not healing this time. Probably you just created your own doom (but if this will ever happen, I hope it will happen later in the story, because Bonesaw is a fascinating character and I want her to live a little longer to see with what more crazy art she might come up and maybe....maybe she can change. I still think that she might change so I'll wait and pray for it to happen. If she'll continue to be a little monster, without showing any signs that she's trying to redeem herself, then I'd be more than glad for Amy to give her a taste of her own medicine).
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm so sorry." She wasn't sure what she was apologizing for. For taking so long to do it, maybe. Or for the fact that she would now have to leave.
His attention was on his hands. She could feel it through her contact with him, the power he was just barely holding back. And Bonesaw? The little lunatic was somewhere behind her.
She drew Mark's hands into his lap, between her body and his, where Bonesaw would be less likely to see.
An orb of light grew in his hands.
"It worked! Yes!" Bonesaw crowed.
Mark flicked his eyes in one direction, offered the slightest of nods, his forehead rubbing against hers. Amy flung herself to one side as Mark stood in one quick motion, flinging the glowing orb at the little girl.
Hack Job flickered into existence just in time to have to orb bounce off his chest. It exploded violently, tearing a hole into his stomach and groin.
The villain flew backward, colliding with Bonesaw.
But two more copies of Hack Job had already appeared, and the scalpel spiders were responding to some unknown directions, leaping for Mark and Amy.
Amy grappled with one spider, struggled to bend its legs the wrong way, cried out as the scalpels and needlepoints of the other legs dragged against her skin.
A blast sent her tumbling, throwing her into the couch and dislodging the spider. Mark could make his orbs concussive or explosive. He'd hit the spider with the former, nothing that could seriously hurt Amy. She climbed to her feet, picked up the oak side-table from beside the couch and bludgeoned the spider with it.
More explosions ripped through their living room as Mark continued to open fire, hurling the orbs with a ferocity that surprised Amy. When Hack
Job tried to block the shots with his bodies, Mark bounced them between Hack Job's legs, off walls and off the ceiling. Almost as if he could predict what his enemy would do, he lobbed one orb onto the couch. It exploded a half-second after one of Hack Job's duplicates appeared there.
More duplicates charged from either direction, and Mark dropped a concussive orb at his feet, blasting himself and one of the duplicates in opposite directions. He quickly got his footing and resumed the attack, fending off one duplicate that turned his attention to Amy, then going after Bonesaw.
Bonesaw had retreated into the hallway that led into the bedrooms at the back of the house, the basement and the kitchen at the side. Mark threw an orb after her, obliterating the hallway, but Amy couldn't see if he'd struck home, not with the clouds of dust that were exploding from
Hack Job's expired duplicates. Between the time it had taken to create the orb, throwing it and the lack of a scream after it had gone off, Amy knew Bonesaw would have gotten away.
Wow, Mark is a BEAST. He destroys his apartment, finishes off some of robo -spiders, kills few of Hatchet Lee's clones (it looks like Hatchet Lee have to touch someone in order to block their powers and since they can't touch Mark, the hero is free to use his power without any obstacles), all in all he's a badass full of anger and hate for the little psycho who tried to kill him, who forced his daughter to do awful (except for healing him) things and who just ran away, unfortunately. Ok, now that Bonesaw left, guess what I'm free to do...."EXHALES DEEPLY"...to swear without restrictions. Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllll, yeaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh. I don't really feel like myself when I'm not doing this shit. But since Bonesaw is my favorite S9 member, I'm doing her two favors (favors only for her, not other S9 members, to be clear). I'm giving her a second chance to redeem herself and I'll never swear everytime when she'll make her apparition. That's it.
There was an extended silence. Bonesaw and Hack Job were gone, leaving only Pagoda's body and the limp Murder Rat. Long seconds passed as the dust settled.
"That woman. Can you help her?" Mark's voice sounded rough-edged. It hadn't been used in its full capacity for a long few weeks.
"Her mind is gone, and not in a way I think I could fix," her voice was hushed.
"Okay." Mark walked over to Murder Rat and adjusted her position against the wall until she was more horizontal, almost lying down. He crossed her claws over her chest, and then formed an orb of light the size of a tennis ball.
"Rest in peace, Mouse Protector," he said. He placed the orb of light in the gap where two claws crossed one another, just over her heart, then stepped away.
There was a small explosion and a spray of blood.
"I'm sorry," Amy said, "So sorry I didn't help you sooner, that-"
Mark stopped her with a raised hand. "Thank you."
Awesome, Mark can kill people so easy with his explosive orbs. He's so damn strong. Thanks God that he missed Bonesaw. Carol will have a HARD time to clean up the apartment after this whole mess. Well, since its mostly destroyed, they have to fix it first. Mark, thanks for mercy killing Murder Rat, especially Mouse Protector. She deserved her rest. RIP Mouse Protector. Ok, before continuing, I want to talk about a certain Manga character pretty similar with Bonesaw.
Fran Madaraki, a being created by a scientist; she's extremely intelligent and skillful and very capable to do experiments/surgeries on her own, but 99% of her experiments/surgeries end up disastrously (and this is a nice word) for people involved. Well, Fran and Bonesaw are pretty similar but with some big differences: Bonesaw's victims are mostly innocent people while Fran's victims are people who usually deserved what they got at the end: arrogant, power hungry people, jerks, criminals, rapists, abusers (only very few were actually nice people). Another difference: Fran is a genuinely nice and compassionate "person": she only wants the best for people, she's very emotional and sensible, she doesn't kill, and during the few times when she purposely hurt people, she only defended herself/or her "father' work. Yet, 99% of her surgeries created monsters at the end but this happened because she can't understand that humans can't live like monsters or her patients demanded really ridiculous/stupid things from her. On the other side, Bonesaw have no morals, no concern for people's lives, she's just cruel, insane and all she wants is to improve her art and to make Jack proud of her. Yet, she still have the innocence and frankness of Fran. So, if Siberian is Gavrill, one of Fran's sisters and Bonesaw is Fran, then who is Veronica, the super assassin who only wants to have friends (who is also my favorite one of the 3 sisters)? Wildbow, you forgot Veronica, you can't do that to me.
She didn't deserve thanks.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
She looked away. Tears were welling out. "No."
"Listen. Sit yourself down. I'm going to call your mother and sister, make sure they're all right after dealing with Hellhound, let them know what happened. Then I'll call the Protectorate. Maybe they can help guard us, in case Bonesaw comes after you again."
"She will. But I- I can't sit. I'm going to my room. I'll pack so we leave sooner."
"You sure?"
She nodded.
"Shout if anything happens."
She nodded and turned to go, picking her way through the destroyed hallway. The floorboards that looked like a giant-sized version of pick-up-
sticks. She was only halfway when she heard Mark on the phone.
"Carol? It's me."
Her face burned with shame. She made her way to her room and began packing her things into a gym bag. Clothes, toiletries, and other things, mementos. A small scrapbook, a memory card filled with pictures of her, her cousins and her sister. She found a pad of post-it notes and scribbled out a few words.
I'm sorry it took me so long to help Mark.
Good bye. I love you all,
Amy.
She wouldn't be coming back.
Amy opened her bedroom window and climbed out, pulling the bag out behind her.
It would be better this way. Maybe, after weeks or months, she could stop worrying, stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to fall apart in the worst way. She'd already had to face finding out about Marquis. She'd taken a life. She'd broken one of her cardinal rules. She wasn't sure she could take any more. She just had to get away.
Running away from your problems, running away from yourself, Amy. This is NOT a solution, Amy, running away is never a solution. You're a good person, Amy, no matter what you may still believe about yourself, you're Victoria's awesome, sweet, carrying sister. You should not leave your sister like this, you both love each other so much...Amy's running from home reminds me of Taylor's running from her own home. Yep, these two girls are pretty similar when it comes to confronting and solving the problems they have with their families. They instead prefer to run than to try to do something (maybe I judge Amy pretty harsh but I personally never ran away from my problems, no matter how difficult they're. I always stay and confront them even when I'm sure I can't win). So, deep down I want Amy to be like me in this case, to be someone who instead of leaving the only persons she cares for, to talk to them and both sides to try to understand each other and to find solutions at their problems. Its difficult but the most correct thing to do. Instead, Amy choose the easiest but the wrong way to solve everything. By fucking running away.
Amy cursed the curfew as she saw the figure in the air above her. When people weren't allowed out on the streets after dark, it made those few who did venture out that much more visible. Not what she'd wanted, not when she was trying to avoid this exact conversation.
It was even more problematic when she walked at maybe three or four miles an hour, limited to following the paths the roads and alleys allowed her, when her sister could fly at fifty miles an hour. She should have hid, instead of trying to make some distance.
Victoria stopped midflight and hovered in the air, five feet above the ground and five or six paces in front of her.
"I was just at the house. I don't even know what to say," Victoria spoke.
"Pretty self-explanatory. One of the Nine came, house got trashed, I healed Mark."
"Why? Why heal dad now, when you couldn't before?"
"I only did it because I had to."
"That's what I don't get. Why couldn't you? You've never explained."
"I can't tell you."
"So that's it? No explanations? You just up and leave?" Victoria asked.
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Amy looked away.
"We could get you a therapist. I mean, Mom was setting aside money for Dad's care, we could use that to give you someone to talk to."
"I… a therapist wouldn't be able to help."
"Geez, what's going on? Amy, we've been together for a decade. I've stood by you. I'd like to think we were best friends, not just sisters. And you can't tell me?"
"I can't. Just let me leave. Trust me when I say it's better."
"Fuck that! I'm not about to let you walk away!" Victoria floated closer, reaching out.
"Don't touch me," Amy warned her sister.
Looking lost, Victoria stopped and spread her arms. "Who are you, Amy? I don't even recognize this person I'm looking at. You go berserk at the bank robbery over some secret I've totally not gotten on your case about. You apparently say something to Skitter that causes this huge commotion in the hospital after the Endbringer attack. You… I don't even know what to say about your reaction to Gallant's death, the way you distanced yourself from me at a time when I was hurting the most."
Victoria, you better listen your sister and don't touch her. She's in a very delicate state of mind and she might hurt you accidentally. Oh, Gosh, I have a feeling that Victoria will hug Amy, Amy will touch her forehead and she'll do something to her brain, either turning her into a monster, wiping away her powers or her entire mind. Then she'll feel extremely guilty about what she did and run away, letting Victoria like this without healing her. Fuck, Amy is going to do something bad, right? But I'm not going to blame her, no matter what she'll do to Victoria. Its going to be an accident, Amy is in a very fragile position, besides there are a lot of other healers who can help Victoria, unless her mind would be completely deleted, of course. This is the only thing I'm afraid of: for Amy to let Victoria in a persistent vegetative state.
Amy looked down at her feet.
"And most of all, you just leave dad to suffer, when you could have healedhim? You lash out at me, here, when I'm trying to mend fences and be your sister?"
"You want to know who I am?" Amy asked. Her voice sounded hollow. "I'mMarquis's daughter. Daughter of a supervillain."
"Marquis?"
Amy nodded.
"How did you find out?"
"Carol left some paper out. I think it's under my pillow, if you want to look for it."
"You have his genes, but you're Carol and Mark's daughter," Victoria replied, her voice firm. "And they're going to be worried. Come home."
"They don't care. They don't love me, not really. Trust me, this is better for everyone."
"I love you," Victoria said, stressing the 'I'. She dropped to the ground and stepped closer.
"Don't touch me!"
"Idiot," Victoria grabbed her sister by the shirt collar and pulled her into a painfully tight hug.
"Don't," Amy moaned into her sister's shoulder.
"All of this? We'll work it out. As a family. And if your idea of family means it's just you and me, then we'll work it out together, just the two of us."
All it took was one moment of weakness, and she was weak. At the end of her rope, desperately lonely, haunted by her father's shadow, her shame at being unwilling and unable to help Mark until now, the idea that one of the Slaughterhouse Nine thought she belonged with them?
She was losing everything so quickly. Victoria was all she had, and it was the choice between abandoning that for everyone's good and keeping Victoria close.
She felt Victoria's body more acutely than she felt her own. Every heartbeat, every cell brimming with life.
Like a flame at the end of a long fuse, leading to a stick of dynamite, her power traveled from the side of Victoria's neck to her brain. It was barely a conscious action on Amy's part.
Victoria let go of her, pushed her away. "What did you just do?"
"slaps her forehead" Exactly what I was afraid that is going to happen. Amy did something to her stupid sister because her stupid sister ignored her when she begged her to not touch her and now Amy will seriously start to believe that she's a villain, not realizing that whatever she did was just a pure accident+ Victoria's fault for not listening.
Amy could see the revulsion slowly spreading across Victoria's face.
The magnitude of what she'd just done hit her with a suddenness and pain she likened to a bullet to the chest. "Oh god. Please, let me undo it."
She reached out, but Victoria stepped back.
"What the hell did you do?" Victoria asked, her eyes wide, "I felt something. Ifeel something. You've used your power on me before, but not like this. I- You changed the way I think.More than that."
Tears welled at the corners of Amy's eyes. "Please. This is what I was afraid of. Let me undo it. Let me fix it and leave, and you can go back to Mark and Carol and you three can be a family, and-"
"What did you do!?"
"I'm sorry. I… knew this would happen. I was okay so long as I kept following my own rules, didn't open that door. Bonesaw forced me to open it."
"Amy!"
"You have to understand, for so long, you were all I had. I was so desperately lonely, and that was at the same time I was starting to worry about my dad. I got fucked up, my feelings got muddled somewhere along the line, and it's like… maybe because you were safe, because you were always there."
"You have feelings for me," Victoria answered.
"RIDICULOUS HUGE FACEPALM WITH BOTH PALMS" I need even more palms, two are not enough. I'm trying here to facefoot too but it doesn't really works. Ok, Amy is in love with Victoria. Amy is a lesbian. She's not incestuous (they're not blood related sister) which is acceptable. I honestly never imagined this twist, of all twists this is the BEST one. Or the WORST one, I don't know what to say. I'd like them as a couple, but NOT in these conditions. Its clear that Victoria doesn't love Amy in the way Amy loves her, her feelings for her are sisterly love and nothing more. "shakes her head' Its pretty disturbing if Amy did to Victoria what I'm thinking she did. I think she kind of mind controlled Victoria to make her fall in love with her. Or better said, she changed her feelings from sisterly love to romantic love. She basically MIND RAPED Victoria. But I don't blame Amy, I don't blame her at all. I don't blame not even Victoria's stupidity (she was honestly worried for her sister and was blind to the consequences from touching a very powerful and temporary unstable person like her sister). I don't blame anyone, not even Bonesaw. Not Bonesaw was the one who ordered Amy to do this indescribable shit, she did it by herself and it was just an unfortunate accident. So, now I know that Amy never loved Dean as I believed. When he felt her emotions for him, these emotions were only of jealousy and frustration for not being able to have Victoria as her lover (unlike Dean). Dean understood this but he never judged Amy or never told anything to Victoria. Because he loved Victoria so freaking much and he respected Amy and didn't wanted to break their hearts. What a GREAT MAN Dean was.
She couldn't keep the disgust out of her voice, she didn't even try. "That's what Tattletale was using as leverage, wasn't it?"
Amy couldn't meet Victoria's eyes. She looked at her hands, appalled at what she had just done.
"And Gallant? I was thinking you secretly liked him, but-"
Amy shook her head. "I hated him. I felt jealous because he had you and I never could… but I never acted on those feelings. I never acted on any of my feelings, until just now, and all I want to do is to take that back."
"When I was at the lowest point in my life, when the boy I thought I might marry someday was dead, were you secretly elated? Were you happy Gallant died?"
"No! Vic- Victoria, I love you. I wanted you to be happy with him. I just… it hurt at the same time."
"Oh my god," Victoria whispered, the revulsion giving way to something worse. Realization.
"I- I tried to keep things normal between us. To act like your sister, keep it all bottled in. It's just tonight was such a nightmare, and I'm so scared, and so tired, and so desperate. Bonesaw forced me to ignore all the rules I was imposing on myself. All the rules I was using and following so I wouldn't do anything stupid or impulsive."
"Anything stupid. Like what? What did you do?"
Amy's voice was a croak as she replied, "…make it so you would reciprocate my feelings."
She chanced a look at Victoria's face, and she knew that the horror she saw in her sister's expression didn't even compare to what she felt.
"Please. Let me fix it. Then I'll leave. You'll never have to see me again."
"What in the world makes you think I'd let you use your power on me again!?" Victoria shouted, taking to the air, out of reach. "Who knows what you're going to do to me!?"
"Please?" Amy begged.
"I can find someone else to fix it. Or maybe, at the very least, I can show some fucking self-control and realize it's my sister I'm having those feelings about."
"You can't. I- Oh fuck. You're underestimating what I did. Please. If you never ever give me anything else, if you never talk to me or look at me again, just let me fix this." Victoria shook her head slowly, then scoffed. "Good job, Amy. You just did an excellent job of taking every instance of me defending you, every instance of my giving you the benefit of a doubt, and proving me fucking wrong. You were worried about being as fucked up as your dad? Congratulations, I'm pretty goddamn sure you just surpassed the man."
With that said, Victoria was gone, flying into the distance.
Amy sank to her knees on the flooded street.
I was right about Dean. I was right about what Amy did to Victoria. I HATE to be right about things, especially when they're so fucking tragic. I feel very sad for both sisters and I still hope that Victoria will forgive Amy (now she kind of romantically love/hate Amy, something like this) and return to her (wherever Amy is going now) and accept to be healed by her. Nothing is irreparable. At least Victoria is not in a vegetative state which is the best thing someone can expect at from this fucked up (in a good sense) story. I'm positive that they'll get together again on peaceful terms (even if a healed Victoria might never love Amy back, but I don't care as long as she'll be normal again). I honestly expected something worse than this. Well, this Interlude was my FAVORITE one. Pretty fucked up but it gave me my favorite S9 member, a lot of tense and dramatic moments, the BEST/WORST TWIST of this story, Amy is now one of the 3 characters that I feel pity the most for (the other two being Dinah and Noelle- even if I don't know her real condition yet, the fact that Noelle craves for human meat and have to be permanently locked makes her be like an intelligent zombie who's aware that should not feed herself with humans, feels bad for what she's doing , yet she can't stop the permanent hunger. The saddest kind of zombie. That's the reason why I already feel so bad for Noelle), I don't judge Victoria for her harsh words (she was too terrified about her new feelings, about what Amy said, about what happened during that day, everything accumulated in her mind and fucked up with her) at the end and I hope that she'll forgive Amy one day and accept the cure.
Since its late, tomorrow I'll show you my lists. All of them.
Hello, awesome friends from everywhere. Before we'll start the new Arc called Plague (I think this title refers to our friendly and helpful neighborhood Slaughterhouse 9, how ungrateful people they're trying to help perceive them. Or maybe Bonesaw will create a virus, spreading it through the city, with the only intention to make people feel happy and relaxed. See, nothing to worry about . Btw, it going to be really funny if Bonesaw's real name will turn to be Alice), I'm going to work at the promised lists. Starting with My Favorite S9 Members List: 1) BONESAW; 2) BURNSCAR; 3) JACK SLASH; 4) SIBERIAN; 5) CRAWLER; 6) SHATTERBIRD; 7) CHERISH; 8) MANNEQUIN. Hatchet Lee doesn't actually count. SECOND LIST -The Most Powerful S9 Members: 1) SIBERIAN; 2) CRAWLER; 3) MANNEQUIN; 4) BONESAW; 5) SHATTERBIRD; 6) BURNSCAR; 7) CHERISH; 8) JACK SLASH. Hatchet Lee still doesn't count. THIRD LIST -The Most Crazy S9 Members: 1) MANNEQUIN (nobody is more crazy than a human who completely abandoned his humanity- both internal and external); 2) CRAWLER; 3) JACK SLASH; 4) BONESAW; 5) CHERISH; 6) SIBERIAN; 7) BURNSCAR; 8) SHATTERBIRD. I think that Hatchet Lee should start crying because this is another list where they doesn't count. THE LAST LIST -How They Can Be Defeated/Killed: 1) SIBERIAN (either by Dragon- if she will find her weakness, Siberian won't stand any chance against an AI who can create and send after her countless of suits equipped with whatever she's vulnerable at; or by Amy- if Amy will touch Siberian, the tiger lady will be BONED, unless she's immune at Amy's power). 2) JACK SLASH (anyone can kill him, he's the most vulnerable, but I prefer Theo to be the one who'll give him the final blow); 3) BURNSCAR (by someone who can use ice or water against her; I think Elle will put Mimi out of her misery, which would be perfect, giving their common past); 4) MANNEQUIN (Faultline, if she'll touch his shell, she can break it completely; Taylor, by swarming his insides and attacking his human organs; Marissa, by melting him with her most powerful sun or Colin, by kicking his ass with his super-weapons); 5) SHATTERBIRD (mostly anyone with enough range because despite having a very strong attack, she doesn't have strong defenses); 6) CRAWLER (either Marrisa, melting him with her sun, Noelle- since Coil said that only Noelle and Marissa are strong enough to start against Crawler or a nuclear bomb, frying him completely before he'll have a chance to regenerate and become immune) 7) CHERISH (Alec is immune to her control so he can simply walk to her and put a bullet inside her stupid brains. Someone should give Alec a firegun because I'm sure that he'll not hesitate to kill his sister, especially after what she did to him by nominating him ); 8) BONESAW (can be killed apparently pretty easy but being a medical Tinker I'm sure that she already modified her own body making herself immune to a lot of things like stabbing, shooting, poisoning, burning, or even Taylor/Amy's powers). Hatchet Lee, go in your corner of shame, you're not allowed to bother these lists with your presence. AN ADDITIONAL LIST- What Choices I Think the Candidates Will Make: 1) RACHEL (either will accept S9's tests or will ask Undersiders for their help, telling them everything); 2) THEO (will try to discover his powers- either by buying them directly from Cauldron- won't be any problem for him because he's very rich or by putting himself in dangerous situations so he'll naturally trigger; then he'll train his powers and hunt Jack down); 3) ELLE (nothing, but maybe she'll decide that her former friend will be better dead so she won't suffer anymore and end up killing her); 4) COLIN (once he'll feel a little better, he will build countless of weapons, a possible kick ass Iron Man armor- I really want this, please, he'll be awesome as Iron Armsmaster , then he'll proceed to hunt Mannequin down, not stopping until his nemesis will be ashes. And maybe try to fuck up the other S9 members as well. Nobody can mess with the most BADASS TINKER in this story and remain alive for too long); 5) HOOKWOLF (will either ask Pure for their help or will infiltrate inside S9, trying to take them down); 6) NOELLE (nothing, because she's locked but Coil will surely do something, asking Undersiders, Travelers and Faultline's Crew to get ready for WAR); 7) ALEC (give him a chance and he'll fucking kill his sister with a big smile on his face); 8) AMY (will either ask Protectorate for help or will decide to be completely alone for a while until she'll decide what to do further) "glares daggers at a crying and shivering Hatchet Lee"
Ok, let's start a new Arc: 12.01 | Worm Taylor, my Dark Angel, I missed you so much, gurl. Compared with all the insane supervillains from the Interludes, you're incomparable SANE.
The first beetle gripped the corner of the paper in his mandibles and slowly pulled it back. Two more moved to the edges of the folds and held them firm. The fourth and largest of the four beetles ran its head left and right along the paper until it was firmly creased. Each of the four changed positions and repeated the steps at a different point.
Awesome, Taylor is using her bugs for....origami. She wants to be an artist. I know someone else who wants to be an artist and maybe one day you two will meet and impress the world by making giant flesh and bones origami, wait until dark, light them up and let them float to the sky. Like a macabre version of Lanterns Festival. Everything should be allowed when it comes to ART . Btw, completely unrelated to this scene, but related to the previous Interlude, I'd like to talk a little more about what Amy actually did to Victoria. Its pretty similar with what an insane supervillain did to the main character of a series. Precisely this one
Kilgrave was a crazy man with the power of mind control- in Worm-verse he would be a Master- who made an obsession for the main character, Jessica Jones, mind controlled her and forced her to love him. He then mentally and physically raped her, making her dependent of him. So, the same thing Amy did to Victoria, the difference is that Amy is not an evil person like Kilgrave but a kind girl whose life really hates her.
She accidentally forced Victoria to love her and become dependent of her so no matter what Victoria will do to try to control her feelings, she'll always think back at her sister in a unwanted romantic way. Amy became like a drug for Victoria, an addiction that Victoria will never get rid of until she'll accept Amy's help to fix her back. Poor both girls
"That's really creepy to watch," Charlotte said, from where she sat at the kitchen table.
I looked up from the laptop I was using to view a webpage on origami. "Is it? I'm pretty used to them, so I don't give it a lot of thought."
"They're so organized and human. Bugs shouldn't act that way."
"I don't really believe in thinking that way anymore," I said, absently.
"What way?"
I had to stop to compose my thoughts. I glanced at Charlotte, and Sierra, who was standing by the fridge, silently eating her breakfast. "I don't believe in shouldn't, like there's some universal rules about the way things should be, the way people should act."
"So there's no right or wrong? People and animals should do whatever?"
"No, there's always going to be consequences. Believe me when I say I know about that. But I do think there's always going to be extenuating circumstances, where a lot of things we normally assume are wrong become excusable."
"Like rape? Are you going to tell me there's a situation where rape is okay?" Charlotte asked.
NO, Taylor, rape WILL never be ok, under no conditions. People who rape are the scums of the earth -I mean not accidentally "rape" like Paige and Amy did, (basically, the only reason for Alec being my least favorite Undersider is because he's a fucking rapist. I hope one day his dick will start rotting and fall). And the only reasons for murder can be justified are: 1) self-defense; 2) protect people you love; 3) put someone out of their misery; 4) stop an evil who can't be stopped otherwise. These are the only reasons for murder to be justified. Other reasons should not exist. Let's see what kind of answer Taylor will give to Charlotte.
I would have thought I'd touched on a hot subject if her voice wasn't so level.
I shook my head. "No. I know some things are never excusable."
"Right."
"But as far as bugs are concerned, at least, I figure anything goes."
"It's still creepy."
"Give it time. You'll get used to it." I picked up the tightly folded piece of paper that was the end result of my little experiment. I pushed at two corners of the tight paper square, and it settled into a cube about three-quarters of an inch on each side, with holes on two opposing faces.
I directed a housefly into one hole and settled it inside, then fed a braided length of twine through the holes. I handed the result to Charlotte and ordered the bugs to start making another.
"A necklace?" Sierra asked. She put her plate down in the sink and ran water over it.
"Or bracelet, or a key chain. So long as you have this, I'll know where you are, because I can keep an eye out for the fly in a box. The real purpose of this, though, is when there's an emergency. You can crush the box and the bug inside, and the moment that happens, I"ll use my power to protect you. It won't be instantaneous, but you'll have a swarm descending on whoever is giving you trouble in anywhere from fifteen seconds to a minute. If it works out, I can make something a little more stylish for the future."
There were nods from both of them.
"I can't protect you from a bullet or a knife wound, but I can screen the people in your vicinity, feeling them out to see if they have weapons on them and give you a heads up so you don't get in that situation to begin with. If there's potential trouble like that, I'll warn you by drawing this symbol with my bugs…"
Nice, she's making origami necklaces and bracelets for her two minions, Sierra and Charlotte, so they'll crush them if they're in danger. Good thinking, Taylor, now I wonder what kind of job she's going to give them. I'm thinking at spying on people- but Taylor have already her own mini-spies at her disposition so she doesn't need her minions to do this. Maybe she'll send them from door to door to ask people if they have a moment to talk about their Lady and Savior then give them Bibles for free.
I drew three lines that crossed in the center, using the flies and beetles that were working on a cube for Sierra.
"Okay," Charlotte said. Sierra nodded.
I got the bugs working on the second cube again. "I'll use numbers to inform you on the number of people nearby. You'll want to approach a situation differently if there's twenty people than if there's five. Maybe have one of you hang back and be in a position to crush the cube, or just keeping your distance. Or just avoid the situation. Trust your gut, use your best judgement."
"What exactly are we doing?"
"For now, just door to door. I'm going to mark the places you should visit, where there are families or groups of people. I need the info I can't get with my bugs. Who are the people in my territory? What do they need: Maybe medical care, clothes, more food, maybe someone's giving them trouble? You find out, take notes, then pass that information to me."
"That's it?"
"For now. I'm going to ask you guys to travel as a pair, obviously. You'll be safer and there's a better chance you'll be able to signal me with the necklace if something goes wrong. Not that you should need the cube, but I prefer having some redundancy."
The pair nodded. Sierra bent over to pull on the rain boots I'd provided her. Charlotte was already wearing hers.
"That's the general plan. We'll work out other tasks and maybe other signals later, in case you need my attention but not for an emergency, or if you want to cancel a request for help, whatever. That leaves payment."
"I was wondering about that," Charlotte said. "But didn't know how to ask."
"We'll try for six to eight hours a day, five days a week, but consider it flexible. Not to spook you or anything, but I'll know if you're slacking. I'm thinking two hundred and fifty dollars a day, and obviously it's under the table, so you're not getting taxed on it."
"That's a little more generous than I was expecting," Sierra said.
I didn't like Coil, pretty much despised his methods, but I did agree with his sensibilities on some things, like personnel and making sure people wanted to work for you. It wasn't like I couldn't afford it. I had yet to spend the earnings from any of my earlier villainous stints, since Coil was providing everything major I needed.
"There's another reason I'm putting you guys out there. Two people aren't going to be enough for what I'm planning long-term. I want you two to trust your guts on this, but you're also going to be keeping an eye out for possible recruits."
"You're hiring others?" Charlotte asked.
I nodded. "I'm looking for people who are young, reasonably fit, and able to follow orders. With you two out there, I'm hoping others see a pair of girls who are secure, happy and healthy in my employ. You recruit someone I decide is worth keeping? I'll reward you. But this isn't a competition, got it?"
Both girls nodded their heads.
"If you don't have any questions-"
Wow, for 250 dollars/day, I'll do whatever Taylor wants me to do, except for torture and murder. I'll check her people and recruit them without any hesitation, I'll even spy, lie and steal. Yes, its pretty dangerous, but its worth it. Anyway, Taylor will never abandon her henchwomen, this is a certain thing. She'll always have their back. I'd like an Interlude featuring only Sierra and Charlotte recruiting people for their Crime Lady. That would be a fun Interlude, seeing how everyone react to their proposal.
"I do," Charlotte piped up. "Do you have a mask I could wear?"
I frowned. "I was hoping you guys would put a more human, less sinister face on things." "I don't want to run into someone I know and have to explain. Not that I think anyone I know lives around here, but-"
"Okay, no, I wouldn't expect you guys to go unmasked when I won't. That wouldn't be fair. Give me a few seconds," I told them. I headed upstairs to my office.
Over the past few days, I'd received deliveries of the more specific and obscure items I had requested from Coil. Among them were cases of more exotic bugs, a sturdy work table I kept upstairs in my room and five mannequins with custom measurements.
Coil's people had taken the time with Brian, Lisa, Alec and Aisha to get comprehensive measurements and hand casts. Bitch had refused. This had led in turn to the creation of the mannequins, which had been shipped to me and set up on the pedestals beneath the shuttered window. One mannequin for each of my teammates and one for me. There was also a little folder of notes from each of the others on what they wanted, including some photos, clippings and print-outs for reference. Grue had included pictures of the little statuette he had bought at the Market, which he wanted me to copy for his new mask. I hoped to have a costume for each of us in short order. I'd already finished a few draft attempts at designing Lisa's mask, since it didn't require much cloth and the nuances of it were tricky. The way her old mask fit her, it hid her freckles and eyebrows and changed the apparent angles of her eyes and cheekbones so her entire face had a different look to it. Emulating that was hard, since the texture of the silk compared to the material of her mask didn't let me copy it over exactly. I'd used the scrapped attempts to test different dyes and how they reacted with the fabric. I grabbed the failed masks, pressing each against a white piece of paper to ensure they weren't going to stain skin, and then headed back downstairs.
"Got black, more black, dark purple, blue and blotchy crimson. Take your pick."
Charlotte took a black mask that would cover her eyes and the lower half of her face, adjusted it until the eyeholes were in place, and then set about fixing her hair.
"Sierra?"
"Not much point. My hair is pretty recognizable," she flicked one of her dreadlocks.
"Won't do any harm."
She took the second, smaller black mask. While she put it on, I deposited a fly and threaded twine into the second origami cube so she had her emergency signal.
"Good luck," I told them, grabbing two black clipboards with attached notepads and handing them over. "Come back around noon, we'll eat, and you can give me an update on how things are going."
"Will do," Sierra replied.
My minions moved on to their morning's tasks. I headed back upstairs and finally let myself breathe.
Great, nobody warned me that this Chapter will have fucking MANNEQUINS . Thank you, "friends", thank you a lot. Ok, Taylor, are you sure you counted correctly the mannequins that you're using to make new costumes for Undersiders? Count them again, maybe you missed one that should not be there. You know, with all this craziness going around, everything is possible. So, masked Sierra and Charlotte are ready to do their job. I with them good luck, they're both nice girls .
I missed staying at the loft, when things were easy and I was free. I was happy with how things were going with my new recruits, but I was realizing that living with them would mandate changes to my lifestyle. There were appearances to maintain, and I couldn't be seen slacking off or being a slob. I couldn't sleep in or put off my shower until later in the day. I couldn't let myself collapse in a sweaty heap after a hard morning run. I'd woken up at six in the morning to be sure that I could run, shower, dress and look like I was on top of things by the time they were up. After a late night, it left me feeling a little worn around the edges. I harbored some concerns about my ability to help Dinah if this kept up.
The pair had spent some time with their families before returning to my lair. I'd been anxious in the meantime, worrying they would have second thoughts or turn me in, wearing my costume and waiting in a nearby position in case capes converged on my lair. I'd been both gratified and relieved when they'd returned. One hurdle crossed.
Both Sierra and Charlotte had seen me bleeding, when I'd come back from rescuing Bryce. It sounded so minor, but I didn't want them imagining me as hurt and mortal when they were supposed to trust me and look up to me. What bugged me even more than that was the fact that
Charlotte knew my secret identity. I was fairly certain she would keep it to herself, but she'd seen me as Taylor. She'd seen me at what was perhaps the lowest point in my life. From a distance, but she'd seen it.
Charlotte now served under me out of a mixture of obligation and fear, but I wouldn't feel secure in my reputation until I'd divorced Skitter from that image of a weaker, abused Taylor.
I worked on all five costumes at the same time. Low-level multitasking was either a minor benefit that had come with my powers or, more likely, a skill I'd developed in the half-year I'd spent micromanaging thousands or tens of thousands of bugs at the same time. I didn't need to expend any focus on the simple task of laying out the thread, and the only time I really had to pause to give them direction was when it came to the creative input and the more complicated tasks of deciding how everything fit together. I could only make some calls on style and what would suit the respective recipients' tastes when I'd made enough progress and seen the groundwork laid out. Where I could, I used my bugs to model ideas and options, forming possible shapes for masks, collars and armor panels.
When I wasn't occupied with that, I focused on Sierra and Charlotte. I checked their surroundings, discreetly screened nearby groups of people for weapons. I marked each door with symbols to count the people inside, notified the girls if people were armed, and I put a circle on doors that they were to visit, an 'x' on doors they should skip. A lot of people were ignoring the knocks. I let them be. After a few days, if they were still ignoring my minion's attempts to talk to them, I'd maybe give them a bit of a nudge or leave them a message using my bugs.
What, Sierra still doesn't know how Skitter looks like without her mask? Hmmm, I'm honestly surprised, I was under the impression that she saw already Taylor without mask. Like how good Taylor is starting to be at her new role. In a couple of years, Coil will be put in a corner of shame by this young Crime Lady. Look what my friend just send me: fanart with ponified Undersiders and ponified S9: My Little Undersiders: Wildbow is Magic ; My Little Slaughterhouse Nine: Wildbow is Magic. Pony Tattletale and Pony Skitter are adorable, Pony Bitch doesn't give a shit that she's spied by Skitter's bugs, and I have no idea who the Horned Pony is but looks funny enough . For Slaughterhouse 9 Ponies, Pony Bonesaw is cuteness personified, Pony Cherish looks like a smug bit....strumpet, Pony Mannequin is downright SCARY even as a pony, Pony Crawler and normal Crawler are not very different. Hatchet Lee don't have any place in Equestria . Cool fanart.
Apparently overwhelmed with the requests from his various rulers of the Brockton Bay territories, Coil had started delegating some of his people to act as intermediaries. I got in contact with Mrs. Cranston, the intermediary he'd designated to me, and outlined what I needed. Waste removal was a big priority, as was clearing out the storm drains so the water could drain from the flooded streets. I let her know that my services were available if she wanted help identifying where the blockages were, or if the trash removal teams needed protection from interference.
Once those big issues were resolved, a lot of the smaller ones could be attended to. Too many problems came with large numbers of people spending the majority of their time wading ankle-deep in water that was swimming with warm garbage.
Time passed quickly, what with my focusing on the costumes, Sierra and Charlotte, arranging the cleaning up of the area, using bugs to sweep for troublemakers in my vicinity and experimenting on a smaller scale with dyes and costume options. I had a smaller collection of Darwin's bark spiders that Coil had procured for me in a specialized terrarium to emulate the hot temperatures they were used to, but I couldn't use them to make anything until they had given birth to at least one new generation. When I did, though, I expected that the fabric they created would be as superior to the black widow's work as the black widow's silk was to conventional cloth. There wasn't much room for error with the small number Coil had provided, so I was being careful with the breeding process.
My cell phone rang, and I knew from the bugs I had placed on the two girls that it was Charlotte calling. That, or someone else had coincidentally phoned me the same instant Charlotte dialed on her phone and raised it to her ear.
"Yes, Charlotte?" I asked.
"Um," she was taken back a little. "There's this place here with two families, and they're in the middle of packing up to leave. I thought you'd want to know, in case they were gone before we came back at noon to eat and tell you about it."
"That's fine. What's the problem?"
"Rats."
Of course. The trash would offer a steady diet to vermin, and the flooding would deter many of their natural predators. The rodent population had exploded, and it could easily be getting to the point where it was interfering with people's daily lives.
"Their neighbors have the same problem?"
"We haven't been able to get any of them to answer the door."
I searched the area around Charlotte. Sure enough, there were hundreds of rodents lurking in the areas where humans weren't active. They nested in rafters, walls and piles of rubble. Some were apparently getting courageous enough to venture into people's living spaces, climbing onto tables and into discarded clothes and beds.
No wonder they wanted to leave.
"Tell them to step outside. If they hesitate, warn them they might get hurt. They won't, but it'll make them move."
"Okay."
I hung up, then hurried to pull on my costume, donning latex rubber socks before pulling on the leggings. At the same time, I gathered a swarm near the rat house. I began a systematic attack against the rodents there. Bees, wasps, hornets, fire ants, regular ants, mosquitoes, biting flies and spiders gathered and began attacking the rats furthest from the house and began steadily working their way inward. Some rats fought or ran, but more bugs gathered each second.
Merciless but fair Crime Lady and now merciless and professional Rat Exterminator. Nice evolution, Skitter. Yeah, kill all the rats, they're good only at spreading diseases and...plagues (so the title have to do with rats? That would be too easy. I think S9 will manage to capture few rats and contaminate them with some fucked up viruses. Then release them in the territories who don't belong to their candidates only to have fun seeing people being infected). Skitter, don't let a single rat to escape, otherwise there would be troubles. And check those mannequins again, I still feel uneasy thinking at them.
I hurried out the door and took my shortcut through the false storm drain to the beach. Drawing a host of bugs around myself, I headed toward the rat house with long strides.
The compartment of armor at my back buzzed, and I reached back to retrieve my cell phone. It was Grue:
can I come by?
I quickly replied:
On errand. Don't come to my place. Meet me at Bayview and Clover. Not too far from our old place.
It was only a moment before I got a reply:
got it. am already otw. close.
So he was already on the way when he called? I wasn't sure what to think about that. It suggested it was a social call with the assumption I would be okay with it, which I didn't mind, but that didn't really fit his personality. More likely there was something that he wanted to discuss with me in person.
The rats died at the hands of my bugs, thoroughly poisoned or envenomed, or even eaten alive by the ones that bit repeatedly and didn't even bother to chew or swallow the flesh. It wasn't a fast job, as there were hundreds of the rodents and they were surprisingly tenacious. I wanted to be thorough.
It took me eight or so minutes to arrive, with the roundabout route I had to take to get from my lair to the beach and then back over toward the Docks. A heavy cloud of bugs surrounded the house, and a group of eight people of different ages were clustered on the far side of the street, watching the scene like they were watching their house burn down. Sierra and Charlotte stood apart from the huddle, a short distance away.
I covered my approach with a cloud of bugs and slow, quiet footsteps. Nobody noticed me arrive.
"Just a minute or two longer," I said. Charlotte and some of the family members jumped. "You," a man who might have been the patriarch of one of the families pointed at me, "You did this!"
"Yes," I answered him.
"Is this some sort of game to you!? We were prepared to leave, and you keep us from getting our things? Add another infestation to the one that's already there!?"
"She's just trying to help!" Charlotte said, with a tone like she wasn't expecting to be listened to. I got the impression she'd tried convincing him earlier. I raised one hand to stop her. It was better if I handled this myself.
The man drew himself up a fraction, "No reply, huh? I'd punch you right here, right now, if I thought you'd give me a fair, no-powers fight."
Irritated, I told him, "Count backwards from a hundred. If you still want to when you're done, I'll give you that fight."
He set his jaw stubbornly, refusing me the courtesy of a countdown.
Ignoring him, I looked at a young boy in the group. Eight or nine years old, "What's your name?" He looked up at his mother, then at me, "R.J."
"R.J. Can you count to a hundred?"
"Of course," he looked offended at the idea that he couldn't.
"Show me."
"One, two, three…"
I wonder why Grue wants to meet. Maybe Bitch decided: fuck S9's tests and told Undersiders about Siberian's visit and little gift or Coil declared war against S9 because he can't lose his City to a gang of lunatics and called Undersiders and Travelers, as I predicted earlier? Anyway, I suppose its going to be important, Grue is not the person who make a fuss over an insignificant situation. The head of the family kind of piss me off, he treats Skitter like she's his family's enemy, not someone who genuinely wants to help them. They should not leave because they'll never find anywhere a safer place than in Skitter Lair, especially with S9 roaming around. Skitter protects and help them, feed and give them medicine, what else they want? Some people are so damn difficult. If you ask me, YES, I'd rather prefer the protection of a villain like Skitter than a certain death.
Only a small fraction of the rats were left. The largest mass of them had been herded into a corner by the swarm, and in their panic they had done nearly as much damage to each other as they were doing to the bugs. Stragglers remained elsewhere, but as good as they were at navigating the nooks and small spaces of the house, the bugs were just as good, organized by my will, and they vastly outnumbered the rodents.
"Thirty-one, thirty-two…"
Before the last of the rats were dead, I began organizing roaches and other sturdier bugs to have them cart the dead rats away. I filled the corners of the stairs with massed insect bodies, until it was more like a ramp than a set of steps. I stepped up to the house to open the door and let the swarm start bringing the dead rats outdoors.
"Seventy-seven, seventy-eight, seventy-nine…"
I knew I wouldn't quite have enough time to clear out the entire house of the rat corpses, so I cheated by hauling the rats through the walls, into the unoccupied neighbor's residence and out the kitchen window at the back of that building. The last of my bugs left the sky around the house. I timed the arrival of the last few dead rats with the end of R.J.'s countdown.
"So many," Charlotte gasped, as she saw the three or four hundred rats held high by the swarm. Judging by the family's expressions, they hadn't known how many rats they'd had nesting inside their home.
Turning to the dad, I told him, "Your rat problem is dealt with, and nearly all of the bugs are gone. Some of my swarm will remain so I can keep an eye out for any future infestations, but you won't see them. Now, if you still want to swing at me, I'm okay to go a round or two. No powers."
His mouth twisted in a scowl, but he didn't move to attack me.
Walking over to Sierra and Charlotte, I quietly asked them, "Would I be right if I guessed he wasn't the one who asked for help?"
"Yeah," Sierra said, "She did."
Sierra pointed at the woman who was protectively clutching R.J.'s shoulders.
"Is this satisfactory?" I asked the woman, raising my voice. "The dead rats will be cleared out of the area in a few minutes."
"They're really gone? They won't come back?"
"They're gone, and they won't come back until someone forces me to move out of this territory."
"Thank you," she said. She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something else, then stopped.
Well, at least the mom thanked me.
"You'll want to sterilize the place. Rubber gloves, bleach. Boil or replace every dish, every piece of silverware, toothbrushes, linens and clothes."
"We don't really have the ability to do all that. We don't have much money, let alone those things. Stores aren't exactly open, and we don't have
running water or electricity either."
Geez. "What have you been drinking?"
"We have a rain barrel and we have a water collector on the roof that came with the supply kit." That's not good enough for this many people. "Do you have a propane tank? One should have come with the supply kit."
"It's nearly empty. We've been using the propane to cook rice, but we don't have measuring cups, and if we use too much water, it takes too long to cook, and so we're running out of the gas."
She sounded so tired. Getting by with eight people in one household and no facilities would be such a chore. Add the stress of rats getting into the food, tearing at sheets to get material for nests, crawling on them as they slept? I didn't know how she'd coped.
I hoped my dad's situation was better.
Ok, these people have their own problems, too many individuals living in a single house without facilities. But Skitter can help them, right? She can take care of their needs, she have Coil's unlimited resources, after all. So, they have to remain there, if they leave, will be worse for them. Well, there's still Tale Lair, but Tattletale have already a lot of people to handle, especially Bryce, and I don't think she'll be thrilled if Skitter will send her more.
"Make a note," I ordered Sierra, "If these people are having trouble, it's easily possible others are in similar straits. We'll want a fresh set of supplies going out to everyone in my territory. For this family, a delivery of cleaning supplies; bleach, rubber gloves. They'll want some new clothes, you can get their sizes after I leave. Supplies, of course, and containers to keep the food in. Tupperware. We'll arrange for a doctor to come by and check them for bites, scratches and infections. Standard inoculations. The doctor will know how to handle that stuff better than we do." Hopefully.
"Okay."
"And measuring cups." I smiled behind my mask.
"We can't pay you back for this, even if you give us a loan, we won't be able to." the mom said.
So they were assuming I was putting myself in some loan shark role. Get them indebted to me, leech them for cash.
"It's on the house," I waved her off.
"Thank you," she said, again. I felt bad for feeling the way I did, but I thought her gratitude was a little muted for what I was giving her.
I could sense Grue a block away, my bugs settling on his helmet, unable to see as they got close. I could feel that faint push of the darkness billowing away from him. He'd been watching for a minute or two.
"If there's nothing else that's pressing?" I asked.
Silence, a few shaken heads. I turned to go and meet Grue where he stood at the corner of one building. "Taking up a side business in extermination?" he asked me. I thought I detected a note of humor in his voice.
"Assisting my people. Some goodwill will help when I'm more firmly in power here." I couldn't help but sound a mite defensive.
"Yep. That guy over there will be singing your praises."
I looked over my shoulder at the 'dad' who'd been giving me a hard time. He was ignoring Sierra and Charlotte, who were talking to the larger group of people. Instead, he watched the bugs cart the dead rats down the street, as if he thought I would slack on the job.
"I don't understand people sometimes."
"My guess? When everything went to hell, he told himself he'd be the 'man' for his family. Take charge, provide, protect. He failed. Then some little girl waltzes in and takes care of all that all at once?"
"Little girl?"
"You know what I mean. Look at it from his perspective."
"What if I recruited him? Gave him the opportunity and the power to help others?"
"He'd be intolerable. I mean, sure, things would get better in the short-term. But over the long haul? You'd wind up with someone who criticizes every last thing you do, every last call you make, to make himself feel better about the fact that he isn't the one in control, the one calling the shots." "Fuck," I said. "I thought you said you weren't good with people."
"I'm not good with girls, mainly. Guys? Or 'manly' guys like him? I've met enough people like him in the gyms with my dad, in fighting classes."
"Guys and girls aren't that different."
"Aren't we? Look at our group. Regent and I are going on the offensive. I've got Aisha and I making constant, coordinated attacks against enemies in my territory, terrorizing groups with attacks from the cover of my darkness, or from someone they can't even remember fighting. Regent's got a squad of Coil's soldiers with him, and he's tracking and kidnapping the leaders of enemy groups and gangs, using his power to control them and then having them sabotage their own operations, or start fights with other groups that leave both almost totally wiped out.
Then he cleans up the mess."
"And us girls?"
"Lisa's running the shelter, and she says she's doing it to get more info, but I think she doesn't mind how it connects her to the community there, either. You, too, are almost nurturing in how you're treating the people in your territory. And you're acting like you're getting that aspiring superhero thing out of your system. Or entrenched deeper into it. I can't tell." I didn't like that he was mentioning that. Sore spot for both of us. "Just following my instincts."
"And maybe pushing yourself a little too hard, too fast in the process."
"Mmm," I offered a noncommittal response. I could have asked how Bitch fit into his interpretation of events, but I already knew the answer. Normal rules didn't apply to her. "I think all this ties more closely into how our individual powers work than it does to gender." "Maybe. But… no," he changed his mind after thinking for a second. "I think both you and Lisa could be a lot more aggressive. It kind of worries me that you aren't."
"Worries you?"
"If you aren't taking out the other gangs in your territory and turning a profit, why should Coil bother keeping you there?"
Ok, ok, ok, so this is the reason why Grue wanted to meet? Because he wanted to tell Skitter that she kind of sucks playing her Crime Lady's role? Hmmm, I believed that it was something more important than this. Ok, I hope that I'm not going to offend people here by going into differences between men and women debate, so I'll try to be as objective and reasonable as possible. Grue is right in his own way, Skitter and Tattletale are right in their own ways. Grue is a boy, he's naturally more aggressive, action oriented, pragmatic, dynamic and get the shit done faster (I think that some men here agree with me- and some women will throw virtual eggs in my head ) so this is the reason why he and Regent (who despite looking so damn feminine, is still a guy mainly) are so quick to fuck everyone's days and nights and get rid of gangs. Bitch doesn't matter because she's...Bitch, indeed. While Skitter and Tattletale are more emotional persons, less action oriented (Skitter can be VERY action oriented but only if its necessary, not all the time), they appear more passive but they're better at planning on long term than the boys (now boys are going to throw virtual eggs at me ): Tattletale already have a spy network that Grue don't ever dare to dream at and Skitter will have in no time (I'm sure about) an entire gang formed from people she's now recruiting. They'll get their shit done, slower than boys, but better. We're talking here about motherfuckers like Lady Holmes and the Queen of Thousands of Eyes and Ears. Coil doesn't give a shit anyway as long as everyone are doing their jobs.
"First of all, I'm totally prepared to squash any troublemakers the second they make themselves known around here."
"Assuming you can find them."
"I can. Second of all, Coil didn't say a thing about turning a profit. He has money. Scads."
"He has his own money. Money that he has to devote time and attention to earning. If your territory never starts earning for him and just becomes some black hole that sucks up tens of thousands of dollars of his money each week, you think he's going to be okay with that?"
"What do you want me to do? That doesn't involve taking protection money or peddling drugs?"
"Those would be your biggest revenue streams."
"I'm taking control like he wanted me to. Faster than the rest of you."
"But you're not leaving yourself in a position to do anything with that control."
"I can get all of the people in my territory onto Coil's side. And I have over three hundred and fifty thousand dollars I can put towards infrastructure here."
"That's not as much as you might think it is, when you're talking about this much territory."
"No, but it's something. Look, Coil's a proud guy. He said it himself. He'd be upset if he took over the city and it wasn't better than it was before.
I've got the old Boardwalk here. I can help set that going again. I've also got the Docks, here. A part of it. If I can improve things here, if I can
take this place and make it better than it's been in decades, wouldn't that be a feather in his cap?"
"Even if things went smoothly, that's not going to happen fast, and it's not going to be easy."
Not fast. Grue had been pretty merciless in trying to poke holes in my approach, but the realization that he was right on that score was like a punch in the gut. "If I can show Coil I'm making headway…" Even I wasn't convincing myself. Coil wouldn't give Dinah up for something as minor as a good start. I think Grue noticed my dejection.
"I'm sorry if I'm being hard on you," Grue settled one hand on the armor of my shoulder.
"No. You're right. I've been thinking too short-term."
"I really did want to come by and talk about less serious things. It's a shame we can't."
"We have time to do that, don't we? We could go back to my lair, hang. I can show you what I've got done on your new costume, and we could talk about the mask," I suggested.
He shook his head. "No. What I meant was that I'd hoped to spend todaytalking about that stuff. But we're not going to get the chance. Something more serious has come up."
"Oh hell." My initial suspicions had been right. This wasn't a social call.
"Regent got a visit from one of the Slaughterhouse Nine last night. So did Coil, though the man is quiet on details. Coil's also reporting that Hookwolf got a visit on Tuesday, and one of Coil's undercover operatives died in the ensuing carnage. The PRT office downtown also got hit, according to Tattletale…"
I think Grue is also protective towards Skitter- he's afraid that if she'll not gain profit for Coil (who have limitless money anyway and I'm sure he doesn't care about Skitter Lair's profit; all he cares is for the City to become his), Coil might find her useless and get rid of her (in any way he'd like). I don't think Grue is unfair or underestimate her, he's just afraid that something bad might happen to his "sister" Skitter. Grue is just a protective big "brother" and I personally like this. Skitter sees what she WANTS to see, ignoring Grue's true reason for apparently patronizing her- his need to protect people he cares for. So, the reason behind Grue's visit is not to talk about differences between sexes but about Regent, Hookwolf and Coil being visited by S9 members. It looks like Bitch didn't said a word about Siberian. Please, Bitch, don't be a Bitch and fuck things up for everyone, ok? S9 is NOT something you want to be part of, no matter what your dog half of the brains tells you.
"They're active."
"Yeah. More to the point, they're recruiting. Looking for a ninth to round out their group. Regent was one candidate."
"Who was the other, at Coil's?"
"Coil isn't saying. We think, with Tattletale's educated guess helping us out, that Hookwolf might have been another possible recruit."
"And at the PRT offices? Shadow Stalker?"
"As good a guess as any. We're not sure where she wound up."
"So what does this mean?"
"It means Hookwolf is calling together a meeting of the local powers that be. Crook, criminal, mercenary and warlord. We have to decide if we want to go."
"He was one of the people they visited."
"He was. Which means this could be a trap. Some kind of grand slaughter to commemorate his joining the group. Taking out the other
prospective members in the process, like Regent."
"Or it could be a target for the Slaughterhouse Nine to attack. Create chaos, maximum bloodshed, the kind of stuff that gets attention. They'd be killing some of their possible recruits, but that'd suit them, being unpredictable, never letting you think you're safe."
Grue nodded.
"At the same time, if we don't go, it's crucial info that we're missing out on." I thought aloud. "What does Dinah say?"
"Her power is out of commission after the attack on Coil's base, apparently."
"So we're flying blind, with only Coil's power to back us up."
"Whatever it is."
"Whatever it is." I echoed him, feeling bad for the dishonesty and my lack of disclosure. "What do Coil and Tattletale have to say about the meeting?"
"Coil wants everyone present. Tattletale thinks Hookwolf is on the up and up, but he's only one of the potential problems that could come up." I thought of the others who would be at the meeting. "Like the fact that Skidmark is one of the local powers. Or he is if he's managed to recuperate rep-wise from the ass kicking that Faultline gave him. He's not exactly the type to keep to the truce at the meeting. An unpredictable element."
"Yeah."
"But if Tattletale is right, and Hookwolf isn't on the side of the Slaughterhouse Nine, if we can trust Skidmark to have the basic common sense to back the rest of us up if they attack-"
Brian turned toward me, and I could imagine him giving me an 'are you serious?' look behind his visor.
"-Or at least not get in our way," I corrected myself. "We could fight back, if it wound up being most of the villain groups against the Nine. Our group's powersets lend themselves to slipping away if that went sour, and Tattletale might be able to sense trouble before it hit us."
"You're talking like you want to do this."
"I do. Kind of. If all the top villains of the city attend and we don't, are we really doing ourselves any favors? Our rep will take a nosedive, we'll be out of the loop, and there's nothing saying we wouldn't be targeted by the Nine all the same if we sit it out."
"Why do I get the feeling your decision here is motivated by your rushed attempts to get more control, more rep and finish this phase of our territory grab as soon as possible?"
"Because it is."
He sighed, and the sound was eerie, altered by his darkness. "To think I used to like that you were hardcore serious about the supervillain thing." That touched on that sensitive subject again. My original motivations, my act, such as it was back then. I turned the subject of our debate back to the meeting. "What do you think? If it was up to you and you alone, would you want us to go?"
"No. But it isn't up to me and me alone. When I weigh everything in my head, including the risk of our groups spending time fighting and arguing on the subject when we could be organizing and putting measures in place to protect our territory in our absence? I think it makes more sense to accept it and go with the flow."
"When is the meeting?"
"With a situation this critical? There's no time to waste. Tonight."
Better to fly blind than torturing Dinah again, Skitter. Besides, its more exciting and interesting for us, the readers, all the shit you'll go through by fighting blindly against S9 (told you I have a sadistic streak that I'm not afraid to show it). I don't trust Hookwolf and his meeting. What if he'll lure everyone in a trap so he can show S9 that he's a trustful candidate? I mean, he wants to be the mole. In order to be more convincing, he can set a trap for Undersiders+ Travelers+Coil+ Merchants and try to fuck them up to win Jack's trust and admiration. Yes, not even Tattletale trusts him so I have to agree with her. There's something off about Hookwolf and I have a bad feeling about this meeting. As for you, Grue, shut up! You wanted Skitter to be a terrifying villain and now that she's a terrifying villain you're not very happy about. Boys...boys..."shakes her head, grinning".
Good night and sleep, my boys and girls, see you tomorrow.
Alec is a difficult case to crack because he's a straight-up sociopath, and I am in no way exaggerating. If you put together the puzzle pieces of his fractured mind, you can quickly tell that he suffers from some kind of anti-social personality disorder. His amoral behavior, hedonistic impulses all point to him having the mentality of a textbook sociopath. I'm not certain if it's an issue with serotonin deficiency in his brain that he was born with, or the harsh conditions he grew up in, but either could lead to such a development, and it was probably both.
Regardless, I believe him not to be a tormentor as much as he is a victim bringing torment to other victims -- his father started it all. It's not really his fault he acts this way, with no regards for other people, but he's been shown to be capable of empathy (like when he avenged Taylor by giving Sophia what she deserved,) which means that may not be irredeemable; his sense of right or wrong is not only twisted and skewed, but also very shallow and transparent because of his youth, but it is still there in some extremely pale form.
I like to think of him as a broken clock. Some asshole screwed the gears the wrong way, and now the clock is showing the wrong time and everyone else has to suffer being late in return. (Yeah, I realize that's a poor metaphor for mind-control rape and turning someone into a sociopath, but it's not exactly wrong either.)
EDIT: Also, I don't want to spoil anything, but there are additional reasons why he acts the way he does.
Yes, I'm aware he's a functional sociopath and he and Rachel are the most dysfunctional Undersiders: Taylor have troubles but she's an easy person to get along with, Lisa is even better than Taylor if you ignore the little bird whispering constantly in her ear, Brian is a pretty ok guy and Aisha is ok too (I like her even if I don't know too much about her personality, being such an unnoticeable character most of the time ). But I don't think that Alec is ever capable of empathy: what he did to Sophia wasn't because he cared about Taylor's torment- he even specified that he doesn't feel anything when he read Sophia/Emma messages exchange. Look: "Long seconds passed. He knew he should feel bad for the dork, but he only felt annoyed. He felt worse about the fact that he didn't feel bad than he did about what he'd just read." See? He doesn't feel bad for Taylor even if he wants to feel bad. He only did that to scare Sophia enough so she'll never get close to him and his team again. He's someone who entirely lacks empathy, even if deep down inside he wants to be a normal person, with feelings and other emotions than boredom and excitement. But he can't because Heartbreaker destroyed him, without any possibility of redemption. I feel bad for him, yes, but I feel more bad for his innocent victims than for him. I can't see Alec capable of having feelings for someone, not even for his teammates. While Brian would sacrifice even his life to protect his teammates, because Brian is a perfectly normal person (despite his villainous life) who cares for people close to him. Sociopaths can't become better persons, even if they WANT to be. Yes, they can pretend they're better persons, but pretending and actually being better are two different things. Anyway, Alec is a MUCH MORE BETTER person than his sister, this is a certain fact. Cherish is such a miserable person that I won't feel bad for her no matter what Jack would do to her, if he'll discover her plans involving his team (between us, I think he already knows, he's just testing her to see how far away she'll go ). Also, Alec is a MUCH MORE BETTER person than Coil and Merchants, so there are people worse than him in this story. I have to say some good things about him, ok?
Hi, crazy and sane people. I have good news for you . I think I just found S9 motto. Look, it fits them perfectly: Bonesaw: Prepare for trouble! Jack: Make it double! Bonesaw: To bring the world to devastation! Jack: To unite all people within our organisation! Bonesaw: To denounce the evils of truth and love! Jack: To extend our reach to the stars above! Bonesaw: Bonesaw! Jack: Jack Slash! Bonesaw: Team Slaughterhouse Nine blasts off in the speed of light! Jack: Die now or prepare to fight!
Mannequin: Click "morse code" - .... .- - .----. ... / .-. .. --. .... - (translate: That's Right)
Great, now I imagine Jack and Bonesaw dressed as James and Jessie lol, killing all the pokemon trainers and turning their pokemon into scary violent monsters. Mannequin as Meowth however..."shudders". Alright, before we'll start the next Chapter 12.02 | Worm I'm absolutely convinced that the general meeting between the Gangs of Brockton Bay (I had to say the real name of this city- after such a long time- only because I liked it in the context, ok?) will FAIL, CRUSH and BURN without any chance of recovery. And the only one GUILTY for everything will be this FUCKASS- Hookwolf. He'll either lure everyone into a TRAP in order to impress S9 or he'll refuse to cooperate with anyone else but Purity's group, because despite his intelligence, he's not very reasonable, neither too righteous. I'll never forget that he almost broke Empire88 and Undersiders truce only because Bitch messed up with is dog fighting ring. The truce wasn't broken only because Grue and Kaiser were wise and reasonable enough. But honestly, I don't care if Hookwolf will agree to work only with the other nazi team, Undersiders and all others can handle themselves the situation pretty well without having to wait for nazi help. Better be a lone wolf than to beg nazis for help. All I care is for Hookwolf to not set up a trap.
I'd spent nearly sixteen years in Brockton Bay, living a half-hour's walk away from the ocean and I couldn't remember ever being on a boat. How sad was that?
I mean, I was sure I'd been on a boat before. My parents had to have taken me on the ferry when I was a baby or toddler. I just didn't remember any of it. My parents were introverts, by and large, and their idea of an outing had been more along the lines of a trip down the Boardwalk, a visit to the Market or going to an art gallery or museum. Maybe once in a while we'd go to something more thrilling like a fair or baseball game, but no… this was the first time I could remember being out on the water.
It was exhilarating, the boat ride. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it. I loved the feeling of the wind in my hair, the slight turbulence as the boat bounced on the short waves. It wasn't that different from how I had enjoyed riding Bitch's dogs, and there was none of that primal, deep-seated worry that the hulking monster I was riding would turn around and snap my face off. I'd almost think I had been destined to fly, based on how thoroughly I enjoyed myself, and that it was only bad luck that I'd gotten other powers instead… except I remembered flying with Laserdream as the Endbringer attacked, and that hadn't been the most enjoyable experience. That might have been a special circumstance; I'd been dealing with the fact that I'd had a broken arm, I'd recently puked my guts out, I'd been soaking wet, and an Endbringer had been working on wiping my hometown and everyone I cared about from the face of the planet. That day would almost feel like something that had happened in a dream, if I hadn't spent every hour of every day since living in the aftermath. Coil's people had dropped us off along with two sleek motorboats, depositing them at the water's edge. Grue was in one boat with Bitch, her three dogs and a puppy she had on a long chain. I wasn't sure if the puppy conveyed the image we wanted, but with her attitude towards me lately, I wasn't willing to comment and risk her going off on me. She'd remained angry after I'd called her out on her screwing me over and setting me up for Dragon to arrest, but she'd left me more or less alone.
The meeting is during night, in the middle of a lake, looks like. Maybe on an island, somewhere where S9 can't reach. Bullshit, Cherish can find them no matter where they're going and Shatterbird can reach the island without major problems since she can fly. But as long as they don't have any glass at them, they're safe from being hurt by her. I wonder if Siberian can swim. If she's a true kitty at her core, yes, she'll be afraid of water, but if she didn't completely embraced her animal side, they'll be so screwed if she can swim. Plus Mannequin can create wings for the non- flier, non- swimmer members of the team. Not even an island in the middle of the lake or ocean is safe from these bastards.
The puppy was cute. It was skittish, especially around people, which seemed a little odd. It wasn't the kind of dog I'd expect Bitch to favor. Too young, not vicious or intimidating in appearance. On the other hand, skittish as it was, it had an aggressive streak. It constantly hounded Bentley, nipping at his flanks, then spooking and running away the second the bulldog looked at him. It had made for a fair amount of noise when we'd been getting the boats into the water. One for Bitch, her dogs and Grue, one for the rest of our group.
Our boats weren't out on the ocean. We traveled through the area downtown where Leviathan had collapsed a section of the city. It was now more or less an artificial lake. The water was fairly still, lapping gently against the ruined roads and collapsed buildings that surrounded the crater, but with the speed these boats were capable of going, even waves a half-foot high made us ramp slightly off one and then crash down onto the next with a sudden spray.
Tattletale was at the back, steering the thing. It seemed counter-intuitive, with the boat going the opposite direction she pushed or pulled the stick. Still, she seemed competent at it. Better than Grue, which I found slightly amusing. From time to time, I was finding myself in a strange emotional state. As I stayed alert for it, I was able to catch those moments, try to pick them apart for what they were. The high-end motor whirred and the boat bounced over the waves, the wind and water getting in my hair, all while we headed into the most ridiculously dangerous and unpredictable situation we'd been in for weeks. It was one of those moments; I felt almost calm. For a year and a half, I'd spent almost all of my time in a state of constant anxiety. Anxiety about schoolwork, my teachers, my peers, my dad, my mom's death, my body, my clothes, trying to hold conversations without embarrassing myself, and about the bullies and what they would do next. Everything had been tainted by the constant worries and the fact that I'd constantly been preparing for the worst case scenarios and maybe even setting up self-fulfilling prophecies in the process. I'd spent every waking moment immersed in it. Either I was stressing over something I'd done or something that had happened, I was concerned with the now, or I was anxious over what came in the future: distant or near. There was always something. And that was before I'd ever put on a costume and found myself caught up in my double-crossing plan against the Undersiders and everything that had stemmed from that. Before Dinah and running away from home, before I'd decided to go villain. Stuff that made some of what I'd been worried over before seem trivial. So why could I feel calm now?
I'm 100% with you, Skitter, I completely understand what you're feeling. Believe me, I'm even more tense than you about the whole meeting (meaning that it will keep me on the edge to see if Hookwolf will sell them to S9 or not). It is organized by this big nazi piece of shit (no matter how badass he's and how much he cares for his people, I still can't stop myself to not hate Hookwolf. I hate his ideology, I hate how much he believes in his ideology, I don't trust him) and he'll either play you all or treat you like you're nothing for him. I'd be surprised if Hookwolf will turn to be as reasonable as Kaiser (despite all his evilness, Kaiser was someone with enough brains in his head to respect truces and cooperation), but I have my doubts about him. He's too prideful and arrogant to walk on Kaiser's footsteps. Also, I don't trust the puppy wolf either. He's Siberian's gift. He was either modified by Bonesaw so he'll become a monster (worse than how Bitch will make him to be) and turn against Bitch herself or her teammates when S9 will decide or he have an implanted microphone so S9 will know all the time about Bitch's team plans (and others in extension). There's something very wrong about this puppy, its enough to know that he's a S9's gift and no S9's gift is innocent and safe.
I think it was that realization that there were moments where I was helpless to act, oddly enough. This boat? Speeding across the Endbringer-made lake? I had to be here. There was no other option, really. As I clutched the metal rim of the boat with one hand while we soared forward, the wind in my hair, I could accept the fact that I couldn't do anything in this time and place to get Dinah out of captivity sooner.
With that in mind, I surrendered myself of that responsibility for the present. Much in that same way, I cast off all the other worries, great and small. A light flashed ahead of us. Three blinks, then two. "Regent!" Tattletale called out. Regent raised a flashlight and flashed it twice, paused, then flashed it twice again. There was one flash in response. Grue slowed his boat as we reached our destination. Our meeting place was in the center of the lake, one of the buildings that still partially stood above water, leaning to one side so a corner of the roof was submerged, the opposite corner peaking high. Tattletale didn't slow our boat like Grue had his, and instead steered the boat in a wide 'u' to ride it up onto the corner of the roof. Regent and I hopped out to grab the front of the boat and help pull it up. When Grue rode his boat aground as well, a little more carefully, we helped him too. Bitch hopped out and spent a moment using gestures and tugs on the puppy's leash to get her dogs arranged and settled. Hookwolf and his Chosen had situated themselves at the corner of the roof that stood highest from the surrounding water. Hookwolf stood with his arms folded, densely covered in bristling spikes, barbs, blades and hooks, only his face untouched by the treatment, covered by his metal wolf mask instead. Othala, Victor and Cricket were sitting on the raised edge of the roof behind him. Stormtiger floated in the air just beside Cricket, and Rune had levitated three chunks of pavement into the air behind the group, each the size of a fire truck, like weapons poised at the ready. She sat on the edge of one of the chunks, her feet dangling over Victor's head. Menja stood just behind Rune on the floating piece of shattered road, twelve feet tall, fully garbed in her valkyrie armor, a shield in one hand and a long spear in the other.
I almost missed it in the gloom, but when I did spot it, it was almost impossible to ignore. On every patch of skin I could see in the Chosen's group, scars and scratches had just barely healed over. There were still faint indents and lines of pale skin that marked where the deep lacerations had been. The little scars made patterns across their skin, some spraying out from a single point, others running parallel to one another, going in the same direction like a snapshot of rainfall imprinted on their skin. With that many scratches and scars, they must have been hit hard. Faultline's group was gathered to one side. Faultline, Newter, and the new member Shamrock wore more concealing costumes than their usual. Faultline's face was covered in a tinted visor, and her arms and legs were covered in opaque gloves and leggings. Labyrinth and Spitfire were fully decked out in their usual concealing robe and fire-retardant suits, respectively. Only Gregor showed skin. The barnacle-like growths of spiral shells that covered his skin had multiplied on one side of his body, until there was more shell than skin. The skin around it was crimson enough that it stood out in the gloom. It looked tender.
So, Fenrir's Chosen (FUCK THEM) are already there, in the middle of the lake created by Leviathan, Faultline's Crew are there too, Undersiders just arrived, the only ones who still have to come are Coil, Merchants (FUCK THEM), Travelers and the last ones, Pure (HALF-FUCK THEM because they're a little more tolerable than Chosen...but then I remember they have motherfucker Night soooooooo........FUCK THEM too). Undersiders, Travelers and Faultline Crew (as long as they're paid) work for Coil, Fenrir's Chosen and Pure can go and fuck each others with fire-heated swastikas, and Merchants....they can serve as meat for experiments for S9, for all I care . This meeting is going to be a disaster. And I'm going to enjoy quite a lot as long as there's not a trap.
I saw a flash of light above us, and spotted Purity in the air high above the rooftop, using her power to create a flare of light, extinguish it, then create it again. There was an answering series of flashes from across the water. It was a different set of signals than the ones she'd set up with us. It made sense for the light signals to be different from group to group, so Purity could keep track of who was coming and where from. The main reason we'd agreed on this meeting place were the seclusion it offered, and the fact that it was just hard enough to access that the Nine wouldn't be able to approach without us knowing. Hopefully.
All at once, an incoming boat made its presence known. As though a switch was flipped, there was the sound of something that sounded like the combined noise of radio static coming from a bank of speakers, an eighteen wheeler with the muffler off and an onrushing train. It wasn't just noise – the vehicle flickered with flashes of electricity and lights that people could probably see from anywhere downtown.
Seeing it approach, I had no doubt it was a tinker contraption. It was the size of a small yacht, but it looked outfitted for war, with what looked like tesla coils crossed with old school tv antennae fueling its forward momentum and sending arcs of electricity dancing over the waves in its wake, as though it was riding on a current of lightning. Various guns had been placed haphazardly around the upper deck, each manned by a Merchant. Skidmark stood at the highest deck with Squealer, the driver. Squealer had apparently never grasped the concept of elegance in design. From what I'd read and heard, she went for size, augmentations and additions when she built her vehicles. She was kind of the polar opposite of Armsmaster in that regard. The hull of their boat scraped against the edge of the building, nearly running over the boat that Grue and Bitch had come in on. All of the lights shut off, and the Merchants descended onto the roof. Skidmark, Squealer, Mush, Scrub, Trainwreck, the telekinetic whirlwind lady with the long hair and one other. Another reason for this meeting place had been subtlety, keeping out of sight and off the radar. The Merchants apparently hadn't gotten the message. "Hey!" Hookwolf growled, "What part of keep a low profile don't you fucking understand?"
"bangs her head against desk" I swear, this story will give me serious bumps on the head if I'll keep banging my head like this. And I can't stop doing that as long as people like Merchants EXIST in this story. People? I'm too kind with them. Rats are not people . Yep, Hookwolf, you're right, but what good can you expect to happen coming from these primitive rats? Even their Tinker is a dumbass and she's the polar opposite of Armsmaster in EVERYTHING. Armsmaster is a Lord and a King compared with this bitch. Now I'm convinced that S9 know where they're, even if its not Hookwolf's trap. Thanks, rats, hope your vehicle will explode in your face and you'll all fucking die.
Skidmark smirked, raising his chin to give it an arrogant tilt, "We did. My Squealer built a box that cancels out light and noise at a certain distance. Nice and in your face up close, almost invisible and silent when far away. Isn't that right, baby?"
Squealer just smiled. It probably wasn't as sexy or cute as she thought it was. Aisha, when left to her own devices, was a pretty girl who dressed trashy. Squealer, I felt, was more of a trashy woman who dressed trashy. "Hey, Faultline," Skidmark's smirk dropped off his face as he realized who else was present. "What the motherfuck were you doing, fucking with my party!?"
"You had something we needed." Faultline's response was as measured and calm as Skidmark's question wasn't. "Who hired you, bitch? Tell me and my Merchants won't come after you in revenge. All you'll have to do is return that shit you stole or pay me back for it. Maybe you can spit-polish my knob for a little goodwill." "Not going to happen." "Then forget sucking my cock. Pay me back and tell me who hired you and we'll call it even." She shook her head. It was more the kind of head shake that accompanied an eye roll. Skidmark went on, "You're mercenaries. Don't tell me you don't have the cash. I'll only ask for five mil. One for each vial you took." Fautline didn't answer him. Instead she looked at Hookwolf and asked him, "Did we really need to invite him? Does he contribute anything to this discussion?"
Well, at least Merchants did something smart for the first time in their existence. But still I'm going to squeal in joy if they'll be slaughtered by S9, I won't feel not even 0,00000000000% bad for any of them, on the contrary . They're so shitty, Faultline is too much of a Lady for Skidmark, if she was less of a lady, then this pervert bastard's jaws and nose would have been gone by now (and not thanks to powers, I know how Faultline's power works; all she have to do is to punch the living daylight out of him; she already kicked his ass once, he won't stand any chance against her, powers or not). Yes, Hookwolf, explain: why Merchants? They have good powers, especially Skidmark and Scrub, but they have zero intelligence and zero self control. They're useless.
"He has nine powers on his team," Hookwolf responded. "Ideology isn't important."
"He doesn't have an ideology. He's just an idiot." "Enough of that," Hookwolf snarled, his voice hard with a sudden anger. "We don't fight amongst ourselves. Not on neutral ground. Both of you shut the fuck up." Faultline shook her head and leaned over to whisper something to Shamrock. The Merchants settled themselves on the side of the roof opposite our group. Skidmark gave Grue the evil eye. Was he still resentful over what had happened at the last meeting? Being denied a seat at the table? Another series of flashes served to alert us, indirectly, of incoming arrivals. The Travelers appeared soon after. Trickster, Sundancer, Ballistic each stood on the back of some kind of turtle serpent. I couldn't make out Genesis's form in the gloom. What little light was available came from the moon and Purity's radiance from where she floated above us. I could have used my bugs to get a feel for the shape Genesis had taken, but my habit was generally to place my bugs on clothing where they wouldn't be noticed, and Genesis was effectively naked. I didn't know anything about them, but they were our allies. I didn't want to irritate her and upset anything between our two groups.
Coil was the last of us to arrive, maybe because he'd wanted to be fashionably late. The two soldiers who'd driven his boat stayed behind. Purity set down by where the boats had landed, followed by Fog and Crusader, who I hadn't seen in the dark. Night stepped out of the lake, between our parked boats and onto the roof, water streaming from her cloak. Had she been the just-in-case measure if an incoming boat hadn't known the signal? She would be invisible in the pitch black gloom beneath the water's surface, which would mean she wasn't in her human form. The way the Travelers and Coil had positioned themselves, we'd formed a haphazard ring. From the top of the roof, going clockwise, the arranged groups were Hookwolf's Chosen, Faultline's crew, us, the Pure, Coil, the Travelers and the Merchants. "It seems everyone is here," Coil spoke, taking in the collected villains. Forty-ish of us in all. "Not quite everyone," Hookwolf replied.
FUCK YOU, NIGHT BITCH, FOR GIVING ME FUCKING NIGHTMARES WITH YOUR INHUMAN FORM AND PRESENCE! Ok, all the good and gentle people are here: Fenrir's Chosen, Merchants, Pure, Coil...all of my favorite characters gathered in the same place "cough, cough" Sorry, I just drowned in my own sarcasm. I'm surprised that Genesis send her projection and didn't come personally. This is something definitely wrong with this girl and I don't think is her fault. She must be either blind or have another handicap, poor thing. There are more people to arrive? WTF, Hookwolf?............S9, right? Its a trap, I knew it.
Othala touched Victor, and Victor raised one hand. A fireball appeared in it, then disappeared as he clenched his hand. He repeated the process two more times. "Who are you signalling?" Purity's asked. Her hand flared with light, ready to fire. "It would be a grave and stupid mistake if you invited the Nine," Coil told Hookwolf. "We're not stupid," Hookwolf said. Three answering flashes appeared over the water. I heard the faint noise of a boat motor. Everyone present on the roof readied for a fight, turning towards either Hookwolf or the incoming boat. I used my power to call on local crabs, and to draw out the bugs I'd stored in the boat, keeping them close to me. There were three more flashes, close, and Victor responded again. In moments, the boat arrived. It wasn't the Nine. It was the good guys. Miss Militia was first out of the boat, and Battery activated her power to haul the boat up onto 'land' in a flash before stepping up to Miss Militia's side. Triumph, Weld and Clockblocker rounded out their group. Our circle made room, though half the people present seemed to be tensed and ready to use their powers with the slightest excuse.
"It seems we have a problem," Miss Militia spoke, as her group took her place between the Pure and us Undersiders. "We do," Hookwolf said. "Two problems, actually." "Two?" Purity asked. Hookwolf pointed at the Travelers, then pointed at Grue and the rest of our group. "They're being cocky, think they're being clever. Figure we should get all this out in the open, at least so you're aware. You too, Coil, Miss Militia." "Perhaps you'd better explain," Coil responded. Hookwolf pointed at each of us in turn, "Grue has been making attacks against my people in the upper downtown area. Howling has been heard in the Trainyard. Bitch. Regent was sighted in the college neighborhoods. Skitter made a move to take over the Boardwalk and claim it for herself. Tattletale is either abstaining, or more likely, putting herself in the middle of the Docks and keeping her head down." "So?" Tattletale asked. Hookwolf ignored her. "Downtown we've got Ballistic attacking my people in the upper downtown neighborhoods, north of this lake here. Sundancer was spotted in the shopping district, Genesis at the downtown coast, near the south ferry station. Trickster has been driving looters out of the heart of downtown, the towers. You seeing the pattern? All of them alone. Most of them making moves to take a piece of the city for themselves." "We already knew they were talking territory," Miss Militia responded, "This isn't a priority. The Nine-"
..........Impressive. Heroes. I honestly didn't expected at these guests. Well, hello, Miss Militia, Clockblocker, Battery, Triumph and <3 <3 <3 MY Weld. Ok, this is going to be better now that I know its not a trap. Still, Hookwolf pisses me to not end. This meeting should have the motto A GOOD S9 MEMBER IS A DEAD S9 MEMBER not LET'S KILL UNDERSIDERS AND TRAVELERS BECAUSE THEY'RE WORKING TOGETHER. Shut the fuck up, Hookwolf. Yes, you figured they're together, congratulations, but you should concentrate over the real menace, not over them. They're not even half as dangerous as S9 and you'll not stand any chance against S9 without external help, you damn bastard.
"They haven't taken territory," Hookwolf snapped back, "They're taking the city. Split it up all nice and proper between them, and now they're taking advantage of the distraction the Nine are giving them to secure their positions before we fucking catch on."
Grue looked at Trickster, and there was some kind of unspoken agreement between them. Knowing Grue, I was certain he was deliberately ignoring Coil. No use volunteering more information than necessary. Trickster spoke, "We didn't know the Nine were around before we put this into motion." There was a flicker of surprise on Purity's face. "So Hookwolf is right. You are taking over." "Something like that," Grue responded. What was Hookwolf's game? Had he brought everyone here under a different pretext so he could ambush us on this front? "This isn't of any concern to us," Miss Militia spoke, stern. "The only reason we're here is to get information on the Slaughterhouse Nine, their motives, and strategies for responding." "That might help you in the next week or two, but a month from now you'll be regretting it," Hookwolf told her.
"Quite frankly, I don't think we have any other choice," Miss Militia replied. "We do," Hookwolf said. "They want us to lose our territories to them while we busy ourselves dealing with the Nine-" "That's not our intent," Trickster cut him off. "Pigshit," Skidmark muttered. He looked angry. Even Purity had a hard cast to her face, or what I could see of it through the glare of her eyes and hair. These were people who thought highly of themselves. Whether that self-esteem was deserved or not, they didn't like being played for fools. All at once, this meeting had become about us versus them. The Travelers and the Undersiders against everyone else. Hookwolf said, "Then agree to a truce. So long as the Nine are here, you're hands off your territories, no fighting, no business. We can arrange something, maybe you all stay at a nice hotel on the Protectorate's tab until this is dealt with. That'll mean we can all focus on the real threat." Stay in a hotel until the Nine were dead, arrested or driven out of town. He couldn't seriously expect us to do that. "I'm inclined to agree," Coil answered, after a moment's consideration. "Perhaps now is an opportune time to share this information: I have sources that inform me that should Jack Slash survive his visit to Brockton Bay, it bodes ill for everyone." "That's vague," Faultline spoke. "I'll be more specific. Should Jack Slash not die before he leaves Brockton Bay, it is very likely the world will end in a matter of years," Coil spoke. "Bullshit," Skidmark answered. The others were showing varying reactions. I doubt many bought it. "You contacted us to say something very similar a couple of days ago." Miss Militia said, "But I have the same questions now that I did then. Do you have sources? Can you verify this? Or provide more information?" Behind her, Weld reached into his pocket and withdrew his smartphone. "More information? Yes. I have sought further details and pieced together a general picture of things. Jack Slash is the catalyst for this event, not the cause. At some point in the coming years, Jack Slash kills, talks to, meets or influences someone. This causes a chain of events to occur, leading to the deaths of anywhere from thirty-three to ninety-six percent of the world's population." That gave everyone pause.
On short long:
-Hookwolf is an IRRATIONAL BEAST. He wants to make everyone (Pure, Merchants, Coil and Faultline's Crew -without knowing that the last ones work with Undersiders/Travelers) hate UT, accusing them that they're stealing the city for themselves (the truth is that they're stealing it for Coil but this is something this brute doesn't know) even if he needs their help against S9. What Fenrir's Chosen/Pure and Merchants can really do by themselves? Not too much, they don't have a Tattletale or a Skitter in their teams. Or a Trickster or a Coil.
-Coil pretends to be as neutral as possible, not wanting for the irrational nazi to notice that he's involved with UT as well. A very good move coming from Coil.
-Miss Militia is neutral and wise as always.
-If I were in Grue's place, I'd be like: fuck, we're not going to hand off our territories, we'll keep them even if you'll refuse to cooperate with us. We can handle themselves better than you anyways.
Coil went on, "If Jack Slash is killed, the event is likely to occur at some point in the more distant future instead."
"Dinah Alcott," Weld spoke. All eyes turned to the metal-skinned boy. "Beg pardon?" Coil asked. "Thursday, April fourteenth of this year, Dinah Alcott was kidnapped from her home and has not been seen since. Dinah had missed several weeks of classes with crippling headaches in the months before her disappearance. Investigation found no clear medical causes. Police interviewed her friends. She had confided to them that she thought she could see the future, but doing so hurt her." "You think Dinah is Coil's source. That makes a lot of sense." Miss Militia turned from Weld to Coil, and her voice was heavy with accusation, "Coil?" "I did not kidnap her. I offered Dinah training and relief from the drawbacks of her abilities on the contingency that she immediately cut off all contact with her family and friends and provide me a year of service." He lied so smoothly, flawlessly. What really rattled me was hearing him refer to her as Dinah for the first time. Coil added, "She took a week to decide, then contacted me during one of her attacks." Of course, the heroes weren't about to take his word for gospel. Miss Militia's lips pursed into a thin line. "Could I contact her to verify this?" "No. For one thing, I have no reason to let you. Also, the process of gaining control of her power requires that she be kept strictly isolated from outside elements. A simple phone call would set her back weeks." "So Coil has a precog," Hookwolf growled, "That explains how he always seemed to fucking get the upper hand when he pit his mercenaries against the Empire." Coil clasped his hands in front of him, "I knew you might come to these conclusions if I volunteered this information. You all should already know I am not a stupid man. Would I weaken my position if I did not wholeheartedly believe that what I was saying was correct? Jack Slash must die, or we all die." "And to maximize our chances for this to happen," Hookwolf added, "The alliance of the Travelers and the Undersiders must concede to our terms. They hold no territory until the Nine are dead." Coil deliberated for a few seconds. "I think this makes the most sense." Skidmark and Purity nodded as well. Coil's response caught me off guard. He was throwing us to the wolves to maintain his anonymity in things. I felt my heart sink. It made sense, on a basic level, and I could see why the other groups were agreeing. I mean, our territory wasn't worth risking that the world ending. Coil was apparently willing to delay his plans, or pretend to delay his plans while he carried them out in secret. But I would be giving up my territory, condemning Dinah to more days, more weeks of captivity. I really didn't like that idea.
On short long:
-Weld and Miss Militia are convinced that Coil kidnapped Dinah and that he's lying now, pretending that she's his willingly student. Which is very good because they might try to save her in the near future, possible before Skitter. Anyone who'll save Dinah will do the best thing in this story so far.
-Coil is playing his role flawlessly, pretending to agree with the irrational brute Hookwolf, even if deep down he knows that UT will never agree with Hookwolf's stupid request; he probably split the timelines in the meantime and he knows their answers from Timeline A.
-Hookwolf is still an irrational bastard that I'm going to enjoy so much seeing him slaughtered by S9. I lost the small respect I have for him. He rather cares for some territories than for unity against an all powerful enemy. Kaiser would spit in his face.
"Easy decision for you guys to make," Trickster said, chuckling wryly, "You're not giving anything up. In fact, if we went with your plan, there'd be nothing stopping you from sneaking a little territory, passing on word to your underlings to prey on our people, consolidating your forces and preparing them for war, all while we're cooped up in that hotel or wherever."
He was right. I could imagine it. Not just weeks, but months lost. We'd just lost the element of surprise thanks to Hookwolf outing us here, and the local villains and heroes were now all too aware of the scale of what we were doing. Add the fact that they would get a breather? A chance to regroup and prepare? To retaliate? Regaining any of the ground we lost while we helped hunt down the Slaughterhouse Nine would be excruciating. In those weeks or months it took to retake territory and slog ahead with constant opposition, there could be further delays. It would mean that my plan to efficiently seize the Boardwalk and surrounding Docks would fall apart. I'd have to pull away from my people and my neighborhoods to help the others fight off attacks. I wouldn't be able to offer exemplary service to earn Coil's trust and respect in the mess that ensued. The opportunity to free Dinah would slip from my grasp. Worst of all, there was no reason for it. We'd claimed more of the city as our territory than they had assumed, and now Hookwolf was building on that, giving them reason to worry we had other sinister motives. "No," I murmured, barely audible to myself. I could see some of the other Undersiders -Grue, Tattletale and Bitch- turn their heads a fraction in my direction. "No," Grue echoed me, his voice carrying across the rooftop. "No?" Coil asked, his voice sharp with surprise. Was there condemnation in there? It was very possible we weren't going the route he wanted. Grue shook his head, "We'll help against the Nine. That's fine, sensible. But Trickster is right. If we abandoned our territories in the meantime, we'd be putting ourselves in an ugly situation. That's ridiculous and unnecessary." Trickster nodded at his words. "If you keep them you'll be putting yourself in an advantageous position," Purity intoned. "Don't be stupid, Undersiders, Travelers." Faultline cut in, "You can't put money, power and control at a higher priority than our collective survival. If Coil's precog is right, we have to band together against the Nine the same way we would against an Endbringer. For the same reasons." "And we will," Trickster said. "We just won't give up our territory to do it." "Because you're hoping to expand further and faster while the Nine occupy the rest of us," Hookwolf growled. "We agree to this like you want, and you attack us from behind." "We haven't given you any reason to think we'll betray a truce," Grue told him, his voice echoing more than usual, edged with anger. The darkness around him was roiling. "You have. You're refusing the terms," Purity said.
Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees, Grue and Skitter, your echoed my decisions. You're not going to give up your territories so the nazis would turn them into the concentration camps. Good, good, excellent. I'm sure 100% Coil agrees with you but he have to continue to play his role. Fuck you, Hookwolf, just fuck you. You fucked up a possible very strong alliance against the most dangerous human villains possible only because you're too prideful to give up at your stupid plans involving territories, your greediness that make you wanting to take something for yourself that belongs to someone else will fucking kill you. They worked hard for their territories, they protect their people (even Bitch protects her dogs) and you want to steal their work because you're too coward and weak to take their territories through a fair fight. You suck, you're the biggest LOSER. You'll only have your nazis and druggies' help, that's all. Not enough to fuck S9 up, eh?
Hookwolf was manipulating this. He wasn't as subtle about it as Kaiser had been, it was even transparent, what he was doing. Dead obvious. At the same time, the scenario he was suggesting was just dangerous and believable enough to the Merchants, to his Chosen, and to the Pure that they couldn't afford to ignore it. Coil couldn't talk sense into them without potentially revealing his role as our backer. Even the heroes couldn't counter his argument, because there was that dim possibility that he was right, that they would lose control of the city to villains if we continued to grab power.
Which was admittedly the case. Dealing with the local heroes was one of our long-term goals, for Coil's plan. We were fighting for Coil's plan and Coil wasn't helping. He remained silent, inscrutable, sticking to the situation that worked best for him and him alone. Damn him. "You'll be earning the enmity of everyone here if you refuse," Hookwolf said. Was there a hint of gloating in his tone? "We'll be ruining ourselves if we agree, too," Grue retorted. "I strongly recommend you agree to this deal," Purity said. "No, I don't think we will," Trickster said. "No," Grue echoed Trickster, folding his arms. That only provoked more argument, along many of the same lines. It was clear this was getting nowhere. I turned to Miss Militia, who stood only a few feet from me. When I spoke to her, she seemed to only partially pay attention to me, as she kept an eye on the ongoing debate. "This isn't what we need right now. Hookwolf's made this about territory, not the Nine, and we can't back down without-" I stopped as she turned her head, stepped a little closer and tried again, "We, or at least I have people depending on me. I can't let Hookwolf prey on them. We all need to work together to fight the Nine. Can't you do something?" Miss Militia frowned. "Please." She turned away from me and called out, "I would suggest a compromise." The arguing stopped, and all eyes turned to her. "The Undersiders and Travelers would move into neutral territory until the Nine were dealt with. But so would the powered individuals of the Merchants, the Chosen, the Pure, Coil and Faultine's Crew." "Where would this be? In the PRT headquarters?" Hookwolf asked. "Perhaps." "You were attacked as well, weren't you? Who did they go after?" "Mannequin went after Armsmaster. Armsmaster was hospitalized." That was some small shock to everyone present, though I might have been less surprised than some. Armsmaster as a prospective member for the Nine. "What you suggest is too dangerous," Faultline said. "We'd all be gathered in one or two locations for them to attack, and if Armsmaster was attacked, we could be too." "And their whole reason for being here is recruitment," Coil spoke, "Perhaps the plan would work if we could trust one another, but we cannot, when many here were scouted for their group, and may turn on their potential rivals to prove their worth. We would be vulnerable to an attack from within, and we would be easy targets." "We could make the same arguments about ourselves," Grue pointed out, "If we agreed, we'd be sitting ducks for whoever came after us." "I think the Protectorate can help watch and guard nine people," Coil replied, "I'm less confident of their ability to protect everyone present." So Coil wasn't willing to play along if it meant losing his ability to stay where he was, but he was willing to make life harder on us, his territory holders. Did he have some plan in mind? Or was he just that callous? Either way, he was an asshole. "No. I'm afraid that compromise won't work," Hookwolf said, squaring his shoulders. Miss Militia glanced my way. She didn't say or do anything, but I could almost read her mind: I tried. Hookwolf wasn't about to give up anything here. He had us right where he wanted us, and he was poised to kill two birds with one stone: The Nine and his rivals for territory. "It seems," Hookwolf said, "The Travelers and the Undersiders won't agree to our terms for the truce. Merchants, Pure, Faultline, Coil? Are you willing to band together with my group?" Purity, Coil and Skidmark nodded. Faultline shook her head. "You're saying no, Faultline?" "We're mercenaries. We can't take a job without pay. Even a job as important as this." "I will handle your payment here as I did for the ABB, Faultline," Coil said, sounding just a touch exasperated. "And Miss Militia?" Hookwolf asked, "A truce?" "Keep the business to a minimum, no assaulting or attacking civilians," Miss Militia said, "We still have to protect this city, there's no give there. Don't give us a reason to bother with you, and we'll be focused wholly on the Slaughterhouse Nine in the meantime." "Good. That's all we ask." The leaders of the new group crossed the roof to shake hands. In the process, things shuffled so that our group, the Travelers and the heroes were near the bottom of the roof. The heroes moved off to one side, as if to guard us from any retaliation, making the separation in forces all the more obvious. "You guys are making a mistake," Grue said. "I think you have things the wrong way around," Hookwolf said. "Nobody wants to break the peace at neutral ground, so perhaps you should go before things get violent?" Tattletale asked, "You won't let us stick around and discuss the Nine, who they attacked, what our overall strategies should be? Even if we aren't working together as a single group?" She paused, looking deliberately at Faultline, "You know, the smart thing to do?" She was met only with cold stares and crossed arms. There was little else to be said or done. We'd lost here. I turned and helped push our boat into the water, then held it steady as everyone piled in. Tattletale had started the motor, and we were gone the second I'd hopped inside.
So, Hookwolf is the biggest loser and the most stupid person here (can't wait for S9 to deal with both nazis and druggies and utterly annihilate them ); Coil is the biggest asshole, but he have his plans and he's not going to abandon UT as long as they're necessary for him to take over the city; Faultline Crew is working for Coil; Trainwreck is Coil's mole in Merchants and Coil will know everything about Merchants/nazis' future plans involving S9; UT can fight by themselves, even if it will be very, very difficult (but again, they have Tattletale and Skitter ), Miss Militia is very smart but she's like one of the very few smart people at this meeting, at least she tried her best. I liked how this meeting ended, better to be a lone wolf than work with stupid and arrogant nazis.
Hello, my friends, and welcome to Chapter 3 12.03 | Worm "sighs" I noticed that everytime when characters (especially various groups of villains) try to make an alliance against another group of villains more dangerous than everyone else, their meetings can be summarize like this: Everyone: We must make an alliance against ABB. They're out of control and hazardous for us all. Hookwolf: My fighting dog ring was fucked up by a Bitch. This is what bothers me the most now. I want to punish her. Everyone: We have bigger problems than your bussiness, Hook.
Everyone: We myst make an alliance against Slaughterhouse 9. They're psychos and a real danger for everyone. Hookwolf: Undersiders and Travelers work together and they're stealing territories. This is what bothers me the most now. We have to declare them our enemies. Merchants: He's right. Pure: He's right. Undersiders/Travelers: We have bigger problems than this one. Protectorate/Wards/Faultline Crew/Coil "thinking": At least Merchants have an excuse for their immense stupidity, but nazis... what kind of excuse they have?
Ladies and gentlemen, Hookwolf in a nutshell.
I hope this is not going to be something that is going to happen everytime when a new team of supervillains will appear. Will get boring with time.
"Let me guess," Regent remarked to Bitch, "He's been swearing since we left." Bitch nodded. The Travelers had already arrived. They stood in a huddle by the water while Genesis disintegrated into several vague floating body parts. "Coil just bent us over and fucked us," Grue said. "I dunno," Tattletale answered. "That might have been the only way for him to play things, with the way his power and operations work." "That would do a hell of a lot more to ease my concerns if I had any idea what his power was."
Tattletale only offered an apologetic half-smile and a shrug to that. I tried to help her out. "Look, we do know that Coil is smart, he's proud, and he's at his best when he's managing his enterprise. Being cooped up, he'd be hit hard in all three areas. Limited tools to work with, limited access to his people, and he'd be less powerful in a way that everyone would be aware of." "That doesn't excuse how thoroughly he just screwed us, without even trying to help us out."
Looks like only Skitter and Tattletale know about Coil's power, the others have no idea. I seriously didn't noticed this till know, I believed that Tattletale told everyone but it looks like I was wrong. Ok, Grue, don't be so mad, Coil only played a role, he didn't fucked you. Even Tattletale agrees with me . I think that in one timeline, Coil (probably knowing Hookwolf pretty well) had thought that the nazi leader will demand Undersiders/Travelers to give up their territories and asked UT what they want to do. They said that they'll refuse to hand off their territories and Coil agreed with them. Now, in this timeline, Coil already knew their answers and only pretended that he's upset, playing his card perfectly. Voila! Nothing is actually lost, friends, Coil still have his spy, Trainwreck, so he will inform you about Merchants+ nazis' each movement, so you know how to plan your own attack when their plans will fail. Let's not forget someone....I don't exactly remember that person, all I know is that is a girl, she's wearing a horned mask and have a connection to Grue and she can be the best SPY in the world for some reasons. You can send this girl to spy on Fenrir Chosen unless...unless she's already spying on them. What if she was in the building during the entire meeting but nobody noticed her so she wasn't even mentioned? That would be so neat. Again, does this girl have a codename and power? I don't remember anything about.
I shook my head. "I don't think he's completely screwed us over. We know Coil's got at least one undercover
agent, Trainwreck-" Tattletale interrupted to say, "He's got a whole lot more than one." "Thought he might. Doesn't it make sense that he'd assist us by being one himself? I get the impression he likes the control it affords him and the amount of information he can get this way." "Maybe," Grue conceded. "We should focus on where we go from here," I said. "Agreed," Trickster called out. Genesis had finished disappearing, and Trickster was walking over to our group, followed by Sundancer and Ballistic. He extended a hand for Grue to shake, then turned to Tattletale, me, Regent and Bitch to do the same. Bitch didn't take his hand, turning away to focus on her dogs instead. Trickster took the snub in stride. "If nothing else, I'm glad we get a chance to talk. Unless things get a lot worse from here, I'm hoping we'll all be working side by side for a little while."
"Let's hope," Grue agreed. Trickster said, "We just sent Genesis back in a more discreet form to listen in." "Imp is staying behind as well," Tattletale informed him, "So we've got redundancy there." "Christ," Grue snapped his head from one side to the next, as if he could spot his sister that way. With a note of alarm in his voice, he asked, "Imp's still there?" "She's okay," Tattletale reassured him, "They won't notice her." "They could. We don't know how consistently her power works, or if it works in a group that large, and we can't be sure we know every power the people there have, if anyone has some extra senses that might bypass her ability. Fuck! This is the exact type of situation I wanted to keep her away from. The whole reason I let her join this group was to keep her close enough that I could rein in this sort of recklessness." "She's a bit of a rebel, but she's not stupid," Tattletale said, "Trust her to hold her own." "I wouldn't trust myself to hold my own in her shoes," Grue told her. "Christ. Skitter, can you send a few bugs over that way, tell me if she's in one piece?" I nodded, while Trickster slapped his forehead.
Ah, NOW I remember (my brain is such a bitch sometimes). Her codename is Imp and she's Grue's sister. Still I can't remember her real name . And she indeed was present during the whole meeting (still is there because the meeting was over only for UT, the others are still talking and planning). Nice little trick, Wildbow, even if I kind of noticed it. I can imagine something like this: Hookwolf, pointing to Imp: Who's this new chick and what she's doing here? Skidmark: Just a random trash bitch, let's ignore her. Hookwolf: Agree. Back to our crucial discussion. So, Undersiders and Travelers' territories....
Too bad that S9 have Cherish, otherwise Imp would have spied on them in their own base (they should have a base where they eat, sleep and do whatever psychos are doing). But Cherish will feel Imp's presence based on her emotions and will notice that Imp is not someone harmless, good only to be ignored by them.
"The bugs," he said, "I could have told Genesis to stick around while you scouted, wait, no. Why send Imp if you have the bugs?"
"I can't see or hear through the swarm, really. Not well enough to listen in." "You did once," Tattletale told me. That surprised me. "When?" "After the fight with Bakuda. You were doped up, hurt, you had a concussion, but you were able to tell us the kind of music someone was listening to, and he was way out of earshot." "Seriously? And you didn't tell me this?" Grue shook his head. "Just speaking for myself, I had a lot on my mind, between you and the others being in rough shape and the ABB setting off bombs across the city. I completely forgot until just now. Sorry." Tattletale nodded. "That's huge," I said, "Do you know how much I could use something like that?"
"Why can't you now?" Trickster asked. "Bugs sense things so differently, my brain can't translate what they see and hear into something I can process. It's all black and white blotches, high-pitched squeals and bass throbs." I paused. "Imp's perfectly fine, by the way. At least, I can't find her, but nobody's reacting like they found a spy in their midst." Grue sighed, "Okay." "So this sensory part of your power, you stopped trying?" Tattletale asked. The way she phrased that nettled me. "In the three months between my getting my powers and first going out in costume, I saw zero improvement in that department. None, zilch. When I did start going out in costume, I was worried the useless sights and sounds might distract me at some crucial juncture. Between that and the fact that it was like hitting my head against a metaphorical brick wall…" "You gave up," Regent said. He was trying to get on my nerves, I knew it. "I stopped trying. But now that I know it's somehow possible, I dunno. I can start looking for a way." The degree to which it would expand my capabilities, it was tempting. That kind of expansion of my sensory abilities could be a matter of life and death at some point. I could theoretically listen in on most of the people in my territory. Would I want to, though? The invasiveness of that kind of creeped me out, and I had a pretty high creepiness tolerance.
I agree, Skitter should train her hearing-through-bugs part of her power because that would be pretty useful. She can hide bugs discreetly in S9's clothes (except for Siberian who's too paranoiac about people listening her through microphones planted in her clothes so she gave up at wearing them ) and listen to their conversations. I want Skitter to reach the maximum potential of her power, one day to be able to control all the insects in the world in the same time or even insects from other Earths. That would be the BEST thing.
"It might be like your range boosts. Tied to your mental state," Tattletale said.
"Except my range boosts are probably linked to me feeling trapped, and I somehow doubt I felt that way when I was doped up and waking up in that hospital bed or ambulance or wherever." "It's something you can work through," she said. "And now that you know to look for it, you should push yourself to use that part of your power so you can see when it's stronger or weaker." I nodded, and willed myself to tear down all the mental barriers and safeguards that walled my brain off from the sights and sounds the bugs wanted to send my way. It was every bit as grating and annoying as I recalled. This would take some getting used to. "Listen," Trickster said. "Ballistic's HQ is close by. Since my group is going to be waiting for Genesis, and you guys will want to hang around and pick up Imp when she's done, maybe you want to come by and we can discuss strategy in the meantime?" "Sounds like a good idea," Grue said. "Thanks." Ballistic gestured toward a nearby street and we all started walking in that direction. Grue started us off. "Number one, we know that they were here to recruit. Who were they recruiting?" "Me," Regent said. That drew a few looks of surprise from the Travelers. He elaborated, "My sister is their newest member, replaced Hatchet Face. She did it to fuck with me more than out of a genuine desire to have me join." "Armsmaster is another," I pointed out. "According to Miss Militia, Mannequin wanted him." "The, uh, sixth member of the Travelers is the next recruit, I guess," Trickster admitted. "Crawler hit Coil's place." "Sixth?" I asked. "If there's four of you, then-"
"We have two group members who don't see any combat. They spend most or all of their time at Coil's headquarters. I understand if that raises a lot of questions, but I –we– would really appreciate it if you guys could leave it at that for now. I'm thinking we'll introduce you to the others soon." "I'm okay with dropping it so long as you're not withholding anything crucial," Grue said. "I'm happy to stay on topic as much as possible anyways." Trickster tipped his hat. "Appreciated. Looked like Hookwolf got hit. His entire group did. Shatterbird?" "Yeah," Tattletale replied. "Can confirm that one." "Shatterbird, Crawler, Mannequin and…" I trailed off, looking at Regent for help in placing the name. "Cherish." "If the condition of Faultline's crew was any indication," Tattletale said, "We can make an educated guess that Burnscar paid them a visit. Thing is, I can't even begin to guess who she visited. Spitfire's too nice, and none of the others really have the, I dunno, edge?"
They're going to Car Cemetery Lair until Imp and Genesis' projection will be done with spying...wait a minute, Imp is there and spying? Since when? I'm not sure I noticed this. So, there are 6 Travelers: Trickster, Ballistic, Sundancer, Genesis, Noelle and...Oliver, I suppose. Since he seemed pretty close to the team, like he's their friend. Yep, Oliver must be the last Traveler. I wonder if he have powers. Maybe his power is very weak/useless during combat, that's the reason why he doesn't help his teammates in combat and prefer to stay at Coil'a base all this time. "shakes her head" Bitch, Bitch, you still didn't told anyone about Siberian's visit and "gift". If something will happen to either team because of you cute puppy it will be only your fault. I'll accuse you first. And I'll be pissed even more on you for this than I was when you betrayed Skitter.
"In any case, that leaves the people who Jack, Siberian and Bonesaw nominated. Any ideas?"
"Maybe they're not done," Tattletale spoke, "But I think they are. From what I've read on them, and from what my power is giving me, I have the distinct impression they all would have made some kind of move by now. They either hit all at once, shock and awe, or they draw it out. This is the former." "But are they all picking new members?" Tattletale shrugged. "No clue. We know of four, at least." Ballistic led us into a parking garage. We walked between rows of cars that had been pummelled by the floodwater. Panels had been dented, windows shattered, and some of the cars had been lifted and pushed into one another. Sundancer formed a tiny 'sun' and held it up for light, while Regent turned on the flashlight he'd brought. We descended into the bowels of the garage, and stopped at the ramp between the second level down and the third. It had collapsed, and both rubble and two or three cars sat in the water that flooded the floor below. "This way," Ballistic said. He grabbed a length of pipe that stuck out where the ramp had collapsed and climbed down. Trickster gestured and we moved to follow. Clever, clever. Out of sight from any vantage point on the level above, short walls had been set around the fallen ramp. They ensured that the flooding and the wreckage were all contained to one area to sell the illusion, and kept everything else on the lowest level of the basement dry. Cars had been removed, clearing the area for use as an underground base. Ballistic pulled off his mask and tossed it onto the bed that sat in one corner. He cleared a few dirty dishes from the table in the middle of the area and invited us to sit while he fetched some extra seats. He had a bit of a heavy brow and a snub nose, and his short brown hair, damp with sweat, made me think of the jocks that always seemed to gravitate towards Sophia. Still, he wasn't a bad looking guy. If a guy like him had asked me out in some alternate universe where Emma had never stopped being my friend and I'd never been bullied? Just going by his looks, I might have said yes. Trickster unmasked as well. He definitely didn't remind me of one of the jocks. His hair was longer than many girls wore theirs, he had light brown skin and an unfortunate hook nose. Combined with his intense stare, he gave me the impression of a hawk or some other bird of prey. Grue, Tattletale and Regent all unmasked as well while they got themselves seated. Trickster offered each of them a cigarette, then offered one to me. I turned him down, as did the others. "So what are we discussing here?" Sundancer asked from behind me. I turned and saw a rather attractive blonde girl with a long neck and delicate features. Her hair was expertly pinned up behind her head. "I was under the impression that the Slaughterhouse Nine were pretty much unbeatable." "No," Brian said. "Some of them, maybe, but others are as vulnerable as you or me. Thing is, Dinah told us that our odds against these bastards aren't good. Our chances of winning are pretty low, and it's pretty damn likely we'll get killed if we confront them head on."
Car Cemetery Lair WITHOUT cars. Any explanation for this? Ballistic already send all the cars directly on the Moon . Alright, everyone (except for Skitter) pulled their masks down. Why I still don't know Ballistic's name? I just can't call him Ballistic when he's unmasked. Feels WEIRD to me. And I personally think that Krouse is a handsome young man (even if he can be such an asshole at times) but this is my opinion. Skitter can think whatever she wants. Alright, they're discussing plans about how to effectively attack S9 and they agree that they won't have many chances in case of a direct attack. They must use their wits and intelligence to defeat their enemies by exploring their weaknesses. Maybe the nazis and Merchants have some powerful members but Undersiders/Travelers have something more that they completely lack: wits and intelligence.
"So we don't confront them head on," Trickster said.
Feeling conspicuous as the only one with a mask on, I pulled mine off. It took me a second to adjust to the blue tint that everything had after I'd spent over an hour looking through the pale yellow lenses of my mask. I realized Trickster was setting up a laptop. He placed it at one corner of the table, facing the rest of us. "Oliver?" "I'm here, Trickster," a male voice came from the computer. "Feel like patching in Noelle?"
"Sure. She's in an okay mood. A little drowsy. I'll be right back." Trickster pressed a button on the keyboard and then turned to us, "Tattletale. I'll be as quick as I can. Coil promised he'd get you to help us, but he's taken his time introducing you to our group. The cynic in me suspects there's a reason, and the pessimist in me says that reason is that he's already figured out what you're going to tell us, and it isn't going to be pretty." "Okay." Tattletale was all business. "Noelle's going to ask you for help. Lie to her. Tell her you're already on it. Roll with it if she gets angry, or if she gets impatient. She's sensitive. I don't know how your power works, really, but if you realize whatever it is that Coil doesn't want us to know, don't tell Noelle." "She's the one Crawler visited?" I asked. Trickster nodded once. "Hello?' A girl's voice came from the computer. Trickster hit a key, which I assumed was to take himself off mute. He hit another combination of keys and a webcam feed snapped up to cover the screen. Noelle had long brown hair and she wore a red sweatshirt. She looked like someone who was ill. She was horribly pale, she had dark circles under her sunken eyes, and her lips were chapped. I was reminded of drug addicts in an early stage of addiction, where they were deteriorating because the drugs took a higher priority than taking care of themselves. Was Coil drugging her too?
Oliver is a Traveler CONFIRMED. A Traveler with either a very weak power or without powers at all. Krouse seems to trust Noelle a lot, maybe she's smart enough to come up with a plan who'll actually works against S9. Sucks to be you, Hookwolf. Until you'll actually start fighting against S9, UT will probably manage to kill at least one or two of them. No territories for you, not even the sweet taste of victory. I don't think Coil drugged her too, Skitter. I think she looks so pale and tired because of her unusual power that not even her boyfriend/friend knows about. Maybe she's slowly turning into a monstrous zombie.
"Noelle, " Trickster said, "You've asked to be included more. I thought you'd be okay with this?"
She nodded. "Left to right, we have Grue, Regent, Skitter, Bitch and Tattletale." There wasn't a flicker of a smile or any interest on her face until she heard that last name. "Tattletale?" "Noelle," Tattletale spoke, "It's nice to finally meet you. Listen, I'm working on your situation. Coil's filled me in on the basics and I'm chasing down some leads, but something's come up with the Slaughterhouse Nine, and everything's on hold until we can be sure they won't try to kill us in the meantime."
I could see Trickster tense. Was Noelle so high strung or desperate that she'd throw a tantrum over being asked to wait? "Coil was telling the truth," Noelle said, in a small voice, "You can help?" "Honestly? I don't know. But I'm a fucking genius when it comes to getting answers, and Coil's got all the resources in the world. If there's help to be had, we'll give it to you." "How soon before you know?" "No idea. I don't think it'll be as fast as you want, but it's doable, and it won't take so long that you should give up." "Okay." "In the meantime," Trickster cut in, giving Tattletale a thumbs-up gesture from a position outside of the laptop's field of view, "We need our old field commander's brain on the Slaughterhouse Nine sitch." "A distraction would be nice," Noelle smiled for the first time. Field commander. She used to be the leader of their group? I wondered if I could dig up any information about her if I hunted far enough back. I could see Brian fidget under the table. He wasn't liking the constant distractions from the subject at hand. "Eight enemies," Trickster said. "Now, I'm not a serious player of the game, I'm sorry to any of you Undersiders who are irritated by the way I'm about to butcher it, but the way I see it, their leader is like the king in chess. More raw power than a pawn, but in the end, he's simultaneously the second weakest piece in the game and the one everything hinges on. We take him down without getting massacred in the process, I think we win."
Noelle was the leader of Travelers before Krouse took over? Unexpected. Then Krouse probably was her second in command, this is how he became the new leader in her place. Gosh, they describe S9 members as they're chess- pieces. I have no freaking idea how to play chess, someone tried to teach me once but I didn't liked so I gave up. Smart game but not interesting enough for me. I'm more like a simple-minded girl who like to play soccer, tennis, skiing, skydiving and shooting people at paintball than anything else. Ok, let's learn chess with Krouse and Noelle. Jack is the King and if he'll be eliminated then his group will fall apart and the Apocalypse will never happen (if he isn't allowed to kill/influence that certain person who can bring the end of the world, of course). He's very vulnerable to any attack, but he's smart and he's protected by ridiculous overpowered people.
"Right. Siberian's like the queen. She's fast, mobile, one of the strongest physically, and the bitch of the matter is, she can't be taken off the board, and she can't be contained. A special queen, if you will. Physically she's an unstoppable force and an immovable object any time she wants to be." To my right, Bitch picked up the puppy and settled it in her lap. It curled up and nestled against the cupped circle of her arms and hands.
"Then there's Crawler, who visited us the other night. Maybe not as fast or agile as Siberian, and he can be contained, but he can't be taken off the board. A special rook." "I'm wondering how far you can stretch this chess analogy, Trickster," Ballistic commented. Trickster ignored him. "Shatterbird and Burnscar are like bishops. They've got mobility, reach, and they can bury you damn fast if you don't have the right kind of cover." "What about Mannequin? Another rook?" I asked. "I'd peg him a knight. He's more close range, but he'll catch you from an oblique angle, maybe slip past whatever defences you think you have." "Which leaves Cherish and Bonesaw," Grue said. "We'll have to trust Regent to give us the details on Cherish." Regent nodded and tapped his finger against his chin, "My sister. I don't know if you could call her a third bishop or a knight. Long range on her power, gets stronger as she gets closer. Affects your emotions and as far as I'm aware, there's no way to defend against it or to take cover. If she decides she wants to hurt you or make you hurt yourself, she can find you and she'll make it happen." "But she has no special defences," Grue cut in. "She's vulnerable to pretty much any knife, gun or power we can hit her with." "Can we gang up on her?" Sundancer asked. "She can affect multiple people at once," Regent said. "So it's not that easy." "That means we have to beat her at her own game," Trickster mused, "Track her, beat her in long-range warfare."
Siberian is the Queen and Crawler is the Rook. Crawler can be either completely friend or have his brains entirely destroyed so he can't regenerate anymore. Scrub would be excellent against Crawler but...Hookwolf decided that they should not work together, fuck him. Probably Siberian can be killed in her sleep since she's indestructible only when she wants to be? Maybe if she's sleeping, she can't concentrate over her powers and be vulnerable just like everyone else. Shatterbird and Burnscar are Bishops and they CAN be defeated and killed. Mannequin is a Knight. I think Cherish is rather a Bishop than a Knight. She's very hard to kill because of her power+ she can control more people than one in the same time but Alec is immune to her power so if Coil will give him a firegun he can simply shoot the bitch until she'll be completely dead. Alec already killed people, hates his sister so nothing in the world will stop him from killing her. As long as there aren't other S9 members around, of course.
"I could use puppets to go after her," Regent said, "But she can paralyze them with the kind of uncontrolled physical reactions I can't cover with my power. Iam immune to her, for all the good that does."
"How far does her offensive range extend?" I asked. "No clue. I'd guess she can sense emotions across the entire city, which is how she's finding people, but in terms of attack? I don't have any basis to make a guess. Farther than my dad, Heartbreaker, but not city-wide, no." "The ability to track us by our emotions is a good enough reason to take her out of action ASAP," Trickster said. "So long as she's active, it'll be that much harder to catch the others off guard." "Maybe…" I started, then I hesitated. Feeling the pressure of everyone's attention on me, I said, "…Maybe my power will outrange hers? Not in terms of what we see and sense, but in terms of who can do more damage from further away?" "It's a thought," Grue agreed, "Risky, but we don't have many options. Trickster, where does Bonesaw fit into your analogy?" Trickster shook his head, "She doesn't. She's relatively weak in terms of raw power, but her presence on the field threatens to change the rules. She's a medical tinker. The medical tinker. So long as she's in play, we can't be certain of our enemy's attack power, we can't know that any enemy we clear from the field will stay gone, and there could be harsh penalties if they catch or kill one of us. It sucks to think about, but if Bonesaw got her hands on, say, Sundancer, I'd be a hell of a lot more worried than if Hookwolf or Skidmark did."
Sundancer muttered something to Ballistic, but I couldn't make it out. "What about our side?" Noelle asked. "Lots of playing pieces, not all cooperating, and we have one debatable advantage," Trickster said, "We know in advance, pretty much for a fact, that if any of us, Undersider or Traveler, try to fight these bastards, we're going to lose, and we'll lose hard." "Tattletale say that?" Noelle asked. "Coil did," Trickster answered. Odd. So Noelle was staying with Coil, but she didn't know about Dinah? Another secret or white lie from her team? "I can't help but think of the Desecrated Monk scenario," Noelle said. I saw Trickster, Sundancer and Ballistic all nodding. When I turned to my team, they looked as confused as I was. Was this Desecrated Monk someone the Travelers had gone up against at some point before they came to Brockton Bay?
Bonesaw is the wild card and even if she might appear weak in front of an attack, she might be exactly like Siberian in terms of physically resistance: possible that she made herself immune at pain, her wounds can probably heal in like few seconds, she's probably having 2 or 3 hearts so if you stab one won't be enough to kill her, maybe she have an indestructible skin, etc. Everything is possible with a medical Tinker as talented as Bonesaw is. On UT's side, the most powerful combat- wise individuals are: Skitter, Alec, Sundancer and Trickster. Non-combat wise: Tattletale and Imp. Imp can be considered a wild card, just like Bonesaw. You never know when she's watching you, except if you're Cherish.
"The rules are unfair. Half of our opponents are pretty blatantly cheating. But we have to deal with them anyways. So either we cheat back-" "Which we can't." "Or you guys handle it the way we did it before. You don't fight the way they want to fight." "Okay," Trickster nodded, "So the first question we ask ourselves is how they want to play this. What do they want? In terms a five-year-old could understand." "They want their ninth member," I said. "Right." "They want to hurt, scare and kill people," Tattletale put in her two cents. "Why?" "Reputation, entertainment," Tattletale said, "These guys are monsters, and pretty much anyone who watches T.V., surfs the web, or reads the papers knows it." I saw it out of the corner of my eye. Noelle's expression shifted all at once from being animated and engaged to the same look she'd worn when the webcam feed first went live. Disinterested, hurt, hopeless.
Oh, no, Lisa, you just made Noelle sad by talking about monsters when she feels like she's turning into one of them . She doesn't have any hope left that she'll become normal again, it looks like she doesn't trust Coil anymore with his cure. You're not the only one here, Noelle, I don't trust him either. I never trusted him with anything.
She'd been scouted. Unlike Regent, it hadn't been to mess with her. It had been because a freak like Crawler legitimately thought she was one of them.
If Tattletale was sitting next to me, I would have kicked her under the table.
Noelle suddenly perked up, saying, "They want to hunt. They're predators."
"Okay, how can we use that?" Trickster leaned forward to look at the screen.
"They want to be the predators, we make them prey," Noelle said. She was looking more animated again.
"Not sure that's possible, but keep going."
"It's not possible because, um. You described them like they're chess pieces, and we're thinking in terms of a chess game. What if we
changed the game?"
"I always preferred Go," Trickster said, "But Go is about territory, give and take, less about aggression than an educational sparring
match between two master swordsmen, each walking away with a new kernel of knowledge. Go applies more to taking over the city than it does to this scenario."
"Shogi?" Noelle suggested.
Shogi. I got her meaning almost immediately, and I wasn't alone. Tattletale, the Travelers and I all looked at Regent.
Regent, Bitch and Grue, for their parts, were left looking bewildered.
"Maybe you should clarify?" Grue suggested.
"Shogi is an Eastern variant of chess," I said, "Some of the pieces move a little differently, though I can't remember how. But the big
difference is that there's a rule that says you can take any of the opponent's pieces you've captured and place them on the board as your own."
Yes, Skitter, kick Lisa for me, she accidentally broke Noelle's heart (for people who believe that if I like Undersiders, I'll always favor them, Lisa is MY FAVORITE character in the entire story and I'll still criticize her everytime when she makes stupid mistakes or she's spiteful with someone who doesn't deserve this. Nobody is free of my criticizes, except for Aster ). Noelle is so damn smart, I'm starting to seriously like her and she might quickly become my second favorite Traveler after Marissa. Never heard about Shogi game before, neither about Go. There people played a lot of mind games in their lives, looks like. Ok, so what Noelle is trying to say here is that they can capture one of S9 members and use him/her against their teammates? Awesome, let's see: if they can restrain Siberian for a certain time until Alec will turn her into his puppet, then they'll defeat S9 EASY. S9 will not stand any chance against R Siberian unless they know her weakness. And I think they know her weakness+ Siberian can't be restrained. Crawler can't be hold for too long, Burnscar will escape easy, Bonesaw might have brain modifications so she'll be immune at a Master's control, won't work with Cherish either because she's immune at Alec's power, Jack is out of discussion, Mannequin doesn't have human limbs/body anymore, except for organs, so only Shatterbird is available to be controlled. Yep, that would be a pretty ok weapon against S9. Better her than nothing at all.
"More or less right," Trickster said.
"So the question becomes," Grue thought aloud, "Who can we beat in anindirect confrontation, capture and control?"
"Jack, Bonesaw-" I said.
Grue shook his head. "They know they're vulnerable. Either they'll be watching their backs or the others will watch their backs for them."
Regent said, "Siberian is out, and while we might theoretically be able to catch and contain Crawler or Mannequin, I dunno if we could keep them still long enough for me to use my power on them. If I can. Their bodies are different."
I counted the enemies off on one hand, "Leaving Cherish-"
Regent shook his head, "She knows me, has measures in place."
"Burnscar and Shatterbird," I finished.
"The bishops," Trickster said.
"Easier said than done," Grue sighed.
Noelle's face disappeared from the webcam, and a blond boy popped up in its place. Oliver? "Trickster, Genesis is waking up. She's done whatever you had her doing."
"Long stint," Trickster replied, "She'll be groggy."
"That means Imp is probably done too," Grue spoke.
"She'll need a ride back," I finished his thought.
"Should leave her there for a bit as punishment for staying behind," Grue grumbled. Still, he stood and pulled on his helmet. "But it's not worth the grief she'll give me."
"Softie." Tattletale grinned.
"Are you coming back?" Trickster asked.
"How long will it be before Genesis is able to brief us on the meeting?"
"Fifteen, twenty minutes?"
"Then we'll be back to finish the strategy session," Grue responded.
Trickster turned to his teammates, "Mind giving Noelle and me a minute to talk?" Sundancer and Ballistic stood.
You just can't restrain Burnscar, she'll teleport using her flames. Yep, I agree that Bishop Shatterbird is the only one Alec can turn into his puppet. Aaaaaand, Genesis was sleeping all this time? WTF?!? This means that she can use her power only when she's sleeping, creating projections through her dreams? This explain why she's never present on the battlefield, not even at non-violent meetings. Not because she have a handicap, but because she can't use her power while awake. This is good to know, she's healthy, but powerless if she's not sleeping. On the other side, its pretty dangerous because anyone can hurt her if they'll find her body but as long as she's in Coil's base, she must be ok.
Joined by the two Travelers, we made our way up the disguised ladder to the second sub-level of the parking garage. As one of the last to head up, I saw the adorable sight of Bitch managing the sleeping puppy, tucking it against her body with one arm so she could scale the ladder one-handed.
As she reached the top, I could hear Sundancer cooing, "It's so cute. Is it a he or a she?"
"He."
"What's his name?"
"Bastard."
"I'm guessing you named him?" Regent asked, as I reached the top and stepped down onto solid ground. I missed Bitch's response. Had she nodded?
"I was surprised you brought him tonight," Grue said, being remarkably delicate about the fact that Bitch had undercut any presence our group had by bringing the cute ball of fluff. It would have been better if he'd brought it up earlier, but he might have felt the same way I did about provoking Bitch before a major event, when she'd been so short tempered lately.
Bitch's response was surprisingly verbose. "Had to. For the first year and a half, he's going to be like a dog. Need to train him as much as I can, get him used to me. It'll be too hard if I wait."
"Like a dog?" I asked. In the corner of my eye, I could see Tattletale's expression change as she looked at the dog, clearly realizing something. As fast as I could turn her way to try and piece together what that was, somethingelse got her attention.
"Shit," she breathed. She clutched at my arm with one hand and at Bitch's with the other, stepping back to pull us with her. Bitch pulled her arm from Tattletale's grip, looking angry at the invasion of personal space.
"Oh fuck," I muttered, as I saw through the darkness to spot what Tattletale's power had noticed first.
Four of the Slaughterhouse Nine were stepping through the entrance of the parking garage. The Siberian was in the lead, her waist-length hair blowing in the wind from outside, her eyes practically glowing in the gloom. Behind her, Jack Slash held Bonesaw's hand as the young girl skipped to make it so she only walked on the yellow lines that divided the lanes. They were accompanied by a young woman who might've been eighteen or so years old, who bore a striking resemblance to Alec. Cherish. None of them wore costumes. The Siberian didn't wear anything. She was as nude as the day she'd been born, her skin patterned with stripes of alabaster white and jet black. Jack Slash noticed us, and his his eyes drifted around the arch that led from the parking garage to the wet outdoors. He smiled, "This is not an exit."
Sorry, Rachel, but I don't trust Bastard at all. I don't dislike the poor animal, its not his fault that he was probably experimented on and used, I dislike the idea that S9 might try to control Rachel/hurt everyone else through him...........Heavens no!!...HEAVENS NO!!!! Bonesaw is here. And I can't cuss anymore. THIS IS THE ONE OF THE WORST THINGS THAT MIGHT HAPPEN IN THIS STORY. Bonesaw shows her cute face and I'm not allowed to swear. Brb "goes in a corner of her room to cry"
Hi, friends, look, we have another Chapter here 12.04 | Worm who'll be done in 1-2 hours. So, last time, UT were pretty BONED. I have no idea why I'm so happy, I should feel bad for them because most of them are my favorite characters and they're so BONED What is wrong with me? "slaps herself" I should stop feeling happy when UT are in real danger Ok, that's better "slaps herself again" Much better.
So, this unexpected meeting might go in this way: Jack: We're coming in peace. Don't be afraid. I just want to talk. Cherish giggling stupiditly: In fact, we come here to torture each one of you mentally, emotionally, physically. And...and to test our nominees. Jack slaps her over her head: Shut up, you... Regent, looking very bored: ....stupid bitch. Well, man, that's my sister. Bonesaw: Language. Jack: I still have no idea why I agreed to make her a member of my team. Regent: I understand your pain, man, I'm the one who understand you the most. I grew up with her. Jack, pointing to Regent with his knife: One day, you and me should drink together and exchange opinions and ideas. Cherish: But I thought that if I'm going to nominate him, you'll kill him. Jack/Regent: SHUT UP, YOU DUMB BITCH! Bonesaw: LANGUAGE, PLEASE. Siberian: "sighs"
Cherish, tormenting Jack since forever.
"This is not an exit. Kudos for the reference," Tattletale said.
"I try," Jack replied. He didn't say anything more, looking us over. I felt a chill as his eyes stopped on me before moving on to Regent and the Travelers. Shit, shit, shit, shit. What options did we have? Running? Siberian was bound to be faster than the dogs, and none of them were big. We'd be dead before Bitch got them to grow. That was even without considering Jack's ability to cut us down from where he stood.
Fight? Again, Siberian was the biggest problem.
What kind of reference Jack did? I don't get it. He only told them something very obvious, that there's no exit. There's no reference here. And yes, I agree with your statement, Skitter, Siberian is the most OP S9 member. Even if you'll try to kill Jack/Bonesaw/Cherish, Siberian will protect them and she's so fast that you won't have any time to react, they'll survive and them she'll tear you apart. Maybe, if you try to distract her attention with a mouse? Kitties can't resist to a juicy, tasty mouse, everyone know this.
She could take all of us on and win. I suspected the only people who could really go toe to toe with her would be Scion, Eidolon and the Endbringers, and even then, I wasn't sure if they would really be able to stop her. At best, Scion and Eidolon would survive and keep her from killing any civilians. The Endbringers would hold their own, but civilians obviously wouldn't be a concern.
Could we escape under a cover of my bugs and Grue's darkness? I didn't think Siberian would be able to see us, and if we surprised them, ran back the way we came-
"What's this?" Cherish asked, cutting off my train of thought. "Someone thinks she's had a clever idea. A bit of hope and inspiration there."
"Who?" Jack asked.
"When I looked at her with my power, before, I called her the Worm. She spent some time being as low on the food chain as you can get while still being able to move under her own power. As low as someone can get while still having an identity of their own. But she's realized she's poisonous, dangerous in her own unique way. She's useful, like a silkworm we harvest or an earthworm who works our gardens. She's even realized she's not alone, so long as she looks for friends among other dirty… contemptible creatures. Speaking of which, I forgot to say hi, little brother."
Siberian isn't human anymore. She transcended her human limits. Now she's a goddess- the Tiger Goddess- that everyone should be afraid of and respect. Bonesaw..."sighs"....why are you here? I want so much to say what I'm thinking about Cherish but I can't because of your presence alone. I have to find polite words and courtesy is not my strong point when it comes to people I absolutely dislike. You're lucky that Mannequin still exists, Cherish, otherwise you'd be my least favorite S9 member. She just compared Skitter with a worm (nice touch to the title, Wildbow), she called her a low-life and she also called the rest of Undersiders dirty creatures. Listen, miss, you're lower than they'll ever be. Even Hellhound (because Bonesaw, you get it) is better than you in some ways. Instead of trying to stab your crazy father to death, so everyone else would be free from his control and terror, you decided to run away from home, without caring about your siblings, you became member of S9, and now you want to steal the power from their leader and rule over them. You're a coward, a traitor, a selfish, extremely arrogant low form of life. Skitter is a Queen compared with you and her heart is bigger than your intelligence will ever be. Me: I'm doing good, Bonesaw? Bonesaw raises her head and smiles cutely. Me: Awww, she's so cute.
"Fuck you, Cherie."
Cherish smiled and stared at me, "The little worm found a nugget of self-worth, she just doesn't want to look too closely at what that nugget is made of. If she's lucky, she's one of the worms without eyes. They might be keenly aware of their environment, but they're happier blind."
"Poetic," Jack said. "I take it Skitter is this clever worm?"
"Yup."
"Skitter." Jack looked at me. "You do anything and Siberian attacks. I'll attack as well. Whatever it is you're thinking of trying, I'm betting the two of us can cut you down before it works."
I swallowed, then took a small breath to clear my throat and ensure I wouldn't stammer or come out sounding even slightly unclear.
"Alright."
"The same goes for the rest of you, but I'm sure you know that. One or two of you could kill me right now, I'm sure, but you'd die horribly for your trouble, and I doubt any of you are that suicidal."
Did he know about the role he was going to play in the end of the world? It might change his stance and self-assuredness.
Jack looked at Cherish and she gave him a small nod. He turned a winning smile towards us. "How are our potential recruits doing?" Recruits? Plural? Was he including Noelle? No. He would know she wasn't anywhere near here, thanks to Cherish.
Bonesaw piped up, "I wanted to say hi and meet the people who might be joining the family. Jack said that if I'm ready, I can tell you
what my test is. Except I haven't decided."
"Oh?" Jack looked at her, "I didn't know you had any ideas yet."
"I haven't decided," she told him, sounding annoyed at having to repeat herself. "The test might be about challenging them, but I'm challenging myself too. I don't want to be boring, so I'm making myself come up with something original each time."
Bad plan anyways. If we did try to escape under the cover of darkness, Siberian would probably reach us and cut at least some of us down before we got anywhere, even attacking indiscriminately. "How admirable," Jack said.
"And it has to be fair. What I have in mind isn't fair, and I'm worried it's too similar to the test I gave Burnscar. I need this to be fair."
"Why does it have to be fair?" Cherish asked, "Unfair world, unfair test."
"Because I like them both! What better way to add to our family than to have two real siblings on the team? They would fight all the time but they'd really love each other deep down."
Heavens, they can't think at any escape possible because Cherish feels their feelings and interpret them properly, like she's reading their minds. Anyway, Bonesaw already gave Cherish a powerful blow by wanting to recruit Regent and not straight up murdering him, as Cherish expected to happen. Yes, yes, eat your heart out, Cherish. Bonesas likes playing fair, I appreciate this.
"Ha," Regent made it more of a word than an actual laugh, "You really don't know the Vasil family, munchkin."
"And the dog girl! I love dogs! I've seen the pictures of them and they're beautiful."
I felt a chill. All at once, Bitch's presence behind me felt ominous. She'd been picked by the Nine, and even when asked, she hadn't said a thing about it. Why? And who had picked her? The members of the Nine we hadn't been able to nail down candidates for were Jack, Bonesaw and Siberian.
Siberian, I saw, was staring at Bitch. When I turned to look at Bitch out of the corner of my eye, I saw her staring right back at Siberian, unflinching, holding the sleeping puppy in her arms.
"If I don't make it fair then it's like I'm picking one over the other and I don't want to do that," Bonesaw said.
"You're a smart girl. You'll work it out." Jack turned to our group, where we waited in tense silence. "A lot going on tonight. All these meetings, and we didn't get an invitation. Almost enough to hurt our feelings."
"Can you blame us?" Tattletale gave him a shrug. "We were talking about how to kill you guys."
I wasn't the only member of our group to look at her in horror.
Jack laughed. A little too hard for whatever it was he'd found funny about her statement. "Of course, I already knew you were plotting against us, and you knew I knew." "Sure."
"Here is what you need to know, Regent, Bitch. Each of the Nine's members get to put our recruits up to a test. Some of us always give the same test, time after time, no matter the candidate. Mannequin always asks candidates to alter themselves in a way that costs them something. Siberian waits until half the candidates have been discarded and then hunts the remainder."
And now everyone found out what Hellhound tried to hide from them, that she's S9 candidate. Everyone is going to be so pissed on her and she kinds of deserve that, honestly. Jack knows about the failed meeting, maybe he had ways to spy them? Possible Cherish got emotional signals from them -even if they're so far away- and she interpreted the signals as actions of plotting against her team. Or Shatterbird flew close to the building, and nobody saw her because she's very good at concealing herself? So, each candidate will have to pass 9 testes. Actually 8. Cherish was so lucky for having only a single test to pass, not fair. While Regent have to pass 8. I noticed that Mannequin makes the candidates to alter themselves. He already injured Colin so bad that Dragon had to turn him part cyborg in order to save his life. Mannequin's test costed Colin his humanity- but only at surface. Because inside he's super pissed on S9 and determined to keep fighting against them, two exclusive human feelings. Also, GOD, TATTLETALE, YOU'RE THE BEST, GURL!
"I hope she doesn't catch you," Bonesaw sounded disturbingly earnest as she spoke, "There's no meat left for me to work with after she's done."
"As for me," Jack said, "I tend to go last, when all the others have offered their tests and only one or two are left. I like to mix things up, and unlike our dear Bonesaw, I have no interest in playing fair."
"And if we fail?" Regent asked, "We die?"
"No, no," Jack smiled. "Nobody passes every test, and the punishment for failing a test is up to the individual who assigned it. Sometimes death, yes. Sometimes something different. But it's always worse."
"What did my sister do for her tests?" Regent asked.
"Hey!" Bonesaw raised her voice, stabbing a finger in his direction, "No cheating!"
Bonesaw wasn't the only one he'd irritated. Cherish glared at him.
"Not cheating," Regent said. "Call it idle curiosity. My sister got me in this mess, I figure it would be nice to hear what she had to go through. You don't even have to spoil the answers, I can agree not to copy anything she did."
Jack laughed, "Ah, adding to the challenge? Fair. She killed Hatchet Face. Crawler took that as his test completed in advance, didn't think of her as worth his time. Little Bonesaw, for her test, designed a parasite that would stay in her system for forty-eight hours and strip her of her powers for as long as it remained."
"Because it's not fair that Hatchet Face didn't get to give his test. And I wanted to break her out of her rut, so I made it so the parasite's effects would be permanent if she didn't drink lots of blood."
"Of course," Jack tapped the heel of his hand against his forehead, "That was an interesting little twist. Of course, you didn't tell her how much she needed to drink, or if a certain species counted… Well. It broke her stride, didn't it? Siberian went after her, starting on day two of Bonesaw's parasitic infection. Three days and three nights of cat and mouse. To her credit, she did very well. It came down to a hair. Another ten minutes and Siberian might have caught her a third time."
A dark look passed over Cherish's face.
Oh...oh....so Cherish had to pass all the testes like everyone else, not just killing Hatchet Face. That's good, very good and very fair. Miss, you deserve everything that happened to you, without any exception. You wanted to be a S9 member, they didn't forced you like they're doing with others. Should I feel pity for you? I have to think about...when I'll reach the ending of Worm, I'm going to answer this question. She had to drink blood because of a parasite who stripped her of her powers (Bonesaw can create powers- stripping parasites too? Good to know). I suppose she even killed people to drink their blood (looks like Cherish did more awful things than her brother) And Siberian hunted her for 3 days and 3 nights, without letting her rest. I suppose that if she caught her a third time she'd have killed her. I so LOVE this backstory about Cherish's trials. Its just.... DELIGHTFUL (I'm not sarcastic this time).
"Shatterbird likes the psychological tests, and she was in a hell of a mood after Cherish nominated herself for the team. Our Cherie didn't have five minutes to rest before Shatterbird drove her into a room and sealed her in. No food, no light, barely any water. The room was empty, but for one glass shard. Always edging towards her, ready to prick, cut, slice and stab the second she stopped, the moment she tried to rest."
I shivered. Jack hadn't said how long that lasted, but after three days and three nights without sleep, even a few hours like that would have been nightmarish.
There was a clue there, too. Credit to Regent for getting Jack to let it slip. Shatterbird had more offensive range than Cherish, if she was able to trap the girl and use the shard without getting affected in retaliation. It wasn't much, but it was a tidbit of information, a piece for the puzzle.
"Burnscar's test, she failed. Afraid I'm not spoiling that one. Doesn't have the same impact if you know it's coming. That left only two tests for her to pass. Go on. Show them."
Cherish glared at Jack.
"Show them," he said. There weren't any hints of a threat or any anger in his tone, but she obeyed anyways. She turned her back to us, grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it off.
"Mannequin demands that a candidate changes themselves, and that it be hard. Having just faced the punishment Burnscar gave for failing her test, Cherish wasn't about to pay his."
The tattoo stretched from beneath the waist of her low-rise jeans and up the length of her back. The centerpiece was a large festering heart, done as realistically as any tattoo I'd ever seen. It was all in shades of green, covered with ulcers, sores, patches of rot and live maggots. The surrounding tattoos gave the appearance of torn skin revealing the bone and organs beneath, rats and roaches lurking behind ribs and atop her kidneys. Framing the entire thing were words, not done in any elaborate script, but in scrawled letters that looked like they'd been carved into a surface with knives: epithets and invectives.
Shatterbird test was the COOLEST test so far . Cherish was already tired for not resting 3 days and 3 nights and she was put in a dark room with a single glass shard ready to hurt her if she tried to rest. Or, since it was a psychological test, maybe the glass shard NEVER EXISTED in the first place and Shatterbird just too advance over Cherish's tiredness and fear+ lack of light to trick her into believe that the shard is real. Schrodinger's glass shard. Well, I have to admit that Cherish (despite hating her so much that I find the tests being funny instead of terrifying) is a VERY strong person with an AMAZING determination, I would have failed the first test (killing Hatchet Face) in the first couple of minutes if I were in here place. I wonder how she failed Burnscar's test. I suppose Burnscar burns you to crisp if you fail to her test. So, how Cherish failed it without dying? Btw, nice tattoo, Cherish .
"She told the artists to make it so ugly she'd want to kill them. If she didn't, she promised to kill their loved ones and then kill them. Took six artists in total. Inspired."
Cherish looked over one tattooed shoulder to fix Jack with a stare. It was then that I noticed two things. The first became clear as her skin stretched. There was depth to the tattoos that you didn't get with a two-dimensional image. Her skin had been scarred and flensed to raise edges and give the images and words a permanence that simple ink wouldn't have.
The second thing I noticed was her eyes. It was like a light had gone out inside her, just standing there with that tattoo exposed.
"That was the hard one for you, wasn't it?" Jack smiled. "Even as tired, scared, hurt and desperate as you were after the other five tests, it was when you willingly defaced that young, unblemished body of yours that a little something inside of you broke, and you began thinking of yourself as one of us. Liminality." "What was your test, Jack?" Regent asked. I couldn't tell if he was glad to know his sister suffered or sad for her.
"Oh, I knew it would be almost impossible to top Mannequin's test. He caught her at the exact right moment, struck the right nerve, and pushed her to her very limits. Still, I think I managed to top it. Turn around, Cherish."
Like an automaton, she did. More tattoos and scars covered her chest, just as expansive, just as unpleasant to look at. Two nude women, their entwined limbs like the broken legs of a squashed bug, neither attractive in the slightest. One was emaciated, the other morbidly obese, and both were old. More tattoos of rotting and torn flesh framed the scene, and the words forming the border of the tattoos on the front were the opposite of the others, almost worse in their irony and desperation: 'Take Me'. 'Please Desire Me'. 'Want Me', and more vulgar variations of the same.
As I said before, nice tattoo, Cherish (I wonder if there's fan art with her tattoo because I want to have a good laugh at her misery. Please, if there's fan art with her, post here. If there is NFSW art, then just send me the link. Thank you). Alright, that tattoo must be very painful. I can remember that day when I tried to have a tattoo- a little butterfly on my shoulder. I'm very afraid of needles, this fear is my second one, after mannequins. But a close friend to mine convinced me to get the butterfly tattoo since I like tattoo too much in general. When I took a seat and I saw the needles, I was like...NOPE....got up and ran out of the workshop. My friend ran after me and tried to calm me down for 10 minutes. Yep, this happened...and it was only a small tattoo that I really liked and wanted. I don't have such a low pain tolerance (especially since I'm practicing some extreme sports), I just have an insane fear for needles. Ok, back to fun times with Cherish. I guess Jack forced her to do the chest tattoo, as part of his test.
"I made her do the other six tests all over again."
"I even brought back Hatchet Face for Crawler's test again!" Bonesaw grinned. "No surprise attack that time. That was one of the three tests she failed in round two, I was so proud of him!"
Seeing Cherish's shoulders draw together, her expression darken as memories came to mind, the ugly tattoos that guaranteed she would never be able to leave this behind and get a completely fresh start, never have a boy look at her body and just be hungry for her… I had to look away. I knew she was the worst sort of person, I just didn't know how much of that came before the tests.
"Well, sis," Regent said, "I thought you were running headlong into a fate worse than death. I stand corrected. You're already there, and you did it to yourself."
Ok, Jack made her repeat the tests. You have a good inspiration, Jack, I can appreciate you for this. Well, Cherish, I have to agree with Regent here. You're the only one responsible for whatever happened to you, not S9 members, not even Mannequin who took your whatever innocence you still had before his test. They did what they did because they're psychopaths who enjoy tormenting people, this is what they know the best. But you challenged them to do all of these to you, you kind of forced them to accept you as their member, even if you knew that they like to choose their favorite candidates by themselves. But you probably told them that you want to be a member and you'll accept everything they're going to do to test you and they....didn't refused you. They gave you what you wanted. If you ask the devil to torture you, do you think he'll say no? You're responsible for your own life, nobody else. Instead of helping your siblings or helping the local Protectorate to kill/arrest your father and become someone better than him, you choose to become just another monster in a team of monsters. "Nice" choice, girl. You made your bed of glass shards and needles, now lie in.
She pulled on her shirt and snarled, "This is the part where I'd threaten to kill you, except they are going to do it so much better than I ever could."
"Can't do it yourself?" Tattletale cut in. "Why do you have to rely on them?"
Cherish's eyes narrowed. "You're trying something. I feel smugness from you, too much confidence for where you're standing."
Jack smiled and caught the hairs of his beard between his thumb and index finger. "Oh? I'm still interested to hear your answer to her question."
"Fuck that. You're getting predictable, old man. You want to keep things amusing for yourself, you know you're as smart as anyone else in the room, so you take the hard road so it won't be too easy. Why not have Siberian eat her? Can't you imagine the looks on her friend's faces when they can't do a thing to save her? I bet it'd light a fire under their asses, rev them up for the tests. Maybe they'll even throw themselves headlong into it, to spare the rest."
"Now who's trying something?" Tattletale asked. "She's trying to manipulate you."
Jack frowned and yanked out the hairs of his beard he was holding. He flicked them away, "I know she's trying to manipulate me."
"Okay, except I just noticed something else, as I finished that last sentence. Do you know she's playing a long con? She's setting you guys up, using her power to pull your strings and make you attached to her. Half a year to a year, she'll probably have you wrapped around her little finger," a slow smile spread across Tattletale's face.
Tattletale, Tattletale, you're my SUPREME HEROINE. You fu...scr....finished her off with few well placed words. Cherish is FINISHED. But as I said before, I'm sure Jack already knows this, he's too smart to let himself being tricked by a st...someone like Cherish. Tattletale only confirmed his suspicion. Now, what you're going to do, Cherie?
I could see Cherish's expression change from anger and irritation to wide-eyed horror.
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, looking down, and I could just barely hear him mutter the word, "Disappointing."
"It was probably her plan from the start," Tattletale said. "She-"
All at once, Tattletale stopped talking, and I was blind. In that same instant, something slapped against the fabric of my mask. Wet. I could taste it against the fabric of my mask. Salty-sweet, with a faint metallic taste.
"You fucking bastard!" Grue shouted, his voice distorted by his power. Blood.
WHAT JACK DID? WHAT HE DID? DID HE USED HIS SUPER-CUTTING OF HIS KNIFE TO STAB TATTLETALE BECAUSE SHE SAID SOMETHING THAT HE ALREADY KNEW? DID HE HURT MY TATTLETALE? Well, if you did that, then you're no longer my third favorite S9. I don't like people who hurt my favorite character, especially when they stab her and possible let her bleed to death. Siberian, you just took Jack's place, now he's my fourth favorite S9. Only because he did whatever he did to Tattletale. Gosh, this Chapter was fun till now, but from now on...its not funny anymore. Tattletale...I'm kind of afraid to read further and possible seeing Tattletale slowly...dying....
I hurried to wipe it from the lens of my mask. Everything I saw was obscured by the streaks that remained, almost black in the light.
Tattletale lay on the ground a little in front of me, both Regent and Sundancer crouched at her side. So much blood, covering her face
and Regent and Sundancer's hands.
Jack toyed with the knife in his hands, while Siberian stood between him and the rest of our group, her eyes primarily on Ballistic.
Jack paced back and forth, two or three steps at a time, gesticulating with his knife. "I was looking forward to Cherish's attempt.
Bonesaw and I even had a plan in mind. I wanted to see what she did, how she worked around Siberian's immunity to her power… then the safeguards Bonesaw implanted in us would have kicked in and released us from her thrall, and oh, the look on her face. To have seen that would have been so very worth all the trouble. And that girl just spoiled it all."
"You know," Cherish said, shell-shocked.
He KNEW. He just wanted to test her. Predictable. So, Jack stabbed Tattletale in the face, possible giving her a glasgow smile. Ok, ok, this is no so bad, she isn't dead. Coil have the best doctors in the world, they can heal her in no time and even if she'll have an ugly scar, maybe they'll find a parahuman with healing powers to make the scar go away or if not, she anyway doesn't care about her beauty as much as she cares about her brains. Nothing is lost forever, all that matters is for my precious purple angel to LIVE. Still, I'm pissed because she was injured but I'm happy thinking at what Jack ia going to do to Cherish.
"Clearly."
"But my power – I didn't sense anything as far as your planning, your emotional networking or-"
I dropped onto my knees so fast it hurt, and immediately began trying to help Tattletale, and Regent gave me the space, allowing me to take over. Jack had cut her from her mouth to the edge of her jaw. It had parted the skin at the corner of her mouth. I must've been directly in the line of fire for the resulting blood spray. How was I supposed to put pressure on a wound like this?
Jack was getting heated, talking mostly to himself. "That was the whole point! To see how long we could go without tipping her off.
Bonesaw helped with some surgery, even some artificial neural connections that Cherish wouldn't be able to see. So much work and preparation ruined."
"I-" Cherish started, then stopped before she could finish the sentence. Trying again, she asked, "What are you going to do with me?"
"Not a pressing concern," Jack said, as if realizing she was there.
My power crackled at the edge of my consciousness. I had to suppress it, before I gave them another excuse to attack us. The majority of my attention was on Tattletale, on Lisa. I used my fingers to scrape as much of the blood out of her mouth and throat as possible, then adjusted the angle of her head so any further blood would flow down the side of her face or out of her mouth.
The fabric of my gloves afforded more traction than fingertips would have, but the amount of blood made everything slick to the point that I couldn't be sure of what I was holding. I had one hand inside her mouth, her teeth hard against my knuckles, my other hand pressing down from above to sandwich it and press everything as closed as I could get it. She roused herself enough to pull away, no doubt because I was pulling the tear at the corner of her mouth open.
"Hold her head, Regent, don't let her pull away. And cloth," I said, my voice small, "Need some kind of cloth to absorb the blood." First aid classes hadn't prepared me for this.
There was a tearing sound, and regent handed me a strip of cloth. I fumbled to put it into place at the corner of her mouth, where the bleeding was worse, then applied the rest along the cut. The white cloth turned totally crimson in a second.
"More," I said, keeping my voice quiet so it wouldn't carry to the members of the Nine that were standing nearby.
"I wouldn't bother," Jack said. "A wound like that, she'll die of blood loss before you can do anything."
"You asshole," Grue growled.
"You really shouldn't swear!" Bonesaw said. "It's crude! If you agree to be good, maybe I could fix her for you. Oh, and since her cheek's already cut, I could change it around so her teeth are on the outside and she wouldn't have all that skin and flesh just getting in the way. And, and, I could make it really artistic and beautiful, and change her tongue so she can make all of the speech sounds you'd normally need lips to make, like puh, buh, muh, wah, vuh…"
Regent handed me more cloth, and I wadded it into place. Tattletale wasn't really moving, and I couldn't be sure if it was because of the amount of blood she had already lost or just because it hurt too much. I saw a flicker of light as Jack flicked his knife out, tossed it into the air and then caught the blade tip between his middle finger and the nail of his index finger. He snapped it around so he gripped the handle. "I suppose I should get around to the purpose of our meeting you here, Regent and Bitch. Unless you want to pose your test to them, Bonesaw?"
"No. Let me think about it for a little while."
He indeed gave her the glasgow smile. Jack Slash, worm-verse Joxer confirmed. But, unlike Joxer, he prefers to not give himself a glasgow smile as well as he's giving to others. Oh, no, please, don't let Bonesaw try to "fix" Tattletale. Yep, she have an artistic soul but she's too much of an artist for people to understand her. Her art is too complicated for simple people and if they don't understand something then they should not try it. Better let Bonesaw exercise her artistic skills on more less ignorant and perceptive people .
"Alright. Well, it wouldn't do if our candidates died before we even got around to the tests, so I came to offer you two a warning. Two warnings, as it happens, for each of you."
Why couldn't he stop talking so we could take Tattletale somewhere where she could get the help she needed? My hands were already cramping from trying to maintain pressure and the awkward angle that resulted from the way I had her head tilted.
"Two of the candidates we chose are heroes, for lack of a better word, and Cherish reported that we may have trouble bringing them in close enough to introduce them to the tests. Our dear Bonesaw has devised an incentive to encourage their cooperation."
Bonesaw reached into her pocket and withdrew a small vial.
I felt Tattletale tense and looked down. She was staring at the vial.
"Biological warfare?" Grue asked.
"Naturally."
"What does it do?"
"Just in case all of our candidates fail to play along, I would strongly advise you to stick to bottled water. No filtered water, no rainwater, none of that. Not unless you're feeling brave. Just to be on the safe side, avoid getting your injuries wet as well."
"And the second warning?" I asked. I wanted him to finish.
"In…" Jack pulled out a pocket watch on a chain. "T-minus thirty-four minutes, Shatterbird is going to sing loud enough for much of the city to hear her. She wants to make it known to everyone in Brockton Bay that we're here, and since there's no need to maintain surprise with our potential members, I said she should. With this in mind, you would be well advised to stay away from anything made of glass or any beaches, and be sure to put away anything in your pockets with a screen." Dad. The people in my territory. I had to warn them, but…
I looked down at Tattletale and felt paralyzed.
"That's the meat and bones of it," Jack smiled, "It was nice to meet you two."
I felt Tattletale move. Her hand was fumbling at her belt. Was she going for the gun in the largest pouch? No. A pouch near there, just as long, but thinner.
"Sundancer," I hissed, "Help her."
Sundancer did. There were pens in the pouch.
"Help her find the paper," I said. Jack and his team had wrapped up and were walking away.
It was a notepad barely larger than a pad of post-its. Tattletale took the pen that Sundancer held for her, clasping it in a closed fist.
She scrawled out one word. 'Deal'.
Then she looked up at me, her eyes wide.
"No," I whispered. "We have to get you help, and I have to go warn-"
She stabbed at me with the pen and clenched her teeth against the back of my hand, which must have caused her incredible pain. I wasn't sure if it was her pain and mine, but Cherish turned and gestured for Jack, who was already walking way, to stop.
"A deal," I called out, "I don't-"
Sundancer had ripped off the first sheet, and Tattletale was writing the next message.
I swallowed, "She wants to know what happens if… if more than one person is left at the end." "We pit them against one another," Jack said.
The next word- I could barely make it out. 'Game'.
"She, um. I think she wants to play a game?"
Tattletale gave me a single, slow blink of confirmation. She was writing more.
"A game?" Jack asked.
I couldn't make sense of it. 'If there more half left at end.'
Oh, they're going to contaminate the whole potable water in the city (thus Plague used the Arc's Title) and let Shatterbird sing until the whole City who Hates the Sound of Music hears (my favorite musical of all times, yeah). And if Shatterbird sings, people will die. Especially Danny, the most innocent adult character in the entire story. Quickly, Skitter, leave Tattletale alone- Coil's super-doctors will take good care of her- she's not in danger to die. Go and WARN your father+ the people in your territory. Ask Hellhound to give you a dog to ride and if she doesn't want, FORCE her. This is a very serious situation here and I'm getting anxious. What kind of deal Tattletale wants to do with these lunatics?
"One second." I said. Sundancer ripped off another sheet. This was excruciatingly slow, trying to parse her shorthand and follow her line of thought. "Tests. If there's more than half of the candidates left at the end of the tests, we win. You leave with volunteer? You could leave with whoever wants to join. But you leave."
"You expect that half of the candidates could pass the tests? I'm intrigued. I don't think it's possible, but I'm intrigued."
"Brockton Bay has its share of badasses, Jack," I said, my voice hard with repressed outrage.
"I don't see what we get out of it."
Tattletale had dropped the pen. It was up to me to pick up the slack.
"It's a challenge. A game. Changing the routine. We can do whatever we need to, to keep as many candidates alive as we can. You guys… do what you do. It keeps things interesting." My eyes fell on Bonesaw, "And maybe it keeps things fair?" Seconds passed. I felt the tension ratcheting up another notch with each beat of my heart. Every moment that passed was one step closer to Tattletale bleeding out or to Shatterbird using her power.
"I like that. It might be a way to fix the test I want to give. Let's do it," Bonesaw said, looking up at Jack.
He frowned. "We'll discuss it as a group. I suspect we'll have terms of our own to attach to this game. Among other things, a steep penalty for when we win."
And then he turned to leave.
I looked down at Tattletale. Her eyes were closed. My hands felt like two blocks of stone where I had them pressed to her injury; rigid, heavy, unable to move.
"I don't know what to do," I said, barely audible to myself. I looked up at Grue and said, louder, "I don't know what to do."
He didn't have an answer for me, but he bent down to check on Tattletale.
It was Tattletale who gave me my orders.
"Guh," she coughed out the word. As Grue gently pulled my hands away to take over, she repeated, only slightly clearer, "Goh." Go.
YES, TATTLETALE IS THE BEST CHARACTER IN THE ENTIRE STORY AND I'LL FIGHT WITH ANYONE WHO'LL SAY THAT I SHOULD STOP BEING SO SUBJECTIVE WHEN IT COMES TO THIS PRECIOUS GIRL. Not only that she proposed a very reasonable test (accepted by Bonesaw, bless your little monstrous heart) so if half of candidates would pass the tests, they're free and S9 can't force them anymore to become members and they'll leave the City (I think all of the candidates will pass the tests because they're THAT badass) but also she asked Skitter to go and save her dad+ her people from the imminent attack, despite being herself injured. Tattletale having a heart of gold confirmed. Well, it was already confirmed long time ago. <3 <3 <3 (platonic of course) Tattletale.
I stood, wobbling slightly as I backed away from her. She looked so fragile, lying on her side, blood pooling beneath her head, around her dirty blond hair. And I was leaving her there.
"We can call Coil," Ballistic said. "He can send a car to get you where you need to be."
I shook my head. I couldn't wait and trust that a car would arrive in time, or that it would get me where I needed to be. There would be detours, areas a car couldn't pass through.
I turned and I started running. Out of the parking garage, past Cherish, Bonesaw and Jack. They didn't say anything, and they didn't try to stop me.
I was a block away from them when I got my cell phone out and dialed home, but I already knew the response I would get. The automated message came from the phone as I held it in one hand, heading directly north. This phone number is currently out of service. If you would like to leave a message…
Judging distances wasn't a great strength of mine. How many blocks, how far did I have to run to reach my dad? Five miles? Six? I was a practiced runner, but the streets here weren't all in the best shape. Some were flooded, others strewn with debris, still more suffering in both departments. There were areas that were blocked off.
And I had less than thirty minutes.
She didn't even asked Hellhound to borrow her a dog. She just ran away. Alright, I wish you all the good luck in the world, Skitter. You can save your people too, by calling Charlotte and Sierra at phone and asking them to evacuate them somewhere where there's no glass or sand. Hope the girls will know what they do. The next Chapter is going to be ONE HELL OF A RIDE. Or better ONE HELL OF A RUNNING.
Hi, friends, this is a Chapter that is going to keep me on the edge from the start to the finish 12.05 | Worm Why? Because this might be the last Chapter where Danny Hebert will appear. He can die, he can die anytime, even if his daughter is running to save him and I have to take goodbye from him. And I can imagine that if he'll die for real, Taylor will become insanely vengeful (but first she'll blame herself because she couldn't saved him) and the whole S9 test-battle will become her personal vendetta. She'll not stop until she'll find a way to kill them before they'll leave the City. This is how I'm imagining the events after Danny's possible death. Last Chapter was pretty fun and exciting (everytime when S9 make their unfortunate-for-everyone-else appearance, the respective Chapter become suddenly exciting . Well, with the exception of Mannequin. If the Mannequin appears then the Chapter becomes hellish creepy). So, last Chapter was fun UNTIL two very sad things happened: Tattletale was hurt and the City is under attack. I think I will read the actual Chapter while listening this song . Can't find a better song than this one .
It would be so easy. Jack, Bonesaw and Cherish were all in my range. I could drop poisonous spiders on them, sting them each with dozens of bees and wasps in the hopes of provoking anaphylactic shock. It would be easy, and I might save the world by doing it. I'd get revenge for the countless people they'd murdered, for their attacking Tattletale, and maybe even save hundreds of people's lives by distracting Shatterbird.
NO. Don't think like that, Skitter. That would be your biggest mistake. Maybe you'll manage to kill Cherish and Jack but Bonesaw might be immune to your power, Siberian will kill you, then run away with Bonesaw and Cherish/Jack's bodies then the child mad scientist will manage to revive Jack and Cherish in her secret lab. So, its not going to work. You're going to doom everyone if you'll try to kill them. A revived Jack will be unstoppable in his vendetta against the person who killed him and the people she's close to. If you want to have the entire S9 destroyed, you have to either kill Bonesaw (or find a way to make her redeem herself by turning against her group) and especially KILL Siberian, the most powerful member. Otherwise, nothing else will work.
But I wouldn't be able to kill Siberian. She'd fought Alexandria, Legend and Eidolon at the same time and walked away unscathed. She hadn't been able to hurt them due to her inability to fly, but she'd still survived. If I attacked Jack, she would come after me and
I'd probably die. Would it even work? Bonesaw was a medical tinker. She could theoretically save all three of them. Then I'd accomplish nothing but getting the Nine pissed off at me.
YES, yes, this is how you should think, Skitter. Siberian is a god like powerhouse. As long as you don't know her vulnerabilities, you'll not stand any chance against her. Not you neither anyone else. Not even Triumvirate managed to defeat her and this says a lot. I have a theory that might or might not be true regarding Siberian. Please, don't laugh, its only a theory. As bad as it sounds, is MY theory and I'm proud of it. SIBERIAN IS NOT A HUMAN. SHE'S A ROBOT. Not only because of her powers, but she never gets tired (she ran after Cherish for 3 days and 3 nights), she doesn't seem to eat or drink, she's emotionless (is immune at Cherish's control), her voice is a whisper (at least during her Interlude), she just gives me an impression of something artificial, without anything human inside. Its possible trhat she's a robot that S9 stole from a Tinker, after they killed them, and either Bonesaw or Mannequin learned how to control her. I was thinking that maybe she was build by Mannequin but even if he's a talented Tinker and he already created his half mannequin- half robot body of his, I don't think he was capable to build such a perfect robot as Siberian, because this is not his area of specialty (even if Bonesaw already demonstrated that she can create things outside of her specialty so I guess every Tinker can). But Siberian is so perfect in terms of technology that I think only a Tinker with a certain specialty in robots created her. Ok, this is my theory and I'll keep it until proved otherwise.
If it was just my life at stake, a part of me hoped I might do it anyways. But it wasn't. Others would pay the price if I got away from Siberian, and maybe even if I didn't. Even if I escaped and Siberian didn't get her hands on any of us, the added distraction and detours that came with evading her would probably mean I couldn't make it to my dad in time. And if I did die, Dinah might never go free. Which only led to the greater question: would I be willing to trade ten lives for the hundreds or thousands those members of the Slaughterhouse Nine might potentially kill if they walked away here? The billions, if Dinah's prediction about Jack came true?
I remembered what Brian had said back when we'd found out about Dinah: the choices we made in terms of who we tried to save: those we cared about versus complete strangers. I'd rebelled at the idea of people abandoning people to their fates simply because they didn't know them and weren't connected to them in any meaningful way. But now that I faced having to make the call and decide if my life and the lives of just about everyone I cared about were worth less than everyone else's, it didn't seem so black and white. The decision to attack and kill Jack and potentially sacrifice our lives in the process wasn't binary, I told myself. It wasn't limited to two options. I would try to save the people I could tonight. Then our teams could collectively prepare to do something about Jack and the other Nine, after we were all ready to defend ourselves. As much as a small part of me wanted to make the heroic sacrifice, I couldn't throw away my life for the mere chance to kill him, and I definitely couldn't throw away the lives of others. The inch deep water splashed as I ran, my feet already sore from the impacts against the pavement. The soft soles of my costumed feet made me quieter when I walked, but it wasn't fit for running. How much of my decision just now had been because I didn't want to kill a man? I was indirectly responsible for the deaths of others. I'd looked at the information on the capes who'd died during Leviathan's attack and found Chubster, the fat man I'd failed to save. Innumerable others had died because we hadn't been able to stop Bakuda, giving her the chance to attack the city, killing forty-three people and inflicting horrific injuries on dozens more in the process. When Thomas, the man from the Merchants, had been bleeding to death, I'd given the order to leave him there to die. There were others, too, I was sure. A part of me was horrified that I couldn't even keep track of it all. At the very same time, another part of me was just as horrified at the idea that I might not have the ability to pull the trigger, to deliver the venomous payload or drive the knife home. So much could hinge on that. I shook my head. No. I didn't want to dwell on the subject of murder. I had to save people.
"sighs" Everytime when Skitter starts talking like this, I feel a barely controllable need to BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF HER (finally, I can cuss now, no more Bonesaw around. Thanks God ). She's pushing herself constantly down even for the people who either deserved to die or she couldn't do anything to save them anyway. Thomas was an asshole who deserved to die, she couldn't save Chubster because a whole tsunami was coming after him, she couldn't kill Bakuda because she was too injured to do anything else besides stabbing her in her foot so NOTHING OF THESE was her fault except for Mr Gladly that she purposely abandoned him to die. Stop blaming yourself for something that it was out of your control anyway. Also, call Sierra and Charlotte and tell them to evacuate your people. Because Miss The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music will kill them too. I wonder if Shatterbird can control silicon as well, because it is used to make glass (you can tell me, people, I won't consider it a spoiler ) Silicon is also used in computers and cellphones. If she can also control silicon, then the situation will be even worse than I expected. No more communications, no more information, even Dragon might have troubles.
The upper downtown area had no power, and it was just warm enough that people had their windows open to get some reprieve from the heat. That made it easier. I sent some bugs into every open window, using the roaches and flies that were already present when possible.
How many people did I have to reach? The buildings here were anywhere from six to twelve floors, and there were anywhere from one to six apartments to a floor. Less than half of the apartments were occupied following the evacuations, but it still made for hundreds of people on each city block. I didn't slow my pace as I worked. Bugs swept over the surfaces of rooms for any smooth surfaces that indicated glass or mirrors. I checked bedside tables for eyeglasses and alarm clocks. If I found glass, a bed positioned too close to a window or mirror, something potentially dangerous on the bedside table or if there were enough attack bugs around, I attacked the residents. The bugs bit, stung, or momentarily smothered them, covering their noses and mouths, waking them. Hundreds of people at a time. It dawned on me as worked through each bedroom in each apartment: I doubted there were five other people in the world, cape or not, who could multi-task like I was. It had to be a side-benefit of my power. My consciousness divided a hundred ways, problem solving, performing complex tasks for a hundred different scenarios at once. Once each person was awake, I had to warn them. But that wasn't simple – apartments without power didn't have light, either. For many, I could put the bugs on the window and spell out words with their silhouettes, but there were people with blinds and curtains that would obscure that. I forced myself to use the bug's sensory inputs, to seek out the biggest patches of light and warmth in each room where a person was being woken up, so the bugs could cluster in those spots and hopefully be seen.
But what could I write? I looked at my cell phone to see how much time I had left. For some, where I had enough bugs and space to write, I told the bugs to spell out 'Glass explosion 28 min'. For the places I didn't, I spelled out 'take cover' or 'hide under bed'. Thousands of people, a thousand warnings. I couldn't be sure that everyone saw or listened and I couldn't hang back to make things clearer or pass on more detailed information. It was stupid and selfish, but I had to reach my dad. Not for any greater plan or for the greater good, but for me. Because I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't. And even this, helping people here, striving to help my dad, wasn't the extent of my responsibility. I selected Sierra from my contact list and called her, trusting my bugs to give me a sense of anything I might run into or trip over while my eyes were on the screen.
Finally, she did what I wanted her to do. She contacted Sierra to ask her to take care of her people. If your minion will do a good job, you have to pay her even more than you're already paying her, Skitter. She'll surely deserve every dollar. And good idea about using your Swarm to warn people about The Sound of Music Reboot is happening in their City right after 28 minutes, with Shatterbird playing Maria (I wonder if there's fanart where this reference is made, or it is just me because I'm fascinated with this musical?)
"Where are you?" "Hospital with my parents and Bryce. You said I could have the night off, that you'd be busy." I was short on breath from the running. "Emergency. Shatterbird's about to hit the city. Twenty-seven minutes. Warn the hospital, now. Convince them." "I'll try," she said. I hung up and dialed Charlotte. "Skitter?" "Twenty-seven minutes and change before Shatterbird hits the city with her power. Spread the word, fast. Avoid glass, take cover from a potential sandstorm." "The Slaughterhouse Nine are here?" "They've been here a little while. Go!" "I don't… how? How do I tell everyone?" "Tell as many people as you can, tell them to tell as many people as they can. Now go!" I hung up, to force her to move sooner and because I couldn't spare the breath. My range and fine control were extending. This not only kept the people behind me in my range for a precious few extra seconds, but it extended my range forward and to either side, adding one hundred people to the total who fell within my range. Soon that became two, three and four hundred more.
My legs burned, my feet throbbed, and I could feel sweat soaking the fabric of my costume where the water I was running through didn't. On one block, the water would be only a half-inch deep, but the next might prove to be nearly a foot in depth, adding extra resistance to each movement of my already complaining legs. The block after that, it could just as easily be a split-second decision between trying to make my way past the piles of rubble and parked cars and detouring to the next block over. Which would cost me more time? If only Bitch and I were on better terms, maybe she could have explained about the Nine approaching her. If I could only trust her, if she could only trustme, I could have borrowed one of her dogs, and this wouldn't seem as impossible as it did now. I made my way through the college area that was Regent's territory. The buildings here were in rougher shape. There were fewer people to warn, but they were harder to find. I used the bugs I could afford to check my way was clear. Five blocks ahead of me, I could feel the presence of construction equipment, of temporary fencing and barricades. Chancing a look at my phone, I felt a chill. Time had flown while I'd worked, my attention elsewhere. I had eleven minutes, and I wasn't close enough. I couldn't afford to take a detour. I threw every bug that wasn't warning someone at the fencing, flying insects gripping the thin metal bars, crawling insects swarming at and under the concrete pads beneath each post. Tens of thousands of bugs gathering together to surge forward as a single mass. I tried pushing, pulling, trying to rock it and build enough momentum with the bugs to bring it down.
I wonder why the protectorate didn't warned people that S9 are in their City. They warned them during Leviathan's attack, but they didn't do anything when a whole group as dangerous as an Endbringer entered the City. Stupid utterly non-sense from them. You know that S9 will kill countless of people, you should warn them to protect themselves as best as they can- either by leaving the City, hiding in their homes and run away everytime when they notice a S9 member in their proximity. If I'd have lived in that City and the local Protectorate wouldn't let me know that some sick fucks are hunting down citizens, I would have been so freaking pissed on heroes.
My bugs hadn't managed to push it over by the time I reached the fence. It had been designed to withstand strong winds, and the concrete feet at the base of each pole gave it too much stability. As I got there, I had to stop running for the first time, panting for breath. My fingers clutched the grid of fine metal wire until it hurt.
The thin metal wire pressed hard against the deep tissue of my gloved fingers as I climbed the fence, while my toes scrabbled for a hold on the metal hinge that divided one section of fence from another. Precious long seconds, maybe a minute or two and I knew I'd have to get by the fence on the far side as well. I wobbled on top of the fence and then hopped down with a splash. I was running again the second I had my feet under me. Why wasn't I stronger? My disappointment in my luck and the power it had given me was an almost physical pain. I could warn people, but I couldn't push down a fence. I felt cheated. I managed to squeeze between the edge of the second fence and the neighboring building. My phone showed the time as 12:33 at night. I had seven minutes. Something as stupid as fences had cost me so much time. That doubt and fear that had rested with me the second I'd realized how far I'd need to travel in this short span of time was crystallizing into a dawning realization that I wasn't going to make it. The window of opportunity for getting to the house and getting my costume off and getting dad somewhere safe was long gone. Even the window for doing all of that without taking the time to get my costume off was long past. I was too far away. That left only one option. Could I save him with my power the same way I'd been trying to do with everyone else that fell in my range? I still needed to get closer, fast. I held my phone in one hand, sneaking glances as I made my way from one block to the next. The six-minute mark came all too fast. The clock on my cell phone ticked to 12:36. Four minutes left. Three.
Then I couldn't look anymore. I threw it aside, trusting my bugs to nudge it into a storm drain where it wouldn't be found. The time wasn't exact; I couldn't be sure exactly how much time had passed since Jack had told us about Shatterbird's attack. I couldn't say if Shatterbird's clock was a few minutes fast or a few minutes late. There was no point on dwelling on the final minutes, and keeping my cell phone on me was dangerous.
That, and I wasn't sure I could bear to watch the clock hit zero. I heard sirens nearby. Not just from one vehicle, but several, all getting closer. I could sense my neighborhood, and the black widows that were still where I'd put them. Every step brought more bugs into my focus. Ants beneath people's lawns, earthworms in gardens, pillbugs and earwigs under stones and objects in garages and carports, cockroaches in the darkest corners of cabinets. I woke the people I could and left them their warnings. I knew the time had to have run out. But I was so close. I could sense the block my house was on, the neighbor's house. And then my dad's house. I dropped onto my hands and feet the second I was in range, my legs aching. My bugs swept over the interior. I knew the layout, so it was quick. Dad was in his bed, bundled up in the covers. He was taking up only one side of the bed, leaving the space that mom had once occupied empty. It was like a punch in the gut, a reminder of how alone he was. How alone I had left him. I needed more bugs to wake him, still more to write a message. I began drawing them up to his bedroom. I might not have noticed it if I hadn't been listening through the bugs. I primarily heard it through the moths and beetles, a sound like someone running their finger along the rim of a wine glass, painful to hear, only it kept getting sharper and higher pitched until it was well beyond the limits of anything my human ears could hear. It was coming from the windows. There were enough bugs in place to wake up my dad. I could have disturbed him from his sleep… but would he react fast enough to any message I left? Or would he sit up and put his head and upper body in harm's way of the windows?
Oh, God, the movie is starting, the movie is goddamn STARTING. You saved plenty of people and I'm sure your minions saved all the people in your territory as well. If you start blaming yourself again, calling yourself incompetent or evil, I'm gonna hate you, Skitter. Because I dislike people who always put themselves down even if they're doing better than anyone else. I have a feeling that this is not Danny's last Chapter. I think you can save him, Skitter. I BELIEVE you're going to save him, now that you so close...You can try to wake him up with your bugs and he'll be smart enough to know that he have to run away from windows and electronics. He already knows that S9 are in the City so it would be impossible for him to not understand what is going on. Just write: Shatter glass- and he'll understand.
I couldn't risk it. Instead, I took the bugs near him and threw them against his alarm clock, a miniaturized version of what I had attempted to do with the temporary fence. It was thin, a tilted capital 'L' shape with a digital display.
I pulled my knees up against my face and my hands up around the back of my head to shield myself where my mask didn't have coverage. The alarm clock was in the midst of tipping over when Shatterbird used her power. It was as though the glass broke in response to some invisible tidal wave, caught in the nonexistent 'water', carried along, shattering on impacts with surfaces, slashing anything that would cut, piercing deep into any surface soft enough. I could feel it roll past me, south to north. Loud. The sound seemed to come a second later, like the sonic boom following a jet. I'd halfway expected a boom, but it sounded more like a heavy impact, as loud and powerful as a bullet the size of the moon striking the city, followed by the sound of trillions of glass shards simultaneously falling like rain across the cityscape. There was a cloud to the east, where the beaches were, reaching up to the cloud level, like some pale wall. The moment I was sure it was over, I was on my feet, running around the back to the kitchen door. I tore off my mask as I made my way there, and some bugs helped guide my hand to the latch as I reached through the broken window of the kitchen door and opened it. I tore at the straps connecting my armor to my back as I ran upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, pulled the zipper down as I ran down the hallway. Getting my arms free of the sleeves, I tied the inside-out arms around my waist. It wasn't nearly enough to seriously hide my costumed identity, but I wasn't about to delay for another second. I pulled open his bedroom door and hurried to his side, glass crunching under my feet. I gingerly peeled away the layers of blankets that had draped over my dad as he was thrown from the bed. So much blood. Two thirds of his face was covered in blood that looked more black than red in the gloom. Darker lines marked where the blood was welling from. Cuts across the side of his head, the edge of his forehead, his temple and cheek. His ear had been almost cut in half. There was a rattling from the window. I looked and saw strips of shredded duct tape. It looked like the tape had been taped around the edges, then taped in an asterisk-like pattern. He'd taken my warning seriously. I investigated further. More blood at the back of his head. Had the glass penetrated into his brain? No, I could feel the edges of the glass. It had stopped at his skull, maybe splintered under the surface of his skin. I had no way of telling. His hands fumbled blindly for my wrists, seized them. He couldn't see me with the blood in his eyes. That fact didn't make me happy or relieved in the slightest, however it might have kept him from discovering my costumed identity. "Taylor?" "I'm here. Don't move too much. I'm going to see what I can do."
Danny is injured so badly . This is the saddest thing that happened during this Arc. But at least he's alive. All thanks to YOU, Taylor, Brockton Bay's most precious heroine. Also, a lot of people will live because YOU saved them. Quickly, forget the first aid, Taylor, call Coil and ask him to send his doctors (because I know that the normal doctors are too busy now with so many injured patients). Coil might be an asshole as big as S9, but at least he needs you and he won't let your father die as long as he NEEDS YOU. As for Shatterbird, she SUCKS as Maria. This is not her best role, she's such a bad actress that I'm going to be so freaking HAPPY if Alec will get control over her and teach her how to be a better actress using his own methods. For hurting/killing so many innocents+ for hurting Danny while she tried to play a role in a musical, she deserves to become a puppet for the rest of her miserable and talentless life.
"Not even scratched." I could see him sagging with relief. "You were right," he said. He tried to stand, and I pushed him back down. "Stay still," I said. "At least until we can be sure there's nothing more serious." "Right," he mumbled. "You took that first aid class." More glass had penetrated his blankets and sheets. There were holes in his back, his arm and shoulder. All bled, but none seemed to have hit any arteries, gushing or releasing copious amounts of blood. It was still far more blood loss than I would have liked – his undershirt was turning crimson. I climbed over him, glass stabbing my palm as I put a hand on the ground for balance. I wanted a closer look at his back. Had anything hit his spine? Fuck. There was one hole close to the spine, around the same distance down as his belly button.
"Can you move your toes?" There was a pause. "Yes." I breathed a sigh of relief. "Then the next biggest issue is possible internal bleeding. We need to get you to a hospital." "They hit the entire city?" "I think so," I told him. No use letting on exactly how much I knew. It would only cause the both of us more distress in the long run. "The hospitals will be overcrowded." "Yeah. But not going isn't an option." "Okay," he said. "I'll need my sandals, downstairs." I was using my power to find them by the time I was standing again. I found something else. There were people in our kitchen. The Slaughterhouse Nine? Had they followed me here? My dad was unable to see, thanks to the blood. I drew my bugs together into a cluster, hid them in the folds of my costume, which I had tied around my waist. I crossed the hall to my room and found a pair of loose-fitting cargo pants from when I'd had a bit of a belly and a wider waistband. I zipped up the pants and tied a sweatshirt around my waist to hide the rest of my costume. I could sense them approach. One of them waved at a fly that flew too close to their head. Both were men. Floorboards creaked as they ascended the stairs. "Hello?" one of them called out. I tensed. I didn't recognize the voice. They were right by my dad's bedroom. I heard my dad respond and swore under my breath.
I think the two newcomers are Coil's doctors because I remember that before Skitter left, Grue said that he'll contact Coil. Danny will be fine because the doctors will take good care of him. Thank you, Coil you asshole, for taking care of your henchpeople. Now I wonder if Taylor will go with her father to the secret hospital (or anywhere Coil's doctors are treating their patients) or she'll go to check on her people. If I were in her place, I'd go with my father and call Charlotte to see how my people are doing. But I'm not her and knowing her, she'll decide that she should go to her territory. She's going to abandon poor, poor Danny again, right?
My knife was still strapped in against the back of my costume, which dangled around my knees. I bent down and drew it from beneath my sweatshirt.
Voices. One of them murmured something, and my dad replied. I couldn't make out anything in terms of the words or the tone of what they were saying. Quietly, aiming each footstep to avoid the worst patches of broken glass, I stepped from my bedroom, my knife held low and ready. Two paramedics were working together to shift my dad onto a stretcher. I hurried to put the knife away. One noticed me. "Miss? You're alright?" "I'm fine." "This your dad?" "Yeah." "We're going to take him to the hospital. Mind making sure our way out is clear? Maybe open the front door for us?" "Okay." I felt like a machine, clumsy, almost emotionless, as I led them out of the house. There were two other ambulances parked in places I could see. None had windshields, mirrors or headlights. The explosion had blown out the flashing lights and whatever system had handled the sirens. It didn't fit. The timing of this, their preparedness. But they didn't look like any members of the Nine I knew. I could see one of the paramedics down the street – she was black. So it wasn't the Chosen, either. Merchants wouldn't be this organized or devious. I reminded myself of where my knife was, in case I needed to draw it at a moment's notice. The two paramedics began loading my dad into the back. "Can I ride along?" I asked one, the second they were done. He looked at me, then grabbed something large, black and irregularly shaped from a pocket beneath the stretcher. Holding it in one hand, he put one hand on my shoulder and led me a short distance away. My heart rate tripled. My gut was telling me they weren't normal paramedics, and this was the moment I found out just how. "Here," he pressed a bundle into my hands. It was large, bulky, and there were hard bits beneath the cloth. "You don't want to leave this behind." I peeked at the contents of the bundle, then swallowed hard. It was my mask and the back sheath of my armor with the stuff inside. In my haste, I'd torn them off and left them where they fell.
"You're with Coil?" I asked. I felt a quiet horror at the realization that Coil would now know who my dad was, and who I was by proxy. He nodded once. "More specifically, your teammates sent us. They'd hoped we would pick you up and drive you here, but we weren't able to find you, and we were delayed because we had to take safety measures first." He looked towards the van. I realized he was talking about the removal of the glass. Relief surged through me, and I felt tears welling up. That relief proved short-lived. "Our employer feels there's very little you'll be able to do with your father here, and quite a bit you could do elsewhere. He did say he understands if you want to prioritize your family." My eyes widened in understanding. Coil wanted me to attend to my territory, now, in this moment of crisis. "He wants me to leave my dad?" It might as well have been a rhetorical question. The paramedic didn't respond. I felt my heart sink. "We'll give him the best care we can," he said. I turned and climbed into the ambulance. My dad was gingerly dabbing at one of his eyes with a wet cloth. I was pretty sure he didn't see me. I bent over him and kissed him on the corner of his forehead, in a spot where the blood didn't cover his face. He snapped his head up to look at me. The white of one of his eyes had turned crimson, the green of his iris pale in the midst of it. "I love you dad," I said, then I backed away a step. "Stay," he said. "Please." I shook my head. I stepped back once again, and then hopped down from the back of the ambulance, turning away. "Taylor!" Always like this, now. Always walking away, knowing how much it hurt him. I blinked more tears out of my eyes. "You make sure he's alright," I ordered the paramedic, ignoring another of my father's shouts. The man nodded. "I can tell him we aren't allowing ride-alongs, just in case we need more bodies in the back." "Thank you." My power buzzed at the edge of my consciousness as I turned my back on the scene. Fuck all of this. Fuck the Nine. Fuck Shatterbird. Fuck Jack. Fuck Leviathan. Fuck Coil. Fuck Hookwolf. Fuck me, most of all.
"sighs" I was right about knowing Taylor very well. She'll rather abandon her father than the people in her territory. Well, her people are injured and scared and they need to be checked on, but..."sighs" She's so different compared to Grue (and me). Grue would have stay by his sister's side, while Taylor..Alright, let's say that if she doesn't show Coil that she can protect and help her people, she'll never be able to save Dinah and I can understand this+ she might genuinely care about their safety and well-being, which is admirable. Besides, Danny have plenty of very competent doctors around him, ready to take care of all his needs. He'd be fine. Tattletale will also be fine. But Shatterbird won't be fine if Regent will have his way with her and this thought makes me VERY JOYFUL .
Taylor, you forgot to say: FUCK THE FLOATING SPACE ABSTRACT CREATURES because they're the ones who gave people these fucked up powers. The world would have been a better place without super-powers.
(the original fan art Taylor Hebert-Pest Control)
TAYLOR IN A NUTSHELL.
Hi, my friends, after the whole HELL OF A RUNNING from the last Chapter, maybe this new Chapter will be less nerve-wracking and more calm, even if I highly doubt about 12.06 | Worm I have a confession to make: Taylor is a real inspirational person. Thanks to her, I started to run for 10- 15 minutes every freaking day. She inspired me to run so I can become a more healthy and resistant person. Taylor isn't only a life savior, but also she's a life changer. There are basically two things that changed in my life by reading Worm: I'm running each day and I'm more afraid by mannequins than I was before . Worm changes people. In a way or another. Its like a passage of life. So, during this Chapter, Taylor will play as doctor for her people. She'll show them that she's the best Lady of Crime they can possible hope for. I wonder what happened to people in other territories. I don't want to imagine how hurt Rachel will be if she'll return to Wolf Lair and find her dogs being injured by glass or even worse. If she didn't hated S9 before then she'll hate them after Shatterbird's musical show attempt.
I never thought I'd be thankful in any way that Leviathan had trashed my hometown. Leviathan's tidal waves had shattered many of the windows and the residents had put plywood, plastic and boards up in their wake. It meant there was less material for Shatterbird to use against us. Countless people had been spared from injury and death due to Shatterbird's glass shards because Leviathan had gotten to us first.
But even without the glass, there was still sand.
I stepped out of the way as a trio of people moved down the street, supporting each other as much as they were able. Each of them had been blasted by the sand, their skin left ragged. It had turned a bruised combination of black brown and purple where it hadn't been scraped off and left raw, red and openly bleeding. One looked as though he'd been blinded. The sandburns covered his upper face.
Two ambulances had stopped at an intersection just a block away from where I had announced my claim of territory. At a glance, I could tell that they'd had all mirrors removed and all glass stripped from the dash, doors and windshield. Those that had emerged from their homes and shelters were gravitating towards the ambulances. There was still dust settling on the streets, and I could taste it thick in the air, even through my mask. I wondered if we needed to be getting masks out to people. It couldn't be healthy.
Heads turned as I approached. I'd put my costume on again, and I had a swarm of bugs following in my wake, giving me more presence. When people were this hurt and scared, it didn't take much to tap into that primal part of their psyches and intimidate them just a little.
Surveying the scene, I could already tell there were going to be issues.
Hundreds, thousands of hurt people, many in critical or potentially critical shape, there were only two ambulances here, and the hospitals would be overcrowded. People were going to panic when they realized that they wouldn't necessarily get help. They would get upset, even angry. This already unstable situation would descend into all-out chaos.
I told them I'd protect them, but there was no stopping this.
I wasn't on my game. My thoughts were on Dad and on Tattletale, not on these people and all the factors that I was supposed to take into account. But I didn't have a choice.
I gave the order, and my swarm spread out, flowing through the crowd. It was enough bugs to get people's attention. I just hoped the benefits of having the bugs there would outweigh any fear or discomfort the bugs generated.
Using the bugs I'd spread around the area, I augmented my voice, allowing it to carry. "The most important thing is to remain calm."
More people turned toward me. I stepped closer to the ambulances, where paramedics were working with some of the most critical cases. I felt like a charlatan, a pretender. The look of mixed fear and incredulity from the paramedics didn't help. Still, someone had to take control and organize before people started lashing out, and the city's heroes were apparently occupied elsewhere.
"I don't intend you any harm," I reassured them. "If you're unhurt and able-bodied, there are people who need your help. Step forward so I can direct you to them."
I know what Skitter is doing. She's trying to make less injured people helping the most injured ones, which is a very good idea. The doctors can't help everyone, volunteers are very important in chaotic situations like this one. It looks like Charlotte and Sierra did a pretty good job with protecting as many people as they could and contacting the doctors. I'm starting to like these 2 girls quite a lot . Good to see non-powered people who can be so helpful and useful. You don't need super-powers to do something good.
Silence and stillness stretched on for long seconds. I could see people who had no visible injuries, who were staring at me, unwilling to respond to my appeal. Generally speaking, the types of people who lived in the Docks weren't the sort who were used to being neighborly, to putting society's needs above their own.
Fuck me. My head wasn't in the right place. I'd forgotten. I'd been taught in the first aid classes you had to be direct and specific when dealing with people in a crisis. Asking for help was begging for disappointment, because people would hesitate to step forward, or assume that someone else would handle the job. Instead of asking for help, we were supposed to single someone out of the crowd of bystanders and give them a clear, identifiable task. Something along the lines of, 'You in the red shirt, call nine-one-one!'
And now that I'd fucked that up, I'd entrenched them. The status quo was now quickly becoming 'not listening to the supervillain', and it would be twice as hard to get them to go against the rest of the herd.
Which left me three unpleasant options. The first option was that I could abandon that plan, look weak, and lose standing in the eyes of everyone present. Alternately, I could speak up again, appeal to their humanity, beg, plead, demand, praying all the while for someone to come forward. That was the second choice, and it would make me look even worse to everyone watching, with only a miniscule chance of success.
The silence stretched on. I knew it had only been five or six seconds, but it felt like a minute.
The third of my ugly options? I could make them listen. Goad them into action with threats and violence. It meant I risked provoking the same sort of chaos and violence I was hoping to combat, but I suspected that chance was relatively minor. I could get people to do what I needed them to do. I'd maybe earn their respect, but I'd probably earn their enmity at the same time.
Could I do this? Could I become the bully, even if it was for the greater good? I was going to hate myself for doing it, but I'd left my dad behind to be here. I wasn't about to fail. "Alright," I said, sounding calmer than I felt. My fist clenched at my side.
I hesitated. Someone was approaching. I felt them passing through the bugs I'd dispersed through the crowd. Charlotte.
Oh, God, Skitter, please, don't mention the RED shit. You know what's happening with the RED shirts, I hope you have never seen at least a couple of Start Trek episodes. Btw, if there any RED shirt in the City who survived during and after the Bloody Sound of Music? There's another option, Skitter. You can convince Charlotte to talk to people in your name and convince them to help each others. Since they don't know that she's your henchwoman, maybe they'll see her as someone of them and listen her. Maybe she'll fail, but at least she can try.
"You're not wearing your mask," I said, the second she was close enough to hear me, my voice quiet. "Or the paper cube."
"The cube got crushed when I was helping someone. I was glad you didn't use your power," she said. Then, loud enough that some people nearby could hear her, she asked me, "What can I do?" I owe her one hell of a favor.
I'd had my bugs sweeping through nearby buildings since I'd arrived. I hadn't really stopped, even after I got home. I had found several of the wounded. A man lying prone, two kids huddled near their mother. The mother's face was sticky with blood, her breathing quick. The children were bleeding too. I could sense a man stumbling blindly through what had been his home, hands to his face.
I almost sent her after the blind man, but reconsidered.
I pointed at a warehouse, and spoke loud enough for others to hear, "There's a woman and two little kids in there, you won't be able to help them alone." Which was a large part of why I had chosen them.
I spotted a twenty-something guy with an impressive bushy beard and no shirt. Aside from one cut on his stomach and some smaller patches of shredded skin where the sand had caught him in the back, he seemed to be in okay shape. "You. Help her."
He looked at the older woman beside him. His mother? She was clearly hurt, and had the remains of two or three white t-shirts bundled around her arm. It was clear the limb had been caught by the sand; it looked like a mummy's arm, only bloody. Anticipating an excuse on his part, I pointing to the nearest group of injured and told him, "They'll look after her. There are people who need you more. Second floor. Go."
He looked at his mother, and the look she gave him was answer enough. He helped her hobble over to the group of people I'd indicated, leaving her in their care, and joined Charlotte in running for the warehouse where the woman and kids were.
Now I just had to keep my momentum.
"You and your friend," I spoke to a middle-aged guy and his buddy. "There's a guy slowly bleeding out in the factory there. Go help him."
Charlotte, you're an ANGEL. Thank you, thank you for thinking to help Skitter with her people without her asking you this. You're a smart and caring person, my jewish fellow . I know that you didn't helped Taylor back at school, but I can understand that you're so afraid of becoming the next target of Emma's bullying that you weren't brave enough to confront her. I can understand and forgive you. What it matters is what you're doing now, helping Skitter with everything she needs. I think its part of your remorse for what happened in the past and part of you genuinely wanting to help her/other people. Also, glad to see Skitter helping children first. Exactly what I'd have done in her place.
The second that passed before they moved to obey left my heart pounding.
I turned to the next person and stopped. He was one of the few people with actual bandages on his wounds, and he stood near his family. Even with the gauze pads strapped to his face, I recognized him from earlier. Or, to be specific, I recognized the little boy R.J., and I knew this man as his father, patriarch of the rat infested house from early in the day.
"There's a blinded man in the brick building over there," I told him, facing him squarely. "Go help him."
"Why?" he challenged me, his voice gruff, his gaze hard. "I'm hurt. If I go, I'm going to miss my turn with the ambulances." Asshole. There wasn't even a shred of gratitude for what I'd done to help him and his family, and he didn't even seem to need his turn at the ambulance that badly either. I had to resist the urge to hit him or set my bugs on him.
Worse, I couldn't help but feel like he was seeing through the image I was trying to portray. Seeing the girl behind the mask, who was just trying to pretend she knew what she was doing.
I turned to the next person, a solidly built woman with scratches and the sandburns I was quickly coming to recognize all over her face.
She had even taped half of a sanitary pad over one eye. It wasn't my brightest move, but I asked her, "Are you going to whine like a little girl, too, if I ask you to help someone?"
She smiled a little and shook her head.
"Good. Go. Left side of the building. He's blind, and there's nobody else there to help. I think he might have inhaled sand, he's coughing pretty violently. Don't push him to move too fast or too much. Take your time walking him back, if the bleeding isn't too severe."
She obeyed, moving off with a powerful stride. When I looked, R.J.'s dad was gone. He was stomping off toward the ambulances, keeping the crowd between us, dragging his wife at his side with R.J. hurrying to keep up. Knowing how angry he was, I had to hope he wasn't the type to take out his anger on his family. I didn't want to be indirectly responsible for their pain.
There were more people to pick out of the crowd, more orders to give. It was all about setting them up so that refusal made them look bad, both to themselves and to others. Social pressure.
By the time I'd sent two more groups, some of the others were coming back to be directed to the next few injured. I gave them their orders.
Which only raised the greater problem. How were we supposed to handle these people who were hurt and waiting their turn? They were scared and restless. That unease bled over into their friends, families and maybe their neighbors, who were scared for themselves and the people they cared about. Already, they were gathering around the ambulances, pleading for help from too small a group of people, who had their hands full saving others' lives. Some were simply asking the paramedics for advice while keeping a respectful distance, others were demanding assistance because they felt theirloved ones were more important than whoever was getting care or attention at that moment. The paramedics couldn't answer everyone.
Oh, no, is that FUCKASS again. That stupid dad who wanted to challenge Skitter at fight, despite her helping his family. And now he refused to help people and ran away like a fucking COWARD. I'm not even going to call him head of family. A true head of family isn't a coward. I almost feel bad that he wasn't severely injured during the GlassApocalypse. I'm disgusted by people like him. At least, Skitter found someone hundreds of times more brave than the fuckass and willing to help with the injured. Not all people are monsters or cowards.
People in this area formed closely knit packs. They would step up to defend the people they cared about far more quickly and easily than they had with my appeal to help strangers just minutes ago. I didn't trust them to remain peaceful if this kept up.
What the hell was I supposed to do with them?
As lost as I felt in that moment, I managed to look calm. My bugs gave me an awareness of the situation, and my eyes swept over the scene to get a sense of the mood and what people were doing.
I spotted a mother picking at one of her son's wounds, and I realized what she was doing. I hurried to stop her. "What are you doing?"
Riding the highs and the lows of emotion from the past hour or two, I might have come across sounding angrier than I was. She quailed just a bit.
"He has glass in his arm."
He did. There were slivers of glass no longer than the nub of lead in an old-fashioned pencil, sticking out of his cuts.
"Those are probably okay to remove," I told her, "But avoid disturbing any close to the arteries, here, here and here."
"He doesn't have cuts there."
"Good," I told her. "But you should know for later, for when you're helping others."
She pointed at her leg. Sand had flayed the skin of her foot and calf and turned the muscle a dirty brown color. "I can't really walk."
"You won't need to."
A plan was coalescing in my mind. A way to give people something to do and give them some indication they'd eventually get help. The problem was, I needed materials to carry this out, and there wasn't much nearby. It meant I had to get the materials from my lair. I wasn't willing to leave for any length of time, though, and I didn't want to spare Charlotte, either.
I had to use my bugs. That wasn't so simple when the things I was retrieving weren't small.
I had a box of pens and markers in my room, for sketching out the costume designs. I also had first aid kits in my bedside table upstairs and in the bathroom on the ground floor. Bringing all of that stuff here meant opening the boxes and retrieving everything I needed, carting them here on a wave of crawling bugs, past puddles and flooded streets.
I collected markers, pens, bandages, ointments, iodine, candles and needles. Especially needles. Smaller bottles of hydrogen peroxide. At least, I hoped it was the iodine and hydrogen peroxide. I couldn't exactly read the labels. The bottle shapes felt right, anyways.
More people returned with the injured. I administrated my bugs while I gave new directions to the rescue parties.
Just carrying the things on a tide of bugs wasn't going to work. The crawling bugs couldn't pass through the water, and there was no way to have flying bugs carry things – too many of the objects were too heavy, even with the flying insects gathered on every inch of their surface and working in unison.
Minutes passed as I tried different configurations and formations of bugs, trying to wrangle things like the small bottle of hydrogen peroxide with my swarm.
Then I saw the woman with the maxi-pad eyepatch and a man of roughly the same age carting someone to the ambulance using a blanket attached to two broomsticks as a stretcher.
I could do the same thing. I called on my black widow spiders, drawing some out from the terrariums where I had them contained.
Wasps carted them to the necessary spots, and I had them spin their silk around the objects in question and tie that silk to the
necessary bugs. Silk looped around the neck of a marker, then around a series of roaches, who could then be assisted by other bugs. I
did the same for the other things, the iodine, markers, pens, candles and more.
When I was done, I called the swarm to me.
So, Skitter ran for 28 minutes to save her dad, she should be tired as fuck and sleep for days but right now she's using bugs to transport medicine to people and she also have great concentration over her power without breaking a sweat....Skitter, are you sure your real father is Danny? What if I told you that your real father is... Scion, in a barely audible, alien voice: Taylor...Danny Hebert never told you what happened to your father?
Taylor: He is my father. Scion: No, I'm your father.
Taylor: NOOOOOO!!!!
....this is exactly what I wanted to say but Scion was faster than me. Well, Taylor, you just meet your real father .
I turned my attention to the injured who were clustering around the ambulances.
"Listen!" I called out, using my bugs to augment my voice. "Some of you have been picking the glass out of your skin! I understand it hurts, but you're slowing things down!"
I got some confused and angry looks. I held up my hand to forestall any comments or argument.
"Any paramedic, nurse or doctor that helps you has to make absolutely sure that you don't have any glass embedded deep in your body. I don't believe x-rays can detect glass-"
I paused as a paramedic snapped his head up to look at me. Okay, so I was wrong. I wished he hadn't reacted, though. People were paying attention to the paramedics, they'd noticed, and it wasn't critical that these people know the exact details of the treatment they'd get. If he'd just let me lie or be wrong, this would have gone smoother.
"Or at least, glass as fine as the shrapnel that hit you," I corrected myself.
A shrug and a nod from the paramedic. I got my mental bearings and continued, "If you're pulling the glass out of your cuts and wounds and you lose track of which ones you've tended to, they're going to have to explore the wounds to investigate, queue you up for x-rays and maybe even cut you open again later, after the skin has closed up, to get at any pieces they missed."
I could see uneasy reactions from the crowd. I raised my hand, just in time for the first of my swarm to arrive. I closed my hand around a pen as the cloud of airborne insects delivered it to me. They dispersed, and the pen remained behind.
"I'm going to give some of you pens and markers. We're going to have a system to make all of this easier on the doctors. Dotted lines around any injuries with glass sticking out. Circles around wounds where the glass may be deeper."
The paramedic waved me over. I moved briskly through the crowd to the stretcher.
"Tetanus," he said, when I was close enough. "We need to know if they've had their shots."
"They probably haven't," I replied, using my swarm to augment my voice, but not to carry it to the crowd.
"Probably not. But we have to ask, and time we spend asking is time we could spend helping them." I grasped the hand of a grungy old man who stood next to me, stretching his arm out. "Have you had your shots?"
He shook his head.
I used the pen to draw a 'T' on the back of his hand, circled it and drew a line through it. I pressed the pen into the old man's hand,
"You go to people and ask them the same question. If they haven't had their shots, draw the same thing. If they have, just draw the T."
I'm amazed how Skitter manages to do everything in such a short time. If I were in her place....I'd have sleep for hours because of the fatigue. To my great shame . Do you know what I'm afraid the most? For Shatterbird to make her apparition, flying and using the shards of glass from people's wounds to kill them by exploding them before they're pulled out. Imagine the kind of MASSACRE she'll do in Skitter's territory+ she'll completely destroy Skitter's reputation as her people's savior and any authority she have over them when the survivors will start blaming her because she didn't protected them as she promised. Shatterbird will bury under a tsunami of shards Skitter's dream to protect her people and be a perfect Crime Lady for Coil. That would be an unfortunate smart move of S9.
I saw a glimmer of confusion in his eyes. Was he illiterate? I turned his hand over and drew a capital 'T' on his palm.
"Like that, if they have had their shots" I said, raising his hand for people to see, then turned it around. "Like that if they haven't."
He nodded and took the pen, turning to the not-quite-as-old man beside him.
I addressed the crowd, "Remember, dotted line around the wounds if you can see the glass or if you're absolutely sure there's no glass in there, circle if you can't tell. Once you or someone else has drawn the dotted line, you can take out the glass if it's smaller than
your thumbnail. If it's bigger, try to leave it alone!"
"We need some elbow room," the paramedic told me. His blue gloves were slick with blood. People were standing within two or three feet of him, watching what he was doing, trying to be close enough to be the next to get help when he was done with his current patient.
That wasn't the limit of the potential patients, either: there were the injured that Charlotte and the others were retrieving. The people who hadn't been able to get here under their own power.
"We're changing locations," I called out. I could see them reacting to that, balking at the idea. "If you're able to stand, it's going to be a long time before you get the help you want. There's plenty more people with worse injuries. Suck it up!"
I waited for someone to challenge me on that. Nobody did.
"If you listen and cooperate you'll get the help you want sooner. We're going to gather inside the factory right here where we'll be clear of the worst of the dust. It's dry inside, and there's enough space for all of us."
It took some time for everyone to get moving, but they did. My bugs passed me some candles and a lighter and I started handing them out with the pens and markers. I followed the mass of people into the defunct factory that was next to the ambulances.
Sheets and cloths were pulled from machinery and laid atop boxes and on the ground, so people had places to sit and lie down. Gradually, people set about the process of marking the types of wounds and the presence of glass, buried or otherwise.
"Disinfectant?" a woman asked me. I turned. She was older, in her mid-fifties, roughly my height, and she had a pinched face. "What about it?"
"You've been pulling things out of the clouds of flies," she told me, "Can you produce some disinfectant for us, or are you limited to art supplies and candles?"
I got the impression of a strict schoolteacher from her. The kind who was a hardass with even the good students and a mortal enemy to the poor ones.
I reached out my hand, and a portion of my swarm passed over it. Thanks to the fact that many of them were in contact with the bottle, it was easy enough to position my hand and know when to close it. The bugs drifted away, and I was left holding the three-inch tall bottle.
My theatrics didn't seem to impress her. Her tone was almost disparaging as she said, "Nobody uses hydrogen peroxide anymore. It delays recovery time."
"That's not necessarily a bad thing," I said. "If the wounds heal over embedded glass, it'll be that much more unpleasant."
"Do you have medical training?" she asked me, her tone disapproving.
"Not enough, no," I said with a sigh. I had the swarm pass over my hand again, picking up the hydrogen peroxide and depositing another plastic bottle in its place. "Iodine?"
"Thank you," she said, in a tone that was more impatient than grateful. "We're going to need more than this." "I'll see what I can do," I told her, trying not to sound exasperated.
She headed for a group of people and knelt by one of the wounded who was lying on a sheet. I could see her posture and expression soften as she talked to them. So she wasn't like that with other people.
That woman was kind of a jerk with Skitter, but at least she's willing to help people, unlike that fuckass of R.J.'s father. I'm still waiting anxiously here for Shatterbird's second demonstration of her acting skills. Well, I'm sure that glass will never affect in any way Skitter's costume, who is just as invulnerable at everything exactly like Siberian's skin is . But everyone else will not be so lucky. Even people who doesn't have glass embedded in their bodies can be hurt by the additional glass that Shatterbird will bring with her.
Whatever. I'd been prepared to be hated when I committed to villainy.
I gathered all of the supplies I'd brought and sent more bugs out to scout for more.
What I wouldn't give for a working cell phone, to find out about how Tattletale was doing, even to ask after my dad. But cell phones had computer chips, and computer chips had silicon.
Everything that was electronic and more complicated than a toaster was probably fried, with exceptions for some tinker-made stuff.
There was no use dwelling on the fact that two people I cared about were gravely hurt. I couldn't do anything about it now, and time spent wondering was time I wasn't protecting and helping these people.
In terms of protecting these people, I spread my bugs out over every surface, until a potential threat wouldn't be able to take a step without killing one. It would serve as advance warning in case any members of Hookwolf's alliance came through to make trouble. I spread out some flying insects to try to detect airborne threats like Rune.
And so my assumption turned to be true. Unfortunately. Shatterbird can affect silicon, destroying technology, especially computers and cellphones. Gosh, I think Dragon will be useless in a fight against S9, as long as Shatterbird is near. She can simply affect Dragon's Suits, by cutting Dragon's communication with them (I hope I'm getting everything right because, you know, me and technology aren't very good friends ). I wonder if Siberian can be affected by Shatterbird. If Regent will be able to capture and control Shatterbird, maybe they can use her to destroy any control Mannequin or Bonesaw or anyone else have over Siberian, thus taking down the Queen? That would be a THING.
Most of the flying bugs, however, I was using to sweep over my surroundings, checking buildings and building interiors. I wanted first aid kits, anything these people could use to clean their wounds. Noting the lack of suture threads, I had my spiders start using their silk to spin something long, thick and tough enough, threading it through the holes of needles for their use.
It would slow down my costume production a touch, but I could deal.
"That doesn't look very sterile," a woman said, from behind me, as I checked the length of the thread one set of spiders had produced. It was the pinched, gray-haired woman from just a little bit ago.
"More than you'd think. I raised these little ladies myself. They live in terrariums."
"That doesn't mean it's clean enough to thread through someone's open wounds."
"No," I replied, feeling a bit irritated, "But in the absence of good alternatives, I'd rather use this and then supply everyone here with antibiotics at some point in the next day or so. Which they probably need anyways."
"People use antibiotics too often," she said. "I try to make a point of using them sparingly in my clinic." Seriously? "I think situations like this are the exact right time to use antibiotics. These people have open wounds, they're undernourished, dehydrated, stressed, their immune systems are probably shot, their environments are filthy, there's probably countless other reasons."
She said something, sounding even more irritated than before. I think it was a repeat of the question from earlier, about my credentials in medicine. I wasn't listening.
The paramedics hadn't come out of the ambulance in several minutes. A check with my bugs found them lying on the floor of the ambulance. No blood, as far as I could tell.
Ignoring the woman, I turned and headed for the door, hurrying outside. She barked something snide at my back.
I was battle ready as I approached the ambulance and checked the area. Nobody.
Stepping inside, I checked on the paramedics and the patient with an oxygen balloon strapped to his face. The paramedics were beyond help, dead, their heads twisted at an ugly angle. The patient hadn't been dispatched the same way. I checked his throat to find him still warm, but he wasn't breathing and he had no pulse. I squeezed the balloon, and huge amounts of blood bubbled from what I had taken to be a shallow cut in his chest. The bubbles meant the oxygen was leaking from his punctured lung.
At first I believed that the annoying, but helpful woman was a germaphobe (someone who's afraid of germs and infection) but she said that she have a clinic so she's a doctor. But there can be germaphobe doctors too, right? Lady, you should be thankful to Skitter for doing whatever she can in the given situation, not criticize her all the freaking time. She's trying her best to save people left and right. Aaaaaaand....it looks like a S9 member arrived to PUNISH Skitter for saving her people. Isn't Shatterbird, as I expected. No Glass Show. Neither Siberian, she'd have eaten them, not twisting their heads or puncturing their lungs. I don't think Jack is so strong to twist their heads at an ugly angle. Burnscar would have burned them, Cherish is now a pariah in S9's eyes, besides she can only make people kill each other or commit suicide and I doubt she made these people twisting each other's heads, Crawler wouldn't have acted in such a quiet way, Bonesaw would have kept them alive to turn them into monsters so....SO......There's another character who knows almost as much as Bonesaw about anatomy. Oh, God....OH, GOD.....don't....don't be what I'm thinking might be....Don't be HIM....Don't be freaking HIM....."shudders"
This wound – there was no way he could have had it when he came into the ambulance. It was fresh. All three of the people here had been executed. It had been done in cold blood, clean, and I hadn't even noticed with my bugs on watch.
Which left me very concerned for the people I'd left in the warehouse. I hopped down from the back of the ambulance, checked my surroundings, and then ran across the street.
.....................................................ITS HIM. ITS MOTHERFUCKING HIM........THANK YOU, MY DEARS, FOR WARNING ME ABOUT MANNEQUIN MAKING HIS APPEARANCE IN THIS CHAPTER....NICE OF YOU..... (it won't be a spoiler if I demand myself to be told about . PM me) Oh, God....WHY?.....WHY? I don't even have icecream in my fridge. Actually nothing sweet to eat in order to feel more calm about the whole situation. Btw, my friend calls Mannequin- Dr Manny (she also didn't warned me about his appearance. Thanks a bunch, Monica ). Dr because he was IS a scientist and Manny from Mannequin. Ok, I guess I'll call him like this too from time to time, when the situation becomes too tense. Dr Manny sounds a little fun. Alright, he came here to punish Skitter because she's saving lives and he hates humanity so much that he's ready to stop anyone from saving people. I get it.
featureless, but for the chains and ball joints that connected his ceramic-encased limbs. One hand was raised, a single finger raised, ticking from side to side like a metronome. Like an old-fashioned parent scolding an errant child.
The other hand was folded back, a long telescoping blade extended from the base of Mannequin's palm. The blade was pressed to the neck of the gray-haired doctor, so she had to stand on her tiptoes, her head pressed back against his chest.
I didn't have a chance to move, to speak, or to use my power before he retracted the blade. It slid across her throat, shearing through the skin, and arterial blood sprayed forth to cover some of the ground between us. She collapsed to the ground.
Mannequin's knife hand went limp, dangling at his side. His other hand remained in position, finger wagging, as if admonishing me for what I had been doing. Saving people from the Nine, tending to the hurt and scared.
I should have anticipated this.
I stepped forward, almost without thinking about it, and he dropped his other hand while taking three long steps to back away from me. His movements were ungainly, as if he was about to collapse to the ground with each one. No sooner had I wondered why when I saw his feet. His 'toes' pointed at the ground, and blades had sprouted from slots at the front of each foot. He was perched precariously on the honed knife points, walking on the blades.
Reaching behind my back, I drew my baton and knife. I tensed as he moved in reaction, closing half the distance between us, lurching three or four feet to the right, then back again.
I caught on immediately. He was evading the bugs that had been hovering in the air between us, the knife-stilts that extended from his feet delicately avoiding contact with the bugs that were on the ground. The contact he didmake with the bugs was gentle, sliding against them like a brush of wind. I only noticed because I was paying attention.
He didn't need to avoid my swarm. He was taunting me. Letting me know exactly how he had gotten so close without me realizing it.
I flicked out my baton to its full length. He responded by doing the same with the telescoping blades that unfolded from his arms. His weapons were longer, both sharp.
Not taking my eyes off him, I used my bugs and my peripheral vision to track the other people in the warehouse. Too many were too hurt to move, and those who could move had backed into corners and to places where they had cover.
Still, this was his battlefield. He had far too many hostages at his disposal. He was faster than me, stronger, tougher.
I was pretty damn sure that his power was as complete a counter to mine as anyone could hope for. Anyone who had paid attention to the news in the past five years knew who he was, what his story was. Mannequin had once been a tinker who specialized in biospheres, terrariums and self-contained ecosystems. A tinker who specialized in sustaining life, sheltering it from outside forces; forces that included water, weather, space… and bugs.
The only difference between then and now was that he was using his power to help and protect himself and himself only.
"Motherfucker." Even without intending to do it, I used my swarm to carry my voice. His head craned around, as if to look at the swarming bugs who had just, for all intents and purposes, spoken. Eventually his 'face' turned back to me.
"I have no idea how the fuck I'm going to do it," my voice was a low snarl, barely recognizable as my own beneath my anger and the noises of the swarm. "But I'm going to make you regret that."
FUCK THIS....Skitter just challenged Dr Manny at fight. Skitter have bigger balls than Mannequin will ever have. But, knowing Dr Manny, I think he got rid of his dick and balls as well as everything else who isn't necessarily for his survival, or just replaced them with robotic versions. I won't be surprised if he'll sprout a weapon from there if Skitter will try her Dick Wrenching Fighting Style....."shivers".....I give her 50% chance to defeat him. 55% chance if she's getting very creative. If she can only break just a little through his shell, everything will be perfect. Fill him with bugs and have each of his human organs completely obliterated under the vicious attack of Swarm. That would be excellent for everyone, except for Dr Manny himself. Anyway, this thing should stop existing. As soon as possible. For the sake of my poor heart first then for the sake of all the innocent people this DR ASSHOLE will kill further if is not stopped.
I wanted to create a meme Mannequin but I realize that I can't look at his pictures more than 5 seconds without sweating nervously.
Good night and sleep well, my friends.
Mannequin is going to be under your bed and grab you by your foot when you'll go to toilet, as punishment for not telling me about him.
Hello, wonderful friends who told me about Mannequin five chapters ago, hoping that I'm gonna remember this- aren't you sweethearts? , and welcome to the FIGHT of the CENTURY in Plague 12.7 In the left corner: Taylor Hebert aka Skitter, Undersider, Crime Lady, philanthropist, amateur doctor, protector of the weak and helpless VS In the right corner: The most crazy Tinker you can possible meet, Mannequin aka Dr Manny, Slaughterhouse 9 member, evil MUHAHAHAHAHAHA super-scientist (he can't laugh but I think he can use Morse Code for a sweet evil laugh when he wants. I can hear him laughing in Morse Code in my head ). Alright, Skitter have like 50% chances to defeat him (of course I wants 100000000% her to win: she's MY DEAR Skitter, I hate Mannequin more than anyone else, and her people should be protected with any costs) but let's be honest: I only give her half of chances in this fight because Mannequin is very powerful and very smart and very well prepared. I can't be unrealistic and say that she can beat him in like few minutes, or without being injured by him or he doesn't have any chance to win. Even if I hate 98% S9 members with a burning passion (except for Bonesaw who I love to hate and Burnscar- half hate/half pity her), I admit that they're very strong, very resistant and most of them are intelligent and have a strategic mind in combat. Mannequin is one of those intelligent and strategic minds+ even if his weapons might not cut through Skitter's super-resistant costume, he can still twist her head, break her limbs or even break her in half. They're many ways to kill a 15 years old girl especially when you have a body made of hard shell. Besides, the same shell body might protect him against her attacks, no matter how aggressive they're. So, Skitter have 50% chances to win but also Mannequin have 50% chances to win. Ok, I WISH YOU ALL THE SUCCESS IN THE WORLD, SKITTER, YOU'RE THE SECOND BEST GIRL. I have my icecream ready, a couple of cookies that I made myself and....let's go. And hope for the best.
Mannequin lunged for me, his bladed toes biting into the ground for traction. He moved fast enough that his arms trailed behind him like twin ribbons in a strong wind.
He stopped several paces away from me, turning his body to swing at me with his right arm and the three foot long blade that was attached to it. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought he'd fall well short. But his arm extended on a chain, giving the swing just enough reach to put the blade on a collision course with my head.
I parried it with my baton. The hit was heavy, more like trying to fend off a sledgehammer than what I'd expected. I almost lost my grip on my weapon.
As the blade bounced off my baton, he reversed the direction his upper body was turning to start spinning like a top. His one attached arm hurtling around him, he sprung at me. I threw myself back and away, escaping by a mere two inches.
His spinning upper body had, with his right arm spooled out, caused the chain to wind around his body. He began reeling it in, the arm and blade drawing a lazy circle around him. I backed away, thinking I finally had a chance to get my bearings.
As his detached arm reeled in, the fingers folded backwards around the end of one of his feet, gripping it. He retracted the blade at the toe of the other foot and dropped that foot flat on the ground. The motion seemed to unbalance him, and he teetered, almost falling over. Then in one sudden motion, he righted himself and thrust out with his other leg and the three-foot blade that was now attached to it. I didn't have time to get out of the way, to bring my baton up to defend myself or even to do more than belatedly realize his near-collapse had been a feint. He caught me in the stomach with that same surprising strength as before, then slashed up toward my collarbone with enough force to lift my feet up off the ground. I landed hard on my back, my armor absorbing the brunt of the impact.
The sides of my armor panels bit into the ribs of my back where they curved toward my body.
Keeping the lessons I'd learned from sparring with Grue in mind, I tried to scramble back and away while Mannequin righted himself and put the forearm and hand he had connected to his foot in the right place. Before I could get to my feet, he started striding toward me.
Maybe you're wondering why I didn't used the usual green color for Worm- quoted text. Well, in order to have more than 50% chances o defeat Mannequin, Skitter should be VERY creative. And...everyone knows that So, I have to replace green with red for this Chapter. Alright, if I give Skitter 50% (+50% if she's getting creative) aren't you curious to see how many chances I give her if she fights every single one of the S9 member? Let's see: 70-80% against Jack (if he can also make his knives sharp enough to cut through anything, besides having an infinite cutting edge then he'll cut through her invincible costume and her chances will drop at 50-60%). 0% against Siberian (everyone would have the same chances as long as they don't know her weak point), 0-1% chances against Crawler (1% with indulgence), 60-70% chances against Shatterbird, 80% chances against Burnscar (she took down Lung, who's stronger and more dangerous that Burnscar), 0% against Cherish (Cherish can make Skitter kill herself), 90% against Bonesaw (if Bonesaw is helped by her creations, the chances drop at 60%; if Bonesaw have also special safeguard making her invincible at bugs and knives and fireguns, chances drop to 0%). So, Skitter have the best chances against the most vulnerable members of the team. Cherish is also vulnerable, but her power will simply fuck Skitter up.
I drew my bugs around me to conceal my movements as I rolled to one side, set my feet under me and sprinted to his left.
While still beneath the cover of my bugs, I was struck from behind and knocked face first to the ground. The surprise was as bad as the pain.
Through the swarm, I sensed him approach until he stood with one foot on either side of me. I felt him wind his fingers into my hair and pull my head up and back. I struggled, trying to catch him in the knee with my baton, but he wrenched me to one side, and I felt a blade press against my throat.
As he'd done with the gray-haired doctor, he pulled the blade hard against my throat in one long, smooth motion, adjusting for the curvature of my neck.
In one heartbeat, I formed and initiated a plan. I grunted and made a choking sound, which was all the more realistic because he'd just pulled a length of metal hard against my windpipe; I did want to grunt and I did choke. Then I went limp and had every bug in the area cease moving. Like snowflakes, the flies began drifting down from the air.
He let go of my hair, and my mask clacked hard against the floor. I heard a girl scream, heard noises and shouts from everyone else.
I swallowed, partially to check that my throat really hadn't been cut. My costume had saved me. I wished the gathered onlookers hadn't witnessed the scene. It would have been better if the bugs had blocked their line of sight, as their noises of fear and alarm were going to get his attention.
I just needed a second to think. Mannequin could press an assault indefinitely, until he succeeded in cutting my throat open or delivering that mortal wound. It was like sparring against Brian, but worse in every way. Mannequin was stronger, faster, he had more reach, he didn't get tired, he was good and he was out to kill me. He was versatile in a way no ordinary human could be. He couldn't be caught in an arm-lock- his limb would just come free or bend in some screwed up way.
He could sense me somehow. How? It had been reckless of me to assume that he used sight to get by, especially when he didn't have eyeholes in his mask. The fact that he hadn't noticed I was faking meant he wasn't relying on sight, or his sight was limited enough that he couldn't make out the lack of blood through the cloud of bugs around us. If he wasn't hearing my breathing, I doubted he had super hearing either.
Did he use radar, like Cricket? It would be my first assumption, except my bugs hadn't heard anything of the sort.
No. This line of thinking wasn't accomplishing anything.
I heard him sharpening his blades against one another with the sound of steel on steel. I could sense the movement, from the bugs that were drifting down onto him. A man in the crowd whimpered, and Mannequin turned towards him.
The metal singing in the pauses between the scrapes of blade on blade. Mannequin was standing still, observing.
I had to come up with a plan of attack, or others would pay the price. My deadline was the point, I suspected, that someone lost their nerve and tried to run.
If I was going to attack, I needed to find a weak point. But he was smart. Before the disaster that had turned him into this, he had been on the brink of solving many of the world's crises. Overpopulation, renewable energy, effective recycling, world hunger. Even with tinker abilities offering the means, it took someone special to manage that and actually makeprogress.
It was a given that he wouldn't have any blatant weaknesses. Any measure he didn't think of himself, he would have shored up by now, by virtue of being a longstanding member of the Nine. He'd fought heroes and villains better than me, and he'd learned and improved in the process.
In that respect, perhaps, he and I weren't so different. I'd developed in much the same ways. The difference was that he had years more experience. That, and he was batshit insane. What would I do in his shoes, with his power?
I wouldn't leave any vital openings uncovered. That was a given. My focus -Mannequin's focus- would be on designing way to make himself a completely closed system. It wasn't just sensible, it was the whole point of his transformation. He'd have perfect recycling of all waste, dissipation of excess energy by diverting it to mechanical movement, intake of energy by absorption of heat.
Forgot something. RIP doctors killed by Mannequin . Hope your deaths will be avenged. And its pretty good thinking for Skitter to pretends that she's dead so she can start thinking about strategies to defeat Mannequin. Glad that Skitter confirms my theory that a Tinker should be naturally a GENIUS so he/she can use their power properly. I consider myself being an average intelligent person and I suck at technology and I'll be unable to do something if I'd get Tinker powers. I will have a lot of ideas to do crazy things but I won't know how to apply them. Bonesaw and Mannequin were geniuses even before they got their powers. They could have become scientists pretty easy, their powers only turned them into a version of scientists on steroids. I won't be surprised if Bonesaw's IQ is close to 200 or even more. And not because of her powers. Ok, now Skitter is putting herself in Mannequin's shell shoes. What she'd do if she was in his place?
Could that be a clue as to how he sensed the world around him? Heat? Or was it something completely different? Radiation? Radio waves? Electromagnetics?
Putting myself in his shoes, I had to think of his motivation. Why this form? I'd make myself resemble a doll or a store mannequin because… it was an eternal reminder. Didn't his wife and kids die when the Simurgh attacked? There was a story there.
But what else? Why resemble a human?
To mislead? Maybe the configuration of 'my' organs and parts wasn't human in the slightest. I might have gone the Aegis route and built-in redundancies for everything I could spare. I wouldn't need a heart, kidneys, or a conventional digestive system, bone marrow or any of that stuff. Everything I could strip away would be more room for equipment, more room for all the pieces and parts that
help turn 'my' individual body parts into perpetually self-sustaining systems.
His torso was the biggest section of his body. It wouldn't have his heart, lungs or any of that, because he didn't have a circulatory system. More likely, it contained his brain, his sensory organs/system, and whatever mechanism he was using to remotely control his arms, legs, hands and feet. Unless he didn't want to put all his items in one basket. It was easily possible for some of that stuff to be in his thighs and forearms.
If I were him… I would have spent hours carefully balancing the 'ecosystems' of each individual part of my body. Something that exacting and that fine tuned would be sensitive, fragile. They'd be resistant to impacts, I wouldn't go around getting into fights if they weren't. But heat and cold? A crack in that exterior of his? It could wreak havoc.
Ok, ok, I still don't get how Mannequin became like this. I mean, I know his "reasons", but I don't know HOW exactly, the procedures he used to turn every part of his body into self-sustaining ecosystems. I'm imagining him like: wants to get rid of skin- he quickly took his skin off and start replacing it with hard shell; wants to get rid of eyes -he pulls them out; wants to get rid of limbs- he pulls them out; wants to get rid of heard- no more heart as he crushes it and replaces it with whatever keeps him alive. But, I think he went through a lot of pain this these medical procedures. Did he took powerful painkillers? Did he previously created a surgeon robot then put himself into a deep sleep and let the robot operate on him? Did he asked another crazy Tinker to hep him? How did he removed his limbs without any external help? I know that this is Tinker bullshit and I should not think too much about it because there's no explanation anyway, but even Bonesaw's creations make more sense and they're partial explained, even some of Colin and Chris' super-weapons seem possible to be created in real life, but what Mannequin did, is a HUGE NON-SENSE. Maybe I'll get a backstory of him when he'll start operating himself to get rid completely of his human life. Even if it will be a Mannequin Interlude, I'd actually be glad for this kind of Interlude.
Okay. I was getting a sense of him, maybe. That said, none of that mattered if I couldn't hurt him in the first place. Maybe I was thinking about this all wrong.
Bugs dealt with threats that were encased in hard shells all the time, didn't they? They dealt with other species of bugs. There were a hundred solutions there, if I was willing to look for them.
That was the spark of inspiration I needed. In a matter of seconds, I had a plan.
It wasn't a good plan, but it was something. As a just-in-case measure, I could try some other smaller plans, on the off chance that they might distract or even work. Having those options, if nothing else, would make me feel better. Mannequin had just brutally and unquestionably kicked my ass in the span of fifteen seconds, and it was going to be at least two minutes until I could even begin my plan, judging by how long it had taken my bugs to deliver the supplies from my lair.
The same instant I had that thought, I started everything in motion. Every flying insect near my lair headed indoors to gather what I needed.
I made a mental note to make a more easily accessible opening to my lair, so I could do this faster in the future.
I made another mental note to set up a clock with ticking hands, so I could have bugs ride the three hands and have a precise way of tracking time when I was in my territory. I supposed it would have to be an old-fashioned clock, since Shatterbird had screwed up everything else.
I had to guess. Roughly two minutes until I could start my plan.
As I lay face down on the floor of the factory, I tried to control my breathing so he wouldn't notice I was still alive. The beat of my heart in my chest was so intense I was worried it would give me away.
Staying still was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do, and I had done some hard things before. Knowing that he might leap for someone and end their life any moment, it had me on edge. Every second I could buy here counted because every second I didn't have to fight him was crucial.
"Mommy," the word was drawn out. Had to have come from someone young. A toddler? "I don't want to be here!"
The rhythm of steel rasping against steel ceased. Mannequin went still. Shit. So much for my reprieve.
I pulled myself to my feet and stirred all of the bugs in the area into action. They rose from the floor like a dark whirlwind. I sheathed my knife and gripped my baton in both hands.
"Mannequin!"
He stopped and turned his upper body to face me. His head cocked to one side.
"Yeah," I said. "You didn't get me."
You can try to make your bugs attack Mannequin with fire, in the same manner you did during Merchants' invasion of your territory. Try to fry his hard shell until it will start melting. Then force as many bugs as you can inside his torso, all of them attacking his brains. And don't stop until his brains will be completely DESTROYED. Yes, you'll take a life, but you'll take a life that HAVE NO RIGHTS to exist. I'm a peaceful person but I'll kill Mannequin with a constant smile on my lips and without any remorse. I'll pull his brains out of his torso and smash it against all walls and have fun while doing it. This is how much I hate this ASS. This is how much I want him DEATH (the only time when I wanted to personally torture for days and kill a fictional character while feeling good about myself was during Games of Thrones-
the suckiest and most horrible character of all suckiest and horrible characters: Joffrey Baratheon. I kind of hated his death on- screen because it was way too easy.
Skitter, don't let him hurt children. DON'T LET THIS ABSOLUTE MONSTER HURT CHILDREN. I DON'T CARE HOW MUCH YOU'LL BE HURT, STOP HIM FROM KILLING CHILDREN.
He turned back around and started walking toward the mother and the little boy. The pair were huddled between an empty metal frame and a workbench.
"Hey!" I shouted. "Come on! Fight me! Don't you have the balls to take on a teenage girl? Or are they one of the things you cut away!?"
He didn't slow or hesitate at my words.
"Bastard!" I ran for him. It was a hundred percent possible he was baiting me, forcing me into a situation where I had to do something stupid or let the mom and the little kid get hurt. Maybe if I'd been a harder person, I could have let him hurt them, knowing it was smarter in the long run. But I wasn't capable of doing that.
What could I even do? I had to make the call in the three or four seconds it took me to cross the floor of the factory. He was more than half-again as tall as I was, and my weapons couldn't do anything to him.
I threw myself at the backs of his legs, colliding with the back of his knees and his calves. Not all of his precarious balance was an act. He teetered and collapsed backward onto the floor, his legs on top of me.
"Go!" I screamed at the mother. "Run!"
She did. Mannequin reached out to extend a blade into the back of her leg, and she fell, but someone else hurried forward to help her.
Mannequin's left leg snaked around my throat in an impromptu headlock. I tried to slip out, to force his leg apart. Even though I could move it, I couldn't squeeze my head through the gap.
Not counting the time I'd spent lying on the ground, buying time, how long had I lasted? Less than thirty seconds?
Four blades sprung from the calf of his right leg. He extended it high above me, and they began to rotate, slowly at first, then faster, like the blades of a fan. Or a food processor.
He had me in a headlock, but the rest of me was free to move. Gripping my baton with both hands, I swung it into the whirling blades with as much strength as my leverage afforded me.
My baton went flying out of my grip, but the blades stopped. My heart sank as I saw them begin to rotate again, slowly.
They didn't return to the same blurring speed they'd been at before. A few seconds passed, and they retracted back into his leg.
I might have been relieved, but I was still in his grip.
He heaved me upward, positioning himself with two hands and one leg on the ground, the other leg holding me up high. My toes scrabbled to touch ground and fell short. The grip on my neck wasn't perfect: it wasn't cutting off my blood flow, it barely impacted my breathing, but it still hurt, and my neck strained with the weight of the rest of my body.
I drew my knife and gripped the handle. Then I drove it at my throat. Or at Mannequin's leg, which was folded around my throat. Same idea. I aimed at the ball joint, striking a mere two or so inches from my own face. Once, twice, three times.
I'll smack you everytime when you'll put yourself down, Skitter. You're the BEST, you're doing better things than many heroes (I still don't know why the heroes from other Protectorates don't come all in the City to attack simultaneous S9. Exactly how they're doing with Endbringers. Because S9 are basically mini- Endbringers. Or evacuate all the people from the City and attack it with nuclear bombs. Yes, the people will lose their homes but S9 will be wiped off the face of the earth. They're more dangerous than any other villain groups. Siberian and Crawler might survive even to a nuclear blast -they're basically "human" versions of cockroaches, but all others would be kaput. But this is Worm where heroes doesn't think too logical. Villains are the ones who are doing all the logical thinking ). All in all, Skitter almost sacrificed her life to save a mother and her child. Skitter, if Marquis will ever escape from Birdcage (a thing that I WANT to happen) you and him can rule this fucking City together (I'd so like this idea). You have a strong moral code, he have a strong moral code, you're protecting mothers and children, he doesn't kill women and children, you both are very smart and good leaders. And I won't say no if Amy will join you two. Just keep Tattletale away from her, kay?
I was swinging for a fourth hit when he shifted positions. I couldn't be sure if he had hoped to gradually strangle me, to leave me dangling until I started begging or if he'd been poised for something else, but he'd apparently changed his mind. He turned over, his leg unfolding from my throat at the same instant one large hand closed over my face.
He whipped me around himself in one tight circle, then let his arm go free from the socket, the whirring sound of chain feeding out swiftly becoming distant as I hurtled across the room.
I crashed into a pile of wooden boards that were riddled with nails and screws. The metal points jabbed at me but didn't penetrate my costume. I tried to get my feet under me, but the boards only slid underfoot. His hand was still attached to my face.
He began to pull me forward, no doubt to repeat the process. Half blind under the grip of his hand, I reacted in a heartbeat, slamming the point of the knife into the gap between his hand and my face.
Tattletale had said it was strong enough to serve as a crowbar. I was glad to discover she was right. Between the pull of the retracting chain and the leverage of the knife, I freed myself from his grip, his fingertips scraping hard against my scalp. Flying back to him, his arm clicked back into place. I tried to blink a blurry spot out of my vision, only to realize I had a scratch on the right lens of my mask where I'd hit it with the knife's edge.
The pain from being thrown around was belatedly making itself known. Bruises, I could deal with. Just so long as my body moved where and when I needed it to. I felt the dull ache of a building headache. From where I'd been gripped in the headlock?
Okay. Still in one piece, more or less. How much time had I bought? One minute? One and a half? Could I hold out for long enough? Could the bystanders? The moment my bugs arrived would be the moment I could begin my plan. I'd still have to survive after that, and there was no guarantee it would work. In fact, my gut was telling me it was a long shot.
Thirty seconds to a minute. I was panting for breath, counting every second that he silently stared at me as something I should value.
What was going on behind that expressionless mask? Was he coming up with a battle plan? Maybe, maybe not. He didn't really need one. It could be that he was calculating how best to destroy me: not just killing me, but ruiningme. There were enough ways he could do it. Inflicting lifelong scars and injury. Or he could go down the opposite road and murder the civilians, leaving me as the only one standing. Both were very real possibilities, both devastating in their own way. Or maybe, behind that hard shell, he was in the throes of mental anguish. Maybe he was spending every second of every day reliving the day he lost his family and his dreams to a nigh-unstoppable, malignant force.
There was nothing I could do about his past. Whoever he had been before, he was a monster now. I had to pull out all the stops to try and stop him from hurting anyone else.
It was time to enact battle plan number one, one of the two ideas I had in mind that almost definitely wouldn't work. I set my swarm on him. Up to this point, I had kept them largely at bay, using only the bare minimum necessary to keep track of my surroundings.
Now I smothered him, piling them on every available surface.
It didn't accomplish a thing, of course. He started running toward me, weapons at the ready. He wasn't impeded in his movements, nor were his senses -sight or otherwise- impaired.
I ducked beneath his first swing as he closed in, but I couldn't avoid the follow-up hit. His second swing scraped off the armor on my shoulder and struck my chest. Beyond the momentary pain, I was almost grateful for it, because the strike knocked me further out of his reach.
Some of my bugs managed to squeeze inside the slots where his weapons had emerged. The spaces didn't perfectly match the bases of the blades, and the bugs were small. There was nothing organic inside the sheaths. Even the interior was completely sealed off.
Still, I managed to get bugs into the mechanisms, lodging their bodies inside the finer workings or killing one another to spill ichor and their bodily contents onto anything that felt sensitive. Mannequin stepped back, and I watched as he retracted all of his blades, the slots they'd speared out of sealing closed behind them. A wave of pressure and heat killed off every bug and likely most of the gunk I'd managed to smear inside.
Yeah, I hadn't figured that would work. Plan one down.
For plan two, I needed my baton. I could only hope it was in one piece. I used my power and my eyes to search the factory floor, while keeping my head still, so he couldn't see what I was doing.
I don't think he have any human feelings or regrets left, Skitter. I don't think he cares anymore about Alan's family. He's a completely emotionless monster now. Well, not completely emotionless, because he still feels HATE for humanity. But I think that if Alan's family will magically appear behind his holes that serves as his "eyes" he'll kill them himself without any hesitation. This is how he feels about Alan's wife and children. Hate them, not miss them. Mannequin is build from hate and every part of him is a symbol of hate for everything that moves. "sighs" Your bugs can't do jack shit even if they'd pass through his shell. He made his body in a way that it will instantly kill any small intruder. So, this strategy is down. "sighs"
My bugs were almost here, arriving in droves.
I found my baton lying against the wall near where I'd been pinned by Mannequin. I'd have to get by him to get it. Fetch. I ordered my bugs, as Mannequin lunged for me again. I didn't have a second thought to spare as far as telling them how. For now, I needed to survive.
This time, his attack was frenzied. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought he was irritated. I hopped back out of reach of the first swing, then quickly backed up as he followed that up with a series of rapid rotations of his upper body, momentarily becoming a blender-whir of whirling blades.
I was so busy trying not to get hit by the blades that I missed it when he tilted. He balanced on one leg and kicked out wide with the other, letting the chain out so it could stretch the seven or eight feet to me. I was knocked back onto the wood pile a second time, landing on the edge and falling to the ground a second later.
He stopped spinning and retracted his leg, apparently unfazed after the dizzying act of spinning like a top. I saw my bugs tugging the baton, but Mannequin spotted them at the same time. He stepped back and placed one foot on top of it. With a kick, he sent it sliding across the floor, away from me. Fuck. I'd have to take the slightly less efficient route. I grabbed a stout two-by-four as I stood. It was old, dusty, damaged by years of exposure, and the screws that clustered in one end were rusted.
Better than nothing, as weapons went.
His blades made that rasping sound as he sharpened them against one another, one edge of each blade, then the other. After doing it just long enough to lull me into a false sense of security, he lunged, blades spearing for my chest and throat. I struck out simultaneously with the piece of wood. It seemed to catch him off guard. I struck too soon to hit him, but hewasn't my target.
I clubbed at the uppermost blade, driving it down toward the floor. I tried to avoid the edge and strike the flat of the blade, but my strike wasn't spot on. I didn't see if I'd had any of the desired effect, because he collided with me, both blades striking the armor of my chest. Pain exploded in my collarbone and ribs, but I didn't experience any of the telltale pain of impalement. My armor had saved me.
Finding the tips stuck in the denser material of my armor, he whipped both arms to one side, throwing me a solid ten or twelve feet. I sprawled where I landed.
I huffed out a breath, feeling pain in my chest with every movement. Then I smiled a little.
My swarm had finally arrived.
The bugs flowed into the room as a singular mass and roughly half of them swept over Mannequin. He wobbled a little, then turned his attention to me, uncaring. Which was a good thing. It was better that he didn't pay much attention.
Behind him, the bugs moved in an almost kaleidoscopic pattern, slowly expanding outward from a center point, their arrangement symmetric.
He paused and looked over his shoulder at the swarm.
He was apparently able to sense my bugs on the floor, floating in the air. That much was apparent. He hadn't, at the same time, been able to tell I wasn'tbleeding out into a pool on the ground, or that I was still breathing while I lay prone on the factory floor. My plan hinged on two things; whether his peculiar means of sensing things would let him grasp what I was doing here, and if he would be able to do something about it.
The formation ceased expanding, then swept over him again. Once again, he wobbled, staggered a step.
He charged through the mass of bugs that now sat between the two of us, running towards me. I managed to parry one swing of his blade with my piece of wood, then jump out of the way of the second blade. When I tried to block his kick with the two-by-four, however, I lost my grip and it fell to the ground. He kicked me a second time, hard, and I staggered back, hand to my stomach, nausea building up in my throat. I controlled my breathing to keep my dinner down.
Third pass with my swarm. They focused on his legs, and very nearly unbalanced him.
I could see him pause, watched his head tilt quizzically. I bit my lip.
To his right, my left, the swarm had once again gathered in a tight cluster, and were expanding slowly, with controlled movements.
I can see 2 people fighting with 100% chances to defeat Mannequin. Armsmaster armed with his super-nano-weapons, a super-suit and enough determination to make Mannequin run like a headless chicken away from him even before they'll start the fight (Armsmaster's nano- Halberd was very close to kill a fucking Endbringer, Mannequin wouldn't stand any chance against it. Its nothing like a small nano-knife ). Faultline will be the other person- wait the right moment, touch his torso, completely destroy it and voila. Sundancer will also be a strong adversary, how much is he going to resist if she'll use her most powerful sun? But still Skitter is doing her best even if she kind of have her ass kicked. She can win, I still believe in her success .
The swarm consisted of pairings of flying insect and arachnid. Every spider from my lair was clutching a bee, a wasp or a larger dragonfly, who clutched the spider in turn. A thousand pairs.
Connecting to one another, these bugs quickly drew out five hundred or more lines of webbing. Mostly dragline silk, this 'net' maintained enough of the sticky webbing to attach to him, draping over his artificial body and stayingthere.
I hadn't used the black widow spiders I'd brought into the factory earlier out of a fear that he'd realize what I was doing and counteract it before I could really get the ball rolling. Now I gathered them up and brought them into play. I used all of the spiders I'd already placed on him, focusing on his joints, reinforcing the stronger webs that were already there. Their silk was nothing compared to the black widows, but it was something.
He moved without a problem, either unaware or uncaring. Silk strands stretched and snapped as he extended his arms, more broke free as he walked. Alone, the threads were negligible. It was together that they were stronger. Much like my costume.
He tried to retract the blade in his right arm, but it caught. Pressing the point against the ground, he bent it back into alignment. It retracted on his next attempt. My strike with the two-by-four hadn't done much there. My second just-in-case measure hadn't worked out.
That same arm disconnected and extended towards me as he tried to grab for me, and I turned to one side just in time to avoid being caught. He fired the other arm out with an almost explosive force and I managed to catch hold of it before it got a grip on my costume.
My swarm made a fourth pass, focusing on the chain of his extended arm and the joints of his shoulders, elbows, crotch and knees where the webbing had already accumulated to some degree. Fifty or sixty spiders stayed on the extended chain, spitting out large amounts of their stickiest webbing.
He was trying to maneuver the arm I was holding to grab onto me, his fingers and wrist bending at unnatural angles as he sought a grip on my hands and wrists. He changed tactics, making the blades in the arm spear out at random, to make it as impossible to hold as he could. When that failed, he whipped the chain. I let go of the hand just in time to avoid being caught by the tail end of the whiplash. He reeled it in, and it got about three-quarters of the way in before he ran into a slight snag.
The last quarter of the retraction process was a fraction slower. Silk glue gumming up the works, I could hope. I saw him look at his arm, then flex the fingers, as if to test them.
While he was distracted, I made a fifth pass with my formation. I tried to be more subtle about it, carefully draping the silk over him rather than letting it pull tight against him with enough collective force to move him off-balance.
He attacked, stretching out the arm I hadn't gummed up. The pain from the most recent hit to my stomach slowed me down, and his fist collided with me, knocking me over for what seemed like the hundredth time. I managed to backhand it off of me before he could do anything, and hurried to my feet.
While the arm was still partially extended, I managed to deposit spiders on the chain. They immediately began straining to produce silk glue on and around the mechanisms that allowed the chain to retract. One spider wasn't much, but all together, it added up.
I could pinpoint the moment he realized what I was doing. Extending the chain, he flung it across the room, the blade cutting a wide swathe. I ducked clear, but two bystanders were struck down, screaming. When he moved to retract that chain, the mechanism stalled.
His body was like Armsmaster's powersuit, but every piece of equipment he added necessitated that he cut away a pound of flesh. I was inclined to suspect that, crazy as he was, that reality made him more inclined to go for elegant, efficient design over more rugged craftsmanship. The propeller blades in his ankle, the chain retraction mechanisms in his arms, they were built to be lightweight, to use
minimal energy, and achieve maximum effect at the same time.
He tilted his head, looking at the arm that was stubbornly refusing to retract back into place.
I made my sixth sweep with my bugs. As the swarm passed, his head snapped up, looking at me. As much as he could without eyes, anyways. He knew what was happening.
A better cape than I might have had a quip there, an insult. I hurt in too many places, in my ribs, my stomach, my shoulders, neck, back and legs. Some of the pain was fierce, like a red-hot poker being driven with a constant, ceaseless pressure into the body parts in question. I couldn't spare the breath. The chain dropped from his elbow socket, and I watched as he paced over to his fallen arm, picked it up, tore the remaining chain out, and clicked it into place.
"Come on," I muttered under my breath.
I like that even Skitter is asking herself how in the Hell of Mannequins this monster managed to replace every part of his body with shell and weapons. She echoed my own questions. She and I are pretty much alike (as my friend told me) except that I have more self- confidence than her, I couldn't resist not even half of a second against Mannequin (I'd have died from heart-attack even before starting the fight) and I don't have cold blood like her but I have a very ugly sadistic side that I'm afraid even myself of it. Also, I don't have her brilliant mind, but I'm enough inventive and strategic to coordinate a fight from distance. So, Skitter gets VERY creative (look, red helped you getting creative ) as she's starting to effectively dismember Mannequin with spider webs. AWESOME. I KNEW YOU CAN DO IT, GIRL.
Blades speared out of slots all over his body, some of which I hadn't even guessed were present. Then he began spinning furiously, every body part rotating the individual blades with enough force that webs were cut before they could be secured in place.
Different tactic. This time, the swarm took its time passing over him, thirty or forty spiders working at a time, their work relentless, ceaseless. Each spider cut the threads so they drifted down like strings in the wind.
Falling gently instead of being stretched taut, they would drape over the spinning blades, attach to other trailing silk, and form a looser cloud.
I'd anticipated this.
The part where I was caught off guard was when he changed tactics, going after the civilians for the second time.
"Hey!" I shouted after him.
I'd hoped to be more subtle about my second phase of attack.
Half of the swarm I'd brought from my lair was still waiting for the instruction. I deployed them while running after Mannequin, stopping at the wood pile to get another two-by-four.
Someone screamed as Mannequin started cutting into them. Two or three people, cornered by the monster. One already in harm's way.
"Fucker! Stop!" I shouted, my words useless.
I moved on to the second phase of my attack. As I'd done with the pens, markers, the candles and the bottles of disinfectant, I'd instructed my bugs to arrive with supplies in hand.
Some carried the scraps of silk cloth from my work on the costumes: The masks I'd made as trial runs, the belts and straps. As with the silk that drifted in the air, they were caught by the blades rather than being cut. Mannequin soon had a dark blur whirling around his upper body.
Other bugs packed the remainder of my costume design supplies. Tubes of paint were rigid enough to be cut by the blades, creating small, wet, colorful explosions. A large bottle of glue made its way to my hand, and I hurried to tear off the lid before a large group of bugs carted it off to him, holding it upside-down over his head so streams of the stuff could spill onto his head and shoulders.
Packages of dye were torn in half by his blades, expanding into clouds of black, brown, gray and lavender powder, sticking to any
liquid on him, filling every gap to highlight the hidden slots for his weaponry and the seams where everything fit together.
Swinging underhand, I brought the two-by-four up toward the widest part of the buzzsaw whirl that was Mannequin. Through luck as much as intent, I managed a glancing blow on the end of the blade, knocking it up toward the ceiling. The momentum of his rotation managed the rest. He tipped and crashed onto his side, literally falling apart in the process. Lengths of chain connected everything, but nothing was in the right socket. Some sort of built-in defense mechanism against heavy impacts?
My swarm flooded over him to draw out more lines of silk and to spill glue -both organic glue from my spiders and brand name supplies- where possible.
He began to reel the various parts in, slowly. I hurried in to grab the one arm he'd disconnected from the chain and hurled it away. Then I seized his head.
I knew he wouldn't have anything particularly valuable in his head. It was too obvious a target. But it was easy to get my hands on, it wasn't connected to too many other things, and there was a chance he might want to keep it.
Holding the head, I hauled back, pulling more chain from the neck. With one hard pull, I hauled half of his body in my direction, the exertion making every injury I had screaming in protest. Another pull, and I dragged his body another half-foot back, but I got one or two feet of length from the neck-chain.
Even with stuff gumming up the works, his chest clearly had stronger mechanisms inside it than the rest of his body did. The chain began slowly retracting.
Someone appeared behind me, and his hands gripped the chain, just a bit behind my own. He added his strength to mine, and Mannequin's body was dragged another two or three feet back.
SHE SAVED CIVILIANS AGAIN!YES, AND NOW SHE PROCEEDS TO DECAPITATE HIMRIGHT AFTER SHE JUST PAINTED HIM LIKE ONE OF HER NON-FRENCH MANNEQUINS FOR COSTUMES. ALSO, THE BADASS BYSTANDER WHO IS HELPING HER...DON'T TELL ME HE'S THAT R.J.'S ASSHOLE OF A FATHER CAUSE THAT WOULD BE THE BIGGEST TWIST IN THIS ARC.
"Where?" he asked. It was a burly bystander with a thick black beard, thick rimmed glasses and a red and black striped t-shirt. One of my people.
I turned and let go to point. There was a metal frame that had once stood around some equipment. Now it stood empty, just a connection of metal bars.
"Stand back," he said. I let go and backed off. Without me in the way, the bystander was able to haul Mannequin another four or five feet towards the frame. Another haul, and they were close enough to the frame.
I hurried forward, gripping the head, and winding it through and beneath the bars, tying it in the crudest of knots and tangling it in the bars in the process. It dangled, the stump facing the ceiling. Fifteen feet of chain trailed between it and Mannequin's body.
Mannequin had only just managed to reel in the chain and reconnect his remaining arm, and was using it to attach his legs securely into place.
I had only seconds.
Having my bugs in the area, I knew exactly where to find what I was looking for. I hurried over to the corner and hefted a cinder block.
I wasn't halfway back to the head when I saw Mannequin stand. I abandoned my plan, dropped the block and stepped away, circling him, putting distance between myself and his head. His attention seemed to be on me.
Had I pissed him off?
He wasn't spinning any more, and I could see the damage the bugs had wrought. Dense webs and scraps of cloth had collected across his body, and only half of the blades had succeeded in retracting in the face of the silk, glue and other gunk. Color streaked him, both liquid from the paints and powder from the dyes.
I gathered my bugs into another formation. We were running low on silk, but I'd have to deal.
He stepped forward, and his movements were more awkward than usual. Good. That might mean the ball joints weren't in pristine condition anymore.
He moved again, disconnecting the chain to free himself from the metal frame I'd tied the neck-chain to. He wasn't focusing on me. I felt out with my bugs and sought his target.
His arm. It crawled weakly for him, using the fingertips to scrape forward.
The moment I realized what he was after, I redirected a portion of my web-spinning swarm to the hand. Then I limped to my left to put myself between him and his target. My swarm passed over him. The seventh strafing run. He slashed at it as it passed in a surprising display of emotion.
He reached into the hole where his neck and head were supposed to be and withdrew a small knife.
I adjusted my posture. He was a tinker, and that knife could be anything.
He pressed a switch, and it was soon surrounded with a gray blur. I recognized it as Armsmaster's tech. A weapon with that exact same visual effect had done horrendous damage toLeviathan.
He stepped forward, and I stepped back. Behind me, the arm jumped. Mannequin was using the telescoping blade to help push it in the right direction. It was trying to take a circuitous route around me.
My bugs made their eighth sweep past the headless Mannequin.
He lunged for me once again. This time, there was no blocking the hit, no letting my armor absorb it. His movements were ungainly, unbalanced by his lack of an arm, but he stood nine feet tall, usually, and that meant he hadreach, no matter the type of weapon he was wielding.
I backed off, rapidly stepping away, all too aware that my spiders weren't working fast enough to stop him before he landed a hit. I was swiftly running out of room to retreat.
There was a sound, a heavy impact followed by the noise of ringing metal. Mannequin stopped and whirled on the spot, striding back the way he'd come.
The sound came again. I chased, trying not to limp, knowing there was little I could do to stop the monster. I crossed half the factory floor before I saw what had earned Mannequin's attention.
The man who'd helped me with Mannequin had the concrete block in his hand, and for the third time, be brought it down on Mannequin's head. The head came free of the chain and fell to the ground, rolling briefly.
The man hefted the cinder block again, saw Mannequin approaching, and changed his mind. He dropped the block onto the head and then ran.
Ok, he's just a totally random bystander, but a VERY BADASS one indeed. If more people would have jumped in Skitter and his help, I think they'd have put Mannequin down till now. But I can understand why they don't do anything. They don't have super-powers and they're too afraid of this monster. They also have kids to protect. Anyway, Mannequin now is headless AND without a hand. But he's still fighting with Coil's nano-knife who can cut Skitter's costume. Great, he never gives up "sighs". Come on, dude, admit your defeat and give up already. I finished my icecream and cookies and now I'm starting to be terrified again (THE TRUTH IS: I was this entire time TERRIFIED OUT OF MY MIND and I lost precious time taking breaks from reading even if it might doesn't appear like this. Even with cookies, I'm still feel very uncomfortable)
Mannequin didn't give chase to his attacker. Instead, he stooped down to pick up his head, then stood straight. I stopped where I was.
For long moments, Mannequin held the head at arm's length. Then it fell to the ground.
Seconds stretched on as his arm flopped its way towards him. My spiders swarmed it, surrounding it in silk. Only the blade was really allowing it to move, now, the fingers struggling around the silk to move it into position for the next sudden thrust of the blade.
Mannequin turned his attention to his arm, and I set my swarm on it. A thousand threads of silk, each held by as many flying insects as I could grip it with, all carrying the arm aloft. I brought it up to the ceiling, and began fixing it in place, building a cocoon around it.
My enemy turned his attention to me, his shoulders facing me square-on. As he no longer had a head, I found his body language doubly hard to read. Had I irritated him, doing that?
He stepped forward, as if to lunge, and the silk that wreathed him hampered his full range of movement. His leg didn't move as far as he intended, and his missing arm displaced his sense of balance. He collapsed.
"Want to keep going?" I asked his fallen form, my heart in my throat. I stood ready to jump and react at a moment's notice.
Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet again. Twice, he used the knife to slash at the silk. On the second attempt, I hit him with the formation of bugs for an eighth sweep of the silk net, hoping to throw him off-balance enough that he'd stab himself. No such luck.
Standing straight, Mannequin shifted his grip on his knife and then raised one finger. Wagged it left and right, that same gesture of disapproval, condemnation.
Then he turned to leave, striding for the door. I didn't try to stop him. I didn't have it in me.
I watched him leave with my bugs. Felt him get three, four, then five blocks away with my power, before he was out of my range. The second he was gone, all the strength went out of my legs. I collapsed onto my knees in the center of the room.
I hurt all over. If Mannequin hadn't broken something in my ribs or collarbone, he'd fractured something. But pain was only part of it. Physically, I was exhausted. Emotionally? Doubly so.
Charlotte appeared at my side and offered me a hand. The murmurs of conversation started to sound around me. I tuned it out. I couldn't take the criticism, and I didn't deserve any praise. How many people had been hurt while I fought Mannequin? How many people had died because I hadn't been on the alert?
With Charlotte's help, I stood. I shook my head at her offer for support standing. Moving slowly and carefully, not wanting to embarrass myself, I walked over to the dismembered head. It was miniscule, but there was a drop of black fluid beading at the seam in the neck where the chain had been threaded. Apparently that was enough of a flaw for Mannequin to abandon it. I left it where it was.
Then I hobbled over to the body of the gray-haired doctor. Getting onto my knees was painful, but I did. I gently turned her head and stared into her open eyes. Light blue, surprised.
"I'm sorry," I told her.
I couldn't think of anything more to add or say. A minute or two passed before I gave up on it. I left her eyes open; using my fingertips to close her eyes seemed presumptuous and trite.
I cut the threads with my bugs and let the arm fall from the ceiling. More than one person was startled at the sudden drop and impact.
"Throw the head and the arm into the ocean," I said, to nobody in particular. "If you can find a boat, drop it somewhere deep."
"Okay," Charlotte said, her voice quiet.
"I'm going to go. I'll be using my bugs to watch for more trouble," I said, as I began limping toward the door.
I'd won. So to speak.
YOU WON! YOU FUCKING WON! EVEN IF YOU DIDN'T KILLED HIM, YOU TAUGHT HIM A LESSON TO NEVER MESS WITH YOU AGAIN. YES, HE WILL GO FOR A SECOND ROUND WHEN HE'LL FIX HIMSELF BUT HE'LL NEVER FORGET THIS DEFEAT. HE LEFT LIKE A COWARD BECAUSE HE COULDN'T DO ANYTHING ANYMORE AGAINST YOU OR YOUR PEOPLE. I'M SO PROUD OF YOU, MY GIRL.
Good night and sleep well, my friends. Cause I'm going to have one hell of a good sleep with such a good and positive ending of this Chapter .
Alright, let's start already.
Ok, all the good and gentle people are here: Fenrir's Chosen, Merchants, Pure, Coil...all of my favorite characters gathered in the same place "cough, cough" Sorry, I just drowned in my own sarcasm. I'm surprised that Genesis send her projection and didn't come personally. This is something definitely wrong with this girl and I don't think is her fault. She must be either blind or have another handicap, poor thing. There are more people to arrive? WTF, Hookwolf?............S9, right? Its a trap, I knew it.
. Do you know what I'm afraid the most? For Shatterbird to make her apparition, flying and using the shards of glass from people's wounds to kill them by exploding them before they're pulled out. Imagine the kind of MASSACRE she'll do in Skitter's territory+ she'll completely destroy Skitter's reputation as her people's savior and any authority she have over them when the survivors will start blaming her because she didn't protected them as she promised. Shatterbird will bury under a tsunami of shards Skitter's dream to protect her people and be a perfect Crime Lady for Coil. That would be an unfortunate smart move of S9.